Top White Lace Quotes

Browse top 149 famous quotes and sayings about White Lace by most favorite authors.

Favorite White Lace Quotes

1. "They were women then My mama's generation Husky of voice stout of Step With fists as well as Hands How they battered down Doors And ironed Starched white Shirts How they led Armies Headragged generals Across mined Fields Booby-trapped Ditches To discover books Desks A place for us How they knew what we MUST know Without knowing a page Of it Themselves."
Author: Alice Walker
2. "Sandy's was one of those places that made poor, white trash feel like high-class consumers. This was the kind of place you'd take your mistress to, but never your wife. Wives expected better. Mistresses were impressed by the blandness of the over-priced wine and the vast Italian menu options."
Author: Alistair Cross
3. "And this time as the lashes come, try to think about the pain, instead of against it, because there is not one single aspect of life, past, present, or future, that does not tear your reason from you, to think on it. So think about the pain. This pain after all has its limits. You can chart its passage through your body. It has a beginning, middle, end. Imagine if it had a color. The first cut of the lash is what, red? Red, spreading into a brilliant yellow. And this one again, red, red, no yellow, and then white, white, white, white. . .Why have you incarcerated yourself in this palazzo of torture chambers, why do you not leave this place? Because you are a monster and this is a school for monsters, and if you leave here, then you will be completely, completely alone! Alone with this!Don't weep in front of these strangers. Swallow it down. Don't weep in front of these strangers! Cry to heaven, cry to heaven, cry to heaven."
Author: Anne Rice
4. "What all of this suggests is that we need a more complex understandingof identities. If we identify on the basis of race, class, sexuality, orgender alone we cannot make sense of the ways these identificationscombine and change over time. The used-to-be-working class nowprofessional woman, the woman of mixed racial parentage who appearswhite, the divorced mother who is now a lesbian, the former lesbian whois now straight, or the former lesbian who is now a man. Identities arealways in motion; they are mobile (Ferguson, 1993). This is particularlythe case for those who have been placed in identity categories that do notquite seem to fit; it is also true of many more of us, in varied ways. Justask our current President, whose own origin story, of which he has spokenand written eloquently, is exceedingly complex. We need, I believe, aconception of identities that embraces this complexity, that takes intoaccount temporality and also specificity."
Author: Arlene Stein
5. "That's just how white folks will do you. It wasn't merely the cruelty involved; I was learning that black people could be mean and then some. It was a particular brand of arrogance, an obtuseness in otherwise sane people that brought forth our bitter laughter. It was as if whites didn't know they were being cruel in the first place. Or at least thought you deserved of their scorn."
Author: Barack Obama
6. "We sealed my father's grave on a day of stark contrasts, of black against white, and it was the last time I'd ever find myself in a place of such extremes. Because in the months after the dirt fell on the coffin, my life began to shift to shades of gray, almost like the universe had taken a big stick and stirred up the whole scene at that cemetery, mixing up everything and repainting my world."
Author: Beth Fantaskey
7. "The office Halloween party was at the Royalton last week and I went as a mass murderer, complete with a sign painted on my back that read MASS MURDERER (which was decidedly lighter than the sandwich board I had constructed earlier that day that read DRILLER KILLER), and beneath those two words I had written in blood Yep, that's me and the suit was also covered with blood, some of it fake, most of it real. In one fist I clenched a hank of Victoria Bell's hair, and pinned next to my boutonniere (a small white rose) was a finger bone I'd boiled the flesh off of. As elaborate as my costume was, Craig McDermott still managed to win first place in the competition. He came as Ivan Boesky, which I thought was unfair since a lot of people thought I'd gone as Michael Milken last year. The Patty Winters Show this morning was about Home Abortion Kits."
Author: Bret Easton Ellis
8. "NASA works for the White House. There are many at NASA that wish they were building a modern replacement for the Shuttle. However, they had marching orders to instead work on other things, some of which should have no place in a research organization."
Author: Burt Rutan
9. "All White House hopefuls we forewarn:You'll have to prove that you were born.Before Trump hits the state of granite,He must identify the planetWhere he first took on human form - A place where blowhards are the norm."
