The Big Thread of Lurve Because it's that time of year again
#1
Posted 11 February 2009 - 10:26 PM
Despite what many may think, I am a great, big, soppy romantic at heart. So, given what we all know is due a few days down the line, I'd like to ask you all: what's your favourite bit of romantic frippery?
Personally, I like love poetry. If you want to say it with words, why not choose beautiful words with which to say it?
There is of course, the always reliable, Sonnet 18:
And then there's my very own favourite:
To his Coy Mistress
by Andrew Marvell
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
So people; if you're in love, or have been, or would like to be... What do you think says it best?
Personally, I like love poetry. If you want to say it with words, why not choose beautiful words with which to say it?
There is of course, the always reliable, Sonnet 18:
And then there's my very own favourite:
To his Coy Mistress
by Andrew Marvell
Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk, and pass our long love's day;
Thou by the Indian Ganges' side
Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood;
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow.
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast,
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart.
For, lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear
Time's winged chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song; then worms shall try
That long preserv'd virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust.
The grave's a fine and private place,
But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may;
And now, like am'rous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour,
Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power.
Let us roll all our strength, and all
Our sweetness, up into one ball;
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.
So people; if you're in love, or have been, or would like to be... What do you think says it best?
If an opinion contrary to your own makes you angry, that is a sign that you are subconsciously aware of having no good reason for thinking as you do. If some one maintains that two and two are five, or that Iceland is on the equator, you feel pity rather than anger, unless you know so little of arithmetic or geography that his opinion shakes your own contrary conviction. … So whenever you find yourself getting angry about a difference of opinion, be on your guard; you will probably find, on examination, that your belief is going beyond what the evidence warrants. Bertrand Russell
#2
Posted 11 February 2009 - 10:34 PM
Marius' letter to Cosette, Les Miserables. The single most breathtaking piece of literature I've ever read. Long quote is looooooooooong because it's actually an entire chapter.
Edit: I have some massive deja-vu going on here. Wonder what changed in the Matrix?
Quote
CHAPTER IV. A HEART BENEATH A STONE
The reduction of the universe to a single being, the expansion of a single being even to God, that is love.
Love is the salutation of the angels to the stars.
How sad is the soul, when it is sad through love!
What a void in the absence of the being who, by herself alone fills the world! Oh! how true it is that the beloved being becomes God. One could comprehend that God might be jealous of this had not God the Father of all evidently made creation for the soul, and the soul for love.
The glimpse of a smile beneath a white crape bonnet with a lilac curtain is sufficient to cause the soul to enter into the palace of dreams.
God is behind everything, but everything
hides God. Things are black, creatures
are opaque. To love a being is to render that being transparent.
Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the attitude of the body may be, the soul is on its knees.
Parted lovers beguile absence by a thousand chimerical devices, which possess, however, a reality of their own. They are prevented from seeing each other, they cannot write to each other; they discover a multitude of mysterious means to correspond. They send each other the song of the birds, the perfume of the flowers, the smiles of children, the light of the sun, the sighings of the breeze, the rays of stars, all creation. And why not? All the works of God are made to serve love. Love is sufficiently potent to charge all nature with its messages.
Oh Spring! Thou art a letter that I write to her.
The future belongs to hearts even more than it does to minds. Love, that is the only thing that can occupy and fill eternity. In the infinite, the inexhaustible is requisite.
Love participates of the soul itself. It is of the same nature. Like it, it is the divine spark; like it, it is incorruptible, indivisible, imperishable. It is a point of fire that exists within us, which is immortal and infinite, which nothing can confine, and which nothing can extinguish. We feel it burning even to the very marrow of our bones, and we see it beaming in the very depths of heaven.
Oh Love! Adorations! voluptuousness of two minds which understand each other, of two hearts which exchange with each other, of two glances which penetrate each other! You will come to me, will you not, bliss! strolls by twos in the solitudes! Blessed and radiant days! I have sometimes dreamed that from time to time hours detached themselves from the lives of the angels and came here below to traverse the destinies of men.
