Sketch-blog of an alien-cat-sorcerer.

Posts tagged “monster

FUTURING PERSON #95

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You pay a great deal too dear for what’s given freely

Out of the jaws of death


Men of few words are the best men

The course of true love never did run smooth


Love sought is good, but giv’n unsought is better

We are such stuff as dreams are made on, rounded with a little sleep


Have more than thou showest, speak less than thou knowest, lend less than thou owest

The worst is not, So long as we can say, ‘This is the worst.’


How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child!

I am a man more sinned against than sinning


Yet do I fear thy nature; It is too full o’ the milk of human kindness.

Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood clean from my hand? No, this my hand will rather the multitudinous seas incarnadine, making the green one red


Fair is foul, and foul is fair

I bear a charmed life


There ‘s daggers in men’s smiles

I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none


A dish fit for the gods

Cry “Havoc,” and let slip the dogs of war


I’ll not budge an inch

We have seen better days


The world is grown so bad, that wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch

But love is blind, and lovers cannot see


Now is the winter of our discontent

A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!


VERY TRAGICAL MIRTH!

ALL THAT I HAVE TO SAY, IS, TO TELL YOU THAT THE LANTHORN

IS THE MOON; I, THE MAN IN THE MOON; THIS THORN-BUSH,

MY THORN-BUSH; AND THIS DOG, MY DOG.


EAT NO ONIONS NOR GARLIC, FOR WE ARE TO UTTER SWEET BREATH.

THE LUNATIC, THE LOVER, AND THE POET,

ARE OF IMAGINATION ALL COMPACT:

ONE SEES MORE DEVILS THAN VAST HELL CAN HOLD,

THAT IS, THE MADMAN; THE LOVER, ALL AS FRANTIC,

SEES HELEN’S BEAUTY IN THE BROW OF EGYPT:

THE POET’S EYE, IN A FINE FRENZY ROLLING,

DOTH GLANCE FROM HEAVEN TO EARTH, FROM EARTH TO HEAVEN;

AND, AS IMAGINATION BODIES FORTH

THE FORMS OF THINGS UNKNOWN, THE POET’S PEN

TURNS THEM TO SHAPES, AND GIVES TO AIRY NOTHING

A LOCAL HABITATION AND A NAME.

SUCH TRICKS HATH STRONG IMAGINATION,

THAT, IF IT WOULD BUT APPREHEND SOME JOY,

IT COMPREHENDS SOME BRINGER OF THAT JOY;

OR IN THE NIGHT, IMAGINING SOME FEAR,

HOW EASY IS THE BUSH SUPPOS’D A BEAR!


I AM SLOWLY OF STUDY.

 

THAT WOULD HANG US, EVERY MOTHER’S SON.


Whom Sane?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Can You Feel the Special Season?

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Crayon Color Monster

Love.