Ode to nightingale
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,—
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
to my beloved, Dylan Thomas.
Today, I read a poem of yours and it made me cry; "I Have Longed To Move Away".
Both being passionately attached to life and madly running away from it fit so nicely into the verses of a poem, Dylan. Every time I come face to face with you, I hear the words you say and get lost in the meaning of it. Reading the lines you write is like
Ode to a Nightingale
My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains
My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,
Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains
One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:
'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,
But being too happy in thine happiness,—
That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees
Alıntılar-II
Life is for each man a solitary cell whose walls are mirrors. (Eugene O’Neill)
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Ne garip değil mi? Düşmanı sadece ölünce kendimize benzetiyoruz. (Dağ filminden)
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Sensitivity is the ego looking for pain. Be emotional, not sensitive. (Reddit)
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Birinci kuşak kurar, ikinci kuşak yönetir, üçüncü kuşak sanat tarihi okur. (Otto von
🎬 127 Saat
"Bütün bunları ben seçtim. Bu kaya hayatım boyunca beni bekliyormuş. Varoluşundan beri, daha bir meteorken, milyarlarca yıl önce uzayda buraya düşmeyi bekliyormuş. Tam buraya. Hayatım boyunca buraya sürüklenmişim. Doğduğum an, aldığım her nefes, yaptığım her şey beni buraya, evrendeki bu çatlağa sürüklemiş."
🎬 127 Hours
"I choose all of this. This rock has been waiting for me my entire life. In its entire life, ever since it was a bit of meteorite a million, billion years ago up there in space. Its been waiting, to come here. Right here. I've been moving towards it my entire life. The minute I was born, every breath I've taken, every action has been leading me to this crack on the earth's surface."
The Myth
When Haruki Murakami said, “That’s what the world is after all: an endless battle of contrasting memories.” When Sylvia Plath said, “I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead: I lift my lids and all is born again.(I think I made you up inside my head.) When Oscar Wilde said, “Actual life was chaos, but there was something terribly logical in the imagination.” When Albert Camus said, “But the heart has its own memory and I have forgotten nothing.” When Virginia Woolf said, “She felt as if she were standing on the edge of a precipice with her hair blown back; she was about to grasp something that just evaded her. There must be another life, here and now, she repeated. This is too short, too broken. We know nothing, even about ourselves.” When RM said, “Living is consecutively awareness and loneliness; whether you have many people around you or not, the little me inside myself was always lonely.” And when Suga said, “Today the moon shines brighter on the blank spot in my memories. 
Haruki Murakami 
Sylvia Plath 
Oscar Wilde 
Albert Camus 
Virginia Woolf
What Is Patriotism?
by Emma Goldman
1908
San Francisco, California
Men and Women:
What is patriotism? Is it love of one's birthplace, the place of childhood's recollections and hopes, dreams and aspirations? Is it the place where, in childlike naivete, we would watch the passing clouds, and wonder why we, too, could not float so swiftly?