The spendour of the rose and the whiteness of the lily do not rob the little violet of its scent nor the daisy of its simple charm. I realized that if every tiny flower wanted to be a rose, spring would lose its loveliness and there would be no wild flowers to make the meadows gay.
Saint Therese of Lixieux
Feelings, thoughts, hopes, dreams, desires, and inspirations all coming together in one space, where everything speaks to me and nothing feels out of place.
