Thursday, March 31, 2011
Emo Alone
Emo Drawing2
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Beautiful Friendship Thought !
"Sometimes in life, you find a special friend. Someone who changes your life just by being a part of it. Someone who makes you laugh until you can't stop. Someone who makes you believe that there really is good in the world. Someone who convinces you that there really is an unlocked door just waiting for you to open it. This is forever friendship. When you're down and the world seems dark and
Romantic Love Poem !!!
I will love you untilThe waters all dryUntil the sun stops shiningAnd there are no stars in the skyUntil the flowers won't bloomAnd the birds won't singUntil it is the endOf every living thingUntil the song has no tuneAnd the grass won't growThe rain won't comeAnd winter has no snowUntil the mountains so highCrumble to the valley belowUntil the flag wont flyAnd the river won't flowUntil the
I cannot breath......
If life were fair, then I would not have seen the bullet wound on my younger brother's side resembling, Christ's on that fateful day. Or the ominous tale of a grotesque scar left by a surgeon's knife as it trailed from stirnum to pelvis. I would not have seen his emaciated torso, evidence of new found religiosity or self imposed judgement. It was hard to see a mind so ravaged by life's cruelty that it made me understand how one succumbs to the hypocrisies of the likes of David “Moses” Berg, W. D. Fard, Charles Taze Russell _at the promise of security and cleansing of a soiled soul. A mind empty of memories of juvenile mirth but overcrowded with those of teenage deliquincy.
I believe even more now that it is true, having expectations of those to whom we are born is to volunteer for murder most foul. The cruelest kind where time seems to stand still, forever waiting for you to take your last breath saying: "I have had enough".
I believe even more now that it is true, having expectations of those to whom we are born is to volunteer for murder most foul. The cruelest kind where time seems to stand still, forever waiting for you to take your last breath saying: "I have had enough".
My soul is guttered. I cannot breath.
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Wednesday, March 30, 2011
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LIGHT IN AUGUST
A mill worker named Joe Christmas, who is probably of mixed heritage but light-skinned enough to pass for white, goes on a murderous rampage through the South. A shut-in preacher named Gail Hightower has visions of Confederate soldiers who accuse him of betraying his blood. A pregnant teen named Lena Grove walks through several states to find the man who knocked her up.
First Sentence:
“Sitting beside the road, watching the wagon mount the hill toward her, Lena thinks, 'I have come from Alabama: a fur piece.'”
Wonderful Friendship Sentences !
"Lots of people want to ride with you in the limo, but what you want is someone who will take the bus with you when the limo breaks down."
~ Oprah Winfrey.
"It can be hard to break the friendship code of secrecy and make your friend mad at you, but you must do what you feel in your heart is right."
~ Amanda Ford.
"One of the greatest things about being a teenager is the sharing, the
True Love Sentences !
Love is the true means by which the world is enjoyed: our love to others, and others' love to us.
~ Thomas Trahern.
We find rest in those we love, and we provide a resting place in ourselves for those who love us.
~ Saint Bernard of Clairvaux.
Love grows by giving. The love we give away is the only love we keep. The only way to retain love is to give it away.
~ Elbert Hubbard.
The most
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
A NEW KNOWLEDGE OF REALITY
To be clear, it might be useful to distinguish three phenomena. First, immediate sensory content: the light-filled surface of Matisse's Interior at Nice, the sweet fleeting notes of "Honeysuckle Rose" on Fats Waller's piano recording, or indeed the particular room one, at this moment, inhabits while reading. Second, delayed sensory content, or what can be called "instructions for the production of actual sensory content." A musical score has no immediate acoustical content, only the immediate visual content of lines and dots and the immediate tactile content of the smooth, thin pages, but it does directly specify a sequence of actions that, if followed, produces actually audible content. The third case, in contra-distinction to the first two, has no actual sensory content, whether immediate or delayed; there is instead only mimetic content, the figural rooms and faces and weather that we mimetically see, touch, and hear, though in no case do we actually do so.
