of John Dryden
His imagination resembled the wings of an ostrich. It enabled him to run, though not to soar.
of John Dryden
His imagination resembled the wings of an ostrich. It enabled him to run, though not to soar.
There is a solitude of space There is a solitude of space A solitude of sea A solitude of death,…
Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the fastest lion or it…
I have something that I call my Golden Rule. It goes something like this: 'Do unto others twenty-five percent better…