Step into the world of Amy Pinkleberry, who has recently lost love but will find it again through a few unexpected means—a strangely windy day, a book delivered to the wrong house, and a job she didn't sign up for. This novella, a beautiful poetry love story, is part of a new line from T.S. . . .
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I wanted to end the week with you. Then I wondered, why not begin the night with you, and would it be so terrible if I carried it over to breakfast and a cup of something hot to drink with you? —L.L. Barkat, from Love, Etc. More on Love, Etc. "Delicate, suggestive, . . .
Love and Friendship
Love is like the wild rose-briar, Friendship like the holly-tree— The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms But which will bloom most constantly? The wild rose-briar is sweet in spring, Its summer blossoms scent the air; Yet wait till winter comes again And who will call the wild-briar . . .
“Are you the new person drawn toward me?”
Are you the new person drawn toward me? To begin with, take warning, I am surely far different from what you suppose; Do you suppose you will find in me your ideal? Do you think it so easy to have me become your lover? Do you think the friendship of me would be unalloy’d satisfaction? Do you . . .
A Girl
A Girl, Her soul a deep-wave pearl Dim, lucent of all lovely mysteries; A face flowered for heart’s ease, A brow’s grace soft as seas Seen through faint forest-trees: A mouth, the lips apart, Like aspen-leaflets trembling in the breeze From her tempestuous heart. Such: and our souls so . . .
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