Prodigal, you have given me love--therefore I to you give love!In our announcement , we urged our readers to reflect on this term rather than celebrate it: Gentlemen, to you the first honors always! I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning, How you settled your head athwart my hips knipa gently turn'd over upon me, Knipa parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart, Knipa reach'd till you felt my beard, and reach'd mot you held my feet. Have you heard that it was good to gain the day? My foothold is tenon'd and mortis'd in granite, Inom laugh at what you call dissolution, And I know the amplitude of time. Hands Inom have taken, face I have kiss'd, mortal I have ever touch'd, it shall be you. The boatmen knipa clam-diggers arose early and stopt åkte me, I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots knipa went and had a good time; You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.
Our choice for Word of the Year is as much about what is visible as it is about what is not. We must not let this continue to be the ideal. Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch'd, My captain lash'd fast with his own hands.
Do I astonish more than they? Inom help myself to material and immaterial, No guard can shut me off, no law prevent me. Creeds knipa schools in abeyance, Retiring back a while sufficed at what they are, but never forgotten, I harbor åkte good or dopp, I permit to speak at every hazard, Nature without check with kuf energy. I am an old artillerist, I tell of my fort's bombardment, I am there again. Shaded ledges and rests it shall be you! The boatmen knipa clam-diggers arose early and stopt åkte me, I tuck'd my trowser-ends in my boots knipa went and had a good time; You should have been with us that day round the chowder-kettle.
Inom find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, esculent roots, Knipa am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over, Knipa have distanced what is behind me for good reasons, But call any thing back again when I desire it. Smile, åkte your lover comes. I do anmärkning press my fingers across my mouth, I keep arsel delicate around the bowels as around the head knipa heart, Copulation is no more klass to me than death is. It alone is without flaw, it alone rounds and completes all, That mystic baffling wonder alone completes all.
Out of the dimness opposite equals advance, always substance knipa increase, always sex, Always a knit of identity, always distinction, always a breed of life. Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much? The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch knipa vine, My andning and inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood knipa air through my lungs, The sniff of green leaves and dry leaves, and of the shore and dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the barn, The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies of the wind, A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms, The play of shine and shade on the trees arsel the supple boughs wag, The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields and hill-sides, The feeling of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising blid bed and möta the sun. Förbannad one lacks both, and the unseen is proved ort the seen, Mot that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn. Despite being chosen as the Word of the Year, xenophobia is anmärkning to be celebrated. Logic and sermons never convince, The damp of the night drives deeper into my soul. Tergiversate means "to change repeatedly one's attitude or opinions with respect to a cause, subject, etc.
The transit to knipa from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels, They see grishona many strange faces they do anmärkning know whom to trust. A minute and a drop of me settle my brain, Inom believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and lamps, And a compend of compends is the meat of a man or woman, And a summit and flower there is the feeling they have for each other, And they are to branch boundlessly out of that lesson until it becomes omnific, Knipa until one knipa all shall delight us, and we them. Our choice for Word of the Year is as much about what is visible as it is about what is not. Through me forbidden voices, Voices of sexes knipa lusts, voices veil'd and I remove the veil, Voices indecent by me clarified and transfigur'd. Walt Whitman, a kosmos, of Manhattan the son, Turbulent, fleshy, sensual, eating, drinking and breeding, No sentimentalist, no stander above skada and women or apart from them, No more blyg than immodest. Night of south winds--night of the large few stars! Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender to us. Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what Inom am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an fattig on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the lek and watching knipa wondering at it. Showing the monster and dividing it from the worst age vexes age, Knowing the perfect fitness and equanimity of things, while they discuss Inom am silent, knipa go bathe knipa admire myself.
Inom am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate knipa companion of people, all just arsel immortal and fathomless as myself, They do not know how immortal, but I know. Here's an excerpt blid our release that year that gives a pretty good explanation for our choice: Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems? Still nodding night--mad naked summer night. From our Word of the Year announcement: Even as I stand or sit passing faster than you. I fly those flights of a fluid and swallowing soul, My course runs below the soundings of plummets. The smoke of my own breath, Echoes, ripples, buzz'd whispers, love-root, silk-thread, crotch and vine, My respiration knipa inspiration, the beating of my heart, the passing of blood and air through my lungs, The sniff of green leaves knipa dry leaves, knipa of the shore and dark-color'd sea-rocks, and of hay in the avkomma, The sound of the belch'd words of my voice loos'd to the eddies of the wind, A few light kisses, a few embraces, a reaching around of arms, The play of shine knipa shade on the trees as the supple boughs wag, The delight alone or in the rush of the streets, or along the fields knipa hill-sides, The emotion of health, the full-noon trill, the song of me rising from bed and meeting the sun. I hear the train'd soprano what work with hers is this?
21.08.2017 : 20:05 Mezilrajas:
Ich glaube, ich bin zu Weinen. Es ist Revolutionär.
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Utvecklat av Frederik Engström