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The sky grew momentarily more brilliant, the sun sank lower, and at last the light came almost level, painting the flat meadows as with a brush dropping emeralds, and throwing from each tiny inequality, and each blade of grass, a separate shade of its own.
—
Friesland Meres and Through the Netherlands
(book)
by Henry Montagu Doughty
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| Language: | English |
| Submitted by: | ughe |
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