Daffodowndilly
She wore her yellow sun-bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbour:
“Winter is dead.”
I have something that I call my Golden Rule. It goes something like this: 'Do unto others twenty-five percent better…
Literature is the noblest of all the arts. Music dies on the air, or at best exists only as a…
I was born not knowing and have had only a little time to change that here and there.