Endymion

 

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:

Its loveliness increases; it will never

Pass into nothingness; but still will keep

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep

Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing

A flowery band to bind us to the earth,

Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth

Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,

Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways::

Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,

Some shape of beauty moves away the pall

From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,

Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon

For simple sheep; and such are daffodils

With the green world they live in; and clear rills

That for themselves a cooling covert make

'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,

Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:

And such too is the grandeur of the dooms

We have imagined for the mighty dead;

All lovely tales that we have heard or read:

An endless fountain of immortal drink,

Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

 

                                            John Keats

Jane Austen

"I cannot make speeches, Emma...If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. But you know what I am. You hear nothing but truth from me. I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it."

Christmas Traditions

It's Christmas eve morning, 11 to be precise. I turn on the tv to be greeted by a lovely tune. Three Wishes For Cinderella is starting, a Christmas classic in Norway, and about the only thing that really sparks of Christmas feeling for me.

Merry Christmas!

Shaw

Without art, the crudeness of reality would make the world unbearable.

HOWL

 

III

Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland

         where you're madder than I am

I'm with you in Rockland

         where you must feel strange

I'm with you in Rockland

         where you imitate the shade of my mother

I'm with you in Rockland

         where you've murdered your twelve secretaries

I'm with you in Rockland

         where you laugh at this invisible humour

I'm with you in Rockland

         where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter

I'm with you in Rockland

         where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio

I'm with you in Rockland

         where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses

I'm with you in Rockland

         where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica

I'm with you in Rockland

         where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx

I'm with you in Rockland

         where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of actual pingpong of the abyss

I'm with you in Rockland

         where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse

I'm with you in Rockland

         where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void

I'm with you in Rockland

         where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha

I'm with you in Rockland

         where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb

I'm with you in Rockland

         where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale

I'm with you in Rockland

         where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won't let us sleep

I'm with you in Rockland

         where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself   imaginary walls collapse   O skinny legions run outside   O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here   O victory forget your underwear we're free

I'm with you in Rockland

         in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night

Into The Wild

 

"The sea's only gifts are harsh blows, and occasionally the chance to feel strong. Now I don't know much about the sea, but I do know that that's the way it is here. And I also know how important it is in life not necessarily to be strong but to feel strong. To measure yourself at least once. To find yourself at least once in the most ancient of human conditions. Facing the blind death stone alone, with nothing to help you but your hands and your own head."

E-mail and Twitter Attack!

 

Duck and cover and don't look back

Here comes an e-mail and twitter attack

Giant freaky monster crushing our city

It's a jambo lizard wrecking committee

So grab your raygun and your rocket-pack

And join the e-mail and twitter attack!!

Bukowski

 Some people never go crazy. What truly horrible lives they must lead.

The brilliance that is:

Craig Ferguson!

Super probationes scribendae.

I'm done with all my exams for this semester! Now I can finally get to read all the books I have bought/borrowed for the holidays! Also have to catch up with Craig Ferguson! Been too long away from his scottish brilliance!

To F --- S S. O --- D

Thou wouldst be loved - then let thy heart

From its present pathway part not!

Being every thing which now thou art,

Be nothing which thou art not.

So with the world thy gentle ways,

Thy grace, thy more than beauty,

Shall be an endless theme of praise

And love - a simple duty.


- Edgar Allan Poe

Cold Mountain

Every piece of this is man's bullshit.

They call this war a cloud over the land,

but they made the weather 

and then they stand in the rain and say, 

"Shit! Its rainin'!"

Alfred Stieglitz

Dirigible

 Hand of Man

 Snapshot I, in Paris

 Snapshot II, in Paris

 

 Spring Showers, The Coach

The Terminal

Edna St. Vincent Millay

  

My candle burns at both ends;
It will not last the night;
But, ah, my foes, and, oh, my friends —
It gives a lovely light. 

nobody baby but you and me

It's hard to listen to a hard hard heart

Keats

 

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Todays catch!

Was on a little bookhunt today, and this time I got alot of good ones! Some of them I've already read, but need them for my library non the less.

Here's the catch:

Clifton Fadiman & John S. Major "The New Lifetime Reading Plan", Oscar Wilde "The Works Of", "The Penguin Book of Poetry Form Britain and Ireland Since 1945", "Bevingede ord. Ordtak, sitater og deres opprinnelse" (Sayings and quote book), Terje Nordby "Gresk mytologi", Homer "The Iliad", "The Oxford Book Of American Poetry", George Bernard Shaw "The Complete Plays"

Virginia Woolf "Selected Short Stories", Virginia Woolf "Mrs. Dalloway", Henrik Ibsen "Brand", Guy de Maupassant "Bel Ami", Michael Ondaatje "The English Patient", George Bernard Shaw "The Unsocial Socialist"

John Steinbeck "Of Mice And Men", Harper Lee "To Kill A Mockingbird", William Shakespeare " The Complete Oxford Shakespeare, 1. Histories", and William Shakespeare "The Complete Oxford Shakespeare, 2. Comedies"

Flowers grow out of my grave. .

I was floating above my bed,
Like a body in a river, in car.
And the only sound in my head
was a dying cricket in a jar.
And I saw little beams of light
come into the bedroom,
from underneath the door.
And they crawled under my sheets,
and they came out of every single pore.

The Deathly Hallows

"Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?"

- Albus Dumbledore

Music should humbly seek to please;

within these limits great beauty may perhaps be found.

Sleep, those little slices of death. .

This basically means: It's three in the morning, get the fuck to sleep!

Pradise

"I have always imagined that Paradise will be some kind of library."
 - Jorge Luis Borges