Lisa Hirsch's Classical Music Blog. The iron tongue of midnight hath told twelve. Lovers, to bed; 'tis almost fairy time. Berce mollement sur ton sein sublime Ô puissante mer, l’enfant de Dindyme!
I am reminded of Bob Greene's column complaining about friends who insist on taking him great distances for unmemorable meals. He concludes that you should never travel for food. I conclude that he needs a better quality of friends.
Haha, yeah.
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I am reminded of Bob Greene's column complaining about friends who insist on taking him great distances for unmemorable meals. He concludes that you should never travel for food. I conclude that he needs a better quality of friends.
Haha, yeah.
Post a Comment