There aren't any Yeats poems on the explicit theme of purgatory, but there are a bunch on the theme of reclamation of an assumed early golden age especially in The Tower, where the desire for transition is dealt with in quasi-spiritual terms.
The question shouldn't be, 'Can you be celibate?', because many people are, and are not so through choice. They just can't get sex. The question should be, 'Can people who have a naturally functioning sex drive be celibate voluntarily with no adverse psychological effects?', because I don't believe they can. It goes against normal human desires and dispositions. A number of people might be voluntarily celibate on religious grounds but will always have trouble with the arrangement if they are sexually typical of most people. But of course they can maintain their abstinence, though they won't enjoy it, if their conviction is strong enough.
I pride myself on being a gourmand, but crap is something I've never taken to and never will do. I just find it overly sweet and pungent. I do like lobster, though. It's like a kind of deluxe prawn. I like prawns, and most other shellfish apart from oysters, which I can take or leave, or mussels, which I can't tolerate; in fact, the taste of them makes me want to gag.
PS - Octopii and other sea cephalopods (such as polyps) are molluscs, but the prehistoric giant cuttlefish known as nautiloids could probably pass as shellfish, because they actually had shells.
She's both. The OP forgets the time she pushed her childhood friend down a well, and the number of people she gives over to be dissected alive by Qyburn. If she were more intelligent, she'd simply be more dangerous.
No problem, Howdyphilip. Anyway, I have another contentious choice. We were all given Empire of the Sun to read in my Higher English class at High School; we all hated it. It remains one of the most boring books I've ever read, and I happen to like JG Ballard. It was, however, a terrific film. I appreciate however that I might be in a minority on this, but a cathartic autobiography does not necessarily entail a reading experience that's going to mean as much to the reader as it does to the author if it has no narrative drive, and is constantly hampered by flat pace.
Born on the Fourth of July and Wild at Heart are both far better movies than they are books. Wild at Heart, as a movie, owes more to Lynch than Barry Gifford, even while preserving the finer turns of plot. It's a terrific film made from a just quite good book. The original book of Born on the Fourth of July, even though I sympathise with what the writer went through, is somewhat sketchily constructed and fairly average from an expressive or artistic point of view.
Triskan - Herbert's writing style comes together better in the second half of the book, and is substantially better afterwards in the series. Books 2 to 6 are very beautifully written. Comparatively speaking, he had teething problems technically with the first book.
A classic example of this is The Wizard of Oz. Reading that book as an adult, and there's no excuse for the fact it was a kid's book, since several have been written of real depth and artistic quality, it is suprising that such a vibrant, classic film resulted from such a flatly written and lifeless novel, completely lacking in any descriptive quality or attempt at characterisation. A modern day example is Fifty Shades of Grey, which is in written form a complete disaster, and the people behind the film seem well aware of this, and somehow they managed to subvert the source material to come up with a camply rather good film.
I saw it yesterday. I really like Alicia Vikander, and there was good chemistry between the characters and the film was a lot of fun. I never actually knew anything about it beforehand but caught it purely because I'd missed the showing at that time of The Fantastic Four, which is apparently as bad as I imagined it would be from watching the trailer, but I should be catching it regardless out of morbid curiosity within the next few days.