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Author Topic:   Twin Soul Poetry (?)
Randall
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posted November 15, 2020 01:48 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Randall
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posted February 23, 2021 09:22 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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GalacticCoreExplosion
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posted February 24, 2021 04:15 PM           Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Here's a twin soul poem of a most sublime nature:

Twin souls suck
They drag you through the muck
Plenty of other people, but not you, they f$ck
They lie and deceive as much as quacking does a duck.
By the end, you hope you get run over by a truck.
But, instead of dying, you just get really messed up, such is your luck.
Yep, twin soul connections really sure do suck.

Ok, this was not really serious, and mostly joking around, though with a bit of emotional processing truth. But it's not how I really view these connections. They are for growth, and growth rarely ever comes easy. (I was channeling the ego straight in the poem, without any Soul or Expanded self informing).

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HRH-FishAreFish
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posted February 24, 2021 11:27 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for HRH-FishAreFish     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Sublime indeed!..

...tee-hee-hee

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Randall
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posted April 06, 2021 12:19 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Randall
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posted April 24, 2021 01:42 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Eternal Energy
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posted April 25, 2021 04:19 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Eternal Energy     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Act II, Scene II


CAPULET’S Orchard


JULIET
How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?
The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.


Tell me, how did you get in here? And why did you come?
The orchard walls are high, and it’s hard to climb over them.
If any of my relatives find you here, they’ll kill you because of who you are.

ROMEO
With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;
For stony limits cannot hold love out,
And what love can do that dares love attempt;
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.


I flew over these walls with the light wings of love;
Stone walls can’t keep love out,
Whatever a man in love can possibly do, his love will make him do it;
Therefore your relatives are no obstacle.

JULIET
If they do see thee, they will murder thee.


If they see you, they’ll murder you.

ROMEO
Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,
And I am proof against their enmity.


Alas, one angry look from you would be worse
Than twenty of your relatives with swords: Just look at me kindly,
And I’m invincible against their hatred.

JULIET
I would not for the world they saw thee here.


I’d give anything to keep them from seeing you here.

ROMEO
I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;
And but thou love me, let them find me here:
My life were better ended by their hate,
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.


The darkness will hide me from them;
And if you don’t love me, let them find me here:
I’d rather they killed me because they hate me,
Than have to live without your love.

JULIET
By whose direction found'st thou out this place?


Who told you how to get here?

ROMEO
By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;
He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far
As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,
I would adventure for such merchandise.


Love showed me the way, Love made me look for you in the first place;
Love told me what to do, and I let Love borrow my eyes.
I’m not a sailor; but even if you were across the farthest sea,
I would risk everything to have you.


JULIET
Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny
What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'
And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries
Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo,
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,
I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond,
And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.
I should have been more strange, I must confess,
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,
And not impute this yielding to light love,
Which the dark night hath so discovered.


You can’t see my face because it’s dark out,
Otherwise, you’d see me blushing about the things you’ve heard me say tonight
I would be happy to keep up good manners and deny the things I said.
But goodbye good manners!
Do you love me? I know you’ll say “Yes,” and I’ll believe you:
But if you swear you love me, you might turn out to be lying
They say Jupiter laughs when lovers lie to each other.
Oh Romeo, if you really love me, say it truly:
Or if you think that you have won my heart so easily
I’ll frown and play hard-to-get, as long as that will make you try to win me,
But otherwise I wouldn’t act that way for anything.
The truth is, handsome Montague, I like you too much,
So you may think my behavior is loose.
But trust me, gentleman,
I’ll prove myself more faithful than girls who know how to play games.
I should have played these games, I confess
But you overheard me talking about the love in my heart
When I didn’t know you were there.
So excuse me,
And do not assume that because you made me love you so easily my love isn’t serious
My love that the dark night has revealed.

ROMEO
Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops


Lady, I swear by the sacred moon above,
The moon that paints the tops of fruit trees with silver

JULIET
O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,
That monthly changes in her circled orb,
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.


