from Manfred by Lord Byron

" MANFRED
The lamp must be replenish'd, but even then
It will not burn so long as I must watch.
My slumbers-- if I slumber-- are not sleep,
But a continuance of enduring thought,
Which then I can resist not: in my heart
There is a vigil, and these eyes but close
To look within; and yet I live, and bear
The aspect and the form of breathing men.
But grief should be the instructor of the wise;
Sorrow is knowledge: they who know the most     10
Must mourn the deepest o'er the fatal truth,
The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.
Philosophy and science, and the springs
Of wonder, and the wisdom of the world,
I have essay'd, and in my mind there is
A power to make these subject to itself--
But they avail not: I have done men good,
And I have met with good even among men--
But this avail'd not: I have had my foes,
And none have baffled, many fallen before me--     20
But this avail'd not: Good, or evil, life,
Powers, passions, all I see in other beings,
Have been to me as rain unto the sands,
Since that all-nameless hour. I have no dread,
And feel the curse to have no natural fear
Nor fluttering throb, that beats with hopes or wishes
Or lurking love of something on the earth. "

[i find myself seeping through the cracks of 18th C. /early 19th C.
British literature...

maybe it's because that, along with Art history, are currently my
only literary intake,
but i cannot help but linger upon my keen desire for Gothic literature.
Not the depressing,
suicidal screams for help as most people associate with the word "Gothic,"
but rather it's
actual meaning, and it's actual influence on art, both visual and written.
Not a scream, but a whisper--
A Dark corner in a vibrant landscape of sublimity--
a battle of God, spirituality, and self.]

[I am in everything I read. I am in every piece of artwork I view,
thus, the wonderful result of being blessed with a creative soul. ]