moksha wrote:Global refrigeration? If Haliburton can secure the sole rights, we can proceed immediately!
I'll see if Gore can fly in on his private jet and work up a PowerPoint presentation in order to help facilitate this.
moksha wrote:Global refrigeration? If Haliburton can secure the sole rights, we can proceed immediately!
Doctor Steuss wrote:Moniker wrote:For you:
Last Words
by Sylvia Plath
I think these first lines are quite possibly some of the most powerful prose ever written:I do not want a plain box, I want a sarcophagus
With tigery stripes, and a face on it
Round as the moon, to stare up.
I want to be looking at them when they come
Picking among the dumb minerals, the roots.
I see them already--the pale, star-distance faces.
Now they are nothing, they are not even babies.
I imagine them without fathers or mothers, like the first gods.
They will wonder if I was important.
I should sugar and preserve my days like fruit!
There's probably only one other poem I hold in the same esteem as this one, and that's Elliot's "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock." One line in particular has always stood out to me:
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet
So simple, so true, and so damn brilliant.
And thus, this thread is now commandeered for the discussion of literature, and poetry (unless of course infymus still wants to discuss the current state of my flatus, and its effects upon not only the olfactory, but the environment).
“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”
Not at first sight, nor with a dribbed shot
Love gave the wound, which while I breathe will bleed;
But known worth did in mine of time proceed,
Till by degrees it had full conquest got:
I saw and liked, I liked but loved not;
I lov'd, but straight did not what Love decreed.
At length to love's decrees I, forc'd, agreed,
Yet with repining at so partial lot.
Now even that footstep of lost liberty
Is gone, and now like slave-born Muscovite
I call it praise to suffer tyranny;
And now employ the remnant of my wit
To make myself believe that all is well,
While with a feeling skill I paint my hell
Alas, have I not pain enough, my friend,
Upon whose breast a fiercer gripe doth tire,
Than did on him who first stole down the fire,
While Love on me doth all his quiver spend,
But with your rhubarb words you must contend,
To grieve me worse, in saying that desire
Doth plunge my well-form'd soul even in the mire
Of sinful thoughts, which do in ruin end?
If that be sin which doth the manners frame,
Well stayed with truth in word and faith of deed,
Ready of wit and fearing nought but shame:
If that be sin which in fix'd hearts doth breed
A loathing of all loose unchastity,
Then love is sin, and let me sinful be.
Moniker wrote:[...]I'll quote Neil Gamen:
…so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart
And to continue my melancholy here is Astrophil and Stella by Sir Philip Sidney:
http://www.theotherpages.org/poems/sidney01.html
Too long to quote, yet here's are favorite snippets:
Doctor Steuss wrote:*Snicker* [edit: to Nash, not the other post]
Right now I’m on a chapter (of Nash's poems) that’s pretty much devoted to Lindell (one of his daughters). I love how freely (and often) he makes up words in order to make a rhyme.
My introduction to Krishnamurti was during one of my "lost" times. One of my close friends (an ex-Mormon who is basically what I would call a Spiritulaist now) gave me a copy of Meeting Life: Writings and Talks on Finding Your Path Without Retreating from Society by Jiddu Krishnamurti. Some of it is Eastern thinking/philosophy (I.e. "don't see a tree as a tree, for when you see the tree and think of a tree, you are not seeing the tree but insteed the word by which you know the tree by..."), but for the most part, there's a lot in his writings that make you kind of sit back and think about your life and how you process things. And ultimately just how un-free you may be.
Here's a website where you can find the majority of his writings (if you don't want to buy a book): http://www.jkrishnamurti.org/. Interestingly, today's "daily quote" is an excerpt from that little dilly I posted earlier.
The earth is full of sound. And we seek silence.