hopelessness [Theme] Page 1

- ... Even if such thing as free will, does not exist in nature, we should still treat each other like it is to preserve the society in which we live. Because otherwise, every time somebody does something terrible, you can't punish him. There was nothing he could do - his genes, environment, or God himself forced him to do so. And every time someone will do the honourable thing, you can't submit to him, because he's just a puppet. And if you think that all around the puppet, so why talk to them? Why seek somewhere, something to create, once all your ideas, your creation, your dream or dreams - just the script that is attached to you by your puppeteer.
Hopelessness, summed up Miro.
- So we accept ourselves and all others as creatures with a will of its own. We treat each other like we are driven by the arising in the mind of intention, and not some unknown Creator. We punish criminals. We reward altruists. We are making plans for the future and put them into practice. We promise and anticipated fulfillment of the word. Everything is sewn with white thread, but when everyone believe in that the actions of others - the result of free choice, and will be treated accordingly to rights and duties, the final result will be the civilization.

... lying on the double bed in a room with drawn curtains and lit the bedside lamp, she mentally said to herself: yeah, so, that's how crazy. Previously, it seemed to her that this has to happen otherwise - imagining of a person (a woman, a lot like her), losing her mind, she imagined hallucinations, groans and cries; it was found, however, that is different, much quieter and more hopeless.

It was worse than hopeless.

- Come Back, Daeron. Find her before you find her Celegorm, get her back in your woods... Sing her songs and play his flute so that she forgot me. It was all in vain. I consoled myself with silly hopes, because a silly hope in the joy of mortals.
I don't understand, ' said the elf. - You don't love her anymore?
Beren lowered his hands and raised her face.
- I don't love her? Yes, as your tongue has turned. But... there is something more than love, Daeron. Is death.

I got dressed in the dark and began to brush his teeth, looking at myself in the mirror, but could not stand it and looked away, fearing that you can see, if a long look at a young person without hope.

In the first debate, the second too.
Snap channels, it's very hopeless.

You can almost always understand, or will not, during the first two weeks. It's amazing how many people years or even decades remain in chains, in long mutual state of self-delusion and false hope, while they are given in the first two weeks.

Toothless dog any bone in the throat.

Again I melt in your arms
No, no, no, no, no!..
How I would like that we with you had the chance
How I wish, that you could not find a place,
Anywhere but here!
I'm falling apart in your hands again
No way No no no no
I wish there was a chance for you and me
I wish you couldn't find a place to be
away from here! ow!

Hope fall softly and gently as withered leaves. People with lyrical soul at the sight of falling leaves sometimes become depressed. But the tree doesn't hurt. Everything is so natural, so easy. The winter prepares for itself, and man, and tree.

Silence like a string, air,
I have realized later...
The night is dark, the rose window, the tears
Tears on the flowers, and the moon the cat...

Midnight beats, the heart waiting for later
Moon cat drinking a puddle of stars.
On the window in the dark, roses, tears
Tears on the flowers, and the moon the cat...
Must lie, must lie, later
No more meetings, meetings, sad, tearful.
You can't protect, can't protect, roses, tears
Tears on the flowers, he will not come...

Yes, in winter, of course, again will become warmer.
So is the space: in February - spring.
Maples turn green, in March, will Wake up the grass.
Maybe even a meeting time, preparing us.
Somewhere in the prayers in rows quietly leave soft.
Only here in the heart of the icicle. Instead of fire storm.
Well, until that autumn with a blanket of snow will cover
all that would give... Sorry that you didn't want.

I turn off the sun. After the autumn wind
the time will come to warm by another fire.
I turn off the sky. The leaves fall from the branches
if returning again to the silence, to the roots.
To me, the memory remains - gentle, like a summer.
What would be life if I had you!
How many would show, how much light would be lit...
How sad to say goodbye. Scared to silence.