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| If you find yourself half naked and barefoot in the frosty grass, hearing, again, the earth's great, sonorous moan that says you are the air of the now and gone, that says all you love will turn to dust, and will meet you there, do not raise your fist. Do not raise your small voice against it. And do not take cover. Instead, curl your toes into the grass, watch the cloud ascending from your lips. Walk through the garden's dormant splendor. Say only, thank you. Thank you. Thank You by Ross Gay |
| FOR A STUDENT WHO USED AI TO WRITE A PAPER Now let it fall back in the grasses. I hear you. I know this life is hard now. I know your days are precious on this earth. But what are you trying to be free of? The living? The miraculous task of it? Love is for the ones who love the work. Joseph Fasano |
| I like the curious ones. They have an upbeat rhythm to their step and more flicker in their eyes. There's something extra special about those adventurous types. They spread magic everywhere they go. Melody Lee |
You come home, make some tea, sit down in your armchair, and, all around, there's silence. Everyone decides for themselves whether that's loneliness or freedom. Unknown |
| There will be a lot of posts soon [on social media] from people sharing how much they achieved in 2024. But, in case someone needs to hear this...It's okay if the only thing you did this year was just get through it. The Viral Witty |
| If there's watermelon, shouldn't there be earthmelon, firemelon, and airmelon. The elemelons. Unknown |
If you listen to this song, it will be stuck in your head for the rest of the year. (The 70s were weird!!!!!) Song: Moskau (Starparade 14.06.1979) By: Dschinghis Khan |
| Yes, weird!!! |
Reply| Your soulmate is not someone that comes into your life peacefully. It is who comes to make you question things, who changes your reality, somebody that marks a before and after in your life. It is not the human being everyone has idealized, but an ordinary person, who manages to revolutionize your world in a second... Anonymous |
| I want to live in a dark, but charming overgrown house just outside of town, filled with art and books and a garden of night blooming flowers. Unknown |
| All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women merely players; They have their exits and their entrances; And one man in his time plays many parts, His acts being seven ages. At first the infant, Mewling and puking in the nurse’s arms; And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel And shining morning face, creeping like snail Unwillingly to school. And then the lover, Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad Made to his mistress’ eyebrow. Then a soldier, Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard, Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel, Seeking the bubble reputation Even in the cannon’s mouth. And then the justice, In fair round belly with good capon lin’d, With eyes severe and beard of formal cut, Full of wise saws and modern instances; And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts Into the lean and slipper’d pantaloon, With spectacles on nose and pouch on side; His youthful hose, well sav’d, a world too wide For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice, Turning again toward childish treble, pipes And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all, That ends this strange eventful history, Is second childishness and mere oblivion; Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything. from As You Like It by William Shakespeare |
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