
The Genesis of Butterflies by Victor Hugo (1802 – 1885)
The dawn is smiling on the dew that covers
The tearful roses; lo, the little lovers
That kiss the buds, and all the flutterings
In jasmine bloom, and privet, of white wings,
That go and come, and fly, and peep and hide,
With muffled music, murmured far and wide.
Ah, the Spring time, when we think of all the lays
That dreamy lovers send to dreamy mays,
Of the fond hearts within a billet bound,
Of all the soft silk paper that pens wound,
The messages of love that mortals write
Filled with intoxication of delight,
Written in April and before the May time
Shredded and flown, playthings for the wind’s playtime,
We dream that all white butterflies above,
Who seek through clouds or waters souls to love,
And leave their lady mistress in despair,
To flit to flowers, as kinder and more fair,
Are but torn love-letters, that through the skies
Flutter, and float, and change to butterflies.
Image courtesy of mel!nka via Flickr

If you didn’t know already, I love photographs and art. I use different sites to find collect images I find around the internet that speak to me in some form or another. Rather than post images on this site and create clutter, I recently started a Posterous blog that allows me to share pictures I like and add a quote or song lyric that I think of when I see the image. It also helps that I can quickly post from my iPhone via email.
Recently, I came across an image that reminded me of Edgar Allen Poe’s short story The Black Cat. Now, I wanted to share this on Posterous, but if you hadn’t read the story you wouldn’t understand why I chose The Black Cat to quote from unless you are familiar with it. Since The Black Cat is in the public domain, I decided to post it here in it’s entirety so you can read the story yourself, if you so choose.
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Tagged: Classic, Death, Horror, Irony, Literature, Metaphors, Painting, Pets, Photo, Photography, Poet, Short Story
This is a great poem by Maya Angelou. I think this is a poem everyone can relate to.
Lying, thinking
Last night
How to find my soul a home
Where water is not thirsty
And bread loaf is not stone
I came up with one thing
And I don’t believe I’m wrong
That nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
There are some millionaires
With money they can’t use
Their wives run round like banshees
Their children sing the blues
They’ve got expensive doctors
To cure their hearts of stone.
But nobody
No, nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Now if you listen closely
I’ll tell you what I know
Storm clouds are gathering
The wind is gonna blow
The race of man is suffering
And I can hear the moan,
‘Cause nobody,
But nobody
Can make it out here alone.
Alone, all alone
Nobody, but nobody
Can make it out here alone.