A sing-song of shouts filled the air as the merchants tried to attract buyers. Their voices had that end of the workday lift - a false brilliance composed of the hope that old dreams would be fulfilled, yet coloured by the knowledge that life would not change for them.

Most of the brain's work is done while the brain's owner is ostensibly thinking about something else, so sometimes you have to deliberately find something else to think and talk about.

Writing is not only an Art. It is Spiritual.

Sure, he that made us with such large discourse, Looking before and after, gave us not That capability and godlike reason To fust in us unused.

Written By William Shakespeare

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