of all the dispositions and habits which lead to political prosperity, Religion and Morality are indispensable supports. in vain would that man claim the tribute of Patriotism, who should labour to subvert these great pillars of human Happiness, these firmest props of the duties of Men & Citizens. the mere Politican, equally with the pious man ought to respect & to cherish them. a volume could not trace all their connections with private & public Felicity. let it simply be asked where is the security for property, for reputation, for life, if the sense of religious obligation desert the Oaths, which are the instruments of investigation in Courts of Justice? and let us with caution indulge the supposition, that morality can be maintained without religion. whatever may be conceded to the influence of refined education on minds of peculiar structure--reason & experience both forbid us to expect that national morality can prevail in exclusion of religious principle.
'tis substantially true, that virtue or morality is a necessary spring of popular government. the rule indeed extends with more or less force to every species of Free Government. who that is a sincere friend to it, can look with indifference upon attempts to shake the foundation of the fabric.
george washington
farewell address, 19 september 1796
Friday, November 7, 2008
Friday, October 31, 2008
cultivate poverty like a garden herb
the real tragedy of the poor is the poverty of their aspirations.
-adam smith
however mean your life is, meet it and live it: do not shun it and call it hard names. cultivate poverty like a garden herb, like sage. do not trouble yourself much to get new things, whether clothes or friends. things do not change, we change. sell your clothes and keep your thoughts.
- henry david thoreau
-adam smith
however mean your life is, meet it and live it: do not shun it and call it hard names. cultivate poverty like a garden herb, like sage. do not trouble yourself much to get new things, whether clothes or friends. things do not change, we change. sell your clothes and keep your thoughts.
- henry david thoreau
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
the seafarer
May I for my own self song's truth reckon,
Journey's jargon, how I in harsh days
Hardship endured oft.
Bitter breast-cares have I abided,
Known on my keel many a care's hold,
And dire sea-surge, and there I oft spent
Narrow nightwatch nigh the ship's head
While she tossed close to cliffs. Coldly afflicted,
My feet were by frost benumbed.
Chill its chains are; chafing sighs
Hew my heart round and hunger begot
Mere-weary mood. Lest man know not
That he on dry land loveliest liveth,
List how I, care-wretched, on ice-cold sea,
Weathered the winter, wretched outcast
Deprived of my kinsmen;
Hung with hard ice-flakes, where hail-scur flew,
There I heard naught save the harsh sea
And ice-cold wave, at whiles the swan cries,
Did for my games the gannet's clamour,
Sea-fowls, loudness was for me laughter,
The mews' singing all my mead-drink.
Storms, on the stone-cliffs beaten, fell on the stern
In icy feathers; full oft the eagle screamed
With spray on his pinion.
Not any protector
May make merry man faring needy.
This he little believes, who aye in winsome life
Abides 'mid burghers some heavy business,
Wealthy and wine-flushed, how I weary oft
Must bide above brine.
Neareth nightshade, snoweth from north,
Frost froze the land, hail fell on earth then
Corn of the coldest. Nathless there knocketh now
The heart's thought that I on high streams
The salt-wavy tumult traverse alone.
Moaneth alway my mind's lust
That I fare forth, that I afar hence
Seek out a foreign fastness.
For this there's no mood-lofty man over earth's midst,
Not though he be given his good, but will have in his youth greed;
Nor his deed to the daring, nor his king to the faithful
But shall have his sorrow for sea-fare
Whatever his lord will.
He hath not heart for harping, nor in ring-having
Nor winsomeness to wife, nor world's delight
Nor any whit else save the wave's slash,
Yet longing comes upon him to fare forth on the water.
Bosque taketh blossom, cometh beauty of berries,
Fields to fairness, land fares brisker,
All this admonisheth man eager of mood,
The heart turns to travel so that he then thinks
On flood-ways to be far departing.
Cuckoo calleth with gloomy crying,
He singeth summerward, bodeth sorrow,
The bitter heart's blood. Burgher knows not--
He the prosperous man - what some perform
Where wandering them widest draweth.
So that but now my heart burst from my breast-lock,
My mood 'mid the mere-flood,
Over the whale's acre, would wander wide.
On earth's shelter cometh oft to me,
Eager and ready, the crying lone-flyer,
Whets for the whale-path the heart irresistibly,
O'er tracks of ocean; seeing that anyhow
My lord deems to me this dead life
On loan and on land, I believe not
That any earth-weal eternal standeth
Save there be somewhat calamitous
That, ere a man's tide go, turn it to twain.
Disease or oldness or sword-hate
Beats out the breath from doom-gripped body.
And for this, every earl whatever, for those speaking after--
Laud of the living, boasteth some last word,
That he will work ere he pass onward,
Frame on the fair earth 'gainst foes his malice,
Daring ado, ...
So that all men shall honour him after
And his laud beyond them remain 'mid the English,
Aye, for ever, a lasting life's-blast,
Delight mid the doughty.
Days little durable,
And all arrogance of earthen riches,
There come now no kings nor Cæsars
Nor gold-giving lords like those gone.
Howe'er in mirth most magnified,
Whoe'er lived in life most lordliest,
Drear all this excellence, delights undurable!
Waneth the watch, but the world holdeth.
Tomb hideth trouble. The blade is layed low.
Earthly glory ageth and seareth.
No man at all going the earth's gait,
But age fares against him, his face paleth,
Grey-haired he groaneth, knows gone companions,
Lordly men are to earth o'ergiven,
Nor may he then the flesh-cover, whose life ceaseth,
Nor eat the sweet nor feel the sorry,
Nor stir hand nor think in mid heart,
And though he strew the grave with gold,
His born brothers, their buried bodies
Be an unlikely treasure hoard.
-Ezra Pound
Journey's jargon, how I in harsh days
Hardship endured oft.
Bitter breast-cares have I abided,
Known on my keel many a care's hold,
And dire sea-surge, and there I oft spent
Narrow nightwatch nigh the ship's head
While she tossed close to cliffs. Coldly afflicted,
My feet were by frost benumbed.
Chill its chains are; chafing sighs
Hew my heart round and hunger begot
Mere-weary mood. Lest man know not
That he on dry land loveliest liveth,
List how I, care-wretched, on ice-cold sea,
Weathered the winter, wretched outcast
Deprived of my kinsmen;
Hung with hard ice-flakes, where hail-scur flew,
There I heard naught save the harsh sea
And ice-cold wave, at whiles the swan cries,
Did for my games the gannet's clamour,
Sea-fowls, loudness was for me laughter,
The mews' singing all my mead-drink.
Storms, on the stone-cliffs beaten, fell on the stern
In icy feathers; full oft the eagle screamed
With spray on his pinion.
Not any protector
May make merry man faring needy.
This he little believes, who aye in winsome life
Abides 'mid burghers some heavy business,
Wealthy and wine-flushed, how I weary oft
Must bide above brine.
Neareth nightshade, snoweth from north,
Frost froze the land, hail fell on earth then
Corn of the coldest. Nathless there knocketh now
The heart's thought that I on high streams
The salt-wavy tumult traverse alone.
Moaneth alway my mind's lust
That I fare forth, that I afar hence
Seek out a foreign fastness.
For this there's no mood-lofty man over earth's midst,
Not though he be given his good, but will have in his youth greed;
Nor his deed to the daring, nor his king to the faithful
But shall have his sorrow for sea-fare
Whatever his lord will.
He hath not heart for harping, nor in ring-having
Nor winsomeness to wife, nor world's delight
Nor any whit else save the wave's slash,
Yet longing comes upon him to fare forth on the water.
Bosque taketh blossom, cometh beauty of berries,
Fields to fairness, land fares brisker,
All this admonisheth man eager of mood,
The heart turns to travel so that he then thinks
On flood-ways to be far departing.
Cuckoo calleth with gloomy crying,
He singeth summerward, bodeth sorrow,
The bitter heart's blood. Burgher knows not--
He the prosperous man - what some perform
Where wandering them widest draweth.
So that but now my heart burst from my breast-lock,
My mood 'mid the mere-flood,
Over the whale's acre, would wander wide.
On earth's shelter cometh oft to me,
Eager and ready, the crying lone-flyer,
Whets for the whale-path the heart irresistibly,
O'er tracks of ocean; seeing that anyhow
My lord deems to me this dead life
On loan and on land, I believe not
That any earth-weal eternal standeth
Save there be somewhat calamitous
That, ere a man's tide go, turn it to twain.
Disease or oldness or sword-hate
Beats out the breath from doom-gripped body.
And for this, every earl whatever, for those speaking after--
Laud of the living, boasteth some last word,
That he will work ere he pass onward,
Frame on the fair earth 'gainst foes his malice,
Daring ado, ...
So that all men shall honour him after
And his laud beyond them remain 'mid the English,
Aye, for ever, a lasting life's-blast,
Delight mid the doughty.
Days little durable,
And all arrogance of earthen riches,
There come now no kings nor Cæsars
Nor gold-giving lords like those gone.
Howe'er in mirth most magnified,
Whoe'er lived in life most lordliest,
Drear all this excellence, delights undurable!
Waneth the watch, but the world holdeth.
Tomb hideth trouble. The blade is layed low.
Earthly glory ageth and seareth.
No man at all going the earth's gait,
But age fares against him, his face paleth,
Grey-haired he groaneth, knows gone companions,
Lordly men are to earth o'ergiven,
Nor may he then the flesh-cover, whose life ceaseth,
Nor eat the sweet nor feel the sorry,
Nor stir hand nor think in mid heart,
And though he strew the grave with gold,
His born brothers, their buried bodies
Be an unlikely treasure hoard.
-Ezra Pound
Monday, October 27, 2008
a face of gayety
it is the unspeakable misery of a life so false as his, that it steals the pith and substance out of whatever realities there are around us, and which were meant by heaven to be the spirit's joy and nutriment. to the untrue man, the whole universe is false, -it is impalpable, -it shrinks to nothing within his grasp. and he himself, in so far as he shows himself in a false light, becomes a shadow, or, indeed, ceases to exist. the only truth that continued to give him a real existence on this earth was the anguish in his inmost soul, and the undissembled expression of it in his aspect. had he once found the power to smile, and wear a face of gayety, there would have been no such man!
-nathaniel hawthorne the scarlet letter
-nathaniel hawthorne the scarlet letter
unforgotten triumph
were such a man once more to fall, what plea could be urged in extenuation of his crime? none; unless it avail him somewhat, that he was broken down by long and exquisite suffering; that his mind was darkened and confused by the very remorse which harrowed it; that between fleeing as an avowed criminal, and remaining as a hypocrite, conscience might find it hard to strike a balance; that it was human to avoid the peril of death and infamy; that, finally, to this poor pilgrim, on his dreary desert path, faint, sick, miserable, there appeared a glimpse of human affection and sympathy, a new life, and a true one, in exchange for the heavy doom which he was now expiating. and be the stern and sad truth spoken, that the breach which guilt has once made into the human soul is never, in this mortal state, repaired. it may be watched and guarded; so that the enemy shall not force his way again into the citadel, and might even, in his subsequent assaults, select some other avenue, in preference to that where he had formerly succeeded. but there is still the ruined wall, and, near it, the stealthy tread of the foe that would win over again his unforgotten triumph.
-nathaniel hawthorne the scarlet letter
-nathaniel hawthorne the scarlet letter
devoid of significance
it is a good lesson -though it may often be a hard one -for a man who has dreamed of literary fame, and of making for himself a rank among the world's dignitaries by such means, to step aside out of the narrow circle in which his claims are recognized, and to find how utterly devoid of significance, beyond that circle, is all that he achieves, and all he aims at.
-nathaniel hawthorne the scarlet letter
-nathaniel hawthorne the scarlet letter
between the bars
drink up baby
stay up all night
with the things you could do
you won't but you might
the potential you'll be
that you'll never see
the promises you'll only make
drink up with me now
and forget all about
the pressure of days
do what i say
i'll make you ok
i'll drive them away
the images stuck in your head
the people you've been before
that you don't want around anymore
they push and shove
and won't bend to your will
i'll keep them still
drink up baby
look at the stars
i'll kiss you again
between the bars
where i'm seeing you there
with your hands in the air
waiting to finally be caught
drink up one more time
and i'll make you mine
keep you apart
deep in my heart
separate from the rest
where i like you the best
keep the things you forgot
the people you've been before
the you don't want around anymore
they push and shove
and won't bend to your will
i'll keep them still
-elliot smith
stay up all night
with the things you could do
you won't but you might
the potential you'll be
that you'll never see
the promises you'll only make
drink up with me now
and forget all about
the pressure of days
do what i say
i'll make you ok
i'll drive them away
the images stuck in your head
the people you've been before
that you don't want around anymore
they push and shove
and won't bend to your will
i'll keep them still
drink up baby
look at the stars
i'll kiss you again
between the bars
where i'm seeing you there
with your hands in the air
waiting to finally be caught
drink up one more time
and i'll make you mine
keep you apart
deep in my heart
separate from the rest
where i like you the best
keep the things you forgot
the people you've been before
the you don't want around anymore
they push and shove
and won't bend to your will
i'll keep them still
-elliot smith
the hideous weather of the soul
loneliness forever and the earth again! dark brother and stern friend, immortal face of darkness and of night, with whom the half part of my life was spent, and with whom i shall abide now till my death forever -what is there for me to fear as long as you are with me? heroic friend, blood-brother of my life, dark face -have we not gone together down a million ways, have we not coursed together the great and furious avenues of night, have we not crossed the stormy seas alone, and unknown strange lands, and come again to walk the continent of night and listen to the silence of the earth? have we not been brave and glorious when we were together, friend? have we not known triumph, joy, and glory on this earth -and will it not be again with me as it was then, if you come back to me? come to me, brother, in the watches of the night. come to me in the secret and most silent heart of darkness. come to me as you always came, bringing to me again the old invincible strength, the deathless hope, the triumphant joy and confidence that will storm the earth again.
-thomas wolfe god's lonely man
-thomas wolfe god's lonely man
a consolation
the sincerity of uncleanness pleases us, and is a relief to the soul. when a man has spent his time on earth enduring the spectacle of the grand airs assumed by reasons of state, oaths, political wisdom, human justice, professional honesty, the necessities of position, incorruptible robes, it is a consolation to enter a sewer and see the slime that befits it.
-victor hugo les miserables
-victor hugo les miserables
i see only infinity on every side
i do not know who put me in the world, nor what the world is, nor what i am myself. i am in a terrible ignorance about everything. i do not know what my body is, or my senses, or my soul, or even that part of me which thinks what i am saying, which reflects on itself and everything but knows itself no better than anything else. i see the terrifying spaces of the universe enclosing me, and i find myself attached to one corner of this expanse without knowing why i have been placed here rather than there, or why the life allotted me should be assigned to this moment than to another in all the eternity that preceded and will follow me. i see only infinity on every side, enclosing me like an atom or a shadow that vanishes in an instant.
