What is more refreshing than a cup of fragrant tea in the morning.

And the general shot my sister. I could not look at her, but I remember the sound of when she hit the ground. I hear that sound when things hit the ground still. Anything.’ If I could, I would make it so nothing ever hit the ground again.

This winter many are with the warm blanket, many are not. Always thank  god for  his mercy. Live polite, live kind.

Writers may be disreputable, incorrigible, early to decay or late to bloom but they dare to go it alone

Written By John Updike

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