Saturday, January 23, 2010

to hell with all of it.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

-Emily Dickinson

-z said...

Nic -

Not sure if you check this anymore, but I didn't know how else to reach you. I just found myself thinking about you today. It doesn't sound like it by your posts, but I hope you're well. I miss you and I love you and I still count you a brother. Drop me a line if you want:
zachallen217 [AT] yahoo [DOT] com

-z