Eh?
Congenital programming language defect, I guess. Zaangalewa is no name - it is a kind of phone number.
You are dribbling again .
?
I appreciate how difficult life is since your accident which has put you into a wheelchair with a broken spinal cord .
I never said so. Did you ever try to think about that the world in your brain has nothing to do with the world all around, Darwinist?
However , forgetting unimportant details , Do you believe your messages are from God or one of his little helpers ?
If god will give me the order to tell you something then I will do so.
Keep us informed of future episodes .
You will die. Do you need to know anything else?
Does this wise man Mr Putrid
Putin? Wise? Weirdo! Tyrants are never wise.
become a world ruler or does he share us with his good friend Donald the Frump?
Ever so exciting , old chap .
Putin will die. Trump will die.
„Vanitas, Vanitatum, Et Omnia Vanitas“
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ANDREAS GRYPHIUS (1616-1664)
Es ist alles eitel
Du siehst, wohin du siehst, nur Eitelkeit auf Erden.
Was dieser heute baut, reißt jener morgen ein,
Wo itzund Städte stehn, wird eine Wiese sein,
Auf der ein Schäferskind wird spielen mit den Herden.
Was itzund prächtig blüht, soll bald zutreten werden.
Was itzt so pocht und trotzt, ist morgen Asch und Bein;
Nichts ist, das ewig sei, kein Erz, kein Marmorstein.
Itzt lacht das Glück uns an, bald donnern die Beschwerden.
Der hohen Taten Ruhm muss wie ein Traum vergehn.
Soll denn das Spiel der Zeit, der leichte Mensch, bestehn?
Ach, was ist alles dies, was wir vor köstlich achten,
Als schlechte Nichtigkeit, als Schatten, Staub und Wind,
Als eine Wiesenblum, die man nicht wiederfind’t.
Noch will, was ewig ist, kein einig Mensch betrachten.
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ANDREAS GRYPHIUS (1616-1664)
All is vanity
You see, wherever you look, only vanity on earth.
What this man builds today, that man will tear down tomorrow,
Where there are cities today, there will be a meadow,
On which a shepherd's child will play with the flocks.
What blooms splendidly now will soon be trampled down.
What is throbbing and defiant today will be ashes and bone tomorrow;
Nothing is eternal, no ore, no marble stone.
Happiness smiles at us now, soon the complaints will thunder.
The glory of high deeds must fade like a dream.
Shall the game of time, the easy man, endure?
Alas, what is all this that we esteem delicious,
As poor nullity, as shadow, dust and wind,
As a meadow flower that cannot be found again.
Nor will united man contemplate what is eternal.
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