reflections

Evil" is an inverted anagram of "live." As we live our life, learn to tame our own private demons and conquer evil with a good, pure, humble, courageous, patient heart.

May you always remember the Beloved is your divine and sacred self.

There are very few of us who remember the day, the moment, when our childhood ends. For most of us, the sun sets on our innocence gradually, sliding down over the western horizon like a toboggan run down over a long, steep slope. We are never really conscious of the moment we reach the bottom of the slope; we just know that one day we wake up and the toboggan ride is over.

Over-thinking, a devouring monster,entice, only the inky reflections;there's a pleasure you come by,from this anomalous encounter;kills your desire, for human affection.

If ever sorrow and suffering set their profaning marks on the youth and beauty of Miss Fairlie__ face, then, and then only, Anne Catherick and she would be the twin-sisters of chance resemblance, the living reflections of one another.

We imagine that we remember things as they were, while in fact all we carry into the future are fragments which reconstruct a wholly illusory past. That first death we witness will always be a murmur of voices down a corridor and a clock falling silent in the darkened room, the end of love is forever two spent cigarettes in a saucer and a white door closing.

Telling our personal story constitutes an act of consciousness that defines the ethical lining of a person__ constitution. Recounting personal stories promotes personal growth, spurs the performance of selfless deeds, and in doing so enhances the ability of the equitable eye of humanity to scroll rearward and forward. Every person must become familiar with our communal history of struggle, loss, redemption, and meaningfully contemplate the meaning behind our personal existence in order to draft a proper and prosperous future for succeeding generations. Accordingly, every person is responsible for sharing their story using the language of thought that best expresses their sanguine reminiscences. Without a record of pastimes, we will never know what were, what we now are, or what we might become by steadfastly and honorably struggling with mortal chores.

Walls get made, walls crumble, buildings get built, buildings collapse, memories get made, memories last.

He remembered hearing Karl tell James once that it was hard for people to ever know what they really looked like. Reflections in mirrors weren__ accurate, Karl said, because when you stared at yourself in a mirror, you subconsciously composed your face in a way that wasn__ your natural expression.Marvin wondered it that was true when you were with strangers too. Maybe you only looked like your true self with the people you loved. And maybe that was a face you yourself hardly ever got to see_

I have noticed that the solar radiation reflections from rippled privacy windows cause greatly accelerated growth patterns in plants

Fond memories are some of the richest possessions you can have. They never wear away no matter how often you reuse them !

Call me crazy, but there is something terribly wrong with this city.

That__ a stupid name! Whirly-gig is much better, I think. Who in their rightmind would point at this thing and say, ____ going to fly in my Model-A1_.People would much rather say, __et in my whirly-gig_. And that__ what youshould name it.

She leaves my side and heads deeper intothe apartment singing, ___f the spirit tries to hide, its temple far away_ acopper for those they ask, a diamond for those who stay.

I rouse Emily to our guests, as she finishes off our fifteenth snowman by setting the head atop its torso. She stands limp at my direction, pointing out the coming shadows and I cannot help but hear a muffled sigh as she decapitates her latest creation with a single push of her hand.

There is a stillness between us, a period of restlessness that ties my stomachin a hangman__ noose. It is this same lack in noise that lives, there! in thedarkness of the grave, how it frightens me beyond all things.

I can__ help but ask, __o you know where you are?__he turns to me with a foreboding glare. __o you?

Did Bach ever eatpancakes at midnight?