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The most valuable thing you can make is a mistake - you can't learn anything from being perfect.

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The Most Wanted Thing You Wish

Are you one of the many...
Searching for a sanctuary,
To protect as best as possible...
What is left of your sanity?
And you have found you have begun,
To sacrifice the getting of sleep?

Good luck and may the force be with you,
With a keeping of that as your mission.
And an aspect never to leave your mind,
As the most wanted thing you wish today...
To welcome as realized,
No matter how bleak the odds.

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The Most Depressing Thing Of All

The most depressing thing of all
I've learned from many lessons
Is when you don't feel better from
A few anti-depressants

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The Most Beautiful Thing

The most beautiful thing around or above
Is Love, true Love:
The beautiful thing can more beautiful be
If its life be free.


Bind the most beautiful thing there is,
And the serpents hiss;
Free from its fetters the beautiful thing,
And the angels sing.

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That's It - The Most Beautiful Thing

When an eye meets another,
A curve that spreads
Gently below
Is the most beautiful thing.

When blissful thoughts
Shine over drops of your worries,
A rainbow on your face
Is the most beautiful thing.

When you see a person smiling,
Something that pulls apart,
The ends of your Mouth
Is the most beautiful thing.

An infectious Smile,
That you caught this morning
Is,
THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING! !

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The Most Valuable

Which is the most valuable?
‘My life’ said all men alike.
Nothing is the most valuable
That man is willingly possesses.

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The Most Normal Thing That Happens In The Mall

an ocean of people
inside the mall
many people are talking
within themselves
no one listens
to each his own minding
the most normal thing
that happens
here in the mall

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The Most That We Can Be

ah, shy away from
imitation
there is no one
worth it

see yourself in the mirror
what fine hair you have
what sharp eyes
what big beautiful body
what strong arm
what long and muscled
legs

you are the most beautiful
man that you are
there is no other
be the most of what you can be
there is no other
you anyway

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When You are in love

when you are in love care it,
cause once in your lifetime you can find it.

when you are in love protect it from horrible storms,
because they may take it away beyond the hills.

when you are in love hold it and tenderly care it.
like a mother that cares for her child.
cause the love needs care to grow more and more every single day.

when you are in love hold it like a very valuable diamond in your hands.
and never let it slips among of your fingers.
cause love is the most valuable thing that we ever have.

when you are in love don't loose it fight forit.
cause the love is more precious then any wealth.
the life is so empty place when you are not in love.

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The most happiest man.......

Happiness is the most important
thing for you to achieve in your life
Happiness can not be gained
It is earned by your heart
Happiness can be found
When you are close to God and obeying his words
Happiness can be found
When you show your kindness to others
Happiness can be found
When you are nice to those you hate
Happiness can be found
When you help others
Happiness are the love and kindness
And learn to enjoy what ever comes along
Happiness is not far away from you
It is close to you heart
Happiness is serving God for all eternity
and once you fulfilled your wish
then you are the most happiest man.


Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka

Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam

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What Hurt the Most Is

What hurt the most is
That you are making me jealous by dating someone else and not me
I do everything I could to prove too you that we belong together, but
It turns out that nothing I make you give me a chance

What hurt the most is
You breaking my heart every time I tell you I like you
I just want to cry and be sad
If I know I can't have you
I can't never love anyone else, but you
I want to be with you forever
Nothing will ever make me stop loving you
So please understand how I feel and give me a second chance
I can't stand it anymore

What hurt the most is
Being around you and getting to know you so well
I pretend that I'm ok when I'm not
When I'm around you, I act like I'm ok because
I don't want you to know how I'm feeling
It's hard to deal with the pain not having you everywhere I go
It's still harder to getting up, getting dressed, and living with this regret
If you give me another chance, I can make it right this time

What hurt the most is
I didn't make the right choice that day
I just talk, smile and laugh
I rude my only chance to be with you
This is one regret that I can't never forget
If this won't work with all I'm trying to say or do to get you to be with my side
I need to let go and move on
I want to spend all my time with you before I won't never see you again

