What's the most beautiful thing you've ever read? Pic related, not the best but pretty cool

What's the most beautiful thing you've ever read? Pic related, not the best but pretty cool.

And past them, the criminal
lying in the blue lakes of acid,
The road between the two hills, upward
slowly,
The flames patterned in lacquer, crimen est actio,
The limbo of chopped ice and saw-dust,
And I bathed myself with acid to free myself
of the hell ticks,
Scales, fallen louse eggs.
Palux Laerna,
the lake of bodies, aqua morta,
of limbs fluid, and mingled, like fish heaped in a bin,
and here an arm upward, clutching a fragment of marble,
And the embryos, in flux,
new inflow, submerging,
Here an arm upward, trout, submerged by the eels;
and from the bank, the stiff herbage
the dry nobbled path, saw many known, and unknown,
for an instant;
submerging,
The face gone, generation.

Eileen had long thin cool white hands too because she was a girl. They were like ivory; only soft. That was the meaning of Tower of Ivory but protestants could not understand it and made fun of it. One day he had stood beside her looking into the hotel grounds. A waiter was running up a trail of bunting on the flagstaff and a fox terrier was scampering to and fro on the sunny lawn. She had put her hand into his pocket where his hand was and he had felt how cool and thin and soft her hand was. She had said that pockets were funny things to have: and then all of a sudden she had broken away and had run laughing down the sloping curve of the path. Her fair hair had streamed out behind her like gold in the sun. Tower of Ivory. House of Gold. By thinking of things you could understand them.

What's the difference between real love and fake love
The same difference between real titties and fake ones

I don't understand

Life is a dream, Calderón de la Barca.
Last bit of Act II

No wonder, its artistic beauty is beyond that of which simpletons such as yourself can understand

I love joyce when hes simple and writing from young stephen's point of view

...

you don't know the difference until you feel?

For ever ever? For ever ever? Ever ever? / Ever ever? Ever ever? Ever ever? Ever ever?

Holy fuck, how can someone be so pretentious?

its artistic irony is beyond that of which simpletons such as yourself can understand

Once you get your hands on some titties then you will. You will understand love.

...

I thought this poem was rather beautiful.

I dwell in Possibility –
A fairer House than Prose –
More numerous of Windows –
Superior – for Doors –

Of Chambers as the Cedars –
Impregnable of eye –
And for an everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky –

Of Visitors – the fairest –
For Occupation – This –
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise –

Jesus christ

I can't tell the emotion this post is trying to convey

>simpletons

A bat is born
Naked and blind and pale.
His mother makes a pocket of her tail
And catches him. He clings to her long fur
By his thumbs and toes and teeth.
And then the mother dances through the night
Doubling and looping, soaring, somersaulting—
Her baby hangs on underneath.
All night, in happiness, she hunts and flies.
Her high sharp cries
Like shining needlepoints of sound
Go out into the night and, echoing back,
Tell her what they have touched.
She hears how far it is, how big it is,
Which way it’s going:
She lives by hearing.
The mother eats the moths and gnats she catches
In full flight; in full flight
The mother drinks the water of the pond
She skims across. Her baby hangs on tight.
Her baby drinks the milk she makes him
In moonlight or starlight, in mid-air.
Their single shadow, printed on the moon
Or fluttering across the stars,
Whirls on all night; at daybreak
The tired mother flaps home to her rafter.
The others all are there.
They hang themselves up by their toes,
They wrap themselves in their brown wings.
Bunched upside down, they sleep in air.
Their sharp ears, their sharp teeth, their quick sharp faces
Are dull and slow and mild.
All the bright day, as the mother sleeps,
She folds her wings about her sleeping child.

Obviously lust.

The worm drives helically through the wood
And does not know the dust left in the bore
Once made the table integral and good;
And suddenly the crystal hits the floor.
Electrons find their paths in subtle ways,
A massless eddy in a trail of smoke;
The names of lovers, light of other days
Perhaps you will not miss them. That's the joke.
The universe winds down. That's how it's made.
But memory is everything to lose;
Although some of the colors have to fade,
Do not believe you'll get the chance to choose.
Regret, by definition, comes too late;
Say what you mean. Bear witness. Iterate.

my cat is sad.

no one else in his family is a cat

we are all human except for him

he is excluded from most things

and no one tells him why

he just wants to play

and be loved

he looks at us with wonder

and disappointment

he says hello i am a cat what is my existence

what is that / why it and not me / please can you look at me and love me too

can i have some of your food please im sorry i dont like my food so much

do you want to play with my toys? this one is my favourite

do you like me

are we brothers

why didnt i grow up

why am i so small

can you help me be happy

where are you going

Poem 101 Catulus wrote for his brother who died in Troad:

Many the peoples many the oceans I crossed -
I arrive at these poor, brother, burials
so I could give you the last gift owed to death
and talk (why?) with mute ash.
Now that Fortune tore you from me, you
oh poor (wrongly) brother (wrongly) taken from me,
now still anyway this - what a distant mood of parents
handed down as the sad gift for burials -
accept! soaked with tears of a brother
and into forever, brother, farewell and farewell.

Agreed.

Till late, as home he safely plods along,

Thee chants, Messala, in his village song.

Blest morn, which still my grateful Muse shall sing.

Oft rise, and with you greater blessings bring.


also:

Who was the first that forged the deadly blade ?

Of rugged steel his savage soul was made ;

By him, his bloody flag ambition waved,

And grisly carnage through the battle raved.

Nice.