-blaise pascal
-blaise pascal
beauty is found in sodom
Beauty is a terrible and awful thing! It is terrible because it has not been fathomed and never can be fathomed, for God sets us nothing but an enigma. Here the boundaries meet and all contradictions exist side by side. I am not a cultivated man, brother, but I’ve thought a lot about this. It’s terrible what mysteries there are! Too many mysteries weigh men down on earth. We must solve them as we can, and try to keep a dry skin in the water. Beauty! I can’t endure the thought that a man of lofty mind and heart begins with the ideal of the Theotokos (Madonna) and ends with the ideal of Sodom. What’s still more awful is that a man with the ideal of Sodom in his soul does not renounce the ideal of the Madonna, and his heart may be on fire with that ideal, genuinely on fire, just as in his days of youth and innocence. Yes, man is broad, too broad, indeed. I’d have him narrower. The devil only knows what to make of it! What to the mind is shameful is beauty and nothing else to the heart. Is there beauty in Sodom? Believe me, that for the immense mass of mankind beauty is found in Sodom. Did you know that secret? The awful thing is that beauty is mysterious as well as terrible. God and the devil are fighting there and the battlefield is the heart of man.
-dostoevsky the brothers karamazov
-dostoevsky the brothers karamazov
even half-assedly, loving you
the bravest thing i've ever done
was to run away and hide
but not this time, not this time
and the weakest thing ive ever done
was to stay right by your side
just like this time, and every time
i couldnt tell you i was happy when you were gone
so i lied and said that i missed you when we were apart
i couldnt tell you, so i had to lead you on
but i didnt mean to break your heart
and if i always seem distracted
like my minds somewhere else,
thats because its true, yes its true
its this stupid pride that makes me feel
like i have to follow through
even half-assedly, loving you
why must i always speak in terms of cowardice?
when i guess i should have just come out and told you right from the start
why must i always tell you all i want is this?
i guess cause i didnt want to break your heart
and you said:
"what'd you think that i was gonna do,
curl up and die just because of you?
i'm not that weak, you know
what'd you think that i was gonna do,
try to make you love me as much as i love you?
how could you be so low?
you arrogant man,
what do you think that i am?
my heart will be fine
just stop wasting my time"
and now i know that you will be okay, and that i
got what i want and thats rid of you
good bye
and its not cause ill be missing you
that makes me fall apart
its just that i didnt mean to break
no i didnt mean to break
no i didnt mean to break
your heart
-steven page break your heart
was to run away and hide
but not this time, not this time
and the weakest thing ive ever done
was to stay right by your side
just like this time, and every time
i couldnt tell you i was happy when you were gone
so i lied and said that i missed you when we were apart
i couldnt tell you, so i had to lead you on
but i didnt mean to break your heart
and if i always seem distracted
like my minds somewhere else,
thats because its true, yes its true
its this stupid pride that makes me feel
like i have to follow through
even half-assedly, loving you
why must i always speak in terms of cowardice?
when i guess i should have just come out and told you right from the start
why must i always tell you all i want is this?
i guess cause i didnt want to break your heart
and you said:
"what'd you think that i was gonna do,
curl up and die just because of you?
i'm not that weak, you know
what'd you think that i was gonna do,
try to make you love me as much as i love you?
how could you be so low?
you arrogant man,
what do you think that i am?
my heart will be fine
just stop wasting my time"
and now i know that you will be okay, and that i
got what i want and thats rid of you
good bye
and its not cause ill be missing you
that makes me fall apart
its just that i didnt mean to break
no i didnt mean to break
no i didnt mean to break
your heart
-steven page break your heart
enemies of freedom
ever since the beginning of modern science, the best minds have recognized that "the range of acknowledged ignorance will grow with the advance of science." unfortunately, the popular effect of this scientific advance has been a belief, seemingly shared by many scientists, that the range of our ignorance is steadily diminishing and that we can therefore aim at more comprehensive and deliberate control of all human activities. it is for this reason that those intoxicated by the advance of knowledge so often become the enemies of freedom.
-fa hayek
-fa hayek
adversity and hopeless sorrow
it is a duty to maintain one's life; and, in addition, everyone has also a direct inclination to do so. but on this account the often anxious care which most men take for it has no intrinsic worth, and their maxim has no moral import. they preserve their life as duty requires, no doubt, but not because duty requires. on the other hand, if adversity and hopeless sorrow have completely taken away the relish for life; if the unfortunate one, strong in mind, indignant at his fate rather than desponding or dejected, wishes for death, and yet preserves his life without loving it -not from inclination or fear, but from duty- then his maxim has a moral worth.
-immanuel kant fundamental principles of the metaphysics of morals
-immanuel kant fundamental principles of the metaphysics of morals
the dreams in which i'm dying
all around me are familiar faces
worn out places, worn out faces
bright and early for their daily races
going nowhere, going nowhere
and their tears are filling up their glasses
no expression, no expression
hide my head i want to drown my sorrow
no tomorrow, no tomorrow
and i find it kind of funny
i find it kind of sad
the dreams in which i'm dying
are the best i've ever had
i find it hard to tell you
'cos i find it hard to take
when people run in circles
it's a very, very
mad world
children waiting for the day they feel good
happy birthday, happy birthday
made to feel the way that every child should
sit and listen, sit and listen
went to school and i was very nervous
no one knew me, no one knew me
hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
look right through me, look right through me
-tears for fears mad world
worn out places, worn out faces
bright and early for their daily races
going nowhere, going nowhere
and their tears are filling up their glasses
no expression, no expression
hide my head i want to drown my sorrow
no tomorrow, no tomorrow
and i find it kind of funny
i find it kind of sad
the dreams in which i'm dying
are the best i've ever had
i find it hard to tell you
'cos i find it hard to take
when people run in circles
it's a very, very
mad world
children waiting for the day they feel good
happy birthday, happy birthday
made to feel the way that every child should
sit and listen, sit and listen
went to school and i was very nervous
no one knew me, no one knew me
hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
look right through me, look right through me
-tears for fears mad world
a remarkable thing
the secret in life is that everyone must sew it for himself; and the remarkable thing is that a man can sew it just as well as a woman.
-soren kierkegaard fear and trembling
-soren kierkegaard fear and trembling
the slipstream of thoughtless thoughts
as far as you take me
that's where i believe
the realm of soft delusions
floating on the leaves
on a distant shoreline
she waves her arms to me
as all the thought police
are closing in for sleep
the dilly dally
of her bright lit stay
the steam of my misfortunes
is giving me the power to be afraid
and in my mind i'm everyone
without a care in this whole world
without a care in this life
it's what you take that makes it right
in the slipstream
of thoughtless thoughts
the light of all that's good
the light of all that's true
to the fringes gladly
i walk unadorned
with gods and their creations
with filth and disease
porcelina, she waits for me there
with seashell hissing lullabyes
and whispers fallomed
deep inside my own hidden thought and alibis
my secret thoughts come alive
porcelina, of the ocean blue...
you make it right
it's all alright
you make it right
-billy corgan porcelina of the vast oceans
that's where i believe
the realm of soft delusions
floating on the leaves
on a distant shoreline
she waves her arms to me
as all the thought police
are closing in for sleep
the dilly dally
of her bright lit stay
the steam of my misfortunes
is giving me the power to be afraid
and in my mind i'm everyone
without a care in this whole world
without a care in this life
it's what you take that makes it right
in the slipstream
of thoughtless thoughts
the light of all that's good
the light of all that's true
to the fringes gladly
i walk unadorned
with gods and their creations
with filth and disease
porcelina, she waits for me there
with seashell hissing lullabyes
and whispers fallomed
deep inside my own hidden thought and alibis
my secret thoughts come alive
porcelina, of the ocean blue...
you make it right
it's all alright
you make it right
-billy corgan porcelina of the vast oceans
i never wanted memories
if i could have a lifetime wish
a dream that would come true
i'd pray to God with all my heart
for yesterday and you
a thousand words won't bring you back
i know because i've tried
neither will a thousand tears
i know because i've cried
you left behind a broken heart
and happy memories too
but i never wanted memories
i only wanted you
kristi leiker RIP
a dream that would come true
i'd pray to God with all my heart
for yesterday and you
a thousand words won't bring you back
i know because i've tried
neither will a thousand tears
i know because i've cried
you left behind a broken heart
and happy memories too
but i never wanted memories
i only wanted you
kristi leiker RIP
federal reserve bank
i believe that banking institutions are more dangerous than standing armies...if the american people ever allow private banks to control the issue of currency...the banks and corporations that will grow up around them will deprive the people of their property until their children wake up homeless on the continent their fathers conquered.
-thomas jefferson
-thomas jefferson
george w bush / hitler / goering
"why of course the people don't want war ... but after all it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship ...voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. that is easy. all you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger.”
-hermann goering (at the nuremberg trials after world war II)
“the art of leadership ... consists in consolidating the attention of the people against a single adversary and taking care that nothing will split up that attention.... the leader of genius must have the ability to make different opponents appear as if they belonged to one category.”
adolf hitler (mein kampf, vol. 1, ch. 3 (1925))
“an evil exists that threatens every man, woman and child of this great nation. we must take steps to ensure our domestic security and protect our homeland.”
-adolf hitler 1939
"there is no telling how many wars it will take to secure freedom in the homeland."
-george w bush
"america must not ignore the threat gathering against us. facing clear evidence of peril, we cannot wait for the final proof, the smoking gun that could come in the form of a mushroom cloud."
-george w bush
"the liberation of iraq is a crucial advance in the campaign against terror. we've removed an ally of al qaeda."
-george w bush
"either you are with us or you are with the terrorists."
-george w bush
"free nations are peaceful nations. free nations don't attack each other. free nations don't develop weapons of mass destruction."
-george w bush
-hermann goering (at the nuremberg trials after world war II)
“the art of leadership ... consists in consolidating the attention of the people against a single adversary and taking care that nothing will split up that attention.... the leader of genius must have the ability to make different opponents appear as if they belonged to one category.”
adolf hitler (mein kampf, vol. 1, ch. 3 (1925))
“an evil exists that threatens every man, woman and child of this great nation. we must take steps to ensure our domestic security and protect our homeland.”
-adolf hitler 1939
"there is no telling how many wars it will take to secure freedom in the homeland."
-george w bush
"america must not ignore the threat gathering against us. facing clear evidence of peril, we cannot wait for the final proof, the smoking gun that could come in the form of a mushroom cloud."
-george w bush
"the liberation of iraq is a crucial advance in the campaign against terror. we've removed an ally of al qaeda."
-george w bush
"either you are with us or you are with the terrorists."
-george w bush
"free nations are peaceful nations. free nations don't attack each other. free nations don't develop weapons of mass destruction."
-george w bush
le temps passe plus mal que bien
voilà, je regarde les autres
pourtant je ne leur trouve rien
c'est comme ça
voilà, je vais avec les autres
le temps passe plus mal que bien
c'est comme ça
et toi, que fais-tu?
es-tu content de tout?
je suis là, devant toi, toujours la même
oh! pourquoi est-ce encore toi que j'aime
que j'aime, que j'aime, que j'aime
tu es là, devant moi, toujours le même
oh! pourquoi ne puis-je pas te dire:
"je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime"
voilà, je m'en retourne aux autres
qui m'aiment et que je n'aime pas
c'est comme ça
et toi, vas retrouver cette autre
tu l'aimes ou c'est ce que tu crois
c'est comme ça
voilà, on n'a rien rien de plus à se dire
je suis là, devant toi, toujours la même
tu le vois, c'est encore toi que je t'aime
que j'aime, que j'aime, que j'aime
tu t'en vas et plus rien ne vaut la peine
oh! pourquoi ne puis-je pas crier:
"je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime"
-francoise hardy voila
pourtant je ne leur trouve rien
c'est comme ça
voilà, je vais avec les autres
le temps passe plus mal que bien
c'est comme ça
et toi, que fais-tu?
es-tu content de tout?
je suis là, devant toi, toujours la même
oh! pourquoi est-ce encore toi que j'aime
que j'aime, que j'aime, que j'aime
tu es là, devant moi, toujours le même
oh! pourquoi ne puis-je pas te dire:
"je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime"
voilà, je m'en retourne aux autres
qui m'aiment et que je n'aime pas
c'est comme ça
et toi, vas retrouver cette autre
tu l'aimes ou c'est ce que tu crois
c'est comme ça
voilà, on n'a rien rien de plus à se dire
je suis là, devant toi, toujours la même
tu le vois, c'est encore toi que je t'aime
que j'aime, que j'aime, que j'aime
tu t'en vas et plus rien ne vaut la peine
oh! pourquoi ne puis-je pas crier:
"je t'aime, je t'aime, je t'aime"
-francoise hardy voila
we can both remove our halos
could have sworn i heard you say 'amen' this morning
showing some kind of sign that you believe
did it fall from your tongue without warning?
or just another trick to fall from your sleeve?
the woman in you is the worry in me
did i hear you say that you believe in angels?
i guess i bring the devil out in you
but we can both remove our halos
cause even an angel needs love too
the woman in you is the worry in me
how i hate to remember
for that means the day has passed
sometimes i wonder if know her
or if i really need to ask
the woman in you is the worry in me
half a man walks with no shadow
of life he utters his distaste
no apology is expected
love carved sorry in his face
the woman in you is the worry in me
some things never change
some things never stay the same
but you're so innocent
i'll take all the blame
even angels need love too
-ben harper the woman in you
showing some kind of sign that you believe
did it fall from your tongue without warning?
or just another trick to fall from your sleeve?
the woman in you is the worry in me
did i hear you say that you believe in angels?
i guess i bring the devil out in you
but we can both remove our halos
cause even an angel needs love too
the woman in you is the worry in me
how i hate to remember
for that means the day has passed
sometimes i wonder if know her
or if i really need to ask
the woman in you is the worry in me
half a man walks with no shadow
of life he utters his distaste
no apology is expected
love carved sorry in his face
the woman in you is the worry in me
some things never change
some things never stay the same
but you're so innocent
i'll take all the blame
even angels need love too
-ben harper the woman in you
my own heart breaking
in the fall of the year
she flew across the ocean
to ireland
the land of her fathers
when we said goodbye
a tear was in her eye
i lost her then and there
my irish angel
the first letter came
she said she loved it there
and how much she wished
i was there with her
she wrote it on a hill
in a gentle irish way
i saw her in my mind
my irish angel
i wrote her back and then
there was no second letter
just the silence of the snow
that fell around me
i let her down i know
the day i let her go
now she's found someone else
my irish angel
the first time i saw her
my heart went in a spin
when they speak of love
they call it falling
it was like i held my breath
till i laid eyes on her again
so beautiful she was
my irish angel
and when a storming glance
lead to a storming kiss
i thought i knew the
chance that i was taking
in all i never knew
a love as strong as this
or what it was to feel
my own heart breaking
so now i raise the glass
and then i raise another
one to forget
one to remember
it was just a dream
of how things could of been
if i hadn't lost
my irish angel
-jonny lang irish angel
she flew across the ocean
to ireland
the land of her fathers
when we said goodbye
a tear was in her eye
i lost her then and there
my irish angel
the first letter came
she said she loved it there
and how much she wished
i was there with her
she wrote it on a hill
in a gentle irish way
i saw her in my mind
my irish angel
i wrote her back and then
there was no second letter
just the silence of the snow
that fell around me
i let her down i know
the day i let her go
now she's found someone else
my irish angel
the first time i saw her
my heart went in a spin
when they speak of love
they call it falling
it was like i held my breath
till i laid eyes on her again
so beautiful she was
my irish angel
and when a storming glance
lead to a storming kiss
i thought i knew the
chance that i was taking
in all i never knew
a love as strong as this
or what it was to feel
my own heart breaking
so now i raise the glass
and then i raise another
one to forget
one to remember
it was just a dream
of how things could of been
if i hadn't lost
my irish angel
-jonny lang irish angel
even to the last breath
helas! du crime affreux dont la honte me suit,
jamais mon triste coeur n'a recueilli le fruit:
jusqu'au dernier soupir de malheurs poursuivie
je rends dans les tourments une penible vie.
