#do no* got my words mix’d up

[libidomechanica]

This single thing thee the closely cling

A Kelly lune sequence

                Sweet, O Pan! She gave high. Of those lips like all dead broke.

                So like a few who in his monastic concubine.

                Careless virgin-white arm, by way to ever rate it.

                And coward Love’s fires. This more—swells to be done, we’ll night.

                She that glows. Run much the child will the fair Albany.

                Glance up, and truth by. Why feet society to rest.

                And betweene Ioue, Mars, and the boat be reader! Of breast.

                Joy was my cares. I am the thing no delight, cried.

                For, were they aren’t afraid. Inside her, we are praise.

                And when to know. Which longer blood and marvelled, lo!

                Her voice I see my life, or as Brutus is, ’ could bribe.

                We are neither—not unholy her sex’s antidote.

                It’s that moved through when they were affairs in the corner.

                To mortal, nor Hope Lake what is She? And being him.

                Is a pleasant fruit nods from yonder his bosom move?

                For the great god Pan ! How often hate! Full nakedness!

                As the leaves are mine. You around sweet love was not die.

                She to do with wine my guilt, and smiling will. Their kind.

                It may judge for once, you floating this hysterious call.

                Do boast thy heart. Are not that noysome gulfe, while with heart.

                She stone than when other waist! For love you to get out.

                His situation, because I would reach. And their way.

                She wanted to dwell: nay, if you can, with gazing spent?

                Like a winter and her silver spright. And next are we?

                And now allows. For, alas! Extremely tree the heart.

                And landscape of time. Virtue, if of joy; and gain’d brains.

                With a lovers turning hung. And whether to his dust.

                Virtue, how cunning drifts and disturb you swim before.

                And here all felt for their kind. Begins to peep, are truth.

                But to keep this go. And though my mouth, I feel dirty.

                And Agamemnon dead calm in this vile world over.

                Your eyes, do crowne, rather grief. The most unusual sort.

                Along its ranged rocks! But she came back on his love’s mine!

                ’Mid a’ the queen cried. For the bells up with cold like Thee.

                From one room to anticipate in white! Of what tears.

                , Or love the tinkling by Dame Partlett reare. My letters!

                In spring; and thou art? Of mortal friends joy, foes grief.

                At least in my arms. Still as this, . He hope that you’ve missed.

                Or without thy feet. Woman. My flying have known soul.

                Be old, Friendship’s name by this monastic concubine.

                And lo! For lover holding up perfumes, for he shore!

                Friendship through this awkwardly. They grapple to meet you.

                Are two gilly-flower I heard a ho, and I sigh.

                No part us, leave her badly dreams, the human dress.

                ” Or, if not his she? Blot out of course. That is their grave!

                The full and drivers his dust. Burning on all away.

                The head turning that dost travellers journey is safe.

                Of which leans sometimes twould leaves to work. Is quite away.

                Upon the same him? Married tree or the solemn gloom!

                But rather matter. Till days to play those what I may.

                And smiling rash one. The world’s delighter got married.

                As, slight it rights, the stopped. And smiling flow’r, sighing Care.

                Oft have me your one prisoner pent in an evil call.

                Soon as the Cupid a bore: most will. One with you, child!

                And in word will answered; this the grave! They are seas mine.

                Beckon frown’d: ‘Why so? All then he no model of a’.

                Her face look’d more, because they draw but with! A favours!

                Or have recourse, huge aquamarine tears. How can bide?

                In Homer’s dream’d out: and time is Love. Of gold was he?

                Deign to prize, with a ruby large, some shall we thing. Joy!

                Ground, which in her. I uncloth’d must taste or ruining?

                Think upon, to give. Freckled by all female lover.

                Of care, for heart. I peeled bits of visionary gleams.

                Aisles, and sounds of the living mine. I’ll die: behind.

                With all-eloquent! And the drunk in up to his arms.

                No Muse with wondrous bright. To its fully expansion.

                And Jealousy, with it. New face I reed what is She?

                I mourn for the offering in a room to roome, no doubt!

                Let not mix’d thy walks, and in my soul is drown’d: Why so?

                Or hair, and slight were. At a poet drags into gold?

                Trees refused to hold. That the spouse of late, late obtaine.

[michaelbogild]

Quotes by Lord Byron

Adversity is the first path to truth.

All farewells should be sudden, when forever.

All who would win joy, must share it; happiness was born a twin.

Always laugh when you can, it is cheap medicine.

And dreams in their development have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, They do divide our being.

And gave no outward signs of inward strife

And mind and dust- and passions and pure thoughts

And when we think we lead, we are most led

As long as I retain my feeling and my passion for Nature, I can partly soften or subdue my other passions and resist or endure those of others.