What hurt the most is
Being around you and getting to know you so well
I pretend that I'm ok when I'm not
When I'm around you, I act like I'm ok because
I don't want you to know how I'm feeling
It's hard dealing with the pain not having you everywhere I go
It's still harder getting up, getting dressed, and living with this regret
If you give me another chance, I can make it right this time
What hurt the most is

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A Trip to the Vet

Lately, you have been sick
And we just don't know what to do with you.
You're itching at your skin—
Scratching the dry, leathery patches until they scab
And ooze a mixture of blood and puss.
Your ears are dripping a waxy fluid
And the kids choke on it
When they go to cuddle with you.
It's not that we don't love you anymore.
You just don't smell pleasant anymore.
You're also getting crotchety,
As if you snarl at the world that did this to you,
Angry at God for birthing you to become this.
Your legs wobble when you walk.
It looks like they could cave in at any time,
Causing you to collapse, helplessly
Lying on the floor.
If you hadn't become so resigned to your discouragement,
So engulfed in the utter disappointment you have for your failing limbs,
People might feel bad for you,
But they don't.
You don't wake up in the morning anymore.
You don't get out of bed to urinate.
If you're comfortable, you'd rather bathe in your urine
And smell like your waste.
Well, whatever makes you happier.
You might've lost your voice a little while back,
So you can't really tell us how you feel.
Some dogs bark.
Others bite.
You just cough
To clear the sand from your throat,
Forcing the dusty, lodged syllables out of your mouth
In a thick, tarry mucous.
Whatever you want to say gets covered in it
And sinks into the ejecting ponds of spittle.
I'm sorry we no longer understand you.
I'm sorry we're not there for you.
I'm sorry I don't care as much as I used to.
I'm sorry I don't care.
I try not to.

I don't want to know the pain you feel.
I don't want to know what it's like
To know that each step my joints are breaking inside of me;
To know that I don't have much longer to live;
To know that Death is waiting to claim me,
Laughing as I hobble back to my feet in the morning.
You're suffering,
But you're just an animal.
Those can't be tears in your eyes.
You can't be crying.
You can't be crying.
Maybe I'd start crying
If I believed you were crying.
Your eyes look so sad.
It's as if you fully realize you've seen the best of your days
While you peer forward,
Gazing into oblivion.
I don't want you to be that way.
I want to remember you as the puppy,
The obnoxious bundle of energy that we couldn't shut up.
I want you to bite my friends and make them get stitches
Like you did when I was a kid.
I want you to growl at people because they squirt you with a hose,
Not because they won't let you rest.
Relax right now. I hope it brings you peace.
Soon, you won't have to worry.
We're taking you to the vet
To check on your allergies,
To refill your medications.
We're trying to keep you healthy,
Though we know your rambunctious days are over.
I have to pick you up and put you in the backseat.
Three years ago, you would hop in,
But now you don't have the energy.
You're gaining weight,
So it's getting harder for me too.
You lay your head upon your folded paws
And stretch your body to crumple it up again.
You're a shedding ball of saggy, wrinkled skin
Red and ripe with agitation.
We drive down the road for twenty minutes.
I forget you're there in the silence.
After being so restless for so long,
You're catching up,
Unable to resist the soothing sensation of closing your eyes.
As we pull into the parking lot,
Your head perks up slightly
And your tail begins wagging.
I put you on a leash
And we walk inside.
You aren't aggressive with other animals anymore—
All the hard work and effort put into training you has finally paid off.
You sit politely in a chair while we wait for your appointment.
Then the vet takes you and I wait.
I skim through a few articles in a few magazines from a few months ago.
My eyes wander and fix on a daytime news program
About another murder in the city.
A half hour later,
I'm informed that your sickness is only getting worse—
That life will only be getting harder and harder,
Becoming a grievance for you:
A heavy burden,
A suffering.
I am told that the most humane thing I can do for you at this point
Is to let them prick you with a needle filled with poison
And watch you slowly drift into somnolent state,
Dreamily letting life slip from you.
All I have to do is sign the papers.
That's all I have to do to say goodbye.
I try not to.
I don't want to alleviate your senses.
I don't want the guilt
Of knowing I was the one that let them kill you;
Of knowing I was the one who saw you die;
Of knowing that even if I said no,
You would be in pain,
Agonized by survival.
You're there: laying on a bed, already sleeping.
Your tail is wagging.
You look the best you've looked in years.
From far away, you seem relieved to be here.

