InsaneJournal

This community contains adult content, by which we mean: silliness, compassion, inquiry, sense, sensibility, sex, love, passion, war, death, pain, valour and honest creative work done to the best of our ability. It is therefore suitable for adults and people who aspire to become adults. The small minority who fit neither category may wish to go elsewhere.

This community is only for character journals. Player journals should join lw_ooc on LiveJournal, which is a locked community for out-of-character planning, plotting and discussion. Readers who are not playing the game may watch this community, but since many posts are made to individual character journals rather than to this community, it is better to join lightningwatch on LiveJournal or InsaneJournal, which is updated weekly or bi-weekly with recaps of all posts in chronological order. Most active discussions take place on the LiveJournal community, but posts to that community are mirrored on IJ for those who do not have LJ accounts.



~*~*~*~

tiferet93

littlewings04

jamoche

puzzlement

mclittlebitch

DOVER BEACH
By Matthew Arnold

The sea is calm tonight,
The tide is full, the moon lies fair
Upon the straits; on the French coast the light
Gleams and is gone; the cliffs of England stand,
Glimmering and vast, out in the tranquil bay.
Come to the window, sweet is the night air!

Only, from the long line of spray
Where the sea meets the moon-blanched land,
Listen! you hear the grating roar
Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling,
At their return, up the high strand,
Begin, and cease, and then again begin,
With tremulous cadence slow, and bring
The eternal note of sadness in.

Sophocles long ago
Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought
Into his mind the turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery; we
Find also in the sound a thought,
Hearing it by this distant northern sea.

The Sea of Faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth’s shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furled.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

Ah, love, let us be true
To one another! for the world, which seems
To lie before us like a land of dreams,
So various, so beautiful, so new,
Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light,
Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain;
And we are here as on a darkling plain
Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight,
Where ignorant armies clash by night.