Nature journal

The beauty of the world.

by Chris Brown on March 14, 2014 Comments Off on The beauty of the world.

I did not answer, but instead reached to my side and pressed the little fingers of her I loved where they clung to me for support, and then, in unbroken silence, we sped over the yellow, moonlit moss; each of us occupied with his own thoughts. For my part I could not be other than joyful had I tried, with Dejah Thoris‘ warm body pressed close to mine, and with all our unpassed danger my heart was singing as gaily as though we were already entering the gates of Helium.

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Chris BrownThe beauty of the world.

There are always flowers for those who want to see them.

by cameron Kinross on December 20, 2013 Comments Off on There are always flowers for those who want to see them.

Articles no less passionate than logical appeared on the question, for geography is one of the pet subjects of the English; and the columns devoted to Phileas Fogg’s venture were eagerly devoured by all classes of readers. At first some rash individuals, principally of the gentler sex, espoused his cause, which became still more popular when the Illustrated London News came out with his portrait, copied from a photograph in the Reform Club. A few readers of the Daily Telegraph even dared to say, “Why not, after all? Stranger things have come to pass.

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cameron KinrossThere are always flowers for those who want to see them.

Look deep into nature.

by cameron Kinross on December 15, 2013 Comments Off on Look deep into nature.

At first the two forces circled at the same altitude, pouring broadside after broadside into each other. Presently a great hole was torn in the hull of one of the immense battle craft from the Zodangan camp; with a lurch she turned completely over, the little figures of her crew plunging, turning and twisting toward the ground a thousand feet below; then with sickening velocity she tore after them, almost completely burying herself in the soft loam of the ancient sea bottom.

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cameron KinrossLook deep into nature.

But then, birds just fly high

by Chris Brown on November 14, 2013 Comments Off on But then, birds just fly high

The artilleryman agreed with me that the house was no place to stay in. He proposed, he said, to make his way Londonward, and thence rejoin his battery–No. 12, of the Horse Artillery. My plan was to return at once to Leatherhead

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Chris BrownBut then, birds just fly high