February 2012
65 posts
Through our sunless lanes creeps Poverty with her hungry eyes, and Sin with his...
– — Oscar Wilde, The Young King
A flower - shrivelled, bare of fragrance,
Forgotten on a page - I see,
And...
– Alexander Pushkin, from The Flower
All is for you: the daily prayer,
The sleepless heat at night,
And of my...
I always wonder why birds stay in the same place...
-Harun Yahya