Sunday

I was reading 'The Ballad of Reading Gaol'. A few lines worth sharing:

Yet each man kills the thing he loves,
By each let this be heard,
Some do it with a bitter look,
Some with a flattering word.
The coward does it with a kiss,
The brave man with a sword!

Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some strangle with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.

Some love too little, some too long,
Some sell, and others buy;
Some do the deed with many tears,
And some without a sigh:
For each man kills the thing he loves,
Yet each man does not die.

-Wilde

Such a poetical exposition of the essential connection between love and hate that leaves them both tangled in each others embrace, hanging in an exquisite balance whose unstable equilibrium is a relationship.

7 comments:

Anonymous said...

yawn!!

Ankit said...

I have hardly seen anyone yawning with such excitement (2 exclamations)... or do you lack even the basic knowledge of punctuations :)?

Amit said...

I lack basic knowledge of punctuation?

Amit said...

!!??//..

Anonymous said...

Do you think that this might be related to this line of Wilde:
"To love oneself is the beginning of a life-long romance."

Ankit said...

Explains the masochistic tendencies in us!

Amit said...

You have no idea how much drudgery I had to put through to find that ascii art for the middle finger and you chose to delete it? Such a heartless despot! There is no free speech in this world...

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Like a particularly notorious child's tantrums, a mountaneous river's intemperance, a volcano's reckless carelessness and the dreamy eyes of a caged bird, imagination tries to fly unfettered. Hesitant as she takes those first steps, she sculpts those ambitious yet half baked earthen pots.