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Pablo Neruda

If You Forget Me

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists:
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loveing me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

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If You Forget Me

I want you to know one thing
You know how this is
If I look at the crystal moon
At the red branch of the slow autumn at my window
If I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log
Everything carries me to you
As if everything that exists - aromas, light, metals
Were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me
Well, now
If little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you
Little by little
If suddenly you forget me
Do not look for me
For I shall already have forgotten you
If you think it long and mad the wind of banners that passes through my life
And you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots
Remember
That on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms
And my roots will set off to seek another land
But, if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me
With implacable sweetness
If each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me
Ahh my love, ahh my own, in me all that fire is repeated
In me nothing is extinguished or forgotten
My love feeds on your love, beloved
And as long as you live, it will be in your arms without leaving mine

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Crazy Fingers

Your rain falls like crazy fingers
Peals of fragile thunder keeping time
Recall the days that still are to come some sing blue.
Hang your heart on laughing willow stray
Down to the water, deep sea of love
Beneath the sweet calm face of the sea swift undertow.
Life may be sweeter for this, I dont know,
See how it feels in the end.
May lady lullaby sing plainly for you soft, strong, sweet and true.
Cloud hands reaching from a rainbow tapping at the window, touch your hair
So swift and bright strange figures of light float in air.
Who can stop what must arrive now? something new is waiting to be born
Dark as the night youre still by my side shine inside .
Gone are the days we stopped to decide where we should go, we just ride.
Gone are the broken eyes we saw through in dreams gone, both dream and lie.
Life may be sweeter for this, I dont know,
Feels like it might be all right,
While lady lullaby sings plainly through you love still rings true.
Never could reach it, just slips away but I try.

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My Life

My life has grown ever so long
Over the evergreen to red clay and desert sands
From The Pacific and Puget Sound to Pecos River dry
Covering nearly half of God's great land;
Today, i move in smaller circles...
I am in fine company with the Blue Jay and Wren
Touched and kissed by the Butterfly and Bee...
And fragranced by a Pink Rose, now and then;
Smiling all the while in such brillant light
This Texas sun-simply glows...
But never shall i ever forget the gentle rains that fell
That helped Washingtons evergreen to grow;
And when that day has finally come
That i know life for me is all but done...
I will kiss the Dawn-and embrace the Sunset long
Caress the Night-walk into The Light-as the Creator and i become one!


February 10,2012
By, Theodora Onken

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What the hell 'm doing on earth?

What the hell I am on earth?
What the mission and work I carry on?
What do I do for self and others?
Is it not wonderful I still live on?

What do I do and pray for?
Know not and still ask for more,
has this occurred to me this before?
Continue to ponder and answer no more,

is it confined to me alone?
’m the soul only suffer,
do you have any clue or answer?
does the answer lie with only power?

I love not to lead life very simple,
may not go for white but only purple,
See at water but not at bubble,
Think I not, though time more ample,

What more I have to offer?
Not yet prepared even for coffin,
is there enough food in my Tiffin?
Will my quest continue or confine?

I continue to stare and look at sky,
Sun, stars, moon all shine but why?
I find no answer and feel so shy,
heart feel heavy but can not cry

Am I so fool and feel so cool,
or simply a medium or tool.
If so, then why not I leave to HIM?
Why so urge and keep a whim?

I may not look back,
though no noble thought in my pack,
even turn rough and create some crack,
but still surge ahead and find good track,

why should I ponder over split milk?
Why not prefer cotton and run for silk?
Is it not the race considered so mad?
hide inside more and always look bad,

It is not I who will decide,
leave it to HIM as HE is beside,
no to right or yes to any side,
always in middle and nothing to hide,

I will bury all and not more think,
no more smile and no more wink,
neither I swim and nor do I sink,
with strong resolve not to blink,

I find it no less than conquest,
answer I found at simple request,
I know not whether good or best,
but certainly I find myself safe in nest,

I may thrive and also survive,
let there not be unrest and revive,
will always do and strive for good,
even there may not be any more fo

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Good quest

What the hell I am on earth?
What the mission and work I carry on?
What do I do for self and others?
Is it not wonderful I still live on?

