When I am an old woman I shall wear purple… With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me. And I shall spend my pension on caviar and summer gloves And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired And gobble up […]

Author Unknown When I come to the end of my journey and I travel my last weary mile, just forget, if you can, that I ever frowned and remember only the smile. Forget unkind words I have spoken; remember some good I have done. Forget that I’ve stumbled and blundered and sometimes fell by the […]

By Emily Dickinson She died, —this was the way she died; And when her breath was done, Took up her simple wardrobe And started for the sun. Her little figure at the gate The angels must have spied, Since I could never find her Upon the mortal side.