tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-20738644127161027672024-02-04T11:18:41.319+01:00Symphony Of Lovesymphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.comBlogger3136125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-27048792254149014132019-03-23T17:45:00.001+01:002019-03-23T19:13:58.791+01:00The Garden of Love /From Hidden music By rumi
<center><font color=orange><b><font size=4>Music:<br>
kit kat theme-Rajeh Daoud<br><p>
<iframe width="870" height="489" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/RARVf1zy_Bk" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><pr><p>
<center><img src="
https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-xjZsrLnVCMc/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAABY/6O2_sVYT7L8/s640-p-rw-no/photo.jpg
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<font color=red>The garden of love<br>
<font color=white>From Rumi: Hidden Music<br>
translated by Maryam Mafi & Azima Malita<br><p>
<font color=khaki>With love you cannot bargain<br>
there, the choice is not yours.<br>
Love is a mirror, it reflects<br>
only your essence, if you have the<br>
courage to look in its face.<br><p>
To the parched lips of those who<br>
are willing to surrender<br>
Love will bring the wine that<br>
changes darkness into vision,<br>
cruelty into compassion and dust<br>
into precious incense.<br><p>
Love means to reach for the sky<br>
and with every breath to tear a<br>
hundred veils. Love means to step<br>
away from the ego, to open the eyes<br>
of inner vision and not to take this<br>
world so seriously.<br><p>
<img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmo65lE-yAZuRxKnzUbm3nJuRZ6f1zG69AfF1Q5E6walHbpEQI_CPn1KQYwZ09Jm3sWUtwuMuLpT4SHpC74hKRao8uBfSGwuRsJ4diKMCWiqMspXOfyuv_DvtUVbT20F-HH3IRhbkldP8/s1600/dividers+orange3.png'><br>
Like a thief, reason sneaked in and<br>
sat amongst the lovers<br>
eager to give them advice.<br>
They were unwilling to listen, so<br>
reason kissed their feet<br>
and went on its way.<br><p>
When you plant a tree<br>
every leaf that grows will tell<br>
you, what you sow will bear fruit.<br>
So if you have any sense my friend,<br>
don’t plant anything but love, you<br>
show your worth by what you seek.<br>
Water flows to those who want<br>
purity. Wash your hands of all<br>
desires and come to the table of love.<br><p>
If you can’t smell the fragrance<br>
don’t come into the garden of Love.<br>
if you are unwilling to undress<br>
don’t enter into the stream of<br>
Truth. Stay where you are, don’t<br>
come our way.<br><p>
<img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmo65lE-yAZuRxKnzUbm3nJuRZ6f1zG69AfF1Q5E6walHbpEQI_CPn1KQYwZ09Jm3sWUtwuMuLpT4SHpC74hKRao8uBfSGwuRsJ4diKMCWiqMspXOfyuv_DvtUVbT20F-HH3IRhbkldP8/s1600/dividers+orange3.png'><br>
From the heart of the lovers, blood<br>
flows like a vast river. Our body is<br>
the windmill, and love, the water.<br>
Without water the mill cannot turn.<br><p>
Can the essence and the scent<br>
be separate?<br>
Whisper to me intimately, like a<br>
lover for tenderness is rare in this<br>
world.<br>
It is difficult to convey the magic of<br>
love to those who are made of dust.<br><p>
<img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmo65lE-yAZuRxKnzUbm3nJuRZ6f1zG69AfF1Q5E6walHbpEQI_CPn1KQYwZ09Jm3sWUtwuMuLpT4SHpC74hKRao8uBfSGwuRsJ4diKMCWiqMspXOfyuv_DvtUVbT20F-HH3IRhbkldP8/s1600/dividers+orange3.png'><br>
When you see the face of anger<br>
look behind it and you will see the<br>
face of pride. Bring anger and pride<br>
under your feet, turn them into a<br>
ladder and climb higher. There is<br>
no peace until you become their<br>
master. Let go of anger. It may taste<br>
sweet but it kills. Don’t become it’s<br>
victim, you need humility to climb to<br>
freedom.<br><p>
There is a thread from the heart to<br>
the lips where the secret of life is<br>
woven. Words tear the thread<br>
but in silence the secrets speak.<br><p>
Do you want me to tell you a<br>
secret? The flowers attract the most<br>
beautiful lover with their sweet<br>
smile and scent.<br><p>
<img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmo65lE-yAZuRxKnzUbm3nJuRZ6f1zG69AfF1Q5E6walHbpEQI_CPn1KQYwZ09Jm3sWUtwuMuLpT4SHpC74hKRao8uBfSGwuRsJ4diKMCWiqMspXOfyuv_DvtUVbT20F-HH3IRhbkldP8/s1600/dividers+orange3.png'><br>
To find a pearl dive deep into the<br>
ocean, don’t look in the fountains.<br>
To find a pearl you must emerge from<br>
the water of life always thirsty.<br><p>
Do not be flattered by reason,<br>
reason is only the child of the<br>
mind. But true friendship<br>
in born out of love and is the water<br>
of life.<br><p>
My dear heart, never think you are<br>
better than others. Listen to their<br>
sorrows with compassion. If you<br>
want peace, don’t harbour bad<br>
thoughts, do not gossip and<br>
don’t teach what you do not know.<br><p>
<img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmo65lE-yAZuRxKnzUbm3nJuRZ6f1zG69AfF1Q5E6walHbpEQI_CPn1KQYwZ09Jm3sWUtwuMuLpT4SHpC74hKRao8uBfSGwuRsJ4diKMCWiqMspXOfyuv_DvtUVbT20F-HH3IRhbkldP8/s1600/dividers+orange3.png'><br>
