Author: Henry David Thoreau (---.spacegate.com.ua)
Date: 01-11-06 08:19
The former post was off topic and was thus removed as it was a violation of our
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The forward violet thus did I chide:
Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,
If not from my love\'s breath? The purple pride
Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells
In my love\'s veins thou hast too grossly dy\'d.
The lily I condemned for thy hand,
And buds of marjoram had stol\'n thy hair;
The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,
One blushing shame, another white despair;
A third, nor red nor white, had stol\'n of both,
And to his robbery had annex\'d thy breath;
But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth
A vengeful canker eat him up to death.
More flowers I noted, yet I none could see,
But sweet, or colour it had stol\'n from thee.
Politics is not a bad profession. If you succeed there are many rewards,
if you disgrace yourself you can always write a book.
Every hero becomes a bore at last. --Ralph Waldo Emerson
Facts are stubborn things.