Amnesia the four horsemen торрент

I resist any thing better than my own diversity, Breathe the air but leave plenty after me, And am not stuck up, and am in my place. The DayPoems Poetry Collection Timothy Bovee , editor www. Agonies are one...

Amnesia: The Dark Descent - Emma's Story - Custom Story:

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• How they contort rapid as lightning, with spasms and spouts of blood! That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be, A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books.
• I chant the chant of dilation or pride, We have had ducking and deprecating about enough, I show that size is only development.
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Writing and talk do not prove me, I carry the plenum of proof and every thing else in my face, With the hush of my lips I wholly confound the skeptic. Were mankind murderous or jealous upon you, my brother, my sister?

The youngster and the red-faced girl turn aside up the bushy hill, I peeringly view them from the top. Protection against outdated software. Man or woman, I might tell how I like you, but cannot, And might tell what it is in me and what it is in you, but cannot, And might tell that pining I have, that pulse of my nights and days.

I loafe and invite my soul, I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass. Welcome is every organ and attribute of me, and of any man hearty and clean, Not an inch nor a particle of an inch is vile, and none shall be less familiar than the rest. This is the geologist, this works with the scalper, and this is a mathematician.

I believe in the flesh and the appetites, Seeing, hearing, feeling, are miracles, and each part and tag of me is a miracle. And as to you Life I reckon you are the leavings of many deaths, No doubt I have died myself ten thousand times before. My signs are a rain-proof coat, good shoes, and a staff cut from the woods, No friend of mine takes his ease in my chair, I have no chair, no church, no philosophy, I lead no man to a dinner-table, library, exchange, But each man and each woman of you I lead upon a knoll, My left hand hooking you round the waist, My right hand pointing to landscapes of continents and the public road.

Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so, Only what nobody denies is so. A minute and a drop of me settle my brain, I 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, And until one and all shall delight us, and we them.

I am not an earth nor an adjunct of an earth, I am the mate and companion of people, all just as immortal and fathomless as myself, They do not know how immortal, but I know. Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game and watching and wondering at it.

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems, You shall possess the good of the earth and sun, there are millions of suns left, You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, nor look through the eyes of the dead, nor feed on the spectres in books, You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me, You shall listen to all sides and filter them from your self.

You sweaty brooks and dews it shall be you! That I walk up my stoop, I pause to consider if it really be, A morning-glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books. Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river! Our frigate takes fire, The other asks if we demand quarter?

Which of the young men does she like the best? Eleves, I salute you! I heard what was said of the universe, Heard it and heard it of several thousand years; It is middling well as far as it goes--but is that all? Dancing and laughing along the beach came the twenty-ninth bather, The rest did not see her, but she saw them and loved them. Ah the homeliest of them is beautiful to her. Wider and wider they spread, expanding, always expanding, Outward and outward and forever outward.

I am the poet of the woman the same as the man, And I say it is as great to be a woman as to be a man, And I say there is nothing greater than the mother of men. See ever so far, there is limitless space outside of that, Count ever so much, there is limitless time around that.