When  you don't  get  any chance to  do anything; you are upset and happy;but all are laughing to at you;by this consequences.

Poetry is not communication with angels or with the "subconscious." It is communication with the guts, genitals, and five portals of sense. Nothing more.

He climbed ecstatic mountains and floundered in the rocky darkness between the peaks.

The Creator made us for each other. Me here. Zelia there. Space was put between us by human error. But our hearts listened to divine will.

Written By Louise Erdrich

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