Will Advise

Goodreads Author

in Veliko Tarnovo, Bulgaria
November 01, 1988




Member Since
January 2014


My first name is Will.

I'll Advise... on the last.

A bit more about me:

I was born.

Somehow I died.

But not for long, for I was strong.

After that I started living again, on sheer willpower.

Урок по езда… №1.

Тя живееше, за да живее.

Той – защото не можеше да си отиде.

Тя искаше да намери изгубеното си сърце.

Той – сам го беше дал и не го искаше обратно.

Това не ги спираше да експериментират един с друг, по възможно най-нежния начин, който може да си представи човек.

Нямаше караници – за него всичко беше… не безразлично… по-скоро безрадостно, безцветно, може би дори безсмислено.

Смисълът, който го държеше...

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Published on December 31, 2015 12:37
Average rating: 4.25 · 4 ratings · 0 reviews · 4 distinct works
Nothing is here...: soliD A...

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it was amazing 5.00 avg rating — 4 ratings2 editions
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Nothing is here...

it was amazing 5.00 avg rating — 1 rating — published 2016 — 3 editions
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Still Dreaming

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* Note: these are all the books on Goodreads for this author. To add more, click here.

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Will’s Recent Updates

Will Advise liked a quote
Not That It Matters by A.A. Milne
“If a statement is untrue, it is not the more respectable because it has been said in Latin.”
A.A. Milne
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The Shepherd's Crown by Terry Pratchett
“Somehow he seems to understand everybody...He calms people. You all know that. He is calm itself, and the calm stays even when he has left. He doesn’t just jolly people up. After he is gone, they are somehow much better—as if life was still worth havin’.”
Terry Pratchett
Will Advise liked a quote
“As for expressing nobody-but-yourself in words, that means working just a little harder than anybody who isn’t a poet can possibly imagine. Why? Because nothing is quite as easy as using words like somebody else. We all of us do exactly this nearly all of the time — and whenever we do it, we’re not poets.”
E.E. Cummings
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Лечение на организма със собствени сили by Сергей Филонов
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Nothing is here... by Will Advise
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Nothing is here... by Stefan  Dimov
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Nothing is here... by Stefan  Dimov
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Nothing is here... by Stefan  Dimov
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Brick and Blanket Test in Brick City (Ocala) Florida by Jarod Kintz
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A Blink of the Screen by Terry Pratchett
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More of Will's books…
“A love poem about the most invisible woman:

The perfect mind, the perfect cover.
I knew her, like… there was no other.
No, I will never, her, forget.
In pure blood - these words are set.
She walks alone now, in my dreams,
where no is never, so it seems.
The night is dark, and near the hour –
to plant a tree, where roses flower.
And then, again, again, once more,
Till hidden is what I adore.
Her heart was pure, and also kind,
And I… should not have acted blind.”
Will Advise, Nothing is here...

“I don't sleep. I just let my body lie itself into numbness and lie to myself that I can't hear, see, or feel anything.”
Will Advise, Nothing is here...

“Sometimes I drink coffee at 03:57am, only I call it beer, and it's really purple wine, disguised as clear distilled water, taken from my invisible car's radiator. She used to like radiator water too, so this also serves as a self-reminder to never share a glass with someone who has had hepatitis. Glasses are the main source of broken relationships. I mean glass hearts, as they only bend and change their shape under extremely high temperatures, which, unfortunately, are technically impossible to achieve in some places, like Soviet Russia, where nothing ever happens, because it doesn’t really exist anymore.”
Will Advise, Nothing is here...

“There are nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.”
George Carlin, Brain Droppings

“No institution of learning of Ingersoll's day had courage enough to confer upon him an honorary degree; not only for his own intellectual accomplishments, but also for his influence upon the minds of the learned men and women of his time and generation.

Robert G. Ingersoll never received a prize for literature. The same prejudice and bigotry which prevented his getting an honorary college degree, militated against his being recognized as 'the greatest writer of the English language on the face of the earth,' as Henry Ward Beecher characterized him. Aye, in all the history of literature, Robert G. Ingersoll has never been excelled -- except by only one man, and that man was -- William Shakespeare. And yet there are times when Ingersoll even surpassed the immortal Bard. Yes, there are times when Ingersoll excelled even Shakespeare, in expressing human emotions, and in the use of language to express a thought, or to paint a picture. I say this fully conscious of my own admiration for that 'intellectual ocean, whose waves touched all the shores of thought.'

Ingersoll was perfection himself. Every word was properly used. Every sentence was perfectly formed. Every noun, every verb and every object was in its proper place. Every punctuation mark, every comma, every semicolon, and every period was expertly placed to separate and balance each sentence.

To read Ingersoll, it seems that every idea came properly clothed from his brain. Something rare indeed in the history of man's use of language in the expression of his thoughts. Every thought came from his brain with all the beauty and perfection of the full blown rose, with the velvety petals delicately touching each other.

Thoughts of diamonds and pearls, rubies and sapphires rolled off his tongue as if from an inexhaustible mine of precious stones.

Just as the cut of the diamond reveals the splendor of its brilliance, so the words and construction of the sentences gave a charm and beauty and eloquence to Ingersoll's thoughts.

Ingersoll had everything: The song of the skylark; the tenderness of the dove; the hiss of the snake; the bite of the tiger; the strength of the lion; and perhaps more significant was the fact that he used each of these qualities and attributes, in their proper place, and at their proper time. He knew when to embrace with the tenderness of affection, and to resist and denounce wickedness and tyranny with that power of denunciation which he, and he alone, knew how to express.”
Joseph Lewis, Ingersoll the Magnificent

“The object of this Essay is to assert one very simple principle, as entitled to govern absolutely the dealings of society with the individual in the way of compulsion and control, whether the means used be physical force in the form of legal penalties, or the moral coercion of public opinion. That principle is, that the sole end for which mankind are warranted, individually or collectively in interfering with the liberty of action of any of their number, is self-protection. That the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others. His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant. He cannot rightfully be compelled to do or forbear because it will be better for him to do so, because it will make him happier, because, in the opinions of others, to do so would be wise, or even right. These are good reasons for remonstrating with him, or reasoning with him, or persuading him, or entreating him, but not for compelling him, or visiting him with any evil, in case he do otherwise. To justify that, the conduct from which it is desired to deter him must be calculated to produce evil to someone else. The only part of the conduct of any one, for which he is amenable to society, is that which concerns others. In the part which merely concerns himself, his independence is, of right, absolute. Over himself, over his own body and mind, the individual is sovereign.”
John Stuart Mill, On Liberty

as it was, it had to be, and
little dreams were spinning madly
as a flock of birds in mid-flight, the
single vision of a single moment, a single
moment, frozen in time no more. No more
did he need, to understand that
it was better than any he could
take, and call his own, it was Perfect...”
Stefan G. Dimov
tags: poem

“What a queer planet!" he thought. "It is altogether dry, and altogether pointed, and altogether harsh and forbidding. And the people have no imagination. They repeat whatever one says to them . . . On my planet I had a flower; she always was the first to speak . . .”
Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

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