I hesitate before grabbing the shovel and wheelbarrow, taking it into one of the pins. I lead the horse out to the pasture out back and groan as I step back inside.
I'm never what I like I'm double sided And I just can't hide I kind of like it When I make you cry 'Cause I'm twisted up, twisted up Inside
When we are children we seldom think of the future. This innocence leaves us free to enjoy ourselves as few adults can. The day we fret about the future is the day we leave our childhood behind. — Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind