Well, at least I no longer feel completely at a loss. Oh Nabokov!
p.s. More about books and movies later. (woo woo anticipation)
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I want you to see this before I leave:And just like, wow. Also, I've discovered John Donne's Elegy 19, which is quite possibly the sexiest poem ever. Well, it's not that sexy, but it would be a really good poem to quote while in such a situation. It's one of those poems you can love in bits and pieces.
the experience of repetition as death
the failure of criticism to locate the pain
the poster in the bus that said:
my bleeding is under control
A red plant in a cemetary of plastic wreaths.
License my roving hands, and let them goGood fun, right?
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O my America! my new-found-land,
My kingdom, safeliest when with one man manned,
My mine of precious stones, my empery,
How blest am I in this discovering thee!
To enter in these bonds is to be free;
Then where my hand is set, my seal shall be.
"He's a coward, a cheat, and ugly to boot. "He looks like a hideous premature newt." "Yeah," said Harry, "but he's great in the sack." Ron wheezed, "I think I'm having an asthma attack! "Are you desperate? Crazy? Stupid? All three?" Said Harry: "Probably, to a degree."Some people are too brilliant for words.
Though you are very short and often overshadowed, your voice is poetic
and lyrical. Dark and brooding, you see the world as a hopeless effort of people trying
to impress other people. Though you make reference to almost everything, you've really
heard enough about Michelangelo. You measure out your life with coffee spoons.