this is a prayer given to me by the Gitanjali of Rabindranath Tagore:

When though commandest me to sing it seems that my heart would break with pride; and I look to thy face, and tears come to my eyes.
All that is harsh and dissonant in my life melts into one sweet harmony---and my adoration spreads wings like a glad bird on its flight across the sea.
I know thou takest pleasure in my singing. I know that only as a singer I come before thy presence.
I touch by the edge of the far-spreading wing of my song thy feet which I could never aspire to reach.
Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee fried who art my lord.

I know not how though singest, my master! I ever listen in silent amazement.
The light of thy music illumines the world. The life breath of thy music runs from sky to sky. The holy stream of thy music breaks through all stony obstacles and rushes on.
My heart longs to join in thy song, but vainly struggles for a voice. I would speak, but speech breaks not into song, and I cry out baffled. Ah, though hast made my heart captive in the endless meshes of thy music, my master!

* * *

where is my heath ledger? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!

i've miraculously found the means to sneak in some reading in between my academics. i'm quite proud of myself for it. but i think it's contributing the baggage underneath my eyes. i must remember to make up for it during the summer vacation.

hm. it feels strange to be reading all the time again like i used to. it's like i've ridden a bike after years of letting the old thing collect dust in the garage. not that i haven't been reading at all... just not as much as when i had a lot more free time on my hands. i always used to walk around with a book, after all. and no, i don't remember bumping into anything while doing that.

though i don't remember if anything bumped into me...

* * *

"The dear old days when I could fly!"
"Why can't you fly now, mother?"
"Because I am grown up, dearest. When people grow up they forget the way."
"Why do they forget the way?"
"Because they are no longer gay and innocent and heartless. It is only the gay and innocent and heartless who can fly."

---J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan

"...I find a strange pleasure in saying things to him that I know I shall be sorry for having said. As a rule, he is charming to me, and we sit in the studio and talk of a thousand things. Now and then, however, he is horribly thoughless, and seems to take a real delight in giving me pain. Then I feel, Harry, that I have given away my whole soul to someone who treats it as if it were a flower to put in his coat, a bit of decoration to charm his vanity, an ornament for a summer's day."

---Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray