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Why is a raven like a writing desk. Who knows, who cares. And would you like more tea. I'm not sure who's mad anymore, Is it you or me.
Today, there seems to be some tempest brewing over yonder- perhaps it's only a dust devil on the horizon, it's course 'yet unclear.
Be their nothing today I wish to share I still engage my mind to think and write, Maybe my work is nothing to compare, But still I sit and type to you this night.
#acrostic W indswept, desolate Yorkshire moors, a wild U rchin given a home, loved and cherished by Catherine T il the day his beloved father died H eathcliffe was his one and only name E armarked...
#household. She sat alone in the coffee shop. Reading her favourite book. A passionate tale of Heathcliffe and Cathy. Her heart he enticed, and took. She didn't notice him staring at her.
Because this is how it started, And thus shall it so end, A song of justice sung to us, Another play shall pend.
We shall write on the beaches, we shall write on the landing grounds, we shall write in the fields and in the streets, we shall write in the hills; we shall never stop writing and even if, which I do...