Ok people
I do apologize for lacking so horribly in my updates. But I do have a good reason (you knew I was gonna say that right). I am trying to graduate from college. I have about two more months to go and then I have to hand in my thesis and defend it in front of a jury (I hope – it’s all still very unsure). So until then I have so little time to write, review or even to read that I’m gonna be lacking in updates, here and on my fanfiction page. I know you all can understand this and I’m gonna thank you in advance for sticking around and giving me some space.
Of course I will be back. I’m currently working on a BlackWater FF which is long and I hope you will all really enjoy it, because I’m thoroughly enjoying writing it. Until we meet again! All health and happiness to you.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
FF Rec
Today I wanna give you a Fanfiction Recommendation!
(I am giving spoilers – if you don’t want that then scroll down and just click on the link)
Namely I all want you to go and read: ‘The Education of Professor Cullen’, written by SheViking on Fanfiction.net (Rating M).
Her own summary:
College professor Edward Cullen is thoroughly annoyed by his student Ms. Swan. Everything about her bothers him, and he longs for the semester to be over. But what happens when he meets her one night when they aren't in school? Lemons and naughty languageAnd its absolutely a ‘can’t-put-downer’. The story is very well written, perfect grammar and spelling, not always a given in the FF world as we know. The characters are very well thought out and not what you expect at all. Because in this story, Bella is the sexy, strong confident one and Edward is the stumbling, dorky professor. The roles are reversed and it works really well.
SheViking manages to combine hot, juicy lemons with cute mush, fluff parts and some real and honest relationship fear with each other. It twenty-five chapters long and a page turner. So in need of some good FF. Go to:
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5910879/1/The_Education_of_Professor_Cullen
(I am giving spoilers – if you don’t want that then scroll down and just click on the link)
Namely I all want you to go and read: ‘The Education of Professor Cullen’, written by SheViking on Fanfiction.net (Rating M).
Her own summary:
College professor Edward Cullen is thoroughly annoyed by his student Ms. Swan. Everything about her bothers him, and he longs for the semester to be over. But what happens when he meets her one night when they aren't in school? Lemons and naughty languageAnd its absolutely a ‘can’t-put-downer’. The story is very well written, perfect grammar and spelling, not always a given in the FF world as we know. The characters are very well thought out and not what you expect at all. Because in this story, Bella is the sexy, strong confident one and Edward is the stumbling, dorky professor. The roles are reversed and it works really well.
SheViking manages to combine hot, juicy lemons with cute mush, fluff parts and some real and honest relationship fear with each other. It twenty-five chapters long and a page turner. So in need of some good FF. Go to:
http://www.fanfiction.net/s/5910879/1/The_Education_of_Professor_Cullen
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Bluebird
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?
- Charles Bukowski
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say, stay in there, I’m not going
to let anybody see
you.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I pur whiskey on him and inhale
cigarette smoke
and the whores and the bartenders
and the grocery clerks
never know that
he’s
in there.
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too tough for him,
I say,
stay down, do you want to mess
me up?
you want to screw up the
works?
you want to blow my book sales in
Europe?
there’s a bluebird in my heart that
wants to get out
but I’m too clever, I only let him out
at night sometimes
when everybody’s asleep.
I say, I know that you’re there,
so don’t be
sad.
then I put him back,
but he’s singing a little
in there, I haven’t quite let him
die
and we sleep together like
that
with our
secret pact
and it’s nice enough to
make a man
weep, but I don’t
weep, do
you?
- Charles Bukowski
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Invitation
“If you are a dreamer, come in,
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer…
If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!”
- Invitation by Shel Silverstein
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer…
If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire
For we have some flax-golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!”
- Invitation by Shel Silverstein
Monday, February 28, 2011
From Walt Whitman:
The first printing of Leaves of Grass (and none of the subsequent printings) had a preface with the following quote:
“This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”
“This is what you shall do: Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to every one that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God, have patience and indulgence toward the people, take off your hat to nothing known or unknown or to any man or number of men, go freely with powerful uneducated persons and with the young and with the mothers of families, read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life, re examine all you have been told at school or church or in any book, dismiss whatever insults your own soul, and your very flesh shall be a great poem and have the richest fluency not only in its words but in the silent lines of its lips and face and between the lashes of your eyes and in every motion and joint of your body.”
Ghazal 98
The wind last night brought wind of my far-traveled love to me.
I, too, will give the wind my heart and what must be shall be.
It’s come to this: no confidante will hear my secrets save
Lightning at dusk and wind at dawn as I live ardently.