Those who think the heart is only<br>
in the chest take two or three steps<br>
and are content. The rosary, the<br>
prayer rug, and repentance are<br>
paths that they mistake for the<br>
destination.<br><p>
Seek the wisdom that will untie<br>
your knot. Seek the path<br>
that demands your whole being.<br>
Leave that which is not, but<br>
appears to be, seek that which is,<br>
but is not apparent.<br><p>
You are searching the world for<br>
treasure but the real treasure is<br>
yourself. If you are tempted by<br>
bread, you will find only bread.<br>
What you seek for you become.<br><p>
<img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmo65lE-yAZuRxKnzUbm3nJuRZ6f1zG69AfF1Q5E6walHbpEQI_CPn1KQYwZ09Jm3sWUtwuMuLpT4SHpC74hKRao8uBfSGwuRsJ4diKMCWiqMspXOfyuv_DvtUVbT20F-HH3IRhbkldP8/s1600/dividers+orange3.png'><br>
Your earthly lover can be very<br>
charming and coquettish but never<br>
very faithful. The true lover is the<br>
one who on your final day<br>
opens a thousand doors.<br><p>
First, lay down your head,<br>
then one by one let go of all<br>
distractions. Embrace the light and<br>
let it guide you beyond the winds of<br>
desire. There you will find a spring<br>
and nourished by its sweet waters<br>
like a tree you will bear fruit<br>
forever.<br><p>
Why are you so afraid of silence,<br>
silence is the root of everything.<br>
If you spiral into its void<br>
a hundred voices will thunder<br>
messages you long to hear.<br><p>
<img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmo65lE-yAZuRxKnzUbm3nJuRZ6f1zG69AfF1Q5E6walHbpEQI_CPn1KQYwZ09Jm3sWUtwuMuLpT4SHpC74hKRao8uBfSGwuRsJ4diKMCWiqMspXOfyuv_DvtUVbT20F-HH3IRhbkldP8/s1600/dividers+orange3.png'><br>
You have woken up late,<br>
lost and preplexed<br>
but don’t rush to your books<br>
looking for knowledge.<br>
Pick up a flute instead and<br>
let your heart play.<br><p>
Do not look back my friend,<br>
no one knows how the world ever<br>
began. Do not fear the future,<br>
nothing lasts forever. If you dwell<br>
on the past or the future you will<br>
miss the moment.<br><p>
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symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-27214493230865595792019-03-13T13:06:00.001+01:002019-03-13T16:35:40.834+01:00The only soul You Know by C.S.lewis
<center><img src="
https://scontent-yyz1-1.cdninstagram.com/vp/5932c3e8df227a5250abfd6f8144bc28/5D13C0CB/t51.2885-15/e35/51548254_771530786560544_2519099310537188232_n.jpg?_nc_ht=scontent-yyz1-1.cdninstagram.com
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<font color=#74D0F1><b><font size=4>
What can you ever really know of other people's souls — of their temptations, <br>
their opportunities, their struggles? One soul in the whole creation you do know: <br>
and it is the only one whose fate is placed in your hands.<br><p>
If there is a God, you are, in a sense, alone with Him.<br>
You cannot put Him off with speculations about your next door neighbours<br>
or memories of what you have read in books.<br>
<font color=red>C. S. Lewis <br><p>
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symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-54967805367123719642019-02-25T16:10:00.000+01:002019-02-25T18:56:35.996+01:00Kindness:The golden Chain by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
<center><img src="
https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/8/8d/Walking_together_on_the_beach_in_the_morning_sun.jpg/640px-Walking_together_on_the_beach_in_the_morning_sun.jpg
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<font color=orange><b><font size=4>
To the world you might be one person, <br>
but to one person, you might be the world. <br>
Kindness is the golden chain by which<br>
our world is bound together.<br>
<font color=red>Johann Wolfgang von Goethe<br><p>
<font color=orange>The world is so empty if one thinks only of mountains, rivers<br>
and cities;but to know someone who thinks and feels with us,<br>
and who, though distant,is close to us in spirit, this makes<br>
the earth for us an inhabited garden.<br>
<font color=red>Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
<br><p>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-61048503821428529222019-02-22T12:49:00.001+01:002019-02-22T12:54:02.419+01:00 You too are your past by Will Durant
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https://i.pinimg.com/originals/8b/15/56/8b155653d85c11919405666887a7b431.jpg
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<font color=#73C2FB><b><font size=4>
It is a mistake to think that the past is dead.<br>
Nothing that has ever happened is quite without influence at this moment.<br>
The present is merely the past rolled up and concentrated in this second of time.<br><p>
You, too, are your past; often your face is your autobiography;<br>
you are what you are because of what you have been; because of<br>
your heredity stretching back into forgotten generations; <br>
