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bequaths
Dedicate to
Herewith bequaths and ode to the transient hour; to the fire of spring
devouring the bud to evolve into the flower; to fables agreed upon
considered as history; to summer fading as winter gains its victory. As the
splendours of summer subside, the winds after storms don't abide. As night
comes the day will hide; waves along the shore are pushed aside.
devouring the bud to evolve into the flower; to fables agreed upon
considered as history; to summer fading as winter gains its victory. As the
splendours of summer subside, the winds after storms don't abide. As night
comes the day will hide; waves along the shore are pushed aside.
bequaths by Hercolena Oliver June 17, 2010
Bequatro
Mr. Kramer: Okay, well I'll see you all at sinco bequatro.
Band: ... Wha?
Mr. Kramer: It's Spanglish for five before!
Spanish teacher's kid: -looks ashamed-
Band: ... Wha?
Mr. Kramer: It's Spanglish for five before!
Spanish teacher's kid: -looks ashamed-
Bequatro by Feelin' Euphoric September 25, 2011
A Booger In The Nose Of Progress
"Militarily, that inquest was a booger in the nose of progress."
or
"As far as human rights are concerned, this political infighting is a booger in the nose of progress."
or
"As far as human rights are concerned, this political infighting is a booger in the nose of progress."
A Booger In The Nose Of Progress by Rok'n'rol Wannabe October 19, 2006
Word of the Day on June 2, 2026
fogey
Fogey/fogy /fougi/ sl. (early 18C+, orig. Scot) old-fashioned, stuck-in-the mud.
Person with old fashioned ideas which he is unwilling to change: Come to the disco and stop being such an old fogey!
Person with old fashioned ideas which he is unwilling to change: Come to the disco and stop being such an old fogey!
You think me an old fogeyand an old tory, his thoughtful voice said. I saw three generations since O’Connel’s time. I remember the famine. Do you know that the orange lodges agitated for repeal of the union twenty years before O’Connel did or before the prelates of your communion denounced him as a demagogue? You fenians forget some things. (James Joyce, Ulysses. Penguin Books,1992. p. 38)