classes ::: root,
children :::
branches ::: cap, capacities, capacity, Capital words, captivating, Incapacity, recap, the Captain

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object:cap
word class:root

see also :::

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now begins generated list of local instances, definitions, quotes, instances in chapters, wordnet info if available and instances among weblinks


OBJECT INSTANCES [9] - TOPICS - AUTHORS - BOOKS - CHAPTERS - CLASSES - SEE ALSO - SIMILAR TITLES

TOPICS
Aspiration
astral_travel
Concentration
Freedom
Freedom
imagination
inspiration
Intuition
Pratyahara
Samadhi
SEE ALSO


AUTH

BOOKS
Advanced_Dungeons_and_Dragons_2E
A_Thousand_Plateaus__Capitalism_and_Schizophrenia
Big_Mind,_Big_Heart
Blazing_the_Trail_from_Infancy_to_Enlightenment
City_of_God
Collected_Fictions
Dark_Night_of_the_Soul
DND_DM_Guide_5E
Enchiridion_text
Epigrams_from_Savitri
Evolution_II
Faust
Full_Circle
General_Principles_of_Kabbalah
Heart_of_Matter
Infinite_Library
Initiation_Into_Hermetics
Integral_Life_Practice_(book)
Journey_to_the_Lord_of_Power_-_A_Sufi_Manual_on_Retreat
Know_Yourself
Labyrinths
Letters_On_Yoga
Letters_On_Yoga_II
Letters_On_Yoga_IV
Let_There_Be_Light!_Scapegoat_of_a_Narcissistic_Mother_"My_Story"
Liber_157_-_The_Tao_Teh_King
Life_without_Death
Modern_Man_in_Search_of_a_Soul
More_Answers_From_The_Mother
My_Burning_Heart
old_bookshelf
On_Interpretation
On_Thoughts_And_Aphorisms
Plotinus_-_Complete_Works_Vol_01
Process_and_Reality
Questions_And_Answers_1929-1931
Questions_And_Answers_1950-1951
Questions_And_Answers_1953
Questions_And_Answers_1954
Questions_And_Answers_1955
Savitri
Some_Answers_From_The_Mother
Spiral_Dynamics
The_Act_of_Creation
The_Beyond_Mind_Papers__Vol_1_Transpersonal_and_Metatranspersonal_Theory
The_Beyond_Mind_Papers__Vol_2_Steps_to_a_Metatranspersonal_Philosophy_and_Psychology
The_Beyond_Mind_Papers__Vol_3_Further_Steps_to_a_Metatranspersonal_Philosophy_and_Psychology
The_Beyond_Mind_Papers__Vol_4_Further_Steps_to_a_Metatranspersonal_Philosophy_and_Psychology
The_Bible
the_Book
the_Book_of_God
the_Book_of_Wisdom2
The_Categories
The_Diamond_Sutra
The_Divine_Comedy
The_Divine_Companion
The_Divine_Milieu
The_Epic_of_Gilgamesh
The_Essential_Songs_of_Milarepa
The_Golden_Bough
The_Heros_Journey
The_Imitation_of_Christ
The_Life_Divine
The_Lotus_Sutra
The_Mothers_Agenda
The_Odyssey
The_Practice_of_Magical_Evocation
The_Republic
The_Seals_of_Wisdom
The_Study_and_Practice_of_Yoga
The_Tarot_of_Paul_Christian
The_Use_and_Abuse_of_History
The_Way_of_Perfection
The_Wit_and_Wisdom_of_Alfred_North_Whitehead
The_Yoga_Sutras
Toward_the_Future
Twilight_of_the_Idols

IN CHAPTERS TITLE
0.08_-_Letters_to_a_Young_Captain
0.10_-_Letters_to_a_Young_Captain
1.03_-_Of_some_imperfections_which_some_of_these_souls_are_apt_to_have,_with_respect_to_the_second_capital_sin,_which_is_avarice,_in_the_spiritual_sense
1.09_-_The_Crown,_Cap,_Magus-Band
1.14_-_The_Sand_Waste_and_the_Rain_of_Fire._The_Violent_against_God._Capaneus._The_Statue_of_Time,_and_the_Four_Infernal_Rivers.
1.2.01_-_The_Call_and_the_Capacity
1.20_-_Death,_Desire_and_Incapacity
1.23_-_Escape_from_the_Malabranche._The_Sixth_Bolgia__Hypocrites._Catalano_and_Loderingo._Caiaphas.
1.29_-_Geri_del_Bello._The_Tenth_Bolgia__Alchemists._Griffolino_d'_Arezzo_and_Capocchino._The_many_people_and_the_divers_wounds
1.57_-_Public_Scapegoats
1.58_-_Human_Scapegoats_in_Classical_Antiquity
1929-05-12_-_Beings_of_vital_world_(vampires)_-_Money_power_and_vital_beings_-_Capacity_for_manifestation_of_will_-_Entry_into_vital_world_-_Body,_a_protection_-_Individuality_and_the_vital_world
1951-04-12_-_Japan,_its_art,_landscapes,_life,_etc_-_Fairy-lore_of_Japan_-_Culture-_its_spiral_movement_-_Indian_and_European-_the_spiritual_life_-_Art_and_Truth
1956-02-01_-_Path_of_knowledge_-_Finding_the_Divine_in_life_-_Capacity_for_contact_with_the_Divine_-_Partial_and_total_identification_with_the_Divine_-_Manifestation_and_hierarchy
1956-06-13_-_Effects_of_the_Supramental_action_-_Education_and_the_Supermind_-_Right_to_remain_ignorant_-_Concentration_of_mind_-_Reason,_not_supreme_capacity_-_Physical_education_and_studies_-_inner_discipline_-_True_usefulness_of_teachers
1956-12-12_-_paradoxes_-_Nothing_impossible_-_unfolding_universe,_the_Eternal_-_Attention,_concentration,_effort_-_growth_capacity_almost_unlimited_-_Why_things_are_not_the_same_-_will_and_willings_-_Suggestions,_formations_-_vital_world
1.iai_-_How_utterly_amazing_is_someone_who_flees_from_something_he_cannot_escape
1.jk_-_The_Cap_And_Bells;_Or,_The_Jealousies_-_A_Faery_Tale_.._Unfinished
1.lb_-_The_River-Captains_Wife__A_Letter
1.rvd_-_How_to_Escape?
1.wby_-_The_Cap_And_Bells
1.whitman_-_O_Captain!_My_Captain!
1.ww_-_O_Captain!_my_Captain!
Story_of_the_Warrior_and_the_Captive

