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.
A Planted Life—diversified With Gold and Silver Pain To prove the presence of the Ore In Particles—’tis when A Value struggle–it exist— A Power—will proclaim Although Annihilation pile Whole Chaoses on Him—
A Night–there lay the Days between— The Day that was Before— And Day that was Behind–were one— And now–’twas Night–was here— Slow–Night–that must be watched away— As Grains upon a shore— Too imperceptible to note— Till it be night–no…
A nearness to Tremendousness— An Agony procures— Affliction ranges Boundlessness— Vicinity to Laws Contentment’s quiet Suburb— Affliction cannot stay In Acres—Its Location Is Illocality—
A Murmur in the Trees–to note— Not loud enough–for Wind— A Star–not far enough to seek— Nor near enough–to find— A long–long Yellow–on the Lawn— A Hubbub–as of feet— Not audible–as Ours–to Us— But dapperer–More Sweet— A Hurrying…
I measure every Grief I meet With narrow, probing, eyes – I wonder if It weighs like Mine – Or has an Easier size. I wonder if They bore it long – Or did it just begin – I…
A Moth the hue of this Haunts Candles in Brazil. Nature’s Experience would make Our Reddest Second pale. Nature is fond, I sometimes think, Of Trinkets, as a Girl.
A Mien to move a Queen— Half Child–Half Heroine— An Orleans in the Eye That puts its manner by For humbler Company When none are near Even a Tear— Its frequent Visitor— A Bonnet like a Duke— And yet…
A Man may make a Remark— In itself—a quiet thing That may furnish the Fuse unto a Spark In dormant nature—lain— Let us deport–with skill— Let us discourse–with care— Powder exists in Charcoal— Before it exists in Fire.
A loss of something ever felt I— The first that I could recollect Bereft I was—of what I knew not Too young that any should suspect A Mourner walked among the children I notwithstanding went about As one bemoaning…
A long, long sleep, a famous sleepThat makes no show for dawnBy stretch of limb or stir of lid,—An independent one. Was ever idleness like this?Within a hut of stoneTo bask the centuries awayNor once look up for noon?