Thursday, April 30, 2015, 6:37pm What makes it possible that Dickens can write about city’s vagabond children and it infuses us with emotion, that Trollope can write about societies in church, novelizing them, and...
“So what made you approach me?” I gulped back my leaping heart at her question. In that microsecond All the reasons I was going to simplify Became complicated. Oh, I don’t know. The sharp look in her...
Now stand before the mirror,
How made for each other you are!
He wandered over them again. He had called them into view, and it was not easy to replace the shroud that had so long concealed them. There were the faces of friends and foes, and of many that had been almost strangers...
When it comes to a woman
You are only what she accords you
Framed in her silence,
And if you are offended by this
Then you are not madly in crush with her
Fix this first.
He said he pinched himself
Still in disbelief
That he is my husband
"Really, REALLY...!" he said.
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