Promise YourselfTo be so strong that nothing can disturb your peace of mind.To talk health, happiness, and prosperity to every person you meet.To make all your friends feel that there is something worthwhile in them.To look at the sunny side of everything and make your optimism come true.To think only of the best, to work only for the best and to expect only the best.To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others as you are about your own.To forget the mistakes of the past and press on to the greater achievements of the future.To wear a cheerful expression at all times and give a smile to every living creature you meet.To give so much time to improving yourself that you have no time to criticize others.To be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.To think we'll of yourself and to proclaim this fact to the world, not in loud word, but in great deeds.To live in the faith that the whole world is on your side, so long as you are true to the best that is in you.
Friends are like underwear .... Some crawl up your ass... Some snap under pressure... Some don t have the strength to hold you up... Some get a little twisted... Some are your favorite... Some are cheap and just plain nasty... And some actually do cover your ass when u need them too.
I wished that the chains would break and the wind would sweep me up, up, up into the sky, beyond the clouds, beyond the sun and the moon, to some marvelous kingdom where no one ever changed and friends we're friends for life.
Dear Aunt Loretta,Thank you so much for the awesome pants How did you know I wanted that for Christmas?I love the way the pants look on my legsAll my friends will be so jealous that I have my very own pants. Thank you for making this the best Christmas everSincerely, Greg
The Time Around Scars:A girl whom I've not spoken toor shared coffee with for several yearswrites of an old scar.On her wrist it sleeps, smooth and white,the size of a leech.I gave it to herbrandishing a new Italian penknife.Look, I said turning,and blood spat onto her shirt.My wife has scars like spread raindropson knees and ankles,she talks of broken greenhouse panesand yet, apart from imagining red feet,a nymph out of ChagallI bring little to that scene.We remember the time around scars,they freeze irrelevant emotionsand divide us from present friends.I remember this girls face,the widening rise of surprise.And would shemoving with lover or husbandconceal or flaunt it,or keep it at her wrista mysterious watch.And this scar I then rememberis a medallion of no emotion.I would meet you nowand I would wish this scarto have been given withall the lovethat never occurred between us.