I know I am solid and sound, To me the converging objects of the universe perpetually flow, All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.
Have you heard that it was good to gain the day?
Ah the homeliest of them is warheart terry goodkind pdf beautiful to her.I find I incorporate gneiss, coal, long-threaded moss, fruits, grains, esculent roots, And am stucco'd with quadrupeds and birds all over, And have distanced what is behind me for good reasons, But call any thing back again when I desire.And as to you Corpse I think you are good manure, but that does not offend me, I smell the white roses sweet-scented and growing, I reach to the leafy lips, I reach to the polish'd breasts of melons.If I worship one thing more than another it shall be the spread of my own body, or any part of it, Translucent mould of me it shall be you!That I could look with a separate look on my own crucifixion and bloody crowning.Maybe he finally did his due diligence and looked you.
They do not sweat and whine about their condition, They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania.
The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them.The sharp-hoof'd moose of the north, the cat on the house-sill, the chickadee, the prairie-dog, The boson netsim 6 keygen litter of the grunting sow as they tug at her teats, The brood of the turkey-hen and she with her half-spread wings, I see in them and myself the.Evil propels me and reform of evil propels me, I stand indifferent, My gait is no fault-finder's or rejecter's gait, I moisten the roots of all that has grown.The soldier camp'd or upon the march is mine, On the night ere the pending battle many seek me, and I do not fail them, On that solemn night (it may be their last) those that know me seek.Have you reckon'd the earth much?I do not call one greater and one smaller, That which fills its period and place is equal to any.Through me the afflatus surging and surging, through me the current and index.Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!Urge and urge and urge, Always the procreant urge of the world.