The difficult task of knowing another soul is not for young [persons] whose consciousness is chiefly made up of their own wishes.
George Eliot, Middlemarch (via emberlinsmiscellany)
noun (pl.sensibilities) [ mass noun ]
1 the quality of being able to appreciate and respond to complex emotional or aesthetic influences; sensitivity: the study of literature leads to a growth of intelligence and sensibility.
• (sensibilities) a quality of delicate sensitivity that makes one liable to be offended or shocked: the scale of the poverty revealed by the survey shocked people’s sensibilities.
Glanmore Sonnets by Seamus Heaney
(and as shared by Hallie)
XI dreamt we slept in a moss in DonegalOn turf banks under blankets, with our facesExposed all night in a wetting drizzle,Pallid as the dripping sapling birches.Lorenzo and Jessica in a cold climate.Diarmuid and Grainne waiting to be found.Darkly asperged and censed, we were laid outLike breathing effigies on a raised ground.And in that dream I dreamt—how like you this?—Our first night years ago in that hotelWhen you came with your deliberate kissTo raise us towards the lovely and painfulCovenants of flesh; our separateness;The respite in our dewy dreaming faces.
I seem to have found myself with too many disparate thoughts and too few related outlets. Thank goodness for the Internet.
- Well, it’s like if someone plays an instrument, say, a guitar. A young player can play it, and if he wants to play a high note, or a fast rhythm, it has a certain [makes twangy noise] desperate quality to it. But when you get a really sophisticated player playing those notes, he can play those same notes in a tempo where there’s space in between. You can see that there’s actually a process where his interior state is so quick, that he can find time other people can’t find.
- me: you would like this song
- Albert: ok listening to it, then going to sleep, i'm sleepy
- me: :( don't leave me! but fine, all of life, will be about leaving and moving on, we will never stop moving (on)
- Albert: this is the part where kris and i would laugh at how much you got just from me saying good night
- me: what? aren't you leaving me?
- Albert: yes but only until we chat again, not forever