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"I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there’s someone there, other time it’s only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.”
 - Bob Dylan (Covered by the Blind Boys of Alabama)

"In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
There’s a dyin’ voice within me reaching out somewhere
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair

Don’t have the inclination to look back on any mistake
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break
In the fury of the moment I can see the Master’s hand
In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand

Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay

I gaze into the doorway of temptation’s angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name
Then onward in my journey I come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand

I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer’s dream, in the chill of a wintry light
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face

I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there’s someone there, other times it’s only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand”


Bob Dylan (via imespinoza)

pdvmorris:

" I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the nightIn the violence of a summer’s dream, in the chill of a wintry lightIn the bitter dance of loneliness fading into spaceIn the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face
I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the seaSometimes I turn, there’s someone there, other times it’s only meI am hanging in the balance of the reality of manLike every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand…” His Bobness
Bloody but unbowed, wearied but not tired, wane but a soul still brimming and eager for all that is yet to come!  I thank all dear ones I who send such fine words, blessings, kindnesses and support in their way.  I am so grateful to have such an embarrassment of riches!    My darlin’ Nicci snapped this rather fine likeness, if I may say so, of this old Bear as he looked out on a rainy but refreshing summer’s morn upon the little borough of Soho, London.  It’s not quite how I remembered it from when I ambled down these narrow cobbled alleyways in the late 60’s…..but my life is better than any dreams I have had….

pdvmorris:

" I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer’s dream, in the chill of a wintry light
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face

I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there’s someone there, other times it’s only me
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand…” His Bobness

Bloody but unbowed, wearied but not tired, wane but a soul still brimming and eager for all that is yet to come!  I thank all dear ones I who send such fine words, blessings, kindnesses and support in their way.  I am so grateful to have such an embarrassment of riches!    My darlin’ Nicci snapped this rather fine likeness, if I may say so, of this old Bear as he looked out on a rainy but refreshing summer’s morn upon the little borough of Soho, London.  It’s not quite how I remembered it from when I ambled down these narrow cobbled alleyways in the late 60’s…..but my life is better than any dreams I have had….


conceptionandcreation:

The sun beat down upon the steps
Of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness
And the memory of decay

I gaze into the doorway
Of temptation’s angry flame
And every time I pass that way
I’ll always hear my name

Every Grain of Sand
Blind Boys of Alabama


set aside our weight in sin so that we can live again

Blind Boys of Alabama (via homebirdxoxo)

itdoesntscatterquiteright:

Battered and torn still I can see the lightTattered and worn but I must kneel to fightFriend of mine what can’t you spareI know some times it gets cold in thereWhen my legs no longer carryand the warm wind chills my bonesI just reach for Mother Maryand I shall not walk aloneHope is alive while we’re apartOnly tears speak from my heartBreak the chains that hold us downAnd we shall be forever boundWhen I’m tired and wearyand a long way from homeI reach for Mother Maryand I shall not walk aloneI shall not walk aloneBeauty that we left behindHow shall we tomorrow findSet aside our weight in sinSo that we can live againWhen my legs no longer carryand the warm wind chills my bonesI reach for Mother Maryand I shall not walk aloneI shall not walk alone

itdoesntscatterquiteright:

Battered and torn still I can see the light
Tattered and worn but I must kneel to fight
Friend of mine what can’t you spare
I know some times it gets cold in there

When my legs no longer carry
and the warm wind chills my bones
I just reach for Mother Mary
and I shall not walk alone

Hope is alive while we’re apart
Only tears speak from my heart
Break the chains that hold us down
And we shall be forever bound

When I’m tired and weary
and a long way from home
I reach for Mother Mary
and I shall not walk alone
I shall not walk alone

Beauty that we left behind
How shall we tomorrow find
Set aside our weight in sin
So that we can live again

When my legs no longer carry
and the warm wind chills my bones
I reach for Mother Mary
and I shall not walk alone
I shall not walk alone


raptortooth:

mybine:

lumos5001:

amazingpeetaisnotonfire:

sluttynuggets:

aphtaiwan:

johnhamishmorstan:

I don’t understand american school years what the fuck is a freshman or a sophomore why do you have these words instead of the numbers

what why would you use numbers

so IT FUCKING MAKES SENSE WHAT THE HELL IS A SOFT MOORE OR A FRESH MAN WHY ARE THE MEN FRESH

image

America makes no sense, as usual.

bless the person that actually made the chart

laughter from France

image

France what the fuck


lastnightsreading:

Eula Biss at Community Bookstore, 10/13/14

lastnightsreading:

Eula Biss at Community Bookstore, 10/13/14



“Never shall I forget that night,
the first night in camp,
which has turned my life into one long night,
seven times cursed and seven times sealed.
Never shall I forget the smoke.
Never shall I forget the little faces of the children,
whose bodies I saw turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky.
Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever.
Never.”
- Night, Elie Wiesel 

“Never shall I forget that night,

the first night in camp,

which has turned my life into one long night,

seven times cursed and seven times sealed.

Never shall I forget the smoke.

Never shall I forget the little faces of the children,

whose bodies I saw turned into wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky.

Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever.

Never.”

Night, Elie Wiesel 


iraffiruse:

How puppies help when you’re sick.


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