The Lion Monument of Lucerne
His powerful limbs lie, as if in slumber; his noble head, framed by its magnificent mane, lies upon his front paw and in his face is hewn the pain and sorrow of defeat as he exhumes his final breath. Alone. […]
His powerful limbs lie, as if in slumber; his noble head, framed by its magnificent mane, lies upon his front paw and in his face is hewn the pain and sorrow of defeat as he exhumes his final breath. Alone. […]
“The dangers of Alpine travel may be divided into two classes, the real and the imaginary, and in the retrospect it was found that ours all belonged to the latter.”
Miss Jemima’s Journal 1863 […]
We counted about eleven pre-dawn risers, the expressions on our faces mercifully veiled in the thick fog that enveloped us, rendering each other and our surroundings almost invisible. Only the eerie tinkle of cow bells emanating from behind the wall of bone-chilling mist convinced us that, beyond where we huddled, peaks and valleys lay, their ‘mighty panorama’ cloaked beyond any hope of visibility. […]
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