Books
We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us; leaving nothing but a memory of the smell of smoke and a presumption that our eyes once watered.
— Tom Stoppard · Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead
Books
We cross our bridges when we come to them and burn them behind us; leaving nothing but a memory of the smell of smoke and a presumption that our eyes once watered.
— Tom Stoppard · Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead