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"what the luck is blitz show"1547 rezultate

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Carlos CastanedaCC

Carlos Castaneda

AutorClasic

Carlos Castaneda (25 December 1925 – 27 April 1998) was a Peruvian-born American anthropologist and author. Starting with The Teachings of Don Juan in 1968, Castaneda wrote a series of books that describe his purported training in traditional Mesoamerican shamanism. His 12 books have sold more than 8 million copies in 17 languages. The books and Castaneda, who rarely spoke in public about his work, have been controversial for many years. Supporters claim the books are either true or at least valuable works of philosophy and descriptions of practices which enable an increased awareness. Academic critics claim the books are works of fiction, citing the books' internal contradictions, discrepancies between the books and anthropological data, alternate sources for Castaneda's detailed knowledge of shamanic practices and lack of corroborating evidence. In his books, Castaneda narrated in first person what he claimed were his experiences under the tutelage of a Yaqui shaman named don Juan...

2 poezii, 0 proze

MJ

Michael Jackson

AutorAtelier

listen to my music, not what the tabloids say,...

5 poezii, 0 proze

IA

Isaac Asimov

AutorClasic

Biographical (non-literary) How do you pronounce \"Isaac Asimov\"? \"EYE\'zik AA\'zi-mov\". The name is spelled with an \"s\" and not a \"z\" because Asimov\'s father didn\'t understand the English alphabet clearly when the family moved to the U.S. in 1923. (In Russian, the spelling was the Cyrillic equivalent of Azimov, and in Yiddish, the Hebrew letters were aleph-zayin-yod-mem-aleph-vav-vav.) One way to remember this pronunciation is the pun from The Flying Sorcerers by Larry Niven and David Gerrold: \"As a color, shade of purple-grey\", or \"As a mauve\". Asimov wrote a poem (\"The Prime of Life\") in which he rhymes his surname with \"stars above\"; someone else suggested amending the poem to rhyme it with \"mazel tov\", which he thought an improvement. Asimov\'s own suggestion, however, as to how to remember his name was to say \"Has Him Off\" and leave out the H\'s. When did Asimov die? What was the cause of his death? Where is he buried? Asimov died on April 6, 1992 of heart...

0 poezii, 0 proze

Ioan TițianIT

Ioan Tițian

AutorAtelier

Prenume: Ioan Nume: Tițian email: maa_eendo@yahoo.com Photo: by Me ... 1 Does the Eagle know what is in the pit? 2 Or wilt thou go ask the Mole? 3 Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod? 4 Or Love in a golden bowl? (by W. Blake) ... I ne'er was struck before that hour With love so sudden and so sweet. Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower And stole my heart away complete. My face turned pale, a deadly pale. My legs refused to walk away, And when she looked what could I ail My life and all seemed turned to clay. And then my blood rushed to my face And took my eyesight quite away. The trees and bushes round the place Seemed midnight at noonday. I could not see a single thing, Words from my eyes did start. They spoke as chords do from the string, And blood burnt round my heart. Are flowers the winter's choice Is love's bed always snow She seemed to hear my silent voice Not love appeals to know. I never saw so sweet a face As that I stood before. My heart has left its dwelling place And can...

6 poezii, 0 proze

Filip RuxandraFR

Filip Ruxandra

AutorAtelier

Adresa mea de mail: yvory_ender@yahoo.com Adresa de yahoo messenger: yvory_ender Data nasterii 15 dec '84 AMV-uri create de mine: http://www.youtube.com/user/yvoryender http://www.youtube.com/user/inuyashatokagome2 In prezent - Proiect de Cercetare in Japonia - Tokyo Of what use is the draught of immortality to me? Now that we shell never see each other again, And I spend my days shedding enough tears to float upon their wake. Ma proclam rege al strangatorilor. Sunt o veriga de legatura dar functionez ca un intreg. Imi ridic privirea spre teluri inalte si dau lovituri ferme si sigure. Viata imi este o calatorie presarata de bucurii. Fiecare cautare trebuie sa sfarseasca intr-o noua expeditie. Sunt progres, exploatare si intuitie. Sunt pantecul unde germineaza actiunea. EDUCATION - Aprilie 2009 - Tokyo, Japan - Research Student - Oct.-Nov. 2009 – Meiji Daigaku 50th Anniversary Symposium – Innovation within Square Enix Corporation - Sept. 2008- Mart. 2009 Esslingen Hochschule -...

