WARNING: this journal contains swearing, sexual references, and occasional references to drug use. If that content offends you, please read elsewhere. Secondary Warning: Despite my best efforts (or perhaps because of them) this journal is likely to contain typos, improper use of grammar/punctuation/spelling, and other assorted offences to the English language.
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The following are my favourite poems: --- Little Fly, Thy summer's play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me? For I dance, And drink, & sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. If thought is life, And strength is breath, And the want Of thought is death; Then am I A happy fly, If I live or if I die. --- I would rather be ashes than dust I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze Than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, Every atom of me in magnificent glow, Than a sleepy and permanent planet. The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time. --- The tears I feel today I'll wait to shed tomorrow. Though I'll not sleep this night Nor find surcease from sorrow. My eyes must keep their sight: I dare not be tear-blinded. I must be free to talk Not choked with grief, clear-minded. My mouth cannot betray The anguish that I know. Yes, I'll keep my tears till later: But my grief will never go. ---
By William Blake, Jack London and Anne McCaffrey, respectively.
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