IN CHAPTERS CLASSNAME

IN CHAPTERS TEXT
0_0.01_-_Introduction
00.01_-_The_Approach_to_Mysticism
00.01_-_The_Mother_on_Savitri
00.02_-_Mystic_Symbolism
000_-_Humans_in_Universe
0.00_-_INTRODUCTION
0.00_-_The_Book_of_Lies_Text
0.00_-_The_Wellspring_of_Reality
0.00_-_To_the_Reader
0.01f_-_FOREWARD
0.01_-_Letters_from_the_Mother_to_Her_Son
0.01_-_Life_and_Yoga
0.02_-_Letters_to_a_Sadhak
0.02_-_The_Three_Steps_of_Nature
0.03_-_III_-_The_Evening_Sittings
0.03_-_Letters_to_My_little_smile
0.03_-_The_Threefold_Life
0.04_-_The_Systems_of_Yoga
0.05_-_Letters_to_a_Child
0.05_-_The_Synthesis_of_the_Systems
0.06_-_INTRODUCTION
0.06_-_Letters_to_a_Young_Sadhak
0.07_-_Letters_to_a_Sadhak
0.08_-_Letters_to_a_Young_Captain
0.09_-_Letters_to_a_Young_Teacher
01.01_-_The_New_Humanity
01.02_-_Natures_Own_Yoga
01.02_-_Sri_Aurobindo_-_Ahana_and_Other_Poems
01.02_-_The_Issue
01.03_-_Mystic_Poetry
01.03_-_Rationalism
01.03_-_The_Yoga_of_the_King_-_The_Yoga_of_the_Souls_Release
01.03_-_Yoga_and_the_Ordinary_Life
01.04_-_Motives_for_Seeking_the_Divine
01.04_-_The_Intuition_of_the_Age
01.04_-_The_Poetry_in_the_Making
01.04_-_The_Secret_Knowledge
01.05_-_Rabindranath_Tagore:_A_Great_Poet,_a_Great_Man
01.05_-_The_Yoga_of_the_King_-_The_Yoga_of_the_Spirits_Freedom_and_Greatness
01.06_-_On_Communism
01.09_-_The_Parting_of_the_Way
0.10_-_Letters_to_a_Young_Captain
01.10_-_Nicholas_Berdyaev:_God_Made_Human
01.10_-_Principle_and_Personality
01.12_-_Three_Degrees_of_Social_Organisation
0.11_-_Letters_to_a_Sadhak
0.12_-_Letters_to_a_Student
0.13_-_Letters_to_a_Student
0.14_-_Letters_to_a_Sadhak
0_1954-08-25_-_what_is_this_personality?_and_when_will_she_come?
0_1955-03-26
0_1955-04-04
0_1956-03-20
0_1956-03-21
0_1956-05-02
0_1956-09-12
0_1957-01-18
0_1957-07-03
0_1957-10-18
0_1957-12-21
0_1958-02-03b_-_The_Supramental_Ship
0_1958-02-25
0_1958-05-10
0_1958-06-06_-_Supramental_Ship
0_1958-07-05
0_1958-07-06
0_1958-08-09
0_1958-10-04
0_1958-10-10
0_1958-11-04_-_Myths_are_True_and_Gods_exist_-_mental_formation_and_occult_faculties_-_exteriorization_-_work_in_dreams
0_1958-11-08
0_1958-11-11
0_1958-11-20
0_1958-11-22
0_1958-11-27_-_Intermediaries_and_Immediacy
0_1958-11-28
0_1959-01-31
0_1959-03-26_-_Lord_of_Death,_Lord_of_Falsehood
0_1959-06-03
0_1959-06-07
0_1959-06-13a
0_1959-06-25
0_1959-11-25
0_1960-01-28
0_1960-04-14
0_1960-05-16
0_1960-05-28_-_death_of_K_-_the_death_process-_the_subtle_physical
0_1960-07-26_-_Mothers_vision_-_looking_up_words_in_the_subconscient
0_1960-08-10_-_questions_from_center_of_Education_-_reading_Sri_Aurobindo
0_1960-09-24
0_1960-10-08
0_1960-10-19
0_1960-10-22
0_1960-10-25
0_1960-10-30
0_1960-11-12
0_1960-11-26
0_1960-12-13
0_1960-12-17
0_1960-12-20
0_1960-12-31
0_1961-01-10
0_1961-01-12
0_1961-01-17
0_1961-01-24
0_1961-02-04
0_1961-02-11
0_1961-02-18
0_1961-02-25
0_1961-03-11
0_1961-03-17
0_1961-03-21
0_1961-03-25
0_1961-04-07
0_1961-04-18
0_1961-04-29
0_1961-05-12
0_1961-06-06
0_1961-06-24
0_1961-06-27
0_1961-07-07
0_1961-07-15
0_1961-07-18
0_1961-08-05
0_1961-09-28
0_1961-09-30
0_1961-10-02
0_1961-10-15
0_1961-10-30
0_1961-11-05
0_1961-11-12
0_1961-12-20
0_1961-12-23
0_1962-01-09
0_1962-01-12
0_1962-01-12_-_supramental_ship
0_1962-01-21
0_1962-02-03
0_1962-02-06
0_1962-02-13
0_1962-02-27
0_1962-03-06
0_1962-04-03
0_1962-05-13
0_1962-05-15
0_1962-05-24
0_1962-06-06
0_1962-06-09
0_1962-06-27
0_1962-06-30
0_1962-07-04
0_1962-07-07
0_1962-07-14
0_1962-07-21
0_1962-07-25
0_1962-08-28
0_1962-08-31
0_1962-09-05
0_1962-09-08
0_1962-09-18
0_1962-09-22
0_1962-09-26
0_1962-10-12
0_1962-10-16
0_1962-10-24
0_1962-10-27
0_1962-11-03
0_1962-11-17
0_1962-11-27
0_1963-01-12
0_1963-01-14
0_1963-03-06
0_1963-03-13
0_1963-03-16
0_1963-03-23
0_1963-04-06
0_1963-04-16
0_1963-04-20
0_1963-05-03
0_1963-05-15
0_1963-05-25
0_1963-06-15
0_1963-06-19
0_1963-06-22
0_1963-06-29
0_1963-07-03
0_1963-07-06
0_1963-07-10
0_1963-07-17
0_1963-07-20
0_1963-07-24
0_1963-07-31
0_1963-08-07
0_1963-08-10
0_1963-08-21
0_1963-08-31
0_1963-09-04
0_1963-09-25
0_1963-09-28
0_1963-10-05
0_1963-10-16
0_1963-10-19
0_1963-11-20
0_1963-11-23
0_1963-11-27
0_1963-12-03
0_1963-12-07_-_supramental_ship
0_1963-12-21
0_1963-12-25
0_1963-12-31
0_1964-01-08
0_1964-01-18
0_1964-01-29
0_1964-02-05
0_1964-02-26
0_1964-03-25
0_1964-04-04
0_1964-07-04
0_1964-07-18
0_1964-07-22
0_1964-08-14
0_1964-08-22
0_1964-08-26
0_1964-08-29
0_1964-09-16
0_1964-09-26
0_1964-10-07
0_1964-10-10
0_1964-10-14
0_1964-10-17
0_1964-10-30
0_1964-11-12
0_1964-11-14
0_1964-11-21
0_1965-01-12
0_1965-02-24
0_1965-04-17
0_1965-04-21
0_1965-05-08
0_1965-05-19
0_1965-05-29
0_1965-06-14
0_1965-06-26
0_1965-07-10
0_1965-07-17
0_1965-07-31
0_1965-08-07
0_1965-08-18
0_1965-09-15a
0_1965-09-15b
0_1965-09-18
0_1965-09-25
0_1965-10-10
0_1965-10-16
0_1965-10-20
0_1965-11-13
0_1965-11-23
0_1965-11-27
0_1965-12-10
0_1965-12-31
0_1966-01-31
0_1966-02-11
0_1966-02-23
0_1966-03-04
0_1966-03-26
0_1966-04-16
0_1966-04-27
0_1966-05-14
0_1966-06-02
0_1966-06-25
0_1966-07-27
0_1966-07-30
0_1966-08-03
0_1966-09-07
0_1966-09-17
0_1966-09-21
0_1966-09-28
0_1966-09-30
0_1966-11-23
0_1966-11-30
0_1966-12-07
0_1966-12-17
0_1966-12-21
0_1967-01-14
0_1967-01-18
0_1967-01-21
0_1967-01-25
0_1967-01-28
0_1967-02-08
0_1967-02-15
0_1967-02-18
0_1967-02-21
0_1967-03-02
0_1967-03-04
0_1967-03-07
0_1967-03-22
0_1967-03-29
0_1967-04-05
0_1967-04-15
0_1967-04-27
0_1967-05-03
0_1967-05-06
0_1967-05-17
0_1967-05-20
0_1967-05-24
0_1967-06-03
0_1967-06-07
0_1967-06-14
0_1967-06-24
0_1967-07-15
0_1967-07-22
0_1967-07-26
0_1967-07-29
0_1967-08-02
0_1967-08-12
0_1967-08-19
0_1967-08-26
0_1967-09-13
0_1967-09-16
0_1967-09-30
0_1967-10-11
0_1967-10-14
0_1967-10-21
0_1967-11-08
0_1967-11-22
0_1967-12-08
0_1967-12-27
0_1967-12-30
0_1968-01-10
0_1968-01-12
0_1968-02-03
0_1968-02-10
0_1968-03-02
0_1968-04-10
0_1968-04-27
0_1968-05-04
0_1968-05-22
0_1968-05-29
0_1968-07-17
0_1968-07-20
0_1968-08-07
0_1968-08-28
0_1968-08-30
0_1968-09-07
0_1968-09-21
0_1968-09-25
0_1968-09-28
0_1968-10-09
0_1968-10-26
0_1968-10-30
0_1968-11-16
0_1968-11-23
0_1968-11-27
0_1968-12-04
0_1969-01-04
0_1969-02-08
0_1969-02-15
0_1969-02-19
0_1969-03-12
0_1969-03-15
0_1969-03-19
0_1969-03-26
0_1969-04-02
0_1969-04-16
0_1969-04-19
0_1969-04-23
0_1969-04-26
0_1969-04-30
0_1969-05-03
0_1969-05-10
0_1969-05-17
0_1969-05-24
0_1969-05-28
0_1969-05-31
0_1969-06-25
0_1969-06-28
0_1969-07-19
0_1969-07-26
0_1969-07-30
0_1969-08-06
0_1969-08-20
0_1969-08-23
0_1969-08-27
0_1969-08-30
0_1969-09-13
0_1969-09-17
0_1969-09-20
0_1969-09-24
0_1969-09-27
0_1969-10-11
0_1969-10-18
0_1969-10-25
0_1969-11-08
0_1969-11-12
0_1969-11-15
0_1969-11-19
0_1969-11-29
0_1969-12-03
0_1969-12-10
0_1969-12-20
0_1969-12-24
0_1969-12-31
0_1970-01-01
0_1970-01-03
0_1970-01-10
0_1970-01-17
0_1970-01-28
0_1970-02-21
0_1970-02-28
0_1970-03-07
0_1970-03-14
0_1970-03-25
0_1970-03-28
0_1970-04-01
0_1970-04-04
0_1970-04-22
0_1970-04-29
0_1970-05-02
0_1970-05-09
0_1970-05-23
0_1970-06-03
0_1970-06-06
0_1970-06-13
0_1970-06-27
0_1970-07-01
0_1970-07-04
0_1970-07-11
0_1970-07-25
0_1970-08-01
0_1970-08-05
0_1970-09-02
0_1970-09-05
0_1970-09-12
0_1970-10-14
0_1970-10-17
0_1971-01-16
0_1971-03-03
0_1971-03-17
0_1971-04-14
0_1971-04-17
0_1971-05-08
0_1971-05-15
0_1971-05-26
0_1971-06-02
0_1971-06-12
0_1971-06-23
0_1971-07-03
0_1971-07-21
0_1971-09-01
0_1971-09-04
0_1971-09-08
0_1971-10-02
0_1971-10-06
0_1971-10-16
0_1971-10-27
0_1971-10-30
0_1971-12-04
0_1971-12-11
0_1971-12-18
0_1971-12-29b
0_1972-01-12
0_1972-01-15
0_1972-01-19
0_1972-01-29
0_1972-02-02
0_1972-03-08
0_1972-03-10
0_1972-03-29a
0_1972-03-29b
0_1972-03-30
0_1972-04-03
0_1972-04-04
0_1972-04-26
0_1972-05-04
0_1972-05-17
0_1972-05-27
0_1972-07-19
0_1972-07-22
0_1972-07-26
0_1972-08-09
0_1972-09-13
0_1972-11-25
0_1973-01-10
0_1973-01-20
0_1973-04-14
02.01_-_A_Vedic_Story
02.01_-_Metaphysical_Thought_and_the_Supreme_Truth
02.01_-_Our_Ideal
02.01_-_The_World-Stair
02.01_-_The_World_War
02.02_-_Lines_of_the_Descent_of_Consciousness
02.02_-_The_Kingdom_of_Subtle_Matter
02.02_-_The_Message_of_the_Atomic_Bomb
02.03_-_The_Glory_and_the_Fall_of_Life
02.04_-_The_Kingdoms_of_the_Little_Life
02.05_-_Federated_Humanity
02.05_-_Robert_Graves
02.05_-_The_Godheads_of_the_Little_Life
02.06_-_Boris_Pasternak
02.06_-_The_Kingdoms_and_Godheads_of_the_Greater_Life
02.07_-_George_Seftris
02.07_-_The_Descent_into_Night
02.08_-_Jules_Supervielle
02.08_-_The_Basic_Unity
02.08_-_The_World_of_Falsehood,_the_Mother_of_Evil_and_the_Sons_of_Darkness
02.09_-_The_Paradise_of_the_Life-Gods
02.09_-_Two_Mystic_Poems_in_Modern_French
02.10_-_Independence_and_its_Sanction
02.10_-_The_Kingdoms_and_Godheads_of_the_Little_Mind
02.11_-_New_World-Conditions
02.11_-_The_Kingdoms_and_Godheads_of_the_Greater_Mind
02.13_-_In_the_Self_of_Mind
02.13_-_On_Social_Reconstruction
02.14_-_Appendix
02.14_-_Panacea_of_Isms
02.14_-_The_World-Soul
03.01_-_The_Malady_of_the_Century
03.01_-_The_New_Year_Initiation
03.02_-_Aspects_of_Modernism
03.02_-_The_Adoration_of_the_Divine_Mother
03.02_-_Yogic_Initiation_and_Aptitude
03.03_-_Arjuna_or_the_Ideal_Disciple
03.03_-_Modernism_-_An_Oriental_Interpretation
03.03_-_The_House_of_the_Spirit_and_the_New_Creation
03.04_-_The_Body_Human
03.06_-_Here_or_Otherwhere
03.07_-_Brahmacharya
03.07_-_Some_Thoughts_on_the_Unthinkable
03.08_-_The_Standpoint_of_Indian_Art
03.09_-_Art_and_Katharsis
03.10_-_Hamlet:_A_Crisis_of_the_Evolving_Soul
03.10_-_The_Mission_of_Buddhism
03.11_-_The_Language_Problem_and_India
03.11_-_True_Humility
03.12_-_Communism:_What_does_it_Mean?
03.12_-_TagorePoet_and_Seer
03.12_-_The_Spirit_of_Tapasya
03.13_-_Human_Destiny
03.14_-_Mater_Dolorosa
03.15_-_Towards_the_Future
04.01_-_The_Divine_Man
04.01_-_The_March_of_Civilisation
04.02_-_A_Chapter_of_Human_Evolution
04.02_-_Human_Progress
04.02_-_The_Growth_of_the_Flame
04.03_-_Consciousness_as_Energy
04.03_-_The_Call_to_the_Quest
04.03_-_The_Eternal_East_and_West
04.04_-_Evolution_of_the_Spiritual_Consciousness
04.04_-_The_Quest
04.05_-_The_Immortal_Nation
04.06_-_Evolution_of_the_Spiritual_Consciousness
04.07_-_Matter_Aspires
04.07_-_Readings_in_Savitri
04.07_-_To_the_Heights_VII_(Mahakali)
04.08_-_To_the_Heights_VIII_(Mahalakshmi)
04.09_-_Values_Higher_and_Lower
04.22_-_To_the_Heights-XXII
05.01_-_At_the_Origin_of_Ignorance
05.01_-_Man_and_the_Gods
05.02_-_Gods_Labour
05.02_-_Of_the_Divine_and_its_Help
05.02_-_Physician,_Heal_Thyself
05.03_-_Bypaths_of_Souls_Journey
05.03_-_Satyavan_and_Savitri
05.03_-_The_Body_Natural
05.05_-_In_Quest_of_Reality
05.05_-_Of_Some_Supreme_Mysteries
05.06_-_Physics_or_philosophy
05.06_-_The_Role_of_Evil
05.07_-_Man_and_Superman
05.08_-_An_Age_of_Revolution
05.10_-_Children_and_Child_Mentality
05.10_-_Knowledge_by_Identity
05.11_-_The_Place_of_Reason
05.11_-_The_Soul_of_a_Nation
05.12_-_The_Revealer_and_the_Revelation
05.12_-_The_Soul_and_its_Journey
05.13_-_Darshana_and_Philosophy
05.18_-_Man_to_be_Surpassed
05.22_-_Success_and_its_Conditions
05.23_-_The_Base_of_Sincerity
05.25_-_Sweet_Adversity
05.27_-_The_Nature_of_Perfection
05.32_-_Yoga_as_Pragmatic_Power
05.33_-_Caesar_versus_the_Divine
05.34_-_Light,_more_Light
06.01_-_The_End_of_a_Civilisation
06.01_-_The_Word_of_Fate
06.02_-_Darkness_to_Light
06.02_-_The_Way_of_Fate_and_the_Problem_of_Pain
06.10_-_Fatigue_and_Work
06.11_-_The_Steps_of_the_Soul
06.12_-_The_Expanding_Body-Consciousness
06.14_-_The_Integral_Realisation
06.15_-_Ever_Green
06.17_-_Directed_Change
06.18_-_Value_of_Gymnastics,_Mental_or_Other
06.19_-_Mental_Silence
06.20_-_Mind,_Origin_of_Separative_Consciousness
06.27_-_To_Learn_and_to_Understand
06.30_-_Sweet_Holy_Tears
06.32_-_The_Central_Consciousness
06.35_-_Second_Sight
06.36_-_The_Mother_on_Herself
07.01_-_The_Joy_of_Union;_the_Ordeal_of_the_Foreknowledge
07.02_-_The_Parable_of_the_Search_for_the_Soul
07.03_-_The_Entry_into_the_Inner_Countries
07.04_-_The_Triple_Soul-Forces
07.05_-_The_Finding_of_the_Soul
07.06_-_Nirvana_and_the_Discovery_of_the_All-Negating_Absolute
07.07_-_Freedom_and_Destiny
07.10_-_Diseases_and_Accidents
07.12_-_This_Ugliness_in_the_World
07.21_-_On_Occultism
07.22_-_Mysticism_and_Occultism
07.24_-_Meditation_and_Meditation
07.25_-_Prayer_and_Aspiration
07.28_-_Personal_Effort_and_Will
07.30_-_Sincerity_is_Victory
07.32_-_The_Yogic_Centres
07.33_-_The_Inner_and_the_Outer
07.35_-_The_Force_of_Body-Consciousness
07.36_-_The_Body_and_the_Psychic
07.37_-_The_Psychic_Being,_Some_Mysteries
07.38_-_Past_Lives_and_the_Psychic_Being
07.43_-_Music_Its_Origin_and_Nature
07.45_-_Specialisation
08.01_-_Choosing_To_Do_Yoga
08.02_-_Order_and_Discipline
08.03_-_Organise_Your_Life
08.04_-_Doing_for_Her_Sake
08.05_-_Will_and_Desire
08.06_-_A_Sign_and_a_Symbol
08.08_-_The_Mind_s_Bazaar
08.10_-_Are_Not_Dogs_More_Faithful_Than_Men?
08.11_-_The_Work_Here
08.13_-_Thought_and_Imagination
08.15_-_Divine_Living
08.16_-_Perfection_and_Progress
08.17_-_Psychological_Perfection
08.24_-_On_Food
08.28_-_Prayer_and_Aspiration
08.32_-_The_Surrender_of_an_Inner_Warrior
08.34_-_To_Melt_into_the_Divine
08.35_-_Love_Divine
08.36_-_Buddha_and_Shankara
08.37_-_The_Significance_of_Dates
08.38_-_The_Value_of_Money
09.01_-_Prayer_and_Aspiration
09.01_-_Towards_the_Black_Void
09.02_-_The_Journey_in_Eternal_Night_and_the_Voice_of_the_Darkness
09.03_-_The_Psychic_Being
09.04_-_The_Divine_Grace
09.05_-_The_Story_of_Love
09.09_-_The_Origin
09.11_-_The_Supramental_Manifestation_and_World_Change
09.12_-_The_True_Teaching
09.13_-_On_Teachers_and_Teaching
09.15_-_How_to_Listen
09.16_-_Goal_of_Evolution
100.00_-_Synergy
10.01_-_A_Dream
10.01_-_Cycles_of_Creation
1.001_-_The_Aim_of_Yoga
10.01_-_The_Dream_Twilight_of_the_Ideal
10.02_-_The_Gospel_of_Death_and_Vanity_of_the_Ideal
1.002_-_The_Heifer
1.003_-_Family_of_Imran
10.03_-_The_Debate_of_Love_and_Death
10.04_-_Lord_of_Time
10.04_-_The_Dream_Twilight_of_the_Earthly_Real
1.004_-_Women
10.05_-_Mind_and_the_Mental_World
1.005_-_The_Table
1.006_-_Livestock
10.06_-_Looking_around_with_Craziness
1.007_-_Initial_Steps_in_Yoga_Practice
1.007_-_The_Elevations
1.008_-_The_Spoils
1.009_-_Perception_and_Reality
1.009_-_Repentance
1.00a_-_Introduction
1.00b_-_DIVISION_B_-_THE_PERSONALITY_RAY_AND_FIRE_BY_FRICTION
1.00b_-_INTRODUCTION
1.00c_-_DIVISION_C_-_THE_ETHERIC_BODY_AND_PRANA
1.00d_-_Introduction
1.00e_-_DIVISION_E_-_MOTION_ON_THE_PHYSICAL_AND_ASTRAL_PLANES
1.00_-_INTRODUCTION
1.00_-_INTRODUCTORY_REMARKS
1.00_-_Main
1.00_-_PREFACE
1.00_-_PREFACE_-_DESCENSUS_AD_INFERNOS
1.00_-_Preliminary_Remarks
1.00_-_The_way_of_what_is_to_come
1.010_-_Jonah
1.010_-_Self-Control_-_The_Alpha_and_Omega_of_Yoga
1.011_-_Hud
1.012_-_Sublimation_-_A_Way_to_Reshuffle_Thought
1.013_-_Thunder
1.016_-_The_Bee
10.17_-_Miracles:_Their_True_Significance
1.018_-_The_Cave
1.01_-_Adam_Kadmon_and_the_Evolution
1.01_-_An_Accomplished_Westerner
1.01_-_A_NOTE_ON_PROGRESS
1.01_-_Appearance_and_Reality
1.01_-_Archetypes_of_the_Collective_Unconscious
1.01_-_BOOK_THE_FIRST
1.01_-_Description_of_the_Castle
1.01_-_Economy
1.01_-_Foreward
1.01_-_Introduction
1.01_-_Isha_Upanishad
1.01_-_Maitreya_inquires_of_his_teacher_(Parashara)
1.01_-_MAPS_OF_EXPERIENCE_-_OBJECT_AND_MEANING
1.01_-_MASTER_AND_DISCIPLE
1.01_-_MAXIMS_AND_MISSILES
1.01_-_Necessity_for_knowledge_of_the_whole_human_being_for_a_genuine_education.
1.01_-_Newtonian_and_Bergsonian_Time
1.01_-_NIGHT
1.01_-_On_knowledge_of_the_soul,_and_how_knowledge_of_the_soul_is_the_key_to_the_knowledge_of_God.
1.01_-_ON_THE_THREE_METAMORPHOSES
1.01_-_Our_Demand_and_Need_from_the_Gita
1.01_-_Principles_of_Practical_Psycho_therapy
1.01_-_SAMADHI_PADA
1.01_-_Seeing
1.01_-_Sets_down_the_first_line_and_begins_to_treat_of_the_imperfections_of_beginners.
1.01_-_Soul_and_God
1.01_-_Tara_the_Divine
1.01_-_THAT_ARE_THOU
1.01_-_The_Cycle_of_Society
1.01_-_The_Dark_Forest._The_Hill_of_Difficulty._The_Panther,_the_Lion,_and_the_Wolf._Virgil.
1.01_-_The_Divine_and_The_Universe
1.01_-_The_Ego
1.01_-_The_First_Steps
1.01_-_The_Four_Aids
1.01_-_The_Highest_Meaning_of_the_Holy_Truths
1.01_-_The_Human_Aspiration
1.01_-_The_King_of_the_Wood
1.01_-_The_Mental_Fortress
1.01_-_THE_OPPOSITES
1.01_-_The_Rape_of_the_Lock
1.01_-_The_Science_of_Living
1.01_-_THE_STUFF_OF_THE_UNIVERSE
1.01_-_The_Three_Metamorphoses
1.01_-_To_Watanabe_Sukefusa
1.01_-_What_is_Magick?
1.01_-_Who_is_Tara
1.02.1_-_The_Inhabiting_Godhead_-_Life_and_Action
1.02.2.1_-_Brahman_-_Oneness_of_God_and_the_World
1.022_-_The_Pilgrimage
1.02.3.1_-_The_Lord
1.02.3.2_-_Knowledge_and_Ignorance
1.02.3.3_-_Birth_and_Non-Birth
10.23_-_Prayers_and_Meditations_of_the_Mother
1.023_-_The_Believers
1.02.4.1_-_The_Worlds_-_Surya
10.24_-_Savitri
1.024_-_The_Light
1.025_-_Sadhana_-_Intensifying_a_Lighted_Flame
1.028_-_Bringing_About_Whole-Souled_Dedication
1.028_-_History
10.28_-_Love_and_Love
1.029_-_The_Spider
1.02_-_BEFORE_THE_CITY-GATE
1.02_-_BOOK_THE_SECOND
1.02_-_Fire_over_the_Earth
1.02_-_Groups_and_Statistical_Mechanics
1.02_-_In_the_Beginning
1.02_-_Karmayoga
1.02_-_MAPS_OF_MEANING_-_THREE_LEVELS_OF_ANALYSIS
1.02_-_Meditating_on_Tara
1.02_-_On_detachment
1.02_-_On_the_Knowledge_of_God.
1.02_-_On_the_Service_of_the_Soul
1.02_-_Prayer_of_Parashara_to_Vishnu
1.02_-_Priestly_Kings
1.02_-_Self-Consecration
1.02_-_Skillful_Means
1.02_-_SOCIAL_HEREDITY_AND_PROGRESS
1.02_-_Taras_Tantra
1.02_-_The_7_Habits__An_Overview
1.02_-_The_Age_of_Individualism_and_Reason
1.02_-_The_Child_as_growing_being_and_the_childs_experience_of_encountering_the_teacher.
1.02_-_The_Descent._Dante's_Protest_and_Virgil's_Appeal._The_Intercession_of_the_Three_Ladies_Benedight.
1.02_-_The_Development_of_Sri_Aurobindos_Thought
1.02_-_The_Divine_Teacher
1.02_-_The_Eternal_Law
1.02_-_The_Great_Process
1.02_-_The_Human_Soul
1.02_-_The_Magic_Circle
1.02_-_THE_NATURE_OF_THE_GROUND
1.02_-_The_Pit
1.02_-_THE_POOL_OF_TEARS
1.02_-_THE_QUATERNIO_AND_THE_MEDIATING_ROLE_OF_MERCURIUS
1.02_-_The_Refusal_of_the_Call
1.02_-_The_Shadow
1.02_-_The_Stages_of_Initiation
1.02_-_The_Three_European_Worlds
1.02_-_The_Two_Negations_1_-_The_Materialist_Denial
1.02_-_The_Ultimate_Path_is_Without_Difficulty
1.02_-_The_Vision_of_the_Past
1.02_-_THE_WITHIN_OF_THINGS
1.02_-_To_Zen_Monks_Kin_and_Koku
1.02_-_What_is_Psycho_therapy?
1.02_-_Where_I_Lived,_and_What_I_Lived_For
10.30_-_India,_the_World_and_the_Ashram
1.030_-_The_Romans
10.31_-_The_Mystery_of_The_Five_Senses
10.32_-_The_Mystery_of_the_Five_Elements
1.033_-_The_Confederates
10.34_-_Effort_and_Grace
1.034_-_Sheba
10.35_-_The_Moral_and_the_Spiritual
1.035_-_The_Recitation_of_Mantra
10.36_-_Cling_to_Truth
10.37_-_The_Golden_Bridge
1.038_-_Impediments_in_Concentration_and_Meditation
1.038_-_Saad
1.03_-_A_Parable
1.03_-_APPRENTICESHIP_AND_ENCULTURATION_-_ADOPTION_OF_A_SHARED_MAP
1.03_-_A_Sapphire_Tale
1.03_-_Bloodstream_Sermon
1.03_-_BOOK_THE_THIRD
1.03_-_Concerning_the_Archetypes,_with_Special_Reference_to_the_Anima_Concept
1.03_-_Man_-_Slave_or_Free?
1.03_-_Meeting_the_Master_-_Meeting_with_others
1.03_-_Of_some_imperfections_which_some_of_these_souls_are_apt_to_have,_with_respect_to_the_second_capital_sin,_which_is_avarice,_in_the_spiritual_sense
1.03_-_On_exile_or_pilgrimage
1.03_-_On_Knowledge_of_the_World.
1.03_-_ON_THE_AFTERWORLDLY
1.03_-_PERSONALITY,_SANCTITY,_DIVINE_INCARNATION
1.03_-_Preparing_for_the_Miraculous
1.03_-_Self-Surrender_in_Works_-_The_Way_of_The_Gita
1.03_-_Some_Practical_Aspects
1.03_-_Sympathetic_Magic
1.03_-_Tara,_Liberator_from_the_Eight_Dangers
1.03_-_The_Coming_of_the_Subjective_Age
1.03_-_The_Desert
1.03_-_THE_EARTH_IN_ITS_EARLY_STAGES
1.03_-_The_End_of_the_Intellect
1.03_-_The_Gods,_Superior_Beings_and_Adverse_Forces
1.03_-_THE_GRAND_OPTION
1.03_-_The_House_Of_The_Lord
1.03_-_The_Human_Disciple
1.03_-_The_Phenomenon_of_Man
1.03_-_The_Sephiros
1.03_-_THE_STUDY_(The_Exorcism)
1.03_-_The_Sunlit_Path
1.03_-_The_Syzygy_-_Anima_and_Animus
1.03_-_The_Two_Negations_2_-_The_Refusal_of_the_Ascetic
1.03_-_The_Uncreated
1.03_-_Time_Series,_Information,_and_Communication
1.03_-_To_Layman_Ishii
1.03_-_VISIT_TO_VIDYASAGAR
1.040_-_Forgiver
1.040_-_Re-Educating_the_Mind
1.041_-_Detailed
1.042_-_Consultation
1.043_-_Decorations
1.046_-_The_Dunes
1.048_-_Victory
1.04_-_ADVICE_TO_HOUSEHOLDERS
1.04_-_ALCHEMY_AND_MANICHAEISM
1.04_-_Body,_Soul_and_Spirit
1.04_-_BOOK_THE_FOURTH
1.04_-_Descent_into_Future_Hell
1.04_-_GOD_IN_THE_WORLD
1.04_-_Magic_and_Religion
1.04_-_Money
1.04_-_Narayana_appearance,_in_the_beginning_of_the_Kalpa,_as_the_Varaha_(boar)
1.04_-_On_blessed_and_ever-memorable_obedience
1.04_-_On_Knowledge_of_the_Future_World.
1.04_-_ON_THE_DESPISERS_OF_THE_BODY
1.04_-_Reality_Omnipresent
1.04_-_SOME_REFLECTIONS_ON_PROGRESS
1.04_-_Sounds
1.04_-_Te_Shan_Carrying_His_Bundle
1.04_-_THE_APPEARANCE_OF_ANOMALY_-_CHALLENGE_TO_THE_SHARED_MAP
1.04_-_The_Conditions_of_Esoteric_Training
1.04_-_The_Core_of_the_Teaching
1.04_-_The_Crossing_of_the_First_Threshold
1.04_-_The_Discovery_of_the_Nation-Soul
1.04_-_The_Divine_Mother_-_This_Is_She
1.04_-_The_Future_of_Man
1.04_-_The_Gods_of_the_Veda
1.04_-_The_Need_of_Guru
1.04_-_The_Origin_and_Development_of_Poetry.
1.04_-_The_Paths
1.04_-_The_Praise
1.04_-_The_Qabalah__The_Best_Training_for_Memory
1.04_-_The_Sacrifice_the_Triune_Path_and_the_Lord_of_the_Sacrifice
1.04_-_The_Self
1.04_-_The_Silent_Mind
1.04_-_THE_STUDY_(The_Compact)
1.04_-_Vital_Education
1.04_-_Wake-Up_Sermon
1.04_-_What_Arjuna_Saw_-_the_Dark_Side_of_the_Force
1.04_-_Wherefore_of_World?
1.04_-_Yoga_and_Human_Evolution
1.050_-_Qaf
1.05_-_2010_and_1956_-_Doomsday?
1.052_-_Yoga_Practice_-_A_Series_of_Positive_Steps
1.053_-_A_Very_Important_Sadhana
1.056_-_Lack_of_Knowledge_is_the_Cause_of_Suffering
1.057_-_The_Four_Manifestations_of_Ignorance
1.05_-_Adam_Kadmon
1.05_-_AUERBACHS_CELLAR
1.05_-_BOOK_THE_FIFTH
1.05_-_Buddhism_and_Women
1.05_-_CHARITY
1.05_-_Christ,_A_Symbol_of_the_Self
1.05_-_Computing_Machines_and_the_Nervous_System
1.05_-_Consciousness
1.05_-_Dharana
1.05_-_Hsueh_Feng's_Grain_of_Rice
1.05_-_Mental_Education
1.05_-_Morality_and_War
1.05_-_On_painstaking_and_true_repentance_which_constitute_the_life_of_the_holy_convicts;_and_about_the_prison.
1.05_-_Prayer
1.05_-_Problems_of_Modern_Psycho_therapy
1.05_-_Some_Results_of_Initiation
1.05_-_Splitting_of_the_Spirit
1.05_-_The_Activation_of_Human_Energy
1.05_-_The_Ascent_of_the_Sacrifice_-_The_Psychic_Being
1.05_-_The_Belly_of_the_Whale
1.05_-_The_Creative_Principle
1.05_-_The_Destiny_of_the_Individual
1.05_-_THE_HOSTILE_BROTHERS_-_ARCHETYPES_OF_RESPONSE_TO_THE_UNKNOWN
1.05_-_The_Magical_Control_of_the_Weather
1.05_-_THE_MASTER_AND_KESHAB
1.05_-_The_New_Consciousness
1.05_-_THE_NEW_SPIRIT
1.05_-_The_True_Doer_of_Works
1.05_-_The_twelve_simple_letters
1.05_-_The_Universe__The_0_=_2_Equation
1.05_-_The_Ways_of_Working_of_the_Lord
1.05_-_True_and_False_Subjectivism
1.05_-_Vishnu_as_Brahma_creates_the_world
1.05_-_War_And_Politics
1.05_-_Yoga_and_Hypnotism
1.060_-_The_Woman_Tested
1.065_-_Divorce
1.066_-_Prohibition
1.06_-_Agni_and_the_Truth
1.06_-_A_Summary_of_my_Phenomenological_View_of_the_World
1.06_-_Being_Human_and_the_Copernican_Principle
1.06_-_BOOK_THE_SIXTH
1.06_-_Gestalt_and_Universals
1.06_-_Incarnate_Teachers_and_Incarnation
1.06_-_LIFE_AND_THE_PLANETS
1.06_-_Magicians_as_Kings
1.06_-_Man_in_the_Universe
1.06_-_MORTIFICATION,_NON-ATTACHMENT,_RIGHT_LIVELIHOOD
1.06_-_On_Induction
1.06_-_Psychic_Education
1.06_-_Psycho_therapy_and_a_Philosophy_of_Life
1.06_-_Quieting_the_Vital
1.06_-_The_Ascent_of_the_Sacrifice_2_The_Works_of_Love_-_The_Works_of_Life
1.06_-_The_Breaking_of_the_Limits
1.06_-_The_Desire_to_be
1.06_-_The_Four_Powers_of_the_Mother
1.06_-_The_Literal_Qabalah
1.06_-_THE_MASTER_WITH_THE_BRAHMO_DEVOTEES
1.06_-_The_Objective_and_Subjective_Views_of_Life
1.06_-_The_Sign_of_the_Fishes
1.06_-_The_Three_Schools_of_Magick_1
1.06_-_The_Transformation_of_Dream_Life
1.06_-_Wealth_and_Government
1.06_-_WITCHES_KITCHEN
1.06_-_Yun_Men's_Every_Day_is_a_Good_Day
1.072_-_The_Jinn
1.075_-_Resurrection
1.075_-_Self-Control,_Study_and_Devotion_to_God
1.076_-_Man
1.078_-_Kumbhaka_and_Concentration_of_Mind
1.07_-_A_Song_of_Longing_for_Tara,_the_Infallible
1.07_-_A_STREET
1.07_-_BOOK_THE_SEVENTH
1.07_-_Bridge_across_the_Afterlife
1.07_-_Cybernetics_and_Psychopathology
1.07_-_Hui_Ch'ao_Asks_about_Buddha
1.07_-_Incarnate_Human_Gods
1.07_-_Note_on_the_word_Go
1.07_-_On_Dreams
1.07_-_On_Our_Knowledge_of_General_Principles
1.07_-_Production_of_the_mind-born_sons_of_Brahma
1.07_-_Savitri
1.07_-_Standards_of_Conduct_and_Spiritual_Freedom
1.07_-_The_Continuity_of_Consciousness
1.07_-_The_Ego_and_the_Dualities
1.07_-_The_Farther_Reaches_of_Human_Nature
1.07_-_The_Fire_of_the_New_World
1.07_-_THE_GREAT_EVENT_FORESHADOWED_-_THE_PLANETIZATION_OF_MANKIND
1.07_-_The_Ideal_Law_of_Social_Development
1.07_-_The_Infinity_Of_The_Universe
1.07_-_The_Literal_Qabalah_(continued)
1.07_-_The_Magic_Wand
1.07_-_THE_MASTER_AND_VIJAY_GOSWAMI
1.07_-_The_Process_of_Evolution
1.07_-_The_Prophecies_of_Nostradamus
1.07_-_The_Psychic_Center
1.07_-_The_Three_Schools_of_Magick_2
1.07_-_TRUTH
1.080_-_Pratyahara_-_The_Return_of_Energy
1.083_-_Choosing_an_Object_for_Concentration
1.089_-_The_Levels_of_Concentration
1.08a_-_The_Ladder
1.08_-_Attendants
1.08_-_BOOK_THE_EIGHTH
1.08_-_Civilisation_and_Barbarism
1.08_-_Independence_from_the_Physical
1.08_-_On_freedom_from_anger_and_on_meekness.
1.08_-_Origin_of_Rudra:_his_becoming_eight_Rudras
1.08_-_Psycho_therapy_Today
1.08_-_RELIGION_AND_TEMPERAMENT
1.08_-_SOME_REFLECTIONS_ON_THE_SPIRITUAL_REPERCUSSIONS_OF_THE_ATOM_BOMB
1.08_-_Sri_Aurobindos_Descent_into_Death
1.08_-_Stead_and_the_Spirits
1.08_-_Summary
1.08_-_The_Change_of_Vision
1.08_-_The_Depths_of_the_Divine
1.08_-_The_Four_Austerities_and_the_Four_Liberations
1.08_-_The_Gods_of_the_Veda_-_The_Secret_of_the_Veda
1.08_-_The_Historical_Significance_of_the_Fish
1.08_-_The_Methods_of_Vedantic_Knowledge
1.08_-_THE_QUEEN'S_CROQUET_GROUND
1.08_-_The_Splitting_of_the_Human_Personality_during_Spiritual_Training
1.08_-_The_Synthesis_of_Movement
1.08_-_The_Three_Schools_of_Magick_3
1.08_-_THINGS_THE_GERMANS_LACK
1.096_-_Powers_that_Accrue_in_the_Practice
1.097_-_Sublimation_of_Object-Consciousness
1.098_-_The_Transformation_from_Human_to_Divine
1.099_-_The_Entry_of_the_Eternal_into_the_Individual
1.09_-_A_System_of_Vedic_Psychology
1.09_-_BOOK_THE_NINTH
1.09_-_Civilisation_and_Culture
1.09_-_Concentration_-_Its_Spiritual_Uses
1.09_-_Equality_and_the_Annihilation_of_Ego
1.09_-_FAITH_IN_PEACE
1.09_-_Fundamental_Questions_of_Psycho_therapy
1.09_-_Legend_of_Lakshmi
1.09_-_Man_-_About_the_Body
1.09_-_Of_the_signs_by_which_it_will_be_known_that_the_spiritual_person_is_walking_along_the_way_of_this_night_and_purgation_of_sense.
1.09_-_ON_THE_PREACHERS_OF_DEATH
1.09_-_(Plot_continued.)_Dramatic_Unity.
1.09_-_Saraswati_and_Her_Consorts
1.09_-_SELF-KNOWLEDGE
1.09_-_SKIRMISHES_IN_A_WAY_WITH_THE_AGE
1.09_-_Sleep_and_Death
1.09_-_Sri_Aurobindo_and_the_Big_Bang
1.09_-_Stead_and_Maskelyne
1.09_-_Taras_Ultimate_Nature
1.09_-_The_Absolute_Manifestation
1.09_-_The_Ambivalence_of_the_Fish_Symbol
1.09_-_The_Crown,_Cap,_Magus-Band
1.09_-_The_Greater_Self
1.09_-_The_Guardian_of_the_Threshold
1.09_-_The_Pure_Existent
1.09_-_The_Secret_Chiefs
1.09_-_The_Worship_of_Trees
1.09_-_To_the_Students,_Young_and_Old
1.1.01_-_Certitudes
1.1.01_-_Seeking_the_Divine
11.01_-_The_Eternal_Day__The_Souls_Choice_and_the_Supreme_Consummation
1.1.02_-_Sachchidananda
11.03_-_Cosmonautics
1.1.04_-_Philosophy
1.10_-_Aesthetic_and_Ethical_Culture
1.10_-_Conscious_Force
1.10_-_Fate_and_Free-Will
1.10_-_Foresight
1.10_-_GRACE_AND_FREE_WILL
1.10_-_Harmony
1.10_-_On_our_Knowledge_of_Universals
1.10_-_Relics_of_Tree_Worship_in_Modern_Europe
1.10_-_The_Absolute_of_the_Being
1.10_-_The_descendants_of_the_daughters_of_Daksa_married_to_the_Rsis
1.10_-_THE_FORMATION_OF_THE_NOOSPHERE
1.10_-_The_Magical_Garment
1.10_-_THE_MASTER_WITH_THE_BRAHMO_DEVOTEES_(II)
1.10_-_Theodicy_-_Nature_Makes_No_Mistakes
1.10_-_The_Revolutionary_Yogi
1.10_-_The_Roughly_Material_Plane_or_the_Material_World
1.10_-_The_Secret_of_the_Veda
1.10_-_The_Three_Modes_of_Nature
1.10_-_The_Yoga_of_the_Intelligent_Will
1.10_-_THINGS_I_OWE_TO_THE_ANCIENTS
11.11_-_The_Ideal_Centre
11.14_-_Our_Finest_Hour
11.15_-_Sri_Aurobindo
1.11_-_BOOK_THE_ELEVENTH
1.11_-_Delight_of_Existence_-_The_Problem
1.11_-_GOOD_AND_EVIL
1.11_-_Oneness
1.11_-_On_Intuitive_Knowledge
1.11_-_On_talkativeness_and_silence.
1.11_-_ON_THE_NEW_IDOL
1.11_-_The_Change_of_Power
1.11_-_The_Influence_of_the_Sexes_on_Vegetation
1.11_-_The_Kalki_Avatar
1.11_-_The_Magical_Belt
1.11_-_The_Master_of_the_Work
1.11_-_The_Reason_as_Governor_of_Life
1.11_-_The_Seven_Rivers
1.11_-_The_Soul_or_the_Astral_Body
1.11_-_The_Three_Purushas
1.11_-_WITH_THE_DEVOTEES_AT_DAKSHINEWAR
1.11_-_Woolly_Pomposities_of_the_Pious_Teacher
1.12_-_BOOK_THE_TWELFTH
1.1.2_-_Commentary
1.12_-_Delight_of_Existence_-_The_Solution
1.12_-_Dhruva_commences_a_course_of_religious_austerities
1.12_-_God_Departs
1.1.2_-_Intellect_and_the_Intellectual
1.12_-_Love_The_Creator
1.12_-_ON_THE_FLIES_OF_THE_MARKETPLACE
1.12_-_The_Divine_Work
1.12_-_THE_FESTIVAL_AT_PNIHTI
1.12_-_The_Left-Hand_Path_-_The_Black_Brothers
1.12_-_The_Office_and_Limitations_of_the_Reason
1.12_-_The_Sacred_Marriage
1.12_-_The_Sociology_of_Superman
1.12_-_The_Strength_of_Stillness
1.12_-_The_Superconscient
1.12_-_TIME_AND_ETERNITY
1.13_-_A_Dream
1.13_-_And_Then?
1.13_-_BOOK_THE_THIRTEENTH
1.13_-_Conclusion_-_He_is_here
1.13_-_Dawn_and_the_Truth
1.13_-_Gnostic_Symbols_of_the_Self
1.13_-_Knowledge,_Error,_and_Probably_Opinion
1.1.3_-_Mental_Difficulties_and_the_Need_of_Quietude
1.13_-_On_despondency.
1.13_-_Posterity_of_Dhruva
1.13_-_Reason_and_Religion
1.13_-_SALVATION,_DELIVERANCE,_ENLIGHTENMENT
1.13_-_The_Divine_Maya
1.13_-_THE_HUMAN_REBOUND_OF_EVOLUTION_AND_ITS_CONSEQUENCES
1.13_-_The_Kings_of_Rome_and_Alba
1.13_-_The_Lord_of_the_Sacrifice
1.13_-_THE_MASTER_AND_M.
1.13_-_The_Pentacle,_Lamen_or_Seal
1.13_-_The_Supermind_and_the_Yoga_of_Works
1.13_-_The_Wood_of_Thorns._The_Harpies._The_Violent_against_themselves._Suicides._Pier_della_Vigna._Lano_and_Jacopo_da_Sant'_Andrea.
1.13_-_Under_the_Auspices_of_the_Gods
1.14_-_Bibliography
1.14_-_IMMORTALITY_AND_SURVIVAL
1.14_-_INSTRUCTION_TO_VAISHNAVS_AND_BRHMOS
1.14_-_Noise
1.14_-_On_the_clamorous,_yet_wicked_master-the_stomach.
1.14_-_ON_THE_FRIEND
1.14_-_(Plot_continued.)_The_tragic_emotions_of_pity_and_fear_should_spring_out_of_the_Plot_itself.
1.14_-_The_Book_of_Magic_Formulae
1.14_-_The_Limits_of_Philosophical_Knowledge
1.1.4_-_The_Physical_Mind_and_Sadhana
1.14_-_The_Principle_of_Divine_Works
1.14_-_The_Sand_Waste_and_the_Rain_of_Fire._The_Violent_against_God._Capaneus._The_Statue_of_Time,_and_the_Four_Infernal_Rivers.
1.14_-_The_Secret
1.14_-_The_Structure_and_Dynamics_of_the_Self
1.14_-_The_Succesion_to_the_Kingdom_in_Ancient_Latium
1.14_-_The_Supermind_as_Creator
1.14_-_The_Suprarational_Beauty
1.14_-_The_Victory_Over_Death
1.14_-_TURMOIL_OR_GENESIS?
1.15_-_Conclusion
1.15_-_Index
1.15_-_In_the_Domain_of_the_Spirit_Beings
1.15_-_LAST_VISIT_TO_KESHAB
1.15_-_On_incorruptible_purity_and_chastity_to_which_the_corruptible_attain_by_toil_and_sweat.
1.15_-_Prayers
1.15_-_THE_DIRECTIONS_AND_CONDITIONS_OF_THE_FUTURE
1.15_-_The_Possibility_and_Purpose_of_Avatarhood
1.15_-_The_Supramental_Consciousness
1.15_-_The_Suprarational_Good
1.15_-_The_Transformed_Being
1.15_-_The_Value_of_Philosophy
1.15_-_The_world_overrun_with_trees;_they_are_destroyed_by_the_Pracetasas
1.15_-_The_Worship_of_the_Oak
1.1.5_-_Thought_and_Knowledge
1.15_-_Truth
1.16_-_Dianus_and_Diana
1.16_-_Guidoguerra,_Aldobrandi,_and_Rusticucci._Cataract_of_the_River_of_Blood.
1.16_-_Man,_A_Transitional_Being
1.16_-_PRAYER
1.16_-_THE_ESSENCE_OF_THE_DEMOCRATIC_IDEA
1.16_-_The_Season_of_Truth
1.16_-_The_Suprarational_Ultimate_of_Life
1.16_-_The_Triple_Status_of_Supermind
1.16_-_WITH_THE_DEVOTEES_AT_DAKSHINESWAR
1.17_-_Astral_Journey__Example,_How_to_do_it,_How_to_Verify_your_Experience
1.17_-_DOES_MANKIND_MOVE_BIOLOGICALLY_UPON_ITSELF?
1.17_-_Legend_of_Prahlada
1.17_-_On_poverty_(that_hastens_heavenwards).
1.17_-_ON_THE_WAY_OF_THE_CREATOR
1.17_-_Practical_rules_for_the_Tragic_Poet.
1.17_-_SUFFERING
1.17_-_The_Burden_of_Royalty
1.17_-_The_Divine_Birth_and_Divine_Works
1.17_-_The_Divine_Soul
1.17_-_The_Transformation
1.18_-_FAITH
1.18_-_M._AT_DAKSHINESWAR
1.18_-_Mind_and_Supermind
1.18_-_THE_HEART_OF_THE_PROBLEM
1.18_-_The_Importance_of_our_Conventional_Greetings,_etc.
1.18_-_The_Infrarational_Age_of_the_Cycle
1.18_-_The_Perils_of_the_Soul
1.19_-_Equality
1.19_-_GOD_IS_NOT_MOCKED
1.19_-_Life
1.19_-_On_Talking
1.19_-_ON_THE_PROBABLE_EXISTENCE_AHEAD_OF_US_OF_AN_ULTRA-HUMAN
1.19_-_Tabooed_Acts
1.19_-_The_Act_of_Truth
1.19_-_The_Curve_of_the_Rational_Age
1.19_-_THE_MASTER_AND_HIS_INJURED_ARM
1.200-1.224_Talks
1.201_-_Socrates
1.2.01_-_The_Call_and_the_Capacity
12.01_-_The_Return_to_Earth
12.01_-_This_Great_Earth_Our_Mother
1.2.02_-_Qualities_Needed_for_Sadhana
12.02_-_The_Stress_of_the_Spirit
1.2.03_-_The_Interpretation_of_Scripture
12.03_-_The_Sorrows_of_God
1.2.04_-_Sincerity
1.2.05_-_Aspiration
1.2.07_-_Surrender
12.07_-_The_Double_Trinity
1.2.08_-_Faith
1.2.09_-_Consecration_and_Offering
12.09_-_The_Story_of_Dr._Faustus_Retold
1.20_-_Death,_Desire_and_Incapacity
1.20_-_Diction,_or_Language_in_general.
1.20_-_Equality_and_Knowledge
1.20_-_HOW_MAY_WE_CONCEIVE_AND_HOPE_THAT_HUMAN_UNANIMIZATION_WILL_BE_REALIZED_ON_EARTH?
1.20_-_RULES_FOR_HOUSEHOLDERS_AND_MONKS
1.20_-_Tabooed_Persons
1.20_-_TANTUM_RELIGIO_POTUIT_SUADERE_MALORUM
1.20_-_The_End_of_the_Curve_of_Reason
1.20_-_The_Fourth_Bolgia__Soothsayers._Amphiaraus,_Tiresias,_Aruns,_Manto,_Eryphylus,_Michael_Scott,_Guido_Bonatti,_and_Asdente._Virgil_reproaches_Dante's_Pity.
12.10_-_The_Sunlit_Path
1.2.11_-_Patience_and_Perseverance
1.2.12_-_Vigilance
1.21_-_A_DAY_AT_DAKSHINESWAR
1.21_-_FROM_THE_PRE-HUMAN_TO_THE_ULTRA-HUMAN,_THE_PHASES_OF_A_LIVING_PLANET
1.21_-_IDOLATRY
1.2.1_-_Mental_Development_and_Sadhana
1.21_-_My_Theory_of_Astrology
1.21_-_Tabooed_Things
1.21_-_The_Ascent_of_Life
1.21_-_The_Fifth_Bolgia__Peculators._The_Elder_of_Santa_Zita._Malacoda_and_other_Devils.
1.21_-_The_Spiritual_Aim_and_Life
1.21_-_WALPURGIS-NIGHT
1.2.2.01_-_The_Poet,_the_Yogi_and_the_Rishi
1.22_-_ADVICE_TO_AN_ACTOR
1.22_-_Ciampolo,_Friar_Gomita,_and_Michael_Zanche._The_Malabranche_quarrel.
1.22__-_Dominion_over_different_provinces_of_creation_assigned_to_different_beings
1.22_-_On_the_many_forms_of_vainglory.
1.22_-_Tabooed_Words
1.22_-_THE_END_OF_THE_SPECIES
1.22_-_The_Necessity_of_the_Spiritual_Transformation
1.2.2_-_The_Place_of_Study_in_Sadhana
1.22_-_The_Problem_of_Life
1.23_-_Conditions_for_the_Coming_of_a_Spiritual_Age
1.23_-_Escape_from_the_Malabranche._The_Sixth_Bolgia__Hypocrites._Catalano_and_Loderingo._Caiaphas.
1.23_-_FESTIVAL_AT_SURENDRAS_HOUSE
1.23_-_Improvising_a_Temple
1.23_-_The_Double_Soul_in_Man
1.240_-_1.300_Talks
1.240_-_Talks_2
1.24_-_Describes_how_vocal_prayer_may_be_practised_with_perfection_and_how_closely_allied_it_is_to_mental_prayer
1.24_-_(Epic_Poetry_continued.)_Further_points_of_agreement_with_Tragedy.
1.24_-_Matter
1.24_-_Necromancy_and_Spiritism
1.24_-_The_Killing_of_the_Divine_King
1.25_-_ADVICE_TO_PUNDIT_SHASHADHAR
1.25_-_Critical_Objections_brought_against_Poetry,_and_the_principles_on_which_they_are_to_be_answered.
1.25_-_Fascinations,_Invisibility,_Levitation,_Transmutations,_Kinks_in_Time
1.25_-_SPIRITUAL_EXERCISES
1.25_-_Temporary_Kings
1.25_-_The_Knot_of_Matter
1.26_-_Continues_the_description_of_a_method_for_recollecting_the_thoughts._Describes_means_of_doing_this._This_chapter_is_very_profitable_for_those_who_are_beginning_prayer.
1.26_-_On_discernment_of_thoughts,_passions_and_virtues
1.26_-_PERSEVERANCE_AND_REGULARITY
1.26_-_Sacrifice_of_the_Kings_Son
1.26_-_The_Ascending_Series_of_Substance
1.27_-_CONTEMPLATION,_ACTION_AND_SOCIAL_UTILITY
1.27_-_On_holy_solitude_of_body_and_soul.
1.27_-_Structure_of_Mind_Based_on_that_of_Body
1.27_-_Succession_to_the_Soul
1.27_-_The_Sevenfold_Chord_of_Being
1.28_-_Describes_the_nature_of_the_Prayer_of_Recollection_and_sets_down_some_of_the_means_by_which_we_can_make_it_a_habit.
1.28_-_Need_to_Define_God,_Self,_etc.
1.28_-_On_holy_and_blessed_prayer,_mother_of_virtues,_and_on_the_attitude_of_mind_and_body_in_prayer.
1.28_-_Supermind,_Mind_and_the_Overmind_Maya
1.28_-_The_Killing_of_the_Tree-Spirit
1.29_-_Geri_del_Bello._The_Tenth_Bolgia__Alchemists._Griffolino_d'_Arezzo_and_Capocchino._The_many_people_and_the_divers_wounds
1.300_-_1.400_Talks
13.01_-_A_Centurys_Salutation_to_Sri_Aurobindo_The_Greatness_of_the_Great
1.3.01_-_Peace__The_Basis_of_the_Sadhana
13.02_-_A_Review_of_Sri_Aurobindos_Life
1.3.03_-_Quiet_and_Calm
13.05_-_A_Dream_Of_Surreal_Science
13.08_-_The_Return
1.30_-_Adonis_in_Syria
1.30_-_Describes_the_importance_of_understanding_what_we_ask_for_in_prayer._Treats_of_these_words_in_the_Paternoster:_Sanctificetur_nomen_tuum,_adveniat_regnum_tuum._Applies_them_to_the_Prayer_of_Quiet,_and_begins_the_explanation_of_them.
1.30_-_Do_you_Believe_in_God?
1.30_-_Other_Falsifiers_or_Forgers._Gianni_Schicchi,_Myrrha,_Adam_of_Brescia,_Potiphar's_Wife,_and_Sinon_of_Troy.
1.3.1.02_-_The_Object_of_Our_Yoga
1.31_-_Adonis_in_Cyprus
1.31_-_Continues_the_same_subject._Explains_what_is_meant_by_the_Prayer_of_Quiet._Gives_several_counsels_to_those_who_experience_it._This_chapter_is_very_noteworthy.
1.3.2.01_-_I._The_Entire_Purpose_of_Yoga
1.32_-_Expounds_these_words_of_the_Paternoster__Fiat_voluntas_tua_sicut_in_coelo_et_in_terra._Describes_how_much_is_accomplished_by_those_who_repeat_these_words_with_full_resolution_and_how_well
1.32_-_The_Ritual_of_Adonis
1.33_-_Count_Ugolino_and_the_Archbishop_Ruggieri._The_Death_of_Count_Ugolino's_Sons.
1.33_-_The_Golden_Mean
1.3.4.01_-_The_Beginning_and_the_End
1.34_-_The_Myth_and_Ritual_of_Attis
1.3.5.04_-_The_Evolution_of_Consciousness
1.3.5.05_-_The_Path
1.35_-_Attis_as_a_God_of_Vegetation
1.35_-_The_Tao_2
1.36_-_Quo_Stet_Olympus_-_Where_the_Gods,_Angels,_etc._Live
1.36_-_Treats_of_these_words_in_the_Paternoster__Dimitte_nobis_debita_nostra.
1.37_-_Oriential_Religions_in_the_West
1.38_-_Treats_of_the_great_need_which_we_have_to_beseech_the_Eternal_Father_to_grant_us_what_we_ask_in_these_words:_Et_ne_nos_inducas_in_tentationem,_sed_libera_nos_a_malo._Explains_certain_temptations._This_chapter_is_noteworthy.
1.38_-_Woman_-_Her_Magical_Formula
1.39_-_Continues_the_same_subject_and_gives_counsels_concerning_different_kinds_of_temptation._Suggests_two_remedies_by_which_we_may_be_freed_from_temptations.135
1.39_-_Prophecy
1.400_-_1.450_Talks
1.4.01_-_The_Divine_Grace_and_Guidance
14.01_-_To_Read_Sri_Aurobindo
1.4.02_-_The_Divine_Force
14.03_-_Janaka_and_Yajnavalkya
1.4.03_-_The_Guru
14.04_-_More_of_Yajnavalkya
14.05_-_The_Golden_Rule
14.06_-_Liberty,_Self-Control_and_Friendship
14.08_-_A_Parable_of_Sea-Gulls
1.40_-_Coincidence
1.42_-_This_Self_Introversion
1.42_-_Treats_of_these_last_words_of_the_Paternoster__Sed_libera_nos_a_malo._Amen._But_deliver_us_from_evil._Amen.
1.439
1.43_-_Dionysus
1.44_-_Demeter_and_Persephone
1.44_-_Serious_Style_of_A.C.,_or_the_Apparent_Frivolity_of_Some_of_my_Remarks
1.450_-_1.500_Talks
1.45_-_The_Corn-Mother_and_the_Corn-Maiden_in_Northern_Europe
1.45_-_Unserious_Conduct_of_a_Pupil
1.46_-_The_Corn-Mother_in_Many_Lands
1.47_-_Lityerses
1.48_-_Morals_of_AL_-_Hard_to_Accept,_and_Why_nevertheless_we_Must_Concur
1.48_-_The_Corn-Spirit_as_an_Animal
1.49_-_Ancient_Deities_of_Vegetation_as_Animals
1.49_-_Thelemic_Morality
15.04_-_The_Mother_Abides
1.50_-_A.C._and_the_Masters;_Why_they_Chose_him,_etc.
1.50_-_Eating_the_God
1.51_-_Homeopathic_Magic_of_a_Flesh_Diet
1.51_-_How_to_Recognise_Masters,_Angels,_etc.,_and_how_they_Work
1.52_-_Family_-_Public_Enemy_No._1
1.52_-_Killing_the_Divine_Animal
1.53_-_Mother-Love
1.53_-_The_Propitation_of_Wild_Animals_By_Hunters
1.54_-_Types_of_Animal_Sacrament
1.550_-_1.600_Talks
1.55_-_Money
1.55_-_The_Transference_of_Evil
1.56_-_The_Public_Expulsion_of_Evils
1.57_-_Beings_I_have_Seen_with_my_Physical_Eye
1.57_-_Public_Scapegoats
1.58_-_Human_Scapegoats_in_Classical_Antiquity
1.59_-_Killing_the_God_in_Mexico
16.02_-_Mater_Dolorosa
16.03_-_Mater_Gloriosa
1.60_-_Between_Heaven_and_Earth
1.60_-_Knack
1.61_-_Power_and_Authority
1.62_-_The_Fire-Festivals_of_Europe
1.63_-_Fear,_a_Bad_Astral_Vision
1.63_-_The_Interpretation_of_the_Fire-Festivals
1.64_-_Magical_Power
1.64_-_The_Burning_of_Human_Beings_in_the_Fires
1.66_-_The_External_Soul_in_Folk-Tales
1.67_-_Faith
1.67_-_The_External_Soul_in_Folk-Custom
1.68_-_The_Golden_Bough
1.69_-_Farewell_to_Nemi
1.71_-_Morality_2
1.74_-_Obstacles_on_the_Path
1.75_-_The_AA_and_the_Planet
1.78_-_Sore_Spots
1.79_-_Progress
18.05_-_Ashram_Poets
1.82_-_Epistola_Penultima_-_The_Two_Ways_to_Reality
19.09_-_On_Evil
1912_11_28p
1913_06_18p
19.13_-_Of_the_World
1914_01_10p
1914_01_19p
1914_02_14p
1914_02_19p
1914_03_21p
1914_04_03p
1914_04_18p
1914_05_26p
1914_06_16p
1914_06_26p
1914_06_27p
1914_07_10p
1914_07_19p
1914_07_31p
1914_08_02p
1914_08_06p
1914_08_08p
1914_08_13p
1914_08_16p
1914_09_05p
1914_10_11p
1914_11_16p
1914_12_04p
1915_01_02p
1915_03_04p
1915_05_24p
1915_11_07p
1916_12_04p
1916_12_07p
1916_12_08p
1916_12_12p
1916_12_20p
1916_12_21p
1916_12_26p
1917_03_30p
1917_04_01p
1929-04-14_-_Dangers_of_Yoga_-_Two_paths,_tapasya_and_surrender_-_Impulses,_desires_and_Yoga_-_Difficulties_-_Unification_around_the_psychic_being_-_Ambition,_undoing_of_many_Yogis_-_Powers,_misuse_and_right_use_of_-_How_to_recognise_the_Divine_Will_-_Accept_things_that_come_from_Divine_-_Vital_devotion_-_Need_of_strong_body_and_nerves_-_Inner_being,_invariable
1929-04-28_-_Offering,_general_and_detailed_-_Integral_Yoga_-_Remembrance_of_the_Divine_-_Reading_and_Yoga_-_Necessity,_predetermination_-_Freedom_-_Miracles_-_Aim_of_creation
1929-05-05_-_Intellect,_true_and_wrong_movement_-_Attacks_from_adverse_forces_-_Faith,_integral_and_absolute_-_Death,_not_a_necessity_-_Descent_of_Divine_Consciousness_-_Inner_progress_-_Memory_of_former_lives
1929-05-12_-_Beings_of_vital_world_(vampires)_-_Money_power_and_vital_beings_-_Capacity_for_manifestation_of_will_-_Entry_into_vital_world_-_Body,_a_protection_-_Individuality_and_the_vital_world
1929-05-19_-_Mind_and_its_workings,_thought-forms_-_Adverse_conditions_and_Yoga_-_Mental_constructions_-_Illness_and_Yoga
1929-05-26_-_Individual,_illusion_of_separateness_-_Hostile_forces_and_the_mental_plane_-_Psychic_world,_psychic_being_-_Spiritual_and_psychic_-_Words,_understanding_speech_and_reading_-_Hostile_forces,_their_utility_-_Illusion_of_action,_true_action
1929-06-02_-__Divine_love_and_its_manifestation_-_Part_of_the_vital_being_in_Divine_love
1929-06-09_-_Nature_of_religion_-_Religion_and_the_spiritual_life_-_Descent_of_Divine_Truth_and_Force_-_To_be_sure_of_your_religion,_country,_family-choose_your_own_-_Religion_and_numbers
1929-06-16_-_Illness_and_Yoga_-_Subtle_body_(nervous_envelope)_-_Fear_and_illness
1929-06-23_-_Knowledge_of_the_Yogi_-_Knowledge_and_the_Supermind_-_Methods_of_changing_the_condition_of_the_body_-_Meditation,_aspiration,_sincerity
1929-07-28_-_Art_and_Yoga_-_Art_and_life_-_Music,_dance_-_World_of_Harmony
1929-08-04_-_Surrender_and_sacrifice_-_Personality_and_surrender_-_Desire_and_passion_-_Spirituality_and_morality
1950-12-25_-_Christmas_-_festival_of_Light_-_Energy_and_mental_growth_-_Meditation_and_concentration_-_The_Mother_of_Dreams_-_Playing_a_game_well,_and_energy
1951-01-04_-_Transformation_and_reversal_of_consciousness.
1951-01-08_-_True_vision_and_understanding_of_the_world._Progress,_equilibrium._Inner_reality_-_the_psychic._Animals_and_the_psychic.
1951-01-11_-_Modesty_and_vanity_-_Generosity
1951-01-13_-_Aim_of_life_-_effort_and_joy._Science_of_living,_becoming_conscious._Forces_and_influences.
1951-01-15_-_Sincerity_-_inner_discernment_-_inner_light._Evil_and_imbalance._Consciousness_and_instruments.
1951-01-20_-_Developing_the_mind._Misfortunes,_suffering;_developed_reason._Knowledge_and_pure_ideas.
1951-01-25_-_Needs_and_desires._Collaboration_of_the_vital,_mind_an_accomplice._Progress_and_sincerity_-_recognising_faults._Organising_the_body_-_illness_-_new_harmony_-_physical_beauty.
1951-01-27_-_Sleep_-_desires_-_repression_-_the_subconscient._Dreams_-_the_super-conscient_-_solving_problems._Ladder_of_being_-_samadhi._Phases_of_sleep_-_silence,_true_rest._Vital_body_and_illness.
1951-02-03_-_What_is_Yoga?_for_what?_-_Aspiration,_seeking_the_Divine._-_Process_of_yoga,_renouncing_the_ego.
1951-02-05_-_Surrender_and_tapasya_-_Dealing_with_difficulties,_sincerity,_spiritual_discipline_-_Narrating_experiences_-_Vital_impulse_and_will_for_progress
1951-02-08_-_Unifying_the_being_-_ideas_of_good_and_bad_-_Miracles_-_determinism_-_Supreme_Will_-_Distinguishing_the_voice_of_the_Divine
1951-02-10_-_Liberty_and_license_-_surrender_makes_you_free_-_Men_in_authority_as_representatives_of_the_divine_Truth_-_Work_as_offering_-_total_surrender_needs_time_-_Effort_and_inspiration_-_will_and_patience
1951-02-12_-_Divine_force_-_Signs_indicating_readiness_-_Weakness_in_mind,_vital_-_concentration_-_Divine_perception,_human_notion_of_good,_bad_-_Conversion,_consecration_-_progress_-_Signs_of_entering_the_path_-_kinds_of_meditation_-_aspiration
1951-02-15_-_Dreams,_symbolic_-_true_repose_-_False_visions_-_Earth-memory_and_history
1951-02-17_-_False_visions_-_Offering_ones_will_-_Equilibrium_-_progress_-_maturity_-_Ardent_self-giving-_perfecting_the_instrument_-_Difficulties,_a_help_in_total_realisation_-_paradoxes_-_Sincerity_-_spontaneous_meditation
1951-02-19_-_Exteriorisation-_clairvoyance,_fainting,_etc_-_Somnambulism_-_Tartini_-_childrens_dreams_-_Nightmares_-_gurus_protection_-_Mind_and_vital_roam_during_sleep
1951-02-24_-_Psychic_being_and_entity_-_dimensions_-_in_the_atom_-_Death_-_exteriorisation_-_unconsciousness_-_Past_lives_-_progress_upon_earth_-_choice_of_birth_-_Consecration_to_divine_Work_-_psychic_memories_-_Individualisation_-_progress
1951-03-05_-_Disasters-_the_forces_of_Nature_-_Story_of_the_charity_Bazar_-_Liberation_and_law_-_Dealing_with_the_mind_and_vital-_methods
1951-03-08_-_Silencing_the_mind_-_changing_the_nature_-_Reincarnation-_choice_-_Psychic,_higher_beings_gods_incarnating_-_Incarnation_of_vital_beings_-_the_Lord_of_Falsehood_-_Hitler_-_Possession_and_madness
1951-03-10_-_Fairy_Tales-_serpent_guarding_treasure_-_Vital_beings-_their_incarnations_-_The_vital_being_after_death_-_Nightmares-_vital_and_mental_-_Mind_and_vital_after_death_-_The_spirit_of_the_form-_Egyptian_mummies
1951-03-12_-_Mental_forms_-_learning_difficult_subjects_-_Mental_fortress_-_thought_-_Training_the_mind_-_Helping_the_vital_being_after_death_-_ceremonies_-_Human_stupidities
1951-03-14_-_Plasticity_-_Conditions_for_knowing_the_Divine_Will_-_Illness_-_microbes_-_Fear_-_body-reflexes_-_The_best_possible_happens_-_Theories_of_Creation_-_True_knowledge_-_a_work_to_do_-_the_Ashram
1951-03-17_-_The_universe-_eternally_new,_same_-_Pralaya_Traditions_-_Light_and_thought_-_new_consciousness,_forces_-_The_expanding_universe_-_inexpressible_experiences_-_Ashram_surcharged_with_Light_-_new_force_-_vibrating_atmospheres
1951-03-19_-_Mental_worlds_and_their_beings_-_Understanding_in_silence_-_Psychic_world-_its_characteristics_-_True_experiences_and_mental_formations_-_twelve_senses
1951-03-22_-_Relativity-_time_-_Consciousness_-_psychic_Witness_-_The_twelve_senses_-_water-divining_-_Instinct_in_animals_-_story_of_Mothers_cat
1951-03-24_-_Descent_of_Divine_Love,_of_Consciousness_-_Earth-_a_symbolic_formation_-_the_Divine_Presence_-_The_psychic_being_and_other_worlds_-_Divine_Love_and_Grace_-_Becoming_consaious_of_Divine_Love_-_Finding_ones_psychic_being_-_Responsibility
1951-03-26_-_Losing_all_to_gain_all_-_psychic_being_-_Transforming_the_vital_-_physical_habits_-_the_subconscient_-_Overcoming_difficulties_-_weakness,_an_insincerity_-_to_change_the_world_-_Psychic_source,_flash_of_experience_-_preparation_for_yoga
1951-03-29_-_The_Great_Vehicle_and_The_Little_Vehicle_-_Choosing_ones_family,_country_-_The_vital_being_distorted_-_atavism_-_Sincerity_-_changing_ones_character
1951-04-02_-_Causes_of_accidents_-_Little_entities,_helpful_or_mischievous-_incidents
1951-04-05_-_Illusion_and_interest_in_action_-_The_action_of_the_divine_Grace_and_the_ego_-_Concentration,_aspiration,_will,_inner_silence_-_Value_of_a_story_or_a_language_-_Truth_-_diversity_in_the_world
1951-04-07_-_Origin_of_Evil_-_Misery-_its_cause
1951-04-09_-_Modern_Art_-_Trend_of_art_in_Europe_in_the_twentieth_century_-_Effect_of_the_Wars_-_descent_of_vital_worlds_-_Formation_of_character_-_If_there_is_another_war
1951-04-12_-_Japan,_its_art,_landscapes,_life,_etc_-_Fairy-lore_of_Japan_-_Culture-_its_spiral_movement_-_Indian_and_European-_the_spiritual_life_-_Art_and_Truth
1951-04-14_-_Surrender_and_sacrifice_-_Idea_of_sacrifice_-_Bahaism_-_martyrdom_-_Sleep-_forgetfulness,_exteriorisation,_etc_-_Dreams_and_visions-_explanations_-_Exteriorisation-_incidents_about_cats
1951-04-17_-_Unity,_diversity_-_Protective_envelope_-_desires_-_consciousness,_true_defence_-_Perfection_of_physical_-_cinema_-_Choice,_constant_and_conscious_-_law_of_ones_being_-_the_One,_the_Multiplicity_-_Civilization-_preparing_an_instrument
1951-04-21_-_Sri_Aurobindos_letter_on_conditions_for_doing_yoga_-_Aspiration,_tapasya,_surrender_-_The_lower_vital_-_old_habits_-_obsession_-_Sri_Aurobindo_on_choice_and_the_double_life_-_The_old_fiasco_-_inner_realisation_and_outer_change
1951-04-23_-_The_goal_and_the_way_-_Learning_how_to_sleep_-_relaxation_-_Adverse_forces-_test_of_sincerity_-_Attitude_to_suffering_and_death
1951-04-26_-_Irrevocable_transformation_-_The_divine_Shakti_-_glad_submission_-_Rejection,_integral_-_Consecration_-_total_self-forgetfulness_-_work
1951-05-03_-_Money_and_its_use_for_the_divine_work_-_problems_-_Mastery_over_desire-_individual_and_collective_change
1951-05-05_-_Needs_and_desires_-_Discernment_-_sincerity_and_true_perception_-_Mantra_and_its_effects_-_Object_in_action-_to_serve_-_relying_only_on_the_Divine
1951-05-11_-_Mahakali_and_Kali_-_Avatar_and_Vibhuti_-_Sachchidananda_behind_all_states_of_being_-_The_power_of_will_-_receiving_the_Divine_Will
1951-05-14_-_Chance_-_the_play_of_forces_-_Peace,_given_and_lost_-_Abolishing_the_ego
1953-03-25
1953-04-08
1953-04-15
1953-04-29
1953-05-06
1953-05-13
1953-05-20
1953-05-27
1953-06-03
1953-06-10
1953-06-17
1953-06-24
1953-07-01
1953-07-08
1953-07-15
1953-07-22
1953-07-29
1953-08-05
1953-08-12
1953-08-19
1953-08-26
1953-09-02
1953-09-09
1953-09-16
1953-09-30
1953-10-07
1953-10-14
1953-10-21
1953-10-28
1953-11-04
1953-11-18
1953-11-25
1953-12-09
1953-12-16
1953-12-23
1953-12-30
1954-02-03_-_The_senses_and_super-sense_-_Children_can_be_moulded_-_Keeping_things_in_order_-_The_shadow
1954-02-10_-_Study_a_variety_of_subjects_-_Memory_-Memory_of_past_lives_-_Getting_rid_of_unpleasant_thoughts
1954-02-17_-_Experience_expressed_in_different_ways_-_Origin_of_the_psychic_being_-_Progress_in_sports_-Everything_is_not_for_the_best
1954-03-03_-_Occultism_-_A_French_scientists_experiment
1954-03-24_-_Dreams_and_the_condition_of_the_stomach_-_Tobacco_and_alcohol_-_Nervousness_-_The_centres_and_the_Kundalini_-_Control_of_the_senses
1954-04-07_-_Communication_without_words_-_Uneven_progress_-_Words_and_the_Word
1954-04-14_-_Love_-_Can_a_person_love_another_truly?_-_Parental_love
1954-05-05_-_Faith,_trust,_confidence_-_Insincerity_and_unconsciousness
1954-05-12_-_The_Purusha_-_Surrender_-_Distinguishing_between_influences_-_Perfect_sincerity
1954-05-19_-_Affection_and_love_-_Psychic_vision_Divine_-_Love_and_receptivity_-_Get_out_of_the_ego
1954-06-23_-_Meat-eating_-_Story_of_Mothers_vegetable_garden_-_Faithfulness_-_Conscious_sleep
1954-06-30_-_Occultism_-_Religion_and_vital_beings_-_Mothers_knowledge_of_what_happens_in_the_Ashram_-_Asking_questions_to_Mother_-_Drawing_on_Mother
1954-07-07_-_The_inner_warrior_-_Grace_and_the_Falsehood_-_Opening_from_below_-_Surrender_and_inertia_-_Exclusive_receptivity_-_Grace_and_receptivity
1954-07-14_-_The_Divine_and_the_Shakti_-_Personal_effort_-_Speaking_and_thinking_-_Doubt_-_Self-giving,_consecration_and_surrender_-_Mothers_use_of_flowers_-_Ornaments_and_protection
1954-07-21_-_Mistakes_-_Success_-_Asuras_-_Mental_arrogance_-_Difficulty_turned_into_opportunity_-_Mothers_use_of_flowers_-_Conversion_of_men_governed_by_adverse_forces
1954-07-28_-_Money_-_Ego_and_individuality_-_The_shadow
1954-08-04_-_Servant_and_worker_-_Justification_of_weakness_-_Play_of_the_Divine_-_Why_are_you_here_in_the_Ashram?
1954-08-11_-_Division_and_creation_-_The_gods_and_human_formations_-_People_carry_their_desires_around_them
1954-08-18_-_Mahalakshmi_-_Maheshwari_-_Mahasaraswati_-_Determinism_and_freedom_-_Suffering_and_knowledge_-_Aspects_of_the_Mother
1954-08-25_-_Ananda_aspect_of_the_Mother_-_Changing_conditions_in_the_Ashram_-_Ascetic_discipline_-_Mothers_body
1954-09-08_-_Hostile_forces_-_Substance_-_Concentration_-_Changing_the_centre_of_thought_-_Peace
1954-09-15_-_Parts_of_the_being_-_Thoughts_and_impulses_-_The_subconscient_-_Precise_vocabulary_-_The_Grace_and_difficulties
1954-09-22_-_The_supramental_creation_-_Rajasic_eagerness_-_Silence_from_above_-_Aspiration_and_rejection_-_Effort,_individuality_and_ego_-_Aspiration_and_desire
1954-10-06_-_What_happens_is_for_the_best_-_Blaming_oneself_-Experiences_-_The_vital_desire-soul_-Creating_a_spiritual_atmosphere_-Thought_and_Truth
1954-10-20_-_Stand_back_-_Asking_questions_to_Mother_-_Seeing_images_in_meditation_-_Berlioz_-Music_-_Mothers_organ_music_-_Destiny
1954-11-10_-_Inner_experience,_the_basis_of_action_-_Keeping_open_to_the_Force_-_Faith_through_aspiration_-_The_Mothers_symbol_-_The_mind_and_vital_seize_experience_-_Degrees_of_sincerity_-Becoming_conscious_of_the_Divine_Force
1954-11-24_-_Aspiration_mixed_with_desire_-_Willing_and_desiring_-_Children_and_desires_-_Supermind_and_the_higher_ranges_of_mind_-_Stages_in_the_supramental_manifestation
1954-12-15_-_Many_witnesses_inside_oneself_-_Children_in_the_Ashram_-_Trance_and_the_waking_consciousness_-_Ascetic_methods_-_Education,_spontaneous_effort_-_Spiritual_experience
1954-12-22_-_Possession_by_hostile_forces_-_Purity_and_morality_-_Faith_in_the_final_success_-Drawing_back_from_the_path
1954-12-29_-_Difficulties_and_the_world_-_The_experience_the_psychic_being_wants_-_After_death_-Ignorance
1955-02-09_-_Desire_is_contagious_-_Primitive_form_of_love_-_the_artists_delight_-_Psychic_need,_mind_as_an_instrument_-_How_the_psychic_being_expresses_itself_-_Distinguishing_the_parts_of_ones_being_-_The_psychic_guides_-_Illness_-_Mothers_vision
1955-02-16_-_Losing_something_given_by_Mother_-_Using_things_well_-_Sadhak_collecting_soap-pieces_-_What_things_are_truly_indispensable_-_Natures_harmonious_arrangement_-_Riches_a_curse,_philanthropy_-_Misuse_of_things_creates_misery
1955-02-23_-_On_the_sense_of_taste,_educating_the_senses_-_Fasting_produces_a_state_of_receptivity,_drawing_energy_-_The_body_and_food
1955-03-02_-_Right_spirit,_aspiration_and_desire_-_Sleep_and_yogic_repose,_how_to_sleep_-_Remembering_dreams_-_Concentration_and_outer_activity_-_Mother_opens_the_door_inside_everyone_-_Sleep,_a_school_for_inner_knowledge_-_Source_of_energy
1955-03-09_-_Psychic_directly_contacted_through_the_physical_-_Transforming_egoistic_movements_-_Work_of_the_psychic_being_-_Contacting_the_psychic_and_the_Divine_-_Experiences_of_different_kinds_-_Attacks_of_adverse_forces
1955-03-30_-_Yoga-shakti_-_Energies_of_the_earth,_higher_and_lower_-_Illness,_curing_by_yogic_means_-_The_true_self_and_the_psychic_-_Solving_difficulties_by_different_methods
1955-04-27_-_Symbolic_dreams_and_visions_-_Curing_pain_by_various_methods_-_Different_states_of_consciousness_-_Seeing_oneself_dead_in_a_dream_-_Exteriorisation
1955-05-04_-_Drawing_on_the_universal_vital_forces_-_The_inner_physical_-_Receptivity_to_different_kinds_of_forces_-_Progress_and_receptivity
1955-05-18_-_The_Problem_of_Woman_-_Men_and_women_-_The_Supreme_Mother,_the_new_creation_-_Gods_and_goddesses_-_A_story_of_Creation,_earth_-_Psychic_being_only_on_earth,_beings_everywhere_-_Going_to_other_worlds_by_occult_means
1955-05-25_-_Religion_and_reason_-_true_role_and_field_-_an_obstacle_to_or_minister_of_the_Spirit_-_developing_and_meaning_-_Learning_how_to_live,_the_elite_-_Reason_controls_and_organises_life_-_Nature_is_infrarational
1955-06-01_-_The_aesthetic_conscience_-_Beauty_and_form_-_The_roots_of_our_life_-_The_sense_of_beauty_-_Educating_the_aesthetic_sense,_taste_-_Mental_constructions_based_on_a_revelation_-_Changing_the_world_and_humanity
1955-06-08_-_Working_for_the_Divine_-_ideal_attitude_-_Divine_manifesting_-_reversal_of_consciousness,_knowing_oneself_-_Integral_progress,_outer,_inner,_facing_difficulties_-_People_in_Ashram_-_doing_Yoga_-_Children_given_freedom,_choosing_yoga
1955-06-22_-_Awakening_the_Yoga-shakti_-_The_thousand-petalled_lotus-_Reading,_how_far_a_help_for_yoga_-_Simple_and_complicated_combinations_in_men
1955-07-06_-_The_psychic_and_the_central_being_or_jivatman_-_Unity_and_multiplicity_in_the_Divine_-_Having_experiences_and_the_ego_-_Mental,_vital_and_physical_exteriorisation_-_Imagination_has_a_formative_power_-_The_function_of_the_imagination
1955-07-20_-_The_Impersonal_Divine_-_Surrender_to_the_Divine_brings_perfect_freedom_-_The_Divine_gives_Himself_-_The_principle_of_the_inner_dimensions_-_The_paths_of_aspiration_and_surrender_-_Linear_and_spherical_paths_and_realisations
1955-08-03_-_Nothing_is_impossible_in_principle_-_Psychic_contact_and_psychic_influence_-_Occult_powers,_adverse_influences;_magic_-_Magic,_occultism_and_Yogic_powers_-Hypnotism_and_its_effects
1955-08-17_-_Vertical_ascent_and_horizontal_opening_-_Liberation_of_the_psychic_being_-_Images_for_discovery_of_the_psychic_being_-_Sadhana_to_contact_the_psychic_being
1955-09-21_-_Literature_and_the_taste_for_forms_-_The_characters_of_The_Great_Secret_-_How_literature_helps_us_to_progress_-_Reading_to_learn_-_The_commercial_mentality_-_How_to_choose_ones_books_-_Learning_to_enrich_ones_possibilities_...
1955-10-12_-_The_problem_of_transformation_-_Evolution,_man_and_superman_-_Awakening_need_of_a_higher_good_-_Sri_Aurobindo_and_earths_history_-_Setting_foot_on_the_new_path_-_The_true_reality_of_the_universe_-_the_new_race_-_...
1955-10-19_-_The_rhythms_of_time_-_The_lotus_of_knowledge_and_perfection_-_Potential_knowledge_-_The_teguments_of_the_soul_-_Shastra_and_the_Gurus_direct_teaching_-_He_who_chooses_the_Infinite...
1955-10-26_-_The_Divine_and_the_universal_Teacher_-_The_power_of_the_Word_-_The_Creative_Word,_the_mantra_-_Sound,_music_in_other_worlds_-_The_domains_of_pure_form,_colour_and_ideas
1955-11-02_-_The_first_movement_in_Yoga_-_Interiorisation,_finding_ones_soul_-_The_Vedic_Age_-_An_incident_about_Vivekananda_-_The_imaged_language_of_the_Vedas_-_The_Vedic_Rishis,_involutionary_beings_-_Involution_and_evolution
1955-11-23_-_One_reality,_multiple_manifestations_-_Integral_Yoga,_approach_by_all_paths_-_The_supreme_man_and_the_divine_man_-_Miracles_and_the_logic_of_events
1955-12-07_-_Emotional_impulse_of_self-giving_-_A_young_dancer_in_France_-_The_heart_has_wings,_not_the_head_-_Only_joy_can_conquer_the_Adversary
1955-12-14_-_Rejection_of_life_as_illusion_in_the_old_Yogas_-_Fighting_the_adverse_forces_-_Universal_and_individual_being_-_Three_stages_in_Integral_Yoga_-_How_to_feel_the_Divine_Presence_constantly
1955-12-28_-_Aspiration_in_different_parts_of_the_being_-_Enthusiasm_and_gratitude_-_Aspiration_is_in_all_beings_-_Unlimited_power_of_good,_evil_has_a_limit_-_Progress_in_the_parts_of_the_being_-_Significance_of_a_dream
1956-01-04_-_Integral_idea_of_the_Divine_-_All_things_attracted_by_the_Divine_-_Bad_things_not_in_place_-_Integral_yoga_-_Moving_idea-force,_ideas_-_Consequences_of_manifestation_-_Work_of_Spirit_via_Nature_-_Change_consciousness,_change_world
1956-01-11_-_Desire_and_self-deception_-_Giving_all_one_is_and_has_-_Sincerity,_more_powerful_than_will_-_Joy_of_progress_Definition_of_youth
1956-01-18_-_Two_sides_of_individual_work_-_Cheerfulness_-_chosen_vessel_of_the_Divine_-_Aspiration,_consciousness,_of_plants,_of_children_-_Being_chosen_by_the_Divine_-_True_hierarchy_-_Perfect_relation_with_the_Divine_-_India_free_in_1915
1956-01-25_-_The_divine_way_of_life_-_Divine,_Overmind,_Supermind_-_Material_body__for_discovery_of_the_Divine_-_Five_psychological_perfections
1956-02-01_-_Path_of_knowledge_-_Finding_the_Divine_in_life_-_Capacity_for_contact_with_the_Divine_-_Partial_and_total_identification_with_the_Divine_-_Manifestation_and_hierarchy
1956-02-08_-_Forces_of_Nature_expressing_a_higher_Will_-_Illusion_of_separate_personality_-_One_dynamic_force_which_moves_all_things_-_Linear_and_spherical_thinking_-_Common_ideal_of_life,_microscopic
1956-02-15_-_Nature_and_the_Master_of_Nature_-_Conscious_intelligence_-_Theory_of_the_Gita,_not_the_whole_truth_-_Surrender_to_the_Lord_-_Change_of_nature
1956-03-07_-_Sacrifice,_Animals,_hostile_forces,_receive_in_proportion_to_consciousness_-_To_be_luminously_open_-_Integral_transformation_-_Pain_of_rejection,_delight_of_progress_-_Spirit_behind_intention_-_Spirit,_matter,_over-simplified
1956-04-25_-_God,_human_conception_and_the_true_Divine_-_Earthly_existence,_to_realise_the_Divine_-_Ananda,_divine_pleasure_-_Relations_with_the_divine_Presence_-_Asking_the_Divine_for_what_one_needs_-_Allowing_the_Divine_to_lead_one
1956-05-09_-_Beginning_of_the_true_spiritual_life_-_Spirit_gives_value_to_all_things_-_To_be_helped_by_the_supramental_Force
1956-05-16_-_Needs_of_the_body,_not_true_in_themselves_-_Spiritual_and_supramental_law_-_Aestheticised_Paganism_-_Morality,_checks_true_spiritual_effort_-_Effect_of_supramental_descent_-_Half-lights_and_false_lights
1956-05-23_-_Yoga_and_religion_-_Story_of_two_clergymen_on_a_boat_-_The_Buddha_and_the_Supramental_-_Hieroglyphs_and_phonetic_alphabets_-_A_vision_of_ancient_Egypt_-_Memory_for_sounds
1956-06-06_-_Sign_or_indication_from_books_of_revelation_-_Spiritualised_mind_-_Stages_of_sadhana_-_Reversal_of_consciousness_-_Organisation_around_central_Presence_-_Boredom,_most_common_human_malady
1956-06-13_-_Effects_of_the_Supramental_action_-_Education_and_the_Supermind_-_Right_to_remain_ignorant_-_Concentration_of_mind_-_Reason,_not_supreme_capacity_-_Physical_education_and_studies_-_inner_discipline_-_True_usefulness_of_teachers
1956-06-20_-_Hearts_mystic_light,_intuition_-_Psychic_being,_contact_-_Secular_ethics_-_True_role_of_mind_-_Realise_the_Divine_by_love_-_Depression,_pleasure,_joy_-_Heart_mixture_-_To_follow_the_soul_-_Physical_process_-_remember_the_Mother
1956-06-27_-_Birth,_entry_of_soul_into_body_-_Formation_of_the_supramental_world_-_Aspiration_for_progress_-_Bad_thoughts_-_Cerebral_filter_-_Progress_and_resistance
1956-07-04_-_Aspiration_when_one_sees_a_shooting_star_-_Preparing_the_bodyn_making_it_understand_-_Getting_rid_of_pain_and_suffering_-_Psychic_light
1956-07-11_-_Beauty_restored_to_its_priesthood_-_Occult_worlds,_occult_beings_-_Difficulties_and_the_supramental_force
1956-07-18_-_Unlived_dreams_-_Radha-consciousness_-_Separation_and_identification_-_Ananda_of_identity_and_Ananda_of_union_-_Sincerity,_meditation_and_prayer_-_Enemies_of_the_Divine_-_The_universe_is_progressive
1956-07-25_-_A_complete_act_of_divine_love_-_How_to_listen_-_Sports_programme_same_for_boys_and_girls_-_How_to_profit_by_stay_at_Ashram_-_To_Women_about_Their_Body
1956-08-01_-_Value_of_worship_-_Spiritual_realisation_and_the_integral_yoga_-_Symbols,_translation_of_experience_into_form_-_Sincerity,_fundamental_virtue_-_Intensity_of_aspiration,_with_anguish_or_joy_-_The_divine_Grace
1956-08-15_-_Protection,_purification,_fear_-_Atmosphere_at_the_Ashram_on_Darshan_days_-_Darshan_messages_-_Significance_of_15-08_-_State_of_surrender_-_Divine_Grace_always_all-powerful_-_Assumption_of_Virgin_Mary_-_SA_message_of_1947-08-15
1956-09-19_-_Power,_predominant_quality_of_vital_being_-_The_Divine,_the_psychic_being,_the_Supermind_-_How_to_come_out_of_the_physical_consciousness_-_Look_life_in_the_face_-_Ordinary_love_and_Divine_love
1956-10-17_-_Delight,_the_highest_state_-_Delight_and_detachment_-_To_be_calm_-_Quietude,_mental_and_vital_-_Calm_and_strength_-_Experience_and_expression_of_experience
1956-10-24_-_Taking_a_new_body_-_Different_cases_of_incarnation_-_Departure_of_soul_from_body
1956-10-31_-_Manifestation_of_divine_love_-_Deformation_of_Love_by_human_consciousness_-_Experience_and_expression_of_experience
1956-11-14_-_Conquering_the_desire_to_appear_good_-_Self-control_and_control_of_the_life_around_-_Power_of_mastery_-_Be_a_great_yogi_to_be_a_good_teacher_-_Organisation_of_the_Ashram_school_-_Elementary_discipline_of_regularity
1956-11-21_-_Knowings_and_Knowledge_-_Reason,_summit_of_mans_mental_activities_-_Willings_and_the_true_will_-_Personal_effort_-_First_step_to_have_knowledge_-_Relativity_of_medical_knowledge_-_Mental_gymnastics_make_the_mind_supple
1956-11-28_-_Desire,_ego,_animal_nature_-_Consciousness,_a_progressive_state_-_Ananda,_desireless_state_beyond_enjoyings_-_Personal_effort_that_is_mental_-_Reason,_when_to_disregard_it_-_Reason_and_reasons
1956-12-05_-_Even_and_objectless_ecstasy_-_Transform_the_animal_-_Individual_personality_and_world-personality_-_Characteristic_features_of_a_world-personality_-_Expressing_a_universal_state_of_consciousness_-_Food_and_sleep_-_Ordered_intuition
1956-12-12_-_paradoxes_-_Nothing_impossible_-_unfolding_universe,_the_Eternal_-_Attention,_concentration,_effort_-_growth_capacity_almost_unlimited_-_Why_things_are_not_the_same_-_will_and_willings_-_Suggestions,_formations_-_vital_world
1956-12-26_-_Defeated_victories_-_Change_of_consciousness_-_Experiences_that_indicate_the_road_to_take_-_Choice_and_preference_-_Diversity_of_the_manifestation
1957-01-02_-_Can_one_go_out_of_time_and_space?_-_Not_a_crucified_but_a_glorified_body_-_Individual_effort_and_the_new_force
1957-01-09_-_God_is_essentially_Delight_-_God_and_Nature_play_at_hide-and-seek_-__Why,_and_when,_are_you_grave?
1957-01-23_-_How_should_we_understand_pure_delight?_-_The_drop_of_honey_-_Action_of_the_Divine_Will_in_the_world
1957-02-06_-_Death,_need_of_progress_-_Changing_Natures_methods
1957-03-15_-_Reminiscences_of_Tlemcen
1957-03-20_-_Never_sit_down,_true_repose
1957-04-10_-_Sports_and_yoga_-_Organising_ones_life
1957-04-17_-_Transformation_of_the_body
1957-04-24_-_Perfection,_lower_and_higher
1957-05-08_-_Vital_excitement,_reason,_instinct
1957-05-15_-_Differentiation_of_the_sexes_-_Transformation_from_above_downwards
1957-05-29_-_Progressive_transformation
1957-06-12_-_Fasting_and_spiritual_progress
1957-06-19_-_Causes_of_illness_Fear_and_illness_-_Minds_working,_faith_and_illness
1957-06-26_-_Birth_through_direct_transmutation_-_Man_and_woman_-_Judging_others_-_divine_Presence_in_all_-_New_birth
1957-07-03_-_Collective_yoga,_vision_of_a_huge_hotel
1957-07-10_-_A_new_world_is_born_-_Overmind_creation_dissolved
1957-07-17_-_Power_of_conscious_will_over_matter
1957-07-31_-_Awakening_aspiration_in_the_body
1957-08-07_-_The_resistances,_politics_and_money_-_Aspiration_to_realise_the_supramental_life
1957-08-21_-_The_Ashram_and_true_communal_life_-_Level_of_consciousness_in_the_Ashram
1957-08-28_-_Freedom_and_Divine_Will
1957-09-11_-_Vital_chemistry,_attraction_and_repulsion
1957-09-18_-_Occultism_and_supramental_life
1957-09-25_-_Preparation_of_the_intermediate_being
1957-10-02_-_The_Mind_of_Light_-_Statues_of_the_Buddha_-_Burden_of_the_past
1957-10-09_-_As_many_universes_as_individuals_-_Passage_to_the_higher_hemisphere
1957-10-23_-_The_central_motive_of_terrestrial_existence_-_Evolution
1957-10-30_-_Double_movement_of_evolution_-_Disappearance_of_a_species
1957-11-13_-_Superiority_of_man_over_animal_-_Consciousness_precedes_form
1957-11-27_-_Sri_Aurobindos_method_in_The_Life_Divine_-_Individual_and_cosmic_evolution
1957-12-04_-_The_method_of_The_Life_Divine_-_Problem_of_emergence_of_a_new_species
1957-12-11_-_Appearance_of_the_first_men
1957-12-18_-_Modern_science_and_illusion_-_Value_of_experience,_its_transforming_power_-_Supramental_power,_first_aspect_to_manifest
1958-01-01_-_The_collaboration_of_material_Nature_-_Miracles_visible_to_a_deep_vision_of_things_-_Explanation_of_New_Year_Message
1958-01-08_-_Sri_Aurobindos_method_of_exposition_-_The_mind_as_a_public_place_-_Mental_control_-_Sri_Aurobindos_subtle_hand
1958-01-22_-_Intellectual_theories_-_Expressing_a_living_and_real_Truth
1958-02-19_-_Experience_of_the_supramental_boat_-_The_Censors_-_Absurdity_of_artificial_means
1958-02-26_-_The_moon_and_the_stars_-_Horoscopes_and_yoga
1958-03-05_-_Vibrations_and_words_-_Power_of_thought,_the_gift_of_tongues
1958-03-12_-_The_key_of_past_transformations
1958-03-19_-_General_tension_in_humanity_-_Peace_and_progress_-_Perversion_and_vision_of_transformation
1958-03-26_-_Mental_anxiety_and_trust_in_spiritual_power
1958-04-09_-_The_eyes_of_the_soul_-_Perceiving_the_soul
1958-04-16_-_The_superman_-_New_realisation
1958-04-23_-_Progress_and_bargaining
1958-05-07_-_The_secret_of_Nature
1958-06-04_-_New_birth
1958-06-18_-_Philosophy,_religion,_occultism,_spirituality
1958-07-16_-_Is_religion_a_necessity?
1958-07-23_-_How_to_develop_intuition_-_Concentration
1958-07-30_-_The_planchette_-_automatic_writing_-_Proofs_and_knowledge
1958-09-03_-_How_to_discipline_the_imagination_-_Mental_formations
1958-09-10_-_Magic,_occultism,_physical_science
1958_09_12
1958-09-17_-_Power_of_formulating_experience_-_Usefulness_of_mental_development
1958_09_19
1958-09-24_-_Living_the_truth_-_Words_and_experience
1958_09_26
1958-10-01_-_The_ideal_of_moral_perfection
1958-10-08_-_Stages_between_man_and_superman
1958_10_10
1958-10-22_-_Spiritual_life_-_reversal_of_consciousness_-_Helping_others
1958-10-29_-_Mental_self-sufficiency_-_Grace
1958-11-05_-_Knowing_how_to_be_silent
1958-11-12_-_The_aim_of_the_Supreme_-_Trust_in_the_Grace
1958_11_14
1958_11_21
1958-11-26_-_The_role_of_the_Spirit_-_New_birth
1958_11_28
1958_12_05
1960_01_20
1960_02_03
1960_06_29
1960_08_24
1960_11_12?_-_49
1960_11_13?_-_50
1960_11_14?_-_51
1961_03_11_-_58
1961_05_20
1961_05_22?
1962_01_12
1962_01_21
1962_02_03
1962_02_27
1962_10_12
1963_05_15
1963_08_10
1964_03_25
1964_09_16
1965_05_29
1965_09_25
1965_12_26?
1969_08_03
1969_08_31_-_141
1969_09_27
1969_10_01?_-_166
1969_11_07
1969_11_15
1969_11_25
1969_11_26
1969_12_08
1970_01_22
1970_01_25
1970_02_01
1970_02_10
1970_02_18
1970_02_27?
1970_03_15
1970_03_17
1970_03_24
1970_04_01
1970_04_03
1970_04_20_-_485
1970_04_23_-_495
1970_04_28
1970_05_12
1970_05_21
1970_05_22
1970_06_04
1.A_-_ANTHROPOLOGY,_THE_SOUL
1.ac_-_An_Oath
1.ac_-_Happy_Dust
1.ac_-_The_Buddhist
1.ac_-_The_Twins
1.ami_-_To_the_Saqi_(from_Baal-i-Jibreel)
1.anon_-_Enuma_Elish_(When_on_high)
1.anon_-_The_Epic_of_Gilgamesh_Tablet_IV
1.anon_-_The_Epic_of_Gilgamesh_Tablet_VII
1.anon_-_The_Epic_of_Gilgamesh_Tablet_X
1.anon_-_The_Epic_of_Gilgamesh_Tablet_XI_The_Story_of_the_Flood
1.anon_-_The_Poem_of_Antar
1.bs_-_Your_passion_stirs_me
1.bts_-_Invocation
1.bts_-_The_Bent_of_Nature
1f.lovecraft_-_A_Reminiscence_of_Dr._Samuel_Johnson
1f.lovecraft_-_At_the_Mountains_of_Madness
1f.lovecraft_-_Beyond_the_Wall_of_Sleep
1f.lovecraft_-_Celephais
1f.lovecraft_-_Collapsing_Cosmoses
1f.lovecraft_-_Cool_Air
1f.lovecraft_-_Dagon
1f.lovecraft_-_Deaf,_Dumb,_and_Blind
1f.lovecraft_-_Discarded_Draft_of
1f.lovecraft_-_From_Beyond
1f.lovecraft_-_Herbert_West-Reanimator
1f.lovecraft_-_H.P._Lovecrafts
1f.lovecraft_-_Hypnos
1f.lovecraft_-_Ibid
1f.lovecraft_-_In_the_Vault
1f.lovecraft_-_In_the_Walls_of_Eryx
1f.lovecraft_-_Medusas_Coil
1f.lovecraft_-_Old_Bugs
1f.lovecraft_-_Out_of_the_Aeons
1f.lovecraft_-_Pickmans_Model
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Alchemist
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Beast_in_the_Cave
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Call_of_Cthulhu
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Case_of_Charles_Dexter_Ward
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Challenge_from_Beyond
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Colour_out_of_Space
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Crawling_Chaos
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Curse_of_Yig
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Descendant
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Diary_of_Alonzo_Typer
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Disinterment
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Dream-Quest_of_Unknown_Kadath
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Dreams_in_the_Witch_House
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Dunwich_Horror
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Electric_Executioner
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Ghost-Eater
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Green_Meadow
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Haunter_of_the_Dark
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Hoard_of_the_Wizard-Beast
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Horror_at_Martins_Beach
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Horror_at_Red_Hook
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Horror_in_the_Burying-Ground
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Horror_in_the_Museum
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Hound
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Last_Test
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Little_Glass_Bottle
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Loved_Dead
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Lurking_Fear
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Man_of_Stone
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Moon-Bog
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Mound
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Music_of_Erich_Zann
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Mysterious_Ship
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Mystery_of_the_Grave-Yard
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Nameless_City
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Night_Ocean
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Other_Gods
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Picture_in_the_House
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Rats_in_the_Walls
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Shadow_out_of_Time
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Shadow_over_Innsmouth
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Shunned_House
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Silver_Key
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Statement_of_Randolph_Carter
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Temple
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Terrible_Old_Man
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Thing_on_the_Doorstep
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Tomb
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Trap
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Tree
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Tree_on_the_Hill
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Unnamable
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Very_Old_Folk
1f.lovecraft_-_The_Whisperer_in_Darkness
1f.lovecraft_-_The_White_Ship
1f.lovecraft_-_Through_the_Gates_of_the_Silver_Key
1f.lovecraft_-_Till_A_the_Seas
1f.lovecraft_-_Under_the_Pyramids
1f.lovecraft_-_What_the_Moon_Brings
1f.lovecraft_-_Winged_Death
1.fs_-_A_Funeral_Fantasie
1.fs_-_Elegy_On_The_Death_Of_A_Young_Man
1.fs_-_Feast_Of_Victory
1.fs_-_Fridolin_(The_Walk_To_The_Iron_Factory)
1.fs_-_Honor_To_Woman
1.fs_-_Melancholy_--_To_Laura
1.fs_-_Rapture_--_To_Laura
1.fs_-_The_Artists
1.fs_-_The_Celebrated_Woman_-_An_Epistle_By_A_Married_Man
1.fs_-_The_Cranes_Of_Ibycus
1.fs_-_The_Eleusinian_Festival
1.fs_-_The_Ideal_And_The_Actual_Life
1.fs_-_The_Ring_Of_Polycrates_-_A_Ballad
1.fs_-_The_Secret
1.fs_-_The_Walk
1.fs_-_The_Words_Of_Error
1.fs_-_The_Youth_By_The_Brook
1.fua_-_A_dervish_in_ecstasy
1.fua_-_The_Nightingale
1.gmh_-_The_Alchemist_In_The_City
1.grh_-_Gorakh_Bani
1.hcyc_-_30_-_To_live_in_nothingness_is_to_ignore_cause_and_effect_(from_The_Shodoka)
1.hs_-_The_Garden
1.ia_-_Fire
1.iai_-_How_utterly_amazing_is_someone_who_flees_from_something_he_cannot_escape
1.ia_-_When_We_Came_Together
1.ia_-_When_we_came_together
1.jk_-_Acrostic__-_Georgiana_Augusta_Keats
1.jk_-_A_Song_About_Myself
1.jk_-_Ben_Nevis_-_A_Dialogue
1.jk_-_Calidore_-_A_Fragment
1.jk_-_Dedication_To_Leigh_Hunt,_Esq.
1.jk_-_Endymion_-_Book_I
1.jk_-_Endymion_-_Book_II
1.jk_-_Endymion_-_Book_III
1.jk_-_Endymion_-_Book_IV
1.jk_-_Epistle_To_John_Hamilton_Reynolds
1.jk_-_Hyperion,_A_Vision_-_Attempted_Reconstruction_Of_The_Poem
1.jk_-_Hyperion._Book_I
1.jk_-_Isabella;_Or,_The_Pot_Of_Basil_-_A_Story_From_Boccaccio
1.jk_-_King_Stephen
1.jk_-_Lamia._Part_I
1.jk_-_Ode_On_A_Grecian_Urn
1.jk_-_Otho_The_Great_-_Act_I
1.jk_-_Otho_The_Great_-_Act_II
1.jk_-_Otho_The_Great_-_Act_IV
1.jk_-_Otho_The_Great_-_Act_V
1.jk_-_Sleep_And_Poetry
1.jk_-_Song._Hush,_Hush!_Tread_Softly!
1.jk_-_Sonnet_-_After_Dark_Vapors_Have_Oppressd_Our_Plains
1.jk_-_Sonnet_To_Spenser
1.jk_-_The_Cap_And_Bells;_Or,_The_Jealousies_-_A_Faery_Tale_.._Unfinished
1.jk_-_The_Eve_Of_Saint_Mark._A_Fragment
1.jk_-_This_Living_Hand
1.jk_-_What_The_Thrush_Said._Lines_From_A_Letter_To_John_Hamilton_Reynolds
1.jlb_-_Chess
1.jlb_-_Daybreak
1.jlb_-_Emerson
1.jlb_-_Limits
1.jm_-_The_Song_on_Reaching_the_Mountain_Peak
1.jr_-_Book_1_-_Prologue
1.jr_-_If_continually_you_keep_your_hope
1.jr_-_No_end_to_the_journey
1.jr_-_Rise,_Lovers
1.jr_-_The_glow_of_the_light_of_daybreak_is_in_your_emerald_vault,_the_goblet_of_the_blood_of_twilight_is_your_blood-measuring_bowl
1.jr_-_The_Time_Has_Come_For_Us_To_Become_Madmen_In_Your_Chain
1.jr_-_What_can_I_do,_Muslims?_I_do_not_know_myself
1.jt_-_How_the_Soul_Through_the_Senses_Finds_God_in_All_Creatures
1.jwvg_-_A_Plan_the_Muses_Entertained
1.jwvg_-_Joy_And_Sorrow
1.jwvg_-_The_Reckoning
1.jwvg_-_Wont_And_Done
1.kbr_-_The_Light_of_the_Sun
1.kbr_-_The_light_of_the_sun,_the_moon,_and_the_stars_shines_bright
1.lb_-_A_Song_Of_An_Autumn_Midnight
1.lb_-_Autumn_Air_by_Li_Po
1.lb_-_Ch'ing_P'ing_Tiao
1.lb_-_Climbing_West_Of_Lotus_Flower_Peak
1.lb_-_Climbing_West_of_Lotus_Flower_Peak
1.lb_-_Drinking_Alone_in_the_Moonlight
1.lb_-_Facing_Wine
1.lb_-_Farewell_to_Meng_Hao-jan_at_Yellow_Crane_Tower_by_Li_Po
1.lb_-_For_Wang_Lun_by_Li_Po
1.lb_-_Hard_Journey
1.lb_-_Jade_Stairs_Grievance
1.lb_-_Song_of_an_Autumn_Midnight_by_Li_Po
1.lb_-_Summer_in_the_Mountains
1.lb_-_Taking_Leave_of_a_Friend_by_Li_Po
1.lb_-_The_City_of_Choan
1.lb_-_The_River-Captains_Wife__A_Letter
1.lb_-_Thoughts_On_a_Quiet_Night_by_Li_Po
1.lb_-_Visiting_a_Taoist_Master_on_Tai-T'ien_Mountain_by_Li_Po
1.lovecraft_-_Fungi_From_Yuggoth
1.lovecraft_-_Lines_On_General_Robert_Edward_Lee
1.lovecraft_-_March
1.lovecraft_-_Sunset
1.lovecraft_-_The_Bride_Of_The_Sea
1.mdl_-_The_Gates_(from_Openings)
1.mm_-_Three_Golden_Apples_from_the_Hesperian_grove_(from_Atalanta_Fugiens)
1.ms_-_Temple_of_Eternal_Light
1.pbs_-_Adonais_-_An_elegy_on_the_Death_of_John_Keats
1.pbs_-_A_Tale_Of_Society_As_It_Is_-_From_Facts,_1811
1.pbs_-_Charles_The_First
1.pbs_-_Epipsychidion
1.pbs_-_Fragment_From_The_Wandering_Jew
1.pbs_-_Fragments_Of_An_Unfinished_Drama
1.pbs_-_Ghasta_Or,_The_Avenging_Demon!!!
1.pbs_-_Ginevra
1.pbs_-_Hellas_-_A_Lyrical_Drama
1.pbs_-_Homers_Hymn_To_Venus
1.pbs_-_Hymn_To_Mercury
1.pbs_-_Julian_and_Maddalo_-_A_Conversation
1.pbs_-_May_The_Limner
1.pbs_-_Ode_To_Liberty
1.pbs_-_Oedipus_Tyrannus_or_Swellfoot_The_Tyrant
1.pbs_-_Passage_Of_The_Apennines
1.pbs_-_Prometheus_Unbound
1.pbs_-_Queen_Mab_-_Part_IV.
1.pbs_-_Queen_Mab_-_Part_IX.
1.pbs_-_Queen_Mab_-_Part_VI.
1.pbs_-_Queen_Mab_-_Part_Vi_(Excerpts)
1.pbs_-_Rosalind_and_Helen_-_a_Modern_Eclogue
1.pbs_-_Scenes_From_The_Faust_Of_Goethe
1.pbs_-_The_Cenci_-_A_Tragedy_In_Five_Acts
1.pbs_-_The_Cloud
1.pbs_-_The_Cyclops
1.pbs_-_The_Daemon_Of_The_World
1.pbs_-_The_Retrospect_-_CWM_Elan,_1812
1.pbs_-_The_Revolt_Of_Islam_-_Canto_I-XII
1.pbs_-_The_Triumph_Of_Life
1.pbs_-_The_Witch_Of_Atlas
1.pbs_-_To_The_Republicans_Of_North_America
1.pbs_-_Ugolino
1.poe_-_Al_Aaraaf-_Part_1
1.poe_-_Al_Aaraaf-_Part_2
1.poe_-_Eureka_-_A_Prose_Poem
1.poe_-_Tamerlane
1.poe_-_The_Conversation_Of_Eiros_And_Charmion
1.poe_-_The_Power_Of_Words_Oinos.
1.poe_-_To_Helen_-_1848
1.rb_-_A_Grammarian's_Funeral_Shortly_After_The_Revival_Of_Learning
1.rb_-_A_Lovers_Quarrel
1.rb_-_An_Epistle_Containing_the_Strange_Medical_Experience_of_Kar
1.rb_-_Before
1.rb_-_Bishop_Blougram's_Apology
1.rb_-_Caliban_upon_Setebos_or,_Natural_Theology_in_the_Island
1.rb_-_Childe_Roland_To_The_Dark_Tower_Came
1.rb_-_Cleon
1.rb_-_Cristina
1.rb_-_Fra_Lippo_Lippi
1.rb_-_Holy-Cross_Day
1.rb_-_Home_Thoughts,_from_the_Sea
1.rb_-_In_A_Gondola
1.rb_-_Life_In_A_Love
1.rb_-_Love_Among_The_Ruins
1.rb_-_Mesmerism
1.rb_-_Nationality_In_Drinks
1.rb_-_Old_Pictures_In_Florence
1.rb_-_Paracelsus_-_Part_III_-_Paracelsus
1.rb_-_Paracelsus_-_Part_II_-_Paracelsus_Attains
1.rb_-_Paracelsus_-_Part_I_-_Paracelsus_Aspires
1.rb_-_Paracelsus_-_Part_IV_-_Paracelsus_Aspires
1.rb_-_Paracelsus_-_Part_V_-_Paracelsus_Attains
1.rb_-_Parting_At_Morning
1.rb_-_Pauline,_A_Fragment_of_a_Question
1.rb_-_Pippa_Passes_-_Part_III_-_Evening
1.rb_-_Pippa_Passes_-_Part_II_-_Noon
1.rb_-_Pippa_Passes_-_Part_I_-_Morning
1.rb_-_Pippa_Passes_-_Part_IV_-_Night
1.rb_-_Protus
1.rb_-_Rabbi_Ben_Ezra
1.rb_-_Respectability
1.rb_-_Rhyme_for_a_Child_Viewing_a_Naked_Venus_in_a_Painting_of_'The_Judgement_of_Paris'
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_Fifth
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_First
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_Fourth
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_Second
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_Sixth
1.rb_-_Sordello_-_Book_the_Third
1.rb_-_The_Englishman_In_Italy
1.rb_-_The_Flight_Of_The_Duchess
1.rb_-_The_Glove
1.rb_-_Waring
1.rmpsd_-_Ma,_Youre_inside_me
1.rmpsd_-_O_Death!_Get_away-_what_canst_thou_do?
1.rmpsd_-_Why_disappear_into_formless_trance?
1.rmr_-_Again_and_Again
1.rmr_-_Elegy_X
1.rmr_-_Lament_(Whom_will_you_cry_to,_heart?)
1.rmr_-_Palm
1.rmr_-_Song_Of_The_Sea
1.rmr_-_The_Alchemist
1.rmr_-_Time_and_Again
1.rmr_-_To_Music
1.rmr_-_You_Who_Never_Arrived
1.rt_-_Fireflies
1.rt_-_Gitanjali
1.rt_-_Prisoner
1.rt_-_The_Gardener_LI_-_Then_Finish_The_Last_Song
1.rt_-_The_Hero(2)
1.rt_-_The_Rainy_Day
1.rt_-_We_Are_To_Play_The_Game_Of_Death
1.rt_-_Who_Is_This?
1.rvd_-_How_to_Escape?
1.rvd_-_Upon_seeing_poverty
1.rwe_-_Astrae
1.rwe_-_Bacchus
1.rwe_-_Boston_Hymn
1.rwe_-_Culture
1.rwe_-_Each_And_All
1.rwe_-_Etienne_de_la_Boce
1.rwe_-_From_the_Persian_of_Hafiz_I
1.rwe_-_Initial_Love
1.rwe_-_Life_Is_Great
1.rwe_-_Manners
1.rwe_-_May-Day
1.rwe_-_Mithridates
1.rwe_-_Monadnoc
1.rwe_-_Musketaquid
1.rwe_-_Quatrains
1.rwe_-_The_Adirondacs
1.rwe_-_The_Romany_Girl
1.rwe_-_The_World-Soul
1.rwe_-_Threnody
1.rwe_-_Voluntaries
1.rwe_-_Wakdeubsankeit
1.rwe_-_Woodnotes
1.rwe_-_Worship
1.sca_-_Draw_me_after_You!
1.sca_-_Happy,_indeed,_is_she_whom_it_is_given_to_share_this_sacred_banquet
1.sca_-_O_blessed_poverty
1.sca_-_Place_your_mind_before_the_mirror_of_eternity!
1.sca_-_What_a_great_laudable_exchange
1.sca_-_What_you_hold,_may_you_always_hold
1.sca_-_When_You_have_loved,_You_shall_be_chaste
1.sfa_-_Exhortation_to_St._Clare_and_Her_Sisters
1.sfa_-_How_Virtue_Drives_Out_Vice
1.sfa_-_Let_the_whole_of_mankind_tremble
1.sfa_-_Let_us_desire_nothing_else
1.sfa_-_Prayer_from_A_Letter_to_the_Entire_Order
1.sfa_-_Prayer_Inspired_by_the_Our_Father
1.sfa_-_The_Praises_of_God
1.sfa_-_The_Salutation_of_the_Virtues
1.snt_-_What_is_this_awesome_mystery
1.srm_-_The_Marital_Garland_of_Letters
1.stav_-_I_Live_Without_Living_In_Me
1.stl_-_My_Song_for_Today
1.sv_-_Song_of_the_Sanyasin
1.tm_-_Stranger
1.tr_-_The_Lotus
1.wby_-_A_Crazed_Girl
1.wby_-_A_Dialogue_Of_Self_And_Soul
1.wby_-_A_Dramatic_Poem
1.wby_-_Among_School_Children
1.wby_-_Running_To_Paradise
1.wby_-_Sweet_Dancer
1.wby_-_The_Cap_And_Bells
1.wby_-_The_Municipal_Gallery_Revisited
1.wby_-_The_Phases_Of_The_Moon
1.wby_-_The_Shadowy_Waters_-_The_Shadowy_Waters
1.wby_-_The_Spirit_Medium
1.wby_-_The_Three_Hermits
1.wby_-_The_Wanderings_Of_Oisin_-_Book_I
1.wby_-_The_Wanderings_Of_Oisin_-_Book_II
1.wby_-_The_Winding_Stair
1.wby_-_Three_Marching_Songs
1.wby_-_Three_Songs_To_The_Same_Tune
1.whitman_-_A_Carol_Of_Harvest_For_1867
1.whitman_-_American_Feuillage
1.whitman_-_As_A_Strong_Bird_On_Pinious_Free
1.whitman_-_As_I_Ebbd_With_the_Ocean_of_Life
1.whitman_-_As_I_Sat_Alone_By_Blue_Ontarios_Shores
1.whitman_-_Carol_Of_Occupations
1.whitman_-_Carol_Of_Words
1.whitman_-_Come_Up_From_The_Fields,_Father
1.whitman_-_Despairing_Cries
1.whitman_-_Elemental_Drifts
1.whitman_-_Faces
1.whitman_-_From_Pent-up_Aching_Rivers
1.whitman_-_Give_Me_The_Splendid,_Silent_Sun
1.whitman_-_In_Paths_Untrodden
1.whitman_-_I_Sing_The_Body_Electric
1.whitman_-_Manhattan_Streets_I_Saunterd,_Pondering
1.whitman_-_Now_List_To_My_Mornings_Romanza
1.whitman_-_O_Captain!_My_Captain!
1.whitman_-_One_Hour_To_Madness_And_Joy
1.whitman_-_Out_of_the_Cradle_Endlessly_Rocking
1.whitman_-_Passage_To_India
1.whitman_-_Poem_Of_Remembrance_For_A_Girl_Or_A_Boy
1.whitman_-_Poems_Of_Joys
1.whitman_-_Red_Jacket_(From_Aloft)
1.whitman_-_Salut_Au_Monde
1.whitman_-_Scented_Herbage_Of_My_Breast
1.whitman_-_Sea-Shore_Memories
1.whitman_-_Sing_Of_The_Banner_At_Day-Break
1.whitman_-_Song_For_All_Seas,_All_Ships
1.whitman_-_Song_of_Myself
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_Myself-_XLII
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_Myself-_XLIX
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_Myself-_XLVI
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_Myself-_XXII
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_Myself-_XXIX
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_Myself-_XXXIII
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_Myself-_XXXIV
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_Myself-_XXXV
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_Myself-_XXXVI
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_The_Broad-Axe
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_The_Exposition
1.whitman_-_Song_Of_The_Open_Road
1.whitman_-_The_Centerarians_Story
1.whitman_-_The_City_Dead-House
1.whitman_-_The_Mystic_Trumpeter
1.whitman_-_There_Was_A_Child_Went_Forth
1.whitman_-_These,_I,_Singing_In_Spring
1.whitman_-_The_Wound_Dresser
1.whitman_-_Think_Of_The_Soul
1.whitman_-_To_One_Shortly_To_Die
1.whitman_-_To_The_States
1.whitman_-_To_Think_Of_Time
1.whitman_-_Warble_Of_Lilac-Time
1.whitman_-_We_Two-How_Long_We_Were_Foold
1.whitman_-_When_I_Heard_At_The_Close_Of_The_Day
1.whitman_-_Whoever_You_Are,_Holding_Me_Now_In_Hand
1.whitman_-_Yet,_Yet,_Ye_Downcast_Hours
1.ww_-_3-_The_White_Doe_Of_Rylstone,_Or,_The_Fate_Of_The_Nortons
1.ww_-_4-_The_White_Doe_Of_Rylstone,_Or,_The_Fate_Of_The_Nortons
1.ww_-_Address_To_My_Infant_Daughter
1.ww_-_An_Evening_Walk
1.ww_-_Beggars
1.ww_-_Behold_Vale!_I_Said,_When_I_Shall_Con
1.ww_-_Book_Eighth-_Retrospect--Love_Of_Nature_Leading_To_Love_Of_Man
1.ww_-_Book_Eleventh-_France_[concluded]
1.ww_-_Book_Fifth-Books
1.ww_-_Book_First_[Introduction-Childhood_and_School_Time]
1.ww_-_Book_Fourteenth_[conclusion]
1.ww_-_Book_Ninth_[Residence_in_France]
1.ww_-_Book_Seventh_[Residence_in_London]
1.ww_-_Book_Sixth_[Cambridge_and_the_Alps]
1.ww_-_Book_Tenth_{Residence_in_France_continued]
1.ww_-_Book_Third_[Residence_at_Cambridge]
1.ww_-_Book_Twelfth_[Imagination_And_Taste,_How_Impaired_And_Restored_]
1.ww_-_Bothwell_Castle
1.ww_-_Dion_[See_Plutarch]
1.ww_-_Elegiac_Stanzas_Suggested_By_A_Picture_Of_Peele_Castle
1.ww_-_Epitaphs_Translated_From_Chiabrera
1.ww_-_Guilt_And_Sorrow,_Or,_Incidents_Upon_Salisbury_Plain
1.ww_-_I_Know_an_Aged_Man_Constrained_to_Dwell
1.ww_-_Is_There_A_Power_That_Can_Sustain_And_Cheer
1.ww_-_Lament_Of_Mary_Queen_Of_Scots
1.ww_-_Laodamia
1.ww_-_Lines_Composed_a_Few_Miles_above_Tintern_Abbey
1.ww_-_O_Captain!_my_Captain!
1.ww_-_Ode
1.ww_-_On_the_Departure_of_Sir_Walter_Scott_from_Abbotsford
1.ww_-_Spanish_Guerillas
1.ww_-_Stanzas
1.ww_-_Stone_Gate_Temple_in_the_Blue_Field_Mountains
1.ww_-_The_Childless_Father
1.ww_-_The_Excursion-_II-_Book_First-_The_Wanderer
1.ww_-_The_Excursion-_IV-_Book_Third-_Despondency
1.ww_-_The_Excursion-_IX-_Book_Eighth-_The_Parsonage
1.ww_-_The_Excursion-_V-_Book_Fouth-_Despondency_Corrected
1.ww_-_The_Excursion-_VII-_Book_Sixth-_The_Churchyard_Among_the_Mountains
1.ww_-_The_Excursion-_X-_Book_Ninth-_Discourse_of_the_Wanderer,_and_an_Evening_Visit_to_the_Lake
1.ww_-_The_Forsaken
1.ww_-_The_Idiot_Boy
1.ww_-_The_Kitten_And_Falling_Leaves
1.ww_-_The_Longest_Day
1.ww_-_The_Morning_Of_The_Day_Appointed_For_A_General_Thanksgiving._January_18,_1816
1.ww_-_The_Oak_And_The_Broom
1.ww_-_The_Old_Cumberland_Beggar
1.ww_-_The_Prelude,_Book_1-_Childhood_And_School-Time
1.ww_-_The_Recluse_-_Book_First
1.ww_-_The_Waggoner_-_Canto_Fourth
1.ww_-_To_The_Poet,_John_Dyer
1.ww_-_Troilus_And_Cresida
1.ww_-_Upon_The_Sight_Of_A_Beautiful_Picture_Painted_By_Sir_G._H._Beaumont,_Bart
1.ww_-_Vaudracour_And_Julia
1.ww_-_Yew-Trees
20.01_-_Charyapada_-_Old_Bengali_Mystic_Poems
20.04_-_Act_II:_The_Play_on_Earth
20.06_-_Translations_in_French
2.01_-_AT_THE_STAR_THEATRE
2.01_-_Habit_1__Be_Proactive
2.01_-_Indeterminates,_Cosmic_Determinations_and_the_Indeterminable
2.01_-_Isha_Upanishad__All_that_is_world_in_the_Universe
2.01_-_Mandala_One
2.01_-_On_Books
2.01_-_On_the_Concept_of_the_Archetype
2.01_-_THE_ADVENT_OF_LIFE
2.01_-_THE_ARCANE_SUBSTANCE_AND_THE_POINT
2.01_-_The_Attributes_of_Omega_Point_-_a_Transcendent_God
2.01_-_The_Mother
2.01_-_The_Object_of_Knowledge
2.01_-_The_Picture
2.01_-_The_Road_of_Trials
2.01_-_The_Sefirot
2.01_-_The_Therapeutic_value_of_Abreaction
2.01_-_The_Two_Natures
2.01_-_The_Yoga_and_Its_Objects
2.01_-_War.
2.02_-_Atomic_Motions
2.02_-_Brahman,_Purusha,_Ishwara_-_Maya,_Prakriti,_Shakti
2.02_-_Habit_2__Begin_with_the_End_in_Mind
2.02_-_Indra,_Giver_of_Light
2.02_-_Meeting_With_the_Goddess
2.02_-_On_Letters
2.02_-_THE_DURGA_PUJA_FESTIVAL
2.02_-_THE_EXPANSION_OF_LIFE
2.02_-_The_Ishavasyopanishad_with_a_commentary_in_English
2.02_-_The_Mother_Archetype
2.02_-_THE_SCINTILLA
2.02_-_The_Status_of_Knowledge
2.02_-_The_Synthesis_of_Devotion_and_Knowledge
2.02_-_Yoga
2.03_-_DEMETER
2.03_-_Indra_and_the_Thought-Forces
2.03_-_Karmayogin__A_Commentary_on_the_Isha_Upanishad
2.03_-_On_Medicine
2.03_-_The_Christian_Phenomenon_and_Faith_in_the_Incarnation
2.03_-_THE_ENIGMA_OF_BOLOGNA
2.03_-_The_Eternal_and_the_Individual
2.03_-_The_Mother-Complex
2.03_-_The_Purified_Understanding
2.03_-_The_Pyx
2.03_-_The_Supreme_Divine
2.04_-_ADVICE_TO_ISHAN
2.04_-_Agni,_the_Illumined_Will
2.04_-_Concentration
2.04_-_On_Art
2.04_-_Positive_Aspects_of_the_Mother-Complex
2.04_-_The_Divine_and_the_Undivine
2.04_-_The_Living_Church_and_Christ-Omega
2.04_-_The_Secret_of_Secrets
2.05_-_Apotheosis
2.05_-_Aspects_of_Sadhana
2.05_-_Habit_3__Put_First_Things_First
2.05_-_On_Poetry
2.05_-_Renunciation
2.05_-_The_Cosmic_Illusion;_Mind,_Dream_and_Hallucination
2.05_-_The_Line_of_Light_and_The_Impression
2.05_-_The_Religion_of_Tomorrow
2.05_-_The_Tale_of_the_Vampires_Kingdom
2.06_-_Reality_and_the_Cosmic_Illusion
2.06_-_Revelation_and_the_Christian_Phenomenon
2.06_-_The_Higher_Knowledge_and_the_Higher_Love_are_one_to_the_true_Lover
2.06_-_The_Synthesis_of_the_Disciplines_of_Knowledge
2.06_-_The_Wand
2.06_-_WITH_VARIOUS_DEVOTEES
2.06_-_Works_Devotion_and_Knowledge
2.07_-_BANKIM_CHANDRA
2.07_-_I_Also_Try_to_Tell_My_Tale
2.07_-_On_Congress_and_Politics
2.07_-_The_Cup
2.07_-_The_Knowledge_and_the_Ignorance
2.07_-_The_Mother__Relations_with_Others
2.07_-_The_Release_from_Subjection_to_the_Body
2.07_-_The_Supreme_Word_of_the_Gita
2.07_-_The_Upanishad_in_Aphorism
2.08_-_ALICE_IN_WONDERLAND
2.08_-_Concentration
2.08_-_Memory,_Self-Consciousness_and_the_Ignorance
2.08_-_The_Release_from_the_Heart_and_the_Mind
2.08_-_The_Sword
2.08_-_Three_Tales_of_Madness_and_Destruction
2.09_-_Human_representations_of_the_Divine_Ideal_of_Love
2.09_-_Memory,_Ego_and_Self-Experience
2.09_-_On_Sadhana
2.09_-_SEVEN_REASONS_WHY_A_SCIENTIST_BELIEVES_IN_GOD
2.09_-_THE_MASTERS_BIRTHDAY
2.09_-_The_Pantacle
2.09_-_The_Release_from_the_Ego
2.0_-_Reincarnation_and_Karma
2.0_-_THE_ANTICHRIST
2.1.01_-_God_The_One_Reality
2.1.01_-_The_Central_Process_of_the_Sadhana
2.1.02_-_Classification_of_the_Parts_of_the_Being
2.1.02_-_Combining_Work,_Meditation_and_Bhakti
21.02_-_Gods_and_Men
2.1.02_-_Nature_The_World-Manifestation
2.1.03_-_Man_and_Superman
2.10_-_Knowledge_by_Identity_and_Separative_Knowledge
2.10_-_The_Realisation_of_the_Cosmic_Self
2.10_-_The_Vision_of_the_World-Spirit_-_Time_the_Destroyer
2.11_-_On_Education
2.11_-_The_Boundaries_of_the_Ignorance
2.11_-_The_Crown
2.11_-_The_Guru
2.11_-_The_Modes_of_the_Self
2.1.1_-_The_Nature_of_the_Vital
2.11_-_The_Shattering_And_Fall_of_The_Primordial_Kings
2.12_-_On_Miracles
2.12_-_THE_MASTERS_REMINISCENCES
2.12_-_The_Origin_of_the_Ignorance
2.12_-_The_Realisation_of_Sachchidananda
2.12_-_The_Way_and_the_Bhakta
2.1.3.1_-_Students
2.1.3.2_-_Study
2.1.3.3_-_Reading
2.1.3.4_-_Conduct
2.13_-_Exclusive_Concentration_of_Consciousness-Force_and_the_Ignorance
2.13_-_On_Psychology
2.13_-_ON_THOSE_WHO_ARE_SUBLIME
2.13_-_Psychic_Presence_and_Psychic_Being_-_Real_Origin_of_Race_Superiority
2.13_-_The_Difficulties_of_the_Mental_Being
2.1.3_-_Wrong_Movements_of_the_Vital
2.1.4.1_-_Teachers
2.1.4.2_-_Teaching
2.1.4.5_-_Tests
2.14_-_AT_RAMS_HOUSE
2.14_-_On_Movements
2.14_-_ON_THE_LAND_OF_EDUCATION
2.1.4_-_The_Lower_Vital_Being
2.14_-_The_Origin_and_Remedy_of_Falsehood,_Error,_Wrong_and_Evil
2.14_-_The_Passive_and_the_Active_Brahman
2.14_-_The_Unpacking_of_God
2.1.5.1_-_Study_of_Works_of_Sri_Aurobindo_and_the_Mother
2.1.5.4_-_Arts
2.1.5.5_-_Other_Subjects
2.15_-_CAR_FESTIVAL_AT_BALARMS_HOUSE
2.15_-_On_the_Gods_and_Asuras
2.15_-_Power_of_Right_Attitude
2.15_-_Reality_and_the_Integral_Knowledge
2.15_-_Selection_of_Sparks_Made_for_The_Purpose_of_The_Emendation
2.15_-_The_Cosmic_Consciousness
2.16_-_Oneness
2.16_-_Power_of_Imagination
2.16_-_The_15th_of_August
2.16_-_The_Integral_Knowledge_and_the_Aim_of_Life;_Four_Theories_of_Existence
2.1.7.08_-_Comments_on_Specific_Lines_and_Passages_of_the_Poem
2.17_-_December_1938
2.17_-_THE_MASTER_ON_HIMSELF_AND_HIS_EXPERIENCES
2.17_-_The_Progress_to_Knowledge_-_God,_Man_and_Nature
2.17_-_The_Soul_and_Nature
2.18_-_January_1939
2.18_-_ON_GREAT_EVENTS
2.18_-_SRI_RAMAKRISHNA_AT_SYAMPUKUR
2.18_-_The_Evolutionary_Process_-_Ascent_and_Integration
2.18_-_The_Soul_and_Its_Liberation
2.19_-_Feb-May_1939
2.19_-_Out_of_the_Sevenfold_Ignorance_towards_the_Sevenfold_Knowledge
2.19_-_THE_MASTER_AND_DR._SARKAR
2.19_-_The_Planes_of_Our_Existence
2.2.01_-_The_Problem_of_Consciousness
2.2.01_-_Work_and_Yoga
2.2.02_-_Consciousness_and_the_Inconscient
2.2.03_-_The_Divine_Force_in_Work
2.2.03_-_The_Psychic_Being
2.2.03_-_The_Science_of_Consciousness
22.04_-_On_The_Brink(I)
2.2.04_-_Practical_Concerns_in_Work
22.06_-_On_The_Brink(3)
22.07_-_The_Ashram,_the_World_and_The_Individual[^4]
2.20_-_The_Infancy_and_Maturity_of_ZO,_Father_and_Mother,_Israel_The_Ancient_and_Understanding
2.20_-_The_Lower_Triple_Purusha
2.20_-_THE_MASTERS_TRAINING_OF_HIS_DISCIPLES
2.20_-_The_Philosophy_of_Rebirth
2.21_-_1940
2.21_-_IN_THE_COMPANY_OF_DEVOTEES_AT_SYAMPUKUR
2.21_-_The_Ladder_of_Self-transcendence
2.21_-_The_Order_of_the_Worlds
2.2.1_-_The_Prusna_Upanishads
2.21_-_Towards_the_Supreme_Secret
2.22_-_1941-1943
2.22_-_Rebirth_and_Other_Worlds;_Karma,_the_Soul_and_Immortality
2.2.2_-_Sorrow_and_Suffering
2.22_-_THE_MASTER_AT_COSSIPORE
2.22_-_THE_STILLEST_HOUR
2.22_-_The_Supreme_Secret
2.22_-_Vijnana_or_Gnosis
2.2.3_-_Depression_and_Despondency
2.23_-_Man_and_the_Evolution
2.23_-_The_Conditions_of_Attainment_to_the_Gnosis
2.23_-_The_Core_of_the_Gita.s_Meaning
2.23_-_THE_MASTER_AND_BUDDHA
2.24_-_Back_to_Back__Face_to_Face__and_The_Process_of_Sawing_Through
2.24_-_Gnosis_and_Ananda
2.24_-_Note_on_the_Text
2.2.4_-_Sentimentalism,_Sensitiveness,_Instability,_Laxity
2.2.4_-_Taittiriya_Upanishad
2.24_-_The_Evolution_of_the_Spiritual_Man
2.24_-_The_Message_of_the_Gita
2.25_-_List_of_Topics_in_Each_Talk
2.25_-_Mercies_and_Judgements_of_Knowledge
2.25_-_The_Higher_and_the_Lower_Knowledge
2.25_-_The_Triple_Transformation
2.26_-_Samadhi
2.26_-_The_Ascent_towards_Supermind
2.2.7.01_-_Some_General_Remarks
2.27_-_Hathayoga
2.27_-_The_Gnostic_Being
2.28_-_The_Divine_Life
2.3.01_-_Aspiration_and_Surrender_to_the_Mother
2.3.01_-_Concentration_and_Meditation
2.3.02_-_The_Supermind_or_Supramental
2.3.03_-_Integral_Yoga
2.3.04_-_The_Higher_Planes_of_Mind
2.3.04_-_The_Mother's_Force
2.3.05_-_Sadhana_through_Work_for_the_Mother
2.3.06_-_The_Mind
2.3.07_-_The_Mother_in_Visions,_Dreams_and_Experiences
2.3.07_-_The_Vital_Being_and_Vital_Consciousness
2.3.08_-_The_Mother's_Help_in_Difficulties
2.3.08_-_The_Physical_Consciousness
2.30_-_The_Uniting_of_the_Names_45_and_52
2.3.10_-_The_Subconscient_and_the_Inconscient
2.3.1_-_Ego_and_Its_Forms
2.31_-_The_Elevation_Attained_Through_Sabbath
2.3.2_-_Desire
2.3.4_-_Fear
2.4.01_-_Divine_Love,_Psychic_Love_and_Human_Love
2.4.02_-_Bhakti,_Devotion,_Worship
24.05_-_Vision_of_Dante
2.4.1_-_Human_Relations_and_the_Spiritual_Life
2.4.2_-_Interactions_with_Others_and_the_Practice_of_Yoga
2.4.3_-_Problems_in_Human_Relations
26.09_-_Le_Periple_d_Or_(Pome_dans_par_Yvonne_Artaud)
27.01_-_The_Golden_Harvest
28.01_-_Observations
29.03_-_In_Her_Company
29.04_-_Mothers_Playground
29.06_-_There_is_also_another,_similar_or_parallel_story_in_the_Veda_about_the_God_Agni,_about_the_disappearance_of_this
2_-_Other_Hymns_to_Agni
30.02_-_Greek_Drama
3.00.2_-_Introduction
30.05_-_Rhythm_in_Poetry
30.09_-_Lines_of_Tantra_(Charyapada)
3.00_-_Introduction
3.00_-_The_Magical_Theory_of_the_Universe
30.10_-_The_Greatness_of_Poetry
30.13_-_Rabindranath_the_Artist
30.14_-_Rabindranath_and_Modernism
30.15_-_The_Language_of_Rabindranath
30.16_-_Tagore_the_Unique
30.17_-_Rabindranath,_Traveller_of_the_Infinite
30.18_-_Boris_Pasternak
3.01_-_Fear_of_God
3.01_-_INTRODUCTION
3.01_-_Proem
3.01_-_THE_BIRTH_OF_THOUGHT
3.01_-_The_Principles_of_Ritual
3.01_-_THE_WANDERER
3.01_-_Towards_the_Future
3.02_-_Aridity_in_Prayer
3.02_-_Aspiration
3.02_-_King_and_Queen
3.02_-_Mysticism
3.02_-_SOL
3.02_-_THE_DEPLOYMENT_OF_THE_NOOSPHERE
3.02_-_The_Great_Secret
3.02_-_The_Motives_of_Devotion
3.02_-_The_Psychology_of_Rebirth
3.02_-_The_Soul_in_the_Soul_World_after_Death
3.03_-_On_Thought_-_II
3.03_-_SULPHUR
3.03_-_The_Ascent_to_Truth
3.03_-_The_Consummation_of_Mysticism
3.03_-_The_Four_Foundational_Practices
3.03_-_The_Godward_Emotions
3.03_-_THE_MODERN_EARTH
3.03_-_The_Soul_Is_Mortal
3.04_-_Immersion_in_the_Bath
3.04_-_LUNA
3.04_-_On_Thought_-_III
3.04_-_The_Formula_of_ALHIM
3.04_-_The_Spirit_in_Spirit-Land_after_Death
3.05_-_Cerberus_And_Furies,_And_That_Lack_Of_Light
3.05_-_SAL
3.05_-_The_Central_Thought
3.05_-_The_Conjunction
3.05_-_The_Divine_Personality
3.05_-_The_Formula_of_I.A.O.
3.05_-_The_Physical_World_and_its_Connection_with_the_Soul_and_Spirit-Lands
3.06_-_Charity
3.06_-_Death
3.06_-_The_Formula_of_The_Neophyte
3.06_-_The_Sage
3.06_-_Thought-Forms_and_the_Human_Aura
3.06_-_UPON_THE_MOUNT_OF_OLIVES
3.07_-_The_Ananda_Brahman
3.07_-_The_Ascent_of_the_Soul
3.07_-_The_Formula_of_the_Holy_Grail
3.08_-_Of_Equilibrium
3.08_-_The_Thousands
3.09_-_Of_Silence_and_Secrecy
3.09_-_The_Return_of_the_Soul
3.0_-_THE_ETERNAL_RECURRENCE
3.1.01_-_Distinctive_Features_of_the_Integral_Yoga
31.01_-_The_Heart_of_Bengal
3.1.01_-_The_Problem_of_Suffering_and_Evil
3.1.02_-_Asceticism_and_the_Integral_Yoga
3.1.02_-_Spiritual_Evolution_and_the_Supramental
31.02_-_The_Mother-_Worship_of_the_Bengalis
3.1.03_-_A_Realistic_Adwaita
31.03_-_The_Trinity_of_Bengal
3.1.04_-_Transformation_in_the_Integral_Yoga
31.05_-_Vivekananda
31.06_-_Jagadish_Chandra_Bose
31.07_-_Shyamakanta
3.1.09_-_Revelation
31.09_-_The_Cause_of_Indias_Decline
3.10_-_Punishment
3.10_-_The_New_Birth
31.10_-_East_and_West
3.11_-_Epilogue
3.11_-_Of_Our_Lady_Babalon
3.11_-_Spells
3.1.1_-_The_Transformation_of_the_Physical
3.1.23_-_The_Rishi
3.1.2_-_Levels_of_the_Physical_Being
3.12_-_Of_the_Bloody_Sacrifice
3.1.3_-_Difficulties_of_the_Physical_Being
3.13_-_Of_the_Banishings
3.14_-_Of_the_Consecrations
3.16.1_-_Of_the_Oath
3.16.2_-_Of_the_Charge_of_the_Spirit
3.17_-_Of_the_License_to_Depart
3.18_-_Of_Clairvoyance_and_the_Body_of_Light
3.19_-_Of_Dramatic_Rituals
3.2.01_-_On_Ideals
3.2.01_-_The_Newness_of_the_Integral_Yoga
32.01_-_Where_is_God?
3.2.02_-_The_Veda_and_the_Upanishads
3.2.02_-_Yoga_and_Skill_in_Works
3.2.04_-_The_Conservative_Mind_and_Eastern_Progress
32.05_-_The_Culture_of_the_Body
3.2.05_-_The_Yoga_of_the_Bhagavad_Gita
3.2.06_-_The_Adwaita_of_Shankaracharya
32.06_-_The_Novel_Alchemy
32.07_-_The_God_of_the_Scientist
3.2.08_-_Bhakti_Yoga_and_Vaishnavism
32.08_-_Fit_and_Unfit_(A_Letter)
32.09_-_On_Karmayoga_(A_Letter)
3.2.09_-_The_Teachings_of_Some_Modern_Indian_Yogis
3.20_-_Of_the_Eucharist
3.2.10_-_Christianity_and_Theosophy
32.11_-_Life_and_Self-Control_(A_Letter)
32.12_-_The_Evolutionary_Imperative
3.21_-_Of_Black_Magic
3.2.2_-_Sleep
3.2.3_-_Dreams
3.2.4_-_Sex
33.01_-_The_Initiation_of_Swadeshi
3.3.01_-_The_Superman
3.3.02_-_All-Will_and_Free-Will
33.02_-_Subhash,_Oaten:_atlas,_Russell
33.05_-_Muraripukur_-_II
33.06_-_Alipore_Court
33.07_-_Alipore_Jail
33.08_-_I_Tried_Sannyas
33.09_-_Shyampukur
33.10_-_Pondicherry_I
33.11_-_Pondicherry_II
33.12_-_Pondicherry_Cyclone
33.13_-_My_Professors
33.14_-_I_Played_Football
33.15_-_My_Athletics
33.16_-_Soviet_Gymnasts
33.17_-_Two_Great_Wars
33.18_-_I_Bow_to_the_Mother
3.3.1_-_Illness_and_Health
3.3.3_-_Specific_Illnesses,_Ailments_and_Other_Physical_Problems
3.4.01_-_Evolution
3.4.02_-_The_Inconscient
3.4.03_-_Materialism
3.4.1.01_-_Poetry_and_Sadhana
3.4.1.06_-_Reading_and_Sadhana
3.4.2_-_The_Inconscient_and_the_Integral_Yoga
3.5.01_-_Aphorisms
35.01_-_Hymn_To_The_Sweet_Lord
3.5.02_-_Religion
3.5.03_-_Reason_and_Society
3-5_Full_Circle
3.6.01_-_Heraclitus
36.08_-_A_Commentary_on_the_First_Six_Suktas_of_Rigveda
37.02_-_The_Story_of_Jabala-Satyakama
37.03_-_Satyakama_And_Upakoshala
37.04_-_The_Story_Of_Rishi_Yajnavalkya
37.05_-_Narada_-_Sanatkumara_(Chhandogya_Upanishad)
37.07_-_Ushasti_Chakrayana_(Chhandogya_Upanishad)
3.7.1.01_-_Rebirth
3.7.1.03_-_Rebirth,_Evolution,_Heredity
3.7.1.04_-_Rebirth_and_Soul_Evolution
3.7.1.05_-_The_Significance_of_Rebirth
3.7.1.06_-_The_Ascending_Unity
3.7.1.07_-_Involution_and_Evolution
3.7.1.08_-_Karma
3.7.1.09_-_Karma_and_Freedom
3.7.1.10_-_Karma,_Will_and_Consequence
3.7.1.12_-_Karma_and_Justice
3.7.2.01_-_The_Foundation
3.7.2.02_-_The_Terrestial_Law
3.7.2.03_-_Mind_Nature_and_Law_of_Karma
3.7.2.04_-_The_Higher_Lines_of_Karma
3.7.2.05_-_Appendix_I_-_The_Tangle_of_Karma
38.04_-_Great_Time
38.05_-_Living_Matter
3.8.1.02_-_Arya_-_Its_Significance
3.8.1.03_-_Meditation
3.8.1.04_-_Different_Methods_of_Writing
3.8.1.05_-_Occult_Knowledge_and_the_Hindu_Scriptures
3_-_Commentaries_and_Annotated_Translations
4.01_-_Circumstances
4.01_-_Conclusion_-_My_intellectual_position
4.01_-_Introduction
4.01_-_Prayers_and_Meditations
4.01_-_THE_COLLECTIVE_ISSUE
4.01_-_The_Presence_of_God_in_the_World
4.01_-_The_Principle_of_the_Integral_Yoga
4.02_-_Autobiographical_Evidence
4.02_-_BEYOND_THE_COLLECTIVE_-_THE_HYPER-PERSONAL
4.02_-_Difficulties
4.02_-_Divine_Consolations.
4.02_-_Humanity_in_Progress
4.02_-_The_Integral_Perfection
4.02_-_The_Psychology_of_the_Child_Archetype
4.03_-_Mistakes
4.03_-_The_Meaning_of_Human_Endeavor
4.03_-_The_Psychology_of_Self-Perfection
4.03_-_The_Senses_And_Mental_Pictures
4.03_-_The_Special_Phenomenology_of_the_Child_Archetype
4.03_-_THE_TRANSFORMATION_OF_THE_KING
4.03_-_THE_ULTIMATE_EARTH
4.04_-_Conclusion
4.04_-_In_the_Total_Christ
4.04_-_Some_Vital_Functions
4.04_-_The_Perfection_of_the_Mental_Being
4.04_-_THE_REGENERATION_OF_THE_KING
4.04_-_Weaknesses
4.05_-_THE_DARK_SIDE_OF_THE_KING
4.05_-_The_Instruments_of_the_Spirit
4.05_-_The_Passion_Of_Love
4.06_-_Purification-the_Lower_Mentality
4.06_-_RETIRED
4.06_-_THE_KING_AS_ANTHROPOS
4.07_-_Purification-Intelligence_and_Will
4.07_-_THE_RELATION_OF_THE_KING-SYMBOL_TO_CONSCIOUSNESS
4.07_-_THE_UGLIEST_MAN
4.08_-_The_Liberation_of_the_Spirit
4.09_-_The_Liberation_of_the_Nature
4.0_-_NOTES_TO_ZARATHUSTRA
4.0_-_The_Path_of_Knowledge
4.1.01_-_The_Intellect_and_Yoga
4.10_-_The_Elements_of_Perfection
4.1.1.04_-_Foundations_of_the_Sadhana
4.1.1.05_-_The_Central_Process_of_the_Yoga
4.1.1_-_The_Difficulties_of_Yoga
4.11_-_The_Perfection_of_Equality
4.11_-_THE_WELCOME
4.1.2_-_The_Difficulties_of_Human_Nature
4.12_-_The_Way_of_Equality
4.1.3_-_Imperfections_and_Periods_of_Arrest
4.13_-_ON_THE_HIGHER_MAN
4.13_-_The_Action_of_Equality
4.1.4_-_Resistances,_Sufferings_and_Falls
4.14_-_The_Power_of_the_Instruments
4.15_-_Soul-Force_and_the_Fourfold_Personality
4.16_-_The_Divine_Shakti
4.17_-_The_Action_of_the_Divine_Shakti
4.18_-_Faith_and_shakti
4.19_-_The_Nature_of_the_supermind
4.1_-_Jnana
4.20_-_The_Intuitive_Mind
4.2.1_-_The_Right_Attitude_towards_Difficulties
4.2.2.02_-_Conditions_for_the_Psychic_Opening
4.2.2_-_Steps_towards_Overcoming_Difficulties
4.22_-_The_supramental_Thought_and_Knowledge
4.2.3.02_-_Signs_of_the_Psychic's_Coming_Forward
4.23_-_The_supramental_Instruments_--_Thought-process
4.2.4.11_-_Psychic_Intensity
4.24_-_The_supramental_Sense
4.2.4_-_Time_and_CHange_of_the_Nature
4.2.5_-_Dealing_with_Depression_and_Despondency
4.25_-_Towards_the_supramental_Time_Vision
4.26_-_The_Supramental_Time_Consciousness
4.2_-_Karma
4.3.1_-_The_Hostile_Forces_and_the_Difficulties_of_Yoga
4.3.2.03_-_Wideness_and_the_Higher_Consciousness
4.3.2_-_Attacks_by_the_Hostile_Forces
4.3.3_-_Dealing_with_Hostile_Attacks
4.3_-_Bhakti
4.4.1.03_-_Both_Ascent_and_Descent_Necessary
4.4.1.05_-_Ascent_and_Descent_of_the_Kundalini_Shakti
4.4.2.04_-_Ascent_and_Dissolution
4.4.2.07_-_Ascent_and_Going_out_of_the_Body
4.4.4.05_-_The_Descent_of_Force_or_Power
4.4.5.03_-_Descent_and_Other_Experiences
5.01_-_ADAM_AS_THE_ARCANE_SUBSTANCE
5.01_-_EPILOGUE
5.01_-_Message
5.02_-_Perfection_of_the_Body
5.02_-_Two_Parallel_Movements
5.03_-_The_Divine_Body
5.03_-_The_World_Is_Not_Eternal
5.04_-_Formation_Of_The_World
5.04_-_Supermind_and_the_Life_Divine
5.05_-_Origins_Of_Vegetable_And_Animal_Life
5.05_-_Supermind_and_Humanity
5.06_-_Supermind_in_the_Evolution
5.06_-_THE_TRANSFORMATION
5.07_-_Beginnings_Of_Civilization
5.07_-_Mind_of_Light
5.08_-_ADAM_AS_TOTALITY
5.08_-_Supermind_and_Mind_of_Light
5.1.01.1_-_The_Book_of_the_Herald
5.1.01.2_-_The_Book_of_the_Statesman
5.1.01.3_-_The_Book_of_the_Assembly
5.1.01.4_-_The_Book_of_Partings
5.1.01.5_-_The_Book_of_Achilles
5.1.01.6_-_The_Book_of_the_Chieftains
5.1.01.7_-_The_Book_of_the_Woman
5.1.01.8_-_The_Book_of_the_Gods
5.1.02_-_Ahana
5.2.01_-_The_Descent_of_Ahana
5.2.03_-_The_An_Family
5.4.01_-_Notes_on_Root-Sounds
5.4.01_-_Occult_Knowledge
5_-_The_Phenomenology_of_the_Spirit_in_Fairytales
6.02_-_STAGES_OF_THE_CONJUNCTION
6.03_-_Extraordinary_And_Paradoxical_Telluric_Phenomena
6.04_-_THE_MEANING_OF_THE_ALCHEMICAL_PROCEDURE
6.04_-_The_Plague_Athens
6.05_-_THE_PSYCHOLOGICAL_INTERPRETATION_OF_THE_PROCEDURE
6.06_-_SELF-KNOWLEDGE
6.07_-_THE_MONOCOLUS
6.08_-_Intellectual_Visions
6.08_-_THE_CONTENT_AND_MEANING_OF_THE_FIRST_TWO_STAGES
6.09_-_THE_THIRD_STAGE_-_THE_UNUS_MUNDUS
6.0_-_Conscious,_Unconscious,_and_Individuation
6.10_-_THE_SELF_AND_THE_BOUNDS_OF_KNOWLEDGE
7.01_-_The_Soul_(the_Psychic)
7.02_-_Courage
7.02_-_The_Mind
7.08_-_Sincerity
7.09_-_Right_Judgement
7.12_-_The_Giver
7.13_-_The_Conquest_of_Knowledge
7.15_-_The_Family
7.3.10_-_The_Lost_Boat
7.3.13_-_Ascent
7.5.37_-_Lila
7.6.01_-_Symbol_Moon
7.6.03_-_Who_art_thou_that_camest
7_-_Yoga_of_Sri_Aurobindo
9.99_-_Glossary
Aeneid
Apology
Appendix_4_-_Priest_Spells
APPENDIX_I_-_Curriculum_of_A._A.
Avatars_of_the_Tortoise
Averroes_Search
Big_Mind_(non-dual)
Big_Mind_(ten_perfections)
Blazing_P1_-_Preconventional_consciousness
Blazing_P2_-_Map_the_Stages_of_Conventional_Consciousness
Blazing_P3_-_Explore_the_Stages_of_Postconventional_Consciousness
Book_1_-_The_Council_of_the_Gods
BOOK_I._-_Augustine_censures_the_pagans,_who_attributed_the_calamities_of_the_world,_and_especially_the_sack_of_Rome_by_the_Goths,_to_the_Christian_religion_and_its_prohibition_of_the_worship_of_the_gods
BOOK_II._-_A_review_of_the_calamities_suffered_by_the_Romans_before_the_time_of_Christ,_showing_that_their_gods_had_plunged_them_into_corruption_and_vice
BOOK_III._-_The_external_calamities_of_Rome
BOOK_II._--_PART_I._ANTHROPOGENESIS.
BOOK_II._--_PART_III._ADDENDA._SCIENCE_AND_THE_SECRET_DOCTRINE_CONTRASTED
BOOK_II._--_PART_II._THE_ARCHAIC_SYMBOLISM_OF_THE_WORLD-RELIGIONS
BOOK_I._--_PART_I._COSMIC_EVOLUTION
BOOK_I._--_PART_III._SCIENCE_AND_THE_SECRET_DOCTRINE_CONTRASTED
BOOK_I._--_PART_II._THE_EVOLUTION_OF_SYMBOLISM_IN_ITS_APPROXIMATE_ORDER
BOOK_IV._-_That_empire_was_given_to_Rome_not_by_the_gods,_but_by_the_One_True_God
BOOK_IX._-_Of_those_who_allege_a_distinction_among_demons,_some_being_good_and_others_evil
Book_of_Exodus
Book_of_Genesis
Book_of_Imaginary_Beings_(text)
BOOK_VIII._-_Some_account_of_the_Socratic_and_Platonic_philosophy,_and_a_refutation_of_the_doctrine_of_Apuleius_that_the_demons_should_be_worshipped_as_mediators_between_gods_and_men
BOOK_VII._-_Of_the_select_gods_of_the_civil_theology,_and_that_eternal_life_is_not_obtained_by_worshipping_them
BOOK_VI._-_Of_Varros_threefold_division_of_theology,_and_of_the_inability_of_the_gods_to_contri_bute_anything_to_the_happiness_of_the_future_life
BOOK_V._-_Of_fate,_freewill,_and_God's_prescience,_and_of_the_source_of_the_virtues_of_the_ancient_Romans
BOOK_XI._-_Augustine_passes_to_the_second_part_of_the_work,_in_which_the_origin,_progress,_and_destinies_of_the_earthly_and_heavenly_cities_are_discussed.Speculations_regarding_the_creation_of_the_world
BOOK_XIII._-_That_death_is_penal,_and_had_its_origin_in_Adam's_sin
BOOK_XII._-_Of_the_creation_of_angels_and_men,_and_of_the_origin_of_evil
BOOK_XIV._-_Of_the_punishment_and_results_of_mans_first_sin,_and_of_the_propagation_of_man_without_lust
BOOK_XIX._-_A_review_of_the_philosophical_opinions_regarding_the_Supreme_Good,_and_a_comparison_of_these_opinions_with_the_Christian_belief_regarding_happiness
BOOK_X._-_Porphyrys_doctrine_of_redemption
BOOK_XVIII._-_A_parallel_history_of_the_earthly_and_heavenly_cities_from_the_time_of_Abraham_to_the_end_of_the_world
BOOK_XVII._-_The_history_of_the_city_of_God_from_the_times_of_the_prophets_to_Christ
BOOK_XVI._-_The_history_of_the_city_of_God_from_Noah_to_the_time_of_the_kings_of_Israel
BOOK_XV._-_The_progress_of_the_earthly_and_heavenly_cities_traced_by_the_sacred_history
BOOK_XXII._-_Of_the_eternal_happiness_of_the_saints,_the_resurrection_of_the_body,_and_the_miracles_of_the_early_Church
BOOK_XXI._-_Of_the_eternal_punishment_of_the_wicked_in_hell,_and_of_the_various_objections_urged_against_it
BOOK_XX._-_Of_the_last_judgment,_and_the_declarations_regarding_it_in_the_Old_and_New_Testaments
BS_1_-_Introduction_to_the_Idea_of_God
Chapter_III_-_WHEREIN_IS_RELATED_THE_DROLL_WAY_IN_WHICH_DON_QUIXOTE_HAD_HIMSELF_DUBBED_A_KNIGHT
Chapter_II_-_WHICH_TREATS_OF_THE_FIRST_SALLY_THE_INGENIOUS_DON_QUIXOTE_MADE_FROM_HOME
City_of_God_-_BOOK_I
Conversations_with_Sri_Aurobindo
COSA_-_BOOK_I
COSA_-_BOOK_II
COSA_-_BOOK_III
COSA_-_BOOK_IV
COSA_-_BOOK_IX
COSA_-_BOOK_V
COSA_-_BOOK_VI
COSA_-_BOOK_VII
COSA_-_BOOK_VIII
COSA_-_BOOK_X
COSA_-_BOOK_XII
COSA_-_BOOK_XIII
Cratylus
Deutsches_Requiem
Diamond_Sutra_1
DS2
DS3
DS4
ENNEAD_01.01_-_The_Organism_and_the_Self.
ENNEAD_01.02_-_Concerning_Virtue.
ENNEAD_01.03_-_Of_Dialectic,_or_the_Means_of_Raising_the_Soul_to_the_Intelligible_World.
ENNEAD_01.04_-_Whether_Animals_May_Be_Termed_Happy.
ENNEAD_01.06_-_Of_Beauty.
ENNEAD_01.08_-_Of_the_Nature_and_Origin_of_Evils.
ENNEAD_02.01_-_Of_the_Heaven.
ENNEAD_02.03_-_Whether_Astrology_is_of_any_Value.
ENNEAD_02.04a_-_Of_Matter.
ENNEAD_02.05_-_Of_the_Aristotelian_Distinction_Between_Actuality_and_Potentiality.
ENNEAD_02.09_-_Against_the_Gnostics;_or,_That_the_Creator_and_the_World_are_Not_Evil.
ENNEAD_03.01_-_Concerning_Fate.
ENNEAD_03.02_-_Of_Providence.
ENNEAD_03.03_-_Continuation_of_That_on_Providence.
ENNEAD_03.05_-_Of_Love,_or_Eros.
ENNEAD_03.06_-_Of_the_Impassibility_of_Incorporeal_Entities_(Soul_and_and_Matter).
ENNEAD_03.06_-_Of_the_Impassibility_of_Incorporeal_Things.
ENNEAD_03.07_-_Of_Time_and_Eternity.
ENNEAD_03.08b_-_Of_Nature,_Contemplation_and_Unity.
ENNEAD_04.02_-_How_the_Soul_Mediates_Between_Indivisible_and_Divisible_Essence.
ENNEAD_04.02_-_Of_the_Nature_of_the_Soul.
ENNEAD_04.03_-_Psychological_Questions.
ENNEAD_04.04_-_Questions_About_the_Soul.
ENNEAD_04.05_-_Psychological_Questions_III._-_About_the_Process_of_Vision_and_Hearing.
ENNEAD_04.06a_-_Of_Sensation_and_Memory.
ENNEAD_04.07_-_Of_the_Immortality_of_the_Soul:_Polemic_Against_Materialism.
ENNEAD_04.08_-_Of_the_Descent_of_the_Soul_Into_the_Body.
ENNEAD_05.01_-_The_Three_Principal_Hypostases,_or_Forms_of_Existence.
ENNEAD_05.02_-_Of_Generation_and_of_the_Order_of_Things_that_Follow_the_First.
ENNEAD_05.03_-_The_Self-Consciousnesses,_and_What_is_Above_Them.
ENNEAD_05.04_-_How_What_is_After_the_First_Proceeds_Therefrom;_of_the_One.
ENNEAD_05.05_-_That_Intelligible_Entities_Are_Not_External_to_the_Intelligence_of_the_Good.
ENNEAD_05.06_-_The_Superessential_Principle_Does_Not_Think_-_Which_is_the_First_Thinking_Principle,_and_Which_is_the_Second?
ENNEAD_05.08_-_Concerning_Intelligible_Beauty.
ENNEAD_05.09_-_Of_Intelligence,_Ideas_and_Essence.
ENNEAD_06.01_-_Of_the_Ten_Aristotelian_and_Four_Stoic_Categories.
ENNEAD_06.02_-_The_Categories_of_Plotinos.
ENNEAD_06.03_-_Plotinos_Own_Sense-Categories.
ENNEAD_06.04_-_The_One_and_Identical_Being_Is_Everywhere_Present_As_a_Whole.
ENNEAD_06.04_-_The_One_Identical_Essence_is_Everywhere_Entirely_Present.
ENNEAD_06.05_-_The_One_and_Identical_Being_is_Everywhere_Present_In_Its_Entirety.345
ENNEAD_06.05_-_The_One_Identical_Essence_is_Everywhere_Entirely_Present.
ENNEAD_06.06_-_Of_Numbers.
ENNEAD_06.07_-_How_Ideas_Multiplied,_and_the_Good.
ENNEAD_06.08_-_Of_the_Will_of_the_One.
ENNEAD_06.09_-_Of_the_Good_and_the_One.
Epistle_to_the_Romans
Euthyphro
First_Epistle_of_Paul_to_the_Thessalonians
For_a_Breath_I_Tarry
Gods_Script
Gorgias
Guru_Granth_Sahib_first_part
Ion
IS_-_Chapter_1
Jaap_Sahib_Text_(Guru_Gobind_Singh)
Liber
Liber_111_-_The_Book_of_Wisdom_-_LIBER_ALEPH_VEL_CXI
Liber_46_-_The_Key_of_the_Mysteries
Liber_71_-_The_Voice_of_the_Silence_-_The_Two_Paths_-_The_Seven_Portals
LUX.02_-_EVOCATION
Medea_-_A_Vergillian_Cento
Meno
MMM.01_-_MIND_CONTROL
MoM_References
P.11_-_MAGICAL_WEAPONS
Partial_Magic_in_the_Quixote
Phaedo
Prayers_and_Meditations_by_Baha_u_llah_text
r1909_06_24
r1912_01_27
r1912_02_07
r1912_02_08
r1912_07_01
r1912_07_03
r1912_07_04
r1912_07_14
r1912_07_18
r1912_07_21
r1912_11_21
r1912_12_06
r1912_12_16
r1912_12_29
r1913_01_14
r1913_01_16
r1913_01_17
r1913_01_24
r1913_01_26
r1913_06_09
r1913_09_13
r1913_09_16
r1913_11_11
r1913_11_18
r1913_11_25
r1913_11_27
r1913_12_13
r1913_12_22
r1913_12_23
r1914_01_11
r1914_01_15
r1914_03_12
r1914_03_23
r1914_03_26
r1914_03_27
r1914_04_08
r1914_04_11
r1914_04_19
r1914_04_20
r1914_05_05
r1914_05_08
r1914_05_22
r1914_06_10
r1914_06_24
r1914_06_26
r1914_06_28
r1914_06_29
r1914_07_08
r1914_07_26
r1914_07_28
r1914_08_01
r1914_08_15
r1914_08_22
r1914_10_23
r1914_11_04
r1914_11_23
r1914_11_26
r1914_11_27
r1914_12_05
r1914_12_10
r1914_12_13
r1914_12_16
r1914_12_17
r1914_12_19
r1914_12_21
r1914_12_22
r1915_01_05b
r1915_01_09
r1915_01_10
r1915_01_12
r1915_01_13
r1915_02_01
r1915_05_30
r1915_06_01
r1915_07_11
r1915_07_13
r1916_02_19
r1917_01_22
r1917_02_01
r1917_02_18
r1917_02_22
r1917_03_07
r1917_03_09
r1917_03_13
r1917_09_04
r1917_09_20
r1918_05_10
r1918_05_13
r1918_05_14
r1918_05_15
r1918_05_21
r1919_06_27
r1919_06_28
r1919_07_09
r1919_07_11
r1919_07_14
r1919_07_20
r1919_07_27
r1919_08_06
r1919_08_11
r1919_08_14
r1919_08_20
r1920_02_07a
r1920_02_21
r1920_06_12
r1927_07_30_-_Record_of_Drishti
Sayings_of_Sri_Ramakrishna_(text)
SB_1.1_-_Questions_by_the_Sages
Sophist
Story_of_the_Warrior_and_the_Captive
Symposium_translated_by_B_Jowett
Tablets_of_Baha_u_llah_text
Talks_026-050
Talks_051-075
Talks_151-175
Talks_176-200
Talks_500-550
Talks_600-652
Talks_With_Sri_Aurobindo_1
Talks_With_Sri_Aurobindo_2
The_Act_of_Creation_text
Theaetetus
The_Aleph
The_Anapanasati_Sutta__A_Practical_Guide_to_Mindfullness_of_Breathing_and_Tranquil_Wisdom_Meditation
The_Book_of_Certitude_-_P1
The_Book_of_Certitude_-_P2
The_Book_of_Job
The_Book_of_Joshua
The_Book_of_the_Prophet_Isaiah
The_Book_of_the_Prophet_Micah
The_Circular_Ruins
The_Coming_Race_Contents
The_Divine_Names_Text_(Dionysis)
The_Dream_of_a_Ridiculous_Man
The_Dwellings_of_the_Philosophers
The_Epistle_of_Paul_to_the_Ephesians
the_Eternal_Wisdom
The_First_Epistle_of_Paul_to_the_Corinthians
The_First_Epistle_of_Peter
The_Five,_Ranks_of_The_Apparent_and_the_Real
The_Garden_of_Forking_Paths_1
The_Garden_of_Forking_Paths_2
The_Gold_Bug
The_Golden_Sentences_of_Democrates
The_Golden_Verses_of_Pythagoras
The_Gospel_According_to_John
The_Gospel_According_to_Luke
The_Gospel_According_to_Mark
The_Gospel_According_to_Matthew
The_Gospel_of_Thomas
The_Great_Sense
The_Hidden_Words_text
The_Immortal
The_Last_Question
The_Letter_to_the_Hebrews
The_Library_of_Babel
The_Library_Of_Babel_2
The_Logomachy_of_Zos
The_Lottery_in_Babylon
The_Mirror_of_Enigmas
The_Monadology
The_One_Who_Walks_Away
The_Pilgrims_Progress
The_Poems_of_Cold_Mountain
The_Pythagorean_Sentences_of_Demophilus
The_Revelation_of_Jesus_Christ_or_the_Apocalypse
The_Riddle_of_this_World
The_Second_Epistle_of_Paul_to_Timothy
The_Second_Epistle_of_Peter
The_Shadow_Out_Of_Time
The_Waiting
The_Zahir
Thus_Spoke_Zarathustra_text
Timaeus
Valery_as_Symbol
Verses_of_Vemana

