“The sand in the hourglass runs from one compartment to the other, marking the passage of moments with something constant and tangible. If you watch the flowing sand, you might see time itself riding the granules. Contrary to popular opinion, time is not an old white-haired man, but a laughing child. And time sings.”― Vera Nazarian,
We’ll take the road out to the countryside, my dear. Where the mountains go forever, and the birds are always near.