began to quarrel

p5kyz416

,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

TAG Tags: happy break Bye
like a person, say no reason.

hate a person, not reason.

began dating , it is not two people tied together all day .

until tired, began to quarrel , began to pick at each other , hurt each other .

hurt each other over, you are always complaining about each other, how could the original and his own is good / not the beginning of how he does it to spoil yourself , punch yourself in order to yell a little small . Do not leave some sensibilities . This day would like to think it was . Two had a meeting that is the endless bickering. Intention is not,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], but always unable to control themselves. Later regret , but could not pull faces whereabouts apology .

a long time , feeling light , and also separated.

If you really like each other too . So, even if the final go together , to break up when you're not ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], left him with the dignity of each other . Separate peace ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], to yourself, but also left him with a good memory .

Goodbye ,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],

next time.

looking forward to meet again next time , there will be good memories. Finally,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], regardless of whether you

still together , or have found their own half.

meet again . Please give each other the truth into a blessing. Also give yourself a starting point towards happiness .

( Editor : sammy)

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

[link widoczny dla zalogowanych]

The driver clambered into his seat, clicked his tongue, and we went downhill. The brake squeaked horribly from time to time. At the foot he eased off the noisy mechanism and said, turning half round on his box--
"We shall see some more of them by-and-by."
"More idiots? How many of them are there, then?" I asked.
"There's four of them--children of a farmer near Ploumar here. . . . The parents are dead now," he added, after a while. "The grandmother lives on the farm. In the daytime they knock about on this road, and they come home at dusk along with the cattle. . . . It's a good farm."
We saw the other two: a boy and a girl, as the driver said. They were dressed exactly alike, in shapeless garments with petticoat-like skirts. The imperfect thing that lived within them moved those beings to howl at us from the top of the bank, where they sprawled amongst the tough stalks of furze. Their cropped black heads stuck out from the bright yellow wall of countless small blossoms. The faces were purple with the strain of yelling; the voices sounded blank and cracked like a mechanical imitation of old people's voices; and suddenly ceased when we turned into a lane.
I saw them many times in my wandering about the country. They lived on that road, drifting along its length here and there, according to the inexplicable impulses of their monstrous darkness. They were an offence to the sunshine, a reproach to empty heaven, a blight on the concentrated and purposeful vigour of the wild landscape. In time the story of their parents shaped itself before me out of the listless answers to my questions, out of the indifferent words heard in wayside inns or on the very road those idiots haunted. Some of it was told by an emaciated and sceptical old fellow with a tremendous whip, while we trudged together over the sands by the side of a two-wheeled cart loaded with dripping seaweed. Then at other times other people confirmed and completed the story: till it stood at last before me, a tale formidable and simple, as they always are, those disclosures of obscure trials endured by ignorant hearts.