The rain set early in tonight,
The sullen wind was soon awake,
It tore the elm-tops down for spite,
And did its best to vex the lake:
I listened with heart fit to break.
When glided in Porphyria; straight
She shut the cold out and the storm,
And kneeled and made the cheerless grate
Blaze up and all the cottage warm;
Mots clés poetry murder storm abnormal insane lover porphyria strangle
My tears brought no sense of release or relief. Their flight felt like the lightest, coldest touch of a departing lover.
Anne GiardiniMots clés tears sad relief lover release
Lovers and madmen have such seething brains,
Such shaping fantasies, that apprehend
More than cool reason ever comprehends.
The lunatic, the lover and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Mots clés imagination words love reason poetry fantasy earth poet comprehension lover helen devils egypt lunatic madmen
But not you, O girl, nor yet his
mother,
stretched his eyebrows so fierce with
expectation.
Not for your mouth, you who hold him
now,
did his lips ripen into these fervent
contours.
Do you really think your quiet
footsteps
could have so convulsed him, you who
move like dawn wind?
True, you startled his heart; but older
terrors
rushed into him with that first jolt
to his emotions.
Call him . . . you'll never quite
retrieve him from those dark consorts.
Yes, he wants to, he escapes; relieved,
he makes a home
in your familiar heart, takes root
there and begins himself anew.
But did he ever begin himself?
Mots clés sex mother girl lover terror
Every lover is, in his heart, a madman, and, in his head, a minstrel.
Neil GaimanMots clés heart lover madman minstrel
[On Schopenhauer in Black and White] Schopenhauer's views of love are flawed. Love can't be merely an illusion of the mind to aid in procreation, but the path to redemption for an otherwise violently selfish species. Past human greatness has proven that when challenged, love can overpower impulsive instinct, and in essence, the vilest aspects of our nature.
Tiffany MadisonMots clés love power humanity nature mind selfish human-nature human human-condition violence illusion essence schopenhauer challenge redemption instinct lover flaw species instincts violent overpower procreation schopenhauer-as-educator
Vengeance was one hell of a roommate.
J.R. WardMots clés dark black lover wrath dagger
Sometimes in life, from out of a myriad of prosaic decisions like what to eat and where to sleep and how to dress, a true crossroads is revealed. In these moments, when the fog of relative irrelevancy lifts and fate rolls out a demand for free will, there is only left or right – no option of four-by-fouring into the underbrush between two paths, no negotiating with the choice that has been presented. You must answer the call and pick your way. And there is no reverse.
J.R. WardMots clés black brotherhood lover dagger avenged ward
Sleep is my lover now, my forgetting, my opiate, my oblivion.
Audrey NiffeneggerMots clés sleep forgetting oblivion lover opiate
You are the sweetest thug I've ever known.
J.R. WardPage 1 de 9.
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