U 2 me
Really R
Ev•Re•Thing/k
Can one truly be in love without being consumed by it?
Can one truly love someone without wanting to own them?
I submit to you that the answers are “no” and “no.”
Can two people be equally passionately in love with each other?
To this my provisional answer is that while snowflakes might appear the same, at the molecular level it is virtually impossible for any two to be the same; so:
“‘virtually’ but not ‘totally’ impossible.”
The line dividing sane and insane really is ever so fine:
The Tell-Tale Heart
TRUE!-nervous—very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses—not destroyed—not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily—how calmly I can tell you the whole story.
To Helen
Helen, thy beauty is to me
Like those Nicéan barks of yore,
That gently, o’er a perfumed sea,
The weary, way-worn wanderer bore
To his own native shore.
On desperate seas long wont to roam,
Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,
Thy Naiad airs have brought me home
To the glory that was Greece,
And the grandeur that was Rome.
Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche
How statue-like I see thee stand,
The agate lamp within thy hand!
Ah, Psyche, from the regions which
Are Holy-Land!
— Edgar Allan Poe
Anna Bidoonism 