Author: Calvin Trillin
10. "The Marquess shrugged. "I'm a shadow. I do know I am a shadow, Iago. I know most of the time. It's only when I cannot bear how everyone looks at me down here that I make myself forget it. Shadows are the other side of yourself. I had longings to be good, even then. I was just stronger than my wanting. I'm stronger than anything, really, when I want to be." The Marquess's hair turned white as the snow. "Do you know, we're right underneath Springtime Parish? This place is the opposite of springtime. Everything past prime, boarded up for the season. Just above us, the light shines golden on daffodils full of rainwine and heartgrass and a terrible, wicked, sad girl I can't get back to. I don't even know if I want to. Do I want to be her again? Or do I want to be free? I come here to think about that. To be near her and consider it. I think I shall never be free. I think I traded my freedom for a better story. It was a better story, even if the ending needed work."
Author: Catherynne M. Valente
11. "When I go to describe something as remarkable as what I saw that day, I could only say it was a place of dreams. The water is crystalline clear, a mixture of opalescent colors and frosted with white tips. It surges forward and crashes up against the rocks below us as the sun cast a fire-like glare in the distance. Adding to my reverie is the salty smell in the air that lingers and enlivens senses that seem to have been dormant before this moment. I don't recall moving in this dream-like state but my hand moves up and cups the wind as if trying to capture it's essence. If I could have pocketed every smell and sound of this place I would have and I would defended it with my life."
Author: Celia Mcmahon
12. "Char me the trunk of a redwood tree. Give me pages of white chalk cliffs to write upon. Magnify me thousands of times, and replace my trifling immodesties with a titanic megalomania — then might I write largely enough for our subjects."
Author: Charles Fort
13. "You dont get your black ass away from this fire I'll kill you graveyard dead. He looked to where Glanton sat. Glanton watched him. He put the pipe in his mouth and rose and took up the apishamore and folded it over his arm. Is that your final say? Final as the judgement of God. The black looked once more across the flames at Glanton and then he moved away in the dark. The white man uncocked the revolver and placed it on the ground before him. Two of the others came back to the fire and stood uneasily. Jackson sat with his legs crossed. One hand lay in his lap and the other was outstretched on his knee holding a slender black cigarillo. The nearest man to him was Tobin and when the black stepped out of the darkness bearing the bowieknife in both hands like some instrument of ceremony Tobin started to rise. The white man looked up drunkenly and the black stepped forward and with a single stroke swapt off his head."
Author: Cormac McCarthy
14. "As we drew nearer I saw a cathedral like a crown on the head of a city. In its white walls every window glinted in the sun. Lincoln! Of such places is England made. -"No Moon Tonight"
Author: Don Charlwood
15. "Swirling furiously among the stairs and corridors of her exquisite home like a small and angry white bat Sybilla, Dowager Lady Culter, was not above spitting at her unfortunate son when he chose to sit down in his own great hall to take his boots off. ‘If Madge Mumblecrust comes down those stairs once again for a morsel of fowl's liver with ginger, or pressed meats with almond-milk, I shall retire to a little wicker house in the forest and cast spells which will sink Venice into the sea for ever, and Madame Donati with it. The Church,' said Sybilla definitely, ‘should excommunicate girls who do not replace lids on sticky jars and wash their hair every day with the best towels."
Author: Dorothy Dunnett
16. "...A change fell upon all things. Strange brilliant flowers, star-shaped, burst out upon the trees where no flowers had been before. The tints of the green carpet deepened; and when, one by one, the white daisies shrank away, there sprang up, in place of them, ten by ten of the ruby-red asphodel. And life arose in our paths; for the tall flamingo hitherto unseen, with all gay glowing birds, flaunted his scarlet plumage before us. The golden and silver fish haunted the river..."
Author: Edgar Allan Poe
17. "And then as the little plane climbed higher and Olive saw spread out below them fields of bright and tender green in this morning sun, farther out the coastline, the ocean shiny and almost flat, tiny white wakes behind a few lobster boats--then Olive felt something she had not expected to feel again: a sudden surging greediness for life. She leaned forward, peering out the window: sweet pale clouds, the sky as blue as your hat, the new green of the fields, the broad expanse of water--seen from up here it all appeared wondrous, amazing. She remembered what hope was, and this was it. That inner churning that moves you forward, plows you through life the way the boats below plowed the shiny water, the way the plane was plowing forward to a place new, and where she was needed."