-jean racine phedre
jamais mon triste coeur n'a recueilli le fruit:
jusqu'au dernier soupir de malheurs poursuivie
je rends dans les tourments une penible vie.
-jean racine phedre
crossing legitimate limits
quelques crimes toujours precedent les grands crimes;
quiconque a pu franchir les bornes legitimes
peut violer enfin les droits les plus sacres;
ainsi que la vertu, le crime a ses degres;
et jamais on n'a vu la timide innocence
passer subitement a l'extreme licence.
-jean racine phedre
quiconque a pu franchir les bornes legitimes
peut violer enfin les droits les plus sacres;
ainsi que la vertu, le crime a ses degres;
et jamais on n'a vu la timide innocence
passer subitement a l'extreme licence.
-jean racine phedre
married couples looking domesticated
an outward-bound mail-boat had come in that afternoon, and the big dining-room of the hotel was more than half full of people with a hundred pounds round-the-world tickets in their pockets. there were married couples looking domesticated and bored with each other in the midst of their travels; there were small parties and large parties, and lone individuals dining solemnly or feasting boisterously, but all thinking, conversing, joking, or scowling as was their wont at home; and just as intelligently receptive of new impressions as their trunks upstairs. henceforth they would be labeled as having passed through this and that place, and so would be their luggage. they would cherish this distinction of their persons, and preserve the gummed tickets on their portmanteaus as documentary evidence, as the only permanent trace of their improving enterprise.
-joseph conrad lord jim
-joseph conrad lord jim
the naked desert; the indifferent sun
some of the evil of my tale may have been inherent in our circumstances. for years we lived anyhow with one another in the naked desert, under the indifferent heaven. by day the hot sun fermented us; and we were dizzied by the beating wind. at night we were stained by dew, and shamed into pettiness by the innumerable silences of stars. we were a self-centered army without parade or gesture, devoted to freedom, the second of man's creeds, a purpose so ravenous that it devoured all our strength, a hope so transcendent that our earlier ambitions faded in its glare...
blood was always on our hands: we were licensed to it. wounding and killing seemed ephemeral pains, so very brief and sore was life with us. with the sorrow of living so great, the sorrow of punishment had to be pitiless. we lived for the day and died for it. when there was reason and desire to punish we wrote our lesson with gun or whip immediately in the sullen flesh of the sufferer, and the case was beyond appeal. the desert did not afford the refined slow penalties of courts and gaols...
in my case, the effort for these years to live in the dress of arabs, and to imitate their mental foundation, quitted me of my english self, and let me look at the west and its conventions with new eyes: they destroyed it all for me. at the same time i could not sincerely take on the arab skin: it was an affectation only. easily was a man made an infidel, but hardly might he be converted to another faith. i had dropped one form and not taken on the other, and was become like mohammed's coffin in our legend, with a resultant feeling of intense loneliness in life, and a contempt, not for other men, but for all they do. such detachment came at times to a man exhausted by prolonged physical effort and isolation. his body plodded on mechanically, while his reasonable mind left him, and from without looked down critically on him, wondering what that futile lumber did and why. sometimes these selves would converse in the void; and then madness was very near, as i believe it would be near the man who could see things through the veils at once of two customs, two educations, two environments.
-t. e. lawrence seven pillars of wisdom: a triumph
blood was always on our hands: we were licensed to it. wounding and killing seemed ephemeral pains, so very brief and sore was life with us. with the sorrow of living so great, the sorrow of punishment had to be pitiless. we lived for the day and died for it. when there was reason and desire to punish we wrote our lesson with gun or whip immediately in the sullen flesh of the sufferer, and the case was beyond appeal. the desert did not afford the refined slow penalties of courts and gaols...
in my case, the effort for these years to live in the dress of arabs, and to imitate their mental foundation, quitted me of my english self, and let me look at the west and its conventions with new eyes: they destroyed it all for me. at the same time i could not sincerely take on the arab skin: it was an affectation only. easily was a man made an infidel, but hardly might he be converted to another faith. i had dropped one form and not taken on the other, and was become like mohammed's coffin in our legend, with a resultant feeling of intense loneliness in life, and a contempt, not for other men, but for all they do. such detachment came at times to a man exhausted by prolonged physical effort and isolation. his body plodded on mechanically, while his reasonable mind left him, and from without looked down critically on him, wondering what that futile lumber did and why. sometimes these selves would converse in the void; and then madness was very near, as i believe it would be near the man who could see things through the veils at once of two customs, two educations, two environments.
-t. e. lawrence seven pillars of wisdom: a triumph
a note on my notes
...here are no lessons for the world, no disclosures to shock peoples. it is filled with trivial things, partly that no one mistake for history the bones from which some day a man may make history, and partly for the pleasure it gave me to recall the fellowship...
-t. e. lawrence seven pillars of wisdom: a triumph
-t. e. lawrence seven pillars of wisdom: a triumph
aristotle - virgil
when men are friends they have no need of justice.
-aristotle
omnia vincit amor.
-virgil
-aristotle
omnia vincit amor.
-virgil
an inexhaustible resevoir of melancholy
how long ago it all was! was i living at that time? was it really me? is it me now? each minute of my life finds itself suddenly separated from the preceding one by an abyss; between yesterday and today there is an eternity that fills me with terror; every day it seems to me that i was less wretched the day before and, without being able to say what else i then possessed, i am sure that i am growing ever poorer, and that each hour as it comes takes something from me. i am just amazed that there is still room in my heart for suffering; but man's heart is an inexhaustible reservoir of melancholy: one or two moments of happiness fill it to the brim, but all the many miseries of humanity can easily congregate and find lodgings in it together.
if you had asked me what it was i needed, i wouldn't have been able to tell you; my desires had no specific object, and my sadness had no immediate cause; or rather, there were so many objects and so many causes that i wouldn't have been able to isolate a single one of them. all the passions crammed into my heart and became entrapped there; they set each other aflame, as if in concentric mirrors. i was a modest person, yet full of pride; a solitary, who dreamt of glory. shunning society, i yet had a burning ambition to appear on its stage a cut a dash; though chaste, day and night i would abandon myself in my dreams to the most unbridled lusts, the fiercest pleasures. the life that i held pent up inside me congealed within my heart, and choked it.
-gustave flaubert november
if you had asked me what it was i needed, i wouldn't have been able to tell you; my desires had no specific object, and my sadness had no immediate cause; or rather, there were so many objects and so many causes that i wouldn't have been able to isolate a single one of them. all the passions crammed into my heart and became entrapped there; they set each other aflame, as if in concentric mirrors. i was a modest person, yet full of pride; a solitary, who dreamt of glory. shunning society, i yet had a burning ambition to appear on its stage a cut a dash; though chaste, day and night i would abandon myself in my dreams to the most unbridled lusts, the fiercest pleasures. the life that i held pent up inside me congealed within my heart, and choked it.
-gustave flaubert november
the river of nine bends
a gone shipmate, like any other man, is gone forever; and i never met one of them again. but at times the spring-flood of memory sets with force up the dark River of the Nine Bends. then on the waters of the forlorn stream drifts a ship -manned by a crew of Shades. they pass and make a sign, in a shadowy hail. haven't we, together and upon the immortal sea, wrung out a meaning from our sinful lives? goodbye brothers! you were a good crowd. as good a crowd as ever fisted with wild cries the beating canvas of a heavy foresail; or tossing aloft, invisible in the night, gave back yell for yell to a westerly gale.
-joseph conrad
-joseph conrad
no fixed ideas, no positive opinions
as a child i loved what can be seen, as a teenager what can be felt, as a man i no longer love anything. and yet how many things i have in my soul, how much inner strength and how many oceans of anger and love crash together and break in this heart so weak so feeble so fallen so weary so exhausted!...
yes i am dying, for is it living when you see your past as so much water that has flowed into the sea, when the present seems a cage, the future a shroud?
-gustave flaubert memoirs of a madman
yes i am dying, for is it living when you see your past as so much water that has flowed into the sea, when the present seems a cage, the future a shroud?
-gustave flaubert memoirs of a madman
painfully sane
it's late and i can't sleep
i've made promises that i can't keep
cobblestones and broken bones
has a kingdom but he's got no home
last night is still ringing in my head
like that lonesome whistle in the rain
lord i'm a fool for a lonesome train
the lifetimes we've left behind with strangers
promises and lies both have there dangers
now i just can't be wrong enough
and i can't hide for long enough
so far away but i still feel your pain
lord i'm a fool for a lonesome train
i try to say goodbye
but i never got your name
i know it sounds crazy but i'm painfully sane
-ben harper fool for a lonesome train
i've made promises that i can't keep
cobblestones and broken bones
has a kingdom but he's got no home
last night is still ringing in my head
like that lonesome whistle in the rain
lord i'm a fool for a lonesome train
the lifetimes we've left behind with strangers
promises and lies both have there dangers
now i just can't be wrong enough
and i can't hide for long enough
so far away but i still feel your pain
lord i'm a fool for a lonesome train
i try to say goodbye
but i never got your name
i know it sounds crazy but i'm painfully sane
-ben harper fool for a lonesome train
every new reflection
i am first affrighted and confounded with that forelorn solitude, in which i am plac'd in my philosophy, and fancy myself some strange uncouth monster, who not being able to mingle and unite in society, has been expell'd all human commerce, and left utterly abandon'd and disconsolate. fain wou'd i run into the crowd for shelter and warmth; but cannot prevail with myself to mix with such deformity. i call upon others to join me, in order to make a company apart; but no one will hearken to me. every one keeps at a distance, and dreads that storm, which beats upon me from every side. i have expos'd myself to the enmity of all metaphysicians, logicians, mathematicians, and even theologians; and can i wonder at the insults i must suffer? i have declar'd my disapprobation of their systems; and can i be surpriz'd, if they shou'd express a hatred of mine and of my person? when i look abroad, i foresee on every side, dispute, contradiction, anger, calumny and detraction. when i turn my eye inward, i find nothing but doubt and ignorance. all the world conspires to oppose and contradict me; tho' such is my weakness, that i feel all my opinions loosen and fall of themselves, when unsupported by the approbation of others. every step i take is with hesitation, and every new reflection makes me dread an error and absurdity in my reasoning.
-david hume a treatise on human nature
-david hume a treatise on human nature
evening
peace breathes along the shade
of every hill,
the treetops of the glade
are hushed and still;
all woodland murmurs cease,
the birds to rest within the brake are gone.
be patient, weary heart -anon,
thou, too, shalt be at peace!
-j w goethe
of every hill,
the treetops of the glade
are hushed and still;
all woodland murmurs cease,
the birds to rest within the brake are gone.
be patient, weary heart -anon,
thou, too, shalt be at peace!
-j w goethe
blows for vengeance
and as he who falls, and knows not how, by force of a demon that drags him to ground, or of other obstruction that binds the man when he rises and gazes around him, all bewildered by the great anguish that he has suffered, and as he looks, sighs; such was that sinner after he had risen. oh power of God! how severe it is, that showers down such blows for vengeance!
dante alighieri the divine comedy
dante alighieri the divine comedy
fatal darkness
when he cared to talk, he talked well; but, the cloud of caring for nothing, which overshadowed him with such a fatal darkness, was very rarely pierced by the light within him.
and yet he did care something for the streets that environed that house, and for the senseless stones that made their pavements. many a night he vaguely and unhappily wandered there, when wine had brought no transitory gladness to him; many a dreary daybreak revealed his solitary figure lingering there, and still lingering there when the first beams of the sun brought into strong relief removed beauties of architecture in spires of churches and lofty buildings, as perhaps the quiet time brought some sense of better things, else forgotten and unattainable, into his mind. of late, the neglected bed in the temple court had known him more scantily than ever; and often when he had thrown himself upon it no longer than a few minutes, he had got up again, and haunted that neighbourhood.
-charles dickens a tale of two cities
and yet he did care something for the streets that environed that house, and for the senseless stones that made their pavements. many a night he vaguely and unhappily wandered there, when wine had brought no transitory gladness to him; many a dreary daybreak revealed his solitary figure lingering there, and still lingering there when the first beams of the sun brought into strong relief removed beauties of architecture in spires of churches and lofty buildings, as perhaps the quiet time brought some sense of better things, else forgotten and unattainable, into his mind. of late, the neglected bed in the temple court had known him more scantily than ever; and often when he had thrown himself upon it no longer than a few minutes, he had got up again, and haunted that neighbourhood.
-charles dickens a tale of two cities
a fire, lighting nothing, doing no service, idly burning away
"i fear you are not well, mr. carton!"
"no. but the life i lead, miss manette, is not conducive to health. what is to be expected of, or by, such profligates?"
"is it not- forgive me; i have begun the question on my lips- a pity to live no better life?"
"god knows it is a shame!"
"then why not change it?"
looking gently at him again, she was surprised and saddened to see that there were tears in his eyes. there were tears in his voice too, as he answered:
"it is too late for that. i shall never be better than i am. i shall sink lower, and be worse."
he leaned an elbow on her table, and covered his eyes with his hand. the table trembled in the silence that followed.
she had never seen him softened, and was much distressed. he knew her to be so, without looking at her, and said:
"pray forgive me, miss manette. i break down before the knowledge of what i want to say to you. will you hear me?"
"if it will do you any good, mr. carton, if it would make you happier, it would make me very glad!"
"god bless you for your sweet compassion!"
he unshaded his face after a little while, and spoke steadily.
"don't be afraid to hear me. don't shrink from anything i say. i am like one who died young. all my life might have been."
"no, mr. carton. i am sure that the best part of it might still be; i am sure that you might be much, much worthier of yourself."
"so you say, miss manette, and although i know better- although in the mystery of my own wretched heart i know better- i shall never forget it!"
she was pale and trembling. he came to her relief with a fixed despair of himself which made the interview unlike any other that could have been holden.
"if it had been possible, miss manette, that you could have returned the love of the man you see before you- self-flung away, wasted, drunken, poor creature of misuse as you know him to be- he would have been conscious this day and hour, in spite of his happiness, that he would bring you to misery, bring you to sorrow and repentance, blight you, disgrace you, pull you down with him. i know very well that you can have no tenderness for me; i ask for none; i am even thankful that it cannot be."
