October 2011
10 posts
nostalgia.
We could talk nonsense and make it mean something.
We could listen to each other for hours about beautiful and terrible things.
We could smoke in silence.
We were as much like each other as two souls could be.
“Passions are failings of virtues, only intensified. Passions are real phoenixes,...”
– Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, Elective Affinities (@jamesperryperry)
she walks in beauty.
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: Thus mellowed to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o’er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet...