It probably makes sense in this third case, as in the second, to use the word "instructions." When we say "Emily Brontë describes Catherine's face," we might also say "Brontë gives us a set of instructions for how to imagine or construct Catherine's face." This reformulation is accurate if cumbersome, in that it shifts the site of mimesis from the object to the mental act. We habitually say of images in novels that they "represent" or "are mimetic of" the real world. But the mimesis is perhaps less in them than in our seeing of them. In imagining Catherine's face, we perform a mimesis of actually seeing a face; in imagining the sweep of the wind across the moors, we perform a mimesis of actually hearing the wind. Imagining is an act of perceptual mimesis, whether undertaken in our own daydreams or under the instruction of great writers. And the question is: how does it come about that this perceptual mimesis, which when undertaken on one's own is ordinarily feeble and impoverished, when under authorial instruction sometimes closely approximates actual perception? In the poem "Birthplace," Seamus Heaney describes a young boy named Seamus Heaney staying up all night to read for the first time a novel (Thomas Hardy's Return of the Native) and at dawn not knowing whether the newborn sounds of bird and rooster and dog were coming to him from the surface of the field or from the surface of the page.
--Elaine Scarry, from Dreaming By the Book
NOT IDEAS ABOUT THE THING BUT THE THING ITSELF
by Wallace Stevens
At the earliest ending of winter,
In March, a scrawny cry from outside
Seemed like a sound in his mind.
He knew that he heard it,
A bird's cry, at daylight or before,
In the early March wind.
The sun was rising at six,
No longer a battered panache above snow...
It would have been outside.
It was not from the vast ventriloquism
Of sleep's faded papier-mache...
The sun was coming from the outside.
That scrawny cry--It was
A chorister whose c preceded the choir.
It was part of the colossal sun,
Surrounded by its choral rings,
Still far away. It was like
A new knowledge of reality.
It probably makes sense in this third case, as in the second, to use the word "instructions." When we say "Emily Brontë describes Catherine's face," we might also say "Brontë gives us a set of instructions for how to imagine or construct Catherine's face." This reformulation is accurate if cumbersome, in that it shifts the site of mimesis from the object to the mental act. We habitually say of images in novels that they "represent" or "are mimetic of" the real world. But the mimesis is perhaps less in them than in our seeing of them. In imagining Catherine's face, we perform a mimesis of actually seeing a face; in imagining the sweep of the wind across the moors, we perform a mimesis of actually hearing the wind. Imagining is an act of perceptual mimesis, whether undertaken in our own daydreams or under the instruction of great writers. And the question is: how does it come about that this perceptual mimesis, which when undertaken on one's own is ordinarily feeble and impoverished, when under authorial instruction sometimes closely approximates actual perception? In the poem "Birthplace," Seamus Heaney describes a young boy named Seamus Heaney staying up all night to read for the first time a novel (Thomas Hardy's Return of the Native) and at dawn not knowing whether the newborn sounds of bird and rooster and dog were coming to him from the surface of the field or from the surface of the page.
--Elaine Scarry, from Dreaming By the Book
NOT IDEAS ABOUT THE THING BUT THE THING ITSELF
by Wallace Stevens
At the earliest ending of winter,
In March, a scrawny cry from outside
Seemed like a sound in his mind.
He knew that he heard it,
A bird's cry, at daylight or before,
In the early March wind.
The sun was rising at six,
No longer a battered panache above snow...
It would have been outside.
It was not from the vast ventriloquism
Of sleep's faded papier-mache...
The sun was coming from the outside.
That scrawny cry--It was
A chorister whose c preceded the choir.
It was part of the colossal sun,
Surrounded by its choral rings,
Still far away. It was like
A new knowledge of reality.
Neil Gaiman Lost a Friend _ A sad tale
I got this from Neil Gaiman's blog and it is so beautifully written I was mush by the time i finished:
Being Alive. Mostly about Diana.
I'm in the UK right now, in the middle of nowhere, working on Monkey, about to go offline for a few days.
 I came over to do three things: to give the BBC a day to promote Episode Four of the next season of Doctor Who, which I have written; to see Hilary Bevan Jones, a wonderful producer with whom I've been working for years, about a couple of things; and to see Diana Wynne Jones. |
Thursday I was interviewed about Doctor Who all day. Mostly the interviews would go like this:
Them: "So, can you tell us the title of the episode?" Me: "No."
It was a fun but sometimes frustrating day.
She adopted me when I was a 24 year old writer for magazines of dubious respectability, and spent the next 25 years being proud of me as I made art that she liked (and, sometimes, I didn't. She'd tell me what she thought, and her opinions and criticism were brilliant and precise and honest, and if she said "Yee-ees. I thought you made a bit of a mess of that one," then I probably had, so when she really liked something it meant the world to me).
