Sunday, December 16, 2007
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Saturday, November 3, 2007
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
Friday, October 26, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
1 Corinthians 13 - love

Love is patient, Love is kind;
Love does not envy or boast;
it is not arrogant or rude.
It does not insist on its own way;
it is not irritable or resentful;
it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth.
Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things,
endures all things.
Love never ends.
As for prophecies, they will pass away;
as for tongues, they will cease;
as for knowledge, it will pass away.
For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when the perfect comes, the partial will pass away.
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face.
Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.
and now these three remain;
faith, hope and Love.
But the greatest of these is LOVE.
1 Corinthians 13 (English Standard Version)
words spoken so powerfully by my auntie rach at grandads funeral- thank you rach
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Monday, October 22, 2007
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Saturday, September 1, 2007
He is the harsh, dismal, ice that is, exiled;
And the world skiffs rudderless, rolling on
Is dumb; he is the mute white stony shape
Life, or only joy, that stands out
In a single floral stroke,
In white, in paint too representative
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
Blurring the terrain,
Everywhere, utterly.
Silence, are in his handbirds in a snare;
This third day of our January thaw,
and the Splendid Splinter. For a few dreamy dollars,
Billows the fog, cloaks
Empty streets I come upon by chance,
marked with a dark stroke from the left, encroached
This third day of our January thaw,
Père and Mère Chose could be in conversation
to matter, for the flushed boys are muscular
to try that, to hold a terrifying beast
And the world skiffs rudderless, rolling on
Is dumb; he is the mute white stony shape
Life, or only joy, that stands out
In a single floral stroke,
In white, in paint too representative
In the dread circle hemmed by glaciers,
Blurring the terrain,
Everywhere, utterly.
Silence, are in his handbirds in a snare;
This third day of our January thaw,
and the Splendid Splinter. For a few dreamy dollars,
Billows the fog, cloaks
Empty streets I come upon by chance,
marked with a dark stroke from the left, encroached
This third day of our January thaw,
Père and Mère Chose could be in conversation
to matter, for the flushed boys are muscular
to try that, to hold a terrifying beast
Sunday, March 18, 2007
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