i have found what you are like
(Who feathers frightened fields
with the superior dust-of-sleep. wields
easily the pale club of the wind 58 more words
Poetry has long been one of my passions but it was only when I began reading it to my father during the last months of his life that I fully realised the extent to which some poems are so beautifully and carefully crafted that they beg to be seen, and not just heard, for the masterpieces that they are. 310 more words
A few weeks ago when I went to Chicago and I did something I thought I would never do.
I got my first tattoo.
I’ve always thought tattoos were neat, but I could never pin point something that I wanted on my body the rest of my life. 182 more words
–by Edward Estlin Cummings (Dec 05, 2013)
You have been brought up to believe that a house, or a universe, or a you, or any other object, is only seemingly solid: really (and you are realists, whom nobody and nothing can deceive) each seeming solidity is a collection of large holes – and, in the case of a house, the larger the holes the better; since the principal function of a modern home is to admit whatever might otherwise remain outside. 485 more words