76 poezii, 0 proze

Grama Miruna AuraGA

Grama Miruna Aura

AutorAtelier

I long for what life has in mind for me...the tone of a voice...the line of a song...the sound of a colour...the black of an eye... To feel...that is the purpose of ME

2 poezii, 0 proze

Teo DobreTD

Teo Dobre

AutorAtelier

What happened to this song we once knew so well? Signed promise for moments caught within the spell... What happened to wonders we once knew so well? Did we forget what happened, surely we can't tell...

7 poezii, 0 proze

ND

nicoleta d.

AutorAtelier

no words are enough to say what I had lived...the words are plane and could not show the beauty that ihave lived...nothing is important to me, but my , myself and I...I could write my life with simple words but the sparkness of the real life could not be seen and felt...so all that I can say is that I live, not only exist...

5 poezii, 0 proze

andra nAN

andra n

AutorAtelier

"it looks i've reached the crossroad.. remains of what i am still still waiting on the sidewalk to fill this peaceful day the burden of a choice my past dissolved..erased would you belive my world?"

1 poezii, 0 proze

RC

Radu Contes

AutorAtelier

The beginning of my childhood was profoundly marked by one of my grandfather’s passions – literature. For him reading, living, the writings of so many did not seem to be enough, so he began writing his own stories that still echo in my memory and in my heart. I remember that one day I went to him and asked “What are you writing about?”. Looking at me for only a second and returning his eyes at the ink stained notebook he answered: “My life”. Regretful, I confess that that was the last dialogue we had. After that I began reading, reading everything he was writing. Two years after his death, I had met someone who changed everything. I stopped reading and began writing myself. It was such a new feeling. It seemed to be never ending. It still feels. Since the first time, you may think I am exaggerating, but it really was the first time I saw her when I felt this sudden urge of writing. Words like “Thank you” seem meaningless compared to the things that you have done for me.

2 poezii, 0 proze

what the luck is blitz show

de felix nicolau

După ce mi-am tocit coatele prin cenacluri și am văzut ce greu este să nu o faci pe deșteptul printre confrați, a început să mă bântuie o fantomă absurdă. Adică m-am întrebat dacă e firesc ca...

Atelier

despre altă călătorie II

de Marina Nicolaev

foto: Nicolae Sandulesco, 1986 anotimpuri sens giratoriu neliniștea peste iarna veche atârnată din desăgile mari cu mere și covrigi cu nostalgia picioarelor goale zăpada îmblânzită basta cosi parcă...

Atelier

Scrisoarea IV - vers Engleza

de Mihai Eminescu

See the tall and lonely castle mirrored in the placid lake, \'Neath those waters does its shadow through the ages never wake, Silently above the pine-tress rise its ancient rampart stark, Throwing...

PoezieClasic

why?

de blue

why it’s love a sweet nightmare, but we still dream? why it’s the soul empty and our thoughts unclean? why to be a product of love when you’ll never get love? why we die, if our...

PoezieAtelier

life teachings

de Cristina

1.Give others more than they expect you to give and do this with joy. 2.Learn by heart your favorite poem. 3.Don’t believe all you here, don’t spent all you have and don’t sleep as much as you want....

Atelier

It was a time of triumph for the morons

de Alexandru Paleologu

Mr. Paleologu, to begin with, let us say that this talk is the result of certain hostile attitudes, especially in the Western media, concerning Mircea Eliade and what we call here “Generation ’27”. I...

Clasic

Mowing

de Robert Frost

There was never a sound beside the wood but one, And that was my long scythe whispering to the ground. What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself; Perhaps it was something about the heat of the...

PoezieClasic

Writing on the wall

de D. Valentina

There was this key on the floor... The one you used to lock the door The door that watched us as we sunk In that old bed that saw us drunk Amdist the lights of love and hate Those lights we could not...

PoezieAtelier

The Phœnix and the turtle

de William Shakespeare

Let the bird of loudest lay, On the sole Arabian tree, Herald sad and trumpet be, To whose sound chaste wings obey. But thou shrieking harbinger, Foul precurrer of the fiend, Augur of the fever\'s...

PoezieClasic

The Use and Abuse of History

de Friedrich Nietzsche

The Use and Abuse of History (1878) By Friedrich Nietzsche Forward \"Incidentally, I despise everything which merely instructs me without increasing or immediately enlivening my activity.\" These are...

EseuClasic