because of every element of environment that has affected you, <br><p>
every man or woman that has met you, every book that you have read,<br>
every experience that you have had; all these are accumulated in<br>
your memory, your body, your character, your soul.<br><p>
So with a city, a country, and a race; it is its past, and<br>
cannot be understood without it.<br>
<font color=red>Will Durant <br><p>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-77460419829659964442019-02-20T11:02:00.001+01:002019-02-20T11:55:40.792+01:00Trees by Charles Simic
<center><img src="
https://images.fineartamerica.com/images/artworkimages/mediumlarge/1/tree-in-sunset-bess-hamiti.jpg
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<font color=hotpink><b><font size=4>Trees like country preachers<br>
On their rostrums,<br>
Their arms raised in blessing<br>
Over the evening fields.<br>
Every leaf now, every weed<br>
Helping the night<br>
Darken and quiet the world<br>
For what's to come.<br>
<font color=red>CHARLES SIMIC<br><p>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-42063660814184523632019-02-14T09:57:00.001+01:002019-02-14T09:59:21.659+01:00Your Love by Rumi
<center><img src="
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<font color=#CC5500><b><font size=4>Your love lifts my soul from the body to the sky<br>
And you lift me up out of the two worlds.<br>
I want your sun to reach my raindrops,<br>
So your heat can raise my soul upward like a cloud.<br>
<font color=red>rumi<br><p>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-22704434118344116572019-02-13T14:31:00.004+01:002019-02-13T14:38:11.360+01:00Be That With Me by rumi
<center><img src="
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DuT7g31UYAAqVZV.jpg
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<font color=#FFCB60><b><font size=4>
The way the night knows itself with the moon,<br>
be that with me. Be the rose<br>
nearest to the thorn that I am.<br>
<font color=red>Rumi<br><p>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-35719075660046727272019-01-25T17:31:00.000+01:002019-02-13T14:38:21.165+01:00Loving Too Much by Jodi Picoult
<center><img src="https://static.toiimg.com/thumb/65008159/Propose.jpg?width=748&height=499
"style="ride black"600"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=lightblue><b><font size=4>I think you can love a person too much.<br><p>
You put someone up on a pedestal, and all of a sudden, from that perspective, <br>
you notice what's wrong - a hair out of place, a run in a stocking, a broken bone. <br>
You spend all your time and energy making it right, and all the while, <br>
you are falling apart yourself. You don't even realize what you look like, <br>
how far you've deteriorated, because you only have eyes for someone else.<br>
<font color=red>Jodi Picoult, Handle with Care<br><p>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-66251704428190280762019-01-25T15:05:00.000+01:002019-01-25T15:14:04.636+01:00Be the sun or the Moon
<center><img src="
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<font color=#77B5FE><b><font size=4>
Everyone wants to be the sun to lighten up someone's life,<br>
but why not be the moon, to brighten in the darkest hour?<br><p>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-61211336582206117232018-12-25T12:12:00.000+01:002018-12-25T12:15:27.957+01:00New Year Poems:The New Year by Tagore/New Year’s Eve by A. E. Housman
<center><b><font size=4><font color=aqua>Music:<br>
NNALE EN JEEVAN Cover -Rajesh Cherthala<br><p>
<iframe width="580" height="489" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lETvgUByLX8?list=RDlETvgUByLX8" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><br><po>
<br>
<center><img src="
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<font color=red>
The New Year<br>
<font color=white>Tagore<br><p>
<font color=#FFCB60>LIKE FRUIT, shaken free by an impatient wind<br>
from the veils of its mother flower,<br>
thou comest, New Year, whirling in a frantic dance<br>
amid the stampede of the wind-lashed clouds<br>
and infuriate showers,<br>
while trampled by thy turbulence<br>
are scattered away the faded and the frail<br>
in an eddying agony of death.<br><p>
Thou art no dreamer afloat on a languorous breeze,<br>
lingering among the hesitant whisper and hum<br>
of an uncertain season.<br><p>
Thine is a majestic march, o terrible Stranger,<br>
thundering forth an ominous incantation,<br>
driving the days on to the perils of a pathless dark,<br>
where thou carriest a dumb signal in thy banner,<br>
a decree of destiny undeciphered.<br>
<img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhQ8BhqWVjPU4QiUUb7Hsu03BSv5K2oUQKmh8WYxxOgYXWOaiW3blpmA-_uU_QVcY5rM8rK1l6YkaQxNY451sVeKyLuD-_A1Jk7LUo-OYpWxBiTb1zShHGqzLe-3sEGjj8e-5Bg3cwxcw/s1600/dividers+autumn.png'><br>
<center><img src="
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<font color=red>New Year’s Eve<br>
<font color=white> A. E. Housman<br><p>
<font color=#74D0F1>The end of the year fell chilly<br>
