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Luukku.com

Luukku.com

“As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives.”

“As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives.”

La timidité des arbres : Espace laissé entre chaque arbres pour ne pas nuire au développement de l'arbre voisin.

La timidité des arbres : Espace laissé entre chaque arbres pour ne pas nuire au développement de l'arbre voisin.

Now this is a trail we'd love to be walking right now...

Now this is a trail we'd love to be walking right now...

Eloquence  Color Nature Photography red by WildEarthElements, $75.00

Eloquence - Color Nature Photography, by Ian Wang, red orange yellow autumn fall leaves leaf maple tree twisted tree trunk

Eloquence Color Nature Photography red by WildEarthElements, $75.00

Life is a journey that must be travelled no matter how bad the roads

Life is a journey that must be travelled no matter how bad the roads

“Fog lifts in the valley, rising as mist through the bare limbed trees. Far below, the deeping combe with our village in the heart of it. My whole world for nearly a decade has been contained in that place – and now the village of Duns is so small. I hold up my hand, form a circle with my fingers. Now the distant village seems a child’s plaything that I can hold in my own hand, wreathed in gossamer mist.” — from the novel Sinful Folk

“Fog lifts in the valley, rising as mist through the bare limbed trees. Far below, the deeping combe with our village in the heart of it. My whole world for nearly a decade has been contained in that place – and now the village of Duns is so small. I hold up my hand, form a circle with my fingers. Now the distant village seems a child’s plaything that I can hold in my own hand, wreathed in gossamer mist.” — from the novel Sinful Folk

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