Here the winter does a beautiful job of wrapping everything in white cotton wool, and shortens the day to the utmost, so that if you make the mistake of staying up too late at night, you might awake in the Gloom of the following afternoon, which—I frankly admit—has been happening to me more and more often since last year. Here the sky hangs over us dark and low, like a dirty screen, on which the clouds are fighting fierce battles. That’s what our houses are for—to protect us from the sky, otherwise it would pervade the very inside of our bodies, where, like a little ball of glass, our Soul is
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