Ska hem imorgon. Har hort att vadert hemma inte ar nagot vidare, bara regn men det ska bli skont och slippa vara varm varm och annu mer varm… hela tiden. Inte bara lite utan aven nar du sover. Langtar efter en sang som ar mer an 1,70 cm lang sa att man kan stracka pa sig.
Sprallig, sportig, kulturellt lagd.
Funderar just nu på Sydamerika...
And a woman who held her babe against her bosom said:
Speak to us of Children.
And he said:
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are whit you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
For they have their own thoughts.
Your may house their bodies but not their souls.
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit,
even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries whit yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as he loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.
Ni är alltid med mig. Älskar er - alltid.
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