Just bought (and I am genuinely excited with the promise of an urban meditation) Autumn Light by my favorite Pico Iyer. As part of the prelude I see this passage and I am indeed overwhelmed.....
"Tonight the crimson children are playing in the west", wrote Emily Dickinson in the fall of 1854, "and tomorrow will be colder."
And I think and think.........What would I give to meet Pico Iyer once? My life is short.
"Tonight the crimson children are playing in the west", wrote Emily Dickinson in the fall of 1854, "and tomorrow will be colder."
And I think and think.........What would I give to meet Pico Iyer once? My life is short.