Colour me black, colour me white; colour me yellow with sprinkles of pink.
Colour me bright with an array of sparkles
It taints not the grey within, Eeyore has nothing on me, I smile, bright as the sun. 127 more words
The problem of contempt toward unsuccessful writers is huge indeed if a musician feels free to sneer at a writer. Just to deepen the mystery—and the need for writers in particular to protect themselves—nobody ever derided me for wanting to be a professional cellist. 156 more words