Each blossom still blooms in its field; each child still clutches your hand; each friend still lingers in your heart.
And that, dear John, is where time goes.
Forever young, The Universe |
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| Thoughts become things... choose the good ones! ® To reprint, credit and attribution to ©www.tut.com |
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| Wish your keys were as easy to find, huh, John? |
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