The temple of the lost love

And after a lot to play, of tiring, the child runs: he waits for her her mother's love.

Maintain the fire of the candle of the love lit. It is the only, the last thing that remains us. Therefore, walk to the candle.

The best toy that you can give the a child is another child.

If you get to conquer the populations, you will never lose a war and you will win the elections.

They are visible the governments' efforts for us to put the populations in the poverty.

Who doesn't have stuff for political, he doesn't also have fortress for any collision. And to sweep the streets of a city is not unworthy for anybody, on the contrary.

The death separates us, but the love no. The power of the death doesn't overcome the eternity of Taj-Mahal of the love.

No, it is not true! Formerly we could speak and our love to love. That such funereal, so irrational, so immoral Angolan times, of such cadaverous loves.

The most important is the honesty. Without her it is not possible to live, to love. While the corrupt ones insist on the power, the love will die.

And millions of human beings met in caravans, of travellers pilgrims. Gigantic human waves steered in the direction of the temple of the lost love.

The child sleeps showing in the face the expression of the happiness. It is that the child dreams about the angel of the love.

Thousand and a sport championships are invented that they flood stadiums with avid crowds for they participate in such events. But the stadium of the world championship of the love is always emptiness, without spectators.