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=362474" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Halloween Quartet No 1 Graveyard Special</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Standing at the bus stop waiting, <br>when the stranger asked. <br>“Has anyone seen the Graveyard Special? <br>I hope I haven’t missed it <br>or they won’t let me out next year.” <br>I shook my head and said. “Sorry, no.” <br>The stranger turned to me. <br>He wore a tuxedo, bow tie and patent polished shoes. <br>He looked like a dancer <br>and an odd smell rose around him <br>that of rotting decay. <br>“Been a nice night, hasn’t it.” <br>“Yes, but they forecast rain.” <br>“Been out with your girlfriend <br>and now catching the last bus home? ” <br>“No, I haven’t got one.” <br>A cloud passed across the moon <br>and the strangers face became partially visible <br>under the pale light of the moon. <br>A pale face with a sullen look <br>engraved with hard shadows. <br>“Going home? ” I asked, <br>“Yes, we are only allowed out once a year.” <br>“You live in an old people’s home? ” <br>“Something like that.” Returned a whispery reply. <br>A mist descended and swirled around us. <br>“My bus I can see it.” <br>The mist became thicker swallowing us up. <br>The brightly lit bus stopped, <br>its destination board read Graveyard Special. <br>The stranger got on and the bus doors shut. <br>Into the mist, it went to be swallowed up. <br>The mist then evaporated as quickly as it came. <br>My bus arrived and as I paid my ticket I remarked. <br>“I didn’t know the bus company <br>put on a special bus just for Halloween.” <br>The driver shook his head and said.<br> “They don’t, that bus is for the dead ones <br>who get out once a year. <br>I have been following it on its route <br>as it picks them up one by one <br>to take them back before <br>the first streaks of dawn appear in the sky. <br>It takes them back to the graveyard <br>for another year to stay.” <br>Getting my ticket, I sat <br>my hands trembling at the thought <br>that I had spoken to a ghost.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=David+Harris">David Harris</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=362474" data-title="Halloween Quartet No 1 Graveyard Special de David Harris" data-description="Standing at the bus stop waiting, 
when the stranger asked. 
“Has anyone seen the Graveyard Special? 
I hope I haven’t missed it 
or they won’t let me out next year.” 
I shook my head and said. “Sorry, no.” 
The stranger turned to me. ..."></div>
</div>
</div>