February 2012
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January 2012
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I WOULD RATHER BE ASHES THAN DUST!
i would rather that my spark should burn out...
– Jack London
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I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand...
– W. B. Yeats
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I bring to you with reverent hands the books of my numberless dreams.
– W. B. Yeats
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Days of Old
nickjstone:
Remember the days of old? When fear, sleep, and weakness had yet to be born in our vocabulary? The same days in which you ran towards wonder faithfully, like a steadfast leopard, until the sun hid its face behind the horizon?
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