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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.
4 comments:
yacks, the stomach flu :(
Hope you have recovered quickly!
All better now, thanks :)
Glad you feel better! :)
I wuvs my Shieryl-pooh!
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