On today, the 6th of November, I, Rachel Ashby, am glad for John Keats. He was a Romantic poet who penned such beautiful things as Ode to a Nightengale, Ode on a Grecian Urn, many beautiful letters, etc. Read for yourself:
A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing
"Call the world if you Please "The vale of Soul-making" . . . Soul as distinguished from Intelligence--There may be intelligences or sparks of the divinity in millions--but they are not Souls till they acquire identities, till each one is personally itself. Intelligences are atoms of perception--they know and they see and they are pure, in short they are God--how then are Souls to be made? How then are these sparks which are God to have identity given them--so as ever to possess a bliss peculiar to each ones individual existence? How, but by the medium of a world like this?"
"You have absorb'd me. I have a sensation at the present moment as though I was dissolving"
Just go read Keats. All of him. He is fabulous. As is the movie Bright Star, about his love story with Fanny Brawn. Spoilers: It does not have a happy ending because Keats died at the age of 25 as a poor writer without having gotten to marry Fanny. And the movie was kind of slow at parts. But I loved how they laced pieces of Keats' writing through it and it was very romantic and REAL romance. Not that crappy Hollywood stuff.
And then there was a new episode of Bones last night, that I watched tonight with Sarah and Lila. Hooray.
Anyway, bed time. :)