when man made the choice that production holds more meaning than life he sentenced our world to a slow and lingering death strip the land of all it holds
grass; at the sound of the bell making toast or tea or time buzz by with loud whoops of shouting "I am here I am there; catch me if you can, catch me if
around and stabs his uncle, too, While the queen drinks some poison the king had brewed. So she dies, he dies, Hamlet dies, Laertes dies On top of where
