Dol Quotes

Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My darling! Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling. Down along under the Hill, shining in the sunlight, Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight, There my pretty lady is, River-woman's daughter, Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water. Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing? Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! and merry-o, Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o! Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away! Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day. Tom'sgoing hom again water lilies-bringing. Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?

Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo! Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow! Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!

penitenziagite! watch out for the draco who cometh in futurum to gnaw your anima! death is super nos! pray the santo pater come to liberar nos a malo and all our sin! ha ha, you like this negromanzia de domini nostri jesu christi! et anco jois m'es dols e plazer m'es dolors...cave el diabolo! semper lying in wait for me in some angulum to snap at my heels. but salvatore is not stupidus! bonum monsasterium, and aqui refectorium and pray to dominum nostrum. and the resto is not worth merda. amen. no?

You’re … in … the … Dol … drums,” wailed a voice that sounded far away.

I wonder where I am," said Milo in a very worried tone. "You're . . . in . . . the . . . Dol . . . drums," wailed a voice that sounded far away. He looked around quickly to see who had spoken. No one was there, and it was as quiet and still as one could imagine. "Yes . . . the . . . Dol . . . drums," yawned another voice, but still he saw no one. "WHAT ARE THE DOLDRUMS?" he cried loudly, and tried very hard to see who would answer this time. "The Doldrums, my young friend, are where nothing ever happens and nothing ever changes.

Setne laughed. “Nice try, dol. You guys sit tight. If you make it through the big shake-up, I’ll come back and get you. Maybe you can be my jesters or something. You two crack me up! But in the meantime, I’m afraid we’re done here. No miracle’s gonna drop from the sky and save you.” A rectangle of darkness appeared in the air just above the ghost’s head. Sadie dropped out of it. I’ll say this for my sister: she has great timing, and she’s quick on the draw. She crashed into the ghost and sent him sprawling.

Ro winks. "I forgive you, Dol-face." Then, without a word, he takes off running and I have no choice but to follow.

«Una dona sense un home és com un peix sense bicicleta.» ANÒNIM

Die twaalf gulden zijn de reden dat ik deze brief schrijf want daarginder wens ik u, zo dol als ik op u ben, allemaal, ongezien, de kanker.

Ik was vroeger altijd zo dol op Pip en Kip. - Foaly

Where the hell did that dog come from?” asked Mitch. “I get to keep him,” said Sydney. “Is that blood?” “I shot him,” said Victor, searching through his papers. “Why would you do that?” asked Mitch, closing the laptop. “Because he was dying.” “Then why isn’t he dead?” “Because Sydney brought him back.” Mitch turned to consider the small blond girl in the middle of their hotel living room. “Excuse me?” Her eyes went to the floor. “Victor named him Dol,” she said. “It’s a measurement of pain,” explained Victor. “Well, that’s morbidly appropriate,” said Mitch.

...she was still in love and didn't know what to do with all this love of hers. There was so much of it, and it was so messy: leaking, spilling, tumbling out of her, like stuffing falling out of an old rag dol that was coming apart at the seams. If only she could box up her love, as she was attempting to do with his possessions.

I t'abraço amb l'angoixa vegetal d'un bosc d'amor ofert a la destral.

Dit was pas de tweede keer dat Carswell Thorne echt nadacht over Kate Fallow. De eerste keer had hij zich afgevraagd waarom ze zo van boeken hield, en of dat iets te maken had met de reden waarom hij zo dol was op ruimteschepen. Ze konden je namelijk meenemen naar plaatsen ver, ver hiervandaan. Deze keer vroeg hij zich echter af welke cijfers zij voor wiskunde haalde.

Hop along, my little friends, up the Withywindle! Tom’s going on ahead candles for to kindle. Down west sinks the Sun: soon you will be groping. When the night-shadows fall, then the door will open, Out of the window-panes light will twinkle yellow. Fear no alder black! Heed no hoary willow! Fear neither root nor bough! Tom goes on before you. Hey now! merry dol! We’ll be waiting for you!

Comprenc que no ha de ser fàcil competir amb un record. Ella ja no pot equivocar-se, no ens pot decebre... és una ombra poderosa i, tot i que no puc disculpar-me per això, vull fer-te saber que ho entenc.

