您搜索了: i owe it all to you lord (英语 - 他加禄语)

i owe it all to you
i 'll treasure it forever

i owe it to you
ung utang ko papalitan ko

i gave it all to you
hindi kita pagpapalit sa iba

i owe you lord
utang ko ang lahat sa iyo panginoon

and i proved it all to you
at pinatunayan ko sainyong lahat yan sayo

i owe it to myself
pinagkakautangan ng loob

it's all up to you
kung tapat ka nasa saiyo na lahat ng magandang kaugalian

i owe you my life to you
utang ko sayo jesus

lord. i surrender all to you..
lord. isusuko ang lahat sayo

i surrender my heart to you lord
isinusuko ko ang aking puso sa iyo panginoon

good afternoon all to you
magandang hapon sa iyo

eternal gratitude to you lord
walang hanggang ama

everlasting thanks to you, lord god
walang hanggang pasasalamat sa iyo panginoong dios,s bagong umaga na buhay at safe kame

i am well please to charge it all to my account
i am well please to charge it to my account.

you can also explore all that when we meet, give it all to you
maexplore mo din lahat yan pagnagkita tayo bigay mo lahat sayo sa tagal sa akin na wala lalong masikip na

. be with someone who can give their all to you
makasama sa isang taong maaaring ibigay ang lahat sa iyo.

dear, you can accept what happened to you today.because the lord knows that you can do it all..he gave no problem without a solution ..
mahal,kaya mong tangapin ang nangyari sayo ngayon.kasi alam ni lord na kaya mo lahat..walang problemang binigay niya na walang sulotion..

i am sorry parents. for being naughty to you guys for so long and stressing you out and making you mad. i will pray that it all will be gone one day.
pasensya na mga magulang. sa sobrang tagal ng pagiging makulit sa inyo at pinapa-stress ka at pinapagalitan ka. ipagdadasal ko na balang araw mawala na ang lahat.

a low art [excerpt from the penelopiad] by margaret atwood (canada) now that i’m dead i know everything. this is what i wished would happen, but like so many of my wishes it failed to come true. i know only a few factoids that i didn’t know before. death is much too high a price to pay for the satisfaction of curiosity, needless to say. since being dead — since achieving this state of bonelessness, liplessness, breastlessness —i’ve learned some things i would rather not know, as one does when listening at windows or opening ot her people’s letters. you think you’d like to read minds? think again. down here everyone arrives with a sack, like the sacks used to keep the winds in, but each of these sacks is full of words —words you’ve spoken, words you’ve heard, wo rds that have been said about you. some sacks are very small, others large; my own is of a reasonable size, though a lot of the words in it concern my eminent husband. what a fool he made of me, some say. it was a specialty of his: making fools. he got away with everything, which was another of his specialties: getting away. he was always so plausible. many people have believed that his version of events was the true one, give or take a few murders, a few beautiful seductresses, a few one-eyed monsters. even i believed him, from time to time. i knew he was tricky and a liar, i just didn’t think he would play his tricks and try out his lies on me. hadn’t i been faithful? hadn’t i waited, and waited, and waited, despite the temptation — almost the compulsion — to do otherwise? and what did i amount to, once the official version gained ground? an edifying legend. a stick used to beat other women with. why couldn’t they be as considerate, as trustworthy, as all-suffering as i had been? that was the line they took, the singers, the yarn- spinners. don’t follow my example, i want to scream in your ears — yes, yours! but when i try to scream, i sound like an owl. of course i had inklings, about his slipperiness, his wiliness, his foxiness, his — how can i put this? — his unscrupulousness, but i turned a blind eye. i kept my mouth shut; or if i opened it, i sang his praises. i didn’t contradict, i didn’t ask awkward questions, i didn’t dig deep. i wanted happy endings in those days, and happy endings are best achieved by keeping the right doors locked and going to sleep during the rampages. but after the main events were over and things had become less legendary, i realised how many people were laughing at me behind my back — how they were jeering, making jokes about me, jokes both clean and dirty; how they were turning me into a story, or into several stories, though not the kind of stories i’d prefer to hear about m yself. what can a woman do when scandalous gossip travels the world? if she defends herself she sounds guilty. so i waited some more. now that all the others have run out of air, it’s my t urn to do a little storymaking. i owe it to myself. i’ve had to work myself up to it: it’s a low art, tale-telling. old women go in for it, strolling beggars, blind singers, maidservants, children — folks with time on their hands. once, people would have laughed if i’d tried to play th e minstrel —there’s nothing more preposterous than an aristocrat fumbling around with the arts — but who cares about public opinion now? the opinion of the people down here: the opinions of shadows, of echoes. so i’ll spin a thread of my own.
isang mababang kwento ng sining sa tagalog