vegetarian, working out, shopping, shoes, using a disposable camera to recall drunken nights with my friends, Diet Dr. Pepper (DP), sushi (veggie) and sake', Wolverines, Art Festivals, slaps, golfing, Mom's homemade lasagna, espresso, warm weather, water, Miller Lite, improving, over analyzing every situation, hiking, camping, haunted houses, making fun of people who go to great lengths to not be naturally beautiful, text messaging, Nintendo Wii (bowling), hating reality tv, roller coasters, success, sleeping, hot sauce, obnoxiously loud music, smiling, concerts, country music, movie night, solitaire, People Magazine, living life to its fullest, vacation, skiing (recently), boating, Put-in-Bay, Bo (my Yorkie), Yukor, corn hole, dancing, high fives, being excited, traveling (one day), singing (for the sake of those who know me...car and shower only), bdubs, going out to dinner, laughing, NASCAR, something so bizarre that I can't stop staring, campfires, barbeques, biking, BL Lime, Hippy Fests, Nelson Ledges, patios, tiki torches...
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At 9:34am on September 20, 2009, chris smith said…
Old but classic poem
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou thinkst thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow
And soonest our best men with thee do go
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppies or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke. Why swellst thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die!
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Join this Ning Network
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
For those whom thou thinkst thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow
And soonest our best men with thee do go
Rest of their bones and soul's delivery.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppies or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke. Why swellst thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die!
COOL YULE STRANGER
Cat
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