-
That country where it is always turning late in the year. That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger, and midnights stay. That country composed in the main of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and pantries faced away from the sun. That country whose people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts. Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound like rain.
Popular Topics
- Too Late
- Democratic Government
- Volunteer Appreciation
- Service To God
- Scalpels
- Social Structure
- You Lied To Me
- Get To Know Me
- Weak Will
- Love Yourself First
- Criminal Justice System
- Evening Gowns
- Literary Love
- Limitation
- Faith And God
- Polynesia
- Just Leave Me Alone
- Magic Tricks
- Cause And Effect
- You Live You Learn