In your curls’ locks, not once did my defenseless heart recall
The home in me it left behind, but shunned the memory.
Today I treasure all advice of friends who warned of love.
Blessed are the advisers, Lord, for it is they who see.
Memory of you was my heart’s blood when wind came to unwind
The cord that closed the rosebud’s robe beneath our meadow tree.
My winded body felt death blow till a new dawn wind blew
Fresh hope for our reunion and returned my life to me.
Hafiz! Your amicable way has earned you what you yearn for.
Let every soul be sold to help a man of amity.
- Hafiz
I, too, will give the wind my heart and what must be shall be.
It’s come to this: no confidante will hear my secrets save
Lightning at dusk and wind at dawn as I live ardently.
In your curls’ locks, not once did my defenseless heart recall
The home in me it left behind, but shunned the memory.
Today I treasure all advice of friends who warned of love.
Blessed are the advisers, Lord, for it is they who see.
Memory of you was my heart’s blood when wind came to unwind
The cord that closed the rosebud’s robe beneath our meadow tree.
My winded body felt death blow till a new dawn wind blew
Fresh hope for our reunion and returned my life to me.
Hafiz! Your amicable way has earned you what you yearn for.
Let every soul be sold to help a man of amity.
- Hafiz
I go back to may 1937
I see them standing at the formal gates of their colleges,
I see my father strolling out
under the ochre sandstone arch, the
red tiles glinting like bent
plates of blood behind his head, I
see my mother with a few light books at her hip
standing at the pillar made of tiny bricks with the
wrought-iron gate still open behind her, its
sword-tips black in the May air,
they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,
they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are
innocent, they would never hurt anybody.
I want to go up to them and say Stop,
don't do it--she's the wrong woman,
he's the wrong man, you are going to do things
you cannot imagine you would ever do,
you are going to do bad things to children,
you are going to suffer in ways you never heard of,
you are going to want to die. I want to go
up to them there in the late May sunlight and say it,
her hungry pretty blank face turning to me,
her pitiful beautiful untouched body,
his arrogant handsome blind face turning to me,
his pitiful beautiful untouched body,
but I don't do it. I want to live. I
take them up like the male and female
paper dolls and bang them together
at the hips like chips of flint as if to
strike sparks from them, I say
Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it.
- Sharon Olds
I see my father strolling out
under the ochre sandstone arch, the
red tiles glinting like bent
plates of blood behind his head, I
see my mother with a few light books at her hip
standing at the pillar made of tiny bricks with the
wrought-iron gate still open behind her, its
sword-tips black in the May air,
they are about to graduate, they are about to get married,
they are kids, they are dumb, all they know is they are
innocent, they would never hurt anybody.
I want to go up to them and say Stop,
don't do it--she's the wrong woman,
he's the wrong man, you are going to do things
you cannot imagine you would ever do,
you are going to do bad things to children,
you are going to suffer in ways you never heard of,
you are going to want to die. I want to go
up to them there in the late May sunlight and say it,
her hungry pretty blank face turning to me,
her pitiful beautiful untouched body,
his arrogant handsome blind face turning to me,
his pitiful beautiful untouched body,
but I don't do it. I want to live. I
take them up like the male and female
paper dolls and bang them together
at the hips like chips of flint as if to
strike sparks from them, I say
Do what you are going to do, and I will tell about it.
- Sharon Olds
A Dream Within a Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
- Edgar Allan Poe
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand-
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
- Edgar Allan Poe
Kelly Clarckson; Addicted
"Addicted"
It's like you're a drug
It's like you're a demon I can't face down
It's like I'm stuck
It's like I'm running from you all the time
And I know I let you have all the power
It's like the only company I seek is misery all around
It's like you're a leech
Sucking the life from me
It's like I can't breathe
Without you inside of me
And I know I let you have all the power
And I realize I'm never gonna quit you over time
It's like I can't breathe
It's like I can't see anything
Nothing but you
I'm addicted to you
It's like I can't think
Without you interrupting me
In my thoughts
In my dreams
You've taken over me
It's like I'm not me
It's like I'm not me
It's like I'm lost
It's like I'm giving up slowly
It's like you're a ghost that's haunting me
Leave me alone
And I know these voices in my head
Are mine alone
And I know I'll never change my ways
If I don't give you up now
It's like I can't breathe
It's like I can't see anything
Nothing but you
I'm addicted to you
It's like I can't think
Without you interrupting me
In my thoughts
In my dreams
You've taken over me
It's like I'm not me
It's like I'm not me
I'm hooked on you
I need a fix
I can't take it
Just one more hit
I promise I can deal with it
I'll handle it, quit it
Just one more time
Then that's it
Just a little bit more to get me through this
I'm hooked on you
I need a fix
I can't take it
Just one more hit
I promise I can deal with it
I'll handle it, quit it
Just one more time
Then that's it
Just a little bit more to get me through this
It's like I can't breathe
It's like I can't see anything
Nothing but you
I'm addicted to you
It's like I can't think
Without you interrupting me
In my thoughts
In my dreams
You've taken over me
It's like I'm not me
It's like I'm not me
A world without Magic
Can you imagine a world without witches,
A world with all people the same?
