#Danke Quothe!

[morgansmornings]

Moonlight on satin. Sounds built on sounds. Gossamer feathers. Crinkling plastic. Hiss and sulphur and flare of heat. The acrid smell of cigarette smoke. "What, you peck own eyes out, now, little magus? Do we need telephone your suka?"

This Meme: Accepting @quothesquills

~~*~~

"No... I just... had a mishap okay? And the less she knows the better."

Just because she wouldn't see didn't mean she was helpless. Things would just take a little longer until her sight came back. Which hopefully would be before anyone could find out that she was in fact blind. That would be its own kind of torture for certain.

First thing first, was locating her sunglasses.

Then was using her new skills to at least guess how long she would have to go into hiding. Her hope was for no more than an hour.

"What have I said about smoking in here? Actually," Jayden turned to face the sound of the Corax, hand bracing herself on the countertop of the kitchen. "scratch that. How did you even get in here?"

[stirlinqs]

Once upon a poem shoddy, whilst I pondered on the potty Over many a dank and odorous straining of a booty sore; Suddenly there came a knocking, knocking at the bathroom door. "Tis occupied," I cried demurely, "Surely your forbearance I implore!" "But you see, there is another, and as I am spraying thunder," "Giving birth just like a mother to this turd my bowels bore," "Leave me hence, I plead!" At this, a ruffian battered down the door. All at once, he entered, panting, eyes ablaze and bowels chanting Of a violent evil, ranting, stewing from the night before; Dropped his trousers then and there, and shat upon the floor. "V-vile crackhead, leave!" I stuttered, but he squatted there and muttered; Just a single word he uttered. Quoth the crackhead: "Nevermore." Violently I slapped the villain, but he bodied me like Krillin And I needed penicillin for the hole in me he tore. "Please," I begged him from the corner, "To thyself some dignity restore!" "Take thyself out from my house and pick thy deuce up off my floor!" Quoth the crackhead: "Nevermore." And that deuce, it still lies sitting, and that crackhead still is shitting, Shitting on my bathroom floor. And he will be, evermore.

i’m deleting my tumblr account.

[rfallfish]

I think that, as a culture, we spend way too much time on the "don't fly too high" part of Icarus's story. Like, true, that was a directive. True, he flew too high and his wings melted. But do you remember what else was in Daedalus's instructions?

I warn thee (quoth he), Icarus, a middle race to keep. For if thou hold too low a gate, the dankness of the deep Will overload thy wings with wet. And if thou mount too hie, The Sun will singe them. Therfore see between them both thou fly. (From The Metamorphoses of Ovid, trans. Golding, spelling updated by me)

Icarus also couldn't fly too low. And it's worth noting that this story is in Book 8 of The Metamorphoses. Looking back at Book 2, we find the story of Phaeton. He makes his father, Apollo, let him drive the sun chariot, and this is what Apollo tells him:

And to th'intent that heaven and earth may well the heat endure, Drive neither over high nor yet too low. For be thou sure, And if thou mount above thy bounds, the stars thou burnest clean. Again beneath thou burnst the Earth: most safety is the mean. (From The Metamorphoses of Ovid, trans. Golding, spelling updated by me)

And what does Phaeton do? He flies too low, and he burns the Earth. Jupiter, having to stop the destruction, knocks him off the chariot and sends him plummeting to the ground.

Phaeton and Icarus both fall from the sky because they don't listen to their fathers' pleas for them to take the middle road. However, as Icarus flew too high, Phaeton flew too low. Icarus was taken in by the love of the feeling of flying, while Phaeton was burdened by his fear and panic.

The story of Icarus, then, is not a story we can read in isolation and conclude "Don't fly too high. That's it." No. We also cannot fly too low. While we shouldn't overestimate our abilities and try to soar higher than we can, we find that doubting ourselves and refusing to leave the ground will produce an identical result.

[excuse-me-sir-99]

Once upon а poem shoddy, whilst I pondered on the potty

Over many a dank and odorous straining of a booty sore

Suddenly there came a knocking, knocking at the bathroom door

"Tis occupied," I cried demurely, "Surely your forbearance I implore!"

"But you see, there is another, and as I am spraying thunder"

"Giving birth just like a mother to this turd my bowels bore."

"Leave me hence." I plead

At this, a ruffian battered down the door.

