dragon_sedai

You drift in a pool
of silver air

where wounds and dreams of wounds
rise from the deep
humus of sleep
to bloom like flowers against the glass.


--Mark Strand, "The Man in the Mirror"

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

"...I began then to think of time as having a shape, something you could see, like a series of liquid transparencies, one laid on top of another. You don't look back along time but down through it, like water. Sometimes this comes to the surface, sometimes that, sometimes nothing. Nothing goes away."

- from Cat's Eye by Margaret Atwood

At last the anchor was up, the sails were set, and off we glided. It was a short, cold Christmas; and as the short northern day merged into night, we found ourselves almost broad upon the wintry ocean, whose freezing spray cased us in ice, as in polished armor. The long rows of teeth on the bulwarks glistened in the moonlight; and like the white ivory tusks of some huge elephant, vast curving icicles depended from the bows.

Lank Bildad, as pilot, headed the first watch, and ever and anon, as the old craft deep dived into the green seas, and sent the shivering frost all over her, and the winds howled, and the cordage rang, his steady notes were heard,—

 Sweet fields beyond the swelling flood,
   Stand dressed in living green.
 So to the Jews old Canaan stood,
   While Jordan rolled between.

Never did those sweet words sound more sweetly to me than then. They were full of hope and fruition. Spite of this frigid winter night in the boisterous Atlantic, spite of my wet feet and wetter jacket, there was yet, it then seemed to me, many a pleasant haven in store; and meads and glades so eternally vernal, that the grass shot up by the spring, untrodden, unwilted, remains at midsummer.

"Once there were some buildings. They were these huge buildings and they could walk. So one day they got up and they left the city. Then there were some vampires. The vampires wanted to make the buildings into vampires so they flew in and attacked them. They bit them. One of the vampires bit the tallest building but his fangs broke off. Then the rest of his teeth fell out. And he cried because he would never get new teeth again. And the other vampires said Why are you crying, aren't those just your baby teeth? And the vampire said No, those are my grown-up teeth. And the vampires knew he couldn't be a vampire anymore, so they left him. And he couldn't be friends with the buildings because the vampires had killed them all."

"Sebastian's sense of inferiority was based on his trying to be out - England England, and never suceeding, and going on trying, until finally he realized that it was not these outward things which betrayed him, not the mannerisms of fashionable slang, but the very fact of his striving to be and act like other peoople when he was blissfully condemned to the solitary confinement of his own self. "
The Real Life of Sebastian Knight by Vladimir Nabokov

Check This Out good or bad we beat Harry Potter

KID, YOU'LL MOVE MOUNTAINS!

- Dr. Seuss

Is God willing to prevent evil but not able?
Then he is not omnipotent
Is he able but not willing?
Then he is malevolent
Is he both able and willing?
Then whence cometh evil?
Is he neither willing nor able?
Then why call him God?

 SHE dwelt among the untrodden ways
Beside the springs of Dove,
A Maid whom there were none to praise
And very few to love:

A violet by a mossy stone
Half hidden from the eye!
Fair as a star, when only one
Is shining in the sky.

She lived unknown, and few could know
When Lucy ceased to be;
But she is in her grave, and oh,
The difference to me! 

One might think that a boy who was out in the snow for so long would get cold, but Max was not. He was warm, partly because he had on many layers, and partly because boys who are part wolf and part wind do not get cold.

Durnik was looking around critically. The ground was littered with Guardsmen who were either unconscious or groaning over assorted broken bones. Only the man Toth had poked in the stomach was still in his saddle, though he was doubled over, gasping for breath. Durnik rode up to him. 'Excuse me,' he said politely, removed the poor fellow's helmet, and then rapped him smartly on top of the head with the butt of his axe. The Guardsman's eyes glazed, and he toppled limply out of the saddle.
Belgarath suddenly doubled over, howling with laughter. 'Exucse me?' he demanded of the smith.
'There's no need to be uncivil to people, Belgarath,' Durnik replied stiffly.

- p. 266, Demon Lord of Karanda, David Eddings

Henry is tired of the winter,
& haircuts, & a squeamish comfy ruin-prone proud national
mind, & Spring (in the city so called).
Henry likes Fall.
He would be prepared to live in a world of Fall
for ever, impenitent Henry.
But the snows and summers grieve & dream;

""Thank you," he says.
"Thank who?"
"I don't know. You?"
"No, not me. Jesus."
"Thank you, Jesus?"
"Yes, Toph, Jesus died for your Christmas fun."
"He did?"
I turn to Bill. Bill is staying out of it.
"He did," I say. "Beth, did he not?"
"Indeed ge did. Indeed he did.""


-A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius; Dave Eggers

They tell us that suicide is the greatest piece of cowardice; that only a madman could be guilty of it, and other insipidities of the same kind; or else they make the nonsensical remark that suicide is wrong, when it is quite obvious that there is nothing in the world to which every man has a more unassailable title than to his own life and person.

Here in the bathroom with me are razor blades. Here is iodine to drink. Here are sleeping pills to swallow. You have a choice. Live or die.

Every breath is a choice.

Every minute is a choice.

To be or not to be.

Every time you don't throw yourself down the stairs, that's a choice.

My death from the wrists,
two name tags,
blood worn like a corsage
to bloom
one on the left and one on the right.

"I know what it's like to want to die. How it hurts to smile. How you try to fit in but you can't. How you hurt yourself on the outside to try to kill the thing on the inside."

"A successful suicide demands good organization and a cool head, both of which are usually incompatible with the suicidal state of mind."

I must say a word about fear. It is life's only true opponent. Only fear can defeat life. It is a clever, treacherous adversary, how well I know. It has no decency, respects no law or convention, shows no mercy. It goes for your weakest spot, which it finds with unerring ease. It begins in your mind, always... So you must fight hard to express it. You must fight hard to shine the light of words upon it.

There lies the beauty: I'm done with thinking. All it ever did was make me cry.