[b]Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.[/b]
Doesn’t quite carry the punch it once did.
A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape of the universe, helps to extend everyone’s knowledge of himself and the world around him.
Doesn’t quite carry the punch it once did.
Somebody’s boring me. I think it’s me.
On the other hand, he thought, I bore myself least of all.
When one burns one’s bridges, what a very nice fire it makes.
Then on to the next one.
I know we’re not saints or virgins or lunatics; we know all the lust and lavatory jokes, and most of the dirty people; we can catch buses and count our change and cross the roads and talk real sentences. But our innocence goes awfully deep, and our discreditable secret is that we don’t know anything at all, and our horrid inner secret is that we don’t care that we don’t.
At least we’ve got death to look forward to.
Why do men think you can pick love up and re-light it like a candle? Women know when love is over.
Any women here who don’t?