||[12 Mar 2007|08:03pm]
"Musick has Charms to sooth a savage Beast,
To soften Rocks, or bend a knotted Oak.
I've read, that things inanimate have mov'd,
And, as with living Souls, have been inform'd,
By Magick Numbers and persuasive Sound.
What then am I? Am I more senseless grown
Than Trees, or Flint? O force of constant Woe!
'Tis not in Harmony to calm my Griefs.
Anselmo sleeps, and is at Peace; last Night
The silent Tomb receiv'd the good Old King;
He and his Sorrows now are safely lodg'd
Within its cold, but hospitable Bosom.
Why am not I at Peace?"
- William Congreve, 'The Mourning Bride' (1697)
Being filled with stories of love, music, adventures, and sillyness; this journal is locked. I'm more of a private person these days, and I'd like to keep it that way (unless you wouldn't, that is).