If you went through a literature gothic phase in high school, as many literature lovers do, you recognize the title of this post from The Raven by none other than Mr. Edgar Allen Poe. It's still one of my favorite writings ever, a poem I even went to speech competition and monologued it (they said it was a poor choice for such a "common" poem as if that word could ever be applied to Poe, the uncultured fools). But it's this very line that won't shake from my head. It's hard to not think about it when some days, it's all I can feel: Weak and weary.