Okay, yes, I've watched it twice over the last two days, and it's looking likely to be the thing I will fall asleep to again tonight- and regardless of what it might imply about my state of mind and silly escapism or wanton fantasy, I'm willing to endure self consciousness in waking life for loving appreciation of moments of beauty so unabashed and so finely tuned. Keats' words disarm me, and make my heart shudder with relief:

To Fanny

I cry your mercy -pity -love! -aye, love!
Merciful love that tantalizes not,
One-thoughted, never-wandering, guileless love,
Unmasked, and being seen -without a blot!
O! let me have thee whole, -all -all -be mine!
That shape, that fairness, that sweet minor zest
Of love, your kiss, -those hands, those eyes divine,
That warm, white, lucent, million-pleasured breast, -
Yourself -your soul -in pity give me all,
Withhold no atom's atom or I die,
Or living on, perhaps, your wretched thrall,
Forget, in the mist of idle misery,
Life's purposes, -the palate of my mind
Losing its gust, and my ambition blind!


Sweet Minor Zest of Love!! How unexpected, and so perfect.