And telling a story, I suppose, is like winding a skein of spun yarn- you sometimes lose track of the beginning.
The joy I feel is immense; it burns inside me as though I have swallowed a piece of the sun. - Edith Pattou
The joy I feel is immense; it burns inside me as though I have swallowed a piece of the sun.
- Edith Pattou
It is odd, the twists that life will sometimes take. The ewe that you think will give birth with ease dies bringing forth a two-headed lamb. Or the s… - Edith Pattou
It is odd, the twists that life will sometimes take. The ewe that you think will give birth with ease dies bringing forth a two-headed lamb. Or the s…
It was the difference between walking with a stranger and walking with your heartmate. It was the difference between working for duty and working for… - Edith Pattou
It was the difference between walking with a stranger and walking with your heartmate. It was the difference between working for duty and working for…
That's the trouble with loving a wild thing: You're always left watching the door. - Edith Pattou
That's the trouble with loving a wild thing: You're always left watching the door.
East of the sun and west of the moon.' As unfathomable as the words were, I realized I must figure them out, reason it through. For I would go to thi… - Edith Pattou
East of the sun and west of the moon.' As unfathomable as the words were, I realized I must figure them out, reason it through. For I would go to thi…
And telling a story, I suppose, is like winding a skein of spun yarn- you sometimes lose track of the beginning. - Edith Pattou
A pine needle fell in the forest. The hawk saw it. The deer heard it. The white bear smelled it - Edith Pattou
A pine needle fell in the forest. The hawk saw it. The deer heard it. The white bear smelled it
East of the sun and west of the moon. - Edith Pattou
East of the sun and west of the moon.
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