Author has written 1 story for Naruto.
If you have ever been so obsessed with something that now everyone is scared of you because of its effects copy this into your profile (For me, its writing, reading, and playing Unreal Tournament! Friends are very scared: D)
If you have ever run into a door, copy this into your profile.
If you have ever fallen up the stairs copy this into your profile
If you have ever fallen asleep in class and began to snore, copy this into your profile
If you have ever pushed on a door that said pull or vise versa copy this into your profile
Yeah, I did all that... so I ran into the door on purpose, it was funny... I've fallen up the stairs a few times... its hard stepping up on the bus when you're carrying twenty pounds on your back... the sleeping thing got me two days detention... the teacher thought I was doing it on purpose, the bastard...
Ninety-eight percent of teenagers have tried smoking pot. If you're one of the two percent who hasn't, copy this and paste it in your profile.
This is Bunny. Copy and paste Bunny into your signature to help him gain world domination.
SUPPORT THE BUNNY!Funny Quotes:
"Come on guys, lets get some fking Mountain Dew!"
"Man, I don't get this movie, she's possessed, she's not possessed..."
"Sometimes I just wanna burn this mother fker down... AHHHHH! LETS BURN THIS MOTHER FKER DOWN! POOKIE! LETS BURN THIS MOTHER FKER DOWN!!!!"
Favorite Name for a Boy: William, or Will for short.
Favorite name for a Girl: Lisa.
Least favorite girl name: Bianca, sorry, I just don't like this name.
Least favorite boy name: Alucard. Don't, ask.
Funny Vids! Naruto Vids at first, hilarious! I spent like half an hour laughing at all of them!
Here is a inspiring piece by e e cummings, the spacing is fine. Try to feel, not skim.
The poems to come are for you and for me and are not for mostpeople-- it's no use trying to pretend that mostpeople and ourselves are alike. Mostpeople have less in common with ourselves than the squarerootofminusone. You and I are human beings;mostpeople are snobs. Take the matter of being born. What does being born mean to mostpeople? Catastrophe unmitigated. Socialrevolution. The cultured aristocrat yanked out of his hyperexclusively ultravoluptuous superpalazzo,and dumped into an incredibly vulgar detentioncamp swarming with every conceivable species of undesirable organism. Mostpeople fancy a guaranteed birthproof safetysuit of nondestructible selflessness. If mostpeople were to be born twice they'd improbably call it dying--
you and I are not snobs. We can never be born enough. We are human beings;for whom birth is a supremely welcome mystery,the mystery of growing:which happens only and whenever we are faithful to ourselves. You and I wear the dangerous looseness of doom and find it becoming. Life,for eternal us,is now'and now is much to busy being a little more than everything to seem anything,catastrophic included.
Life,for mostpeople,simply isn't. Take the socalled standardofliving. What do mostpeople mean by "living"? They don't mean living. They mean the latest and closest plural approximation to singular prenatal passivity which science,in its finite but unbounded wisdom,has succeeded in selling their wives. If science could fail,a mountain's a mammal. Mostpeople's wives could spot a genuine delusion of embryonic omnipotence immediately and will accept no substitutes.
-luckily for us,a mountain is a mammal. The plusorminus movie to end moving,the strictly scientific parlourgame of real unreality,the tyranny conceived in misconception and dedicated to the proposition that every man is a woman and any woman is a king,hasn't a wheel to stand on. What their synthetic not to mention transparent majesty, mrsandmr collective foetus,would improbably call a ghost is walking. He isn't a undream of anaesthetized impersons, or a cosmic comfortstation,or a transcedentally sterilized lookiesoundiefeelietastiesmellie. He is a healthily complex,a naturally homogenous,citizen of immorality. The now of his each pitying free imperfect gesture,his any birth of breathing,insults perfected inframortally milleniums of slavishness. He is a little more than everything,he is democracy;he is alive:he is ourselves.
Miracles are to come. With you I leave a remembrance of miracles: they are somebody who can love and who shall be continually reborn,a human being;somebody who said to those near him,when his fingers would not hold a brush "tie it to my hand"--
nothing proving or sick or partial. Nothing false,nothing difficult or easy or small or colossal. Nothing ordinary or extraordinary,nothing emptied or filled,real or unreal;nothing feeble and known or clumsy and guessed. Everywhere tints childrening,innocent spontaneaous,true. Nowhere possibly what flesh and impossibly such a garden,but actually flowers which breasts are amoung the very mouths of light. Nothing believed or doubted;brain over heart, surface:nowhere hating or to fear;shadow,mind without soul. Only how measureless cool flames of making;only each other building always distinct selves of mutual entirely opening;only alive. Never the murdered finalities of wherewhen and yesno,impotent nongames of wrongright and rightwrong;never to gain or pause,never the soft adventure of undoom,greedy anguishes and cringing ecstasies of inexistence;never to rest and never to have;only to grow.
Always the beautiful answer who asks a more beautiful question
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