In a Station of the Metro
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
In a Station of the Metro
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought, and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.
A man must love a thing very much if he not only practices it without any hope of fame and…
I loathe the expression "What makes him tick." It is the American mind, looking for simple and singular solution, that…