PRIMARY CLASS

power
qualifier
SIMILAR TITLES
A Thousand Plateaus Capitalism and Schizophrenia
cap
capacities
capacity
Capital words
captivating
Incapacity
Let There Be Light! Scapegoat of a Narcissistic Mother "My Story"
recap
the Captain

DEFINITIONS


TERMS STARTING WITH

capabilities ::: pl. --> of Capability

capability ::: n. --> The quality of being capable; capacity; capableness; esp. intellectual power or ability.
Capacity of being used or improved.


capability "operating system, security" An {operating system} security or access control model where specific types of access to a specific object are granted by giving a process this data structure or {token}. The token may be unforgeable (typically by using {encryption} or hardware "tagged" memory). Capabilities are used in OSes such as {Hydra}, {KeyKOS}, {EROS}, {Chorus}/{Mix}, and the {Stanford V system}. Similar to {Kerberos}, but in an OS context. Compare {access control list}. (1998-03-08)

capability ::: (operating system, security) An operating system security or access control model where specific types of access to a specific object are granted by giving a process this data structure or token.The token may be unforgeable (typically by using encryption or hardware tagged memory). Capabilities are used in OSes such as Hydra, KeyKOS, EROS, Chorus/Mix, and the Stanford V system. Similar to Kerberos, but in an OS context.Compare access control list. (1998-03-08)

capable ::: a. --> Possessing ability, qualification, or susceptibility; having capacity; of sufficient size or strength; as, a room capable of holding a large number; a castle capable of resisting a long assault.
Possessing adequate power; qualified; able; fully competent; as, a capable instructor; a capable judge; a mind capable of nice investigations.
Possessing legal power or capacity; as, a man capable of making a contract, or a will.


capable ::: having the capacity or ability; efficient and able.

capableness ::: n. --> The quality or state of being capable; capability; adequateness; competency.

capable of producing progeny. A case in point

capacified ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Capacify

capacify ::: v. t. --> To quality.

capaciosly ::: adv. --> In a capacious manner or degree; comprehensively.

capacious ::: a. --> Having capacity; able to contain much; large; roomy; spacious; extended; broad; as, a capacious vessel, room, bay, or harbor.
Able or qualified to make large views of things, as in obtaining knowledge or forming designs; comprehensive; liberal.


capaciousness ::: n. --> The quality of being capacious, as of a vessel, a reservoir a bay, the mind, etc.

capacitated ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Capacitate

capacitate ::: v. t. --> To render capable; to enable; to qualify.

capacitating ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Capacitate

capacities ::: pl. --> of Capacity

capacitor "electronics" An electronic device that can store electrical charge. The charge stored Q in Coulombs is related to the capacitance C in Farads and the voltage V across the capacitor in Volts by Q = CV. The basis of a {dynamic RAM} cell is a capacitor. They are also used for power-supply smoothing (or "decoupling"). This is especially important in digital circuits where a digital device switching between states causes a sudden demand for current. Without sufficient local power supply decoupling, this current "spike" cannot be supplied directly from the power supply due to the inductance of the connectors and so will cause a sharp drop in the power supply voltage near the switching device. This can cause other devices to malfunction resulting in hard to trace {glitch}es. (1995-04-12)

capacitor ::: (electronics) An electronic device that can store electrical charge. The charge stored Q in Coulombs is related to the capacitance C in Farads and the voltage V across the capacitor in Volts by Q = CV.The basis of a dynamic RAM cell is a capacitor. They are also used for power-supply smoothing (or decoupling). This is especially important in voltage near the switching device. This can cause other devices to malfunction resulting in hard to trace glitches. (1995-04-12)

capacity ::: 1. The ability to receive, hold, or absorb. 2. The power to learn or retain knowledge; mental ability.

capacity "communications" The maximum possible {data transfer rate} of a communications channel under ideal conditions. The total capacity of a channel may be shared between several independent data streams using some kind of {multiplexing}, in which case, each stream's data rate may be limited to a fixed fraction of the total capacity. (2001-05-22)

capacity ::: (communications) The maximum possible data transfer rate of a communications channel under ideal conditions. The total capacity of a channel multiplexing, in which case, each stream's data rate may be limited to a fixed fraction of the total capacity.(2001-05-22)

capacity models / resource allocation models (of divided attention): those models proposing that we have a pool of processing resources that we can allocate according to the demands of the task and environmental factors.

capacity ::: n. --> The power of receiving or containing; extent of room or space; passive power; -- used in reference to physical things.
The power of receiving and holding ideas, knowledge, etc.; the comprehensiveness of the mind; the receptive faculty; capability of undestanding or feeling.
Ability; power pertaining to, or resulting from, the possession of strength, wealth, or talent; possibility of being or of doing.


capacity: quantifies the amount of information that can be held in memory, e.g. short-term memory has a limited capacity of 7 +/- 2 items.

capalyam (chapalyam) ::: restlessness. capalyam

cap: An informal class="d-title" name for symbol ∩, used to denote intersection of sets that is easier to say than the polysyllabic "intersection".

capape ::: adv. --> See Cap-a-pie.

capapie ::: adv. --> From head to foot; at all points.

caparisoned ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Caparison

caparisoning ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Caparison

caparison ::: n. --> An ornamental covering or housing for a horse; the harness or trappings of a horse, taken collectively, esp. when decorative.
Gay or rich clothing. ::: v. t. --> To cover with housings, as a horse; to harness or fit


caparro ::: n. --> A large South American monkey (Lagothrix Humboldtii), with prehensile tail.

cap ::: a special head covering worn to indicate rank, occupation, or membership in a particular group.

capcase ::: n. --> A small traveling case or bandbox; formerly, a chest.

cape ::: a sleeveless outer garment fastened at the throat and worn hanging over the shoulders.

capelan ::: n. --> See Capelin.

capelin ::: n. --> A small marine fish (Mallotus villosus) of the family Salmonidae, very abundant on the coasts of Greenland, Iceland, Newfoundland, and Alaska. It is used as a bait for the cod.

capella ::: n. --> A brilliant star in the constellation Auriga.

capellane ::: n. --> The curate of a chapel; a chaplain.

capelle ::: n. --> The private orchestra or band of a prince or of a church.

capellet ::: n. --> A swelling, like a wen, on the point of the elbow (or the heel of the hock) of a horse, caused probably by bruises in lying down.

capellmeister ::: n. --> The musical director in royal or ducal chapel; a choir-master.

capel ::: n. --> Alt. of Caple
A composite stone (quartz, schorl, and hornblende) in the walls of tin and copper lodes.


cape ::: n. --> A piece or point of land, extending beyond the adjacent coast into the sea or a lake; a promontory; a headland.
A sleeveless garment or part of a garment, hanging from the neck over the back, arms, and shoulders, but not reaching below the hips. See Cloak. ::: v. i.


caperberry ::: n. --> The small olive-shaped berry of the European and Oriental caper, said to be used in pickles and as a condiment.
The currantlike fruit of the African and Arabian caper (Capparis sodado).


caper bush ::: --> Alt. of Caper tree

capercailzie ::: n. --> Alt. of Capercally

capercally ::: n. --> A species of grouse (Tetrao uragallus) of large size and fine flavor, found in northern Europe and formerly in Scotland; -- called also cock of the woods.

caperclaw ::: v. t. --> To treat with cruel playfulness, as a cat treats a mouse; to abuse.

capered ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Caper

caperer ::: n. --> One who capers, leaps, and skips about, or dances.

capering ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Caper

caper tree ::: --> See Capper, a plant, 2.

caper ::: v. i. --> To leap or jump about in a sprightly manner; to cut capers; to skip; to spring; to prance; to dance. ::: n. --> A frolicsome leap or spring; a skip; a jump, as in mirth or dancing; a prank.
A vessel formerly used by the Dutch, privateer.


capful ::: n. --> As much as will fill a cap.

capias ::: n. --> A writ or process commanding the officer to take the body of the person named in it, that is, to arrest him; -- also called writ of capias.

capibara ::: n. --> See Capybara.

capillaceous ::: a. --> Having long filaments; resembling a hair; slender. See Capillary.

capillaire ::: n. --> A sirup prepared from the maiden-hair, formerly supposed to have medicinal properties.
Any simple sirup flavored with orange flowers.


capillament ::: n. --> A filament.
Any villous or hairy covering; a fine fiber or filament, as of the nerves.


capillariness ::: n. --> The quality of being capillary.

capillarity ::: n. --> The quality or condition of being capillary.
The peculiar action by which the surface of a liquid, where it is in contact with a solid (as in a capillary tube), is elevated or depressed; capillary attraction.


capillary ::: a. --> Resembling a hair; fine; minute; very slender; having minute tubes or interspaces; having very small bore; as, the capillary vessels of animals and plants.
Pertaining to capillary tubes or vessels; as, capillary action. ::: n.


capillation ::: n. --> A capillary blood vessel.

capillature ::: n. --> A bush of hair; frizzing of the hair.

capilliform ::: a. --> In the shape or form of, a hair, or of hairs.

capillose ::: a. --> Having much hair; hairy.

capistrate ::: a. --> Hooded; cowled.

capital ::: 1. A town or city that is the official seat of government in a political entity, such as a state or nation. 2. Wealth in the form of money or property.

capitalism ::: An economic system in which all or most of the means of production are privately owned and operated (usually through employing wage labour, and for profit), and in which the investment of capital and the production, distribution and prices of commodities and services are determined mainly in a free market. Capitalism has also been called laissez-faire economy, free market economy, free enterprise system, economic liberalism, and economic individualism.[4]

capitalist ::: n. --> One who has capital; one who has money for investment, or money invested; esp. a person of large property, which is employed in business.

capitalization ::: n. --> The act or process of capitalizing.

capitalized ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Capitalize

capitalize ::: v. t. --> To convert into capital, or to use as capital.
To compute, appraise, or assess the capital value of (a patent right, an annuity, etc.)
To print in capital letters, or with an initial capital.


capitalizing ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Capitalize

capitally ::: adv. --> In a way involving the forfeiture of the head or life; as, to punish capitally.
In a capital manner; excellently.


capitalness ::: n. --> The quality of being capital; preeminence.

capital ::: n. --> Of or pertaining to the head.
Having reference to, or involving, the forfeiture of the head or life; affecting life; punishable with death; as, capital trials; capital punishment.
First in importance; chief; principal.
Chief, in a political sense, as being the seat of the general government of a state or nation; as, Washington and Paris are capital cities.


capital stock ::: accumulated wealth, esp. any of various shares of ownership in a business.

capitan pasha ::: --> Alt. of Pacha

capita ::: pl. --> of Caput

capitate ::: a. --> Headlike in form; also, having the distal end enlarged and rounded, as the stigmas of certain flowers.
Having the flowers gathered into a head.


capitatim ::: a. --> Of so much per head; as, a capitatim tax; a capitatim grant.

capitation ::: n. --> A numbering of heads or individuals.
A tax upon each head or person, without reference to property; a poll tax.


capitellate ::: a. --> Having a very small knoblike termination, or collected into minute capitula.

capite ::: n. --> See under Tenant.

capitibranchiata ::: n. pl. --> A division of annelids in which the gills arise from or near the head. See Tubicola.

capitol ::: 1. A building occupied by a state legislature. 2. A building that is the seat of government. Also fig.

capitolian ::: a. --> Alt. of Capitoline

capitoline ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to the Capitol in Rome.

capitol ::: --> The temple of Jupiter, at Rome, on the Mona Capitolinus, where the Senate met.
The edifice at Washington occupied by the Congress of the United States; also, the building in which the legislature of State holds its sessions; a statehouse.


capitula ::: n. pl. --> See Capitulum.

capitularies ::: pl. --> of Capitulary

capitularly ::: adv. --> In the manner or form of an ecclesiastical chapter.

capitular ::: n. --> An act passed in a chapter.
A member of a chapter.
The head or prominent part. ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to a chapter; capitulary.
Growing in, or pertaining to, a capitulum.


capitulary ::: n. --> A capitular.
The body of laws or statutes of a chapter, or of an ecclesiastical council.
A collection of laws or statutes, civil and ecclesiastical, esp. of the Frankish kings, in chapters or sections. ::: a.


capitulated ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Capitulate

capitulate ::: n. --> To settle or draw up the heads or terms of an agreement, as in chapters or articles; to agree.
To surrender on terms agreed upon (usually, drawn up under several heads); as, an army or a garrison capitulates. ::: v. t. --> To surrender or transfer, as an army or a fortress,


capitulating ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Capitulate

capitulation ::: n. --> A reducing to heads or articles; a formal agreement.
The act of capitulating or surrendering to an emeny upon stipulated terms.
The instrument containing the terms of an agreement or surrender.


capitulator ::: n. --> One who capitulates.

capitule ::: n. --> A summary.

capitulum ::: n. --> A thick head of flowers on a very short axis, as a clover top, or a dandelion; a composite flower. A capitulum may be either globular or flat.
A knoblike protuberance of any part, esp. at the end of a bone or cartilage. [See Illust. of Artiodactyla.]


capivi ::: n. --> A balsam of the Spanish West Indies. See Copaiba.

caple ::: n. --> A horse; a nag.
See Capel.


capling ::: n. --> The cap or coupling of a flail, through which the thongs pass which connect the handle and swingel.

caplin ::: n. --> See Capelin.
Alt. of Capling


cap ::: n. --> A covering for the head
One usually with a visor but without a brim, for men and boys
One of lace, muslin, etc., for women, or infants
One used as the mark or ensign of some rank, office, or dignity, as that of a cardinal.
The top, or uppermost part; the chief.
A respectful uncovering of the head.
The whole top of the head of a bird from the base of the bill


capnomancy ::: n. --> Divination by means of the ascent or motion of smoke.

capnomor ::: n. --> A limpid, colorless oil with a peculiar odor, obtained from beech tar.

capoched ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Capoch

capoches ::: pl. --> of Capoch

capoch ::: n. --> A hood; especially, the hood attached to the gown of a monk. ::: v. t. --> To cover with, or as with, a hood; hence, to hoodwink or blind.

capoc ::: n. --> A sort of cotton so short and fine that it can not be spun, used in the East Indies to line palanquins, to make mattresses, etc.

caponet ::: n. --> A young capon.

caponiere ::: n. --> A work made across or in the ditch, to protect it from the enemy, or to serve as a covered passageway.

caponize ::: v. t. --> To castrate, as a fowl.

capon ::: n. --> A castrated cock, esp. when fattened; a male chicken gelded to improve his flesh for the table. ::: v. t. --> To castrate; to make a capon of.

capo:

capote ::: n. --> A long cloak or overcoat, especially one with a hood.

capot ::: n. --> A winning of all the tricks at the game of piquet. It counts for forty points. ::: v. t. --> To win all the tricks from, in playing at piquet.

capotted ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Capot

capouch ::: n. & v. t. --> Same as Capoch.

cappadine ::: n. --> A floss or waste obtained from the cocoon after the silk has been reeled off, used for shag.

cappaper ::: --> See cap, n., also Paper, n.

cappeak ::: n. --> The front piece of a cap; -- now more commonly called visor.

capped ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Cap

cappeline ::: n. --> A hood-shaped bandage for the head, the shoulder, or the stump of an amputated limb.

cappella ::: n. --> See A cappella.

capper ::: n. --> One whose business is to make or sell caps.
A by-bidder; a decoy for gamblers [Slang, U. S.].
An instrument for applying a percussion cap to a gun or cartridge.


capping plane ::: --> A plane used for working the upper surface of staircase rails.

capping ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Cap

capra ::: n. --> A genus of ruminants, including the common goat.

capras (Chapras) [Hind.] ::: [badge (of authority)].

caprate ::: n. --> A salt of capric acid.

capreolate ::: a. --> Having a tendril or tendrils.

capreoline ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to the roebuck.

capric ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to capric acid or its derivatives.

capriccioso: capriciously, unpredictable, volatile

caprice ::: 1. A sudden, unpredictable change or series of actions or changes. 2. A sudden, unpredictable change, as of one"s mind; whim, fancy. caprices.

caprice ::: v. i. --> An abrupt change in feeling, opinion, or action, proceeding from some whim or fancy; a freak; a notion.
See Capriccio.


capricioso ::: a. --> In a free, fantastic style.

capricious ::: a. --> Governed or characterized by caprice; apt to change suddenly; freakish; whimsical; changeable.

capricorn ::: Capricorn Capricorn, the Goat, is an earth sign and the tenth sign of the Zodiac. Capricorn is ruled by the planet Saturn.

capricorn ::: n. --> The tenth sign of zodiac, into which the sun enters at the winter solstice, about December 21. See Tropic.
A southern constellation, represented on ancient monuments by the figure of a goat, or a figure with its fore part like a fish.


caprid ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to the tribe of ruminants of which the goat, or genus Capra, is the type.

caprification ::: n. --> The practice of hanging, upon the cultivated fig tree, branches of the wild fig infested with minute hymenopterous insects.

caprifole ::: n. --> The woodbine or honeysuckle.

caprifoliaceous ::: a. --> Of, pertaining to, or resembling, the Honeysuckle family of plants (Caprifoliacae.

capriform ::: a. --> Having the form of a goat.

caprigenous ::: a. --> Of the goat kind.

caprine ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to a goat; as, caprine gambols.

capriole ::: v. i. --> A leap that a horse makes with all fours, upwards only, without advancing, but with a kick or jerk of the hind legs when at the height of the leap.
A leap or caper, as in dancing.
To perform a capriole.


capriped ::: a. --> Having feet like those of a goat.

caproate ::: n. --> A salt of caproic acid.

caproic ::: a. --> See under Capric.

caprylate ::: n. --> A salt of caprylic acid.

caprylic ::: a. --> See under Capric.

capsaicin ::: n. --> A colorless crystalline substance extracted from the Capsicum annuum, and giving off vapors of intense acridity.

capsheaf ::: n. --> The top sheaf of a stack of grain: (fig.) the crowning or finishing part of a thing.

capsicine ::: n. --> A volatile alkaloid extracted from Capsicum annuum or from capsicin.

capsicin ::: n. --> A red liquid or soft resin extracted from various species of capsicum.

capsicum ::: n. --> A genus of plants of many species, producing capsules or dry berries of various forms, which have an exceedingly pungent, biting taste, and when ground form the red or Cayenne pepper of commerce.

capsized ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Capsize

capsize ::: v. t. & i. --> To upset or overturn, as a vessel or other body. ::: n. --> An upset or overturn.

capsizing ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Capsize

capsquare ::: n. --> A metal covering plate which passes over the trunnions of a cannon, and holds it in place.

capstan ::: n. --> A vertical cleated drum or cylinder, revolving on an upright spindle, and surmounted by a drumhead with sockets for bars or levers. It is much used, especially on shipboard, for moving or raising heavy weights or exerting great power by traction upon a rope or cable, passing around the drum. It is operated either by steam power or by a number of men walking around the capstan, each pushing on the end of a lever fixed in its socket.

capstone ::: n. --> A fossil echinus of the genus Cannulus; -- so called from its supposed resemblance to a cap.

capsular ::: a. --> Alt. of Capsulary

capsulary ::: a. --> Of or pertaining to a capsule; having the nature of a capsule; hollow and fibrous.

capsulate ::: a. --> Alt. of Capsulated

capsulated ::: a. --> Inclosed in a capsule, or as in a chest or box.

capsule ::: n. --> a dry fruit or pod which is made up of several parts or carpels, and opens to discharge the seeds, as, the capsule of the poppy, the flax, the lily, etc.
A small saucer of clay for roasting or melting samples of ores, etc.; a scorifier.
a small, shallow, evaporating dish, usually of porcelain.
A small cylindrical or spherical gelatinous envelope in which nauseous or acrid doses are inclosed to be swallowed.


capsule neural network (CapsNet) ::: A machine learning system that is a type of artificial neural network (ANN) that can be used to better model hierarchical relationships. The approach is an attempt to more closely mimic biological neural organization.[72]

captain ::: 1. One who commands, leads, or guides others. 2. The officer in command of a ship, an aircraft, or a spacecraft.

captaincy ::: n. --> The rank, post, or commission of a captain.

captain ::: n. --> A head, or chief officer
The military officer who commands a company, troop, or battery, or who has the rank entitling him to do so though he may be employed on other service.
An officer in the United States navy, next above a commander and below a commodore, and ranking with a colonel in the army.
By courtesy, an officer actually commanding a vessel,


captainry ::: n. --> Power, or command, over a certain district; chieftainship.

captainship ::: n. --> The condition, rank, post, or authority of a captain or chief commander.
Military skill; as, to show good captainship.


captation ::: n. --> A courting of favor or applause, by flattery or address; a captivating quality; an attraction.

caption ::: n. --> A caviling; a sophism.
The act of taking or arresting a person by judicial process.
That part of a legal instrument, as a commission, indictment, etc., which shows where, when, and by what authority, it was taken, found, or executed.
The heading of a chapter, section, or page.


captious ::: a. --> Apt to catch at faults; disposed to find fault or to cavil; eager to object; difficult to please.
Fitted to harass, perplex, or insnare; insidious; troublesome.


captiously ::: adv. --> In a captious manner.

captiousness ::: n. --> Captious disposition or manner.

captivated ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Captivate

captivate ::: v. t. --> To take prisoner; to capture; to subdue.
To acquire ascendancy over by reason of some art or attraction; to fascinate; to charm; as, Cleopatra captivated Antony; the orator captivated all hearts. ::: p. a. --> Taken prisoner; made captive; insnared; charmed.


captivating ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Captivate ::: a. --> Having power to captivate or charm; fascinating; as, captivating smiles.

captivation ::: n. --> The act of captivating.

captived ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Captive

captive ::: n. 1. One, such as a prisoner of war, who is forcibly confined, subjugated, or enslaved. captives. v. 2. Those taken and held as a prisoners. captived. adj. 3. Kept under restraint or control; confined. 4. Enraptured, as by beauty; captivated.

captive ::: n. --> A prisoner taken by force or stratagem, esp., by an enemy, in war; one kept in bondage or in the power of another.
One charmed or subdued by beaty, excellence, or affection; one who is captivated. ::: a. --> Made prisoner, especially in war; held in bondage or in


captiving ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Captive

captivity ::: n. --> The state of being a captive or a prisoner.
A state of being under control; subjection of the will or affections; bondage.


captor ::: n. --> One who captures any person or thing, as a prisoner or a prize.

capt

capt ::: Tehmi: “This passage is about the Kings of Thought. They come as the crown or overlie the imperatives. They go higher than the imperatives.”

capture ::: 1. To take possession of; to take by force or stratagem; take prisoner; seize. 2. To represent, preserve or record in lasting form, a quality, etc. captures, captured, capturing.

captured ::: imp. & p. p. --> of Capture

capture ::: n. --> The act of seizing by force, or getting possession of by superior power or by stratagem; as, the capture of an enemy, a vessel, or a criminal.
The securing of an object of strife or desire, as by the power of some attraction.
The thing taken by force, surprise, or stratagem; a prize; prey.


capture-recapture sampling: A method for estimating total population (usually of animals) through 2 periods of capture (observation), assuming that the total number has reamined constant and that the probability of capture of any animal on any one visit is constant and equal. In implementing this method, a researcher captures a number of animals and mark them (or make sure that they can be identified in the future in some way) and releases them, they come back to capture a number of animals and count the proportion of animals that were captured both times. By assuming that the proportion of animals recaptured in an unbiased estimate of the proportion of animals marked in the first capture, combine this with the number of animals marked on the first visit, we can easily calculate the estimated number of the total population. In practice, it is difficult to ensure that the animal population remains constant (or roughly the same) while ensuring that the chance of recapture is truly equal amongst the population since the former requires the visits to be relatively close to each other so that the population does not change significantly and yet the latter condition requires the visits to be sufficiently space apart so that the locations of the animals are truly randomised.

capturing ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Capture

capuccio ::: n. --> A capoch or hood.

capuched ::: a. --> Cover with, or as with, a hood.

capuchin ::: n. --> A Franciscan monk of the austere branch established in 1526 by Matteo di Baschi, distinguished by wearing the long pointed cowl or capoch of St. Francis.
A garment for women, consisting of a cloak and hood, resembling, or supposed to resemble, that of capuchin monks.
A long-tailed South American monkey (Cabus capucinus), having the forehead naked and wrinkled, with the hair on the crown reflexed and resembling a monk&


capucine ::: n. --> See Capuchin, 3.

capulet ::: n. --> Same as Capellet.

capulin ::: n. --> The Mexican cherry (Prunus Capollin).

caput ::: n. --> The head; also, a knoblike protuberance or capitulum.
The top or superior part of a thing.
The council or ruling body of the University of Cambridge prior to the constitution of 1856.


capybara ::: n. --> A large South American rodent (Hydrochaerus capybara) Living on the margins of lakes and rivers. It is the largest extant rodent, being about three feet long, and half that in height. It somewhat resembles the Guinea pig, to which it is related; -- called also cabiai and water hog.

CAP ::: 1. (networking) Columbia AppleTalk Package.2. (communications) Carrierless Amplitude/Phase Modulation.3. (networking) Competitive Access Provider

CAP 1. "networking" {Columbia AppleTalk Package}. 2. "communications" {Carrierless Amplitude/Phase Modulation}. 3. "networking" {Competitive Access Provider}

Capabile—one of 3 angel messengers of the

Capabili—an angel of the 4th Heaven ruling

Capabilities Maturity Model {Capability Maturity Model}

Capabilities Maturity Model ::: (software) (CMM) The Software Engineering Institute's model of software engineering that specifies five levels of maturity of the processes of a expanded to cover other areas including Human Resources and Software Acquitition.The levels - focii - and key process areas are:Level 1 Initial - Heroes - None.Level 2 Repeatable - Project Management - Software Project Planning, Software Project Tracking and Oversight, Software Subcontract Management, Software Quality Assurance, Software Configuration Management, Requirements Management.Level 3 Defined - Engineering Process - Organisation Process Focus, Organisation Process Definition, Peer Reviews, Training Program, Inter-group Coordination, Software Product Engineering, Integrated Software Management.Level 4 Managed - Product and Process Quality - Software Quality Management, Quantitative Process Management.Level 5 Optimising - Continuous Improvement - Process Change Management, Technology Change Management, Defect Prevention.[Reference?](2001-04-28)

Capability Maturity Model "software" (CMM) The {Software Engineering Institute}'s model of {software engineering} that specifies five levels of maturity of the processes of a software organisation. CMM offers a framework for evolutionary process improvement. Originally applied to software development (SE-CMM), it has been expanded to cover other areas including Human Resources and Software Acquitition. The levels - focii - and key process areas are: Level 1 Initial - Heroes - None. Level 2 Repeatable - Project Management - Software Project Planning, Software Project Tracking and Oversight, Software Subcontract Management, Software Quality Assurance, Software Configuration Management, Requirements Management. Level 3 Defined - Engineering Process - Organisation Process Focus, Organisation Process Definition, Peer Reviews, Training Program, Inter-group Coordination, Software Product Engineering, Integrated Software Management. Level 4 Managed - Product and Process Quality - Software Quality Management, Quantitative Process Management. Level 5 Optimising - Continuous Improvement - Process Change Management, Technology Change Management, Defect Prevention. {(http://www.sei.cmu.edu/cmm/cmm.html)}. (2001-04-28)

Capacity:Any ability, potentiality, power or talent possessed by anything, either to act or to suffer. It may be innate or acquired, dormant or active. The topic of capacity figures, in the main, in two branches of philosophy: (a) in metaphysics, as in Aristotle's discussion of potentiality and actuality, (b) in ethics, where an agent's capacities are usually regarded as having some bearing on the question as to what his duties are. -- W.K.F.

Capacity - The level of output that corresponds to the firm's minimum short-run average total cost.

CApAlacaitya. (P. CApAlacetiya; T. Tsa pa la mchod rten; C. Zhepoluo ta; J. Shabara no to; K. Ch'abara t'ap 遮婆羅塔) In Sanskrit, "CApAla shrine"; the site near the city of VAIsALĪ where the Buddha GAUTAMA announced his intention to die and enter PARINIRVAnA. According to the PAli MAHAPARINIBBANASUTTANTA, on an excursion to the shrine with his attendant, ANANDA, the Buddha mentioned that, because he had fully mastered the four bases of psychic power (P. iddhipAda, S. ṚDDHIPADA), he had the ability to extend his life "for an eon or until the end of the eon" (P. kappa; S. KALPA). (The PAli commentaries take "eon" here to mean "his full allotted lifespan," not a cosmological period.) Although he raised this prospect a second and third time, Ananda did not take the hint, and the Buddha finally "consciously and deliberately" renounced his remaining lifespan and proclaimed he would pass away in three months' time. When the earth quaked at his decision, Ananda finally realized what had happened and earnestly entreated the Buddha to extend his lifespan. However, the Buddha refused, enumerating the many occasions in the past when the Buddha had made the same statement and Ananda had failed to make the request. Ananda would later explain that he had been distracted by MARA. For his error, Ananda was publicly censured by his colleagues at the time of the first Buddhist council following the Buddha's death (see COUNCIL, FIRST). The CApAla shrine was probably some sort of pre-Buddhist tree shrine; it was almost certainly not a Buddhist reliquary or commemorative tumulus (CAITYA).

Cap ::: A layer of clay, or other impermeable material installed over the top of a closed landfill to prevent entry of rainwater and minimize leachate.



Capelle). [Rf. Michaelis, Admirable History of the

Capgras' syndrome or Illusion des sosies

Caphriel—in occultism, “a strong and power¬

CAPI ::: 1. Calendar Application Programming Interface.2. (cryptography) Cryptographic Application Programming Interface.3. (networking) Common ISDN Application Programming Interface.

CAPI 1. {Calendar Application Programming Interface}. 2. "cryptography" {Cryptographic Application Programming Interface}. 3. "networking" {Common ISDN Application Programming Interface}.

CAPIMALI successively 539

CAPIMAON numbers of time 551

Capital account - A term usually applied to the owners equity in the business.

Capital (Accounting) - 1. the money invested into a business by the owners. Or 2. an amount of money put into the business (often by way of a loan) as opposed to money earned by the business.

Capital account of the balance of payments - A section of a balance of payments accounts that records payments and receipts arising from the Import and exports of long-term and short­term financial capital.

Capital asset - Asset purchased for use in production over long periods of time rather than for resale. It includes (a) land, buildings, plant and equipment, mineral deposits, and timber reserves; (b) patents, goodwill, trademarks, and leaseholds; and (c) investments in affiliated companies.

Capital asset pricing model (CAPM) -Theory of asset pricing used to analyze the relationship between risk and rates of return in securities. The return of an asset or security is the risk-free return plus a risk premium based on the excess of the return on the market over the risk-free rate multiplied by the asset's systematic risk (which can­not be eliminated by diversification).

Capital budget - Plan of proposed acquisitions and replacements of long-term assets and their financing. A capital budget is developed using a variety of capital budgeting techniques such as the payback method, the net present value (NPV) method, or the internal rate of return (IRR) method.

Capital charge - Is an amount of money that is normally arrived at by the calculation of the money the firm has invested in capital multiplied by the (WACC) weighted average cost of capital. The capital charge is normally subtracted from a firms net operating profit minus tax to arrive at the economic profit figure.

Capital consumption - See depreciation another class="d-title" name for the same concept.

Capital (economics) - Factors of production that themselves have been produced by man e.g. machines, factories, ships.

Capital employed (CE)- Gross CE=Total assets, Net CE=Fixed assets plus (current assets less current liabilities).

Capital expenditure - Money spent on fixed assets which will last for more than one year.

Capital flight - The movement of financial capital overseas following domestic problems. Capital flight has significantly deepened the problems of Third World debt.

Capital gains tax- When a fixed asset is sold at a profit, the profit may be liable to a tax called Capital Gains Tax. Calculating the tax can be a complicated affair (capital gains allowances, adjustments for inflation and different computations depending on the age of the asset are all considerations you will need to take on board).

Capital gain - The profit made by selling a share/asset for more it was bought for.

Capital goods - Goods that are use of other goods. Examples include and tractors. Consumers do not directly consume capital goods.

Capital intensive - Refers to production processes that require predominately man made resources i.e. machines. This is often contrasted with labour intensive production (mainly labour is used).

Capitalisation - 1. total amount of the various securities issued by a corporation. Capitalisation may include bonds, preferred and common stock. Or 2. a technique used by real estate appraisers to convert the income of a property into a value estimate for that property.

Capitalisation rate (CAP RATE) - A tool used by real estate people to determine a value of an investment. It is calculated by dividing a property's net operating income by its purchase price.

Capitalised costs - Are those business costs or expenses that are deducted or written off over a period of time via depreciation ond amortisation schedules.

Capitalised earnings - The value of a company determined by multiplying the price earnings ratio by maintainable earnings.

Capitalise - To charge an expenditure to an asset account because it benefits a period in excess of one year. For example, a betterment to a machine would be capitalised to the machinery account.

Capitalism: A mode of economic production which is characterized by the fact that the instruments of production (land, factories, raw materials, etc.) are controlled to a greater or lesser extent by private individuals or groups. Since the control an individual can exercise over means of production is never absolute and as a matter of fact fluctuates widely with the ever-changing natural and social environment, "capitalism" is a very loose term which covers a host of actually different economic systems. An implication of this basic notion of individual control is that the individual will control production in his own interests. The ideological counterpart to this fact is the concept of "profit," just as the ideological counterpart to the control itself is the myth of "private property" and "free enterprise." -- M.B.M.

Capitalism - An economic system individuals privately own the productive resources of land and capital.

Capitalists: The economic class (q.v.) which owns means of production and hires people at wages to work them, thereby realizing profits. -- J.M.S.

Capital-labour ratio - A measure of the amount of capital per worker in an economy.

Capital lease - One in which the lessee obtains significant property rights.

Capital loss - Refers to the higher purchase price above the sale price when the fixed are sold. The loss often given different or a special different treatment for tax purposes.

Capital maintenance - Principle in accounting stating that earnings can be realized only after an organization's capital has been maintained at a predetermined level..

Capital market - The market of debt or equity securities.

Capital movements - The flow of international boundaries, for investment in plant and machinery, or in response to interest rate changes or expectations of interest rate changes.

Capital rationing - Selecting the mix of acceptable projects that provides the highest overall net present value (NPV) when a company has a limit on the budget for capital spending. The probability index is used widely in ranking projects competing for limited funds

Capital reduction - The reducing of a company's declared or stated capital base.

Capital replacement (economic depreciation) - This refers to repair and maintenance of machinery used in production. Capital replacement is often regarded as an expense which may be discretionary in any given year. Ultimately this money must be spent in order to keep the capital stock of an entity working so that over a period of time or in the longer term, the firm operations can continue.

Capital reserve - Refers to fund that are set aside for a specific identified purposes, thereby these funds cannot normally be used for other reasons.

Capital stock - The aggregate quantity of capital goods. Or equity shares in a corporation that is authorised by its Articles of Incorporation and issued to stockholders. The two basic types of capital stock are common stock and preferred stock.

Capital structure - The way in which funds are raised by a business.

Capitiel—one of the angels of the 4th chora or

Capitiel

Capitulation ::: is when investors give up any previous gains in any security or market by selling their positions during periods of declines. Capitulation can happen at any time, but typically happens during high volume trading and extended declines for securities. A market correction or bear market often leads investors to capitulate or panic sell. The term is a derived from a military term which refers to surrender.

CAP-MI power 465

Cap'n Crunch {Captain Crunch}

Capnomancy: Divination based on the smoke of an altar or a hearth as divinatory sign.

Capricorn [from Latin capr goat + cornus horn] The goat, often mystically connected with the sea; the tenth sign of the zodiac. In astrology, an earthy, cardinal sign, one of the two houses of Saturn, and the exaltation of Mars; its bodily correspondence is the knees. The symbol is a hybrid monster, often with the fore part of a goat or antelope and the hind part of a fish or dolphin. In some systems it is a crocodile. This sign marks the extreme southern limit of the sun.

Capricorn. [Rf. Levi, Transcendental Magic.]

Capricorn (the Goat)

Capricorn (The Goat): The tenth sign of the Zodiac. In Hindu astrology, Makarar—and considered by the ancients to be the most important of all the signs. Its symbol () represents the figure by which the sign is often pictured—that of the forepart of a goat, with the tail of a fish—vaguely suggesting the mermaid. Sometimes also by the sea-goat, or dolphin. It is said to have a reference to the legend of the goat and the Sun gods. The Sun is in Capricorn annually from December 22 to January 20. Astrologically it is the first thirty degrees following the Winter Solstice, marked by the passing of the Sun over the Tropic of Capricorn and occupying a position along the Ecliptic from 270° to 300°. It is the “leading” quality of the element Earth: negative, nocturnal, cold, dry, obeying. Ruler: Saturn. Exaltation: Mars. Detriment: Moon. Fall: Jupiter. Symbolic interpretation: A goat with a fish’s tail, signifying extremes of height and depth; changes wrought by time; union of the Christian and Jewish religious dispensations.

Capricorn; Tzakmaqiel for Aquarius; Vocatiel

Captain Abstraction ::: The champion of the principles of abstraction and modularity, who protects unwary students on MIT's course 6.001 from the nefarious designs of Sergeant Spaghetticode and his vile concrete programming practices.See also spaghetti code. (1994-11-22)

Captain Abstraction The champion of the principles of {abstraction} and modularity, who protects unwary students on {MIT}'s course {6.001} from the nefarious designs of Sergeant Spaghetticode and his vile {concrete} programming practices. See also {spaghetti code}. (1994-11-22)

Captain Crunch ::: 1. (person) (Cap'n Crunch) An early 1970s hacker/phreaker/phacker who used a free whistle included with Cap'n Crunch breakfast cereal to fake pay phone system tones and make large quantities of free phone calls. Also alludes to crunch. .2. (After the above) wardialer.3. Reportedly, a program which crashes a computer by overloading the interrupt stack. (1998-08-25)

Captain Crunch 1. "person" ("Cap'n Crunch") An early 1970s {hacker}/{phreaker}/{phacker} who used a free whistle included with "Cap'n Crunch" breakfast cereal to fake pay phone system tones and make large quantities of free phone calls. Also alludes to "{crunch}". {(http://well.com/user/crunch/)}. 2. (After the above) {wardialer}. 3. Reportedly, a program which {crash}es a computer by overloading the {interrupt} {stack}. (1998-08-25)

Captain of the Host of the Lord—in Joshua

Captains of Fear [Angels of Dread]

CAPTCHA "security" A type of test used to determine whether a request to a {website} comes from a human or a computer program, typically by asking the user to perform some kind of {image recognition} task such as reading distorted text. The term was coined in 2000 by Luis von Ahn, Manuel Blum, Nicholas J. Hopper (all of {Carnegie Mellon University}) and John Langford (of {IBM}) as a contrived acronym for "Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart". CAPTCHA aims to prevent software tools from performing actions which might degrade the service, such as registering user accounts or automating the playing of a game. (2009-01-02)

CAP (The Common Agricultural Policy) - Of the E.C.(European Community). It is designed to stabilise EC agricultural markets by fixing minimum prices for agricultural products.

Captures Astronomical bodies not belonging by origin to a particular system. The planet Neptune is spoken of as a capture not belonging to our solar system, meaning that it is a body which has been attracted into an orbit on our plane around the sun. The word is used similarly for the extra moons of those planets having more satellites than one true moon, which is the parent of the visible globe. These captured moons are satellites from the astronomical standpoint, but are not true parental moons.


TERMS ANYWHERE

1. Imagination, caprice, whim, esp. when extravagant and unrestrained. 2. The forming of mental images, esp. wondrous, extravagant or visionary fancy. 3. A mental image, esp. when unreal or fantastic; vision. fantasies.

1. Imagination or fantasy, esp. as exercised in a capricious manner. 2. A mental image or conception. 3. An idea or opinion with little foundation; illusion. 4. A caprice; whim. 5. A sudden or irrational liking for a person or thing. fancy"s, Fancy"s, fancies.

1. Incapable of being fully ascertained, explored, exhausted, etc. 2. Incapable of being fathomed or measured; unsoundable, immeasurable, vast.

1. The fact, character, or quality of being useful or serviceable; fitness for some desirable purpose or valuable end; usefulness, serviceableness. 2. Philos. The ability, capacity, or power of a person, action, or thing to satisfy the needs or gratify the desires of the majority, or of the human race as a whole. 3. A useful, advantageous, or profitable thing, feature, etc.; a use. Chiefly in pl. utility"s, utilities.

aard-wolf ::: n. --> A carnivorous quadruped (Proteles Lalandii), of South Africa, resembling the fox and hyena. See Proteles. html{color:

abacus ::: n. --> A table or tray strewn with sand, anciently used for drawing, calculating, etc.
A calculating table or frame; an instrument for performing arithmetical calculations by balls sliding on wires, or counters in grooves, the lowest line representing units, the second line, tens, etc. It is still employed in China.
The uppermost member or division of the capital of a column, immediately under the architrave. See Column.


abatable ::: a. --> Capable of being abated; as, an abatable writ or nuisance.

a cappella ::: --> In church or chapel style; -- said of compositions sung in the old church style, without instrumental accompaniment; as, a mass a capella, i. e., a mass purely vocal.
A time indication, equivalent to alla breve.


acapsular ::: a. --> Having no capsule.

abdicable ::: a. --> Capable of being abdicated.

abib ::: n. --> The first month of the Jewish ecclesiastical year, corresponding nearly to our April. After the Babylonish captivity this month was called Nisan.

ability ::: n. --> The quality or state of being able; power to perform, whether physical, moral, intellectual, conventional, or legal; capacity; skill or competence in doing; sufficiency of strength, skill, resources, etc.; -- in the plural, faculty, talent.

able ::: superl. --> Fit; adapted; suitable.
Having sufficient power, strength, force, skill, means, or resources of any kind to accomplish the object; possessed of qualifications rendering competent for some end; competent; qualified; capable; as, an able workman, soldier, seaman, a man able to work; a mind able to reason; a person able to be generous; able to endure pain; able to play on a piano.
Specially: Having intellectual qualifications, or strong


abolishable ::: a. --> Capable of being abolished.

abortion ::: n. --> The act of giving premature birth; particularly, the expulsion of the human fetus prematurely, or before it is capable of sustaining life; miscarriage.
The immature product of an untimely birth.
Arrest of development of any organ, so that it remains an imperfect formation or is absorbed.
Any fruit or produce that does not come to maturity, or anything which in its progress, before it is matured or perfect; a


abrogable ::: a. --> Capable of being abrogated.

absolute ::: adj. 1. Free from all imperfection or deficiency; complete, finished; perfect, consummate. 2. Of degree: Complete, entire; in the fullest sense. 3. Having ultimate power, governing totally; unlimited by a constitution or the concurrent authority of a parliament; arbitrary, despotic. 4. Existing without relation to any other being; self-existent; self-sufficing. 5. Capable of being thought or conceived by itself alone; unconditioned. 6. Considered independently of its being subjective or objective. n. 7. Something that is not dependent upon external conditions for existence or for its specific nature, size, etc. (opposed to relative). Absolute, Absolute"s, absolutes, absoluteness.

absorbable ::: a. --> Capable of being absorbed or swallowed up.

absorptive ::: a. --> Having power, capacity, or tendency to absorb or imbibe.

acanthus ::: n. --> A genus of herbaceous prickly plants, found in the south of Europe, Asia Minor, and India; bear&

acataleptic ::: a. --> Incapable of being comprehended; incomprehensible.

accendibility ::: n. --> Capacity of being kindled, or of becoming inflamed; inflammability.

accendible ::: a. --> Capable of being inflamed or kindled; combustible; inflammable.

accentuable ::: a. --> Capable of being accented.

acceptable ::: a. --> Capable, worthy, or sure of being accepted or received with pleasure; pleasing to a receiver; gratifying; agreeable; welcome; as, an acceptable present, one acceptable to us.

acclimatable ::: a. --> Capable of being acclimated.

acclimatizable ::: a. --> Capable of being acclimatized.

accomplishable ::: a. --> Capable of being accomplished; practicable.

accountable ::: a. --> Liable to be called on to render an account; answerable; as, every man is accountable to God for his conduct.
Capable of being accounted for; explicable.


achievable ::: a. --> Capable of being achieved.

achillean ::: a. --> Resembling Achilles, the hero of the Iliad; invincible. html{color:

acidifiable ::: a. --> Capable of being acidified, or converted into an acid.

acquirable ::: a. --> Capable of being acquired.

actable ::: a. --> Capable of being acted.

"Action is a resultant of the energy of the being, but this energy is not of one sole kind; the Consciousness-Force of the Spirit manifests itself in many kinds of energies: there are inner activities of mind, activities of life, of desire, passion, impulse, character, activities of the senses and the body, a pursuit of truth and knowledge, a pursuit of beauty, a pursuit of ethical good or evil, a pursuit of power, love, joy, happiness, fortune, success, pleasure, life-satisfactions of all kinds, life-enlargement, a pursuit of individual or collective objects, a pursuit of the health, strength, capacity, satisfaction of the body.” The Life Divine*

“Action is a resultant of the energy of the being, but this energy is not of one sole kind; the Consciousness-Force of the Spirit manifests itself in many kinds of energies: there are inner activities of mind, activities of life, of desire, passion, impulse, character, activities of the senses and the body, a pursuit of truth and knowledge, a pursuit of beauty, a pursuit of ethical good or evil, a pursuit of power, love, joy, happiness, fortune, success, pleasure, life-satisfactions of all kinds, life-enlargement, a pursuit of individual or collective objects, a pursuit of the health, strength, capacity, satisfaction of the body.” The Life Divine

adagio ::: a. & adv. --> Slow; slowly, leisurely, and gracefully. When repeated, adagio, adagio, it directs the movement to be very slow. ::: n. --> A piece of music in adagio time; a slow movement; as, an adagio of Haydn. html{color:

adamantine ::: a. --> Made of adamant, or having the qualities of adamant; incapable of being broken, dissolved, or penetrated; as, adamantine bonds or chains.
Like the diamond in hardness or luster.


adamant ::: n. 1. Any impenetrably or unyieldingly hard substance. 2. A legendary stone of impenetrable hardness, formerly sometimes identified with the diamond. adj. **3. Unshakeable, inflexible, utterly unyielding. 4. Incapable of being broken, dissolved, or penetrated; immovable, impregnable. adamantine.**

adaptable ::: a. --> Capable of being adapted.

adaptive ::: a. --> Suited, given, or tending, to adaptation; characterized by adaptation; capable of adapting.

adaptiveness ::: n. --> The quality of being adaptive; capacity to adapt.

ad captandum ::: --> A phrase used adjectively sometimes of meretricious attempts to catch or win popular favor.

addendum ::: n. --> A thing to be added; an appendix or addition. html{color:

adder ::: n. --> One who, or that which, adds; esp., a machine for adding numbers.
A serpent.
A small venomous serpent of the genus Vipera. The common European adder is the Vipera (/ Pelias) berus. The puff adders of Africa are species of Clotho.
In America, the term is commonly applied to several harmless snakes, as the milk adder, puffing adder, etc. html{color:


addibility ::: n. --> The quantity of being addible; capability of addition.

addible ::: a. --> Capable of being added.

adding ::: p. pr. & vb. n. --> of Add html{color:

adducible ::: a. --> Capable of being adduced.

adiaphorous ::: a. --> Indifferent or neutral.
Incapable of doing either harm or good, as some medicines.


adj. 1. Too great, numerous, etc., to be conceived or apprehended by thought; unimaginable. 2. Incapable of being framed or grasped by thought; incogitable. n. 3. Something that cannot be conceived or imagined. Unthinkable, unthinkably.

adjustable ::: a. --> Capable of being adjusted.

administrable ::: a. --> Capable of being administered; as, an administrable law.

admiration ::: n. --> Wonder; astonishment.
Wonder mingled with approbation or delight; an emotion excited by a person or thing possessed of wonderful or high excellence; as, admiration of a beautiful woman, of a landscape, of virtue.
Cause of admiration; something to excite wonder, or pleased surprise; a prodigy.


admire ::: v. t. --> To regard with wonder or astonishment; to view with surprise; to marvel at.
To regard with wonder and delight; to look upon with an elevated feeling of pleasure, as something which calls out approbation, esteem, love, or reverence; to estimate or prize highly; as, to admire a person of high moral worth, to admire a landscape. ::: v. i.


adoptable ::: a. --> Capable of being adopted.

adroit ::: a. --> Dexterous in the use of the hands or in the exercise of the mental faculties; exhibiting skill and readiness in avoiding danger or escaping difficulty; ready in invention or execution; -- applied to persons and to acts; as, an adroit mechanic, an adroit reply.

ADVAITA. :::One Existence; the One without a second; non-dual, absolute and indivisible unity; Monism.
People are apt to speak of the Advaita as if it were identical with Mayavada monism, just as they speak of Vedanta as if it were identical with Advaita only; that is not the case. There are several forms of Indian philosophy which base themselves upon the One Reality, but they admit also the reality of the world, the reality of the Many, the reality of the differences of the Many as well as the sameness of the One (bhedābheda). But the Many exist in the One and by the One, the differences are variations in manifestation of that which is fundamentally ever the same. This we actually see in the universal law of existence where oneness is always the basis with an endless multiplicity and difference in the oneness; as for instance there is one mankind but many kinds of man, one thing called leaf or flower, but many forms, patterns, colours of leaf and flower. Through this we can look back into one of the fundamental secrets of existence, the secret which is contained in the one reality itself. The oneness of the Infinite is not something limited, fettered to its unity; it is capable of an infinite multiplicity. The Supreme Reality is an Absolute not limited by either oneness or multiplicity but simultaneously capable of both; for both are its aspects, although the oneness is fundamental and the multiplicity depends upon the oneness.
Wide Realistic Advaita.


affiliable ::: a. --> Capable of being affiliated to or on, or connected with in origin.

affirmable ::: a. --> Capable of being affirmed, asserted, or declared; -- followed by of; as, an attribute affirmable of every just man.

aggrandizable ::: a. --> Capable of being aggrandized.

agitable ::: a. --> Capable of being agitated, or easily moved.

aglow ::: adv. & a. --> In a glow; glowing; as, cheeks aglow; the landscape all aglow.

agreement ::: a contract or other document delineating an arrangement that is accepted by all parties to a transaction. (Sri Aurobindo capitalizes the word.)

aiblins ::: adv. --> Alt. of Ablins html{color:

aimless ::: a. --> Without aim or purpose; as, an aimless life. html{color:

air cock ::: --> A faucet to allow escape of air.

albatross ::: n. --> A web-footed bird, of the genus Diomedea, of which there are several species. They are the largest of sea birds, capable of long-continued flight, and are often seen at great distances from the land. They are found chiefly in the southern hemisphere.

alectoromancy ::: n. --> See Alectryomancy. html{color:

alength ::: adv. --> At full length; lengthwise. html{color:

alienability ::: n. --> Capability of being alienated.

alienable ::: a. --> Capable of being alienated, sold, or transferred to another; as, land is alienable according to the laws of the state.

ALIEN BEINGS. ::: No trust can be put on the beauty of the eyes or the face. There are many Beings of the inferior planes who have a captivating beauty and can enthrall with it and they can give too an Ananda which is not of the highest and may on the contrary by its lure take away from the path altogether.

alkahest ::: n. --> The fabled "universal solvent" of the alchemists; a menstruum capable of dissolving all bodies.

alkalifiable ::: a. --> Capable of being alkalified, or converted into an alkali.

allegeable ::: a. --> Capable of being alleged or affirmed.

alleyway ::: n. --> An alley. html{color:

"All intuitive knowledge comes more or less directly from the light of the self-aware spirit entering into the mind, the spirit concealed behind mind and conscious of all in itself and in all its selves, omniscient and capable of illumining the ignorant or the self-forgetful mind whether by rare or constant flashes or by a steady instreaming light, out of its omniscience.” The Synthesis of Yoga*

“All intuitive knowledge comes more or less directly from the light of the self-aware spirit entering into the mind, the spirit concealed behind mind and conscious of all in itself and in all its selves, omniscient and capable of illumining the ignorant or the self-forgetful mind whether by rare or constant flashes or by a steady instreaming light, out of its omniscience.” The Synthesis of Yoga

allottable ::: a. --> Capable of being allotted.

allowable ::: a. --> Praiseworthy; laudable.
Proper to be, or capable of being, allowed; permissible; admissible; not forbidden; not unlawful or improper; as, a certain degree of freedom is allowable among friends.


all-possessed ::: a. --> Controlled by an evil spirit or by evil passions; wild. html{color:

all saints ::: --> Alt. of All Saints&

“All that manifested from the Eternal has already been arranged in worlds or planes of its own nature, planes of subtle Matter, planes of Life, planes of Mind, planes of Supermind, planes of the triune luminous Infinite. But these worlds or planes are not evolutionary but typal. A typal world is one in which some ruling principle manifests itself in its free and full capacity and energy and form are plastic and subservient to its purpose. Its expressions are therefore automatic and satisfying and do not need to evolve; they stand so long as need be and do not need to be born, develop, decline and disintegrate.” Essays Divine and Human

almuce ::: n. --> Same as Amice, a hood or cape.

alterable ::: a. --> Capable of being altered.

Although the noun when capitalized refers to an officer of the British judiciary or one of several officials of the Exchequer, formally titled the Queen’s or the King’s Remembrancer, who has the responsibility of collecting debts that are owed to the Crown or an official representing the City of London, especially on various ceremonial occasions, or to represents the inters of Parliament, when defined in lower case the first definition given is person who reminds.

Amal: “I believe that capitalization indicates that these are not only states but also powers which can display even personality.

Amal: “In Greek mythology the Sirens were extremely beautiful creatures who by their singing lured mariners to their land and either destroyed them or kept them captive. Ulysses had himself bound to a pole in his ship while the ship crossed the sea near this land.”

Amal: I think”Titan” here means”huge”. In the original manuscript there is a small t, not a capital T.”

amassable ::: a. --> Capable of being amassed.

amber ::: A pale yellow, sometimes reddish or brownish, fossil resin of vegetable origin, translucent, brittle, and capable of gaining a negative electrical charge by friction and of being an excellent insulator. 2. The yellowish-brown colour of resin.

amber ::: a pale yellow, sometimes reddish or brownish, fossil resin of vegetable origin, translucent, brittle, and capable of gaining a negative electrical charge by friction and of being an excellent insulator. 2. The yellowish-brown colour of resin.

ambiguous ::: a. --> Doubtful or uncertain, particularly in respect to signification; capable of being understood in either of two or more possible senses; equivocal; as, an ambiguous course; an ambiguous expression.

ameliorable ::: a. --> Capable of being ameliorated.

amendable ::: a. --> Capable of being amended; as, an amendable writ or error.

amess ::: n. --> Amice, a hood or cape. See 2d Amice.

amice ::: n. --> A square of white linen worn at first on the head, but now about the neck and shoulders, by priests of the Roman Catholic Church while saying Mass.
A hood, or cape with a hood, made of lined with gray fur, formerly worn by the clergy; -- written also amess, amyss, and almuce.


"A mind of light will replace the present confusion and trouble of this earthly ignorance; it is likely that even those parts of humanity which cannot reach it will yet be aware of its possibility and consciously tend towards it; not only so, but the life of humanity will be enlightened, uplifted, governed, harmonised by this luminous principle and even the body become something much less powerless, obscure and animal in its propensities and capable instead of a new and harmonised perfection. It is this possibility that we have to look at and that would mean a new humanity uplifted into Light, capable of a spiritualised being and action, open to governance by some light of the Truth-consciousness, capable even on the mental level and in its own order of something that might be called the beginning of a divinised life.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga

“A mind of light will replace the present confusion and trouble of this earthly ignorance; it is likely that even those parts of humanity which cannot reach it will yet be aware of its possibility and consciously tend towards it; not only so, but the life of humanity will be enlightened, uplifted, governed, harmonised by this luminous principle and even the body become something much less powerless, obscure and animal in its propensities and capable instead of a new and harmonised perfection. It is this possibility that we have to look at and that would mean a new humanity uplifted into Light, capable of a spiritualised being and action, open to governance by some light of the Truth-consciousness, capable even on the mental level and in its own order of something that might be called the beginning of a divinised life.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga

ammunition ::: n. --> Military stores, or provisions of all kinds for attack or defense.
Articles used in charging firearms and ordnance of all kinds; as powder, balls, shot, shells, percussion caps, rockets, etc.
Any stock of missiles, literal or figurative. ::: v. t.


amoeba ::: n. --> A rhizopod. common in fresh water, capable of undergoing many changes of form at will. See Rhizopoda.

amortizable ::: a. --> Capable of being cleared off, as a debt.

amphibolous ::: a. --> Ambiguous; doubtful.
Capable of two meanings.


amphipoda ::: n. pl. --> A numerous group of fourteen -- footed Crustacea, inhabiting both fresh and salt water. The body is usually compressed laterally, and the anterior pairs or legs are directed downward and forward, but the posterior legs are usually turned upward and backward. The beach flea is an example. See Tetradecapoda and Arthrostraca.

ample ::: a. --> Large; great in size, extent, capacity, or bulk; spacious; roomy; widely extended.
Fully sufficient; abundant; liberal; copious; as, an ample fortune; ample justice.
Not contracted of brief; not concise; extended; diffusive; as, an ample narrative.


amplitude ::: n. --> State of being ample; extent of surface or space; largeness of dimensions; size.
Largeness, in a figurative sense; breadth; abundance; fullness.
Of extent of capacity or intellectual powers.
Of extent of means or resources.
The arc of the horizon between the true east or west point and the center of the sun, or a star, at its rising or setting.


amusable ::: a. --> Capable of being amused.

amyss ::: n. --> Same as Amice, a hood or cape.

amzel ::: n. --> The European ring ousel (Turdus torquatus). html{color:

anaesthetic ::: a. --> Capable of rendering insensible; as, anaesthetic agents.
Characterized by, or connected with, insensibility; as, an anaesthetic effect or operation. ::: n. --> That which produces insensibility to pain, as


Ananke ::: “This truth of Karma has been always recognised in the East in one form or else in another; but to the Buddhists belongs the credit of having given to it the clearest and fullest universal enunciation and the most insistent importance. In the West too the idea has constantly recurred, but in external, in fragmentary glimpses, as the recognition of a pragmatic truth of experience, and mostly as an ordered ethical law or fatality set over against the self-will and strength of man: but it was clouded over by other ideas inconsistent with any reign of law, vague ideas of some superior caprice or of some divine jealousy,—that was a notion of the Greeks,—a blind Fate or inscrutable Necessity, Ananke, or, later, the mysterious ways of an arbitrary, though no doubt an all-wise Providence.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga

  And do you want to know why he is always represented as a child? It is because he is in constant progression. To the extent that the world is perfected, his play is also perfected — what was the play of yesterday will no longer be the play of tomorrow; his play will become more and more harmonious, benign and joyful to the extent that the world becomes capable of responding to it and enjoying it with the Divine.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.

And do you want to know why he is always represented as a child? It is because he is in constant progression. To the extent that the world is perfected, his play is also perfected—what was the play of yesterday will no longer be the play of tomorrow; his play will become more and more harmonious, benign and joyful to the extent that the world becomes capable of responding to it and enjoying it with the Divine.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.

