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A slow breaking and mending
of blood and bone
fit for the poorest
of ivory souls.
Pour tomber, pour courir,
pour mourir; no less!

Mademoiselle
No one, to you,
do tell.
A dream,
perhaps a nightmare,
that died in your arms
much too long ago.


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Saturday, October 20, 2007
If my Faith could move mountains, I'd leave no room for doubt. There'd be no question of who we were and what we've done..there'd be just us; what we are, what we'll always be. If my Faith could move mountains, I'd leave no room for regret..and you'd have as much Faith in yourself as I do, in you..and you'd have a little Faith in my Faith, too.

If my Faith was enough for you to have a little Faith, then my Faith would move mountains.
When the mind refuses to believe in Faith, the heart is ultimately made ready to break.

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