poems and wisdom from the Internet and friends there unto

Ecentricity and Beauty a Lovely combination

Wine and Water




To my friends who enjoy a glass of wine..and those who =on't.



As Ben Franklin said:

In wine there is wisdom,

In beer =here is freedom,

In water =here is bacteria.



In a number =f carefully controlled trials,

Scientists =ave demonstrated that if we drink 1 liter of water each day, at the end of the year =e would have absorbed more than 1 kilo of Escherichia =oli, =br> (E. Coli) - bacteria found in feces. =/span>



In other =ords, we are consuming

1 kilo of poop.



However, we =o NOT run that risk when

Drinking =ine & beer (or tequila, rum, whisky or other liquor), because alcohol =as to go through a purification

Process of =oiling, filtering and/or fermenting.



Remember:

Water = Poop, Wine =3D Health .



Therefore, it's better to drink wine and =/span>talk stupid,


Than to =rink water and be full of shit.



At Last She Comes



AT last she comes, O never more

In this dear patience of my pain

To leave me lonely as before,

Or leave my soul alone again.



Robert Louis Stevenson





Footsteps of Angels



When the hours of Day are numbered,

And the voices of the Night

Wake the better soul, that slumbered,

To a holy, calm delight;



Ere the evening lamps are lighted,

And, like phantoms grim and tall,

Shadows from the fitful firelight

Dance upon the parlor wall;



Then the forms of the departed

Enter at the open door;

The beloved, the true-hearted,

Come to visit me once more;



He, the young and strong, who cherished

Noble longings for the strife,

By the roadside fell and perished,

Weary with the march of life!



They, the holy ones and weakly,

Who the cross of suffering bore,

Folded their pale hands so meekly,

Spake with us on earth no more!



And with them the Being Beauteous,

Who unto my youth was given,

More than all things else to love me,

And is now a saint in heaven.



With a slow and noiseless footstep

Comes that messenger divine,

Takes the vacant chair beside me,

Lays her gentle hand in mine.



And she sits and gazes at me

With those deep and tender eyes,

Like the stars, so still and saint-like,

Looking downward from the skies.



Uttered not, yet comprehended,

Is the spirit's voiceless prayer,

Soft rebukes, in blessings ended,

Breathing from her lips of air.



Oh, though oft depressed and lonely,

All my fears are laid aside,

If I but remember only

Such as these have lived and died!




Henry Wadsworth Longfellow