wooden-folks
evey-dances:

“ABOVE me are the Alps, The palaces of nature, whose vast walls Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps, And throned eternity in icy halls Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls The avalanche,—the thunderbolt of snow! All that expands the spirit, yet appalls, Gathers around these summits, as to show How earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man below.”
 Lord Byron - « Morat », Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, 1818.

evey-dances:

“ABOVE me are the Alps,
The palaces of nature, whose vast walls
Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,
And throned eternity in icy halls
Of cold sublimity, where forms and falls
The avalanche,—the thunderbolt of snow!
All that expands the spirit, yet appalls,
Gathers around these summits, as to show
How earth may pierce to heaven, yet leave vain man below.”

 Lord Byron - « Morat », Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage, 1818.