Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Friday, September 10, 2010

The Death of Autumn

The Death of Autumn

When reeds are dead and straw to thatch the marshes,
And feathered pampas-grass rides into the wind
Like Ag├Ęd warriors westward, tragic, thinned
Of half their tribe; an over the flattened rushes,
Stripped of its secret, open, stark and bleak,
Blackens afar the half-forgotten creek,--
Then leans on me the weight of the year, and crushes
My heart. I know that beauty must ail and die,
And will be born again, --but ah, to see
Beauty stiffened, staring up at the sky!
Oh, Autumn! Autumn! --What is the Spring to me?

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

We Found Each Other

Then we sat on the edge of the Earth, with our feet dangling over the side, and marveled that we had found each other. - Eric Dillard
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