Now I have already said that snow is the only really plastic
element in which the wind can carve the vagaries of its mood and
leave a record of at least some permanency. The surface of the sea
is a wonderful book to be read with a lightning-quick eye; I do not
know anything better to do as a cure for ragged nerves--provided
you are a good sailor. But the forms are too fleeting, they change
too quickly--so quickly, indeed, that I have never succeeded in so
fixing their record upon my memory as to be able to develop one
form from the other in descriptive notes.
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