And there she was, alone and walking out in the cornfield while everyone else I cared for sat together in one room. She would always feel me and think of me. I could see that, but there was no longer anything I could do. Ruth had been a girl haunted and now she would be a woman haunted. First by accident and now by choice. All of it, the story of my life and death, was hers if she chose tot ell it, even to one person at a time.
Puddleglum,' they've said, 'You're altogether too full of bobance and bounce and high spirits. You've got to learn that life isn't all fricasseed frogs and ell pie. You want something to sober you down a bit. We're only saying it for your own good, Puddleglum.' That's what they say. Now a job like this --a journey up north just as winter's beginning looking for a prince that probably isn't there, by way of ruined city nobody's ever seen-- will be just the thing. If that doesn't steady a chap, I don't know what will.
C. S. Lewis
If you like poetry let it be first-rate; Milton, Shakespeare, Thomson, Goldsmith, Pope (if you will, though I don't admire him), Scott, Byron, Camp[b]ell, Wordsworth, and Southey. Now don'tbe startled at the names of Shakespeare and Byron. Both these were great men, and their works are like themselves. You will know how to choose the good and avoid the evil; the finestpassages are always the purest, the bad are invariably revolting, you will never wish to read them over twice.
Yet, sluggard, wake, and gull thy soul no more With earth's false pleasures, and the world's delight, Whose fruit is fair and pleasing to the sight, But sour in taste, false as the putrid core: Thy flaring glass is gems at her half light; She makes thee seeming rich, but truly poor: She boasts a kernel, and bestows a shell; Performs an inch of her fair-promis'd ell: Her words protest a heav'n; her works produce a hell.
Ma Solitude Pour avoir si souvent dormi Avec ma solitude Je m'en suis fait presqu'une amie Une douce habitude Ell' ne me quitte pas d'un pas Fide¨le comme une ombre Elle m'a suivi e§e et le Aux quatre coins du monde Non, je ne suis jamais seul Avec ma solitude Quand elle est au creux de mon lit Elle prend toute la place Et nous passons de longues nuits Tous les deux face e face Je ne sais pas vraiment jusqu'oe¹ Ira cette complice Faudra-t-il que j'y prenne goe»t Ou que je reagisse? Non, je ne suis jamais seul Avec ma solitude Par elle, j'ai autant appris Que j'ai verse de larmes Si parfois je la repudie Jamais elle ne desarme Et si je prefe¨re l'amour D'une autre courtisane Elle sera e mon dernier jour Ma dernie¨re compagne Non, je ne suis jamais seul Avec ma solitude
Do you love me, Westley? Is that it?' He couldn't believe it. 'Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches. If your love were-' 'I don't understand the first one yet, ' Buttercup interrupted. She was starting to get very excited now. 'Let me get this straight. Are you saying my love is the size of a grain of sand and yours is this other thing? Images just confuse me so-is this universal business of yours bigger than my sand? Help me, Westley. I have the feeling we're on the verge of something just terribly important.' 'I have stayed these years in my hovel because of you. I have taught myself languages because of you. I have made my body strong because I thought you might be pleased by a strong body. I have lived my life with only the prayer that some sudden dawn you might glance in my direction. I have not known a moment in years when the sight of you did not send my heart careening against my rib cage. I have not known a night when your visage did not accompany me to sleep. There has not been a morning when you did not flutter behind my waking eyelids... Is any of this getting through to you, Buttercup, or do you want me to go on for a while?' 'Never stop.' 'There has not been-' 'If you're teasing me, Westley, I'm just going to kill you.' 'How can you even dream I might be teasing?' 'Well, you haven't once said you loved me.' 'That's all you need? Easy. I love you. Okay? Want it louder? I love you. Spell it out, should I? I ell-oh-vee-ee why-oh-you. Want it backward? You love I.' 'You are teasing now; aren't you?' 'A little maybe; I've been saying it so long to you, you just wouldn't listen. Every time you said 'Farm boy do this' you thought I was answering 'As you wish' but that's only because you were hearing wrong. 'I love you' was what it was, but you never heard, and you never heard.