"[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
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
North to the Future!
Because I'm avoiding writing a paper right now, and a friend posted this...