People; who enjoy meetings should not be in charge of anything, they should listen for what works and doesn’t. For whatever it is a stamp not for one lone country but the world. Yes, that big of the deal.

We have to become something that matters, we are like butterflies, who, flutter for a day and think it is forever, and to go just as farther than anything else in what is left here.

If you meet the Buddha in the lane, feed him the ball, and keep going.

Some people, no matter how old they get, never lose their beauty; they merely move it from their faces into their hearts. And make the best place to know how wonderful really is. And that what’s it lovely.

There is just one life for each of us:  our own and we have to make something for others to remember. Follow and carry on when we take our last breath.

Some things have to be believed to be seen, but sometimes, things that can be already there, are the best we’ll get. Only for that believing goes so far, and leaving our heads in the clouds, and barely allotment to stand on the ground.

Cycle tracks will abound in Utopia, and it’s a land of rite when we are nothing but dust of past, fed on by the crawlers of the elements.

Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn’t people feel as free to delight in whatever remains to them? With the all the tragic evils, nothing good but the bittersweet ending of making alive, are scaring the bodies for life, with nothing but frail memoires.

In end they must take the best contraceptive is a glass of cold water:  not before or after, but instead, if there is a chance to make it or break it through the world, by the thin skin of our teeth.

And for those, humbly known, as the fat cats or follow that title, may the devil chase you every day of your life and never catch you.

The body never lies. It will stretch the truth; beg for things far from the deepest mind. That will be reached, nor ever will. Only: that there is no one else to help reach it, when it is need for more than two hands.

All know the way; few actually walk it. I choose it for the ways I know how the things of the world must be done. What of you?

Turn your wounds into wisdom, wisdom becomes your weapon, and fewer drops of blood and broke souls will come. Spare the land of salty tears from those lives.

It would be as the joy of music should never be interrupted by a commercial, so sad that commercial is possibly a gun, knife, and the hands of a fellow hominoid.

The best way to succeed in life is to act on the advice we give to others, even if choose not to take it oneself, but it’s pointless to speak of it nor ever speak of it again. You have likely have checked out by now.

Do not regret growing older.  It is a privilege denied to many. Because life wants to challenge what else the world could hold.

I could laugh at those who speak of petty things, such as those speak: I envy people who drink; at least they know what to blame everything on . . . again I laugh when the real person to blame is the one to get that drunk to speak that and never lining the dots to it.

Not merely a nation but a nation of nations. Why little nations, do you do this to your kind? You can’t grow, if you keep going back and never looking forward.

If we were all like angels, the world would be a heavenly place, but we are only devils, nymphs, trolls, and much others things, and those who angels are the ones who didn’t bother to share this small and needed fact.

You had one thing to do, little winged rats, teaching is not a lost art, but the regard for it is a lost tradition. And for a fact you didn’t carry it.

And with that you pressed your luck, carelessly . . . never iron a four-leaf clover, because you don’t want to press your luck, and it sadly failed you and others as well, demon.

Are we not like two volumes of one book? I have read you side, it so close to mine, but I know you wouldn’t know it’s truth, if you ever bother reading mine to see it!

But to spare blood falling by my hands, I will go forth, seeing as you won’t and give cheers to a new year and another chance for us to get it right. And by us, I would it is us when you finally wake up from a dream where only you are on top.

Excellence is not a skill.  It is an attitude. And if you have known, many have that, but choose to stay quiet and live life the way they can without bothering others to reach that level of hope.

We’re fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance. If want others to know we are not a threat, to step on their dreams. I would rather see them smile, than having wonder why I am not.

In other paths that there are, I recall of one being, who shares such thing, but did something else for others to be wise, for this being didn’t know what to do with it all, God gave burdens, also shoulders. And in whatever pray one speaks, that being is the same, and just wants what is best, even if there is conflict of others think its taboo.

His was the nation’s sacrifice, and ours the priceless gain, and that what all would want. The world to be one, equal, and understanding, but the faults of what the rights are, fall flat and withered to dust, and nothing left but the battles of the future to come. How I wish, that the one thing that was taboo was war.

In the growing world, of fast changes, one group, the teenagers complain there’s nothing to do, then stay out all night doing it. Becoming something the children of youth and elder of wise, leaving fear where those nights will do.

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