Tender Breasts Ovarian Cyst

The energy that flows within us.

The energy that flows within us IS. It IS
; quite simply, is obvious.
It manifests itself in everything we are, do, think, feel, say ,............
Through our body-identity is expressed in a way unique.
Our consciousness, by what we feel, can continue to circulate. More
our consciousness is more refined we can use this energy to benefit our infinite aspirations and thereby come closer to our dreams.

If in the moment I feel anger in my body-identity, with the consciousness I can choose what I'm doing this dose energy. I is tightening at others in the same form, or I transform by passing through the heart for example, the back in another form that looks like that I am in the depths of myself.
Energy does not see herself but she feels as thoughts, emotions, actions, feelings, sufferings, pleasures ,......

you can do all the good of the world by taking more and more finely aware of this infinite energy that flows within you.

School Crush-watch Online

July 14, 2010. Happy National Day! Sing the Marseillaise - Rouget de Lisle / Romance forty thousand - Aragon. Poetry.

On July 14, 2010 , I want to French men and of France, the French and Quebec French , and around the world, a "Happy National Day!

Vive la France! Long live the Republic!
Equality, Fraternity and Liberty! Raise a glass
Friendship!

Red White Blue , the Gallic Rooster and Lily flower in unison!

[Logo of the French Society of Quebec, founded in 1875]

long ago that I love you ...

I never forget you ...

Sing the Marseille, together and in harmony, a great concert brotherhood. But before we sing "Children of the Fatherland ", a short reminder of its origin. And to sing the Marseilles to the end and without (too much) ba-babble, revise or learn the text, I think, without pretension-that the French will find themselves, but also and above all, friends and many high- very warm-thereof.

Origin of the Marseillaise

This revolutionary battle song and a hymn to freedom, the Marseillaise was gradually imposed as a national anthem. Following the declaration of war the King of Austria, a French officer Artillery stationed in Strasbourg, Rouget de Lisle (1760-1826) composed the night of 25 to 26 April 1792, at Dietrich, the mayor of the city, the "Battle Hymn of the Army the Rhine. " conceiving Berlioz orchestration he dedicates quite rightly, to Rouget de Lisle.

This "Battle Hymn of the Rhine Army", was adopted and popularized by the Marseilles battalion called to Paris during the insurrection of August 10, 1792. "La Marseillaise ", so called, became the national anthem by decree of 26 Messidor III is July 14, 1795, to the First Empire. It became the official anthem of France February 14, 1879. Anthem
not originally included only six verses. A seventh - "stanza for Children" - was added in October 1792 by Gossec when the "Offering freedom, religious scene (!) On the song of the Marseillaise" had presented at the Opera.

La Marseillaise

Verse 1 Come, children of the Fatherland,
The day of glory has arrived!
Against us, tyranny,
The bloody flag is raised, (repeat)
Agree in campaigns
howling of these fearsome soldiers They are coming into your midst To slaughter
your son, your wives!

Chorus To arms, citizens Form your battalions
,
March, march!

impure blood water our fields!

2nd verse
What does this horde of slaves,
Of traitors and conspiratorial kings?
For whom these vile chains These long-prepared irons? (Repeat)
French, for us, ah! What outrage What methods must
exciting!
is us they dare plan To return to
ancient slavery!

3rd verse
What! These foreign troops Would make laws in
our homes!
What! These mercenary phalanxes
down our proud warriors! (Repeat)
Great God! by chained hands
Our brow would yield under the yoke The vile despots would

The masters of our destinies!

fourth stanza
Tremble, tyrants and traitors The shame of
all parties
Tremble! your projects parricides
Will receive their prizes! (Repeat)
Everyone is a soldier to fight you, If
fall, our young hero,
The earth produces new
against you ready to fight!

fifth verse
French, as magnanimous warriors Bear or hold back your
blows!
Spare these sad victims, Regretfully arming against
us. (Repeat)
But these bloody despots These accomplices of
Bouille
All these tigers who mercilessly Ripped
womb!

