“who are you
really?
you are not a name
or a height, or a weight
or a gender
you are not an age
and you are not where you are from
you are your favorite books
and the songs stuck in your head
you are your thoughts
and what you eat for breakfast
on Saturday mornings
you are a thousand things
but everyone chooses
to see the million things
you are not
you are not
where you are from
you are
where you are going
and i'd like
to go there
too”
―
really?
you are not a name
or a height, or a weight
or a gender
you are not an age
and you are not where you are from
you are your favorite books
and the songs stuck in your head
you are your thoughts
and what you eat for breakfast
on Saturday mornings
you are a thousand things
but everyone chooses
to see the million things
you are not
you are not
where you are from
you are
where you are going
and i'd like
to go there
too”
―
“If
"If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn't a lie,
Life would be delight,--
But things couldn't go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn't be I.
If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I'd be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn't be you.
If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,--
Yet they'd all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn't be we.”
―
"If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn't a lie,
Life would be delight,--
But things couldn't go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn't be I.
If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I'd be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn't be you.
If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,--
Yet they'd all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn't be we.”
―
“Then you are a poet?' she asked, fingering the flyer in her pocket.
'No not at all,' he waved his hand. 'I am merely a character in a poem.”
― Tropic of Orange
'No not at all,' he waved his hand. 'I am merely a character in a poem.”
― Tropic of Orange
Emma’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Emma’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
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