But when the time comes to judge, to un­der­stand a be­trayal which will spread like fame across the Web, which will end worlds, I ask you not to think of me—my name was not even writ on wa­ter as your lost poet’s soul said—but to think of Old Earth dy­ing for no rea­son, to think of the dol­phins, their gray flesh dry­ing and rot­ting in the sun, to see—as I have seen—the motile isles with no place to wan­der, their feed­ing grounds de­stroyed, the Equa­to­r­ial Shal­lows scabbed with drilling plat­forms, the is­lands them­selves bur­dened with shout­ing, tram­mel­ing tourists smelling of UV lo­tion and cannabis. Or bet­ter yet, think of none of that. Stand as I did af­ter throw­ing the switch, a mur­derer, a be­trayer, but still proud, feet firmly planted on Hy­pe­r­ion’s shift­ing sand, head held high, fist raised against the sky, cry­ing “A plague on both your houses!

Bruixes d'ahir, bruixes del dia, ens trobarem a plena mar. Arreu s'escamparà la vida com una dansa vegetal. Dins la pell de l'ona salada serem cinc-centes, serem mil. Perdrem el compte a la tombada. Juntes farem nostra la nit.

Els meus pits són dos ocells engabiats quan els teus dits els cerquen per entre les fulles i les flors del vestit. Però quan fulles i flors cauen a terra -que el desig porta dalla!-, són dos peixos que et fugen de les mans en les crestes nevades de la mar.

Lo vostro fermo dir fino ed orrato approva ben ciò bon ch’om di voi parla, ed ancor più, ch’ogni uom fora gravato di vostra loda intera nominarla; che ’l vostro pregio in tal loco è poggiato, che propiamente om nol poria contarla: però qual vera loda al vostro stato crede parlando dar, dico disparla. Dite ch’amare e non essere amato ene lo dol che più d’Amore dole, e manti dicon che più v’ha dol maggio: onde umil prego non vi sia disgrato vostro saver che chiari ancor, se vole, se ’l vero, o no, di ciò mi mostra saggio.

Bevíem a glops aspres vins de burla el meu poble i jo. Escoltàvem forts arguments del sabre el meu poble i jo. Una tal lliçó hem hagut d'entendre el meu poble i jo. La mateixa sort ens uneix per sempre: el meu poble i jo. Senyor, servidor? Som indestriables el meu poble i jo. Tenim la raó contra bords i lladres el meu poble i jo. Salvàvem els mots de la nostra llengua el meu poble i jo. A baixar graons de dol apreníem el meu poble i jo. Davallats al pou, esguardem enlaire el meu poble i jo. Ens alcem tots dos en encesa espera, el meu poble i jo.

Chantal watched her undress.      Her body is still beautiful, I should just grab her and drag off her panties, I know that's what she wants, or maybe I should I go slow, and kiss her neck, from behind...

He's trying to torture me, she thought. She grabbed his head and pushed it back yanking on his hair,      "I won't stop," he whispered, obsessing over her and not giving her a minute to come down. She melted, until she had nothing left.

During my five years on Mauna Kea, workers routinely displayed the symptoms of Cerebral Hypoxia

Oxygen deprivation and supplemental oxygen are both bio-hazards for Mauna Kea workers

Pujaré la tristesa dalt les golfes amb la nina sense ulls i el paraigua trencat, el cartipàs vençut, la tarlatana vella. I baixaré les graus amb vestit d'alegria que hauran teixit aranyes sense seny. Hi haurà amor engrunat al fons de les butxaques.

Ja no m'enartes, sol, vaixell salvat de l'ombra, que és l'ombra qui m'ha pres. El cranc d'aquest crepuscle se m'ha arrapat al cor i els meus ulls són el llac on es nega la lluna.

Quin esquer se m'arrapa a la geniva? Amor, estel amarg a la deriva, em fa senyals: jo vaig per l'altra riba, traginer de cançons en cavall sense brida.

