Memessssss
A literature meme from zombie_boogie.
1) What author do you own the most books by?
Probably Georgette Heyer even though I was more into her when I was a teenager and I only truly love a handful of her books (Cotillion, Devil's Cub, These Old Shades, Friday's Child, Sylvester, etc.). However, I do enjoy all of her books in passing and her ear for witty dialogue just sort of humbles me.
2) What book do you own the most copies of?
I don't know. I tend to have multiple copies of completely random books. I know I own multiple copies of all the Austen novels, for sure.
3) What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. Though that's not particularly secret. I'd say Henry Tillney from Northanger Abbey. He's so underrated.
4) What book have you read more than any other?
Urrrmmmm... I have no earthly idea. Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, of course. I've read The Princess Bride by William Goldman about five hundred times.
5) What was your favorite book when you were 10-years-old?
Toss up between The Tale of Samuel Whiskers by Beatrix Potter and The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I also loved anything by Maurice Sendak.
6) What is the worst book you've read in the past year?
I've barely read anything in the past three years. The last bad book I read (and I think this was a little over a year ago) was The Keep by Jennifer(?) something. It wasn't necessarily a horrible story, but her writing style and formatting annoyed the living hell out of me. I couldn't even finish the book.
7) What is the best book you've read in the past year?
Again, I haven't really read anything notable. I suck.
8) If you could tell everyone you know to read one book, what would it be?
As zombie_boogie said, this is hard because everyone has different tastes.
9) What is the most difficult book you've ever read?
Durrr... The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner was somewhat headache-y, but I liked it. Quentin was hot. I know that is so wrong.
10) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
I like Italian dressing.
11) Shakespeare, Milton or Chaucer?
Shakespeare. Yeah, as if I've read tons of Milton.
12) Austen Or Eliot?
Austen. I can't really get into Eliot.
13) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
I just read a lot of junk, and I haven't read most of the books everyone is supposed to have read.
14) What is your favorite novel?
I can't pick one.
15) Play?
Hamlet, Hamlet, Hamlet. I don't even know why. I'm just obsessed by its hilarity. Oh, it's not supposed to be hilarious?
16) Poem?
I like Plath, Parker, Byron, Eliot, Frost, Poe, etc.
A fewA billion favorites:
Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me -
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud one night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we -
Of many far wiser than we -
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling -my darling -my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea -
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
Fire and Ice by Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
If I can stop one Heart from breaking by Emily Dickinson
If I can stop one Heart from breaking
I shall not live in vain
If I can ease one Life the Aching
Or cool one Pain
Or help one fainting Robin
Unto his Nest again
I shall not live in Vain.
The Tyger by William Blake
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Ballade At Thirty-Five by Dorothy Parker
This, no song of an ingénue,
This, no ballad of innocence;
This, the rhyme of a lady who
Followed ever her natural bents.
This, a solo of sapience,
This, a chantey of sophistry,
This, the sum of experiments, --
I loved them until they loved me.
Decked in garments of sable hue,
Daubed with ashes of myriad Lents,
Wearing shower bouquets of rue,
Walk I ever in penitence.
Oft I roam, as my heart repents,
Through God's acre of memory,
Marking stones, in my reverence,
"I loved them until they loved me."
Pictures pass me in long review,--
Marching columns of dead events.
I was tender, and, often, true;
Ever a prey to coincidence.
Always knew I the consequence;
Always saw what the end would be.
We're as Nature has made us -- hence
I loved them until they loved me.
When I Watch The Living Meet by A.E. Housman
When I watch the living meet
And the moving pageant file
Warm and breathing through the street
Where I lodge a little while,
If the heats of hate and lust
In the house of flesh are strong,
Let me mind the house of dust
Where my sojourn shall be long.
In the nation that is not
Nothing stands that stood before;
There revenges are forgot,
And the hater hates no more;
Lovers lying two and two
Ask not whom they sleep beside,
And the bridegroom all night through
Never turns him to the bride
1) What author do you own the most books by?
Probably Georgette Heyer even though I was more into her when I was a teenager and I only truly love a handful of her books (Cotillion, Devil's Cub, These Old Shades, Friday's Child, Sylvester, etc.). However, I do enjoy all of her books in passing and her ear for witty dialogue just sort of humbles me.
