The Latin language leads to fruitful mental development. Latin bases and prefixes and suffixes all provide pertinent information for the child of technology. Sleepy, tired children desire to sleep. When will the flood of homework stop? When can we get rid of the midnight oil? When do we have time for the work of God? HALT! Our whole life should be for God and Him alone. All this busy work gets in the way of charity and service. One becomes a scholar on Arabic cultural development or an expert in the fertility cults of ancient Egypt, but for no reason. Only one life, ‘Twill soon be past, only what’s done for Christ will last.
Eternity! Eternity! It is written on the sidewalks of Sydney. Can a sermon be preached with one word? Has eternity been understood by the sons of God or has eternity entered the deepest chambers of the heart? A little girl is looking up friends on facebook. They are not her real friends; they are only virtual representation of people. O! How easy it is to lie in the digital realm and how much more the conscience is pricked when talking face to face. And the burning bush never burned out. Go to the desert and see the flames of God. The light of love is all consuming. Either come to the light or flee forever from it. A little boy, with his head on the table, is dreaming of Zeus throwing a thunder bolt at his toes. The kid wants to get his Latin project done. Completed! Finished! The solid wood walls cry out to be deep. Enough superficial how are you fine chitter chatter.
Column 54 line number 18 at 4.2 inches What does it all mean? A green little arrow telling me where to go confuses my mind and brings it to a stall. A search box keeps tempting me to go after obscure arts. Look up James Joyce. Follow the Father. Wings of wax and coils and feathers melt in the heat of prevention. Do you need a pill for that? Do you need a pill for that? Dingle, jingle, ringle, goes the door bell. Who is here? Why? How? What reason does santa have for coming around to the little children? Does santa have any relation to satan? This is psychobabble. Meaningless idle chatter is all that is ever said. Set up the pilgrim village not a homestead. Lincoln logs build the village. Cold gold fever has hit the pillager. A smack in the face is never appreciated. No more snoring for you. Wake up to reality. Get rid of wayne’s world. Foolishness is ever rampant. Homo sapien sapien. The computer wants to capitalize sapien. Does this word come from sophia, meaning wise? Do humans think they are the masters of the universe? We all live in but one little sentence on a page. One line in a vast poem is all we are.
What did God do before there was time and space and creatures of his design? Oh, that we fill from such heights by eating that wretched stupid pointless fruit. I wonder who is going to read this. I should look at the lady when she is talking to me. A stream of consciousness is running around the bend. Ever flowing. Repeating in endless cycles. Why is she making so many copies on the printer? That poor machine is over worked. Number nine, number nine, number nine! Turn me on dead man! Back masking on a roll of masking tape. The child is drooling. The doctor is in the house. Ms. E is flipping book after book upon the glass plate and the green light shines bright and blank paper now has black color arranged in funny symbols. Is that Calculus? Mr. Ankle! Adieu!
Eternity! Eternity! It is written on the sidewalks of Sydney. Can a sermon be preached with one word? Has eternity been understood by the sons of God or has eternity entered the deepest chambers of the heart? A little girl is looking up friends on facebook. They are not her real friends; they are only virtual representation of people. O! How easy it is to lie in the digital realm and how much more the conscience is pricked when talking face to face. And the burning bush never burned out. Go to the desert and see the flames of God. The light of love is all consuming. Either come to the light or flee forever from it. A little boy, with his head on the table, is dreaming of Zeus throwing a thunder bolt at his toes. The kid wants to get his Latin project done. Completed! Finished! The solid wood walls cry out to be deep. Enough superficial how are you fine chitter chatter.
Column 54 line number 18 at 4.2 inches What does it all mean? A green little arrow telling me where to go confuses my mind and brings it to a stall. A search box keeps tempting me to go after obscure arts. Look up James Joyce. Follow the Father. Wings of wax and coils and feathers melt in the heat of prevention. Do you need a pill for that? Do you need a pill for that? Dingle, jingle, ringle, goes the door bell. Who is here? Why? How? What reason does santa have for coming around to the little children? Does santa have any relation to satan? This is psychobabble. Meaningless idle chatter is all that is ever said. Set up the pilgrim village not a homestead. Lincoln logs build the village. Cold gold fever has hit the pillager. A smack in the face is never appreciated. No more snoring for you. Wake up to reality. Get rid of wayne’s world. Foolishness is ever rampant. Homo sapien sapien. The computer wants to capitalize sapien. Does this word come from sophia, meaning wise? Do humans think they are the masters of the universe? We all live in but one little sentence on a page. One line in a vast poem is all we are.
What did God do before there was time and space and creatures of his design? Oh, that we fill from such heights by eating that wretched stupid pointless fruit. I wonder who is going to read this. I should look at the lady when she is talking to me. A stream of consciousness is running around the bend. Ever flowing. Repeating in endless cycles. Why is she making so many copies on the printer? That poor machine is over worked. Number nine, number nine, number nine! Turn me on dead man! Back masking on a roll of masking tape. The child is drooling. The doctor is in the house. Ms. E is flipping book after book upon the glass plate and the green light shines bright and blank paper now has black color arranged in funny symbols. Is that Calculus? Mr. Ankle! Adieu!
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