Don’t swear by the moon,
The moon is always changing,
Every month its position in the sky changes,
I don’t want you to prove you are inconsistent too.


ROMEO
What shall I swear by?


What should I swear by?

JULIET
Do not swear at all;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,
Which is the god of my idolatry,
And I'll believe thee.


Don’t swear at all;
But if you have to swear, swear by your graceful self,
He is the god I worship like an idol,
And then I’ll believe you.

ROMEO
If my heart's dear love…


If my heart’s dear love…


JULIET
Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,
I have no joy of this contract to-night:
It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be
Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night!
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.
Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest
Come to thy heart as that within my breast!


Well, don’t swear.
Although you bring me joy, I can’t take joy in this exchange of promises tonight:
It’s too quick, without thinking, too sudden;
It’s too much like lightning, which flashes and then disappears before you can say, “it’s lightning.”
My sweet, good night!
Our love, right now is like a flower bud in the summer air,
May turn out to be a beautiful flower by the next time we meet.
I hope you enjoy the same sweet peace and rest I feel in my heart.

ROMEO
O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?


Oh, are you going to leave me so unsatisfied?

JULIET
What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?


What satisfaction could you possibly have tonight?


ROMEO
The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.


I would be satisfied if we made each other true promises of love.

JULIET
I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:
And yet I would it were to give again.


I pledged my love to you before you asked me to:
Yet I wish I could take that promise back, so as to give it to you again.


ROMEO
Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?


You would take it back? Why would you do that, my love?

JULIET
But to be frank, and give it thee again.
And yet I wish but for the thing I have:
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,
The more I have, for both are infinite.


Only to be generous and give it to you again.
Yet I wish for something I already have:
My generosity to you is as limitless as the sea, and my love is as deep.
The more love I give you, the more I have,
Both loves are infinite.

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Randall
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posted June 20, 2021 05:36 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Randall
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posted July 07, 2021 05:48 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Randall
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posted August 05, 2021 11:44 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Randall
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posted August 20, 2021 11:57 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Randall
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posted September 13, 2021 02:13 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Randall
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posted October 05, 2021 10:10 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Eternal Energy
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posted November 20, 2021 10:19 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for Eternal Energy     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Hamlet / by William Shakespeare


Act II, Scene II


To the celestial and my soul's idol, the most beautified loving angel of my heart...

Doubt thou the stars are fire;
Doubt that the sun doth move;
Doubt truth to be a liar;
But never doubt I love...
O dear loving angel of my heart, I am ill at these numbers;
I have not art to reckon my groans and the hurt I might have accidentally caused,
but that I love thee best, O most best, believe it.

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Randall
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posted December 17, 2021 10:55 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Eternal Energy
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posted January 19, 2022 03:55 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Eternal Energy     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Sonnet 19 / by William Shakespeare


Devouring Time, blunt thou the lion's paws,
And make the earth devour her own sweet brood;
Pluck the keen teeth from the fierce tiger's jaws,
And burn the long-liv'd Phoenix in her blood;
Make glad and sorry seasons as thou fleets,
And do whate'er thou wilt, swift-footed Time,
To the wide world and all her fading sweets;
But I forbid thee one more heinous crime:
O, carve not with thy hours my love's fair brow,
Nor draw no lines there with thine antique pen!
Him in thy course untainted do allow
For beauty's pattern to succeeding men.
Yet do thy worst, old Time! Despite thy wrong
My love shall in my verse ever live young.

