In the midst of winter, on a drab-draped day, the memory of flower-garden odour borne on an evening breeze is warming.

‘With an odour like that of a flower-garden borne on the evening breeze.’

Source: George Eliot, Adam Bede (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1985 (1859)), p. 145

Photo credit: Kaz at pixabay.com

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