The Genuinely-Wrenching.

Moots ku yang muse jennie, boleh langsung absen ke bot ku sekarang ya. Cepet absen cepet sebelum aku alpa in

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Help Forward, Moots. — Heaven fhines within the bending ficklcs compaffle come, admit impediments dimm'd rough windes fhake in eternall lines in euery pages of ornament. Lovely pictvrefque faire fome-rime declines changing courfe vntrim'd: Vnderneath blanche selene o'er-nighte. Thou art bright quainteffence grace captvre doe blot the celeftial, abide foremoft honovr lauishly puissance difgrace thine waft in niggarding scent. Once birth statuette call'd Mademoiselle Jennie captiuate entire atmosphere for your presente thorough @jkcrewbot for me to commemorate towardf the Daies Absence.

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A bonny-bunny jumping across the triumphant of thewiness. Beneath grandiloquent reverie, eulogized a dazzling trapping trinket, hassling to ensnare a snazzy cable heaving a threshold of imperishable hordes. Pirouettes blissfully aloft bewitching empyrean beneath the alluring sunshine. Bustling crowds of mind, plenish vacant piece of paper heart. Beaming glint of photograph illumine her boundless allure as an epitome of lady Dior. She evinced gleaming glance of pledge o’er pulchritudinous ornaments of human; eyes of sincerity. Eminently elucidate wondrous encourage within slightest gaze, bewitched every piece of dweller’s heart.

Kim Jisoo; The shimmering sphere within astonishing pulchritude of BLACKPINK. Sped up upon dweller’s winkers, excogitate solace and amusement within their deepest depths of hearts. Bestowed amorous obeisance and felicitation towards you, dearest Elléah-Kyleth; the eclipse of Kim Jisoo, our jewel in the crown, shimmering and plenish the whole globe. Happy blithe-birthday dear my dearest lady Dior, Elléah. Heap of grats I shall bestow you for portraying Jisoo very well. From time to time, growing up into the most endearing plumpish bunny with astonishing shirll voice, endowing euphonious oath myriad static.

She stumbled upon my rubescent cheeks when I felt sorry for my antiquated constancy record, there were some tempest and scotch mist in my idea before you came and gave me those phosphorescence of mortal in mind and needed catalyst. Your essence which has bewitched my soul to express how I love you, each day until eternity gathers us in the braids of the future with stupendous reminiscence that will adorn our lives. Happy birthday, my precious little bunny. I hope you have scrumptious remembrance of both this year. Mercy beaucoup, little one.
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Morning moots. This is just a little notification for you guys. That I'm always diving without notifications on my channel, cause not everything i do has to be said. Thank you, have a joyous day.

Merry Christmas, for those who celebrate. May God bless you, love and joy. ♡

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By and by Man will try to get out into the sky, sailing far beyond the air from down and here to up and there. Stars and sky, sky and stars make us feel the prison bars. Suppose it done. Now we ride closed in steel, up there, outside Through our port-holes see the vast heaven-scape go rushing past. Shall we? All that meets the eye Is sky and stars, stars and sky. Points of light with black between hang like a painted scene motionless, no nearer there than on earth, everywhere Equidistant from our ship.

Heaven has given us the slip. Hush, be still. Outer space Is a concept, not a place. Try no more. Where we are never can be sky or star. From prison, in a prison, we fly; there's no way into the sky. Flyspecks of lantern with black between drape like a depicted scenery motionless, no nearer there than on dust, everywhere Equidistant from our ship. Elysium has granted us the misstep. Hush, be nevertheless. Outer field is a approach, not a berth, try no more. Where we are never be the empyrean or star. From confinement, in a penitentiary, we flutter; There's no way into the sky.
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Mortals Flicker; flash and fade. Worlds don't last, and stars and galaxies are transient, fleeting things that twinkle like fireflies and vanish into cold and dust. When all the stars are sown, across the night blue space se mona weordscipe ofer waegn niht haewen met, thousand ray of sunshine glint on everyone eyes, he's the handsome prince and everyone obsessed, jadi a faces his despair on Moonlight, respair every sadness, bringing the folk to Joy.

Back on 1960 Vintage old moment standing tall among men was he, very humbly he called himself a 'refugee'. He was the Prince's Consort, full of wit, tet in homour, he pretended to be a twit. Heag dugud, dyrel aetstandan ofersittan, se licgan bam. Some thought he stood among the gods, busy with so much he had no time for the land of Nod. In life steps behind the King he would always be, at death carried high before the King and for all to see. All the many good works he had done, the world only knew at the set of his sun.
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Whenever I think of the past, it brings back so many memories. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory unannounced, stray dogs that amble in, sniff around a bit and simply never leave. Our lives are measured by these. Gratitude is when memory is stored in heart and not in mind. It is singular how soon we lose the impression of what ceases to be constantly before us. A year impairs, a luster obliterates.

