“ She rode toward the sunsetin her fathers worn down car.A breeze picked up strands of her hairthrough the open windowwhile a cigarette burned between her lips.He told her stories of honey and milkas he replaced the grass with mud. Rebecca Rijsdijk
“ I looked long and hard for the paper roses! I found the reddest red ribbon, and a little golden card! We were all there together, many of us, in the same place; but I was the only one who found the pa… C. JoyBell C.
“ Any foolish boy can stamp on a beetle, but all the professors in the world cannot make a beetle. Arthur Schopenhauer
