My music was different when I was in high school. I was singing about love, you know, things I don’t care about anymore
— Lady GaGa
A Singer
That which he did not feel, he would not sing;
What most he felt, religion it was to hide
In a dumb darkling grotto, where the spring
Of tremulous tears, arising unespied,
Became a holy well that durst not glide
Into the day with moil or murmuring;
Whereto, as if to some unlawful thing,
He stole, musing or praying at its side.
But in the sun he sang with cheerful heart,
Of coloured season and the whirling sphere,
Warm household habitude and human mirth,
The whole faith-blooded mystery of earth;
And I, who had his secret, still could hear
The grotto’s whisper low through every part
- William Allingham.
karish im going to sleep
talk to you/sort out msn woes tomorrow okay! :)
tim
tim.koh@hotmail.com :)i didnt receive your msn request. what’s your msn?
