Author: powerbondchemical (221.196.92.---)
Date: 10-02-05 15:23
The former post was off topic and was removed as it was a violation of our
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But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine;
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs,
When in the least of them my life hath end.
I see a better state to me belongs
Than that which on thy humour doth depend:
Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
O! what a happy title do I find,
Happy to have thy love, happy to die!
But what\'s so blessed-fair that fears no blot?
Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.
Canst thou, O cruel! say I love thee not,
When I against myself with thee partake?
Do I not think on thee, when I forgot
Am of my self, all tyrant, for thy sake?
Who hateth thee that I do call my friend,
On whom frown\'st thou that I do fawn upon,
Nay, if thou lour\'st on me, do I not spend
Revenge upon myself with present moan?
What merit do I in my self respect,
That is so proud thy service to despise,
When all my best doth worship thy defect,
Commanded by the motion of thine eyes?
But, love, hate on, for now I know thy mind,;
Those that can see thou lov\'st, and I am blind.
I tried being reasonable, I didn\'t like it.
We must be steady enough in ourselves, to be open and to let the winds of life blow through us, to be our breath, our
inspiration; to breathe with them, mobile and soft in the limberness of our bodies, in our agility, our ability, as it were,
to dance, and yet to stand upright.
T. S. Eliot