Where the only known dragons are hiding in books,
And children are terribly tame?
A world without magic would be sad indeed.
I cannot imagine the pain
Of having a world where there's no Santa Claus,
Where wizards are searched for in vain.
Can you imagine a world without spells,
That science and businesses run?
And think of the sadness a unicorn feels
When he no longer plays in the sun
Can you imagine a world without witches,
No elves, and no magical pools?
And can you imagine how dull it would be
If all that we had were the schools?
I cannot imagine a world without witches,
A world with no magical wand.
A world without beauty, or even a dream,
Or a wood sprite of whom to be fond
They say I should grow up and be more mature,
Like a normal adult ought to do.
But I'd rather, at night, go to dance with a witch,
And I'll bet that you feel that way, too.
- Robert F. Potts
A world with all people the same?
Where the only known dragons are hiding in books,
And children are terribly tame?
A world without magic would be sad indeed.
I cannot imagine the pain
Of having a world where there's no Santa Claus,
Where wizards are searched for in vain.
Can you imagine a world without spells,
That science and businesses run?
And think of the sadness a unicorn feels
When he no longer plays in the sun
Can you imagine a world without witches,
No elves, and no magical pools?
And can you imagine how dull it would be
If all that we had were the schools?
I cannot imagine a world without witches,
A world with no magical wand.
A world without beauty, or even a dream,
Or a wood sprite of whom to be fond
They say I should grow up and be more mature,
Like a normal adult ought to do.
But I'd rather, at night, go to dance with a witch,
And I'll bet that you feel that way, too.
- Robert F. Potts
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Monday, December 27, 2010
Become a better writer!
Today I read the following list on: http://www.copyblogger.com/
And I liked it, so hopefully you will too, here goes
Doing these things can help you become a better writer:
1. Become a blogger.
2. Use self-imposed word limits.
3. Accept all forms of criticism and learn to grow from it.
4. Read what you’ve written over and over, until you can’t find any more problems.
5. Show what you write to a trusted friend for feedback.
6. Outline. And then write to that outline.
7. Edit, and edit again.
8. Live with passion.
9. Be open, curious, present, and engaged.
10. Take a break between writing and editing.
11. Learn a new word a day.
12. Get the pen and fingers moving.
13. Write in different genres: blog posts, poems, short stories, essays.
14. Read grammar books.
15. Write without distractions.
16. Challenge yourself: write in a crowded cafe, write on the toilet, write for 24 hours straight.
17. Take a trip. Road trips, beach trips, bus trips, plane trips.
18. Watch movies. Can you write the story better?
19. Write. And then write some more.
20. Read, think, read, write, ponder, write – and read some more.
21. Read your stuff aloud to anyone who can stand it – including the cat.
22. Go back and cut 10% from your word count.
23. Talk to people.
24. Listen to how people talk.
25. Read lots of books. Both good and bad.
26. Make notes of your (fleeting) brilliant ideas.
27. Start your writing ahead of time – not hours before a deadline.
28. Listen to podcasts on writing tips.
29. Use simple, declarative sentences.
30. Avoid passive voice.
31. Limit your use of adjectives and adverbs.
32. When in doubt, cut it out.
33. Kill clunky sentences.
34. Be inspired by other art forms – music, dance, sculpture, painting.
35. Read your old stuff and acknowledge how far you’ve come – and how far you have to go.
36. Write for publication, even if it’s only for the local newsletter or a small blog.
37. Make writing your priority in the morning.
38. Keep squeezing words out even if you feel uninspired.
39. Tell everyone: “I’m a writer.”
40. Recognize your fear and overcome it.
41. Let your articles rest and then return to them with fresh eyes.
42. Comment on your favorite blogs.
43. Keep a journal to keep the writing juices flowing.
44. Use a journal to sort out your thoughts and feelings.
45. Keep it simple.
46. Practice monotasking. Set a timer for uninterrupted writing.
47. Watch people.
48. Get to know someone different from you and reflect on the experience.
49. Try new ideas or hobbies – the more variety you have in your life, the more likely you are to keep on generating good ideas on the page.