Be thou the rainbow in the storms of life. The evening beam that smiles the clouds away, and tints tomorrow with prophetic ray.

Being of no party, I shall offend all parties

Between two worlds life hovers like a star, twixt night and morn, upon the horizon's verge.

But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.

But what is Hope? Nothing but the paint on the face of Existence; the least touch of truth rubs it off, and then we see what a hollow-cheeked harlot we have got hold of.

But who, alas! can love, and then be wise?

But words are things, and a small drop of ink, Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think

Come, lay thy head upon my breast and I'll kiss thee unto rest.

Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime, The image of Eternity, -- the throne Of the Invisible! even from out thy slime The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone

Death, so called, is a thing which makes men weep, And yet a third of life is passed in sleep.

Eat, drink and love...the rest is not worth a nickel

Eternity forbids thee to forget.

Even innocence itself has many a wile, And will not dare to trust itself with truth, And love is taught hypocrisy from youth

For Earth is but a tombstone

For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And love itself have rest.

For there was soft remembrance, and sweet trust In one fond breast, to which his own would melt, And in its tenderer hour on that his bosom dwelt.

For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction.

Friendship may, and often does, grow into love, but love never subsides into friendship.

Had they been wisely mingled; as it is

Hath all the energy which would have made

he knew how to make madness beautiful

I am ashes where once I was fire...

I am so changeable, being everything by turns and nothing long - such a strange melange of good and evil.

I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of excited passion.

I do not believe in any religion, I will have nothing to do with immortality. We are miserable enough in this life without speculating upon another.

I feel my immortality over sweep all pains, all tears, all time, all fears, – and peal, like the eternal thunders of the deep, into my ears, this truth, – thou livest forever!

I had a dream, which was not at all a dream.

I have a great mind to believe in Christianity for the mere pleasure of fancying I may be damned.

I know that two and two make four - and should be glad to prove it too if I could - though I must say if by any sort of process I could convert 2 and 2 into five it would give me much greater pleasure.

I linger yet with Nature, for the night Hath been to me a more familiar face Than that of man; and in her starry shade Of dim and solitary loveliness, I learned the language of another world.

I only go out to get me a fresh appetite for being alone.

I slept and dreamt that life was beauty; I woke and found that life was duty.

I suppose I had some meaning when I wrote it; I believe I understood it then.

In secret we met - In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget, Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, How should I greet thee? - With silence and tears

In solitude, where we are least alone

In vain!—As fall the dews on quenchless sands, Blood only serves to wash Ambition's hands!

It is an awful chaos-light and darkness-

Life's enchanted cup sparkles near the brim

Love will find a way through paths where wolves fear to prey.

Mix'd, and contending without end or order

My pang shall find a voice.

Oh too convincing - dangerously dear - In woman's eye the unanswerable tear

On with the dance! Let joy be undefined!

One certainly has a soul; but how it came to allow itself to be enclosed in a body is more than I can imagine. I only know if once mine gets out, I’ll have a bit of a tussle before I let it get in again to that of any other

Opinions are made to be changed – or how is truth to be got at?

Prometheus-like from heaven she stole The fire that through those silken lashes In darkest glances seems to roll, From eyes that cannot hide their flashes: And as along her bosom steal In lengthened flow her raven tresses, You'd swear each clustering lock could feel, And curled to give her neck caresses.

Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean - roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin - his control Stops with the shore

She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes

Sigh to the stars, as wolves howl to the moon...

Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their development have breath, And tears and tortures, and the touch of joy.

So, we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart still be as loving, And the moon still be as bright.

Sorrow is knowledge, those that know the most must mourn the deepest, the tree of knowledge is not the tree of life.

Start not—nor deem my spirit fled: In me behold the only skull From which, unlike a living head, Whatever flows is never dull.

The best of prophets of the future is the past.

The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars Did wander darkling in the eternal space.

The dew of compassion is a tear

The drying up a single tear has more of honest fame than shedding seas of gore.

The great art of life is sensation, to feel that we exist, even in pain

The great object of life is sensation—to feel that we exist, even though in pain. It is this ‘craving void’ which drives us to gaming—to battle—to travel—to intemperate but keenly felt pursuits of every description, whose principal attraction is the agitation inseparable from their accomplishment..

The heart will break, but broken live on.

The morn is up again, the dewy morn, With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom, Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn, And living as if earth contained no tomb,— And glowing into day.

The power of thought is the magic of the mind.

The thorns which I have reap'd are of the tree I planted; they have torn me, and I bleed. I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.

There are four questions of value in life... What is sacred? Of what is the spirit made? What is worth living for, and what is worth dying for? The answer to each is same. Only love

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more

There is music in all things, if men had ears.

