Citer Du Jour

XLIII. “How Do I Love Thee?”

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1806-1861)



The tenderness of my melancholia, gently brushes my tangled hair as I am staring blankly at my life, which has been inconceivably perfect with its beautiful, beautiful drawbacks. With such peace I could, perhaps, enjoy the little stings of my incomprehensible attraction for the comfort they bring.

I do and do not want all the things I could get my hands on. And I want to be forgiven for all the subtle smiles and the teary-eyed seconds that I could never get enough of.

Good or Bad, Happy or Sad, Merry Triennial

Even though I still believe in true love and once thought I only would fall in love real deep for once in my life and live happily ever after until death do us part, it still amazes me how at times my thoughts, fears, and loves want to burst out screaming that they cannot take the pressures and heats no longer, for no amount of measures could represent how much I love you.

Hopes and dreams ache my body.
Uncertainties and memories, hate my guts and only want to suffer me to their hearts’ content.

Tell me how to stop feeling sad every time I feel so happy for I know that predetermined course of everything is not forever, that makes everything painstakingly beautiful because we will not know how this will end.

At least, we are still here.
Overjoyed, aren’t we?

The Revealing

You both are the most interesting, lovely yet peculiar. I want to delve every inch of each of your body, every piece of each of your mind, your obsession, hatred, make final assignment about how to satisfy your needs and make you impressed, and get Master’s degree on the study of your lives. The only Master ever lived. I want to be a fly on each of your wall.

If you know how obsessed I am with both of you, you would look at me with your beautiful judging eyes and run away, hand in hand, with your delicate moves.