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Good and bad

"I Have Learned That the ambition of Those Who follow selfish Precepts is no more Than a chaotic waste, a finite gain That Must Be Followed by infinite loss. For INDE There is harmony in the universe, to Concordant singing of common weal. To join That song, One must find inner harmony, That Must find the notes ring true.

Other There is one point to Be Made About That truth: Evil creatures Can not sing. "

-Drizzt Do'Urden

For

at least for if there is good and evil .... I still think not only are in our minds and depend, such as high physical reference system, maybe is that I have not confronted with something really good or really bad as it did Drizzt. Maybe I still play the real bottom.

Never let your sense of Morals get in the way of doing what's right.

- Isaac Asimov

Knowing what is good or not is a thankless task. Sometimes it seems very clear that you should not have doubts. Other days the line between right and wrong seems so tenuous that do not really know where we stand. Sometimes the world seems to agree, everyone pushes you to a place, and says it is there where you belong, to get out of there is absurd. Fallacy! Great Fallacy! Sometimes it seems that there was a great moral bubble around us. That however does not matter because deep down we always know whether something is right or not. If only our particular version of goodness and evil, but in the end is what really matters, is what keeps us from sleeping at night, which makes us from the heart and fills us with regret, but also that fills us with satisfaction, that makes us feel useful and sometimes gives us an incentive to live another day. No matter what others say what the moral of society imposes on the road, because in the end be true to yourself is the only way for in the last days of your life you can look back and say with pride that it was all worthwhile and that there are ghosts or torture you.

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Hunter - Lost Texts

Digging through my archives, I found some ancient texts that were written long ago. I had written, but it seemed another person. Were those times when the hunter was still dark the strongest part of my personality. No But amid all that darkness, among them was a bit of wisdom and enlightenment that I think it was worth rescuing. Were those texts that motivated me to start writing and show a facet of myself. Just make sense of the existence of this blog. So I took the trouble to retrieve them, packing them into one and giving them a new north, but why not keep its essence.

Hunter 2 (Written sometime in 2006)

"Sale of the dark path aimlessly.

Armed to the teeth thought to be immune

and it is almost a good time.

world folds his feet and destroys it.

Although it may seem, it is easy

the hunter always wins.

So survive for a long time,

with remorse to learn

that the real battle is already lost. "

Drizzt D'hatched (RA Salvatore)

As Drizzt, I come back and meet the real life, I am sure that when you do simply can not continue to survive ... That is what I have done so far and do not want it anymore. I've spent a lifetime idolizing the moments that I live and I miss it so long I could not figure out how to do to be experienced.

If the world continues destinations round and cross again, I hope the hunter gives way completely to the idealist, and so can live ... truly live .... but as that has to be with someone ... then why not you?. In real life, he forgets a lot and remembers little. And when the hunter has taken over, only a few pieces of idealistic today will survive, and I will not be the same and my words seem strange to their creator, then who knows if I remember well. (Now, after I write again, the memory is getting further away, but I strive every day to remember the features of your face and relive those feelings, do not know if it's working, the robot hunter is cold and impenetrable).

Today was a strange day, will it be like other strange days that have passed through my life and then forgot? But today was weird, someone wrote to me and left me upset. Those of the few people who know in the world ... it says your letter, I remember that, how sad is that even do not know the hunter and not know if it's dangerous ... I want to forget but I will never be able to separate from him. So while you do not know the hunter and survival may not be one of the few people who know the world. If one day came to be known either by yourself or by another person, that day live, the hunter and the idealist will become one. Meanwhile I have to live with my eternal ambiguity.

I'd just like to dream a little dream of what could be and was not, impossible dream of a story in which I could be the star, dreaming that story so many times I have dreamed and I've never lived. That story where they are, are real and she manages to break the shields, shields that defend the hunter, the barbarian hermit and defeats, at least opens a fatal gap in the lines and leads to open the world the be hidden. Fearless and nothing to lose (Maybe the contrary gaining new things that do not want to miss later) because all that has been protected and safeguarded by that time was protected. As though (ironically) the hunter was a sweet girl playing with Prince Charming. I just did not like that metaphor because in real life the girl always finds the prince and ends there indulging his love to the highest bidder, or even best, when you create discover and feel joyful, the world inevitably disappointed with a blow of reality that has landed him. Blessed are the ignorant fools that theirs is the kingdom of happiness! (Seeing him so, that to kill life studying suddenly not so laudable, after all). But in this story being true hunter behind the reality is open to all willing to accept the existence blows all forced landings. And so it grows and expands until it can forget about the hunter and the world becomes difficult idyllic and perfect.

may seem insane, but so far the world has shown me that in reality everything is done the long way. The only way that really exists, that of life.

you taking control and soon fails to write, the controller will prevent that the living being expressed, and you'll never know who I am, if the other great prophecy of my existence becomes reality soon leave this world. I hope someone takes the trouble to read this and take it with your hands. Because every thing written was written for someone and that someone should get some day what was written. Each written statement is an idea and then writing becomes inseparable from the idea that inspired it. When words are written for someone that will only be complete when someone listens.