"without it, can i not save you, mr. carton? can i not recall you- forgive me again!- to a better course? can i in no way repay your confidence? i know this is a confidence," she modestly said, after a little hesitation, and in earnest tears, "i know you would say this to no one else. can i turn it to no good account for yourself, mr. carton?"
he shook his head.
"to none. no, miss manette, to none. if you will hear me through a very little more, all you can ever do for me is done. i wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul. in my degradation i have not been so degraded but that the sight of you with your father, and of this home made such a home by you, has stirred old shadows that i thought had died out of me. since i knew you, i have been troubled by a remorse that i thought would never reproach me again, and have heard whispers from old voices impelling me upward that i thought were silent for ever. i have had unformed ideas of striving afresh, beginning anew, shaking off sloth and sensuality, and fighting out the abandoned fight. a dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but i wish you to know that you inspired it."
"will nothing of it remain? o mr. carton, think again! try again!"
"no, miss manette; all through it, i have known myself to be quite undeserving. and yet i have had the weakness, and have still the weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, heap of ashes that i am, into fire- a fire, however, inseparable in its nature from myself, quickening nothing, lighting nothing, doing no service, idly burning away."
"since it is my misfortune, mr. carton, to have made you more unhappy than you were before you knew me--"
"don't say that, miss manette, for you would have reclaimed me, if anything could. you will not be the cause of my becoming worse."
"since the state of your mind that you describe, is, at all events, attributable to some influence of mine- this is what i mean, if i can make it plain- can i use no influence to serve you? have i no power for good, with you, at all?"
"the utmost good that i am capable of now, miss manette, i have come here to realise. let me carry through the rest of my misdirected life, the remembrance that i opened my heart to you, last of all the world; and that there was something left in me at this time which you could deplore and pity."
"which i entreated you to believe, again and again, most fervently, with all my heart, was capable of better things, mr. carton!"
"entreat me to believe it no more, miss manette. i have proved myself, and i know better. i distress you; i draw fast to an end. will you let me believe, when i recall this day, that the last confidence of my life was reposed in your pure and innocent breast, and that it lies there alone, and will be shared by no one?"
"if that will be a consolation to you, yes."
"not even by the dearest one ever to be known to you?"
"mr. carton," she answered, after an agitated pause, "the secret is yours, not mine; and i promise to respect it."
"thank you. and again, god bless you."
he put her hand to his lips, and moved towards the door.
"be under no apprehension, miss manette, of my ever resuming this conversation by so much as a passing word. i will never refer to it again. if i were dead, that could not be surer than it is henceforth. in the hour of my death, i shall hold sacred the one good remembrance- and shall thank and bless you for it- that my last avowal of myself was made to you, and that my name, and faults, and miseries were gently carried in your heart. may it otherwise be light and happy!"
he was so unlike what he had ever shown himself to be, and it was so sad to think how much he had thrown away, and how much he every day kept down and perverted, that lucie manette wept mournfully for him as he stood looking back at her.
"be comforted!" he said, "i am not worth such feeling, miss manette. an hour or two hence, and the low companions and low habits that i scorn but yield to, will render me less worth such tears as those, than any wretch who creeps along the streets. be comforted! but, within myself, i shall always be, towards you, what i am now, though outwardly i shall be what you have heretofore seen me. the last supplication but one i make to you, is, that you will believe this of me."
"i will, mr. carton."
"my last supplication of all, is this; and with it, i will relieve you of a visitor with whom i well know you have nothing in unison, and between whom and you there is an impassable space. it is useless to say it, i know, but it rises out of my soul. for you, and for any dear to you, i would do anything. if my career were of that better kind that there was any opportunity or capacity of sacrifice in it, i would embrace any sacrifice for you and for those dear to you. try to hold me in your mind, at some quiet times, as ardent and sincere in this one thing. the time will come, the time will not be long in coming, when new ties will be formed about you- ties that will bind you yet more tenderly and strongly to the home you so adorn- the dearest ties that will ever grace and gladden you. o miss manette, when the little picture of a happy father's face looks up in yours, when you see your own bright beauty springing up anew at your feet, think now and then that there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you!"
he said, "farewell!" said a last "god bless you!" and left her.
-charles dickens a tale of two cities: book 2 ch.13
"no. but the life i lead, miss manette, is not conducive to health. what is to be expected of, or by, such profligates?"
"is it not- forgive me; i have begun the question on my lips- a pity to live no better life?"
"god knows it is a shame!"
"then why not change it?"
looking gently at him again, she was surprised and saddened to see that there were tears in his eyes. there were tears in his voice too, as he answered:
"it is too late for that. i shall never be better than i am. i shall sink lower, and be worse."
he leaned an elbow on her table, and covered his eyes with his hand. the table trembled in the silence that followed.
she had never seen him softened, and was much distressed. he knew her to be so, without looking at her, and said:
"pray forgive me, miss manette. i break down before the knowledge of what i want to say to you. will you hear me?"
"if it will do you any good, mr. carton, if it would make you happier, it would make me very glad!"
"god bless you for your sweet compassion!"
he unshaded his face after a little while, and spoke steadily.
"don't be afraid to hear me. don't shrink from anything i say. i am like one who died young. all my life might have been."
"no, mr. carton. i am sure that the best part of it might still be; i am sure that you might be much, much worthier of yourself."
"so you say, miss manette, and although i know better- although in the mystery of my own wretched heart i know better- i shall never forget it!"
she was pale and trembling. he came to her relief with a fixed despair of himself which made the interview unlike any other that could have been holden.
"if it had been possible, miss manette, that you could have returned the love of the man you see before you- self-flung away, wasted, drunken, poor creature of misuse as you know him to be- he would have been conscious this day and hour, in spite of his happiness, that he would bring you to misery, bring you to sorrow and repentance, blight you, disgrace you, pull you down with him. i know very well that you can have no tenderness for me; i ask for none; i am even thankful that it cannot be."
"without it, can i not save you, mr. carton? can i not recall you- forgive me again!- to a better course? can i in no way repay your confidence? i know this is a confidence," she modestly said, after a little hesitation, and in earnest tears, "i know you would say this to no one else. can i turn it to no good account for yourself, mr. carton?"
he shook his head.
"to none. no, miss manette, to none. if you will hear me through a very little more, all you can ever do for me is done. i wish you to know that you have been the last dream of my soul. in my degradation i have not been so degraded but that the sight of you with your father, and of this home made such a home by you, has stirred old shadows that i thought had died out of me. since i knew you, i have been troubled by a remorse that i thought would never reproach me again, and have heard whispers from old voices impelling me upward that i thought were silent for ever. i have had unformed ideas of striving afresh, beginning anew, shaking off sloth and sensuality, and fighting out the abandoned fight. a dream, all a dream, that ends in nothing, and leaves the sleeper where he lay down, but i wish you to know that you inspired it."
"will nothing of it remain? o mr. carton, think again! try again!"
"no, miss manette; all through it, i have known myself to be quite undeserving. and yet i have had the weakness, and have still the weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, heap of ashes that i am, into fire- a fire, however, inseparable in its nature from myself, quickening nothing, lighting nothing, doing no service, idly burning away."
"since it is my misfortune, mr. carton, to have made you more unhappy than you were before you knew me--"
"don't say that, miss manette, for you would have reclaimed me, if anything could. you will not be the cause of my becoming worse."
"since the state of your mind that you describe, is, at all events, attributable to some influence of mine- this is what i mean, if i can make it plain- can i use no influence to serve you? have i no power for good, with you, at all?"
"the utmost good that i am capable of now, miss manette, i have come here to realise. let me carry through the rest of my misdirected life, the remembrance that i opened my heart to you, last of all the world; and that there was something left in me at this time which you could deplore and pity."
"which i entreated you to believe, again and again, most fervently, with all my heart, was capable of better things, mr. carton!"
"entreat me to believe it no more, miss manette. i have proved myself, and i know better. i distress you; i draw fast to an end. will you let me believe, when i recall this day, that the last confidence of my life was reposed in your pure and innocent breast, and that it lies there alone, and will be shared by no one?"
"if that will be a consolation to you, yes."
"not even by the dearest one ever to be known to you?"
"mr. carton," she answered, after an agitated pause, "the secret is yours, not mine; and i promise to respect it."
"thank you. and again, god bless you."
he put her hand to his lips, and moved towards the door.
"be under no apprehension, miss manette, of my ever resuming this conversation by so much as a passing word. i will never refer to it again. if i were dead, that could not be surer than it is henceforth. in the hour of my death, i shall hold sacred the one good remembrance- and shall thank and bless you for it- that my last avowal of myself was made to you, and that my name, and faults, and miseries were gently carried in your heart. may it otherwise be light and happy!"
he was so unlike what he had ever shown himself to be, and it was so sad to think how much he had thrown away, and how much he every day kept down and perverted, that lucie manette wept mournfully for him as he stood looking back at her.
"be comforted!" he said, "i am not worth such feeling, miss manette. an hour or two hence, and the low companions and low habits that i scorn but yield to, will render me less worth such tears as those, than any wretch who creeps along the streets. be comforted! but, within myself, i shall always be, towards you, what i am now, though outwardly i shall be what you have heretofore seen me. the last supplication but one i make to you, is, that you will believe this of me."
"i will, mr. carton."
"my last supplication of all, is this; and with it, i will relieve you of a visitor with whom i well know you have nothing in unison, and between whom and you there is an impassable space. it is useless to say it, i know, but it rises out of my soul. for you, and for any dear to you, i would do anything. if my career were of that better kind that there was any opportunity or capacity of sacrifice in it, i would embrace any sacrifice for you and for those dear to you. try to hold me in your mind, at some quiet times, as ardent and sincere in this one thing. the time will come, the time will not be long in coming, when new ties will be formed about you- ties that will bind you yet more tenderly and strongly to the home you so adorn- the dearest ties that will ever grace and gladden you. o miss manette, when the little picture of a happy father's face looks up in yours, when you see your own bright beauty springing up anew at your feet, think now and then that there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you!"
he said, "farewell!" said a last "god bless you!" and left her.
-charles dickens a tale of two cities: book 2 ch.13
milking the ram
to know what question one should, reasonably, ask is already a great and necessary proof of one's sagacity and insight. for if the question is in itself absurd and demands answers that are unnecessary, then it not only embarrasses the person raising it, but sometimes has the further disadvantage of misleading the incautious listener: it may prompt him to give absurd answers and to provide us with the ridiculous spectacle where (as the ancients said) one person milks the ram while the other holds a sieve underneath.
-immanuel kant critique of pure reason
-immanuel kant critique of pure reason
open up your mind let your fantasies unwind
nighttime sharpens heightens each sensation
darkness wakes and stirs imagination
silently the senses abandon their defenses
helpless to resist the notes i write
for i compose the music of the night
slowly gently night unfurls its splendor
grasp it sense it tremulous and tender
hearing is believing music is deceiving
hard as lightning soft as candlelight
dare you trust the music of the night?
close your eyes
for your eyes will only tell the truth
and the truth isn't what you want to see
in the dark it is easy to pretend
that the truth is what it ought to be
softly deftly music shall caress you
hear it feel it secretly possess you
open up your mind let your fantasies unwind
in this darkness which you know you cannot fight
the darkness of the music of the night
close your eyes
start a journey to a strange new world
leave all thoughts of the world you knew before
close your eyes and let music set you free
only then can you belong to me
floating falling sweet intoxication
touch me trust me savor each sensation
let the dream begin let your darker side give in
to the power of the music that i write
the power of the music of the night
you alone can make my song take flight
help me make the music of the night
-andrew lloyd webber the music of the night
darkness wakes and stirs imagination
silently the senses abandon their defenses
helpless to resist the notes i write
for i compose the music of the night
slowly gently night unfurls its splendor
grasp it sense it tremulous and tender
hearing is believing music is deceiving
hard as lightning soft as candlelight
dare you trust the music of the night?
close your eyes
for your eyes will only tell the truth
and the truth isn't what you want to see
in the dark it is easy to pretend
that the truth is what it ought to be
softly deftly music shall caress you
hear it feel it secretly possess you
open up your mind let your fantasies unwind
in this darkness which you know you cannot fight
the darkness of the music of the night
close your eyes
start a journey to a strange new world
leave all thoughts of the world you knew before
close your eyes and let music set you free
only then can you belong to me
floating falling sweet intoxication
touch me trust me savor each sensation
let the dream begin let your darker side give in
to the power of the music that i write
the power of the music of the night
you alone can make my song take flight
help me make the music of the night
-andrew lloyd webber the music of the night
a word from dr. ron paul
i wish my fellow citizens...oh, nevermind.
http://www.forbes.com/2008/03/04/election-economy-paul-oped-cx_rp_0304ronpaul.html
http://www.forbes.com/2008
a long december
eternity sentences forever the very first time.
-soren kierkegaard concluding postscript: part two
-soren kierkegaard concluding postscript: part two
february stars
every act of love is a work of peace, no matter how small.
-mother theresa in the heart of the world
-mother theresa in the heart of the world
a dangerous neighbor
the most mediocre defense against hypocrisy is sagacity; indeed, it is hardly a defense, but rather a dangerous neighbor. the best defense against hypocrisy is love; indeed it is not only a defense but a chasmic abyss; in all eternity it has nothing to do with hypocrisy.
-soren kierkegaard works of love
-soren kierkegaard works of love
obedient slumbers that wake and weep
"...how happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
the world forgetting, by the world forgot.
eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"
desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,
tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n.
grace shines around her with serenest beams,
and whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
for her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
and wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,
for her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,
for her white virgins hymeneals sing,
to sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
and melts in visions of eternal day..."
-alexander pope eloisa to abelard
the world forgetting, by the world forgot.
eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
each pray'r accepted, and each wish resign'd;
labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"
desires compos'd, affections ever ev'n,
tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heav'n.
grace shines around her with serenest beams,
and whisp'ring angels prompt her golden dreams.
for her th' unfading rose of Eden blooms,
and wings of seraphs shed divine perfumes,
for her the Spouse prepares the bridal ring,
for her white virgins hymeneals sing,
to sounds of heav'nly harps she dies away,
and melts in visions of eternal day..."
-alexander pope eloisa to abelard
praising love
the one who praises art and science still sows dissension between the gifted and the ungifted. but the one who praises love reconciles all, not in a common poverty nor in a common mediocrity, but in the community of the highest.
-soren kierkegaard works of love
-soren kierkegaard works of love
self-sacrificing unselfishness
but outward self-sacrificing unselfishness is required if love is truly to be praised, and to want to praise love in the love of truth is indeed the work of love. it is easy enough to gain earthly advantages and, what is most lamentable of all, win the approval of people by proclaiming all sorts of deception. but truly this is not loving. the opposite is loving: in love of the truth and of humanity to will to make every sacrifice in order to proclaim the truth and, on the other hand, to will not to sacrifice the least bit of the truth.
-soren kierkegaard works of love
-soren kierkegaard works of love
the line separating good and evil
gradually it was disclosed to me that the line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either - but right through every human heart - and through all human hearts. this line shifts. inside us, it oscillates with the years. and even within hearts overwhelmed by evil, one small bridgehead of good is retained. and even in the best of all hearts, there remains...an unuprooted small corner of evil.