sixth verse
Sacred Love of the Fatherland,
Lead, support our avenging arms
Liberty, beloved Liberty, Fight with your defenders
! (Repeat)
Under our flags, let victory Hurry to your manly
accents

That your dying enemies See your triumph and our glory!

seventh verse
We
enter the pit When our elders are no longer there,
We shall find their dust And
track of their virtues (repeat) Much less
jealous of surviving them Than of sharing their
coffin
We have the sublime pride Of avenging
or follow


Romance of the forty thousand
Aragon
What did the dying railroad Rennes
What hummed the dungeons The clamor of Paris
the executioners lead
Chateaubriand passers resume
And shot the chorus blossomed

Despairing also make you shut your house
Here the standards ranges
song before we sang our ancestors
You said true Song Volunteers
And bleed into our arms our beloved

Your words were always here the meaning of which is intoxicated
Europe in other time
pale And the tyrants of their power
came for where the song was born in
Old Port this red heart beating

What iron fist knocked on the door
What do you want son of betrayal
What have we done that makes us toward
As serfs who fall mortmain
Dare you take our homes

Where I was born that I let me die Tell
the old man who drove the
What The French are stealing our homes
What The French have made skimmers
For the enemy torturing French

That the French children are watching
With eyes that they believe the
deceived We must flee with few clothes
That O Virgin of the French Guard
You see them and you do not stumble

That abroad are only embers
From our hatred at home deserted
January vengeful breath Marseillaise
Through the windows where the sun will waltz
Throw your heart if he can not get angry

Forty mile march to prison
The strange chain and the strange convoy
From Africa comes running and accompanying
A wind of hope that the campaign paled
And the convicts listen to this voice

An air whose former tyrants were moved
Whistle tonight simoom Forty thousand of Algeria
running and whispering
The air coming from your walls Marseille
Forty thousand children of the Fatherland.
(The Diane French, P. Seghers 1945, p. 46-48.)

Claude Monet. The Rue Montorgueil in Paris. Day 30 June 1878.

comment. The Rue Montorgueil, like its sister Rue Saint-Denis, is often seen as a celebration of 14 July. In fact, it is executed June 30, 1878 at the closing ceremony of the Expo, an event of national enthusiasm and Republican just months after major fighting in 1876-1877 between Republicans and conservatives [Reference: Orsay Museum ]

Visit the site "The story with the image" to read the article "The June 30, 1878, a party" truly national "'which presents the historical context of the work, an image analysis and interpretation . You'll love ... here is .

This July 14, 2010. Happy National Day!

Friends French and French, I express my love, and give you a hug!

How To Make A Dip Machine

Golden Wedding. 50 years of marriage. Poetry

Golden Wedding. 50 years of marriage ... Celebrating! Event unusual these days where couples form and break, then recompose, constantly moving, the 50 year relationship a couple should be highlighted, you will agree.

In tribute therefore to all of these couples, wives of these July 9, 1960, in particular A. and L. , I extend my best wishes for happiness, health and long life together in love.

live the newlyweds!

Following brief remarks came in the following, I offer a bright bouquet of poetry to celebrate ...

Golden Wedding married in July of .

Origin and tradition

The celebration of wedding anniversaries is of pagan origin and quite dark. Initially, these celebrations concerned only certain anniversaries, namely: silver wedding for the 25 years of marriage, while the golden wedding for 50 years and diamond wedding for 75 years of marriage. The celebration of wedding anniversaries, common in the urban petty bourgeoisie, would have spread into the countryside in the nineteenth century. And it continues today ... and even extended: every wedding anniversary since the first year of marriage until the cotton-hundredth year of common life-wedding water-can celebrate. In sum, it is a tradition in many countries, though the way to celebrate varies from one country to another.

poem dedicated to you both

was there ... 50.

Because we're good together, because there
in you, because it is in me
something we do not know and say
that suits you and that suits me.

was 50 years ago ...

Today like yesterday and tomorrow as ...
To understand innuendo, half aloud.

