hug o' war

Recently, I've felt very uninspired whenever i sit down at my computer screen to blog. The frustrating part is that I actually have so many things that I've been thinking about lately, and wanting to blog about. There's books and articles I've read and noted, with the intention of sharing my opinions in my upcoming posts. My life has not been dull lately, that's for sure. The problem is sitting down and actually typing out my thoughts. As soon as I open up my blog and start a new post, my mind goes blank. I've always been more of a handwritten, pen and paper kind of girl, so lately I've turned to that instead of my laptop. Anyway, here's my favorite Shel Silverstein poem that I copied down in my notebook some time ago. Thought I would share it with you all :]

I like you more than colors

I like you more than colors,
than my favorite turquoise nail polish
against pale summer sand.
I like you more than black and white photographs,
than old yellowed love letters
with red and blue postmarks.
I like you more than blue blue days at the beach,
pale pink seashells that are almost white,
and my umbrella with the polka dots
I like you more than the most beautiful sunsets,
the ones over the cliffs of point loma
or out the window of an airplane
above the clouds.
I like you more than green tea
in a delicate patterned tea cup
and coffee with the perfect amount of hazelnut creamer.
I like you more than libraries,
than the dark faded covers of novels
with dusty gold edged pages
and ribbon bookmarks.
I like you more than green grassy hills
with lots of shade for hot summer days
and checkered picnic blankets.
I like you more than chalk pastels
and watercolors,
and charcoal pencils.
I like you more than fireworks,
flashes of light against a blue-black sky
that last only moments.
I like you more than grey rainy days
and the reflections in puddles on dark black asphalt
before you jump in them.
Black or white,
Red and blue,
Green, gold, and grey
I like you more than colors,
(...I think I love you more than them, too)

love letter [from Marius to Cosette]

This is what she read:

O love! Adorations! Light of two minds which comprehend each other, of two hearts which are interchanged, of two glances which interpenetrate! You will come to me, will you not, happiness? Walks together in the solitudes! Days blessed and radiant!

God can add nothing to the happiness of those who love one another but to give them unending duration. After a life of love, an eternity of love is an augmentation indeed, but to increase in its intensity the ineffable felicity which love gives to the soul in this world is impossible, even with God. God is the plenitude of heaven; love is the plenitude of man.

"Does she still come to the Luxembourg?" "No, monsieur." "She hears mass in this church, does she not?" "She comes here no more." "Does she still live in this house?" "She has moved away!" " Whither has she gone to live?" "She did not say!"

What a gloomy thing, not to know the address of one's soul!

You who suffer because you love, love still more. To die of love is to live by it.

What a grand thing, to be loved! What a grander thing still, to love! The heart becomes heroic through passion. It is no longer composed of anything but what is pure; it no longer rests upon anything but what is elevated and great. An unworthy thought can no more spring up in it than a nettle upon a glacier. The soul, lofty and serene, inaccessible to common passions and common emotions, rising above the clouds and the shadows of this world, its follies, its falsehoods, its hates, its vanities, its miseries, inhabits the blue of the skies, and only feels more the deep and subterranean commotions of destiny, as the summit of the mountains feels the quaking of the earth.

Were there not someone who loved, the sun would be extinguished.

[. . .]

"Oh yes!" said she. "How I recognize all this! This is what I had already read in his eyes!"





...and this is why I love Les Miserables.