God can add nothing to the happiness of those who love, except to give them endless duration. After a life of love, an eternity of love is, in fact, an augmentation; but to increase in intensity even the ineffable felicity which love bestows on the soul even in this world, is impossible, even to God. God is the plenitude of heaven; love is the plenitude of man
Love has its childishness, other passions have their pettinesses. Shame on the passions which belittle man! Honor to the one which makes a child of him!
There is one strange thing, do you know it? I dwell in the night. There is a being who carried off my sky when she went away.
Oh! would that we were lying side by side in the same grave, hand in hand, and from time to time, in the darkness, gently caressing a finger,--that would suffice for my eternity!
Ye who suffer because ye love, love yet more. To die of love, is to live in it.
Love. A sombre and starry transfiguration is mingled with this torture. There is ecstasy in agony.
Oh joy of the birds! It is because they have nests that they sing.
Love is a celestial respiration of the air of paradise.
Deep hearts, sage minds, take life as God has made it; it is a long trial, an incomprehensible preparation for an unknown destiny. This destiny, the true one, begins for a man with the first step inside the tomb. Then something appears to him, and he begins to distinguish the definitive. The definitive, meditate upon that word. The living perceive the infinite; the definitive permits itself to be seen only by the dead. In the meanwhile, love and suffer, hope and contemplate. Woe, alas! to him who shall have loved only bodies, forms, appearances! Death will deprive him of all. Try to love souls, you will find them again.
You look at a star for two reasons, because it is luminous, and because it is impenetrable. You have beside you a sweeter radiance and a greater mystery, woman.
All of us, whoever we may be, have our respirable beings. We lack air and we stifle. Then we die. To die for lack of love is horrible. Suffocation of the soul.
When love has fused and mingled two beings in a sacred and angelic unity, the secret of life has been discovered so far as they are concerned; they are no longer anything more than the two boundaries of the same destiny; they are no longer anything but the two wings of the same spirit. Love, soar.
On the day when a woman as she passes before you emits light as she walks, you are lost, you love. But one thing remains for you to do: to think of her so intently that she is constrained to think of you.
What love commences can be finished by God alone.
True love is in despair and is enchanted over a glove lost or a handkerchief found, and eternity is required for its devotion and its hopes. It is composed both of the infinitely great and the infinitely little.
If you are a stone, be adamant; if you are a plant, be the sensitive plant; if you are a man, be love.
Nothing suffices for love. We have happiness, we desire paradise; we possess paradise, we desire heaven.
Oh ye who love each other, all this is contained in love. Understand how to find it there. Love has contemplation as well as heaven, and more than heaven, it has voluptuousness.
"Does she still come to the Luxembourg?" "No, sir." "This is the church where she attends mass, is it not?" "She no longer comes here." "Does she still live in this house?" "She has moved away." "Where has she gone to dwell?"
"She did not say."
What a melancholy thing not to know the address of one's soul!
I encountered in the street, a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat was worn, his elbows were in holes; water trickled through his shoes, and the stars through his soul.
What a grand thing it is to be loved! What a far grander thing it is to love! The heart becomes heroic, by dint of passion. It is no longer composed of anything but what is pure; it no longer rests on anything that is not elevated and great. An unworthy thought can no more germinate in it, than a nettle on a glacier. The serene and lofty soul, inaccessible to vulgar passions and emotions, dominating the clouds and the shades of this world, its follies, its lies, its hatreds, its vanities, its miseries, inhabits the blue of heaven, and no longer feels anything but profound and subterranean shocks of destiny, as the crests of mountains feel the shocks of earthquake.
If there did not exist some one who loved, the sun would become extinct.
The reduction of the universe to a single being, the expansion of a single being even to God, that is love.
Love is the salutation of the angels to the stars.
How sad is the soul, when it is sad through love!
What a void in the absence of the being who, by herself alone fills the world! Oh! how true it is that the beloved being becomes God. One could comprehend that God might be jealous of this had not God the Father of all evidently made creation for the soul, and the soul for love.
The glimpse of a smile beneath a white crape bonnet with a lilac curtain is sufficient to cause the soul to enter into the palace of dreams.
