Is this too wordy??? I'm thinking of cutting out the second paragraph ...
There is a thin line, a fracture perhaps, between love and hate. At least thats what philosophers, poets and sages have preached.
Those who weve admired and adored, in whom the mere presence of, weve thrived and blossomed, like a tree under the summer sun, whos words were like water to our souls have become strangers to us. Now we grow dark and bitter at the mention of their name, like the cold, hard, winter freeze.
The ones we loved the most, we hate the worst and find that while we think the anger is all for them, it is in fact ourselves with whom the greatest contempt burns.
A person could speak a thousand words, but if he has no love, he is only a breath of incomprehensible words, a loud and senseless noise.
There is love and there is hate. Hate will never lead to love, and love will never lead to hate, but love is the only way out of the chaos the only deliverance from hate.
There is a thin line, a fracture perhaps, between love and hate. At least thats what philosophers, poets and sages have preached.
Those who weve admired and adored, in whom the mere presence of, weve thrived and blossomed, like a tree under the summer sun, whos voice was like water to our souls have become as hard as a cold winter freeze.
The ones we loved the most, we hate the worst and find that while we think the anger is all for them, it is in fact ourselves with whom the greatest contempt burns.
A person could speak a thousand words, but if he has no love, he is only a diatribe of incomprehensible words, a loud and senseless noise.
There is love and there is hate. Hate will never lead to love, and love will never lead to hate, but love is the only way out of the chaos the only deliverance from hate.
I cried, "Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old, the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold." "If we cry now," she said, "it will just be ignored."
I cried, "Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old, the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold." "If we cry now," she said, "it will just be ignored."
I cried, "Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old, the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold." "If we cry now," she said, "it will just be ignored."
I cried, "Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old, the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold." "If we cry now," she said, "it will just be ignored."
I cried, "Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old, the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold." "If we cry now," she said, "it will just be ignored."
There is a thin, albeit, fractured line perhaps, between love and hate. At least thats what philosophers, poets and sages have preached.
Those who weve admired and adored, in whom the mere presence of, weve thrived and blossomed, like a tree under the summer sun, whos voice was like water to our souls, just as easily become as hard as the cold winter freeze.
The ones we loved the most, we hate the worst and find that while we think the anger is all for them, it is in fact ourselves with whom the greatest contempt burns.
There is love and there is hate. Hate will never lead to love, and love will never lead to hate, but love is the only way out of the chaos the only deliverance from hate.
A person could speak a thousand words, but if he has no love, he is only a diatribe of incomprehensible words, a loud and senseless noise.
But I think I should leave out the second paragraph and let it just be this ...
There is a thin, albeit, fractured line perhaps, between love and hate. At least thats what philosophers, poets and sages have preached.
The ones we've loved the most, we hate the worst and find that while we think the anger is all for them, it is in fact ourselves with whom the greatest contempt burns.
There is love and there is hate. Hate will never lead to love, and love will never lead to hate, but love is the only way out of the chaos the only deliverance from hate.
A person could speak a thousand words, but if he has no love, he is only a diatribe of incomprehensible words, a loud and senseless noise.
There is a thin, albeit, fractured line perhaps, between love and hate. At least thats what philosophers, poets and sages have preached.
The ones we loved the most, we hate the worst and find that while we think the anger is all for them, it is in fact ourselves with whom the greatest contempt burns.
There is love and there is hate. Hate will never lead to love, and love will never lead to hate, but love is the only way out of the chaos the only deliverance from hate.
A man can speak a thousand words, but if he has no love, he merely spits out an incomprehensible diatribe, a loud and senseless noise.
I cried, "Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old, the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold." "If we cry now," she said, "it will just be ignored."
I cried, "Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old, the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold." "If we cry now," she said, "it will just be ignored."
I cried, "Oh, Lady Midnight, I fear that you grow old, the stars eat your body and the wind makes you cold." "If we cry now," she said, "it will just be ignored."