Author: Henry David Thoreau (---.spacegate.com.ua)
Date: 01-12-06 16:59
This post was removed because it was off topic. Soon we will be migrating to
forums at jollyrogerwest.com Great Books forums and booksliterature.com Great Books forums. These are Great Books sites, and we prefer posts such as:
What makes him think a middle aged actor [Clint Eastwood], who's played
with a chimp, could have a future in politics?
That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west;
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire,
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed, whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well, which thou must leave ere long.
Today, if you invent a better mousetrap, the government comes along with a
Politics is just like show business. You have a hell of an opening, coast
for a while, and then have a hell of a close.