Crows

i have a fascination with crows..i dont know why, maybe its because their thought as evil..what with the being european version of a vulture and always eating seeds on farms....i find myself attracted to them for some reason.. anyways here are some pictures i took from deviantart.com ..these are some pics which captured me, ablazed my mind..i feed off of images like this.. taking it in and then feeding back by weaving it like gold strands into a part of my story..
...
hehe..crows and a scarecrow

this one is called "Gaze" and rightly so.. just by staring at this i start thinking about who this person is and about their life..

lol this fits PERFECTLY into my story.. this is like fuel

another face..another life.. another story..

..more..

Sonnet 116
Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

dunno how i skimmed over and didnt see this one.. on Keira's advice looked it up. really really like this writing.

Shakespeare's Sonnets

17
Who will believe my verse in time to come
If it were filled with your most high deserts?
Though yet heaven knows it is but as a tomb
Which hides your life and shows not half your parts.
If i could write the beaty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say "This poet lies,
Such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces."
So should my papers, yellowed with their age,
Be scorned, like old men of less truth than tongue
And your true rights be termed a poet's rage
And stretched meter of an antique song:
But were some child of yours alive at that time
You should live twice, in it and in my rhyme.

18
Shall i compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of Maym
and summer's lease hath all too short a date.
sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometimes declines,
By chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed;
BUt thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose ossession of that fair thou ow'st,
Nor shall Death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

19
Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws.
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
And burn the long-lived phoenix in her blood;
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets,
And do whate'er thou wilt, wift-fotted Time,
to the wide world and all her fading sweets;
But i forbid thee one most heinous crime,
O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen.
Him in they course untainted to allow,
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.
Yet do thy worst, old Time; despite thy wrong,
My love shall in my verse ever live young.

Point of Life

God created life, earth, man- He created us to live in beauty. To live in simpleness and perfection-no need for meaning. But man decided he was not content, he yearned to live in perfection that was created by himself, not God. We live in a society where everything MUST have a meaning, a purpose, a point. Behind everything we do, inherent lies our will to create our own perfect surroundings. Sitting around wondering what the purpose of life is- is useless, waste of time. dumb.

i really am going crazy.