“You’d better be upstairs already, Maxim. You’d better be out of sight, asleep, behind a closed door. I can’t fight myself anymore tonight. I” — Melanie Harlow Copy Share Image
You cannot find the centre Where we dance , where we play, Where life is still asleep Under the closed flower , Under the smooth shell Of eggs in the cupped nest That mock the faded blue Of your remoter heaven . — R. S. Thomas Copy Share Image
