polyarchivist November 30, 2012
the headlight of train
(Photo credit: double-h)

That’s my Middle West—not the wheat or the prairies or the lost Swede towns, but the thrilling returning trains of my youth, and the street lamps and sleigh bells in the frosty dark and the shadows of holly wreaths thrown by lighted windows on the snow.

–F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby


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