There is nothing in the world more beautiful than the forest clothed to its very hollows in snow. It is the still ecstasy of nature, wherein every spray, every blade of grass, every spire of reed, every intricacy of twig, is clad with radiance.
My heart is a lonely hunter that hunts on a lonely hill
The gray silence, the gray waves, the gray wastes of the sea.
Ah, the strange, sweet, lonely delight<br/>Of the Valleys of Dream.
The route pretty much exists. It's a combination of land and water routes. The land routes, for the most part, follow existing roads.
Swinging an ax against the door certainly involves violence, but it was not directly against a person, ... He made no threats.
Green wind from the green-gold branches, what is the song you bring? What are all songs for me, now, who no more care to sing? Deep in the heart of Summer, sweet is life to me still, But my heart is a lonely hunter that hunts on a lonely hill.
The desire of love, Joy: The desire of life, Peace: The desire of the soul, Heaven: The desire of God... a flame-white secret forever.
Love is a beautiful dream.
Across the silent stream Where the dream-shadows go, From the dim blue Hill of Dream I have heard the west wind blow.
Ah, the strange, sweet, lonely delight Of the Valleys of Dream.
I hear the little children of the wind Crying solitary in lonely places.