(no subject)
So is it not with me as with that Muse
Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven itself for ornament doth use
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse
Making a couplement of proud compare,
With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare
That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.
O' let me, true in love, but truly write,
And then believe me, my love is as fair
As any mother's child, though not so bright
As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air:
Let them say more than like of hearsay well;
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.
i'm in the mmc staring into the computer screen and reading shakespeare's sonnets
i'm very content and perserved and relaxed
i dont feel like doing the assignment that was given so i am just to sit here until 10:25 then retreat to class where i can draw and scribble my ideas and memories. and whatever sick thought that comes through my head that when you see it your be tricked into believing i was on acid when i drew it. in other words i have a crazy imagination.
i dont even know what i'm typing right now . i'm not re reading whatever i say. i dont think i wnat to it wont make any sense
the scanner just talked to me.......it said sometimes its o.k. to be angry. a parent/ child manual for the education of children . everyone feels angry sometimes this book can help....then in real small letters it says....kill yourself repeaditly with a bear holding a knife eating an ice cream sundae. the little girl is puzzled in why there is no chocolate on this sundae so she cried and ran into the bathroom where she found her mother giving hand jobs for little baggies of crack cocain and marijuana cigarettes
Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven itself for ornament doth use
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse
Making a couplement of proud compare,
With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare
That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems.
O' let me, true in love, but truly write,
And then believe me, my love is as fair
As any mother's child, though not so bright
As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air:
Let them say more than like of hearsay well;
I will not praise that purpose not to sell.
i'm in the mmc staring into the computer screen and reading shakespeare's sonnets
i'm very content and perserved and relaxed
i dont feel like doing the assignment that was given so i am just to sit here until 10:25 then retreat to class where i can draw and scribble my ideas and memories. and whatever sick thought that comes through my head that when you see it your be tricked into believing i was on acid when i drew it. in other words i have a crazy imagination.
i dont even know what i'm typing right now . i'm not re reading whatever i say. i dont think i wnat to it wont make any sense
the scanner just talked to me.......it said sometimes its o.k. to be angry. a parent/ child manual for the education of children . everyone feels angry sometimes this book can help....then in real small letters it says....kill yourself repeaditly with a bear holding a knife eating an ice cream sundae. the little girl is puzzled in why there is no chocolate on this sundae so she cried and ran into the bathroom where she found her mother giving hand jobs for little baggies of crack cocain and marijuana cigarettes