Author: Elizabeth Strout
18. "Memory is a tenuous thing. . . .flickering glimpses, blueand white, like ancient,decomposing 16mm film.Happiness escapesme there, where facesare vague and yesterdayseems to come tiedup in ribbons of pain.Happiness? I look for it inteadin today, where memoryis something I can stilltouch, still rely on.I find it in the smilesof new friends, the hopeblossoming inside.My happiest memorieshave no place in thepast; they are thoseI have yet to create."
Author: Ellen Hopkins
19. "Is there no peace for the naked?" Sister Mattie wore a bed cap of sensible white lace."I think you mean peace for the wicked," corrected Lady Linette..."Why would that apply?" asked Sister Mattie, before closing her door on both the problem and the noise."
Author: Gail Carriger
20. "Though I'd wanted to wear sequinned flip-flops, I'd worn boots and switched the plain white ties for pink lace because, uh, the pink were sturdier."
Author: Gena Showalter
21. "I say, White-Jacket, d'ye mind me? there never was a very great man yet who spent all his life inland. A snuff of the sea, my boy, is inspiration; and having been once out of sight of land, has been the making of many a true poet and the blasting of many pretenders; for, d'ye see, there's no gammon about the ocean; it knocks the false keel right off a pretender's bows; it tells him just what he is, and makes him feel it, too. A sailor's life, I say, is the thing to bring us mortals out. What does the blessed Bible say? Don't it say that we main-top-men alone see the marvellous sights and wonders? Don't deny the blessed Bible, now! don't do it! How it rocks up here, my boy!" holding on to a shroud; "but it only proves what I've been saying—the sea is the place to cradle genius! Heave and fall, old sea!"
Author: Herman Melville
22. "Let's say I will rip your life apart. Me and my banker friends. How can he explain that to him? The world is not run from where he thinks. Not from border fortresses, not even from Whitehall. The world is run from Antwerp, from Florence, from places he has never imagined; from Lisbon, from where the ships with sails of silk drift west and are burned up in the sun. Not from the castle walls, but from counting houses, not be the call of the bugle, but by the click of the abacus, not by the grate and click of the mechanism of the gun but by the scrape of the pen on the page of the promissory note that pays for the gun and the gunsmith and the powder and shot."
Author: Hilary Mantel
23. "But as I stood there dressed in a cute black pants suit and white button-up shirt and heels, I felt completely out of place. Not necessarily because of the clothes, but…I just don't belong there. I can't put my finger on it, but that Monday and the rest of that week when I woke up, got dressed and walked into that store, something was itching the back part of my consciousness. I couldn't hear the actual words, but it felt like: This is your life, Camryn Bennett. This is your life."
Author: J.A. Redmerski
24. "They heard of the great Barrows, and the green mounds, and the stone-rings upon the hills and in the hollows among the hills. Sheep were bleating in flocks. Green walls and white walls rose. There were fortresses on the heights. Kings of little kingdoms fought together, and the young Sun shone like fire on the red metal of their new and greedy swords. There was victory and defeat; and towers fell, fortresses were burned, and flames went up into the sky. Gold was piled on the biers of dead kings and queens; and mounds covered them, and the stone doors were shut; and the grass grew over all. Sheep walked for a while biting the grass, but soon the hills were empty again. A shadow came out of dark places far away, and the bones were stirred in the mounds. Barrow-wights walked in hollow places with a clink of rings on cold fingers, and gold chains in the wind. Stone rings grinned out of the ground like broken teeth in the moonlight."
Author: J.R.R. Tolkien
25. "I just learned two things there at that college, Mr. Ford, that was ever of any use to me. One was that I couldn't do any worse than the people that were in the saddle, so maybe I'd better try pulling 'em down and riding myself. The other was a definition I got out of the agronomy book, and I reckon it was even more important than the first. It did more to revise my thinking, if I'd really done any thinking up until that time. Before that I'd seen everything in black and white, good and bad. But after I was set straight I saw that the name you put to a thing depended on where you stood and where it stood. And…and here's the definition, right out of the agronomy books: ‘A weed is a plant out of place.' Let me repeat that. ‘A weed is a plant out of place.' I find a hollyhock in my cornfield, and it's a weed. I find it in my yard, and it's a flower."
