Stolen Moments

the bravest battle that ever was fought, time, the splendor of the old.

Loneliness spurs into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.

For a father, growing old nothing is dearer than a daughter.

the sun, the rain, that nature sung in heaven, filled with everlasting oil, give due light to misled and lonely traveller.

nothing concern, as too large to be deliver.

Don't foresee the future, concern with taking care of present, a gift from God that given no control over the moment.

we enjoy warmth because we've been cold, we appreciate light because we've been in darkness, but we can never enjoy youth once we've got old. seize the day!

there're times we treat life like a mysterious door, it doesn't open no matter how hard we push it or pull it, we never notice that we should've slide it.

there's only one class in the community that thinks more about money than the rich, and that is the poor. the poor can think of nothing else. 

of course, we knew this meant an attack on the union. granting them voting rights, gradually to get rid of us?

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.

being any gender is a drag, or attempt to stay between.

a city that outdistances man's walking power is a trap as all truly great thoughts are conceived by walking.

rock, the pillow. ground, the bed; sky as pillow, moonlight as spread.