Between a moon and a moon;<br>
Thorough the twilight shrilly<br>
The bells rang, ringing no tune.<br><p>
The windows stained with story,<br>
The walls with miracle scored,<br>
Were hidden for gloom and glory<br>
Filling the house of the Lord.<br><p>
Arch and aisle and rafter<br>
And roof-tree dizzily high<br>
Were full of weeping and laughter<br>
And song and saying good-bye.<br><p>
<img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnuA118bgJ73Or6Flv0C3VU97eTJG1tDSkpLBlifppbPdhAekRipYkiDu0IqAbg3vyGID4mYdV5iJ6SqnnpklCti8S6ydEL8OyBdWBba1PfrdXuSW5ojum3ZDayWkSi_zPTw8cv9jF4s/s1600/divider+blue+vert.png'><br>
There stood in the holy places<br>
A multitude none could name,<br>
Ranks of dreadful faces<br>
Flaming, transfigured in flame.<br><p>
Crown and tiar and mitre<br>
Were starry with gold and gem;<br>
Christmas never was whiter<br>
Than fear on the face of them.<br><p>
In aisles that emperors vaulted<br>
For a faith the world confessed,<br>
Abasing the Host exalted,<br>
They worshipped towards the west.<br><p>
<img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnuA118bgJ73Or6Flv0C3VU97eTJG1tDSkpLBlifppbPdhAekRipYkiDu0IqAbg3vyGID4mYdV5iJ6SqnnpklCti8S6ydEL8OyBdWBba1PfrdXuSW5ojum3ZDayWkSi_zPTw8cv9jF4s/s1600/divider+blue+vert.png'><br>
They brought with laughter oblation;<br>
They prayed, not bowing the head;<br>
They made without tear lamentation,<br>
And rendered me answer and said:<br><p>
‘O thou that seest our sorrow,<br>
It fares with us even thus:<br>
To-day we are gods, to-morrow<br>
Hell have mercy on us.<br><p>
‘Lo, morning over our border<br>
From out of the west comes cold;<br>
Down ruins the ancient order<br>
And empire builded of old.<br><p>
<img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnuA118bgJ73Or6Flv0C3VU97eTJG1tDSkpLBlifppbPdhAekRipYkiDu0IqAbg3vyGID4mYdV5iJ6SqnnpklCti8S6ydEL8OyBdWBba1PfrdXuSW5ojum3ZDayWkSi_zPTw8cv9jF4s/s1600/divider+blue+vert.png'><br>
‘Our house at even is queenly<br>
With psalm and censers alight:<br>
Look thou never so keenly<br>
Thou shalt not find us to-night.<br><p>
‘We are come to the end appointed<br>
With sands not many to run:<br>
Divinities disanointed<br>
And kings whose kingdom is done.<br><p>
‘The peoples knelt down at our portal,<br>
All kindreds under the sky;<br>
We were gods and implored and immortal<br>
Once; and to-day we die.’<br><p>
<img src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUnuA118bgJ73Or6Flv0C3VU97eTJG1tDSkpLBlifppbPdhAekRipYkiDu0IqAbg3vyGID4mYdV5iJ6SqnnpklCti8S6ydEL8OyBdWBba1PfrdXuSW5ojum3ZDayWkSi_zPTw8cv9jF4s/s1600/divider+blue+vert.png'><br>
They turned them again to their praying,<br>
They worshipped and took no rest<br>
Singing old tunes and saying<br>
‘We have seen his star in the west,’<br><p>
Old tunes of the sacred psalters,<br>
Set to wild farewells;<br>
And I left them there at their altars<br>
Ringing their own dead knells.<br>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-73011151756187789262018-12-22T14:59:00.000+01:002018-12-26T08:59:59.815+01:00Among the water-lilies by Khalil Gibran
<center><b><font size=4> <font color=aqua>Music:<br>
<font color=aquamarine>Ahebak - Hussain Al Jassmi - Violin Cover by Andre Soueid <br><p>
<iframe width="580" height="489" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/jYHC-3Y0EyU" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><br><p>
<center><img src="
https://images.fineartamerica.com/images-medium-large-5/water-lily-dennis-clark.jpg
"style="ride black"600"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=red>Among the water-lilies<br>
From"Jesus,The son Of man"<br>
<font color=white>Khalil Gibran<br><p>
<font color=pink>Upon a day my beloved and I<br>
were rowing upon the lake of sweet waters. <br>
And the hills of Lebanon were about us.<br><p>
We moved beside the weeping willows, and the reflections<br>
of the willows were deep around us.<br><p>
And while I steered the boat with an oar, my beloved took<br>
her lute and sang thus:<br><p>
What flower save the lotus knows the waters and the sun?<br>
What heart save the lotus heart shall know both earth and sky?<br><p>
Behold my love, the golden flower that floats 'twixt deep and high<br>
Even as you and I float betwixt a love that has for ever been<br>
And shall for ever be.<br><p>
Dip your oar, my love,<br>
And let me touch my strings.<br>
Let us follow the willows, and let us leave not the water-lilies.<br><p>
In Nazareth there lives a Poet, and His heart is like the lotus.<br>
He has visited the soul of woman,<br>
He knows her thirst is growing out of the waters,<br>
And her hunger for the sun, though all her lips are fed.<br><p>
They say He walks in Galilee.<br>
I say He is rowing with us.<br>
Can you not see His face, my love?<br>
Can you not see, where the willow bough and its reflection meet,<br>
He is moving as we move?<br><p>
Beloved, it is good to know the youth of life.<br>
It is good to know its singing joy.<br>
Would that you might always have the oar,<br>
And I my stringed lute,<br>
Where the lotus laughs in the sun,<br>
