03-22-2008, 07:51 AM | #123 (permalink) | |
Dumb all over...a little ugly on the side
Location: In the room where the giant fire puffer works, and the torture never stops.
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Quote:
I'm guessing English wouldn't be enough of a challenge for them...they'd chose to learn all 500 million dialects of Chinese...
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He's the best, of course, of all the worst. Some wrong been done, he done it first. -fz I jus' want ta thank you...falettinme...be mice elf...agin... |
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03-22-2008, 08:53 AM | #124 (permalink) |
warrior bodhisattva
Super Moderator
Location: East-central Canada
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The same sugar that has helped build empires will help them fall.
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Knowing that death is certain and that the time of death is uncertain, what's the most important thing? —Bhikkhuni Pema Chödrön Humankind cannot bear very much reality. —From "Burnt Norton," Four Quartets (1936), T. S. Eliot |
04-11-2008, 08:31 AM | #126 (permalink) |
Upright
Location: reykjavík, iceland
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are we not men?
we are DEVO!
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mother nature made the aeroplane, and the submarine sandwich, with the steady hands and dead eye of a remarkable sculptor. she shed her mountain turning training wheels, for the convenience of the moving sidewalk, that delivers the magnetic monkey children through the mouth of impossible calendar clock, into the devil's manhole cauldron. physics of a bicycle, isn't it remarkable? |
06-28-2008, 07:01 PM | #128 (permalink) |
Leaning against the -Sun-
Super Moderator
Location: on the other side
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Often times when I hear people talk about favourite things I have no idea what they mean. I often wonder if there is something intrinsically odd about me because I never quite know what my favourite anything is...and I like it that way too.
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Whether we write or speak or do but look We are ever unapparent. What we are Cannot be transfused into word or book. Our soul from us is infinitely far. However much we give our thoughts the will To be our soul and gesture it abroad, Our hearts are incommunicable still. In what we show ourselves we are ignored. The abyss from soul to soul cannot be bridged By any skill of thought or trick of seeming. Unto our very selves we are abridged When we would utter to our thought our being. We are our dreams of ourselves, souls by gleams, And each to each other dreams of others' dreams. Fernando Pessoa, 1918 |
07-01-2008, 08:30 PM | #130 (permalink) |
Dumb all over...a little ugly on the side
Location: In the room where the giant fire puffer works, and the torture never stops.
|
__________________
He's the best, of course, of all the worst. Some wrong been done, he done it first. -fz I jus' want ta thank you...falettinme...be mice elf...agin... |
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existential, observations |
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