She couldn’t make him look just like any other man to her. He looked like the love thoughts of women. He could be a bee to a blossom– a pear tree blossom in the spring. He seemed to be crushing scent out of the world with his footsteps. Crushing aromatic herbs with every step he took. Spices hung about him. He was a glance from God.
― Zora Neale Hurston,
Their Eyes Were Watching God
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