Faut de Mieux

Travel, trouble, music, art,
A kiss, a frock, a rhyme
I never said they feed my heart,
But still, they pass my time.

– Dorothy Parker

Advertisements

When things go wrong, as they sometimes will,

Urdonautal

When funds are low and the debts are high,
And you want to smile but you have to sigh,
When care is pressing you down a bit,
Rest if you must, but don’t you quit.

Life is queer with its twists and turns,
As every one of us sometimes learns,
And many a failure turns about,
When he might have won if he’d stuck it out.
Don’t give up, though the pace seems slow –
You may succeed with another blow.

Often the goal is nearer than
It seems to a faint and faltering man;
Often the struggler has given up
When he might have captured the victor’s cup,
And he learned too late, when the night slipped down,
How close he was to the golden crown.

Success is failure turned inside out –
The silver tint of the clouds of doubt,
And you never can tell how close you are –
It may be near when it seems afar;
So stick to the fight when you’re hardest hit –
It’s when things seem worst that you mustn’t quit.

 

Cheer up my love, because this too shall pass!
xxx 

The labyrinth blows, but I choose it.

“Miles?
As in to go before I sleep?”

Looking for Alaska – John Green


 

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there’s some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

– Robert Frost 

Hope.

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune — without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I ’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

– Emily Dickinson


metaphor
met·a·phor  \ˈmɛtəfə\

From Latin metaphora /  from Greek metaphora.
A transfer, especially of the sense of one word to a different word,
lit. “a carrying over”,  from metapherein  “transfer, carry over,”
from meta–  “over, across”+ pherein  “to carry, bear”.

 The use of a word or phrase to refer to something that it isn’t,
invoking a direct similarity between the word or phrase used and the thing described,
but in the case of English without the words like or as,
which would imply a -> simile.

Memorize your favourite poem.

picture found @ weheartit

No Te Amo

Soneto XVII

No te amo como si fueras rosa de sal, topacio
o flecha de claveles que propagan el fuego:
te amo como se aman ciertas cosas oscuras,
secretamente, entre la sombra y el alma.

Te amo como la planta que no florece y lleva
dentro de sí, escondida, la luz de aquellas flores,
y gracias a tu amor vive oscuro en mi cuerpo
el apretado aroma que ascendió de la tierra.

Te amo sin saber cómo, ni cuándo, ni de dónde,
te amo directamente sin problemas ni orgullo:
así te amo porque no sé amar de otra manera,

Sino así de este modo en que no soy ni eres,
tan cerca que tu mano sobre mi pecho es mía,
tan cerca que se cierran tus ojos con mi sueño.

– Pablo Neruda