The Sick Rose - William Blake

O Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy;
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy

In Society - Allen Ginsberg

I walked into the cocktail party
room and found three or four queers
talking together in queertalk.
I tried to be friendly but heard

myself talking to one in hiptalk.

"I;m glad to see you," he said, and

looked away. "Hmn," I mused. The room

was small and had a double-decker

bed in it, and cooking apparatus:

icebox, cabinet, toasters, stove;

the hosts seemed to live with room

enough only for cooking and sleeping.

My remark on this score was understood

but not appreciated. I was

offered refreshments, which I accepted.

I ate a sandwich of pure meat; an

enormous sandwich of human flesh,

I noticed, while I was chewing on it,

it also included a dirty asshole.

More company came, including a

fluffy female who looked like

a princess. She glared at me and

said immediately: "I don't like you,"

turned her head away, and refused

to be introduced. I said, "What!"

in outrage. "Why you shit-faced fool!"

This got everybody's attention.

"Why you narcissistic bitch! How

can you decide when you don't even

know me," I continued in a violent

and messianic voice, inspired at

last, dominating the whole room

Endymion - Book 1

A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:

Its loveliness increases; it will never

Pass into nothingness; but still will keep

A bower quiet for us, and a sleep

Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.

Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing

A flowery band to bind us to the earth,

Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth

Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,

Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways

Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,

Some shape of beauty moves away the pall

From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,

Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon

For simple sheep; and such are daffodils

With the green world they live in; and clear rills

That for themselves a cooling covert make

'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,

Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:

And such too is the grandeur of the dooms

We have imagined for the mighty dead;

All lovely tales that we have heard or read;

An endless fountain of immortal drink,

Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

...

John Keats

The Divine Image - William Blake

To Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love

All pray in their distress;

And to these virtues of delight

Return their thankfulness.

For Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love

Is God, our father dear,

And Mercy, Pity, Peace, and Love

Is Man, his child and care.

For Mercy has a human heart,

Pity a human face,

And Love, the human form divine,

And Peace, the human dress.

Then every man, of every clime,

That prays in his distress,

Prays to the human form divine,

Love, Mercy, Pity, Peace.

And all must love the human form,

In heathen, Turk, or Jew;

Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell

There God is dwelling too.

L'enfer

Jean-Paul Sartre - Huis Clos (1944)

Garcin abandonne Estelle et fait quelques pas dans la pièce. Il s'approche du bronze. 

Le bronze .. . (Il le caresse.) Eh bien, voici le moment. Le bronze est là, je le contemple et je comprends que je suis en enfer. Je vous dis que tout était prévu. Ils avaient prévu que je me tiendrais devant cette cheminée, pressant ma main sur ce bronze, avec tous ces regards sur moi . Tous ces regards qui me mangent .. . (Il se retourne brusquement.) Ha ! vous n'êtes que deux ? Je vous croyais beaucoup plus nombreuses. (Il rit.) Alors, c'est ça l'enfer. Je n'aurais jamais cru ... Vous vous rappelez : le soufre, le bûcher, le gril... Ah ! quelle plaisanterie . Pas besoin de gril : l'enfer, c'est les Autres.

T.S. Eliot - The Cocktail Party (1950)

Edward:    There was a door

And I could not open it. I could not touch the handle.
Why could I not walk out of my prison?
What is hell? Hell is oneself.
Hell is alone, the other figures in it
Merely projections. There is nothing to escape from
And nothing to escape to. One is always alone.

Der Ring des Nibelungen - Richard Wagner

 

The Mountain Wreath - Christmas Eve

 (Gun-shots are heard below. Vladika Danilo jumps on
his horse and rides off; and, lo! down the field are five
or six hundred men; he spurs on his horse to reach them.
On his arrival they gather round him. The Vladika, seeing
five of the Martinovitch family, Vuk Borilovitch, and three
of his servants blood-sprinkled, begins to question them.)

 

VLADIKA DANILO

Relate me now! Say what hath taken place;
What kind of men are ye - or wolves or foxes?
 

VOIVODA BATRITCH

The news is nought but good, my lord!
We bow the knee to God and to the Holy Child!
But first of all we give thee Christmas Greetings,
To thee and to all Montenegro!
We brothers five of clan Martinovitch,
And servants three of thine - most trusty three -
With Borilovitch-Vuk, the falcon-hearted,
Did last night fall a-fighting with the Turks.
All those who heard ran fast unto our help;
As quick as water fighters ran together; -
But why do I spin out the story? -
Though broad enough Cettigné’s Plain,
No single seeing eye, no tongue of Turk,
Escap’d to tell his tale another day!
We put them all unto the sword,
All those who would not be baptiz’d;
But who paid homage to the Holy Child
Were all baptiz’d with sign of Christian Cross,
And as brother each was hail’d and greeted.
We put to fire the Turkish houses,
That there might be nor stick nor trace
Of these true servants of the Devil!
From Cettigné to Tcheklitche we hied,
There in full flight the Turks espied;
A certain number were by us mow’d down,
And all their houses we did set ablaze;
Of all their mosques both great and small
We left but one accursèd heap,
For passing folk to cast their glance of scorn.
 

VLADIKA DANILO

Great gladness this for me, my falcons,
Great joy for me! Heroic liberty
Has resurrection morn to-day,
From every tomb of our ancestors dear!

Petar II Petrovic Njegos