Here, in tribute, a beautiful bouquet of poems


These words These words These words
Home
These gentle words of support, faith and hope
These reassuring words , lulled and warm
These words surround, comfort, encourage, enfold
Who
And embrace

All these words that open windows on
happiness
The sparkle
And light

These words that ooze Love
All these words
Addressed a look
With a simple gesture of a smile


Of all these words
Who of you today I would radiate
Tresser
a wreath in the shape of heart


And at its center
Place an exquisite bouquet pink
In
A thousand thanks
Thomas Van Bellinghen


Silence
I know of eloquent silence that betrays the

thoughts veiled delicacy of love moving
Se stripping finally dare speak without

I know Who rests exhausted
alanguissent lovers forgetful
Time fleeing angry
Hanging their eyes anxious

I know dull silences
Who are dying of boredom
thoughts congeal and eye brows lanterns
Evasion Ciller half

I know Who rests unfortunate
their silent anguish
harried by life, frightened ashamed
In their bitter mouth dying words weary

I know Who rests victorious
show shamelessly
The easy triumphs , doubtful
Windswept carried by haze
Raymonde Verney


At the wedding of our love
This may be a spring evening
When the warm weather warms the wind
One summer morning in the colors of sky
An autumn afternoon to taste Honey

It may be one day of freezing
the heart of a dry winter supernatural
Or under the warm rain of a thunderstorm
At the edge of time of a new shore

I do not know where and I do not know when
But this time there
Delivered as an oath from the depths of the heart
He built backhand errors

Tomorrow in a few months or sometime
We will be ourselves The magnet
desire that will enlighten us
The path to bloom kissing

I t'espère released over days
The fears of mad love trapped
the stupid game of seduction
Digging vacuum separations

Our thoughts are flower images
This breath of life landscape
Words on Secret Language
skin burning in us without any rest

We meet for the wedding of our love
a mad painter brush
In our knowledge on the canvas of time to bite
raw pleasures of lovers.
Jean-Marc Buttin


The wedding day
Suddenly the birds stopped flying
,
And around,
The heavy silence fell;
Creek rustling,
Ran, although quieter,
And the old dog Se
shepherd shook with joy;
We saw them out

From humble chapel where they were married;
It opened the procession,
Having air to float
In her long white gown, And her great
eyes gray green
sparkled with happiness;
him, holding his hand, avoided the
hugging
Knowing that this night would end
abstinence was
In the beginning there
an ordinary story.
Bernard Lanza


The wedding
Silver Wedding or golden anniversary?
Life taught us her round ...
Remember our games then
When we reinvent the world!

We took so many roads
And since so many clouds pass,
But we went hand in hand
sun or rain on our faces.

In the soil of our two hearts,
were planted the same seeds
By cultivating our happiness
And do gleaning what we sow.

month flowed, flowed annually from
confidence in confidence
We came from the white hair, they are far
childhood games!

My beloved, I beseech you, Do not regret
Youth
For if time has betrayed us,
My heart is filled with tenderness.
Cypora Sebagh


Marriage
The dream born in suspension, they took
dotted
It was made up of sensations, strong love
From scattered.

Together they advanced towards the sea spreads,
Toward a common destiny, a thousand times evaded
In a perfect backdrop for postcards
And the sand was soft beneath their feet bare.

They lived this unique
As balance, suspended,
The happiness of a slanting sun, For a white morning
expected.

They came here to see the horses leaping
Who knows the secrets of America and China,
spaces promised quivering birds, fish
russet ocean depths.

They were on honeymoon
the wives of a great shipwreck,
With swimming eyes to heaven in the heart
And a big cloud.

They went to the other they did not know,
On the golden sand as their heart was born,
A double wound, each of them not
That the light breeze, by the way, healed.

They were mad their twenties
But they ran into despair
and happiness at the same time, it was
they should know. They did not know yet

snow
But the world they thought the bottom-Tomorrow-
loneliness and separation, the return of winter
And cold inside, the gel used.

They dreamed of new dawns,
Of all strings untied
And those white caravels
Beginning Islands forgotten.

They saw the horizon sails floating
Entering the sea-water bewitched,
The sirens sang and the rising tide
deposited on their body, caresses her salty.

