The river was beautiful and wise. There were the two of them being happy in a new way. For here, there was no man, no woman, no master, no yellow, no black, no white. We, we who were, we are the same no longer.
Raindrops smile when it rains because they know that if they didn't, then you would feel unhappy.
To increase the chances of a writer trying to kill themselves, cut off their hands.
In a forest of a hundred thousand trees, no two leaves are alike. And no two journeys along the same path are a like
Summer Sunset behind Grain Silo
The beauty of the Sunrays in the Clouds.
Butterflies are nature's angels. They remind us what a gift it is to be alive.
Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky
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