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Love is the rose. Lust is the thorn.
http://www.sathyasai.org.
Love is the rose. Lust is the thorn.
http://www.sathyasai.org.
We do not succeed in changing things according to our desire, but gradually our desire changes.
We do not succeed in changing things according to our desire, but gradually our desire changes.
We are always striving for things forbidden, and coveting those
denied us.
[Lat., Nitimur in vetitum semper, cupimusque read more
We are always striving for things forbidden, and coveting those
denied us.
[Lat., Nitimur in vetitum semper, cupimusque negata.]
Do you want to be
with your love by the sea
hearing the gullsong
smelling the salt air
feeling the read more
Do you want to be
with your love by the sea
hearing the gullsong
smelling the salt air
feeling the sand
beneath your toes
and the seaweed
the sea's legacy?
watching the rise
oer the bay of the moon
and then ascent
of the Sun.. oer neptune?
There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart's
desire. The other is to get read more
There are two tragedies in life. One is not to get your heart's
desire. The other is to get it.
Passing into higher forms of desire, that which slumbered in the
plant, and fitfully stirred in the beast, awakes read more
Passing into higher forms of desire, that which slumbered in the
plant, and fitfully stirred in the beast, awakes in the man.
Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping... waiting... and though unwanted... unbidden... it will stir... open its jaws and read more
Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping... waiting... and though unwanted... unbidden... it will stir... open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us... guides us... passion rules us all, and we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love... the clarity of hatred... and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion maybe we'd know some kind of peace... but we would be hollow... Empty rooms shuttered and dank. Without passion we'd be truly dead.
Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good hay,
sweet hay, hath no fellow.
Methinks I have a great desire to a bottle of hay. Good hay,
sweet hay, hath no fellow.
Desire is the very essence of man.
Desire is the very essence of man.