On that day when the clock had stopped, originally uploaded by Thorsten Becker. On a day like a thousand razors cutting through thick fabric, tearing into burning skin right through to aching bones with icy blazes. On a day of grave like silence, of ghost like islands drifting in the shadowy mist of mournful gloom, …
-
Select works
-
Quoetic
The heights by great men reached and kept were not attained by sudden flight, but they while their companions slept, were toiling upward in the night.-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