And the willow is dipping to the waters,<br>
And His voice is upon my strings.<br><p>
Dip your oar, my beloved,<br>
And let me touch my strings.<br>
There is a Poet in Nazareth<br>
Who knows and loves us both.<br>
Dip your oar, my lover,<br>
And let me touch my strings.<br>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-38923165152239955302018-09-18T14:40:00.002+01:002018-09-18T14:48:53.732+01:00 Love Song :Best Rainer Maria rilke Poems On Love
<font color=aqua><b><font size=4><center>Music:<br>
2CELLOS - Love Story<br><p>
<iframe width="620" height="501" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/UdHopftQD3A" frameborder="0" allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen></iframe><br><p>
<center><img src="
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB_ok-z2sjy13XgR0MhMXxOf2VlfOsoyMVcBy9XOxPMbihlre3R5TDS_omVk2vqzLHkW4obqtAW2PB_xu4BrvpDhGawFvA7QPX-_md03L0FpY6ts_InGGktAgB6mTblomyPnw8X3oscKE/s1600/womanpink.jpg
"style="ride black"600"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=red>You who never arrived <br>
<font color=white>Rainer Maria Rilke<br><p>
<font color=pink>You who never arrived <br>
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost <br>
from the start, <br>
I don't even know what songs <br>
would please you. I have given up trying <br>
to recognize you in the surging wave of <br>
the next moment. All the immense <br>
images in me -- the far-off, deeply-felt landscape, <br>
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-<br>
suspected turns in the path, <br>
and those powerful lands that were once <br>
pulsing with the life of the gods-- <br>
all rise within me to mean <br>
you, who forever elude me. <br>
<img src="https://myriamir.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/barre-peche.png?w=300&h=80"><br>
You, Beloved, who are all <br>
the gardens I have ever gazed at, <br>
longing. An open window <br>
in a country house-- , and you almost <br>
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced <br>
upon,-- <br>
you had just walked down them and vanished. <br>
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors <br>
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back <br>
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same <br>
bird echoed through both of us <br>
yesterday, separate, in the evening...”<br>
<img src='http://francheska45.f.r.pic.centerblog.net/658a6b00.gif'><br>
<center><img src="
https://static1.squarespace.com/static/5a4becbc9f07f52d993621ba/5a71fb6a9140b72a51d04b8b/5b33141788251b930fda40af/1533066537948/authentic.jpg?format=750w
"style="ride black"600"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=red>You, You Only, Exist <br>
<font color=white>Rainer Maria Rilke<br><p>
<font color=pink>You, you only, exist.<br>
We pass away, till at last,<br>
our passing is so immense<br>
that you arise: beautiful moment,<br>
in all your suddenness,<br>
arising in love, or enchanted<br>
in the contraction of work.<br>
<img src="https://myriamir.files.wordpress.com/2018/01/barre-peche.png?w=300&h=80"><br>
To you I belong, however time may<br>
wear me away. From you to you<br>
I go commanded. In between<br>
the garland is hanging in chance; but if you<br>
take it up and up and up: look:<br>
all becomes festival! <br>
<img src='http://francheska45.f.r.pic.centerblog.net/658a6b00.gif'><br>
<center><img src="
https://cdn-az.allevents.in/banners/a44cd904d92a39478b1038aca1f75735
"style="ride black"600"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=red>Love song<br>
<font color=white> Rainer Maria Rilke<br><p>
<font color=coral>How can I keep my soul in me, so that<br>
it doesn't touch your soul? How can I raise<br>
it high enough, past you, to other things?<br>
<font color=coral>I would like to shelter it, among remote<br>
lost objects, in some dark and silent place<br>
that doesn't resonate when your depths resound.<br><p>
Yet everything that touches us, me and you,<br>
takes us together like a violin's bow,<br>
which draws *one* voice out of two separate strings.<br>
Upon what instrument are we two spanned?<br>
And what musician holds us in his hand?<br>
Oh sweetest song.<br><br>
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symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-62450221165734024202018-09-13T18:07:00.000+01:002018-09-22T15:30:24.357+01:00Du im Voraus verlorne Geliebte/ Ein Liebesgedicht Von Rainer maria Rilke
<center><img src="
https://stat.ameba.jp/user_images/20150810/16/aroma-mii3/59/19/p/o0599049413391763009.png?caw=800
"style="ride black"600"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=red><b><font size=4>
Du im Voraus verlorne Geliebte<br>
<font color=white>Rainer Maria Rilke<br><p>
<font color=#D473D4>Du im Voraus <br>
verlorne Geliebte, Nimmergekommene, <br>
nicht weiß ich, welche Töne dir lieb sind. <br>
Nicht mehr versuch ich, dich, wenn das Kommende wogt, <br>
zu erkennen. Alle die großen <br>
Bilder in mir, im Fernen erfahrene Landschaft, <br>
Städte und Türme und Brücken und un- <br>
