My dreams are going through their death flurries. I thought they were all safely buried, but sometimes they stir in their grave, making my heartstrings twinge. I mean no particular dream, you understand, but the whole radiant flock of them together—with their rainbow wings, iridescent, bright, soaring, glorious, sublime. They are dying before the steel javelins and arrows of a world of Time and Money.
Barbara Newhall FollettStichwörter: life growing-up dreams
Saved for a far more glamorous doom, she was.
Barbara Newhall FollettHow did one begin an adventure? Almost any road you took would lead there, if only you went on far enough.
Barbara Newhall FollettSeite 1 von 1.
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