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[11/17/2009 @ 5:10pm] |
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I find myself with no words to really say. I am lonely in this cold city. London is cold in every way that word can take form. I wish for company, I wish for peace, I wish to see her but nothing changes. And, so, until then I need to keep myself from going to sleep for another hundred years with anything that can keep my attention. I've taken solace in the books that I took from Marius' collection in Miami. Poetry has taken my attention mostly.
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the universe, and feel
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.
Lord Byron's words can be comforting at times but can someone offer me something less reclusive and more time consuming?
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