Blossom by blossom the spring begins. All in all, it was a never to be forgotten summer-one of those summers which come seldom into any life, but leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going one of those summers which, in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, delightful friends and delightful doing, come as near to perfection as anything can come in this world. Then followed that beautiful season. Summer. Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape Lay as if new created in all freshness of childhood. And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.
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I almost wish we were butterflies and liv'd but three summer days - three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain. This is what makes a person who they are. Everything that they've ever experienced is right in there. Our memories are card indexes consulted and then returned in disorder by authorities whom we do not control. Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory.
︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎ ︎

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Just endure the flipping out person who cares more. Be the person who tries harder, loves stronger, gives more of a site than all the half-alive people who surround them. Be the person who answers their messages, shows up to their commitments and doesn't leave others hanging or guessing at their eternally vague intentions. Be the person you wish you were dating. If you're confined to the amusement, then stop capering about it. If you're tired of gibberish, then divide it. Because the last thing this macrocosm needs is one more apathetic person. If you're the only one escaped with fervor, then use it. Use the hell out of it. At the end of your life, go out with a bruised-up, worn out fearlessness that has too much and cherished too heavily and felt too fiercely. Go out with the certainty that you gave it everything you had and didn't arrest anything back. Go out behind the eight ball when it comes to should-haves and might-have-beens. Because it's an boundlessly  more fulfilling way to live than the alternative. It will always be more law-abiding to be out on the entries getting trampled on than to be on the sidelines clutching exceptional for never having tried.

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Here is aid from eminence with gerascophobia, the fear of breeding ancient: you're going to be a young person for 365 days only. And you could die when we are always done with all of our tasks. When your mom asksherhere bed, say yes. One day he’ll be in institution crib and there won't be enough expanse on the berth to wake up for right now. Stop canceling plans: go out and use your legs while they work. You're guaranteed nothing. Stop denying affection. You'll never be able to love as a teenager. Someone, many someones, are gonna tell you they love you. Don't keep quiet because you've been told it's too soon. If you love them, say it. Be ferociously, elegantly genuine. Go out and diminish the sphere. Fight for amity and equality. When you're 70 and can only watch the news all day, You're not going to want to see the same controversies still going on when you acquireIi don't need nobody" and "I don't have awarenesses" mindsets. It's easier to make acquaintances in high clique than in a nursing dwelling. Embrace feelings and intimacy. Don't apologize for caring and don't let anyone make you feel guilty for showing kindness even when it's unjust. You're always be juvenile for everyday and growth never stops and slows downgrade. Bones become fragile and hearts become weak with every atom in your body: We still alive right now."
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He’s established so that simple accomplishments of altruism, such as giving to philanthropy or expressing acknowledgment, have an exact effect on the long-term atmosphere. The latchkey to a happy life, it seems, is a good life: a life with sustained liaisons, challenging work, and connections to the have the right as individuals to give away as much of him inherent pay as him please in philanthropy; but as member of Caucus hehas no right to appropriate an ace of the public pay. The greatest disincentive to the welfare case is not greed but private alms-giving that makes the welfare accompaniment irrelevant; the greatest bump to re-education of juveniles on behalf of the collective is allegiance to a higher capability. More than that, the greatest photograph to the state as god is an actual God above the state. He’s always thought of himself as a portrayal model even before being a 'celebrity.' He’s always been doing endowment endeavors and volunteering for the company since he was a juvenile, so when you do that, he thinks he just assumed heputs him-self out there. Even for bountifulness, he always gives preeminence to education because he always develops youthful people — knowledge is a real companion, life a lifelong companion, not inheritance. Fortune could have disappeared. But philanthropy is a very convoluted thing. It's essential to find a breadth where he can really help and can feel the issues. Philanthropy is not like encouraging pigeons in the fuddy-duddy. It is a process that requires qualified authority. Who the name? He is, Viletch-Kitzler.
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God is the seed: The universe is the Tree, Impulses and passions are the branches, Intelligence is the flower, Pure Consciousness is the fruit, Love is the sweetness in the fruit. The sweetness of life lies in usefulness, like honey deep in the heart of a clover bloom. For an instant he felt them, him identities, almost him substance, pass over head like a wave. At some time he would be — or no, already he was like that too; he was one of them, his body the same, identical, marged with that other flesh that choked the air in the flowers room with its sweet organic scent; he felt suffocated by this thick sargasso-sea of amenity.
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