"And if there is, as there must be in the nature of things, an ascending series in the scale of substance from Matter to Spirit, it must be marked by a progressive diminution of these capacities most characteristic of the physical principle and a progressive increase of the opposite characteristics which will lead us to the formula of pure spiritual self-extension. This is to say that they must be marked by less and less bondage to the form, more and more subtlety and flexibility of substance and force, more and more interfusion, interpenetration, power of assimilation, power of interchange, power of variation, transmutation, unification. Drawing away from durability of form, we draw towards eternity of essence; drawing away from our poise in the persistent separation and resistance of physical Matter, we draw near to the highest divine poise in the infinity, unity and indivisibility of Spirit.” The Life Divine

“And if there is, as there must be in the nature of things, an ascending series in the scale of substance from Matter to Spirit, it must be marked by a progressive diminution of these capacities most characteristic of the physical principle and a progressive increase of the opposite characteristics which will lead us to the formula of pure spiritual self-extension. This is to say that they must be marked by less and less bondage to the form, more and more subtlety and flexibility of substance and force, more and more interfusion, interpenetration, power of assimilation, power of interchange, power of variation, transmutation, unification. Drawing away from durability of form, we draw towards eternity of essence; drawing away from our poise in the persistent separation and resistance of physical Matter, we draw near to the highest divine poise in the infinity, unity and indivisibility of Spirit.” The Life Divine

and not by an opening of themselves to a superior Povver or by the way of surrender ; for the Impersonal is not something that guides and helps, but something to be attained, and it leaves each man to attain it according to the way an^ capacity of his naturc.

and the power that perseveres and conquers. It is really a habit that one has to get of opening to these helpful forces and either passively receiving them or actively drawing upon them — for one can do either. It is easier if you have the conception of them above and around you and the faith and the will to receive them ; for that brings the experience and concrete sense of them and the capacity to receive at need or at will. It is a question of habituating your consciousness to get into touch and keep in touch with these helpful forces ; and for that you must accustom yourself to reject the impressions forced on you by the others, depression, self-distrust, repining and all similar disturbances.

And these are in fact always acting upon our subliminal selves unknown to our vvaking mind and with considerable effect on our life and nature. The physical mind is only a little part of us and there is much more considerable range of our being in which the presence, infiuence and powers of the other planes are active upon us and help to shape our external being and its activities. The awakening of the psychical consciousness enables us fb become aware of these powers, presences and influences in and around us ; and while in the impure or yet ignorant and imperfect mind this unveiled contact has its dangers, it enables us too, if lightly used and directed, to be no longer their subject but their master and to coroe into conscious and seJf-confroJled possession of the inner secrets of our nature. The psychical consciousness reveals this interaction between the inner and the outer planes, this world and others, partly by an awareness, which may be very constant, vast and vivid, of their impacts, suggestions, communications to our inner thought and conscious being and a capacity of reaction upon them there, partly ako through many kinds of symbolic, transcriptive or representative images presented to the different psychical senses. But also

anelectric ::: a. --> Not becoming electrified by friction; -- opposed to idioelectric. ::: n. --> A substance incapable of being electrified by friction.

"A new humanity means for us the appearance, the development of a type or race of mental beings whose principle of mentality would be no longer a mind in the Ignorance seeking for knowledge but even in its knowledge bound to the Ignorance, a seeker after Light but not its natural possessor, open to the Light but not an inhabitant of the Light, not yet a perfected instrument, truth-conscious and delivered out of the Ignorance. Instead, it would be possessed already of what could be called a mind of Light, a mind capable of living in the truth, capable of being truth-conscious and manifesting in its life a direct in place of an indirect knowledge. Its mentality would be an instrument of the Light and no longer of the Ignorance. At its highest it would be capable of passing into the supermind and from the new race would be recruited the race of supramental beings who would appear as the leaders of the evolution in earth-nature. Even, the highest manifestations of a mind of Light would be an instrumentality of the supermind, a part of it or a projection from it, a stepping beyond humanity into the superhumanity of the supramental principle. Above all, its possession would enable the human being to rise beyond the normalities of his present thinking, feeling and being into those highest powers of the mind in its self-exceedings which intervene between our mentality and supermind and can be regarded as steps leading towards the greater and more luminous principle. This advance like others in the evolution might not be reached and would naturally not be reached at one bound, but from the very beginning it would be inevitable: the pressure of the supermind creating from above out of itself the mind of Light would compel this certainty of the eventual outcome.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga

“A new humanity means for us the appearance, the development of a type or race of mental beings whose principle of mentality would be no longer a mind in the Ignorance seeking for knowledge but even in its knowledge bound to the Ignorance, a seeker after Light but not its natural possessor, open to the Light but not an inhabitant of the Light, not yet a perfected instrument, truth-conscious and delivered out of the Ignorance. Instead, it would be possessed already of what could be called a mind of Light, a mind capable of living in the truth, capable of being truth-conscious and manifesting in its life a direct in place of an indirect knowledge. Its mentality would be an instrument of the Light and no longer of the Ignorance. At its highest it would be capable of passing into the supermind and from the new race would be recruited the race of supramental beings who would appear as the leaders of the evolution in earth-nature. Even, the highest manifestations of a mind of Light would be an instrumentality of the supermind, a part of it or a projection from it, a stepping beyond humanity into the superhumanity of the supramental principle. Above all, its possession would enable the human being to rise beyond the normalities of his present thinking, feeling and being into those highest powers of the mind in its self-exceedings which intervene between our mentality and supermind and can be regarded as steps leading towards the greater and more luminous principle. This advance like others in the evolution might not be reached and would naturally not be reached at one bound, but from the very beginning it would be inevitable: the pressure of the supermind creating from above out of itself the mind of Light would compel this certainty of the eventual outcome.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga

angioscope ::: n. --> An instrument for examining the capillary vessels of animals and plants.

anhydride ::: n. --> An oxide of a nonmetallic body or an organic radical, capable of forming an acid by uniting with the elements of water; -- so called because it may be formed from an acid by the abstraction of water.

annihilable ::: a. --> Capable of being annihilated.

annulet ::: n. --> A little ring.
A small, flat fillet, encircling a column, etc., used by itself, or with other moldings. It is used, several times repeated, under the Doric capital.
A little circle borne as a charge.
A narrow circle of some distinct color on a surface or round an organ.


anomoura ::: n. pl. --> A group of decapod Crustacea, of which the hermit crab in an example.

answerable ::: a. --> Obliged to answer; liable to be called to account; liable to pay, indemnify, or make good; accountable; amenable; responsible; as, an agent is answerable to his principal; to be answerable for a debt, or for damages.
Capable of being answered or refuted; admitting a satisfactory answer.
Correspondent; conformable; hence, comparable.
Proportionate; commensurate; suitable; as, an


anta ::: n. --> A species of pier produced by thickening a wall at its termination, treated architecturally as a pilaster, with capital and base.

antaphrodisiac ::: a. --> Capable of blunting the venereal appetite. ::: n. --> Anything that quells the venereal appetite.

antefix ::: n. --> An ornament fixed upon a frieze.
An ornament at the eaves, concealing the ends of the joint tiles of the roof.
An ornament of the cymatium of a classic cornice, sometimes pierced for the escape of water.


anthomania ::: n. --> A extravagant fondness for flowers. html{color:

antitoxine ::: n. --> A substance (sometimes the product of a specific micro-organism and sometimes naturally present in the blood or tissues of an animal), capable of producing immunity from certain diseases, or of counteracting the poisonous effects of pathogenic bacteria.

ant-lion ::: n. --> A neuropterous insect, the larva of which makes in the sand a pitfall to capture ants, etc. The common American species is Myrmeleon obsoletus, the European is M. formicarius.

apathy ::: n. --> Want of feeling; privation of passion, emotion, or excitement; dispassion; -- applied either to the body or the mind. As applied to the mind, it is a calmness, indolence, or state of indifference, incapable of being ruffled or roused to active interest or exertion by pleasure, pain, or passion.

apophyge ::: n. --> The small hollow curvature given to the top or bottom of the shaft of a column where it expands to meet the edge of the fillet; -- called also the scape.

apparent ::: a. --> Capable of being seen, or easily seen; open to view; visible to the eye; within sight or view.
Clear or manifest to the understanding; plain; evident; obvious; known; palpable; indubitable.
Appearing to the eye or mind (distinguished from, but not necessarily opposed to, true or real); seeming; as the apparent motion or diameter of the sun.


apparent ::: readily seen; exposed to sight; open to view. 2. Capable of being easily perceived or understood; plain or clear; obvious; visible.

appealable ::: a. --> Capable of being appealed against; that may be removed to a higher tribunal for decision; as, the cause is appealable.
That may be accused or called to answer by appeal; as, a criminal is appealable for manslaughter.


appeasable ::: a. --> Capable of being appeased or pacified; placable.

appellancy ::: n. --> Capability of appeal.

appetible ::: a. --> Desirable; capable or worthy of being the object of desire.

applicable ::: a. --> Capable of being applied; fit or suitable to be applied; having relevance; as, this observation is applicable to the case under consideration.

applicative ::: a. --> Capable of being applied or used; applying; applicatory; practical.

appointable ::: a. --> Capable of being appointed or constituted.

appraisable ::: a. --> Capable of being appraised.

appreciable ::: a. --> Capable of being appreciated or estimated; large enough to be estimated; perceptible; as, an appreciable quantity.

apprehensible ::: a. --> Capable of being apprehended or conceived.

apprehension ::: n. --> The act of seizing or taking hold of; seizure; as, the hand is an organ of apprehension.
The act of seizing or taking by legal process; arrest; as, the felon, after his apprehension, escaped.
The act of grasping with the intellect; the contemplation of things, without affirming, denying, or passing any judgment; intellection; perception.
Opinion; conception; sentiment; idea.


apprehensive ::: a. --> Capable of apprehending, or quick to do so; apt; discerning.
Knowing; conscious; cognizant.
Relating to the faculty of apprehension.
Anticipative of something unfavorable&


approachable ::: a. --> Capable of being approached; accessible; as, approachable virtue.

appropriable ::: a. --> Capable of being appropriated, set apart, sequestered, or assigned exclusively to a particular use.

aptable ::: a. --> Capable of being adapted.

aptitude ::: n. --> A natural or acquired disposition or capacity for a particular purpose, or tendency to a particular action or effect; as, oil has an aptitude to burn.
A general fitness or suitableness; adaptation.
Readiness in learning; docility; aptness.


apyrous ::: a. --> Incombustible; capable of sustaining a strong heat without alteration of form or properties.

arbitrable ::: v. t. --> Capable of being decided by arbitration; determinable.

arbitrary ::: 1. Based on or subject to individual will, judgment or preference: judgment without restriction; contingent solely upon one"s discretion. 2. Capricious; unreasonable; unsupported. 3. Derived from mere opinion or preference; capricious; uncertain. 4. Having unlimited power; uncontrolled or unrestricted by law; despotic; tyrannical.

arbitrary ::: a. --> Depending on will or discretion; not governed by any fixed rules; as, an arbitrary decision; an arbitrary punishment.
Exercised according to one&


arch ::: 1. An upwardly curved construction, for spanning an opening, consisting of a number of wedgelike stones, bricks, or the like, set with the narrower side toward the opening in such a way that forces on the arch are transmitted as vertical or oblique stresses on either side of the opening, either capable of bearing weight or merely ornamental; 2. Something bowed or curved; any bowlike part: the arch of the foot. 3. An arched roof, door; gateway; vault; fig. the heavens. arches.

archil ::: n. --> A violet dye obtained from several species of lichen (Roccella tinctoria, etc.), which grow on maritime rocks in the Canary and Cape Verd Islands, etc.
The plant from which the dye is obtained.


argive ::: a. --> Of or performance to Argos, the capital of Argolis in Greece. ::: n. --> A native of Argos. Often used as a generic term, equivalent to Grecian or Greek.

arguable ::: a. --> Capable of being argued; admitting of debate.

aristotelic ::: a. --> Pertaining to Aristotle or to his philosophy. html{color:

artery ::: n. --> The trachea or windpipe.
One of the vessels or tubes which carry either venous or arterial blood from the heart. They have tricker and more muscular walls than veins, and are connected with them by capillaries.
Hence: Any continuous or ramified channel of communication; as, arteries of trade or commerce.


arthrostraca ::: n. pl. --> One of the larger divisions of Crustacea, so called because the thorax and abdomen are both segmented; Tetradecapoda. It includes the Amphipoda and Isopoda.

ascendable ::: a. --> Capable of being ascended.

ascendible ::: a. --> Capable of being ascended; climbable.

ASCENT AND RETURN. ::: Once the being or its different parts begin to ascend to the planes above, any part of the being may do it, frontal or other. The samskāra that one cannot come back must be got rid of. One can have the experience of Nirvana at the summit of the mind or anywhere in those planes that are now superconscient to the mind; the mind spiritualised by the ascent into Self has the sense of laya, dissolution of itself, its thoughts, movements, samskāras into a superconscient Silence and Infinity which it is unable to grasp, - the Unknowable. But this would bring or lead to some form of Nirvana only if one makes Nirvana the goal, if one is tied to the mind and accepts its dissolution into the Infinite as one’s own dissolution or if one has not the capacity to reorganise experience on a higher than the mental plane. But otherwise what was superconscient becomes conscient, one begins to possess or else to be the instrument of the dynamis of the higher planes and there is a movement, not of liberation into Nirvana but of liberation and transformation. However high one goes one can always return, unless one has the will not to do so.

ascococcus ::: n. --> A form of micrococcus, found in putrid meat infusions, occurring in peculiar masses, each of which is inclosed in a hyaline capsule and contains a large number of spherical micrococci.

ascribable ::: a. --> Capable of being ascribed; attributable.

aspalathus ::: n. --> A thorny shrub yielding a fragrant oil.
A genus of plants of the natural order Leguminosae. The species are chiefly natives of the Cape of Good Hope.


aspectable ::: a. --> Capable of being; visible.

asquint ::: adv. --> With the eye directed to one side; not in the straight line of vision; obliquely; awry, so as to see distortedly; as, to look asquint. html{color:

assailable ::: a. --> Capable of being assailed.

assaultable ::: a. --> Capable of being assaulted.

assignable ::: a. --> Capable of being assigned, allotted, specified, or designated; as, an assignable note or bill; an assignable reason; an assignable quantity.

ASSIMILATION. ::: There has to be a period of assimilation. When the being is unconscious, the assimilation goes on behind the veil or below the surface and meanwhile the surface consciousness sees only dullness and the loss of what it had got; but when one is conscious, then one can see the assimilation going on and one sees that nothing is lost, it is only a quiet settling in of what has come down.
To remain quiet for a time after the descent of Force is the best way of assimilating it.
There are always pauses of preparation and assimilation between two movements.
The periods of assimilation continue till all that has to be done is fundamentally done. Only they have a different character in the later stages of sadhana. If they cease altogether at an early stage, it is because all that the nature was capable of has been done and that would mean it was not capable of much.


associability ::: n. --> The quality of being associable, or capable of association; associableness.

associable ::: a. --> Capable of being associated or joined.
Sociable; companionable.
Liable to be affected by sympathy with other parts; -- said of organs, nerves, muscles, etc.


assumptive ::: a. --> Assumed, or capable of being assumed; characterized by assumption; making unwarranted claims.

astert ::: v. t. --> To start up; to befall; to escape; to shun. ::: v. i. --> To escape.

“As to the two lines with ‘no man’s land’ there can be no capital in the first line because there it is a description while the capital is needed in the other line, because the phrase has acquired there the force of a name or appellation. I am not sure about the hyphen; it could be put but the no hyphen might be better as it suggests that no one in particular has as yet got possession.” Letters on Savitri.

Asura and are most generally misheld and misused by those who retain them. The seekers or keepers of wealth are more often possessed rather than its possessors ; few escape entirely a certain distorting influence stamped on it by its long seizure and perversion by the Asura. For this reason most spiritual disciplines insist on a complete self-control, detachment and renunciation of all bondage to wealth and of all personal and egoistic desire for its possession. Some even put a ban on money and riches and proclaim poverty and bareness of life as the only spiritual condition. But this is an error ; it leaves the power in the hands of the hostile forces. To reconquer it for the Divine to whom it belongs 'and use it divinely for the divine life is the supramental way for the sadhaka.

athecata ::: n. pl. --> A division of Hydroidea in which the zooids are naked, or not inclosed in a capsule. See Tubularian.

a ::: --> The first letter of the English and of many other alphabets. The capital A of the alphabets of Middle and Western Europe, as also the small letter (a), besides the forms in Italic, black letter, etc., are all descended from the old Latin A, which was borrowed from the Greek Alpha, of the same form; and this was made from the first letter (/) of the Phoenician alphabet, the equivalent of the Hebrew Aleph, and itself from the Egyptian origin. The Aleph was a consonant letter, with a guttural breath sound that was not an element of Greek articulation;

atonable ::: a. --> Admitting an atonement; capable of being atoned for; expiable.

attachable ::: a. --> Capable of being attached; esp., liable to be taken by writ or precept.

bald ::: lacking natural growth or covering as bare trees, landscape, etc.

capable ::: having the capacity or ability; efficient and able.

capacity ::: 1. The ability to receive, hold, or absorb. 2. The power to learn or retain knowledge; mental ability.

cap ::: a special head covering worn to indicate rank, occupation, or membership in a particular group.

cape ::: a sleeveless outer garment fastened at the throat and worn hanging over the shoulders.

capital ::: 1. A town or city that is the official seat of government in a political entity, such as a state or nation. 2. Wealth in the form of money or property.

capital stock ::: accumulated wealth, esp. any of various shares of ownership in a business.

capitol ::: 1. A building occupied by a state legislature. 2. A building that is the seat of government. Also fig.

caprice ::: 1. A sudden, unpredictable change or series of actions or changes. 2. A sudden, unpredictable change, as of one"s mind; whim, fancy. caprices.

captain ::: 1. One who commands, leads, or guides others. 2. The officer in command of a ship, an aircraft, or a spacecraft.

captive ::: n. 1. One, such as a prisoner of war, who is forcibly confined, subjugated, or enslaved. captives. v. 2. Those taken and held as a prisoners. captived. adj. 3. Kept under restraint or control; confined. 4. Enraptured, as by beauty; captivated.

capt

capt ::: Tehmi: “This passage is about the Kings of Thought. They come as the crown or overlie the imperatives. They go higher than the imperatives.”

capture ::: 1. To take possession of; to take by force or stratagem; take prisoner; seize. 2. To represent, preserve or record in lasting form, a quality, etc. captures, captured, capturing.

bench ::: 1. A long seat usually made of wood, for two or more persons. 2. A seat occupied by a person in an official capacity, esp. a judge. 3. Such a seat as a symbol of the office and dignity of an individual judge or the judiciary.

Brahman or of the Self docs not usually come at the beginning of a sadhana or in the first years or for many years. It comes so to a very few. Most would say that a slow development is the best one can hope for in the first years and only when the nature is ready and fully concentrated towards the Divine can the definitive experience come. To some rapid prepdhitory experiences can come at a comparatively early stage, but even they cannot escape the labour of the consciousness which will make these experiences culminate in the realisation that is enduring and complete. It is not a question of liking or disliking, it is a matter of fact and truth and experience. It is the fact that people who arc cheerful and ready to go step by step, even by slow steps if need be, do actually march faster and more surely than those who are impatient and in haste.

brimming ::: filled to capacity. new-brimming.

"But great art is not satisfied with representing the intellectual truth of things, which is always their superficial or exterior truth; it seeks for a deeper and original truth which escapes the eye of the mere sense or the mere reason, the soul in them, the unseen reality which is not that of their form and process but of their spirit.” The Human Cycle etc.

“But great art is not satisfied with representing the intellectual truth of things, which is always their superficial or exterior truth; it seeks for a deeper and original truth which escapes the eye of the mere sense or the mere reason, the soul in them, the unseen reality which is not that of their form and process but of their spirit.” The Human Cycle etc.

But since no human system has this endless receptivity and unfailing capacity, the supramental Yoga can succeed only if the

"But the Spirit, the Divine is not only above Nature; it is master of Nature and cosmos; the soul rising into its spiritual poise must at least be capable of the same mastery by its unity with the Divine. " The Synthesis of Yoga*

“But the Spirit, the Divine is not only above Nature; it is master of Nature and cosmos; the soul rising into its spiritual poise must at least be capable of the same mastery by its unity with the Divine.” The Synthesis of Yoga

"By individual we mean normally something that separates itself from everything else and stands apart, though in reality there is no such thing anywhere in existence; it is a figment of our mental conceptions useful and necessary to express a partial and practical truth. But the difficulty is that the mind gets dominated by its words and forgets that the partial and practical truth becomes true truth only by its relation to others which seem to the reason to contradict it, and that taken by itself it contains a constant element of falsity. Thus when we speak of an individual we mean ordinarily an individualisation of mental, vital, physical being separate from all other beings, incapable of unity with them by its very individuality. If we go beyond these three terms of mind, life and body, and speak of the soul or individual self, we still think of an individualised being separate from all others, incapable of unity and inclusive mutuality, capable at most of a spiritual contact and soul-sympathy. It is therefore necessary to insist that by the true individual we mean nothing of the kind, but a conscious power of being of the Eternal, always existing by unity, always capable of mutuality. It is that being which by self-knowledge enjoys liberation and immortality.” The Life Divine

“By individual we mean normally something that separates itself from everything else and stands apart, though in reality there is no such thing anywhere in existence; it is a figment of our mental conceptions useful and necessary to express a partial and practical truth. But the difficulty is that the mind gets dominated by its words and forgets that the partial and practical truth becomes true truth only by its relation to others which seem to the reason to contradict it, and that taken by itself it contains a constant element of falsity. Thus when we speak of an individual we mean ordinarily an individualisation of mental, vital, physical being separate from all other beings, incapable of unity with them by its very individuality. If we go beyond these three terms of mind, life and body, and speak of the soul or individual self, we still think of an individualised being separate from all others, incapable of unity and inclusive mutuality, capable at most of a spiritual contact and soul-sympathy. It is therefore necessary to insist that by the true individual we mean nothing of the kind, but a conscious power of being of the Eternal, always existing by unity, always capable of mutuality. It is that being which by self-knowledge enjoys liberation and immortality.” The Life Divine

By Saraadhi, in which the mind acquires the capacity of with- drawing from its limited waking activities into freer and higher states of consdousness, Rajayoga serves a double purpose. It compasses a pure mental action liberated from the confusions of the outer consdousness and posses thence to the higher supra- mental planes on which the indiWdual soul enters into its true spiritual existence. But also it acquires the capacity of that free and conrentrated energising of consdousness on its object which our phiJos^hy asserts as the priraa/j' cosmic energy and the method of divine action upon the world. By this capacity the

catch ::: n. 1. A concealed, unexpected, or unforeseen drawback or handicap. 2. Anything that is caught, esp. something worth catching. v. **3. To take, seize, or capture, esp. after pursuit. 4. To become cognizant or aware of suddenly. 5. To receive. 6. catches, caught, catching.**

cell ::: biology: The smallest structural unit of an organism that is capable of independent functioning, consisting of one or more nuclei, cytoplasm, and various organelles, all surrounded by a semipermeable cell membrane. cells.

CENT, There is no connection between the Christian concep- tion (of the Kingdom of Heaven) and the idea of the Supra- mental descent. The Christian conception supposes a state of things brought about by religious emotion' and d'mdral'purifica- tion but ' these things are no more"capable of changing the world, 'whatever value they may base for the individual, than mental idealism or any bther power yet called upon for the pur- pose] The Christian proposes to substitute the sattsic religious ego for the rajasic and tamasic cgo| but although this can be donc-as an individual achievement, it has never succeeded and win never succeed in • accomplishing itself in the mass. It has no higher spiritual or psjchological knowledge behind it and ignores the' foundation -of htimao character and the source of the difBculty — the duality 6f mind, ‘life and body. Unless there is a descent of a new Power of Consdousness, not subject to the dualities but still dynamic which will preside a new foundation and a lifting of the centre of consciousness above the mind, the

certain ::: capable of being relied on; dependable.

charge ::: 1. An assigned duty or task; a responsibility given to one. 2. Care; custody. 3. An order, an impetuous onset or attack, command, or injunction. 4. The quantity of anything that a receptacle is intended to hold. v. 5. *Fig. To load to capacity; fill. *charged.

charged ::: 1. Filled; loaded to capacity. 2. Given the responsibility of or for; entrusted.

chase ::: v. **1. To follow rapidly in order to catch or overtake; pursue. 2. To follow or devote one"s attention to with the hope of attracting, winning, gaining, etc. 3. To put to flight; drive out. ::: —chases, chased.* *n. 3. The act of pursuing in an effort to overtake or capture thunder-chase.**

clairaudience ::: the power to hear sounds said to exist beyond the reach of ordinary experiences or capacity.

cloak ::: 1. A loose outer garment, such as a cape. 2. Anything that covers or conceals. 3. Something that covers or conceals; a disguise. world-cloak.

coma ::: a state of deep, often prolonged unconsciousness, usually the result of injury, disease, or poison, in which an individual is incapable of sensing or responding to external stimuli and internal needs.

common estimation or opinion generally held of a person or thing; reputation. (when capitalized often [quasi-] personified). Fame.

contain ::: 1. To be capable of holding. 2. To halt the spread or development of; check, esp. of opposition. 3. To hold or keep within limits; restrain. contained, contains, containing, all-containing, All-containing.

Co-ordination and harmonisation of parts is absent in many ; it is a thing that has to be attained to or built up. Moreover at a certain stage in sSdhana there is almost always a disparity or opposition between the parts that are already turned towards the Truth and are capable of experience and others that are not and pull one down to a lower level. The opposition is not equally acute in all cases, but in one degree or another it is almost uni- versal. Co-ordinadon and univeisaUsation can be satisfactorily done only when this is overcome. Till then oscillations are inevitable.

countless ::: incapable of being counted; innumerable.

crowded ::: 1. Filled near or to capacity. 2. Filled with a crowd. 3.* Fig.* packed closely together, as experiences, events; occurrences.

darkness ::: “Our sense by its incapacity has invented darkness. In truth there is nothing but Light, only it is a power of light either above or below our poor human vision’s limited range.” Essays Divine and Human

depth ::: 1. The quality of a state of consciousness. 2. Beyond one"s knowledge or capability. 3. Emotional intensity, profundity. 4. The quality of being deep; deepness. 5. Complexity or profundity. 6. The extent, measurement, or distance downwards, backwards, or inwards. depths, depths", spirit-depths, wave-depths.

destiny ::: 1. Something that is to happen or has happened to a particular person or thing; lot or fortune. 2. The predetermined, usually inevitable or irresistible, course of events. 3. The power or agency that determines the course of events. 4. *(Cap.) This power personified or represented as a goddess. *Destiny, destinies, world-destiny.

::: "Discoveries will be made that thin the walls between soul and matter; attempts there will be to extend exact knowledge into the psychological and psychic realms with a realisation of the truth that these have laws of their own which are other than the physical, but not the less laws because they escape the external senses and are infinitely plastic and subtle.” The Human Cycle, etc.

“Discoveries will be made that thin the walls between soul and matter; attempts there will be to extend exact knowledge into the psychological and psychic realms with a realisation of the truth that these have laws of their own which are other than the physical, but not the less laws because they escape the external senses and are infinitely plastic and subtle.” The Human Cycle, etc.

dissident ::: Yet some minutest dissident might escape

DIVINE LIFE. ::: A divine Ufe must be first and foremost an inner life. The divine life will reject nothing that is capable of divinbation ; all is to be seized, exalted, made utterly perfect.

There are always two methods of living in the Supreme. One b to draw away the participation of the consciousness from things altogether and go so much inwards as to be separated from existence and live in contact with that which is beyond it. The other is to gel to that which is the true Essence of all things, not allowing oneself to be absorbed and entangled by the external forms.


dot ::: n. 1. A small round mark made with or as with a pen, etc.; spot; speck; point. 2. Anything relatively small or specklike. dots. *v.* 3. To scatter or intersperse (with dots or something resembling dots). 4. To stud or diversify with or as if with dots, as trees dotting the landscape. dotted, dotting.

DUALITY. ::: There is a perpetual duality in human nature from which nobody escapes, so universal that many systems recognise it as a standing feature to be taken account of in their discipline, two Personae, one bright, one dark in every human being. If that were not there, yoga would be an easy walk-over and there would be no struggle.

ecstasy ::: 1. Intense joy or delight. 2. A state of exalted emotion so intense that one is carried beyond thought. 3. Used by mystical writers as the technical name for the state of rapture in which the body was supposed to become incapable of sensation, while the soul was engaged in the contemplation of divine things. 4. The trance, frenzy, or rapture associated with mystic or prophetic exaltation. Ecstasy, ecstasy"s, ecstasies, ecstasied, self-ecstasy, strange-ecstasied.

elude ::: 1. To avoid or escape by speed, cleverness, trickery, etc.; evade. 2. To escape the understanding, perception, or appreciation of. eludes.

enamoured ::: filled or inflamed with love. captivated.

enchanted ::: 1. Possessing a magical influence or quality. 2. Under a spell; bewitched; magical. 3. Utterly delighted or captivated; fascinated; charmed. enchantment, enchantment"s, enchantments.

ENDURANCE. ::: TIic cap.iciiy of bearing without depression.

enlarge ::: 1. To increase the capacity or scope of; expand. 2. To make or grow larger in size, scope, etc.; increase or expand the range of. enlarged.

evade ::: to elude; escape; avoid. evaded, evading.

exact ::: 1. Capable of the greatest precision. 2. Precise, as opposed to approximate; neither more nor less. 3. Absolutely accurate or correct in every detail; the same in every detail; precise. 4. Admitting of no deviation, precise, rigorous; strictly regulated.

FALL. ::: This lapse happens because there is a defect at the very centre. The intellect has been interested, the heart attracted, the will has strung itself to the effort, but the whole nature has not been taken captive by the Divine. It has only acquiesced

FITNESS. ::: The question is not of fitness or unfitness but of the acceptance of Grace. There is no human being whose physical outer consciousness is fit for the yoga. It is by Grace and a light from above that it can become capable and for that the necessity is to be persevering and open it to the Light.

FORCE. ::: Force is the essential Shakli ; Energy is the work- ing drive of the Force, its active dynamism ; Power is the capa- city born of the Force ; Strength is energy consolidated and stored in the adhdra.

"Force is the essential Shakti; Energy is the working drive of the Force, its active dynamism; Power is the capacity born of the Force; . . . .” Letters on Yoga

“Force is the essential Shakti; Energy is the working drive of the Force, its active dynamism; Power is the capacity born of the Force; …” Letters on Yoga

". . . for doubt is the mind"s persistent assailant.” Letters on Yoga ::: "The enemy of faith is doubt, and yet doubt too is a utility and necessity, because man in his ignorance and in his progressive labour towards knowledge needs to be visited by doubt, otherwise he would remain obstinate in an ignorant belief and limited knowledge and unable to escape from his errors.” The Synthesis of Yoga*

For the soul released from the grip of death and ignorance after travelling in”far-off eternities” , where, we cannot even hazard a guess, returning to earth a joyous captive of the Divine Mother, the earth appears to be nothing more than a green hillock, and yet, Satyavan lives”glad” in the moments of a sun that is transient,”among the busy works of men.”

fortune ::: chance personified, commonly regarded as a mythical being distributing arbitrarily or capriciously the lots of life. Fortune.

gauge ::: 1. To determine the exact dimensions, capacity, quantity, or force of; measure. 2. To appraise, estimate, or judge; assess; evaluate. gauged.

grasp ::: v. 1. To seize and hold firmly; lit. and fig. 2. To take hold of intellectually; comprehend. grasps, grasped, grasping.* n. 3. A hold or grip. 4. Fig. Total rule, possession or control. 5. Capacity or power to understand or comprehend. 6. One"s power of seizing and holding; reach. 7. The act of grasping or gripping, as with the hands or arms. 8. One"s arms or hands, in embracing or gripping. ::: to grasp at: To try to seize someone or something. Also fig.*

Gum's cr.padfiet ::: One can lia*c a Guru •■'/crK'f n tpiD- lual capacity (to onc\clf or to other Gunn) carry trp in h'-n tnjf) human imperfectiona and >cl, if ymi hue the faitS. ihf«rj;h attain to ■.p'mtual cspcticricc^. to ipnituai irafnatlfm. enm Srfo'r tlic Guru himveU.

harmonist ::: one who brings everything into harmony. (Here referring to the Divine) Sri Aurobindo capitalises the word.

helpless ::: adj. **1. Deprived of strength or power; powerless; incapacitated. 2.* Unable to help oneself; weak or dependent. adv. helplessly. n.* helplessness.

herculean ::: requiring tremendous effort, strength, etc. (Sri Aurobindo capitalises the word.)

history ::: “History teaches us nothing; it is a confused torrent of events and personalities or a kaleidoscope of changing institutions. We do not seize the real sense of all this change and this continual streaming forward of human life in the channels of Time. What we do seize are current or recurrent phenomena, facile generalisations, partial ideas. We talk of democracy, aristocracy and autocracy, collectivism and individualism, imperialism and nationalism, the State and the commune, capitalism and labour; we advance hasty generalisations and make absolute systems which are positively announced today only to be abandoned perforce tomorrow; we espouse causes and ardent enthusiasms whose triumph turns to an early disillusionment and then forsake them for others, perhaps for those that we have taken so much trouble to destroy. For a whole century mankind thirsts and battles after liberty and earns it with a bitter expense of toil, tears and blood; the century that enjoys without having fought for it turns away as from a puerile illusion and is ready to renounce the depreciated gain as the price of some new good. And all this happens because our whole thought and action with regard to our collective life is shallow and empirical; it does not seek for, it does not base itself on a firm, profound and complete knowledge. The moral is not the vanity of human life, of its ardours and enthusiasms and of the ideals it pursues, but the necessity of a wiser, larger, more patient search after its true law and aim.” The Human Cycle etc.

Hostile attacks very ordinarily become violent when the pro- gress is becoming rapid and on the way to be definite — espe- cially if they find they cannot carry out an effective aggression into the inner being, they try to shake by outside assaults. One must take it as a trial of strength, a call for gathering all one’s capacities of calm and openness to the Light and Power, so as to make oneself an instrument for the victory of the Divine over the undivine.

"If there is a self in us capable of largeness and universality, able to enter into a cosmic consciousness, that too must be within our inner being; the outer consciousness is a physical consciousness bound to its individual limits by the triple cord of mind, life and body: any external attempt at universality can only result either in an aggrandisement of the ego or an effacement of the personality by its extinction in the mass or subjugation to the mass.” The Life Divine*

“If there is a self in us capable of largeness and universality, able to enter into a cosmic consciousness, that too must be within our inner being; the outer consciousness is a physical consciousness bound to its individual limits by the triple cord of mind, life and body: any external attempt at universality can only result either in an aggrandisement of the ego or an effacement of the personality by its extinction in the mass or subjugation to the mass.” The Life Divine

If we regard the Powers of the Reality as so many Godheads, we can say that the Overmind releases a million Godheads into action, each empowered to create its own world, each world capable of relation, communication and interplay with the others. There are in the Veda different formulations of the nature of the Gods: it is said they are all one Existence to which the sages give different names; yet each God is worshipped as if he by himself is that Existence, one who is all the other Gods together or contains them in his being; and yet again each is a separate Deity acting sometimes in unison with companion deities, sometimes separately, sometimes even in apparent opposition to other Godheads of the same Existence. In the Supermind all this would be held together as a harmonised play of the one Existence; in the Overmind each of these three conditions could be a separate action or basis of action and have its own principle of development and consequences and yet each keep the power to combine with the others in a more composite harmony. As with the One Existence, so with its Consciousness and Force. The One Consciousness is separated into many independent forms of consciousness and knowledge; each follows out its own line of truth which it has to realise. The one total and many-sided Real-Idea is split up into its many sides; each becomes an independent Idea-Force with the power to realise itself. The one Consciousness-Force is liberated into its million forces, and each of these forces has the right to fulfil itself or to assume, if needed, a hegemony and take up for its own utility the other forces. So too the Delight of Existence is loosed out into all manner of delights and each can carry in itself its independent fullness or sovereign extreme. Overmind thus gives to the One Existence-Consciousness-Bliss the character of a teeming of infinite possibilities which can be developed into a multitude of worlds or thrown together into one world in which the endlessly variable…

(iJjscir'ch One can p» i.> a \tty preat fpj»r;ul pun jM p:t nothipf or only a little from him . one can p' lo a p*i« r? let* tpinljtat capsci!) end pet all he ht» lo pne — anj ry'tc

imagination ::: “… our mind has the faculty of imagination; it can create and take as true and real its own mental structures: . . . . Our mental imagination is an instrument of Ignorance; it is the resort or device or refuge of a limited capacity of knowledge, a limited capacity of effective action. Mind supplements these deficiencies by its power of imagination: it uses it to extract from things obvious and visible the things that are not obvious and visible; it undertakes to create its own figures of the possible and the impossible; it erects illusory actuals or draws figures of a conjectured or constructed truth of things that are not true to outer experience. That is at least the appearance of its operation; but, in reality, it is the mind’s way or one of its ways of summoning out of Being its infinite possibilities, even of discovering or capturing the unknown possibilities of the Infinite.” The Life Divine

immeasurable ::: Incapable of being measured; limitless; immense. Immeasurable. (Sri Aurobindo also employs the word as an adj.)

immovably ::: incapable of being moved from one"s purpose, opinion, etc.; steadfast; unyielding.

impenetrable ::: 1. Impossible to penetrate or enter. 2. Incapable of being seen through.

impervious ::: incapable of being influenced, persuaded, or affected.

IMPULSE. ::: An ovenvhelming impulse is not necessarily an inspiration of true guidance ; in following always such impulses one is more likely to become a creature of random caprices.

inaccessible ::: 1. Capable of being reached only with great difficulty or not at all. 2. Not able to be (easily) approached, reached or obtained.

inalienable ::: not capable of being repudiated; inviolable.

inalterable ::: unchangeable, immutable; not capable of being modified. inalterably.

inapt ::: 1. Without aptitude or capacity; incapable. 2. Not inclined or disposed.

incapable ::: 1. Lacking the necessary ability, capacity, or power. 2. Not open to; not susceptible to or admitting.

incapable of being expressed in words; inexpressible, indescribable, ineffable.

incapable of being imagined; inconceivable; incomprehensible. (Also used as a n.) Unimaginable.

incapable of being measured; limitless; immense. Immeasurable. (Sri Aurobindo also employs the word as an adj.)

incapable of being quenched; inextinguishable.

incapable of being recognized; that does not admit of recognition.

incapacity ::: lack of ability, qualification, or strength; esp. to receive.

INCAPACITY. ::: There is a part in the physical and vital consciousness of every human being that has not the will for sadhana, docs not feel the capacity for it, distrusts any hope or promise of a spiritual future and is inert and indifferent to any such thing. At one period in the course of the sadhana this rises up and one feels identified with it.

incompetence ::: not possessing the necessary ability, skill, etc. to do or carry out a task; incapable.

indomitable ::: incapable of being overcome, subdued, or vanquished; unconquerable. indomitably.

ineffable ::: incapable of being expressed; indescribable or unutterable. **Ineffable, Ineffable"s.

inescapable ::: impossible to escape or avoid; inevitable. inescapably.

inevitable ::: 1. Unable to be avoided, evaded, or escaped; certain; necessary. 2. Sure to occur, happen, or come. inevitably.

inexhaustible ::: not exhaustible; incapable of being depleted.

inexorable ::: not capable of being persuaded by entreaty; relentless. inexorably.

inexpressible ::: not expressible; incapable of being uttered or described in words. Inexpressible, inexpressibly.

inextricable ::: intricately involved; incapable of being disentangled, loosed, or undone. inextricably.

infallible ::: 1. Incapable of failure or error. 2. Not liable to failure; certain; sure. 3. Absolutely trustworthy or sure. 4. Unfailing in effectiveness or operation; certain. infallibly, infallibility.

In its nature and law the Overmind is a delegate of the Supermind Consciousness, its delegate to the Ignorance. Or we might speak of it as a protective double, a screen of dissimilar similarity through which Supermind can act indirectly on an Ignorance whose darkness could not bear or receive the direct impact of a supreme Light. Even, it is by the projection of this luminous Overmind corona that the diffusion of a diminished light in the Ignorance and the throwing of that contrary shadow which swallows up in itself all light, the Inconscience, became at all possible. For Supermind transmits to Overmind all its realities, but leaves it to formulate them in a movement and according to an awareness of things which is still a vision of Truth and yet at the same time a first parent of the Ignorance. A line divides Supermind and Overmind which permits a free transmission, allows the lower Power to derive from the higher Power all it holds or sees, but automatically compels a transitional change in the passage. The integrality of the Supermind keeps always the essential truth of things, the total truth and the truth of its individual self-determinations clearly knit together; it maintains in them an inseparable unity and between them a close interpenetration and a free and full consciousness of each other: but in Overmind this integrality is no longer there. And yet the Overmind is well aware of the essential Truth of things; it embraces the totality; it uses the individual self-determinations without being limited by them: but although it knows their oneness, can realise it in a spiritual cognition, yet its dynamic movement, even while relying on that for its security, is not directly determined by it. Overmind Energy proceeds through an illimitable capacity of separation and combination of the powers and aspects of the integral and indivisible all-comprehending Unity. It takes each Aspect or Power and gives to it an independent action in which it acquires a full separate importance and is able to work out, we might say, its own world of creation. Purusha and Prakriti, Conscious Soul and executive Force of Nature, are in the supramental harmony a two-aspected single truth, being and dynamis of the Reality; there can be no disequilibrium or predominance of one over the other. In Overmind we have the origin of the cleavage, the trenchant distinction made by the philosophy of the Sankhyas in which they appear as two independent entities, Prakriti able to dominate Purusha and cloud its freedom and power, reducing it to a witness and recipient of her forms and actions, Purusha able to return to its separate existence and abide in a free self-sovereignty by rejection of her original overclouding material principle. So with the other aspects or powers of the Divine Reality, One and Many, Divine Personality and Divine Impersonality, and the rest; each is still an aspect and power of the one Reality, but each is empowered to act as an independent entity in the whole, arrive at the fullness of the possibilities of its separate expression and develop the dynamic consequences of that separateness. At the same time in Overmind this separateness is still founded on the basis of an implicit underlying unity; all possibilities of combination and relation between the separated Powers and Aspects, all interchanges and mutualities of their energies are freely organised and their actuality always possible.

Inner consciousness ::: means the inner mind, inner vital, inner physical and behind them the psychic which is their inmost being. But the inner mind is not the higher mind ; ft is more in touch with the universal forces and more open to the higher consciousness and capable of an immensely deeper and larger range of action than the outer or surface mind — but it is of the same essential nature.

INNER GUIDE. ::: The supreme Guide and Teacher is the inner Guide, the World-Teacher, jagad-guru, secret within us. He dis- closes progressively in us his own nature of freedom, bliss, love, power, immortal being. He has no method and every method.

His system is a natural organisation of the highest processes and movements of which the nature is capable. In his yoga there is nothing too small to be used and nothing too great to be attempted. This inner Guide is often veiled at first by the very intensity of our personal effort and by the ego's preoccupation with itself and its aims.


inscrutable ::: 1. Difficult or nearly impossible to fathom or understand; impenetrable. 2. Incapable of being seen through physically; physically impenetrable.

inseparable ::: 1. Incapable of being separated or divided. 2. Impossible to separate or part.

insoluble ::: incapable of being solved or explained.

intangible ::: not tangible; incapable of being perceived by the sense of touch, as incorporeal or immaterial things; impalpable. intangible"s.

INTEGRAL YOGA ::: This yoga accepts the value of cosmic existence and holds it to be a reality; its object is to enter into a higher Truth-Consciousness or Divine Supramental Consciousness in which action and creation are the expression not of ignorance and imperfection, but of the Truth, the Light, the Divine Ānanda. But for that, the surrender of the mortal mind, life and body to the Higher Consciousnessis indispensable, since it is too difficult for the mortal human being to pass by its own effort beyond mind to a Supramental Consciousness in which the dynamism is no longer mental but of quite another power. Only those who can accept the call to such a change should enter into this yoga.

Aim of the Integral Yoga ::: It is not merely to rise out of the ordinary ignorant world-consciousness into the divine consciousness, but to bring the supramental power of that divine consciousness down into the ignorance of mind, life and body, to transform them, to manifest the Divine here and create a divine life in Matter.

Conditions of the Integral Yoga ::: This yoga can only be done to the end by those who are in total earnest about it and ready to abolish their little human ego and its demands in order to find themselves in the Divine. It cannot be done in a spirit of levity or laxity; the work is too high and difficult, the adverse powers in the lower Nature too ready to take advantage of the least sanction or the smallest opening, the aspiration and tapasyā needed too constant and intense.

Method in the Integral Yoga ::: To concentrate, preferably in the heart and call the presence and power of the Mother to take up the being and by the workings of her force transform the consciousness. One can concentrate also in the head or between the eye-brows, but for many this is a too difficult opening. When the mind falls quiet and the concentration becomes strong and the aspiration intense, then there is the beginning of experience. The more the faith, the more rapid the result is likely to be. For the rest one must not depend on one’s own efforts only, but succeed in establishing a contact with the Divine and a receptivity to the Mother’s Power and Presence.

Integral method ::: The method we have to pursue is to put our whole conscious being into relation and contact with the Divine and to call Him in to transform Our entire being into His, so that in a sense God Himself, the real Person in us, becomes the sādhaka of the sādhana* as well as the Master of the Yoga by whom the lower personality is used as the centre of a divine transfiguration and the instrument of its own perfection. In effect, the pressure of the Tapas, the force of consciousness in us dwelling in the Idea of the divine Nature upon that which we are in our entirety, produces its own realisation. The divine and all-knowing and all-effecting descends upon the limited and obscure, progressively illumines and energises the whole lower nature and substitutes its own action for all the terms of the inferior human light and mortal activity.

In psychological fact this method translates itself into the progressive surrender of the ego with its whole field and all its apparatus to the Beyond-ego with its vast and incalculable but always inevitable workings. Certainly, this is no short cut or easy sādhana. It requires a colossal faith, an absolute courage and above all an unflinching patience. For it implies three stages of which only the last can be wholly blissful or rapid, - the attempt of the ego to enter into contact with the Divine, the wide, full and therefore laborious preparation of the whole lower Nature by the divine working to receive and become the higher Nature, and the eventual transformation. In fact, however, the divine strength, often unobserved and behind the veil, substitutes itself for the weakness and supports us through all our failings of faith, courage and patience. It” makes the blind to see and the lame to stride over the hills.” The intellect becomes aware of a Law that beneficently insists and a Succour that upholds; the heart speaks of a Master of all things and Friend of man or a universal Mother who upholds through all stumblings. Therefore this path is at once the most difficult imaginable and yet in comparison with the magnitude of its effort and object, the most easy and sure of all.

There are three outstanding features of this action of the higher when it works integrally on the lower nature. In the first place, it does not act according to a fixed system and succession as in the specialised methods of Yoga, but with a sort of free, scattered and yet gradually intensive and purposeful working determined by the temperament of the individual in whom it operates, the helpful materials which his nature offers and the obstacles which it presents to purification and perfection. In a sense, therefore, each man in this path has his own method of Yoga. Yet are there certain broad lines of working common to all which enable us to construct not indeed a routine system, but yet some kind of Shastra or scientific method of the synthetic Yoga.

Secondly, the process, being integral, accepts our nature such as it stands organised by our past evolution and without rejecting anything essential compels all to undergo a divine change. Everything in us is seized by the hands of a mighty Artificer and transformed into a clear image of that which it now seeks confusedly to present. In that ever-progressive experience we begin to perceive how this lower manifestation is constituted and that everything in it, however seemingly deformed or petty or vile, is the more or less distorted or imperfect figure of some elements or action in the harmony of the divine Nature. We begin to understand what the Vedic Rishis meant when they spoke of the human forefathers fashioning the gods as a smith forges the crude material in his smithy.

Thirdly, the divine Power in us uses all life as the means of this integral Yoga. Every experience and outer contact with our world-environment, however trifling or however disastrous, is used for the work, and every inner experience, even to the most repellent suffering or the most humiliating fall, becomes a step on the path to perfection. And we recognise in ourselves with opened eyes the method of God in the world, His purpose of light in the obscure, of might in the weak and fallen, of delight in what is grievous and miserable. We see the divine method to be the same in the lower and in the higher working; only in the one it is pursued tardily and obscurely through the subconscious in Nature, in the other it becomes swift and selfconscious and the instrument confesses the hand of the Master. All life is a Yoga of Nature seeking to manifest God within itself. Yoga marks the stage at which this effort becomes capable of self-awareness and therefore of right completion in the individual. It is a gathering up and concentration of the movements dispersed and loosely combined in the lower evolution.

Key-methods ::: The way to devotion and surrender. It is the psychic movement that brings the constant and pure devotion and the removal of the ego that makes it possible to surrender.

The way to knowledge. Meditation in the head by which there comes the opening above, the quietude or silence of the mind and the descent of peace etc. of the higher consciousness generally till it envelops the being and fills the body and begins to take up all the movements.
Yoga by works ::: Separation of the Purusha from the Prakriti, the inner silent being from the outer active one, so that one has two consciousnesses or a double consciousness, one behind watching and observing and finally controlling and changing the other which is active in front. The other way of beginning the yoga of works is by doing them for the Divine, for the Mother, and not for oneself, consecrating and dedicating them till one concretely feels the Divine Force taking up the activities and doing them for one.

Object of the Integral Yoga is to enter into and be possessed by the Divine Presence and Consciousness, to love the Divine for the Divine’s sake alone, to be tuned in our nature into the nature of the Divine, and in our will and works and life to be the instrument of the Divine.

Principle of the Integral Yoga ::: The whole principle of Integral Yoga is to give oneself entirely to the Divine alone and to nobody else, and to bring down into ourselves by union with the Divine Mother all the transcendent light, power, wideness, peace, purity, truth-consciousness and Ānanda of the Supramental Divine.

Central purpose of the Integral Yoga ::: Transformation of our superficial, narrow and fragmentary human way of thinking, seeing, feeling and being into a deep and wide spiritual consciousness and an integrated inner and outer existence and of our ordinary human living into the divine way of life.

Fundamental realisations of the Integral Yoga ::: The psychic change so that a complete devotion can be the main motive of the heart and the ruler of thought, life and action in constant union with the Mother and in her Presence. The descent of the Peace, Power, Light etc. of the Higher Consciousness through the head and heart into the whole being, occupying the very cells of the body. The perception of the One and Divine infinitely everywhere, the Mother everywhere and living in that infinite consciousness.

Results ::: First, an integral realisation of Divine Being; not only a realisation of the One in its indistinguishable unity, but also in its multitude of aspects which are also necessary to the complete knowledge of it by the relative consciousness; not only realisation of unity in the Self, but of unity in the infinite diversity of activities, worlds and creatures.

Therefore, also, an integral liberation. Not only the freedom born of unbroken contact of the individual being in all its parts with the Divine, sāyujya mukti, by which it becomes free even in its separation, even in the duality; not only the sālokya mukti by which the whole conscious existence dwells in the same status of being as the Divine, in the state of Sachchidananda ; but also the acquisition of the divine nature by the transformation of this lower being into the human image of the divine, sādharmya mukti, and the complete and final release of all, the liberation of the consciousness from the transitory mould of the ego and its unification with the One Being, universal both in the world and the individual and transcendentally one both in the world and beyond all universe.

By this integral realisation and liberation, the perfect harmony of the results of Knowledge, Love and Works. For there is attained the complete release from ego and identification in being with the One in all and beyond all. But since the attaining consciousness is not limited by its attainment, we win also the unity in Beatitude and the harmonised diversity in Love, so that all relations of the play remain possible to us even while we retain on the heights of our being the eternal oneness with the Beloved. And by a similar wideness, being capable of a freedom in spirit that embraces life and does not depend upon withdrawal from life, we are able to become without egoism, bondage or reaction the channel in our mind and body for a divine action poured out freely upon the world.

The divine existence is of the nature not only of freedom, but of purity, beatitude and perfection. In integral purity which shall enable on the one hand the perfect reflection of the divine Being in ourselves and on the other the perfect outpouring of its Truth and Law in us in the terms of life and through the right functioning of the complex instrument we are in our outer parts, is the condition of an integral liberty. Its result is an integral beatitude, in which there becomes possible at once the Ānanda of all that is in the world seen as symbols of the Divine and the Ānanda of that which is not-world. And it prepares the integral perfection of our humanity as a type of the Divine in the conditions of the human manifestation, a perfection founded on a certain free universality of being, of love and joy, of play of knowledge and of play of will in power and will in unegoistic action. This integrality also can be attained by the integral Yoga.

Sādhanā of the Integral Yoga does not proceed through any set mental teaching or prescribed forms of meditation, mantras or others, but by aspiration, by a self-concentration inwards or upwards, by a self-opening to an Influence, to the Divine Power above us and its workings, to the Divine Presence in the heart and by the rejection of all that is foreign to these things. It is only by faith, aspiration and surrender that this self-opening can come.

The yoga does not proceed by upadeśa but by inner influence.

Integral Yoga and Gita ::: The Gita’s Yoga consists in the offering of one’s work as a sacrifice to the Divine, the conquest of desire, egoless and desireless action, bhakti for the Divine, an entering into the cosmic consciousness, the sense of unity with all creatures, oneness with the Divine. This yoga adds the bringing down of the supramental Light and Force (its ultimate aim) and the transformation of the nature.

Our yoga is not identical with the yoga of the Gita although it contains all that is essential in the Gita’s yoga. In our yoga we begin with the idea, the will, the aspiration of the complete surrender; but at the same time we have to reject the lower nature, deliver our consciousness from it, deliver the self involved in the lower nature by the self rising to freedom in the higher nature. If we do not do this double movement, we are in danger of making a tamasic and therefore unreal surrender, making no effort, no tapas and therefore no progress ; or else we make a rajasic surrender not to the Divine but to some self-made false idea or image of the Divine which masks our rajasic ego or something still worse.

Integral Yoga, Gita and Tantra ::: The Gita follows the Vedantic tradition which leans entirely on the Ishvara aspect of the Divine and speaks little of the Divine Mother because its object is to draw back from world-nature and arrive at the supreme realisation beyond it.

The Tantric tradition leans on the Shakti or Ishvari aspect and makes all depend on the Divine Mother because its object is to possess and dominate the world-nature and arrive at the supreme realisation through it.

This yoga insists on both the aspects; the surrender to the Divine Mother is essential, for without it there is no fulfilment of the object of the yoga.

Integral Yoga and Hatha-Raja Yogas ::: For an integral yoga the special methods of Rajayoga and Hathayoga may be useful at times in certain stages of the progress, but are not indispensable. Their principal aims must be included in the integrality of the yoga; but they can be brought about by other means. For the methods of the integral yoga must be mainly spiritual, and dependence on physical methods or fixed psychic or psychophysical processes on a large scale would be the substitution of a lower for a higher action. Integral Yoga and Kundalini Yoga: There is a feeling of waves surging up, mounting to the head, which brings an outer unconsciousness and an inner waking. It is the ascending of the lower consciousness in the ādhāra to meet the greater consciousness above. It is a movement analogous to that on which so much stress is laid in the Tantric process, the awakening of the Kundalini, the Energy coiled up and latent in the body and its mounting through the spinal cord and the centres (cakras) and the Brahmarandhra to meet the Divine above. In our yoga it is not a specialised process, but a spontaneous upnish of the whole lower consciousness sometimes in currents or waves, sometimes in a less concrete motion, and on the other side a descent of the Divine Consciousness and its Force into the body.

Integral Yoga and other Yogas ::: The old yogas reach Sachchidananda through the spiritualised mind and depart into the eternally static oneness of Sachchidananda or rather pure Sat (Existence), absolute and eternal or else a pure Non-exist- ence, absolute and eternal. Ours having realised Sachchidananda in the spiritualised mind plane proceeds to realise it in the Supramcntal plane.

The suprcfhe supra-cosmic Sachchidananda is above all. Supermind may be described as its power of self-awareness and W’orld- awareness, the world being known as within itself and not out- side. So to live consciously in the supreme Sachchidananda one must pass through the Supermind.

Distinction ::: The realisation of Self and of the Cosmic being (without which the realisation of the Self is incomplete) are essential steps in our yoga ; it is the end of other yogas, but it is, as it were, the beginning of outs, that is to say, the point where its own characteristic realisation can commence.

It is new as compared with the old yogas (1) Because it aims not at a departure out of world and life into Heaven and Nir- vana, but at a change of life and existence, not as something subordinate or incidental, but as a distinct and central object.

If there is a descent in other yogas, yet it is only an incident on the way or resulting from the ascent — the ascent is the real thing. Here the ascent is the first step, but it is a means for the descent. It is the descent of the new coosdousness attain- ed by the ascent that is the stamp and seal of the sadhana. Even the Tantra and Vaishnavism end in the release from life ; here the object is the divine fulfilment of life.

(2) Because the object sought after is not an individual achievement of divine realisation for the sake of the individual, but something to be gained for the earth-consciousness here, a cosmic, not solely a supra-cosmic acbievement. The thing to be gained also is the bringing of a Power of consciousness (the Supramental) not yet organised or active directly in earth-nature, even in the spiritual life, but yet to be organised and made directly active.

(3) Because a method has been preconized for achieving this purpose which is as total and integral as the aim set before it, viz., the total and integral change of the consciousness and nature, taking up old methods, but only as a part action and present aid to others that are distinctive.

Integral Yoga and Patanjali Yoga ::: Cilia is the stuff of mixed mental-vital-physical consciousness out of which arise the movements of thought, emotion, sensation, impulse etc.

It is these that in the Patanjali system have to be stilled altogether so that the consciousness may be immobile and go into Samadhi.

Our yoga has a different function. The movements of the ordinary consciousness have to be quieted and into the quietude there has to be brought down a higher consciousness and its powers which will transform the nature.


intelligence ::: 1. A capacity for learning, reasoning, understanding, and similar forms of mental activity; aptitude in grasping truths, relationships, facts, meanings, etc. 2. Superior understanding. 3. An intelligent being, esp. one that is not embodied. Intelligence, Arch-Intelligence.

intelligent ::: 1. Indicating high intelligence; perceptive. 2. Having the capacity for thought and reason especially to a high degree.

intelligible ::: capable of being understood; comprehensible.

intuition ::: direct perception of truth, fact, etc., independent of any reasoning process. intuition"s, intuitions, half-intuition.

Sri Aurobindo: "Intuition is a power of consciousness nearer and more intimate to the original knowledge by identity; for it is always something that leaps out direct from a concealed identity. It is when the consciousness of the subject meets with the consciousness in the object, penetrates it and sees, feels or vibrates with the truth of what it contacts, that the intuition leaps out like a spark or lightning-flash from the shock of the meeting; or when the consciousness, even without any such meeting, looks into itself and feels directly and intimately the truth or the truths that are there or so contacts the hidden forces behind appearances, then also there is the outbreak of an intuitive light; or, again, when the consciousness meets the Supreme Reality or the spiritual reality of things and beings and has a contactual union with it, then the spark, the flash or the blaze of intimate truth-perception is lit in its depths. This close perception is more than sight, more than conception: it is the result of a penetrating and revealing touch which carries in it sight and conception as part of itself or as its natural consequence. A concealed or slumbering identity, not yet recovering itself, still remembers or conveys by the intuition its own contents and the intimacy of its self-feeling and self-vision of things, its light of truth, its overwhelming and automatic certitude.” *The Life Divine

   "Intuition is always an edge or ray or outleap of a superior light; it is in us a projecting blade, edge or point of a far-off supermind light entering into and modified by some intermediate truth-mind substance above us and, so modified, again entering into and very much blinded by our ordinary or ignorant mind-substance; but on that higher level to which it is native its light is unmixed and therefore entirely and purely veridical, and its rays are not separated but connected or massed together in a play of waves of what might almost be called in the Sanskrit poetic figure a sea or mass of ``stable lightnings"". When this original or native Intuition begins to descend into us in answer to an ascension of our consciousness to its level or as a result of our finding of a clear way of communication with it, it may continue to come as a play of lightning-flashes, isolated or in constant action; but at this stage the judgment of reason becomes quite inapplicable, it can only act as an observer or registrar understanding or recording the more luminous intimations, judgments and discriminations of the higher power. To complete or verify an isolated intuition or discriminate its nature, its application, its limitations, the receiving consciousness must rely on another completing intuition or be able to call down a massed intuition capable of putting all in place. For once the process of the change has begun, a complete transmutation of the stuff and activities of the mind into the substance, form and power of Intuition is imperative; until then, so long as the process of consciousness depends upon the lower intelligence serving or helping out or using the intuition, the result can only be a survival of the mixed Knowledge-Ignorance uplifted or relieved by a higher light and force acting in its parts of Knowledge.” *The Life Divine

  "I use the word ‘intuition" for want of a better. In truth, it is a makeshift and inadequate to the connotation demanded of it. The same has to be said of the word ‘consciousness" and many others which our poverty compels us to extend illegitimately in their significance.” *The Life Divine - Sri Aurobindo"s footnote.

"For intuition is an edge of light thrust out by the secret Supermind. . . .” The Life Divine

". . . intuition is born of a direct awareness while intellect is an indirect action of a knowledge which constructs itself with difficulty out of the unknown from signs and indications and gathered data.” The Life Divine

"Intuition is above illumined Mind which is simply higher Mind raised to a great luminosity and more open to modified forms of intuition and inspiration.” Letters on Yoga

"Intuition sees the truth of things by a direct inner contact, not like the ordinary mental intelligence by seeking and reaching out for indirect contacts through the senses etc. But the limitation of the Intuition as compared with the supermind is that it sees things by flashes, point by point, not as a whole. Also in coming into the mind it gets mixed with the mental movement and forms a kind of intuitive mind activity which is not the pure truth, but something in between the higher Truth and the mental seeking. It can lead the consciousness through a sort of transitional stage and that is practically its function.” Letters on Yoga


“Intuition is always an edge or ray or outleap of a superior light; it is in us a projecting blade, edge or point of a far-off supermind light entering into and modified by some intermediate truth-mind substance above us and, so modified, again entering into and very much blinded by our ordinary or ignorant mind-substance; but on that higher level to which it is native its light is unmixed and therefore entirely and purely veridical, and its rays are not separated but connected or massed together in a play of waves of what might almost be called in the Sanskrit poetic figure a sea or mass of ``stable lightnings’’. When this original or native Intuition begins to descend into us in answer to an ascension of our consciousness to its level or as a result of our finding of a clear way of communication with it, it may continue to come as a play of lightning-flashes, isolated or in constant action; but at this stage the judgment of reason becomes quite inapplicable, it can only act as an observer or registrar understanding or recording the more luminous intimations, judgments and discriminations of the higher power. To complete or verify an isolated intuition or discriminate its nature, its application, its limitations, the receiving consciousness must rely on another completing intuition or be able to call down a massed intuition capable of putting all in place. For once the process of the change has begun, a complete transmutation of the stuff and activities of the mind into the substance, form and power of Intuition is imperative; until then, so long as the process of consciousness depends upon the lower intelligence serving or helping out or using the intuition, the result can only be a survival of the mixed Knowledge-Ignorance uplifted or relieved by a higher light and force acting in its parts of Knowledge.” The Life Divine

intuitive knowledge ::: Sri Aurobindo: " For the highest intuitive Knowledge sees things in the whole, in the large and details only as sides of the indivisible whole; its tendency is towards immediate synthesis and the unity of knowledge.” *The Life Divine

"The intuitive knowledge on the contrary, however limited it may be in its field or application, is within that scope sure with an immediate, a durable and especially a self-existent certitude.” The Synthesis of Yoga

"All intuitive knowledge comes more or less directly from the light of the self-aware spirit entering into the mind, the spirit concealed behind mind and conscious of all in itself and in all its selves, omniscient and capable of illumining the ignorant or the self-forgetful mind whether by rare or constant flashes or by a steady instreaming light, out of its omniscience.” The Synthesis of Yoga*


investment ::: the investing of money, capitol, etc. in order to gain profitable returns.

invincible ::: incapable of being overcome or defeated; unconquerable. invincibly.

inviolable ::: incapable of being violated; incorruptible; unassailable. Inviolable.

irreconcilable ::: incapable of being brought into harmony or adjustment; incompatible.

irrecoverable ::: incapable of being recovered or regained.

irresistibly attractive, charming; enchanting; captivating.

“It could be affirmed as a consequence that there is one all-pervading Life or dynamic energy—the material aspect being only its outermost movement—that creates all these forms of the physical universe, Life imperishable and eternal which, even if the whole figure of the universe were quite abolished, would itself still go on existing and be capable of producing a new universe in its place, must indeed, unless it be held back in a state of rest by some higher Power or hold itself back, inevitably go on creating. In that case Life is nothing else than the Force that builds and maintains and destroys forms in the world; it is Life that manifests itself in the form of the earth as much as in the plant that grows upon the earth and the animals that support their existence by devouring the life-force of the plant or of each other. All existence here is a universal Life that takes form of Matter. It might for that purpose hide life-process in physical process before it emerges as submental sensitivity and mentalised vitality, but still it would be throughout the same creative Life-principle.” The Life Divine

It is not indispensable that the Grace should work in a way that the human mind can understand, it generally does not ; it works in. its own ‘ mysterious ’ way. At first usually it works behind the veil, preparbg things, not manifesting. Afterwards it may manifest, but the sSdhaka does not understand very well what is happening ; finally, when he is capable of it, he both feels and understands or at least begins to do so. Some feel and understand from the first or very early ; but that is not the ordinary case.

Jhumur: “Law is capital, it has to be! It is a very powerful dominating force, a force of resistance, a force of refusal, whatever in us denies the acceptance of light. If this law were not there then there would be an immediate rising into the light and there would be perhaps no play of the manifestation. For a long time there was a kind of a backward pull for each forward attempt so that you would have to work your way up from below and these lower levels have their very strong demands or pulls to resist. Slowly you have to take up all these movements and rise, otherwise the spirit would have risen really without any restriction and that would not have been what the divine intention was, to manifest here in the inconscient, the Divine.”

Jhumur: “These are not just images and not just there for effect. They represent certain movements in the being, certain forces that are universal, independent. It is not one man who suffers. At a certain level of existence these experiences are universal. There are forces that are at work on these levels, forces that really prey on man, really hound him in that sense. You can’t seem to escape them. When one is semi-conscious or lives as we do in an in-between state, not knowing exactly which is your direction, you have this force really at your heels, pushing you sometimes into suffering, into death. You feel that you have been deserted. Sometimes there is a notion of karma, at other times you feel that it is some force that is pushing you. These are universal forces in the field of life, in the field of the subconscient, in the unconsciousness. On these levels they are not images they are powers which Sri Aurobindo has given a certain shape, form, image.”

Jhumur: “You have the same word in French, capte—like a receiver that catches signals. I believe Sri Aurobindo often uses French words with the French connotation. Particularly I have noticed that sometimes he uses the word amour instead of love. When I asked myself why did he have to use a French word here, perhaps because it was a different kind of love, not the usual, something other. Time’s amour-song he says, and not a love song. There is something different about that song. It is not just a love song. It suggests something other when he uses a word from another language. It is not love that we ordinarily understand, he has added a quality of something special or rare or unusual by utilizing the same word but in another language. It gives it another colour.”

judgment ::: 1. The capacity to assess situations or circumstances shrewdly and to draw sound conclusions. 2. An opinion or estimate formed after consideration or deliberation, especially a formal or authoritative decision. judgments.

Jupiter is usually thought to have originated as a sky god. His identifying implement is the thunderbolt, and his primary sacred animal is the eagle,[1] which held precedence over other birds in the taking of auspices[2] and became one of the most common symbols of the Roman army (see Aquila). The two emblems were often combined to represent the god in the form of an eagle holding in its claws a thunderbolt, frequently seen on Greek and Roman coins.[3] As the sky-god, he was a divine witness to oaths, the sacred trust on which justice and good government depend. Many of his functions were focused on the Capitoline (“Capitol Hill”), where the citadel was located. He was the chief deity of the early Capitoline Triad with Mars and Quirinus.[4] In the later Capitoline Triad, he was the central guardian of the state with Juno and Minerva. His sacred tree was the oak.

landmarks ::: 1. Prominent identifying features of a landscape. 2. Events marking important stages of development.

landscape ::: an extensive area of land regarded as being visually distinct. landscapes.

latent ::: hidden or undeveloped, but capable of being developed; not as yet manifested; concealed.

Law of Light, and it is meant, not as an arbitrary caprice, how- ever miraculous often its intervention, but as a help in that growth and a Light that leads and eventually delivers.

leadership ::: capacity or ability to lead.

lifeless ::: 1. Having lost life; dead. 2. Having no life; inanimate. 3. Not inhabited by living beings; not capable of sustaining life. 4. Lacking vitality or animation; dull.

light ::: Sri Aurobindo: ". . . light is primarily a spiritual manifestation of the Divine Reality illuminative and creative; material light is a subsequent representation or conversion of it into Matter for the purposes of the material Energy.” *The Life Divine

"Our sense by its incapacity has invented darkness. In truth there is nothing but Light, only it is a power of light either above or below our poor human vision"s limited range.

  For do not imagine that light is created by the Suns. The Suns are only physical concentrations of Light, but the splendour they concentrate for us is self-born and everywhere.

  God is everywhere and wherever God is, there is Light.” *The Hour of God

"Light is a general term. Light is not knowledge but the illumination that comes from above and liberates the being from obscurity and darkness.” The Mother

The Mother: "The light is everywhere, the force is everywhere. And the world is so small.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15. ::: *Light, light"s, lights, light-petalled, light-tasselled, half-light.


Love for the Divine is not pqchic Jove only ; it is the Jove of all the being, the vital and vital-physical included — all are capable of the same self-giving. It Is a mistake to believe that if the vital loves, it must be a love that demands and imposes

Madhav: “Dissident—one who does not accept the discipline, the order of things that is being imposed. Some part or some element may be there, however minute, however small and thin which may not conform and it might escape.” The Book of the Divine Mother

Madhav: “Note the capital E. The Event to be is the manifestation to come, the next cycle in creation, symbolised by the Dawn.” The Book of the Divine Mother

Madhav: “The common word of human speech diminishes an experience, weakens it, but here the Word with a capital W, is a mantric word which ‘ushers divine experience’ it brings out into the field a divine experience.” The Book of the Divine Mother

Madhav: “The Scripture Wonderful refers to the Supreme Knowledge. The Spirit-mate of Life hopes to divine the Supreme Knowledge in the transcript made by Life of God’s intention; but that script, however bright and attractive is a product of her fancy. The true Word lies covered under her fanciful rendering. The Supreme Knowledge that holds the key to the celestial beatitudes escapes him.” The Book of the Divine Mother

Madhav: “Word is capital here to show that it is direct from the Divine Source.” Sat-Sang Vol. IX

"Man is a transitional being, he is not final. He is too imperfect for that, too imperfect in capacity for knowledge, too imperfect in will and action, too imperfect in his turn towards joy and beauty, too imperfect in his will for freedom and his instinct for order. Even if he could perfect himself in his own type, his type is too low and small to satisfy the need of the universe. Something larger, higher, more capable of a rich all embracing universality is needed, a greater being, a greater consciousness summing up in itself all that the world set out to be. He has, as was pointed out by a half blind seer, to exceed himself; man must evolve out of himself the divine superman: he was born for transcendence. Humanity is not enough, it is only a strong stepping stone; the need of the world is a superhuman perfection of what the world can be, the goal of consciousness is divinity. The inmost need of man is not to perfect his humanity, but to be greater than himself, to be more than man, to be divine, even to be the Divine.” Essays Divine and Human

“Man is a transitional being, he is not final. He is too imperfect for that, too imperfect in capacity for knowledge, too imperfect in will and action, too imperfect in his turn towards joy and beauty, too imperfect in his will for freedom and his instinct for order. Even if he could perfect himself in his own type, his type is too low and small to satisfy the need of the universe. Something larger, higher, more capable of a rich all embracing universality is needed, a greater being, a greater consciousness summing up in itself all that the world set out to be. He has, as was pointed out by a half blind seer, to exceed himself; man must evolve out of himself the divine superman: he was born for transcendence. Humanity is not enough, it is only a strong stepping stone; the need of the world is a superhuman perfection of what the world can be, the goal of consciousness is divinity. The inmost need of man is not to perfect his humanity, but to be greater than himself, to be more than man, to be divine, even to be the Divine.” Essays Divine and Human

mantle ::: 1. A loose, always sleeveless cloak or cape of varying length. 2. Something that covers, envelopes, or conceals.

Material vital ::: The \ital so involved in Matter as to be bound by its movements and gross physical character; the action is to support and energise the body and keep in it the capacity of life, groulh, movement, etc., also of sensitiveness to outside impacts.

material world ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Our material world is the result of all the others, for the other principles have all descended into Matter to create the physical universe, and every particle of what we call Matter contains all of them implicit in itself; their secret action, as we have seen, is involved in every moment of its existence and every movement of its activity. And as Matter is the last word of the descent, so it is also the first word of the ascent; as the powers of all these planes, worlds, grades, degrees are involved in the material existence, so are they all capable of evolution out of it. It is for this reason that material being does not begin and end with gases and chemical compounds and physical forces and movements, with nebulae and suns and earths, but evolves life, evolves mind, must evolve eventually Supermind and the higher degrees of the spiritual existence.” The Life Divine

Maya ::: “Maya in its original sense meant a comprehending and containing consciousness capable of embracing, measuring and limiting and therefore formative; it is that which outlines, measures out, moulds forms in the formless, psychologises and seems to make knowable the Unknowable, geometrises and seems to make measurable the limitless. Later the word came from its original sense of knowledge, skill, intelligence to acquire a pejorative sense of cunning, fraud or illusion, and it is in the figure of an enchantment or illusion that it is used by the philosophical systems.” The Life Divine

Maya ::: Sri Aurobindo: “Maya in its original sense meant a comprehending and containing consciousness capable of embracing, measuring and limiting and therefore formative; it is that which outlines, measures out, moulds forms in the formless, psychologises and seems to make knowable the Unknowable, geometrises and seems to make measurable the limitless. Later the word came from its original sense of knowledge, skill, intelligence to acquire a pejorative sense of cunning, fraud or illusion, and it is in the figure of an enchantment or illusion that it is used by the philosophical systems.” The Life Divine

maya ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Maya in its original sense meant a comprehending and containing consciousness capable of embracing, measuring and limiting and therefore formative; it is that which outlines, measures out, moulds forms in the formless, psychologises and seems to make knowable the Unknowable, geometrises and seems to make measurable the limitless. Later the word came from its original sense of knowledge, skill, intelligence to acquire a pejorative sense of cunning, fraud or illusion, and it is in the figure of an enchantment or illusion that it is used by the philosophical systems.” *The Life Divine

measuring-rod ::: an instrument, as a graduated rod or a container of standard capacity, for measuring.

Men tvith great capacities or «i tw. r . vital have yen- often more glaring dSeem “ f eh"'' nary men or at least the defeats of the huf 7 " "‘''■

might ::: 1. Power, force, or vigour, esp. of a great or supreme kind. 2. Power or ability to do or accomplish; capacity. Might, mights, Mights.

mind ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The ‘Mind" in the ordinary use of the word covers indiscriminately the whole consciousness, for man is a mental being and mentalises everything; but in the language of this yoga the words ‘mind" and ‘mental" are used to connote specially the part of the nature which has to do with cognition and intelligence, with ideas, with mental or thought perceptions, the reactions of thought to things, with the truly mental movements and formations, mental vision and will, etc., that are part of his intelligence.” *Letters on Yoga

"Mind in its essence is a consciousness which measures, limits, cuts out forms of things from the indivisible whole and contains them as if each were a separate integer.” The Life Divine

"Mind is an instrument of analysis and synthesis, but not of essential knowledge. Its function is to cut out something vaguely from the unknown Thing in itself and call this measurement or delimitation of it the whole, and again to analyse the whole into its parts which it regards as separate mental objects.” The Life Divine

"The mind proper is divided into three parts — thinking Mind, dynamic Mind, externalising Mind — the former concerned with ideas and knowledge in their own right, the second with the putting out of mental forces for realisation of the idea, the third with the expression of them in life (not only by speech, but by any form it can give).” Letters on Yoga

"The difference between the ordinary mind and the intuitive is that the former, seeking in the darkness or at most by its own unsteady torchlight, first, sees things only as they are presented in that light and, secondly, where it does not know, constructs by imagination, by uncertain inference, by others of its aids and makeshifts things which it readily takes for truth, shadow projections, cloud edifices, unreal prolongations, deceptive anticipations, possibilities and probabilities which do duty for certitudes. The intuitive mind constructs nothing in this artificial fashion, but makes itself a receiver of the light and allows the truth to manifest in it and organise its own constructions.” The Synthesis of Yoga

"He [man] has in him not a single mentality, but a double and a triple, the mind material and nervous, the pure intellectual mind which liberates itself from the illusions of the body and the senses, and a divine mind above intellect which in its turn liberates itself from the imperfect modes of the logically discriminative and imaginative reason.” The Synthesis of Yoga

"Our mind is an observer of actuals, an inventor or discoverer of possibilities, but not a seer of the occult imperatives that necessitate the movements and forms of a creation. . . .” *The Life Divine

"The human mind is an instrument not of truth but of ignorance and error.” Letters on Yoga

"For Mind as we know it is a power of the Ignorance seeking for Truth, groping with difficulty to find it, reaching only mental constructions and representations of it in word and idea, in mind formations, sense formations, — as if bright or shadowy photographs or films of a distant Reality were all that it could achieve.” The Life Divine

The Mother: "The true role of the mind is the formation and organization of action. The mind has a formative and organizing power, and it is that which puts the different elements of inspiration in order for action, for organizing action. And if it would only confine itself to that role, receiving inspirations — whether from above or from the mystic centre of the soul — and simply formulating the plan of action — in broad outline or in minute detail, for the smallest things of life or the great terrestrial organizations — it would amply fulfil its function. It is not an instrument of knowledge. But is can use knowledge for action, to organize action. It is an instrument of organization and formation, very powerful and very capable when it is well developed.” Questions and Answers 1956, MCW Vol. 8.*


mirror ::: n. 1. A surface capable of reflecting sufficient undiffused light to form an image of an object placed in front of it. 2. Something that faithfully reflects or gives a true picture of something else. Also fig. mirrors. v. 3. To reflect in or as if in a mirror. mirrors, mirrored, mirroring, mirror-air, fragment-mirrorings.

mitred ::: wearing a liturgical headdress like one worn by a bishop or abbot, in most western churches consisting of a tall pointed cleft cap with two bands hanging down at the back as a symbol of great holiness or dignity.

mobile ::: 1. Flowing freely. 2. Changeable or changing easily in expression, mood, purpose, etc. 3. Capable of moving or of being moved readily from place to place. mobility.