God is behind everything, but everything
hides God. Things are black, creatures
are opaque. To love a being is to render that being transparent.
Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the attitude of the body may be, the soul is on its knees.
Parted lovers beguile absence by a thousand chimerical devices, which possess, however, a reality of their own. They are prevented from seeing each other, they cannot write to each other; they discover a multitude of mysterious means to correspond. They send each other the song of the birds, the perfume of the flowers, the smiles of children, the light of the sun, the sighings of the breeze, the rays of stars, all creation. And why not? All the works of God are made to serve love. Love is sufficiently potent to charge all nature with its messages.
Oh Spring! Thou art a letter that I write to her.
The future belongs to hearts even more than it does to minds. Love, that is the only thing that can occupy and fill eternity. In the infinite, the inexhaustible is requisite.
Love participates of the soul itself. It is of the same nature. Like it, it is the divine spark; like it, it is incorruptible, indivisible, imperishable. It is a point of fire that exists within us, which is immortal and infinite, which nothing can confine, and which nothing can extinguish. We feel it burning even to the very marrow of our bones, and we see it beaming in the very depths of heaven.
Oh Love! Adorations! voluptuousness of two minds which understand each other, of two hearts which exchange with each other, of two glances which penetrate each other! You will come to me, will you not, bliss! strolls by twos in the solitudes! Blessed and radiant days! I have sometimes dreamed that from time to time hours detached themselves from the lives of the angels and came here below to traverse the destinies of men.
God can add nothing to the happiness of those who love, except to give them endless duration. After a life of love, an eternity of love is, in fact, an augmentation; but to increase in intensity even the ineffable felicity which love bestows on the soul even in this world, is impossible, even to God. God is the plenitude of heaven; love is the plenitude of man
Love has its childishness, other passions have their pettinesses. Shame on the passions which belittle man! Honor to the one which makes a child of him!
There is one strange thing, do you know it? I dwell in the night. There is a being who carried off my sky when she went away.
Oh! would that we were lying side by side in the same grave, hand in hand, and from time to time, in the darkness, gently caressing a finger,--that would suffice for my eternity!
Ye who suffer because ye love, love yet more. To die of love, is to live in it.
Love. A sombre and starry transfiguration is mingled with this torture. There is ecstasy in agony.
Oh joy of the birds! It is because they have nests that they sing.
Love is a celestial respiration of the air of paradise.
Deep hearts, sage minds, take life as God has made it; it is a long trial, an incomprehensible preparation for an unknown destiny. This destiny, the true one, begins for a man with the first step inside the tomb. Then something appears to him, and he begins to distinguish the definitive. The definitive, meditate upon that word. The living perceive the infinite; the definitive permits itself to be seen only by the dead. In the meanwhile, love and suffer, hope and contemplate. Woe, alas! to him who shall have loved only bodies, forms, appearances! Death will deprive him of all. Try to love souls, you will find them again.
You look at a star for two reasons, because it is luminous, and because it is impenetrable. You have beside you a sweeter radiance and a greater mystery, woman.
All of us, whoever we may be, have our respirable beings. We lack air and we stifle. Then we die. To die for lack of love is horrible. Suffocation of the soul.
When love has fused and mingled two beings in a sacred and angelic unity, the secret of life has been discovered so far as they are concerned; they are no longer anything more than the two boundaries of the same destiny; they are no longer anything but the two wings of the same spirit. Love, soar.
On the day when a woman as she passes before you emits light as she walks, you are lost, you love. But one thing remains for you to do: to think of her so intently that she is constrained to think of you.
What love commences can be finished by God alone.
True love is in despair and is enchanted over a glove lost or a handkerchief found, and eternity is required for its devotion and its hopes. It is composed both of the infinitely great and the infinitely little.
If you are a stone, be adamant; if you are a plant, be the sensitive plant; if you are a man, be love.
Nothing suffices for love. We have happiness, we desire paradise; we possess paradise, we desire heaven.
Oh ye who love each other, all this is contained in love. Understand how to find it there. Love has contemplation as well as heaven, and more than heaven, it has voluptuousness.