"Of course we have a dark side. We killed on a whim, we burned people in the name of God. We destroy ourselves, annihilate life on this planet. Then we get a pattern and the Lord speaks directly What says the Lord?

tells us that if we do not behave well will punish us. The Lord has ever threatened without a difference and not because there is evil. Man if you have a dark side and is called stupidity. "

Carlos Castaneda silences knowledge or

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spontaneous Glare Black Dog

Hitler and Churchill, star of one of the most remarkable events in history had, nevertheless, their similarities. Both were good strategists, skilled politicians and, curiously, devotees of the brush. Churchill said that painting (landscape) for not chasing a black dog (Black Dog ). The animal apparently never figured in his work, but at the end of World War II Hitler confessed vegetarian, ate the whole dog and died from what Churchill had feared.

David Moran

Tegucigalpa in May 2010.

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History - Chapter 1

He woke up suddenly with a strange sensation in the body. He raised his left hand and pulled it over his face, making the classic gesture of someone who attempts to pull up the dream of rubbing against the skin. For some reason he did not realize that his right hand had not responded to the mandate, and remained motionless on the bed. Certainly something was wrong. But he ignored it and tried to enter suddenly thinking quickly return to the waking world, of which he was absent for much longer than it should. However, their movement was abruptly interrupted when I noticed it was late and his face was already crashing to the ground. It was found that breathing air layer on the surface of the carpet with a classic, dense smell of dust, mites and any accumulated dirt for weeks. He noticed several things at that time. First let the employee had visited that room more often. And second, that his leg and right hand were completely numb, and of course this had caused the fall. His first thought was that hand and leg should not be so fast as he returned to the waking world. Logically, a more realistic explanation was that it must have fallen asleep next to a way that its circulation had been temporarily cut for those tips. But that did not matter when, as in all I thought was a strange experience he had been confident all his weight on his leg, which until now had always been faithful, and that she simply did not respond. For him this was something unique, something that deserved to have been shared with someone, so we can laugh at the way the situation deserved. Could have stopped at that thought, which inevitably would have led to reflect on their solitude, and thus lead him to start one of his usual autocatalytic cycles of depression. Fortunately, the hilarity of the situation was stronger, and let out some laughter drowned out by the carpet, still blocking his face.

stopped suddenly as he realized what was coming next. His blood, of course I wanted desperately to return to the member where he had been evicted, to prevent any permanent damage. This only meant one thing: the tingle!. That uncomfortable feeling that he hated his body back to life seemed to emulate thousands of ants biting at the same time their skin and meat inside, followed by numbness, much like the intense pain. All we've probably ever experienced that. He obviously knew it was an effect passenger and fast, but this was not enough reason not to feel a deep despair at what was coming. Especially because this time it was all an arm and a leg all going to wake up at the same time. The moment did not wait long and moments later the swarm attacked him, and the experience was, at least, worse than I imagined. Then think the best way to illustrate the feeling would perhaps imagine your arm and leg being revived by a cardiac defibrillator. As is clear it was a ridiculously unique experience, nasty, and desperate at the same time. But it would be the only time from the day that would happen with some experience of these characteristics.

* * , *

as he could, and after a few minutes to get incorporated. His mind went quickly to think on his leg asleep to the things that should begin to do that day. Get up and face the new day is always a task too easy, sometimes requires a lot of concentration, self discipline or even a high dose of masochism. Sometimes, thinking about the actions of the day to come is not a wise act of responsibility, is more a psychological exercise, for some it may be a kind of white lie necessary to have a reason to get up and face the same routine, the same despair or a new disappointment. For some reason, which could only be explained by understanding the intricate ways that the mind takes to understand the world around us (and not for us now explain to us) this drill metal of what came in the day led him to think about what had passed the previous day. And get this memory was, however much they tried to avoid inevitable. Because it is inevitable to recognize you can not define who we are not seeing what we were and what has led us to that particular point. As if every memory and every experience were bricks that are joining and adhering to a building complex that not even surreal Gaudi might have played in their magnificent buildings. If we accept this, we understand that this memory defined who he was, or at least how he felt at that point in space-time our Ian-incidentally is the name our protagonist, y, aprovecho para pedir disculpas por la demora en revelar tan importante información, pero la realidad es que me esforcé mantenerlo en el anonimato, pero mis limitaciones en la narrativa me lo impidieron.

