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  • In a train that snaked its way up the greeny hill, I saw the lone rider outside, rushing. Where he was returning from and where he was going to, I would never know. Why he would not stop to look at all that nature was brandishing around him, I would never know. Were his senses happily sated with what his surroundings offered him, or were his responsibilities isolating him from what his senses craved for, also I would never know.

    I saw the man in front of me throw a tin can out of the window. Why man willingly sullies beauty I would never know. Because I asked him why, and he did not know.

    What is this life if full of care, we have no time to stand and stare.
    No time to stand beneath the boughs, and stare as long as sheep or cows.
    No time to see, when woods we pass...

    - William Henry Davies from Songs of Joy and Others
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