Don’t call me pretty, don’t call me lovely,
Don’t call me comely or fair.
Don’t say I smile most cherubly,
And don’t dare you compare the sun to my hair.

Don’t say I’m sweetness embodied.
Don’t match my laughter to bells.
Don’t say next to me Aphrodite is shoddy --
I’d prefer to be known as the terror of hell.

Don’t call me gentle, do not think me soft,
And especially don’t call me charming.
The words above all that I’d hear most oft
Would be "witty" and "sharp" and "alarming."

Try to be chivalrous, speak one saccharine word
And I warn you, I’ll turn tail and run.
But if it’s "discerning iconoclast" that you would have heard,
Then it’s my heart and my mind that you’ve won.

On a completely unrelated note, I bought French posters for my room. One is a painting of the English book shop Shakespeare and Co. The other is a hazy painting of a woman in gold mist, with the tremulous shadow of the Eiffel tower in the background, and scrawled across the whole of it is "La nuit passe a Paris.... Jamais a oublie." Or, "To spend the night in Paris.... Never to forget." At least, that's the closest translation that makes sense. Lovelove love. Or should I say, l'amourl'amourl'amour. Or "aime." Is it a subject or a verb that I'm repeating?? I should never have gotten started on this. REGARDLESS.... I'm going to marry a lovely French lad with dark eyes. Or at the very least someone who can speak a few words beyond "bonjour." He'll need to, at any rate, because we're getting a Paris flat at some point in time. His opinion on the matter really isn't necessary. It'll happen regardless. "You'd rather learn Italian? Well darling, we can get a summer home." Because hey, who wouldn't want a summer home in Italy? Stop raising your hands.... :P

I'm off to continue working on those three chapters for government. Doing an entire semester of work in two weeks is fuuun.

*Vreeeeeeeeee* Ciao.