Hope is the thing with feathers; that perches in the soul, and sings the tune--without the words, and never stops at all, and sweetest in the gale is heard; and sore must be the storm, that could abash the little bird, that kept so many warm. I've heard it in the chillest land, and on the strangest sea; yet never in extremity, it asked a crumb of me. ~~Emily Dickinson~~
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Tuesday, February 09, 2010
I Don't Want To Be Comforted
Read true personal stories, chat & get advice, support and help from a group of 14 people who all say 'I Want to Be Left Alone When Grieving'
I-Want-To-Be-Left-Alone-When-Grieving
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