'' Question for you, Neil. Do I look dead to you?" He pointed up at his face, waited for Neil to answer, and didn't seem surprised when Neil didn't. "Here."
Andrew beckoned Neil closer as if he wanted to show Neil something on his phone's small screen. He flipped the phone open one-handed and pressed down hard on a single button. There was silence, then the distant hum of Andrew's phone dialing out. Between them Neil's phone started to sing. The words were different than Andrew's ringtone, but the voice was the same. Neil knew it was from the same miserable song. The lyrics hurt just as much as Andrew's had. Neil stared down at the phone and let it ring.
"Your phone is ringing," Andrew said. "You should answer it."
Neil picked it up with numb fingers and opened it. He spared only a second to look at Andrew's name on the screen before he answered and put it to his ear.
"Your parents are dead, you are not fine, and nothing is going to be okay," Andrew said. "This is not news to you. But from now until May you are still Neil Josten and I am still the man who said he would keep you alive.
"I don't care if you use this phone tomorrow. I don't care if you never use it again. But you are going to keep it on you because one day you might need it." Andrew put a finger to the underside of Neil's chin and forced Neil's head up until they were looking at each other. "On that day you're not going to run. You're going to think about what I promised you and you're going to make the call. Tell me you understand."
"Between dawn and dawn a new
truth came to me.
I shall not be a shepherd, nor a gravedigger. I do not want to even speak again with the people – for the last time have I spoken to a dead person.
I shall join the creators, the harvesters, the celebrators: I shall show them the rainbow and all the steps to the overman.
I shall sing my song to lonesome and twosome hermits, and for him who still has ears for the unheard of, I shall make his heart heavy with my happiness.
I want to go to my goal, and I go my own way; over the hesitating and dawdling I shall leap. Thus let my going be their going under!”
Part 1, 9Kitabı okuyor
We do not ask for what useful purpose the birds do sing, for song is their pleasure since they were created for singing. Similarly, we ought not to ask why the human mind troubles to fathom the secrets of the heavens.… The diversity of the phenomena of Nature
is so great, and the treasures hidden in the heavens so rich, precisely in order that the human mind shall never be lacking in fresh nourishment.
—Johannes Kepler, Mysterium Cosmographicum
Sayfa 56Kitabı okuyor
Keys to the Ogimi Lifestyle
*One hundred percent of the people we interviewed keep a vegetable garden, and most of them also have fields of tea, mangoes, shikuwasa, and so on.
*All belong to some form of neighborhood association, where they feel cared for as though by family.
*They celebrate all the time, even little things. Music, song, and dance are essential parts of daily life.
*They have an important purpose in life, or several. They have an ikigai, but they don't take it too seriously. They are relaxed and enjoy all that they do.
*They are very proud of their traditions and local culture.
*They are passionate about everything they do, however insignificant it might seem.
*Locals have a strong sense of yuimaaru-recognizing the connection between people. They help each other with everything from work in the fields (harvesting sugarcane or planting rice) to building houses and municipal projects. Our friend Miyagi, who ate dinner with us on our last night in town, told us that he was building a new home with the help of all his friends, and that we could stay there the next time we were in Ogimi.
*They are always busy, but they occupy themselves with tasks that allow them to relax. We didn't see a single old grandpa sitting on a bench doing nothing. They're always coming and going to sing karaoke, visit with neighbors, or play a game of gateball.
I'm going to down to the cemetery 'cos the world is all wrong. Down there with the spooks, to hear 'em sing my sorrow song.
Sayfa 22Kitabı okudu
And my Mother, pretending she could neither see nor hear me, would Sting herself higher and higher, all the time continuing to sing at the top of her voice some song like: ' Daisy, Daisy, Give Me Your Answer Do.'
Let's let loneliness sing its song,
write a poem,
go out into the streets.
Let's forget about everything.
Forget everything when at the bank teller's window and when lounging under the sycamore.
Our mission is not to unpetal the rose's layered secret.
Maybe our mission is to float, drunk on the mystery of the rose.
Pdf | BOA Editions
ALL things can tempt me from this craft of verse:
One time it was o woman's face, or worse-
The seeming needs of my fool-driven land;
Now nothing but comes readier to the hand
Than his accustomed toil. When I was young,
I had not given a penny for a song
Did not the poet sing it with such airs
That one believed he had a sword upstairs;
Yet would be now, could I but have my wish,
Colder and dumber and deafer than a fish.
Sirens were made to kill. Our purpose is to lure, seduce, and destroy. It’s wrong, and I know it’s wrong, but that knowledge does nothing to ease the feeling of euphoria—of complete and utter bliss—when I lead a man astray.
The horrifying truth: I’m as drawn to water as men are to me. When I near it, it speaks to me. Urges me to act. Kill. The call of the water is as fierce as it is deadly. My own personal Siren Song.
Animal fury and orgiastic licence here whipped themselves to daemoniac heights by howls and squawking ecstasies that tore and reverberated through those nighted woods like pestilential tempests from the gulfs of hell. Now and then the less organised ululation would cease, and from what seemed a well-drilled chorus of hoarse voices would rise in sing-song chant that hideous phrase or ritual:
“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn.”
HP Lovecraft ArchiveKitabı okudu
Music to hear, why hear’st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
Why lovest thou that which thou receivest not gladly,
Or else receivest with pleasure thine annoy?
If the true concord of well-tuned sounds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.
Mark how one string, sweet husband to another, Strikes each in each by mutual ordering, Resembling sire and child and happy mother
Who all in one, one pleasing note do sing:
Whose speechless song, being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee: ‘thou single wilt prove none.’
Kozma must take it out of the house and quickly hide it in the old cellar in the garden, where it is also cold, and Father would return, and the cocoon would be safe; he gropes for it in the cellar and holds it in his arms, it's like an infant, he crawls out of the cellar with it, and everything around is burning, everything has caught fire
Sayfa 175 - Penguin Modern ClassicsKitabı okudu
Bknz yeni mottom
I'm always right.
You're always wrong.
If you don't like it,
Sing another song.
Sayfa 120Kitabı okudu
Sing-Song: A Nursery Rhyme Book (1872)
(...)
Nedir ağır olan? deniz kumuyla hüzün:
Nedir kısa olan? bugünle yarın:
Nedir kırılgan olan? bahar tomurcuklarıyla gençlik:
Nedir derin olan? Okyanusla gerçek.
(...)
Sayfa 71 - Yapı Kredi Yayınları, 1. Baskı, Ekim 2011Kitabı okudu