Perquè venies sense armes t'he obert les set portes del castell i cap guaita no he deixat rere els merlets. I he llençat l'anell a l'aigua perquè un peix, o la lluna, el guardi en el seu ventre.

Aquest mirall em diu que sóc ben sola i no hi fa res que el trenqui en mil bocins. He enfilat el carrer trist que va a escola i em marco, amb guix, entorn, els meus confins. La lluna riu, dins la nau que s'endola. I jo sembro amb pedretes els camins que em duen cap a mi, nit meva endins. Baixo al meu pou, amb bleix de corriola. Tu, lluna, rius, i em vesteixo de lluna. M'arrenco el collaret d'agres estrelles i el mar se les empassa d'una a una. I et prenc el cor segur amb què cabdelles el teu destí, per fer, amb cartes velles, un solitari nou sobre la duna.

Gosa escalar la boira amb peu solà. Ran de la deu, amor, ran de l'eixut, hauràs, al cim de tot, la solitud. Pots compartir-la amb mi, com un brenar tendre i amarg, la mel, damunt el pa i el bri de pena que l'hora ens ha dut.

M'ets present com un déu com un diable. Avui t'he vist de cap a peus vermell. He assassinat l'aranya del castell i a les mans duc la copa: sóc culpable. Culpable a mitjanit i al tomb del dia quan l'herba lliga amb foc, per al festí, el llac i el cel on l'astre fa camí. L'aigua m'acull amb braços de follia. S'obren de cop portes i finestral. Avui l'amor té gust de ventolera i em fa plaer l'estrella i la destral. Veig papallones i les deixo enrera. Ullpresa vinc a tu per l'espiral del fum, amb vol de bruixa i amb granera.

Els teus llavis. La fruita. La magrana... Àngel rebel, tot olor de gingebre. Atrapa'm pels replecs d'aquesta febre. Vine amb verdor de pluja. Sargantana que em fuges pels cabells, sense frontera, al bat del sol, ales d'ocell nocturn! Serves per cor la Lluna o bé Saturn i, als ulls, un tast de boira matinera. El teu cos mineral. Sal. Vi. Maduixa. Com una serp, cargola't al meu ventre i cerca'm, amb verí d'amor, al centre. Tu seràs un gat negre. Jo una bruixa. Ens fitarem errants, i en el desvari la lluna, cega, encendrà l'escenari.

Avui les fades i les bruixes s'estimen Avui, sabeu? les fades i les bruixes s'estimen. Han canviat entre elles escombres i varetes. I amb cucurull de nit i tarot de poetes endevinen l'enllà, on les ombres s'animen. És que han begut de l'aigua de la Font dels Lilàs i han parlat amb la terra, baixet, arran d'orella. Han ofert al no-res foc de cera d'abella i han aviat libèl·lules per desxifrar-ne el traç. Davallen a la plaça en revessa processó, com la serp cargolada entorn de la pomera, i enceten una dansa, de punta i de taló. Jo, que aguaito de lluny la roda fetillera, esbalaïda veig que vénen cap a mi i em criden perquè hi entri. Ullpresa, els dic que sí.

La pluja és una bruixa amb els cabells molt llargs. Cascavells li repiquen tota la trena avall. A la nit, si venia, ho fa sense avisar, estalzim a la cara i el vestit estripat. Si fa córrer l'escombra conillets, a amagar! amagats que seríem que no ens atraparà. Darrere la cortina fem-li adéu amb la mà.

Ai, quina cara més clara, veïna del meu carrer, com la neu de la muntanya o la flor del cirerer. Com l'espiga del terrer que amb el sol fa la clucaina. No hi hauria cisteller que tan clara fes la palma, veïna del meu carrer!

Hi ha un àngel sense cel al fons d'aquest mirall amb els llavis pintats de sol que va a la posta. Du un estigma a la pell que demana resposta i uns ulls esbatanats que fan d'amagatall a l'aiguat dels torrents. Porta el ròssec de l'astre dels boscos i dels anys. I un deix de fulles mortes. Com en país estrany, closes totes les portes, erra obstinadament, com si seguís un rastre. Uns senyals que no hi són, que, amb cendra de follia i amb alfabets prestats inventem per demà. El nuvolar més fosc es congria amb nosaltres, La pluja esborrarà tots els camins del sia. Pastarem somnis vells, sota un cel de lilà, amb el fang sense ahir, com si fossin uns altres...

