��July 2006
Paste HTML code and press Enter.
- 潭 posted on 07/18/2006
- xw posted on 07/17/2006
- xw posted on 07/17/2006
- xw posted on 07/17/2006
- wenzhai posted on 07/17/2006
- xw posted on 07/17/2006Morpheus From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia Sleep and his half-brother Death (Hypnos and Thanatos) by John William Waterhouse (1874) Sleep and his half-brother Death (Hypnos and Thanatos) by John William Waterhouse (1874)Morpheus ("he who forms, shapes, molds", from the Greek morphe) is the principal Greek god of dreams and sleep. Morpheus has the ability to take any human's form and appear in dreams. His father is Hypnos the god of sleep. N
- fanghuzhai posted on 07/17/2006Qinceanera Haiku White and orange balloons colorful dreams soaring high where is mine? Ask I ư ʵξ Ӱң Proudly smiling at the door the father greets each arriving guest ЦԺ ǰӭ͵ Ц You can take a break until the day they are married I want to tell him ЪϢ ֱŮʱ ֪ With tears the daughter thanks her parents their love of fifteen years deep ỨЦ Ůлʮ ĸ The master ca
- ѩ posted on 07/16/2006
- lucy posted on 07/16/2006
- July posted on 07/15/2006
- xw posted on 07/15/2006
- fanghuzhai posted on 07/14/2006
- fanghuzhai posted on 07/14/2006
- xw posted on 07/14/2006
- xw posted on 07/14/2006Milon of Croton Milo of Croton Attacked by a Lion, 1672-82 by Pierre Puget Milo or Milon of Croton (late 6th century BC) was the most famous of Greek athletes in Antiquity. He was born in the Greek colony of Croton in Southern Italy. He was a six time Olympic victor; once for Boys Wrestling in 540 BC at the 60th Olympics, and five time wrestling champion at the 62nd through 66th Olympiads. Milo kept on competing, even well after what would have been
- xw posted on 07/14/2006
- xw posted on 07/14/2006
- xw posted on 07/14/2006
- ʮ posted on 07/14/2006
- ʮ posted on 07/14/2006
- xw posted on 07/13/2006
- xw posted on 07/12/2006
- xw posted on 07/12/2006
- xw posted on 07/12/2006
- lucy posted on 07/12/2006The Writer by Richard Wilbur In her room at the prow of the house Where light breaks, and the windows are tossed with linden, My daughter is writing a story. I pause in the stairwell, hearing From her shut door a commotion of typewriter-keys Like a chain hauled over a gunwale. Young as she is, the stuff Of her life is a great cargo, and some of it heavy: I wish her a lucky passage. But now it is she who pauses, As if to reject my thought and its easy figure. A stillness gr
(c) 2010 Maya Chilam Foundation