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She had a hit for every syllable: 'Don't. You. Ever. Talk. To. Me. Like. That. Ever. Again.' That was the last time I ever talked back to Mom.
- Misty May-TreanorPhoto by Willian Justen de Vasconcellos on Unsplash
She had a hit for every syllable: 'Don't. You. Ever. Talk. To. Me. Like. That. Ever. Again.' That was the last time I ever talked back to Mom.
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My great religion is a belief in the blood, the flesh, as being wiser than the intellect. We can go wrong in our minds. But what our blood feels and believes and says, is always true. The intellect is only a bit and a bridle.
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