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REACH OUT YOUR HANDS TO THE ONE ALONE IN YOUR CITY TONIGHT
At this very moment, someone is dying. Someone is falling in love, at this very moment. Someone is laughing so hard that their guts ache. Someone is saying goodbye to a friend that they will never see again. At this very moment, someone is being murdered. And someone is murdering. Someone is making a tuna fish sandwich, at this very moment. Someone is boxing. Someone is masturbating in a very large bed. Someone is picking up their baby for the first time. Someone is feeling more alone than they have ever felt before. At this very moment, someone has just fallen asleep.
It is more than a failure of the imagination to believe that the world is drear and uninteresting, and has nothing for you. It is more than a failure of generosity to feel only what trembles in the narrow spaces of one's own heart, while ignoring what trembles in another's. It is more than a failure of language to speak with one tongue, when there are thousands more. It is more than a failure of love to lie awake all night, continually mourning your own single, brief, flickering life.
It is more than a failure of the imagination to believe that the world is drear and uninteresting, and has nothing for you. It is more than a failure of generosity to feel only what trembles in the narrow spaces of one's own heart, while ignoring what trembles in another's. It is more than a failure of language to speak with one tongue, when there are thousands more. It is more than a failure of love to lie awake all night, continually mourning your own single, brief, flickering life.
Men stumble over pebbles, never over mountains
A girl in love asked her boyfriend: "Tell me, who do you love most in this world?" "You, of course!" "In your heart, what am I to you?" The boy thought for a moment and looked intently in her eyes and said, "You are my rib. In the Bible, it was said that God saw that Adam was lonely. During his sleep, God took one of Adam's rib and created Eve. Every man has been searching for his missing rib. Only when you find the woman of your life will you no longer feel the lingering ache in your heart." After their wedding, the couple had a sweet and happy life for a while. However, the youthful couple began to drift apart due to the busy schedule of life and the never-ending worries of daily problems. Their life became mundane. All the challenges posed by the harsh realities of life began to gnaw away at their dreams and love for each other. The couple began to have more quarrels, and each quarrel became more heated. One day, after a quarrel, the girl ran out of the house. At the opposite side of the road, she shouted, "You don't love me!" The boy hated her childishness, and out of impulse retorted, "Maybe it was a mistake for us to be together! You were never my missing rib!" Suddenly, she turned quiet and stood there for a long while. He regretted what he said, but words spoken are like thrown away water -- you can never take them back. With tears, she went home to pack her things and was determined on breaking up. Before she left the house, the girl said, "If I'm really not your missing rib, then please let me go." She continued, "It is less painful this way. Let us go on our separate ways and search for our own partners." Five years went by. He never remarried but he had tried to find out about her life indirectly. She had left the country and came back. She had married a foreigner and divorced. He felt anguished that she never waited for him. In the dark and lonely night, he lit his cigarette and felt the lingering ache in his heart. He couldn't bring himself to admit that he was missing her. One day they finally met -- at the airport -- a place where there were many reunions and good-byes. He was going away on a business trip. She was standing there alone, with just the security door separating them. She smiled at him gently. (b): "How are you?" (g): "I'm fine. How about you. Have you found your missing rib?" (b): "No." (g): "I'll be flying to New York on the next flight." (b): "I'll be back in 2 weeks time." (g): "Give me a call when you get back. You know my number. Nothing has changed." With a smile, she turned around and waved good-bye. One week later, he heard of her death. She had perished in New York -- in the event that shocked the world. Midnight. Once again, he lit his cigarette. And like before, he felt the lingering ache in his heart. He finally knew that she was the missing rib that he had so carelessly broken. - AUTHOR UNKNOWN - Sometimes people say things out of moments of fury. Most often than not, the outcome could be disastrous and detrimental. We vent our frustrations 99% at our loved ones. And even though we know that we ought to "think twice and act wisely," it's often easier said than done. Things happen each day, many of which are beyond our control. Let us treasure every moment and everyone in our lives. Tomorrow may never come. Give and accept what you have today. "Men stumble over pebbles, never over mountains." -
Lovely Thoughts for Lovely People Just Like You
THE QUILT
As I faced my Maker at last judgement,
I knelt before the Lord along with the other souls . Before each of us laid our lives, like the squares of a quilt.
An angel sat before each of us sewing our quilt squares together into a tapestry that is our life.
But as my angel took each piece of cloth off the pile, I noticed how ragged and empty each of my squares was. They were filled with giant holes.
Each square was labeled with a part of my life that had been difficult, the challenges and temptations I was faced with in everyday life.
