A rich warm wind was blowing, turning all the leaves back the same way, and making mellow music through all the lute-strings of flower and grass and fruit.
Look Homeward, Angel, Thomas Wolfe
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
She herself had had a deep sense of poetry; she remembered going to sleep with Shelley under her pillow.
The Last September, Elizabeth Bowen
Tumblr
I want what world there is behind your eyes
Arquivo do blogue
Com tecnologia do Blogger.