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El enano tiene una pierna torcida

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Dana
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i"m in ravenclaw!

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Hogwarts Sorting Hat: Based on Myers-Briggs Personality Typing




You are a RAVENCLAW!As a Ravenclaw and as an NFP, you value imagination, ideas and intelligence. You are probably somewhat of an individualist and avoid conforming just for its own sake. You are insightful and perceptive, and since you are empathetic and value harmony, you usually try to avoid conflict. Of course, you may enjoy participating in heated debates, but only as long as they remain on an intellectual level and not a personal level. In general, you are open-minded and curious, and set high standards for yourself.
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Which of Henry VIII's wives are you?


this quiz was made by Lori Fury








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You are blessed with FAERY wings. Beauty,
laughter, life, magic...that's what you are all
about. You are refreshingly innocent and happy
with your life of purity and play. Life's a
game and it's a good one. In your eyes there's
no way to lose! You can be very mischeivous and
have been known to cause trouble, but it's all
in the name of fun and not meant to really harm
anyone. You like to play tricks on people who
aren't quite as bright or clever as you - which
is almost everyone. Nature is the setting you
prefer to be in - Always. Barefoot and wild you
can't be tamed. You're probably a restless
spirit who loves to travel, and quite a
dreamer. Your creativity is astounding and your
art (of whatever media - from writing to
painting to drama) is like something from
another world - ethereal and often very
fantasy-oriented. You can either be a social
butterfly or a loner with their head in the
clouds - but rarely inbetween. You stubbornly
refuse to accept responsibility or to give in
to the wishes of others - unless you feel like
it. You have a strong passion for music and
can't imagine life without it. You'll grow up
someday, but you'll always be a child at heart.
You are adventurous and love to take risks, and
feel a deep connection with the weather,
plants, and animals. You prefer sunshine to
thunder or snow, the warmth of summer to
autumn's chill, and quiet forests to suburban
backyards. Magic through and through, you are
far more powerful than you seem, and are
capable of being extremely passionate. Though
you can be childish, naive, stubborn, and
self-absorbed, one thing is certain - life with
you will never be boring!




Because I could not stop for Death--
He kindly stopped for me--
The Carriage held but just Ourselves--
And Immortality.

We slowly drove--He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For his Civility--

We passed the school,where children strove--
At Recess--in the Ring--
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain
We passed the Setting Sun--

Or rather--He passed Us--
The Dews drew quivering and chill--
For only Gossamer, my Gown--
My Tippet--only Tulle--

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground--
The Roof was scarcely visible--
The Cornice--in the Ground--

Since then--'tis Centuries--and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity--
"Becuase I Could Not Stop for Death" by Emily Dickinson


Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, "the night is shattered
and the stars are blue and shiver in the distance."

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held her in my arms.
I kissed her again and again under the endless sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her too.
How could one not have loved her great still eyes.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have her. To feel that I have lost her.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without her.
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep her.
The night is shattered and she is not with me.

That is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

My sight tries to find her as though to bring her closer.
My heart looks for her, and she is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but how I loved her.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch her hearing.

Another's. She will be another's. As she was before my kisses.
Her voice, her bright body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, that's certain, but maybe I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held her in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost her.

Though this be the last pain that she makes me suffer
and these the last verses that I write for her.
"Saddest Poem" by Pablo Neruda

If you were coming in the Fall,
I'd brush the Summer by
With half a smile, and half a spurn,
As Housewives do, a Fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls--
And put them each in separate Drawers,
For fear the numbers fuse--

If only Centuries, delayed,
I'd count them on my Hand,
Subracting, till my fingers dropped
Into Van Dieman's land.
If certain, when this life was out--
That yours and mine, should be
I'd toss it yonder, like a Rind,
And take Eterniy--

But,now, uncertain of the length
Of this, that is between,
It goads me, like the Goblin Bee
That will not state--its sting.
"If You Were Coming in the Fall" by Emily Dickinson




Come lovely and soothing death,
Undulate round the world, serenely arriving, arriving,
In the day, in the night, to all, to each,
Sooner or later delicate death.

Prais'd be the fathomless universe,
For life and joy, and for objects and knowledge curious,
And for love, sweet love-- but praise!praise!praise!
For the sure-enwinding arms of cool-enfolding death.

Dark mother always gliding near with soft feet,
Have none changed for thee a chant of fullest welcome?
Then I chant it for thee, I glorify thee above all,
I bring thee a song that when thou must indeed come, come unfalteringly.

Approach strong deliveress,
When it is so,when thou hast taken them I joyously sing the dead,
Lost in the loving floating ocean of thee,
Laved in the flood of thy bliss O death.

From me thee glad serenades,
Dances for thee I propose saluting thee, adornments and feastings for thee,
And the sights of the open landscape and the high-spread sky are fitting,
And life and the fields, and the huge and thoughtful night.

The night in silence under many a star,
The ocean shore and the husky whispering wave whose voice I know,
And the soul turning to thee O vast and well-veil'd death,
And the body gratefully nestling close to thee.

Over the tree-tops I float thee a song,
Over the rising and sinking wavaes, over the myriad of fields and the prairies wide,
Over the desnse-pack'd cities all and the teeming wharves and ways,
I float this carol with joy, with joy to thee O death.
Excerpt from "When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom'd" by Walt Whitman

Congratulations on being the creator of a new
Evil Plan (tm)!

Your objective is simple: World Domination

Your motive is a little bit more complex: To show them all

Stage One
To begin your plan, you must first traumatize a town mascot. This will cause the world to sense a grave disturbance in the force. Who is this evil genius? Where did they come from? And why do they look so good in classic black?


Stage Two
Next, you must sabotage the internet. This will all be done from an underground secret headquarters of doom. Upon seeing this, the world will fall into catatonic trances, as countless hordes of the undead hasten to do your every bidding.


Stage Three
Finally, you must covertly move your armies of destruction, bringing about the end to sanity. Your name shall become synonymous with fuzzy bunnies, and no man will ever again dare to make you clean your room. Everyone will bow before your Cunning Intelligence, and the world will have no choice but to restore your credit ratings.




This royal throne of kings, this sceptred isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,--
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.
William Shakespeare, "King Richard II", Act 2 scene 1



      
RAVENCLAW
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