Author: Jim Thompson
26. "A couple hours went by, and the storm began to turn back to the sea. The dark clouds rolled away, leaving white, fluffy ones in their place. We were safe, and the rock in the distance was still there. We stepped out of the car and walked over to the rock, noticing the families of seals were back again. The seals were strong and ready to make it through any storm that would fall their way. My parents' love was still there; that is what love means. I envy that love, and I hoped to find it someday... and I did."
Author: Joseph McGinnis
27. "That white uniform was her 'pass' to get into white places with us - the grocery store, the state fair, the movies. Even though this was the 70s and the segregation laws had changed, the 'rules' had not."
Author: Kathryn Stockett
28. "Oh, Mr. Cuthbert," she whispered, that place we came through--that white place--what was it?""Well now, you must mean the Avenue," said Matthew after a few moments' profound reflection. "It is a kind of pretty place.""Pretty? Oh, PRETTY doesn't seem the right word to use. Nor beautiful, either. They don't go far enough. Oh, it was wonderful--wonderful. It's the first thing I ever saw that couldn't be improved upon by imagination. It just satisfies me here"--she put one hand on her breast--"it made a queer funny ache and yet it was a pleasant ache. Did you ever have an ache like that, Mr. Cuthbert?""Well now, I just can't recollect that I ever had.""I have it lots of time--whenever I see anything royally beautiful. But they shouldn't call that lovely place the Avenue. There is no meaning in a name like that. They should call it--let me see--the White Way of Delight. Isn't that a nice imaginative name?"
Author: L.M. Montgomery
29. "Home"It would take forever to get therebut I would know it anywhere:My white horse grazing in my blossomy field.Its soft nostrils. The petalsfalling from the trees into the stream.The festival would be about to beginin the dusky village in the distance. The doefrozen at the edge of the grove:She leaps. She vanishes. My face—She has taken it. And my name—(Although the plaintive lark in the tallgrass continues to say and to say it.)Yes. This is the place.Where my shining treasure has been waiting.Where my shadow washes itself in my fountain.A few graves among the roses. Some mosson those. An ancientbell in a steeple down the roadmaking no sound at allas the monk pulls and pulls on the rope."
Author: Laura Kasischke
30. "Every African-American I know has two faces. There's the face that we have for ourselves and the face we put on for white America for the places we have to get to."
Author: Lee Daniels
31. "Late in February, she stood on Munich Street and watched a single giant cloud come over the hills like a white monster. It climbed the mountains. The sun was eclipsed, and in its place, a white beast with a gray heart watched the town."
Author: Markus Zusak
32. "WhiteThere was a moment in the darkness when the fear lifted.A moment where white surrounded me.Hope. Lily, and someone else, and a sprinkling of water."Holy water, Jenna.""You can let go if you need to.""Forgiveness, Jenna."But I couldn't let go.It wasn't in my power.I was already swirling, flying, falling.To someplace deep I didn't understand.Where all the sounds buy my own voice disappeared.Only me.For so long.I don't want to be alone anymore. (120)"
Author: Mary E. Pearson
33. "The Snow CricketJust beyond the leaves and the white facesOf the lilies,I saw the wingsOf the green snow cricketAs it went flyingFrom vine to vine,Searching, then finding a shadowed place in whichTo sing and sing…One repeatedRippling phraseBuilt of lonelinessAnd its consequences: longingAnd hope…It was tremblingWith the force of its crying out,And in truth I couldn't wait to see if another would come to itFor fear that it wouldn't,And I wouldn't be able to bear itI wished it good luck, with all my heart,And went back over the lawn, to where the lilies were standingOn their calm, cob feet,Each in the easeOf a single, waxy bodyBreathing contentedly in the chill night air;And I swear I pitied them, as I looked downinto the theater of their perfect faces-That frozen, bottomless glare."
Author: Mary Oliver
34. "In the white man's world, language, too -- and the way which the white man thinks of it--has undergone a process of change. The white man takes such things as words and literatures for granted, as indeed he must, for nothing in his world is so commonplace. On every side of him there are words by the millions, an unending succession of pamphlets and papers, letters and books, bills and bulletins, commentaries and conversations. He has diluted and multiplied the Word, and words have begun to close in on him. He is sated and insensitive; his regard for language -- for the Word itself -- as an instrument of creation has diminished nearly to the point of no return. It may be that he will perish by the Word."