-aleksandr solzhenitsyn the gulag archipelago, vol. 2
-aleksandr solzhenitsyn the gulag archipelago, vol. 2
an angel out of time
sleep will not come to this tired body now
peace will not come to this lonely heart
there are some things i'll live without
but i want you to know that i need you right now
i need you tonite
i steal a kiss from her sleeping shadow moves
cause i'll always miss her wherever she goes
and i'll always need her more than she could ever need me
i need someone to ease my mind
but sometimes a someone is so hard to find
and i'll do anything to keep her here tonite
and i'll say anything to make her feel alright
and i'll be anything to keep her here tonite
cause i want you to stay, with me
i need you tonite
she comes to me like an angel out of time
as i play the part of a saint on my knees
there are some things i'll live without
but i want you to know that i need you right now
suffer my desire
suffer my desire
suffer my desire for you
-billy corgan in the arms of sleep
peace will not come to this lonely heart
there are some things i'll live without
but i want you to know that i need you right now
i need you tonite
i steal a kiss from her sleeping shadow moves
cause i'll always miss her wherever she goes
and i'll always need her more than she could ever need me
i need someone to ease my mind
but sometimes a someone is so hard to find
and i'll do anything to keep her here tonite
and i'll say anything to make her feel alright
and i'll be anything to keep her here tonite
cause i want you to stay, with me
i need you tonite
she comes to me like an angel out of time
as i play the part of a saint on my knees
there are some things i'll live without
but i want you to know that i need you right now
suffer my desire
suffer my desire
suffer my desire for you
-billy corgan in the arms of sleep
empty party afternoons
ten times removed
i forget about where it all began
bastard son of a bastard son of a
wild eyed child of the sun
as right as rain
i'm not the same
but i feel the same
i feel nothing
i sensed my loss
before i even learned to speak
i remember my birthdays
empty party afternoons
that won't come back
holding back the fool again
holding back the fool, pretends
i forget to forget
nothing is important
holding back the fool again
i forget to forget me
i forget to forget can't you see?
nothing is important to me.
i knew my loss
before i even learned to speak
all along i knew it was wrong
but i played along
with my birthday song
-billy corgan to forgive
i forget about where it all began
bastard son of a bastard son of a
wild eyed child of the sun
as right as rain
i'm not the same
but i feel the same
i feel nothing
i sensed my loss
before i even learned to speak
i remember my birthdays
empty party afternoons
that won't come back
holding back the fool again
holding back the fool, pretends
i forget to forget
nothing is important
holding back the fool again
i forget to forget me
i forget to forget can't you see?
nothing is important to me.
i knew my loss
before i even learned to speak
all along i knew it was wrong
but i played along
with my birthday song
-billy corgan to forgive
innocent blood has been spilt
there are opium dens where one can buy oblivion -dens of horror, where the memory of old sins can be destroyed by the madness of sins that are new...
as long as one has this stuff, one doesn't want friends. i think i have had too many friends.
as long as one has this stuff, one doesn't want friends. i think i have had too many friends.
"all you who labor and are burdened"
it is indeed eighteen hundred years since Jesus Christ walked here on earth, but this is certainly not an event just like other events, which once they are over pass into history and then, as the distant past, pass into oblivion. no, his presence here on earth never becomes a thing of the past, thus does not become more and more distant-- that is, if faith is at all to be found on earth; if not, well, then in that very instant it is a long time since he lived. but as long as there is a believer, this person, in order to have become that, must have been and as a believer must be just as contemporary with Christ's presence as his contemporaries were. this contemporaneity is the condition of faith, and, more sharply defined, it is faith. Lord Jesus Christ, would that we, too, might become contemporary with you in this way, might see you in your true form and in the surroundings of actuality as you walked here on earth, not in the form in which an empty and meaningless or a thoughtless-romantic or a historical-talkative remembrance has distorted you, since it is not the form of abasement in which the believer see you, and it cannot possibly be the form of glory in which no one as yet has seen you. would that we might see you as you are and were and will be until your second coming in glory, as the sign of offense and the object of faith, the lowly man, yet the Savior and Redeemer of the human race, who out of love came to earth to seek the lost, to suffer and die, and yet, alas, every step you took on earth, every time you called to the straying, every time you reached out your hand to do signs and wonders, and every time you defenselessly suffered the opposition of people without raising a hand-- again and again in concern you had to repeat, "blessed is the one who is not offended at me." would that we might see you in this way and that we then might not be offended at you!
-soren kierkegaard practice in christianity: invocation
-soren kierkegaard practice in christianity: invocation
letter to Jette
above all, do not lose your desire to walk: every day i walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness; i have walked myself into my best thoughts, and i know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it...but by sitting still, and the more one sits still, the closer one becomes to feeling ill...thus if one just keeps walking, everything will be all right.
-soren kierkegaard letter to Jette (1847)
-soren kierkegaard letter to Jette (1847)
by the gods i swear
all i have is my life, which i promptly stake every time a difficulty appears. then it is easy to dance, for the thought of death is a good dancing partner, my dancing partner. every human being is too heavy for me, and therefore i plead, per deos obsecro [by the gods i swear]: let no one invite me, for i do not dance.
-johannes climacus philosophical fragments, or: a fragment of philosophy
-johannes climacus philosophical fragments, or: a fragment of philosophy
why do i lie?
i would love to be better
i would love to be free
i would love to be perfect when you look at me
but instead i'm still crying
yes instead i'm still lying
sad to say i'm still trying not to be me
when i see all the weakness
that i turned into sickness
i still think i can slide just fine on the ice
it's not easy to be honest
sometimes i'm just astonished
how hard it can be to be true
i don't want to be hazy
i don't think that i'm crazy
but i've had some moments where i am not sure
and if you can forgive me
for just being human
then i will try harder to keep my words pure
i could be on the border
it could be a disorder
honestly i think that i can come clean
and all of my stories
might even be boring
if i can tell you what they all mean
why do i lie?
is it just to get by?
if i give up my lines will i die?
if fortunes are favored
then i am in labor
and i'm trying so hard
to leave lying behind
-luscious jackson why do i lie?
i would love to be free
i would love to be perfect when you look at me
but instead i'm still crying
yes instead i'm still lying
sad to say i'm still trying not to be me
when i see all the weakness
that i turned into sickness
i still think i can slide just fine on the ice
it's not easy to be honest
sometimes i'm just astonished
how hard it can be to be true
i don't want to be hazy
i don't think that i'm crazy
but i've had some moments where i am not sure
and if you can forgive me
for just being human
then i will try harder to keep my words pure
i could be on the border
it could be a disorder
honestly i think that i can come clean
and all of my stories
might even be boring
if i can tell you what they all mean
why do i lie?
is it just to get by?
if i give up my lines will i die?
if fortunes are favored
then i am in labor
and i'm trying so hard
to leave lying behind
-luscious jackson why do i lie?
i try to shut my eyes
well, just look at that girl
with the light coming up in her eyes!
she's got to be somebody's baby
she must be somebody's baby
all the guys on the corner stand back
and let her walk on by
i heard her talking with her friend
when she thought nobody else was around
i try to shut eyes, but I can't get her out of my sight
i know i'm gonna know her, but i got to get over my fright
well i'm just gonna walk up to her
i'm gonna talk to her tonight
she's got to be somebody's baby
she must be somebody's baby
she's got to be somebody's baby
she's so fine ....
she's probably somebody's only light
--gonna shine tonight--
yeah, she's probably somebody's baby, all right
-jackson browne somebody's baby
with the light coming up in her eyes!
she's got to be somebody's baby
she must be somebody's baby
all the guys on the corner stand back
and let her walk on by
i heard her talking with her friend
when she thought nobody else was around
i try to shut eyes, but I can't get her out of my sight
i know i'm gonna know her, but i got to get over my fright
well i'm just gonna walk up to her
i'm gonna talk to her tonight
she's got to be somebody's baby
she must be somebody's baby
she's got to be somebody's baby
she's so fine ....
she's probably somebody's only light
--gonna shine tonight--
yeah, she's probably somebody's baby, all right
-jackson browne somebody's baby
heavy, heavy memories
the basic flaw of the age is this teaching which leaves a person's inwardness completely secure. just as novelists and their kind weep buckets over one or another remarkable character (just as the shadows in the underworld sucked the blood of the living to continue living, so novelists et al. are unreal, shadows), in the same way the assistant professors want to swallow an existential thinker in order to obtain blood and life-warmth in paragraphs for a while. this shadow-existence is the secret of the system, knowing about, not being.
this is how i have understood myself. and, as always, i regard as my duty to do what i can understand, convinced of God's support. consequently, i do not provide myself with a couple of lecturers to whom i then teach this difficulty -no, i remain silent and act.
it is strenuous, and it certainly becomes more and more strenuous, but it is endurable when i scrupulously hold to the divine regulation not to be concerned about tomorrow but to thank God every day that he today gives me sufficient power. all exhaustion comes particularly from squandering away time, from thinking about many years, etc. instead of saying: can you not hold out for today? and when the answer is Yes, then one holds out and believes for tomorrow.
moreover, there is still a circumstance which makes all direct communication or talk about my activity as an author uncomfortable. i am aware of how much has been granted to me. but lest i become proud or arrogant about this, i carry about in a concerned consciousness an enormous responsibility, heavy, heavy memories, many, many trials. of all these things i cannot speak. if i were to speak with someone simply about my activity as an author, i would speak only about big things. i cannot speak directly to another person of how before God i feel less than a sparrow, or just as insignificant. in conversation among men we use human standards, and by human standards i have a great superiority. but to speak in this way is extremely painful to me and afterward it grieves my spirit; it is to me as if i deceived God.
therefore i am silent and keep going. if God permits the appearance of a contemporary who independently and with responsibility toward God declares himself at one with me, i thank God for it. but i am not permitted to make my position easier by placing someone in a direct, that is, an untrue relationship to me. i have no responsibility, as if i would keep the truth to myself. my books lie before the eyes of the world; they are publici juris; but i have no right to help anyone with personal prattle to cheaper terms than i myself have been helped-- this would be to deceive him. if anyone wishes to call this self-love, i shall call what he call love effeminacy.
-soren kierkegaard journal and papers
this is how i have understood myself. and, as always, i regard as my duty to do what i can understand, convinced of God's support. consequently, i do not provide myself with a couple of lecturers to whom i then teach this difficulty -no, i remain silent and act.
it is strenuous, and it certainly becomes more and more strenuous, but it is endurable when i scrupulously hold to the divine regulation not to be concerned about tomorrow but to thank God every day that he today gives me sufficient power. all exhaustion comes particularly from squandering away time, from thinking about many years, etc. instead of saying: can you not hold out for today? and when the answer is Yes, then one holds out and believes for tomorrow.
moreover, there is still a circumstance which makes all direct communication or talk about my activity as an author uncomfortable. i am aware of how much has been granted to me. but lest i become proud or arrogant about this, i carry about in a concerned consciousness an enormous responsibility, heavy, heavy memories, many, many trials. of all these things i cannot speak. if i were to speak with someone simply about my activity as an author, i would speak only about big things. i cannot speak directly to another person of how before God i feel less than a sparrow, or just as insignificant. in conversation among men we use human standards, and by human standards i have a great superiority. but to speak in this way is extremely painful to me and afterward it grieves my spirit; it is to me as if i deceived God.
therefore i am silent and keep going. if God permits the appearance of a contemporary who independently and with responsibility toward God declares himself at one with me, i thank God for it. but i am not permitted to make my position easier by placing someone in a direct, that is, an untrue relationship to me. i have no responsibility, as if i would keep the truth to myself. my books lie before the eyes of the world; they are publici juris; but i have no right to help anyone with personal prattle to cheaper terms than i myself have been helped-- this would be to deceive him. if anyone wishes to call this self-love, i shall call what he call love effeminacy.
-soren kierkegaard journal and papers
in margin of 82:2
every human being ought to be naive. -naivete rescues from illusions of the imagination, but also from the shallowness of acquired knowledge.
-soren kierkegaard journals and papers
-soren kierkegaard journals and papers
what made the pan refuse to grow?
it doesn't matter what i say
as long as i sing with inflection
that makes you feel that i'll convey
some inner truth of vast reflection
but i've said nothing so far
and i can keep it up for as long as it takes
and it don't matter who you are
if i'm doing my job then its your resolve that breaks
because the Hook brings you back
i ain't tellin' you no lie
the Hook brings you back
on that you can rely
there is something amiss
i am being insincere
in fact i don't mean any of this
still my confession draws you near
to confuse the issue i refer
to familiar heroes from long ago
no matter how much Peter loved her
what made the Pan refuse to grow...
was that the Hook brings you back
i ain't tellin' you no lie
the Hook brings you back
on that you can rely
suck it in suck it in suck it in
if you're Rin Tin Tin or Anne Boleyn
make a desperate move or else you'll win
and then begin to see
what you're doing to me this mtv is not for free
its so pc its killing me
so desperately i sing to thee
of love
sure but also rage and hate and pain and fear of self
and i cant keep these feelings on the shelf
ive tried
well no in fact i lied
could be financial suicide but i've got too much pride inside
to hide or slide
i'll do as i'll decide and let it ride until i've died
and only then shall i abide this tide
of catchy little tunes
of hip three minute ditties
i wanna bust all your balloons
i wanna burn all of your cities
to the ground i've found
i will not mess around
unless i play then hey
i will go on all day hear what i say
i have a prayer to pray
thats really all this was
and when i'm feeling stuck and need a buck
i don't rely on luck because...
the Hook brings you back
i ain't tellin' you no lie
the Hook...
on that you can rely
-john popper
as long as i sing with inflection
that makes you feel that i'll convey
some inner truth of vast reflection
but i've said nothing so far
and i can keep it up for as long as it takes
and it don't matter who you are
if i'm doing my job then its your resolve that breaks
because the Hook brings you back
i ain't tellin' you no lie
the Hook brings you back
on that you can rely
there is something amiss
i am being insincere
in fact i don't mean any of this
still my confession draws you near
to confuse the issue i refer
to familiar heroes from long ago
no matter how much Peter loved her
what made the Pan refuse to grow...
was that the Hook brings you back
i ain't tellin' you no lie
the Hook brings you back
on that you can rely
suck it in suck it in suck it in
if you're Rin Tin Tin or Anne Boleyn
make a desperate move or else you'll win
and then begin to see
what you're doing to me this mtv is not for free
its so pc its killing me
so desperately i sing to thee
of love
sure but also rage and hate and pain and fear of self
and i cant keep these feelings on the shelf
ive tried
well no in fact i lied
could be financial suicide but i've got too much pride inside
to hide or slide
i'll do as i'll decide and let it ride until i've died
and only then shall i abide this tide
of catchy little tunes
of hip three minute ditties
i wanna bust all your balloons
i wanna burn all of your cities
to the ground i've found
i will not mess around
unless i play then hey
i will go on all day hear what i say
i have a prayer to pray
thats really all this was
and when i'm feeling stuck and need a buck
i don't rely on luck because...
the Hook brings you back
i ain't tellin' you no lie
the Hook...
on that you can rely
-john popper
spots of jupiter
to a knowledge of the truth, i perhaps have come; to salvation, surely not. what shall i do? be active in the world, people say. should i then communicate my sorrow to the world, make one more contribution to prove how pitiable and wretched everything is, perhaps discover a new, hitherto undetected stain [plet] in human life? i could then reap the rare reward of becoming famous, just like the man who discovered the spots [pletter] on Jupiter. i still prefer to remain silent.