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Randall
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posted January 30, 2022 06:38 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Randall
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posted February 21, 2022 10:26 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Randall
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posted March 10, 2022 04:03 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Randall     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
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Eternal Energy
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posted March 12, 2022 12:14 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Eternal Energy     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
In The Arc Of Your Mallet / by Rumi


Don't go anywhere without me.
Let nothing happen in the sky apart from me,
or on the ground,
in this world or that world,
without my being in its happening.
Vision, see nothing I don’t see.
Language, say nothing.
The way the night knows itself with the moon,
be that with me.
Be the rose
nearest to the thorn that I am.
I want to feel myself in you when you taste food,
in the arc of your mallet when you work,
when you visit friends,
when you go up on the roof by yourself at night.
There's nothing worse
than to walk out along the street without you.
I don't know where I’m going.
You’re the road,
and the knower of roads,
more than maps,
more than love...

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saronna
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posted March 13, 2022 06:14 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for saronna     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”
—Emily Brontë

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saronna
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posted March 13, 2022 06:26 AM     Click Here to See the Profile for saronna     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
A letter to her twin soul
How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)
By Elizabeth Barrett Browning
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

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Eternal Energy
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posted March 20, 2022 03:14 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Eternal Energy     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Awww saronna... Wuthering Heights...


I was rocking Hareton on my knee, and humming a song that began:

It was far in the night, and the bairnies grat,
The mither beneath the mools heard that-

when Miss Cathy, who had listened to the hubbub from her room, put her
head in, and whispered: “Are you alone, Nelly?”

“Yes, miss,” I replied.

She entered and approached the hearth. I, supposing she was going to say something, looked up. The expression of her face seemed disturbed and anxious. Her lips were half asunder, as if she meant to speak, and she drew a breath; but it escaped in a sigh instead of a sentence. I resumed my song; not having forgotten her recent behaviour.

“Where’s Heathcliff?” she said, interrupting me.

“About his work in the stable,” was my answer.

He did not contradict me; perhaps he had fallen into a doze. There followed another long pause, during which I perceived a drop or two trickle from Catherine’s cheek to the flags. Is she sorry for her shameful conduct? I asked myself. That will be a novelty: but she may come to the point as she will—I shan’t help her! No, she felt small trouble regarding any subject, save her own concerns.

“Oh, dear!” she cried at last. “I’m very unhappy!”

“A pity,” observed I. “You’re hard to please: so many friends and so few cares, and can’t make yourself content!”

“Nelly, will you keep a secret for me?” she pursued, kneeling down by me, and lifting her winsome eyes to my face with that sort of look which turns off bad temper, even when one has all the right in the world to indulge it.

“Is it worth keeping?” I enquired.

“Yes, and it worries me, and I must let it out! I want to know what I should do. To-day, Edgar Linton has asked me to marry him, and I’ve given him an answer. Now, before I tell you whether it was a consent or denial, you tell me which it ought to have been.”

“Really, Miss Catherine, how can I know?” I replied. “To be sure, considering the exhibition you performed in his presence this afternoon, I might say it would be wise to refuse him: since he asked you after that, he must either be hopelessly stupid or a venturesome fool.”

“If you talk so, I won’t tell you any more,” she returned, peevishly, rising to her feet. “I accepted him, Nelly. Be quick, and say whether I was wrong!”

“You accepted him! then what good is it discussing the matter? You have pledged your word, and cannot retract.”

“But, say whether I should have done so—do!” she exclaimed in an irritated tone; chafing her hands together, and frowning.

“There are many things to be considered before that question can be answered properly,” I said sententiously. “First and foremost, do you love Mr. Edgar?”

“Who can help it? Of course I do,” she answered.

Then I put her through the following catechism: for a girl of twenty-two it was not injudicious.

“Why do you love him, Miss Cathy?”

“Nonsense, I do—that’s sufficient.”

“By no means; you must say why?”

“Well, because he is handsome, and pleasant to be with.”

“Bad!” was my commentary.

“Because he is young and cheerful.”

“Bad still.”

“And because he loves me.”

“Indifferent, coming there.”

“And he will be rich, and I shall like to be the greatest woman of the neighbourhood, and I shall be proud of having such a husband.”

“Worst of all. And now, say how you love him?”

“As anybody loves—You’re silly, Nelly.”

“Not at all—Answer.”

