"What can the dove of Jesus give You now but wisdom, exile? Stand and live, The dove has brought an olive branch to eat."

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Spindly branches of buttercups were secreted among gleaming stems still moist at the roots from last night's rain that had washedand refreshed the entire wood, had dowered it in poignant transparency, the unique, inconsolable quality of rainy countries, as if all was glimpsed through tears.

— Angela Carter