The Best Fluffy Pancakes recipe you will fall in love with. Full of tips and tricks to help you make the best pancakes.
I like to see it lap the miles, And lick the valleys up, And stop to feed itself at tanks; And then, prodigious, step Around a pile of mountains, And, supercilious, peer In shanties by the sides of roads; And…
The Province of the Saved Should be the Art—To save— Through Skill obtained in Themselves— The Science of the Grave No Man can understand But He that hath endured The Dissolution—in Himself— That Man—be qualified To qualify Despair To Those…
The power to be true to You, Until upon my face The Judgment push his Picture— Presumptuous of Your Place— Of This—Could Man deprive Me— Himself—the Heaven excel— Whose invitation—Yours reduced Until it showed too small—
The Poets light but Lamps— Themselves—go out— The Wicks they stimulate— If vital Light Inhere as do the Suns— Each Age a Lens Disseminating their Circumference—
The pedigree of honey Does not concern the bee; A clover, any time, to him Is aristocracy.
The Outer—from the Inner Derives its Magnitude— ‘Tis Duke, or Dwarf, according As is the Central Mood— The fine—unvarying Axis That regulates the Wheel— Though Spokes—spin—more conspicuous And fling a dust—the while. The Inner—paints the Outer— The Brush without the…
The Only News I know Is Bulletins all Day From Immortality. The Only Shows I see— Tomorrow and Today— Perchance Eternity— The Only One I meet Is God—The Only Street— Existence—This traversed If Other News there be— Or Admirable Show—…
The only ghost I ever saw Was dressed in mechlin, –so; He wore no sandal on his foot, And stepped like flakes of snow. His gait was soundless, like the bird, But rapid, like the roe; His fashions quaint, mosaic,…
The One who could repeat the Summer day— Were greater than itself—though He Minutest of Mankind should be— And He—could reproduce the Sun— At period of going down— The Lingering—and the Stain—I mean— When Orient have been outgrown And Occident—become…
The Night was wide, and furnished scant With but a single Star— That often as a Cloud it met— Blew out itself—for fear— The Wind pursued the little Bush— And drove away the Leaves November left—then clambered up And fretted…