Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Who can blame me for this heart of mine?


What we feel most has no name but amber, archers, cinnamon, horses and birds.

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There is not enough time left to use it for dissatisfaction.
Often it is hard to know when the middle game 
is over, and the end game beginning, the pure part
that is made more of craft than it is of magic.

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Thinking of Ecstasy 









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