But strength alone, though of the Muses born,
Is like a fallen angel: trees uptorn,
Darkness, and worms, and shrouds, and sepulchers
Delight it; for it feeds upon the burrs
And thorns of life; forgetting the great end
Of poesy, that it should be a frend
To soothe the cares, and lift the thoughts of man.
-KEATS
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Stories from my notebook to you
This journal will have stories im writing and sometimes i will jump for one story to another. I hope to be a writter one day and have my work published for all to read. The stories will be mostly fantisy and some of the characters are based off peopl
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