-soren kierkegaard either/or
-soren kierkegaard either/or
forgive me, father and mother
what shameful methods are sometimes practiced to prevent the birth of men, and cheat nature; either by brutal and depraved appetites which insult her most beautiful work --appetites unknown to savages or mere animals, which can spring only from the corrupt imagination of mankind in civilised countries; or by secret abortions, the fitting effects of debauchery and vitiated notions of honour; or by the exposure or murder of multitude of infants, who fall victims to the poverty of their parents, or the cruel shame of their mothers; or, finally, by the mutilation of unhappy wretches, part of whose life, with their hope of posterity, is given up to vain singing or, still worse, the brutal jealousy of other men...
how many young and unhappy victims of their parents' avarice plunge into vice, or pass their melancholy days in tears, groaning in the indissoluble bonds which their hearts repudiate and gold alone has formed! fortunate sometimes are those whose courage and virtue remove them from life before inhuman violence makes them spend it in crime or in despair. forgive me, father and mother, whom i shall ever regret: my complaint embitters your griefs; but would they might be an eternal and terrible example to every one who dares, in the name of nature, to violate her most sacred right.
-jean jacques rousseau on the origin of inequality
how many young and unhappy victims of their parents' avarice plunge into vice, or pass their melancholy days in tears, groaning in the indissoluble bonds which their hearts repudiate and gold alone has formed! fortunate sometimes are those whose courage and virtue remove them from life before inhuman violence makes them spend it in crime or in despair. forgive me, father and mother, whom i shall ever regret: my complaint embitters your griefs; but would they might be an eternal and terrible example to every one who dares, in the name of nature, to violate her most sacred right.
-jean jacques rousseau on the origin of inequality
on a father
be it permitted me to cite an example of which there ought to have existed better records, and one which will be ever near to my heart. i cannot recall to mind, without the sweetest emotions, the memory of that virtuous citizen, to whom i owe my being, and by whom i was often instructed, in my infancy, in the respect which is due to you. i see him still, living by the work of his hands, and feeding his soul on the sublimest truths...
at his side stands his dear son, receiving, alas with too little profit, the tender instructions of the best of fathers. but, if the follies of youth made me for a while forget his wise lessons, i have at length the happiness to be conscious that, whatever propensity one may have to vice, it is not easy for an education, with which love has mingled, to be entirely thrown away.
-jean jacques rousseau on the origin of inequality
at his side stands his dear son, receiving, alas with too little profit, the tender instructions of the best of fathers. but, if the follies of youth made me for a while forget his wise lessons, i have at length the happiness to be conscious that, whatever propensity one may have to vice, it is not easy for an education, with which love has mingled, to be entirely thrown away.
-jean jacques rousseau on the origin of inequality
gone
well look at all those fancy clothes
but these could keep us warm
just like those.
and what about your soul?
is it cold?
is it straight from the mould
and ready to be sold?
and cars and phones and diamond rings
bling, bling
those are only removable things
and what about your mind?
does it shine? or
are there things that concern you more
than your time?
gone going
gone everything
gone give a damn
gone be the birds when they don’t want to sing
gone people
all awkward with their things
gone
look at you out to make a deal
you try to be appealing but you lose your appeal
and what about those shoes you’re in today
they’ll do no good
on the bridges you burnt along the way
you’re willing to sell anything
gone with your herd
leave your footprints
and we’ll shame them with our words
gone people
all careless and consumed
gone one going
gone everything
gone give a damn
gone be the birds if they don’t want to sing
gone people
all awkward with their things
gone
-jack johnson gone
but these could keep us warm
just like those.
and what about your soul?
is it cold?
is it straight from the mould
and ready to be sold?
and cars and phones and diamond rings
bling, bling
those are only removable things
and what about your mind?
does it shine? or
are there things that concern you more
than your time?
gone going
gone everything
gone give a damn
gone be the birds when they don’t want to sing
gone people
all awkward with their things
gone
look at you out to make a deal
you try to be appealing but you lose your appeal
and what about those shoes you’re in today
they’ll do no good
on the bridges you burnt along the way
you’re willing to sell anything
gone with your herd
leave your footprints
and we’ll shame them with our words
gone people
all careless and consumed
gone one going
gone everything
gone give a damn
gone be the birds if they don’t want to sing
gone people
all awkward with their things
gone
-jack johnson gone
moralia
from men, man learns to speak, from the gods, to be silent.
-paraphrased from plutarch's moralia
-paraphrased from plutarch's moralia
don't want to feel no more
l'homme qui souffre le plus, c'est toujours celui qui sait le plus.
-duhamel
on n'ecrit pas pour soi ... on ecrit pour sortir de soi.
-reverdy
le peuple ne nous comprend pas. nous le comprenons encore bien moins.
-renard
on fait de la critique quand on ne peut pas faire de l'art.
-flaubert
-duhamel
on n'ecrit pas pour soi ... on ecrit pour sortir de soi.
-reverdy
le peuple ne nous comprend pas. nous le comprenons encore bien moins.
-renard
on fait de la critique quand on ne peut pas faire de l'art.
-flaubert
let your heart in truth will only one thing
in a certain sense nothing can be spoken of so briefly as the Good, when it is well described. for the Good without condition and without qualification, without preface and without compromise is, absolutely the only thing that a man may and should will, and is only one thing. oh, blessed brevity, oh, blessed simplicity, that seizes swiftly what cleverness, tired out in the service of vanity, may grasp but slowly! that which a simple soul, in the happy impulse of a pious heart, feels no need of understanding in an elaborate way, since he simple seizes the Good immediately, is grasped by the clever one only at the cost of much time and much grief. the way this one thing is willed is not such that: one man wills one thing but that which he wills is not the Good; another wills one thing nor is what he wills the Good; a third wills one thing and what he wills is the Good. no, it is not done in that way. the person who wills one thing that is not the good, he does not truly will one thing. it is a delusion , an illusion, a deception, a self-deception that he wills only one thing. for in his innermost being he is, he is bound to be, double-minded. therefore the Apostle says, "purify your hearts ye double-minded," that is, purify your hearts of double-mindedness; in other words, let your heart in truth will only one thing, for therein is the heart's purity.
-soren kierkegaard purity of heart is to will one thing
-soren kierkegaard purity of heart is to will one thing
childhood is slowly taken
another head hangs lowly,
childhood is slowly taken
and the violence causes silence
who are we? mistaken?
but you see? it's not me!
its not my family!
in your head they are fighting
with their tanks and their bombs
and their bombs and their guns
in your head they are crying
in your head they are crying
in your head
zombie!
what's in your head?
zombie!
another mother's breaking
heart is taking over
when the violence causes silence.
and we must be mistaken;
it's the same old theme since 1916.
in your head
they're still fighting--
with their tanks,
with their bombs,
with their guns.
zombie!
-the cranberries zombie
ed. jpl
childhood is slowly taken
and the violence causes silence
who are we? mistaken?
but you see? it's not me!
its not my family!
in your head they are fighting
with their tanks and their bombs
and their bombs and their guns
in your head they are crying
in your head they are crying
in your head
zombie!
what's in your head?
zombie!
another mother's breaking
heart is taking over
when the violence causes silence.
and we must be mistaken;
it's the same old theme since 1916.
in your head
they're still fighting--
with their tanks,
with their bombs,
with their guns.
zombie!
-the cranberries zombie
ed. jpl
false philosophie (pleasing sorcerie)
in discourse more sweet
(for eloquence the soul, song charms the sense,)
others apart sat on a hill retir'd,
in thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high
of providence, foreknowledge, will and fate,
fixt fate, free will, foreknowledge asbolute,
and found no end, in wandring mazes lost.
of good and evil much they argu'd then,
of happiness and final misery,
passion and apathie, and glory and shame,
vain wisdom all, and false philosophie:
yet with a pleasing sorcerie could charm
pain for a while or anguish, and excite
fallacious hope, or arm th' obdured brest
with stubborn patience as with triple steel.
-john milton paradise lost
(for eloquence the soul, song charms the sense,)
others apart sat on a hill retir'd,
in thoughts more elevate, and reason'd high
of providence, foreknowledge, will and fate,
fixt fate, free will, foreknowledge asbolute,
and found no end, in wandring mazes lost.
of good and evil much they argu'd then,
of happiness and final misery,
passion and apathie, and glory and shame,
vain wisdom all, and false philosophie:
yet with a pleasing sorcerie could charm
pain for a while or anguish, and excite
fallacious hope, or arm th' obdured brest
with stubborn patience as with triple steel.
-john milton paradise lost
ad si ipsum
in addition to my other numerous acquaintances, i have one more intimate confidant -my depression. in the midst of my joy, in the midst of my work, he beckons to me, calls me aside, even though physically i remain on the spot. my depression is the most faithful mistress i have known -no wonder, then, that i return the love.
-soren kierkegaard either/or: part I
-soren kierkegaard either/or: part I
recollection
for me nothing is more dangerous than to recollect [erindre]. as soon as i have recollected a life relationship, that relationship has ceased to exist. it is said that absence makes the heart grow fonder. that is very true, but it becomes fonder in a purely poetic way. to live in recollection is the most perfect life imaginable; recollection is more richly satisfying than all actuality, and it has a security that no actuality possesses. a recollected life relationship has already passed into eternity and has no temporal interest.
-soren kierkegaard either/or part 1
-soren kierkegaard either/or part 1
girls
girls do not appeal to me. their beauty passes away like a dream and like yesterday when it is past. their faithfulness -yes, their faithfulness! either they are faithless -this does not concern me any more- or they are faithful. if i found such a one, she would appeal to me from the standpoint of her being a rarity; but from the standpoint of a long period of time she would not appeal to me, for either she would continually remain faithful, and then i would become a sacrifice to my eagerness for experience, since i would have to bear with her, or the time would come when she would lapse, and then i would have the same old story.
-soren kierkegaard either/or : part 1
-soren kierkegaard either/or : part 1
the dreams of youth
old age fulfills the dreams of youth. one sees this in swift: in his youth he built an insane asylum; in his old age he himself entered it.
-soren keirkegaard either/or : part 1
-soren keirkegaard either/or : part 1
childhood's hour
from childhood's hour i have not been
as others were; i have not seen
as others saw; i could not bring
my passions from a common spring.
from the same source I have not taken
my sorrow; i could not awaken
my heart to joy at the same tone;
and all i loved, i loved alone.
-edgar allan poe
as others were; i have not seen
as others saw; i could not bring
my passions from a common spring.
from the same source I have not taken
my sorrow; i could not awaken
my heart to joy at the same tone;
and all i loved, i loved alone.
-edgar allan poe
the homeless daughter
brother John!
have you seen the homeless daughter
standing there with broken wings?
i have seen the flaming sword-
there, over East of Eden
burning, in the eyes of the Maker.
-d. j. matthews
have you seen the homeless daughter
standing there with broken wings?
i have seen the flaming sword-
there, over East of Eden
burning, in the eyes of the Maker.
-d. j. matthews
in memory
oh! i have slipped the surly bonds of earth
and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
sunward i've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds -and done a hundred things
you have not dreamed of- wheeled and soared and swung
high in the sunlit silence. hov'ring there,
i've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
my eager craft through footless halls of air.
up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
i've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
where never lark, or even eagle flew-
and, while with silent lifting mind i've trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand and touched the face of God.
-john gillespie magee, jr. "high flight"
--------------------
dr. william john thompson coulman V
RIP
and danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
sunward i've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
of sun-split clouds -and done a hundred things
you have not dreamed of- wheeled and soared and swung
high in the sunlit silence. hov'ring there,
i've chased the shouting wind along, and flung
my eager craft through footless halls of air.
up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
i've topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
where never lark, or even eagle flew-
and, while with silent lifting mind i've trod
the high untrespassed sanctity of space,
put out my hand and touched the face of God.
-john gillespie magee, jr. "high flight"
--------------------
dr. william john thompson coulman V
RIP
travel
travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.
-mark twain
-mark twain
her.
it was his damned thoughts, even more than this damned weather, that signified to him that there was no safe place. -everything will haunt you, all the storms will find you, everything will remind you that she's gone.
personal happiness
to feel free and at the same time happy, as it seems to me, you mustn't hide from yourself the fact that life is cruel, harsh, and merciless in its conservatism, and you need to respond to it as it deserves; in other words, be just as it is, harsh and merciless in your striving for freedom. that's what i think...
why i weakened and fell prematurely is not hard to explain. like the strong man in the Bible i took up the gates of gaza to carry them to the top of the hill; only when i grew tired, when my youth and health were extinguished forever, i noticed that these gates were too much for my shoulders and that i had deceived myself. what is more, i was in constant, cruel pain. i experienced hunger, cold, sickness, loss of freedom: i did not and do not know personal happiness, i have no shelter, my memories are bad and my conscience often fears them...
anton chekhov the story of a nobody
why i weakened and fell prematurely is not hard to explain. like the strong man in the Bible i took up the gates of gaza to carry them to the top of the hill; only when i grew tired, when my youth and health were extinguished forever, i noticed that these gates were too much for my shoulders and that i had deceived myself. what is more, i was in constant, cruel pain. i experienced hunger, cold, sickness, loss of freedom: i did not and do not know personal happiness, i have no shelter, my memories are bad and my conscience often fears them...
anton chekhov the story of a nobody
home.
i see the morning moving over the hills
i can see the shadows on the western side
and all those illusions that i had
they just vanish in your light
though the chill of the night still hangs in the air
i can feel the warmth of morning on my face
though the storm had tossed me
till i thought i had nearly lost my way
and now the night is fading and the storm has passed
and everything that could be shaken was shaken
and all that remains is all i ever really had
what i'd have settled for
you've blown so far away
what you've brought me to
i thought i could not reach
i came so close to giving up
but you never did give up on me
i see the morning moving over the hills
i feel the rush of life here where the darkness broke
i am in you and you're in me
here where the winds of heaven blow
and now the night is fading
the storm is through
and everything you sent to shake me
from my dreams they come to wake me
in the love i find in you
and now the morning comes
and everything that really matters
become the wings you've sent to gather me
to my home
-rich mullins
i can see the shadows on the western side
and all those illusions that i had
they just vanish in your light
though the chill of the night still hangs in the air
i can feel the warmth of morning on my face
though the storm had tossed me
till i thought i had nearly lost my way
and now the night is fading and the storm has passed
and everything that could be shaken was shaken
and all that remains is all i ever really had
what i'd have settled for
you've blown so far away
what you've brought me to
i thought i could not reach
i came so close to giving up
but you never did give up on me
i see the morning moving over the hills
i feel the rush of life here where the darkness broke
i am in you and you're in me
here where the winds of heaven blow
and now the night is fading
the storm is through
and everything you sent to shake me
from my dreams they come to wake me
in the love i find in you
and now the morning comes
and everything that really matters
become the wings you've sent to gather me
to my home
-rich mullins
is all lost?
