June 2010
Comparison
- blackmagezizi: Kaito is like the Zac Efron to Catoir's Mr. Rogers. :|
- blackmagezizi: Which is the worst comparison ever, but :|
Neil Gaiman on Vampire Fiction →
ew.com
Best-selling author holds forth on the history and the eternal appeal of the bloodsucker — and why it might be time to put them back in the grave.
Couldn’t agree more.
“
Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!
“Charge for the guns!” he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
2.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!”
Was there a man dismay’d?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
Someone had blunder’d:
Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
3.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
4.
Flash’d all their sabres bare,
Flash’d as they turn’d in air,
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder’d:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro’ the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel’d from the sabre stroke
Shatter’d and sunder’d.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
5.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro’ the jaws of Death
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
6.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred.
Lord Alfred Tennyson’s “The Charge of the Light Brigade”
God I love Tennyson’s poetry. Ellie quoted this in Frost’s The List of Seven and I had to look it up. Fell automatically in love when I learned it was Tennyson.
“Doyle had never seen such an expression on a human face: pity, horror, rage, like nothing so much as a god who had just destroyed a world of his own creation that had spun insanely out of control.”
—Mark Frost’s The List of Seven
“So: How do you change man from a dim-witted, randy farm animal to a domesticated, productive tool ready to roll up his sleeves and pitch in for the greater good? There’s the puzzle anybody that aspires to rule has to crack, be it religion, government, business, what have you. And here was the plan genius of the Christians’ solution: Convince your constituents of one big lie. We hold the key to the gates of heaven. You want to make the trip, brother, you’ll have to do it through our auspices. Sure, advertising how dodgy the Other Place is helped close the deal: Fear puts those poor ignorant sods down on their knees lighting candles like there’s no tomorrow. And let’s be straight, Old Nick’s always been their real matinee idol—the man you love to hate, he’ll scare you so bad you piss in your union suit, but you still can’t take your eyes off him. He’s the one puts the ladies in a lather, not that simpering, doe-eyed Messiah. Throw the Devil in to spice up the soup, and you’ve got yourself a flawless formula for religion hegemony.”
—Mark Frost’s The List of Seven