“I love the ground under his feet, and the air over his head, and everything he touches, and every word he says. I love all his looks, and all his actions, and him entirely and altogether. There now!”

“And why?”

“Nay; you are making a jest of it; it is exceedingly ill-natured! It’s no jest to me!” said the young lady, scowling, and turning her face to the fire.

“I’m very far from jesting, Miss Catherine,” I replied. “You love Mr. Edgar because he is handsome, and young, and cheerful, and rich, and loves you. The last, however, goes for nothing: you would love him without that, probably; and with it you wouldn’t, unless he possessed the four former attractions.”

“No, to be sure not: I should only pity him—hate him, perhaps, if he were ugly, and a clown.”

“But there are several other handsome, rich young men in the world: handsomer, possibly, and richer than he is. What should hinder you from loving them?”

“If there be any, they are out of my way! I’ve seen none like Edgar.”

“You may see some; and he won’t always he handsome, and young, and may not always be rich.”

“He is now; and I have only to do with the present. I wish you would speak rationally.”

“Well, that settles it: if you have only to do with the present, marry Mr. Linton.”

“I don’t want your permission for that—I shall marry him: and yet you have not told me whether I’m right.”

“Perfectly right; if people be right to marry only for the present. And now, let us hear what you are unhappy about. Your brother will be pleased; the old lady and gentleman will not object, I think; you will escape from a disorderly, comfortless home into a wealthy, respectable one; and you love Edgar, and Edgar loves you. All seems smooth and easy: where is the obstacle?”

“Here! and here!” replied Catherine, striking one hand on her forehead, and the other on her breast: “in whichever place the soul lives. In my soul and in my heart, I’m convinced I’m wrong!”

“That’s very strange! I cannot make it out.”

“It’s my secret. But if you will not mock at me, I’ll explain it: I can’t do it distinctly: but I’ll give you a feeling of how I feel.”

She seated herself by me again: her countenance grew sadder and graver, and her clasped hands trembled.

“Nelly, do you never dream queer dreams?” she said suddenly, after some minutes’ reflection.

“Yes, now and then,” I answered.

“And so do I. I’ve dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas: they’ve gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the colour of my mind. And this is one; I’m going to tell it—but take care not to smile at any part of it.”

“Oh! don’t, Miss Catherine!” I cried. “We’re dismal enough without conjuring up ghosts and visions to perplex us. Come, come, be merry and like yourself! Look at little Hareton—he’s dreaming nothing dreary. How sweetly he smiles in his sleep!”

“Yes; and how sweetly his father curses in his solitude! You remember him, I dare say, when he was just such another as that chubby thing: nearly as young and innocent. However, Nelly, I shall oblige you to listen: it’s not long; and I’ve no power to be merry to-night.”

“I won’t hear it, I won’t hear it!” I repeated hastily.

I was superstitious about dreams then, and am still; and Catherine had an unusual gloom in her aspect, that made me dread something from which I might shape a prophecy, and foresee a fearful catastrophe. She was vexed, but she did not proceed. Apparently taking up another subject, she recommenced in a short time.

“If I were in heaven, Nelly, I should be extremely miserable.”

“Because you are not fit to go there,” I answered. “All sinners would be miserable in heaven.”

“But it is not for that. I dreamt once that I was there.”

“I tell you I won’t hearken to your dreams, Miss Catherine! I’ll go to bed,” I interrupted again.

She laughed, and held me down; for I made a motion to leave my chair.

“This is nothing,” cried she. “I was only going to say that heaven did not seem to be my home; and I broke my heart with weeping to come back to earth; and the angels were so angry that they flung me out into the middle of the heath on the top of Wuthering Heights; where I woke sobbing for joy. That will do to explain my secret, as well as the other. I’ve no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven; and if the wicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn’t have thought of it. It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him: and that, not because he’s handsome, Nelly, but because he’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same”...

