"The great point in his face was that it was intensely alive-- frankly, ardently, gallantly alive. The look of it was like a bell, of which the handle might have been in the young man's soul: at a touch of the handle it rang with a loud, silver sound. There was something in his quick, light brown eye which assured you that he was not economizing his consciousness. He was not living in a corner of it to spare the furniture of the rest. He was squarely encamped in the centre and he was keeping open house. When he smiled, it was like the movement of a person who in emptying a cup turns it upside down: he gave you the last drop of his jollity."
~The American, Henry James~
Sigh, that's the stuff great literature is made of.
I'm so behind on my reading for my American Literature class, but we're reading such great stuff, I can't rush through it! I have to go back and reread all the Dickinson and Whitman, and allot them the time they deserve. Especially since I humiliated myself by performing a completely shitty job on the quiz today. Henry James is a toughie, but his diction is like all the gilding along the walls of extravagant Bellgrade rooms. Little intricate details that are individually remarkable, but melded altogether to create a piece of even more overwhelming art. ...not as great as his metaphors, huh.
Great, there's a semi-fight going on right outside my apartment complex. again.
I've been so unproductive lately! Things keep getting in the way. Like going out. And stuff. Maybe I should sleep huh... I was supposed to apply for this job I wanted on Sunday... and now it's Friday and I still haven't done it yet... It also comes with a 3900 character essay, which is kind of hindering. I will do it this weekend! No excuses! Gosh I need to get a move on it!
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