Mother, four of her leading Powers and Personalities have stood in front in her guidance of this Universe and in her dealings with the terrestrial play. One is her personality of calm wideness and comprehending wisdom and tranquil benignity and inexhaustible compassion and sovereign and surpassing majesty and all-ruling greatness. Another embo&es her power of splendid strength and irresistible passion, her warrior mood, her overwhelming will, her impetuous swiftness and world-shaking force. A third is vivid and sweet and wonderful with her deep secret of beauty and harmony and fine rhythm, her intricate and subtle opulence, her compelling attraction and captivating grace. The fourth is equipped with her close and profound capacity of intimate knowledge and careful flawless work and quiet and exact per- fection in all things. Wisdom, Strength, Harmony, Perfection are their several attributes and it Is these powers that they bring with them into the world. To the four we give the four great names, Maheshvari, Mahakali, Mabalakshmi, Mahasarasvati.

mutable ::: capable of or subject to change or alteration.

Mysteries ::: “It is ‘Mysteries’ with capital M and means ‘mystic symbolic rites’ as in the Orphic and Eleusinian ‘Mysteries’. When written with capital M it does not mean secret mysterious things, but has this sense, e.g. a ‘Mystery play’.” Letters on Savitri

mysteries ::: Sri Aurobindo: "It is ‘Mysteries" with capital M and means ‘mystic symbolic rites" as in the Orphic and Eleusinian ‘Mysteries". When written with capital M it does not mean secret mysterious things, but has this sense, e.g. a ‘Mystery play".” Letters on Savitri **Mystery, Mystery"s.**

n. 1. Something that is unknowable. adj. 2. Not knowable; incapable of being known or understood.

n. 1. The lower interior part of a ship or airplane where cargo is stored. 2. The act or a means of grasping. v. 3. To have or keep in the hand; keep fast; grasp. 4. To bear, sustain, or support, as with the hands or arms, or by any other means. 5. To contain or be capable of containing. 6. To keep from departing or getting away. 7. To withstand stress, pressure, or opposition; to maintain occupation of by force or coercion. 8. To have in its power, possess, affect, occupy. 9. To engage in; preside over; carry on. 10. To have or keep in the mind; think or believe. 11. To regard or consider. 12. To keep or maintain a grasp on something. 13. To maintain one"s position against opposition; continue in resistance. 14. To agree or side (usually followed by with). holds, holding. ::: hold back. 15. a. To retain possession of; keep back. b. To refrain from revealing; withhold. c. To refrain from participating or engaging in some activity.

Nolini: (The authors gave as an example the word”Vision”). When it is the supreme vision it is capitalized. Nolini also said: “When it is the personality of the thing, not only the quality of it. There is no set rule on capitalization.”

No-man"s-land. ::: Sri Aurobindo: "As to the two lines with ‘no man"s land" there can be no capital in the first line because there it is a description while the capital is needed in the other line, because the phrase has acquired there the force of a name or appellation. I am not sure about the hyphen; it could be put but the no hyphen might be better as it suggests that no one in particular has as yet got possession.” Letters on Savitri.

not capable of being altered, changed, or modified. unalterably.

not capable of being discovered or found out; not discernible, perceptible, or ascertainable.

not intelligible; incapable of being understood; incomprehensible. unintelligibly.

One can choose any of them according to one’s bent and capa- city, The perfect method is to use them all, each in its o'atj pla(» and for its onyn object.

One ought not to settle down into a fixed idea of one’s own incapacity or allow it to become an obsession ; for such an atti- tude has no true justification and unnecessarily renders the way harder. Where there is a soul that has once become awake, there is surely a capacity within that can outweigh all surface defects and can in the end conquer.

On Sri Aurobindo’s use of capitalization:

opinions and mental preferences may build a wall of arguments against the spiritual truth that has to be realised and refuse to accept it if it presents itself in a form which does not conform to its own previous ideas ::: so also it may prevent one from recog- nising the Divine if the Divine presents himself in a form for whidi the intellect is not prepared or which in any detail runs counter to its prejudgements and prejudices. One can depend on one’s reason in other matters provided the mind tries to be open and impartial and free from undue passion and is prepared to concede that it is not always right and may err ; but it is not safe to depend on it alone In matters which escape its jurisdiction, specially in spiritual realisation and in matters of yoga which belong to a different order of knowledge.

— or in it, our Father in heaven, — and t\e'do not feel or sec him in ourselves or around us. So long as we keep this vision, fbe mortaUty in us is queilcd by that Immortality ; it feeis the light, power and joy and responds to it according to its capa- city ; or it feels the descent of the spirit and it is then for a time transformed or else uplifted into some lustre of reflection of the light and power ; it ^comes a vessel of the Ananda. But at other times it lapses into old mortality and exists or works dully or pettily in the ruck of its earthly habits. The complete redemption comes by the descent of the divine Power into the

“Our first decisive step out of our human intelligence, our normal mentality, is an ascent into a higher Mind, a mind no longer of mingled light and obscurity or half-light, but a large clarity of the Spirit. Its basic substance is a unitarian sense of being with a powerful multiple dynamisation capable of the formation of a multitude of aspects of knowledge, ways of action, forms and significances of becoming, of all of which there is a spontaneous inherent knowledge. It is therefore a power that has proceeded from the Overmind,—but with the Supermind as its ulterior origin,—as all these greater powers have proceeded: but its special character, its activity of consciousness are dominated by Thought; it is a luminous thought-mind, a mind of Spirit-born conceptual knowledge. An all-awareness emerging from the original identity, carrying the truths the identity held in itself, conceiving swiftly, victoriously, multitudinously, formulating and by self-power of the Idea effectually realising its conceptions, is the character of this greater mind of knowledge.” The Life Divine

::: "Our incapacity does not matter — there is no human being who is not in his parts of nature incapable — but the Divine Force also is there. If one puts one"s trust in that, incapacity will be changed into capacity. Difficulty and struggle themselves then become a means towards the achievement.” Letters on Yoga

“Our incapacity does not matter—there is no human being who is not in his parts of nature incapable—but the Divine Force also is there. If one puts one’s trust in that, incapacity will be changed into capacity. Difficulty and struggle themselves then become a means towards the achievement.” Letters on Yoga

“Our material world is the result of all the others, for the other principles have all descended into Matter to create the physical universe, and every particle of what we call Matter contains all of them implicit in itself; their secret action, as we have seen, is involved in every moment of its existence and every movement of its activity. And as Matter is the last word of the descent, so it is also the first word of the ascent; as the powers of all these planes, worlds, grades, degrees are involved in the material existence, so are they all capable of evolution out of it. It is for this reason that material being does not begin and end with gases and chemical compounds and physical forces and movements, with nebulae and suns and earths, but evolves life, evolves mind, must evolve eventually Supermind and the higher degrees of the spiritual existence.” The Life Divine

“Our sense by its incapacity has invented darkness. In truth there is nothing but Light, only it is a power of light either above or below our poor human vision’s limited range.

palpable ::: 1. Capable of being handled, touched, or felt; tangible. 2. Readily or plainly seen, heard, perceived, etc.; obvious; evident.

PATIENCE. ::: The capacity to wait steadily for the realisa- tion to come.

pearl ::: 1. A smooth, lustrous, variously colored deposit, chiefly calcium carbonate, formed around a grain of sand or other foreign matter in the shells of certain molluscs and valued as a gem. 2. Something similar in form, luster, etc., as a dewdrop or a capsule of medicine. pearls, pearl-bright, pearl-hued, pearl-winged. pearl-bright, pearl-hued, pearl-winged.

pigmy ::: 1. Of very small size, capacity, or power. 2. Unusually or atypically small.

plastic ::: n. 1. Any of numerous substances that can be shaped and molded when subjected to heat or pressure. adj. 2. Any of various organic compounds produced by polymerization, capable of being molded, extruded, cast into various shapes and films. 3. Capable of being shaped, moulded or formed. 4. Having the power of moulding or shaping formless or yielding material.

plastic ::: “That which can easily change its form is ‘plastic’. Figuratively, it is suppleness, a capacity of adaptation to circumstances and necessities.” Questions and Answers, MCW Vol. 4.

plaything ::: 1. A toy. 2. One who is used capriciously and selfishly by another. playthings.

possibility ::: the condition of being possible; capable of existing or happening or being true. possibilities.

postern ::: 1. A small rear gate, esp. one in a fort or castle; often as a way of escape. Also fig.

potency ::: 1. Efficacy; effectiveness; strength. 2. Inherent capacity for growth and development; potentiality. potencies.

power ::: “Power means strength and force, Shakti, which enables one to face all that can happen and to stand and overcome, also to carry out what the Divine Will proposes. It can include many things, power over men, events, circumstances, means etc. But all this not of the mental or vital kind, but by an action through unity of consciousness with the Divine and with all things and beings. It is not an individual strength depending on certain personal capacities, but the Divine Power using the individual as an instrument.” Letters on Yoga

power ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Power means strength and force, Shakti, which enables one to face all that can happen and to stand and overcome, also to carry out what the Divine Will proposes. It can include many things, power over men, events, circumstances, means etc. But all this not of the mental or vital kind, but by an action through unity of consciousness with the Divine and with all things and beings. It is not an individual strength depending on certain personal capacities, but the Divine Power using the individual as an instrument.” *Letters on Yoga

PRAYER. ::: The life of man is a life of wants and needs and therefore of desires, not only in his physical and vital, but in his mental and spiritual being. When he becomes conscious of a greater Power governing the world, he approaches it through prayer for the fulfilment of his needs, for help in his rough journey, for protection and aid in his struggle. Whatever crudi- ties there may be in the ordinary religious approach to God by prayer, and there are many, especially that attitude which ima- gines the Divine as if capable of being propitiated, bribed, flat- tered into acquiescence or indulgence by praise, entreaty and gifts and has often little te^td to the spirit in which he is approached, still this way of turning to the Divine is an essen- tial movement of our religious being and reposes on a universal truth.

The efficacy of prayer is often doubted and prayer itself supposed to be a thing irrational and necessarily superfluous and ineffective. It is true that the universal will executes always its aim and cannot be deflected by egoistic propitiation and entreaty, it is true of the Transcendent who expresses himself in the universal order that, being omniscient, his larger knowledge must foresee the thing to be done and it does not need direction or stimulation by human thought and that the individual's desires are not and cannot be in any world-order the true determining factor. But neither is that order or the execution of the universal will altogether effected by mechanical Law, but by powers and forces of which for human life at least, human will, aspiration and faith are not among the least important. Prayer is only a particular form given to that will, aspiration and faith. Its forms are very often crude and not only childlike, which is in itself no defect, but childish; but still it has a real power and significance. Its power and sense is to put the will, aspiration and faith of man into touch with the divine Will as that of a conscious Being with whom we can enter into conscious and living relations. For our will and aspiration can act either by our own strength and endeavour, which can no doubt be made a thing great and effective whether for lower or higher purposes, -and there are plenty of disciplines which put it forward as the one force to be used, -- or it can act in dependence upon and with subordination to the divine or the universal Will. And this latter way, again, may either look upon that Will as responsive indeed to our aspiration, but almost mechanically, by a sort of law of energy, or at any rate quite impersonally, or else it may look upon it as responding consciously to the divine aspiration and faith of the human soul and consciously bringing to it the help, the guidance, the protection and fruition demanded, yogaksemam vahamyaham. ~ TSOY, SYN

Prayer helps to prepare this relation for us at first on the lower plane even while it is (here consistent with much that is mere egoism and self-delusion; but afterwards we can draw towards the spiritual truth which is behind it. It is not then the givinc of the thing asked for that matters, but the relation itself, the contact of man’s life with God, the conscious interchange.

In spiritual matters and in the seeking of spiritual gains, this conscious relation is a great power; it is a much greater power than our own entirely self-reliant struggle and effort and it brings a fuller spiritual growth and experience. Necessarily, in the end prayer either ceases in the greater thing for which it prepared us, -- in fact the form we call prayer is not itself essential so long as the faith, the will, the aspiration are there, -- or remains only for the joy of the relation. Also its objects, the artha or interest it seeks to realise, become higher and higher until we reach the highest motiveless devotion, which is that of divine love pure and simple without any other demand or longing.

Prayer for others ::: The fact of praying and the attitude it brings, especially unselfish prayer for others, itself opens you to the higher Power, even if there is no corresponding result in the person prayed for. 'Nothing can be positively said about that, for the result must necessarily depend on the persons, whe- ther they arc open or receptive or something in them can res- pond to any Force the prayer brings down.

Prayer must well up from the heart on a crest of emotion or aspiration.

Prayer {Ideal)'. Not prayer insisting on immediate fulfilment, but prayer that is itself a communion of the mind and heart with the Divine*and can have the joy and satisfaction of itself, trusting for fulfilment by the Divine in his own time.


prisoned ::: held captive in or as in a prison.

prostrate ::: 1. Lying face down, as in submission or adoration. 2. Fig. Reduced to extreme weakness or incapacitation; overcome.

Purity, simple sincerity and capacity of an unegoistic, unmIxed self-offering without pretension or demand are the conditions of an entire opening of the psychic being.

pursue ::: 1. To follow in pursuit, to chase. 2. To seek or ‘hunt" after. 3. To follow in an effort to overtake or capture; chase. 4. To follow close upon; go with; attend. 5. To strive to gain; seek to attain or accomplish (an end, object, purpose, etc.). 6. To continue, carry on or participate in an activity; be involved in. pursues, pursued, pursuing.

rails ::: 1. Naut. Horizontal members capping a bulwark (a solid wall enclosing the perimeter of a weather or main deck of a ship). 2. Steel bars used, usually in pairs, as tracks for railroad cars or other wheeled vehicles.

rapacity ::: the state or quality of taking by force; plundering. Of animals: Subsisting by the capture of living prey.

rapid ::: 1. Moving, acting, or occurring with great speed. 2. Characterized by speed; moving with or capable of moving with high speed. 3. Done or occurring in a brief period of time.

reach ::: n. 1. Range of effective action, power, or capacity, area, sphere, scope. 2. The range of influence, power, jurisdiction, etc. reaches. v. 3. To stretch out or put forth (a body part); extend. 4. To arrive at or get to (a place, person, etc.) in the course of movement or action. 5. To arrive at; attain. 6. To make contact or communication with (someone). 7. To extend in influence or operation. reaches, reached, reaching.

recaptured ::: captured or taken again; retaken.

RECEPTIVITY. ::: The capacity of admitting and retaining the Divine workings.

Requiring tremendous effort, strength, etc. (Sri Aurobindo capitalises the word.)

RESISTANCE. ::: When the soul draws towards the Divine, there may be a resistance in the mind and the common form of that is denial and doubt — which may create mental and vital su/Tering. There may again be a resistance in the vital nature ivhose principal characer is desire and the attachment to the objects of desire, and if in this field there is conflict between the soul and the vital nature, between the Divine Attraction and the pull of the Ignorance, then obviously there may be much suffer- ing of the mind and vital parts. The pbj-sical consciousness also may offer a resistance which is usually that of a fundamental inertia, an obscurity in the very stuff of the physical, an incom- prehension, an inability to respond to the higher consciousness, a habit of helplessly responding to the lower mechanically, even when it docs not want to do so ; both lital and physical suffer- ing may be the consequence. There is, moreover, the resistance of the Universal Nature which does not want the being to escape from the Ignorance into the Light. This may take the form of a vehement insistence in the continuation of the old movements, waves of them thrown on the mind and vital and body so that old ideas, impulses, desires, feelings, responses continue even after they are thrown out and rejected, and can return like an invading army from outside, until the whole nature, given to (he

REVERSAL OF CONSCIOUSNESS. ::: Instead of allowing always the external mind to interfere and assert its o^vn ordinary customary point of view, it should turn itself round, admit that things may work from in outwards, and keep itself sufficiently quiet to see that developing and being done. For then an inner mind shows itself which is capable of following and being the instrument of the invisible Forces.

sack ::: the plundering of a captured place; pillage; looting.

Samadbi or Yogic trance retires to increasing depths accord* lag as it dran^ farther and farther away from the nonnal or waking state and enters into degrees of consciousness less and less communicable to the waking mind, less and less ready to receive a summons from the waking world. Beyond a certain point the trance becomes complete and it is then almost or quite impossible to awaken or calf back the soul that has receded into them ; it can only come back by its own will or at most by a violent shock of physical appeal dangerous to the sj'stem owing to the abrupt upheaval of return. There are said to be supreme states of trance in which the soul persisting for too long a lime cannot return ; for it loses its hold on the cord which binds it to the consciousness of life, and the body is left, maintained indeed in its set position, not dead by dissolution, but incapable of recovering the ensouled life which had rnhahifed it. finally, the Yogin acquires at a certain stage of development the power of abandoning his body definitively without the ordinary pheno- mena of death, by an act of will, or by a process of withdrawing the pranic life-force through the gate of the upward life-current

Satyavan, as Sri Aurobindo writes,”…is the soul carrying the truth of being within itself but descended into the grip of death and ignorance;”. Descended into the grip of death and ignorance, the divine realized soul, does not become ignorance but descends into death and then is saved by Savitri, the Divine Mother. After leaving his body”this house of clay” and wandering”in far-off eternities”, all the while a captive in Savitri’s “golden hands” he returns and replies to his father,

-scapes ::: a combining form extracted from landscape, denoting "an extensive view, scenery”. soul-scapes.

scenery ::: a view or views of natural features of a landscape.

seer ::: “The seer does not need the aid of thought in its process as a means of knowledge, but only as a means of representation and expression,—thought is to him a lesser power and used for a secondary purpose. If a further extension of knowledge is required, he can come at it by new seeing without the slower thought processes that are the staff of support of the mental search and its feeling out for truth,—even as we scrutinise with the eye to find what escaped our first observation” The Synthesis of Yoga

seizing ::: capturing the attention or imagination of.

sense ::: n. 1. Any of the faculties, as sight, hearing, smell, taste, or touch, by which humans and animals perceive stimuli originating from outside or inside the body. 2. Meaning, signification. 3. A more or less vague perception or impression. 4. Any special capacity or perception, estimation, appreciation, etc. 5. A mental or spiritual discernment, realization, or recognition of a dream, or of anything cryptic or symbolical. sense"s, senses, senses", sense-appeal, sense-formed, sense-life"s, sense-pangs, sense-pleasures, sense-railed, sense-shackled, soul-sense. v. 6. To apprehend, detect, or perceive, without or in advance of the evidence of the senses; to perceive instinctively. 7. To be inwardly aware; conscious of. sensed, sensing. *adj. *sensed.

sensibility ::: 1. Capacity for sensation or feeling; responsiveness or susceptibility to sensory stimuli. 2. Mental or emotional responsiveness toward something; such as the feelings of another; discernment; awareness. sensibilities.

sensible ::: capable of being perceived by the senses; material.

sentence ::: n. 1. A sequence of words capable of standing alone to make an assertion, ask a question or give a command, usually consisting of a subject and a predicate containing a finite verb. 2. An authoritative decision; a judicial judgement or decree, esp. a judicial decision of the punishment to be inflicted on one adjudged guilty. Hence, the punishment to which a criminal is sentenced. sentences. 3. A number of words forming a complete statement. sentenced.

serviceable ::: capable of or ready for service; usable; capable of giving good service,; durable; useful.

sharp ::: 1. Having a thin edge or a fine point capable of cutting or piercing. 2. Having sharp points; hard, angular. 3. Acute, severe, harsh. 4. Having an acrid taste; sour.

siege ::: the act or process of surrounding and attacking a fortified place in such a way as to isolate it from help and supplies, for the purpose of lessening the resistance of the defenders and thereby making capture possible. Also fig.

Since the Consciousness-Force of the eternal Existence is the universal creatrix, the nature of a given world will depend on whatever self-formulation of that Consciousness expresses itself in that world. Equally, for each individual being, his seeing or representation to himself of the world he lives in will depend on the poise or make which that Consciousness has assumed in him. Our human mental consciousness sees the world in sections cut by the reason and sense and put together in a formation which is also sectional; the house it builds is planned to accommodate one or another generalised formulation of Truth, but excludes the rest or admits some only as guests or dependents in the house. Overmind Consciousness is global in its cognition and can hold any number of seemingly fundamental differences together in a reconciling vision. Thus the mental reason sees Person and the Impersonal as opposites: it conceives an impersonal Existence in which person and personality are fictions of the Ignorance or temporary constructions; or, on the contrary, it can see Person as the primary reality and the impersonal as a mental abstraction or only stuff or means of manifestation. To the Overmind intelligence these are separable Powers of the one Existence which can pursue their independent self-affirmation and can also unite together their different modes of action, creating both in their independence and in their union different states of consciousness and being which can be all of them valid and all capable of coexistence. A purely impersonal existence and consciousness is true and possible, but also an entirely personal consciousness and existence; the Impersonal Divine, Nirguna Brahman, and the Personal Divine, Saguna Brahman, are here equal and coexistent aspects of the Eternal. Impersonality can manifest with person subordinated to it as a mode of expression; but, equally, Person can be the reality with impersonality as a mode of its nature: both aspects of manifestation face each other in the infinite variety of conscious Existence. What to the mental reason are irreconcilable differences present themselves to the Overmind intelligence as coexistent correlatives; what to the mental reason are contraries are to the Overmind intelligence complementaries. Our mind sees that all things are born from Matter or material Energy, exist by it, go back into it; it concludes that Matter is the eternal factor, the primary and ultimate reality, Brahman. Or it sees all as born of Life-Force or Mind, existing by Life or by Mind, going back into the universal Life or Mind, and it concludes that this world is a creation of the cosmic Life-Force or of a cosmic Mind or Logos. Or again it sees the world and all things as born of, existing by and going back to the Real-Idea or Knowledge-Will of the Spirit or to the Spirit itself and it concludes on an idealistic or spiritual view of the universe. It can fix on any of these ways of seeing, but to its normal separative vision each way excludes the others. Overmind consciousness perceives that each view is true of the action of the principle it erects; it can see that there is a material world-formula, a vital world-formula, a mental world-formula, a spiritual world-formula, and each can predominate in a world of its own and at the same time all can combine in one world as its constituent powers. The self-formulation of Conscious Force on which our world is based as an apparent Inconscience that conceals in itself a supreme Conscious-Existence and holds all the powers of Being together in its inconscient secrecy, a world of universal Matter realising in itself Life, Mind, Overmind, Supermind, Spirit, each of them in its turn taking up the others as means of its self-expression, Matter proving in the spiritual vision to have been always itself a manifestation of the Spirit, is to the Overmind view a normal and easily realisable creation. In its power of origination and in the process of its executive dynamis Overmind is an organiser of many potentialities of Existence, each affirming its separate reality but all capable of linking themselves together in many different but simultaneous ways, a magician craftsman empowered to weave the multicoloured warp and woof of manifestation of a single entity in a complex universe. …

snare ::: n. 1. A trapping device, often consisting of a noose, used for capturing birds and small mammals. 2. Fig. Anything serving to entrap or entangle unawares; trap. snares. v. 2. To trap with or as if with a snare. Also fig. snares.

soul ::: Sri Aurobindo: "The word ‘soul", as also the word ‘psychic", is used very vaguely and in many different senses in the English language. More often than not, in ordinary parlance, no clear distinction is made between mind and soul and often there is an even more serious confusion, for the vital being of desire — the false soul or desire-soul — is intended by the words ‘soul" and ‘psychic" and not the true soul, the psychic being.” *Letters on Yoga

  "The word soul is very vaguely used in English — as it often refers to the whole non-physical consciousness including even the vital with all its desires and passions. That was why the word psychic being has to be used so as to distinguish this divine portion from the instrumental parts of the nature.” *Letters on Yoga

  "The word soul has various meanings according to the context; it may mean the Purusha supporting the formation of Prakriti, which we call a being, though the proper word would be rather a becoming; it may mean, on the other hand, specifically the psychic being in an evolutionary creature like man; it may mean the spark of the Divine which has been put into Matter by the descent of the Divine into the material world and which upholds all evolving formations here.” *Letters on Yoga

  "A distinction has to be made between the soul in its essence and the psychic being. Behind each and all there is the soul which is the spark of the Divine — none could exist without that. But it is quite possible to have a vital and physical being supported by such a soul essence but without a clearly evolved psychic being behind it.” *Letters on Yoga

  "The soul and the psychic being are practically the same, except that even in things which have not developed a psychic being, there is still a spark of the Divine which can be called the soul. The psychic being is called in Sanskrit the Purusha in the heart or the Chaitya Purusha. (The psychic being is the soul developing in the evolution.)” *Letters on Yoga

  "The soul or spark is there before the development of an organised vital and mind. The soul is something of the Divine that descends into the evolution as a divine Principle within it to support the evolution of the individual out of the Ignorance into the Light. It develops in the course of the evolution a psychic individual or soul individuality which grows from life to life, using the evolving mind, vital and body as its instruments. It is the soul that is immortal while the rest disintegrates; it passes from life to life carrying its experience in essence and the continuity of the evolution of the individual.” *Letters on Yoga

  ". . . for the soul is seated within and impervious to the shocks of external events. . . .” *Essays on the Gita

  ". . . the soul is at first but a spark and then a little flame of godhead burning in the midst of a great darkness; for the most part it is veiled in its inner sanctum and to reveal itself it has to call on the mind, the life-force and the physical consciousness and persuade them, as best they can, to express it; ordinarily, it succeeds at most in suffusing their outwardness with its inner light and modifying with its purifying fineness their dark obscurities or their coarser mixture. Even when there is a formed psychic being able to express itself with some directness in life, it is still in all but a few a smaller portion of the being — ‘no bigger in the mass of the body than the thumb of a man" was the image used by the ancient seers — and it is not always able to prevail against the obscurity or ignorant smallness of the physical consciousness, the mistaken surenesses of the mind or the arrogance and vehemence of the vital nature.” *The Synthesis of Yoga

". . . the soul is an eternal portion of the Supreme and not a fraction of Nature.” The Life Divine

"The true soul secret in us, — subliminal, we have said, but the word is misleading, for this presence is not situated below the threshold of waking mind, but rather burns in the temple of the inmost heart behind the thick screen of an ignorant mind, life and body, not subliminal but behind the veil, — this veiled psychic entity is the flame of the Godhead always alight within us, inextinguishable even by that dense unconsciousness of any spiritual self within which obscures our outward nature. It is a flame born out of the Divine and, luminous inhabitant of the Ignorance, grows in it till it is able to turn it towards the Knowledge. It is the concealed Witness and Control, the hidden Guide, the Daemon of Socrates, the inner light or inner voice of the mystic. It is that which endures and is imperishable in us from birth to birth, untouched by death, decay or corruption, an indestructible spark of the Divine.” The Life Divine

*Soul, soul"s, Soul"s, souls, soulless, soul-bridals, soul-change, soul-force, Soul-Forces, soul-ground, soul-joy, soul-nature, soul-range, soul-ray, soul-scapes, soul-scene, soul-sense, soul-severance, soul-sight, soul-slaying, soul-space,, soul-spaces, soul-strength, soul-stuff, soul-truth, soul-vision, soul-wings, world-soul, World-Soul.



Sraddhalu: “… at the very height of creation, at the very roots of creation, there is a spontaneous movement, a selfborn Word, a concept, an idea, which has not been given an overt expression. It is in the state of pure vibration. This is why ‘Word’ is put with a capital ‘W’. It is pure vibration of consciousness which is put out.”

Sri Aurobindo: "History teaches us nothing; it is a confused torrent of events and personalities or a kaleidoscope of changing institutions. We do not seize the real sense of all this change and this continual streaming forward of human life in the channels of Time. What we do seize are current or recurrent phenomena, facile generalisations, partial ideas. We talk of democracy, aristocracy and autocracy, collectivism and individualism, imperialism and nationalism, the State and the commune, capitalism and labour; we advance hasty generalisations and make absolute systems which are positively announced today only to be abandoned perforce tomorrow; we espouse causes and ardent enthusiasms whose triumph turns to an early disillusionment and then forsake them for others, perhaps for those that we have taken so much trouble to destroy. For a whole century mankind thirsts and battles after liberty and earns it with a bitter expense of toil, tears and blood; the century that enjoys without having fought for it turns away as from a puerile illusion and is ready to renounce the depreciated gain as the price of some new good. And all this happens because our whole thought and action with regard to our collective life is shallow and empirical; it does not seek for, it does not base itself on a firm, profound and complete knowledge. The moral is not the vanity of human life, of its ardours and enthusiasms and of the ideals it pursues, but the necessity of a wiser, larger, more patient search after its true law and aim.” *The Human Cycle etc.

Sri Aurobindo: "In other words, that which has thrown itself out into forms is a triune Existence-Consciousness-Bliss, Sachchidananda, whose consciousness is in its nature a creative or rather a self-expressive Force capable of infinite variation in phenomenon and form of its self-conscious being and endlessly enjoying the delight of that variation.” *The Life Divine

Sri Aurobindo: "It could be affirmed as a consequence that there is one all-pervading Life or dynamic energy — the material aspect being only its outermost movement — that creates all these forms of the physical universe, Life imperishable and eternal which, even if the whole figure of the universe were quite abolished, would itself still go on existing and be capable of producing a new universe in its place, must indeed, unless it be held back in a state of rest by some higher Power or hold itself back, inevitably go on creating. In that case Life is nothing else than the Force that builds and maintains and destroys forms in the world; it is Life that manifests itself in the form of the earth as much as in the plant that grows upon the earth and the animals that support their existence by devouring the life-force of the plant or of each other. All existence here is a universal Life that takes form of Matter. It might for that purpose hide life-process in physical process before it emerges as submental sensitivity and mentalised vitality, but still it would be throughout the same creative Life-principle.” *The Life Divine

Sri Aurobindo: ". . . our mind has the faculty of imagination; it can create and take as true and real its own mental structures: . . . . Our mental imagination is an instrument of Ignorance; it is the resort or device or refuge of a limited capacity of knowledge, a limited capacity of effective action. Mind supplements these deficiencies by its power of imagination: it uses it to extract from things obvious and visible the things that are not obvious and visible; it undertakes to create its own figures of the possible and the impossible; it erects illusory actuals or draws figures of a conjectured or constructed truth of things that are not true to outer experience. That is at least the appearance of its operation; but, in reality, it is the mind"s way or one of its ways of summoning out of Being its infinite possibilities, even of discovering or capturing the unknown possibilities of the Infinite.” The Life Divine

Sri Aurobindo: "Our sense by its incapacity has invented darkness. In truth there is nothing but Light, only it is a power of light either above or below our poor human vision"s limited range.” *Essays Divine and Human

Sri Aurobindo: *"The seer does not need the aid of thought in its process as a means of knowledge, but only as a means of representation and expression, — thought is to him a lesser power and used for a secondary purpose. If a further extension of knowledge is required, he can come at it by new seeing without the slower thought processes that are the staff of support of the mental search and its feeling out for truth, — even as we scrutinise with the eye to find what escaped our first observation” The Synthesis of Yoga

**Sri Aurobindo: "The Unknowable is Something to us supreme, wonderful and ineffable which continually formulates Itself to our consciousness and continually escapes from the formulation It has made.” *The Life Divine

Sri Aurobindo: "The Unknown is not the Unknowable; it need not remain the unknown for us, unless we choose ignorance or persist in our first limitations. For to all things that are not unknowable, all things in the universe, there correspond in that universe faculties which can take cognisance of them, and in man, the microcosm, these faculties are always existent and at a certain stage capable of development. We may choose not to develop them; where they are partially developed, we may discourage and impose on them a kind of atrophy. But, fundamentally, all possible knowledge is knowledge within the power of humanity.” *The Life Divine

Sri Aurobindo: "This truth of Karma has been always recognised in the East in one form or else in another; but to the Buddhists belongs the credit of having given to it the clearest and fullest universal enunciation and the most insistent importance. In the West too the idea has constantly recurred, but in external, in fragmentary glimpses, as the recognition of a pragmatic truth of experience, and mostly as an ordered ethical law or fatality set over against the self-will and strength of man: but it was clouded over by other ideas inconsistent with any reign of law, vague ideas of some superior caprice or of some divine jealousy, — that was a notion of the Greeks, — a blind Fate or inscrutable Necessity, Ananke, or, later, the mysterious ways of an arbitrary, though no doubt an all-wise Providence.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga *Ananke"s.

Sri Aurobindo: “This truth of Karma has been always recognised in the East in one form or else in another; but to the Buddhists belongs the credit of having given to it the clearest and fullest universal enunciation and the most insistent importance. In the West too the idea has constantly recurred, but in external, in fragmentary glimpses, as the recognition of a pragmatic truth of experience, and mostly as an ordered ethical law or fatality set over against the self-will and strength of man: but it was clouded over by other ideas inconsistent with any reign of law, vague ideas of some superior caprice or of some divine jealousy,—that was a notion of the Greeks,—a blind Fate or inscrutable Necessity, Ananke, or, later, the mysterious ways of an arbitrary, though no doubt an all-wise Providence.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga

Sri Aurobindo: "Trance or samadhi is a way of escape — the body is made quiet, the physical mind is in a state of torpor, the inner consciousness is left free to go on with its experiences. The disadvantage is that trance becomes indispensable and the problem of the waking consciousness is not solved; it remains imperfect.” Letters on Yoga

stock ::: a quantity of something accumulated, as for future use. capitol-stock. *See *capitol-stock.

storm ::: 1. An atmospheric disturbance manifested in strong winds accompanied by rain, snow, or other precipitation and often by thunder and lightning. Also fig. 2. A passionate manifestation of a particular feeling or quality. 3. takes by storm. Captures or overruns by a violent assault; overwhelms. storms, storm-charge, storm-haired, storm-licked, storm-sweeps, storm-troubled, storm-winged.

— stumblings and deviations, hard and seemingly insuperable obstacles and wounds and suffering cannot be escaped and even death or utter downfall are not impossible. Only when the cons- cious integral surrender to the Divine has been learned by mind and life and body, can the way of the Yoga become easy, straight, swift and safe.

subtle Matter ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Much more than half our thoughts and feelings are not our own in the sense that they take form out of ourselves; of hardly anything can it be said that it is truly original to our nature. A large part comes to us from others or from the environment, whether as raw material or as manufactured imports; but still more largely they come from universal Nature here or from other worlds and planes and their beings and powers and influences; for we are overtopped and environed by other planes of consciousness, mind planes, life planes, subtle matter planes, from which our life and action here are fed, or fed on, pressed, dominated, made use of for the manifestation of their forms and forces.” *The Synthesis of Yoga

"Mind therefore is held by the Hindus to be a species of subtle matter in which ideas are waves or ripples, and it is not limited by the physical body which it uses as an instrument.” Essays in Philosophy and Yoga

"All that manifested from the Eternal has already been arranged in worlds or planes of its own nature, planes of subtle Matter, planes of Life, planes of Mind, planes of Supermind, planes of the triune luminous Infinite. But these worlds or planes are not evolutionary but typal. A typal world is one in which some ruling principle manifests itself in its free and full capacity and energy and form are plastic and subservient to its purpose. Its expressions are therefore automatic and satisfying and do not need to evolve; they stand so long as need be and do not need to be born, develop, decline and disintegrate.” Essays Divine and Human*


summary ::: a comprehensive and usually brief abstract, recapitulation, or compendium of previously stated facts or statements.

*sun"s, suns, sun-beams, sun-beat, sun-blaze, sun-bright, sun-capped,, sun-clear, sun-dream, sun-eyed, sun-frank, sun-gaze, sun-gazing, sun-god"s, sun-gold, sun-held, sun-herds, sun-kissed, sun-laugh, sun-lift, sun-like, sun-march, sun-orb, sun-steppes, sun-stone, sun-thoughts, sun-vast, sun-veil, sun-white, sun-word, Sun-Word.

surpass ::: 1. To go beyond in excellence or achievement; be superior to; excel. 2. To go beyond in amount, extent, or degree; be greater than; exceed. 3. To be beyond the limit, powers, or capacity of; transcend. surpasses, surpassed.

swift ::: 1. Moving or capable of moving with great speed; fast. 2. Coming, occurring, or accomplished quickly, instantly. 3. Quick to act or react; prompt. swifter, swift-hearted, swift-reined.

TAMAS. ::: One of the three gut^as, fundamental qualities or modes of Nature ; principle of inertia of consciousness and force ; translates in quality as obscurity and incapacity and inaction.

tangible ::: 1. Discernible by the touch; palpable. 2. Capable of being clearly grasped by the mind; substantial rather than imaginary.

TAPAS. ::: Energisni and concentration of capacities ; tranquilly intense divine force ; austerity of conscious force acting upon itself or its object ; the principle of spiritual power and force in the highest or divine Nature.

Tehmi: “Idea with a capital ‘I’ is wordless knowledge.”

that cannot be escaped.

That other way is the concentration in the head, in the mental centre. This, if it brings about the silence of the surface mind, opens up an inner, larger, deeper mind within which is more capable of receiving spiritual experience and spiritual knowledge

"The animal is satisfied with a modicum of necessity; the gods are content with their splendours. But man cannot rest permanently until he reaches some highest good. He is the greatest of living beings because he is the most discontented, because he feels most the pressure of limitations. He alone, perhaps, is capable of being seized by the divine frenzy for a remote ideal.” The Life Divine

“The animal is satisfied with a modicum of necessity; the gods are content with their splendours. But man cannot rest permanently until he reaches some highest good. He is the greatest of living beings because he is the most discontented, because he feels most the pressure of limitations. He alone, perhaps, is capable of being seized by the divine frenzy for a remote ideal.” The Life Divine

(The authors also gave the example of Centaur). When such words are capitalised it refers to a divinity representing the species. Also with the word ‘Circean’ Nolini said: “Not merely a mythological story but a being representing universal forces.

"The Divine Grace is there ready to act at every moment, but it manifests as one grows out of the Law of Ignorance into the Law of Light, and it is meant, not as an arbitrary caprice, however miraculous often its intervention, but as a help in that growth and a Light that leads and eventually delivers.” Letters on Yoga

“The Divine Grace is there ready to act at every moment, but it manifests as one grows out of the Law of Ignorance into the Law of Light, and it is meant, not as an arbitrary caprice, however miraculous often its intervention, but as a help in that growth and a Light that leads and eventually delivers.” Letters on Yoga

". . . the Divine is formless and nameless, but by that very reason capable of manifesting all possible names and shapes of being.” The Life Divine

“… the Divine is formless and nameless, but by that very reason capable of manifesting all possible names and shapes of being.” The Life Divine

“The enemy of faith is doubt, and yet doubt too is a utility and necessity, because man in his ignorance and in his progressive labour towards knowledge needs to be visited by doubt, otherwise he would remain obstinate in an ignorant belief and limited knowledge and unable to escape from his errors.” The Synthesis of Yoga

The fear of death shows a vital weakness which is also contrary to a capacity for yoga. Equally, one who is under the domination of his passions, would find the yoga dilhcuU and, unless supported by a true inner call and a sincere and strong aspiration for the spiritual consciousness and union with the Divine, might very easily fall fatally and his effort come to nothing.

The feeling (not merely the idea or tbe aspiration) that all the life and the work are the Mother’s and a strong joy of the vital nature in this consecration and surrender. A consequent calm content and disappearance of egoistic attachment to the work and its personal results, but at the same time a peat joy in the work and in the use of the capacities for the divine purpose. , .

The impulse towards Itiya Is a creation of the mind, it is not the sole possible destiny of the soul. When the mind tries to abolish its own Ignorance, it finds no escape from it except by laya, because it supposes that there is no higher principle of cosmic experience beyond itself — beyond itself is only the pure

The leader of the journey, the captain of the march, the first and most ancient priest of our sacrifice is the Will. This Will is not the wish of the heart or the demand or preference of the mind to which we often give the name. It is that inmost, dominant and often veiled conscious force of our being and of all being, Tapas, Sbakti, Shraddha, that sovereignly determines our orientation and of which the intellect and the heart are more or less blind and automatic servants and instruments. The Self that is quiescent, at rest, vacant of things and happenings is n support and background to existence, a silent channel or a hypostasis of something Supreme ::: it is not itself the one entirely real existence, not itself the Supreme. The Eternal, the Supreme is the Lord and the all-originating Spirit. Superior to all activi- ties and not bound by any of them, it is the source, sanction, material, efficient power, master of all activities. All activities proceed from this supreme Self and are determined by it ; all are its operations, processes of its own conscious force and not ot something alien to Self, some power other than this Spirit.

  "The leader of the journey, the captain of the march, the first and most ancient priest of our sacrifice is the Will. This Will is not the wish of the heart or the demand or preference of the mind to which we often give the name. It is that inmost, dominant and often veiled conscious force of our being and of all being, Tapas, Shakti, Sraddha, that sovereignly determines our orientation and of which the intellect and the heart are more or less blind and automatic servants and instruments.” *The Synthesis of Yoga

“The leader of the journey, the captain of the march, the first and most ancient priest of our sacrifice is the Will. This Will is not the wish of the heart or the demand or preference of the mind to which we often give the name. It is that inmost, dominant and often veiled conscious force of our being and of all being, Tapas, Shakti, Sraddha, that sovereignly determines our orientation and of which the intellect and the heart are more or less blind and automatic servants and instruments.” The Synthesis of Yoga

The manifestation of a supraroental truth-consciousness Is therefore the capital reality that will make the divine life possible.

The Mother: “Krishna represents both the universal Godhead and the immanent Godhead, he whom one can meet within one’s being and in all that constitutes the manifested world. And do you want to know why he is always represented as a child? It is because he is in constant progression. To the extent that the world is perfected, his play is also perfected—what was the play of yesterday will no longer be the play of tomorrow; his play will become more and more harmonious, benign and joyful to the extent that the world becomes capable of responding to it and enjoying it with the Divine.” Words of the Mother, MCW Vol. 15.

The Mother: "That which can easily change its form is ‘plastic". Figuratively, it is suppleness, a capacity of adaptation to circumstances and necessities.” Questions and Answers, MCW Vol. 4.

The Mother: “The true role of the mind is the formation and organization of action. The mind has a formative and organizing power, and it is that which puts the different elements of inspiration in order for action, for organizing action. And if it would only confine itself to that role, receiving inspirations—whether from above or from the mystic centre of the soul—and simply formulating the plan of action—in broad outline or in minute detail, for the smallest things of life or the great terrestrial organizations—it would amply fulfil its function. It is not an instrument of knowledge. But is can use knowledge for action, to organize action. It is an instrument of organization and formation, very powerful and very capable when it is well developed.” Questions and Answers 1956, MCW Vol. 8.

  ". . . there are a series of subtler and subtler formulations of substance which escape from and go beyond the formula of the material universe. Without going deeply into matters which are too occult and difficult for our present inquiry, we may say, adhering to the system on which we have based ourselves, that these gradations of substance, in one important aspect of their formulation in series, can be seen to correspond to the ascending series of Matter, Life, Mind, Supermind and that other higher divine triplicity of Sachchidananda. In other words, we find that substance in its ascension bases itself upon each of these principles and makes itself successively a characteristic vehicle for the dominating cosmic self-expression of each in their ascending series.” The Life Divine

“… there are a series of subtler and subtler formulations of substance which escape from and go beyond the formula of the material universe. Without going deeply into matters which are too occult and difficult for our present inquiry, we may say, adhering to the system on which we have based ourselves, that these gradations of substance, in one important aspect of their formulation in series, can be seen to correspond to the ascending series of Matter, Life, Mind, Supermind and that other higher divine triplicity of Sachchidananda. In other words, we find that substance in its ascension bases itself upon each of these principles and makes itself successively a characteristic vehicle for the dominating cosmic self-expression of each in their ascending series.” The Life Divine

"There is no such thing as death, for it is the body that dies and the body is not the man. That which really is, cannot go out of existence, though it may change the forms through which it appears, just as that which is non-existent cannot come into being. The soul is and cannot cease to be. This opposition of is and is not, this balance of being and becoming which is the mind"s view of existence, finds its end in the realisation of the soul as the one imperishable self by whom all this universe has been extended. Finite bodies have an end, but that which possesses and uses the body, is infinite, illimitable, eternal, indestructible. It casts away old and takes up new bodies as a man changes worn-out raiment for new; and what is there in this to grieve at and recoil and shrink? This is not born, nor does it die, nor is it a thing that comes into being once and passing away will never come into being again. It is unborn, ancient, sempiternal; it is not slain with the slaying of the body. Who can slay the immortal spirit? Weapons cannot cleave it, nor the fire burn, nor do the waters drench it, nor the wind dry. Eternally stable, immobile, all-pervading, it is for ever and for ever. Not manifested like the body, but greater than all manifestation, not to be analysed by the thought, but greater than all mind, not capable of change and modification like the life and its organs and their objects, but beyond the changes of mind and life and body, it is yet the Reality which all these strive to figure.” Essays on the Gita

“There is no such thing as death, for it is the body that dies and the body is not the man. That which really is, cannot go out of existence, though it may change the forms through which it appears, just as that which is non-existent cannot come into being. The soul is and cannot cease to be. This opposition of is and is not, this balance of being and becoming which is the mind’s view of existence, finds its end in the realisation of the soul as the one imperishable self by whom all this universe has been extended. Finite bodies have an end, but that which possesses and uses the body, is infinite, illimitable, eternal, indestructible. It casts away old and takes up new bodies as a man changes worn-out raiment for new; and what is there in this to grieve at and recoil and shrink? This is not born, nor does it die, nor is it a thing that comes into being once and passing away will never come into being again. It is unborn, ancient, sempiternal; it is not slain with the slaying of the body. Who can slay the immortal spirit? Weapons cannot cleave it, nor the fire burn, nor do the waters drench it, nor the wind dry. Eternally stable, immobile, all-pervading, it is for ever and for ever. Not manifested like the body, but greater than all manifestation, not to be analysed by the thought, but greater than all mind, not capable of change and modification like the life and its organs and their objects, but beyond the changes of mind and life and body, it is yet the Reality which all these strive to figure.” Essays on the Gita

the satisfaction of its desire ; it is a mistake to think that it must be either that or else the vital, in order to escape from its

these openings in one’s nature and ieam to close them perma- nently to such attacks or to throw out the intruders at once or as soon as possible. The recurrence is no proof of a funda- mental incapacity ; if one takes the right inner attitude, it can and will be overcome. One must have faith in the Master of our life and works, even if for a long time He conceals Himself, and then in His own right lime He will reveal His Presence.

"The sunlit path can only be followed if the psychic is constantly or usually in front or if one has a natural spirit of faith and surrender or a face turned habitually towards the sun or psychic predisposition (e.g. a faith in one"s spiritual destiny) or, if one has acquired the psychic turn. That does not mean that the sunlit man has no difficulties; he may have many, but he regards them cheerfully as all in the day's work''. If he gets a bad beating, he is capable of saying,Well, that was a queer go but the Divine is evidently in a queer mood and if that is his way of doing things, it must be the right one; I am surely a still queerer fellow myself and that, I suppose, was the only means of putting me right."" Letters on Yoga

“The sunlit path can only be followed if the psychic is constantly or usually in front or if one has a natural spirit of faith and surrender or a face turned habitually towards the sun or psychic predisposition (e.g. a faith in one’s spiritual destiny) or, if one has acquired the psychic turn. That does not mean that the sunlit man has no difficulties; he may have many, but he regards them cheerfully as all in the day’s work’’. If he gets a bad beating, he is capable of saying,Well, that was a queer go but the Divine is evidently in a queer mood and if that is his way of doing things, it must be the right one; I am surely a still queerer fellow myself and that, I suppose, was the only means of putting me right.’’ Letters on Yoga

Thirdly, by this working the inner pans of the being are opened and freed ; you are liberated from the limitations of the ordinary personal mind, vital and physical and become aware of a wider consciousness in which you can be more capable of the needed transformation.

"This integral knowledge is the knowledge of the Divine present in the individual; it is the entire experience of the Lord secret in the heart of man, revealed now as the supreme Self of his existence, the Sun of all his illumined consciousness, the Master and Power of all his works, the divine Fountain of all his soul"s love and delight, the Lover and Beloved of his worship and adoration. It is the knowledge too of the Divine extended in the universe, of the Eternal from whom all proceeds and in whom all lives and has its being, of the Self and Spirit of the cosmos, of Vasudeva who has become all this that is, of the Lord of cosmic existence who reigns over the works of Nature. It is the knowledge of the divine Purusha luminous in his transcendent eternity, the form of whose being escapes from the thought of the mind but not from its silence; it is the entire living experience of him as absolute Self, supreme Brahman, supreme Soul, supreme Godhead: for that seemingly incommunicable Absolute is at the same time and even in that highest status the originating Spirit of the cosmic action and Lord of all these existences.” Essays on the Gita*

“This integral knowledge is the knowledge of the Divine present in the individual; it is the entire experience of the Lord secret in the heart of man, revealed now as the supreme Self of his existence, the Sun of all his illumined consciousness, the Master and Power of all his works, the divine Fountain of all his soul’s love and delight, the Lover and Beloved of his worship and adoration. It is the knowledge too of the Divine extended in the universe, of the Eternal from whom all proceeds and in whom all lives and has its being, of the Self and Spirit of the cosmos, of Vasudeva who has become all this that is, of the Lord of cosmic existence who reigns over the works of Nature. It is the knowledge of the divine Purusha luminous in his transcendent eternity, the form of whose being escapes from the thought of the mind but not from its silence; it is the entire living experience of him as absolute Self, supreme Brahman, supreme Soul, supreme Godhead: for that seemingly incommunicable Absolute is at the same time and even in that highest status the originating Spirit of the cosmic action and Lord of all these existences.” Essays on the Gita

This movement as it proceeds opens up the six centres of the subtle nervous system and by the opening one escapes from the limitations of the surface consciousness bound to the gross body and great ranges of experiences proper to the subliminal self, mental, vitalj subtle physical, are shown to the sadhaka. When the Kundalini meets the higher Consciousness as it ascends through the summit of the head, there is an opening of the higher superconscient reaches above the normal mind. It is by ascend- ing through these in our consciousness and receiring a descent of their energies that it is possible ultimately to reach the Super- mind. This is the method of the Tantra. In our Yoga it is not necessary to go through the sysiemaihed method. It takes place spontaneously according to the need by the force of the aspira- tion. As soon as (here is an openmg the Divine Power descends and conducts the necessary working, does what is needed, each thing in its time and the Consciousness begins to be bom

thoughtless ::: devoid of or lacking capacity for thought.

thought-Mind ::: Sri Aurobindo: "Our first decisive step out of our human intelligence, our normal mentality, is an ascent into a higher Mind, a mind no longer of mingled light and obscurity or half-light, but a large clarity of the Spirit. Its basic substance is a unitarian sense of being with a powerful multiple dynamisation capable of the formation of a multitude of aspects of knowledge, ways of action, forms and significances of becoming, of all of which there is a spontaneous inherent knowledge. It is therefore a power that has proceeded from the Overmind, — but with the Supermind as its ulterior origin, — as all these greater powers have proceeded: but its special character, its activity of consciousness are dominated by Thought; it is a luminous thought-mind, a mind of Spirit-born conceptual knowledge. An all-awareness emerging from the original identity, carrying the truths the identity held in itself, conceiving swiftly, victoriously, multitudinously, formulating and by self-power of the Idea effectually realising its conceptions, is the character of this greater mind of knowledge. " *The Life Divine

Titan ::: “In Greek mythology, one of a family of gigantic beings, the twelve primordial children of Uranus (Heaven) and Gaea (Earth); also certain of the offspring of these Titans. The names of the twelve Titans, the ancestors of the Olympian gods, were Oceanus, Coeus, Crius, Hyperion, Iapetos, Theia, Rhea, Themis, Mnemosyne, Phoebe, Tethys, and Cronos. Cronos, the youngest of them, ruled the world after overthrowing and castrating Uranus. He swallowed each of his own children at birth but Zeus escaped. Cronos was made to vomit up the others (including Hera, Demeter, Poseidon, and Hades) and, after a protracted struggle, he and the other Titans were vanquished, all of them but Atlas imprisoned in Tartarus, and the reign of Zeus was established. More broadly, the word Titan may be applied to any being of a colossal force or grandiose and lawless self-assertion, or even to whatever is huge or mighty.” Glossary and Index of Proper Names in Sri Aurobindo’s Works.

titan ::: "In Greek mythology, one of a family of gigantic beings, the twelve primordial children of Uranus (Heaven) and Gaea (Earth); also certain of the offspring of these Titans. The names of the twelve Titans, the ancestors of the Olympian gods, were Oceanus, Coeus, Crius, Hyperion, Iapetos, Theia, Rhea, Themis, Mnemosyne, Phoebe, Tethys, and Cronos. Cronos, the youngest of them, ruled the world after overthrowing and castrating Uranus. He swallowed each of his own children at birth but Zeus escaped. Cronos was made to vomit up the others (including Hera, Demeter, Poseidon, and Hades) and, after a protracted struggle, he and the other Titans were vanquished, all of them but Atlas imprisoned in Tartarus, and the reign of Zeus was established. More broadly, the word Titan may be applied to any being of a colossal force or grandiose and lawless self-assertion, or even to whatever is huge or mighty.” *Glossary and Index of Proper Names in Sri Aurobindo"s Works.

tolerance ::: the capacity for or the practice of recognizing and respecting the beliefs or practices of others.

"To me, for instance, consciousness is the very stuff of existence and I can feel it everywhere enveloping and penetrating the stone as much as man or the animal. A movement, a flow of consciousness is not to me an image but a fact. If I wrote "His anger climbed against me in a stream", it would be to the general reader a mere image, not something that was felt by me in a sensible experience; yet I would only be describing in exact terms what actually happened once, a stream of anger, a sensible and violent current of it rising up from downstairs and rushing upon me as I sat in the veranda of the Guest-House, the truth of it being confirmed afterwards by the confession of the person who had the movement. This is only one instance, but all that is spiritual or psychological in Savitri is of that character. What is to be done under these circumstances? The mystical poet can only describe what he has felt, seen in himself or others or in the world just as he has felt or seen it or experienced through exact vision, close contact or identity and leave it to the general reader to understand or not understand or misunderstand according to his capacity. A new kind of poetry demands a new mentality in the recipient as well as in the writer.” Letters on Savitri

“To me, for instance, consciousness is the very stuff of existence and I can feel it everywhere enveloping and penetrating the stone as much as man or the animal. A movement, a flow of consciousness is not to me an image but a fact. If I wrote ’His anger climbed against me in a stream’, it would be to the general reader a mere image, not something that was felt by me in a sensible experience; yet I would only be describing in exact terms what actually happened once, a stream of anger, a sensible and violent current of it rising up from downstairs and rushing upon me as I sat in the veranda of the Guest-House, the truth of it being confirmed afterwards by the confession of the person who had the movement. This is only one instance, but all that is spiritual or psychological in Savitri is of that character. What is to be done under these circumstances? The mystical poet can only describe what he has felt, seen in himself or others or in the world just as he has felt or seen it or experienced through exact vision, close contact or identity and leave it to the general reader to understand or not understand or misunderstand according to his capacity. A new kind of poetry demands a new mentality in the recipient as well as in the writer.” Letters on Savitri

translate ::: 1. To transfer from one place or condition to another. 2. To express or be capable of being expressed in another language or dialect. 3. To put into simpler terms; explain or interpret. 4. To change from one form, function, or state to another; convert or transform. translates, translated, translating.

transparent ::: 1. Capable of transmitting light so that objects or images can be seen as if there were no intervening material. Also fig. 2. Easily seen through or detected; obvious.

triune ::: “In other words, that which has thrown itself out into forms is a triune Existence-Consciousness-Bliss, Sachchidananda, whose consciousness is in its nature a creative or rather a self-expressive Force capable of infinite variation in phenomenon and form of its self-conscious being and endlessly enjoying the delight of that variation.” The Life Divine

truth ::: 1. (Often cap.) Ideal or fundamental reality apart from and transcending perceived experience. 2. Conformity to fact or actuality. Truth, truth"s, Truth"s, truths, Truths, truth-conscious, Truth-gaze, Truth-speaking, All-Truth, dream-truth, half-Truth, half-truths, heaven-truth, soul-truth.

TRUTH. ::: An inherent imperative truth of things unseen by us capable of manifold manifestation This inherent Truth governs automatically all the processes In the universe. The Supra-

turban ::: a traditionally Muslim headdress consisting of a long scarf of linen, cotton, or silk that is wound around a small cap or directly around the head.

Two things render that culmination more facile than it would otherwise be. Overmind in the descent towards material creation has originated modifications of itself,—Intuition especially with its penetrative lightning flashes of truth lighting up local points and stretches of country in our consciousness,—which can bring the concealed truth of things nearer to our comprehension, and, by opening ourselves more widely first in the inner being and then as a result in the outer surface self also to the messages of these higher ranges of consciousness, by growing into them, we can become ourselves also intuitive and overmental beings, not limited by the intellect and sense, but capable of a more universal comprehension and a direct touch of truth in its very self and body. In fact flashes of enlightenment from these higher ranges already come to us, but this intervention is mostly fragmentary, casual or partial; we have still to begin to enlarge ourselves into their likeness and organise in us the greater Truth activities of which we are potentially capable. But, secondly, Overmind, Intuition, even Supermind not only must be, as we have seen, principles inherent and involved in the Inconscience from which we arise in the evolution and inevitably destined to evolve, but are secretly present, occult actively with flashes of intuitive emergence in the cosmic activity of Mind, Life and Matter. It is true that their action is concealed and, even when they emerge, it is modified by the medium, material, vital, mental in which they work and not easily recognisable. Supermind cannot manifest itself as the Creator Power in the universe from the beginning, for if it did, the Ignorance and Inconscience would be impossible or else the slow evolution necessary would change into a rapid transformation scene. Yet at every step of the material energy we can see the stamp of inevitability given by a supramental creator, in all the development of life and mind the play of the lines of possibility and their combination which is the stamp of Overmind intervention. As Life and Mind have been released in Matter, so too must in their time these greater powers of the concealed Godhead emerge from the involution and their supreme Light descend into us from above. …

unapproachable ::: 1. Not capable of being approached; remote; unreachable; inaccessible. 2. One who, or that which, cannot be approached or equalled. unapproachably.

uncials ::: letters having large rounded forms (not joined to each other) characteristic of early Greek and Latin manuscripts; also (in looser use), of large size, capital.

unescapable :::

unknowable ::: “The Unknowable is Something to us supreme, wonderful and ineffable which continually formulates Itself to our consciousness and continually escapes from the formulation It has made.” The Life Divine

unknown ::: “The Unknown is not the Unknowable; it need not remain the unknown for us, unless we choose ignorance or persist in our first limitations. For to all things that are not unknowable, all things in the universe, there correspond in that universe faculties which can take cognisance of them, and in man, the microcosm, these faculties are always existent and at a certain stage capable of development. We may choose not to develop them; where they are partially developed, we may discourage and impose on them a kind of atrophy. But, fundamentally, all possible knowledge is knowledge within the power of humanity.” The Life Divine

Until you are capable of this complete dynamic identification, you have to regard yourself as a soul and body created for her service, one who does all for her sake. Even if the idea of the separate worker Is strong in you and you feel that it is you who do the act, yet it must be done for her. All stress of egoistic choice, all hankeriog after personal profit, all stipulation of self- regarding desire must be extirpated from the nature. There must be no demand for fruit and no seeking for reward ; the only fruit for you is the pleasure of the Divine Mother and the ful- filment of her work, your only reward a constant progression in divine consciousness and calm and strength and bliss. The joy of service and the joy of inner groxvth through works is the suffi- cient recompense of the sefless worker.

Utility of work ::: That is one great utility of work that it tests the nature and puts the sadhana in front of the defects of his outer being which might otherwise escape him.

VIRTUE AND VICE. ::: So long as one is in the ordinary nature, one has capacities and defects, virtues and vices. When

visible ::: 1. Possible to see; perceptible to the eye. 2. Capable of being perceived by the mind; evident. half-visible.

"We see that the Absolute, the Self, the Divine, the Spirit, the Being is One; the Transcendental is one, the Cosmic is one: but we see also that beings are many and each has a self, a spirit, a like yet different nature. And since the spirit and essence of things is one, we are obliged to admit that all these many must be that One, and it follows that the One is or has become many; but how can the limited or relative be the Absolute and how can man or beast or bird be the Divine Being? But in erecting this apparent contradiction the mind makes a double error. It is thinking in the terms of the mathematical finite unit which is sole in limitation, the one which is less than two and can become two only by division and fragmentation or by addition and multiplication; but this is an infinite Oneness, it is the essential and infinite Oneness which can contain the hundred and the thousand and the million and billion and trillion. Whatever astronomic or more than astronomic figures you heap and multiply, they cannot overpass or exceed that Oneness; for, in the language of the Upanishad, it moves not, yet is always far in front when you would pursue and seize it. It can be said of it that it would not be the infinite Oneness if it were not capable of an infinite multiplicity; but that does not mean that the One is plural or can be limited or described as the sum of the Many: on the contrary, it can be the infinite Many because it exceeds all limitation or description by multiplicity and exceeds at the same time all limitation by finite conceptual oneness.” The Life Divine

“We see that the Absolute, the Self, the Divine, the Spirit, the Being is One; the Transcendental is one, the Cosmic is one: but we see also that beings are many and each has a self, a spirit, a like yet different nature. And since the spirit and essence of things is one, we are obliged to admit that all these many must be that One, and it follows that the One is or has become many; but how can the limited or relative be the Absolute and how can man or beast or bird be the Divine Being? But in erecting this apparent contradiction the mind makes a double error. It is thinking in the terms of the mathematical finite unit which is sole in limitation, the one which is less than two and can become two only by division and fragmentation or by addition and multiplication; but this is an infinite Oneness, it is the essential and infinite Oneness which can contain the hundred and the thousand and the million and billion and trillion. Whatever astronomic or more than astronomic figures you heap and multiply, they cannot overpass or exceed that Oneness; for, in the language of the Upanishad, it moves not, yet is always far in front when you would pursue and seize it. It can be said of it that it would not be the infinite Oneness if it were not capable of an infinite multiplicity; but that does not mean that the One is plural or can be limited or described as the sum of the Many: on the contrary, it can be the infinite Many because it exceeds all limitation or description by multiplicity and exceeds at the same time all limitation by finite conceptual oneness.” The Life Divine

When both words in a hyphenated word are capitalised it is to stress both elements.”

When the physical consciousness is being changed,' the chkl resistance comes from the subconscient. It is constantly main- taining or bringing back the inertia, weakness, obscurity, lack of intelligence which afflict the physical mind and vitd or' the obscure fears, desires, angers, Jiisis of the physical vital, or the illnesses, dullnesses, pains, incapabilUies to which the body- nature is prone.

When you see a buffalo rushing upon you and missing and feel you have escaped a great danger, that is a transcription — the rush of some hostile force represented by the buffalo.

whim ::: a sudden or capricious idea; a fancy. whims, world-whim.

who give love or kindoess for its own sake without expecting a return who escape from this experience.

wonderful ::: capable of eliciting wonder; filled with wonder; astonishing. Wonderful, the Wonderful, All-Wonderful, All-Wonderful"s. (Sri Aurobindo also employs the word as a personification of the Deity.)

Yet still, a captive in her golden hands,

Yogic trance cannot be an aim, as In so many yogic systems, but only a means, and a means not of escape from the waking existence, but to enlarge and raise the whole seeing, living and active consciousness.



QUOTES [3 / 3 - 1282 / 1282]


KEYS (10k)

   1 John Steinbeck
   1 Jiddu Krishnamurti
   1 Friedrich Von Hugel

NEW FULL DB (2.4M)

   64 Truman Capote
   33 Anonymous
   14 Al Capone
   12 Diane Capri
   11 Leonardo DiCaprio
   11 Jessica Capshaw
   10 John Paul Caponigro
   7 Suzanne Collins
   7 Horace
   7 Frank Capra
   7 Fabio Capello
   7 Cap n Fatty Goodlander
   6 Charles Capps
   6 Capital STEEZ
   5 William Shakespeare
   5 Walt Whitman
   5 Terry Pratchett
   5 Robert Farrar Capon
   5 John Green
   5 Jim Capaldi

1:Soon drunk, I watch my cap tumble in the wind, dance in love - a guest the moon invites." ~ ?,
2:The soul, since it is part of the human body, is not the whole human being: my soul is not me [anima autem cum sit pars corporis hominis, non est totus homo, et anima mea non est ego]. ~ Saint Thomas Aquinas, Super I Cor. Cap 15 lec. 2 n. 924,
3:Every essence or quiddity can be understood without knowing anything about its being. I can know, e.g., what a man or a phoenix is and still be ignorant whether it has being in reality. From this it is clear that being is other than essence for quiddity. ~ Aquinas, De Ente cap 4,

*** WISDOM TROVE ***

1:Whose the cap fit, let them where it. ~ bob-marley, @wisdomtrove
2:America has tossed its cap over the wall of space. ~ john-f-kennedy, @wisdomtrove
3:I am trying to say it all in one sentence, between one cap and one period. ~ william-faulkner, @wisdomtrove
4:The man in the coon skin cap in the pig pen wants eleven dollar bills, you've only got ten. ~ bob-dylan, @wisdomtrove
5:A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,- A cap by night, a stocking all the day. ~ oliver-goldsmith, @wisdomtrove
6:Touching your cap to the Squire may be damn bad for the Squire, but it's damn good for you. ~ j-r-r-tolkien, @wisdomtrove
7:You have but to hold forth in cap and gown, and any gibberish becomes learning, all nonsense passes for sense. ~ moliere, @wisdomtrove
8:I have changed my mind, and changed the trimmings of my cap this morning; they are now such as you suggested. ~ jane-austen, @wisdomtrove
9:Hollywood must be the only place on earth where you can be fired by a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a baseball cap. ~ steve-martin, @wisdomtrove
10:Once you have the cap and gown all you need do is open your mouth. Whatever nonsense you talk becomes wisdom and all the rubbish good sense. ~ moliere, @wisdomtrove
11:You're either my ship's cook-and then you were treated handsome-or Cap'n Silver, a common mutineer and pirate, and then you can go hang! ~ robert-louis-stevenson, @wisdomtrove
12:A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a fools-cap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town. ~ lord-byron, @wisdomtrove
13:The capitalists owned everything in the world, and everyone else was their slave. They owned all the land, all the houses, all the factories, and all the money. If anyone disobeyed them they could throw him into prison, or they could take his job away and starve him to death. When any ordinary person spoke to a capitalist he had to cringe and bow to him, and take off his cap and address him as &
14:A beggar had been sitting by the side of a road for over thirty years. One day a stranger walked by. "Spare some change?" mumbled the beggar, mechanically holding out his old baseball cap. "I have nothing to give you," said the stranger. Then he asked: "What's that you are sitting on?" "Nothing," replied the beggar. "Just an old box. I have been sitting on it for as long as I can remember." "Ever looked inside?" asked the stranger. "No," said the beggar. "What's the point? There's nothing in there." "Have a look inside," insisted the stranger. The beggar managed to pry open the lid. With astonishment, disbelief, and elation, he saw that the box was filled with gold. ~ eckhart-tolle, @wisdomtrove

*** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***

1:cap. The newspaper ~ John Grisham,
2:He wore the baseball cap ~ Sandra Hill,
3:los cereales Cap’n Crunch. ~ Ernest Cline,
4:her bottle cap popping vagina ~ Sonali Dev,
5:This would be a feather in its cap. ~ Ruth Rendell,
6:Whose the cap fit, let them where it. ~ Bob Marley,
7:Al cap i a la fi, només ets humana. ~ Stephenie Meyer,
8:Every skull-cap may dream of the tiara. ~ Victor Hugo,
9:That's my secret Cap: I'm always angry. ~ Mark Ruffalo,
10:We became unabashed hedonists. ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
11:forage cap slanted to his left eye and the ~ Jack Higgins,
12:I put a Phrygian cap on the old dictionary. ~ Victor Hugo,
13:Life isn’t over until it is over. ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
14:to live while you’re alive.” That ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
15:Should I peel a cap or should I let him survive? ~ Ice Cube,
16:Cap and trade is a sledge hammer to freedom. ~ Rush Limbaugh,
17:Ariadne, as I discovered from the cap of one of ~ John Buchan,
18:— Cap consell final?
[…] — Salveu la vida. ~ Suzanne Collins,
19:Nu face nimic dacă n-ai cap; pălărie să ai. ~ Nikos Kazantzakis,
20:Smee, you are a supreme idjit."
"Aye, Cap'n. ~ Ridley Pearson,
21:To Be the Freest Man in the Universe. I ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
22:A word to the wise is sufficient?   Make ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
23:You can’t lose if you don’t give up. You ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
24:Cut, Cap and Balance is worst legislation in history. ~ Harry Reid,
25:The whole cap came off.. must've been a recap. ~ Dale Earnhardt Jr,
26:America has tossed its cap over the wall of space. ~ John F Kennedy,
27:Cap Boso? How could I cut a guy with a name like that? ~ Mike Ditka,
28:He wore a ball cap, but the sun beat down on his neck. ~ Alan Ryker,
29:If life were a camera, I'd have the lens cap on. ~ Charles M Schulz,
30:Have the nature of a dervish: then wear a stylish cap. ~ Idries Shah,
31:If life hands you lemons, make lemonade. If ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
32:said. He started packing, dropping a cap and sunglasses ~ Paul Levine,
33:O Sun, great Oriental, my proud mind's golden cap, ~ Nikos Kazantzakis,
34:and it was heading straight for the sparkling swim cap! ~ Daisy Meadows,
35:Be sure to take the lens cap off before photographing. ~ Elliott Erwitt,
36:Habit gives endurance, and fatigue is the best night cap. ~ Jamaica Kincaid,
37:The soul started at the knee-cap and ended at the navel. ~ Jose Lezama Lima,
38:The cloth cap on my head
doesn't tell
what's in it. ~ N z m Hikmet Ran,
39:I break into a sweat when I find a Sharpie cap, but not the pen. ~ Helen Ellis,
40:My son loves the Hotel du Cap, in the south of France. ~ Diane von Furstenberg,
41:Keep it simple and focus on 4-5 simple retail/consumer small cap stocks! ~ Mika,
42:Style is the feather in the arrow, not the feather in the cap. ~ George Sampson,
43:Això no podia ser de cap manera el paradís. Era massa dolorós. ~ Stephenie Meyer,
44:Google places a 50% cap on the aggregate “ops” work for all SREs — ~ Betsy Beyer,
45:tailing him everywhere like an extremely pompous guard dog. To cap ~ J K Rowling,
46:Sailing around the world is really all about learning—and ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
47:You mugged an innocent koala?” a grandmother shouted at Astros Cap. ~ Stuart Gibbs,
48:and many of them too, enough to kill a man." ~ Homer, the Iliad (cap 6 trad Fagles),
49:Now-a-days, men wear a fool's cap, and call it a liberty cap. ~ Henry David Thoreau,
50:Crystal sincerity hath found no shelter but in a fool's cap. ~ Gerard Manley Hopkins,
51:Life is to be lived. Kiss it full on the lips. Go!   Lists: ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
52:I took the batteries out my mysticism / And put them in my thinking cap ~ Alex Turner,
53:I tug my Seahawks cap low over my face and sprint on down Western Avenue. ~ E L James,
54:Mammoths, building a signal to Mars, on the North American ice cap. ~ Arthur C Clarke,
55:To me, habitual anger is like sitting in a corner with a dunce cap on. ~ Louise L Hay,
56:What do they call that hat Jewish guys always wear? A Yankees cap. ~ Anthony Jeselnik,
57:I have always loved the Mao cap, though I hate violent revolution. ~ Vivienne Westwood,
58:I took the batteries out my mysticism / 
And put them in my thinking cap ~ Alex Turner,
59:I checked out the wine. Screw cap. The greatest invention since fire. ~ Janet Evanovich,
60:I will not wear a tulle-tailed dunce cap for anyone or for any reason. ~ Chautona Havig,
61:Tennessee Williams choked to death on the plastic cap of a nasal spray. ~ David Markson,
62:This is dedicated to a flirty Gem from a grumpy Cap. He knows who he is. ~ Anyta Sunday,
63:You don't need a helmet facing Waqar [Younis] so much as a steel toe cap ~ Simon Hughes,
64:Sa nu-ti treaca cumva prin cap sa mori si sa ma lasi infinit de orfana. ~ Isabel Allende,
65:The bottle and the cap don’t fit: is the problem with the bottle or the cap? ~ Anonymous,
66:Life itself was only futility, vain words, a squabble of cap and bells. ~ Michel Foucault,
67:I wonder where our legs have been while we've been gone?" mused Cap'n Bill, ~ L Frank Baum,
68:​A green hunting cap squeezed the top of the fleshy balloon of a head. ~ John Kennedy Toole,
69:Royalty is but a feather in a man's cap; let children enjoy their rattle. ~ Oliver Cromwell,
70:A pushed-back cap had the crossed slide-rule symbol of ship’s computer man. ~ Harry Harrison,
71:I do recall that El Cap seemed to be in much better condition than I was. ~ Warren G Harding,
72:Fiindcă nu putem scoate lumea din burta, de chinuim să o scoatem din cap. ~ Mircea C rt rescu,
73:Hollywood is the gold cap on a tooth that should have been pulled out years ago. ~ W C Fields,
74:I am trying to say it all in one sentence, between one cap and one period. ~ William Faulkner,
75:Laughter is, indeed, the only sane response to the world we live in. ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
76:In 2001 Steve Staunton became the record cap holder for which country? Brazil. ~ Anne Robinson,
77:The bottle and the cap don't fit: is the problem with the bottle or the cap? ~ Haruki Murakami,
78:the true wealth of this planet—its fascinating, big-hearted people.   ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
79:At an early age I decided I wanted to be the freest man in the universe. ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
80:Wampa cap securely on his little head. I pat mine. It’s still there. All is well. ~ Krista Ritchie,
81:He came into her life wearing a Syracuse ball cap and blue jeans that had holes in them. ~ J R Ward,
82:Nobody in this country realizes that cap and trade is a tax, and it's a great big one. ~ John Dingell,
83:Above the youth's inspired and flashing eyes/I see the motley, mocking fool's-cap rise. ~ Thomas Hardy,
84:a felt cap pulled low over her ears even though it was already probably sixty degrees, ~ Lauren Oliver,
85:In order to be showered continuously by good luck—we have to deserve it. This ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
86:Under my plan of a cap-and-trade system, electricity rates would necessarily skyrocket. ~ Barack Obama,
87:The man in the coon skin cap in the pig pen wants eleven dollar bills, you've only got ten. ~ Bob Dylan,
88:A night-cap deck'd his brows instead of bay,- A cap by night, a stocking all the day. ~ Oliver Goldsmith,
89:One may gain attention by wearing a fools cap. But he would ruin his selling prospects ~ Claude C Hopkins,
90:Al cap i a la fi, per qui ha viscut la vida, la mort no és més que la següent gran aventura. ~ J K Rowling,
91:I don’t sail around the world to observe it—but to joyously participate in it. In ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
92:He wears a black ball cap that’s turned backward, brown wisps of hair poking out from all sides. ~ K C Lynn,
93:To be unpopular, you must look the part. Remember four words: plastic flowered swim cap. ~ Jennifer Ziegler,
94:Touching your cap to the Squire may be damn bad for the Squire, but it's damn good for you. ~ J R R Tolkien,
95:You might be a redneck if you have a very special baseball cap, just for formal occasions. ~ Jeff Foxworthy,
96:I wear a baseball cap all the time, which I would never normally wear, and I walk very fast. ~ Michael Caine,
97:La millor manera de resoldre un misteri és decidir que no hi ha cap misteri que calgui resoldre. ~ John Green,
98:Perseus wore a magic cap down over his eyes and ears as a make-believe that there are no monsters. ~ Karl Marx,
99:How can you walk away,” Connor finally says, “when they’re about to overthrow the Cap-17 law? ~ Neal Shusterman,
100:I guess I do prefer a ball cap. I have performed without a cap, mostly at funerals and weddings. ~ Rodney Atkins,
101:Labor is the fabled magician's wand, the philosophers stone, and the cap of good fortune. ~ James Weldon Johnson,
102:There are three kinds of people in this world: those who can count, and those who can't. ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
103:It's so much nicer to be a secret and delightful sin to anybody than to be a feather in his cap. ~ Agatha Christie,
104:My tale is done. There runs a mouse; whoever catches her may make a great, great cap out of her fur. ~ Jacob Grimm,
105:Why is it one can busta rhyme or busta move anywhere, but one must busta cap in someone's ass? ~ Christopher Moore,
106:We can still cap carbon, but that needn't be at the top of the agenda that we communicate to voters. ~ Ted Nordhaus,
107:It’s so much nicer to be a secret and delightful sin to anybody than to be a feather in their cap. ~ Agatha Christie,
108:AB'ACOT, noun The cap of State, formerly used by English Kings, wrought into the figure of two crowns. ~ Noah Webster,
109:Life always works out. What seems like a big deal today will be just a funny story tomorrow. ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
110:The head monkey at Paris puts on a traveller's cap, and all the monkeys in America do the same. ~ Henry David Thoreau,
111:You get a lot of people requesting photographs but I tend to keep myself to myself, pull my cap down. ~ Brendan Coyle,
112:The first time I ever saw him play, Tre Cool was wearing a tutu and an old-womans swimming cap. ~ Billie Joe Armstrong,
113:One of the things I've become immune to is people talking about market cap and social media platforms. ~ Ashton Kutcher,
114:New Rule: You don't have to put the cap back on the bottled water after every sip. It's water, not a genie. ~ Bill Maher,
115:You have but to hold forth in cap and gown, and any gibberish becomes learning, all nonsense passes for sense. ~ Moliere,
116:It is not the editor I have to please, it is the reader. It is the reader who signs my pay check. ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
117:It’ll all work out in the end. And if it hasn’t worked out yet, that’s because it is not the end. ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
118:I was hired to do this one great script called 'Cap'n Ricky' and that project is up in the air at the moment. ~ David Wain,
119:Speedy was kicked back in his favorite chair, cap pulled down over his eyes, mouth open, dead to the world. ~ John Grisham,
120:Why a ball cap? Ninety percent of being cool is looking cool. And you look so much cooler wearing a ball cap. ~ Chris Kyle,
121:An old man of sixty, in a long fur coat reaching to the ground, and a beaver cap, was standing at the door. ~ Anton Chekhov,
122:Eventually one day I want to direct, but as of right now my next cap that I'm looking for is the producer cap. ~ Laz Alonso,
123:I have changed my mind, and changed the trimmings of my cap this morning; they are now such as you suggested. ~ Jane Austen,
124:My decision leaving the Nuggets was based on the organization not saying they had the cap room to sign me. ~ Dikembe Mutombo,
125:repeat: I recommend you get a Monitor or a used Aries before purchasing an electric autopilot. “Boo ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
126:He would enjoy exploring each and every inked line with his tongue. Yeah, Mr. Ball Cap would do just fine. ~ Kindle Alexander,
127:To tell you the truth, I hate audiobooks."
But an audiobook is like a fizzy knit cap pulled down over your - ~ Robin Sloan,
128:I spent my childhood eating. The only exercise I got was trying to twist off the cap of a jar of mayonnaise. ~ Richard Simmons,
129:It is motive alone that gives real value to the actions of men, and disinterestedness puts the cap to it. ~ Jean de la Bruyere,
130:He smiles wildly, looks like love itself stuffed into a pair of jeans, black T-shirt, and backward baseball cap. ~ Jandy Nelson,
131:With his night-cap and his night-shirt tatters,
He botches up the loop-holes in the structure of the world. ~ Heinrich Heine,
132:Did Cap’n Vidious leave that? He is such a cuddlebunny.”
“Yeah,” I said, “that’s exactly how I’d describe him. ~ Joel N Ross,
133:asleep, her eyes partly shut as she tramped across the dew-soaked grass. Today she had on a thick white fluffy cap with ~ Joe Hill,
134:...we went to watch the waves that bitter day and the wind took your red cap and mittens - blew them into the sea... ~ John Geddes,
135:Finnish is not a language, it is a way of setting at the end of the bench with your fur cap pulled over your ears. ~ Paavo Haavikko,
136:Quan insultes algú, no has de dir cap veritat, perquè després no ho podràs retirar plenament, amb la consciència neta. ~ John Green,
137:Toys "R" Us. Zack put on a wool cap and sunglasses.
"You look like a bank robber," I observed.
"No toy is safe. ~ Joan Bauer,
138:It really is disgusting when a guy in a ball cap with a high school education is the one asking the tough questions. ~ Michael Moore,
139:Cap truly believed there was nothing harder than being a kid. You were always an alien trying to learn the earth rules. ~ Louisa Luna,
140:Hollywood must be the only place on earth where you can be fired by a man wearing a Hawaiian shirt and a baseball cap. ~ Steve Martin,
141:Materialism and spirituality are two pretty racquets with which charlatans in cap and gown make the same ball fly. ~ Honore de Balzac,
142:all – were wearing the same clothes as each other: a pair of grey striped pyjamas with a grey striped cap on their heads. ~ John Boyne,
143:Depending on the circumstances, they will invest either in the form of a Convertible Note (but with a cap on valuation), ~ Brian Cohen,
144:Many scientists and economists also say putting a price on carbon through carbon taxes and/or cap-and-trade is necessary. ~ David Suzuki,
145:When I was a kid, I was a cowboy. I had a cap pistol, and I'd get up in the morning and strap it on before I got ready. ~ Morgan Freeman,
146:his face thrown up to the sky, and his head hanging down; then recovered himself, fumbled with his cap, and made a bow. ~ Charles Dickens,
147:Si tu mors i jo visc, a mi no m'espera cap mena de vida […]. Tu ets tota la meva vida. Mai més no tornaria a ser feliç. ~ Suzanne Collins,
148:I wanted to go on the red carpet with a baseball cap, t-shirt, and jeans. And I still do. Because that's really who I am. ~ Missy Peregrym,
149:Every morning I got up, put on my coat and watch cap, grabbed my pen and notebook, and headed across Sixth Avenue to my café. ~ Patti Smith,
150:Havia infringit les meves pròpies normes. En comptes de fugir dels records, havia caminat cap a ells i els havia saludat. ~ Stephenie Meyer,
151:I'm Catholic. My mother and I were unpacking and she found my diaphragm. I had to tell her it was a bathing cap for my cat. ~ Lizz Winstead,
152:non-strength and safety” item aboard a small sailboat on a big ocean with only two people aboard is their windvane. ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
153:Lust made an idiot of everyone it touched—Dexter felt stupidity shrouding his head like a hood in the shape of a dunce’s cap. ~ Jennifer Egan,
154:There is no rule in the pink-triangle guide to coming out that you must wear a rainbow flag cap and organise a full band parade. ~ Beth Ditto,
155:What was in Cap City that would take four English teachers there in the middle of summer vacation?” “Harlan Coben,” Terry said. ~ Stephen King,
156:I did not vote Labour because they've heard of Oasis and nobody is going to vote Tory because William Hague has got a baseball cap. ~ Ben Elton,
157:I fear nothing when I am doing right,' said Jack.
'Then,' said the lady in the red cap, 'you are one of those who slay giants. ~ Andrew Lang,
158:Em vaig quedar pensatiu. Què passaria si em fotés un tret al cap? La bala em mataria o bé tindria un merder de por per netejar? ~ Stephenie Meyer,
159:En aquell moment […], el meu món, que havia estat de cap per avall durant tant de temps, ara semblava que es posava al seu lloc. ~ Stephenie Meyer,
160:I sandpapered the roof of my mouth with 3 bowls of Cap'n Crunch - had raw gobbets of mouth-beef dangling onto my tongue all day ~ Douglas Coupland,
161:A lobster spilled some soup on Cap'n Bill's bald head and made him yell for a minute, because it was hot and he had not expected it, ~ L Frank Baum,
162:Let's stop big government energy mandates like cap-and-trade, and instead trust the American innovator to make us energy independent. ~ Marco Rubio,
163:He either had to stop making me flustered as hell, or I had to quit the Cap’n Crunch. Could a grown man go cold turkey off the Cap’n? ~ Sloan Parker,
164:Her Yankees-loving, bottle cap-giving, dimpled smile other half was gone, and there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to turn back time. ~ Gail McHugh,
165:Money isn’t everything. In fact, it is almost nothing. Often, it is an impediment to freedom. Piles of stuff mean little. I ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
166:A cap of good acid costs $5, and for that you can hear the Universal Symphony, with God singing solo and the Holy Ghost on drums. ~ Hunter S Thompson,
167:Sometimes you just need to be mad or sad, Evie. Sometimes you just need to let it happen. But put a cap on it, then get back to happy. ~ Kresley Cole,
168:Once you have the cap and gown all you need do is open your mouth. Whatever nonsense you talk becomes wisdom and all the rubbish good sense. ~ Moliere,
169:CEO compensation at large companies grew sixfold between 1980 and 2003, roughly the same as the market-cap growth of these businesses. ~ Robert H Frank,
170:Everybody wants to be a Bond villain. That is the coolest. To be able to portray a Bond villain, that is the feather in any actor's cap. ~ Steve Carell,
171:flagrant, adj. I would be standing right there, and you would walk out of the bathroom without putting the cap back on the toothpaste. ~ David Levithan,
172:His cap may be emblazoned with equality, but Anderson’s pen smacks of racism, which was true also of the undoubtedly great Karl Marx. ~ Rajmohan Gandhi,
173:You want to make sure you have many different types of stock funds (large-, mid-, and small-cap, as well as growth and value) represented. ~ Suze Orman,
174:—Això ¿és real, o ha passat dintre el meu cap?
[…] —És clar que passa dintre el teu cap, Harry; però això no vol dir que no sigui real! ~ J K Rowling,
175:It's damp outside, and I'm always cold. Most days I wear a cap and shawl indoors."
"I could suggest other methods to keep yourself warm. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
176:No surprise. I was the only one at Dave and Bubba’s not wearing a Ragland Rattlers cap. Talk about feeling disloyal. And uncomfortable. ~ Rachel Hawthorne,
177:There are places I want to visit where if I'm wearing a baseball cap and some sunglasses I think I can get away with and mingle in a crowd. ~ Barack Obama,
178:Ultimul act e sângeros; oricât de frumoasă ar fi comedia în rest; ni se aruncă pământ în cap şi cu asta se încheie totul pentru totdeauna. ~ Blaise Pascal,
179:they thrust the truth away with both hands, until the man they deck out in false colours puts a fool's cap on them with his own hands. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
180:You can keep on avoiding everything that might make you feel again.

