Thursday, January 29, 2009


Edgar Allan Poe

It was many and many a year ago, 
In a kingdom by the sea, 
That a maiden there lived whom you may know 
By the name of Annabel Lee; 
And this maiden she lived with no other thought 
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child, 
In this kingdom by the sea; 
But we loved with a love that was more than love - 
I and my Annabel Lee; 
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven 
Coveted her and me. 
And this was the reason that, long ago, 
In this kingdom by the sea, 
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling 
My beautiful Annabel Lee; 
So that her highborn kinsman came 
And bore her away from me, 
To shut her up in a sepulcher 
In this kingdom by the sea. 
The angels, not half so happy in heaven, 
Went envying her and me 
Yes! that was the reason 
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) 
That the wind came out of the cloud by night, 
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love was stronger by far than the love 
Of those who were older than we 
Of many far wiser than we 
And neither the angels in heaven above, 
Nor the demons down under the sea, 
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul 
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee. 
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams 
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; 
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes 
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; 
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side 
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride, 
In the sepulcher there by the sea, 
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

don't tell me if i'm dyin'
'cause I don't wanna know
if i can't see the sun, maybe I should go.
Don't wake me
'cause I'm dreamin'
of angels on the moon
where everyone you know never leaves to soon.  

- thriving ivory

Monday, January 19, 2009

The Princess and the Tin Box 

James Thurber 

Once upon a time, in a far country, there lived a King whose daughter was the prettiest princess in the world. Her eyes were like the cornflower, her hair was sweeter than the hyacinth, and her throat made the swan look dusty. 

From the time she was a year old, the Princess had been showered with presents. Her nursery looked like Cartier’s window. Her toys were all made of gold or platinum or diamonds or emeralds. She was not permitted to have wooden blocks or china dolls or rubber dogs or linen books, because such materials were considered cheap for the daughter of a king. 

When she was seven, she was allowed to attend the wedding of her brother and throw real pearls at the bride instead of rice. Only the nightingale, with his lyre of gold, was permitted to sing for the Princess. The common blackbird, with his boxwood flute, was kept out of the palace grounds. She walked in silver-and-samite slippers to a sapphire-and-topaz bathroom and slept in an ivory bed inlaid with rubies. 

On the day the Princess was eighteen, the King sent a royal ambassador to the courts of five neighboring kingdoms to announce that he would give his daughter’s hand in marriage to the prince who brought her the gift she liked the most. 

The first prince to arrive at the palace rode a swift white stallion and laid at the feet of the Princess an enormous apple made of solid gold which he had taken from a dragon who had guarded it for a thousand years. It was placed on a long ebony table set up to hold the gifts of the Princess’ suitors. The second prince, who came on a gray charger, brought her a nightingale made of a thousand diamonds, and it was placed beside the golden apple. The third prince, riding on a black horse, carried a great jewel box made of platinum and sapphires, and it was placed next to the diamond nightingale. The fourth prince, astride a fiery yellow horse, gave the Princess a gigantic heart made of rubies and pierced by an emerald arrow. It was placed next to the platinum-and-sapphire jewel box. 

Now the fifth prince was the strongest and handsomest of all the five suitors, but he was the son of a poor king whose realm had been overrun by mice and locusts and wizards and mining engineers so that there was nothing much of value left in it. He came plodding up to the palace of the Princess on a plow horse, and he brought her a small tin box filled with mica and feldspar and hornblende (types of ordinary rocks) which he had picked up on the way. 

The other princes roared with disdainful laughter when they saw the tawdry gift the fifth prince had brought to the Princess. But she examined it with great interest and squealed with delight, for all her life she had been glutted with precious stones and priceless metals, but she had never seen tin before or mica or feldspar or hornblende. The tin box was placed next to the ruby heart pierced with an emerald arrow. 

“Now,” the King said to his daughter, “you must select the gift you like best and marry the prince that brought it.” 

The Princess smiled and walked up to the table and picked up the present she liked the most. It was the platinum-and-sapphire jewel box, the gift of the third prince. 

“The way I figure it,” she said, “is this. It is a very large and expensive box, and when I am married, I will meet many admirers who will give me precious gems with which to fill it to the top. Therefore, it is the most valuable of all the gifts my suitors have brought me, and I like it the best.” 

The Princess married the third prince that very day in the midst of great merriment and high revelry. More than a hundred thousand pearls were thrown at her and she loved it. 

Moral: All those who thought that the Princess was going to select the tin box filled with worthless stones instead of one of the other gifts will kindly stay after class and write one hundred times on the blackboard, “I would rather have a hunk of aluminum silicate than a diamond necklace.

Saturday, January 17, 2009

"...the blues are because you're getting fat or because it's been raining too long.  You're just sad, that's all.  The mean reds are horrible.  Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of.  Do you ever get that feeling?"

-Holly Golightly

Monday, January 12, 2009

Forget about guns and forget ammunition
Cause I'm killing them all on my own little mission
Now I'm not a saint but I'm not a sinner
everything is cool as long as I'm getting thinner

lily allen - The Fear

Friday, January 9, 2009

I'm selfish, impatient, & a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control, & at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best. 
- Marilyn Monroe