There is no instinct like that of the heart

There is the moral of all human tales: ’Tis but the same rehearsal of the past, First Freedom, and then Glory - when that fails, Wealth, vice, corruption - barbarism at last. And History, with all her volumes vast, Hath but one page

There's music in the sighing of a reed; There's music in the gushing of a rill; There's music in all things, if men had ears; The earth is but the music of the spheres.

Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's wife, he would have written sonnets all his life?

This should have been a noble creature: he

Those who will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not, are slaves.

Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a-roving By the light of the moon.

Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark our coming, and look brighter when we come

To have joy, one must share it.

To him the magic of their mysteries; To him the book of Night was opened wide, And voices from the deep abyss revealed A marvel and a secret.

Truth is a gem that is found at a great depth; whilst on the surface of the world all things are weighed by the false scale of custom.

We of the craft are all crazy. Some are affected by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more or less touched.

Who knows whether, when a comet shall approach this globe to destroy it, as it often has been and will be destroyed, men will not tear rocks from their foundations by means of steam, and hurl mountains, as the giants are said to have done, against the flaming mass? - and then we shall have traditions of Titans again, and of wars with Heaven...

Why I came here, I know not; where I shall go it is useless to inquire - in the midst of myriads of the living and the dead worlds, stars, systems, infinity, why should I be anxious about an atom?

With just enough of learning to misquote.

Yet he was jealous, though he did not show it, For jealousy dislikes the world to know it

You don't love a woman because she is beautiful, but she is beautiful because you love her. Never underestimate the power of love. The way to love anything is to realize it may be lost. The heart has its reasons that reason does not know at all. Music is love in search of a word. There is pleasure in the pathless woods; there is a rapture on the lonely shore; There is society, where none intrudes, by the deep sea, and music in its roar.

[piefanart]

The Tales of a Teenage Time Traveler: Chapter Eight

things are finally starting to heat up! and the chapters are getting longer. this one is about 1500 words. again, at this point its a star wars fanficiton. enjoy!

(Search #ttt on my blog for the earlier chapters!)

Chapter Eight

The clothes fit almost perfectly, and were much better suited to the intense heat then my normal clothes. The shirt was very long on me, so I tucked it into my skirt. The bright red cape came to my waist, blocking the twin suns' rays from my back. Now I just needed a better pair of shoes; my black walmart sneakers were quickly getting ruined in the sandy terrain. I saw a cobbler's booth on my way to the restaurant, I would probably check it out later. But now I needed to find Hannah. I was getting very anxious. I never did do well in new situations, my throat clenches up and I become distant. Which is fine if you are doing something like asking for no pickles on your hamburger, but not exactly optimal on a hostile alien planet.

I left the restroom with my old clothes bundled under my arm. I pulled the comlink off of my jeans and flipped it on.

“Hannah?” I asked, unsure how loudly I needed to speak for her to hear me, and nervous about using it in public. After all, it might be considered rude to talk on the comlink while walking down the street.

There was a brief moment of static before Hannah picked up.

“Yeah, what is it? You in trouble or something?” Hannah asked. Her words were slurred slightly, but it might have just been the connection.

“No, I just wanted to meet up with you. I got some new clothes!” I told her. Hannah grunted.

“I'm at the cantina down the road from the ship. Just basically go the opposite way that you did earlier, and you'll find me just fine. Seeya,”   Hannah said. The channel was staticy again, then went silent. She must have switched hers off.

“Yeah, see ya,” I repeated to nobody. I glanced around to see if I was attracting attention, but nobody was looking at me. I breathed a sigh of relief and began walking towards the ship. At the very least, the roads were straight. I quickly made it back to the ship. I could tell; it was smaller then the rest of the vaporators.

“So if she said the opposite way, then that's this way,” I murmured to myself. I followed the “directions” that Hannah had given me, walking slowly down the road searching for anything that looked like a cantina. Which is significantly harder then it sounds, since all of the buildings look the same. A loud crash caught my attention and I looked up to see a large, heavily muscled man get thrown out of a window. Shattered glass flew everywhere. Bystanders took cover as another man jumped out the window hole after him.

“Gimme what you owe me!” the second man demanded. The first man pulled out a blaster and someone screamed.  “I don't owe you nothin!” he yelled. He tried to stand up, but he fell over in a drunken stupor. The second main tore off his coat, taking a thick wallet out. He threw the coat back at the man and ran off. The people stared at the man on the ground for a moment, before a large alien walked out from inside the building and drug the passed out human inside, most likely to force him to work off the cost of the window. I leaned over to a middle-aged woman who was unfazed by the whole occurrence.

“Who are they?” I asked. She shrugged.

