“ He had become enveloped in the Indian Summer of the Soul. ”
No friendship is an accident.
~ O. Henry
I wanted to paint a picture some day that people would stand before and forget that it was made of paint. I wanted it to creep into them like a bar of music and mushroom there like a soft bullet.
And most wonderful of all are words, and how they make friends one with another, being oft associated, until not even obituary notices them do part.
If men knew how women pass the time when they are alone, they’d never marry.