What do I do and pray for?
Know not and still ask for more,
has this occurred to me this before?
Continue to ponder and answer no more,

is it confined to me alone?
’m the soul only suffer,
do you have any clue or answer?
does the answer lie with only power?

I love not to lead life very simple,
may not go for white but only purple,
See at water but not at bubble,
Think I not, though time more ample,

What more I have to offer?
Not yet prepared even for coffin,
is there enough food in my Tiffin?
Will my quest continue or confine?

I continue to stare and look at sky,
Sun, stars, moon all shine but why?
I find no answer and feel so shy,
heart feel heavy but can not cry

Am I so fool and feel so cool,
or simply a medium or tool.
If so, then why not I leave to HIM?
Why so urge and keep a whim?

I may not look back,
though no noble thought in my pack,
even turn rough and create some crack,
but still surge ahead and find good track,


why should I ponder over split milk?
Why not prefer cotton and run for silk?
Is it not the race considered so mad?
hide inside more and always look bad,

It is not I who will decide,
leave it to HIM as HE is beside,
no to right or yes to any side,
always in middle and nothing to hide,

I will bury all and not more think,
no more smile and no more wink,
neither I swim and nor do I sink,
with strong resolve not to blink,

I find it no less than conquest,
answer I found at simple request,
I know not whether good or best,
but certainly I find myself safe in nest,

I may thrive and also survive,
let there not be unrest and revive,
will always do and strive for good,
even there may not be any more food.

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Patrick White

The Serpent

The serpent sits enthroned
at the top of its own stairwell,
helically reposing in its own empyrean
like an August hawk
coiling up its own thermals;
its fangs, a stargate
to an unknown afterlife, emancipation,
and the jewel of its head,
the first stone thrown,
a small planet without
the eyelid of a sky,
a nugget of mystic uranium,
looped in a turban of orbits,
a sacred arrowhead
that flys from itself like a bow
drawn back long before the wind
knew its first feather.
Lethal healer,
the sword that kills is the sword that saves.

This morning,
the drubbing of the rain on a tin roof,
the hiss of traffic
flaring like matches down the sleek asphalt,
if I were to say
I want the emotional life of space,
I don't know if I'd mean it,
but I'm so weary
of being this slow crisis of a bird
mesmerized by the swaying eyes
of the black lightning
that has caught me in the net
it weaves of my own nerves,
I want to douse my heart
in the next providential tide of tears
like a torch I put out in the night
to see better in the dark.

I asked for wings
and my spine was adorned with fire.
I asked for water
and I'm a fish on the wind.
and now this desert I hoped to remain,
a craze of sand,
has grown teeth
and is overgrazing the starfields like pyramids.

I don't think
I will ever recover
from the wound I received
like the hidden twin of the moon,
trying to love the world, myself, women, people.
Every word was a road, a pulse, an eye,
a dropp of blood
I could ride to the end of and beyond
into the implacable subtlety
of my own empty, ageless temples
where even the silence isn't ghost enough
to conjure a medium
to jar the table as a sign,
and death is buried in its own vacuity
like an embryo in a mask without eyes.

I was bound by my own boundlessness,
my nerves, wicks in the abyss
that enhanced the darkness
by cleaving me like a tree
vision after vision,
another world
with every blink of the eye
that wiped the mirror clean of me like an ax
until I understood
that even the most enlightened watersheds of wisdom
are just a smear of perception
on the least dropp of that splendor
I went looking for like a cloud
saturated with the ancient seas of the moon
that was covered by my own looking.

I lay at the bottom
of my oceanic odyssey,
trying not to sink,
but I wanted to give something back
for what I felt I had received;
not an ethic or a metaphysic,
but a spontaneous action of the blood
that remembers it was once a rose.
I wanted to return spring like a water-key to the moon;
I wanted to harvest the shadows
of my own non-existence
and break bread
with the famine of ghosts
that came like royalty to beg food from their servant,
blind doors standing on the thresholds of awareness
asking me to address myself
to the terrible openness
of their unanswerable need.