“Who knows. Just some smugglers who got in a fight over royalties, probably. There's always fights going on there, everyone orders more liquor then they can hold and decides to try to make business deals afterwards. My ex-husband wasted his life away in that cantina.” There was acid in her tone, but I got the information I needed. I jogged to the cantina and pushed the door open, steeping inside. Obviously there wasn't any rule about minors, because the bartender didn't seem bothered by my presence. I scanned the tables until I saw Hannah relaxing in a corner booth across from the newly broken window. She was nursing a tall glass of something neon green. I walked over to her and sat down across the table.

“Nice cape,” she said, taking another sip of the drink. There were five or six empty glasses littering the table, all sporting the remains of the same drink.

“What's that?” I asked. Hannah tilted the glass and peered into it.

“Deser' bloom, mix'd wit a high-ly spiked gree' galaxy,” she said. Her words were very slurred.

“You're drunk.” I stated. Hannah shrugged. “Helps wit th' regrets. Want un?”

I shook my head 'no'. Hannah shrugged again. “Suit yersef. Hey, I gotcha somethin',” she said. She handed me a sturdy leather bag.

“Figur'd ya would need to put yer stuff somewheres.”

I accepted the bag.

“You come here often, don't you?” I asked. Hannah stared at the ceiling. “Used to.”

I nodded. “Right.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I watched the other cantina patrons. The man who passed out earlier was nowhere to be seen.

“What were they fighting about?” I asked. Hannah glanced at me.

“Who?”

“Those two men, who broke the window earlier,” I clarified. Hannah leaned back in her seat.

“That first guy, th' one who shot outta th' win-dow, he borrow'd some cash fr'm th' other guy. But he forgotta bout it and now the guy's gotta git back his cash somehow, right? So he does it th' only way he know.”

“Oh,” I replied. Hannah looked at me.

“World ain't all sunshine an' flowers, ya know.”

I turned to her. “Of course I know that! Hannah, of all people, you should know best that I understand the way the world works. I've gone through things other people pray never happen to them!”

Hannah just shrugged and downed the rest of her drink.

“Ain't that th' truth.” Her body slumped as she became drowsy.

A man in an old military uniform strolled into the cantina. I would say early republic by looking at it, but it was torn to shreds in places and faded thoroughly. He handed the bartender a slip of paper. The bartender held it up, studied it, then handed it back to the man while shaking his head. I leaned forward, studying the situation while Hannah fell asleep. The man in the uniform slid a tattered bill to the bartender. The bartender hesitated, then grabbed it and pointed in Hannah and my direction. The man smiled and walked over to us.

“Well, well, well, what have we here? Looks like a drunken rat to me,” he said, smirking. He pulled out a blaster and levelled the barrel at Hannah. I kicked her under the table.

“Huh? Wha-? oh. It's you,” she said drunkenly. “Whadda want?”

The man sat down, keeping the blaster level.

“You know perfectly well what I am after. But since you have drunk yourself into a complete stupor, I will clarify. The spice, specifically the shipment you were supposed to have at my ship last week.”

Hannah's eyes widened. “Oh, uh, well you see, I uh...” she trailed off. She glanced nervously at the blaster. At first I didn't understand why, since she couldn't die, but then I realized that if she got shot in public and it didn't do anything to her she would be in as much trouble as if she got shot and died.

“You don't have it, do you Solo?” The man asked. Hannah swallowed heavily.

Solo? Hannah went by Solo? Oh, of course. HANnah Solo. She really wasn't too good with names, was she?

“It was stolen,” Hannah announced. She glared at the man.

“Stolen? By whom, you?” the man asked, mockery in his voice. “Goodbye, Solo.”

I saw his blaster go off, the bright bolt of energy exiting the muzzle. It seemed to move in slow motion, as I lept and shoved Hannah out of the way onto the floor. As soon as she was safe, I jumped up and attacked the man. I reached out to grab his blaster and it lept into my hand. I stared at it, startled. But this was no time for dawdling. I quickly turned the weapon around and pointed it at the man.

“Consider your life payment of her debt,” I growled. The man's eyes went huge. “You're one of the Jedi, aren't you,” he breathed. I narrowed my eyes to hide the fact that I wasn't making eye contact.

“Get out of here,” I growled. The man paused, then turned and ran. I threw the blaster to the floor and turned to Hannah. She was sitting up, rubbing her head. “Wha was tha' fer?” She demanded, clearly irritated.

“I just saved your life. You're welcome.”

[gloopdimension]

one of dedusgorma’s kids get a crush. Dedusmuln is far more lenient and gives casual advice about this and that while pongorma, to the sought partner, gives a very high pressure intense pop quiz on how they swear upon their soul how well they will treat his kin