“I can only note that the past is beautiful because one never realises an emotion at the time. It expands later, and thus we don’t have complete emotions about the present, only about the past.”
— Virginia Woolf, Moments of Being
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“…A tale begun in other days,
When summer suns were glowing –
A simple chime, that served to time
The rhythm of your rowing –
Whose echoes live in memory yet,
Though envious years would say “forget.”
(Lewis Carroll, “Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There”)
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pic. attribution