Lorraine Manca
Well-known member
here's a place to post it!
my favorite character of all time is mark twain's huckleberry finn.
my favorite character of all time is mark twain's huckleberry finn.
favorite literary junk!!
- Thread starter Lorraine Manca
- Start date
i loved that when i was young
http://wa.westfordk12.us/pages/westfordwa_teachers/macdonald/02DBAA44-007EA7AB.5/huck.jpg
Lorraine Manca
Well-known member
there are some great quotes out there
here's a sylvia plath poem, she gets the most bitter bird award...
Lady Lazarus
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it-----
A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
A paperweight,
My featureless, fine
Jew linen.
Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?-------
The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.
What a million filaments.
The Peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand in foot ------
The big strip tease.
Gentleman , ladies
These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.
The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut
As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.
It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical
Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:
'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge
For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart---
It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair on my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
Ash, ash---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
i dont completely understand this poem, but i know its about her suicide attempt. at least no matter how crazy we get, we'll never be as crazy as old sylvia. you imagine the doctor unwrapping her like a mummy, or is it a strait jacket? its really disturbing when you compare the resurrection of lazarus in the bible to Plath's lady lazarus, likes its a carnival trick, a mock resurrection
here's a sylvia plath poem, she gets the most bitter bird award...
Lady Lazarus
I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it-----
A sort of walking miracle, my skin
Bright as a Nazi lampshade,
My right foot
A paperweight,
My featureless, fine
Jew linen.
Peel off the napkin
O my enemy.
Do I terrify?-------
The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?
The sour breath
Will vanish in a day.
Soon, soon the flesh
The grave cave ate will be
At home on me
And I a smiling woman.
I am only thirty.
And like the cat I have nine times to die.
This is Number Three.
What a trash
To annihilate each decade.
What a million filaments.
The Peanut-crunching crowd
Shoves in to see
Them unwrap me hand in foot ------
The big strip tease.
Gentleman , ladies
These are my hands
My knees.
I may be skin and bone,
Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.
The first time it happened I was ten.
It was an accident.
The second time I meant
To last it out and not come back at all.
I rocked shut
As a seashell.
They had to call and call
And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.
Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.
It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical
Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:
'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge
For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart---
It really goes.
And there is a charge, a very large charge
For a word or a touch
Or a bit of blood
Or a piece of my hair on my clothes.
So, so, Herr Doktor.
So, Herr Enemy.
I am your opus,
I am your valuable,
The pure gold baby
That melts to a shriek.
I turn and burn.
Do not think I underestimate your great concern.
Ash, ash---
You poke and stir.
Flesh, bone, there is nothing there----
A cake of soap,
A wedding ring,
A gold filling.
Herr God, Herr Lucifer
Beware
Beware.
Out of the ash
I rise with my red hair
And I eat men like air.
i dont completely understand this poem, but i know its about her suicide attempt. at least no matter how crazy we get, we'll never be as crazy as old sylvia. you imagine the doctor unwrapping her like a mummy, or is it a strait jacket? its really disturbing when you compare the resurrection of lazarus in the bible to Plath's lady lazarus, likes its a carnival trick, a mock resurrection
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This man needs to come back to life...
Anomaly
Well-known member
These quotes are great Don Marquis Quotes - The Quotations Page
Lorraine Manca
Well-known member
this too! from shakespeare's tempest
Full fathom five thy father lies;
of his bones are coral made;
those are pearls that were his eyes
Nothing of him that doth fade,
but doth suffer a sea-change
into something rich and strange
you can practically touch the corpse lying on the ocean floor from reading that
Full fathom five thy father lies;
of his bones are coral made;
those are pearls that were his eyes
Nothing of him that doth fade,
but doth suffer a sea-change
into something rich and strange
you can practically touch the corpse lying on the ocean floor from reading that
Lorraine Manca
Well-known member
clever quotes anomaly, they deserve to be written out
A hypocrite is a person who--but who isn't?
Don Marquis
Honesty is a good thing, but it is not profitable to its possessor unless it is kept under control.
Don Marquis
- More quotations on: [Honesty]
If you make people think they're thinking, they'll love you; But if you really make them think, they'll hate you.
Don Marquis
Pity the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Don Marquis
Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis
The chief obstacle to the progress of the human race is the human race.
Don Marquis
- More quotations on: [Progress]
When a man tells you that he got rich through hard work, ask him: 'Whose?'
Don Marquis
A hypocrite is a person who--but who isn't?
Don Marquis
Honesty is a good thing, but it is not profitable to its possessor unless it is kept under control.
Don Marquis
- More quotations on: [Honesty]
If you make people think they're thinking, they'll love you; But if you really make them think, they'll hate you.
Don Marquis
Pity the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.
Don Marquis
Procrastination is the art of keeping up with yesterday.
Don Marquis
The chief obstacle to the progress of the human race is the human race.
Don Marquis
- More quotations on: [Progress]
When a man tells you that he got rich through hard work, ask him: 'Whose?'
