arjn

“Larry’s such a liar---
He tells outrageous lies.
He says he’s ninety-nine years old
Instead of only five.
He says he lives up on the moon,
He says that he once flew.
He says he’s really six feet four
Instead of three feet two.
He says he has a billion dollars
‘Stead of just a dime.
He says he rode a dinosaur
Back in some distant time.
He says his mother is the moon
Who taught him magic spells.
He says his father is the wind
That rings the morning bells.
He says he can take stones and rocks
And turn them into gold.
He says he can take burnin’ fire
And turn it freezin’ cold.
He said he’d send me seven elves
To help me with my chores.
But Larry’s such a liar---
He only sent me four.”
― Shel Silverstein

“We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers of wisdom, characters we have climbed into as if trees, fears we have hidden in as if caves.

I wish for all this to be marked on by body when I am dead. I believe in such cartography - to be marked by nature, not just to label ourselves on a map like the names of rich men and women on buildings. We are communal histories, communal books. We are not owned or monogamous in our taste or experience.”
― Michael Ondaatje, The English Patient

“Words make you think. Music makes you feel. A song makes you feel a thought.”
― Yip Harburg