Report, if you have a problem with this page“ The mind, at length bereftOf thinking and its pain,Will soon disperse again,And nothing will remain:No, not a thing be left.Only the ardent eye,Only the listening earCan say, "The thrush was here!"Can say, "His song was clear!"Can live, before it die. ”
Edna St. Vincent Millay
From : Mine the Harvest
