|visits||member for||5 years|
|seen||Sep 21 at 5:45|
In sooth, I know not why I am so sad: It wearies me; you say it wearies you; But how I caught it, found it, or came by it, What stuff 'tis made of, whereof it is born, I am to learn; And such a want-wit sadness makes of me, That I have much ado to know myself.
|bio||website||post.neo.org.za||visits||member for||5 years|
|location||South Africa||seen||Sep 21 at 5:45|