He had a funny chair, and that was all he knew, that when he sat in it, his feet turned slowly blue, and his brain, for want of oxygen, could not undo his grim despair — it was strange, but it was true, that he grew old and mad in it, until, at last, he never moved from there. . [ 1755 ]
O, dear one, life is a lightly blown kiss. Can you imagine a love like this? Or will you choose pride, regret, and loneliness? “Which Way the Breeze?” Recently Banned Literature, August 2, 2017 . Thistledown Freedom is the art of letting go, now, of all that will be washed away in the end — our prejudices and cares, our politics, arrogance, religion, and despair, our national identities, our borders, […]
William Michaelian 