The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
We turn not older with years, but newer every day.
‘Tis Opposites—entice— Deformed Men—ponder Grace— Bright fires—the Blanketless— The Lost—Day’s face— The Blind—esteem it be Enough Estate—to see— The Captive—strangles new— For deeming—Beggars—play— To lack—enamor Thee— Tho’ the Divinity— Be only Me—
‘Tis One by One—the Father counts— And then a Tract between Set Cypherless—to teach the Eye The Value of its Ten— Until the peevish Student Acquire the Quick of Skill— Then Numerals are dowered back— Adorning all the Rule—…
‘Tis not that Dying hurts us so— ‘Tis Living—hurts us more— But Dying—is a different way— A Kind behind the Door— The Southern Custom—of the Bird— That ere the Frosts are due— Accepts a better Latitude— We—are the Birds—that…
‘Tis little I—could care for Pearls— Who own the ample sea— Or Brooches—when the Emperor— With Rubies—pelteth me— Or Gold—who am the Prince of Mines— Or Diamonds—when have I A Diadem to fit a Dom— Continual upon me—
‘Tis customary as we part A trinket—to confer— It helps to stimulate the faith When Lovers be afar— ‘Tis various—as the various taste— Clematis—journeying far— Presents me with a single Curl Of her Electric Hair—
‘Tis Anguish grander than Delight ‘Tis Resurrection Pain— The meeting Bands of smitten Face We questioned to, again. ‘Tis Transport wild as thrills the Graves When Cerements let go And Creatures clad in Miracle Go up by Two and…
She rose to his requirement, dropped The playthings of her life To take the honorable work Of woman and of wife. If aught she missed in her new day Of amplitude, or awe, Or first prospective, or the gold…
No Romance sold unto Could so enthrall a Man As the perusal of His Individual One— ‘Tis Fiction’s—When ’tis small enough To Credit—’Tisn’t true!
My Faith is larger than the Hills— So when the Hills decay— My Faith must take the Purple Wheel To show the Sun the way— ‘Tis first He steps upon the Vane— And then—upon the Hill— And then abroad…
Me from Myself—to banish— Had I Art— Impregnable my Fortress Unto All Heart— But since Myself—assault Me— How have I peace Except by subjugating Consciousness? And since We’re mutual Monarch How this be Except by Abdication— Me—of Me?