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Without tenses

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handwriter

handwriter

Norway

April 12, 2010

Only true love for others can stop you from hurting to death.

More entries: Half-Wit (3), Come Home Son, Life Is A Risk, Words Are Not Action, JOY, Here's a shot of me doing my one--and only one--yearly exercise (1), Indeed A Higher Law of Justice, Gotcha! (1), A Belated "I'm Sorry", The Fruits of Our Labor?

View all entries from Without tenses >

04:07 AM Apr 24 2010

Ulya aga

Ulya aga
Russian Federation

i loved this slight irony  your poem!!! is it yours??  so you guess it's better live the life instead of being lost in thoughts?))

03:58 AM Apr 24 2010

Agnolia

Agnolia
Russian Federation

self-worth!!  quite good value you have!

i try to conquer my self-denial;)

06:17 AM Apr 20 2010

handwriter

handwriter
Norway

All that you say is true.  However, I beg to suggest that there needs be a balance in all things.  For example, without ample nurishment, one's body will die.  Likewise, without sufficient air, we also will die, this ending our need to think - to think that we are.  I too enjoy reading the suggestions of others on how to better search for happiness - of which I believe is the soul purpose of man - to be happy.

I define "good" as: anything that helps one search for and obtain happiness.

Likewise, I define "bad" as: anything that infringes upon the rights of another to search for and to obtain his or her owm happiness.

 Smile, and look inward, for there you will find true happiness.

doni

There was once a beggar who for years had been sitting alongside a road begging for money.  One day a stranger was passing the begger when he stopped and asked the beggar what it was that he was sitting on.  The beggar replied, nothing but an old box.  The stranger then asked of the beggar, "Well, what is inside the box?"  The beggar responded, "Well, nothing, I suppose."  Pressing, the stranger asked the beggar, "Well, have you ever looked inside the box?"  With some impatience, the beggar mumbled, "Why, there's nothing in there?"  Still encouraging, the stranger suggested, "Well, just look and see."  Stubbornly, the beggar stood up off the box and began to pry open the box.  Suddenly and with great disbelief, the beggar popped open the box and to his great astonishment he found that the box was filled with gold!  After all those years, he never knew that he had been sitting on all that gold - he had spent more than half his life begging for coins when all he had to have done was to open that box and...

Well, I am that stranger, asking all those who may be begging from others for validation to look inside that box - their own heart and find that it is filled with value - self-worth.

03:42 AM Apr 20 2010

Agnolia

Agnolia
Russian Federation

 longing for bread is enough only if there is no bread at all

Eating makes me much more bored than reading any kind of philosphers even the worst one. By the way, Decasrtes is a great mathematician. His ideas are not air only, It can be applicable to life to improve the way of human living

"Man cannot live by bread alone ";)

i prefer devouring ideas, feeling, and emotions to any kind of food

why not can I live by the air only ;)

 

05:49 AM Apr 19 2010

handwriter

handwriter
Norway

Yes, the fault of philosophy is that it doesn't make any bread.  My meaning is that those who sit around doing nothing but try to express the meaning of life really do nothing to add to their day or to the day of anyone else.  Simply knowing that I think, therefore, I am, does no work – it makes no bread.

10:08 PM Apr 18 2010

Agnolia

Agnolia
Russian Federation

the poem is quite funny!

as for me i am interested in some of the philosophers without asking them money, food and clothes...... I just like  discussing with them some issues like with  friends;D

06:10 PM Apr 18 2010

handwriter

handwriter
Norway

Irrelevant

The alarm clock rings, I’ve overslept—

it’s eight o’clock . . . Oh damn!

Descartes, help me with this one,

say more than just, “I am.”

There’s nothing in my closet that I want to wear.

Immanuel Kant help a bit and doesn’t really care.

Now, what to eat for breakfast?

Oh Sigmund, help my mood.

I don’t care about my past, the issue here is food.

I check inside my pocket; I’m poor as poor can be.

“Perspective!” Plato’d call it—he is no help to me.

I consider all my issues, then ponder all of you:

Your philosophic missions were not worth living through.

Questions that I never asked and theories by the score;

and then you wonder why I think philosophy’s a bore.