Mirth is the Mail of Anguish --
If Aims impel these Astral Ones The ones allowed to know Know that which makes them as forgot As Dawn forgets them now
Pardon My Sanity In A World Insane
Vinnie rocks her Garden and moans that God won't help her. I suppose he is too busy getting angry with the Wicked every day.
Till it has loved, no man or woman can become itself.
The hearts that never lean must fall.