Under the spell of the right song, passion is within reach... love is close by... and you are not alone! With such potency, music should be treated with care. The sound, the feel, the presentation... everything! It is a medicine. It is a teacher!
I believe in the power of song. Under the spell of the right song, passion is within reach, love is close by, and you are not alone!
Flying is hypnotic and all pilots are victims to the spell. Their world is like a magic island in which the factors of life and death assume their proper values. Thinking becomes clear because there are no earthly foibles or embellishments to confuse it.
I still can't spell anything, but I can bust out two-dollar words.
My mum always says work goes in waves: you have a good spell and then it dips.
The radicals...want speech regulated by codes that proscribe certain language. They see free speech as at best a delusion, at worst a threat to the welfare of minorities and women....The most obvious (and cynical) explanation for the switched positions is the switched situations. Protesting students became established professors and administrators. For outsiders, free speech is bread and butter; for insiders, indigestion. To the new academics, unregulated free speech spells trouble.
The tempest unleashes an alphabetletters fall through the apertures of crazy anglesto spell out the futureuprooting the course of inventionand enslaving the masters
The grief of a child is always terrible. It is bottomless, without hope. A child has no past and no future. It just lives in the present moment - wholeheartedly. If the present moment spells disaster, the child suffers it with his whole heart, his whole soul, his whole strength, his whole little being.
Death is the twin of love and mother of us all, she struggles equally for men and women and never accepts differences of caste or class. It's death that quickens us and brings us forth on sheets of love, clasped between sleep and wakefulness and barely breathing for a spell, and thus my death shall be like everybody else's death, as majestic and as pathetic as a king or a beggar's, neither more nor less.
Fear too often spells failure.
Young bloods can't spell but they could rock you in PlayStation...
I write like a two-year-old and I can't spell.
One volcano puts out more toxic gases - one volcano - than man makes in a whole year. And when you look at this climate change, and when you look at the regular climate change that we all have in the world, we have warm and we have cooling spells.
So what if I can't spell Armaggedon? ... it's not the end of the world.
Many people forget that magick is all about change, and the greatest change is the inner, not the outer, landscape. Outer magickal changes - such as immediately getting a new job, lover, or physical healing - seem more impressive at first, but the inner changes last longer. They are the most impressive. Anyone can learn to do some basic spells and have good results, but the practitioners who develop a solid spiritual and magickal practice become more centered, calm, healthy, and truly confident over time are the magicians who impress me.
I hated school . . . . One of the reasons was a learning disability, dyslexia, which no one understood at the time. I still can't spell . . .
My diary is a disaster...I can't spell at all...I'll spell the same word completely differently in the same sentence.
Earth tries to work sorcery on us, saying Tomorrow, Tomorrow, but we outwit that spell by enjoying this now.
We have no idea who we really are. Whatever glory bestowed, whatever glory is being restored, we thought the whole Christian thing was about... something else. Trying not to sin. Going to church. Being nice. Jesus says it is about healing your heart, setting it free, restoring your glory. A religious fog has tried to veil all that, put us under some sort of spell or amnesia, to keeup us from coming alive.
Love seems to beautify and inspire all nature. It raises the earthly caterpillar into the ethereal butterfly, it paints the feathers in spring, it lights the glowworm's lamp, it wakens the song of birds, and inspires the poet's lay. Even inanimate Nature seems to feel the spell, and flowers glow with the richest colours.
None who has known the charity of wine, Its pity, the cool logic of its spell Will waver in his loyalty, or dwell In any heaven where the grape lacks a shrine.
. . . had I a river I would gladly let all honest anglers that use the fly cast line in it, but, but where there is no protection, then nets, poison, dynamite, slaughter of fingerlings, and unholy baits devastate the fish, so that 'free fishing' spells no fishing at all.
Well, I couldn't spell my name until I was eight - my second name. I was so dyslexic. Max I could do. Irons, nope.
I hope progressive ways of thinking will permeate the "mainstream" more and more in the coming years. Goddess knows we have endured a very long spell (thirty plus years) of regressive thinking and hyper conservativism dominating our culture and national discourse. It necessitates risk taking and rule breaking by people in all walks of life to swing that pendulum back though.
This moment, this being, is the thing. My life is all life in little. The moon, the planets, pass around my heart. The sun, now hidden by the round bulk of this earth, shines into me, and in me as well. The gods and the angels both good and bad are like the hairs of my own head, seemingly numberless, and growing from within. I people the cosmos from myself, it seems, yet what am I? A puff of dust, or a brief coughing spell, with emptiness and silence to follow.
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