I know I am solid and sound, To me the photoshop cs 8 portable converging objects of the universe perpetually flow, All are written to me, and I must get what the writing means.
(Only what proves itself to every man and woman is so, Only what nobody denies.) A minute and a drop of me settle my brain, I believe the soggy clods shall become lovers and lamps, And a compend of compends is the meat.
Have you reckon'd a thousand acres much?
Distant and dead resuscitate, They show as the dial or move as the hands of me, I am the clock myself.
I do not know it-it is without name-it is a word unsaid, It is not in any dictionary, utterance, symbol.Magnifying and applying come I, Outbidding at the start the old cautious hucksters, Taking myself the exact dimensions of Jehovah, Lithographing Kronos, Zeus his son, and Hercules his grandson, Buying drafts queensland australia time converter of Osiris, Isis, Belus, Brahma, Buddha, In my portfolio placing Manito loose, Allah.Lack one lacks both, and the unseen is proved by the seen, Till that becomes unseen and receives proof in its turn.Unscrew the doors themselves from their jambs!Earth of shine and dark mottling the tide of the river!Less the reminders of properties told my words, And more the reminders they of life untold, and of freedom and extrication, And make short account of neuters and geldings, and favor men and women fully equipt, And beat the gong of revolt, and stop with.49 And as to you Death, and you bitter hug of mortality, it is idle to try to alarm.Easily written loose-finger'd chords-I feel the thrum of your climax and close.7 Has any one supposed it lucky to be born?
I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green stuff woven.
Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged, Missing me one place search another, I stop somewhere waiting for you.
Apart from the pulling and hauling stands what I am, Stands amused, complacent, compassionating, idle, unitary, Looks down, is erect, or bends an arm on an impalpable certain rest, Looking with side-curved head curious what will come next, Both in and out of the game.My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs, On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the steps, All below duly travel'd, and still I mount and mount.And what do you think has become of the women and children?Fetch stonecrop mixt with cedar and branches of lilac, This is the lexicographer, this the chemist, this made a grammar of the old cartouches, These mariners put the ship through dangerous unknown seas.The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections, They scorn the best I can do to relate them.I teach straying from me, yet who can stray from me?O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues, And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for nothing.28 Is this then a touch?Did you guess the celestial laws are yet to be work'd over and rectified?Hefts of the moving world at innocent gambols silently rising freshly exuding, Scooting obliquely high and low.