If that high world

If that high world, which lies beyond
Our own, surviving Love endears;
If there the cherish'd heart be fond,
The eye the same, except in tears ---
How welcome those untrodden spheres !
How sweet this very hour to die !
To soar from earth and find all fears
Lost in thy light --- Eternity !
 
It must be so:  'tis not for self
That we so tremble on the brink;
And striving to o'erleap the gulf,
Yet cling to Being's severing link.
Oh !   in that future let us think
To hold each heart the heart that shares;
With them the immortal waters drink,
And soul in soul grow deathless their!

Lord Byron

I ask but to forget

"Oh Memory, torture me no more,
The present's all o'ercast;
My hopes of future bliss are o'er,
In mercy veil the past.
Why bring those images to view
I henceforth must resign ?
Ah ! why those happy hours renew,
That never can be mine?
Past pleasure doubles present pain,
To sorrow adds regret,
Regret and hope are both in vain,
I ask but to — forget."

Lord Byron

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

One of the most moving films I have ever seen. A reminder that life is short and impermanent. Here's a quote from it:

"For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again."

Kierkegaard 2

“When the world commences its drastic ordeal, when the storms of life crush youth’s exuberant expectancy, when existence, which seemed so affectionate and gentle, changes into a pitiless proprietor who demands everything back, everything that it gave in such a way that it can take it back-then the believer most likely looks at himself and his life with sadness and pain, but he still says, “There is an expectancy that the whole world cannot take from me; it is the expectancy of faith, and this is victory. I am not deceived, since I did not believe that the world would keep the promise it seemed to be making to me, my expectancy was not in the world but in God.”

Kierkegaard

One sticks one’s finger into the soil to tell by the smell in what land one is: I stick my finger in existence — it smells of nothing. Where am I? Who am I? How came I here? What is this thing called the world? What does this world mean? Who is it that has lured me into the world? Why was I not consulted, why not made acquainted with its manners and customs instead of throwing me into the ranks, as if I had been bought by a kidnapper, a dealer in souls? How did I obtain an interest in this big enterprise they call reality? Why should I have an interest in it? Is it not a voluntary concern? And if I am to be compelled to take part in it, where is the director? I should like to make a remark to him. Is there no director? Whither shall I turn with my complaint?

Brothers on a hotel bed

You may tire of me
As our December sun is setting
'Cos I'm not who I used to be.

No longer easy on the eyes
These wrinkles masterfully disguise
The youthful boy below.

Who turned your way and saw
Something he was not looking for,
Both a beginning, and an end.

Now he lives inside
Someone he does not recognise
When he catches his reflection by accident.

On the back of a motorbike
With your arms out-stretched trying to take flight
Leaving everything behind.
But even at our swiftest speed
We couldn't break from the concrete
In the city where we still reside.

And I have learned, that even landlocked lovers yearn
For the sea like navy men.

The Beauty of Romantic love

What makes romantic love beautiful? It is certainly not the emotion itself. No, romantic love is only considered beautiful if it arises in fortuitous circumstances. If the emotion of romantic love arises between two young people, both single, who then go on to get married, raise a family, and spend the rest of their lives together, then love is considered by all as a beautiful thing. But if two people fall in love in a situation which society deems "wrong" then the very same emotion is seen as anything but beautiful. Consider if the love of Romeo and Juliet would still be held up as one of the most beautiful ever told if Juliet was married with a child, or if Romeo had been ten years older than the fourteen year old Juliet? What then, do we find beautiful about love? Not the emotion of romantic love itself, but that vital and fortuitous combination of  romantic love, and favourable coincidence. The very same emotion  of love, then, can become either the pinacle of human beauty and happiness, or the depth of human despair and shame, depending entirely upon the circumstances under which it arises.