One

 

dont let fear stop you

Shawn Boswell: So, how did you end up over here, anyway?

Han: Well, you know those old Westerns where the cowboys make a run for the border? This is my Mexico.

Shawn Boswell: Why'd you let me race with your car? You knew I was gonna wreck it.

Han: Why not?

Shawn Boswell: 'Cause it's a lot of money.

Han: I have money. It's trust and character I need around me. You know, who you choose to be around you lets you know who you are. And one car in exchange for knowing what a man's made of, that's a price I can live with.

Han: Look at all those people down there. They follow the rules, for what? They're letting fear lead them.

Shawn Boswell: What happens if they don't?

Han: Life's simple. You make choices and you don't look back.

The nicest place on the internet

http://thenicestplaceontheinter.net/

Remember...
It gets better!
(I Promise)

Josh Hace 3 meses.
You matter to someone out there, don't forget that.

"I Have Never Loved Someone"
I have never loved someone the way I love you
I have never seen a smile like yours
And if you grow up to be king or clown or pauper
I will say you are my favorite one in town

I have never held a hand so soft and sacred
When I hear your laugh I know heaven’s key
And when I grow to be a poppy in the graveyard
I will send you all my love upon the breeze

And if the breeze won’t blow your way, I will be the sun
And if the sun won’t shine your way, I will be the rain
And if the rain won’t wash away all your aches and pains
I will find some other way to tell you you’re okay.

You’re okay...

Lilium Inter Spinas

“Lilium Inter Spinas” which is Latin for “Lily Among Thorns”

A Knights Tale - Chaucer's Plea in front of Pillory

By Collie
DEDICATION: To Paul Bettany for pulling an amazing performance. His Chaucer pulled me out of my 11-month block. And to my fabulous Stoners. You're all gold. Cheers.

Wat has the right idea. Pain. Lots of pain. We all feel it, at the sight of our William in the stocks, head hanging, like a mourner at his own funeral. And it may just be. At times, I wish I
were more like Wat. Able to release my pain in anger and violence; to shed it so it will no longer burn those deep places in me.. but I cannot. Such is the curse of a man of so many
words.
Words.. they are what I know. All I know. But sometimes an emotion is so base and deep, that the simplest word can describe it. It needs no decoration.
Hurt.
I hurt. When he looks upon his Lady, I hurt, for he would never deign to look upon me.
But I see in his eyes, when he looks upon her, all of the simple joy a man in love can possess. I smile to look at him, for she brings him happiness, and that I shall not deny him. He
tells a story with his lance, and she is his muse. He wins for her; weaves the tale of a poor Thatcher's son, who set out to change his stars, and conquered all those that dared stand
in his way. And that is a story I could never tell.
I was pulled to William. Lured to his side by his innocence and strength. Determination and spirit. And by his side I shall stay, for as long as he will have me. I tell those that scream in
the stands, fantastic tales of their Lord Ulrich, but these feigned tales of chivalry and knighthood pale in comparison to the simple glory that resides in this man's soul. The truest soul
I have ever come across.
He is my muse.
"Listen to me! Listen!‘
The crowd rages, so angry at having been betrayed. Their hearts have been broken. They loved their Lord Ulrich, and now they are blinded to the truth. That William Thatcher is one
hundred times the man that Ulrich was.
"You're cut from the same cloth, you and he.."
But they will have none of it. They want their hero. The larger than life character, created by my words. They don't want their own cowardice and failures thrown up in their faces.
Our William did indeed rise from the ashes to fly free as the Phoenix, and the fact that a man, as simple as themselves, was able to change his stars when they cannot.. well, they'd
just as soon hate him, as they hate themselves.
"..I have never seen a heart like the one that beats inside this man. Great it is! Swollen with all the virtues risen of pride. Free, courageous, constant, and most of all, filled with hope.
At least, until today."
And for that, I weep.
I feel the tears as they prick my eyes. I know the glisten and sheen. I know the crack in my voice when I speak of my passion for this man, for I do it often.. but never have I spoken
it aloud. I speak through my words. The scratch of quill on parchment is my singing. The smooth lines of ink, my testament. The flame as I burn those pages is unequal to the
smoldering ache in my gut. The ashes he shall never rise from.
But now, I shall speak, as the desire to say what my heart feels is overwhelming. This time, it shall not be imprisoned on paper. I shall proclaim my thoughts, free and true, for they
may just save my Lord's life.
"What makes a man noble," I ask, stalking in front of the crowd, "His lineage or his heart?"
I feel all eyes on me. I know I have captured their attention, for they want to hear my words. They want to believe that it is safe to love this man as we do. To know that their joy
and cheers have not been in vain.
"And what are knightly virtues, and who decides who may possess them? My Lord, it's true, was born poor, in Cheapside, London.. and so what? For he is as true as steel; no, truer.
For he is like gold.. to me.“
And it is said, in pure and simple words. William is like gold to me. Rare and priceless, strong but yielding, shining and warm, and above all else, desired. Desired by all. By me. I feel
that my heart my burst from my ribcage. It flutters like the wings of a hummingbird. I place my hand upon my chest and feel my skin, sweating and chilled as if fevered, but I am not
ill.
I am a man in love.
I feel the first teardrop fall. It trails down my cheek, and I make no move to wipe it away. I would never. I wear it proudly. I care not what anyone thinks of me. I weep for this man.
For all he has lost, for all he has loved, and for all which he desired, but can never be. Yet I also weep for me. I allow myself that one failing.
I cannot separate myself from this, and look down as if from upon a cloud. Day after day, I watch humanity pass me by. There are a thousand and one tales in my head at any given
moment, all waiting for my quill, and I can remove myself from them all, for who am I but just one more character? But not this time. This time, I won't allow it. I will throw myself to
the lions, and hope for mercy.
"He is like gold, and you and I are merely iron. And yet you people.. you would come to see him rust."
But it is not William that would rust.. it is the dagger I have plunged into my heart. It will keep and rust.
"For shame."
I look from them in disgust, for I see my face reflected in their eyes. I cannot look upon myself, for as much bravado as I have, my heart is but that of a simple man. It bleeds a poet,
and only a fool wordsmith writes of what he does not know. Yet here I am, doing just that. Weaving words in that air of love for William, yet I know nothing of his love. I doubt I ever
will. As I look back, away from the crowd, I see the confused faces of my friends. They may be simple, like myself and these good people, but they understand. They know my words.
I look to my Lord, hoping against hope that his face may bring me some semblance of peace.
Alas, none. He has not even raised his head to me. So it is with this, that I hang mine.
"Shame on you."
On me.
"Leave him! Go home."
Home.
Leave him."
And leave me. Look not upon me any longer, for I am shriveled. Sucked dry. Wasted. I have given it all for you, my Lord. Please, when you have come back to us, look kindly upon me.
I hear the crowd begin to chant. Ulrich. Ulrich. They dare to chant that fabrication's name after what I have just preached? After I have laid bare my soul to this man, William, they
dare utter Ulrich's name in my presence?
“His name is William!" I shout, my eyes blazing.
And they are silent for a moment, and then a female voice calls out his name, followed by yet more voices. Their chanting mirrors the voice in my heart.
William.. William.
Like gold.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/848988/1/Like-Gold

