That was too easy. I solved it during physics, although I did let some of my internet friends take a crack at it, since they seem to enjoy puzzles. You need practice. (Admittedly, so do I.) Here’s a puzzle that you may or may not enjoy, since you like Ted Hughes and I like Sylvia Plath, you like Shakespeare and I like Gabriel Rossetti. It’s some sort of conglomeration of a few of their quotes.
I hate also taken in consideration you statement concerning potatoes, and have concluded that at least you tried to make an effort to write a puzzle and make up for it. Potatoes will remain the love of my life, and I suppose you could take up second place. Take it or leave it.
Here’s your puzzle. It’s not relevant to anything, so I don’t think the answer will be as easy as yours was. Just find the first letter of the titles of the volumes/collections/poems in which the quotes come from for the first “tier” of the puzzle. The keyword should be relatively simple to guess, because I love it, and I italicized the important parts...
I am dogged in my pursuit of confirming my turpitude, and execrate the Integrated Development Environment, enjoyment that arises as a result of the current days, my friend Gansey told me. We were walking through a museum, and I was thinking about you because I’d seen this picture of a woman raising her hand to touch something that she could not reach. You’re a wonderful guy, Henry, but sometimes your heart seems to race past all boundaries and out of my reach.
I saw an illustration. A companion to an illustration in 1881, Can day from darkness ever take flight? My friend comments, and I look at him, the meaning of his words beyond me, but possibly not beyond you. I wonder if he thinks that I am a receptacle of knowledge into which he can toss whatever quote he’d been thinking of.
Flies watch no resurrection in the sun. I replied with a quote of my own, as we exited the museum, and I thought about how much that painting spoke to me, wondering if things like this happened in real life.
After the exchange with Gansey, I went to look for you, although, I didn’t look too hard, I have to admit. I was in a ponderous mood.
The table-top, made of the same wood that James Potter’s wand is made of, that you smashed had been the broad plank top of my mother's heirloom sideboard- mapped with the scars of my whole life.
You have been the last dream of my soul, Henry, no matter how careless I happen to be... sometimes I feel like I should apologize for being me.
We got everything you want honey, we know the names, my friends had told me, and I’d followed them. There’s always something intoxicating about receiving validation from people you don’t see in real life, but, “You are who you choose to be,” Ted Hughes told me, and my eyelids drooped shut and I drifted off to sleep.
He declares there is nothing he can do for this beautiful woman who seems to be alive and dead. He is not a doctor. He can only pray. Gosh, Henry, there’s no hope for me, I keep making mistakes!
Have fun with the puzzle, honey. I wrapped it up pretty nicely in my nonsensical rambling, which is mostly for your entertainment.
Love, Zipporah