vermutete Wendung der Wege <br>
und das Gewaltige jener von Göttern <br>
einst durchwachsenen Länder: <br>
steigt zur Bedeutung in mir <br>
deiner, Entgehende, an. <br><p>
<font color=#D473D4>Ach, die Gärten bist du, <br>
ach, ich sah sie mit solcher <br>
Hoffnung. Ein offenes Fenster<br>
im Landhaus —, und du tratest beinahe <br>
mir nachdenklich heran. Gassen fand ich, —<br>
du warst sie gerade gegangen, <br>
und die Spiegel manchmal der Läden der Händler<br>
waren noch schwindlich von dir und gaben erschrocken <br>
mein zu plötzliches Bild. — Wer weiß, ob derselbe <br>
Vogel nicht hinklang durch uns <br>
gestern, einzeln, im Abend?<br><br>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-2005457194797868592018-09-08T09:23:00.000+01:002018-09-08T16:28:27.428+01:00Nothing that's important is lost by Moguel Sousa tavares
<center><img src="
https://ak8.picdn.net/shutterstock/videos/29180008/thumb/1.jpg
"style="ride black"600"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=salmon><b><font size=4>"And once again I believe that nothing that's important really becomes lost.<br>
We just delude ourselves, thinking that we own the things, the moments and<br>
the others. Still with me are all the dead persons who I loved, all the friends <br>
who turned away, all the happy days that faded. <br><p>
I lost nothing but the illusion that everything could be mine forever."<br>
<font color=red>Miguel Sousa Tavares<br>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-4290068634902122912018-09-04T12:50:00.000+01:002018-09-04T13:01:00.607+01:00Serenity by Ralph Waldo emerson
<center><img src="
https://scontent.cdninstagram.com/vp/ac57f09046353178cf3c8f77134a7f87/5C03CDF4/t51.2885-15/sh0.08/e35/p640x640/37399793_624853571218063_8087517353597730816_n.jpg?_nc_eui2=AeE2Botlljl2jL1h2ZPRiXcsCo_Wt-w9C9dlASfBW47-c1tBh6RLO2yq-UFaO_GzCH-Pibdnd25kqR89z5AbhH2w
"style="ride black"650"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=#D2CAEC><b><font size=4>But real action is in silent moments.<br>
The epochs of our life are not in the visible facts of our choice<br>
of a calling, our marriage, our acquisition of an office, and the like,<br>
but in a silent thought by the wayside as we walk; in a thought which <br>
revises our entire manner of life and says,—<br>
"Thus hast thou done, but it were better thus".<br>
<font color=red>Ralph Waldo Emerson<br>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-61880109709067703792018-09-03T15:58:00.001+01:002018-09-04T13:00:50.278+01:00How weak Our Mind is by Guy De maupassant
<center><img src="
https://media.licdn.com/media-proxy/ext?w=800&h=800&hash=HhaHtHfQOaKtjNIBevcSb2siCmE%3D&ora=1%2CaFBCTXdkRmpGL2lvQUFBPQ%2CxAVta5g-0R6jnhodx1Ey9KGTqAGj6E5DQJHUA3L0CHH05IbfPWjseZXZe7On8EBFKy8EjQA0Kby1SDDjFo7vf43vf955jJbmdcT5aRUPbhU4hGUB5sE-Pg
"style="ride black"580"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=#F0FFFF><b><font size=4>How weak our mind is; how quickly it is terrified and unbalanced <br>
as soon as we are confronted with a small, incomprehensible fact.<br>
Instead of dismissing the problem with: "We do not understand <br>
because we cannot find the cause," we immediately imagine terrible<br>
mysteries and supernatural powers.<br>
<font color=red>Guy de Maupassant<br>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-71989278573680056522018-09-01T17:44:00.000+01:002018-09-01T18:07:42.241+01:00Grateful memories by Robert Louis Stevenson
<center><img src="
https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/originals/a5/6c/f7/a56cf70f33913ce8e99e804d8c40e9bc.jpg
"style="ride black"580"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=pink><b><font size=4>Like a bird singing in the rain,<br>
let grateful memories survive in time of sorrow.<br>
<font color=red>Robert Louis Stevenson
<br>
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</body>symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-11484723389352297462018-08-30T17:31:00.001+01:002018-09-01T18:07:30.746+01:00 A DIALOGUE by Ella Wehller Wilcox
<center><img src=
"https://kristasalivia.files.wordpress.com/2018/02/mems.jpg
"style="ride black"550"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=red><b><font size=4>A DIALOGUE<br>
<font color=white>Ella Wheeler Wilcox<br><p>
<font color=coral>
HE<br>
Let us be friends. My life is sad and lonely,<br>
While yours with love is beautiful and bright.<br>
Be kind to me: I ask your friendship only.<br>
No Star is robbed by lending darkness light.<br><p>
SHE<br>
I give you friendship as I understand it,<br>
A sentiment I feel for all mankind.<br><p>
HE<br>
Oh, give me more; may not one friend command it?<br><p>
SHE<br>
Look in the skies, ’tis there the star you’ll find;<br>
It casts its beams on all with equal favour.<br><p>
HE<br>
I would have more than what all men may claim.<br><p>
SHE<br>
Then your ideas of friendship strongly savour<br>
Of sentiments which wear another name.<br><p>
HE<br>
May not one friend receive more than another?<br><p>
SHE<br>
