No more do I burn.
No more for us the fluttering of wings
That whirred in the air above us.
Lo the fair dead!
·
No more do I burn.
No more for us the fluttering of wings
That whirred in the air above us.
Lo the fair dead!
“Beauty makes me hopeless. I don’t care why anymore I just want to get away. When I look at the city of Paris I long to wrap my legs around it. When I watch you dancing there is a heartless immensity like a sailor in a dead calm sea. Desires as round as peaches bloom in me all night, I no longer gather what falls.”
Anne Carson | “Short Talk on Hedonism”