/lit/ - Literature

What do I feel if this is not love?
But if it is love, God, what thing is this?
If good, why this effect: bitter, mortal?
If bad, then why is every suffering sweet?

If I desire to burn, why tears and grief?
If my state’s evil, what’s the use of grieving?
O living death, O delightful evil,
how can you be in me so, if I do not consent?

And if I consent, I am greatly wrong in sorrowing.
Among conflicting winds in a frail boat
I find myself on the deep sea without a helm,

so light in knowledge, so laden with error,
that I do not know what I wish myself,
and tremble in midsummer, burn in winter.

>>16599079
already read Lolita

Those lovely eyes, that struck me in such guise
that only they themselves could heal the wound,
and not the power of herbs, nor magic art,
nor some lodestone from far beyond our seas,

have so closed the road to other love,
that one sweet thought alone fills my mind:
and if my tongue wishes to pursue it,
that guide, and not the tongue is to be blamed.

Those are the lovely eyes that make
my lord’s enterprise victorious
on every side, above all my heart’s:

those are the lovely eyes that always live
in my heart among the blazing sparks,
so that speaking of them never makes me tired.

I love little girls
They make me feel so good
I love little girls
They make me feel so bad
When they're around
They make me feel like I'm the only guy in town
I love little girls
They make me feel so good