How often I saw them on other countenances; how rarely I lifted them from my own.
Finally, I fell asleep.
An old, old man—sitting in a chair.
Coda
Rain teemed in the stone-gray morning.
My little Big Day.
How often I saw them on other countenances; how rarely I lifted them from my own.
Finally, I fell asleep.
An old, old man—sitting in a chair.
Coda
Rain teemed in the stone-gray morning.
My little Big Day.