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Ô toi, le plus savant et le plus beau des Anges, Dieu trahi par le sort et privé de louanges, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Ô Prince de l'exil, à qui l'on a fait tort Et qui, vaincu, toujours te redresses plus fort, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Toi qui sais tout, grand roi des choses souterraines, Guérisseur familier des angoisses humaines, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Toi qui, même aux lépreux, aux parias maudits, Enseignes par l'amour le goût du Paradis, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Ô toi qui de la Mort, ta vieille et forte amante, Engendras l'Espérance, — une folle charmante! Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Toi qui fais au proscrit ce regard calme et haut Qui damne tout un peuple autour d'un échafaud. Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Toi qui sais en quels coins des terres envieuses Le Dieu jaloux cacha les pierres précieuses, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Toi dont l'oeil clair connaît les profonds arsenaux Où dort enseveli le peuple des métaux, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Toi dont la large main cache les précipices Au somnambule errant au bord des édifices, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Toi qui, magiquement, assouplis les vieux os De l'ivrogne attardé foulé par les chevaux, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Toi qui, pour consoler l'homme frêle qui souffre, Nous appris à mêler le salpêtre et le soufre, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Toi qui poses ta marque, ô complice subtil, Sur le front du Crésus impitoyable et vil, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Toi qui mets dans les yeux et dans le coeur des filles Le culte de la plaie et l'amour des guenilles, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Bâton des exilés, lampe des inventeurs, Confesseur des pendus et des conspirateurs, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Père adoptif de ceux qu'en sa noire colère Du paradis terrestre a chassés Dieu le Père, Ô Satan, prends pitié de ma longue misère! Prière Gloire et louange à toi, Satan, dans les hauteurs Du Ciel, où tu régnas, et dans les profondeurs De l'Enfer, où, vaincu, tu rêves en silence! Fais que mon âme un jour, sous l'Arbre de Science, Près de toi se repose, à l'heure où sur ton front Comme un Temple nouveau ses rameaux s'épandront! ↗
Mr. Stegall has birthed a very important book that will help us as a people go to the next level. This book is very important because it's tackling issues that many brush under the rug. Mr. Stegall has proven that he's been given a message that the world should hear and this book is proof of that. Because of his insight and wisdom, this book will reach areas and points that other books around this topic have not. This is definitely a book we need! ↗
It had been years since she question his fidelity, but he'd stepped on to the old fame track again, and that was where the road had taken them before. Infidelity could be forgiven, but forgetting it was impossible. Strangely, that wasn't what bothered her the most. What bothered her was that she didn't really care. ↗
#fidelity #forgetting #forgive #forgiveness-quotes #infidelity
Handel's yearning for independence from the traditional chains of patronage and his persistence in monitoring his productions resulted with unique developments concerning Baroque 'opera seria'; however, paradoxically his personal obsession to obtain complete artistic freedom generated disastrous side-effects that eventually impeded the progress of opera in London. ↗
When our forefathers drew up the constitution, they considered that democracy was creating an atmosphere of freedom of discussion, of argument, of finding the truth. The right, the classic right of life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That is my definition of democracy, the right to be in a minority and not be suppressed. ↗
Gregory?” I called. I couldn’t help myself. It was irrational, but I was scared to see him run from me. He turned my direction, his feet pivoting in the dirt. Warily, I crossed into the light for a moment. “Do you, um…” I inhaled deeply. “Do you think you’ll still want to be my friend tomorrow?” I held my breath and waited for his answer. Although I could feel the sunshine perceptibly tingle every inch of exposed skin, the way Gregory smiled at me produced a swell of warmth unmatchable even for the sun. “I’ll always want to be your friend, Annabelle. Do you want to be mine?” My head nodded like mad, ecstatic, all on its own. I disappeared among the shadows again and watched my new friend until he stepped around the Hopkins’ house. Then I waited until his car drove off -- Gregory and his mother headed for home. I was on a high like no other. But I’d not lost my grasp on reality entirely. I knew that the real test would come Monday. It was one thing to befriend an outcast in the privacy of the woods, but quite another to risk ridicule and reputation when surrounded by peers. This was true even for those with the biggest of hearts, which I now believed Gregory Hill to have. ↗
The police called it choking, but I called it a two-handed neck hug. That’s how I knew she really loved me. ↗
When anybody honks at me in traffic, I blush, wave, and shout, “Thanks for being a fan.” Being a celebrity is a 24/7 thing. ↗
Morwen was petrified. Galadir was getting closer. She could feel his breath, cold and accelerated. She imagined for a second like would be kissing him. A hazard too dangerous. And what if she could not stop? If by mistake, kissing him, she had bitten him? What if his blood was come down sweet in her throat? No. Too dangerous. With a quick movement, she stood up and walked away from the Prince. ↗
Love, being in love, isn’t a constant thing. It doesn’t always flow at the same strength. It’s not always like a river in flood. It’s more like the sea. It has tides, it ebbs and flows. The thing is, when love is real, whether it’s ebbing or flowing, it’s always there, it never goes away. And that’s the only proof you can have that it is real, and not just a crush or an infatuation or a passing fancy ↗