50. Read works from different cultures. It helps keep your writing from tasting stale in the mouths of your readers.
51. Rethink what is ‘normal’.
52. Work on brilliant headlines.
53. Check if your assumptions are right.
54. Join a writing group. If you can’t find one, form one.
55. Write during your most productive hours of the day.
56. Designate time to research.
57. Take time to muse and mindmap.
58. Map out a writing schedule for your project and stick to it.
59. Ask someone else to proofread.
60. Read Zinsser’s “On Writing Well” at least once a year.
61. Break out of your comfort zone.
62. Write at the scene. If you want to write about a beach, get a picnic rug and go write by the sea.
63. Go to the supermarket, the ball game, the class room, the building site. Make notes of the sensuous details, the atmosphere, the people.
64. Start with metaphors and stories.
65. Approach writing with gratitude, not just with a ‘must do this’ attitude.
66. Deconstruct and analyze books and articles you enjoy.
67. Know about story architecture. Many writers don’t. Which is like doing heart surgery or flying an airliner by intuition. Survival rates are low.
68. Socialize with other writers.
69. Stretch or exercise in between writing.
70. Make a note of ideas for further development before you leave a piece for tomorrow.
71.Use mindmaps for inspiration.
72. Take risks – don’t be afraid to shock. You are not who you think you are.
73. [Please add your own suggestion in the comment section!]
I hope that one or more of these suggestions has inspired you. Let me know which ones resonated with you. And please add to the list. I look forward to reading your comments! Thanks to all the Write to Done readers who contributed to this list
And I liked it, so hopefully you will too, here goes
Doing these things can help you become a better writer:
1. Become a blogger.
2. Use self-imposed word limits.
3. Accept all forms of criticism and learn to grow from it.
4. Read what you’ve written over and over, until you can’t find any more problems.
5. Show what you write to a trusted friend for feedback.
6. Outline. And then write to that outline.
7. Edit, and edit again.
8. Live with passion.
9. Be open, curious, present, and engaged.
10. Take a break between writing and editing.
11. Learn a new word a day.
12. Get the pen and fingers moving.
13. Write in different genres: blog posts, poems, short stories, essays.
14. Read grammar books.
15. Write without distractions.
16. Challenge yourself: write in a crowded cafe, write on the toilet, write for 24 hours straight.
17. Take a trip. Road trips, beach trips, bus trips, plane trips.
18. Watch movies. Can you write the story better?
19. Write. And then write some more.
20. Read, think, read, write, ponder, write – and read some more.
21. Read your stuff aloud to anyone who can stand it – including the cat.
22. Go back and cut 10% from your word count.
23. Talk to people.
24. Listen to how people talk.
25. Read lots of books. Both good and bad.
26. Make notes of your (fleeting) brilliant ideas.
27. Start your writing ahead of time – not hours before a deadline.
28. Listen to podcasts on writing tips.
29. Use simple, declarative sentences.
30. Avoid passive voice.
31. Limit your use of adjectives and adverbs.
32. When in doubt, cut it out.
33. Kill clunky sentences.
34. Be inspired by other art forms – music, dance, sculpture, painting.
35. Read your old stuff and acknowledge how far you’ve come – and how far you have to go.
36. Write for publication, even if it’s only for the local newsletter or a small blog.
37. Make writing your priority in the morning.
38. Keep squeezing words out even if you feel uninspired.
39. Tell everyone: “I’m a writer.”
40. Recognize your fear and overcome it.
41. Let your articles rest and then return to them with fresh eyes.
42. Comment on your favorite blogs.
43. Keep a journal to keep the writing juices flowing.
44. Use a journal to sort out your thoughts and feelings.
45. Keep it simple.
46. Practice monotasking. Set a timer for uninterrupted writing.
47. Watch people.
48. Get to know someone different from you and reflect on the experience.
49. Try new ideas or hobbies – the more variety you have in your life, the more likely you are to keep on generating good ideas on the page.