Author: N. Scott Momaday
35. "Kammy could see the palace built into the cliff face. It was a majestic construction. Its white walls stretched up into a cluster of turrets and towers. Its façade was broken by gigantic windows that reflected a rainbow of colours. The palace was flanked by two waterfalls that filled the chasm running far below them; a chasm that was bridged by a staircase of monstrous size. But Kammy hardly noticed how far she would fall should her grip fail. The giant structure that speared out of the palace and up into the sky commanded all of her attention. It burned her eyes so she could hardly look at it, but at the same time she could not look away. It looked like a white diamond. Each of its countless edges sent off shards of brilliant light. It dwarfed anything that Kammy had ever known and she had never felt as alive as she did in that moment."
Author: Natalie Crown
36. "There is weather and there is climate.If it rains outside, or if you stab a classmate's shoulder with a compass needle, over and over, until his white cotton school shirt looks like blotting paper; that is weather.But if you live in a place where is is often likely to rain, or your perception falters and dislocates so that you retreat, suspicious and afraid of those closest to you, that is climate."
Author: Nathan Filer
37. "A story that began with, and exists because of, my love of the remoter parts of Scotland, where the bones of the Earth show through, and the sky is a pale white, and it's all astoundingly beautiful, and it feels about as remote as any place can possibly be."
Author: Neil Gaiman
38. "He was conscious—and the thought brought a gleam of pleasure into his brown agate eyes—that it was through certain words of his, musical words said with musical utterance, that Dorian Gray's soul had turned to this white girl and bowed in worship before her. To a large extent the lad was his own creation. He had made him premature. That was something. Ordinary people waited till life disclosed to them its secrets, but to the few, to the elect, the mysteries of life were revealed before the veil was drawn away. Sometimes this was the effect of art, and chiefly of the art of literature, which dealt immediately with the passions and the intellect. But now and then a complex personality took the place and assumed the office of art, was indeed, in its way, a real work of art, life having its elaborate masterpieces, just as poetry has, or sculpture, or painting."
Author: Oscar Wilde
39. "No one else noticed, or cared. It was just something they did. Taking other people's livestock. Other people's lives. She watched the soldiers, hating them. They were different in so many ways, white and black, yellow and brown, skinny, short, tall, small, but they were all the same. Didn't matter if they wore finger-bone necklaces, or baby teeth on bracelets, or tattoos on their chests to ward off bullets. In the end, they were all mangled with battle scars and their eyes were all dead."
Author: Paolo Bacigalupi
40. "Mysterious My paper shinesWhite, like snow, but the paper looks empty.I could decorate itwith tiny spidersor stars or sketches of melooking at a blank page,but the clock ticks,and somehow I must write.I like the sight of untouched snow.Gentle, slow, silent,it drifts and swirls, layers itself, and I seea new world of mysterious,inviting shapes. I walk in its whitewhispers, susurrus.I driftback to this paper that feelshard on the disk, and I beginto listen-to the story I tell myself.The paper is a white, patient place,my private spacefor remembering,saving: spring sun on my faceventing and inventing,arguing with my mother,wondering: who am I,wandering through cobwebs of old dreams,crying, sighing at people who don't see me, hoping to write music so bluelisteners forget to breathe,playing the sounds, jamming with myself,changing....into the me I can't quite see."
Author: Pat Mora
41. "Farrell had seen pure white drunkenness before, but not often enough to recognize it at sight. He knew the thing itself, however--the freight train rattling and lurching comically from hilarity to slobbering sorrow, picking up speed as it passed through wild, aimless anger straight on into wild sickness; and then, running smoothly and almost silently now, into a dark place of shaking and sweating and crying, and out again with no warning to where a dazzling snowy light made everything very still."
Author: Peter S. Beagle
42. "There's smashed glass glittering everywhere like stars. It's a Western,Henry. It's a downright shoot-em-up. We've made a graveyardout of the bone white afternoon.It's another wrong-man-dies scenario, and we keep doing it Henry,keep saying until we get it right … but we always win and we never quit.See, we've won again,here we are at the place where I get to beg for it, where I get to say Please,for just one night, will you lie down next to me, we can leave our clothes on,we can stay all buttoned up …But we both know how it goes—I say I want you inside me and you holdmy head underwater. I say I want you inside me and you split me openwith a knife."
