Anna Usselmann

I live, I die; I’m on fire and I drown; I’m freezing, though I feel extremely hot; living, to me, is too hard and too soft, a bitter pill, with wine to wash it down. I laugh and simultaneously I cry; I suffer many torments in my pleasure; my happiness departs, yet lasts forever; my leaves grow green and at the same time dry. Thus fickle Eros flings me here and there: just when it seems I’m sunk in tribulations, they suddenly dissolve into thin air; and when I’m sure my joy has firm foundations and stretches to the heavens, that is when I’m plunged back into misery again. Louise Labe (Sonett VIII; 1526 - 1566) ------ Life is too short for bad coffee! =) ------ "Pommes sind die langen fritierten Finger des Teufels"