Thursday, December 29, 2005

On writing/the arts. I thought it made sense.

Riches I hold in light esteem
And Love I laugh to scorn
And lust of Fame was but a dream
That vanished with the morn-

And if I pray, the only prayer
That moves my lips for me
Is-"Leave the heart that now I bear
And give me liberty."

Emily Brontë

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