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Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure… than to rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much, because they live in a gray twilight that knows not victory nor defeat. ~ Theodore Roosevelt

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the melt water jogged towards the base of the slope, urged onward by the soft autumn sunshine. this was the first snow of the season – surely to melt, and just as confidently to whet the appetites of all searching the year for the depths of winter. the snow barked underfoot, bare patches of earth visible where feet and hooves and paws had trodden. it promised to be a dreary winter; dark, cold, covered in the monochrome winter in the mountains bleaches all with. but with winter’s dark comes the gentle glow of a campfire, hearth, or candle’s fire. with winter’s cold comes the warmth of a home. brimming full with simple joys of fresh baked bread or a well worn blanket. with winter’s snow comes it’s silence, it’s total calm. with winter’s drear comes it’s contentment, it’s simple pleasures.

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