"Does she still come to the Luxembourg?" "No, sir." "This is the church where she attends mass, is it not?" "She no longer comes here." "Does she still live in this house?" "She has moved away." "Where has she gone to dwell?"
"She did not say."
What a melancholy thing not to know the address of one's soul!
I encountered in the street, a very poor young man who was in love. His hat was old, his coat was worn, his elbows were in holes; water trickled through his shoes, and the stars through his soul.
What a grand thing it is to be loved! What a far grander thing it is to love! The heart becomes heroic, by dint of passion. It is no longer composed of anything but what is pure; it no longer rests on anything that is not elevated and great. An unworthy thought can no more germinate in it, than a nettle on a glacier. The serene and lofty soul, inaccessible to vulgar passions and emotions, dominating the clouds and the shades of this world, its follies, its lies, its hatreds, its vanities, its miseries, inhabits the blue of heaven, and no longer feels anything but profound and subterranean shocks of destiny, as the crests of mountains feel the shocks of earthquake.
If there did not exist some one who loved, the sun would become extinct.
Edit: I have some massive deja-vu going on here. Wonder what changed in the Matrix?
This post has been edited by HoosierDaddy: 11 February 2009 - 10:40 PM
Trouble arrives when the opponents to such a system institute its extreme opposite, where individualism becomes godlike and sacrosanct, and no greater service to any other ideal (including community) is possible. In such a system rapacious greed thrives behind the guise of freedom, and the worst aspects of human nature come to the fore....
#3
Posted 11 February 2009 - 11:03 PM
"Hey baby, how much for an hour?"
because SOMEONE was going to say it cough-APT-cough, and I figured i'd get in there first.
because SOMEONE was going to say it cough-APT-cough, and I figured i'd get in there first.
meh. Link was dead :(
#4
Posted 11 February 2009 - 11:24 PM
stone monkey, on Feb 11 2009, 05:26 PM, said:
So people; if you're in love, or have been, or would like to be... What do you think says it best?
I don't think anything says it. Effort =/= romance. It is those accidental moments that do it for me. Diamonds are a good try though, shiny!
Burn rubber =/= warp speed
#5
Posted 11 February 2009 - 11:24 PM
Tim Minchin said:
You can have my body
You can steal my car
You can take my money
You can have what you like but it won’t get you very far
‘cause my heart belongs to an eighteen year old lesbian
You can be my lover
We can have a fling
You can say your mine forever
You tell me what you like but it won’t get you anything
Because my heart belongs to an eighteen year old lesbian
I can quite believe it after searching year of lonely searching
I’ve stumbled hear on my ideal girl
And forget about logistics though she’s seven years my junior
So what if she likes kissing girls as well it doesn’t matter
‘cause I know I’ve found my only one she has my heart forever
but ill keep my feelings to myself I’d never dare to tell her
‘cause she tends to wont females
And I'm definitely a fella but if she was mine by God I’d love her well
You can be my buddy
Oh we’ll be best of friends
And you may be smart or funny
We may be the perfect pair but there’ll be tears in the end
’cause my heart belongs to an eighteen year old lesbian
I don’t see why I shouldn’t be allowed to have my dream
Just because we bat for different sides
Just look at Romeo and Juliet they ended up together
Though admittedly they prenatally died
Doesn’t matter
Because next time I see her I’m goanna pledge my heart forever and I’ll ask for her hand although I won’t forget to tell her
That I don’t mind wearing dresses if she wants to be the fella
‘cause I think I’ll make a really lovely bride
I can quite believe it after searching year of lonely searching
I’ve stumbled hear on my ideal girl
Ooh and forget about logistics though she’s seven years my junior
So what if she likes kissing girls as well it doesn’t matter
