Suni Lundström

“The old oak, utterly transformed, draped in a tent of sappy dark green, basked faintly, undulating in the rays of the evening sun. Of the knotted fingers, the gnarled excrecenses, the aged grief and mistrust- nothing was to be seen. Through the rough, century-old bark, where there were no twigs, leaves had burst out so sappy, so young, that is was hard to believe that the aged creature had borne them. "Yes, that is the same tree," thought Prince Andrey, and all at once there came upon him an irrational, spring feeling of joy and renewal. All the best moments of his life rose to his memory at once. Austerlitz, with that lofty sky, and the dead, reproachful face of his wife, and Pierre on the ferry, and the girl, thrilled by the beauty of the night, and that night and that moon- it all rushed at once into his mind.”
― Leo Tolstoy, War and Peace

“One only sees what one looks for. One only looks for what one knows.”
― Goethe (Stefan Aug. Doinas trad.)

“The ugly fact is books are made out of books, the novel depends for its life on the novels that have been written.”
― Cormac McCarthy

“the seat of the Celtic Muse is in the mist of the secret and solitary hill, and her voice in the murmur of the mountain stream.”
― Walter Scott, Waverley; or, 'Tis Sixty Years Since