Sunday, February 05, 2012
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Thursday, October 20, 2011
But
"But myself,
Who had the world as my confectionary;The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of menAt duty, more than I could frame employment;That numberless upon me stuck, as leavesDo on an oak, have with one Winter's brushFell from their boughs, and left me open, bareFor every storm that blows."