Life, deal gently with her ... Love, never desert her
After all, what could you expect from a pig but a grunt?
Red hair is my life long sorrow.
Wouldn't it be nice if roses could talk? I'm sure they could tell us such lovely things.
Rebellion flamed up in her soul as the dark hours passed by – not because she had no future but because she had no past.
The world calls them its singers and poets and artists and storytellers; but they are just people who have never forgotten the way to fairyland.