It was a still afternoon — the golden light was lingering languidly among the upper boughs, only glancing down here and there on the purple pathway and its edge of faintly sprinkled moss: an afternoon in which destiny disguises her cold awful face behind a hazy radiant veil, encloses us in warm downy wings, and poisons us with violet-scented breath.


Adam Bede (1859)

George Eliot Quotes

It was a still afternoon — the golden light was lingering languidly among the upper boughs, only glancing down here and there on the purple pathway ...

It was a still afternoon — the golden light was lingering languidly among the upper boughs, only glancing down here and there on the purple pathway ...

It was a still afternoon — the golden light was lingering languidly among the upper boughs, only glancing down here and there on the purple pathway ...

It was a still afternoon — the golden light was lingering languidly among the upper boughs, only glancing down here and there on the purple pathway ...