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Once, there was a poor wretch whose eyes and hair and even skin were often gray. Who ‘went to sleep in her dirt’ night after night for lack of a bathtub, for want of the ease of hauling water, or extra wood for heating the fire. And she was all the more sorrowful for thinking she was to blame for it...

I would like to know why this is hard, said the prince. I would like to know why the hedge is so thick and the thorns are so sharp, and...

I shared songs, poems, and a story at this year's North Shore Readers & Writers Festival, put on by the Grand Marais Art Colony. It's...

Persephone isn't cursed to return to the underworld...

We dont sacrifice TO, we sacrifice VIA...

We roll our hearts like Damascus steel...