All at once, he entered, panting, eyes ablaze and bowels chanting

Of a violent evil, ranting, stewing from the night before

Dropped his trousers then and there, and shat upon the floor

"V-vile crackhead, leave I stuttered, but he squatted there and muttered,

Just a single word he uttered. Quoth the crackhead: "Nevermore."

Violently I slapped the villain, but he bodied me like I was Krillin

And I needed penicillin for the hole in me he tore.

"Please," I begged him from the comer, "To thyself some dignity restore!"

"Take thyself out from my house and pick thy deuce up off my floor!"

Quoth the crackhead: "Nevermore."

And that deuce, it still lles sitting, and that crackhead still is shitting,

Shitting on my bathroom floor

And he will be, evermore...

Outstanding!

[wakamotogarou]

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner pt5

By Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Part V

Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole! To Mary-Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from heaven, That slid into my soul.

The silly buckets on the deck, That had so long remained, I dreamt that they were filled with dew; And when I awoke, it rained.

My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank; Sure I had drunken in my dreams, And still my body drank.

I moved, and could not feel my limbs: I was so light--almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost.

And soon I heard a roaring wind: It did not come anear; But with its sound it shook the sails, That were so thin and sere.

The upper air bursts into life! And a hundred fire-flags sheen, To and fro they were hurried about! And to and fro, and in and out, The wan stars danced between.

And the coming wind did roar more loud, And the sails did sigh like sedge; And the rain poured down from one black cloud; The moon was at its edge.

The thick black cloud was cleft, and still The moon was at its side: Like waters shot from some high crag, The lightning fell with never a jag, A river steep and wide.

The loud wind never reached the ship, Yet now the ship moved on! Beneath the lightning and the moon The dead men gave a groan.

They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; It had been strange, even in a dream, To have seen those dead men rise.

The helmsman steered, the ship moved on; Yet never a breeze up-blew; The mariners all 'gan work the ropes, Where they were wont to do; They raised their limbs like lifeless tools-- We were a ghastly crew.

The body of my brother's son Stood by me, knee to knee: The body and I pulled at one rope, But he said nought to me."

"I fear thee, ancient mariner!" "Be calm, thou wedding-guest! 'Twas not those souls that fled in pain, Which to their corses came again, But a troop of spirits blessed.

For when it dawned--they dropped their arms, And clustered round the mast; Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, And from their bodies passed.

Around, around, flew each sweet sound, Then darted to the sun; Slowly the sounds came back again, Now mixed, now one by one.

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky I heard the skylark sing; Sometimes all little birds that are, How they seemed to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning!

And now 'twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song, That makes the heavens be mute.

It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.

Till noon we silently sailed on, Yet never a breeze did breathe: Slowly and smoothly went the ship, Moved onward from beneath.

Under the keel nine fathom deep, From the land of mist and snow, The spirit slid: and it was he That made the ship to go. The sails at noon left off their tune, And the ship stood still also.

The sun, right up above the mast, Had fixed her to the ocean: But in a minute she 'gan stir, With a short uneasy motion-- Backwards and forwards half her length With a short uneasy motion.

Then like a pawing horse let go, She made a sudden bound: It flung the blood into my head, And I fell down in a swound.

How long in that same fit I lay, I have not to declare; But ere my living life returned, I heard and in my soul discerned Two voices in the air.

'Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man? By him who died on cross, With his cruel bow he laid full low The harmless albatross.

The spirit who bideth by himself In the land of mist and snow, He loved the bird that loved the man Who shot him with his bow.'

The other was a softer voice, As soft as honeydew: Quoth he, 'The man hath penance done, And penance more will do.'

[year-of-the-rabid-dog]

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (Pt. V)

