“I almost wish we were butterflies, and lived but three summer days. Three such days with you I could fill with more delight than fifty common years could ever contain.” — Bright Star, 2009
if i were a caterpillar i would probably emerge from my cocoon as another slightly fatter caterpillar
Tip for all my student readers: if you’re too lazy to use a bibliography creator like NoodleBib or RefWorks, let Google generate your bibliography entries for you. All you have to do is google the article/book title in Google Scholar, click “cite” at the bottom of the search result, and copy either the MLA, APA, or Chicago cite into your word document.
Requiescat, Oscar Wilde, 1881
Wilde wrote this poem for his sister Isola, who died of meningitis aged 9.
this just proves that even though he clearly finds it fucking annoying
HE’S STILL BEING NICE ABOUT IT
and if that doesn’t give you all the more reason to stop fucking tweeting him about Peterick no matter what form you may ship it then i don’t fucking know what is
just fucking stop