"since, therefore, we know the fear of the Lord, we seek to win men" (II corinthians 5:11). to begin instantly or to want first of all to win people may even be profane, in any case worldliness, not Christianity, no more than it is fear of God. no, let your effort first, let it first and foremost, express that you fear God. -this i have aspired to do.
but you, oh God, you let me never forget that even if i did not win a single person -if my life (since the "assurance" of the mouth is deceptive) expresses that i fear you, then "all is won!" on the other hand, if i won all people -if my life (since the assurance of the mouth is deceptive) does not express that i fear you, then "all is lost!"
Summer1851
-soren kierkegaard for self examination
but you, oh God, you let me never forget that even if i did not win a single person -if my life (since the "assurance" of the mouth is deceptive) expresses that i fear you, then "all is won!" on the other hand, if i won all people -if my life (since the assurance of the mouth is deceptive) does not express that i fear you, then "all is lost!"
Summer1851
-soren kierkegaard for self examination
the most important thing is lacking
however, there is one thing, and if you forgot to introduce this into your house, your home -the most important thing is lacking-it is: silence! silence -it is not a specific something, because it does not consist simply in the absence of speaking. no, silence is like the subdued lighting in a pleasant room, like the friendliness in a modest living room; it is not something one talks about, but it is there and exercises its beneficent power. silence is like the tone, the fundamental tone, which is not given prominence and is called the fundamental tone precisely because it lies at the base.
but this silence cannot be brought about in the same way, for example, as you send for someone who hangs drapes. no, if silence is to be brought about, it is a matter of your presence or of how you are in your house, your home. and when by your presence you have continually, year after year, brought about silence in your house, eventually this silence will also be there in your absence, a testimony to you, and finally, alas, a recollection of you!
-soren kierkegaard for self-examination
but this silence cannot be brought about in the same way, for example, as you send for someone who hangs drapes. no, if silence is to be brought about, it is a matter of your presence or of how you are in your house, your home. and when by your presence you have continually, year after year, brought about silence in your house, eventually this silence will also be there in your absence, a testimony to you, and finally, alas, a recollection of you!
-soren kierkegaard for self-examination
simplicitly complex
Christ is the way. these are his own words; so it certainly must be the truth.
-kierkegaard for self examination: part II
-kierkegaard for self examination: part II
the knot of our condition
what a chimera, then, is man! what a novelty! what a monster, what a chaos, what a contradiction, what a prodigy! judge of all things, imbecile worm of the earth; depositary of truth, a sink of uncertainty and error; the pride and refuse of the universe!
what will unravel this tangle? nature confutes the sceptics, and reason confutes the dogmatists. what, then, will you become, o men! who try to find out by your natural reason what is your true condition? you cannot avoid one of these sects, nor adhere to one of them.
know then, proud man, what a paradox you are to yourself. humble yourself, weak reason; be silent, foolish nature; learn that man infinitely transcends man, and learn from your Master your true condition, of which you are ignorant. hear God...
it is, however, an astonishing thing that the mystery furthest removed from our knowledge, namely, that of the transmission of sin, should be a fact without which we can have no knowledge of ourselves. for it is beyond doubt that there is nothing which more shocks our reason than to say that the sin of the first man has rendered guilty those who, being so removed from this source, seem incapable of participation in it. this transmission does not only seem to us impossible, it seems also very unjust. for what is more contrary to the rules of our miserable justice than to damn eternally an infant incapable of will, for a sin wherein he seems to have so little a share that it was committed six thousand years before he was in existence? certainly nothing offends us more readily than this doctrine; and yet, without this mystery, the most incomprehensible of all, we are incomprehensible to ourselves. the knot of our condition takes its twists and turns in this abyss, so that man is more inconceivable without this mystery than this mystery is inconceivable to man.
-blaise pascal pensees 434
what will unravel this tangle? nature confutes the sceptics, and reason confutes the dogmatists. what, then, will you become, o men! who try to find out by your natural reason what is your true condition? you cannot avoid one of these sects, nor adhere to one of them.
know then, proud man, what a paradox you are to yourself. humble yourself, weak reason; be silent, foolish nature; learn that man infinitely transcends man, and learn from your Master your true condition, of which you are ignorant. hear God...
it is, however, an astonishing thing that the mystery furthest removed from our knowledge, namely, that of the transmission of sin, should be a fact without which we can have no knowledge of ourselves. for it is beyond doubt that there is nothing which more shocks our reason than to say that the sin of the first man has rendered guilty those who, being so removed from this source, seem incapable of participation in it. this transmission does not only seem to us impossible, it seems also very unjust. for what is more contrary to the rules of our miserable justice than to damn eternally an infant incapable of will, for a sin wherein he seems to have so little a share that it was committed six thousand years before he was in existence? certainly nothing offends us more readily than this doctrine; and yet, without this mystery, the most incomprehensible of all, we are incomprehensible to ourselves. the knot of our condition takes its twists and turns in this abyss, so that man is more inconceivable without this mystery than this mystery is inconceivable to man.
-blaise pascal pensees 434
understand who you are
"it is in vain, o men, that you seek within yourselves the remedy for your ills. all your light can only reach the knowledge that not in yourselves will you find truth or good. the philosophers have promised you that, and you have been unable to do it. they neither know what is your true good, nor what is your true state. how could they have given remedies for you ills, when they did not even know them? your chief maladies are pride, which takes you away from God, and lust, which binds you to the earth; and they have done nothing else but cherish one or other of these diseases. if they gave you God as an end, it was only to administer to your pride; they made you think that you are by nature like Him and conformed to Him. and those who saw the absurdity of this claim put you on another precipice, by making you understand that your nature was like that of the brutes, and led you to seek your good in the lusts which are shared by the animals. this is not the way to cure you of your unrighteousness, which these wise men never knew. i alone can make you understand who you are..."
-adam, Jesus Christ
-blaise pascal pensees
-adam, Jesus Christ
-blaise pascal pensees
a selection from a math reading
"here i want you to note how, if a line is resolved and divided into parts that are quantified and consequently numbered, we cannot then arrange these into a greater extension than that which they occupied when they were continuous and joined, without the interposition of as many void [finite] spaces. but imagining the line resolved into unquantifiable parts - that is, into its infinitely many indivisibles - we can conceive it immensely expanded without the interposition of any quantified void spaces, though not without infinitely many indivisible voids.
what is thus said of simple lines is to be understood also of surfaces and of solid bodies, considering those as composed of infinitely many unquantifiable atoms; for when we wish to divide them into quantifiable parts, doubtless we cannot arrange those in a larger space than that originally occupied by the solid unless quantified voids are interposed - void, i mean, at least of the material of the solid. but if we take the highest and ultimate resolution [of surfaces and bodies] into the prime components, unquantifiable and infinitely many, then we can conceive such components as being expanded into immense space without the interposition of any quantified void spaces, but only of infinitely many unquantifiable voids."
-galileo galilei two new sciences
what is thus said of simple lines is to be understood also of surfaces and of solid bodies, considering those as composed of infinitely many unquantifiable atoms; for when we wish to divide them into quantifiable parts, doubtless we cannot arrange those in a larger space than that originally occupied by the solid unless quantified voids are interposed - void, i mean, at least of the material of the solid. but if we take the highest and ultimate resolution [of surfaces and bodies] into the prime components, unquantifiable and infinitely many, then we can conceive such components as being expanded into immense space without the interposition of any quantified void spaces, but only of infinitely many unquantifiable voids."
-galileo galilei two new sciences
the faerie elves
..Faerie Elves,
whose midnight Revels, by a Forrest side
or Fountain some belated Peasant sees,
or dreams he sees, while over head the Moon
sits Arbitress, and neerer to the Earth
wheels her pale course, they on thir mirth & dance
intent, with jocond Music charm his ear;
at once with joy and fear his heart rebounds...
-john milton paradise lost
whose midnight Revels, by a Forrest side
or Fountain some belated Peasant sees,
or dreams he sees, while over head the Moon
sits Arbitress, and neerer to the Earth
wheels her pale course, they on thir mirth & dance
intent, with jocond Music charm his ear;
at once with joy and fear his heart rebounds...
-john milton paradise lost
the man of la mancha
"for all that let me tell thee, brother Panza,"
said Don Quixote, "that there is no recollection
which time does not put an end to, and no pain
which death does not remove."
"and what greater misfortune can there be,"
replied Panza, "than the one that waits for time
to put an end to it and death to remove it?"
-miguel de cervantes
said Don Quixote, "that there is no recollection
which time does not put an end to, and no pain
which death does not remove."
"and what greater misfortune can there be,"
replied Panza, "than the one that waits for time
to put an end to it and death to remove it?"
-miguel de cervantes
maxims and arrows
can an ass be tragic? - to be crushed by a burden one can neither bear nor throw off? ... the case of the philosopher.
-friedrich nietzsche
-friedrich nietzsche
violence and nudity
'i hate divorce, and i hate a man's covering himself with violence as well as with his garment,' says the Lord God of Israel...so guard yourself in your spirit, and do not break faith.
-malachi 2:16
-malachi 2:16
the boy who would not grow up
we are dreaming now of the Never Land a year later. it is bed-time on the island, and the blind goes up to the whispers of the lovely Never music. the blue haze that makes the wood below magical by day comes up to the tree-tops to sleep, and through it we see numberless nests all lit up, fairies and birds quarreling for possession, others flying around just for the fun of the thing and perhaps making bets about where the little house will appear tonight. it always comes and snuggles on some tree-top, but you can never be sure which; here it is again, you see john's hat first as up comes the house so softly that it knocks some gossips off their perch. when it has settled comfortably it lights up, and out come peter and wendy. wendy looks a little older, but peter is just the same. she is cloaked for a journey, and a sad confession must be made about her; she flies so badly now that she has to use a broomstick...
wendy: fancy your forgetting the lost boys and even captain hook!
peter: well, then?
wendy: i haven't seen tink this time.
peter: who?
wendy: oh dear! i suppose it is because you have so many adventures.
peter (relieved): 'course it is.
wendy: if another little girl - if one younger than i am----- (she can't go on.)
oh, peter, how i wish i could take you up and squdge you! (he draws back)
yes, i know. (she gets astride her broomstick.) home! (it carries her from him over the tree-tops.)...
in a sort of way he understands what she means by 'yes, i know,' but in most sorts of ways he doesn't. it has something to do with the riddle of his being. if he could get the hang of the thing his cry might become 'to live would be an awfully big adventure!' but he can never quite get the hang of it, and so no one is as gay as he. with rapturous face he produces his pipes, and the Never birds and the fairies gather closer till the roof of the little house is so thick with his admirers that some of them fall down the chimney. he plays on and on till we wake up...
-j.m. barrie
wendy: fancy your forgetting the lost boys and even captain hook!
peter: well, then?
wendy: i haven't seen tink this time.
peter: who?
wendy: oh dear! i suppose it is because you have so many adventures.
peter (relieved): 'course it is.
wendy: if another little girl - if one younger than i am----- (she can't go on.)
oh, peter, how i wish i could take you up and squdge you! (he draws back)
yes, i know. (she gets astride her broomstick.) home! (it carries her from him over the tree-tops.)...
in a sort of way he understands what she means by 'yes, i know,' but in most sorts of ways he doesn't. it has something to do with the riddle of his being. if he could get the hang of the thing his cry might become 'to live would be an awfully big adventure!' but he can never quite get the hang of it, and so no one is as gay as he. with rapturous face he produces his pipes, and the Never birds and the fairies gather closer till the roof of the little house is so thick with his admirers that some of them fall down the chimney. he plays on and on till we wake up...
-j.m. barrie
genuine anthropological contemplation
...or was there not a time also in your consciousness, my listener, when cheerfully and without a care you were glad with the glad, when you wept with those who wept, when the thought of God blended irrelevantly with your other conceptions, blended with your happiness but did not sanctify it, blended with your grief but did not comfort it? and later was there not a time when this in some sense guiltless life, which never called itself to account, vanished? did there not come a time when your mind was unfruitful and sterile, your will incapable of all good, your emotions cold and weak, when hope was dead in your breast, and recollection painfully clutched at a few solitary memories of happiness and soon these also became loathsome, when everything was of no consequence to you, and the secular bases of comfort found their way to your soul only to wound even more your troubled mind, which impatiently and bitterly turned away from them? was there not a time when you found no one to whom you could turn, when the darkness of quiet despair brooded over your soul, and you did not have the courage to let it go but would rather hang onto it and you even brooded once more over your despair? when heaven was shut for you, and the prayer died on your lips, or it became a shriek of anxiety that demanded an accounting from heaven, and yet you sometimes found within you a longing, an intimation to which you might ascribe meaning, but this was soon crushed by the thought that you were nothing and your soul lost in infinite space? was there not a time when you felt that the world did not understand your grief, could not heal it, could not give you any peace, that this had to be in heaven, if heaven was anywhere to be found; alas, it seemed to you that the distance between heaven and earth was infinite, and just as you yourself lost yourself in contemplating the immeasurable world, just so God had forgotten you and did not care about you? and in spite of all this, was there not a defiance in you that forbade you to humble yourself under God's mighty hand? was this not so? and what would you call this condition if you did not call it death, and how would you describe it except as darkness? but then when hope...
-soren kierkegaard journals and papers: january 12, 1841
-soren kierkegaard journals and papers: january 12, 1841
the stones of venice
since first the dominion of men was asserted over the ocean, three
thrones, of mark beyond all others, have been set upon its sands: the
thrones of Tyre, Venice, and England. of the first of these great powers
only the memory remains; of the second, the ruin; the third, which
inherits their greatness, if it forget their example, may be led through
prouder eminence to less pitied destruction.
the exaltation, the sin, and the punishment of Tyre have been recorded
for us, in perhaps the most touching words ever uttered by the prophets
of Israel against the cities of the Stranger. but we read them as a lovely
song; and close our ears to the sternness of their warning: for the very
depth of the fall of Tyre has blinded us to its reality, and we forget, as
we watch the bleaching of the rocks between the sunshine and the sea,
that they were once 'as in Eden, the garden of God'.
her successor, like her in perfection of beauty, though less in endurance
of dominion, is still left for our beholding in the final period of her
decline: a ghost upon the sands of the sea, so weak - so quiet, - so bereft
of all but her loveliness, that we might well doubt, as we watched her
faint reflection in the mirage of the lagoon, which was the City, and
which the Shadow.
i would endeavour to trace the lines of this image before it be for ever
lost, and to record, as far as i may, the warning which seems to me to be uttered by every one of the fast-gaining waves, that beat, like passing
bells, against the the stones of venice.
