π’Žπ’†π’•π’‚π’π’π’Šπ’‚

|Formerly ΠΈΞΉΠΈΞΉΡ‚'Ξ±|

𝓝𝓲𝓷π“ͺ

"The books or the music in which we thought the beauty was located will betray us if we trust to them; it was not in them, it only came through them, and what came through them was longing. These thingsβ€”the beauty, the memory of our own pastβ€”are good images of what we really desire; but if they are mistaken for the thing itself they turn into dumb idols, breaking the hearts of their worshipers. For they are not the thing itself; they are only the scent of a flower we have not found, the echo of a tune we have not heard, news from a country we have never yet visited."

- C.S. Lewis