If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream -- and not make dreams your master;
If you can think -- and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings -- nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run --
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And -- which is more -- you'll be a Man, my son!

Kraehen im Schnee

Die schwarzen Kraehen auf dem weissen Feld.
Der Anblick macht mein Herz erregt,
Es staeubt die Schnee. In Wirbeln kreist die Welt,
Sie sitzen auf den Baeumen unbewegt.

Die Zaubertiere aus der alten Zeit,
Sie sind bei uns nur zu Besuch.
Sie tragen noch das Galgenvogelkleid,
Sie hoerten einst den rauhen Henkerfluch.

Was denken sie? Ach, du erraetst es nicht!
Sie starren einsam vor sich hin.
Der Himmel hat ein milchig truebes Licht,
So war die Welt im ersten Anbeginn.

Nun naht vom Wald her sich ein neuer Gast.
Die andern sehen ihm nicht zu.
Er laesst sich nieder auf dem weissen Ast,
Und dann ertoennt auch durch die Winterruh'.

So rauh wie hohl der alte Kraehenschrei,
In ihm ist Langweil und Verdruss.
So hocken sie, das schwarze Einerlei,
Und wirbelnd faellt der Schnee, wohin er muss.

Notebook

I was bored, so I was looking through a notebook that I write whatever I happen to be thinking in. There was some...interesting stuff to say the least. Mostly sort of dark stuff that when I looked at it I was like, "Whoa. Did I write this??"

Here are some. Now that I see them I remember this was just things I saw when I closed my eyes.

The sky is a wonderful deep blue.
A shield shaped mirror rests on the tips of the highest branches of a tree.
It reflects a lighter blue than the sky; it's almost greyish-silver.
And it blocks the sun.

I am in a Japanese garden.
The rocks are a lovely dark grey, and covered with pale lichens and red flowers.
I walk over a miniature bridge and see a man face down in the running stream.
His striped red tie hangs over one shoulder and flutters in the water.
His suit is wet and ruined.
I stare a moment and then walk away.

Those are the two I wrote in the notebook...there were more...but I couldn't write them down fast enough, and now I don't remember them.

Here's another thing I wrote...

The walls give sage advice but the quilt is a wiser green. And when it's dark they serve the same purpose.
Strange how oxymorons float into one's head...
I must always be a noun or a quote...no exceptions. Why does my brain work the way it does? I I think I must be mad...gone completely potty.
It looks like I'm writing with my left hand. How strange.
Sounds almost like a proverb...but it's not, it's just my room; or rather the southern corner of my room.
I'm sad for the souls in purgatory, but they are destined for heaven..more than that, I am sorry for the souls who choose Hell; they just don't understand...I wish I understood.

I also have a weird habit of writing quotes or short phrases or words at the top of every page that I write on (and some that I don't write on). Here are some of the things I've written.

All must pass.

"Behold when thy face is made bare, he that loved thee shall hate,
Thy face shall be no more fair at the fall of thy fate.
For thy life shall fall as a leaf and be shed as the rain;
And the veil of thine head shall be grief, and the crown shall be pain."
--from Tess of the D'Urbervilles

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...I'm tired of waiting...

Life is full of mysteries.

I'm with Stupid! I'm with Stupid! Done, done, done! I'm with Stupid! Dark!! Iambic Pentameter!!

In Nomini Patri, Filii, et Spiriti Sancti.

Where there is a Will, there is a Way.

"Yeah, the blues are multicolored all dependin' how ya dig 'em and dependin' on your outlook..."

I Wish...

"Der Fliegende Hollaender"

Skull and Bones and a Serpent's Head!

"Sun on daisies, darkness, eggs..."

A collection of poems from an unstable mind.

Reason is a slave to desire--it always has been; always will be.

"The Wizards' First Rule: People are stupid!"

A veil of hate dropped over the eyes of innocent men. A dark herald of night.

Number as inverted stars. [I suspect this was so I wouldn't forget that line for the poem Army of the Dead.]

Student Name, Music Theory, EPGY
c/o Florence Moore Housing Service Center
436 Mayfield Ave.
Stanford, CA 94305

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Does it work?!? Yes! Haha! [talking about a pen that I couldn't get to write]

So yeah. Haha, now that you've had a glimpse into my head....