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Patrick White

No Ray Of The Star

No ray of the star in the lead,
none following, no one vector of light,
the compass needle for all the rest.
Eye to eye, side by side,
like the spikes of an onion gone to seed,
companionship and parity,
even after billions of light years,
every one's still shining among their peers.

Even your best efforts
to make it all into one when it already is,
are in musical harmony
like dissonance in jazz
with every wavelength of heart and mind
in a great creative collaboration
with every thread on the loom of a flying carpet
as big as the universe, growing
into the vast expanse of the chaos
it's spinning itself out of like the three fates,
the daughters of night with their thread and shears
severing the lifelines of passion birth and death.

Let them. Because there's a little green thread of love
coiling around your spinal column like serpent fire
that can't be cut by scissors or tears,
a dragon of dna with rainbow chromosomes
riding the stairwells and thermals of its own flames
like a wild grape vine, or trout lilies
down by the night creek
holding up their blossoms
like masterpieces to the stars
apprenticed to their shining
like one genius to another
revealing what can be done with light
when everyone's working in the same medium.

Every star, a kiss on the eyelids
of a wildflower in a far field
that's gone back to seed for a while,
every rose and mushroom alike.

Every ray of light, a mystic spear
through the heart of a disbelieving telescope
that's just had a major revelation
not only about the true nature
of the radiance within
but the ore of the darkness
that includes it like a diamond close to its heart.

Every lucid needle in the haystack,
in the pin cushion of every star,
laying out the pattern of a constellation
like a star map with a ray of light in its teeth,
and every angel that dances thereon,
and every angel that keeps its place under a stone
as a junkie London poet once wrote,
and every demon of a black dwarf
that gave its all and everything up
until there was nothing left but a black hole
or a massive cosmic match head that's burnt out
like the ashen bud of a heretic that bloomed in fire
like the seeds under the eyelids
of the pine-cone of a Zen pagoda,
and returned the universe to the darkness it came from
like a child it discovered wandering
too far from home without a threshold of its own,
is patching the wounds of the sacred clowns
with the whole cloth of the rags they're standing in
with roses and rainbows at midnight
and big ripe tears in a windfall of pears
that keep falling to their destiny
without realizing they're plunging toward paradise
every time they lose their grip on things.

In my unified field theory,
whether you call it fana, nirvana, tauhid,
the godhead, the plenum void, the blaze,
the rapture, dropping off body and mind
once the Japanese plum blossoms
have turned into fruit and realized
no sweetness in the apple bloom
no ripeness in the apple, God,
Brahma on his lotus, Muhammad on Buraq,
Jesus on the cross, Moses on the mountain,
or you've just had a serious falling out with your lover,
in a world so boundlessly unified
we have to resort to stars for boundary stones
like illusory barriers between too much and too little,
where the sweet water meets the salt;
in my intimately impersonal skew
of the crazy wisdom of what's happening here,
the most accurate thing
you can whisper like a poem
into your neighbour's or lover's ear,
is not two, not two, not two, like the vital pulse
of a musical cult of oxymorons
at a gathering of opposites in the wilderness,
everything clings to one another inseparably
like the primordial atom to its table of contents,
like a fish to water, a bird to air,
a star to the darkness, the heart and the mind
to every thought and emotion
of the space-time continuum it works in,
or insight into the mystery that inspires it
to go looking for more grails
than there are ailing kingdoms
to hold them up to their lips
like rain on ripe blackberries
or the full moons of magic mushrooms
because every dropp of rain's a grail in itself.

For every star, an imaginary number
of lifemasks like metaphors
as many as there are flowers
and children of the earth to wear them
as if dressing up for life were the embodiment
of how awareness made its first appearance
like a hidden secret that wished to be known
through an infinite number
of ongoing myriad things all at once forever.