La lluna nova, saps?, diu que et recordi que el NO d'avui du un SÍ a l'altre costat.

Vuit de març Amb totes dues mans alçades a la lluna, obrim una finestra en aquest cel tancat. Hereves de les dones que cremaren ahir farem una foguera amb l'estrall i la por. Hi acudiran les bruixes de totes les edats. Deixaran les escombres per pastura del foc, cossis i draps de cuina el sabó i el blauet, els pots i les cassoles el fregall i els bolquers. Deixarem les escombres per pastura del foc, els pots i les cassoles, el blauet i el sabó I la cendra que resti no la canviarem ni per l'or ni pel ferro per ceptres ni punyals. Sorgida de la flama sols tindrem ja la vida per arma i per escut a totes dues mans. El fum dibuixarà l'inici de la història com una heura de joia entorn del nostre cos i plourà i farà sol i dansarem a l'aire de les noves cançons que la terra rebrà. Vindicarem la nit i la paraula DONA. Llavors creixerà l'arbre de l'alliberament.

Peredur, not the ancient king of that name (306-296 BC), but a much later son of Earl Efrawg, had better luck than Morvidus, actually managing to slay his monster, an addanc (pr. athanc: var. afanc), at a place called Llyn Llion in Wales.4 At other Welsh locations the addanc is further spoken of along with another reptilian species known as the carrog. The addanc survived until comparatively recent times at such places as Bedd-yr-Afanc near Brynberian, at Llyn-yr-Afanc above Bettws-y-Coed on the River Conwy (the killing of this monster was described in the year 1693), and Llyn Barfog. A carrog is commemorated at Carrog near Corwen, and at Dol-y-Carrog in the Vale of Conwy.5

Leroi-Gourhan écrit que, dans l'art des cavernes, signe féminin et blessure sont interchangeables : pour signifier la même idée, l'artiste, le penseur, l'écrivain paléolithique pouvait indifféremment figurer une vulve, une vache transpercée, le sang qui dégoutte d'une flèche. La vulve, le dol, la bête sous le merlin, le sang, sont synonymes ("Corps du roi", 40).

Every now and again they caught, among many a derry dol and a merry dol and a ring a ding dillo

La tristesa seria un privilegi si no fos tan trista. Perquè ť' ajuda a relativitzar, aparta d'una estrebada els entrebancs que abans t'atabalaven, et fa entendre amb una concreció pertorbadora el consell d'estimar el que tens. I això ho sé ara, quan també he après a conviure amb el dol, amb l'apatia, amb els ulls dels altres, amb una solitud pregona: al fons del fons de la tristesa, potser t'hi espera - serena, inevitable, fugissera - I'alegria.

But for the present I am but the Captain of the Dúnedain of Arnor; and the Lord of Dol Amroth shall rule the City until Faramir awakes. But it is my counsel that Gandalf should rule us all in the days that follow and in our dealings with the Enemy.’ And they agreed upon that. Then Gandalf said: ‘Let us not stay at the door, for the time is urgent. Let us enter! For it is only in the coming of Aragorn that any hope remains for the sick that lie in the House. Thus spake Ioreth, wise-woman of Gondor: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known.

THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING "Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life." "Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger." "Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes." "Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo! Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow! Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!" "No black man shall pass my doors, while I can stand on my legs." "All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king." "One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them." "A deadly sword, a healing hand, a back that bent beneath its load; a trumpet-voice, a burning brand, a weary pilgrim on the road. A lord of wisdom throned he sat, swift in anger, quick to laugh; an old man in a battered hat who leaned upon a thorny staff.” "The Balrog reached the bridge. Gandalf stood in the middle of the span, leaning on the staff in his left hand, but in his other hand Glamdring gleamed, cold and white. His enemy halted again, facing him, and the shadow about it reached out like two vast wings. It raised the whip, and the thongs whined and cracked. Fire came from its nostrils. But Gandalf stood firm. ‘You cannot pass,’ he said. The orcs stood still, and a dead silence fell. ‘I am a servant of the Secret Fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. You cannot pass. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn. Go back to the Shadow! You cannot pass.’ The Balrog made no answer. The fire in it seemed to die, but the darkness grew. It stepped forward slowly on to the bridge, and suddenly it drew itself up to a great height, and its wings were spread from wall to wall; but still Gandalf could be seen, glimmering in the gloom; he seemed small, and altogether alone: grey and bent, like a wizened tree before the onset of a storm. From out of the shadow a red sword leaped flaming. Glamdring glittered white in answer. There was a ringing clash and a stab of white fire. The Balrog fell back, and its sword flew up in molten fragments. The wizard swayed on the bridge, stepped back a pace, and then again stood still. ‘You cannot pass!’ he said. With a bound the Balrog leaped full upon the bridge. Its whip whirled and hissed. ‘He cannot stand alone!’ cried Aragorn suddenly and ran back along the bridge. ‘Elendil!’ he shouted. ‘I am with you, Gandalf!’ ‘Gondor!’ cried Boromir and leaped after him. At that moment Gandalf lifted his staff, and crying aloud he smote the bridge before him. The staff broke asunder and fell from his hand. A blinding sheet of white flame sprang up. The bridge cracked. Right at the Balrog’s feet it broke, and the stone upon which it stood crashed into the gulf, while the rest remained, poised, quivering like a tongue of rock thrust out into emptiness. With a terrible cry the Balrog fell forward, and its shadow plunged down and vanished. But even as it fell it swung its whip, and the thongs lashed and curled about the wizard’s knees, dragging him to the brink. He staggered and fell, grasped vainly at the stone, and slid into the abyss. ‘Fly, you fools!’ he cried, and was gone.

THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING "Many that live deserve death. And some that die deserve life." "Do not meddle in the affairs of Wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger." "Go not to the Elves for counsel, for they will say both no and yes." "Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo! Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow! Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!" "No black man shall pass my doors, while I can stand on my legs." "All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king." "One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them." "A deadly sword, a healing hand, a back that bent beneath its load; a trumpet-voice, a burning brand, a weary pilgrim on the road. A lord of wisdom throned he sat, swift in anger, quick to laugh; an old man in a battered hat who leaned upon a thorny staff.

My father lived to the age where he attained a deep luster, but never too shiny that you didn’t believe him for one minute, may we all understand our own quitting time so well.

He triat ser feliç. Aquesta felicitat no és perfecta ni exempta de dolor. A dins hi porta un dol. Però justament per això és més intensa.

I amunt, jo amunt, amunt, Colometa, vola, Colometa... Amb la cara com una taca blanca damunt del negre del dol... amunt, Colometa, que darrera teu hi ha tota la pena del món, desfes-te de la pena del món, Colometa.

¿Què passaria si el meu cos pogués explicar-se? ¿Què diria? Crec que parlaria de sang. Del seu vaivé fascinant. Sobre final i renovació. Crec que parlaria sobre el tacte dels dits, de les meves mans i d’altres llavis. De la sensació de pell amb pell. Moll i lent. Tou i dur. De l’impacte del fred i el plaer de l’escalfor. Crec que parlaria del goig de l’orgasme, del goig del riure i del goig de satisfer la gana. Del gust àcid i picant, suau i cremós. Crec que parlaria de parar i tirar endavant. Crec que parlaria de perfum i de pudor. De net i brut. Crec que parlaria de malaltia i convalescència, de fortalesa i creixement. Crec que parlaria de pèrdua i de dol. D’estar sol i de fer pinya. De longevitat i transformació. De satisfacció. De felicitat. D’alegria. Crec que sonaria poderós. Crec que sonaria fort. Crec que sonaria orgullós. I l’estic escoltant.

