And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
My resolve to die was not the whim of an hour. It was the ripe, sound fruit that had slowly grown to… — Hermann Hesse Copy Share Image
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe. And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot; And thereby… — William Shakespeare Copy Share Image
