Failure Is Overrated
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Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain.
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush.
I am in the graceful rush
of beautiful birds circling in flight.
I am the star shine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom;
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing;
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there; I did not die.
- Mary E. Frye
In loving memory of my mother, Rose.
25 June 1941 - 22 August 2008
Till We Meet Again In Heaven
“An artificial appropriation of different styles from different eras, the hipster represents the end of Western civilization – a culture lost in the superficiality of its past and unable to create any new meaning … While previous youth movements have challenged the dysfunction and decadence of their elders, today we have the “hipster” – a youth subculture that mirrors the doomed shallowness of mainstream society.”
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via quipsologies.
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