In his heart there was something that glowed like a gypsy's fire seen across the hills and mists of night, burning in a wild land.
These are the gems of the human soul, the rubies and pearls of a lovesick eye, the countless gold of the aching heart, the martyr's groan, and the lovers' sigh.
I want to reach for something precious, to make whatever sacrifice that requires.
It's all so vague and grandiose.
Purity of heart.
Poetry and daydreams.
It not a corporal dream of deeds or position or possessions. But a dream of the soul. Of the Spirit.
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- Wild Animus, by Rich Shapero
These are the gems of the human soul, the rubies and pearls of a lovesick eye, the countless gold of the aching heart, the martyr's groan, and the lovers' sigh.
I want to reach for something precious, to make whatever sacrifice that requires.
It's all so vague and grandiose.
Purity of heart.
Poetry and daydreams.
It not a corporal dream of deeds or position or possessions. But a dream of the soul. Of the Spirit.
- Wild Animus, by Rich Shapero
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