The Habit of Perfection by Gerard Manley Hopkins Elected Silence, sing to me And beat upon my whorlèd ear, Pipe me to pastures still and be The music that I care to hear. Shape nothing, lips; be lovely-dumb: It is the shut, the curfew sent From there where all surrenders come Which only make…
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats, And the dead tree gives no shelter,…
Friday afternoon. Dawn brought a snowfall to the area. We have not seen this much snow in a number of winters. My daughter-in-law and I dedicated an early morning session to shoveling. More is to come. Reason led us to clear the vehicles, then prepare to do the same again a few hours later….
V. What the Thunder Said There is not even silence in the mountains But dry sterile thunder without rain There is not even solitude in the mountains But red sullen faces sneer and snarl From doors of mudcracked houses …
The Waste Land By T. S. Eliot V. What The Thunder Said Then spoke the thunderD A 400Datta: what have we given?My friend, blood shaking my heartThe awful daring of a moment’s surrenderWhich an age of prudence can never retractBy this, and this only, we have existed 405Which is not to be found in…
[By] thus selecting and precipitating the unusual, astounding, difficult, and divine, Philosophy marks the boundary lines dividing her from Science in the same way as she does from Prudence by the emphasizing of the useless. – Early Greek Philosophy and other Essays, by Friedrich Nietzsche, p. 73 Nietzsche paraphrases Aristotle to say that philosophy…
The sky is a uniform gray, the traffic moves silently, on the far side of the Starbucks window on State Street here in Geneva. Snow is predicted for the late afternoon or early evening. Forecasters are almost apologetic for uncertainty. They’re unable to predict how much snow will fall. Computer models for weather much…
Sunday, grey, road slick with a sheen of plowed snow, — that’s winter in the mid-west. I do not mind the snow. It is a blanket for nature. Snow slows the pace of town-life, obstructing the efficiency, a machine-logic that accelerates, a reminder that winter’s cold is a sign. Now is the season for…
Ferrari. I saw the movie for the second time yesterday. A friend, (who has spent a good amount of time at race tracks) and I met at the theater. The arc of the story, the birth of the Enzo Ferrari company is entwined with its founders history in post-WWII Italy, his conflict fraught marriage…
I must write about this tune, said the insistent small voice as if a small version of my younger self sat on my shoulder. The Cutting Crew tune came over the radio as I made my way before sunrise to the Geneva Starbucks neighborhood. There is something about this tune, the keyboard runs which…
