Polls? Nah… they’re for strippers and cross country skiers.
The neurotic is nailed to the cross of his fiction.
Poverty is the frontier we have to be able to cross.
How can you fall in love at first sight when you can’t even see?
All crosses had their tops cut and became T’s. There was also a thing called God.
I’ll walk through the fireWith my head lifted highAnd my spirit revivedIn Your story
Our goal is not to build a platform; it’s to be cross all of them.
My God, my God, why hast thouforsaken me?” [The answer?] For me — for me.
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