‘cause next time I see her I’m goanna pledge my heart forever and I’ll ask for her hand although I wont forget to tell her
That I don’t mind wearing dresses if she wants to be the fella
‘cause I think I’ll make a really lovely bride
Ooh my heart belongs to an eighteen year old eighteen year old lesbian
You can steal my car
You can take my money
You can have what you like but it won’t get you very far
‘cause my heart belongs to an eighteen year old lesbian
You can be my lover
We can have a fling
You can say your mine forever
You tell me what you like but it won’t get you anything
Because my heart belongs to an eighteen year old lesbian
I can quite believe it after searching year of lonely searching
I’ve stumbled hear on my ideal girl
And forget about logistics though she’s seven years my junior
So what if she likes kissing girls as well it doesn’t matter
‘cause I know I’ve found my only one she has my heart forever
but ill keep my feelings to myself I’d never dare to tell her
‘cause she tends to wont females
And I'm definitely a fella but if she was mine by God I’d love her well
You can be my buddy
Oh we’ll be best of friends
And you may be smart or funny
We may be the perfect pair but there’ll be tears in the end
’cause my heart belongs to an eighteen year old lesbian
I don’t see why I shouldn’t be allowed to have my dream
Just because we bat for different sides
Just look at Romeo and Juliet they ended up together
Though admittedly they prenatally died
Doesn’t matter
Because next time I see her I’m goanna pledge my heart forever and I’ll ask for her hand although I won’t forget to tell her
That I don’t mind wearing dresses if she wants to be the fella
‘cause I think I’ll make a really lovely bride
I can quite believe it after searching year of lonely searching
I’ve stumbled hear on my ideal girl
Ooh and forget about logistics though she’s seven years my junior
So what if she likes kissing girls as well it doesn’t matter
‘cause next time I see her I’m goanna pledge my heart forever and I’ll ask for her hand although I wont forget to tell her
That I don’t mind wearing dresses if she wants to be the fella
‘cause I think I’ll make a really lovely bride
Ooh my heart belongs to an eighteen year old eighteen year old lesbian
I survived the Permian and all I got was this t-shirt.
#6
Posted 11 February 2009 - 11:31 PM
Stuffed animals. But I'm weird. Cuteness distilled into cuddly-form.
I suppose I'm way into the cute childish love. OH SHIT IT'S CHRIS HANSEN HIDE ME.
I suppose I'm way into the cute childish love. OH SHIT IT'S CHRIS HANSEN HIDE ME.
<!--quoteo(post=462161:date=Nov 1 2008, 06:13 PM:name=Aptorian)--><div class='quotetop'>QUOTE (Aptorian @ Nov 1 2008, 06:13 PM) <a href="index.php?act=findpost&pid=462161"><{POST_SNAPBACK}></a></div><div class='quotemain'><!--quotec-->God damn. Mighty drunk. Must ... what is the english movement movement movement for drunk... with out you seemimg drunk?
bla bla bla
Peopleare harrasing me... grrrrrh.
Also people with big noses aren't jews, they're just french
EDIT: We has editted so mucj that5 we're not quite sure... also, leave britney alone.<!--QuoteEnd--></div><!--QuoteEEnd-->
bla bla bla
Peopleare harrasing me... grrrrrh.
Also people with big noses aren't jews, they're just french
EDIT: We has editted so mucj that5 we're not quite sure... also, leave britney alone.<!--QuoteEnd--></div><!--QuoteEEnd-->
#7
Posted 12 February 2009 - 02:58 AM
D'rek is the romantic lurve...
This post has been edited by D'rek: 12 February 2009 - 02:58 AM
#8
Posted 12 February 2009 - 03:13 AM
I love romantic comedies. And not just because they're funny.
#9
Posted 12 February 2009 - 04:04 AM
I guess I could always play "I would do anything for love" by Meatloaf.
Or anything by Barry White, or Cannibal Corpse.
Or anything by Barry White, or Cannibal Corpse.
The Pub is Always Open
Proud supporter of the Wolves of Winter. Glory be to her Majesty, The Lady Snow.
Cursed Summer returns. The Lady Now Sleeps.
The Sexy Thatch Burning Physicist
Τον Πρωτος Αληθη Δεσποτην της Οικιας Αυτος
Proud supporter of the Wolves of Winter. Glory be to her Majesty, The Lady Snow.
Cursed Summer returns. The Lady Now Sleeps.
