Religion is like this; a prayer, a song, a flower, a white sugar ball, a chime of the brass bell, the rendering of mantra, closing one's eyes; Meditation.
All scientist are oglers, i suppose, the sensuousness is a sine quo non of modern technology
History tells creativity is a result of Soul song.
Dream are, afterall universal, no ownership, no monopoly: i dream, i achieve, all are blessed.
But you raised a ruckus about and threatened to perform a Julius Caesarian on anybody on anybody who calls April the cruelest month- I was Damn born out of the loins of my father in the spring of April, you claimed. Surgeon, you stood up for the month of buds and bitches like a true Kuon Kunos
That is what the opposites do, cross the swords invariably and unknowingly.
He didn't ask because he didn't wanted to know. If you know, moments die an instant death. She held his hand in hers; hiding them like a pearl; her coral eyes ensconcing his pain.
Life cannot be lived without irritations and angers; fights and placation-A cycle of Karma, wheels of succor.
Unfaithfully our, Time
The words explain us all, each having a meaning in a meantime: every time for a lifetime.
The gods are real crazy when it comes to prayers. They listen to some sometimes and do not listen to some sometimes. But the whole world prays, nonetheless-All the time
People forget history nowadays,that is what the ego does, making one the prisoner of one's inflated present, ignoring the humble past one had lived.
All writers pen sad stories to garner sympathy, writing is after all for the abandoned of the society: the ink-leech, spewing black blood and sucking innocent souls.
It had remained a mystery to me, a catholic magic, i suppose. Faith is the best Googly one can bowl: God, the proverbial third umpire.
What can a fallen star wish for, but it fulfills other's wishes, is it not?