Romantic hero

The Romantic Hero is a literary archetype referring to a character that rejects established norms & conventions.

There is a primary focus on the characters thoughts rather than his or her’s actions.

Other characteristics of the romantic hero include interception, the triumph of the individual over the ‘restraints of theological & social conventions’ wanderlust, misanthropy, melancholy, alienation, and

isolation.

Most common trait for the Romantic hero is regret for his or her’s actions & self criticism, often leading to Philanthropy which stops

the character from ending romantically

Beautiful blank pages kiss our

imaginations with backgrounds

that demand precision. Our black letters cross

on tightrope lines, curving

without wavering across deep, invisible currents. These beautiful blank pages

are promises of our reflections.

Our gentlest strokes of darkness upon light.

:LUCY

by: William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

I. STRANGE fits of passion have I knownAnd I will dare to tell,But in the lover's ear alone,What once to me befell. When she I loved look'd every dayFresh as a rose in June,I to her cottage bent my way,Beneath an evening moon. Upon the moon I fix'd my eye,All over the wide lea;With quickening pace my horse drew nighThose paths so dear to me. And now we reach'd the orchard-plot;And, as we climb'd the hill,The sinking moon to Lucy's cotCame near and nearer still. In one of those sweet dreams I slept,Kind Nature's gentlest boon!And all the while my eyes I keptOn the descending moon.

III. TRAVELL'D among unknown men,In lands beyond the sea;Nor, England! did I know till thenWhat love I bore to thee. 'Tis past, that melancholy dream!Nor will I quit thy shoreA second time; for still I seemTo love thee more and more. Among the mountains did I feelThe joy of my desire;And she I cherish'd turn'd her wheelBeside an English fire. Thy mornings show'd, thy nights conceal'd,The bowers where Lucy play'd;And thine too is the last green fieldThat Lucy's eyes survey'd.

IV. HREE years she grew in sun and shower;Then Nature said, 'A lovelier flowerOn earth was never sown;This child I to myself will take;She shall be mine, and I will makeA lady of my own.

My horse moved on; hoof after hoofHe raised, and never stopp'd:When down behind the cottage roof,At once, the bright moon dropp'd. What fond and wayward thoughts will slideInto a lover's head!'O mercy!' to myself I cried,'If Lucy should be dead!' II. HE dwelt among the untrodden waysBeside the springs of Dove,A Maid whom there were none to praiseAnd very few to love: A violet by a mossy stoneHalf hidden from the eye!Fair as a star, when only oneIs shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could knowWhen Lucy ceased to be;But she is in her grave, and oh,The difference to me

Myself will to my darling beBoth law and impulse; and with meThe girl, in rock and plain,In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,Shall feel an overseeing powerTo kindle or restrain. 'She shall be sportive as the fawnThat wild with glee across the lawnOr up the mountain springs;And hers shall be the breathing balm,And hers the silence and the calmOf mute insensate things.

The floating clouds their state shall lendTo her; for her the willow bend;Nor shall she fail to seeEven in the motions of the stormGrace that shall mould the maiden's formBy silent sympathy. 'The stars of midnight shall be dearTo her; and she shall lean her earIn many a secret placeWhere rivulets dance their wayward round,And beauty born of murmuring soundShall pass into her face. '

'And vital feelings of delightShall rear her form to stately height,Her virgin bosom swell;Such thoughts to Lucy I will giveWhile she and I together liveHere in this happy dell.'

Thus Nature spake -- The work was done --How soon my Lucy's race was run!She died, and left to meThis heath, this calm and quiet scene;The memory of what has been,And never more will be. V. SLUMBER did my spirit seal;I had no human fears:She seem'd a thing that could not feelThe touch of earthly years. No motion has she now, no force;She neither hears nor sees;Roll'd round in earth's diurnal course,With rocks, and stones, and trees.W

Why do have to hurt me so much?....

I've never been in so much painI'm dry heaving on the floor, begging

God to bring you back to me

It's so hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember

You were my first love and I'm

starting to think that I'm never

going to get over you.

Everyone says that love hurts, thats not true. Loneliness hurts. Rejection hurts. Losing

someone hurts. Everybody confuses these things with love, but in reality 'Love'is the only thing

in this world that covers up all the pain and makes us feel wondeful again.