Ergo: we're all in the same lifeboat together
looking for one and the same threshold
in our homelessness like rogue planets
dancing around one another as if each
were in reach of the sun of the other,
sister, brother, and lover, mother and father,
bonded by the light and life
we've all been looking for long before
we were born to shine upon one another like this
as if there were no difference
between the crests and valleys
of one wave and another,
our fullness and our emptiness
on the great night sea of the abyss
that is always as pregnant with us
as it is with the membranous wombs of the multiverse
whenever we kiss in deep hyperspace
and a whole new world gets off on us.

In this realm everyone receives one another
like a gift they weren't expecting
and are never sure they deserve,
down to the last atom of the drunk in the doorway,
the exile in the embassy yard
looking for sanctuary in his own country
by asking you to let him in
like the angel of immigrants in disguise,
like a teen age girl on the sidewalk,
crying like a star-crossed chandelier of rain
shattered like a crystal slipper at her feet
into the plinths and shards of a constellation
you can only see on the dark side of the mirror
like the secret reflection of who she is
inside the locket she hangs around her heart
like the moondog of an innocent suicide
no one would have ever guessed she had in her
like a conversation that never took place, face to face,
heart to heart, when timing was as important as content.

If you hold up a mirror to your own lifemask,
a puddle where the starmud's settled down
like the cornerstone of the moon in a tent
that's comes to flower in the backyard
of a house of the zodiac, you can see in your own face
the faces of everyone who's ever been, or is, and will be,
you will see in the single eye of a seed
how many Japanese plum blossoms had to be
scattered down the street like a Milky Way of the ancestors
you're descended from, to implant their vision
of light and love and life in you. And how
transience learned from the wind
how to let go and give it all away
like the passage of birds and the winged samara
of maples across the full moon, all the fruits
and flowers, stars and seeds of a generous autumn
shaken like the apple orchards of the Hesperides into your lap.

And to begrudge one atom
of this inexhaustible plenty to anyone
is to starve to death in your own garden
is to deny your own children bread
you didn't break with them like a harvest of light
so their darkness wouldn't hunger
for stars the rest of their lives.
Is to live in the shining
and grow possessive of shadows.
Is to break off a love affair with the waters of life.
Is to never feel your eyes ripen from
something green and bitter
into a mirage of wine in the desert
that drinks time spiced with stars
from an hourglass of a blissful delirium
where even the vipers have learned to dance in the sand
among the bones of skeletal keyboards.

Anyway, you get the point, and once
you've got the point, you've got the wavelength by the tail
and you're centered everywhere in a boundless universe
and the circle is as complete as a dropp of rain,
or the growth rings of a tree
making ripples in the heartwood of spring
to give the birds and the stars and the trees
something to sing about they weren't expecting.
That no sum of zeroes ever added up to nothing
as if something were missing from the very start
like blackholes that don't write their names
on the galaxies they make out of their emptiness.
Out of nothing, one, and in that one
that includes everybody you can see
how the zeroes got carried away by the billions
into an infinite elaboration of their radiant vision
of a universe of overlapping circles making waves
and all it takes is one insight
into the creativity of compassion
that steals the breath of the stars away in amazement
that one ray of light from the least expected quarter
when you least expect it is more than enough
to touch your heart with a feather of love
fallen from a passing nightbird above
that has been calling to you all night in the darkness
to see how enlightened everything is as it is
when you open up the black holes
in the wild irises of your eyes to it.

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The most beautiful person you must have Faith

You are the most beatiful person I know. And not just you have ta wonderful sense of humor.And a gift of lovr. You have always given too others. When you just had something to shoe, Go I will love you and express to me that you are my mother. That I will love you forever. written 8/8/08 Posted 5/21/09 In the memory of my mother Esther Ferber Klayton

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Time is the most valuable thing a man can spend.

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Time is the most valuable thing a man can spend.

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Anne Morrow Lindbergh

The most exhausting thing you can do is to be inauthentic.

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Sometimes the most positive thing you can be in a boring society is absolutely negative.

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The most obvious thing you can't do with a guitar synthesizer is to really sound like a guitar.

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And the most important thing you can do is learn to edit yourself. And then go back and rewrite.

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I think an education is not only important, it is the most important thing you can do with your life.

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