And when convulsive throes denied my breath The faultest utterance to my fading thought, To thee--to thee--e'en in the gasp of death My spirit turned, oh! oftener than it ought. Thus much and more; and yet thou lov'st me not, And never wilt! Love dwells not in our will. Nor can I blame thee, though it be my lot To strongly, wrongly, vainly love thee still. New Post

Wednesday, March 22, 2006

It's finally here!

For those of you who've been praying for the day to come when this blog would continue the brave crusade, for those looking for their saviour to return and lead the righteous battle against the pretenders, for those of you who've been desperately awaiting the new incarnation of the greatest blog in the blogosphere, for the children and disciples of the Jesus of Suburbia, like lost sheep without their shepherd...

Oh sod it, if you're interested, this blog has now moved to HERE

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