So anyhow I'm changing jobs soon, and was thinking I should probably not post on thumped that much anymore, y'know, maybe do some work instead.
But some of what's been posted here over the last few days has made me realize that there are a few other reasons I shouldn't post here very much too, and that I am not comfortable to be associated with some of the attitudes here. Also 4,000 + posts... I think I've said all I got's to say!
I think 99.999% of people here are mega cool, like mega ultra hyper cool, and I love yis for it
But my friends are a zillion times more important.
Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
But some of what's been posted here over the last few days has made me realize that there are a few other reasons I shouldn't post here very much too, and that I am not comfortable to be associated with some of the attitudes here. Also 4,000 + posts... I think I've said all I got's to say!
I think 99.999% of people here are mega cool, like mega ultra hyper cool, and I love yis for it
But my friends are a zillion times more important.
Do not go gentle into that good night
Dylan Thomas
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
