'The moon had risen and was flooding the landscape at our feet. A mist like a thin veil lay in the valley out of which the low hills rose with a weird distinctness: the distant estuary shone like a streak of silver.
"I am so glad there is a moon to-night," I said. "This view never looks so perfect as by moonlight. And it is odd that, after a time, one wants some one to show a thing to; one can't go on enjoying anything, however beautiful, alone."'
from All That Was Possible by Howard Sturgis (Letter XXX)
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