Don Marquis
Lorraine Manca
Well-known member
personally, veggie id prefer that guy stay dead, im thinkin he looks a bit different from that photo by now. age isnt kind to dead people or last week's leftovers in the fridge
Lorraine Manca
Well-known member
success is counted sweetest
by those who ne'er succeed.
to comprehend a nectar
requires sorest need
by those who ne'er succeed.
to comprehend a nectar
requires sorest need
Lorraine Manca
Well-known member
Always in the middle of a kiss
Came the profane stimulus to cough;
Always from teh pulpit during service
Leaned the devil prompting you to laugh.
Behind mock-ceremony of your grief
Lurked the burlesque instinct of the ham;
You never altered your amused belief
That life was a mere monumental sham.
From the comic accident of birth
To the final grotesque joke of death
Your malady of sacrilegious mirth
Spread gay contagion with each clever breath.
Now you must play the straight man for a term
And tolerate the humor of the worm.
Came the profane stimulus to cough;
Always from teh pulpit during service
Leaned the devil prompting you to laugh.
Behind mock-ceremony of your grief
Lurked the burlesque instinct of the ham;
You never altered your amused belief
That life was a mere monumental sham.
From the comic accident of birth
To the final grotesque joke of death
Your malady of sacrilegious mirth
Spread gay contagion with each clever breath.
Now you must play the straight man for a term
And tolerate the humor of the worm.
Lorraine Manca
Well-known member
Lorraine Manca
Well-known member
Gr-r-r--there go, my heart's abhorrence!
Water your damned flower-pots, do!
If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence,
God's blood, would not mine kill you!
(rambles on bout hating brother lawrence, edited out for your convienence(spelling???)
Or, there's Satan!--one might venture
Pledge one's soul to him, yet leave
Such a flaw in the indenture
As he'd miss till, past retrieve,
Blasted lay that rose-acacia
We're so proud of! Hy, Zy, Hine...
'St, there's Vespers! Plena gratia
Ave, Virgo! Gr-r-r--you swine!
you know you're evil when you plan on trickin the devil! go robert browning!
in this poem this spanish monk plans on laying out a pornographic image for Lawrence to see so he can kill him in a moment of sin and send lawrence to the hot spot, now thats some tricky theology
he's cursing and practically spitting by the end of the poem, i love it!
Water your damned flower-pots, do!
If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence,
God's blood, would not mine kill you!
(rambles on bout hating brother lawrence, edited out for your convienence(spelling???)
Or, there's Satan!--one might venture
Pledge one's soul to him, yet leave
Such a flaw in the indenture
As he'd miss till, past retrieve,
Blasted lay that rose-acacia
We're so proud of! Hy, Zy, Hine...
'St, there's Vespers! Plena gratia
Ave, Virgo! Gr-r-r--you swine!
you know you're evil when you plan on trickin the devil! go robert browning!
in this poem this spanish monk plans on laying out a pornographic image for Lawrence to see so he can kill him in a moment of sin and send lawrence to the hot spot, now thats some tricky theology
he's cursing and practically spitting by the end of the poem, i love it!
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Lorraine Manca
Well-known member
This World is not Conclusion.
A Species stands beyond—
Invisible, as Music—
But positive, as Sound—
It beckons, and it baffles—
Philosophy—don't know—
And through a Riddle, at the last—
Sagacity, must go—
To guess it, puzzles scholars—
To gain it, Men have borne
Contempt of Generations
And Crucifixion, shown—
Faith slips—and laughs, and rallies—
Blushes, if any see—
Plucks at a twig of Evidence—
And asks a Vane, the way—
Much Gesture, from the Pulpit—
Strong Hallelujahs roll—
Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the soul—
emily dickinson- amazing
i have a hard time putting faith in god or people or anything inbetween, but i cant let go of the feeling that theres something deeply spiritual despite it all, narcotics cannot still the tooth that nibbles at the soul
A Species stands beyond—
Invisible, as Music—
But positive, as Sound—
It beckons, and it baffles—
Philosophy—don't know—
And through a Riddle, at the last—
Sagacity, must go—
To guess it, puzzles scholars—
To gain it, Men have borne
Contempt of Generations
And Crucifixion, shown—
Faith slips—and laughs, and rallies—
Blushes, if any see—
Plucks at a twig of Evidence—
And asks a Vane, the way—
Much Gesture, from the Pulpit—
Strong Hallelujahs roll—
Narcotics cannot still the Tooth
That nibbles at the soul—
emily dickinson- amazing
i have a hard time putting faith in god or people or anything inbetween, but i cant let go of the feeling that theres something deeply spiritual despite it all, narcotics cannot still the tooth that nibbles at the soul
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Lorraine Manca
Well-known member
great, you guys got class, or rather you got ass and its where you heads should be
Well luckily I would not have to look at, smell, or consume him in order to enjoy his writing.
I would actually be quite interested in the musings of a zombie-Vonnegut; I bet he would have a fairly lucrative career.
Also, I enjoy this poem:
The Snow Man
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
- Wallace Stevens
The Snow Man
One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;
And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter
Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,
Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place
For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.
- Wallace Stevens