What of the hunting, hunter bold? Brother the watch was long and cold. Where is the quarry ye went to kill? Brother he crops in the jungle still. Where is the strength that made your pride? Brother it ebbs from my flank and side. What is the haste that ye harry by? Brother I go to my lair to die.
For a second, I thought you were fucking with me. Then I realized someone awesome must have made this.
Nice!
I guess a similar end to our protagonist poets. I guess you could say ... dun dun dun ... Dead Poet's Society.
Kyuk kyuk kyuk.
but when it comes to slaughter, you'll do your work on water. And you'll kiss the bloody boots of 'im that brung it.
Don't know that line. Fill me in.
The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far. The sciences, each straining in its own direction, have hitherto harmed us little; but some day the piecing together of dissociated knowledge will open up such terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein, that we shall either go mad from the revelation or flee from the deadly light into the peace and safety of a new dark age.
-- The Call of Cthulhu
I fucking love this opening paragraph.
Kipling rules!
He's good in my book as well.
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