"On the page where he had written the previous day, he found a little wild pansy he could not remember having placed there. It set him dreaming. It should be possible to make a little herbarium of experiences he said to himself. A flower, a sprig of this, some moss, could become as precious as relics if they reminded one of the great events of the inner life, moments of great emotion or perception. People remember the risks and dangers of picking certain specimens. Huge vistas of the world unfold before us as before: yet they only reflect time in the external world. How different would be the vision of the soul's unfolding." (from Marianne by George Sand)

I loved this excerpt, it reminds me of my notebooks filled with feathers, leaves and flowers. Though it also makes me realise how carried away I get with beautiful language as isn't the external world just a reflection of our inner world? Certainly we don't take enough time to reflect on that though.

"On the page where he had written the previous day, he found a little wild pansy he could not remember having placed there. It set him dreaming. It should be possible to make a little herbarium of experiences he said to himself. A flower, a sprig of this, some moss, could become as precious as relics if they reminded one of the great events of the inner life, moments of great emotion or perception. People remember the risks and dangers of picking certain specimens. Huge vistas of the world unfold before us as before: yet they only reflect time in the external world. How different would be the vision of the soul's unfolding." (from Marianne by George Sand)

I loved this excerpt, it reminds me of my notebooks filled with feathers, leaves and flowers. Though it also makes me realise how carried away I get with beautiful language as isn't the external world just a reflection of our inner world? Certainly we don't take enough time to reflect on that though.