There were all Ceylon
Large checkered mats,
They guessed gulls
Grazing wing palms.

They went after their dream of kids
The mermaids wove necklaces junkies,
They sang high, dancing at their wedding
And the sea that day, unites them forever.
Roger Vidal

live the married July!

Vive la Vie!

Vive l'Amour, again and again!

Go, be happy! That life is good for you ...

South Park Arkham Horror

The Tour de France. The look of Plantu - The Chronicles of Foglia.

July is the month the Tour de France - 2010 Edition. Even if the Tour is suffering from a lack of love-the polls say that only 44% of French love again, less than last year and even less than last year, France, land of the bicycle, to keep its rating love. Anyway, will not want the Tour de France will occupy the space Media in France, Quebec, elsewhere in Europe, elsewhere in America, and more ...

The Tour de France. The France tour .
Plantu 's eyes, delicate and insightful, fact we see from the angle I would say the 44-56.

Chronicles Foglia . His book, The Tour of Foglia. Stone of his surname, (2004, Golden Press) is composed of chronic, reworked, the Tour de France from 1992 to 2003. This book is still current. The passages on the dope, among others, could date from yesterday. As Lance Armstrong ... This book also includes reviews, tasty, on France's Tour is that I remember that aspect here.

's eyes Plantu
Here t ext bubbles.

The patient, restless, lying on the couch: "World Cup football. Tennis at Wimbledon. Tour de France. I can not go, I can not go ... "

The psychiatrist, Freud lookalike (Hi to you, Michel Onfray!), Leaning on his television capturing a game of" football " replied: "Shut up!"

The 56% is lying on the couch and 44% finds its worthy representative.

The
are chronic Foglia

The Tower of Foglia and c. RONIC French did not take a spot of rust. Lance Armstrong is still rolling .. . Pierre Foglia speaks of himself and others, or missing the Tour forever. The layman, it gives the Tour of France, roads and skies, landscapes. In cyclo warned, it gives gear *.
"And both, I give stories of men who go after their strength, their courage, their talent. (...) Their little dead on the road for a moment distract us from our own written in heaven. "

No man can serve two masters at once! Except ... Pierre Foglia. Profane I am, I read and reread his whole book, by taking pleasure. Foglia has a knack ... stimulate and sustain interest. He surprises us by surprise at the turn ... it hurts ... makes us laugh. In short, the author is a keen observer, and he tells well. We feel that he loves the bike and the riders themselves if they rubbed the ears he loves France and us.

Read how beautiful :

[] At Saint-Valery. "Beautiful park, deserted at this early hour, facing the sea, its bluish washed asphalt from the spray of fresh morning."

[] Thonon-les-Bains (Switzerland). "I still believe that what we call culture is above all a personal landscape. All roads, skies, school yards planted with lime trees, slate roofs, the factor that pass a bicycle, where the facades clinging ivy, cs all places, the smells, the bottom of mirabelle garden, the pale gold fruit, all the trees that inhabit us since childhood and suddenly we're missing. "
Two examples among many others.

[] And those names of places that are, in themselves, poems and stories : Bergere-les-Vertus, blackthorn, Malminou ... Congouillette les Candlesnuffer ... which concludes the book.

[] Imagine the scene. Pierre Foglia encounter, in the press room, Jacqueline Sadoux, a French woman who had taught in Quebec, was then returned to France. "Tell me again where you are? - Congouillette les Candlesnuffer, replied the lady. - Madam, let me call you on the spot, president of my fan club. I pose two conditions: that you're the only member, and especially that you would never move. "

Parts made me laugh to tears: the pearls found in the French press, the story on bilberries and blueberries are my favorite, besides laughter Pierre Foglia.

Cycle, it keeps you fit! Just as humor ...

Good Sunday!

__

* Psst! Here's what you look good and you round the calf. The gear: it is a "multiplication ratio (between the plate and pinion) regulating the development of a bicycle." To get the picture does not ... The derailleur may help: it "allows you to change gears." The little as big. Foglia is not who says it is the Little Robert.En short, the gear ratio is a sort of exerciser, whatever!