You know those book hangovers when you wake up in the morning after finishing the book the night before and the FIRST thing you think about is the book, and then you have all these feelings still and you don’t know what to do with them, and no one around understands, and it feels like reality is still moving around you but you’re stuck in that book hangover and still cannot make yourself care about anything in the real world because FEELINGS.
Benedict Cumberbatch — Ode to a Nightingale by John Keats
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 thine happiness, - That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees, In some melodious plot Of beechen green and shadows numberless, Singest of summer in full-throated ease.
O, for a draught of vintage! that hath been Cool’d a long age in the deep-delved earth, Tasting of Flora and the country green, Dance, and Provençal song, and sunburnt mirth! O for a beaker full of the warm South, Full of the true, the blushful Hippocrene, With beaded bubbles winking at the brim, And purple-stained mouth; That I might drink, and leave the world unseen, And with thee fade away into the forest dim:
Fade far away, dissolve, and quite forget What thou among the leaves hast never known, The weariness, the fever, and the fret Here, where men sit and hear each other groan; Where palsy shakes a few, sad, last gray hairs, Where youth grows pale, and spectre-thin, and dies; Where but to think is to be full of sorrow And leaden-eyed despairs, Where Beauty cannot keep her lustrous eyes, Or new Love pine at them beyond to-morrow.
Away! away! for I will fly to thee, Not charioted by Bacchus and his pards, But on the viewless wings of Poesy, Though the dull brain perplexes and retards: Already with thee! tender is the night, And haply the Queen-Moon is on her throne, Cluster’d around by all her starry Fays; But here there is no light, Save what from heaven is with the breezes blown Through verdurous glooms and winding mossy ways.
I cannot see what flowers are at my feet, Nor what soft incense hangs upon the boughs, But, in embalmed darkness, guess each sweet Wherewith the seasonable month endows The grass, the thicket, and the fruit-tree wild; White hawthorn, and the pastoral eglantine; Fast fading violets cover’d up in leaves; And mid-May’s eldest child, The coming musk-rose, full of dewy wine, The murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves.
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time I have been half in love with easeful Death, Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme, To take into the air my quiet breath; Now more than ever seems it rich to die, To cease upon the midnight with no pain, While thou art pouring forth thy soul abroad In such an ecstasy! Still wouldst thou sing, and I have ears in vain - To thy high requiem become a sod.
Thou wast not born for death, immortal Bird! No hungry generations tread thee down; The voice I hear this passing night was heard In ancient days by emperor and clown: Perhaps the self-same song that found a path Through the sad heart of Ruth, when, sick for home, She stood in tears amid the alien corn; The same that oft-times hath Charm’d magic casements, opening on the foam Of perilous seas, in faery lands forlorn.
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell To toll me back from thee to my sole self! Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf. Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades Past the near meadows, over the still stream, Up the hill-side; and now ‘tis buried deep In the next valley-glades: Was it a vision, or a waking dream? Fled is that music: - Do I wake or sleep?
“I’ve been making a list of the things they don’t teach you at school. They don’t teach you how to love somebody. They don’t teach you how to be famous. They don’t teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don’t teach you how to walk away from someone you don’t love any longer. They don’t teach you how to know what’s going on in someone else’s mind. They don’t teach you what to say to someone who’s dying. They don’t teach you anything worth knowing.”—Neil Gaiman, The Kindly Ones (via rubethehoople)
everyone else:They were so good live werent they? Very very good show, shame about all the screaming, could barely hear them! But they are so amazing, im so happy I got to see them live!
Me:WE WERE IN THE SAME ROOM! THEY WERE BREATHING THE SAME AIR AS ME, DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS!?!?!?!? THEIR AIR IS INSIDE ME, WE ARE CONNECTED! WE SHOULD WE BE MARRIED! AND DID YOU SEE THEIR CLOTHES?!?! THEY'RE SO PRETTY I WANT TO DIE, GOD SAVE MY SOUL SOMEBODY HOLD ME! THEY ARE SO PERFECT I DONT KNOW WHAT TO DO AND DID YOU HEAR THEM SING THAT SONG AND THEIR VOICES WERE JUST SO PERFECT AND THEN THEY GOT CHANGED AND I THOUGHT THAT WAS THE END OF MY LIFE COS THEY ARE JUST SO PRETTY AND PERFECT AND MY WHOLE BRAIN IS CRYING, I CANT BREATH I DONT WANT TO GO HOME. AND THEY LIKE WAVED AT OUR AREA, SO I THINK THEY SAW ME AND NOW THEY KNOW I EXIST WE CAN GET MARRIED!!! IT SHOULD BE IN THE SPRING BECAUSE THEN IT WONT BE TOO HOT OR COLD AND WE CAN TALK ABOUT THIS DAY AS THE DAY WE MET AND FELL IN LOVE, BECAUSE THEY KNOOOOOOOOOWWWW MEEEEE! THIS IS THE BEST AND WORST MOMENT OF MY LIFE, DONT MAKE ME GO. NOTHING WILL EVER BEAT THIS DAY, THE REST OF MY LIFE WILL BE A DISAPPOINTMENT AFTER THIS JUST KILL ME NOW AND LET ME DIE HAPPY!!!!11111!!!!!1!!!!!1
tristifical - causing to be sad or mournful. eternitarian - one who believes in the eternity of the soul. cosmogyral - whirling round the universe. siagonology - study of jaw-bones. autexousious - exercising or possessing free will. nepheliad - cloud-nymph. gardeviance -chest for valuables; a travelling trunk. ictuate - to emphasize. senticous - prickly; thorny. interfation - act of interrupting another while speaking. nequient - not being able. sparsile - of a star, not included in any constellation. perantique - very antique or ancient. vacivity - emptiness. redamancy - act of loving in return. starrify - to decorate with stars; to make into a star.