misswhistle
when i sing she doesn't care; when i whistle she looks at me expectantly
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January Jeliciousness
February Fabulousness
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Come to dust
Fear no more the heat o’ the sun
Nor the furious winter’s rages;
Thou thy worldly task hast done
Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages;
Golden lads and girls all must
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
-- From
Cymbeline
, by Shakespeare
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