Author: table (---.spacegate.com.ua)
Date: 02-01-06 08:50
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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Please respect that these are Great Books sites. We far prefer
discussions along the following
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
My sinful earth these rebel powers array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? Is this thy body\'s end?
Then soul, live thou upon thy servant\'s loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more:
So shall thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And Death once dead, there\'s no more dying then.
Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an
from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from
T. S. Eliot
Double, no triple, our troubles and we\'d still be better off than any
other people on earth. It is time that we recognized that ours was, in
truth, a noble cause.
When we build, let us think that we build forever. -John Ruskin, The Seven Lamps of Architecture, 1849