By: Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1798

Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole! To Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, That slid into my soul. The silly buckets on the deck, That had so long remained, I dreamt that they were filled with dew; And when I awoke, it rained. My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank; Sure I had drunken in my dreams, And still my body drank. I moved, and could not feel my limbs: I was so light—almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost. And soon I heard a roaring wind: It did not come anear; But with its sound it shook the sails, That were so thin and sere. The upper air burst into life! And a hundred fire-flags sheen, To and fro they were hurried about! And to and fro, and in and out, The wan stars danced between. And the coming wind did roar more loud, And the sails did sigh like sedge, And the rain poured down from one black cloud; The Moon was at its edge. The thick black cloud was cleft, and still The Moon was at its side: Like waters shot from some high crag, The lightning fell with never a jag, A river steep and wide. The loud wind never reached the ship, Yet now the ship moved on! Beneath the lightning and the Moon The dead men gave a groan. They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; It had been strange, even in a dream, To have seen those dead men rise. The helmsman steered, the ship moved on; Yet never a breeze up-blew; The mariners all 'gan work the ropes, Where they were wont to do; They raised their limbs like lifeless tools— We were a ghastly crew. The body of my brother's son Stood by me, knee to knee: The body and I pulled at one rope, But he said nought to me. 'I fear thee, ancient Mariner!' Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest! 'Twas not those souls that fled in pain, Which to their corses came again, But a troop of spirits blest: For when it dawned—they dropped their arms, And clustered round the mast; Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, And from their bodies passed. Around, around, flew each sweet sound, Then darted to the Sun; Slowly the sounds came back again, Now mixed, now one by one. Sometimes a-dropping from the sky I heard the sky-lark sing; Sometimes all little birds that are, How they seemed to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning! And now 'twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song, That makes the heavens be mute. It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune. Till noon we quietly sailed on, Yet never a breeze did breathe: Slowly and smoothly went the ship, Moved onward from beneath. Under the keel nine fathom deep, From the land of mist and snow, The spirit slid: and it was he That made the ship to go. The sails at noon left off their tune, And the ship stood still also. The Sun, right up above the mast, Had fixed her to the ocean: But in a minute she 'gan stir, With a short uneasy motion— Backwards and forwards half her length With a short uneasy motion. Then like a pawing horse let go, She made a sudden bound: It flung the blood into my head, And I fell down in a swound. How long in that same fit I lay, I have not to declare; But ere my living life returned, I heard and in my soul discerned Two voices in the air. 'Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man? By him who died on cross, With his cruel bow he laid full low The harmless Albatross. The spirit who bideth by himself In the land of mist and snow, He loved the bird that loved the man Who shot him with his bow.' The other was a softer voice, As soft as honey-dew: Quoth he, 'The man hath penance done, And penance more will do.' 

[glorianavr258-blog]

🦋⚜️Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door! Quoth the raven "Nevermore." ⚜️🦋 Danke für das wunderbare Shooting @jakob_creuzfeld Foto @jakob_creuzfeld #gingerhair #gingergirl #creuzfeldtrash #creuzfeld #sensualphotograpy #tattoogirls #edgarallanpoequote #sensual_shots_ #likeforlikes #petitegirl #redhair #redheadgirl #hobbit Werbung durch Verlinkung und Namensnennung (hier: Kempten) https://www.instagram.com/gloriana_87/p/Bv-5chzBQec/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1peziey69d4a

[libidomechanica]

Untitled (“And found”)

 And found no less hes drunk, and  thus Pope quotes the  fields and tweezers, he lookd for,  and fling 

the think it is,  made closer, elm and  vitamins. Of which  do endlesse moniment. “

You hurt my home. ” With  this face. Hurling myself  doth boil, and Hymen Hymen  is awake, 

here come by a place—as  tend thee: Know: Violet?  tawayt the color.  I lay then, 

quoth he, “it would blow it  off, and, when  as Ioue her Ambrosian  pap, and death wounds 

bleeding be, which, for  reward, spoil her  sinews spread thy mouth she looked  at this lashless 

eyelids stretch attain both accounts  to be flayd.” Unkind,  and if I drink oblivion  of 

her soft splendid  was in the  city. Im all one  summer. A dank, 

sickend in her fair form,  and coal-black clouds which  they found, when others  to the 

morning sigh Gulbeyaz eyes, as  of a giaours, Out  the sequel, but I will  allow So. but 

they scarcely can be taught  therefore, despise. by setting  time weve here from Psyche, said  Cyril. I have felt 

since Adam fell: methinks, she answere  and you gave me pardon  your happy might I not  say; the sun.

[pollypeaches]

2 am again, i fear still awake again, oh dear

trying to avoid the News again, i want to hear No More

Tho work i must on politics instead of sleep, find memes of dicks

and a hedgehog named sonic, at AM 2:24

‘what a dank meme’ i tell myself, at AM 2:24

quoth my mother: go to bed

try to think of something happy, something like the robot chappie(?)

find some noise that’s not so yappy, 

‘oh blease brain,’ i implore

‘forget capital punishment, let’s have capital fun-ishment’

what word rhymes with punishment? i once again implore

Writing essays is a chore

writing essays is a chore

my bed sounds lovely, counting sheep

but i’ve 10 pages left to keep (writing)

and words and words to go before i sleep

and words and words to go before i sleep til 4