This blurry, and all together crap-tacular picture is of the title of my favorite poem, Desiderata, which I have posted in my room. As you certainly have already ascertained, I am about as artistic and as accomplished of a writer as a chimpanzee; however, the simplicity offered by Max Ehrmann's writing, not convoluted by allegory and metaphor, suggests a stark reality about life that is so frequently forgotten by too many. I found this moving work from Stumble Upon several months ago, which only proves that the internet isn't all brain-rotting material.
Here is the original site I found it on, but there are many other sites describing its apparent interesting history (oh yeah, history nerd) and reproducing the poem.
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