Bit priggish, isn’t it? And if he only knew it—so absurd. “A man can smoke, a man can swear; A man scores always, everywhere. I don't ask you to supply my place—for that is, perhaps, impossible. Everything was fresh and bright, from the kindly manners of the Frutigen cobbler, who hammered mountain nails into her boots, to the unfamiliar wild flowers that spangled the wayside. The next moment his grasp relaxed, and he sank to rise no more. The call of youth to youth, and we name it love for want of something better: a glamorous, evanescent thing "like snow upon the desert's dusty face, lighting a little hour or two, was gone.
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This video was uploaded to jiiney.com on 28-06-2024 10:29:36
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