Ambrose Bierce

April 20, 2005 - By Crispin

Alone

In contact, lo! the flint and steel,
By sharp and flame, the thought reveal
That he the metal, she the stone,
Had cherished secretly alone.

Nothing that you have not given away will ever be really yours.

You must not think me necessarily foolish because I am facetious, nor will I consider you necessarily wise because you…

What's past is prologue.

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