From the Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson:
One color of wildflower was no better than another to her, so she made no distinctions whatsoever… She had a way of looking past the outer layer of people and seemed to regard everyone she met with a kind of searching intensity, as if this were the first person she had ever seen.
One color of wildflower was no better than another to her, so she made no distinctions whatsoever… She had a way of looking past the outer layer of people and seemed to regard everyone she met with a kind of searching intensity, as if this were the first person she had ever seen.