From the Anti-Slam, Wednesday April 16 2014:
The stays lashed the worse, no hope of forgetting them. Soon as would drag you down. The Master's time, now: (WHAP tp tp tp) the true sound of wind hates us who try its seas. His blasts, piled one on the other that the timbers' scrape was loud to hurt, the boards we slept on, the wind could take
(
Read more... )