The apples grow as a sweet and mellow tune in a world that would do better to listen to such quiet things.
Apples grew upon the boughs as if each were a sweet dream made all the sweeter by sunny days.
Apples grow as the Christmas gifts of the autumn season, red and green amid the green garland of trees.
The apple skins were so many hues, as is the way of nature, to bring us such beauty in variation. Each was perfect and imperfect, yet all were sweet within.
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