I have eaten my own ashes
in the furnace of every star
I have ever looked upon.
I have drowned in the wells
of the faceless, fathomless mirrors,
and every woman I have ever drunk from
was a grail with an enigmatic black pearl in it
lustrous as the moon in eclipse.

O promises of bliss
that tuned the webs of the spiders
like a guitarist with perfect pitch
to the frequency of my spinal cord
that I might entangle a star
in the silk of my conceiving;
that I might seize a firefly
in the fangs of my thought
and taste the honey of the lantern
that lit my dark corner
in the era of the moment.

O sweetest of lies to ripen with longing
like the eyes of a child in the darkness
far from home.
I was trying to find a road
that fit my walking like shoes on a mountain;
I was trying to walk on water with mystic crutches;
I was looking for an arrow
dipped in the blood of a serpent with wings,
set aflame by a demonic star
and feathered by spiritual fire
to restring me like a bow
severed like the branch of a sacred grove
by the oracular blade of the moon.

I was too deeply sheathed in the truth
to appreciate the arcane sagacity of my lies.
I stood like a shadow in the burning doorway of my own fire
and looked deeply into the night
to answer my own knocking
like the echo of a stranger in the darkness,
walking away from someone who didn't know
how to greet himself.

I was a tree crucified on a man,
a vandal in the shrine of the moment,
bleeding like stained-glass,
a rosary of vertebrae and skulls
reconstructed in the future museum of now
I played myself into like a funeral plan.

Now everywhere the wind is a pilgrim,
I leave my heart like a shrine
I will never return to.
And the sadness, and the solitude
and the vastness of my insignificance
is the shadow of a bird on a cloud.
The only way to perfect my defeat
was to sit at the feet of my most cherished delusion
like a rootless flower watching over a coffin,
then rise like the wind
from the rubbish of the shedding,
the loneliest pillar and sole cornerstone of the sky.

Now my apish profundities
no longer crack fleas of light like stars
I picked out of God's burning beard
with the forceps of the moon.
Now I am infested with constellations.
I no longer turn the pages of the waterlilies
like the holy books of an inspired swamp.
I no longer seep down to the river
to drink from the moon
like a serpent at the water's edge
and watch the panicked angels jumping
from the reflection of an uncrossed bridge
that collapsed like a covenant with hell.
I no longer shred my heart
like a secret document
in an abandoned embassy of swans
looking for asylum further south,
tormented by the unattainability
of a woman's beauty,
looking for sanctuary
in the ashes of a black sail
that flared like a poppy with passion
at every gust of desire
that silvered the trembling grass
with sidereal aspirations.

Why bother to laminate your lovers, your legends?
Let them go like autumn leaves and smoke,
the last breath you took
before you were interred
like a scream in the larynx of a deaf-mute,
a foreign currency you couldn't spend at home.
Naked is the only way to dress for the rain,
but it doesn't matter which
from the wardrobe of all your many lies
you wear to the fire that waits for you
like a fledgling waits for its plumage.

And this is a long river
and this is a long day and a night
and maybe only the silence is listening
to what the stars are preaching
from the pulpits of the flowers,
and this that says me now
is just the promo for the intensive care ward
of a new religion
the founders are always the first to betray;
but when I truly let go
it was my falling
that taught me to patch my shoes with the sky.

And have you come this far,
passed through this many gates
for wisdom, compassion, freedom,
wandered aimlessly until you could not tell
the stars from the sand,
the journey from the arrival,
suffered worse than all the things you cannot say
until you forgot what you were looking for
in the first place, until
you despised what you craved the most?

I don't remember how long I slept
before my dreaming woke me up
and I realized
no fool could defame my solitude
and that life
was only the story of a scar
looking for the knife that inflicted it
like a shadow
in the forsaken valleys
of the mountains of the moon.

Looking for a pearl of light
I had to plunge into a darkness
deeper than anything
my eyes had ever given birth to before.
I had to swallow the key before I could open the door.

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Looking At The Soldiers

“Mother, the trumpets are sounding to-day,
And the soldiers go by in their gallant array!
Their horses prance gaily, their banners float free,
Come, come to the window, dear mother, with me.

