The fault must partly have been in me. The bird was not to blame for his key. And of course there must be something wrong In wanting to silence any song.
These were autumn mornings, the time of year when kings of old went forth to conquest; and I, never stirring from my little corner in Calcutta, would let my mind wander over the whole world. — Rabindranath Tagore, The Cabuliwallah
Gender:
Points: 5497
Reviews: 117