He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.
The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he falls.
-Lord Alfred tennyson
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Mood: Brain Fried
Posted on 2011-02-26 23:03:24
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave bereft
I am not there. I have not left.
-Mary Elizabeth Frye
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Mood: Sleepy
Posted on 2011-01-15 14:53:52
I wonder what it would be like if James Joyce had a playstation.
If you trap the moment before it's ripe
the tears of repentence you'll certainly wipe
but if once you let the ripe moment go
you can never wipe off the tears of woe
-William Blake
Today I bought a new book, it's engraved with the face of a bull.
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Untitled Entry
Mood: The Usual
Posted on 2010-10-11 22:15:20
I like the melody in this, lyrics meh wasnt even listening
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