“ … this was the only sad time in Paris because it was unnatural. You expected to be sad in the Fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold, wintry light. But you knew there would always be the spring… When the cold rains kept on and killed the spring, it was as though a young person had died for no reason. In those days though, the spring always finally came, but it was frightening that it had almost failed.
Tags:
... a literary geek
— Hemingway; A Moveable Feast.
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