Oh then, perhaps at the end of it all.. we will meet somewhere.
Oh then, perhaps at the end of it all.. things don't change so much. they are all clouds I make things out of.
stiff. forever formal. I should work
at this business of being friends.
does me no good. does me no bad. but leaves
me all sad. so must be bad after all.
how do I make a total fool
of myself, time after time?
-this champion of unrequited love, I amaze myself!
you looked over my shoulders out into the sea, and all this while
I was watching the sun.
Sad that I was watching the sun.
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Sunday, April 25, 2010
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
-Romeo And Juliet.
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague.
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!
What's in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, doff thy name,
And for that name which is no part of thee
Take all myself.
-Romeo And Juliet.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Art thou abroad on this stormy night
on thy journey of love, my friend?
The sky groans like one in despair.
I have no sleep tonight.
Ever and again I open my door and look out on
the darkness, my friend!
I can see nothing before me.
I wonder where lies thy path!
By what dim shore of the ink-black river,
by what far edge of the frowning forest,
through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading
thy course to come to me, my friend?
-Friend by Tagore
on thy journey of love, my friend?
The sky groans like one in despair.
I have no sleep tonight.
Ever and again I open my door and look out on
the darkness, my friend!
I can see nothing before me.
I wonder where lies thy path!
By what dim shore of the ink-black river,
by what far edge of the frowning forest,
through what mazy depth of gloom art thou threading
thy course to come to me, my friend?
-Friend by Tagore
Friday, April 23, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Ok. They say writing down your goals can help. hm.
Well, and the nominees [on my movies-i'm-dying-to-watch list] are:
1. The Shawshank Redemption
2. The Bucket List
3. Adaptation
4. The Hurt Locker
5. Mango Kiss
6. Better than chocolate (again)
7. Death becomes her (again)
8. How to lose a guy in 10 days (must I repeat, again!)
9. The Usual Suspects.
Let's see, sweet and twenty!
update: watched the hurt locker. loved it. don't know if it's me.. or are guys with really short hair kind of hot?
Well, and the nominees [on my movies-i'm-dying-to-watch list] are:
1. The Shawshank Redemption
2. The Bucket List
3. Adaptation
4. The Hurt Locker
5. Mango Kiss
6. Better than chocolate (again)
7. Death becomes her (again)
8. How to lose a guy in 10 days (must I repeat, again!)
9. The Usual Suspects.
Let's see, sweet and twenty!
update: watched the hurt locker. loved it. don't know if it's me.. or are guys with really short hair kind of hot?
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Leave unchanged
The hands that I have kissed,
For old sake's sake.
The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have
ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
[broken memories]
She smiled and that transfigured me
And left me but a lout,
Maundering here, and maundering there,
Emptier of thought
Than the heavenly circuit of its stars
When the moon sails out.
[first love]
-william. butler. yeats
The hands that I have kissed,
For old sake's sake.
The last stroke of midnight dies.
All day in the one chair
From dream to dream and rhyme to rhyme I have
ranged
In rambling talk with an image of air:
Vague memories, nothing but memories.
[broken memories]
She smiled and that transfigured me
And left me but a lout,
Maundering here, and maundering there,
Emptier of thought
Than the heavenly circuit of its stars
When the moon sails out.
[first love]
-william. butler. yeats
Friday, April 2, 2010
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