The parents have gone to bed and are asleep, the clock on the stairs ticks monotonously, the windows rattle with the wind, the chamber is lit up now and again with fitful gleams of moonlight.
The boy lay tossing on his bed, and thought of the stranger and his talk. “It is not the treasures,” he said to himself, “that have stirred in me such an unspeakable longing; I care not for wealth and riches. But that blue flower I do long to see; it haunts me and I can think and dream of nothing else.
(Novalis - Heinrich von Ofterdingen)

In Loving memory to my son Marvin Noah Frank and in affection to my grandson Lucas Floyd.

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The parents have gone to bed and are asleep, the clock on the stairs ticks monotonously, the windows rattle with the wind, the chamber is lit up now and again with fitful gleams of moonlight.
The boy lay tossing on his bed, and thought of the stranger and his talk. “It is not the treasures,” he said to himself, “that have stirred in me such an unspeakable longing; I care not for wealth and riches. But that blue flower I do long to see; it haunts me and I can think and dream of nothing else.
(Novalis - Heinrich von Ofterdingen)

In Loving memory to my son Marvin Noah Frank and in affection to my grandson Lucas Floyd.