9.30.2012
A sweet date to celebrate a 30th. The Golden Birthday. It has officially arrived. Ahem.
Last week, over plates of sticky buns and duck egg rolls, Sarah gave me a card scribbled with these words from Jack London, as we celebrated my coming-of-age on a rainy evening at our counter spot at Bones.
I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stilled by day rift. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in significant glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.
She is such a beautiful friend.
xo
A sweet date to celebrate a 30th. The Golden Birthday. It has officially arrived. Ahem.
Last week, over plates of sticky buns and duck egg rolls, Sarah gave me a card scribbled with these words from Jack London, as we celebrated my coming-of-age on a rainy evening at our counter spot at Bones.
I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stilled by day rift. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in significant glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The proper function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.
She is such a beautiful friend.
xo
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