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Spring
MY heart to thy heart,
My hand to thine;
My lip to thy lips,
Kisses are wine
Brewed for the lover in sunshine and shade;
Let me drink deep, then, my African maid.
Lily to lily,
Rose unto rose;
My love to thy love
Tenderly grows.
Rend not the oak and the ivy in twain,
Nor the swart maid from her swarthier swain.
Paul Laurence Dunbar
One ought only to write when one leaves a piece of one's own flesh in the inkpot, each time one dips one's pen.
~Leo Tolstoy
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The word "queue" is the only word in the English language that is still pronounced the same way when the last four letters are removed.
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