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Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

Free online greeting card maker or poetry art generator. Create free custom printable greeting cards or art from photos and text online. Use PoetrySoup's free online software to make greeting cards from poems, quotes, or your own words. Generate memes, cards, or poetry art for any occasion; weddings, anniversaries, holidays, etc (See examples here). Make a card to show your loved one how special they are to you. Once you make a card, you can email it, download it, or share it with others on your favorite social network site like Facebook. Also, you can create shareable and downloadable cards from poetry on PoetrySoup. Use our poetry search engine to find the perfect poem, and then click the camera icon to create the card or art.

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In last night's movie, a young writer and an older, married with children French woman fall in love. They did not meet during a village massacre and money is no object, Manhattan the place I was priced out of. But after everything has happened she cannot leave her children, not even for love, because of love, the love that brooks no serendipity. Here, in my family, love is taken for granted except when it's withdrawn and then even the trees lose all meaning, familiarity. Now it is almost dawn: this and that must get done in committee or alone. Don't reach, go slow as the day will allow. But that's not what I came to say. Perfect rest v. having a destiny. A complete breakdown in self-discipline. It begins by saying nothing I do matters under the eye of eternity. Hamlet x 5 centuries. Add to that all the science--chemistry, physics--calculus and music I don't know. I have sat next to, at weddings, brain surgeons and robot engineers. I hit the street choosing a church on Fifth Ave. or Trinity Cemetery, walking the heartless city. In the subsequent late night movie, a wealthy altruistic doctor arranges for the murder of his neurotic concubine. His guilt provides us with an opportunity to consider the concepts of faith and forgiveness, that all will be well in the end after a period of meaningless suffering. In this way the seasons have been circulating for eons via convexity. I don't know what I'm doing but I'm doing it anyway. You trust in genetics, God, prosthetics or prayer, whatever gets you to the morning. That's when the sun, a billion trillion nuclear detonations per second warms your bones. You may remember an old lover who's gone before or continues to exist on another plane, in another ecstasy. Having installed a new toilet seat and made a few philanthropic donations I can kick back tonight and watch movies, right? Not. I'm ridding myself of another addiction like illegal drugs via caloric restrictions getting enough sleep for two people or more and reading none of the dry words in books from the library. When there's nothing to do, when I'm bored or dreary I'll sit still and watch from the window, I'll wait for the weather to change, which it will.

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Antifragility

In last night's movie, a young writer and an older, married with children French woman fall in love. They did not meet during a village massacre and money is no object, Manhattan the place I was priced out of. But after everything has happened she cannot leave her children, not even for love, because of love, the love that brooks no serendipity. Here, in my family, love is taken for granted except when it's withdrawn and then even the trees lose all meaning, familiarity. Now it is almost dawn: this and that must get done in committee or alone. Don't reach, go slow as the day will allow. But that's not what I came to say. Perfect rest v. having a destiny. A complete breakdown in self-discipline. It begins by saying nothing I do matters under the eye of eternity. Hamlet x 5 centuries. Add to that all the science--chemistry, physics--calculus and music I don't know. I have sat next to, at weddings, brain surgeons and robot engineers. I hit the street choosing a church on Fifth Ave. or Trinity Cemetery, walking the heartless city. In the subsequent late night movie, a wealthy altruistic doctor arranges for the murder of his neurotic concubine. His guilt provides us with an opportunity to consider the concepts of faith and forgiveness, that all will be well in the end after a period of meaningless suffering. In this way the seasons have been circulating for eons via convexity. I don't know what I'm doing but I'm doing it anyway. You trust in genetics, God, prosthetics or prayer, whatever gets you to the morning. That's when the sun, a billion trillion nuclear detonations per second warms your bones. You may remember an old lover who's gone before or continues to exist on another plane, in another ecstasy. Having installed a new toilet seat and made a few philanthropic donations I can kick back tonight and watch movies, right? Not. I'm ridding myself of another addiction like illegal drugs via caloric restrictions getting enough sleep for two people or more and reading none of the dry words in books from the library. When there's nothing to do, when I'm bored or dreary I'll sit still and watch from the window, I'll wait for the weather to change, which it will.