Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345350" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Story for Rose on the Midnight Flight to Boston</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Until tonight they were separate specialties, <br>different stories, the best of their own worst. <br>Riding my warm cabin home, I remember Betsy's <br>laughter; she laughed as you did, Rose, at the first <br>story. Someday, I promised her, I'll be someone <br>going somewhere and we plotted it in the humdrum <br>school for proper girls. The next April the plane <br>bucked me like a horse, my elevators turned <br>and fear blew down my throat, that last profane <br>gauge of a stomach coming up. And then returned <br>to land, as unlovely as any seasick sailor, <br>sincerely eighteen; my first story, my funny failure. <br>Maybe Rose, there is always another story, <br>better unsaid, grim or flat or predatory. <br>Half a mile down the lights of the in-between cities <br>turn up their eyes at me. And I remember Betsy's <br>story, the April night of the civilian air crash <br>and her sudden name misspelled in the evening paper, <br>the interior of shock and the paper gone in the trash <br>ten years now. She used the return ticket I gave her. <br>This was the rude kill of her; two planes cracking <br>in mid-air over Washington, like blind birds. <br>And the picking up afterwards, the morticians tracking <br>bodies in the Potomac and piecing them like boards <br>to make a leg or a face. There is only her miniature <br>photograph left, too long now for fear to remember. <br>Special tonight because I made her into a story <br>that I grew to know and savor. <br>A reason to worry, <br>Rose, when you fix an old death like that, <br>and outliving the impact, to find you've pretended. <br>We bank over Boston. I am safe. I put on my hat. <br>I am almost someone going home. The story has ended.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Anne+Sexton">Anne Sexton</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=345350" data-title="A Story for Rose on the Midnight Flight to Boston de Anne Sexton" data-description="Until tonight they were separate specialties, 
different stories, the best of their own worst. 
Riding my warm cabin home, I remember Betsy's 
laughter; she laughed as you did, Rose, at the first 
story. Someday, I promised her, I'll be someone 
g..."></div>
</div>
</div>