Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Monday, September 7, 2009

Sunday, September 6, 2009



To my beloved

He that dwelleth in the secret place of the most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the LORD, He is my refuge and my fortress: my God; in him will I trust. Surely he shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with his feathers, and under his wings shalt thou trust: his truth shall be thy shield and buckler. Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day; Nor for the pestilence that walketh in darkness; nor for the destruction that wasteth at noonday. A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. Only with thine eyes shalt thou behold and see the reward of the wicked. Because thou hast made the LORD, which is my refuge, even the most High, thy habitation; There shall no evil befall thee, neither shall any plague come nigh thy dwelling. For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways. They shall bear thee up in their hands, lest thou dash thy foot against a stone. Thou shalt tread upon the lion and adder: the young lion and the dragon shalt thou trample under feet. Because he hath set his love upon me, therefore will I deliver him: I will set him on high, because he hath known my name. He shall call upon me, and I will answer him: I will be with him in trouble; I will deliver him, and honour him. With long life will I satisfy him, and shew him my salvation.

My cozy place ** - ** My Dream Home

Vintage living style

Once up on the time

"Once upon the time, on a day like day another, someone like no other came along and made my life into something that would never be the same."

Saturday, September 5, 2009

~~A Psalm of Life~

~~A Psalm of Life~
"'Tell me not, in mournful numbers,'Life is but an empty dream!'For the soul is dead that slumbers,And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is earnest!And the grave is not its goal;'Dust thou art, to dust returnest,'Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,Is our destined end or way;But to act, that each to-morrowFind us farther than to-day.
Art is long and time is fleeting,And our hearts, though stout and brave,Still, like muffled drums, are beatingFuneral marches to the grave.
In the world's broad field of battle,In the bivouac of Life,Be not like dumb, driven cattle!Be a hero in the strife!
Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant!Let the dead Past bury its dead!Act, -- act in the living Present!Heart within, and God o'er head!
Lives of great men all remind usWe can make our lives sublime,And, departing, leave behind usFootsteps on the sands of time: --
Footsteps, that perhaps another,Sailing o'er life's solemn main,A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,Seeing, shall take heart again.
Let us, then, be up and doing, With a heart for any fate;Still achieving, still pursuing,Learn to labor and to wait."