Excerpt from "A Moveable Feast", by Ernest Hemingway:
When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.
I don't think I'm one of the few who is good as spring itself, but I hope not to be a limiter, either. Also, I like this imagery of too many happy choices. Isn't that like any new beginning?
Happy Spring!
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