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Read through the most famous quotes by topic #pros
Säjer att jag rymt hit för din skull men ljuger förstås det låter vackrare då ville bara att du skulle ta bort nåldynan från badrummet ställa in kanske mjölk i kylen låtsas att vi lever lika mycket båda två stängde dörren för längesen om mej och du bänder loss brädorna men kommer inte in du förstår älskling jag har kilat fast alla öppningar med frusna tårar avbrutna morrhår död hud och blodiga kräkningar har byggt berg utanför av uppsprättade drömmar och klätt in hela trappuppgången i tomhet och du kommer aldrig igenom man kommer aldrig igenom men inimej kom inimej och där nånstans låt mej liksom leva bara ↗
The great error consists in supposing that poetry is an unnatural form of language. We should all like to speak poetry at the moment when we truly live, and if we do not speak it, it is because we have an impediment in our speech. It is not song that is the narrow or artificial thing, it is conversation that is a broken and stammering attempt at song. When we see men in a spiritual extravaganza, like Cyrano de Bergerac, speaking in rhyme, it is not our language disguised or distorted, but our language rounded and made whole. ↗
Businesses, like babies and books, need nurturing, time, energy, love, planning and, yes, money to develop, grow and prosper. ↗
#business #development #energy #growth #inspirational-quotes
Remember, buying something is not the problem. The problem comes when we believe, for that moment, that the object we’re buying is going to make us happy. ↗
You can have all the wine and dragons that my money can buy. That’s what the old woman told me, and I listened. ↗
Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, And ye that on the sands with printless foot Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him When he comes back; you demi-puppets that By moonshine do the green sour ringlets make, Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid, Weak masters though ye be, I have bedimm’d The noontide sun, call’d forth the mutinous winds, And ‘twixt the green sea and the azured vault Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder Have I given fire and rifted Jove’s stout oak With his own bolt; the strong-based promontory Have I made shake and by the spurs pluck’d up The pine and cedar: graves at my command Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let ‘em forth By my so potent art. But this rough magic I here abjure, and, when I have required Some heavenly music, which even now I do, To work mine end upon their senses that This airy charm is for, I’ll break my staff, Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, And deeper than did ever plummet sound I’ll drown my book. ↗