(but really Cap is telling Miles you CAN'T keep on avoiding...) ~ Colleen Hoover,
181:1040
The Woodpecker
His bill an auger is,
His head, a cap and frill.
He laboreth at every tree,-A worm his utmost goal.
~ Emily Dickinson,
182:mad that the place was so busy and now he had to wait on another asshole here to give him a dollar for prying the cap off a bottle of beer. ~ Andersen Prunty,
183:So the guy who shot Gadhafi was wearing a Yankees cap. Did you see that? If he'd had a Boston Red Sox hat on he probably would have missed. ~ David Letterman,
184:1262
Woodpecker, The
His bill an auger is,
His head, a cap and frill.
He laboreth at every tree,-A worm his utmost goal.
~ Emily Dickinson,
185:God, having created his Universe, has now screwed the cap on His pen, put His feet on the mantelpiece and left the work to get on with itself. ~ Andrew Hodges,
186:I never let myself yearn for Buckley, afraid he might see my image in a mirror or a bottle cap. Like everyone else I was trying to protect him. ~ Alice Sebold,
187:Because cap and trade is enforced through the selling and trading of permits, it actually perpetuates the pollution it is supposed to eliminate. ~ James Hansen,
188:Cap,” Amos said with a grin. “Anything that kills me has already killed everyone else. I was born to be the last man standing. You can count on it. ~ Anonymous,
189:The sooner the US puts a cap on our dangerous carbon pollution, the sooner we can create a new generation of clean energy jobs here in America. ~ Carol Browner,
190:I can’t tell you what a pleasure it is to just put my hair under a wig cap and slap on a wig that’s already done. It’s dress up for your hair! ~ Felicity Huffman,
191:Steve Jobs came back to Apple in 1997 - the iPod came out 4 years later. 3 years after that is the first time his market cap grew. It took 7 years. ~ Carol Bartz,
192:You're either my ship's cook-and then you were treated handsome-or Cap'n Silver, a common mutineer and pirate, and then you can go hang! ~ Robert Louis Stevenson,
193:Be silent!" shrieked the beldame.

"I won't!" said Cap. "Because you see, if we are in for the horrible, I can beat you hollow at that! ~ E D E N Southworth,
194:Fine. We can act like we’re fuckups idling about. As per our usual. But if we cap a god, I’m telling everyone I know! Two words: Press. Conference. ~ Kresley Cole,
195:Suffice it to say that we only answer questions when the person asking has a lot of silver on the epaulettes, or around the peak of his cap. ~ Jacqueline Winspear,
196:Oh, brother wearers of motley, are there not moments when one grows sick of grinning and trembling and the jingling of cap and bells? ~ William Makepeace Thackeray,
197:When wearing a baseball cap, a Bro may position the brim at either 12 or 6 o’clock. All other angles are reserved for rappers and the handicapped. ~ Barney Stinson,
198:You better watch out.
You better not cry.
You better not pout,
I'm telling you why,
Cause Santa Clause might put a cap in your ass. ~ Craig Ferguson,
199:I believe climate change is real, but I reject the cap and trade solution of John - of, you know, of Al Gore. He's made a religion. It's a problem. ~ Lindsey Graham,
200:¿Cuántas veces le he dicho que si eliminamos lo imposible, lo que queda, por improbable que parezca , tiene que ser la verdad? (cap. 6). ~ Arthur Conan Doyle,
201:I feel...I don't know...like a bottle of soda that's been shaken up. Do you know what I want? I want you to take me inside, and then take the cap off. ~ Stephen King,
202:Lumea trebuie s-o pătrunzi cu mintea, nu să o baţi cu picioarele! Prostul poate să meargă şi-n cap, că tot nu-i intră nimic în el... Doar mărăcini... ~ Marin Sorescu,
203:Se trezi clipind din cauza unei ușoare dureri de cap și când deschise ochii văzu o lume clocotind într-un haos în care totul era în ordinea firească. ~ Joseph Heller,
204:Alenda reminded herself that "normal" no longer existed. If she should see a bear in a feather cap riding a chicken, that too might be normal now. ~ Michael J Sullivan,
205:Every skull-cap may dream of the tiara. The priest is nowadays the only man who can become a king in a regular manner; and what a king! the supreme king. ~ Victor Hugo,
206:He still wore, in the warming barracks, a muskrat cap with earlaps. Under it his eyes were gray as agates, as sudden as an elbow in the solar plexus. ~ Wallace Stegner,
207:His Bill An Auger Is
1034
His Bill an Auger is,
His Head, a Cap and Frill.
He laboreth at every Tree
A Worm, His utmost Goal.
~ Emily Dickinson,
208:Myron did. Patrick stood on Forty-Second Street wearing a baseball cap pulled low. His shoulders were hunched as though he was trying to disappear. “Has ~ Harlan Coben,
209:The reality is the cap-and-trade legislation offered by the Democrats amounts to an economic declaration of war on the Midwest by liberals on Capitol Hill. ~ Mike Pence,
210:You needn’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.” “I can see that. That’s why y’ve got the cap’n sniffin’ after you like a tomcat on the prowl. ~ Sabrina Jeffries,
211:I have not the particular shining bauble or feather in my cap for crowds to gaze at or kneel to, but I have power and resolution for foes to tremble at. ~ Oliver Cromwell,
212:She was willow-branch thin, had a cap of yellow hair, and a sad sort of vulnerability was wafting from her, making the night smell like maple syrup. ~ Sarah Addison Allen,
213:Visible we are,” said one in a tasseled red cap who was obviously the Chief Monopod. “And what I say is, when chaps are visible, why, they can see one another. ~ C S Lewis,
214:The danger is that the compromises and special interests inherent in Kyoto-style targets and cap-and-trade will be accepted because of bureaucratic momentum. ~ James Hansen,
215:You want to be queen of the mountain, you take that crown and wear it with pride. It's gonna look great on you. Me? I'm more of a baseball cap kind of guy. ~ Louisa Edwards,
216:The eight-inch knives dangling from their waists reminded Grant that beheading some Americans on Al Jazeera would cap off the Taliban’s evening like a party. ~ Melinda Leigh,
217:Article 24: "When wearing a baseball cap, a Bro may position the brim at either 12 or 6 o’clock. All other angles are reserved for rappers and the handicapped. ~ Barney Stinson,
218:From that altitude, the world looked calm and vivid and possible. But by the time we landed at Prestwick the clouds were down like the black cap on a hanging judge. ~ Al lvarez,
219:and she rarely forgot that while her grammar and accent were above the town standard, she wore a plain cap, cooked the family dinner, and darned all the stockings. ~ George Eliot,
220:A salute from this corner to President Bush for saying he was willing to investigate raising or eliminating the cap on salaries subject to the Social Security tax. ~ Nick Clooney,
221:I’m wearing one of Clara’s hats, which are much smarter than mine, close and brimless like a cap. Isn’t it funny, how a smart new hat gives you moral strength? ~ Beatriz Williams,
222:Meet me backstage later?”

The deep voice whispered along her skin and her body hummed in appreciation. She turned her focus to the eyes shaded under the cap. ~ Eden Summers,
223:-our father used to tell us stories about a bookworm named Wally. Wally, a squiggly little vermicule with a red baseball cap, didn't merely like books. He ate them. ~ Anne Fadiman,
224:We should be rethinking the image we conjure up when we think of a working-class person. Instead of a white man in a flat cap, it’s a black woman pushing a pram. ~ Reni Eddo Lodge,
225:If you give stuff away, you can, and will, receive stuff in return. Maybe not right away or in the same coin. But for every action, there is a reaction. If ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
226:Jets center Nick Mangold honors murdered NYPD police officers Rafael Ramos (below, l.) and Wenjian Liu by wearing NYPD cap before game against Patriots Sunday. USA TODAY ~ Anonymous,
227:Perseus wore a magic cap that the monsters he hunted down might not see him. We draw the magic cap down over eyes and ears as a make-believe that there are no monsters. ~ Karl Marx,
228:En aquell malson no hi havia despertar possible, en aquella fosca no hi havia cap xiuxiueig de consol que li digués que estava a recer, que tot eren imaginacions seves. ~ J K Rowling,
229:to the girl. “Ha’penny,” he muttered. To me, he said, “I know why your nose is so long, Cap’n. You use it to poke into business ’tisn’t yours.” “True.” I touched the ~ Ashley Gardner,
230:Have you thought about what it means to be a god?" asked the man. He had a beard and a baseball cap. "It means you give up your mortal existence to become a meme (...)". ~ Neil Gaiman,
231:hollow whisper. “The Chavez boy—and we’re fairly certain it was him—was last seen walking with a black man about thirty years old who was wearing a cap and sneakers”. ~ Thomas Benigno,
232:spring, and break thy backbone! Why don't ye spring, I say, all of ye—spring! Quohog! spring, thou chap with the red whiskers; spring there, Scotch-cap; spring, thou ~ Herman Melville,
233:Come, come, Cap’n, be just,” returned the other.  “There’s no call to be angry with me in earnest.  I’m on’y a chara’ter in a sea story.  I don’t really exist. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson,
234:- 'Os cavalos fogosos conhecem-se pela marca e as pessoas apaixonadas, pelos olhos' - declarou Stiepan Arcádievich - O futuro pertence-te."
Ana Karenina. Parte I, Cap.X ~ Leo Tolstoy,
235:When I was in Minnesota serving in the state Senate and in Washington, DC, I did everything I could to defeat cap and trade. I didn't work to implement cap and trade. ~ Michele Bachmann,
236:Because I'm CGI, [John Swartz] gave me a role of an Imperial pilot in one scene, so I had a day where I was on camera dressed as a black suit and a little cap that they wear. ~ Alan Tudyk,
237:Tu bagi ușor la cap, Siddhartha, învață deci și lucrul acesta: dragostea poți să o cerșești, să o cumperi, să o primești în dar, să o găsești pe stradă, dar nu o poți fura. ~ Hermann Hesse,
238:Death as the destruction of all things no longer had meaning when life was revealed to be a fatuous sequence of empty words, the hollow jingle of a jester’s cap and bells. ~ Michel Foucault,
239:If an active manager has managed to beat the market, it is highly probable he/she invested in the high-return asset classes of small-cap, value, or small-value stocks. The ~ Larry E Swedroe,
240:If you want to buy a cheap boat to fix up and sail around the world, you want a well-designed, fixed keel, fiberglass production monohull of 28 to 46 feet.   Target ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
241:Of course she will put on a cap,’ said Sophie, with a pitying look. ‘How could she possibly receive strange gentlemen without a cap? But her hair must be dressed under it. ~ Patrick O Brian,
242:Washington is a place where people have always been suspect of style and overt sexuality. Too much preening signals that you're not up late studying cap-and-trade agreements. ~ Maureen Dowd,
243:I can wear a baseball cap; I am entitled to wear a baseball cap. I am genetically pre-disposed to wear a baseball cap, whereas most English people look wrong in a baseball cap. ~ Bill Bryson,
244:she's learned it's largely a matter of being willing to ask the next question. She's met the very Mexican who first wore his baseball cap backward, asking the next question. ~ William Gibson,
245:The Cap and Trade Bill HR 2454 was voted on last Friday. Proponents claim this bill will help the environment, but what it really does is put another nail in the economy’s coffin. ~ Ron Paul,
246:swing my legs off the bed and slide into my hunting boots. Supple leather that has molded to my feet. I pull on trousers, a shirt, tuck my long dark braid up into a cap, and ~ Suzanne Collins,
247:I don't want to be carried out of a club wearing a tie-dye T-shirt and a cap on the wrong way around when I am 70, but I would like to settle down a bit. Maybe with a partner. ~ Rupert Everett,
248:I'd love to see the Iron Jackal's face when he finds out I'm already dead," he said with half a grin. "Now that's irony." "No it ain't, Cap'n. It's just some shit that happened. ~ Chris Wooding,
249:You don't get real reform by pandering to every special interest. With cap and trade we wound up with a bill that didn't accomplish much, was enormously complicated and expensive. ~ Brian Baird,
250:Despre Dna de Staël: "Avea in suflet prea multe legaturi pasionate ca sa nu fi iubit enorm,iar in cap prea multa imaginatie ca sa nu fi crezut adesea ca iubeste."(Dna de Rémusat) ~ Emil M Cioran,
251:You look good as a Pirate." Erin
"Ahoy, matey," he said, laying her back against the grass. "Me cap'n's ship needs a port." V' Aidan
"Me cap'n's port needs a ship." Erin ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,
252:If you look at the market cap increase in Apple since it created the iPod versus what's happened to the music industry, you have to say Apple got the better part of that deal. ~ Edgar Bronfman Jr,
253:I have this ratio that if you divide age of entrepreneur by market cap of company. For Facebook it's one. Every year of his life Zuckerberg has been making $1 billion for investors. ~ Yuri Milner,
254:But nobody can stay alive without getting into danger sometimes, and danger doesn't mean getting hurt, Cap'n; it only means we might get hurt. So I guess we'll have to take the risk. ~ L Frank Baum,
255:When you're famous you can't go to Topshop. Even when I disguise myself in a moustache, baseball cap, sunglasses - the full Madonna kit - it doesn't work: my stupid face is too big. ~ Noel Fielding,
256:Accusations fit on Greenwald really sounds like he's against all surveillance unless you can find a guy with the Al Qaeda card, wearing an Al Qaeda baseball cap, an Al Qaeda uniform. ~ Alan Dershowitz,
257:LYSISTRATA By the Goddesses, you'll find that here await you Four companies of most pugnacious women Armed cap-a-pie from the topmost louring curl To the lowest angry dimple. MAGISTRATE ~ Aristophanes,
258:ABEYANCE  (ABEY'ANCE)   n.s.[from the French aboyer, allatrare, to bark at.] This word, in Littleton, cap. Discontinuance, is thus used. The right of fee-simple lieth in abeyance, when ~ Samuel Johnson,
259:One afternoon late in October of the year 1697, Euclide Auclair, the philosopher apothecary of Quebec, stood on the top of Cap Diamant gazing down the broad, empty river far beneath him. ~ Willa Cather,
260:Pippa had her hair tucked under a baseball cap wearing the logo of a company I didn't recognize. She threw it off and it rolled under one of my designer chairs. "How did it go today? ~ Stacey Alabaster,
261:When you read a book, the story definitely happens inside your head. When you listen, it seems to happen in a little cloud all around it, like a fuzzy knit cap pulled down over your eyes. ~ Robin Sloan,
262:When you read a book, the story definitely happens inside your head. When you listen, it seems to happen in a little cloud all around it, like a fuzzy knit cap pulled down over your eyes: ~ Robin Sloan,
263:Grandchildren now don't write a thank you for the Christmas presents. They are walking on their pants with their cap on backward, listening to the Enema Man and Snoopy, Snoopy Poop Dog. ~ Alan K Simpson,
264:It is clear that a temporary increase in the cap is needed to ensure high-tech companies can hire the specialized personnel they need to continue to help fuel California's economic growth. ~ Pete Wilson,
265:Over the course of my coverage of this topic, I am convinced that CAP falls far short of giving a complete picture of the engineering tradeoffs behind building scalable, distributed systems. ~ Anonymous,
266:It is irresponsible to set an arbitrary cap on how much therapy a Medicare beneficiary can receive. It ignores the health needs of our senior population - especially the oldest and sickest. ~ John Ensign,
267:Whenever you invest in any company, you’re looking for its market cap to rise. This can’t happen unless buyers are paying higher prices for the shares, making your investment more valuable. ~ Peter Lynch,
268:And then, to cap things off, I got wicked cramps and my period started... I guess my body decided that since I already felt crappy, why not throw some nice uterus-agony on top of everything? ~ Mimi Strong,
269:Nor were managers any better in the supposedly less efficient, small-capitalization universe. Almost three-quarters of small-cap managers underperformed the S&P Small-Cap Index. When ~ Charles D Ellis,
270:Si hi havia una cosa que sabia de debò, des de la boca de l'estómac al moll de l'os, des del cap fins a les plantes dels peus […], era que l'amor dóna als altres el poder de destruir-te. ~ Stephenie Meyer,
271:You can write a book knowing it won’t make you a cent, because its larger, longer-term purpose is to promote you, serve as a feather in your cap, or advance sales of another book (or series). ~ Sean Platt,
272:Myron and Win met up three blocks away near an elementary school. A parked car here would be less conspicuous. Win was dressed in black, including a black skull cap that hid his blond locks. ~ Harlan Coben,
273:Tate: What do you think would make a man never want to experience love again?
Cap: I suppose if a man lived through the ugliest side of love, he might never want to experience it again. ~ Colleen Hoover,
274:Podem sentir els altres, i podem viatar cap a ells sense moure'ns, i els podem imaginar, i estem tots connectats els uns als altres per un sistema d'arrels al·lucinant com tantes fulles d'herba. ~ John Green,
275:Lo didn’t have a splendid time either. He drank something Captain America gave him. Turns out the Cap imposter wasn’t too noble, having spiked his booze with roofies. Nerds can be vicious too. ~ Krista Ritchie,
276:The sun rode low in the sky, the storm clouds long gone. The ocean was calm today, not a white cap to be found. One would never have believed there'd been a storm less than forty-eight hours ago. ~ Denise Hunter,
277:The IPL, involving the socialist principle of a salary cap and the protectionist mechanism of quotas, is not perhaps the best example of a market left flourishingly to its own devices and dynamics. ~ Gideon Haigh,
278:the wine for a moment, as he knew it was Lois’ favorite. Finally, he grabbed the strong stuff in the back, a bottle of “Jack Daniel’s Old Tennessee Whiskey.” He struggled with the sealed cap like ~ Jonathan Sturak,
279:I sense tenir consciència s'encaminà cap a l'església amb l'ànim de recollir-se en qualsevol devoció per bé que comportés el vinclament de l'ànima i, amb ell, la desaparició total de l'existència. ~ Gustave Flaubert,
280:Tattoo Man in his fishtop cap and dark glasses and sandy blond goatee. You could see the bird tattoo on his hand because the rawhide gloves had stayed in his back pocket until he and Linda Gray were in ~ Stephen King,
281:Un amor tan intens […] deixa senyal. No en forma de cicatriu, ni de cap altra marca visible… Però un amor tan profund, fins i tot si la persona que ens estima ja no hi és, et protegeix per tota la vida. ~ J K Rowling,
282:After you've won something, you're no longer 100 percent, but 90 percent. It's like a bottle of carbonated water where the cap is removed for a short while. Afterwards there's a little less gas inside. ~ Johan Cruijff,
283:I looked up in curiosity. Behind us stood the Brown and Eagle Wool Warehouse and Schneider's Cap Factory, both constructed with that wholehearted devotion to industry that sullied the word architecture. ~ Lyndsay Faye,
284:Upon her butler’s announcing the arrival of Mr Ravenscar, Lady Mablethorpe, who had been dozing over a novel from the Circulating Library, sat up with a jerk, and raised a hand to her dishevelled cap. ~ Georgette Heyer,
285:Salahkah bila kita menghargai pikiran yang merdeka-yang tidak dikejar kejar, yang tak diusut dan diancam, sebuah pikiran yang tak ditakut-takuti oleh cap "berdosa" atas nama Tuhan ataupun kewaspadaan. ~ Goenawan Mohamad,
286:He opened his eyes to see the dented skull cap, still on the chair where Henry had left it. He looked at it a long while, knowing that it was far better to accept it than to turn away and forever fear it. ~ Walter Farley,
287:I was a die-hard, obsessed fan of Michael Jordan. I'd take his posters with me to away meets, I'd walk out on the deck in my Air Jordans before I swam, I'd write 23 on my cap. I'm just a huge Jordan fan. ~ Summer Sanders,
288:-Oamenii care intarzie de obicei nu inteleg niciodata nenumaratele moduri in care dau peste cap programul celor punctuali si normali, ii spuse Penn in timp ce tranversau o portiune mai alunecoasa a peluzei. ~ Lauren Kate,
289:from under the cap and melded with the rough layer of stubble on his face. The smoke in the bar created a tangible fog, infiltrating every crevice, staining curtains and nearly obscuring the obligatory “No ~ Erec Stebbins,
290:You’re a good man, Cap’n Horn. I know that Miss Willis would be here with you if she could.” “She will be here with me. She’ll be here if I have to scour all of the confounded British Isles to find her. ~ Sabrina Jeffries,
291:"Cap and trade" is just about the most effective tool for controlling most economic activity short of openly declaring ourselves a communist nation and it's a radical environmentalist's dream come true. ~ Walter E Williams,
292:In order to do this in the most fun, convenient way possible, I realized I needed my own private kingdom, my own small country, my own tiny universe.  That’s right—I decided to buy a sailboat. This ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
293:This is a tiny little blue-ball-in-space we live on. We have to share. We’re all brothers. Ultimately, we’ll all succeed or fail as one big family. Greed is both small-time and short-term. Tomorrow ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
294:My lord," Froi heard Dorcas call out from the battlement above.

"Yes, Dorcas."

"You're going to have to cover his head. He'll catch a chill. Fekra made him a cap."

"Thank you, Dorcas. ~ Melina Marchetta,
295:Researchers at the Naval Postgraduate School have told us that the entire Arctic ice cap may totally disappear in summer in as little as five years if nothing is done to curb emissions of greenhouse gas pollution. ~ Al Gore,
296:The current conventional wisdom is that we are born, grow up, learn to become consumers, consume, and die. Of course, we can reject this path, and—even more audacious—chart our own course in life. I ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
297:We worship not the Graces, nor the Parcae, but Fashion. She spins and weaves and cuts with full authority. The head monkey at Paris puts on a traveler's cap, and all the monkeys in America do the same. ~ Henry David Thoreau,
298:Most Americans believe that escalation will not bring the war in Iraq to a responsible end, and that's why I've proposed not just a troop cap, but a phased redeployment that will start bringing our troops home. ~ Barack Obama,
299: commonplace, adj.
... But then I'll walk into the bathroom and find you've forgotten to put the cap back on the toothpaste again, and it will be this splinter that I just keep stepping on. ~ David Levithan,
300:I often eat Skippys Super Chunk peanut butter out of the jar with a spoon. I dont shamefully sneak it in the dark of night when everyone is in bed. I just twist that cap off and go to town right out in the open. ~ Willie Geist,
301:We worship not the Graces, nor the Parcae, but Fashion. She spins and weaves and cuts with full authority. The head monkey at Paris puts on a traveller’s cap, and all the monkeys in America do the same. I ~ Henry David Thoreau,
302:You came in with a picky head, uneven and coarse, disguised underneath a baseball cap, and you left swiftly afterwards a new man, smelling sweetly of coconut oil and with a cut as sharp and clean as a swear word. ~ Zadie Smith,
303:I consider it poor historical form to make fun of ancestral mistakes without respecting the eros that was linked to them. We are no less in bondage to the Zeitgeist; folly is handed down, we merely don a new cap. ~ Ernst J nger,
304:O, this life Is nobler than attending for a check, Richer than doing nothing for a robe, Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk: Such pain the cap of him that makes him fine Yet keeps his book uncrossed. ~ William Shakespeare,
305:A Culinary Candidate
A cook adorned with paper cap,
Or waiter with a tray,
May be a worthy kind of chap
In his way,
But when we want one for Recorder,
Then, Mr. Walton, take our order.
~ Ambrose Bierce,
306:Cap the well, yes, clear up the mess, yes, make compensation, yes absolutely. But would it be right to have legislation that independently targets BP rather than other companies? I don't think that would be right. ~ David Cameron,
307:The problem was money and the indignities of life without it. Every stroller, cell phone, Yankees cap, and SUV he saw was a torment. He wasn't covetous, he wasn't envious. But without money he was hardly a man. ~ Jonathan Franzen,
308:You, with the Yankees cap? You’ve got family in Red Sox country?” Annabeth smiled weakly. “I never see them. My dad and my uncle don’t get along. Some old rivalry. I don’t know. It’s stupid what keeps people apart. ~ Rick Riordan,
309:«...qualunque fortuna tu avessi, tien per certo che tutto sarà castigo» (Manzoni, cap. XXXV). Strappa la massima dal contesto, dov'è ammonizione, e lasciala libera di dichiarare il destino dell'uomo all'infinito. ~ Guido Ceronetti,
310:Tattoo Man in his fishtop cap and dark glasses and sandy blond goatee. You could see the bird tattoo on his hand because the rawhide gloves had stayed in his back pocket until he and Linda Gray were in Horror House. ~ Stephen King,
311:When he got to the tank’s flat, circular cap, it seemed that he must be standing directly under the roof of the world, and if he reached up he could scratch blue chalk from the bottom of the sky with his fingernails ~ Stephen King,
312:You got no soul, Cap’n,” he said. “When a stranger comes into the city under the thrall of the dragon and challenges it with a glittery sword, weeell, there’s only one outcome, ain’t there? It’s probably destiny. ~ Terry Pratchett,
313:Gerard moved into the room. The man named Titus pinned him down with his eyes. Gerard sat. Another man, what one might call a hippie, entered the room. He wore a colorful dashiki, a knit cap, and pink-tinted glasses. ~ Harlan Coben,
314:I'd never have gotten this far without you," I said.

Jack tipped his cap to me. My heart squirmed around to find a new position under my ribs. I closed the door fast before I could say something really stupid. ~ Sarah Zettel,
315:When my phone rang at the bakery, this usually meant someone wanted to order a birthday cake.
When Brock’s rang at the Station, this usually meant someone had a cap busted in their ass.
My job was WAY better. ~ Kristen Ashley,
316:I’m not going to stop digging,” Myron said. Wickner adjusted his cap again and began to walk away. “Then more people are going to die.” There was no threat in his tone, just the stilted, pained timber of inevitability. ~ Harlan Coben,
317:And a six-week cap on the relationship was perfect. He could enjoy the getting-to-know-you sex and the know-you-well-enough-to-push-the-right-buttons sex, but be gone before the I’m-falling-in-love-with-you-Mitch sex. ~ Shannon Stacey,
318:The brilliant escape, the funny line to cap it, despite the lack of timing. And the girl was still dead. The last act had not materialised. The world, and himself, remained so far from what they should be: so imperfect. ~ Paul Cornell,
319:this will, in turn, trigger a variety of world-altering events, including the disappearance of most remaining glaciers, the inundation of low-lying islands and coastal cities, and the melting of the Arctic ice cap. ~ Elizabeth Kolbert,
320:When the government tries to run innovation, sometimes it does it well and sometimes it doesn't. So setting up a situation where the market runs innovation, which is a cap-and-trade idea, may well have more flexibility. ~ Stewart Brand,
321:Irene mai avea o banuiala: ca-si tinea in cap dorul de-acasa mic, facut ghem,ca nu cumva sa-l recunoasca. Ca atunci cand aparea, il reprima.Si ca, pentru a-si sufoca simturile,aseza pe ele cladiri intregi din gandurile ei. ~ Herta M ller,
322:It's almost worse because you think that you're mature and classic when you're in the newsie cap jazz phase. It's not a great look, a young person trying to seem old and mature and cultured. That's a summarily not-cool look. ~ Nick Kroll,
323:Sempre he pensat que el do d'una persona reflectia alguna cosa seva, i l'únic que se m'acut és que el meu do reflecteix els meus desitjos,i que jo desitjo ser totalment salvatge, totalment lliure. Sense cap mena de control. ~ Sally Green,
324:We were happy when Joe the Retard showed up. He arrived on his mother’s arm, wearing his baggy Bermuda shorts and his blue baseball cap, and as usual he was grinning with the face he shared with every other mongoloid. ~ Jeffrey Eugenides,
325:I visualized myself pulling on my mental thinking cap, jamming it down around my ears as I had taught myself to do. It was a tall, conical wizard's model, covered with chemical equations and formulae: a cornucopia of ideas. ~ Alan Bradley,
326:A squirrel attacked me. I got attacked by a squirrel in Battersea Park. They're dangerous. It's rare. I've torn most of the ligaments in my knee. So no football for me. It's early retirement now. I've got a floating knee-cap! ~ Niall Horan,
327:At Birkin Grif's left, his seat insecure on a scruffy packhorse, Theomeris Glyn, his only armour a steel-stressed leather cap, grumbled at the cold and the earliness of the hour, and cursed the flint hearts of city girls. ~ M John Harrison,
328:If you look at suburban education in New Jersey and New York, it's pretty strong, intact, doing a pretty good job. You cap taxes for those communities, can we reasonably predict it's going to be as strong 20 years from now? ~ Dannel Malloy,
329:I remember the night when I was playing at Birdland, and Duke Ellington walked in wearing that cap of his and with all his elegance. The Duke then came backstage, and I was there with my band. That's the one thing I miss. ~ Maynard Ferguson,
330:The guy stroked his goatee. “What do you call twenty guys watching the World Series?” “The New York Yankees,” Butch replied. The vampire laughed in a loud burst, whipped the baseball cap off his head, and slapped it on his thigh. ~ J R Ward,
331:The Wounded Warriors ball cap he wore helped mitigate the grooves on his face. He didn’t think of himself as a wounded warrior per se, but he believed in its trademarked statement: The greatest casualty is being forgotten. ~ Andrew Peterson,
332:Claire shook her head, the little pom-poms on her knitted cap batting at each other. 'I was never doing this.'
Eleanor cocked her head to the side with a crooked smile. 'Right. You'll just stand there and watch me do it. ~ Matthew J Kirby,
333:Yous scared, Uncle Kale? ’Cause Cap’in ’merica is never scared.” She tapped her little finger to her chin like she’d just been struck with an epiphany. “Wait a minute . . . maybe he is scared, and he saves all the people anyway. ~ A L Jackson,
334:Guterak looked over. “Hey, you got your hair cut.” “Yeah.” Remy put the cap back on. “What made you do that?” “I shot myself in the head last night.” “Well.” Paul drove quietly for a moment, staring straight ahead. “It looks good. ~ Jess Walter,
335:I punched small holes around the front and sides of the cap and threaded the LEDs through, arranging them in a zigzag pattern. Ten LEDs did the trick. I wired them to the nine volts, which I had stuffed into the back of the cap. ~ Leopoldo Gout,
336:No, you need to cry.' He gently pressed her head to his shoulder, knocking her cap askew. 'My mama says women need to cry every once in a while. Washes away all the weakness so you can stay strong. Always let a lady cry, she says. ~ Sarah Sundin,
337:There would not be enough talent that's educated, developed and ready to take on the next leadership challenge, and it would cap our growth. Now we've put programs in place not to have that happen, but that could be a weakness. ~ Kevin B Rollins,
338:Trying to keep a straight face, he twisted the cap off his beer and tossed it without looking at the trash can. To his surprise, it was damn hard. He’d smiled more in the last fifteen minutes than he had all last year. Finally, ~ Jennifer Dawson,
339:You don't like this quite country life?" inquired Mrs. Condiment.
"No; no better than I do a quiet country grave-yard. I don't want to return to dust before my time, I tell you," said Cap, yawning dismally over her work. ~ E D E N Southworth,
340:ANSON PALMER’S STREET was a working persons’ street, not many people around midday. Lawrence had pushed her hair up under a baseball cap, walked up the driveway, around Palmer’s car to the back door. She knocked on it, and waited. ~ John Sandford,
341:Ce tot baţi câmpii? Fiecare dintre noi vine pe lume ştiind cine este şi ce are de făcut.  Moneo deschise gura, dar o închise fără a pronunţa nici o vorbă. ― Copiii mici ştiu asta, urmă Leto. Abia după ce-i zăpăcesc de cap adulţii ajung ~ Anonymous,
342:Vaig fullejar el registre per buscar el nom del mestre i després vaig retrocedir amb el dit cap al lloc on constrava el títol de l'assignatura, escrit amb tinta negra i fresca: "Introducció a la Manera de no Ser un Ase Estúpid". ~ Patrick Rothfuss,
343:A cap-brim sewn with sharpened pennies, sir. An ever-present help in times of trouble.’ ‘Ye gods, man! You could put someone’s eye out with something like that.’ ‘With care, sir, yes,’ said Willikins, meticulously folding a towel. ~ Terry Pratchett,
344:bearded one cackled and the man in the orange cap said, “Everybody knows what Zapheads are, or else they’re dead.” “I don’t have a gun.” The bearded man aimed his weapon at DeVontay. “Then you better get your ass over here, hadn’t ~ Scott Nicholson,
345:Mama –?’
‘But of course! Outside, in my curricle.’ Then he saw that she had turned perfectly white, and said: ‘Don’t be such a goose-cap! You can’t suppose I would drive your mother-in-law thirty yards, let alone thirty miles! ~ Georgette Heyer,
346:It was indescribable what she wanted. She was restless. She wanted to work. She wanted to be thirty people. She wanted to wear a cap of pearls and a coat of bright blue diamonds. To live as nature does, in many ages, in many brains ~ Danielle Dutton,
347:you whip out your tube of BoomBoom, unscrew the cap, take a deep, prodigious blast up each nostril so you can literally feel the rush of the mint and citrus bathing your olfactory nerves, giving you that pleasant, invigorating burn. ~ Jordan Belfort,
348:a special police force was formed entirely of ex-officers and from the wartime armies. These special police, who ultimately amounted to 7,000 men, were nicknamed on account of their dark cap and khaki uniform the ‘Black and Tans. ~ Winston S Churchill,
349:Scientists with access to data from Navy submarines traversing underneath the North polar ice cap have warned that there is now a 75 percent chance that within five years the entire ice cap will completely disappear during the summer months. ~ Al Gore,
350:They've got these things called lockers," I raved on. "The Halls are lined with them. And you won't believe what they're for! They're for locking stuff away-so other people won't steal it! Why can't everyone share?" ~ Gordon Korman Cap ~ Gordon Korman,
351:I should have found you detestable.—Forgive that supposition.—By living with you on terms of close intimacy, I should have occasion, I doubt not, to see you in a cotton night-cap or in some absurd or grotesque domestic situation.—You ~ Th ophile Gautier,
352:So, like the knights of old, I suited up in my trusty intern armor - brownish-green suit, sensible cap-toed oxfords, white button-down, and omnipresent LensCrafters glasses. If I wasn't able to shoot her, I could probably bore her to death. ~ Shane Kuhn,
353:I rise early that morning and dress in green and brown, my skirst the same colour as the forest floor. I include a cap copied from one of the duchess's, but set farther back from my face. She may be a bitch, but she does have style. ~ Katherine Longshore,
354:If a customer asks you to build a system that handles netsplits while staying consistent and available, you know that you need to either calmly explain the CAP theorem or run away (possibly by jumping through a window, for a maximal effect). ~ Fred Hebert,
355:Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, But don’t judge on what you see, I’ll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all. ~ J K Rowling,
356:The old memories were making him angry, boiling up inside of him. That was good. It meant he was still alive. Dead men couldn’t fight. Only living men, fuming at injustice and enraged at the loss of their fellows, fought, and won wars. “Cap’n, ~ Nick Webb,
357:A cumulative change of less than 2°C by the end of this century will do no net harm. It will actually do net good [...] rainfall will increase slightly, growing seasons will lengthen, Greenland's ice cap will melt only very slowly, and so on. ~ Matt Ridley,
358:We are continuing to look for ways that we can do something that's good for both of us. Good for both of us being the Cowboys relative to relief as to our cap management and good for him that would maybe be some pluses for him on his contract. ~ Jerry Jones,
359:Some solutions are relatively simple and would provide economic benefits: implementing measures to conserve energy, putting a price on carbon through taxes and cap-and-trade and shifting from fossil fuels to clean and renewable energy sources. ~ David Suzuki,
360:While, as I recall, conservative little boys practice quick draw with their cap guns while playing cowboys and Indians, apparently liberal little boys practice how fast they can throw up their hands to surrender to the guys in the black hats. ~ Tony Blankley,
361:Now, you'll have to answer my questions." "Oh, very well," Set said. "I like Brazil for the World Cup. I'd advise investing in platinum and small-cap funds. And your lucky numbers this week are 2, 13--" "Not those questions!" Menshikov snapped. ~ Rick Riordan,
362:We call this a “bow”, Cap’n, and the thing that’s sticking out of that fellow’s head over on the other side of the trench is called an “arrow”. If you put them together just right, they’ll do all sorts of nice things to people who aren’t nice. ~ David Eddings,
363:Squinting beyond the creek toward the western horizon, he adjusted his ball cap. The sun wouldn’t set for a couple more hours, but orange and gold streaked the sky. “Take a look at that. God’s handiwork.” “It’s beautiful.” So are you. Their ~ Johnnie Alexander,
364:The Spanish silver mines, for example, once part of Hannibal’s domain, were soon producing so much more ore that the environmental pollution from its processing can still be detected in datable samples extracted from deep in the Greenland ice cap. ~ Mary Beard,
365:M’ha vingut al cap aquella vinyeta d’en Gary Larson, aquella de les vaques que peten la xerrada a peu dret i fumen enmig d’un camp. De sobte, una crida: «Ei, dissimuleu, que ve un altre cotxe!». –I qui coi és, en Gary Larson? –És igual. Deixa-ho córrer. ~ Jo Nesb,
366:No hi va saber veure cap de les persones que estimava […]. Va pensar que hauria renunciat de bon grat a tot el temps que li quedava per poder-los contemplar per última vegada; però, si hagués pogut, ¿hauria tingut valor per deixar de contemplar-los? ~ J K Rowling,
367:The man was a somewhat seedy character. He might not actually have slept in his clothes, although the first impression was that he had. He clutched a threadbare cap with stubby, grimed fingers. The fingernails were rimmed with the blue of dirt. ~ Clifford D Simak,
368:Now, you'll have to answer my questions."
"Oh, very well," Set said. "I like Brazil for the World Cup. I'd advise investing in platinum and small-cap funds. And your lucky numbers this week are 2, 13--"
"Not those questions!" Menshikov snapped. ~ Rick Riordan,
369:If you understand our salary cap, you have to be logical. If Barry Sanders , for instance, came out of retirement, if we were interested we probably couldn't get real interested. So you've got to temper your enthusiasm with the reality of our situation. ~ Jon Gruden,
370:— Ai auzit vreodată de expresia: “Când viaţa îţi dă lămâi...”? — ... faci limonada, îi termin eu citatul. Cap se uită la mine şi clatină din cap. — Nu e aşa, mă lămureşte. “Când viața îţi dă lămâi, fii sigur că știi în ochii cui trebuie să le storci. ~ Colleen Hoover,
371:Grinning, he grabbed his fisherman’s cap and coat. “I love you,” he whispered quietly. “Ikh hob dikh lib.” He kissed Evie’s head. She rustled in her sleep, turning away. “Fine. I see how it is. I just wasted my best Yiddish on you,” Sam joked to himself. ~ Libba Bray,
372:Hi vaig aprendre (suposo que en realitat ho sabia ja) que mai no es pot tornar enrera, que ni tan sols s'ha d'intentar tornar-hi... que l'essència de la vida és anar cap endavant. En realitat, la vida és un camí amb una direcció única, no ho creieu? ~ Agatha Christie,
373:In adancul inimii lor, tinerii sunt mai singuri decat batranii". Am citit asta undeva, intr-o carte si mi-a ramas in cap. Poate ca e adevarat. Poate ca nu. Mai curand, tinerii si batranii sunt singuri in feluri diferite, fiecare in felul sau... ~ Jonathan Safran Foer,
374:Marvel's really smart about continuing the storylines of all the different movies from Ultron into this one and blah to blah to blah - it's pretty seamless. So where we left off in Ultron is definitely picked up in Cap 3 here, pretty smoothly I think. ~ Jeremy Renner,
375:Can I take the cap and gown off now? I feel kind of dorky." You look kind of dorky...my subconscious is at her snarky best. So are you going to introduce Ray to the man you're f**king? She is glaring at me over her wing-shaped spectacles. He'd be so proud. ~ E L James,
376:Miss Jenkyns wore a cravat, and a little bonnet like a jockey-cap, and altogether had the appearance of a strong-minded woman; although she would have despised the modern idea of women being equal to men. Equal, indeed! she knew they were superior. ~ Elizabeth Gaskell,
377:nine categories of value ideas: Graham-style deep value, Greenblatt-style magic formula, small-cap value, sum-of-the-parts or hidden value, superinvestor favorites, jockey stocks, special situations, equity stubs, and international value investments. ~ John Mihaljevic,
378:When S&P measured performance over a longer time period, the results got worse. Over 80 percent of large-cap managers and almost 90 percent of small-cap managers underperformed their benchmark indexes over a ten-year period through December 2015. ~ Charles D Ellis,
379:Her eyes are wide and steady beneath the brim of her floppy cap. How far out of infancy do we lose this gaze, with its utter absence of expectation or prejudice? What is it like to simply see what is before you, without the skew of context?

p 342 ~ Michael Perry,
380:I trailed off.Patch leaned lazily against the counter. Dark hair flipped out from under his ball cap. A smile tugged at his mouth. My thoughts dissolved and just like that, a new thought broke the surface of my mind. I wanted to kiss him. Right now. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick,
381:Where’s your bowstrings?’ Thomas asked, for the priest had neither helmet nor cap.
‘I looped them round my…well, never mind. It has to be good for something other than pissing, eh? And it’s dry down there.’ Father Hobbe seemed indecently cheerful. ~ Bernard Cornwell,
382:Eight-year-old Declan, also wearing camo from boots to forage cap, was on his knees in the living room, trying to get the pet rabbit out from under a couch with a hockey stick, the huddled, personality-less thing hissing and sneezing like a Komodo dragon. ~ Richard Price,
383:Getting shot sucked. That’s probably why I liked having my guns so much. There was something primal about bustin’ a cap in someone’s ass. Shit, that alone could probably explain nearly every case of police brutality out there. “Stop resisting, hippy!” Pop! ~ Tim Marquitz,
384:With my rags I ought to wear a cap, any sort of old pancake, but not this grotesque thing. Nobody wears such a hat, it would be noticed a mile off, it would be remembered… . What matters is that people would remember it, and that would give them a clue ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
385:Linnæus, setting out for Lapland, surveys his "comb" and "spare shirt," "leathern breeches" and "gauze cap to keep off gnats," with as much complacency as Bonaparte a park of artillery for the Russian campaign. The quiet bravery of the man is admirable. ~ Henry David Thoreau,
386:Atunci cel cu mustatile lungi se ia de cel cu mutra albastra, vrand sa afle cum se poate sa pui caciulile pe capetele oamenilor, dar sa nu-i vezi. Iar cel cu mutra albastra refuza sa-i dea explicatii mustaciosului, clatina din cap si rade cu gura lui albastra. ~ Daniil Kharms,
387:I am free, anonymous man. My flights and falls occurred while I was wearing a magical cap of of invisibility, my successes and sins sailed on in invisible corvettes, and films and books flew off into the abyss in invisible strongboxes. I am free, anonymous. ~ Tadeusz Konwicki,
388:The mountain trembled like an earthquake. Dust flew into the sky. And the rock turned dark red, like the color of blood'. 'How would you know?' Asks Sindhi cap. 'You only have a black and white television'. 'But it's a very good one. You can almost see colours. ~ Mohsin Hamid,
389:club em, if they want a club, ” Victor said. Belch uttered a thunderous heehaw of laughter at this. Thump, thump, thump, overhead. The cap moved up and down a little more this time. Surely they would notice it; ordinary ground just didn’t have that kind of give. ~ Stephen King,
390:I trailed off. Patch leaned lazily against the counter. Dark hair flipped out from under his ball cap. A smile tugged at his mouth. My thoughts dissolved and just like that, a new thought broke the surface of my mind.

I wanted to kiss him. Right now. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick,
391:Aleshores em vaig adonar que ignorava el nom de l'assignatura de l'Èlodin. Viag fullejar el registre per buscar el nom del mestre i després vaig retrocedir amb el dit cap al lloc on constava el títol de l'assignatura, escrit amb tinta negra i fresca: <>. ~ Patrick Rothfuss,
392:(...) dar câteva zile mai târziu nu s-a mai preocupat de chestiunea asta, fiindcă grijile nu se pot purta necontenit, întotdeauna ne ocupăm numai de grijile cele mai urgente și cele mai prezente, umblăm prin lume cu un păianjen uriaș pe cap și nu știm că e acolo. ~ Zeruya Shalev,
393:Is there no peace for the naked?" Sister Mattie wore a bed cap of sensible white lace.
"I think you mean peace for the wicked," corrected Lady Linette...
"Why would that apply?" asked Sister Mattie, before closing her door on both the problem and the noise. ~ Gail Carriger,
394:I 'uz mos' to de foot er de islan' b'fo' I found' a good place. I went into de woods en jedged I wouldn' fool wid raffs no mo', long as dey move de lantern roun' so. I had my pipe en a plug er dog-leg, en some matches in my cap, en dey warn't wet, so I 'uz all right. ~ Mark Twain,
395:Riley’s smile saturated her entire face with beauty. This was the sister Maisy had left all those years ago. The sister with the full laugh and the face of an angel who was unaware of her beauty. Gone was the sister who pulled her hair back into a baseball cap. ~ Patti Callahan Henry,
396:He's made himself a rabbit-skin cap, Jim, and a rabbit-skin collar that he buttons on outside his coat. They ain't got but one overcoat among 'em over there, and they take turns wearing it. They seem awful scared of cold, and stick in that hole in the bank like badgers. ~ Willa Cather,
397:Above it was a sign. It didn’t have any words on it. Instead there was a fluffy teddy bear with an eye patch, a harness, and a leather cap tilted on its head. It had a cigar sticking out of its bared teeth. I had never seen a teddy bear leer before. It was quite eye-opening. ~ T J Klune,
398:And finally - he was neither able nor willing to prevent it - the self-loathing dammed up inside him spilled over and gushed out, gushed out of glaring eyes that grew ever grimmer, angrier, beneath the rim of his cap, flooding the outside world as perfect, vulgar hate. ~ Patrick Suskind,
399:Cap'n," said he, at length, with that same uncomfortable smile, "here's my old shipmate, O'Brien; s'pose you was to heave him overboard. I ain't partic'lar as a rule, and I don't take no blame for settling his hash; but I don't reckon him ornamental, now do you? ~ Robert Louis Stevenson,
400:Am văzut nenumărați oameni cărora e destul să le torni o găleată de apă rece în cap, ca să-și renege nu numai faptele, dar și ideile, care sunt gata să râdă primii de ceea ce socoteau sfânt cu un ceas înainte! Și când te gândești cu câtă ușurință se leapădă de orice! ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
401:Kosykh: What the hell... is there really no one even to talk to? We might as well be living in Australia: no common interests, no solidarity... Everyone lives separate lives...But I must go... it's time. [Takes his cap.] Time is precious. [Gives Lebedev his hand.] I pass! ~ Anton Chekhov,
402:You have but little more to do than throw up your cap for entertainment these American days.... Farmers' sons will stare by the hour to see a juggler draw ribbons from his throat, though he tells them it is all deception. Surely, men love darkness rather than light. ~ Henry David Thoreau,
403:But, my dear, if you should be caught out in the storm!"

"Why, I don't know but I should like it! What harm could it do? I'm not soluble in water - rain won't melt me away! I think upon the whole I rather prefer being caught in the storm," said Cap, perversely. ~ E D E N Southworth,
404:He took to wearing a Greek merchant navy captain’s cap, and spending his mornings at the marina telling the staff what to do. “Sure thing, Captain Eddie,” they replied. But they never did what he asked them to do, and Eddie never noticed. So everybody was content. ~ Alexander McCall Smith,
405:Go! Go! Go! Go!' said that officer, with an expression as though he considered our Cap an individual of the animal kingdom whom neither Buffon nor any other natural philosopher had ever classified, and who, as a creature of unknown habits, might sometimes be dangerous. ~ E D E N Southworth,
406:Market-cap based indexing will never be driven from its deserved perch as core and deserved king of the investment world. It is what we should all own in theory and it has delivered low-cost equity returns to a great mass of investors... the now and forever king-of-the-hill. ~ Cliff Asness,
407:You ever heard that expression, ‘When life gives you lemons . . .’?” “Make lemonade,” I say, finishing his quote. Cap looks at me and shakes his head. “That’s not how it goes,” he says. “When life gives you lemons, make sure you know whose eyes you need to squeeze them in. ~ Colleen Hoover,
408:6. Before the Memorial Cup final, Gord Wasden—the father of one of the Medicine Hat Tigers—stood by the side of the ice, talking about his son Scott. He was wearing a Medicine Hat baseball cap and a black Medicine Hat T-shirt. “When he was four and five years old,” Wasden ~ Malcolm Gladwell,
409:I have an uncle and cousin in Boston.” Percy looked shocked. “You, with the Yankees cap? You’ve got family in Red Sox country?” Annabeth smiled weakly. “I never see them. My dad and my uncle don’t get along. Some old rivalry. I don’t know. It’s stupid what keeps people apart. ~ Rick Riordan,
410:No, Mr. Khrushchev, you may not have a wall. It will not prove that communism works. It will not work out well at all. Now, look, I agree capitalism isn’t the be-all and end-all! Let me show you my last credit card bill. But you really need to put your thinking cap back on. ~ Liane Moriarty,
411:The mountain trembled like an earthquake. Dust flew into the sky. And the rock turned dark red, like the color of blood'.

'How would you know?' Asks Sindhi cap. 'You only have a black and white television'.

'But it's a very good one. You can almost see colours. ~ Mohsin Hamid,
412:The US needs a cap and trade system with auctioning of licenses for emissions rights. The revenues from these auctions can be used to launch a new, environmentally friendly energy policy. That would be yet another federal program that could help us to overcome the stagnation. ~ George Soros,
413:He wore a bearskin cap with a leather chinstrap, leggings sewn from animal hide, and waterproof snowshoes made from leather and twine and insulated with grass. He had tattoos on his arthritic joints, possibly a sign of acupuncture, and carried mushrooms with medicinal properties. ~ Anonymous,
414:Seeing babies and little children smile or even just be inquisitive about a bottle cap isnpires me. Watching a great performance, particularly live or in the moment. My favorite actor at the moment is the three-time Tony Award-winning Mark Rylance. Makes me work to be better. ~ Graham Shiels,
415:What are you doing?” Tiffany sked.
Holding the cap, I faced her. “I have to wear the cap to get a discounted price on the barbecue.”
She snatched the cap from between my fingers. “You’re not ruining my creation with a baseball hat. Pay full price. Beauty isn’t cheap. ~ Rachel Hawthorne,
416:I would say that the single most important conclusion I reached, after traveling through Japan, as well as countless hours reading, studying, and analyzing this fascinating culture, is that you should always tighten the cap on the shampoo bottle before you put it in your suitcase. ~ Dave Barry,
417:Kutuzov looked at him with eyes wide with dismay, and then took off his cap and crossed himself. ‘God rest his soul! May the Lord’s will be done with all of us!’ He sighed deeply and was silent. ‘I loved and respected him, and I sympathize with you with all my heart.’ He embraced ~ Leo Tolstoy,
418:Well, get the coffer out," said Tobie roundly. "You find his clean clothes and I'll cut his hair round his cap and wash his ears out. Then, when we get to the Palazzo Medici, you imitate his voice and I'll sit him on my knee and move his arms up and down. Where is the problem? ~ Dorothy Dunnett,
419:Do you call that a head on your shoulders, or a blessed dead-eye?" cried Long John. "Don't rightly know, don't you! Perhaps you don't happen to rightly know who you was speaking to, perhaps? Come, now, what was he jawing—v'yages, cap'ns, ships? Pipe up! What was it?" "We ~ Robert Louis Stevenson,
420:Happiness consists in getting enough sleep. Just that, nothing more. All the wealthy, unhappy people you're ever met take sleeping pills; Mobile Infantrymen don't need them. Give a cap trooper a bunk and time to sack out in it and he's as happy as a worm in an apple - asleep. ~ Robert A Heinlein,
421:In this case, building housing out of reach for working-class people meant that it was out of reach for black people. We should be rethinking the image we conjure up when we think of a working-class person. Instead of a white man in a flat cap, it’s a black woman pushing a pram. ~ Reni Eddo Lodge,
422:A hand landed on his shoulder like an anvil. “How’d you like to stay for dinner?”
Butch looked up. The guy was wearing a baseball cap and had some kind of marking—was that a tattoo, on his face?
“How’d you like to be dinner?” said another one, who looked like some kind of model. ~ J R Ward,
423:Ama wipes her hands on her apron, looks up at our old roof with new eyes, and lifts the baby from his basket. She twirls him in the air, her skirts flying around her ankles the way the clouds swirl around the mountain cap--her laughter fresh and strange and musical to my ears. ~ Patricia McCormick,
424:Ce tot baţi câmpii? Fiecare dintre noi vine pe lume ştiind cine este şi ce are de făcut.  Moneo deschise gura, dar o închise fără a pronunţa nici o vorbă. ― Copiii mici ştiu asta, urmă Leto. Abia după ce-i zăpăcesc de cap adulţii ajung să ascundă această cunoaştere până şi de ei înşişi. ~ Anonymous,
425:First, you find the “market capitalization” (“market cap” for short) by multiplying the number of shares outstanding (let’s say 100 million) by the current stock price (let’s say $100 a share). One hundred million times $100 equals $10 billion, so that’s the market cap for DotCom.com. ~ Peter Lynch,
426:I've never listened to an audiobook before, and I have to say it's a totally different experience. When you read a book, the story definitely takes place in your head. When you listen, it seems to happen in a little cloud all around it, like a fuzzy knit cap pulled down over your eyes ~ Robin Sloan,
427:Even working on the dead, with their faces covered, their names a mystery, you find that their humanity pops up at you--in opening my cadaver's stomach, I found two undigested morphine pills, meaning that he had died in pain, perhaps alone and fumbling with the cap of a pill bottle. ~ Paul Kalanithi,
428:I'm finding myself really angry over spending and the deficit. I'm finding myself really angry over what's happening in the Middle East, the decision to stay in Afghanistan indefinitely. I'm angry about cap and trade. And I've been on record for a long time on the failed war on drugs. ~ Gary Johnson,
429:I’ve never listened to an audiobook before, and I have to say, it’s a totally different experience. When you read a book, the story definitely happens inside your head. When you listen, it seems to happen in a little cloud all around it, like a fuzzy knit cap pulled down over your eyes: ~ Robin Sloan,
430:Many people in my constituency come to see me absolutely distraught at the prospect of losing their private rented flat because of the imposition of a housing benefit cut. Social cleansing is going on in all of central London because of the benefit cap. That is a disgraceful situation. ~ Jeremy Corbyn,
431:Standard & Poor’s Dow Jones Indices published a statistical analysis in 2016 detailing the dismal record of “active” portfolio managers: As is typically the case, about two-thirds of active large-capitalization managers underperformed the S&P 500 large-cap index during 2015. Nor ~ Charles D Ellis,
432:This Tony Haywire guy, whatever his name is, he told the BBC on Sunday that he believes the new oil cap that they've installed will eventually capture the vast majority of oil spewing from the well. You know, if they could capture half the BS spewing from Tony Hayward, people would be thrilled. ~ Jay Leno,
433:  Dans la langue des viveurs, doubler un cap dans Paris, c'est faire un détour, soit pour ne pas passer devant un créancier, soit pour éviter l'endroit où il peut être rencontre. Lucien qui n'allait pas indifféremment par toutes les rues, connaissait la manoeuvre sans en connaître le nom. ~ Honor de Balzac,
434:Everywhere was filled with painful, jarring reminders of what I'd lost: an elderly couple sitting on a bench, gnarly, arthritic fingers interlaced; a handsome young man in a baseball cap whispering something in his pregnant wife's ear, his arm draped protectively around her shoulders. ~ Catherine Sanderson,
435:In the wild, an enoki mushroom is often squat-looking and its stem is rarely more than twice as long as the cap is wide. When they are grown by farmers and hobbyists, however, their stems elongate, the caps are smaller, and a forest of golden colored needle-like mushrooms shoot up all at once. ~ Paul Stamets,
436:Here my sister, after a fit of clappings and screamings, beat her hands upon her bosom and upon her knees, and threw her cap off, and pulled her hair down - which were the last stages on her road to frenzy. Being by this time a perfect fury and a complete success, she made a dash to the door ~ Charles Dickens,
437:People hit the sauce in a big way all winter. Amidst blizzards they wrestle unsuccessfully with the dark comedy of their lives, laughter trapped in their frigid gizzards. Meanwhile, the mercury just plummets, like a migrating duck blasted out of the sky by some hunter in a cap with fur earflaps. ~ Amy Gerstler,
438:Twenty-five years ago I couldn`t walk down the street without being recognized. Now I can put a cap on, walk anywhere and no one pays me any attention. They don`t ask me about my movies and they don`t ask me about my salad dressing because they don`t know who I am. Am I happy about this? You bet. ~ Paul Newman,
439:He looked serious—worried, Erin decided—but as he crossed the street, his expression changed. He tilted his visored cap over one eye and leaned through the open car window.
"The coast is clear, sister," he said in a gangster whisper. "Drop my raincoat over the loot, and I'll smuggle it in. ~ Betty Ren Wright,
440:To some degree. I think that I've always been very much of a chordal person. The chords are the foundation of everything. Some of Yes' stuff is very linear, albeit complex, but it's single-line melodic stuff. So I kind of had to wear a different cap working with Yes. It's not so much chord-based. ~ Geoff Downes,
441:I’d thought she’d nixed the MAGA cap because it wasn’t funny. Turned out she didn’t want Todd stealing her thunder. She had dyed her hair the colour of listeria and she was wearing a terrible blue trouser suit and a long red paper-clipped tie. She’d bound her breasts and added a fake paunch. ~ Catriona McPherson,
442:So okay, I don't want to be a traitor to my generation and all, but I don't get how guys dress today. I mean, come on, it looks like they just fell out of bed and put on some baggy pants and take their greasy hair-ew!-and cover it up with a backwards cap and like, we're expected to swoon? I don't think so. ~ Cher,
443:And in that line now was a whiskered old man, with a linen cap and a crooked nose, who waited in a place called the Stardust Band Shell to share his part of the secret of heaven: that each affects the other and the other affects the next, and the world is full of stories, but the stories are all one. ~ Mitch Albom,
444:The living corpse went to the jars and began a hair-raising activity. Skillfully removing the spring-loaded cap from one and plunging its hand in, it extracted the dripping entrails, ripped open its sealed wound, and lovingly pushed inwards, shoving its intestines back into their rightful place. ~ Hideyuki Kikuchi,
445:There are several ways to wear a hat or a cap. A man may express himself in the pitch or tilt of a hat, but not with a helmet. It won't go on any other way. It sits level on the head, low over eyes and ears, low on the back of the neck. With your helmet on you are a mushroom in a bed of mushrooms. ~ John Steinbeck,
446:although they have an inkling of the other side of the picture, yet they won’t face the truth till they are forced to; the very thought of it makes them shiver; they thrust the truth away with both hands, until the man they deck out in false colours puts a fool’s cap on them with his own hands. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
447:I can tell it's one of those places where they serve "precious" food—appetizers the size of a mushroom cap, unpronounceable ingredients listed for each menu item that make you wonder if someone sits around making these up: cod semen and wild-fennel pollen; beef cheeks, meringue grits, ash vinaigrette. ~ Jodi Picoult,
448:She glared at me like she was about to punch me, but then she did something that surprised me even more. She kissed me. "Be careful seaweed brain." She said putting on her invisible cap and disappearing. I probably would have sat there all day, trying to remember my name, but then the sea demons came. ~ Rick Riordan,
449:So, do you, like, talk pirate?”
GG raises his brows. “No, love.”
“Well that’s no fun. I think I need to introduce that to ye scallywags.”
They all burst out laughing.
… I turn and grin up at Hendrix. “Aye cap’n, I took ye advice and joined in this party.”
He raises his brows. “Seriously? ~ Bella Jewel,
450:Any man who can look handsome in a dirty baseball suit is an Adonis. There is something about the baggy pants, and the Micawber-shaped collar, and the skull-fitting cap, and the foot or so of tan, or blue, or pink undershirt sleeve sticking out at the arms, that just naturally kills a man's best points. ~ Edna Ferber,
451:Arianne had her feet up on the table, wearing a striped conductor's cap.
Arriane was fixated on the game. A chocolate cigar bobbed between her lips as she contemplated her next move. Roland was giving Arianne the hawk eye.
"Checkmate, bitch," Arianne said triumphantly, knocking over Roland's king. ~ Lauren Kate,
452:En ausencia de un sistema de signos lingüísticos u otros, solo es posible el más primitivo y limitado tipo de comunicación; ésta, que se manifiesta por medio de movimientos expresivos, observados fundamentalmente entre los animales, no es tanto comunicación como expresión de afectos. (pag. 12-cap. 1) ~ Lev S Vygotsky,
453:En ausencia de un sistema de signos lingüísticos u otros, solo es posible el más primitivo y limitado tipo de comunicación"; ésta, que se manifiesta por medio de movimientos expresivos, observados fundamentalmente entre los animales, no es tanto comunicación como expresión de afectos. (pag. 12-cap. 1) ~ Lev S Vygotsky,
454:Kim Bass, Receptionist, was nowhere to be seen. This was fortunate, as I was so irritated with the way she’d treated me, I might have bitten her on the arm. I’d been a biter as a kid and I can still remember the feel of flesh between my teeth. It’s like biting a rubber bathing cap, in case you’re curious. ~ Sue Grafton,
455:While I talked about comparisons between Cap and Cable, there's also a parallel with Tony Stark. Iron Man thinks of himself as a 'futurist,' Cable is from the future. Both have been at war with their own bodies. We look for characters with touch points to Cable. Their legacy means an enormous amount to him. ~ Jeph Loeb,
456:And now I'm back outside again sitting in the white plastic chair looking at the dew on the gas cap of my car. A fly wants to bit me on the ankle. The mosquitoes are all asleep. They're just not out at this hour. Only one biting fly. And a mourning dove, who blows through his thumbs to make that sound. ~ Nicholson Baker,
457:I'm sorry you don't like coming back here," her mother often said, to cap whatever petty dust-up they'd had. How could Emily explain: it wasn't her mother or Kersey she'd disowned, but her earlier self, that strange, ungrateful girl who strove to be first at everything and threw tantrums when she failed. ~ Stewart O Nan,
458:What can be the meaning of what has since happened? The turnkey on duty came into my cell; he took off his cap, bowed to me, apologized for disturbing me, and making an effort to soften his rough voice, inquired what I wished to have for my breakfast — A shudder has come over me. Is it to take place to-day? ~ Victor Hugo,
459:Annabeth glared at me like she was going to punch me. And then she did something that surprised me even more. Shd kissed me. "Br careful Seaweed Brain." she put her cap back on and vanished. I probably would have sst there fir the rest of the day, staring at the lava and trying to remember what my name was. ~ Rick Riordan,
460:She glared at me like she was about to punch me, but then she did something that surprised me even more. She kissed me.
"Be careful seaweed brain." She said putting on her invisible cap and disappearing.
I probably would have sat there all day, trying to remember my name, but then the sea demons came. ~ Rick Riordan,
461:Tis a commodity that will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with ’t, while ’tis vendible; answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and the toothpick, which wear not now. ~ William Shakespeare,
462:Yes.” I nodded proudly, grinning at her warily amused expression. Claire hadn’t changed since work; she was still wearing an adorable Raggedy Ann costume. Lucky for her, she already had bright red hair and freckles. All she had to do was put her long locks in pigtails, then add the overalls and the white cap. ~ Penny Reid,
463:For a split second, Harry thought he was looking through a window, a window behind which an old woman in a black cap was screaming and screaming as though she was being tortured — then he realized it was simply a life-size portrait, but the most realistic, and the most unpleasant, he had ever seen in his life. ~ J K Rowling,
464:howling wind that set the flames a-roaring on the hearth. In the wide open door stood a huge man wrapped in a sheepskin cloak, the leather side outside, and a great fur cap now sodden with rain. He had a red beard and bushy brows of red, and there was a great scar on his cheekbone partly hidden by the beard. ~ Louis L Amour,
465:Why should she dress in a cap and gown and sweat in the sun, when her mother was not there to pose in pictures with her and cheer when her name was called? In her mind, she only saw pictures they would never take, arms around each other, her mother gaining little wrinkles around her eyes from smiling so much. ~ Brit Bennett,
466:'Cap and trade' generates special interests, lobbyists, and trading schemes, yielding non-productive millionaires, all at public expense. The public is fed up with such business. Tax with 100% dividend, in contrast, would spur our economy, while aiding the disadvantaged, the climate, and our national security. ~ James Hansen,
467:Diuen que cada floc de neu és diferent. Si això fos cert, com podria el món anar endavant? Com podríem aixecar-nos de les nostres genuflexions? Com podríem recuperar-nos d’una meravella així?

Oblidant. No podem tenir massa coses al cap.

Només existeix el present i no hi ha res per a recordar. ~ Jeanette Winterson,
468:All my life I’ve pursued the perfect red. I can never get painters to mix it for me. It’s exactly as if I’d said, ‘I want rococo with a spot of Gothic in it and a bit of Buddhist temple’—they have no idea what I’m talking about. About the best red is to copy the color of a child’s cap in any Renaissance portrait. ~ Diana Vreeland,
469:I talked to a lot of employers who just are, are fearful of what's coming next out of Washington. It's all the spending, it's all the debt. It's their national energy tax, they want to call it cap and trade - more mandates, higher costs, more taxes. Their healthcare bill - more mandates, higher costs, higher taxes. ~ John Boehner,
470:I would cap the amount of federal government can spend at 20 percent of the economy. Bring it back to 20 percent or lower. And say, we are not going to spend above that level. Democrats, they want to raise your taxes and spend more and more and turn us into an economy which is no longer driven by the private sector. ~ Mitt Romney,
471:(Unsure if she should laugh or groan, Astrid held fast to the tank before her as Zarek pushed the snowmachine to the limits. It vibrated so badly that she half-expected it to disintegrate underneath them.) Cap’n, I don’t think she’ll hold. The warp engines can’t take any more. It’s going to blow apart. (Astrid) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,
472:I feel guilty looking at those "People of Walmart" photos you see on the Internet. It's not cool to make fun of pitiful people. You really think anyone who wasn't batshit crazy would walk out of the house in a camouflage mankini and a Confederate flag ball cap to go buy some new furnace filters? No, he's cray-cray. ~ Celia Rivenbark,
473:Only in his mind, Tweety wasn’t bopping that dumb ole puddy-tat over the head with a mallet or sticking a mousetrap in front of his questing paw; what Lloyd saw was Sylvester strapped into Old Sparky while the parakeet perched on a stool by a big switch. He could even see the guard’s cap on Tweety’s little yellow head. ~ Stephen King,
474:(Unsure if she should laugh or groan, Astrid held fast to the tank before her as Zarek pushed the snowmachine to the limits. It vibrated so badly that she half-expected it to disintegrate underneath them.)
Cap’n, I don’t think she’ll hold. The warp engines can’t take any more. It’s going to blow apart. (Astrid) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,
475:I close his fingers around the gift. “I threw away your
bottle cap, because it killed me to look at. But I never could
throw away this. I’ve been waiting to give it to you for two
and a half years.”
“I don’t know what to say,” he whispers.
“I’m almost full,” I say. “Thank you for waiting for me, too. ~ Stephanie Perkins,
476:I wrapped his pistol in his cap, and with the butt of the gun—not the end of the butt, but the side—hit him hard on the head. You read a lot about people being hit on the head and knocked out, but you don’t read much about blood clots in the brain. In actual fact, though, it’s a delicate matter, hitting a man on the head, ~ Jack Finney,
477:You have bettered yourself," he said, making such a low bow that the tassel of his cap swept the carpet. "You may recall I invariably affirmed you would. Honesty, integrity, and intelligence cannot be kept down."
"We both know that nothing is easier to keep down," I said. "By my old guild, they were kept down every day. ~ Gene Wolfe,
478:It's really hard. And it's harder today because of the salary cap. It starts in September at training camp - getting every guy on the same page, being as mentally and physically as focused as you can be. Then in April and May, you basically spend eight weeks practising, watching video and playing games. That's your life. ~ Wayne Gretzky,
479:On January 17, 2008, Obama made clear his hostility toward, of all things, electricity generated from coal and coal-powered plants. He told the San Francisco Chronicle, “You know, when I was asked earlier about the issue of coal . . . under my plan of a cap and trade system, electricity rates would necessarily skyrocket.  ~ Mark R Levin,
480:We came home. I took off all the clothes that I'd worn there and threw them down the trash chute. I gave my cap to my little son. he really wanted it. And he wore it all the time. Two years later they gave him a diagnosis: a tumor in his brain...You can write the rest of this yourself. I don't want to talk anymore. ~ Svetlana Alexievich,
481:I took off the cap, and the pen grew longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I held a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edge blade, a leather-wrapped grip, and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs.
.........
"Its name is Anaklusmos."
"Riptide,'" I translated, surprised the Ancient Greek came so easily. ~ Rick Riordan,
482:Eventually we'll use a CO2 tax offset by a reduction in taxes elsewhere alongside a cap-and-trade plan, but the degree of difficulty associated with a CO2 tax far exceeds that with a cap-and-trade plan. We're seeing it's hard to get a cap-and-trade plan and it's much easier to use as a basis for a global agreement than a CO2 tax. ~ Al Gore,
483:AJ slightly raised the cap’s bill, and she gazed into his eyes. “Stay,” he said. “Give us a chance.” The longing to do exactly that pulsated through her veins with each beat of her heart. It’s what she’d asked him to do only a few days before. “You like me, don’t you?” he teased. “Too much for my own good,” she retorted. ~ Johnnie Alexander,
484:You're dead," I repeated. "So why are you in my dream?"
He raised the bill of his olive drab ball cap with one finger. " Good question. Morbid, isn't it?"
"What?"
"Dreaming about dead peolpe. Creepy. You ever see a therapist about that?"
"I'm not -" Even in dreams, I couldn't win an argument. Even when he was dead. ~ Rachel Caine,
485:I made a very important discovery at Camp Currie. Happiness consists in getting enough sleep. Just that, nothing more. All the wealthy, unhappy people you’ve ever met take sleeping pills; Mobile Infantrymen don’t need them. Give a cap trooper a bunk and time to sack out in it and he’s as happy as a worm in an apple—asleep. ~ Robert A Heinlein,
486:And no sooner had Cap been commanded, if she valued her safety, not to cross the water or climb the precipice than, as a natural consequence, she began to wonder what was in the valley behind the mountain and what might be in the woods across the river. And she longed, above all things, to explore and find out for herself. ~ E D E N Southworth,
487:I was pressed for time, so all I was able to whip up was deviled eggs with a dollop of Tsar Nicoulai caviar on top, a selection of fruit and artisanal cheeses, and sautéed Dover sole with lemon and capers.” Kate’s idea of preparing a quick meal was eating Cap’n Crunch out of the box, so this was Christmas dinner by comparison. ~ Janet Evanovich,
488:The boy was smaller than Bruno and was sitting on the ground with a forlorn expression. He wore the same striped pajamas that all the other people on that side of the fence wore, and a striped cloth cap on his head. He wasn’t wearing any shoes or socks and his feet were rather dirty. On his arm he wore an armband with a star on it. ~ John Boyne,
489:The man uttering these words had a face like the Golem of Prague and a barrel-shaped body that belonged on a beer cart. He wore a short leather coat and a cap with a peak that grew straight out of his forehead. He had ears like an Indian elephant, a mustache like a toilet brush, and more chins than the Shanghai telephone directory ~ Philip Kerr,
490:I wouldn’t want Larry to die through my oversight. Larry is entitled to work out his own damn foolishness without having it cut short through my carelessness. Duke, I believe in everyone’s working out his own damnation his own way . . . but nevertheless that is no excuse for an adult to give a dynamite cap to a baby as a toy. ~ Robert A Heinlein,
491:Now, my dear Cap, if you don’t look sharp your hour is come! Nothing on earth will save you, Cap, but your own wits! For if ever I saw mischief in any one’s face, it is in that fellow’s that is eating you up with his great eyes at the same time that he is laughing at you with his big mouth! Now Cap, my little man, be a woman! ~ E D E N Southworth,
492:Oh,” she said, putting her hand to her mouth in mock surprise. “Do you mean you weren’t just feeling slightly airsick, and a bottle of ginger ale wouldn’t help your stomach feel better?” “I suppose,” I said, unscrewing the cap, “you may kinda sorta have a point.” “Besides, you get the most adorably consternated look on your face. ~ Craig Schaefer,
493:Virgil reached into the wool cap that contained his dreads, stuffed so full as to give him the appearance, Ted thought, of the Great Kazoo on the latter years of The Flintstones or a Jiffy Pop container expanded to its max. (Ted made a mental note that these are not bad similes and hoped he could find them on a rainy day.) ~ David Duchovny,
494:But the guy sitting at the table next to me who'd been imagining killing his wife and was now imagining seducing me wasn't the problem. No, it was the guy sitting across from me, the man with the bright orange hunting cap pulled low over his eyes, the guy waiting for the right moment to rob the cafe...he was the one who worried me. ~ Lori Brighton,
495:Most Americans are more concerned about the economy and job creation. And they can't understand why the Obama administration or the Democrat majority in Congress wants to pass a bill like the cap-and-trade tax that will cost us jobs, that will hurt our economy, that will drive up costs for families, as well as for small businesses. ~ Haley Barbour,
496:That's him!" he said. "That's the one!"
"Is it, indeed?" Inspector Hewitt asked, as he lifted the cap from my head and took the gown from my shoulders with the gentle deference of a valet.
The little man's pale blue eyes bulged visibly in their sockets.
"Why, it's only a girl!" he said.
I could have slapped his face. ~ Alan Bradley,
497:If that happens, I will not come back and demand a refund. I will not petition the constable. I will walk back to Imre this very night and set fire to your house. Then, when you run out the front door in your nightshirt and stockle-cap, I will kill you, cook you, and eat you. Right there on your lawn while all your neighbors watch. ~ Patrick Rothfuss,
498:Under my plan of a cap and trade system, electricity rates would necessarily skyrocket… Because I’m capping greenhouse gasses, coal power plants, natural gas…you name it…whatever the plants were, whatever the industry was, they would have to retro-fit their operations. That will cost money…they will pass that money on to the consumers. ~ Barack Obama,
499:I was pressed for time, so all I was able to whip up was deviled eggs with a dollop of Tsar Nicoulai caviar on top, a selection of fruit and artisanal cheeses, and sauteed Dover sole with lemon and capers."