Do you see how their bayonets gleam in the sun,
And their soldier-plumes nod, as they slowly march on?
And look to the regular tread of their feet!
Keeping time to the sound of the kettle-drum's beat.

This, mother, you know, is a glorious day,
And Americans all should be joyous and gay;
For the Fourth of July saw our country set free;
But you look not delighted, dear mother, like me!”

“No, love; for that shining and brilliant display,
To me only tells of war's fearful array;
And I know that those bayonets, flashing so bright,
Were made in man's blood to be spoil'd of their light.

And the music that swells up so sweet to the ear,
In a long gush of melody, joyous and clear,
Just as freely would pour out its wild thrilling flood,
To stir up men's hearts to the shedding of blood!

“Our country, my boy, as you tell me, is free,
But even that thought brings a sadness to me;
For less guilt would be hers, were her own fetter'd hand
Unable to loosen her slaves from their band.

“We joy that our country's light bonds have been broke,
But her sons wear, by thousands, a life-crushing yoke;
And yon bayonets, dear, would be sheathed in their breast,
Should they fling off the shackles that round them are prest.

“Even ‘midst these triumphant rejoicings, to-day,
The slave-mother weeps for her babes, torn away,
'Midst the echoing burst of these shouts, to be sold,
Human forms as they are, for a pittance of gold!

“Can you wonder then, love, that your mother is sad,
Though yon show is so gay, and the crowd is so glad?
Or will not my boy turn with me from the sight,
To think of those slaves sunk in sorrow and night?”

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Howlin' Mad Wind

The game's over.
The wind madly howled,
I cursed and growled,
And buried my sweaty head in a towel.

The wind had a distracting noise like a snare drum
Hit by fast hand. Its bitterness made me numb.
Manager said 'Wind killed us against the scum.'

We'd spit, and it would shoot like missiles mid-air,
Fly around everywhere.
Spit into the wind? You shouldn't dare.

We'd kick a ball straight, and it would curl and spin.
From when the match did begin,
We were beaten, by the howlin' mad wind.

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Cold And Empty

Maybe I've been on the road to long
Livin my life thru these songs
I guess lovin a music man
Really wasn't in your plans
Does it matter if I'm sorry again
And why should I apologize
You knew all along this was my life
You know my ins and outs
All my fears and doubts
Its the life I love
But its you I can't live without
And this whole world seems
Cold and empty
Someone please turn on the lights
Lord if there's an angel you could send me
I could use one here tonight
Now where am I supposed to go
My only home was in your soul
I know that I cant stay here
And drown in a pool of tears
Should I pack my pride
And face this life alone
And this whole world seems
Cold and empty
Someone please turn on the lights
Lord if there's an angel you could send me
I sure could use one tonight
Maybe its me who's cold and empty
And in my darkness I can't see the light
Please god if there's an angel
You could send me
Cause there's one missin from my life
You are my heart, you are my soul
Wherever you are, that where I go
You know my ins and outs
All of my fears and doubts
Its the life I love
But its you I can't live without
Yes its the life I love
But its you I can't live without
The life I love
The life I love
But its you I can't live without

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The Cubical Domes

Indeed indeed it is growing very sultry
The indian feather pots are scrambling out of the room
The slow voice of the tobacconist is like a circle
Drawn on the floor in chalk and containing ants
And indeed there is a shoe upon the table
And indeed it is as regular as clockwork
Demonstrating the variability of the weather
Or denying the existence of manu altogether
For after all why should love resemble a cushion
Why should the stumbling-block float up towards the ceiling
And in our attic it is always said
That this is a sombre country the wettest place on earth
And then there is the problem of living to be considered
With its vast pink parachutes full of underdone mutton
Its tableaux of the archbishops dressed in their underwear
Have you ever paused to consider why grass is green
Yes greener at least it is said than the man in the moon
Which is why

The linen of flat countries basks in the tropical sun
And the light of the stars is attracted by transparent flowers
And at last is forgotten by both man and beast
By helmet and capstan and mesmerised nun
For the bounds of my kingdom are truly unknown
And its factories work all night long
Producing the strongest canonical wastepaper-baskets
And ant-eaters' skiing-shoes
Which follow the glistening murders as far as the pond
And then light a magnificent bonfire of old rusty nails
And indeed they are paid by the state for their crimes
There is room for them all in the conjuror's musical-box
There is still enough room for even the hardest of faces
For faces are needed to stick on the emperor's walls
To roll down the stairs like a party of seafaring christians
Whose hearts are on fire in the snow.

