September 2011
31 posts
http://surfacnouer.livejournal.com/9347.html →
It’s a very cautious, dull, yet
curious thing… As far as I think!
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“Axes
After whose stroke the wood rings,
And the echoes!
Echoes traveling
Off...”
– ‘Words’ by Sylvia Plath
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” If music be the food of love, play on;
Give me excess of it,
that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken,
and so die.
That strain again! It had
a dying fall:
O! it came o’er my ear like
the sweet sound
That breathes upon a bank
of violets,
...
Dolorous Interlude
“Everything wearies me, including what doesn’t weary me. My happiness is as painful as my pain.
If only I could be a child sailing paper boats in a cistern on the farm, with a rustic canopy of criss-crossing trellis vines projecting chequers of sunlight and green shade on the shiny dark surface of the shallow water.
There’s a thin sheet of glass between me and life. However...
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Myspace →
Be a pal and ADD! If not ignoring entirely, of course…
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“The studio was filled with the rich odour of roses, and when the light summer...”
– The Opening Lines of Oscar Wilde’s The Picture Of Dorian Gray (1891)
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“My mind is, to use a disgustingly obvious smile, like a wastebasket full of...”
– Sylvia Plath (via instrumentalscenery)
Waving on daily basis
Somehow I grew unsure - yet,
Never the World of Panicky applauds!
Then again…. I doubt we have been permitted to Exist
After all.