Kate's idea of preparing a quick meal was eating Cap'n Crunch out of the box, so this was Christmas dinner by comparison. ~ Janet Evanovich,
500:Oamenii trec de la o comedie la alta. Între timp piesa nu e încă montată, nu-i discern contururile, rolul ce li se potriveşte cel mai bine, şi-atunci stau aşa, cu mâinile-n sân în faţa evenimentului, cu instinctele repliate ca o umbrelă, clătinând din cap în şovăiala lor, reduşi la a fi ei înşişi, adică nimic. Cârpe pleoştite. ~ Louis Ferdinand C line,
501:The Suns, meanwhile, appeared to be hoisting a white flag over the Arizona desert. With a 12-22 record at the time, they were clearing out big contracts for salary-cap relief and a chance to start over again the following summer. We are taking a step backward in the immediate run, .. But we're certainly looking forward to the future. ~ Bryan Colangelo,
502:Every day, shortly before nine o’clock, a man with a red hat stands in a square and begins to wave his cap around wildly. After five minutes he disappears. One day, a policeman comes up to him and asks: ‘What are you doing?’ ‘I’m keeping the giraffes away.’ ‘But there aren’t any giraffes here.’ ‘Well, I must be doing a good job, then.’ A ~ Rolf Dobelli,
503:Being a best-selling author just means the world for me. Some of my happiest memories, growing up, are being at book stores and reading books I couldn't afford, as a kid, and the midnight parties, waiting for the next Harry Potter book. The fact that I have that straw in my cap means more to me than anything I've ever accomplished before. ~ Chris Colfer,
504:Peter Lake spurred the horse again, and extended his right arm like a lance, pointing it at the motionless officer. As they went by in a blur of white, he lifted the man’s cap from his head, saying, “Allow me to take your hat.” The enraged policeman pivoted, took out his notebook, and furiously wrote a description of the horse’s buttocks. ~ Mark Helprin,
505:At first it had slashed up the little silk pockets of her purse. Then she found part of an old thermometer container that slipped over the head of the scalpel, capping it like a fountain pen. It was this cap she removed when the soldier moved into the seat beside her and stretched his arm along the armrest they were (absurdly) meant to share. ~ John Irving,
506:La 16 ani investeam o gramadă de energie să-mi afișez plictiseala: îmi dădeam ochii peste cap, răspundeam lapidar la întrebările părinților, rămâneam impasibil la poveștile de viață pe care le împărtășeau. Îmi construisem o armura de fier care îmi permitea să evadez, să citesc și să mă întorc în propria-mi celulă fără ca nimeni să observe. ~ Aleksandar Hemon,
507:Perhaps that’s why, of the Four, Google seems the most retiring, the most likely to remove itself from the limelight. “Gods don’t take curtain calls,” John Updike famously wrote of Ted Williams’s refusal to come out of the dugout to acknowledge the crowd after his last at bat. Lately, Google seems to prefer to keep its cap low over its eyes, ~ Scott Galloway,
508:The name 2600 came from the discovery in the 1960s that a plastic toy whistle found inside certain boxes of Cap’n Crunch cereal in the United States created the exact 2,600 hertz tone that led a telephone switch to think a call was over. It was how early hackers of the 1980s, known as phone phreaks, subverted telephone systems to their desires. ~ Parmy Olson,
509:We are against the glorification of “the People,” as we are against snobbery. It is not necessary to be an outcast bohemian, to be unkempt or poor, any more than it is necessary to be rich or handsome, to be an artist. Art is nothing to do with the coat you wear. A top-hat can well hold the Sixtine. A cheap cap could hide the image of Kephren. ~ Wyndham Lewis,
510:I’m a citizen of the world, aren’t I?  I deserve to eat, don’t I? Who has the right to draw an arbitrary line in the sand and tell me what I can and cannot do on one side of the line or the other—oh, the big ugly guy with the gun? That’s what we call civilization? I’d call myself an anarchist if it didn’t sound so organized. Seriously, ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
511:A mighty mass of brick, and smoke, and shipping, Dirty and dusty, but as wide as eye Could reach, with here and there a sail just skipping In sight, then lost amidst the forestry Of masts; a wilderness of steeples peeping On tiptoe through their sea-coal canopy; A huge, dun cupola, like a fools-cap crown On a fool's head - and there is London Town. ~ Lord Byron,
512:I looked in the mirror again. I wasn’t even sure I could get the cap on over the fluff. “Maybe we went a little overboard.”
“Trust me. We didn’t.”
I wasn’t so sure, though, when we walked into the kitchen where Dad was giving Jason pointers on driving in the rain, as though Raglan offered challenges he might never have encountered before. ~ Rachel Hawthorne,
513:Jonathan nu prea știa să dialogheze. Considera că discuția era făcută pentru a servi ca vas comunicant. Există unul care știe ceva, vasul plin, și unul care nu știe, vasul gol, acesta fiind de obicei chiar el.
Cel care nu știe e numai urechi și ațâță din când în când râvna interlocutorului prin „și?”, „vorbește-mi de asta” și mișcări din cap. ~ Bernard Werber,
514:Why hasn't anybody seen a mermaid and lived?" asked Trot again. "'Cause mermaids is fairies, an' ain't meant to be seen by us mortal folk," replied Cap'n Bill. "But if anyone happens to see 'em, what then, Cap'n?" "Then," he answered, slowly wagging his head, "the mermaids give 'em a smile an' a wink, an' they dive into the water an' gets drownded. ~ L Frank Baum,
515:Hey, lads! We’re visible again.”
“Visible we are,” said one in a tasseled red cap who was obviously the Chief Monopod. “And what I say is, when chaps are visible, why, they can see one another.”
“Ah, there it is, there it is, Chief,” cried all the others. “There’s the point. No one’s got a clearer head than you. You couldn’t have made it plainer. ~ C S Lewis,
516:We enjoyed ourselves.” A rare softness blanketed her features. “I wish you had stayed.” After twisting the cap off the water, I drank long and deep. “Well, I wish I hadn’t been ambushed.” “Macsen isn’t used to being around people he can trust,” she said gently. “As long as he understands trust is a two-way street and my lane is under construction. ~ Hailey Edwards,
517:Your bottle cap collection can’t protect you from harm, of course. But when your brain is screaming “do something,” anything that triggers happy chemicals masks unhappy chemicals. Distraction is not the best survival strategy when your cortisol is triggered by a lion. But when your boss is in a bad mood, it’s nice to have a way to mask your bad feelings ~ Anonymous,
518:Nu ţin să fiu fericită,cel mult mulţumită.Mi-e teamă de fericire.Cred că n-aş suporta-o.Aici în cap.Aş înnebuni pentru todeauna sau aş muri.Sau aş ucide pe cineva.(...)Traiul de unul singur generează cea mai glacială şi scârboasă durere:aceea a deşertăciunii.Atunci ai nevoie de oameni care te învaţă să-ţi dai seama că nu ai decăzut chiar atât de mult. ~ Peter Handke,
519:But to truly transform our economy, protect our security, and save our planet from the ravages of climate change, we need to ultimately make clean, renewable energy the profitable kind of energy. So I ask this Congress to send me legislation that places a market-based cap on carbon pollution and drives the production of more renewable energy in America. ~ Barack Obama,
520:We're seeing the reality of a lot of the North Pole starting to evaporate, and we could get to a tipping point. Because if it evaporates to a certain point - they have lanes now where ships can go that couldn't ever sail through before. And if it gets to a point where it evaporates too much, there's a lot of tundra that's being held down by that ice cap. ~ Henry Waxman,
521:ingredient, Cap’n Crunch cereal!” Miss Bri-Bri beamed proudly. At first we all just FROZE. Then, slowly but surely, the significance of Miss Bri-Bri’s highly unusual ingredients started to sink in. Even the weird shape of her cookies finally made sense to us. Mom, Dad, and I gagged, coughed, and spit out our cookies at exactly the same time! . . . ~ Rachel Ren e Russell,
522:Minimum scope with chain: five-to-one; with nylon line it should be seven-to-one. If you use less scope, you will drag. (Please slowly read the prior sentence again. If everyone did, boats wouldn’t be drifting around every harbor in the world and smashing into boats that aren’t drifting around because they have the correct amount of scope out.) A ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
523:Not only does the Giza Plateau channel the rate of light's circular rotation around Earth horizontally, it even does so vertically as well through the Great Pyramid! The curved surface area of the imaginary spherical cap which has its radius equals to the pyramid's height is normalized through the factor of 2732; which in turn equals to about 7.5 years. ~ Ibrahim Ibrahim,
524:I forgot to take off the inside lens cap cap... P.S. I quit."
Dad threw off the covers and reached for his bathrobe. For the first time in two weeks he spoke:
"I'll track him down to the ends of the earth," he croaked. "I'll take a blunt hook and pull his tonsils out by the byjingoed roots, just like I promised him. He doesn't quit. He's fired. ~ Frank B Gilbreth Jr,
525:He grabbed a beer from the fridge and smacked the top against the counter, knocking off the bottle cap, the loud sound punctuating the tension. I slowly pulled the sandwich fixings from the fridge and started assembling them, and he gulped down half the beer as he leaned against the counter and watched me, making the innocent task seem somehow voyeuristic. ~ Kellie McAllen,
526:As a criminal who is being led to execution knows that he must die immediately, but yet looks about him and straightens the cap that is awry on his head, so Moscow involuntarily continued its wonted life, though it knew that the time of its destruction was near when the conditions of life to which its people were accustomed to submit would be completely upset. ~ Leo Tolstoy,
527:BUYING A PAIR OF shoes is one of the most optimistic acts I know, next to falling in love. I like nothing better than to see an old man wearing a brand new pair of brogues or cap-toed oxfords, preferably jaunty orange-brown, unscuffed, heels unworn. We want to be here tomorrow, but buying new shoes, like falling in love, says I plan on being here tomorrow. ~ Jonathan Carroll,
528:Buying a pair of shoes is one of the most optimistic acts I know, next to falling in love. I like nothing better than to see an old man wearing a brand new pair of brogues or cap-toed oxfords, preferably jaunty orange-brown, unscuffed, heels unworn. We want to be here tomorrow, but buying new shoes, like falling in love, says I plan on being here tomorrow. ~ Jonathan Carroll,
529:Index funds generally buy and hold all the securities within a particular index in a market cap—weighted fashion. Thus while an S&P 500 Index fund would own all five hundred stocks that comprise the index, it would not own an equal amount of each of the five hundred stocks. The largest holding might, for example, be 5 percent of the entire portfolio. There ~ Larry E Swedroe,
530:She was a small, hot-tempered woman who wore a widow’s cap with strings floating at her cheeks, and when it was cold, a squirrely fur cloak and tiny fur-lined shoes. She was known to line girls up on the Idle Bench for the smallest infraction and scream at them until they fainted. I despised her, and her “polite education for the female mind,” which was composed ~ Sue Monk Kidd,
531:I picked up the blue tube again, unscrewed the cap, and squeezed a perfect line of paint onto the palate. As soon as I brushed it on the canvas, I was responsible for it, for the inevitable imperfections. My world had always been like that paint, left on a palate. That color was a passive observer. But not it wanted to make something of itself. And I was terrified. ~ Kate Scelsa,
532:Enoch pulled the hood back from his head and said, “What was really magnificent about that entrance, Jack, was that, until the moment you rose up out of the pool all covered in phosphorus, you were invisible—you just seemed to materialize, weapon in hand, with that Dwarf-cap, shouting in a language no one understands. Have you considered a career in the theatre? ~ Neal Stephenson,
533:I've lived a life, I realize, of dirty pain. Of obsession and anxiety, of guilt over not living my own precious life to the fullest, whatever the fuck that even means. Aaron released me from that little self-imposed, self-conscious jail cell. He let me be myself, and he loved me even though I never fully put the cap back on anything when I'm done using it. ~ Nora McInerny Purmort,
534:Byron, in “Don Juan”, face o satira amara la adresa femeilor care transforma dragostea intr-o “afacere de cap” uitind ca au “inima”. Capul vine dupa inima, caci nu el este centrul corpului, ci o dezvoltare a lui. Cind moare un erou i se imbalsameaza inima, in timp ce filozofii si poetii au parte, dupa moarte, de cercetarea amanuntita a craniului si creierului. ~ Arthur Schopenhauer,
535:Mă cam cruceam, că n-am mai văzut pe nimeni care să admită în timpul înmormântării cuiva apropiat că decedatul ar putea în momentul ăla să ardă în Iad, nu să cânte cu îngerii. Mi-a trecut de multe ori prin cap treaba asta când auzeam: 'Dumnezeu să-l odihnească!'. Și mă gândeam că ar trebui făcută o adăugire la urarea asta: 'Dumnezeu să-l odihnească, dacă e cazul'. ~ Adrian Tele pan,
536:Cap notices the first red and gold leaves of the fall eddying on the surface of the lake. Do they make a pattern? Perhaps. She could impose form: a ragged spiral; a cluster disrupted by ducks; a single reed caught between reeds. She could impose symbolic meaning. She believes this may be life's primary requirement: to impose a tolerable meaning on randomness. ~ Janette Turner Hospital,
537:Magic begins in superstition, and ends in science. ... At every step the history of civilization teaches us how slight and superficial a structure civilization is, and how precariously it is poised upon the apex of a never-extinct volcano of poor and oppressed barbarism, superstition and ignorance. Modernity is a cap superimposed upon the Middle Ages, which always remain. ~ Will Durant,
538:That did it. I'd gone through a lot in the past few days. Everyone I met seemed to want a piece of me: djinn, magicians, humans...it made no difference.I'd been summoned, manhandled, shot at, captured, constricted, bossed about and generally taken for granted. And now, to cap it all, this bloke is joining in too, when all I'd been doing was quietly trying to kill him. ~ Jonathan Stroud,
539:That is an expression, Sir John," said Marianne, warmly, "which I particularly dislike. I abhor every common–place phrase by which wit is intended; and "setting one's cap at a man," or "making a conquest," are the most odious of all. Their tendency is gross and illiberal; and if their construction could ever be deemed clever, time has long ago destroyed all its ingenuity. ~ Jane Austen,
540:That is an expression, Sir John,” said Marianne, warmly, “which I particularly dislike. I abhor every common-place phrase by which wit is intended; and ‘setting one’s cap at a man,’ or ‘making a conquest,’ are the most odious of all. Their tendency is gross and illiberal; and if their construction could ever be deemed clever, time has long ago destroyed all its ingenuity. ~ Jane Austen,
541:A cap and trade bill will likely increase the costs of electricity. . . . These costs will be passed on to the consumers. But the issue is, how does it actually...how do we interact in terms with the rest of the world? If other countries don't impose a cost on carbon, then we would be at a disadvantage. . . . We should look at considering duties that would offset that cost. ~ Steven Chu,
542:I do wish men, when they're taking their leave from a lady at dawn, wouldn't insist on adjusting their clothes to a nicety, or fussily tying their lacquered cap securely into place. After all, who would laugh at a man or criticize him if they happened to catch sight of him on his way home from an assignation in fearful disarray, with his cloak or hunting costume all awry? ~ Sei Sh nagon,
543:Together we read Keats's letters to his lost beloved about how the stitches on a cap she made him went through him like a spear. I lace my fingers with his. The average non-poetry devotee may think the intensity around this stuff off-kilter at the least, but for us, it's like digging our hands together into a secret vat of pearls. In that realm only we are rich as any royalty. ~ Mary Karr,
544:as the consequences of global warming further manifest themselves, political will for a hard cap will undoubtedly build, just like it did with sulfur dioxide that caused acid rain in the 1980s. It’s rarely discussed in the press, but President George Herbert Walker Bush successfully pushed through a cap-and-trade program for sulfur dioxide which radically reduced acid rain. ~ Thom Hartmann,
545:Hold on," Marjan said, reaching behind a tin of pistachio nougats. She found the bottle, unscrewing the cap as her back was turned to her sisters. She upended it, letting the rosewater, the priceless tears of that queen of blossoms, pool in her cupped hand.
She turned back to Bahar and smiled. "Better late than never," she said, showering her sister with a brand-new day. ~ Marsha Mehran,
546:...It's a college rule: we must always take off our hats when see a fellow scholar.'
I pulled a face and she continued, burning with conviction, 'Oh, come on, Mr Knight. Don't tell me you've never seen someone doff a cap before.'
'I'm familiar with the custom, but not in this context. The normal way to make a man remove his hat in that town is to punch him on the jaw. ~ Malcolm Pryce,
547:I carefully lay out the provisions. One thin black sleeping bag that reflects body heat. A pack of crackers. A pack of dried beef strips. A bottle of iodine. A box of wooden matches. A small coil of wire. A pair of sunglasses. And a half-gallon plastic bottle with a cap for carrying water that's bone dry. No water. How hard would it have been for them to fill up the bottle? ~ Suzanne Collins,
548:You need me, just whistle," he said as he arranged his ball cap over his eyes against the sun leaking through the frost-emptied branches. "You're not coming?" Lifting the brim of his cap, he eyed me, "You want me to?" he asked blandly. "Not really, no." He dropped the brim and laced his hands over his middle. "Then why are you bitching? It's a crime scene, not a grocery store. ~ Kim Harrison,
549:An Undress Uniform
The apparel does _not_ proclaim the man
Polonius lied like a partisan,
And Salomon still would a hero seem
If (Heaven dispel the impossible dream!)
He stood in a shroud on the hangman's trap,
His eye burning holes in the black, black cap.
And the crowd below would exclaim amain:
'He's ready to fall for his country again!'
~ Ambrose Bierce,
550:I have never heard enough classical music to be able to enjoy it; & the simple truth is, I detest it. Not mildly, but will all my heart. To me an opera is the very climax & cap-stone of the absurd, the fantastic the unjustifiable. I hate the very name of opera - partly because of the nights of suffering I have endured in its presence, & partly because I want to love it and can't. ~ Mark Twain,
551:No criticava les colles. Tan sols havia decidit que no acceptaria que la classifiquessin en cap categoria ni grup de referència que servís perquè els altres fessin pressuposicions sobre ella.
Era la que sempre menjava sola, però mai no semblava sola.
Era com una peça d'un altre trencaclosques, sense lloc, però que sorprenentment podia encaixar gairebé en qualsevol espai. ~ Salla Simukka,
552:There would be a cost for dumping carbon into our atmosphere and a cap on total emissions. The government must make a clear and firm decision - terminating the idea in our society it is free to pump infinite amounts of carbon into the air. Once that happens, private capital will flow even more aggressively into developing and deploying the alternative, less-polluting technologies. ~ Van Jones,
553:Why is it that one can busta rhyme or busta move anywhere but you must busta cap in someone's ass? Is "ho" always feminine and "muthafucka" always masculine, while "bitch" can be either? How many peeps in a posse, how much booty before baby got back, do you have to be all that to get all up in that, and do I need to be dope and phat to be da bomb or can I just be "stupid"? ~ Christopher Moore,
554:We must have kings, we must have nobles; nature is always providing such in every society; only let us have the real instead of the titular. In every society some are born to rule, and some to advise. The chief is the chief all the world over, only not his cap and plume. It is only this dislike of the pretender which makes men sometimes unjust to the true and finished man. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson,
555:I carefully lay out the provisions. One thin black sleeping bag that reflects body heat. A pack of crackers. A pack of dried beef strips. A bottle of iodine. A box of wooden matches. A small coil of wire. A pair of sunglasses. And a half-gallon plastic bottle with a cap for carrying water that's bone dry.
No water. How hard would it have been for them to fill up the bottle? ~ Suzanne Collins,
556:Scotland head coach Vern Cotter, said: "There's a lot of excitement within the team leading into this Test. "There are players who are going to earn their first cap for Scotland, and there are those who see this as a chance to stake a claim for the Rugby World Cup squad in 2015, as there are only a certain number of opportunities remaining for players to express and prove themselves. ~ Anonymous,
557:Every Secthas A Faith
Every sect has a faith, a direction (Qibla) to which they turn,
I have turned my face towards the crooked cap (of Nizamudin Aulia)
The whole world worships something or the other,
Some look for God in Mecca, while some go to Kashi (Banaras) ,
So why can't I, Oh wise people, fall into my beloved's feet?
Every sect has a faith, a Qibla.
~ Amir Khusro,
558:Her female vanity was stung by his implication that no man would look at her twice otherwise. Snatching the cap up, she began to hunt for the hairpins scattered across the floor, but he left the door and advanced on her with a muttered curse. “If you put it up, I’ll just take it down again.” His voice lowered to a throaty hum. “And you know what happens when I take your hair down. ~ Sabrina Jeffries,
559:Daniel knelt and held out a bottle. I thought it was pop, then saw the label.
“Beer?” I said.
“It helps. I knew his meds had dissolved, so I grabbed a few from the store.”
Corey took it and twisted off the cap. A few gulps. Then a deep breath as he relaxed. Another long drink, then a sidelong glance at me.
“Yes, I’m self-medicating with booze and I know that’s not smart. ~ Kelley Armstrong,
560:Me writing the book and the subsequent interactions that we had were actually the cap on that experience. We were still in this weird purgatory about it when I published the book. When I gave them the galleys and what ensued after that, then I understood a lot more about our relationships and what the experience meant to them. I'd never wanted to know what they thought about it at all. ~ Melissa Febos,
561:By the way, one other thing, T-Mobile, these cellular providers offer all kinds of data deals to get you to sign up. You can stream Netflix on T-Mobile, I think, with no cap. There's all kinds of opportunities for people out there. You don't need command-and-control central authority trying to regulate all of this stuff because all of it, again, is about punishing success from the left. ~ Rush Limbaugh,
562:The seven schools, each composed of twelve initiates and their disciples surrounding a thirteenth exalted brother, are the God-ordained perpetuators of the Ancient Wisdom as it has come from the dawn of the world when the gods descended from the nebula of the sun and took up their dwelling place on the sacred island at the north polar cap. ~ Manly P Hall, What the Ancient Wisdom Expects of Its Disciples,
563:You need me, just whistle," he said as he arranged his ball cap over his eyes against the sun leaking through the frost-emptied branches.
"You're not coming?"
Lifting the brim of his cap, he eyed me, "You want me to?" he asked blandly.
"Not really, no."
He dropped the brim and laced his hands over his middle. "Then why are you bitching? It's a crime scene, not a grocery store. ~ Kim Harrison,
564:He looks good in a baseball cap. I mentally roll my eyes at myself. I’m such a dork. The world is coming to an end, my sister is a man-eating monster, there’s a dying man in the store with us, and we’ll be lucky to survive another night. And I’m here drooling after a guy who doesn’t even want me. He’s not even human. How messed up is that? Sometimes, I wish I could take a vacation from myself. ~ Susan Ee,
565:He noticed that she threw away the crumbled bus ticket on the street as soon as she got down. He picked it up and put it in his pocket along with his own a memorabilia of their first date together, just like a strand of her hair he would find later on his shirt and the broken pen cap that she would go on to search in the laboratory and so many other such small things which he would collect. ~ Faraaz Kazi,
566:On any given day, something can come along and steal our hearts. It may be any old thing: a rosebud, a lost cap, a favorite sweater from childhood, an old Gene Pitney record. A miscellany of trivia with no home to call their own. Lingering for two or three days, that something soon disappears, returning to the darkness. There are wells, deep wells, dug in our hearts. Birds fly over them. ~ Haruki Murakami,
567:That flag’s not just the emblem of being a racist asshole, a club to which your daddy probably belongs happily. But it’s also the Confederate flag. The one carried by Southerners to say to the Yankees—that’s your daddy, a Yankee—‘Don’t tread on me or I’ll pop a musket ball up your ass.’ Northerners driving around with the Dixie flag is like a Jew wearing a ‘Go Hitler!’ baseball cap.” Jonesy’s ~ Chuck Wendig,
568:Am ajutat-o pe Nita, până ce mi-a spus ce voiau să facă, ea şi cei de la periferie, îmi spune Matthew. Vor să ajungă în Laboratorul Armelor şi… — … să fure serul memoriei, mda, am auzit. — Ba nu. El clatină din cap. — Nu, ei nu vor serul memoriei, ei vor serul morţii. Similar celui pe care îl au Erudiţii – cel pe care se presupune că aveau să ţi-l injecteze atunci când aproape c-ai fost executată. ~ Anonymous,
569:Done for the night, he steered his ship for shore, and as it chugged steadily for the dock at Reedsport, one of his passengers called out, jarring him from his reverie. “Hey, Cap’n—isn’t that your ghost right over there?” Jimmy didn’t bother to look. All four of his passengers—two young vacationing couples—were pretty drunk. Doubtless one of the guys was just trying to scare the girls. But then ~ Blake Pierce,
570:Freshly brainwashed from rehab, I carry the bottle into the bathroom. I hold it up to the light. See the pretty bottle? Isn't it beautiful? Yes, it's beautiful. I unscrew the cap and pour it into the toilet. I flush twice. And then I think, why did I flush twice? The answer, is of course, because I truly do know myself. I cannot be sure I won't attempt to drink from the toilet, like a dog. ~ Augusten Burroughs,
571:Sometimes I'll be confident and go into a shop and say, "Hello, yeah, all right," and then the next day, if someone looks at me or talks to me, I just don't know what to do. If you're walking down the street with a baseball cap, you might be fine. But if you're in a pub and you see someone look at you, you think the worst thing in the world now is if they come over. It's a really weird feeling. ~ Ricky Gervais,
572:Tom got out a bit of paper and carefully unrolled it. Huckleberry viewed it wistfully. The temptation was very strong. At last he said: "Is it genuwyne?" Tom lifted his lip and showed the vacancy. "Well, all right," said Huckleberry, "it's a trade." Tom enclosed the tick in the percussion-cap box that had lately been the pinchbug's prison, and the boys separated, each feeling wealthier than before. ~ Mark Twain,
573:you'd never never never again work for that manipulative, Machiavellian psychopath. And he'd get you back on the team, often with a gesture as simple and inexpensive as a baseball cap or a T-shirt. The timing was what did it, that he knew. He knew just when to apply that well-timed pat on the back, the strangled and difficult-for-him 'Thank you for your good work' appreciation of your labors. ~ Anthony Bourdain,
574:The child Elizabeth is wrapped tightly in layers, her fists hidden: just as well, she looks as if she would strike you. Ginger bristles poke from beneath her cap, and her eyes are vigilant; he has never seen an infant in the crib look so ready to take offense. Lady Bryan says, “Do you think she looks like the king?” He hesitates, trying to be fair to both parties. “As much as a little maid ought. ~ Hilary Mantel,
575:Inside, upstairs, where the planes are met, the spaces are long and low and lined in tasteful felt gray like that cocky stewardess's cap and filled with the kind of music you become aware of only when the elevator stops or when the dentist stops drilling. Plucked strings, no vocals, music that's used to being ignored, a kind of carpet in the air, to cover up a silence that might remind you of death. ~ John Updike,
576:You seem to fit the part all right. Your technical record is first-class. Your disciplinary record stinks to high heaven.' He eyed his listener blank faced. 'Two charges of refusing to obey a lawful order. Four for insolence and insubordination. One for parading with your cap on back to front. What on earth made you do that?'

I had a bad attack of what-the-hell, sir,' explained Leeming. ~ Eric Frank Russell,
577:The capitalists owned everything in the world, and everyone else was their slave. They owned all the land, all the houses, all the factories, and all the money. If anyone disobeyed them they could throw him into prison, or they could take his job away and starve him to death. When any ordinary person spoke to a capitalist he had to cringe and bow to him, and take off his cap and address him as 'Sir' ~ George Orwell,
578:Back to that very first bite of hidden cupcake in the pantry: a soft cap of vanilla buttercream giving way to light, creamy mocha cake. I kept eating, turning the cupcake slowly in my hand. This was not rich, one-bite-and-you-couldn't-possibly-have-more chocolate. This was refined, complex chocolate cut with a hint of coffee and what else... Currant? Salt? A grown-up, masterful cupcake. It was perfect. ~ Meg Donohue,
579:Mila held out a dress so lovely that Snow gasped. She lovingly touched the blue bodice with the cap sleeves that had red accents woven throughout and the shining yellow satin. She hadn't had anything new to wear in a very long time. She almost hesitated to put the dress on- what if she ruined it in the woods? But when else would she have a chance to wear such a fine gown? She slipped into it with glee. ~ Jen Calonita,
580:Or is there something else you'd rather have?" she asked, her voice a little too gentle.

He felt a great dilation in his chest. "Oh, no!" he exclaimed with passion. "Oh, no!"

"Very well then, let's see what we can do about it," she said, more than reassured; and suddenly she suspected in something like its full magnitude the long, careless denial, and the importance of the cap to the child. ~ James Agee,
581:WHATAWAY TO GO With no GM support, it’s sad to see Rex era end like this 1202 words It’s ending ugly for Rex Ryan and that’s a shame. He’s always been extremely entertaining and proved he could win before his general manager decided to start playing fantasy football ( Mike Tannenbaum) or sabotage him by giving him no cornerbacks even though he opened this season with $22 million in cap room ( John Idzik). ~ Anonymous,
582:We need a firm cap on carbon emissions from fossil fuels. No coal, oil, or gas could enter the economy until the buyer had a permit. All permits would be auctioned by the federal government, and the number of permits auctioned would be decreased by three percent per year. Permits could be traded, but they could not be created out of whole cloth by companies that plant forests or dump iron filings at sea. ~ Denis Hayes,
583:I’m here. Where’s my chauffeur hat?” “Here, use mine,” Butch said, outing a B Sox cap and throwing it over. “It’ll help that hair of yours.” The angel caught the thing on the fly and stared at the red S. “I’m sorry, I can’t.” “Do not tell me you’re a Yankees fan,” V drawled. “I’ll have to kill you, and frankly, tonight we need all the wingmen we’ve got.” Lassiter tossed the cap back. Whistled. Looked casual. ~ J R Ward,
584:There's such a wide variation in tax systems around the world, it's difficult to imagine a harmonized CO2 tax that every country agrees to. That's not in the cards in the near term. But the countries that are doing the best job, like Sweden, are already doing both of these. I think that eventually we'll use both of them but we need to get started right away and the cap-and-trade is a proven and effective tool. ~ Al Gore,
585:This Boulatruelle was a man in bad odour with the people of the neighbourhood; he was too respectful, too humble, prompt to doff his cap to everybody; he always trembled and smiled in the presence of the gendarmes, was probably in secret connection with robber-bands, said the gossips, and suspected of lying in wait in the hedge corners at nightfall. He had nothing in his favour except that he was a drunkard. ~ Victor Hugo,
586:Hopping Frog, Hop Here And Be Seen
Hopping frog, hop here and be seen,
I'll not pelt you with stick or stone:
Your cap is laced and your coat is green;
Good bye, we'll let each other alone.
Plodding toad, plod here and be looked at,
You the finger of scorn is crooked at:
But though you're lumpish, you're harmless too;
You won't hurt me, and I won't hurt you.
~ Christina Georgina Rossetti,
587:Most men appear never to have considered what a house is, and are actually though needlessly poor all their lives because they think that they must have such a one as their neighbors have. As if one were to wear any sort of coat which the tailor might cut out for him, or gradually leaving off palm-leaf hat or cap of woodchuck skin, complain of hard times because he could not afford to buy him a crown! ~ Henry David Thoreau,
588:But no matter how hot the chick is, say if I was standing at the base of El Cap, and she urged me to free solo some route, my answer would be “No way.” For example, I can’t tell you how many people over the years have pressured me to drink alcohol. We’ll be at a party, and somebody will taunt me, “Alex, just try this beer, it’s not gonna hurt you to take a sip.” I’ve never given in. Booze doesn’t interest me. ~ Alex Honnold,
589:Ell per mi era només un nóm. El veieu? Veieu la història? Veieu alguna cosa? Em sembla com si us intentés explicar un somni, i és en va, perquè cap narració d'un somni no ens pot transmetre la sensació de somni, aquella barreja d'absurditat, de sorpresa i d'atordiment en un estremiment de lluita i rebel·lió, aquella sensació de ser abassegat per aquell punt increïble, que és la veritable essència dels somnis. ~ Joseph Conrad,
590:but even with the gift of tongues, I’m having trouble learning to speak hip-hop. Why is it that one can busta rhyme or busta move anywhere but you must busta cap in someone’s ass? Is “ho” always feminine, and “muthafucka” always masculine, while “bitch” can be either? How many peeps in a posse, how much booty before baby got back, do you have to be all that to get all up in that, and do I need to be dope and ~ Christopher Moore,
591:Numai în amintirea ei o să înflorească din nou florile sălbatice, dar dacă o asemenea fericire a trecut o dată prin viața ei, atunci fericirea asta s-ar putea întoarce într-o bună zi, poate chiar azi, și ea clatină din cap, e atât de obișnuită să întindă mâna spre un loc gol, degetele i s-au pierdut mereu în adâncurile buzunarului gol al vieții ei, și acum își bagă mâna în celălalt buzunar, și acela e plin ochi. ~ Zeruya Shalev,
592:This was most alarming, what sort of terrible toil had deranged the poor woman? Would I also have to work day and night till I couldn't stop talking? Perhaps they made her shovel coal for a huge furnace, probably they kept a private crematorium, old people do keep dying off. Maybe they had a chain gang too and we would have to chop stones and sing sea shanties (this would explain why she wore the yachting cap.) ~ Leonora Carrington,
593:Carter wagged the Yankees cap at me. ‘Nekhbet wants Percy to be her host. That’s one way the Egyptian gods maintain a presence in the mortal world. They can inhabit mortals’ bodies.’

My stomach jackknifed. ‘You want her –’ I pointed at the frazzled old vulture goddess – ‘to inhabit me? That sounds …’

I tried to think of a word that would convey my complete disgust without offending the goddess. I failed. ~ Rick Riordan,
594:My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt figure made even gaunter and taller by his long gray travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle,
595:On any given day, something can come along and steal our hearts. It may be any old thing: a rosebud, a lost cap, a favorite sweater from childhood, an old Gene Pitney record. A miscellany of trivia with no home to call their own. Lingering for two or three days, that something soon disappears, returning to the darkness. There are wells, deep wells, dug in our hearts. Birds fly over them."

-from "Pinball, 1973 ~ Haruki Murakami,
596:Pooh leaned back against the tree, thinking to himself, "Hmm... I wonder if there's any hunny left in the hunny pot?" As he slowly switched the clacker's safety to the "off" position.

Piglet had just finished inserting the blasting cap into the claymore. "What?" said Piglet, with a jump. And then, to show that he
hadn't been frightened, he jumped up and down once or twice more in an
exercising sort of way. ~ Jos N Harris,
597:I am forced into speech because men of science have refused to follow my advice without knowing why. It is altogether against my will that I tell my reasons for opposing this contemplated invasion of the antarctic—with its vast fossil-hunt and its wholesale boring and melting of the ancient ice-cap—and I am the more reluctant because my warning may be in vain. Doubt of the real facts, as I must reveal them, is inevitable; ~ H P Lovecraft,
598:It didn't take a Harvard economist to figure out that it'd be a hell of a lot cheaper spending money on helping keep kids safe when they were younger than it was to put them in jail when they were older. That was the American way, though. Spend a million dollars rescuing some kid who's fallen down a well, but God forbid you spend a hundred bucks up front to cap the well so the kid never falls down it in the first place. ~ Karin Slaughter,
599:We need to put a price on carbon, and that's what cap-and-trade does and that's also what a CO2 tax does. As long as our current valuation in the marketplace tells us every minute of every day that it's perfectly all right to dump 90 million tons of global warming into the thin atmosphere surrounding the planet every 24 hours as if that atmosphere is an open sewer, then the individual actions are not going to solve the problem. ~ Al Gore,
600:Aging happens as our DNA, the delicate molecular template for life in all our cells, begins to unravel. We all have special structures called telomeres that cap the ends of our DNA strands, stunting the aging (unraveling) process. Unfortunately, stress causes these protective caps to shrink and wear out. In other words, we are actually aging faster than we would have without the chronic, unrelenting pressures of caregiving. ~ Laurie Wallin,
601:Then the mob parted and there was the boy, with his arms twisted behind his back and the foot of a man, a petrol attendant in Cohydro cap and uniform, stamped firmly on his neck. The boy’s mouth was bleeding and the side of his face was squashed flat on the uneven concrete of the forecourt. It was a scene I had witnessed numerous times during my stint covering Africa. Quick and brutal, African mob justice is a terrifying thing. ~ Tim Butcher,
602:Cât de puțin ne cunoaștem unii pe alții! Ca soiurile de gheață, ființele noastre plutesc în mare parte sub nivelul apei, iar sinele nostru social, vizibil, proiectează exclusiv albul și răceala. Or, iată aici o vedere rară sub unde, o imagine a agitației intime a unei ființe omenești a cărei demnitate a fost dată peste cap de irezistibila nevoie de fantezie pură, de gând pur, dată peste cap de elementul uman ireductibil - mintea. ~ Ian McEwan,
603:I'm cap'n here by 'lection. I'm cap'n here because I'm the best man by a long sea-mile. You won't fight, as gentlemen o' fortune should; then, by thunder, you'll obey, and you may lay to it! I like that boy, now; I never seen a better boy than that. He's more a man than any pair of rats of you in this here house, and what I say is this: let me see him that'll lay a hand on him--that's what I say, and you may lay to it. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson,
604:The feel of a good row stays with you hours afterward. Your muscles glow, your mind wanders from the papers on you desk and goes back, again and again, to that terrific power piece at the end of the workout when it felt as if you and the boat were flying, as if you legs were two cannons and your arms were two oars and the great lateral muscles of your back were pterodactyl wings and the brim of your baseball cap was a harpoon. ~ Barry S Strauss,
605:We allow it to be dumped into this community asset, which is our one and only atmosphere. So that has to change, and there's really only one entity that can do that. So we have proposed a cap-and-trade system to stop that unlimited pollution, to use the forces of the market to efficiently allocate scarce permits to allow CO2 into the atmosphere. That's just one of 500 things we need to do, but it's probably the granddaddy of them all. ~ Jay Inslee,
606:Young Greedyguts
Cap of silk moiré, little wand of ivory,
Clothes very dark.
Paul watches the cupboard,
sticks out little tongue at pear,
Prepares, gives a poke, and squitters.
Original French
Jeune goinfre
Casquette
De moire,
Quéquette
D'ivoire,
Toilette
Très noire,
Paul guette
L'armoire,
Projette
Languette
Sur poire,
S'apprête
Baguette,
Et foire.
~ Arthur Rimbaud,
607:A simple solution, but quite drastic: anyone who goes into public service should not be allowed to subsequently earn more from any commercial activity than the income of the highest paid civil servant. It is like a voluntary cap (it would prevent people from using public office as a credential-building temporary accommodation, then going to Wall Street to earn several million dollars). This would get priestly people into office. ~ Nassim Nicholas Taleb,
608:Din străfundul inimii mele,spiritul meu a strigat:"Strălucește,Constantinopole,strălucește pentru ultima dată!Strălucește cu lumina ta sfântă!O mie de ani de amaruri ți-au îmipietrit sufletul.Dar încă o dată,cu ultimele tale tale picături de ulei sfânt,fă să țășnescă din piatră,sufletul tău!Așază-ți pe cap cununa de spini a lui Hristos !Inveșmântează-te in purpura!In pragul nopții ce va să fie,fii demn de tine,Constantinopole,orașul meu! ~ Mika Waltari,
609:They tell a story, probably not true, about a cap trooper who was sight-seeing in Paris. He visited Les Invalides, looked down at Napoleon's coffin, and said to a French guard there: "Who's he?"

The Frenchman was properly scandalized. "Monsieur does not know? This is the tomb of Napoleon! Napoleon Bonaparte! The greatest soldier who ever lived!"

The cap trooper thought about it. Then he asked, "So? Where were his drops? ~ Robert A Heinlein,
610:Passing the kitchen the second time, the vodka sang to him from the freezer its sweet song of forgetfulness. He longed to dart in there and free it from its prison, to twist the cap off with a practiced flick of his thumb and tip his head back, filling his mouth with the only thing that could quell the fear that roiled his stomach. Mullins clapped one hand on his shoulder, perhaps sensing something. The goddamn man was on him like a tick. ~ Fred Anderson,
611:the Finger of God, Whose Body might have been concealed below among the crowd of human bodies without fear of my confounding It, for that reason, with them. And so even to-day in any large provincial town, or in a quarter of Paris which I do not know well, if a passer-by who is 'putting me on the right road' shews me from afar, as a point to aim at, some belfry of a hospital, or a convent steeple lifting the peak of its ecclesiastical cap ~ Marcel Proust,
612:When Mantle faced the cameras for the last time a month before his death, he was a husk of a man, shrunken by cancer. The stiff brim of his 1995 All-Star Game cap dwarfed his brow. There was no Mantle Roll. He looked straight into the cameras and told us all, 'Don't be like me.'

The transformation of The Mick parallels the transformation of American culture from willful innocence to knowing cynicism. To tell his story is to tell ours. ~ Jane Leavy,
613:Psipsina emerged from inside the tunic, and jumped up on the table in order to curl up inside the cap, which had been her favourite resting place ever since she discovered the joys of contortionism; she filled it and overflowed from it in such a tangle and jumble of whiskers, ears, tail and paws that it was impossible to tell which part of her was which, and she slept in it because it reminded her of gifts of salami and chicken skins. ~ Louis de Berni res,
614:with his legs apart, leaning on an old Czech rifle. He was smoking the dog end of a cigarette, and when he saw Shmuel and Atalia he spoke without removing it: “Closed. No entry.” “Why?” Atalia laughed. The soldier raised the cap slightly from one ear and replied: “Closed by order, lady. No entry.” “But we had no intention of going inside,” Atalia said, pulling Shmuel by the arm. Shmuel lingered and asked the soldier: “When does your watch finish? ~ Amos Oz,
615:And suddenly, in the place of the woman-shape made of shadow, there was something else. Something huge, something ugly. Linay flung up both hands. The thing screamed like a hawk and opened to wings: one white as a death cap, one clotted in shadow. The wings came together and the whole pond shuddered.
Something hit Kate's ear and shoulder and smashed to the deck by her feet. It was a swallow, dead. She could hear them falling all over the pond. ~ Erin Bow,
616:decided that freedom is the right to control your own destiny, to empower yourself, to go and do and think and write and say what you want, when you want, how you want. It is also the right to pick and choose cultures and lifestyles and professions. It is the right to say no to almost anyone about almost anything. It is, first and foremost, the right to refuse the cultural blinders and self-imposed limitations of your fellow man. It ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
617:Adding to the danger, Pritchard disregarded Balchen’s advice about the best way to touch down. He hand-cranked the Duck’s landing gear into place, intending to treat the ice cap the same as he would a paved tarmac. It was a calculated risk. A belly-down landing might damage the Duck’s fuselage or curl its propeller, rendering it yet another squished bug on the ice cap. On the other hand, a wheels-down landing could lead to the same result. ~ Mitchell Zuckoff,
618:He spotted Linda Coldren in a private grandstand tent overlooking the eighteenth hole. She wore sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low. Myron looked up at her. She did not look back. Her expression was one of mild confusion, like she was working on a math word problem or trying to recall the name behind a familiar face. For some reason, the expression troubled Myron. He stayed in her line of vision, hoping she’d signal to him. She didn’t. Tad ~ Harlan Coben,
619:What are you doing?"
"Washing your hair," he murmured and proceeded to stroke and massage the shampoo into her short, sopping cap of hair. "I'm going to enjoy smelling my soap on you." His lips curved. "You're a fascinating woman, Eve. Here we are, wet, naked, both of us half dead from a very memorable night, and still you watch me with very cool, very suspicious eyes."
"You're a suspicious character, Roarke."
"I think that's a compliment. ~ J D Robb,
620:He remained on his knees, looking up at his fellow-prisoner with a lively look for a prison. A sunburnt, quick, lithe, little man, though rather thickset. Earrings in his brown ears, white teeth lighting up his grotesque brown face, intensely black hair clustering about his brown throat, a ragged red shirt open at his brown breast. Loose, seaman-like trousers, decent shoes, a long red cap, a red sash round his waist, and a knife in it. 'Judge ~ Charles Dickens,
621:Înainte vreme, un scriitor care voia să spună ceva despre viaţă sau despre moarte scria sus pe carte "Despre viaţă" sau "Despre moarte" şi începea să-şi aştearnă gândurile după cum se pricepea; mai bine sau mai rău, cu experienţa lui şi cu experienţa altora. Acum, există o modă nouă. Acum scrii pe carte Dostoievski sau Nietzsche şi începi să spui ce-ţi trăsneşte ţie prin cap despre tot ce ar fi putut gândi sau nu gândi Dostoievski şi Nietzsche. ~ Mircea Eliade,
622:Galder Weatherwax, Supreme Grand Conjuror of the Order of the Silver Star, Lord Imperial of the Sacred Staff, Eighth Level Ipsissimus and 304th Chancellor of Unseen University, wasn’t simply an impressive sight even in his red nightshirt with the hand-embroidered mystic runes, even in his long cap with the bobble on, even with the Wee Willie Winkie candlestick in his hand. He even managed to very nearly pull it off in fluffy pompom slippers as ~ Terry Pratchett,
623:It was Lorraine in her nightie and Mo in his cap. They'd just settled their brains for a long winter's nap in front of the television. When out in the lot there arose such a clatter, they sprang from their recliners to see what was the matter. Away to the window they flew like a flash, tore open the blinds and threw up the sash. And what to their wondering eyes should appear, but Stephanie Plum and yet another of her cars burning front to rear. ~ Janet Evanovich,
624:Am citit undeva, excelenţă, zise Apostol cu glasul de adineauri, că inima omului, în primele săptămâni ale vieţii embrionare, se află nu în piept, ci în cap, în mijlocul creierilor, şi că de-abia pe urmă coboară mai jos, despărţindu-se de creier pentru totdeauna... Ce minunat ar fi, excelenţă, dacă inima şi creierul ar fi rămas împreună, îngemănate, să nu facă niciodată inima ce nu vrea creierul şi mai cu seamă creierul să nu facă ce sfâşie inima! ~ Liviu Rebreanu,
625:What a great laudable exchange: to leave the things of time for those of eternity, to choose the things of heaven for the goods of earth, to receive the hundred-fold in place of one, and to possess a blessed and eternal life. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Clare of Assisi, What a great laudable exchange
,
626:A dream woke me," Arctor said. "A religious dream. In it there was this huge clap of thunder, and all of a sudden the heavens rolled aside and God appeared and His voice rumbled at me-what the hell did He say?-oh yeah. 'I am vexed with you, my son' He said. He was scowling. I was shaking, in the dream, and looking up, and I said, 'What'd I do now, Lord?' And He said, 'You left the cap off the toothpaste tube again.' And then I realized it was my ex-wife. ~ Philip K Dick,
627:The master says it's a glorious thing to die for the Faith and Dad says it's a glorious thing to die for Ireland and I wonder if there's anyone in the world who would like us to live. My brothers are dead and my sister is dead and I wonder if they died for Ireland or the Faith. Dad says they were too young to die for anything. Mam says it was disease and starvation and him never having a job. Dad says, Och, Angela, puts on his cap and goes for a long walk ~ Frank McCourt,
628:His principal amusement was shooting with a pistol. The walls of his room were riddled with bullets, and were as full of holes as a honeycomb. A rich collection of pistols was the only luxury in the humble cottage where he lived. The skill which he had acquired with his favorite weapon was simply incredible: and if he had offered to shoot a pear off somebody’s forage-cap, not a man in our regiment would have hesitated to place the object upon his head. ~ Alexander Pushkin,
629:The master says it’s a glorious thing to die for the Faith and Dad says it’s a glorious thing to die for Ireland and I wonder if there’s anyone in the world who would like us to live. My brothers are dead and my sister is dead and I wonder if they died for Ireland or the Faith. Dad says they were too young to die for anything. Mam says it was disease and starvation and him never having a job. Dad says, Och, Angela, puts on his cap and goes for a long walk. ~ Frank McCourt,
630:Flotsam said, “He thinks I shouldn’t do surfboard self-defense on four squids that flip us off and stole my juices when I was rippin’. They thought it was cooleo till one of them caught my log upside his head when I snaked him on the next wave.”

“What?” Ronnie said.

“All I said was,” Jetsam said to Flotsam, “You should cap the little surf Nazi if you wanna turn him into part of the food chain, not torpedo him till he’s almost dead in the foamy. ~ Joseph Wambaugh,
631:It’s like watching a James Bond movie. Morpheus—in a black trench-coat-style blazer that hangs to his thighs, gray tweed pants, a dark gray vest, skinny red tie, and black pin-striped dress shirt—could pass for a punk-fae secret agent who’s captured his villain. His thick blue waves touch his shoulders from under a gray tweed flat cap, and his wings drape down his back and across the floor, fluttering sporadically as he keeps his balance against Jeb’s resistance. ~ A G Howard,
632:The greatest decisions I've made in my life are by instinct. I remember when I hired Bill I had a lot of people telling me it was a mistake. But he and I had established a rapport in '96 when he coached the secondary. You need a coach that understands economics, that understands the impact of the salary cap and how to make those difficult decisions that allow you to sustain success over the long term. I don't think there's anyone better than Bill at doing that. ~ Robert Kraft,
633:His father was as far away from the door as he could get. Jed peeked over the edge of the loft, a tinfoil cap on his head. Someday Cal was going to find out why so many schizophrenics during periods of paranoia adopted the same self-protective traits. Tinfoil? Hadn’t their fears evolved beyond the point they believed the superpowers couldn’t read their minds through household foil? It was almost as though there was collective thinking among this entire subculture. ~ Robyn Carr,
634:The master says it's a glorious thing to die for the Faith and Dad says it's a glorious thing to die for Ireland and I wonder if there's anyone in the world who would like us to live. My brothers are dead and my sister is dead and I wonder if they died for Ireland or for the Faith. Dad says they were too young to die for anything. Mam says it was disease and starvation and him never having a job. Dad says, Och, Angela, puts on his cap, and goes for a long walk. ~ Frank McCourt,
635:Those with hands cupped them for alms, those lacking in hands clenched the bill of a baseball cap in their teeth. Military amputees flapped empty sleeves like flightless birds, mute elderly beggars fixed cobra eyes on you, street urchins told tales taller than themselves about their pitiable conditions, young widows rocked colicky babies whom they might have rented, and assorted cripples displayed every imaginable, unappetizing illness known to man. Farther ~ Viet Thanh Nguyen,
636:Darren was without his usual baseball cap; his flat, fair hair looked like a circle of lawn that had been trapped and left to die under a kiddie pool. Finally he read a prepared statement: “I’d just like to say that I, Darren Scott Tinzler, class of 2007, a communications major from Kissimmee, Florida, am apparently kind of bad at reading signals from the opposite sex. I’m very ashamed right now, and I apologize for my own repeated misunderstanding of social cues. ~ Meg Wolitzer,
637:Hi ha vegades en què el destí és com una tempesta de sorra molt petita que no para de canviar de direcció. Tu intentes evitar-la, però la tempesta et segueix. Tornes a canviar de direcció, però la tempesta fa el mateix que tu. Això es repeteix una vegada i una altra, com si fos una ominosa dansa amb la mort just abans de l'alba. I això és així perquè aquesta tempesta no és una cosa que hagi vingut de lluny i que no tingui cap relació amb tu. La tempesta ets tu. ~ Haruki Murakami,
638:My name is Captain Najarian. Most of what’s left of my platoon just call me Cap.” He extended a hand to help Doc up. “The shooter is Corporal Hildie. Her illegal fraternizing partner next to her is Lieutenant Butz. Just call him ‘Buzz’ or he gets mad. This is my wife Dina,” he said, introducing the woman to his right. “And then there’s Chaplin. We think he might be prior military, but since he hasn’t said a word in the two months we’ve known him, we don’t have a clue. ~ Mark Tufo,
639:Margaret stood all alone at her first witch-burning. She had on her new blue cap and her sister's shawl, and she stood by herself, waiting. She had long ago given up on finding her sister and brother-in-law in the crowd, and was now content to watch alone. She felt a very pleasant fear and a crying excitement over the burning; she had lived all her life in the country and now, staying with her sister in the city, she was being introduced to the customs of society. ~ Shirley Jackson,
640:All Day Long
All day long in fog and wind,
The waves have flung their beating crests
Against the palisades of adamant.
My boy, he went to sea, long and long ago,
Curls of brown were slipping underneath his cap,
He looked at me from blue and steely eyes;
Natty, straight and true, he stepped away,
My boy, he went to sea.
All day long in fog and wind,
The waves have flung their beating crests
Against the palisades of adamant.
~ Carl Sandburg,
641:I prefer formal techniques, and use sonnets and rhyme, any manner of scheme to give a shape and order-of feeling as well as argument-to a poem. But all my life, I've also been a person who's made his bed in the morning and picks up the bath mat. That's what I mean by temperament. Whether genetic or acquired, I have a disposition to arrangements. One is born with this, as if with blue eyes or a weak heart. Do you think Allen Ginsberg ever put the cap back on his toothpaste? ~ J D McClatchy,
642:When Charles Darwin wrote The Origin Of The Species, no one could have known that the ice cap would melt, that the waters would rise and that life on earth would have to evolve in order to live beneath the sea once more or perish. We came from water and now, with the help of stem cell technology and cloning, we must go back to it to survive.When the waters rise, humanity will go back to the place from whence it came.Make no mistake, this is not sci-fi, this is evolution ~ Alexander McQueen,
643:-Iti spun un lucru. Ce este mai apropiat decat fratele de frate, mama de copil?Ce este mai apropiat decat mana de gura, gandul de minte? E viziunea, Roger. Nu ma astept ca tu sa intelegi asta...
-Dar pricep,mai incape vorba!
Jocelin isi inalta chipul si deodata zambi:
-Chiar intelegi?
-Dar vine clipa in care viziunea nu mai e decat jocul copilului de-a-sa-zicem.
-Aha!
Clatina din cap, incet, atent; si luminile plutira.
-Atunci nu intelegi deloc. Deloc. ~ William Golding,
644:Grover wore his fake feet and his pants to pass as human. He wore a green rasta-style cap, because when it rained his curly hair flattened and you could just see the tips of his horns. His bright orange backpack was full of scrap metal and apples to snack on. In his pocket was a set of reed pipes his daddy goat had carved for him, even though he only knew two songs: Mozart's Piano Concerto no. 12 and Hilary Duff's "So Yesterday," both of which sounded pretty bad on reed pipes. ~ Rick Riordan,
645:He unscrewed the cap on the jar and scooped out a handful of the thick sludge. A smell of home baked cookies left to soak in an algae-infested aquarium for three months filled the room. “What is that?” asked Chase. “Unicorn crap,” replied the Kobold. Chase looked at me. “It’s not as bad as it sounds,” I said. “Most people know unicorn blood has healing properties, but it’s not only the blood. Their saliva and feces are pretty potent as well, provided they’re prepared properly. ~ Mark Feenstra,
646:The other good thing was that I had enough rank to strong-arm Marjit into confessing that she'd been the one who'd told everything to Pa about my first invisibility cap, which was how Pa knew to come steal it. Unfortunately, since my rank in the surface world hung off Pa's, I did NOT have enough rank to take him to task for stealing my cap. So I just put him to sleep during a fancy dinner, so that he went facedown into the sour soup. Just the once. It eased my ire terrifically. ~ Merrie Haskell,
647:Gently I stir a white feather fan,
With open shirt sitting in a green wood.
I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone;
A wind from the pine-tree trickles on my bare head.

      

Another translation:

Too lazy to shift my white feather fan
I lie naked in the green woods.
Hanging my hat on a rock,
I bare my head to the breeze in the pines.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

~ Li Bai, Summer in the Mountains
,
648:Got some more customers for ya," said Camden, taking off his baseball cap to bend the brim, and then putting it back on again.
"Wait, she deals drugs too?" asked Brad. I couldn't tell if he was serious or not. Apparently, neither could the student teacher passing by us in the hallway; she whipped her head around to stare suspiciously for a moment before either deciding that we were harmless or deciding to stroll on over to Principal Davis's office in an exceedingly casual manner. ~ Cherry Cheva,
649:Încet, tânăra ridică, ochii să-l privească, în sfârşit. Durerea pe care o văzu în expresia ei îi sfâşie lui Caine inima. Simţi o nevoie copleşitoare de a o lua în braţe ca s-o mângâie. O clipă, fu revoltat împotriva oricui o rănise, apoi clătină din cap faţă de acel gând ridicol. La naiba, femeia aceea îl angaja să ucidă pe cineva. Privirile li se susţinură mult timp, înainte s-o întrebe din nou: — Ei? Pe cine vrei să omor? Fata trase adânc aer în piept, înainte de a răspunde: — Pe mine. ~ Anonymous,
650:— Estaves profundament adormida, no m'he perdut res —els ulls li van brillar—. Ja havies acabat de parlar.
Vaig rondinar.
— I què he dit?
Els seus ulls daurats es varen tornar molt dolços.
— Que m'estimes.
— Això ja ho sabies —li vaig recordar, acotant el cap.
— És igual, és agradable sentir-ho.
Vaig amagar el rostre en la seva espatlla.
— T'estimo —vaig xiuxiuejar.
— Ara tes la meva vida —va respondre simplement.
De moment, no hi havia res més per dir. ~ Stephenie Meyer,
651:You’re into J-horror?” he asked.
Could he look any more surprised?
“Big-time.”
Grinning, he looked me over, from the toes of my boots to the tassel on top of my knit cap. “You don’t look the type.”
“And what does the type look like, exactly?”
“Like someone who shaves.”
“I shave.”
“Not your face.”
“What a sexist snob!”
He held up his hands like he was fending off an attack. “I’m just saying…most girls I know watch horror movies with their eyes closed. ~ Rachel Hawthorne,
652:its head, she tied on a neat little cap, and as both arms and legs were gone, she hid these deficiencies by folding it in a blanket and devoting her best bed to this chronic invalid. If anyone had known the care lavished on that dolly, I think it would have touched their hearts, even while they laughed. She brought it bits of bouquets, she read to it, took it out to breathe fresh air, hidden under her coat, she sang it lullabies and never went to bed without kissing its dirty face and ~ Louisa May Alcott,
653:LE CHIFFRE looked incuriously at him, the whites of his eyes, which showed all round the irises, lending something impassive and doll-like to his gaze. He slowly removed one thick hand from the table and slipped it into the pocket of his dinner-jacket. The hand came out holding a small metal cylinder with a cap which Le Chiffre unscrewed. He inserted the nozzle of the cylinder, with an obscene deliberation, twice into each black nostril in turn, and luxuriously inhaled the benzedrine vapour. ~ Ian Fleming,
654:Hellian leaned against a tree. 'Seems t'me, Cap'in, we got two things we can do and only two. We can retreat back t'the coast. Build ten thousand rafts and paddle away 's fast as we can. Or we go on. Fast, vicious mean. And iffin they come at us two thousand at once, then we run an' hide like we was trained t'do. Fast and vicious mean, Cap'in, or a long paddle.'

'There is only one thing worse than arguing with a drunk,' Faradan Sort said, 'and that's arguing with a drunk who's right. ~ Steven Erikson,
655:Better by far that famous poster of the Red Army woman with one hand on her hip, another on her bemedaled breast, standing sentry-straight before a bullet-pocked German wall, her red-starred cap at an angle to show off her hair (short, yet feminine) as she smiles into the sideways future! Thus runs the Russian view. On the other side we merely need to quote our Führer’s dictum that the Germans—this is essential—will have to constitute amongst themselves a closed society, like a fortress. ~ William T Vollmann,
656:we keep on going, he continued, fostering all kinds of crazy hopes. To redeem the lost, some sliver of personal revelation. It’s an addiction, like playing the slots, or a game of golf. —It’s a lot easier to talk about nothing, I said. He didn’t outright ignore my presence, but he did fail to respond. —Well, anyway, that’s my two cents. —You’re just about to pack it in, toss the clubs in a river, when you hit your stride, the ball rolls straight in the cup, and the coins fill your inverted cap. ~ Patti Smith,
657:It was worth it," Faye says after school while she walks me to my car. "It's not fair that you take all the shit for this while the guys get to walk around like nothing happened. They're just as much to blame."
"I'm the one who started it," I say, kicking a beer cap across the parking lot with my shoe. "If I hadn't started it, nothing would have happened.
"Don't let them off the hook so easily," Faye snaps. "They were coming to you. It takes two to have sex. So don't defend them. ~ Laurie Elizabeth Flynn,
658:If you sell me a horse that throws a shoe, or starts to limp, or spooks at shadows, I will miss a valuable opportunity. A quite unrecoverable opportunity. If that happens, I will not come back and demand a
refund. I will not petition the constable. I will walk back to Imre this very night and set fire to your house.
Then, when you run out the front door in your nightshirt and stockle-cap, I will kill you, cook you, and
eat you. Right there on your lawn while all your neighbors watch. ~ Patrick Rothfuss,
659:I love Graham Larkin,” she said quietly, her voice full of emotion, and there was a flicker of surprise on his face, and then his expression softened. “You’re supposed to shout it,” he said, smiling as she tugged on the brim of the cap, forcing him to lower his face, bringing him closer and closer until their lips met. And even though they were in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world, lost in a sea of concrete and wood and metal, she could almost swear he tasted like the ocean. ~ Jennifer E Smith,
660:Is that what we’re doing when we write sad stories? Are we squelching hope, beauty, and wonder? Or are we perhaps exploring the opposite side of the same coin? Life is just as full of sadness as it is of happiness. To ignore that fact is to limit both our personal experience of the human existence and our ability to write about it truthfully. To cap every story with a happy ending is dishonesty to both ourselves and our readers. The moment fiction becomes dishonest is the moment it ceases to matter. ~ K M Weiland,
661:Myron cut east on 50th Street. An albino wearing a Mets cap and yellow boxer shorts on the outside of ripped jeans played an Indian sitar. He was singing the seventies classic “The Night Chicago Died” in a voice that reminded Myron of elderly Chinese women in the back of a laundromat. The albino also had a tin cup and a stack of cassettes. A sign read “The Original Benny and His Magical Sitar, only $10.” The original. Oh. Wouldn’t want that imitation albino, sitar, AM seventies music, no sir. Benny ~ Harlan Coben,
662:Do you disapprove of my choice of clothing, too, like you disapprove of me having an education or being a . . . a spinster? And don’t you even dare tell me to put my hair up!” She wagged a finger at him. Daniel’s grin widened. “I don’t mind your clothes. They are much more practical here than if you wore a dress. And I never said I disapprove of you being educated or unwed. As for your hair,” Daniel paused and she noticed his eyes darkening.  “It would be a shame to hide it away under some cap. ~ Peggy L Henderson,
663:Have you thought about what it means to be a god?" asked the man. He had a beard and a baseball cap. "It means you give up your mortal existence to become a meme: something that lives forever in people's minds, like the tune of a nursery rhyme. It means that everyone gets to re-create you in their own minds. You barely have your own identity any more. Instead, you're a thousand aspects of what people need you to be. And everyone wants something different from you. Nothing is fixed, nothing is stable. ~ Neil Gaiman,
664:Have you thought about what it means to be a god?” asked the man. He had a beard and a baseball cap. “It means you give up your mortal existence to become a meme: something that lives forever in people’s minds, like the tune of a nursery rhyme. It means that everyone gets to re-create you in their own minds. You barely have your own identity any more. Instead, you’re a thousand aspects of what people need you to be. And everyone wants something different from you. Nothing is fixed, nothing is stable. ~ Neil Gaiman,
665:My sister has appendages connected to her ankles. They feature toes and arches, but I cannot call them feet. In color they resemble the leathery paws of great apes, but in texture they are closer to hooves. In order to maintain her balance, she’ll periodically clear the bottoms of debris—a bottle cap, bits of broken glass, a chicken bone—but within moments she’ll have stepped on something else and begun the process all over again. It’s what happens when you sell both your broom and your vacuum cleaner. ~ David Sedaris,
666:Not taking a drink was easy. Just a matter of muscle movement, the simple refusal to put alcohol to my lips. The impossible part was everything else. How could I talk to people? Who would I be? What would intimacy look like, if it weren’t coaxed out by the glug-glug of a bottle of wine or a pint of beer? Would I have to join AA? Become one of those frightening 12-step people? How the fuck could I write? My livelihood, my identity, my purpose, my light—all extinguished with the tightening of a screw cap. ~ Sarah Hepola,
667:You’re caught up in the compulsion to constantly achieve, always adding meat to your bio and feathers to your cap. You haven’t finished one task before your mind is on to the next one. You work hard to clear things off your to-do list, and then immediately fill it up again. You might be working on a presentation or article, but your mind is already on the topic you will cover in the next one. Even at home you might be doing dishes, but your mind is making a mental list of other chores you need to tackle. ~ Emma Sepp l,
668:Even before he threw out the first pitch for the Doosan Bears at a baseball game in Seoul last weekend - which resulted in a diplomatic strike - Mark Lippert was on a winning streak. Dressed in a Bears cap and a jersey with his name in Korean on the back, he walked onto the field and introduced himself. "Hello, I'm Mark Lippert, the American ambassador to South Korea," he said in heavily accented Korean, and the crowd erupted in cheers. "Nice to meet you, baseball fans. I'm feeling good." South Korea is the ~ Anonymous,
669:Mai erau, apoi, ceasurile petrecute în bisericã în fața picturilor, iar Plutin clãtina din ce în ce mai tare din cap la vederea figurilor înspãimântãtoare create de școala bizantinã și consacrate de o tradiție multisecularã.
„Nu, e imposibil! Nu astfel l-a fãcut Dumnezeu pe om!”, izbucni el în cele din urmã.
Într-o zi o conduse în tainã pe Anitza la bisericã, o puse sã stea în poziția în care era înfãțișatã Maria Magdalena la picioarele rãstignitului și începu sã râdã din toatã inima. ~ Leopold von Sacher Masoch,
670:Draw me after You! We will run in the fragrance of Your perfumes, O heavenly Spouse! I will run and not tire, until You bring me into the wine-cellar, until Your left hand is under my head and Your right hand will embrace me happily and You will kiss me with the happiest kiss of Your mouth. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Clare of Assisi, Draw me after You!
,
671:At nine o'clock Mr. Shimerda lighted one of our lanterns and put on his overcoat and fur collar. He stood in the little entry hall, the lantern and his fur cap under his arm, shaking hands with us. When he took grandmother's hand, he bent over it as he always did, and said slowly, 'Good woman!' He made the sign of the cross over me, put on his cap and went off in the dark. As we turned back to the sitting-room, grandfather looked at me searchingly. 'The prayers of all good people are good,' he said quietly. ~ Willa Cather,
672:Ecstatic Eyes
O wondrous ecstatic eyes, o wondrous long locks,
O wondrous wine worshipper, o wondrous mischievous sweetheart.
As he draws the sword, I bow my head in prostration so as to be killed,
O wondrous is his beneficence, o wondrous my submission.
O wondrous amorous teasing, o wondrous beguiling,
O wondrous tilted cap, o wondrous tormentor.
Do not reveal the Truth; in this world blasphemy prevails, Khusrau;
O wondrous source of mystery, o wondrous knower of secrets.
~ Amir Khusro,
673:- O voce. Asta e tot ce primim.
Nimeni habar n-are ce vrea să spună, dar ea pare perfect mulţumită să ne lase în continuare nedumeriţi şi aşteaptă.
- Ăă, poftim? spune Marc.
- Fiecare avem o singură voce, spune doamna Quenell, iar lumea e incredibil de zgomotoasă. Uneori cred că cei tăcuţi...
Face semn din cap spre băiatul grosolan.
- ...şi-au dat seama că cea mai bună modalitate de-a atrage atenţia celorlalţi e să nu strigi, ci să şopteşti. Ceea ce îi face pe toţi să asculte puţin mai atent. ~ Meg Wolitzer,
674:Sometimes, as a great treat, I was allowed to remove Nursie's snowy ruffled cap. Without it, she somehow retreated into private life and lost her official status. Then, with elaborate care, I would tie a large blue satin ribbon round her head - with enormous difficulty and holding my breath, because tying a bow is no easy matter for a four-year-old. After which I would step back and exclaim in ecstasy: "Oh Nursie, you ARE beautiful!"
At which she would smile and say in her gentle voice:
"Am I, love? ~ Agatha Christie,
675:Era una bola de llum, que semblava que bategués, d'un to blavós [...]. La boleta de llum estava suspesa a l'aire, esperant-me, i quan vaig sortir a fora va anar surant un tros enllà i jo la vaig seguir [...], i allà... se'm va ficar a dintre. [...] Va venir surant cap a mi [...], cap al pit, i llavors... m'hi va passar a través. Es va ficar aquí —va dir, tocant-se a prop del cor—; ho vaig notar; era calenta. I un cop la vaig tenir a dintre vaig saber què havia de fer, i també que em portaria allà on havia d'anar. ~ J K Rowling,
676:THAT crazed girl improvising her music. Her poetry, dancing upon the shore, Her soul in division from itself Climbing, falling She knew not where, Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship, Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing Heroically lost, heroically found. No matter what disaster occurred She stood in desperate music wound, Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph Where the bales and the baskets lay No common intelligible sound But sang, 'O sea-starved, hungry sea ~ William Butler Yeats,
677:I twisted my head to look at the girl.  With one hand she held a wide straw hat to her head.  The other held an umbrella drink in a curvy glass.  She wore big movie-star sunglasses, tall, a reddish-new tan.  White bikini bottoms.  No top.  Just boobies. “Uh . . . hi.” “Hi,” she said. Then there was this shirtless fat guy at her side.  He didn’t have a top either, but his boobies were harrier.  He was hot pink with sun burn, wore a new moustache like a smear of brown crayon.  His ball cap said Kiss the Captain. ~ Victor Gischler,
678:Percy: Put your cap back on... get out! Annabeth: What? No! I'm not leaving you. Percy: I've got a plan. I'll distract them. You can use the metal spider... maybe it'll lead you back to Hephaestus. You have to tell him what's going on. Annabeth: But you'll be killed! Percy: I'll be fine. Besides, we've got no choice. Annabeth glared at me like she was going to punch me, and then she did something that surprised me even more she kissed me. Annabeth Be careful, Seaweed Brain. Percy: she put on her hat and vanished. ~ Rick Riordan,
679:And, swearing that he'd let no English passers-by tell him what HE was going to wear, he stalked toward Piccadilly and into a hat-shop he remembered having seen. He'd just glance in there. Certainly they couldn't SELL him anything! English people couldn't sell like Americans! So he entered the shop and came out with a new gray felt hat for town, a new brown one for the country, a bowler, a silk evening hat, and a cap, and he was proud of himself for having begun the Europeanization which he wasn't going to begin. ~ Sinclair Lewis,
680:Segundo Allan Kardec (A gênese, cap, XI, it. 18), a substituição do Espírito do médium durante uma manifestação mediúnica - ou nos casos graves de obsessão por subjugação, vulgarmente denominada possessão -, é uma impossibilidade biológica que conduziria o medianeiro ou subjugado à desencarnação, uma vez que o perispírito do encarnado encontra-se enraizado, unido, molécula a molécula, ao corpo físico. Assim, as palavras incorporação e possessão devem ser entendidas, respectivamente, como psicofonia e como subjugação. ~ L on Denis,
681:But then, Cap'n Crunch in a flake form would be suicidal madness; it would last about as long, when immersed in milk, as snowflakes sifting down into a deep fryer. No, the cereal engineers at General Mills had to find a shape that would minimize surface area, and, as some sort of compromise between the sphere that is dictated by Euclidean geometry and whatever sunken treasure related shapes that the cereal aestheticians were probably clamoring for, they came up with this hard-to-pin-down striated pillow formation. ~ Neal Stephenson,
682:It is certainly of great importance for a general to keep his plans secret; and Frederick the Great was right when he said that if his night-cap knew what was in his head he would throw it into the fire. That kind of secrecy was practicable in Frederick's time when his whole army was kept closely about him; but when maneuvers of the vastness of Napoleon's are executed, and war is waged as in our day, what concert of action can be expected from generals who are utterly ignorant of what is going on around them? ~ Antoine Henri Jomini,
683:But then, Cap'n Crunch in a flake form would be suicidal madness; it would last about as long, when immersed in milk, as snowflakes sifting down into a deep fryer. No, the cereal engineers at General Mills had to find a shape that would minimize surface area, and, as some sort of compromise between the sphere that is dictated by Euclidean geometry and whatever sunken treasure related shapes that the cereal aestheticians were probably clamoring for, they came up with this hard -to-pin-down striated pillow formation. ~ Neal Stephenson,
684:Detectives discovered gross contradictions to Eric’s insta-profile already cemented in the media. In Plattsburgh, friends described a sports enthusiast hanging out with minorities. Two of Eric’s best friends turned out to be Asian and African American. The Asian boy was a jock to boot. Eric played soccer and Little League. He followed the Rockies even before the family moved to Colorado, frequently sporting their baseball cap. By junior high he had grown obsessed with computers, and eventually with popular video games. ~ Dave Cullen,
685:Falling Embers, 90 percent alcohol content. That would do. After pouring the liquor, he tossed the shot back, dumping the contents into his mouth and feeling it burn a hot trail down to his stomach. Holy shades of hell! It was like swallowing and shitting flames. Even his ass was on fire. He grimaced, then tipped the bottle to refill his glass and gulped it down too. He heard Uriel say something, but it melted along with the fumes oozing out of his ears. Feeling fortified by the malt, he replaced the cap on the bottle. ~ Cecilia Robert,
686:- Visez la o dragoste care sa insemne mai mult decat doi oameni dorindu-si cu disperare sa se posede unul pe celalalt. Odata, nu demult, am crezut ca am gasit-o. Dar am gresit.
- Ce s-a intamplat?
Parandu-i-se ca Nietzsche clatinase usor din cap, Breuer nu insista. Mersera mai departe impreuna, pana cand Nietzsche relua:
- Visez la o dragoste in care doi oameni sa impartaseasca pasiunea de a cauta impreuna un adevar mai inalt. Poate ca n-ar trebui s-o numesc dragoste. Poate ca adevaratul ei nume este prietenie. ~ Irvin D Yalom,
687:I checked the league rules,” Maya said. “I don’t see an exception to the half-game rule. You also didn’t play all your players in the quarterfinals.” He turned toward her and again faced her full-on. He adjusted the brim of his cap and moved into Maya’s personal space. She didn’t step back. During the first half, sitting with the parents and watching the guy’s constant tirades at both the girls and the refs, Maya had seen him slam-dunk that stupid cap onto the ground twice. He’d looked like a two-year-old midparoxysm. “We ~ Harlan Coben,
688:but even with the gift of tongues, I’m having trouble learning to speak hip-hop. Why is it that one can busta rhyme or busta move anywhere but you must busta cap in someone’s ass? Is “ho” always feminine, and “muthafucka” always masculine, while “bitch” can be either? How many peeps in a posse, how much booty before baby got back, do you have to be all that to get all up in that, and do I need to be dope and phat to be da bomb or can I just be “stupid”? I’ll not be singing over any dead mothers until I understand. The ~ Christopher Moore,
689:Spre deosebire de alte popoare asiatice, tailandezii nu cred în fantome şi manifestă puţin interes pentru soarta cadavrelor. Cele mai multe sunt duse direct la groapa comună. Cum nu voi lăsa instrucţiuni precise, la fel se va-ntâmpla şi cu mine. Cineva, foarte departe, în Franţa, va completa un act de deces, va bifa o căsuţă într-un formular de stare civilă. Câţiva vânzători ambulanţi obişnuiţi să mă vadă prin cartier vor clătina din cap. Camera mea va fi închiriată altui călător. Apoi mă vor uita, mă vor uita repede... ~ Michel Houellebecq,
690:I stooped under the rude lintel, and there he sat upon a stone outside, his gray eyes dancing with amusement as they fell upon my astonished features. He was thin and worn, but clear and alert, his keen face bronzed by the sun and roughened by the wind. In his tweed suit and cloth cap he looked like any other tourist upon the moor, and he had contrived, with that catlike love of personal cleanliness which was one of his characteristics, that his chin should be as smooth and his linen as perfect as if he were in Baker Street. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle,
691:It was very, very early in the morning. You were probably only just awake. Your mother was asleep in the corner. It was an exquisite morning. I was walking along wondering who it could be in a four-in-hand? It was a splendid set of four horses with bells, and in a second you flashed by, and I saw you at the window—you were sitting like this, holding the strings of your cap in both hands, and thinking awfully deeply about something," he said, smiling. "How I should like to know what you were thinking about then! Something important? ~ Leo Tolstoy,
692:All the values turn upside down with the years, and what was considered a privilege in the Special Purpose Camp of the twenties—to wear government-issue clothing—would become an annoyance in the Special Camp of the forties: there the privilege would be not to wear government-issue clothing, but to wear at least something of one's own, even just a cap. The reason here was not economic only but was a cry of the whole epoch: one decade saw as its ideal how to join in the common lot, and the other how to get away from it. ~ Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn,
693:Letting himself into his Nashville hotel room, Kade pulled off his baseball cap and collapsed on the king-sized bed with a sigh. He’d have to call his brother-in-law, Max, and let him know that he’d failed…again. Asha had just left the homeless shelter a few minutes before he had arrived, and no one there had any idea where she was headed. She’d left her few meager belongings behind, so Kade had some hope she’d return, but nobody at the shelter really knew her, and nobody seemed quite certain where she was or if she would be coming back. ~ J S Scott,
694:Everyone was elated with this turn of events, most of all Colonel Cathcart, who was convinced he had won a feather in his cap. He greeted Milo jovially each time they met and, in an excess of contrite generosity, impulsively recommended Major Major for promotion. The recommendation was rejected at once at Twenty- seventh Air Force Headquaters by ex-P.F.C. Wintergreen, who scribbled a brusque, unsigned reminder that the Army had only one Major Major Major Major and did not intend to lose him by promotion just to please Colonel Cathcart. ~ Joseph Heller,
695:That night, after Gansey had gone to meet Blue, Ronan retrieved one of Kavinsky’s green pills from his still-unwashed pair of jeans and returned to bed. Propped up in the corner, he stretched out his hand to Chainsaw, but she ignored him. She had stolen a cheese cracker and now was very busily stacking things on top of it to make sure Ronan would never take it back. Although she kept glancing back at his outstretched hand, she pretended not to see it as she added a bottle cap, an envelope, and a sock to the pile hiding the cracker. ~ Maggie Stiefvater,
696:Immortality—dazzling idea! who first imagined thee! Was it some jolly burgher of Nuremburg, who with night-cap on his head, and white clay pipe in mouth, sat on some pleasant summer evening before his door, and reflected in all his comfort, that it would be right pleasant, if, with unextinguishable pipe, and endless breath, he could thus vegetate onwards for a blessed eternity? Or was it a lover, who in the arms of his loved one, thought the immortality-thought, and that because he could think and feel naught beside!—Love! Immortality! ~ Heinrich Heine,
697:I paused for a light at Hamilton and TWlfth and noticed the Nissan was running rough at idle. Two blocks later it backfired and stalled. I coaxed it into the center of the city. Ffft, ffft, ffft, KAPOW! Ffft, ffft, ffft, KAPOW! A Trans Am pulled up next to me at a light. The Trans Am was filled with high school kids. One of them stuck his head out of the passenger-side window. "Hey lady," he said. "Sounds like you got a fartmobile." I flipped him an Italian goodwill gesture and pulled the ball cap low on my forehead. (Three to get Deadly) ~ Janet Evanovich,
698:By the time they had called at the baker's and climbed to the top of Cap Diamant, the sun, dropping with incredible quickness, had already disappeared. They sat down in the blue twilight to eat their bread and await the turbid afterglow which is peculiar to Quebec in autumn; the slow, rich, prolonged flowing-back of crimson across the sky, after the sun has sunk behind the dark ridges of the west. Because of the haze in the air the colour seems thick, like a heavy liquid, welling up wave after wave, a substance that throbs, rather than a light. ~ Willa Cather,
699:Upon reaching her, he stilled, bewildered by her beauty.
She wore a light blue gown with short cap sleeves and a plunging bodice; a band of lace stretched across the top was meant to disguise her bosom, but only served to tease him.
Another narrow band of lace was wrapped around her delicate throat, and her golden locks had been swept up neatly. Tiny pearls had been tucked here and there within the curls piled atop her head. She looked elegant and refined and... and all he wanted to do was strip her naked and lick her from top to bottom. ~ Olivia Parker,
700:Why are you smiling?' Gargarin asked Froi, from across the balconette. 'When you're going to have to learn a lesson in diplomacy today and choose between the gardens of two women?'

