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Milf 3 - 21 Geschichten von reifen Frauen: Erotische Milf-Geschichten von Fabienne Dubois (German Edition) - Kindle edition by Fabienne Dubois. Download it.
Table of contents

It is the cast of the Sower, as he seizes The wheat with his spade And flings across to the clear grain. Driving it over the threshing floor. The husks fall at his feet, But in the end cometh the com. And no evil it is if something Is lost and the living sound Fades from our speech, For heavenly labor is like to our own. The Highest would not have AH at one time. So long as the pit bear iron. And Etna ghttering resin, So I have riches To fashion an image and see in the semblance Christ as he had been.

But when one spurred himself on, And sadly speaking on the way where I was weaponless. Overpowered me, so that I marveled and an impostor Would be moulding an image of God- Visible in anger did I once See the sovereigns of heaven. Not that I were To become anything, but to learn. Kindly they are, but most Hateful to them as long as they reign Is falsehood, as there dwells Himianity then no more among men. For they do not reign, rather Fate Reigns more immortally.

And when ascends higher The heavenly pageant of triumph. The exulting Son of the Most High, Like to the sun itself, is named by the mighty An emblem, and here is the staff Of song signaling down. For nothing is common. It wakens the dead Who are not yet caught by the rawness of death.

But many shy eyes Wait to behold the Hght. They would not Blossom forth in the sharp radiance. Though the golden bridle guideth their courage. But when, As from swelHng eyebrows Forgetful of the world. Quietly shining strength falls From the Holy Scriptures, Rejoicing in grace They yield themselves to calm vision.

Quiet is his sign In the thimderous sky. And One stands beneath it His life long. For Christ Hves yet.

Inzest / Tabus Geschichten

But the heroes, his sons. All are come and the Holy Scriptures From him, and the deeds of the earth Have illumined the hghtning till now, A contest unwaning.


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But he is there. For his works Are known to him from everlasting. Too long, too long already Has the glory of the Blessed been viewless. For each of the Blessed demand sacrifice. Yet if one were passed over Ne'er did it bring about good. We have served the earth our mother And of late we have served The light of the sim Unwittingly, but the Father who rules over all Loves best that the constant Letter be fostered, And enduring existence Interpreted well.

With this is accordant The song of my people.

Wo aber Gefahr ist, wachst I Das Rettende auch. So sprach ich, da entfiihrte Mich schneller, denn ich vermutet I Und weit, wohin ich nimmer Zu kommen gedacht, ein Genius mich Vom eigenen Haus. Denn alles ist gut.

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Drauf starb er. Vieles ware Zu sagen davon. Und es griinen Tief an den Bergen auch lebendige Bilder. Doch furchtbar ist, wie da und dort Unendlich hin zerstreut das Lebende Gott. Nicht alles will der Hochste zumal. Zwar Eisen traget der Schacht, Und glii- hende Harze der Atna, So hatt ich Reichtum, Ein Bild zu bil- den, und ahnlich Zu schaun, wie er gewesen, den Christ, Wenn aber einer spornte sich selbst, Und traurig redend, un- terweges, da ich wehrlos ware, Mich iiberfiele, dass ich staunt und von dem Gotte Das Bild nachahmen mocht ein Knecht— Im Zome sichtbar sah' ich einmal Des Himmels Herm, nicht, dass ich sein soUt etwas, sondern Zu lernen.

Giitig sind sie, ihr Verhasstestes aber ist, Solange sie herrschen, das Falsche, und es gilt I Dann Menschliches unter Menschen nicht mehr. Denn sie nicht walten, es waltet aber Unsterblicher Schicksal und es wandelt ihr Werk Von selbst und eilend geht es zu Ende. Die Toten wecket Er auf, die noch getangen nicht Vom Rohen sind.

Hegel, Phenomenology of Spirit (German)

Es warten aber Der scheuen Augen viele Zu schauen das Licht. Still ist sein Zei- chen I Am donnernden Himmel. Und Einer stehet daninter Sein Leben lang. Denn noch lebt Christus. Er ist aber dabei. Denn seine Werke sind Ihm alle bewusst von jeher. Zu lang, zu lang schon ist Die Ehre der Himmlischen unsicht- bar.

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Ripened the fruit, in fire cast, baked And tried on the earth, and it is the law That all go back into it, like snakes, Prophetic, dreaming on The hills of the heavens. And there is so much Like a burden Of logs on the shoulders That has to be borne. Though the roads Are not right. For discrepant, As horses, go the tethered Elements and the immemorial Laws of the earth. And ever A longing strains after the fetterless. But there is so much That has to be borne.

And one must be true. Let us look not before, though, Nor after. May we be rocked, rather, as A boat is cradled at sea. Aber bos sind Die Pfade. Und immer Ins Ungebundene gehet eine Sehnsucht. Vieles aber ist Zu behalten. Und Noth die Treue. Vorwarts aber und riikwarts woUen wir [ Nicht sehn. Uns wiegen lassen, wie Auf schwankem Kahne der See. Voices calmly wending filled And aired is the ancient Bliss-wont hall; fragrant above green carpets floats The happy cloud, stand gleaming wide, Of ripest fruit abundant, and of golden-wreathed bowls.

Well meted out, resplendent rows Uprising here and there aside of the Smoothed ground, the tables. For, coming from afar Hither, at eventide, Loving guests have bid themselves. Dawn fills my eyes. Well-nigh I deem This celebration's prince. Him, to behold That smiles upon a day's great labor: Although you will deny your strangeness And, wearied by your glorious course, Cast down your eyes, forgotten, softly shaded. And will take on a friendly shape, O Widely Known, Yet bends the knees your awe. Nothing outstrips you; But this I know: of mortal you came not. Wisdom may show me many a thing, but Where a god enters as well A more luminous day wiU break.

Yet not xmheralded he comes: And he whom neither flame nor flood deterred Need not be vainly startled by this stillness, now That neither man nor spirit yields to order. Downstream to sleep, at the sounding of peace. But, days endeared of innocence, you also bring Today, O loved ones, the celebration, and The spirit blossoms in this quiet round; And hasten forth I must, although, O friends, my locks are gray, an eternal youth Preparing the wreaths for the feast.

And many a one I would gladly ask; but you. Concerned, stem but friendly, for mankind, who Far off beneath Syrian palms, Close by that city, would sit by the well: The com fields mstled, quietly the cool Air breathed in the shade of the sacred mountains.

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