 Él era ese recuerdo, ese pensamiento lo consumió durante algunos segundos que parecieron eternos.  Revivió toda la escena y esta lo llevo a otra anterior y otra anterior, y fue inevitable que la forma en que llegaban estos estuviera dominada por el lado autodestructivo de su personalidad. Los ladrillos que se juntaron parecían negros y cada uno que llegaba pesaba sobre su ánimo como una aplanadora pasando en un cultivo de rosas.  Es claro que Ian solo estaba viendo the glass almost empty, not allowed to realize that not being totally void could be one of the most wonderful things that had happened previously. But we stop pop psychology, "which was this memory? I fear dear readers I'll need a whole new chapter to explain in detail, but be content now to know that everything revolves around what they have always turning all sad words of humanity, the longing for love and fear of loneliness.

Shootingoftarakmehtakaultahchashma

A little text I wrote some time ago. I've never been good at poetry and I'm not being now. So forgive the quality and maybe a little corny, but as I decided to put all the text here s that I have going for it. Hope you like.

I'd like to meet you, get closer,

Green many times the moon lighting your way when walking,

When the streets saw you pass by this,

eternal reality and left,

Hablarte when even seemed to make sense,

Being closer to knowing the distance was infinite

and other occupied spaces to be.

Feel like I feel now, but no, only with desire and reality.

I have liked so much ...

... now I just have to think what would have been.

I dream and live every twilight,

each sunset that reminds me farewell,

every night to haunt me in unexpected thoughts.

I see, I think and I live, I see him again.

But it is becoming a more

In which I face my eternal solitude

And nothing seems to be enough to forget

That I had a starry sky

But I am surprised unarmed

Under concrete roof

I still remember as a bird of my imagination

As an eternal heartbeat giving strength to my existence.

I remember you as an idea ...

And here I am waiting

a reply to this message will never arrive.

And here I will be if one day

the stars jealous let us be under the same sky .

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Know War and Hope



"Have You Heard That it was good to gain the day? I also say it is good to fall, battles Are Lost In The Same spirit in Which They Are Won. "Walt Whitman

" Well, as I was today? What is the balance? ... Great battles are fought every day. Most of them do not even notice them. Are almost as small skirmishes that lock with gestures, words, acts or omissions. We have them all around us, loved ones, strangers, friends, enemies, including sometimes with great bodies. All of which put us a step forward or backward, defined at the end where we are and who we are in this intricate web we call cultural society. Sometimes it may look back and if we look carefully we can see how many have gone, but we only see the result. Victories and defeats that left without even giving us the opportunity to celebrate or suffer at the time. This is more serious when we want a hard fighting to consciousness, one that seems important for the worth out of the trench, but we are deadly ataos by a cumulative series of small losses.

When I think of those things I am assailed by a stark reality. Life is lost and won every hour of each conversation, each look dodged every little pride that did not buy or whenever reserved comment, every gesture betrays every time it is evident whenever lose the opportunity to look deeply into the eyes of a wonderful human being or one hated. "And then what is the balance? Perhaps the worst that could respond at the end of each day in the solitude of my consciousness, and perhaps represent the condemnation, would in the words of Erich Maria Remarque, "All quiet on the western front."

seems clear that the motivation of this paper was one of those small revelations about previous failures, and that not admit the always feared wind major defeats. But now I think that ultimately what matters is not how many battles large and small win or lose, if not with much determination the fight, how much blood is spilled on the road, the attitude every moment, the falling and rising. Keep the spirit so proud when you win as when you lose the battles seem small may prove to be the only way you will want to win big.
"We shall go on to the end ...
Shall we fight on the seas and oceans,
Shall we fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, We Shall Defend Our Island, whatever the cost May be, we
Shall fight on the beaches,
we shall fight on the landing grounds,
we shall fight in the fields and in the streets,
we shall fight in the hills;
we shall never surrender…” “…We shall not fail or falter; we shall not weaken or tire. Neither the sudden shock of battle nor the long-drawn trials of vigilance and exertion will wear us down. Give us the tools and we will finish the job.”

Sir Winston Churchill