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.
One Crucifixion is recorded—only— How many be Is not affirmed of Mathematics— Or History— One Calvary—exhibited to Stranger— As many be As persons—or Peninsulas— Gethsemane— Is but a Province—in the Being’s Centre— Judea— For Journey—or Crusade’s Achieving— Too near— Our…
One Blessing had I than the rest So larger to my Eyes That I stopped gauging—satisfied— For this enchanted size— It was the limit of my Dream— The focus of my Prayer— A perfect—paralyzing Bliss— Contented as Despair— I knew…
One Anguish—in a Crowd— A Minor thing—it sounds— And yet, unto the single Doe Attempted of the Hounds ‘Tis Terror as consummate As Legions of Alarm Did leap, full flanked, upon the Host— ‘Tis Units—make the Swarm— A Small Leech—on…
One and One—are One— Two—be finished using— Well enough for Schools— But for Minor Choosing— Life—just—or Death— Or the Everlasting— More—would be too vast For the Soul’s Comprising—
Once more, my now bewildered Dove Bestirs her puzzled wings Once more her mistress, on the deep Her troubled question flings— Thrice to the floating casement The Patriarch’s bird returned, Courage! My brave Columba! There may yet be Land!
On this wondrous sea Sailing silently, Ho! Pilot, ho! Knowest thou the shore Where no breakers roar— Where the storm is o’er? In the peaceful west Many the sails at rest— The anchors fast— Thither I pilot thee— Land Ho!…
On this long storm the Rainbow rose— On this late Morn—the Sun— The clouds—like listless Elephants— Horizons—straggled down— The Birds rose smiling, in their nests— The gales—indeed—were done— Alas, how heedless were the eyes— On whom the summer shone! The…
On that dear Frame the Years had worn Yet precious as the House In which We first experienced Light The Witnessing, to Us— Precious! It was conceiveless fair As Hands the Grave had grimed Should softly place within our own…
On such a night, or such a night, Would anybody care If such a little figure Slipped quiet from its chair— So quiet—Oh how quiet, That nobody might know But that the little figure Rocked softer—to and fro— On such…
On a Columnar Self— How ample to rely In Tumult—or Extremity— How good the Certainty That Lever cannot pry— And Wedge cannot divide Conviction—That Granitic Base— Though None be on our Side— Suffice Us—for a Crowd— Ourself—and Rectitude— And that…