I smile and nod, "Yeah. And my mom doesn't like it when he does that. So...he's probrably getting yelled at right now. And when my Mom is mad..." I shudder.
All you need is faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie-dust!
I lingered round them, under that benign sky: watched the moths fluttering among the heath and harebells, listened to the soft wind breathing through the grass, and wondered how any one could ever imagine unquiet slumbers for the sleepers in that quiet earth. — Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights
