Oh, my ways are strange ways and new ways and old ways, and deep ways and...
Thanksgiving Day comes, by statute, once a year; to the honest man, it comes as frequently...
Then from the neighboring thicket the mockingbird, wildest of singers, swinging aloft on a willow spray...
the sun did not shine, it was too wet to play, so we sat in the...
We must not let colour destroy this image. — Patrick Summerfield said that...
Marilla says that a large family was raised in that old house long ago and that...
in the late afternoons, the mail truck arrives and the mailman parks in the shade under...
We do not remember days, we remember moments. — Cesare Pavese said that...