50. Read works from different cultures. It helps keep your writing from tasting stale in the mouths of your readers.
51. Rethink what is ‘normal’.
52. Work on brilliant headlines.
53. Check if your assumptions are right.
54. Join a writing group. If you can’t find one, form one.
55. Write during your most productive hours of the day.
56. Designate time to research.
57. Take time to muse and mindmap.
58. Map out a writing schedule for your project and stick to it.
59. Ask someone else to proofread.
60. Read Zinsser’s “On Writing Well” at least once a year.
61. Break out of your comfort zone.
62. Write at the scene. If you want to write about a beach, get a picnic rug and go write by the sea.
63. Go to the supermarket, the ball game, the class room, the building site. Make notes of the sensuous details, the atmosphere, the people.
64. Start with metaphors and stories.
65. Approach writing with gratitude, not just with a ‘must do this’ attitude.
66. Deconstruct and analyze books and articles you enjoy.
67. Know about story architecture. Many writers don’t. Which is like doing heart surgery or flying an airliner by intuition. Survival rates are low.
68. Socialize with other writers.
69. Stretch or exercise in between writing.
70. Make a note of ideas for further development before you leave a piece for tomorrow.
71.Use mindmaps for inspiration.
72. Take risks – don’t be afraid to shock. You are not who you think you are.
73. [Please add your own suggestion in the comment section!]
I hope that one or more of these suggestions has inspired you. Let me know which ones resonated with you. And please add to the list. I look forward to reading your comments! Thanks to all the Write to Done readers who contributed to this list
Friday, December 10, 2010
I died for Beauty, but was scarce
(My altime favorite Dickinson poem!)
I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth, -the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.
- Emily Dickinson
I died for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth, -the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.
- Emily Dickinson
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!
(42)
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!
Your prayers, oh Passer by!
From such a common ball as this
Might date a Victory!
From marshallings as simple
The flags of nations swang.
Steady—my soul: What issues
Upon thine arrow hang!
- Emily Dickinson
A Day! Help! Help! Another Day!
Your prayers, oh Passer by!
From such a common ball as this
Might date a Victory!
From marshallings as simple
The flags of nations swang.
Steady—my soul: What issues
Upon thine arrow hang!
- Emily Dickinson
"Why do I love" You, Sir?
(480)
"Why do I love" You, Sir?
Because—
The Wind does not require the Grass
To answer—Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.
Because He knows—and
Do not You—
And We know not—
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so—
The Lightning—never asked an Eye
Wherefore it shut—when He was by—
Because He knows it cannot speak—
And reasons not contained—
—Of Talk—
There be—preferred by Daintier Folk—
The Sunrise—Sire—compelleth Me—
He's Sunrise—and I see—
Therefore—Then—
I love Thee—
- Emily Dickinson
"Why do I love" You, Sir?
Because—
The Wind does not require the Grass
To answer—Wherefore when He pass
She cannot keep Her place.
Because He knows—and
Do not You—
And We know not—
Enough for Us
The Wisdom it be so—
The Lightning—never asked an Eye
Wherefore it shut—when He was by—
Because He knows it cannot speak—
And reasons not contained—
—Of Talk—
There be—preferred by Daintier Folk—
The Sunrise—Sire—compelleth Me—
He's Sunrise—and I see—
Therefore—Then—
I love Thee—
- Emily Dickinson
If
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken.
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,Y
ours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!
- Rudyard Kiplin
The Penitent
I had a little Sorrow,
Born of a little Sin,
I found a room all damp with gloom
And shut us all within;
And, "Little Sorrow, weep,"
said I,"And, Little Sin, pray God to die,
And I upon the floor will lie
And think how bad I've been!"
Alas for pious planning—
It mattered not a whit!
As far as gloom went in that room,
The lamp might have been lit!
My little Sorrow would not weep,
My little Sin would go to sleep—
To save my soul I could not keep
My graceless mind on it!
So I got up in anger,
And took a book I had,
And put a ribbon on my hair
To please a passing lad,
And, "One thing there's no getting by—
I've been a wicked girl,"
said I:"But if I can't be sorry, why,
I might as well be glad!"
- Edna St. Vincent Millay
Born of a little Sin,
I found a room all damp with gloom
And shut us all within;
And, "Little Sorrow, weep,"
said I,"And, Little Sin, pray God to die,
And I upon the floor will lie
And think how bad I've been!"
Alas for pious planning—
It mattered not a whit!
As far as gloom went in that room,
The lamp might have been lit!
My little Sorrow would not weep,
My little Sin would go to sleep—
To save my soul I could not keep
My graceless mind on it!
So I got up in anger,
And took a book I had,
And put a ribbon on my hair
To please a passing lad,
And, "One thing there's no getting by—
I've been a wicked girl,"
said I:"But if I can't be sorry, why,
I might as well be glad!"
- Edna St. Vincent Millay
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