"GOD has not called me to be successful. He called me to be Faithful… Never forget or neglect anyone because nobody knows what's coming tomorrow. You will know their value when you can't meet them once again in the lifetime." Mother Teresa "The more society drifts from the truth, the more it will hate those that speak it…. If you loved someone, you loved him, and when you had nothing else to give, you still gave him love." George Orwell

Monthly Archives: May 2017

Congratulations from U.S. Embassy Sofia on May 24th


Кирил и Методий

Български Bсеучилищен Xимн

Върви, народе възродени,
към светла бъднина върви,
с книжовността, таз сила нова,
съдбините си ти поднови!

Върви към мощната Просвета!
В световните борби върви,
от длъжност неизменно воден –
и Бог ще те благослови!

Напред! Науката е слънце,
което във душите грей!
Напред! Народността не пада
там, дето знаньето живей!

Безвестен беше ти, безславен!…
О, влез в Историята веч,
духовно покори страните,
които завладя със меч!…”

Тъй солунските двама братя
насърчаваха дедите ни…
О, минало незабравимо,
о, пресвещени старини!

България остана вярна
на достославний тоз завет –
в тържествуванье и в страданье
извърши подвизи безчет…

Да, родината ни години
пресветли преживя, в беда
неописуема изпадна,
но върши дългът се всегда! 

Бе време, писмеността наша
кога обходи целий мир;
за все световната просвета
тя бе неизчерпаем вир;

бе и тъжовно робско време…
Тогаз Балканский храбър си
навеждаше лице под гнета
на отоманский властелин… 

Но винаги духът народен;
подпорка търсеше у вас,
о, мъдреци!… През десет века
все жив остана ваший глас!

О, вий, които цяло племе
извлякохте из мъртвина,
народен гений възкресихте –
заспал в глубока тъмнина;

подвижници за права вярна,
сеятели на правда, мир,
апостоли високославни,
звезди върху Славянски мир,

бъдете преблагословени,
о вий, Методий и Кирил,
отци на българското знанье,
творци на наший говор мил!

Нека името ви да живее
във всенародната любов,
речта ви мощна нек се помни
в Славянството во век веков!

Русе, 1882, априлий 15


Things Don’t Have Significance… They Only Have Existence

When I say I love you, I mean I want you to be happy. I do not know where and when the beginning started, but if it does exist, then I hope there is no end. Have you asked me “Why”?

Because when you love, there is “but”, “if” or “when”.
I say this to you now: “I love you, with no beginning, no end.”

“You know I love you, right?”, he teased.

“Do I dream …or at last it is my turn to tell you: I love you more”, I said seriously. “I won’t lie to you.  I think you could be the great love of my life.”

“If you could have had me, could you have let me go?”, I said.

“I could hold you.”, he said seriously.

“For when I was with you, I was the best I could be.”, I said. “I would rather live alone than enjoy comfort and luxury with someone else.”

I never realized how much you meant to me until…

My Healthy Juice


Тони Димитрова – След години

To the “Sober”*

Memories are bullets. Some whiz by and only spook you. Others tear you open and leave you in pieces. Experience taught me that even the most precious memories  cannot fade with the passage of time.


“Isn’t it funny how the memories you cherish before a breakup can become your worst enemies afterwards? The thoughts you loved to think about, the memories you wanted to hold up to the light and view from every angle–it suddenly seems a lot safer to lock them in a box, far from the light of day and throw away the key. It’s not an act of bitterness. It’s an act if self-preservation. It’s not always a bad idea to stay behind the window and look out at life instead, is it?”
― A. Condie, First Day

“The days aren’t discarded or collected, they are bees that burned with sweetness or maddened the sting: the struggle continues,
the journeys go and come between honey and pain.
No, the net of years doesn’t unweave: there is no net.
They don’t fall drop by drop from a river: there is no river.
Sleep doesn’t divide life into halves, or action, or silence, or honor:
life is like a stone, a single motion, a lonesome bonfire reflected on the leaves, an arrow, only one, slow or swift, a metal that climbs or descends burning in your bones.”
― Pablo Neruda, Still Another Day

*Sober was used instead of a name