"Sleep is the best meditation."
Set at 20:42 on August 01, 2014
I'm a dreamer! I oscillate between reality and reverie like a clown between laughing and crying…
"Welcome to my house! Enter freely and of your own free will!"
My beloved and my favourite actor - Dragonrouge
All of us are immortal but first we must die!
MIRCEA ELIADE (a romanian philosopher)
Brandon Lee - The final interview
"My body is a journal in a way. It's like what sailors used to do, where every tattoo meant something, a specific time in your life when you make a mark on yourself, whether you do it to yourself with a knife or with a professional tattoo artist." (Johnny Depp)
Keanu Reeves in Bram Stoker's Dracula
The story tells of a small town that is very much bothered by a very strange and weird man living in a visually haunted house. One day the mayor decides to go with a couple of people from his town to the weird man who's living up the hill, and tell him to leave. When they reach the mayor starts convincing him to leave his town, but the people with the mayor started liking Michael Jackson, and he started singing to them and scaring the mayor. Until in the end the mayor gets too scared and runs away, and the people come to know that Michael isn't too bad after all.
...and Ozzy Osbourne, Rammstein, Theatre des Vampires, Moonspell, Elend, Ataraxia, Evol and many many other.
Blessed be this place,
More blessed still this tower;
A bloody, arrogant power
Rose out of the race
Uttering, mastering it,
Rose like these walls from these
Storm-beaten cottages --
In mockery I have set
A powerful emblem up,
And sing it rhyme upon rhyme
In mockery of a time
HaIf dead at the top.
Alexandria's was a beacon tower, and Babylon's
An image of the moving heavens, a log-book of the
sun's journey and the moon's;
And Shelley had his towers, thought's crowned powers
he called them once.
I declare this tower is my symbol; I declare
This winding, gyring, spiring treadmill of a stair is my
That Goldsmith and the Dean, Berkeley and Burke
have travelled there.
Swift beating on his breast in sibylline frenzy blind
Because the heart in his blood-sodden breast had
dragged him down into mankind,
Goldsmith deliberately sipping at the honey-pot of his
And haughtier-headed Burke that proved the State a
That this unconquerable labyrinth of the birds, cen-
tury after century,
Cast but dead leaves to mathematical equality;
And God-appointed Berkeley that proved all things a
That this pragmatical, preposterous pig of a world, its
farrow that so solid seem,
Must vanish on the instant if the mind but change its
Saeva Indignatio and the labourer's hire,
The strength that gives our blood and state magnani-
mity of its own desire;
Everything that is not God consumed with intellectual
The purity of the unclouded moon
Has flung its atrowy shaft upon the floor.
Seven centuries have passed and it is pure,
The blood of innocence has left no stain.
There, on blood-saturated ground, have stood
Soldier, assassin, executioner.
Whether for daily pittance or in blind fear
Or out of abstract hatred, and shed blood,
But could not cast a single jet thereon.
Odour of blood on the ancestral stair!
And we that have shed none must gather there
And clamour in drunken frenzy for the moon.
Upon the dusty, glittering windows cling,
And seem to cling upon the moonlit skies,
Tortoiseshell butterflies, peacock butterflies,
A couple of night-moths are on the wing.
Is every modern nation like the tower,
Half dead at the top? No matter what I said,
For wisdom is the property of the dead,
A something incompatible with life; and power,
Like everything that has the stain of blood,
A property of the living; but no stain
Can come upon the visage of the moon
When it has looked in glory from a cloud.
(BLOOD AND THE MOON by William Butler Yeats)
|Member Since: ||Dec 13, 2011
|Last Login: ||Jan 25, 2020|
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MisstressofChains was here
You who are destiny,
ardour and fury,
forget the ash that flows from your chest,
do not mix it with the venom of the snake
and, without approaching the source,
and descend into the Hades of war.
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