Amazing!

Ben Parker

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 Peter, I know things have been difficult lately, and im sorry about that. I think I know what you're feeling. Ever since you were a little boy you've been living with so many unresolved things. Well take it from an old man, those things send us down a road, they make us who we are,and if anyone is destined for greatness, it's you son.You owe the world your gifts, you just have to figure out how to use them,and know that wherever they take you, we'll always be there. So come on home Peter, you're my hero, and I love you.

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Will Smith

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"You don't set out to build a wall. You don't say 'I'm going to build the biggest, baddest, greatest wall that's ever been built.' You don't start there. You say, 'I'm going to lay this brick as perfectly as a brick can be laid. You do that every single day. And soon you have a wall."

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Palabras compañeras del alba,
Rien al amanecer del sol,
Juegan con tus lagrimas.

Abrazan el viento
Se van en la mañana,
Sobre la noche guian
A nuestros sueños.

Las palabras posan
En el brillo del agua,
Son corriente sin rio y lluvia sin hadas.

Palabras pasmadas en un papel
Viran y viran a la guardia.
Cuentan historias y
Cantan esperanza.

Rezan a los sin magia
Cuidan a los sin habla,
Las acciones son palabras
Que aman.

Las palabras duelen
Si son rocas al alba,
En las montañas nacen
Mil plegarias.

En promesas se encuentran palabras
Que viven y que mueren
Que a veces matan.

Pensamientos se plasman,
Emociones se oyen
Las palabras
Nacen del alma.

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Pese a las dificultades, con conciencia absoluta de las complicaciones, sabiendo los riesgos y a pesar del dolor de lo que no resultó como pensábamos, es importante no dudar que al final el resultado será aquel que hemos previsto y deseado.

En cualquier camino el último paso nunca lo es por casualidad, y siempre nos pesa, aunque haya sido elegido al azar, la sensación de que todo lo anterior podría no servir si fallamos en este último momento.

En las circunstancias más difíciles, y en los momentos en que nos invade la sensación de haber perdido el rumbo, es justamente, la certeza del resultado final, lo que nos dará la fuerza para hacer y para arriesgar, la motivación para avanzar, desear, insistir, valorar y seguir luchando por lo que queremos.

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No me hablen de paisajes si no han visto su cuerpo.

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it is our choices, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities

In fact, being - forgive me - rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger.

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No me hablen de paisajes si no han visto su cuerpo.

No me hablen de fragancias si no han probado el aroma de su piel, no me hablen de miradas si no han visto las suyas, no me hablen de sonrisas sin hacerle reír a él primero, no me hablen de música sin escuchar su voz, no me hablen de tonterías sin oírle hablar, no me hablen de emociones sin sentir lo que siento cuando le veo, no me hablen de él sin conocerle.