2) What book do you own the most copies of?
I don't know. I tend to have multiple copies of completely random books. I know I own multiple copies of all the Austen novels, for sure.
3) What fictional character are you secretly in love with?
Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights. Though that's not particularly secret. I'd say Henry Tillney from Northanger Abbey. He's so underrated.
4) What book have you read more than any other?
Urrrmmmm... I have no earthly idea. Alice's Adventures In Wonderland, of course. I've read The Princess Bride by William Goldman about five hundred times.
5) What was your favorite book when you were 10-years-old?
Toss up between The Tale of Samuel Whiskers by Beatrix Potter and The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett. I also loved anything by Maurice Sendak.
6) What is the worst book you've read in the past year?
I've barely read anything in the past three years. The last bad book I read (and I think this was a little over a year ago) was The Keep by Jennifer(?) something. It wasn't necessarily a horrible story, but her writing style and formatting annoyed the living hell out of me. I couldn't even finish the book.
7) What is the best book you've read in the past year?
Again, I haven't really read anything notable. I suck.
8) If you could tell everyone you know to read one book, what would it be?
As zombie_boogie said, this is hard because everyone has different tastes.
9) What is the most difficult book you've ever read?
Durrr... The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner was somewhat headache-y, but I liked it. Quentin was hot. I know that is so wrong.
10) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?
I like Italian dressing.
11) Shakespeare, Milton or Chaucer?
Shakespeare. Yeah, as if I've read tons of Milton.
12) Austen Or Eliot?
Austen. I can't really get into Eliot.
13) What is the biggest or most embarrassing gap in your reading?
I just read a lot of junk, and I haven't read most of the books everyone is supposed to have read.
14) What is your favorite novel?
I can't pick one.
15) Play?
Hamlet, Hamlet, Hamlet. I don't even know why. I'm just obsessed by its hilarity. Oh, it's not supposed to be hilarious?
16) Poem?
I like Plath, Parker, Byron, Eliot, Frost, Poe, etc.
A fewA billion favorites:
Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe
It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.
I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love -
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her high-born kinsmen came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me -
Yes! that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud one night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.
But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we -
Of many far wiser than we -
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling -my darling -my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea -
In her tomb by the sounding sea.
A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan Poe
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand--
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep--while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
Fire and Ice by Robert Frost
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
If I can stop one Heart from breaking by Emily Dickinson
If I can stop one Heart from breaking
I shall not live in vain
If I can ease one Life the Aching
Or cool one Pain
Or help one fainting Robin
Unto his Nest again
I shall not live in Vain.
The Tyger by William Blake
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand dare sieze the fire?
And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand? & what dread feet?
What the hammer? what the chain?
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?
When the stars threw down their spears,
And watered heaven with their tears,
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?
Ballade At Thirty-Five by Dorothy Parker
This, no song of an ingénue,
This, no ballad of innocence;
This, the rhyme of a lady who
Followed ever her natural bents.
This, a solo of sapience,
This, a chantey of sophistry,
This, the sum of experiments, --
I loved them until they loved me.
Decked in garments of sable hue,
Daubed with ashes of myriad Lents,
Wearing shower bouquets of rue,
Walk I ever in penitence.
Oft I roam, as my heart repents,
Through God's acre of memory,
Marking stones, in my reverence,
"I loved them until they loved me."
Pictures pass me in long review,--
Marching columns of dead events.
I was tender, and, often, true;
Ever a prey to coincidence.
Always knew I the consequence;
Always saw what the end would be.
We're as Nature has made us -- hence
I loved them until they loved me.
When I Watch The Living Meet by A.E. Housman
When I watch the living meet
And the moving pageant file
Warm and breathing through the street
Where I lodge a little while,
If the heats of hate and lust
In the house of flesh are strong,
Let me mind the house of dust
Where my sojourn shall be long.
In the nation that is not
Nothing stands that stood before;
There revenges are forgot,
And the hater hates no more;
Lovers lying two and two
Ask not whom they sleep beside,
And the bridegroom all night through
Never turns him to the bride