fire [Theme] Page 2

Be a beacon. Be a beacon.

........my morning.....

When the candle fire burns, think, repent and be silent.

Apparently there is no soul in it, that’s why it fades so quickly!

Sometimes the strength leaves so much that you want to fall and not get up. But you can't. You must be Strong. You get up from the next bottom, rise and continue to go further. No one knows how much strength is measured to you, but as long as the Fire burns, it will warm and illuminate your path.

Accept humbly lightning, - they considered in the old days, - but rubbish is a threat to your harvest.

No doubt, a woman is a light, a look, a call to happiness, sometimes a word; but above all, it is a general harmony, and not only in posture and movements, but also in silks, in an airy, sparkling cloud of fabrics enveloping her, constituting, as it were, the attributes and pedestal of this deity, in metal and stones that snake around her hands and neck, intensifying the fire of her gaze with their sparks, or tinkling softly at her ears. What poet, describing the pleasure he experienced at the appearance of a beauty, would dare to separate the woman from her dress?

When the fire goes out - it's over!

Once, a young sailor fell in love with a native of the sands. Having met the girl for the first time in a dusty town on the edge of the desert, he immediately realized how dangerous the revolver in her hand and the reckless prowess in her heart were. The soul is fire and gunpowder, and the finger is always on the trigger.

We already know from experience that any bans, if any, were very short-lived. Either the desire for profit wins, or just stupid human curiosity, which makes the child stick his finger into the fire or into the socket.

If you don't want me to follow you into the fire, then don't go into the fire yourself!

Motivation is not just an impulse to action, it is a spark that ignites a fire in our soul and pushes us to achieve great heights.

A dark business is going on in this outback. The unholy five horsemen: a carrion with a hyena smile, feeding on the webs of speech, a bug rider with a gilded palm, a court jester, but perhaps also a skilled labor pawn, a mercenary peacemaker with a suitcase in his bosom and a slippery snake with yellow eyes, pulling the strings and watching pouring fuel on the fire, gathered to solve the burning question: which cherry will forcibly donate itself for the cake for another week of charity. Behind the shadow of the horsemen crawled a vile rat that wanted progressive action, whispering in your ear, but rats are not allowed to fly. However, the connecting link of the five was a stupid, naive doe: you throw dust in her face, and she will call it magic pollen, you throw a shaped brick (but you should have fireclay) into her angular mind, and he will be God's grace for her.