In this brief transit where the dreams cross The dream-crossed twilight between birth and dying Ash Wednesday. — TS Eliot Copy Share Image
Lost in my dreams, I somehow cross at the traffic signals, bumping into street lamps or people, yet moving onward, exuding fumes… — Bohumil Hrabal Copy Share Image
“Spring. Blooms break forth from the startled earth. The sky laughs. The trees, abashed, dress themselves in verdant green. And the heavens… — Rick Yancey Copy Share Image