Not man from woman and still remain a friend.<br>
Life holds but three for her, a father, brother,<br>
Lover—against the rest she must contend.<br><p>
HE<br>
Against the universe I would protect you,<br>
With my life even, nor hold the price too dear.<br><p>
SHE<br>
But not against yourself, should fate select you<br>
As Lancelot for foolish Guinevere.<br><p>
HE<br>
You would not tempt me?<br><p>
SHE<br>
That is undisputed.<br>
We put the question back upon the shelf.<br>
My point remains unanswered, unrefuted<br>
No man protects a woman from himself.<br><p>
HE<br>
I am immune: for once I loved with passion,<br>
And all the fires within me burned to dust.<br>
I think of woman but in friendly fashion:<br>
In me she finds a comrade safe to trust.<br><p>
SHE<br>
So said Mount Peelée to the listening ocean:<br>
Behold what followed! Let the good be wise.<br>
Though human hearts proclaim extinct emotion,<br>
Beware how high the tides of friendship rise.<br><br>
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symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-12947284897042101792018-08-30T13:04:00.000+01:002018-09-01T18:07:15.695+01:00The voice of love by George Eliot
<center><img src=
"https://eventective-media.azureedge.net/2021389_md.jpg
"style="ride black"580"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=coral><b><font size=4>SHOULD I long that dark were fair?<br>
Say, O song,<br>
Lacks my love aught, that I should long?<br><p>
Dark the night, with breath all flow’rs,<br>
And tender broken voice that fills<br>
With ravishment the listening hours:<br>
Whisperings, wooings, <br>
Liquid ripples and soft ring-dove cooings<br>
In low-ton’d rhythm that love’s aching stills. <br><p>
Dark the night, <br>
Yet is she bright,<br>
For in her dark she brings the mystic star,<br>
Trembling yet strong, as is the voice of love, <br>
From some unknown afar. <br>
O radiant Dark! O darkly-fostered ray! <br>
Thou hast a joy too deep for shallow Day.<br>
<font color=red> George Eliot <br>
Songs from “The Spanish Gypsy.” I. The Dark<br>
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symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-52707373125486067952018-08-15T15:59:00.001+01:002018-08-15T16:25:05.234+01:00Into quiet & tender joy by Fyodor Dostoevsk
<center><img src=
"https://i.pinimg.com/736x/7a/5b/ef/7a5bef3bea273754698be734899afe11.jpg
"style="ride black"600"width="630"><br><p>
<font color=coral><b><font size=4>
But it is possible, it is possible: the old grief, by a great mystery <br>
of human life, gradually passes into quiet, tender joy; <br>
instead of young, ebullient blood comes a mild, serene old age: <br><p>
I bless the sun's rising each day and my heart sings to <br>
it as before, but now I love its setting even more, its long <br>
slanting rays, and with them quiet, mild, tender memories, <br>
dear images from the whole of a long and blessed life--and <br>
over all is God's truth, moving, reconciling, all-forgiving!<br>
<font color=red>Fyodor Dostoevsky<br>
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symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-45022124724265930802018-07-31T16:08:00.000+01:002018-08-03T14:26:17.454+01:00Music :Rythmes of love and spirit/I WISH I COULD SPEAK LIKE MUSIC/
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<center><font color=aqua><b><font size=4>Music:<br>
<font color=aquamarine>Gabriel's Oboe(Ennio Morricone)-André Rieu<br><p>
<iframe width="640" height="501" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5Y0A8WoCqYg" frameborder="0" allow="autoplay; encrypted-media" allowfullscreen></iframe><br><p>
<center><img src=
"https://i.pinimg.com/originals/c8/07/62/c80762e43aae08348d64bc8a52ace971.jpg
"style="ride black"600"width="630"><br>
<font color=#FFCB60><b><font size=4>Is it any weakness, pray, to be wrought on by exquisite music?<br>
to feel its wondrous harmonies searching the subtlest windings<br>
of your soul, the delicate fibres of life where no memory can<br>
penetrate, and binding together your whole being, past and present,<br>
in one unspeakable vibration; melting you in one moment with all<br><p>
the tenderness, all the love, that has been scattered through<br>
the toilsome years, concentrating in one emotion of heroic<br>
courage or resignation all the hard-learned lessons of<br>
self-renouncing sympathy, blending your present joy<br>
with past sorrow, and your present sorrow with all your past joy?<br>
<font color=red>GEORGE ELIOT,Adam Bede<BR>
<center><img src=
"https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-aU29GpylgJU/Wt0bbyl1cGI/AAAAAAACDd8/CChczsTH4oUwOOxVfwVP4YFidLOZ90VlACJoC/w800-h800/a60b8faf-b637-42d6-a507-c1323033b639.jpg
"style="ride black"700"width="600"><br>
<font color=red>Music<br>
<font color=white>John Vance Cheney<br><p>
<font color=lightblue>Take of the maiden's and the mother's sigh,<br>
Of childhood's dream, and hope that age doth bless,<br>
Of roses and the south wind's tenderness,<br>
Of fir-tree's shadow, tint of sunset sky,<br>
