I'm folding up my little dreams Within my heart to-night, And praying I may soon forget The torture of their sight. For Time's deft fingers scroll my brow With fell relentless art-- I'm folding up my little dreams To-night, within my hear... Read more of My Little Dreams at Martin Luther King.caInformational Site Network Informational
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The auctioneer, offering the pasture lot for sale, waved his hand
enthusiastically, pointed toward the rich expanse of herbage, and
shouted:

"Now, then, how much am I offered for this field? Jest look at that
grass, gentlemen. That's exactly the sort of grass Nebuchadnezzar would
have given two hundred dollars an acre for."





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