there is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about

I started reading The Picture of Dorian Gray today. Although I have only read a few chapters, I am already overwhelmed by the words of beauties and wisdoms portrayed in the book. One of my favorite passages so far is:

Beauty is a form of genius – is higher, indeed, than genius, as it needs no explanation. It is one of the great facts of the world, like sunlight, or springtime, or the reflection in dark waters of that silver shell we call the moon. It cannot be questioned. It has its divine right of sovereignty. It makes princes of those who have it… People say sometimes that Beauty is only superficial. That may be so. But at least it is not so superficial as though is. To me, beauty is the wonder of wonders. It is only shallow people who do not judge by appearances. The true mystery of the world is the visible, not the invisible.

if i leave before you, darling, don't you waste me in the ground

From The Stranger by Albert Camus:
"A man had left a Czech village to seek his fortune. Twenty-five years later, and now rich, he had returned with a wife and a child. His mother was running a hotel with his sister in the village where he’s been born. In order to surprise them, he had left his wife and child at another hotel and gone to see his mother, who didn’t recognize him when he walked in. As a joke he’d had the idea of taking a room. He had shown off his money. During the night his mother and his sister had beater him to death with a hammer in order to rob him and had thrown his body in the river. The next morning the wife had come to the hotel and, without knowing it, gave away the traveler’s identity. The mother hanged herself. The sister threw herself down a well."

I read The Stranger over five years ago, however, for some strange reason, this passage reoccurs in my head every so often.

I feel like crap right now... partly due to Habs losing in overtime, but most likely due to sitting under the sun for more than three hours in front of Hart House... possible sunstroke? But it wasn’t even hot at all! ...I don’t really know. I am beyond exhausted and I must go to bed now.