ᶫᵒᵛᵉᵧₒᵤ ᶫᵒᵛᵉᵧₒᵤ

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We could never have loved the earth so well

if we had had no childhood in it,

if it were not the earth where the same flowers come up again

every spring

that we used to gather with our tiny fingers…

What novelty is worth that sweet monotony

where everything is known

and loved because it is known?

George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss

We could never have loved the earth so well

if we had had no childhood in it,

if it were not the earth where the same flowers come up again

every spring

that we used to gather with our tiny fingers…

What novelty is worth that sweet monotony

where everything is known

and loved because it is known?

George Eliot, The Mill on the Floss

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