One Art by Elizabeth Bishop
The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.
--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied. It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
Jack Kerouac . . .
… has caused another contradition in my mind. I adore his work and his philosophy. Yet, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give him my full respect. I admire him for his journeys and his view on life, mostly because it’s something I can relate to. But the man lived with his mother, and that’s that. Is this a just reason to lose respect for someone or am I just too fickle?
Wah wah waaaaaah
allielovesyou:
I got 1860 on my SATs, and I said I would be happy with anything over 1800 on my first go but I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. I know I’m smarter than that.
Next time, I STUDY !
I’ve never known anyone to get anything above 1800 without prep.
I’d recommend Elite if you have the $$ for it. :x
cringe.
After every exceptionally thorough cleaning of our house it seems exponentially dirtier. As if somehow the polished floors are meant not to reflect our faces but those of a family living in a stable home. And it’s not going to feel normal again until it reaches its normal state of messiness.
