Sin is whatever obscures the soul.
(November 22, 1869 - February 19, 1951)
André Gide (November 22, 1869 - February 19, 1951)
Eventually I would like to reach the stage where I don't have to write about love and kisses and all that stuff.
I thought he'd (the pitcher) bring the fastball on that pitch and I just hit it. The pitch missed right into the (strike) zone and it felt good off the bat. This is the first time I have ever done that. It definitely feels good.
A kiss that is never tasted, is forever and ever wasted.