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eminem

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not many are lucky enough to have a guardian angel like you
Lord im so thankful, please don't think i don't feel grateful, i do
just grant me the strength that i need, for one more day to get through
so this is your song my guardian angel, i dedicate this to you
i love you
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delante de un cuaderno
en el cual aprendi a sacar belleza del frío de la soledad...
algunos dibujos,
algunos cuentos en papel
imagine otro mundo y escribí acerca de él
en la puerta dejo mis miedos y lo que me hace mal
entro y mis sueños se hacen realidad

fueron ellos los que me hicieron creer
que algun dia me llegaria a querer
por eso cuido de ellos y ellos cuidan de mi
me hacen sentirme fuerte como mohamed ali
saben mas de mi de lo que yo mismo se
sigo en pie, escribir se ha vuelto mi droga y nunca la dejaré.
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Lord of the Rings

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The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet.

And whither then? I cannot say.

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serrat & sabina

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Sería todo un detalle
y todo un gesto, por tu parte,
que coincidiéramos, te dejaras convencer
y fueses como yo siempre te imaginé

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Joaquín Sabina y Joan Manuel Serrat en dos pájaros de un tiro. 

Sabina: ¿Y las musas? Porque yo tengo un contencioso con él de toda mi vida. Yo me he pasado la vida persiguiendo a las musas, yo quería ser un chulo de musas. De hecho, les he llevado flores, serenata, me he dejado una pasta... ¡el pan de mis niñas!
Serrat: ¡Shakespeare era un chulo de musas! Tu soñabas con ser un chulo de señoritas que fuman que es otra cosa...
Sabina: ¡De putas!
Serrat: Eso, eso... porque claro, uno no puede pretender conquistarse a las musas llevándoles flores, sacándolas a pasear en carro de caballos, llevándolas a cenar percebes... no, las musas no entran en esto.
Sabina: ¡Pero sin pasta las musas no vienen!
Serrat: No, las musas si, las putas son las que no vienen, las musas si. Mira a Shakespeare, Shakespeare fue un hombre humilde...
Sabina: Un chuloputas.
Serrat: ¡Chulomusas! Sabina: Ilústrame, maestro, las musas ¿de dónde vienen o van? ¿de do vienen?
Serrat: ¿De dónde vienen o van? quién lo sabe... pero las musas... las musas vienen y van. Pero hay una que se empeña en darme en la boca el pan, una musa madrileña ¡con acento catalán!
Sabina: ¡aqui vale todo! aqui vale todo... parece que se presenta a concejal de cultura. Yo, sin embargo, llevado por mi natural sobriedad solo diré un verso: no hago otra cosa que pensar en ti...
Serrat: ¿Y?
Sabina: y no 'me se' ocurre nada.

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"Cuéntale a tu corazón
que existe siempre una razón
escondida en cada uno de mis gestos.”

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Eduardo Galeano

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Un mar de fueguitos 
A sea of small fires 

Un hombre del pueblo de Neguá, en la costa de Colombia, pudo subir al alto 
cielo. 
A man of Neguá's town, on Colombia's coast, could climb up to the sky. 

A la vuelta, contó. 
At his return, he told. 

Dijo que había contemplado, desde allá arriba, la vida humana. 
He said he had seen, up there, human life. 

Y dijo que somos un mar de fueguitos. 
And said we are a sea of little fires. 

—El mundo es eso —reveló—. 
—The world is that —he revealed—. 

Un montón de gente, un mar de fueguitos. 
A bunch of people, a sea of little fires. 

Cada persona brilla con luz propia entre todas las demás. 
Every person glows with its own light among everyone around. 

No hay dos fuegos iguales. 
There is not such thing as two little fires alike. 

Hay fuegos grandes y fuegos chicos y fuegos de todos los colores. 
There are big fires and little fires and fires of all colours. 

Hay gente de fuego sereno, que ni se entera del viento, y gente de fuego loco, 
que llena el aire de chispas. 
There are people with calmed fire, that are not even aware of the wind, and 
there are people with crazy fire, that fill the air with sparkles. 

Algunos fuegos, fuegos bobos, no alumbran ni queman; 
Some fires, stupid fires, don't light up nor burn; 

pero otros arden la vida con tantas ganas que no se puede mirarlos sin 
parpadear, y quien se acerca, se enciende. 
but others burns life with so much eagerness that you can not watch it without 
blinking, and who approaches to them, it lights itself. 

El mundo
El libro de los abrazos

The world
The book of the hugs

Ben Howard

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I saw a friend of mine the other day,and he told me that my eyes were gleamingOh I said I had been away, and he knew,oh he knew the depths I was meanin'.And it felt so good to see his faceor the comfort invested in my soul.Oh to feel the warmth of a smile,when he said "I'm happy to have you home.Ooh ooh I'm happy to have you home."
-x- Keep your head up!Keep your heart strong! -x-
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