I saw hardships that I endured, which were the largest holes of all. I glanced around me. Nobody else had such squares. Other than a tiny hole here and there, the other tapestries were filled with rich color and all the bright hues of worldly fortune.
I gazed upon my own life and was disheartened. My angel was sewing the ragged pieces of cloth together, threadbare and empty like binding air.
Finally the time came when each life was to be displayed, held up to the light, the scrutiny of the truth ...The others rose, each in turn, holding up their tapestries.
So filled their lives had been. My angel looked upon me, and nodded for me to rise. My gaze dropped to the ground in shame. I hadn't had all the earthly fortunes.
I had love in my life, and laughter. But there had also been trials of illness and death, and false accusations that took from me my world as I knew it. I had to start over many times.
I often struggled with the temptation to quit, only to somehow muster the strength to pick up and begin again. I had spent many lonely nights on my knees in prayer, asking for help and guidance in my life.
I had often been held up to ridicule, which I endured painfully: each time offering it up to the Father in hopes that I would not melt within my skin beneath the judgemental gaze of those who unfairly judged me. And now, I had to face the truth. My life was what it was, and I had to accept it for what it had been...I rose and slowly lifted the combined squares of my life to the light. An awe-filled gasp filled the air.
I gazed around at the others who stared at me with eyes opened wide. Then I looked upon the tapestry before me.
Light flooded the many holes, creating an image, The Face of Christ. Then our Lord stood before me, with love and warmth in his eyes.
He said: "Every time you gave over your life to me, it became my life, my hardships, and my struggles. Each point of light in your life is when you stepped aside and let me shine thru, until there was more of me than there was of you."
Lovely Thoughts for Lovely People Just Like You
But whatever you do
But whatever you do, Do not hold on to the open mind; For in doing so, You will close it. Abandon control; The more you force it, The more you remove yourself from it. If it cannot come naturally, Be open-minded about it and accept it; Then the mind will open on it’s own, Without you obstructing it. 
Lovely Thoughts for Lovely People Just Like You
Lovely Thoughts for Lovely People Just Like You FERNANDO PESSOA
"Walking on these streets, until the night falls, my life feels to me like the life they [poems] have. By day they’re full of meaningless activity; by night, they’re full of meaningless lack of it. By day I am nothing, and by night I am I. There is no difference between me and these streets, save they being streets and I a soul, which perhaps is irrelevant when we consider the essence of things. There is an equal, abstract destiny for men and for things; both have an equally indifferent designation in the algebra of the world's mystery.
"But there's something else...In these languid and empty hours, a sadness felt by my entire being rises from my soul to my mind--a bitter awareness that everything is a sensation of mind and at the same time something external, something not in my power to change. Ah, how often my own dreams have raised up before me as things, not to replace reality but to declare themselves as equals, in so far as I scorn them and they exist apart from me, like the tram now turning the corner at the end of the street or like the voice of an evening crier crying I don't know what but with a sound that stands out--an Arabian chant like the sudden patter of a fountain--against the montony of twilight!
"Future married couples pass by, chatting seamstresses pass by, young men in a hurry for pleasure pass by, those who have retired from everything smoke on their habitual stroll, and at one or another doorway a shopkeeper stands like an idle vagabond, hardly noticing a thing. Army recruits--some of them brawny, others slight--slowly drift along in noisy and worse-than-noisy clusters. Occasionally someone quite ordinary goes by. Cars at that time of day are rare, and their noise is musical. In my heart there's a peaceful anguish, and my calm is made of resignation.
"All of this passes, and none of it means anything to me. It's all foreign to my fate, and even to fate as a whole. It's just unconsciousness, curses of protest when chance hurls stones, echoes of unknown voices--a collective mishmash of life."
--Fernando Pessoa, from The Book of Disquiet
Let go of your worries
Let go of your worries and be completely clear-hearted, like the face of a mirror that contains no images. If you want a clear mirror, behold yourself and see the shameless truth, which the mirror reflects. If metal can be polished to a mirror-like finish, what polishing might the mirror of the heart require? Between the mirror and the heart is this single difference: the heart conceals secrets, while the mirror does not.
Lovely Thoughts for Lovely People Just Like You
NOTHING. JUST FORGIVE
Three years ago, a friend said something to me that hurt very deeply.
I was speechless. I could not believe she could say that and mean it.
When I had no response, she said, "I love you and don't want to see you hurt."
My thought was, 'if you love me, how could you say such a terrible thing about someone I love dearly'.
