Imagine a skilled botanist accompanied by someone like myself who is largely ignorant of botany taking part in a field trip into the Australian bush, with the objective of collecting observable facts about the native flora. It is undoubtedly the case...
[first lines] Title Card: Robert Gould Shaw, the son of wealthy Boston abolitionists, was 23 years old when he enlisted to fight in the War Between the States. He wrote home regularly, telling his parents of life in the gathering Army of the Potomac....
We never know how high we are till we are called to rise. Then if we are true to form our statures touch the skies.
Spend the years of learning squandering Courage for the years of wandering Through a world politely turning From the loutishness of learning.
She and Marie were Montreal girls, not trained to accompany heroes, or to hold out for dreams, but just to be patient.
The scientific spirit is of more value than its products, and irrationally held truths may be more harmful than reasoned errors.
History warns us ... that it is the customary fate of new truths to begin as heresies and to end as superstitions.
Like seasonless fowl we migrate… from East Coast to West Coast and back and forth again, for a job, for a friend, for a change, for a kick.
Whatever is language is poetic language and if the word required by the poet does not exist in his known language then it is up to him to discover it.
Since governments take the right of death over their people, it is not astonishing if the people should sometimes take the right of death over governments." [ ]
When the tea is brought at five o'clock And all the neat curtains are drawn with care, The little black cat with bright green eyes Is suddenly purring there.
For if the truth were known, Love cannot speak, But only thinks and does; Though surely out 'twill leak Without the help of Greek, Or any tongue.
We are a singularity that makes music out of noise because we must hurry. We make a harvest of loneliness and desiring in the blank wasteland of the cosmos.
Uncontradicting solitude Supports me on its giant palm; And like a sea-anemone Or simple snail, there cautiously Unfolds, emerges, what I am.
When I was walking in the mountains with the Japanese man and began to hear the water, he said, 'What is the sound of the waterfall?' 'Silence,' he finally told me.
Stirred...the fur-toothed graves of young boys...a thousand slain in the time it would take to do love with a pretty girl or think of a new God.
a grin that wasn't natural, and that combined in a strange way affection and arrogance, the arrogance of the idealist who doesn't realize how easily he can be fooled.
It was useless trying to explain to Cecila that poetry wasn't a commodity, that it could never be bought or sold, that it was, in fact, unteansferrable, remaining forever a part of the one who wrote it.
Ophelia was beating some poor underling for not knowing her arse from the sparse collection of cells between her ears.
Cosmopolitanism starts from the _singular_ individual rather than the _faceless_ collective
[I]n the end this shall be for me sufficient, that a marble stone shall declare that a Queen, having reigned such a time, lived and died a virgin.
