Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear repose for limbs with travel tir’d;
But then begins a journey in my head,
To work my mind, when body’s work’s expir’d:
For then my thoughts (from far where I abide)
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And Keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my soul’s imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.
Shakespeare, Sonnet XXVII
Kevin dared me to google image the words “partially out” with safesearch turned off… this was one of the results.
And also lots of chickens.
No, that’s not a euphemism.
“It sucks looking back and regretting where you’ve been, but it sucks even more knowing what’s coming and feeling like you can’t do anything about it….”