Author: Richard Siken
43. "Edward shifted from one foot to the other, then headed to one of the younger knights from Carrick, leading his horse and their father's white mare. ‘Sir Duncan, will you hold the horses?' ‘That's your task, Master Edward,' chided the knight.John de Warenne had ascended the platform beside Bishop Bek and was addressing the assembly. There were more men than benches and those who hadn't found a place had crowded in behind. Robert could no longer see his father and grandfather. He glanced round as Edward spoke again.‘Please, Duncan.' ‘Why?' Edward paused. ‘If you do, I won't tell my father you once tried to kiss Isabel.' The knight laughed. ‘Your sister? I've never even spoken to her.' ‘My father doesn't know that.' ‘You're jesting,' said the knight, but his smile had disappeared. Edward didn't respond. The young knight's face tightened, but he held out his hand to take the reins. ‘Wherever you're going, you had better be back here before the earl."
Author: Robyn Young
44. "Those Montana Indians were so tough that white people were scared of them.Can you imagine a place where white people are scared of Indians and not the other way around?That's Montana."
Author: Sherman Alexie
45. "Seven, ten, fifteen, eighteen years old and still there is nothing finer than a blank sheet of paper, the white promise that the world can be what I make it. A magical place, an adventurous place, a possible place. Erasers take away the mistakes. Another coat of paint to cover them up. Black and red and purple and blue. Always Blue."
Author: Stacey Jay
46. "But of course the Western changed along with America's view of itself, from some sort of heroic country, where everybody's free, to the spiritually fucked-up defiled place it really is, and now you got jive Italians, if you can feature that, making the only Westerns worth seeing anymore because white America's just too fucking confused, can't figure out whether to embrace the myth or the anti-myth, so in a country where folks always figured you can escape your past, now the word is out that this is the country where you can do no such thing, this is the one place where, like the jive that finally becomes impossible to distinguish from the anti-jive, honor becomes impossible to distinguish from betrayal or just, you know, stone cold murder..."
Author: Steve Erickson
47. "She wasn't aware of the rip he made in the back of her dress when his shaking hands wrenched the zip down, only of the molten sensuality of his gaze as he steered her into a shaft of light near the window and studied her breasts, nestled in their cups of pure white lace. 'Sweet…pretty…did you wear this for me?' he asked thickly, roughly tracing the outline of the lace across the curving swells. ‘Did you want me to take off your dress tonight, Grace? To admire you like this?' 'I…' His arousal was so flatteringly intense that she couldn't deny him the truth. ‘Yes…' She closed her eyes, gasping as she felt the stroke of his thumbs across the seams, finding the rigid tips that were evidence of her own desire."
Author: Susan Napier
48. "She sat very still, listening to a stream gurgling, the breeze soughing through upper branches, the melodious kloo-klack of ravens, the nyeep-nyeep of nuthatches - all sounds chokingly beautiful. She felt she could hear the cool clean breath of growing things - fern fronds, maple leaves, white trillium petals, tree trunks, each in its rightful place."
Author: Susan Vreeland
49. "I already began to inspire the men with love. My breast began to take its right form, and such a breast! white, firm, and formed like that of the Venus de' Medici; my eyebrows were as black as jet, and as for my eyes, they darted flames and eclipsed the luster of the stars, as I was told by the poets of our part of the world. My maids, when they dressed and undressed me, used to fall into an ecstasy in viewing me before and behind; and all the men longed to be in their places."
Author: Voltaire
50. "Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palateWith thy most operant poison! What is here?Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods,I am no idle votarist: roots, you clear heavens!Thus much of this will make black white, foul fair,Wrong right, base noble, old young, coward valiant.Ha, you gods! why this? what this, you gods? Why, thisWill lug your priests and servants from your sides,Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads:This yellow slaveWill knit and break religions, bless the accursed,Make the hoar leprosy adored, place thievesAnd give them title, knee and approbationWith senators on the bench: this is itThat makes the wappen'd widow wed again;"
Author: William Shakespeare

White Lace Quotes Pictures

Quotes About White Lace
Quotes About White Lace
Quotes About White Lace

Today's Quote

Etchings endure, But not in SandMeanings Collide To Unresolved FragmentsCodes fizzle to StaticThey are not lostBut UnheardNever lostFading slowly to SilenceBy infinite degrees"
Author: Ashim Shanker

Famous Authors

Popular Topics