They say what doesn't kill you makes you stronger I don't know about that You left me in a bad state Now I feel everything but strong, yeah And there's no way back There's no way back What doesn't kill you makes you smaller What doesn't kill you makes you cold What doesn't kill you makes you wonder If all there is is nothing at all
_________I bet you a hundred books that it begins in what your English professor__________________would call The Ordinary World. Basically, that's the hero's hometown,__________________a place so normative and repressing that high-voltage fun is down__________________right unheard of.
_________Harry Potter? Privet Drive. The Hunger Games? District Twelve. The__________________Chronicles of Narnia? STARTS IN FURNITURE. And OUR story?__________________Oh boy. OUR Ordinary World is Cambridge. The place where Newton__________________discovered gravity, parts of the Harry Potter movies were filmed,__________________and a certain American blogger struggles daily to balance writing a__________________book, living in wonder, and failing out of school all at the same time!__________________Cambridge! Cambridge, I say!
_________Our story begins in an Ordinary World that is anything but. Meaning__________________that from this point forward things will only get *even more* magical.__________________That is, of course, until the meetings and the drugs and The Innermost__________________Cave, and then things get abruptly worse.
_________But I won't spoil the specifics. Let's start with a certain Thursday. In__________________October. In extraordinary Cambridge.
______________________OVER, the four long years! And now there rings ______________________One voice of freedom and regret: Farewell! ______________________Now old remembrance sorrows, and now sings: ______________________But song from sorrow, now, I cannot tell.
______________________City of weathered cloister and worn court; ______________________Gray city of strong towers and clustering spires: ______________________Where art's fresh loveliness would first resort; ______________________Where lingering art kindled her latest fires.
______________________Where on all hands, wondrous with ancient grace, ______________________Grace touched with age, rise works of goodliest men: ______________________Next Wykeham's art obtain their spendid place ______________________The zeal of Inigo, the strength of Wren.
______________________Where at each coign of every antique street, ______________________A memory hath taken root in stone: ______________________There, Raleigh shone; there, toil'd Franciscan feet; ______________________There, Johnson flinch'd not, but endured alone.
______________________There, Shelley dream'd his white Platonic dreams; ______________________There, classic Landor throve on Roman thought; ______________________There, Addison pursued his quiet themes; ______________________There, smiled Erasmus, and there, Colet taught.
______________________And there, O memory more sweet than all! ______________________Lived he, whose eyes keep yet our passing light; ______________________Whose crystal lips Athenian speech recall; ______________________Who wears Rome's purple with least pride, most right.
______________________That is the Oxford, strong to charm us yet: ______________________Eternal in her beauty and her past. ______________________What, though her soul be vexed? She can forget ______________________Cares of an hour: only the great things last.
______________________Only the gracious air, only the charm, ______________________And ancient might of true hamanities: ______________________These, nor assault of man, nor time, can harm; ______________________Not these, nor Oxford with her memories.
______________________Together have we walked with willing feet ______________________Gardens of plenteous trees, bowering soft lawn: ______________________Hills whither Arnold wandered; and all sweet ______________________June meadows, from the troubling world withdrawn:
______________________Chapels of cedarn fragrance, and rich gloom ______________________Poured from empurpled panes on either hand: ______________________Cool pavements, carved with legends of the tomb; ______________________Grave haunts, where we might dream, and understand.
______________________Over, the four long years! and unknown powers ______________________Call to us, going forth upon our way: ______________________Ah! turn we, and look back upon the towers, ______________________That rose above our lives, and cheered the day.
______________________Proud and serene, against the sky, they gleam: ______________________Proud and secure, upon the earth, they stand: ______________________Our city hat the air of a pure dream, ______________________And hers indeed is an Hesperian land.
______________________Think of her so! the wonderful, the fair, ______________________The immemorial, and the ever young: ______________________The city, sweet with our forefathers' care; ______________________The city, where the Muses all have sung.
______________________Ill times may be; she hath no thought of time: ______________________She reigns beside the waters yet in pride. ______________________Rude voices cry: but in her ears the chime ______________________Of full, sad bells brings back her old springtide.
______________________Like to a queen in pride of place, she wears ______________________The splendour of a crown in Radcliffe's dome. ______________________Well fare she, well! As perfect beauty fares; ______________________And those high places, that are beauty's home