For some reason I can never submit a comment on a new page. Always getting Error1: fill in the password, or something like that, even though I do copy-paste…
Anyway, any chance of having the textless version of the next page as a poster, if you ever open a shop?
The Spark of Genius. Blazing trails. Smoldering Emotions. Burning Passion. Spreading like Wildfire. Dying Embers. Rekindled Hope. Fiery Fury. Radiant Joy. Holding a candle to it. Passing the Torch. Lighting the Way.
What is a life but a blaze? What is a species but a fire trying to spread and remain burning? They all want to be the Eternal Flame. Some are content to smolder as embers, just hanging on. Others willfully burn themselves out, but burning hotter and brighter in the process.
What is Life, but a fire? What is a man but a candle that burns a little, long as their wax will allow, and casts light everywhere around it?
Fire? FIRE?! This oft-repeated JOKE of a revelation is so common among the multiverse of pantheons I would compare it to a mortal’s flatulence. Mortals are not a destructive and beautiful thing of endless growth.
We are not a tree that grows and bears weathered wisdom on our outward face. We are not gears that roll and swing within a grand schematic.
We are definitely not mere fleas atop an infinite tower of leviathans.
Mortals represent the interactions of a striker and a target. Hammer with nail, axe with wood. Perhaps the chisel and the statue will grant ye blind immortals some understanding of how “good” and “evil” are as similar as mortal and immortal are different; intertwined like chaos versus law’s apex.
“Un hombre del pueblo de Neguá, en la costa de Colombia, pudo subir al alto cielo.
A la vuelta, contó. Dijo que había contemplado, desde allá arriba, la vida humana. Y dijo que somos un mar de fueguitos.
—El mundo es eso —reveló—. Un montón de gente, un mar de fueguitos.
Cada persona brilla con luz propia entre todas las demás.
No hay dos fuegos iguales. Hay fuegos grandes y fuegos chicos y fuegos de todos los colores. Hay gente de fuego sereno, que ni se entera del viento, y gente de fuego loco, que llena el aire de chispas. Algunos fuegos, fuegos bobos, no alumbran ni queman; pero otros arden la vida con tantas ganas que no se puede mirarlos sin parpadear, y quien se acerca, se enciende.”
(El Libro de los Abrazos, Eduardo Galeano)
For some reason I can never submit a comment on a new page. Always getting Error1: fill in the password, or something like that, even though I do copy-paste…
Anyway, any chance of having the textless version of the next page as a poster, if you ever open a shop?
The Spark of Genius. Blazing trails. Smoldering Emotions. Burning Passion. Spreading like Wildfire. Dying Embers. Rekindled Hope. Fiery Fury. Radiant Joy. Holding a candle to it. Passing the Torch. Lighting the Way.
What is a life but a blaze? What is a species but a fire trying to spread and remain burning? They all want to be the Eternal Flame. Some are content to smolder as embers, just hanging on. Others willfully burn themselves out, but burning hotter and brighter in the process.
What is Life, but a fire? What is a man but a candle that burns a little, long as their wax will allow, and casts light everywhere around it?
That is factually accurate. We are walking oxidizers.
Fire? FIRE?! This oft-repeated JOKE of a revelation is so common among the multiverse of pantheons I would compare it to a mortal’s flatulence. Mortals are not a destructive and beautiful thing of endless growth.
We are not a tree that grows and bears weathered wisdom on our outward face. We are not gears that roll and swing within a grand schematic.
We are definitely not mere fleas atop an infinite tower of leviathans.
Mortals represent the interactions of a striker and a target. Hammer with nail, axe with wood. Perhaps the chisel and the statue will grant ye blind immortals some understanding of how “good” and “evil” are as similar as mortal and immortal are different; intertwined like chaos versus law’s apex.
For those of you who are curious about the allegory of the cave: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allegory_of_the_Cave
EL MUNDO
“Un hombre del pueblo de Neguá, en la costa de Colombia, pudo subir al alto cielo.
A la vuelta, contó. Dijo que había contemplado, desde allá arriba, la vida humana. Y dijo que somos un mar de fueguitos.
—El mundo es eso —reveló—. Un montón de gente, un mar de fueguitos.
Cada persona brilla con luz propia entre todas las demás.
No hay dos fuegos iguales. Hay fuegos grandes y fuegos chicos y fuegos de todos los colores. Hay gente de fuego sereno, que ni se entera del viento, y gente de fuego loco, que llena el aire de chispas. Algunos fuegos, fuegos bobos, no alumbran ni queman; pero otros arden la vida con tantas ganas que no se puede mirarlos sin parpadear, y quien se acerca, se enciende.”
(El Libro de los Abrazos, Eduardo Galeano)