Author: cheung shun sang=cauchy3 (---.ctinets.com)
Date: 08-14-04 04:30
The former post was off topic and was removed as it was a violation of our
Great Books spirit.
These forums are being phased out & replaced. Join us at our new
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and booksliterature.com Great Books forums.
Please respect that these are Great Books sites. We far prefer
discussions along the following
The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the
source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a
stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as
good as dead: his eyes are closed. --Albert Einstein
What\'s in the brain, that ink may character,
Which hath not figur\'d to thee my true spirit?
What\'s new to speak, what now to register,
That may express my love, or thy dear merit?
Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must each day say o\'er the very same;
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallow\'d thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love\'s fresh case,
Weighs not the dust and injury of age,
Nor gives to necessary wrinkles place,
But makes antiquity for aye his page;
Finding the first conceit of love there bred,
Where time and outward form would show it dead.
What we have found in this country, and maybe we\'re more aware of it now,
is one problem that we\'ve had, even in the best of times, and that is the
people who are sleeping on the grates, the homeless, you might say, by
How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame
Which, like a canker in the fragrant rose,
Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name!
O! in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose.
That tongue that tells the story of thy days,
Making lascivious comments on thy sport,
Cannot dispraise, but in a kind of praise;
Naming thy name, blesses an ill report.
O! what a mansion have those vices got
Which for their habitation chose out thee,
Where beauty\'s veil doth cover every blot
And all things turns to fair that eyes can see!
Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege;
The hardest knife ill-us\'d doth lose his edge.