The Sexy Thatch Burning Physicist
Τον Πρωτος Αληθη Δεσποτην της Οικιας Αυτος
RodeoRanch said:
You're a rock.
A non-touching itself rock.
A non-touching itself rock.
#11
Posted 12 February 2009 - 09:25 PM
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'm a schizophrenic
And so am I
Violets are blue
I'm a schizophrenic
And so am I
2012
"Imperial Gothos, Imperial"
"Imperial Gothos, Imperial"
#12
Posted 12 February 2009 - 09:27 PM
Roses are red
Violets are blue
I'll fuck you with a rake.
Violets are blue
I'll fuck you with a rake.
#13
Posted 12 February 2009 - 09:29 PM
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Check the local sexual predators list
Before it's too late for you.
Violets are blue
Check the local sexual predators list
Before it's too late for you.
Trouble arrives when the opponents to such a system institute its extreme opposite, where individualism becomes godlike and sacrosanct, and no greater service to any other ideal (including community) is possible. In such a system rapacious greed thrives behind the guise of freedom, and the worst aspects of human nature come to the fore....
#14
Posted 12 February 2009 - 09:29 PM
oh god I could lower the tone further, but its in horribly bad taste
ETA - i remembered a non offensive one:
Roses Are Red
Violets Are Blue
God Made Me Pretty
What Happened To you?
eta (again, yes im drinking)
Roses are red
Violets are blue
god my shit stinks
but not as bad as you
ETA - i remembered a non offensive one:
Roses Are Red
Violets Are Blue
God Made Me Pretty
What Happened To you?
eta (again, yes im drinking)
Roses are red
Violets are blue
god my shit stinks
but not as bad as you
This post has been edited by Macros: 12 February 2009 - 09:33 PM
2012
"Imperial Gothos, Imperial"
"Imperial Gothos, Imperial"
#15
Posted 12 February 2009 - 09:30 PM
PM?
"Hollow. My name is Kurosaki Ichigo. You killed my mother. Bankai."
#16
Posted 12 February 2009 - 09:31 PM
Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you want it up the bum
I'm here for you
Violets are blue
If you want it up the bum
I'm here for you
souls are for wimps
#17
Posted 12 February 2009 - 09:44 PM
Roses are red
Violets like a good video
I'll take you home
leave your face like a painters radio
Violets like a good video
I'll take you home
leave your face like a painters radio
2012
"Imperial Gothos, Imperial"
"Imperial Gothos, Imperial"
#18
Posted 12 February 2009 - 11:56 PM
The majority of you guys know why you are single, right?
Best rhyme and Valentine's card I ever received was:
Roses are red
Sugar is sweet
You know what they say
About men with big feet
And the guy had made a card with a paint footprint inside! I didn't know who it was from for months and when he eventually told me, it was too late because I was seeing someone else. If he had told me at the time, he would have totally been in!
Best rhyme and Valentine's card I ever received was:
Roses are red
Sugar is sweet
You know what they say
About men with big feet
And the guy had made a card with a paint footprint inside! I didn't know who it was from for months and when he eventually told me, it was too late because I was seeing someone else. If he had told me at the time, he would have totally been in!
Burn rubber =/= warp speed
#19
Posted 13 February 2009 - 02:15 AM
Roses are red,
Violets are blue.
REMAIN CALM!
I'M COMING TO YOUR HOUSE TO KILL YOU.
Violets are blue.
REMAIN CALM!
I'M COMING TO YOUR HOUSE TO KILL YOU.
I survived the Permian and all I got was this t-shirt.
#20
Posted 13 February 2009 - 02:25 AM
How do I love thee, let me count the ways:
I love the way thee screams and runs away, merrily prolonging the chase
I love thees reporting I to the law to announce our love to everyone
I love the way thee screams and runs away, merrily prolonging the chase
I love thees reporting I to the law to announce our love to everyone
Trouble arrives when the opponents to such a system institute its extreme opposite, where individualism becomes godlike and sacrosanct, and no greater service to any other ideal (including community) is possible. In such a system rapacious greed thrives behind the guise of freedom, and the worst aspects of human nature come to the fore....