tables are a fascinating masturbation logic of reason. Power and consider the probabilities of true and false, it's like having been immersed in a natural breath. To be or not to be, "said the poet, while other ladies jamming the blades by twenty times in the neck. Trivia, fleeting dreams of a private sphere and childish; there is no question tonight vain teachings fertile.
------------ Now I forgive the gentle fury
------------ Who made me consume the best of my age,
------------ Without drawing another figment of my thankless work
------------ What the vain pastime of a long error.
------------ Now I forgive this pleasant work,
------------ Since it only numbs the concern that outrages me,
------------ And since only he midst of the storm,
------------ So before, I do not tremble with fear.
------------ If the worms have been the abuse of my youth,
------------ The worms will also support my old age,
------------ If they were my folly, they are my reason,
--------- --- If they were my injury, they shall be my Achilles
------------ If they were my venom, scorpion useful
------------ Who will be the only cure my disease.
-------------------------------------------- Joachim Du Bellay
I want when I'm reborn mouru ever ask of me recognize myself in that I run, and the deepest desire that haunts me still yet this absurd strangeness of life around me. For anxiety did not gain its omniscience, eternity completes the bones in my forsake me not. This Boredom references well reasoned and oriented toward a future that remains uncertain is what he eats blood in me. I guess that's what might be called a face of the human condition?
------------ It is said that the child grows,
------------ They say we 'll fathers
------------ is said that man ascended,
------------ It asks to hear his prayers.
After this past as present, but future ... Coming up, rather - I what may. There on my doorstep a few rosebuds that I thought they will hatch more. The swallow, which last year had hidden her nest under the roof of my window goes back to my air, it seems to me to collect a great flapping of wings in the distance.
I was like sometimes, often abused, alienated forever. If I do not consider myself, I prefer humility to bad faith, and if I'm wrong enough, the criticism that I will give me insight. I will never deny neither one nor the other, nor do these obsessions. So I tame, soothing, would contain - of course, occur gloomy days, I reasoned overhung proud. And I will write to spill the blood of my veins so that he crosses contexts, epochs, transcends the people, bore his torpor, exists. And also, I repeat the coffee place Cambronne.
------------ Who condemns you? In whose name?
------------ But who is bent on blowing out your candles?
------------ Do you lie, do you betray
------------ If I invent you brighter future?
---------------------------------------------- - Mylène Farmer
------------ Now I forgive the gentle fury
------------ Who made me consume the best of my age,
------------ Without drawing another figment of my thankless work
------------ What the vain pastime of a long error.
------------ Now I forgive this pleasant work,
------------ Since it only numbs the concern that outrages me,
------------ And since only he midst of the storm,
------------ So before, I do not tremble with fear.
------------ If the worms have been the abuse of my youth,
------------ The worms will also support my old age,
------------ If they were my folly, they are my reason,
--------- --- If they were my injury, they shall be my Achilles
------------ If they were my venom, scorpion useful
------------ Who will be the only cure my disease.
-------------------------------------------- Joachim Du Bellay
I want when I'm reborn mouru ever ask of me recognize myself in that I run, and the deepest desire that haunts me still yet this absurd strangeness of life around me. For anxiety did not gain its omniscience, eternity completes the bones in my forsake me not. This Boredom references well reasoned and oriented toward a future that remains uncertain is what he eats blood in me. I guess that's what might be called a face of the human condition?
------------ It is said that the child grows,
------------ They say we 'll fathers
------------ is said that man ascended,
------------ It asks to hear his prayers.
After this past as present, but future ... Coming up, rather - I what may. There on my doorstep a few rosebuds that I thought they will hatch more. The swallow, which last year had hidden her nest under the roof of my window goes back to my air, it seems to me to collect a great flapping of wings in the distance.
I was like sometimes, often abused, alienated forever. If I do not consider myself, I prefer humility to bad faith, and if I'm wrong enough, the criticism that I will give me insight. I will never deny neither one nor the other, nor do these obsessions. So I tame, soothing, would contain - of course, occur gloomy days, I reasoned overhung proud. And I will write to spill the blood of my veins so that he crosses contexts, epochs, transcends the people, bore his torpor, exists. And also, I repeat the coffee place Cambronne.
------------ Who condemns you? In whose name?
------------ But who is bent on blowing out your candles?
------------ Do you lie, do you betray
------------ If I invent you brighter future?
---------------------------------------------- - Mylène Farmer
Journal , Sebastian Asran Zala Charles
0 comments:
Post a Comment