But I was still speechless and just couldn't respond. Days and weeks passed and it still bothered me.
I prayed about it a lot and I thought I had forgiven her, but I couldn't forget.
Weeks and months went by. I didn't dwell on this, but occasionally after my prayers at bedtime, I would tlhink about it and couldn't seem to clear this from my thoughts. Therefore, I would have a restless night. Two years passed and I began to doubt that I had forgiven her. I decided I would talk to her about it and tell her how much her words had hurt. Before I could talk to her, I wanted to think about what I would say that wouldn't hurt her.
(I'm not really sure she would even remember what she had said to me.) I prayed about this and asked God to give me the right words to say.
After four days of praying about this, I began thinking God wasn't listening to me.
Then suddenly it became clear. God had heard and had answered my prayers.
The answer was to say NOTHING. JUST FORGIVE.
I did -- and a sense of peace came to me. I have had no more restless nights over this. We all do and say things at time that hurt someone.
We need forgiveness and we need to be able to forgive.
Let us all pray for those who hurt us and ask God to give us the Grace to forgive them. Forgiving them gives us relief from our hurt.
When we can truly forgive, it allows healing to take place in our spiritual lives. God knows He has to forgive us a lot.
Lovely Thoughts for Lovely People Just Like You
HOUSE OF LEAVES
A family moves into a house which appears to getting increasingly bigger inside, although the outside of the house stays the same. Doors appear where there were once blank walls, including a closet which stretches back several hundred feet into a seemingly endless black cavern. The characters get some flashlights and spelunking gear and head into the closet to investigate.
Second summary: A middle-aged man makes a documentary about his creepy house, an old man writes a book about the documentary about the house, and a young man writes his own notes in the book about the documentary about the house.
First Sentence:
“This is not for you.”
THE DARK CANDLE
A man had a little daughter--an only and much beloved child. He lived only for her, she was his life. So when she became ill and her illness resisted the efforts of the best obtainable physicians, he became like a man possessed, moving heaven and earth to bring about her restoration to health. His best efforts proved fruitless, however, and the child died. The father was totally irreconcilable. He became a bitter recluse, shutting himself away from his many friends, refusing every activity that might restore his poise and bring him back to his normal self. Then one night he had a dream. He was in heaven and witnessing a grand pageant of all the little child angels. They were marching in an apparently endless line past the Great White Throne. Every white-robed, angelic tot carried a candle.
He noticed, however, that one child's candle was not lit. Then he saw that the child with the dark candle was his own little girl.
Rushing towards her, while the pageant faltered, he seized her in his arms, caressed her tenderly, and asked, "How is that your candle is the only one not lit?"
"Father, they often relight it, but your tears always put it out again," she said.
Just then he awoke from from his dream. The lesson was crystal clear, and it's effects were immediate. From that hour on he was no longer a recluse, but mingled freely and cheerfully with his former friends and associates. No longer would his little darling's candle be extingushed by his useless tears.
Lovely Thoughts for Lovely People Just Like You UGLY THE TOMCAT
Everyone in the apartment complex I lived in knew who Ugly was.
Ugly was the resident tomcat. Ugly loved three things in this world: fighting, eating garbage, and, shall we say, love.
The combination of these things combined with a life spent outside had their effect on Ugly.
To start with, he had only one eye, and where the other should have been, there was a hole. He was also missing his ear on the same side. His left foot appeared to have been badly broken at one time and had healed at an unnatural angle, making him look like he was always turning the corner.
Ugly would have been a dark gray tabby, striped type, except for the sores covering his head, neck, and even his shoulders. Every time someone saw Ugly there was the same reaction. "That's one UGLY cat!!!" All the children were warned not to touch him, the adults threw rocks at him, hosed him down, squirted him when he tried to come in their homes, or shut his paws in the door when he would not leave.
Ugly always had the same reaction. If you turned the hose on him, he would stand there, getting soaked until you gave up and quit. If you threw things at him, he would curl his lanky body around your feet in forgiveness.
Whenever he spied children, he would come running, meowing frantically and bump his head against their hands, begging for their love. If you ever picked him up he would immediately begin suckling on your shirt, earrings, whatever he could find.
