mysteriousdarkacademiawitch - booklovermushroom
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Lets Admit, We All Had A Crush On Neil Perry From Dead Poets Society And Cried When He Died.

Lets Admit, We All Had A Crush On Neil Perry From Dead Poets Society And Cried When He Died.
Lets Admit, We All Had A Crush On Neil Perry From Dead Poets Society And Cried When He Died.
Lets Admit, We All Had A Crush On Neil Perry From Dead Poets Society And Cried When He Died.

Let’s admit, we all had a crush on Neil Perry from Dead Poets Society and cried when he died. 

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More Posts from Mysteriousdarkacademiawitch

Yes: I Am A Dreamer. For A Dreamer Is One Who Can Only Find His Way By Moonlight, And His Punishment
Yes: I Am A Dreamer. For A Dreamer Is One Who Can Only Find His Way By Moonlight, And His Punishment
Yes: I Am A Dreamer. For A Dreamer Is One Who Can Only Find His Way By Moonlight, And His Punishment
Yes: I Am A Dreamer. For A Dreamer Is One Who Can Only Find His Way By Moonlight, And His Punishment

“Yes: I am a dreamer. For a dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world.”

- The Critic as Artist, Oscar Wilde. 


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The Listeners

‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,     Knocking on the moonlit door; And his horse in the silence champed the grasses     Of the forest’s ferny floor: And a bird flew up out of the turret,     Above the Traveller’s head: And he smote upon the door again a second time;     ‘Is there anybody there?’ he said. But no one descended to the Traveller;     No head from the leaf-fringed sill Leaned over and looked into his grey eyes,     Where he stood perplexed and still. But only a host of phantom listeners     That dwelt in the lone house then Stood listening in the quiet of the moonlight     To that voice from the world of men: Stood thronging the faint moonbeams on the dark stair,     That goes down to the empty hall, Hearkening in an air stirred and shaken     By the lonely Traveller’s call. And he felt in his heart their strangeness,     Their stillness answering his cry, While his horse moved, cropping the dark turf,     ’Neath the starred and leafy sky; For he suddenly smote on the door, even     Louder, and lifted his head:— ‘Tell them I came, and no one answered,     That I kept my word,’ he said. Never the least stir made the listeners,     Though every word he spake Fell echoing through the shadowiness of the still house     From the one man left awake: Ay, they heard his foot upon the stirrup,     And the sound of iron on stone, And how the silence surged softly backward,     When the plunging hoofs were gone.

                                       ---- Walter De la Mare


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⚜️Dear vintage souls, dark academics, I now need your help: PETRICHOR OR THE SMELL OF OLD BOOKS?

Personal Opinion, But I Think Life Is Too Short To Miss Such A Lit Show Like Peaky Blinders. And Not

Personal opinion, but I think life is too short to miss such a lit show like Peaky Blinders. And not make edits of Tommy Shelby’s witty dialogues after that. So I made this.


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