Whatever…

…st a thought

Emily Dickinson
A Thought Went Up My Mind Today

A thought went up my mind to-day
That I have had before,
But did not finish,-some way back,
I could not fix the year,

Nor where it went, nor why it came
The second time to me,
Nor definitely what it was,
Have I the art to say.

But somewhere in my soul, I know
I’ve met the thing before;
It just reminded me-’t was all-
And came my way no more.

nice :p

…ness is all around :p

Lord Byron
Darkness

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went–and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires–and the thrones,
The palaces of crowned kings–the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other’s face;
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanos, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contain’d;
Forests were set on fire–but hour by hour
They fell and faded–and the crackling trunks
Extinguish’d with a crash–and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest
Their chins upon their clenched hands, and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and looked up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash’d their teeth and howl’d: the wild birds shriek’d,
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground,
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl’d
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless–they were slain for food.
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again;–a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought–and that was death,
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails–men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh;
The meagre by the meagre were devoured,
Even dogs assail’d their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish’d men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answered not with a caress–he died.
The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place
Where had been heap’d a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they raked up,
And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld
Each other’s aspects–saw, and shriek’d, and died–
Even of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous and the powerful–was a lump,
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless–
A lump of death–a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirred within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea,
And their masts fell down piecemeal: as they dropp’d
They slept on the abyss without a surge–
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The moon their mistress had expir’d before;
The winds were withered in the stagnant air,
And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them–She was the Universe.

Chilling stuff :p

…cribing her, we articulate what she is and why she is: when hope is past, she is there.

…cius said, without a heart that sympathizes, one is not human; without a heart aware of shame, one is not human; without a heart that defers to others, one is not human.

…iday yaaay :p

well, not quite :p Why someone dabbling in the IT world doesn’t know about a very basic and simple thing like primary - foreign key and indexes is way beyond me… *curses and expletives censored*

Anyway been reading, rereading, watching and rewatching things, first of all, neal stephenson writes good stuff, neil gaiman excels at telling (not-so-long) stories, george r. r. martin needs to release his next book soon. Legacy of the force crumbles and rips at the seams, only two books left though… that’s some consolation at least…

Next up, Gondry + Kaufman combination is godly (is that a word?), Guillermo del toro and Alfonso cuaron, still two of my favorite directors as for new movies, denzel washington basically plays the (almost) same guy in every movie… kinda like morgan freeman, russel crowe is very versatile because he can underplay and overplay his character, claire danes isn’t capable of emoting very well but she sure can sit/stand/etc and look pretty while doing it, oh and depp gives me a reason to think twice before going to the barber, although he underplays Sweeney Todd, rickman and helena bonham carter gives more flavor to that movie IMHO. Oh yeah, atonement starts off great as a drama/redemption movie, both mcavoy and knightley (to a lesser degree) gives good performances, redgrave is good too (of course) but the latter part drags a bit :p

The last movie I watched was ‘Into the Wild’, and it was good, also scary and haunting at the same time, probably not worth your time if you’re part of the (hoi-pollloi or sheep take your pick) who absolutely must have action in their movie though *wink wink* :p

Up next is, Michael Clayton, No Country for Old Men, Kite Runner and Charlie Wilson’s War woohoo :p

…table quotes? :p

If you do not climb, you will not fall. This is true.
But is it that bad to fail, that hard to fall? - Dream

Sometimes you wake up. Sometimes the fall kills you.
And sometimes, when you fall, you fly. - Todd Faber

But he did not understand the price. Mortals never do.
They only see the prize, their heart’s desire, their dream…
But the price of getting what you want,
is getting what you once wanted. - Dream

~allFromSandman
~:p

…en my collection is big enough, I’ll start thinking about this

~:p

…dust the movie is good :p

Liked the book better though, more… bittersweet :p
There are lots of differences, but I think the significant one was the opening and the ending. Anyway… can’t complain :p Now on to beowulf… Gaiman’s writing the script (co-writing actually) so I hope it’s a good one, better than the 2005 movie hopefully :p

~americanGodsTheMovie?
~naaah

…ybody has a secret world inside of them. All of the people of the world, I mean everybody. No matter how dull and boring they are on the outside, inside them they’ve all got unimaginable, magnificent, wonderful, stupid, amazing worlds. Not just one world. Hundreds of them. Thousands maybe.

~neilGaiman’sSandman

…nted Palace

Edgar Allan Poe
The Haunted Palace
In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace—
Radiant palace—reared its head.
In the monarch Thought’s dominion—
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!

Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow,
(This—all this—was in the olden
Time long ago),
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.

Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute’s well-tuned law,
Bound about a throne where, sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.

And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch’s high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn!—for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate !)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.

And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh—but smile no more.