2002-01-08
Rachel
Previous Posts
- No more snow for little match girl, but the weathe...
- I read poetry to soup spoons! random surrealism Ha...
- let it snow! script stolen from scribble.nu. rac...
- which would you rather have, romance or Mr. Toad's...
- notes to self: le projet monster.com haircut purpl...
- I'm a level 5 Behemoth, in fax machine-world! I've...
- why, thank you, Senator.. we wish we could say the...
- youth culture killed my dog Listening to They Migh...
- Life by Peter Fagen Plenty for some nothing for s...
- I am absolutely in awe of my baby brother. (This g...
'You gave me hyacinths first a year ago;
'They called me the hyacinth girl.'
Yet when we came back, late, from the Hyacinth garden,
Your arms full, and your hair wet, I could not
Speak, and my eyes failed, I was neither
Living nor dead, and I knew nothing,
Looking into the heart of light, the silence.
Od' und leer das Meer.
-- T.S. Eliot
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