but i know it's too late
Even tho LiveJournal is pretty much dead nowadays, I will continue to post... this is the closest thing to a journal I have.
Anyway, I just finished reading The Time Traveler's Wife. It was fabulous and I am sad it's over. I thought it was beautifully written, especially since there's a lot of poetry incorporated into it. For example, the first page contains one of my favorite poems, and when I saw that, I knew I'd enjoy the book:
Love After Love
Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
(I'm pretty sure I've posted that poem before, but it's so wonderful it deserves another look)
I'm babysitting right now, and the five-year-old, Cooper, is screaming because I gave him one cookie instead of two.
Damn, I wish I had his problems.
mazoo.co.uk
Anyway, I just finished reading The Time Traveler's Wife. It was fabulous and I am sad it's over. I thought it was beautifully written, especially since there's a lot of poetry incorporated into it. For example, the first page contains one of my favorite poems, and when I saw that, I knew I'd enjoy the book:
Love After Love
Derek Walcott
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror,
and each will smile at the other's welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
(I'm pretty sure I've posted that poem before, but it's so wonderful it deserves another look)
I'm babysitting right now, and the five-year-old, Cooper, is screaming because I gave him one cookie instead of two.
Damn, I wish I had his problems.
mazoo.co.uk