never forget

[2vt8c2p4]

( Editor : sammy)
would tell you , every minute ,beats by dr dre, you have been living within my heart

Although always possible to forget you, but I will continue to enhance memory

more want to tell you , though each will make you cry, but I will not drop your name

So far ,Polo Ralph Lauren, your name , still in my heart , always remember ,Polo Ralph Lauren pas cher, never forget

would tell you that you are the only hit me , I would like to give you all my love

hope you can understand ,polo femme, my affection for you , because - I

love you more than want to tell you that in my world , all your shadow

my love for you will never give up , I will always be there for you , so

you back here more than I want to tell you love who never said , only so much a return to

want to tell you who'll never be the U.S. and Europe , I believe that love you Will double

would tell you ,beats by dre, every night ,dre beats, write your name , thinking you look like, looked on your memory, dream of you my snuggle together to write a happy start

would tell you, want you to write poem with your name

no matter what the past , I do not care

because I love you, I am willing to do your Wolf

protect you



TAG Tags: never mind the time forget to tell Lethe

Twilight _3475

思念的心依旧在

　　至今


The driver clambered into his seat, clicked his tongue, and we went downhill. The brake squeaked horribly from time to time. At the foot he eased off the noisy mechanism and said, turning half round on his box--
"We shall see some more of them by-and-by."
"More idiots? How many of them are there, then?" I asked.
"There's four of them--children of a farmer near Ploumar here. . . . The parents are dead now," he added, after a while. "The grandmother lives on the farm. In the daytime they knock about on this road, and they come home at dusk along with the cattle. . . . It's a good farm."
We saw the other two: a boy and a girl, as the driver said. They were dressed exactly alike, in shapeless garments with petticoat-like skirts. The imperfect thing that lived within them moved those beings to howl at us from the top of the bank, where they sprawled amongst the tough stalks of furze. Their cropped black heads stuck out from the bright yellow wall of countless small blossoms. The faces were purple with the strain of yelling; the voices sounded blank and cracked like a mechanical imitation of old people's voices; and suddenly ceased when we turned into a lane.
I saw them many times in my wandering about the country. They lived on that road, drifting along its length here and there, according to the inexplicable impulses of their monstrous darkness. They were an offence to the sunshine, a reproach to empty heaven, a blight on the concentrated and purposeful vigour of the wild landscape. In time the story of their parents shaped itself before me out of the listless answers to my questions, out of the indifferent words heard in wayside inns or on the very road those idiots haunted. Some of it was told by an emaciated and sceptical old fellow with a tremendous whip, while we trudged together over the sands by the side of a two-wheeled cart loaded with dripping seaweed. Then at other times other people confirmed and completed the story: till it stood at last before me, a tale formidable and simple, as they always are, those disclosures of obscure trials endured by ignorant hearts.