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Patrick White

Small, Warm Birds

Small, warm birds of feeling,
a profound tenderness,
something to cherish
in the loneliness of being human
in these vast, cold spaces,
as I read your words
like poppies in my blood again.
What stars could I call upon,
what roses could I ask for their skin,
what darkness charge with radiance,
what ploy of dancing buddhas
could I summon
to let you know
you are all my sky within,
and the assent of my soul in the morning
and the bough of my homing at night,
that there is within me a blind fire,
an invisible flame
that consumes me in the ferocious beauty
of its unseen flowering
even in a flurry of faces
and the business tugging the donkey of the day
braying like a knot in a stream of wood,
and all the objects and forms of the world
are burning mirrors I look into to see
the black pearl of your mystic presence within me,
the irridescent luster of your shining,
how you are a message in a bottle from ultimacy,
and a dark shrine of desire
that can wake the valley dragons
with the fragrance of your eyes on the wind.
I want to kiss your kneecaps;
I want to crush cool mushrooms against your lips
and feel my kisses break like bread,
I want to feel my mouth
blossoming on the nape of your neck
and my breath blowing across the shy wheatfields
of the softest gestures of hair on your skin,
I want to taste the silk
of the inside of your thighs
as if it were the flavour of an intimate paradise,
and approach your breasts like crowns,
and under a full moon
tenderly turn the sacred soil of your sex with my tongue
like a stranger in the doorway
of an infinite longing to make you shudder
like the void into light
with sexual eclipses on the back of your eyelids
that will fill you like a palace of water with stars.
I am the luminosity and shadow
of your green lamp that glows like the sea,
and my voice wants to bleed like black cherries
over the alluvial plain of your stomach
and touch you like a prophet
running his fingertips slowly over the pages of a holy book,
savouring the revelations
that throb like a pulse in space;
and there are storms that want to exhaust themselves
over the blue thresholds of your hills
and root their lightning in your body
like a tree of light, a new map of rivers
for your blood to follow back to me
like the echo of thunder in a well.
And all through the day
with its curbs and functions
I imagine the lilt of your fingers
on the rim of a coffee cup,
the cougar in the glance of your eyes,
the way you put a knife down on the table
like a smile without a script
and what it would be like
to circumnavigate the equator of your waist
with a rosary of kisses
to raise you like a sunken continent
out of your depths
and explore all your tides and passages
with the fervour of a dolphin in a bay of wine.
I want to be tangled like a kite
in the turmoil of your hair,
the night watchman of your dreams,
the one who notices
what no one else looks for,
the stone of the small grave
you sweep with your eyelashes
when the leaves of autumn
lie down with the shadows of spring
and the virgin windows of your tears
that no one has ever looked through
weep like glass over the secret root
of a flower only a child could see.
Beyond reason, gates, words,
where the bridges take off their shoes
to admire their feet in the water
and the waterlilies kiss the thorn
of the star that tore them like skin
and whisper ancient pollens to the night
softer than flour and saffron,
and everything I say to you
isn’t a wound in the light,
a mouthful of shadows,
a bell of water with a fish for a tongue,
fleets of butterflies
learning how to sail the oceans of the rose
like the keels and wings
of love-letters you can read in the dark,
I want to fold you in my arms like the moon
and pan the nocturnal urgencies of your eyes
for a gold rush of fireflies
in the all night boomtowns
of a heart that struck it rich
digging a hole to bury its dead.

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William Shakespeare

Sonnet 100: Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long

Where art thou, Muse, that thou forget'st so long
To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?
Spend'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,
Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?
Return, forgetful Muse, and straight redeem
In gentle numbers time so idly spent;
Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem,
And gives thy pen both skill and argument.
Rise, resty Muse, my love's sweet face survey
If time have any wrinkle graven there;
If any, be a satire to decay,
And make time's spoils despisèd everywhere.
Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life;
So thou prevent'st his scythe and crooked knife.

