Friends. Anime. J-Boys. Cartoons. Books. Fantasy. Music. Movies. Fanfiction. Completely random.: "About to leave most opportunities wasted..." "At least we know that if we die, we lived with passion!" "If you're not getting answers, ask better questions." Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the curious attractiveness of others. - Oscar Wilde
..."Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed And drunk the milk of Paradise." - Kubla Khan, Samuel Taylor Coleridge
"All these stupid silly songs keep trying to catch your ear. I'm trying desperately but it's so hard to persevere. Even if you'd listen, I never had much to say, it's the same old song I've been saving for today. Shelter me, oh Genius Words - just give me strength to pen these things...."
"This Earth", William Faulkner If there be grief, then let it be but rain, And this but silver grief for grieving's sake, If these green woods be dreaming here to wake Within my heart, if I should rouse again. But I shall sleep, for where is any death While in these blue hills slumbrous overhead I'm rooted like a tree? Though I be dead, This earth that holds me fast will find me breath.
"You're justified, but there's no justice if it's just a lie. ... You can take this however you want."
"To His Coy Mistress" by Andrew Marvell
Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down and think which way To walk, and pass our long love's day; Thou by the Indian Ganges' side Shouldst rubies find; I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the Flood; And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow. An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze; Two hundred to adore each breast, But thirty thousand to the rest; An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. For, lady, you deserve this state, Nor would I love at lower rate.
But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. Thy beauty shall no more be found, Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song; then worms shall try That long preserv'd virginity, And your quaint honour turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust. The grave's a fine and private place, But none I think do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires, Now let us sport us while we may; And now, like am'rous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour, Than languish in his slow-chapp'd power. Let us roll all our strength, and all Our sweetness, up into one ball; And tear our pleasures with rough strife Thorough the iron gates of life. Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run.