Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends.
Some people go to priests; others to poetry; I to my friends.
Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by his heart, and his friends can only read the title.
Each had his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends could only read the title, James Spalding, or Charles Budgeon, and the passengers going the opposite way could read nothing at all -- save ''a man with a red moustache,'' ''a young man in gray smoking a pipe.''
I have lost friends, some by death, others through sheer inability to cross the street.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories