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The mason's hammer, splintering the aeon-resting rocks for the sake of intruder man, echoes no more. The bricklayers have gone and he with it. The carpenter's saw has ceased its rough music. At last the place has become quiet again and no doubt Nature will absorb this artificial structure of my cottage in her landscape and may lay it in time with part of her own variously coloured phenomena.


-- Notebooks Category 12: Reflections > Chapter 6: The Profane and The Profound > # 228






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