Art

is what you live for 

A Poison Tree by William Blake

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veild the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

I first read it here 

Normalcy

should not be taken for granted

should not be undermined

might not be a reason to celebrate
but plenty to be thankful for

किताबों पर धूल जमने से कहानी कहाँ बदलती है

I would rather be stupid

and happy ..

I would rather be somewhere else

hence
I'm miserable here