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I Didnt Mean To Love You

Hey look what youve done
Aint cha ever going to help me
Cause now your loves the only one
I tried so hard to break it
Now that Im loving you
1200 miles is a long long way
And my loves gonna grow
Every inch of the way
But I didnt mean to love you
I only meant to see
How far youd go
And I didnt mean to love you
I tried to leave ya
And my heart said no
Oh no
Hey what can I say
You know I didnt mean to fall for you
Show me, show me, show me
What can I do
I dont even know
If youre love is true
But I know this
No matter how much I want to try
Ill never stop loving you
I need you
Though youre just 17
And my loves gonna grow every night every day
But I didnt mean to love you
I only meant to see
How far youd go
And I didnt mean to love you
I tried to leave ya
And my heart said no
Oh no

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The Enfranchised Slaves to Their Benefactress

Oh, blessings on thee, lady! we could lie
Down at thy feet, in our deep gratitude,
And give ourselves to die,
So thou could'st be made happier by our blood;
Yet life has never seem'd so dear as now,
That we may lift a free, unbranded brow.

In the deep silence of the starry night,
Our lips shall call down blessings on thy head;
And the first gush of light,
That in its splendour o'er the world is spread,
Shall view us bow'd in prayer, that life may be
A calm and sunny day of joy for thee.

Free! free!—how glorious 't is to lift an eye,
Unblenching beneath infamy and shame,
To the blue boundless sky,
And feel each moment from our hearts, the tame
Dull pulses of our vileness pass away,
Like sluggish mists before the rising day.

And then our infants! we shall never see
Their young limbs cheapen'd at the public mart,
Or shrink in agony,
To view them writhe beneath the cruel smart
Of the rude lash;—they ne'er like us shall know
The slave's dark lot of wretchedness and woe.

For this we bless thee, lady! and may Heaven
Pour down its frequent blessings on thy brow;
And to thy life be given,
Oft through its sunset hours, such bliss as now
Is swelling round thy heart—scarce less than theirs
Who pour for thee their deep and grateful prayers.

poem by from Poetical Works (1836)Report problemRelated quotes
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Trust Yourself

(olivia newton-john)
I need to tell the truth
I cant lie anymore
I need to do whats right
I know thats what my life is for
I cant be quiet anymore
About what Im suppose to do
I need to tell the truth
And do whats right by you
I need to speak my mind
And let my heart run free
Your pain will heal with time
And one day youll thank me
And as I follow my dream
And there is no room for you
Just know there was no scheme
Its just what I had to do
Trust yourself--you know all the answers
Trust yourself--you know what is right
Trust yourself--theyre all there inside you
Theyve been there forever--just show them some light
Sometimes the truth brings pain
But broken dreams regrow
Not in the same old way
But change is life you know
And as I move on
To start my song anew
Please understand my need
To do what I have to do
Trust yourself--you know all the answers
Trust yourself--you know what is right
Trust yourself--theyre all there inside you
Theyve been there forever--just show them some light
And as life goes on
Can we still be friends?
Dont let this circumstance
Cause our friendship to end
Trust yourself--you know all the answers
Trust yourself--you know what is right
Trust yourself--theyre all there inside you
Theyve been there forever--just show them some light
I need to tell you the truth
I need to speak my mind
Sometimes the truth brings pain
Your pain will heal in time

song performed by Olivia Newton-JohnReport problemRelated quotes
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Longing For Home

My Lord I am longing to go home, away from this earth that I roam,
For Lord I long to be at that place, where I can look upon your face.
High above earth’s lowly sod, in the Glory of Heaven with my God,
From a world where wrong is right, into that Glorious Eternal Light.

I know not when the time will be, when I’m brought up into Eternity.
That time is not for me to know, I am simply told by The Lord to go,
To go and preach to every nation, the Good News of His Salvation,
Until that time, I just need to be, a light for Christ for all men to see.

At times I long to be by the side, of Him, who on a cross had died,
Where He bled and died for me, so that I could live for all Eternity.
I long to see God’s eternal shore, where evil darkness is no more,
Where there’ll be Eternal Light, this my friend, both day and night.

