108: Of all the rains that fall


Methinks, of all the rains that fall, the best fall wholehearted and constant. That disregard ambitions hold any for the week it washes, and where no assumption of relent or sun is obvious through the cloudburst. Only then do we feel permitted unreservedly, to stall our cheap and demeaning enterprising into the world, and confine ourselves to the warmer, more civil duties of the self, and homestead. It is perhaps the finest time to lose in a good book.


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