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277 pages, Hardcover
First published August 13, 2013
I imagined all of my blood flowing out into the snow and watching it turn a beautiful crimson color as Philadelphians walked by in a great hurry, not even pasuing to admire the beauty of red snow, let alone register the fact that a high school kid was dying right in front of their eyes.
She kept looking eagerly at the people coming out of the subway station and wasn’t really paying me much attention anymore, which I thought was weird, since I was the only person who had taken her pamphlet. You’d think she’d concentrate on winning me over, right?Naturally, when Lauren doesn't fall for him, he thinks she's an evil femme fatale.
I felt so tricked by Lauren. Being eaten by her was one thing, but introducing me to her boyfriend after she’d led me on—that was entirely unacceptable. She used her femme fatale skills to get me into her church, bait-and-switch style.He's pretentious, he's entitled. He is a special snowflake. Leonard doesn't think the rules apply to him. It's not just ditching school, it's choosing not to answer the multiple choice questions on a two-part exam because he doesn't feel like it. He argues with teachers for shits and giggles. He shows up to class late. He classifies everyone into categories, he never sees the good in things. Granted, skepticism is part of growing up, but he just has an overwhelming amount of it. The jocks are dumb troglodytes, the smart kids are suck-ups. The world is inferior to Leonard Peacock.
When the low, heavy sky weighs like a lid
On the groaning spirit, victim of long ennui,
And from the all-encircling horizon
Spreads over us a day gloomier than the night;
When the earth is changed into a humid dungeon,
In which Hope like a bat
Goes beating the walls with her timid wings
And knocking her head against the rotten ceiling;
- Charles Baudelaire, Spleen
When the rain stretching out its endless train
Imitates the bars of a vast prison
And a silent horde of loathsome spiders
Comes to spin their webs in the depths of our brains,
All at once the bells leap with rage
And hurl a frightful roar at heaven,
Even as wandering spirits with no country
Burst into a stubborn, whimpering cry.
- Charles Baudelaire, Spleen
— And without drums or music, long hearses
Pass by slowly in my soul; Hope, vanquished,
Weeps, and atrocious, despotic Anguish
On my bowed skull plants her black flag.
- Charles Baudelaire, Spleen
I have more memories than if I'd lived a thousand years.
The desire to end all things
A heavy chest of drawers cluttered with balance-sheets,
Processes, love-letters, verses, ballads,
And heavy locks of hair enveloped in receipts,
Hides fewer secrets than my gloomy brain.
It is a pyramid, a vast burial vault
Which contains more corpses than potter's field.
— I am a cemetery abhorred by the moon,
In which long worms crawl like remorse
And constantly harass my dearest dead.
I am an old boudoir full of withered roses,
Where lies a whole litter of old-fashioned dresses,
Where the plaintive pastels and the pale Bouchers,
Alone, breathe in the fragrance from an opened phial.
- Charles Baudelaire, Spleen
That winged voyager, how weak and gauche he is,
So beautiful before, now comic and ugly!
One man worries his beak with a stubby clay pipe;
Another limps, mimics the cripple who once flew!
The poet resembles this prince of cloud and sky
Who frequents the tempest and laughs at the bowman;
When exiled on the earth, the butt of hoots and jeers,
His giant wings prevent him from walking.
- Charles Baudelaire, The Albatros
A lightning flash... then night! Fleeting beauty
By whose glance I was suddenly reborn,
Will I see you no more before eternity?
Elsewhere, far, far from here! too late! never perhaps!
For I know not where you fled, you know not where I go,
O you whom I would have loved, O you who knew it!
- Charles Baudelaire, To a Passer-by
My poor Muse, alas! what ails you today?
Your hollow eyes are full of nocturnal visions;
I see in turn reflected on your face
Horror and madness, cold and taciturn.
- Charles Baudelaire, The Sick Muse
"First they ignore you, then
they laugh at you, then they
fight you, then you win."
“I’m going to kill you later today,” I say to that guy in the mirror, and he just smiles back at me like he can’t wait.
“Promise?” I hear someone say, which freaks me out, because my lips didn’t move.
I mean—it wasn’t me who said, “Promise?”
It’s like there’s a voice trapped inside the glass.
So I stop looking in the mirror.
Just for good measure, I smash that mirror with a coffee mug, because I don’t want the mirror me to speak ever again.