Stranger, if you passing meet me and desire to speak to me,
Why should you not speak to me ?
And why should I not speak to you ?
(poem courtesy:Walt Whitman) |
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| Each that we lose takes part of us; A crescent still abides, Which like the moon, some turbid night, Is summoned by the tides. (poem courtesy:Emily Dickinson) |

How late I discovered your blog...but better late than never.. Enjoying each of it so much.
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