Wednesday, November 18, 2009
















One who has not only the four S's, which are required in every good lover, but even the whole alphabet; as for

example... Agreeable, Bountiful, Constant, Dutiful, Easy, Faithful, Gallant, Honorable, Ingenious, Kind, Loyal,

Mild, Noble, Officious, Prudent, Quiet, Rich, Secret, True, Valiant, Wise; the X indeed, is too harsh a letter to

agree with him, but he is Young and Zealous.


Do not cry, because we are destiny, because we are everything that can be above this world. And now, the angel of my

life, please let me fly so that I can fulfil the vanity of this world, of this dream, of this nightmare that

eternally took you from me.
I didn’t thought you will come now at this age and time of this Illusion of Life, but between these bars I tell you

how much I love you and do not ever doubt me.
I will be yours in every moment of this life, which I give to you.


A lover, when he is admitted to cards, ought to be solemnly silent, and observe the motions of his mistress. He must

laugh when she laughs, sigh when she sighs. In short, he should be the shadow of her mind. A lady, in the presence

of her lover, should never want a looking-glass; as a beau, in the presence of his looking-glass, never wants a

mistress.


Madame, it is an old word and each one takes it new and wears it out himself. It is a word that fills with meaning

as a bladder with air and the meaning goes out of it as quickly. It may be punctured as a bladder is punctured and

patched and blown up again and if you have not had it does not exist for you. All people talk of it, but those who

have had it are marked by it, and I would not wish to speak of it further since of all things it is the most

ridiculous to talk of and only fools go through it


Everybody can be great... because anybody can serve. You don't have to have a college degree to serve. You don't

have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. you only need a heart full of grace. a soul generated by love.


I think about you in every moment and every image of you hurts me horribly. I want to feel every thought, every

whisper you say in the deep silence of the eternity of you soul. To be able to cry in me, beside you, beside me in

you, to be able to understand why our hearts beat, why we live among moments and not among eternities as if it were

different.
To be able to understand every smile which breaks in my just like a wave, which finally breaks against the cliff of

my eternity through the blood of my ancestors as my misconducts break in your eternity and that of your ancestors.
And they want to tell you how much I love you, how much I adore you in this vain world.
I know we will never be able to look in the eyes, but only in the hearts.
I know they beat against the infinite precisely because they beat even though we both want the infinite and its

truth. Any beat opposes the infinite because it measures an infinity, even if it is finite. And then?

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