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Eternal Energy
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posted March 20, 2022 03:57 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Eternal Energy     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Love is Here / by Rumi


Love is here;
it is the blood in my veins,
my skin.
I am destroyed;
He has filled me with passion.
His fire has flooded the nerves of my body.
Who am I?...
Just my name;
the rest is him.

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Eternal Energy
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posted March 31, 2022 03:10 PM     Click Here to See the Profile for Eternal Energy     Edit/Delete Message   Reply w/Quote
Anna Karenina / by Leo Tolstoy


Part 1, Chapter 30


...The raging tempest rushed whistling between the wheels of the carriages, about the scaffolding, and round the corner of the station. The carriages, posts, people, everything that was to be seen was covered with snow on one side, and was getting more and more thickly covered. For a moment there would come a lull in the storm, but then it would swoop down again with such onslaughts that it seemed impossible to stand against it. Meanwhile men ran to and fro, talking merrily together, their steps crackling on the platform as they continually opened and closed the big doors. The bent shadow of a man glided by at her feet, and she heard sounds of a hammer upon iron. "Hand over that telegram!" came an angry voice out of the stormy darkness on the other side. "This way! No. 28!" several different voices shouted again, and muffled figures ran by covered with snow. Two gentleman with lighted cigarettes passed by her. She drew one more deep breath of the fresh air, and had just put her hand out of her muff to take hold of the door post and get back into the carriage, when another man in a military overcoat, quite close beside her, stepped between her and the flickering light of the lamp post. She looked round, and the same instant recognized Vronsky's face. Putting his hand to the peak of his cap, he bowed to her and asked, Was there anything she wanted? Could he be of any service to her? She gazed rather a long while at him without answering, and, in spite of the shadow in which he was standing, she saw, or fancied she saw, both the expression of his face and his eyes. It was again that expression of reverential ecstasy which had so worked upon her the day before. More than once she had told herself during the past few days, and again only a few moments before, that Vronsky was for her only one of the hundreds of young men, forever exactly the same, that are met everywhere, that she would never allow herself to bestow a thought upon him. But now at the first instant of meeting him, she was seized by a feeling of joyful pride. She had no need to ask why he had come. She knew as certainly as if he had told her that he was here to be where she was.

"I didn't know you were going. What are you coming for?" she said, letting fall the hand with which she had grasped the door post. And irrepressible delight and eagerness shone in her face.

"What am I coming for?" he repeated, looking straight into her eyes. "You know that I have come to be where you are," he said; "I can't help it."

At that moment the wind, as it were, surmounting all obstacles, sent the snow flying from the carriage roofs, and clanked some sheet of iron it had torn off, while the hoarse whistle of the engine roared in front, plaintively and gloomily. All the awfulness of the storm seemed to her more splendid now. He had said what her soul longed to hear, though she feared it with her reason. She made no answer, and in her face he saw conflict.

"Forgive me, if you dislike what I said," he said humbly.

He had spoken courteously, deferentially, yet so firmly, so stubbornly, that for a long while she could make no answer.

"It's wrong, what you say, and I beg you, if you're a good man, to forget what you've said, as I forget it," she said at last.

"Not one word, not one gesture of yours shall I, could I, ever forget..."

"Enough, enough!" she cried trying assiduously to give a stern expression to her face, into which he was gazing greedily. And clutching at the cold door post, she clambered up the steps and got rapidly into the corridor of the carriage. But in the little corridor she paused, going over in her imagination what had happened. Though she could not recall her own words or his, she realized instinctively that the momentary conversation had brought them fearfully closer; and she was panic-stricken and blissful at it. After standing still a few seconds, she went into the carriage and sat down in her place. The overstrained condition which had tormented her before did not only come back, but was intensified, and reached such a pitch that she was afraid every minute that something would snap within her from the excessive tension. She did not sleep all night. But in that nervous tension, and in the visions that filled her imagination, there was nothing disagreeable or gloomy: on the contrary there was something blissful, glowing, and exhilarating...

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