Salı, Kasım 30

Cumartesi, Kasım 13

ode to a nightingale



My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thy happiness--

John Keats

Salı, Kasım 9

miniskül


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)

e. e. cummings.

Pazar, Kasım 7



There is no disguise that can for long conceal love where it exists or simulate it where it does not.
La Rochefoucauld