
The Quiet Singer
He had been singing—but I had not heard his voice; He had been weaving lovely dreams of song, O many a morning long. — Charles Hanson Towne
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He had been singing—but I had not heard his voice; He had been weaving lovely dreams of song, O many a morning long. — Charles Hanson Towne
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Layers of code. Strata of bone. A fractured self, never whole. I yield a shard to every voice that calls, a single eye open, watching both sides burn. — Jujube
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you shattered me into a thousand tiny pieces of my untamed self, and for once, i roared. — Jadine Lydia
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She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that’s best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes… — Lord Byron
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Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality. We slowly drove – He knew no haste And I had put away My labor and my leisure too, For His Civility…
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