Something To Work Towards.

Try as she might, she still isn't managing to "Wear (Her) Tribulation Like a Rose."

I Shall Never Be Different. Love Me.

I feel as though right now I should be petitioning to St. Jude, rather than to St. Cecilia. Still, the music comforts me. (Listen to the music, please. It and the words are a perfect couple.) Then there is this:

I am defeat
When it knows it
Can now do nothing
By suffering.

Maybe Grace is in part knowing when to give up on something.

I don't know. Maybe it's that I've always felt myself more able to take care of myself after a rejection. Maybe it's the thought that I don't merit or maybe don't even want to deal with too much of another's ardor.


The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,

- W. H. Auden