Alone

Alone

From childhood’s hour I have not been As others were—I have not seen As others saw—I could not bring My passions from a common spring— From the same source I have not taken My sorrow—I could not awaken My heart to joy at the same tone— And all I lov’d—I lov’d alone— Then—in my childhood—in the dawn Of a most stormy life—was drawn From ev’ry depth of good and ill The mystery which binds me still— From the torrent, or the fountain— From the red cliff of the mountain— From the sun that ’round me roll’d In its autumn tint of gold— From the lightning in the sky As it pass’d me flying by— From the thunder, and the storm— And the cloud that took the form (When the rest of Heaven was blue) Of a demon in my view—

Edgar Allan Poe

When Morticia Addams said, "Life's not all lovely thorns and singing vultures, you know," and "Hearts are wild creatures, that's why our ribs are cages."

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

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

One thing I didn't expect from The Song of Achilles but I ended up loving was how calm the relationship between Achilles and Patroclus is.

Like they're deeply in love. They're responsible for all those dramatic but lovely and passionate quotes about love. "I could know him by touch alone", "When he died, all things soft and beautiful and bright would be buried with him", "he is half my soul", all of those.

But the relationship itself is so relaxed. They are deeply in love and its obvious but there are so few dramatic, passionate moments like the ones you see in other romance stories, at least moments to do with them as a couple. Most dramatic moments are not about them per se but rather about what's going on around them (the argument about Briseis is one of the few conflicts between them, because most conflicts are more them vs everyone else). They're so confident and self-assured in their relationship and their love for each other that there's no need for drama between them. They're passionately in love but they're also not dramatic about it.

They're passionately in love but the relationship itself is so relaxed. They're like an old married couple. And I love it.

⚜️I'd have been so powerful if only Cicero had given me his talent for destroying enemies with words...