Comely was the town by the curving river that they dismantled in a year's time. Beautiful was Collet on in her last spring as she flung azaleas like a girl throwing rice at a desperate wedding. In dazzling profusion, Collet on ripened in a gauze of sweet gardens and the town ached beneath a canopy of promissory fragrance.
— Pat Conroy
The Prince of Tides
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