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#english literature
hoeliterature · 5 hours ago
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Fuck well-revised, proof-read, edited and rewritten masterpieces. Show me that first draft you created at 3:34am, minutes before passing out on your bathroom floor because of too much of alcohol in your tummy and knives in your heart.
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hoeliterature · 5 hours ago
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Sometimes, I wonder, if you are the one for me but I am not the one for you.
What if one is not their soulmate's soulmate? What if their soulmate's soulmate is someone else?
Is that how the sky feels too when it watches the sea embracing the shore time and time again, till eternity?
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ross-nekochan · 5 hours ago
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But beauty, real beauty, ends where intellectual expression begins. Intellect is in itself a mode of exaggeration, and destroys the harmony of any face. The moment one sits down to think, one becomes all nose, or all forehead, or something horrid.
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray
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postgradteacher · 8 hours ago
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I owe such a debt to the drama teacher at the school I went to. He ran an incredibly ambitious programme, and I'm not sure I knew it at the time. We tend to assume that bright, gifted kids just have all this cultural stuff inside them already, and I did, but whilst I grew up in a house obsessed with music and with ancillary interests in visual art, vaguely in travel and architecture, the outdoors, I don't think I went to a serious play until I had to for school. Pantomimes or community productions, sure, but not serious straight plays.
I should pause here to acknowledge the staggering privilege of my private education. I wish, and I fight, for everyone who wants it to experience these things.
I saw Antigone and Oedipus Rex because I took Classics. I saw plays by Dario Fo and Athol Fugard because I took Theatre Studies. I saw Shakespeare plays and Tennessee Williams because I was studying the texts for English.
And we put on real plays. I am possibly the only kid to have used working on the stage crew as an illicit education in the history of western theatre.
Aside Number Two: I once crashed a lecture in non-western theatre at University of Colorado at Boulder.
Aside Number Three: our Shakespeare festival, in which each of five groups of 12-13 year olds performed an abridged play, included the immortal line "My name is Donalbain... And not a lot of people know that."
Brecht. Pinter. Berkoff. Shakespeare. And then, gloriously, hilariously, Andrew Lloyd Webber's Jesus Christ Superstar in my final year. I sat in the dark with a torch as prompt, or manned the followspot, and eventually learned lighting design.
The point here is that we should be ambitious. I didn't put most of what I saw in any kind of context for years, but you can always, always come back and reflect on these formative experiences with the benefit of hindsight and greater education. I used the technical skills I learned immediately, spent ten years doing casual events work between other jobs and now use the literature and theatre knowledge as a teacher.
These are the things bouncing around my head as prepare to start teaching Romeo and Juliet tomorrow...
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volumelover · 9 hours ago
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From time to time, it’s great to take a break from everything and admire the things around you, think how you got the stuff you have now, think about the memories you have made with people, and cherish them.
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academiaa-a · 10 hours ago
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-A Lyrical Thread on Love and Hurt
Hurt, Nine Inch Nails // Howl, Florence and the Machine // The Cut That Always Bleeds, Conan Gray // Pray You Catch Me, Beyoncé // Last Kiss, Taylor Swift // All Too Well, Taylor Swift // America, Simon and Garfunkel // Songbird, Fleetwood Mac // NFWMB, Hozier // Graceland, Paul Simon // Love Will Tear Us Apart, Joy Division // Shake It Out, Florence and The Machine
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sophiegerarda · 11 hours ago
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self-care is watching Dead Poets Society but shutting it off after the play where Neil performed good—really good
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What if the world ends tomorrow?
Will it be difficult...to leave it all behind and just go...?
Will the way it ends make us feel better?
Will the happiness of dying with fellow humans engulf us or the pain of not knowing what happens after death stop you?
Will the “what ifs” have you haunting the town?
Those who live will be the lucky ones?
Will the fact that they’re the last man standing comfort them ?
How would one say the final goodbye?
Will that moment decide what we mean to others?
Will the next romantic thing will be decomposing together?
Tears in our eyes will be for the pain of parting from loved ones or for the fact that we get to see the world fall apart infront of us?
Are we ready to be Dying without the human touch ?
Will the comfort of dying beside your lover make it easier ?
Will the urge to live it all in a moment eat us alive?
In a moment you can breathe and in a moment you can’t ,is that how it’s gonna be?
Will the urge to lie on their chest and listen to their heartbeat still keep us alive?
Will the words we write outlive us ?
In that last moment it’s all gonna make sense?
Will it be worth it?
Will the life that built up to this moment wave you a loving good bye?
Can we as humans should try and comprehend the fact that this is a part of something big?
Or is it all a big mistake?
What will take our life away ?Too much of an aesteroid or hard famine,a severe plague maybe, a pandemic probably?
If we do stay alive,what are we supposed to tell our future generation...that these many of humans had to die to have you and me exist in this moment?
Will the memories of lost ones linger upon or skin or we’ll become a long lost memory on someone’s skin?
What do we wanna reincarnate as? A cold wind , a soft breeze...that touches one and just flows by, i guess we’ll never know?
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academiaa-a · 13 hours ago
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Remember when Mitski sang, “But if I gave up on being pretty, I wouldn’t know how to be alive,” yeah i felt that.
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bourbonmetaphors · 16 hours ago
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WE MADE LOVE
I think somewhere, in a parallel world, we made love in a garden of wilted flowers. Our trembling hands reaching out toward the sky, trying to grasp the last watery rays of a dying sun. Two hearts colliding and shattering into a million tiny stars.
– Michael Faudet
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bourbonmetaphors · 16 hours ago
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Soul Mates
I don't know how you are so familiar to me- or why it feels less like I am getting to know you and more as though I am remembering who you are. How every smile, every whisper brings me closer to the impossible conclusion that I have known you before, I have loved you before-in another time, a different place some other existence.
– Lang Leav
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bourbonmetaphors · 16 hours ago
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Stardust
If you came to me with a face I have not seen, with a voice I have never heard, I would still know you. Even if centuries separated us, I would still feel you. Somewhere between the sand and the stardust, through every collapse and creation, there is a pulse that echoes of you and I. When we leave this world, we give up all our possessions and our memories. Love is the only thing we take with us. It is all we carry from one life to the next.
– Lang Leav; Memories.
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bourbonmetaphors · 16 hours ago
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"What greater thing is there for two human souls, than to feel that they are joined for life to strengthen each other in all labour, to rest on each other in all sorrow, to minister to each other in all pain, to be one with each other in silent unspeakable memories at the moment of the last parting?"
– George Eliot
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bourbonmetaphors · 16 hours ago
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THE ROSE
Have you ever loved a rose, and watched her slowly bloom; and as her petals would unfold, you grew drunk on her perfume.
Have you ever seen her dance, her leaves all wet with dew; and quivered with a new romance the wind, he loved her too.
Have you ever longed for her, on nights that go on and on; for now, her face is all a blur, like a memory kept too long.
Have you ever loved a rose, and bled against her thorns; and swear each night to let her go, then love her more by dawn.
– Lang Leav
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