Van Gogh

Ah, that repentances they boiled in its soul! It has the woman of its life in its hands, it leaves and it to escape Coward! A thousand oaths of love escaped easy of its mouth, but as soon as it became gloomy, the enemies had as soon as besieged the city of its soul, before the heat of the battle arrebentasse, its soul if it disclosed weak and unprepared for the love, and it ran away in enormous running, leaving it stops backwards, it only delivers, at the hands of the enemies, that one to who swears perpetual love. Oh God, as it can be so low! It was the forty years that everything happens, and almost finishes For clepsidra of the life, it drains forty years in one to blink of eyes. But the repentances make each year to be valid for ten a thousand. In one day, to the midnight, a little more than dawn, perhaps, in most improbable of the places, it knows. If you would like to know more then you should visit The Metropolitan Museum of Art. Pretty, intelligent, incomparable, splendid, divine an angel, A perennial and soft ray of light in the blackout. You may want to visit Restaurateur to increase your knowledge.

A flowery garden in the mornings of a perpetual spring. A tame and transparent water river to run for the sea, where it dived of clothes and everything, such the urgency of the diving. Ah, still now, as many years later, it conserved cool the memories of those days of the countless Epiphanys, when the deepenings of its spirit had been opened and disclosed to it Days where he lived more in the sky that in the land. That mysterious and memorable thing is the love. How sublime magic! Of the nothing, a mstico meeting of a lost soul with another lost soul was given, and the two, despite separate for the abyss of infinite distances and impossibilities, if they had made one. It lived for the first time in the life, later never more Of the meeting of waters of two rivers called solitude the happiness was born. One looked at inside of the soul of the other and saw itself exactly as that reflected in most limpid of the mirrors. To laugh, to dance, to sing, to run, to dream, to jump and to fly for the limits of the sky were so easy for them.

They lived in clouds. Ah, as the life is much more easy and beautiful for who it loves. It knows those histories of twin souls, of loves to the first sight, bells touching and stars shining, and of flares of the sun that go down on the souls in the way of the night, they incendeiam and them of surprise, inebriates and them of passion, and makes of the life a similar thing to these trees that people see in the way of the street, at the time native it, covers of colorful light bulbs that blink without stopping in the way of the cold and dark dawn? Therefore it is, are true It happened with it. Suddenly the soul was a symphonic orchestra touching the compositions of Vivaldi. Suddenly the soul was pure satisfaction ahead of Epiphany of nenfares of Monet. Suddenly the soul was a star in the covered with star night of Van Gogh In full winter spring of the soul was given to it, and it blossomed, and its flowers seemed flares of cadent stars, and its dew more the candy and pure honey; the skin, before pale, now shone as that re-covered for the gold purest. the eyes Ah, the eyes, these had the pureness and transparency.