Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. "Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
|
The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures. It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers. It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth and of death, in ebb and in flow. I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life. And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.
|
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. 'Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!' cries she With silent lips. 'Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!'
|
Abstinence sows sand all overThe ruddy limbs and flaming hair,But Desire GratifiedPlants fruits of life and beauty there.
|
Can you really ask what reason Pythagoras had for abstaining from flesh? For my part I rather wonder both by what accident and in what state of soul or mind the first man did so, touched his mouth to gore and brought his lips to the flesh of a dead creature, he who set forth tables of dead, stale bodies and ventured to call food and nourishment the parts that had a little before bellowed and cried, moved and lived. How could his eyes endure the slaughter when throats were slit and hides flayed and limbs torn from limb? How could his nose endure the stench? How was it that the pollution did not turn away his taste, which made contact with the sores of others and sucked juices and serums from mortal wounds?
|
We penetrated deeper and deeper into the heart of darkness. It was very quiet there. At night sometimes the roll of the drums behind the curtain of trees would run up the river and remain sustained faintly, as if hovering in the air high over our heads, till the first break of day ... The dawn were heralded by a chill stillness; the wood-cutters slept, their fires burned low; the snapping of a twig would make you start. We were wanderers on a prehistoric planet ... But suddenly, as we struggled round a bend, there would be a glimpse of rush walls, of peaked grass-roof, a burst of yells, a whirl of black limbs, a mass of hands clapping, of feet stamping, of bodies swaying, of eyes rolling, under the droops of heavy and motionless foliage.
|
But this was the old tree's late branch wrenched away, Grieving the sapless limbs, the shorn and shaken.
|
Confucious say: - fool man climb tree to get cherries; wise man spread limbs. - man who go to bed with sex problem wake up with solution in hand. - man who live in glass house should bathe in the basement. - man who screws near graveyard is fucking near dead. - man with hand in pocket feel cocky all day. - woman who cooks carrots and pees in same pot very unsanitary. - man who goes to bed with an itchy butt wakes up with a smelly finger
|
Minstrel: [singing] Bravely bold Sir Robin, rode forth from Camelot. He was not afraid to die, oh brave Sir Robin. He was not at all afraid to be killed in nasty ways, brave, brave, brave, brave Sir Robin. He was not in the least bit scared to being mashed into a pulp, or to have his eyes gouged out, and his elbows broken. To have his knee caps split, and his body burned away, and his limbs all hacked and mangled, brave Sir Robin. His head smashed in and heart cut out, and his liver removed, and his bowels unplugged, and his nostrils ripped and his bottom burned off and his penis...
Sir Robin: THAT'S, that's quite enough, Minstrel.
|
Abstinence sows sand all overThe ruddy limbs & flaming hair,But Desire GratifiedPlants fruits of life & beauty there.
|
I inhale the sweet breeze that comes from thy mouth, I contemplate thy beauty every day. It’s my desire to hear thy lovely voice like the north wind’s whiff. Love will rejuvenate my limbs. Give me thy hands that hold thy soul, I shall embrace and live by it. Call me by name again, again, forever, and never will it sound without response.
|
But the hobbledehoy, though he blushes when women address him, and is uneasy even when he is near them, though he is not master of his limbs i...
|
A nation grown free in a single day is a child born with the limbs and the vigor of a man, who would take a drawn sword for his rattle, and set the house in a blaze that he might chuckle over the splendor.
|
Any organization is like a tree full of monkeys, all on different limbs at different levels. Some monkeys are climbing up, some down. The monkeys on top look down and see a tree full of smiling faces. The monkeys on the bottom look up and see nothing but assholes.
|
Hebrews 12:13:
'Make level paths for your feet,' so that the lame may not be disabled, but rather healed.
(NIV)
And cut through and make firm and plain and smooth, straight paths for your feet [yes, make them safe and upright and happy paths that go in the right direction], so that the lame and halting [limbs] may not be put out of joint, but rather may be cured.
(AMP)
And make straight paths for your feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the way; but let it rather be healed.
(KJV)
|
If it keeps up, man will atrophy all his limbs but the push-button finger.
|
Sorrow is a fruit. God does not make it grow on limbs too weak to bear it.
|
The man who looks for security, even in the mind, is like a man who would chop off his limbs in order to have artificial ones which will give him no pain or trouble.
|
I think I should have no other mortal wants, if I could always have plenty of music. It seems to infuse strength into my limbs and ideas into my brain. Life seems to go on without effort, when I am filled with music.
|