I long to hear that trumpet sound, so that we can all gather round,
Gathered with those saints above, saved by God’s matchless love.
I long to see my loved ones who, on the day they died, truly knew,
That they departed into His arms, to be safe from all earthly harms.

I am longing for a new body too, it’s something like we never knew,
This body will be an eternal kind, with perfect form and perfect mind.
An Eternal Body prepared for me, that shall last through all Eternity,
And this new body will be Glorified, as I stand by The Savior’s side.

This longing will not leave my heart, until the day in which I depart,
Depart from here to be with Him, who died to cleanse me of my sin.
All who long for the appearing of, Jesus Christ in the clouds above,
By Jesus Christ, will be blessed, this with a crown of righteousness.

(Copyright ©03/2006)

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Can vei la lauzeta

When I see the lark joyfully moving its wings against the sun's rays, and falling because of the sweetness that enters its heart, ah! a great envy comes upon me of all those who I see happy. I am astonished that my heart does not melt with desire.
Alas! I thought I knew so much about love, and I know so little, because I cannot stop loving the one from whom I will never obtain anything. She has taken my heart, myself, herself, and the whole world, and has left me with nothing but yearning and a languishing heart.

I no longer have power over myself, and am no longer my own person, from the moment when she lets me look into her eyes, that mirror that pleases me so. Mirror, since I am mirrored in you, my sighs have caused my death, for I am lost just as Narcissus lost himself in the fountain.

I despair of women; never more shall I trust them. As once I exalted them, now shall I cast them down. Since I see that not one of them is for me against she who destroys and confounds me, I doubt and mistrust them all, since I well know they are all the same.

And in this I see that my lady is very much a woman, and that is why I criticize her. For she does not want that which she should want, and that which she is forbidden, she does. I am fallen very low, and I have acted like the fool on the bridge. And I don't know why this has happened to me, unless it's because I tried to mount too high.

Since nothing works any more with my lady - neither prayers nor pity nor my rights concerning her; and since it no longer pleases her that I love her, I will never more say it to her. And so I take my leave and go away from her. She has killed me, and I respond to her with death. And I leave, since she doesn't retain me, I the unhappy one, into exile, I know not where

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Life On Sea-Shore

Life on sea-shore
In a year
And a year has twelve months
That signifies twelve animals
And it is love of animal you say.

Let us begin with your saying
January-rat
February-ox
March-tig er
April-rabbit
May-dragon
June-snake
July-horse
August-sheep
September-monkeyOctober-cock
November-dog
December-boarAnd here you see
Complete the life
And all are in five
You are to think
What are the five.

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Nobody In His Right Mind Wouldve Left Her

I burn with desire each time my heart fans the fire
To that old flame that burns inside of me
She cried when I left her, now I try to forget her
Oh how foolish I was to ever wanna leave
Chorus:
Because nobody in his right mind wouldve left her
I had to be crazy to say good bye
Nobody in his right mind couldve left her
Even my heart was smart enough to stay behind
I still carry her picture
I wish her well with the new love I know shes found by now
Each night finds me dreamin, each day I spend thinkin
How much I wish she was still around
Chorus
Even my heart was smart enough to stay behind

song performed by George StraitReport problemRelated quotes
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Conspiracy Lane

My Life has been a Public Intrusion
The 1970's through to today are identified
Vetted and vetted again
After too long a buriel
Headline making today
As conspiracies always are
I was once lost in the deep woods of regret and error
The Light saved me and pointed the way
Such a cordial Light
It simply glows upon all of the wrong and hidden
'So, So, So 'long it was such a time of darkness
I awaited the Good Day of reckoning light
A day where i Survive the TENACIOUS actions
Of my camouflaged foe
They have been a deadly foe
Always up to their necks in maleficence
Where there is a Will there isn't necessarily a way
For all of your judgements*
For all of your GREED**
For all of your multiple masks***
Fate opens up on your LITTLE world
With a MIGHTY REWARD-most deserved by all of you
Who still live and breathe on Conspiracy Lane

Thanks Be To The Ricco Statute* ** ***

Underneath The Umbrella

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