3:51 PM
May 22nd, 2012
May 22nd, 2012

#54. Howards End
The present flowed by them like a stream. The tree rustled. It had made music before they were born, and would continue after their deaths, but its song was of the moment. The moment had passed. The tree rustled again. Their senses were sharpened, and they seemed to apprehend life. Life passed. The tree rustled again.
E.M. Forster
7 notes in a bottle...
-
mintangels reblogged this from dyingofcute
-
galava likes this
-
embassyrichard likes this
-
bookstorey likes this
-
timaspublishing likes this
-
save999things posted this