Do you remember the rabbits? I ask, keeping her. A short, thick-sounding No. Luca used to be a good liar. You must! There were dozens. He'd buy them as presents- I don't remember, she says, turning away, Understand me, Dolores, I don't remember One Single Thing. The rain and the cage and Luca standing in the garden, denying everything. The heaving in me comes out as a shout. Well I do! You and Rose, locking me in there. Shame on you, Luca! She faces me. In the twilight, her own sickness shines like a jewel. Luca closes her eyes; she's tired of not remembering. Dol, we were letting you out, she says.

We have failed to recapture Gollum. We came on his trail among those of many Orcs, and it plunged deep into the Forest, going south. But ere long it escaped our skill, and we dared not continue the hunt; for we were drawing nigh to Dol Guldur, and that is still a very evil place; we do not go that way.’ ‘Well, well, he is gone,’ said Gandalf. ‘We have no time to seek for him again. He must do what he will. But he may play a part yet that neither he nor Sauron have foreseen. ‘And now I will answer Galdor’s other questions. What of Saruman? What are his counsels to us in this need? This tale I must tell in full,

her deep sultry voice stayed steady. “And I am an elemental witch. I’ve worked with the DOL for the last four years, and before that, I was part of the International Coalition of Witches.” Will sat up straight in his chair when it was his turn to speak. “Will Tucker. New here. Vampire hunter for the most part.” He slumped down in his chair again when he finished and folded his hands in front of him on the table. “And a man of few words,” Ben quipped. Everyone laughed, even Will, but his pale face reddened. “Yep,” Will added. Ben turned his attention to Charlie. A thrill went through her when everyone turned their gaze on her and she forced a smile.

Kapitalisme! Het was belangrijk om het te verafschuwen, al verdiende je er je geld mee. Ze merkte dat ze langzaam, heel langzaam, opschoof naar een standpunt dat zo filosofisch was dat zelfs Jezus het niet had kunnen innemen: dat ze het kapitalisme moest verafschuwen terwijl ze dol was op filmscenes die zich afspeelden in een warenhuis. “Capitalism! It was important to hate it, even though it was how you got money. Slowly, slowly, she found herself moving toward a position so philosophical even Jesus couldn’t have held it: that she must hate capitalism while at the same time loving film montages set in department stores.

W 2013 r. sprzedaliśmy za granicę towary warte 203 mld dol. Stawia to Polskę na 26 miejscu wśród największych eksporterów świata. Globalny lider, czyli Chiny, eksportują 10 razy więcej od nas, USA i Niemcy 8 razy więcej, Francja 3 razy więcej, Hiszpania o połowę więcej. Ale liczby te nie przerażają, jeśli odnieść je do skali państw. A jeszcze mniej, gdy przypomnieć sobie, że w 1990 r. eksport USA był aż 30 razy, a Francji 15 razy większy od polskiego. Austria, która wówczas eksportowała 4 razy więcej od nas, dziś jest za nami, tak jak zdecydowana większość pozostałych krajów Unii.

Parmida had never believed in unicorns, not until a stroll through the forests of Sunneth Dol convinced her otherwise. She was a young human woman living in a world where magick was dead and magickal creatures a myth. Elves and fae and magickal beasts had long ago shed their skin and left their bones. It was a world where humans alone now existed, walking in the dark of night, always looking over their shoulder for their inevitable extinction, as if nature were waiting to absorb them next back into her soil.

In nihče ni smel na njegov grob. In pred njegovim grobom je korakala straža. In kdor se je naslednji dan vtihotapil na pokopališče, je lahko samo od daleč videl stražo in zapuščeni grob. A videl je tudi goro rož na grobu, in toliko jih je bilo, rož, da so lezle vse naokoli dol na druge grobove. Piramida vencev in šopkov kjub kljub puškam in samokresom; venci in cvetje, ki so v noči prišli neubranljivo kakor kraguljčki v noči k poslednji podoknici. A pušelci in šopki so bili kot na kup zmetanon kamenje, na kup zmetana polena, ker so bili vrženi čez zid, naskrivaj, iz razdalje kakor gobavcu.

How did harassing me work out for you in the end?

Ignore me and we will have a problem.

Als je dol bent op koffie kan je terecht op onze site voor het laatste nieuws , product reviews en koopgidsen om je koffie ervaring nog beter te maken.