février 2011
janvier 2011
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Jack by Carl Sandburg
JACK was a swarthy, swaggering son-of-a-gun. He worked thirty years on the railroad, ten hours a day, and his hands were tougher than sole leather. He married a tough woman and they had eight children and the woman died and the children grew up and went away and wrote the old man every two years. He died in the poorhouse sitting on a bench in the sun telling reminiscences to...
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lastofthegreatromantics:
Ellie Goulding (Temper...
“When a man walks into a room he brings his whole life with him. He has a million...”
– Don Draper
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risingconverging a demandé : I just wanted to tell you I really enjoyed your "Bluegrass/violin/fiddle" mix. It's a little bit of my old Kentucky heaven during my cold Chicago winter here :)
“[Louisville is] a place with no labels. It’s not the South, it’s not Chicago,...”
– Jim James, My Morning Jacket (via welosecontroll)
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The Rose and the Amaranth
A Rose and an Amaranth blossomed side by side in a garden, and the
Amaranth said to her neighbor, "How I envy you your beauty and your
sweet scent! No wonder you are such a universal favorite." But the
Rose replied with a shade of sadness in her voice, "Ah, my dear
friend, I bloom but for a time: my petals soon wither and fall, and
then I die. But your flowers never fade, even if they are cut;...
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heading back to the bluegrass in the morning... →
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