"[w]hat was any art but ... a sheath, a mould in which to imprison for a moment the shining, elusive element which is life itself - life hurrying past us and running away, too strong to stop, too sweet to lose." - Willa Cather, Song of the Lark
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Damn, I just looked over the last few posts and realized I overuse the word "cute."
Note to self: do not use "cute" in consecutive posts.