I must thank Night , for the truths she whispers when she comesI must thank Day for showing me the error in all those thoughtsBut sometimes Night is right,And Day has only wrong to sayFor Night, when alone, is dreams, is freedom, unshackled thought,While Day is surrounded, crowded by other minds--ideas lashing in the air.
(First voice)Tonight I take the leapI speak the words that creepI touch the withered handAnd say have me again, old friend(Second voice)If you go away as I know you mustThere'll be nothing left in the world but dustand the hallowed wind to play silence's tune On leaves of branches, beneath a dead moonShould you choose…
Short note on pleonasm, and easy exercise to check understanding.
Exercise to improve your writing and try new things.
Victor Verdun is fifty years old. He sits at his desk, thinking and despondent.
Candles The sun rose over a dismal scene. As he lies there, quiet and unbreathing, it struck me how my brother could even in…
For my brother