Current Mood:
9:02 a.m. - 2003-12-12
The heart asks pleasure first
The heart asks pleasure first,
And then, excuse from pain;
And then those little anodynes
That deaden suffering;
And then to go to sleep;
And then if it should be
The will of its Inquisitor,
The liberty to die.
-Emily Dickinson
Isn't it amazing how the words of another can sometimes completely sum up evrything you're feeling?
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