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Continue to ChatThose hours given over to basking in the glow of an imagined future, of being carried away in streams of promise by a love or a passion so strong that one felt altered forever and convinced that even the smallest particle of the surrounding world was charged with purpose of impossible grandeur; ah, yes, and one would look up into the trees and be thrilled by the wind- loosened river of pale, gold foliage cascading down and by the high, melodious singing of countless birds; those moments, so many and so long ago, still come back, but briefly, like fireflies in the perfumed heat of summer night. - Mark Strand from https://whatsmyquote.com/quote/those-hours-given-over-to-basking-in-the-glow-of-an-imagined-future-of-being-carried-away-in-streams-of