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Could we with ink the ocean fill, And were the skies of parchment made, Were every stalk on earth a quill, And every man a scribe by trade, To write the love of God above, Would drain the ocean dry. Nor could the scroll contain the whole, Though stretched from sky to sky.
3 comments:
Not so happy about this one either, that really stinks. I'm sure you'll manage to get internet somewhere, friend's house maybe, or school...like that you can occasionaly pop up till Wednesday.
snif, snif, plz come back asap.
Well, I guess that means if I want to talk to you, I will have to call you. ;)
You will be missed much. snif, this is too cruel!!!!!!!!!
That is really tragic.
Nice to be missed, for sure :)
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