One day Ugly shared his love with the neighbor's dogs. They did not respond kindly, and Ugly was badly mauled. I tried to rush to his aid. By the time I got to where he was laying, it was apparent Ugly's sad life was almost at an end. As I picked him up and tried to carry him home, I could hear him wheezing and gasping, and could feel him struggling. It must be hurting him terribly, I thought. Then I felt a familiar tugging, sucking sensation on my ear.
gly, in so much pain, suffering and obviously dying, was trying to suckle my ear. I pulled him closer to me, and he bumped the palm of my hand with his head, then he turned his one golden eye towards me, and I could hear the distinct sound of purring.
Even in the greatest pain, that ugly battled scarred cat was asking only for a little affection, perhaps some compassion. At that moment I thought Ugly was the most beautiful, loving creature I had ever seen.
Never once did he try to bite or scratch me, try to get away from me, or struggle in any way. Ugly just looked up at me completely trusting in me to relieve his pain. Ugly died in my arms before I could get inside, but I sat and held him for a long time afterwards, thinking about how one scarred, deformed little stray could so alter my opinion about what it means to have true pureness of spirit, to love so totally and truly.
Ugly taught me more about giving and compassion than a thousand books, lectures, or talk show specials ever could, and for that I will always be thankful. He had been scarred on the outside, but I was scarred on the inside, and it was time for me to move on and learn to love truly and deeply -- to give my total to those I cared for.
Many people want to be richer, more successful, well liked, and beautiful -- except for me. I will always try to be Ugly.
Lovely Thoughts for Lovely People Just Like You
Great Friendship Feelings !
"If I could reach up and hold a star for every time you made me smile, the entire evening sky would be in the palm of my hand."
~ Unknown.
"The friendship isn't worth the tears unless the friend is."
~ Kellina Filbin.
"I believe in angels, the kind Heaven sends. I am surrounded by angels, but I call them my best friends."
~ Unknown.
"Friends are the most important part of your life.
Sweet Love Poem !!
The morning sky is dawning, a new day unfolds anew,I smile as you stir yawning,and reach, my love, for you.The sun is shining brightly, birds outside our windows sing,I hug you to me tightly, love is such a precious thing.
As you slept the angels kept you, safe and free from fear,As you wake, they still are with you,my special one so dear.These moments are so precious,I look forward to each new
Monday, March 28, 2011
DREAMS FOR A LONG TIME (+ ONE MORE JAIME MARTINEZ ANIMATED GIF)
I am reading all sorts of books and I am taking notes for my big
book which will take five or six years to write, and I am thinking
of two or three others. There will be dreams for a long time, which
is the principal thing.
-- Flaubert, letter to George Sand, March 12, 1873
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Freebie Button Baby boy, Baby girl
It has been a hell of a week...
On monday I had to go to to the vet with Misty and Nicky, they refused to eat... the vet could not find anything! No high temperature or anything else, so they got a injection that should get them back eating again.
If they wouldn't eat the next 2 days I had to call them and get back, so they could do some bloodtests.
Tuesday, Misty started eating again, YES! Nicky...looked at her food and probably thought 'You realy think I am gonna eat that? No way!' Argh...
Wednesday, Misty is eating her normal portions of food again and Nicky finally got her interest in her food back, it wasn't much she had, but still, she has eaten something! :)
The rest of the week they were still a bit more slow and sleepy, but at the weekend they both got back on their old food schedule, I am so happy! But still I don't know what it is they had, the vet didn't give it a name either, so I just think it was a flue or something.
Because of this stressfull week with my cats I decided to make a new appointment for Milo's teeth, now he has to go on Monday the 4th of April.
I didn't feel like having all my pets at the vet last week! :)
It has also been very busy with our nursery, had to send out a lot of packages and we had to get new plants today. I am so happy I have a few hours to relax right now :)
I made you guys 2 freebie buttons, inspired on the birth of little Jack, the son of good friends of us.
Enjoy!
You can download it here
No Time
I knelt to pray but not for long I had to much to do I had to hurry and get to work For bills would soon be due.
So I knelt and said a hurried prayer And jumped up off my knees.
My Christian duty was now done My soul could rest at ease.
All day long I had no time To spread a word of cheer
No time to speak of Christ to friends, They'd laugh at me I'd fear.
No time, no time, too much to do, That was my constant cry.
No time to give to souls in need, But at last.....the time to die.
I went before the Lord, I came, I stood with downcast eyes,
For in His hands God held a book, It was the book of life.
God looked into his book and said,
"Your name I cannot find,
I once was going to write it down ... But never found the time." Lovely Thoughts for Lovely People Just Like You
Lovely Thoughts for Lovely People Just Like You
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