I do not love you...
By Pablo Neruda
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way
than this: where I do not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.
colleenkane is responsible for my having found the above poem, for which I thank her greatly.
REJOICE! "Hardman SEAN BEAN is to play a homosexual Nazi in disturbing new movie Venetian Heat...
I barely saw my children yesterday -- they had sports camp until four, then since I had no transportation (the van needs all sorts of little things and a few big things after our trip), my mother drove them to swimming lessons and kept them at her house through dinner. You'd think I would have gotten more accomplished, but noooo.
It is very difficult to write news bullets when one is a month behind on news and can't tell the major stories from the minor ones, nor can one keep in one's head all 100 or so news bullets posted in absentia already.
I'm sure everyone has seen this already but my uncle sent me the link and I had not, so just in case: Caution: Wizard at Work (from the set of Prisoner of Azkaban).
Was reasonably pleased about being
The idealistic speechwriter is well-liked by just about everyone. He's known for his excellent writing, sense of humor, and tendency to be clutzy. Although being younger than the rest of the staff, he's often treated as so, much to his dismay.
:: Which West Wing character are you? ::
Badlands, South Dakota