Of moon on meadow where the stream runs by,<br>
Of lover's kiss, his diffident caress,<br>
Of blue eyes' yellow, brown eyes' darker, tress,<br><p>
Of echoes from the morning bird on high,<br>
Of passion of all pulses of the Spring,<br>
Of prayer from every death-bed of the Fall,<br>
Of joy and woe that sleep and waking bring,<br>
Of tremor of each blood-beat great and small;<br>
Now, pour into the empty soul each thing,<br>
And let His finger touch that moveth all.<br>
<center><img src=
"http://proxy53.hellorf.com/ak6/shutterstock/videos/18872336/thumb/10.jpg
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<font color=red>Where Everything Is Music<br>
<font color=white>Rumi<br><p>
<font color=#F7E269>Don’t worry about saving these songs!<br>
And if one of our instruments breaks,<br>
it doesn’t matter.<br><p>
We have fallen into the place<br>
where everything is music.<br><p>
The strumming and the flute notes<br>
rise into the atmosphere,<br>
and even if the whole world’s harp<br>
should burn up, there will still be<br>
hidden instruments playing.<br><p>
So the candle flickers and goes out.<br>
We have a piece of flint, and a spark.<br><p>
This singing art is sea foam.<br>
The graceful movements come from a pearl<br>
somewhere on the ocean floor.<br><p>
Poems reach up like spindrift and the edge<br>
of driftwood along the beach, wanting!<br><p>
They derive<br>
from a slow and powerful root<br>
that we can’t see.<br><p>
Stop the words now.<br>
Open the window in the center of your chest,<br>
and let the spirit fly in and out.<br>
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<font color=red>I WISH I COULD SPEAK LIKE MUSIC<br>
<font color=white>HAFIZ<br><p>
<font color=#C9A0DC>I wish I could speak like music.<br><p>
<font color=#CFA0E9>I wish I could put the swaying splendor<br>
Of the fields into words<br><p>
So that you could hold Truth<br>
Against your body<br>
And dance.<br><p>
I am trying the best I can<br>
With this crude brush, the tongue,<br><p>
To cover you with light.<br><p>
I wish I could speak like divine music.<br><p>
I want to give you the sublime rhythms<br>
Of this earth and the sky’s limbs<br><p>
As they joyously spin and surrender,<br>
Surrender<br>
Against God’s luminous breath.<br><p>
Hafiz wants you to hold me<br>
Against your precious<br>
Body<br><p>
And dance,<br>
Dance.<br><p><br>
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symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-56663742816306657842018-07-27T15:36:00.000+01:002018-07-27T18:26:27.254+01:00State of innocence by Georg Christoph Lichtenberg
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<font color=lightyellow><b><font size=4>John Atkinson Grimshaw Art<br><p>
<font color=#D1F2EB><b><font size=4>
We often have need of a profound philosophy to restore to our feelings<br>
their original state of innocence, to find our way out of the rubble<br>
of things alien to us, to begin to feel for ourselves and to speak <br>
ourselves, and I might almost say to exist ourselves.<br>
<font color=red>Georg Christoph Lichtenberg <br>
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symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-24560348110026124632018-07-27T15:17:00.001+01:002018-07-27T18:26:40.120+01:00Strong Woman May be your only Army by Nizar Qabani
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<font color=orange><b><font size=4>
Don't be afraid of having a relationship with a strong woman. <br>
There might come a day when she will be your only army. <br>
<font color=red>Nizar Qabani<br>
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symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-87650542396849239402018-07-27T15:01:00.001+01:002018-07-27T18:27:00.608+01:00Walk with grief like a good friend by Rumi
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<font color=lightblue><b><font size=4>Walk with grief like a good friend. <br>
Listen to what he says.<br>
Sometimes the cold and dark of a cave<br>
give the opening we most want. <br>
<font color=red>Rumi<br>
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symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2073864412716102767.post-44629187036437906112018-07-14T10:45:00.000+01:002018-07-27T18:27:11.614+01:00Flow,not fix by Thomas Wolfe
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<font color=lightblue><b><font size=4>
The essence of belief is doubt,<br>
the essence of reality is questioning. <br><p>
The essence of Time is Flow, not Fix. <br>
The essence of faith is the knowledge that all flows <br>
and that everything must change.<br><p>
The growing man is Man Alive, and his "philosophy"<br>
must grow, must flow, with him.<br><p>
The man too fixed today, unfixed tomorrow - and his body <br>
of beliefs is nothing but a series of fixations.<br>
<font color=red>Thomas Wolfe<br>
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symphonyforlovehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01049853988877974310noreply@blogger.com0