Tuesday, April 29, 2008

Epson R265 Reset Program

Apocalypse Now This is for you, Tom Grosso


guinea-pigs we also remember him in our stories.
E 'was bitter, cruel, individualistic, spietato.Speziato.
He won, deluded and loved.
But how would his white horse, without him?
What we would teach the cold Russia, who would have deceived the poor Foscolo, compared to those who would be the guy who always laughs and does not stop Never?
I'd be a pig than without him.
Thank you, wherever you are.



Ei fu. Because still, given the
mortal sigh, stood the bare

orba from time immemorial breath,
well beaten, stunned
the earth is the nuncio,

dumb thinking man's last hours
fatal
not know when a similar footprint
pie 'deadly
its bloody dust
will trample on. He
brilliant in Solio
saw my genius, and was silent;
when, instead assiduous
fell resources and lay, of a thousand voices to
Sonito
mixed his did not:

maid servant of praise
and cowardly outrage, or moved to sudden rises

long-range shots;
urn and releases a song
maybe that will not die.
From the Alps to the Pyramids, Manzanares
from the Rhine, that's a sure

was holding the lightning flash behind;
Scilla burst from the den, from one to another
Tues

was real glory? For posterity will judge
: nui
chiniam the front of the Massimo
Maker, who wanted him in his mind of the creator

larger footprint print.
the storm and anxious
joy of a great design,
the anxiety of a heart that is
restive, thinking of the kingdom
and comes and takes a prize
that it was madness to hope;
and tried everything: the greatest glory after
The danger, escape and
victory

the palace and the sad exile;
twice in the dust,
twice on the altar. Ei is
He named two centuries,
against each other armed
subdued him turned, as if waiting
fate;
and fe 'silence, and sat down
arbitrator among them.
and disappeared, and the day in idleness
closed in so short a bank, a sign of immense

envy and deep piety,
of inestinguibil
and hatred of untamed love. As the head of the sinking

s'avvolve wave and heavy,
the wave on which the poor, but even now
high and tense,
scorrea sight to discern
remote shores in vain;
this on the quell'alma
combination of memories came down.
How often narrating himself to posterity
business, and ethics
pages fell
the tired man!
Oh, how often, the tacit
a day die of inert
lie close to the lightning-rai, sen
her arms folded, stood
, and the day we were
assalse to recollect!
and rethink furniture
tents, beaten and valleys, and lightning
de 'handpieces,
and the wave of the horses, and an excited

powers and swift obeyed.

Ouch! perhaps as much havoc
fell the spirit yearns,
and despair, but it was a valid
man from heaven, and more breathability

pitiful air transport

and the launch pei flourishing
path of hope,
fields forever and premium
that want to advance,
where silence and darkness
the glory that had passed.
Bella Immortal! beneficial
Faith triumphs accustomed to!
Write this one also, merry;
most superb
height of dishonor to Golgotha \u200b\u200b
ne'er be lowered.
You tired from ashes
disperses each estuary word
Ildi that lands and raises,
that breathless and comforting,
on deserted coltrice
beside him put The Titian

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