High high in the hills , high in a pine tree bed. She's tracing the wind with that old hand, counting the clouds with that old chant, Three geese in a flockone flew eastone flew westone flew over the cuckoo's nest
Ken KeseyAbout author
- Author's profession: Author, Writer
- Nationality: american
- Born: September 17, 1935
- Died: November 10, 2001
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Abra DeMadrigal didn't look young enough to be my sister anymore. Her sorrow weighed her down and aged her. She was still beautiful, but she looked very far away. No wonder our people had raven eyes, so distant, so sad. No matter how wise she was, my mother looked like a woman who hadn't truely believed how much evil there was in our world. Not until this moment.
Alice Hoffman