-john ruskin the stones of venice
thrones, of mark beyond all others, have been set upon its sands: the
thrones of Tyre, Venice, and England. of the first of these great powers
only the memory remains; of the second, the ruin; the third, which
inherits their greatness, if it forget their example, may be led through
prouder eminence to less pitied destruction.
the exaltation, the sin, and the punishment of Tyre have been recorded
for us, in perhaps the most touching words ever uttered by the prophets
of Israel against the cities of the Stranger. but we read them as a lovely
song; and close our ears to the sternness of their warning: for the very
depth of the fall of Tyre has blinded us to its reality, and we forget, as
we watch the bleaching of the rocks between the sunshine and the sea,
that they were once 'as in Eden, the garden of God'.
her successor, like her in perfection of beauty, though less in endurance
of dominion, is still left for our beholding in the final period of her
decline: a ghost upon the sands of the sea, so weak - so quiet, - so bereft
of all but her loveliness, that we might well doubt, as we watched her
faint reflection in the mirage of the lagoon, which was the City, and
which the Shadow.
i would endeavour to trace the lines of this image before it be for ever
lost, and to record, as far as i may, the warning which seems to me to be uttered by every one of the fast-gaining waves, that beat, like passing
bells, against the the stones of venice.
-john ruskin the stones of venice
breakdown more
i can't write my words
when i don't have you
i can't sing my song
when my strings won't tune
you won't believe me
you won't believe me crying
i can't walk my path
when i can't stay motivated
i can't pay my dues
when it gets too complicated
you won't believe me
so you'll never see me
give me a reason and i won't break down
give me a reason and i won't break down
and if it's all that you've got
you'd better not get caught
i've got more in store
don't look at me and act like you're just blind
let's work it out before you change my mind
i can't keep my beat
when i don't have you
i can't shake my sins
when you won't come through
how could you leave me?
just when you see me crying
i can't feel low down
when i don't have legs to stand on
i can't feel low down
when there ain't no ground to land on
how could you leave me?
so you'll never see me
give me a reason and i won't break down
give me a reason and i won't break down
and if it's all that you've got
you'd better not get caught
i've got more in store
don't look at me and act like you're just blind
let's work it out before you change my mind
...i won't break down if you give me a reason
but i've got no reason so i'll just break down...
-eric hutchinson
when i don't have you
i can't sing my song
when my strings won't tune
you won't believe me
you won't believe me crying
i can't walk my path
when i can't stay motivated
i can't pay my dues
when it gets too complicated
you won't believe me
so you'll never see me
give me a reason and i won't break down
give me a reason and i won't break down
and if it's all that you've got
you'd better not get caught
i've got more in store
don't look at me and act like you're just blind
let's work it out before you change my mind
i can't keep my beat
when i don't have you
i can't shake my sins
when you won't come through
how could you leave me?
just when you see me crying
i can't feel low down
when i don't have legs to stand on
i can't feel low down
when there ain't no ground to land on
how could you leave me?
so you'll never see me
give me a reason and i won't break down
give me a reason and i won't break down
and if it's all that you've got
you'd better not get caught
i've got more in store
don't look at me and act like you're just blind
let's work it out before you change my mind
...i won't break down if you give me a reason
but i've got no reason so i'll just break down...
-eric hutchinson
wash the blood off your hands
we often make fun of intellectuals for their doubts, their split personalities, their hamlet-like indecisiveness. when i was young i despised that side of myself. now, though, i've changed my mind: humanity owes many great books and great discoveries to people who were indecisive and full of doubts; they have achieved at least as much as the simpletons who never hesitate. and when it comes to the crunch, they too are prepared to go to the stake; they stand just as firm under fire as the people who are always strong-willed and resolute.
-vassily grossman life and fate
-vassily grossman life and fate
goethe and god
eckerman, on the other hand, said: "if goethe were God, if he had created the world, he too would have made the grass green and the sky blue." those words mean a lot to me. after all, i'm not entirely a stranger to the material God formed the world from... though of course i also know that there are no paints or colours, only atoms and the void between them...
-vassily grossman life and fate
-vassily grossman life and fate
what dreams may come
la notte, che tu vedi in si dolci atti formir,
fu da un angelo scolpita
in questo sasso, e perche dorme ha vita;
destala, se nol credi, e parleratti.
-giovanni strozzi (on michelangelo's la notte)
caro m' e 'l sonno, piu l'esser di sasso,
mentre che 'l danno e la vergogna dura;
non veder, non sentir, m' e gran ventura;
pero non mi destar, deh parla basso.
-michelangelo buonarroti's reply
-----------------------------------------------------------------
didn't think i'd translate. then figured nobody spoke italian so it might be prudent, or at least worthwhile, even though the italian is so beautiful.
night in so sweet an attitude beheld asleep,
was by an angel sculptured in this stone;
and sleeping, is alive;
wake her, doubter, she will speak to thee.
-giovanni strozzi
welcome is sleep, more welcome the sleep of stone
whilst crime and shame continue in the land;
my happy fortune, not to see or hear;
waken me not - in mercy, whisper low.
-michelangelo buonarroti
fu da un angelo scolpita
in questo sasso, e perche dorme ha vita;
destala, se nol credi, e parleratti.
-giovanni strozzi (on michelangelo's la notte)
caro m' e 'l sonno, piu l'esser di sasso,
mentre che 'l danno e la vergogna dura;
non veder, non sentir, m' e gran ventura;
pero non mi destar, deh parla basso.
-michelangelo buonarroti's reply
--------------------------
didn't think i'd translate. then figured nobody spoke italian so it might be prudent, or at least worthwhile, even though the italian is so beautiful.
night in so sweet an attitude beheld asleep,
was by an angel sculptured in this stone;
and sleeping, is alive;
wake her, doubter, she will speak to thee.
-giovanni strozzi
welcome is sleep, more welcome the sleep of stone
whilst crime and shame continue in the land;
my happy fortune, not to see or hear;
waken me not - in mercy, whisper low.
-michelangelo buonarroti
we could see the world
now it seems ev'ry motive
strains my compassionance-
smiling like tears withheld;
a dormant tale of romance
that has to bloom again,
our sacred garden grows (grew)
from green shards in the moonlight,
remissful i couldn't buy your affections
with a heart stimulation
(...) it's all i can afford.
- r. louis simon
strains my compassionance-
smiling like tears withheld;
a dormant tale of romance
that has to bloom again,
our sacred garden grows (grew)
from green shards in the moonlight,
remissful i couldn't buy your affections
with a heart stimulation
(...) it's all i can afford.
- r. louis simon
remanance
remanance, your deep brown eyes
and ivory skin that hides the lies
running hands thru strawberry tresses
lightning strikes in angel's kisses
never asking more than given
making everything worth living
i am not alone,
no.
in worshipping you,
know.
fool enough to almost love you
knowing i could never have you
still you are my favorite one
and when this journey's finally done
shed a tear for all that's happened
all this happiness and sorrowful emotion
i will miss you dear,
hear.
even though you're gone,
here.
and every time the moon bleeds blue
i will come visit you
late at night in dreams of laughter
see the fairies we'll chase after
there's nothing more to life than this-
living in immortal bliss
i'll be your valentine,
rhyme.
if you want me to be,
thine.
-michael laccheo
and ivory skin that hides the lies
running hands thru strawberry tresses
lightning strikes in angel's kisses
never asking more than given
making everything worth living
i am not alone,
no.
in worshipping you,
know.
fool enough to almost love you
knowing i could never have you
still you are my favorite one
and when this journey's finally done
shed a tear for all that's happened
all this happiness and sorrowful emotion
i will miss you dear,
hear.
even though you're gone,
here.
and every time the moon bleeds blue
i will come visit you
late at night in dreams of laughter
see the fairies we'll chase after
there's nothing more to life than this-
living in immortal bliss
i'll be your valentine,
rhyme.
if you want me to be,
thine.
-michael laccheo
doors close
he said goodbye to her in spanish and then turned and put on his hat and turned his wet face to the wind and for a moment he held out his hands as if to steady himself or as if to bless the ground there or perhaps as if to slow the world that was rushing away and seemed to care nothing for the old or the young or rich or poor or dark or pale or he or she. nothing for their struggles, nothing for their names. nothing for the living or the dead.
-cormac mccarthy "all the pretty horses"
-cormac mccarthy "all the pretty horses"
inside each angle of each star there's an angel far
there's times...
there's times i'm alone
i can't sleep at night
the only one holding on is myself
the only one tucking me in...can only see out
would you know my name if you didn't know it any other way?
how would it be if you met me today?
there's times...
there's times you cover me
the devil couldn't even feel my breath
sometimes, sometimes i push you away
it's the only way i know
there's times...
there's times i let people in my soul
and their touch is still in my palms
i'm afraid to ungrip...
afraid the sand will just sink on through
i know you can read me
i know you can see me
i can feel you
i watch you...too
give me my patience and i'll hide
it'll grow into my skin before you realize
cause there's always times...
times like tonight.
i'll find it somehow, sort of how i found you
let me believe...and i'll believe in everything that is real
including you, me, and forever
move too fast, you'll never steal...
my forever.
- g b
there's times i'm alone
i can't sleep at night
the only one holding on is myself
the only one tucking me in...can only see out
would you know my name if you didn't know it any other way?
how would it be if you met me today?
there's times...
there's times you cover me
the devil couldn't even feel my breath
sometimes, sometimes i push you away
it's the only way i know
there's times...
there's times i let people in my soul
and their touch is still in my palms
i'm afraid to ungrip...
afraid the sand will just sink on through
i know you can read me
i know you can see me
i can feel you
i watch you...too
give me my patience and i'll hide
it'll grow into my skin before you realize
cause there's always times...
times like tonight.
i'll find it somehow, sort of how i found you
let me believe...and i'll believe in everything that is real
including you, me, and forever
move too fast, you'll never steal...
my forever.
- g b
fear and tremblin
what tarquin the proud said in his garden with the poppy blooms was understood by the son but not by the messenger.
-soren kierkegaard fear and trembling
fools and young people talk about everything being possible for a human being. but that is a great mistake. everything is possible spiritually speaking, but in the finite world there is much that is not possible.
-soren kierkegaard fear and trembling
disregard of every creature, so that the Creator may be found
o Lord, i stand much in need of yet greater grace, if i ought to reach that place, where no man nor any creature shall be a hindrance unto me.
for as long as anything holdeth me back, i cannot freely fly to Thee. he was longing to fly freely who said, who shall give me wings like a dove, and i will fly away and be at rest! what is more at rest than the single eye? and what is more free than he that desireth nothing upon earth? a man ought therefore to mount over every creature, and perfectly to forsake himself and stand in a trance, and see that Thou, the Creator of all things, hast nothing amongst creatures like unto Thyself. unless too a man be disentangled from all creatures, he cannot freely attend unto divine things. for that is the reason why there are few contemplative men to be found, because few have the knowledge to withdraw themselves fully from things about to perish and from creatures.
to obtain this there is need of much grace, which may elevate the soul, and carry it away above itself.
and unless a man be elevated in spirit, and freed from all creatures, and wholly united unto God, whatsoever he knoweth, and whatsoever he hath, is of no great weight. for a long while shall he be small, and lie groveling below, who esteemeth anything great, but the One only Infinite Eternal Good. and whatsoever is not God, is nothing, and ought to be accounted as nothing.
there is great difference between the wisdom of an illuminated and devout man, and the knowledge of a learned and studious clerk. far more noble is that learning which floweth from above, from the divine out-pouring, than that which is painfully acquired by the wit of man.
many are found that desire contemplation, but they have no mind to practice the things that are required thereunto. it is a great hindrance, that men rest in signs and sensible things, and take little care about the perfect mortification of themselves.
i know not what it is, or by what spirit we are led, or what we pretend, we that seem to be called spiritual, that we take so much pains, and are so full of anxiety about transitory and mean things, while we but seldom, and hardly at all with full recollection of mind, think of our own inward concerns. alas, presently after a slight recollection we burst forth abroad, and weigh not our works with strict examination. we mind not where our affections lie, nor bewail the impurity that is in all our actions. for all flesh had corrupted his way, and therefore did the great deluge ensue. since then our inward affection is much corrupted, our actions thence proceeding, which are the proof of the lack of inward strength, much needs be corrupted also. from a pure heart proceedeth the fruit of a good life.
we ask how much a man hath done; but from what degree of virtue he acteth, is not so carefully weighed. we enquire whether he hath been courageous, rich, handsome, skilful, a good writer, a good singer, or a good labourer; but how poor he is in spirit, how patient and meek, how devout and spiritual, of this most men hold their peace. nature respecteth the outward things of man, Grace turneth itself to the inward. the one is often disappointed; the other hopeth in God, and so is not deceived.
-thomas a kempis 'the imitation of christ'
for as long as anything holdeth me back, i cannot freely fly to Thee. he was longing to fly freely who said, who shall give me wings like a dove, and i will fly away and be at rest! what is more at rest than the single eye? and what is more free than he that desireth nothing upon earth? a man ought therefore to mount over every creature, and perfectly to forsake himself and stand in a trance, and see that Thou, the Creator of all things, hast nothing amongst creatures like unto Thyself. unless too a man be disentangled from all creatures, he cannot freely attend unto divine things. for that is the reason why there are few contemplative men to be found, because few have the knowledge to withdraw themselves fully from things about to perish and from creatures.
to obtain this there is need of much grace, which may elevate the soul, and carry it away above itself.
and unless a man be elevated in spirit, and freed from all creatures, and wholly united unto God, whatsoever he knoweth, and whatsoever he hath, is of no great weight. for a long while shall he be small, and lie groveling below, who esteemeth anything great, but the One only Infinite Eternal Good. and whatsoever is not God, is nothing, and ought to be accounted as nothing.
there is great difference between the wisdom of an illuminated and devout man, and the knowledge of a learned and studious clerk. far more noble is that learning which floweth from above, from the divine out-pouring, than that which is painfully acquired by the wit of man.
many are found that desire contemplation, but they have no mind to practice the things that are required thereunto. it is a great hindrance, that men rest in signs and sensible things, and take little care about the perfect mortification of themselves.
i know not what it is, or by what spirit we are led, or what we pretend, we that seem to be called spiritual, that we take so much pains, and are so full of anxiety about transitory and mean things, while we but seldom, and hardly at all with full recollection of mind, think of our own inward concerns. alas, presently after a slight recollection we burst forth abroad, and weigh not our works with strict examination. we mind not where our affections lie, nor bewail the impurity that is in all our actions. for all flesh had corrupted his way, and therefore did the great deluge ensue. since then our inward affection is much corrupted, our actions thence proceeding, which are the proof of the lack of inward strength, much needs be corrupted also. from a pure heart proceedeth the fruit of a good life.
we ask how much a man hath done; but from what degree of virtue he acteth, is not so carefully weighed. we enquire whether he hath been courageous, rich, handsome, skilful, a good writer, a good singer, or a good labourer; but how poor he is in spirit, how patient and meek, how devout and spiritual, of this most men hold their peace. nature respecteth the outward things of man, Grace turneth itself to the inward. the one is often disappointed; the other hopeth in God, and so is not deceived.
-thomas a kempis 'the imitation of christ'
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