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When the heart is full,the hand is too;Scrying the mood,the headnods along for the ride...When the darkness blooms,and the lighted moondraws upwardsto..
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i was once an artist's brush,the minstrel's strings in early spring.i was the touch of a pixie's dustfairies sprinkled over children's dreams.i was th..
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editing work is sucha drag.it kills the ceative process,butultimatelyprunes the unnecessaries. its hardknowing just whatto prune,and what to spruce,an..
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Family Game Night
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loveis an unjust emotionwe all must fear,for a list of the reasonsi've just written herenumber one...it's almost never readyandit's rarely ever donenu..
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youth
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In the times before writers,there weren't any flies,nor spiders, on earth,there existed only... The FlyersThe Flyers flew, they knew no fearof death, ..
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Push out to sea Waves, wrestling... Oars, beating... Winds, singing...Push out to sea Oceans, settling... Nights, glimmering... Whales, whispering...P..
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Why the Writers Cafe'scomputer pagecouldn't saveI couldn't say...Why my cleverest jestswere laid to restwithout a breathI couldn't say...Why I lost ev..
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