Alfred, Lord Tennyson – In Memoriam
Nor, what may count itself as blest, The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate’er befall;…
Nor, what may count itself as blest, The heart that never plighted troth But stagnates in the weeds of sloth; Nor any want-begotten rest. I hold it true, whate’er befall;…
Yay, just when I needed a boost someone found a couple of my pictures and put them in a travel guide to Vancouver. I love this particular shot myself so…
Looking up at the stars, I know quite well That, for all they care, I can go to hell, But on earth indifference is the least We have to dread…