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…