bethfuller: “So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her he
bethfuller: “So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart, and a fierce pang of pain shot through her. Bitter, bitter was the pain, and wilder and wilder grew her song, for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death, of the Love that dies not in the tomb.” illustrations for ‘the happy prince and other stories’, by oscar wilde -- source link
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