Froi laughed, his chin resting on Quintana's head, his eyes taking in the joy of his son, despite the ridiculous cap that covered the babe's head. He looked across at Lirah and Arjuro and Rafuel, and then back to Gargarin who was smiling himself, because he knew the answer to his own question.

'Because today, I think I'm leaning on the side of wonder. ~ Melina Marchetta,
701:His brow is seamed with line and scar; His cheek is red and dark as wine; The fires as of a Northern star Beneath his cap of sable shine. His right hand, bared of leathern glove, Hangs open like an iron gin, You stoop to see his pulses move, To hear the blood sweep out and in. He looks some king, so solitary In earnest thought he seems to stand, As if across a lonely sea He gazed impatient of the land. Out of the noisy centuries The foolish and the fearful fade; Yet burn unquenched these warrior eyes, Time hath not dimmed, nor death dismayed. ~ Walter de La Mare,
702:THAT crazed girl improvising her music.
Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,

Her soul in division from itself
Climbing, falling She knew not where,
Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,
Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare
A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing
Heroically lost, heroically found.

No matter what disaster occurred
She stood in desperate music wound,
Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph
Where the bales and the baskets lay
No common intelligible sound
But sang, 'O sea-starved, hungry sea ~ W B Yeats,
703:This whole issue of limits to growth, which provides a psychological, as well as a physical, cap on potential expansion of activity and awareness, has had a very depressing effect on many people.... I don't for a moment think that there's any concept which anyone's working with now which will be followed as a straightforward scenario. But the idea embodied in concepts such as space colonization or space industrialization, or availability of nonterrestrial resources, is fundamental, and it will change the way in which people look at the future. ~ Rusty Schweickart,
704:Dickie Macphalion
I went to the mill, but the miller was gone,
I sat me down, and cried ochone!
To think on the days that are past and gone,
Of Dickie Macphalion that's slain.
Shoo, shoo, shoolaroo,
To think on the days that are past and gone,
Of Dickie Macphalion that's slain.
I sold my rock, I sold my reel,
And sae hae I my spinning wheel,
And a' to buy a cap of steel
For Dickie Macphalion that's slain!
Shoo, shoo, shoolaroo,
And a' to buy a cap of steel
For Dickie Macphalion that's slain.
~ Andrew Lang,
705:Afternoon
When I am old, and comforted,
And done with this desire,
With Memory to share my bed
And Peace to share my fire,
I'll comb my hair in scalloped bands
Beneath my laundered cap,
And watch my cool and fragile hands
Lie light upon my lap.
And I will have a sprigged gown
With lace to kiss my throat;
I'll draw my curtain to the town,
And hum a purring note.
And I'll forget the way of tears,
And rock, and stir my tea.
But oh, I wish those blessed years
Were further than they be!
~ Dorothy Parker,
706:And after dinner, Mrs Jenkins would have baby on her knee; and he seemed quite to take to her; she declared he was admiring the real lace on her cap, but Mary thought (though she did not say so) that he was pleased by her kind looks and coaxing words. Then he was wrapped up and carried carefully upstairs to tea, in Mrs Jenkins’s room. And after tea, Mrs Jenkins, and Mary, and her husband, found out each other’s mutual liking for music, and sat singing old glees and catches, till I don’t know what o’clock, without one word of politics or newspapers ~ Charles Dickens,
707:Furry Bear
If I were a bear,
And a big bear too,
I shouldn’t much care
If it froze or snew;
I shouldn’t much mind
If it snowed or friz—
I’d be all fur-lined
With a coat like his!
For I’d have fur boots and a brown fur wrap,
And brown fur knickers and a big fur cap.
I’d have a fur muffle-ruff to cover my jaws,
And brown fur mittens on my big brown paws.
With a big brown furry-down up to my head,
I’d sleep all the winter in a big fur bed.
~ Alan Alexander Milne,
708:History pays no heed to the unspectacular citizen who worked hard all day and walked at night to a humble home with dust on his tunic and his flat cap. But in the end the builders have had the better of it. The miracles they accomplished in stone are still standing and still beautiful, even with the disintegration of so many centuries on them, but the battlefields where great warriors died are so encroached upon by modern villas and so befouled by the rotting remains of motorcars and the staves of oil barrels that they do not always repay a visit. ~ Thomas B Costain,
709:But then there are other cases… Cases in which the narrative of disease strays off the expected path, where the usual suspects all seem to have alibis, and the diagnosis is elusive. For these, the doctor must don her deerstalker cap and unravel the mystery. It is in these instances where medicine can rise once again to the level of an art and the doctor-detective must pick apart the tangled strands of illness, understand which questions to ask, recognize the subtle physical findings, and identify which tests might lead, finally, to the right diagnosis. ~ Lisa Sanders,
710:eye cap is a simple ten-cent piece of plastic. It is slightly larger than a contact lens, less flexible, and considerably less comfortable. The plastic is repeatedly lanced through, so that small, sharp spurs stick up from its surface. The spurs work on the same principle as those steel spikes that threaten Severe Tire Damage on behalf of rental car companies: The eyelid will come down over an eye cap, but, once closed, will not easily open back up. Eye caps were invented by a mortician to help dead people keep their eyes shut. There have been times this ~ Mary Roach,
711:Hackman's paradox: Groups have natural advantages: they have more resources than individuals; greater diversity of resources; more flexibility in deploying the resources; many opportunities for collective learning; and, the potential for synergy. Yet studies show that their actual performance often is subpar relative to "nominal" groups (i.e. individuals given the same task but their results are pooled.) The two most common reasons: groups are assigned work that is better done by individuals or are structured in ways that cap their full potential. ~ J Richard Hackman,
712:The journey took about a week each way, and each day had my parents both in its grip. Riding behind my father, I could see that the road had him by the shoulders, by the hair under his driving cap. It took my mother to make him stop. I inherited his nervous energy in the way I can't stop writing on a story. It makes me understand how Ohio had him around the heart, as West Virginia had my mother. Writers and travelers are mesmerized alike by knowing of their destinations. And all the time that we think we're getting there so fast, how slowly we do move. ~ Eudora Welty,
713:was standing facing my car, and behind me, I could hear windows being thrown open in my apartment building. It was Lorraine in her nightie and Mo in his cap. They’d just settled their brains for a long winter’s nap in front of the television. When out in the lot there arose such a clatter, they sprang from their recliners to see what was the matter. Away to the window they flew like a flash, tore open the blinds and threw up the sash. And what to their wondering eyes should appear, but Stephanie Plum and yet another of her cars burning front to rear. ~ Janet Evanovich,
714:But in real life things don't go so smoothly. At certain points in our lives, when we really need a clear-cut solution, the person who knocks at our door is more likely than not, a messenger bearing bad news...The messenger touches his hand to his cap and looks apologetic, but that does nothing to improve the contents of the message. It isn't the messenger's fault, no good to grab him by the collar and shake him. The messenger is just conscientiously doing the job his boss assigned him. And this boss? That would none other than our old friend Reality. ~ Haruki Murakami,
715:Hey umm… Mikayla?" Jake says. Pitch, hit, chase, repeat.

Jake barely ever calls me Mikayla, so what ever it is he's about to say, I'm already paying attention.

“Yeah?” I answer, wariness in my voice.

"Umm, I know that uhh,” he clears his throat, takes his cap off, runs his hand through his hair, then replaces the cap, backwards. Nervous habit. Shit.

"I know that you wear your mom’s engagement ring, but umm… I mean, what happens if, I mean when, a guy, uh, hopefully me. I mean, what happens if… when… said guy, me, wants to propose? ~ Jay McLean,
716:There sat Floyd, naked as a blue jay and not half as pretty. He had the largest head I ever saw on a man, and was wearing a Ford baseball cap that was three sizes too small. Men around these parts don’t take off their hats unless they absolutely have to. “Gertie Johnson,” Floyd exclaimed. “What are you doing?” The difference between men and women is this—if you catch a woman butt-naked, she tries to cover the private parts with her hands. A man will sit there just like you found him even if he doesn’t have much to be proud of. Floyd sat like that, not moving. ~ Deb Baker,
717:My own feeling is this: mathematics and computer science are the two unnatural sciences, the things that are man-made. We get to set up the rules so it doesn't matter the way the universe works – we create our own universe... And I feel strongly that they are different, but I tried to convince Bill Thurston and he disagreed with me. My opinion though is I can feel rather strongly when I am wearing my mathematician's cloak versus when I am wearing my computer scientist's cap. ~ Donald Knuth (May 29, 2011). "All Questions Answered" by Donald Knuth. GoogleTechTalks. YouTube.,
718:A Young Fir-Wood
THESE little firs to-day are things
To clasp into a giant's cap,
Or fans to suit his lady's lap.
From many winters many springs
Shall cherish them in strength and sap
Till they be marked upon the map,
A wood for the wind's wanderings.
All seed is in the sower's hands:
And what at first was trained to spread
Its shelter for some single head,—
Yea, even such fellowship of wands,—
May hide the sunset, and the shade
Of its great multitude be laid
Upon the earth and elder sands.
~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti,
719:The maid came in to light up and soon it would be time to go upstairs and change for dinner. I thought this woman one of the most fascinating I had ever seen. She had a long thin face, dead white, or powdered dead white. Her hair was black and lively under her cap, her eyes so small that the first time I saw her I thought she was blind. But wide open, they were the most astonishing blue, cornflower blue, no, more like sparks of blue fire. Then she would drop her eyelids and her face would go dead and lifeless again. I never tired of watching this transformation. ~ Jean Rhys,
720:Butch repositioned the Sox cap, and as his wrist passed by his nose, he got another whiff of himself. "Ah, V. . . listen, there is something a little weird going down on me."

"What?"

"I smell like men's cologne."

"Good for you. Females dig that kind of thing."

"Vishous, I smell like Obsession for Men, only I'm not WEARING any, you feel me?"

There was silence on the line. Then, "Humans don't bond."

"Oh, really. You want to tell that to my central nervous system and my sweat glands? They'd appreciate the news flash, I'm sure. ~ J R Ward,
721:Susannah Buxton, costume designer: This dress (above) was made of original beading so delicate that it couldn't be worn again. The red dress (right) is made from a turn-of-the-century Spanish evening dress. We sourced beautiful silk chiffon and had it pleated for the cap sleeves and bands across the front. We built layers for the final effect, with embroidered lace laid over the deep-red satin under-dress. We used evening gloves from the costume house selection, which are "dipped down" - that is, run through with dyes to take the brightness out of the fabric. ~ Jessica Fellowes,
722:If there was one kind of hat Terry despised above all others, it was the baseball cap. There was nothing wrong with children wearing it, of course, but whenever he saw it on the head of an adult it seemed to symbolize everything that he most hated about America, even more potently than the figure of Mickey Mouse or the latest Coke adverts or the hordes of giant yellow ‘M’s which were even now beginning to advance across Britain like an unchecked virus. And even worse, Kingsley was wearing it back to front. This, without doubt, was the ultimate badge of imbecility. ~ Jonathan Coe,
723:In July 1997, the proposed new Scottish Parliament building in Edinburgh was estimated to cost up to £40 million. By June 1999, the budget for the building was £109 million. In April 2000, legislators imposed a £195 million “cap on costs.” By November 2001, they demanded an estimate of “final cost,” which was set at £241 million. That estimated final cost rose twice in 2002, ending the year at £294.6 million. It rose three times more in 2003, reaching £375.8 million by June. The building was finally completed in 2004 at an ultimate cost of roughly £431 million. ~ Daniel Kahneman,
724:I paused for a light at Hamilton and TWlfth and noticed the Nissan was running rough at idle. Two blocks later it backfired and stalled. I coaxed it into the center of the city. Ffft, ffft, ffft, KAPOW! Ffft, ffft, ffft, KAPOW!

A Trans Am pulled up next to me at a light. The Trans Am was filled with high school kids. One of them stuck his head out of the passenger-side window.

"Hey lady," he said. "Sounds like you got a fartmobile." I flipped him an Italian goodwill gesture and pulled the ball cap low on my forehead.

(Three to get Deadly) ~ Janet Evanovich,
725:No, of course you don’t think that is possible. You look at my face and you see a monster. You look at my hands and see them covered with the blood you ordered me to spill. But I tell you, Cap, it will happen. The girl has had no friend for going on two years. She has had her father and that is all. You see her as you see me, Cap. It is your great failing. You look, you see a monster. Only in the girl’s case, you see a useful monster. Perhaps that is because you are a white man. White men see monsters everywhere. White men look at their own pricks and see monsters. ~ Stephen King,
726:Of all forms of mental activity, the most difficult to induce even in the minds of the young, who may be presumed not to have lost their flexibility, is the art of handling the same bundle of data as before, but placing them in a new system of relations with one another by giving them a different framework, all of which virtually means putting on a different kind of thinking-cap for the moment. It is easy to teach anybody a new fact...but it needs light from heaven above to enable a teacher to break the old framework in which the student is accustomed to seeing. ~ Arthur Koestler,
727:If someone crushes a tube of toothpaste and tosses it away capless, experience tells me they are prudent about saving money, though at the end of the day they will spend money on themselves, as if to compensate for their earlier inattention. Consumers who discard a toothpaste tube with its cap screwed down tightly seldom allow themselves to relax, and are reluctant to expose who they really are, or to indulge themselves with a luxury. Consumers who throw away a half-full toothpaste tube are, in general, less secure than people who wait until the tube is depleted. ~ Martin Lindstrom,
728:it is impossible for any mind of common honesty not to be revolted by the contradictions in their principles and practice. They inveigh against the governments of Europe, because, as they say, they favor the powerful and oppress the weak. ... [yet] you will see them with one hand hoisting the cap of liberty, and with the other flogging their slaves. You will see them one hour lecturing their mob on the indefeasible rights of man, and the next driving from their homes the children of the soil, whom they have bound themselves to protect by the most solemn treaties. ~ Frances Trollope,
729:Dar te întreb eu acum: de ce totul trebuie trăit? De ce totul trebuie consumat? N-ajunge că sîntem siliți să mîncăm? Trebuie să ne mîncăm și sufletele? Unde scrie asta? Adică cum, nu putem păstra în sufletul nostru și lucruri netrăite? Trebuie neapărat să înghițim tot ce e pe lume? De ce? Ca să avem pe urmă ce vărsa în mormîntul în care o să fim băgați? E o veche întrebare a mea la care rămîn..Am iubit o fată! Nu-mi ajunge? De ce trebuie alta? Și acum ascultă: Am vrut o dată să schimb lumea! Nu-mi ajunge? De ce trebuie s-o iau de la cap și să merg pînă în pînzele albe? ~ Marin Preda,
730:Lines formed at Ruby Pier- just as a line formed someplace else; five people, waiting, in five chosen memories, for a little girl named Amy or Annie to grow and to love and to age and to die, and to finally have her questions answered- why she lived and what she lived for. And in that line now was a whiskered old man, with a linen cap and a crooked nose, who waited in a place called the Stardust Band Shell to share his part of the secret of heaven: that each affects the other and the other affects the next, and the world is full of stories, but the stories are all one. ~ Mitch Albom,
731:Oamenii ar trebui să se considere mai mult decât niște animale atunci când le e bine. Așa ar reuși să fructifice la maxim mulțumirea și fericirea. Dar noi nu prea facem asta. Când ajungem unde vrem, ne ia durerea de cap. Apare imediat teama că o să pierdem ceea ce avem sau ne apucăm să facem excese care vor duce, de cele mai multe ori, la un final dezamăgitor. Sau, în mai puțin de două secunde, începem să ne dorim și mai mult, încât ceea ce abia am dobândit ni se pare brusc puțin sau insuficient. Mi se pare că omul devine cel mai animal atunci când e fericit, din păcate. ~ Adrian Tele pan,
732:He obviously enjoyed her annoyance. He took his time and uncapped the bottle of water. Removed his ball cap. Dumped the water over his head.
Julianna’s breath caught. Her body slammed into overdrive at the raw sexual scene before her. Water dripped from his thick blond hair and ran down his face. Over a carved jaw. Slid down to dampen perfectly cut lips.
His t-shirt soaked up the liquid and clung to his chest like a Women’s Night gone wild. Hunger hit hard and deep as she followed the trail down to his belt buckle, where droplets slid under the denim and hid beyond. ~ Jennifer Probst,
733:On the whole, we're a murderous race. According to Genesis, it took as few as four people to make the planet too crowded to stand, and the first murder was a fratricide. Genesis says that in a fit of jealous rage, the very first child born to mortal parents, Cain, snapped and popped the first metaphorical cap in another human being. The attack was a bloody, brutal, violent, reprehensible killing. Cain's brother Abel probably never saw it coming. As I opened the door to my apartment, I was filled with a sense of empathic sympathy and intuitive understanding. For freaking Cain. ~ Jim Butcher,
734:When Rochambeau put to death 500 at Le Cap and buried them in a large hole dug while they waited for execution, Dessalines raised gibbets of branches and hanged 500 for Rochambeau and the whites in Le Cap to see. But neither Dessalines' army nor his ferocity won the victory. It was the people. They burned San Domingo flat so that at the end of the war it was a charred desert. Why do you burn everything? asked a French officer of a prisoner. We have a right to burn what we cultivate because a man has a right to dispose of his own labour, was the reply of this unknown anarchist. ~ C L R James,
735:Even the minstrels who came in the back yards and sang
"If I had my way,
You would never grow old"
were sad, too. They were bums and they were hungry and they didn’t have talent for song-making. All they had in the world was the nerve to stand in a back yard with cap in hand and sing loudly. The sad thing was in the knowing that all their nerve would get them nowhere in the world and that they were lost as all people in Brooklyn seem lost when the day is nearly over and even though the sun is still bright, it is thin and doesn’t give you warmth when it shines on you. ~ Betty Smith,
736:Owen," Henry said excitedly, "I think Coach wants you to hit for Meccini."

Owen closed The Voyage of the Beagle, on which he had recently embarked. "Really?"

"Runners on first and second," Rick said. "I bet he wants you to bunt."

"What's the bunt sign?"

"Two tugs on the left earlobe," Henry told him. "But first he has to give the indicator, which is squeeze the belt. But if he goes to his cap with either hand or says your first name, that's the wipe-off, and then you have to wait and see whether--"

"Forget it," Owen said. "I'll just bunt. ~ Chad Harbach,
737:When his count reached thirty children he stopped. Five more hours at six children per hour would take him to eight o’clock. He crouched down before a two-year-old girl. Lily was her name if he remembered correctly. He said, “Hello Beautiful,” and stroked her hot cheek with the back of his hand. He took the cap off the iodine and wet the tip of his index finger. He drew a semicircle on her forehead and added two dots. To him it was a smiley face, but if asked he would say it was a moon and two stars. Turning to the mother he said, “Your daughter will be the last patient of the day. ~ Tim Tigner,
738:Dumnezeu, când a făcut salariul, a zis așa: „Iar salariul acesta se duce acasă, la familie și la copii“. Cu toate astea, băr‑ batul îl duce mereu, din greșeală, la cârciumă. Dacă veți vedea o tipă îmbrăcată sado‑maso, că‑i aruncă lui (care zburdă în patru labe în jurul ei, cu limba scoasă), portofelul cât colo, după care îi dă un pantof cu toc în cap și‑un pulan la cur și‑i strigă „Apporte!“, nu vă gândiți la cine știe ce preludiu per‑ vers. E doar o amărâtă de nevastă disperată, care încearcă să‑și învețe bărbatul să aducă leafa acasă1 8 S I M O N A T A C H E & M I H A I R A D U ~ Anonymous,
739:say, ‘Brenda, I am nineteen years old and I’ll never be nineteen again. I’ll never be alive again. I mean this is the only life I get to go through, Brenda, so far as I know, and I’ve spent this great large chunk of it sitting alone in an empty apartment too proud to make up, too scared you’d say no, but even if you did say no it can’t be worse than what I got now. I’m the loneliest man in the world, Brenda, so please come to Ocean City with me.’ And Brenda, she lays down her mending and says, ‘Well, since you ask, but it looks to me like you forgot my bathing cap.’ And off we went. ~ Anne Tyler,
740:As he stood there lost in reflection, Auclair thought he seemed more like a man revolving plans for a new struggle with fortune than one looking back upon a life of brilliant features. The Count had the bearing of a fencer when he takes up the foil; from his shoulders to his heels there was intention and direction. His carriage was his unconscious idea of himself, -- it was an armour he put on when he took off his night-cap in the morning, and he wore it all day, at early mass, at his desk, on the march, at the Council, at his dinner-table. Even his enemies relied upon his strength. ~ Willa Cather,
741:Irruption of the magical in the life of Snow White: Snow White knows a singing bone. The singing bone has told her various stories which have left her troubled and confused: of a bear transformed into a king’s son, of an immense treasure at the bottom of a brook, of a crystal casket in which there is a cap that makes the wearer invisible. This must not continue. The behavior of the bone is unacceptable. The bone must be persuaded to confine itself to events and effects susceptible of confirmation by the instrumentarium of the physical sciences. Someone must reason with the bone. ~ Donald Barthelme,
742:You," I surmised, and gestured round. "Thank you."
"No," he denied. His pale hair floated out from beneath his cap in a halo as he shook his head. "But I assisted. Thank you for bathing. It makes my task of checking on you less onerous. I'm glad you're awake. You snore abominably."
I let this comment pass. "You've grown." I observed.
"Yes. So have you. And you've been sick. And you slept quite a long time. And now you're awake and bathed and fed. You still look terrible. But you no longer smell. It's late afternoon now. Are there any other obvious facts you'd like to review? ~ Robin Hobb,
743:New Hampshire has always been cheap, mean, rural, small-minded, and reactionary. It's one of the few states in the nation with neither a sales tax nor an income tax. Social services are totally inadequate there, it ranks at the bottom in state aid to education--the state is literally shaped like a dunce cap--and its medical assistance program is virtually nonexistent. Expecting aid for the poor there is like looking for an egg under a basilisk.... The state encourages skinflints, cheapskates, shutwallets, and pinched little joykillers who move there as a tax refuge to save money. ~ Alexander Theroux,
744:She unscrews the cap, sniffs it, and then shrugs, dumping the entire contents into the bubbling brew. “It could be marjoram, but it might be mushrooms. I had a bottle of poisonous, green ones I dried out last winter on the solstice. Oh well.”

Leaning out over the cauldron, she stirs thrice counterclockwise, using the wooden spoon with a handle about as tall as she is. Then she scoops a bit and brings it to her mouth for a taste.

“No!” Jason and I scream at the same time.

She blinks at us. “What?”

“You just put something that may be poisonous in there,” I say. ~ Rita J Webb,
745:THAT crazed girl improvising her music.
Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,

Her soul in division from itself
Climbing, falling She knew not where,
Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,
Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare
A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing
Heroically lost, heroically found.

No matter what disaster occurred
She stood in desperate music wound,
Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph
Where the bales and the baskets lay
No common intelligible sound
But sang, "O sea-starved, hungry sea.'

~ William Butler Yeats, A Crazed Girl
,
746:Noi, membrii varietății umane a primatelor, suntem însetați de reguli, deoarece trebuie să reducem dimensiunile problemelor astfel încât acestea să încapă în capul nostru. Sau, din păcate, așa încât să le putem înghesui în cap. Cu cât informația are un grad mai mare de aleatoriu, cu atât dimensiunile sale sunt mai mari și, astfel, mai greu de sintetizat. Cu cât sintetizăm mai mult, cu cât facem mai multă ordine în informație, cu atât este mai puțin aleatorie. Așadar, aceeași condiție care ne face să simplificăm ne împinge să credem că lumea e mai puțin aleatorie decât în realitate. ~ Nassim Nicholas Taleb,
747:Salgo del ascensor y camino hacia la silla vacía al lado de Cap. Ni siquiera reconoce mi presencia con contacto visual. Está mirando a través del vestíbulo hacia la salida.—Acabas de dejarla ir —dice, ni siquiera intenta de ocultar la decepción en su voz. No respondo. Se apoya contra los brazos de la silla, reposicionándose a sí mismo.—Algunas personas… se vuelven más sabias a medida que crecen.Desafortunadamente, la mayoría de la gente apenas crece.—Se da vuelta para mirarme—. Tú eres una de las que sólo ha estado volviéndose viejas, porque eres tan estúpido como lo eras el día en que naciste ~ Anonymous,
748:The Seer pulled out a flask and removed the cap. Saul knelt before the Seer. Samuel poured the contents of the flask over Saul’s head. The anointing oil flowed down over his face and beard. The crowd noise increased again. Samuel cried out, “Behold the man of Yahweh’s choosing. Behold your king!” And the mass of Israelite leaders all responded, “LONG LIVE THE KING!” When the crowd died down in its applause, Samuel announced, “Hear O Israel! I have received word that the Ammonites have besieged the city of Jabesh-gilead. But I am no longer your judge over you. Hear now the words of your king! ~ Brian Godawa,
749:You know, don’t you?” The unfamiliar voice startled him for a second, but Dan just figured that the guy hadn’t been talking to him. Still, when he sneaked a look, he could see some stranger was staring directly into Dan’s sunglassed eyes. Little guy, Dan thought, but then again, everyone looked little to Dan. Not short. Just small. Small hands, thin arms, almost frail. The guy who was staring at him now stuck out here because it was so clear he didn’t belong. There was nothing football about him. Too little. Too nerdy. Big baseball cap pulled down too low. And that soft, friendly smile. “You ~ Harlan Coben,
750:Storm, Momentary, Forever
Then summer said goodbye
to the station. Lifting its cap,
the thunder took souvenirs,
hundreds of shots on the fly.
The lilac went black. And that
instant, gathering whole armfuls
of lightning, the far clearing lit
the white station-master’s shack.
And when the whole roof ran
with a fierce torrent of malice,
and, like charcoal onto a sketch,
the rain crashed down on the fence,
consciousness started to flash,
here, it seems, flooding in play
even the corners of mind
where it’s always bright as day.
~ Boris Pasternak,
751:When she comes down to supper I don't like her any better; in fact, a hell of a lot less. She's put on a shiny dress, all fishscales, like this was still India or the boat. On her head she's put a sort of beaded cap that fits close-like a hood. A mottled green-and-black thing that gleams dully in the candlelight. Not a hair shows below it, you can't tell whether she's a woman or what the devil she is. Right in front, above her forehead, there's a sort of question-mark worked into it, in darker beads. You can't be sure what it is, but it's shaped like a question mark. ("Kiss of the Cobra") ~ Cornell Woolrich,
752:Charlie French
Did you ever find out
which of the boys it was
Who snapped the toy pistol against my hand?
There when the flags were red and white
In the breeze and "Bucky" Estil
Was firing the cannon brought to Spoon River
From Vicksburg by Captain Harris;
And the lemonade stands running
And the band was playing,
To have it all spoiled
By a piece of a cap shot under the skin of my hand,
And the boys all crowding about me saying:
"You'll die of lock-jaw, Charlie, sure."
Oh, dear! oh, dear!
What chum of mine could have done it?
~ Edgar Lee Masters,
753:Karen was cuddling her favourite stuffed animal, a mint-green toy deer which she called “Annabelle”. Sometimes Jesse wondered about this… Karen loved the taste of venison and couldn’t wait to shoot her first deer so she could brag to her friends about it. She had a pink camo baseball cap with “hunter” embroidered on the front. She enjoyed watching every year as Robert took out his big steel-bladed saw and sliced the antlers off his latest prize. So, why’d she cry every time she watched Disney’s Bambi? Why’d she treat an inanimate toy as a living thing, but a living thing as an inanimate toy? ~ Rebecca McNutt,
754:When I shoot, the ball bounces hard against the backboard, and flies wildly through the air, knocking the coach in the head. I slap a hand over my mouth. The coach barely catches herself from falling. Several students laugh. She glares at me and readjusts her cap. With a small wave of apology, I head back to the end of the line. Will's there fighting laughter. "Nice," he says. "Glad I'm downcourt of you." I cross my arms and resist smiling, resist letting myself feel good around him. But he makes it hard. I want to smile. I want to like him, to be around him, to know him. "Happy to amuse you. ~ Sophie Jordan,
755:Cap sat and looked at Rainbird. His mind had divided, it seemed, had become a three-ring circus. Part of it was marveling that he had never heard John Rainbird say so much at one time. Part of it was trying to grapple with the idea that this maniac knew all of the Shop’s business. A third part was remembering a Chinese curse, a curse that sounded deceptively pleasant until you sat down and really thought about it. May you live in interesting times. For the last year and a half he had lived in extremely interesting times. He felt that just one more interesting thing would drive him totally insane. ~ Stephen King,
756:constituents started bombarding his office with angry missives. Reams of faxes arrived from voters, many representing local chapters of ordinarily supportive liberal groups like the NAACP and the American Association of University Women. Under official letterheads, they argued passionately that the cap-and-trade legislation would raise electric bills, hurting the poor. But an effort by the congressman’s staff to reach the angry constituents revealed that the letters were forgeries, sent on behalf of a coal industry trade group by Bonner and Associates, a Washington-based public relations firm. After ~ Jane Mayer,
757:Allow me to refresh your obviously faulty memories. I allow you to stay within my front garden on the understanding that you defend the house against all intruders, except the ones I have described, on numerous occasions. Torch-bearing mobs?"
"Eat them!" chorused the criminally insane fey of Cabal's garden, a tribe whose stature was inversely proportional to their malevolence.
"Correct. The postman?"
"Eat him!" they cried joyfully.
"No!" snapped Cabal. "You let the postman by!"
"Oops," said the garden. There was some small shuffling while they hid a peaked cap behind a rosebush. ~ Jonathan L Howard,
758:Now let’s see. The class reps on the council this year are therefore Eivind and Marianne!”

I looked down at the desk in front of me.

One vote.

How was that possible?

And, to cap it off, the one vote was my own.

But I was the best student in the class! At least in Norwegian! And natural and social sciences! And in math I was the second best, or perhaps the third. But, altogether, who could be better than me?

OK, Eivind won. But one vote? How was that possible?

Hadn’t anyone voted for me?

There had to be a mistake somewhere.

No one? ~ Karl Ove Knausg rd,
759:O blessed poverty, who bestows eternal riches on those who love and embrace her! O holy poverty, to those who possess and desire you God promises the kingdom of heaven and offers, indeed, eternal glory and blessed life! O God-centered poverty, whom the Lord Jesus Christ Who ruled and now rules heaven and earth, Who spoke and things were made, condescended to embrace before all else! [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Clare of Assisi, O blessed poverty
,
760:As we passed out to take our seats, other servants pressed round us in the hall to say good-bye. Yet their requests to shake hands with us, their resounding kisses on our shoulders, [The fashion in which inferiors salute their superiors in Russia.] and the odour of their greasy heads only excited in me a feeling akin to impatience with these tiresome people. The same feeling made me bestow nothing more than a very cross kiss upon Natalia’s cap when she approached to take leave of me. It is strange that I should still retain a perfect recollection of these servants’ faces, and be able to draw them with ~ Leo Tolstoy,
761:By some miracle the cairn remained untouched by the flames, solid as the day I’d built it, a tiny oasis amid the burn scar. I removed the cap rock. I placed the bone inside. I felt the enormity of his loss once more. The pain of it never does fade entirely, never will—no doubt it disfigured me in ways that will endure for what remains of my life—but at last I found a place to put it where it wouldn’t eat me alive. My devotion to his memory led me there, the place I venerate above all others on earth, my little voodoo shrine to the lost and the damned, as wild and remote as the country of grief itself. ~ Philip Connors,
762:I've tried to get the angel to watch MTV so I can learn the vocabulary of your music, but even with the gift of tongues, I'm having trouble learning to speak hip-hop. Why is it that one can busta rhyme or busta move anywhere but you must busta cap in someone's ass? Is "ho" always feminine, and "muthafucka" always masculine, while "bitch" can be either? How many peeps in a posse, how much booty before baby got back, do you have to be all that to get all up in that, and do I need to be dope and phat to be da bomb or can I just be "stupid"? I'll not be singing over any dead mothers until I understand. ~ Christopher Moore,
763:Myron dialed furiously and hit the send button. At that exact moment, he heard a sound like a twig breaking and then static. The goon with the Yankees cap had snapped off his antenna. This wasn’t good. Myron kept himself low. He opened the glove compartment and reached inside. Nothing but maps and registration. His eyes searched the floor anxiously for some sort of weapon. The only thing he saw was the car cigarette lighter. Somehow he doubted that it would be effective against two armed goons. Maps, registration card, cigarette lighter. Unless Myron suddenly became MacGyver, he was in serious trouble. He ~ Harlan Coben,
764:During the seventh inning stretch, we stood up and sang “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” Jason and I swayed together. I couldn’t have been happier.
The Rangers won.
“See how it makes a difference when rituals are honored?” Jason said, his arm around my waist keeping me anchored against his side.
“I’m too happy to argue,” I said.
We stopped off in the gift shop, and he bought me a Texas Rangers cap.
“Maybe you can start decorating a wall with caps from the games we go to,” he said.
I grinned broadly, because I knew what he was really saying: Tonight was just the beginning for us. ~ Rachel Hawthorne,
765:The salt stung my eyes. Knowing the freedom that was waiting for me in the water,
I hadn’t taken the time to grab my goggles or a cap. Freedom from my thoughts, moments that weren’t disrupted by the snapshots of my parents… their blood pooled on the floor…their lifeless bodies heaped in the positions they’d fallen in. With each exhale, their blood seemed to slowly evaporate, their bodies began to lift, their skin turned pink. Time reversed. With this pause came an increased heart rate, burning muscles. I purged my emotions, emptied them into the ocean. In a place where I felt—and could be—truly weightless. ~ Marni Mann,
766:by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
Like (1) 1
For Meng Hao-Jan
I love Master Meng.
Free as a flowing breeze,
He is famous
Throughout the world.

In rosy youth, he cast away
Official cap and carriage.
Now, a white-haired elder, he reclines
Amid pines and cloud.

Drunk beneath the moon,
He often attains sagehood.
Lost among the flowers,
He serves no lord.

How can I aspire
to such a high mountain?
Here below, to his clear fragrance,
I bow.

by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

~ Li Bai, Hard Journey
,
767:What courses are people excited about now? I asked a blonde senior in cap and gown. Nuclear physics, maybe? Modern art? Civilizations of Africa? Looking at me as if I were some prehistoric dinosaur, she said: "Girls don't get excited about things like that anymore. We don't want careers. Our parents expect us to go to college, everybody goes. You're a social outcast at home if you don't. But a girl who got serious about anything she studied, like wanting to go on and do research, would be peculiar, unfeminine. I guess everybody wants to graduate with a diamond ring on her finger, that's the important thing. ~ Betty Friedan,
768:My cold-weather gear left a lot to be desired: black maternity leggings under boot-cut maternity jeans, and a couple of Marlboro Man’s white T-shirts under an extra-large ASU sweatshirt. I was so happy to have something warm to wear that I didn’t even care that I was wearing the letters of my Pac-10 rival. Add Marlboro Man’s old lumberjack cap and mud boots that were four sizes too big and I was on my way to being a complete beauty queen. I seriously didn’t know how Marlboro Man would be able to keep his hands off of me. If I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the feed truck, I’d shiver violently. ~ Ree Drummond,
769:Research by psychologist Steven Sloman and marketing expert Phil Fernbach shows that people who claim to understand complicated political topics such as cap and trade and flat taxes tend to reveal their ignorance when asked to provide a detailed explanation without the aid of Google. Though people on either side of an issue may believe they know their opponents’ positions, when put to the task of breaking it down they soon learn that they have only a basic understanding of the topic being argued. Stranger still, once subjects in such studies recognize this, they reliably become more moderate in their beliefs. ~ David McRaney,
770:The kind of happy I was that day at the Vet when "Hawk" Dawson actually doffed his red "C" cap to me, and everyone cheered and practically convulsed into tears - you can't patent that. It was one shining moment of glory that was instantly gone. Whereas life, real life, is different and can't even be appraised as simply "happy", but only in terms of "Yes, I'll take it all, thanks" or "No, I believe I won't." Happy, as my poor father used to say, is a lot of hooey. Happy is a circus clown, a sitcom, a greeting card. Life, though, life's about something sterner. But also something better. A lot better. Believe me. ~ Richard Ford,
771:Thunderstorm, Instantaneous Forever
After this the halt and summer
Parted company; and taking
Off his cap at night the thunder
Took a hundred blinding stills.
Lilac clusters faded; plucking
Off an armful of new lightnings,
From the field he tried to throw them
At the mansion in the hills.
And when waves of evil laughter
Rolled along the iron roofing
And, like charcoal on a drawing,
Showers thundered on the fence,
Then the crumbling mind began to
Blink; it seemed it would be floodlit
Even in those distant comers
Where the light is now intense.
~ Boris Pasternak,
772:Ascultă, ce înseamnă înfrângerea? Am văzut și războaie și înfrângeri. Ce dacă învingătorul ia puterea? Pe cine deranjează? Pe mine? Pe tipi ca mine? (Clătină din cap în bătaie de joc.) Nu înțelegeți că, de obicei, cinci sau șase barosani conduc o planetă de mărime medie? Ei iau partea cea mare, dar unul ca mine n-o să-și piardă liniștea pentru atâta lucru. Poporul? Oamenii cei mulți și simpli? A bineînțeles, unii sunt uciși, iar restul plătesc taxe mai mari o vreme. Dar și asta se rezolvă de la sine, e un lucru obișnuit. Și după aia situația e la fel, cu singura diferență că sus sunt alți cinci sau șase barosani. ~ Isaac Asimov,
773:Unlike my father, who blindly churned out one canvas after another, I had real ideas about the artistic life. Seated at my desk, my beret as tight as an acorn’s cap, I projected myself into the world represented in the art books I’d borrowed from the public library. Leafing past the paintings, I would admire the photographs of the artists seated in their garrets, dressed in tattered smocks and frowning in the direction of their beefy nude models. To spend your days in the company of naked men – that was the life for me. ‘Turn a bit to the left, Jean-Claude. I long to capture the playful quality of your buttocks. ~ David Sedaris,
774: “My Peregrination Cap,” he grumbles, straightening his tie and vest while wavering on wobbly legs.
I gesture to the layer of moths crawling around on Gizmo’s roof. “We lost a few of them to the wind. Sorry.”
“Brilliant.”
Scowling, Morpheus walks over and sweeps his hand across the insects, coaxing them to form the hat. They manage all but the brim. He puts it on anyway and turns to me.
I bite my cheeks in an effort not to laugh.
He narrows his eyes. “Don’t get too cheeky, little plum. Though your prank may have been irresistibly wicked, I’m still in the lead by a set of wings.” ~ A G Howard,
775:No surprise. I was the only one at Dave and Bubba’s not wearing a Ragland Rattlers cap. Talk about feeling disloyal. And uncomfortable.
My discomfort must have shown, because while we were waiting in line to get our food, Jason took off his cap, folded it, and stuck it in his back jeans pocket.
“You don’t have to do that on my account,” I said.
He shrugged. “I was taught not to wear a hat indoors.”
I wasn’t sure I’d ever met anyone who did things with so little fanfare. I thought about telling him to put his hat back on, but the truth was, it made me feel less self-conscious not to be the only one. ~ Rachel Hawthorne,
776:Tavaré played 30 Tests for England between 1980 and 1984, adding a final cap five years later. He filled for much of that period the role of opening batsman, even though the bulk of his first-class career was spent at Nos. 3 and 4. He was, in that sense, a typical selection in a period of chronic English indecision and improvisation, filling a hole rather than commanding a place. But he tried—how he tried. Ranji once spoke of players who 'went grey in the service of the game'; Tavaré, slim, round-shouldered, with a feint moustache, looked careworn and world-weary from the moment he graduated to international cricket. ~ Gideon Haigh,
777:I am, in large measure, the selfsame prose I write. I unroll myself in sentences and paragraphs, I punctuate myself. In my arranging and rearranging of images I’m like a child using newspaper to dress up as a king, and in the way I create rhythm with a series of words I’m like a lunatic adorning my hair with dried flowers that are still alive in his dreams. And above all I’m calm, like a rag doll that has become conscious of itself and occasionally shakes its head to make the tiny bell on top of its pointed cap (a component part of the same head) produce a sound, the jingling life of a dead man, a feeble notice to Fate. ~ Fernando Pessoa,
778:Peste trei ani aveți un copil. Ai încercat să‑i explici, dar nu a vrut să înțeleagă că, tuciuriu și pitic cum ești, bebelușul nu va semăna deloc cu un îngeraș, ci mai degrabă cu o pâine gra‑ ham. Și aveți și un câine, un cocker atât de prost, încât maida‑ nezii din cartier îi zic EBA. Ea nu iese cu el la plimbare pentru că, atunci când a ieșit, s‑a întors acasă plină de nervi în cap și de rahat de câine pe adidași până pe la genunchi. Pentru că, nu‑i așa, nu e ea singura care iubește câinii în cartier. În mijlocul sufrageriei e o pată de vomă. Stați în jurul ei și deliberați: o fi de la câine, o fi de la bebe? O fi chiar bebe ~ Anonymous,
779:Eddie turned away.
"Because I saved you, as tough as those years were for you, as bad as it was with your hand, you got to grow up, too. And because you got to grow up..."
When he turned back, Annie froze. Eddie was holding a baby boy, with a small blue cap on his head.
"Laurence?" Annie whispered.
Eddie stepped forward and placed her son in her trembling arms. Instantly, Annie was whole again, her body complete. She cradled the infant against her chest, a motherly cradle that filled her with the purest feeling. She smiled and wept and she could not stop weeping.
"My baby," she gushed. "Oh, my baby, my baby... ~ Mitch Albom,
780:My trembling hand moves toward my abdomen, hovering above the red on me, the red words on me. Not in blood, not dried blood. Not that kind of red. I press my finger to one of the letters and my hand jerks back like I’ve been stung. I fumble in my pockets until I find the black tube.

I rip the cap off and twist the bottom until the lipstick appears, its tip flattened and ruined. I let it clatter into the sink and stumble, the back of my legs hitting the edge of the tub. My reflection still in the mirror, the red on my body… letters. Letters on my skin, reversed in the glass, turning themselves into this: “Rape Me. ~ Courtney Summers,
781:So, it turns out you were right about the sweater,” I give Tessa a bump with my hip.
“I don’t know about you guys, but I’m ready to get going.”
Everyone stares.
“I’m hot and itchy, but thank god it’s not a rash, ha ha.” I’m the only one who laughs.
Ben, the guy wearing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes and a baseball cap I want to knock off his head, points a finger in my direction. “Are you for real?”
“You have no idea how hot this shirt is, buddy,” I pull a long face, emphasizing my plight. Hold up my hands in mock defeat. “We’ve been here a few hours, and I wouldn’t’ hate it if we left. That’s all I’m saying. ~ Sara Ney,
782:The Two Caps Rabbi David Moshe, the son of the rabbi of Rizhyn, once said to a hasid: “You knew my father when he lived in Sadagora and was already wearing the black cap and going his way in dejection; but you did not see him when he lived in Rizhyn and was still wearing his golden cap.” The hasid was astonished. “How is it possible that the holy man from Rizhyn ever went his way in dejection! Did not I myself hear him say that dejection is the lowest condition!” “And after he had reached the summit,” Rabbi David replied, “he had to descend to that condition time and again in order to redeem the souls which had sunk down to it. ~ Martin Buber,
783:Behind the sullen girl sat Denis Cooverman, sweating: along the cap of his mortarboard, trickling behind his ears and rippling down his forehead; around his nostrils and in that groove below his nose (which Denis would be quick to identify as the philtrum...); from his palms, behind his knees, inside his elbows, between his toes and from many locations not typically associated with perpiratory activity; squirting out his nipples, spewing from his navel, coursing between his buttocks and forming a tiny lake that gently lapped at his genitals; from under his arms, naturally, in two varietals--hot and sticky,a nd cold and terrified. ~ Larry Doyle,
784:she found herself looking down on the top of Teenie's head; at a small woollen bobble, in fact, which topped a curious tea-cosy style knitted cap which she was wearing. She looked more closely at it, wondering if she could make out an opening through which a tea pot spout might project; she could not see an opening, but there was a very similar tea cosy in the office, she remembered, and perhaps she or Mma Ramotswe might wear it on really cold days. She imagined how Mma Ramotswe would look in a tea cosy and decided that she would probably look rather good: it might add to her authority, perhaps, in some indefinable way. ~ Alexander McCall Smith,
785:At certain points in our lives, when we really need a clear-cut solution, the person who knocks at our door is, more likely than not, a messenger bearing bad news. It isn't always the case, but from experience I'd say the gloomy reports far outnumber the others. The messenger touches his hand to his cap and looks apologetic, but that does nothing to improve the contents of the message. It isn't the messenger's fault. No good to blame him, no good to grab him by the collar and shake him. The messenger is just conscientiously doing the job his boss assigned him. And this boss? That would be none other than our old friend Reality. ~ Haruki Murakami,
786:At a certain point in our lives, when we really need a clear-cut solution, the person who knocks at our door is, more likely than not, a messenger bearing bad news. This isn’t always the case, but from experience I’d say the gloomy reports far outnumber the others. The messenger touches his hand to his cap and looks apologetic, but that does nothing to improve the contents of the message. It isn’t the messenger’s fault. No good to blame him, no good to grab him by the collar and shake him. The messenger is just conscientiously doing the job his boss assigned him. And this boss? That would be none other than our old friend Reality. ~ Haruki Murakami,
787:He thought of that heroic Colonel Pontmercy . . . who had left upon every field of victory in Europe drops of that same blood which he, Marius, had in his veins, who had grown grey before his time in discipline and in command, who had lived with his sword-belt buckled, his epaulets falling on his breast, his cockade blackened by powder, his forehead wrinkled by the cap, in the barracks, in the camp, in the bivouac, in the ambulance, and who after twenty years had returned from the great wars with his cheek scarred, his face smiling, simple, tranquil, admirable, pure as a child, having done everything for France and nothing against her. ~ Victor Hugo,
788:Place your mind before the mirror of eternity! Place your soul in the brilliance of glory! Place your heart in the figure of the divine substance! And transform your whole being into the image of the Godhead Itself through contemplation! So that you too may feel what His friends feel as they taste the hidden sweetness which God Himself has reserved from the beginning for those who love Him. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Clare of Assisi, Place your mind before the mirror of eternity!
,
789:The official record for the fastest manmade object is the Helios 2 probe, which reached about 70 km/s in a close swing around the Sun. But it’s possible the actual holder of that title is a two-ton metal manhole cover. The cover sat atop a shaft at an underground nuclear test site operated by Los Alamos as part of Operation Plumbbob. When the 1-kiloton nuke went off below, the facility effectively became a nuclear potato cannon, giving the cap a gigantic kick. A high-speed camera trained on the lid caught only one frame of it moving upward before it vanished—which means it was moving at a minimum of 66 km/s. The cap was never found. ~ Randall Munroe,
790:Her hair was up, tucked into a horrid lace cap, but a few auburn curls had escaped and were brushing against the nape of her neck, drawing his attention to the lovely, straight column, flushed with excitement.
For a fleeting moment, he considered what it would be like to kiss the skin there. The scene at the Allendale ball earlier in the evening had confirmed his suspicions that Lady Calpurnia Hartwell was an eager and passionate woman. Her responses were irresistibly uninhibited- so different from those of the women he usually partnered- he couldn't help but wonder how she would react to his touch in other, more scandalous places. ~ Sarah MacLean,
791:Hemlock And Cedar
THIN sheets of blue smoke among white slabs ... near the shingle mill ... winter
morning.
Falling of a dry leaf might be heard ... circular steel tears through a log.
Slope of woodland ... brown ... soft ... tinge of blue such as pansy eyes.
Farther, field fires ... funnel of yellow smoke ... spellings of other yellow in corn
stubble.
Bobsled on a down-hill road ... February snow mud ... horses steaming ... Oscar
the driver sings ragtime under a spot of red seen a mile ... the red wool yarn of
Oscar's stocking cap is seen from the shingle mill to the ridge of hemlock and
cedar.
~ Carl Sandburg,
792:Most men appear never to have considered what a house is, and are actually though needlessly poor all their lives because they think that they must have such a one as their neighbors have. As if one were to wear any sort of coat which the tailor might cut out for him, or gradually leaving off palm-leaf hat or cap of woodchuck skin, complain of hard times because he could not afford to buy him a crown! It is possible to invent a house still more convenient and luxurious than we have, which yet all would admit that man could not afford to pay for. Shall we always study to obtain more of these things, and not sometimes be content with less? ~ Henry David Thoreau,
793:Dreams of invisibility are as old as folklore. By means of some talisman or potion, or with the help of the gods themselves, the corporeal presence of the hero is rendered insubstantial, and for the duration of the spell he may wander among his fellow men unseen. The advantages of having such a power can be rattled off for you by any child of ten. Whether slipping past dragons, eavesdropping on intriguers, and sneaking into treasuries, or plucking a pie from the pantry, knocking the cap off a constable, and lighting the schoolmaster’s coattails on fire, suffice it to say that a thousand tales have been told in acknowledgment of invisibility’s bounty. ~ Amor Towles,
794:Suddenly Junior Allen swung aboard, leaped, landed lightly. He was immaculate in white sport shirt, white slacks, pale blue yachting cap. I guessed he was nearing forty. I had not been prepared for him to look so powerful and so fit. He was broad, with shoulders so packed and corded with muscle they gave him a slightly simian posture, the impression enhanced by the extra-long weight and heft of brown tattooed arms, and the short legs, slightly bowed. He had a brown, seamed, knotty face, broad, smiling broadly, the smile squinching the small blue eyes. It was a friendly grin. It was a likable grin. It did not change in any way as he looked at me. ~ John D MacDonald,
795:This means that you will face a broad set of things that you don’t know how to do that require skills you don’t have. Nevertheless, everybody will expect you to know how to do them, because, well, you are the CEO. I remember when I first became CEO, an investor asked me to send him the “cap table.” I had a vague idea of what he meant, but I didn’t actually know what the format was supposed to look like or what should be included or excluded. It was a silly little thing and I had much bigger things to worry about, but everything is hard when you don’t actually know what you are doing. I wasted quite a bit of time sweating over that stupid spreadsheet. ~ Ben Horowitz,
796:So they all went home afterwards. My sisters and I sat on the veranda and cried until a storm drove us inside. We agreed to meet in the barn loft for crying once a week but after a while we forgot. Once we did but nobody could work up a cry and we started playing wolves and chickens and Little Mary had to be the chicken and Savannah shoved her out of the loft and broke her collarbone. The hearts of children are hard naturally because of their short memories. Everything they play with becomes true and unquestionable such as an acorn cap for a Holy Grail, such is the power of the untrained mind, and all our training of it is both of advantage and not. ~ Paulette Jiles,
797:Sniper
Moves in the rocks with inching fingers.
We among the feathery banana trees
Imagine for him his aim: the steel helmet
And English face filling the backsight's V.
Again as it was last time, that spurting noise,
Thud, and the writhing figure in long grass.
until we match precision with precision:
We move ten men to one and have him then.
I saw the sniper in the afternoon. The rifle
Lay there beside him neatly like his shooting,
The grass twined all about his cap.
He had killed neatly but we had set
Ten men about him to write death in jags
Cutting and spoiling on his face and broken body.
~ Bernard Gutteridge,
798:A beggar had been sitting by the side of a road for over thirty years. One day a stranger walked by. "Spare some change?" mumbled the beggar, mechanically holding out his old baseball cap. "I have nothing to give you," said the stranger. Then he asked: "What's that you are sitting on?" "Nothing," replied the beggar. "Just an old box. I have been sitting on it for as long as I can remember." "Ever looked inside?" asked the stranger. "No," said the beggar. "What's the point? There's nothing in there." "Have a look inside," insisted the stranger. The beggar managed to pry open the lid. With astonishment, disbelief, and elation, he saw that the box was filled with gold. ~ Anonymous,
799:Doctor Of Billiards
Of all among the fallen from on high,
We count you last and leave you to regain
Your born dominion of a life made vain
By three spheres of insidious ivory.
You dwindle to the lesser tragedy—
Content, you say. We call, but you remain.
Nothing alive gone wrong could be so plain,
Or quite so blasted with absurdity.
You click away the kingdom that is yours,
And you click off your crown for cap and bells;
You smile, who are still master of the feast,
And for your smile we credit you the least;
But when your false, unhallowed laugh occurs,
We seem to think there may be something else.
~ Edwin Arlington Robinson,
800:A month or so ago, he and his friends had gone to Pizza House for slices after a game and he’d seen her in the kitchen. Her cap pushed back, she was carrying cold trays of glistening dough rounds, and her face had a kind of pink to it, her hips turning to knock the freezer door shut.

I didn't spit on it, Deenie had promised, winking at him from behind the scarlet heat lamps. He’d stood there, arrested. The pizza box hot in his hands. She looked different than at school and especially at home, and she was acting differently. Moving differently.

He couldn’t stop watching her, his friends all around him, loud and triumphant, their faces streaked with sweat. ~ Megan Abbott,
801:Got any water?” she asked in that whining, complaining voice. Gra-ted. “Yeah.” He grabbed one of the bottles of water he’d brought, twisted off the cap and drained most of the contents while she watched. A whimper escaped her, and he squeezed the bottle a little too hard, crackling the plastic. “Well? Are you going to share or not?” With a forced shrug, he tossed her what was left. “That has my cooties,” he informed her. “Good news is, I’m up-to-date on all my shots.” She drained the contents in seconds, then peered over at him, clearly irritated with what little he’d given her. “Be grateful I gave you any at all,” he said with feeling. “Evil bastard.” “Murderous bitch. ~ Gena Showalter,
802:But in real life things don't go smoothly. At certain points in our lives, when we really need a clear-cut solution, the person who knocks at our door is, more likely than not, a messenger bearing bad news. It isn't always the case, but from experience I'd say the gloomy reports far outnumber the others. The messenger touches his hand to his cap and looks apologetic, but that does nothing to improve the contents of the message. It isn't the messenger's fault. No good to blame him, no good to grab him by the collar and shake him. The messenger is just conscientiously doing the job his boss assigned him. And this boss? That would be none other than our old friend Reality. ~ Haruki Murakami,
803:But in real life things don't go so smoothly. At certain points in our lives, when we really need a clear-cut solution, the person who knocks at our door is, more likely than not, a messenger bearing bad news. It isn't always the case, but from experience I'd say the gloomy reports far outnumber the others. The messenger touches his hand to his cap and looks apologetic, but that does nothing to improve the contents of the message. It isn't the messenger's fault. No good to blame him, no good to grab him by the collar and shake him. The messenger is just conscientiously doing the job his boss assigned him. And this boss? That would be none other than our old friend Reality. ~ Haruki Murakami,
804:   Two men appeared.
   One came from the Bastille, the other from the Jardin des Plantes. The taller of the two, in a linen costume, walked with his hat pushed back, waistcoat undone and cravat in hand. The smaller one, whose body was enveloped in a brown frock-coat, had a peaked cap on his bent head.
   When they came to the middle of the boulevard they both sat down at the same moment on the same seat.
   Each took off his hat to mop his brow and put it beside him; and the smaller man noticed, written inside his neighbour's hat, Bouvard; while the latter easily made out the word Pécuchet, in the cap belonging to the individual in the frock-coat. ~ Gustave Flaubert,
805:In 1990, under the administration of George H. W. Bush, amendments to the Clean Air Act established an emissions trading—or “cap and trade”—system to control acid rain. The system resulted in a 54 percent decline in sulfur dioxide levels between 1990 and 2007, while the inflation-adjusted price of electricity declined during the same period.174 In 2003, the EPA reported to Congress that the overall cost of air pollution control during the previous ten years was between $8 billion and $9 billion, while the benefits were estimated from $101 billion to $119 billion—more than ten times as great.175 Singer’s “billion-dollar solution to a million-dollar problem” was just plain wrong. ~ Naomi Oreskes,
806:My first, off-the-top-of-my-head list went something like this: Anchors, rodes, windlass Diesel engine Sails Dinghy, oars, lifejackets Batteries   But it wasn’t long before I started adding such items as: Downwind poles Storm trysail Monitor windvane Electric autopilot Dodger GPS VHF Depth meter     And, once we really got serious about circumnavigating: Paratech sea anchor Gale-rider Life raft with survival gear Jimmy Cornell’s World Cruising books Charts EPIRB SSB Outboard for dinghy MPS with sock. Anemometer Spear gun   The reason you need a list—on both paper and in your head—is because you are going to constantly come across one item while looking for another. You ~ Cap n Fatty Goodlander,
807:The police, he imagined, were now walking around the parked car. He imagined their bandit chaser was parked beside the car and now they were walking around it and looking at it and not saying anything. Now they were inside it. They would see the interior of the automobile. They were tremendous, these police, because the next thing they would do was to look at each other. They would look around at the night air. They would just stand there. The police, he told himself, were marvelous when it came to just standing there. Sometimes they elaborated on it a little and pushed their caps back and forth on their heads. Nobody could push a cap back and forth on his head like a policeman. ~ David Goodis,
808:you know how I feel about the United Nations. From the beginning, it’s functioned as a one-world-order organization whose sole function is to look down its collective nose at the one nation that funds it, the United States. The UN has advocated the transfer of wealth out of the United States, the elimination of international borders, the establishment of a single global currency, international gun control, and the elimination of American jobs. It’s become a friendly forum for radical and scientifically absurd ideas like global warming and has advocated cockamamie international tax schemes like cap-and-trade. It has done everything it can to end the sovereignty of the United States. ~ Don Brown,
809:"What is truth?" said jesting Pilate, and would not stay for an answer. Pilate was in advance of his time. For "truth" itself is an abstract noun, a camel, that is, of a logical construction, which cannot get past the eye even of a grammarian. We approach it cap and categories in hand: we ask ourselves whether Truth is a substance (the Truth, the Body of Knowledge), or a quality (something like the colour red, inhering in truths), or a relation ("correspondence"). But philosophers should take something more nearly their own size to strain at. What needs discussing rather is the use, or certain uses, of the word "true." In vino, possibly, "veritas," but in a sober symposium "verum." ~ J L Austin,
810:McGahern still lives on and works a farm in Leitrim, and friends say that even though he has held high profile academic posts round the world as a visiting professor he remains essentially a countryman.

Last term he taught in an upstate New York college, but seeing him in the soulless urban grid of downtown Syracuse wearing an old tweed flat cap and long black overcoat, he could have been in an Irish agricultural town on market day as he casually engaged strangers on the street to ask for advice on finding a decent restaurant. Friends say he has extraordinary confidence in who he is and where he's from - he behaves pretty much the same way wherever is and whoever he is with. ~ John McGahern,
811:Larkin was no longer in the living room, but her bags were gone and he heard her in the kitchen. He took off the long-sleeved shirt, then sat in one of the wing chairs to wait. He couldn’t see her, but he knew she was getting a bottle of water. He heard the rattle of the refrigerator as she wrestled a bottle from its plastic wrapping. He heard the door close with a plastic kiss and a zippery crack as she twisted off the cap. Her shadow played on the bright kitchen wall, so he knew she was moving, and he heard the dry slap of bare feet. She came out of the kitchen and was halfway into the living room before she saw him, and startled so abruptly a geyser of water squirted into the air. ~ Robert Crais,
812:The Road
here where you see a green valley
And a road half-covered with grass,
Through an oak wood beginning to bloom
Children are returning home from school.
In a pencil case that opens sideways
Crayons rattle among crumbs of a roll
And a copper penny saved by every child
To greet the first spring cuckoo.
Sister's beret and brother's cap
Bob in the bushy underbrush,
A screeching jay hops in the branches
And long clouds float over the trees.
A red roof is already visible at the bend.
In front of the house father, leaning on a hoe,
Bows down, touches the unfolded leaves,
And from his flower bed inspects the whole region.
~ Czeslaw Milosz,
813:Just before Jie and Daniel reached the street, Daniel stopped. He twirled around and gazed up at me, as if he had sensed my eyes on his back. He strode a few steps toward me, paused, and then strode two more.
He slung off his cap and pressed it to his chest. Then,with the casual grace that marked all of his movements, he dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
He was declaring fealty to his empress.
I laughed-I couldn't help it. The absurdity of it all. The bittersweet sting.When he lifted back up, I saw he too wore a smile.He waved with his cap, and after flopping it back on his head, he swiveled and trotted to the street. Then,without another look back, the Spirit-Hunters left. ~ Susan Dennard,
814:May I give you a ride?” Of all people. “What are you doing here?” AJ shrugged. “Thought you might want to treat me to supper.” “Why would I want to do that?” “It’s your turn.” She almost smiled. Almost. But his expression told her she hadn’t hid her amusement soon enough. “I’m mad at you.” She meant to sound mad, but somehow the words came out pouty, almost flirtatious. “What did I do now?” His tone made it clear he wasn’t taking her supposed anger very seriously. “The gravel.” “Oh.” He drew out the syllable and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I told you not to.” His eyes, dark pools beneath the bill of his cap, looked mischievously into hers. “But I bet you’re glad I did.” He ~ Johnnie Alexander,
815:I think I’m going to leave soon,” he said, finishing his water. He didn’t look at me when he said, “Do you need a ride?”
“No,” I said. I tried to swallow my disappointment that he was leaving already. “I came with those guys over there.” I pointed at Conrad and Jeremiah.
He nodded. “I figured, the way your brother kept looking over here.”
I almost choked. “My brother? Who? Him?” I pointed at Conrad. He wasn’t looking at us. He was looking at a blond girl in a Red Sox cap, and she was looking right back. He was laughing, and he never laughed.
“Yeah.”
“He’s not my brother. He tries to act like he is, but he’s not,” I said. “He thinks he’s everybody’s big brother. It’s so patronizing… ~ Jenny Han,
816:better at recognizing it in others.” He went quiet a moment. “My parents were divorced, which is a whole different thing. I’m not comparing the two—” “Because that would be insensitive.” Someone came up to me after Jesse died and told me I was lucky because death was better than an acrimonious divorce. If I hadn’t been so weak from lack of eating, I would have punched her into the following week. Sean ran a hand over his face and took off his cap. In the sunlight, his red hair caught fire, all gold and orange and copper. “I’m not doing very well with this. What I’m trying to say is that the odds are with you with this one. A kid only needs one good parent to keep him anchored. He may float off and ~ Loretta Nyhan,
817:[Christopher:] You cannot conceive of the quantity of explosives the armies throw at each other for each man killed! The shells make a continuous noise, sometimes like an enormous machine breaking apart. At other times, they come whistling towards you in a thoughtful sort of way and then go crump and the screw cap flies off, hurtling through the air, screaming. There’s a kind of shell which comes with a crescendo like an express train, only faster. Another kind which makes a noise like tearing calico, louder and louder. The largest kind are the ones which burst in the sky and make a double crack, like a wet canvas being shaken out by a giant. Such immense explosions to kill such small, weak animals. ~ Tom Stoppard,
818:Where there is charity and wisdom there is neither fear nor ignorance. Where there is patience and humility, there is neither anger nor disturbance. Where there is poverty with joy, there is neither covetousness nor avarice. Where there is inner peace and meditation, there is neither anxiousness nor dissipation. Where there is fear of the Lord to guard the house, there the enemy cannot gain entry. Where there is mercy and discernment, there is neither excess nor hardness of heart. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Francis of Assisi, How Virtue Drives Out Vice
,
819:He was shaking his head as he read some of the words that were written in the pie sections of the wheel; Meat Snatch, Gash and Stitch, Jaws of Life, Tongue Twister, Enema of Horror, Nailed, Dissection, Musical Hair Patches, Eye Deflation, Intestinal Jump Rope, Cooked Until Dripping, Spoon of Pain, Needle Works, Ball Squats, Cut and Rip, Two Headed Cock, Bone Collector, Joint Screws, Fused, Human Tesla Coil, Barbed Wired, Shit Faced, Root and Rod, Colon Blow, Skin Deep, Boiling Nuts, Sewn, Muscle Stimulator, Urethra Tug-o-war, Crack a Cap, Tendon Rubber Bands, Weenie Roast, Musical Extremities, Root Canal, Needle Mania, Tattooed Wall Art, Rod and Prod, Slice and Dice, Sex Change and Torched Beyond Recognition. I ~ Wade H Garrett,
820:We want to put a lid on this system that manufactures inequality. We want to put a cap on the unfettered accumulation of wealth and property by individuals as well as corporations. As cap-ists and lid-ites, we demand: One: An end to cross-ownership in businesses. For example: weapons manufacturers cannot own TV stations, mining corporations cannot run newspapers, business houses cannot fund universities, drug companies cannot control public health funds. Two: Natural resources and essential infrastructure—water supply, electricity, health, and education—cannot be privatized. Three: Everybody must have the right to shelter, education, and health care. Four: The children of the rich cannot inherit their parents’ wealth. ~ Anonymous,
821:It must be really rough, forced to put on a beautiful dress, stick some diamonds or whatever all over you and choke down champagne and lobster croquettes beside the most beautiful man ever born, on or off planet. I don't know how you get through the day with that weight on your shoulders, Dallas."

"Shut up."

"And here I am, free to squeeze into the local pizza place with McNab where we will split the pie and the check." Peabody shook her head slowly. The dark bowl of hair under her cap swayed in conceit. "I can't tell you how guilty I feel knowing that."

"You looking for trouble, Peabody?"

"No, sir." Peabody did her best to look pious. "Just offering my support and sympathy at this difficult time. ~ J D Robb,
822:Annabeth hesitated. "Then we'll all go."
"No," I said. "It's too dangerous. If they got hold of Nico, or Rachel for that matter, Kronos could use them.You stay here and guard them."
What I didn't say: I was also worried about Annabeth. I didn't trust what she would do if she saw Luke again. He had fooled her and manipulated her too many times before.
"Percy, don't," Rachel said. "Don't go up there alone."
"I'll be quick," I promised. "I won't do anything stupid."
Annabeth took her Yankees cap out of her pocket. "At least take this. And be carful."
"Thanks." I remembered the last time Annabeth and I had parted ways, when she'd given me a kiss for luck in Mount St. Helens. This time, all I got was the hat. ~ Rick Riordan,
823:I felt a sudden sharp poke in my rear, and turning round, was horrified at the apparition of Captain Peleg in the act of withdrawing his leg from my immediate vicinity. That was my first kick. "Is that the way they heave in the marchant service?" he roared. "Spring, thou sheep-head; spring, and break thy backbone! Why don't ye spring, I say, all of ye—spring! Quohog! spring, thou chap with the red whiskers; spring there, Scotch-cap; spring, thou green pants. Spring, I say, all of ye, and spring your eyes out!" And so saying, he moved along the windlass, here and there using his leg very freely, while imperturbable Bildad kept leading off with his psalmody. Thinks I, Captain Peleg must have been drinking something to-day. ~ Herman Melville,
824:The viewing figures we saw earlier in this book suggest that sport is the most important communal activity in many people’s lives. Nearly a third of Americans watch the Super Bowl. However, European soccer is even more popular. In the Netherlands, possibly the European country that follows its national team most eagerly, three-quarters of the population watch Holland’s biggest soccer games. In many European countries, World Cups may now be the greatest shared events of any kind. To cap it all, World Cups mostly take place in June, the peak month for suicides in the Northern Hemisphere. How many Exleys have been saved from jumping off apartment buildings by international soccer tournaments, the world’s biggest sporting events? ~ Simon Kuper,
825:I grin, and he beams with pride.
“So what kind of hat is that?” I ask, unable to resist. He’s adorable when he’s showing off his wardrobe—like a puppy doing tricks. Although I remain cautious, knowing in the blink of an eye he can become a wolf again.
“My Peregrination Cap,” he answers.
“Huh?”
His smile widens—baring white teeth. “Peregrination. An excursion … a journey.”
“So, why don’t you just call it your traveling cap?”
“Then it wouldn’t be much of a conversation starter, would it?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Um, the fact that it’s made of living moths might give you something to talk about.”
Morpheus laughs. For once our relationship feels comfortable, friendly. ~ A G Howard,
826:She was checking the ingredients—an interesting potpourri of words she’d need to look up—when she felt, actually felt, someone’s eyes on her. Still holding the box at eye level, she slowly shifted her gaze. Down the corridor, near the bologna and salami display, a man stood and openly stared at her. There was no one else in the aisle. He was average height, maybe five-ten or so. A razor hadn’t glided across his face in at least two days. He wore blue jeans, a maroon T-shirt, and a shiny black Members Only windbreaker. His baseball cap had a Nike swoosh on it. Grace had never seen the man before. He stared at her for another moment before he spoke. His voice was barely a whisper. “Mrs. Lamb,” the man said to her. “Room 17.” For ~ Harlan Coben,
827:Happy, indeed, is she whom it is given to share this sacred banquet, to cling with all her heart to Him Whose beauty all the heavenly hosts admire unceasingly, Whose love inflames our love, Whose contemplation is our refreshment, Whose graciousness is our joy, Whose gentleness fills us to overflowing, Whose remembrance brings a gentle light, Whose fragrance will revive the dead, Whose glorious vision will be the happiness of all the citizens of the heavenly Jerusalem. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Clare of Assisi, Happy, indeed, is she whom it is given to share this sacred banquet
,
828:On one of the evenings, apropos of nothing ('apropos' was another new word), when Dr Hunter and Reggie were giving the baby a bath, Dr Hunter turned to Reggie and said, 'You now there are no rules,' and Reggie said, 'Really?' because she could think of a lot of rules, like cutting grapes in half and wearing a cap when you went swimming, not to mention separating all the rubbish for the recycling bins. Unlike Ms MacDonald, recycling was something that Dr Hunter was very keen on. She said, 'No, not those kinds of things, I mean the way we live our lives. There isn't a template, a pattern that we're supposed to follow. There's no one watching us to see if we're doing it properly, there is no properly, we just make it up as we go along. ~ Kate Atkinson,
829:I’ve got nothing.” Eve swiveled around to him. “Zip. You’ve got something. What?”

“Apparently, it’s not coffee,” he said with a glance at his empty mug.

“What am I, a domestic droid?”

“If so, why aren’t you wearing your frilly white apron and little white cap, and nothing else?”

She sent him a pained look of sincere bafflement. “Why do men think that kind of getup is sexy?”

“Hmm, let me think. Mostly naked women wearing only symbols of servitude. No, I can’t understand it myself.”

“Perverts, your entire species. What have you got?”

“Besides a very clear picture of you in my head wearing a frilly white apron and little white cap?”

“Jesus, I’ll get the damn coffee if you’ll cut it out. ~ J D Robb,
830:You shouldn’t be visiting the saloons by yourself,” Connell said. She pulled off her knit cap. “I didn’t hear you volunteering to come with me earlier.” “If I’d known you were going to march around to all the saloons, I would have offered to tag along.” Her curly hair tumbled down around her face and framed eyes that widened. “I have a hard time believing you’d tag along with anyone.” “Next time try me.” She hesitated and her eyes flickered as if she wanted to believe him but couldn’t. “For your information, I’ve been searching the dregs all winter, and I’ve been taking care of myself just fine.” Connell shook his head. “You’re just asking for trouble.” “I’m not afraid of trouble.” “I can see that.” He liked her spunk and her bravery. ~ Jody Hedlund,
831:But the third Emir, now seeing himself all alone on the quarter-deck, seems to feel relieved from some curious restraint; for, tipping all sorts of knowing winks in all sorts of directions, and kicking off his shoes, he strikes into a sharp but noiseless squall of a hornpipe right over the Grand Turk's head; and then, by a dexterous sleight, pitching his cap up into the mizentop for a shelf, he goes down rollicking so far at least as he remains visible from the deck, reversing all other processions, by bringing up the rear with music. But ere stepping into the cabin doorway below, he pauses, ships a new face altogether, and, then, independent, hilarious little Flask enters King Ahab's presence, in the character of Abjectus, or the Slave. ~ Herman Melville,
832:The table was prettily decorated with camellias from the orangery, and upon the snow-white tablecloth, amongst the clear crystal glasses, the old green wineglasses threw delicate little shadows, like the spirit of a pine forest in summer. The Prioress had on a grey taffeta frock with a very rare lace, a white lace cap with streamers, and her old diamond eardrops and brooches. The heroic strength of soul of old women, Boris thought, who with great taste and trouble make themselves beautiful - more beautiful, perhaps, than they have ever been as young women - and who still can hold no hope of awakening any desire in the hearts of men, is like a righteous man working at his good deeds even after he has abandoned his faith in a heavenly reward. ~ Karen Blixen,
833:What you hold, may you always hold. What you do, may you do and never abandon. But with swift pace, light step, unswerving feet, so that even your steps stir no dust, go forward securely, joyfully, and swiftly, on the path of prudent happiness, believing nothing agreeing with nothing which would dissuade you from this resolution or which would place a stumbling block for you on the way, so that you may offer your vows to the Most High in the pursuit of that perfection to which the Spirit of the Lord has called you. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Clare of Assisi, What you hold, may you always hold
,
834:After receiving the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1918, Max Planck went on tour across Germany. Wherever he was invited, he delivered the same lecture on new quantum mechanics. Over time, his chauffeur grew to know it by heart: “It has to be boring giving the same speech each time, Professor Planck. How about I do it for you in Munich? You can sit in the front row and wear my chauffeur’s cap. That’d give us both a bit of variety.” Planck liked the idea, so that evening the driver held a long lecture on quantum mechanics in front of a distinguished audience. Later, a physics professor stood up with a question. The driver recoiled: “Never would I have thought that someone from such an advanced city as Munich would ask such a simple question! My chauffeur ~ Rolf Dobelli,
835:Almighty, eternal, just, and merciful God, grant us in our misery to do for You alone what we know You want us to do, and always to desire what pleases You. Thus, inwardly cleansed, interiorly enlightened, and inflamed by the fire of the Holy Spirit, may we be able to follow in the footprints of Your beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. And, by Your grace alone, may we make our way to You Most High, Who live and rule in perfect Trinity and simple Unity, and are glorified God all-powerful forever and ever. Amen [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Francis of Assisi, Prayer from A Letter to the Entire Order
,
836:Matthias appeared in front of them. “We should go soon. We have little more than an hour before sunrise.”
“What exactly are you wearing?” Nina asked, staring at the tufted cap and woolly red vest Matthias had put on over his clothes.
“Kaz procured papers for us in case we’re stopped in the Ravkan quarter. We’re Sven and Catrine Alfsson. Fjerdan defectors seeking asylum at the Ravkan embassy.”
It made sense. If they were stopped, there was no way Matthias could pass himself off as Ravkan, but Nina could easily manage Fjerdan.
“Are we married, Matthias?” she said, batting her lashes.
He consulted the papers and frowned. “I believe we’re brother and sister.”
Jesper ambled over, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Not creepy at all. ~ Leigh Bardugo,
837:Omul asta, gandeam eu, n-a fost la scoala si creierul lui nu s-a deformat. A fost supus la toate
incercarile, I s-a deschis mintea,I s-a largit inima, fara a-si pierde cutezanta primitiva. Toate problemele
complicate, de nesolutionat pentru noi, el le rezolva printr-o lovitura de sabie, ca Alexandru cel Mare,
compatriotul sau. E foarte greu ca el sa alunece, pentru ca se sprijina in intregime, din cap pana in
picioare, de pamant. Salbaticii din Africa adora sarpele pentru ca sta cu tot corpul lipit de pamant si afla
in felul acesta toate tainele lumii. Le afla cu burta, cu coada, cu capul. O atinge, se amesteca, se
contopeste cu mama. La fel si Zorba. Noi, oamenii instruiti, nu suntem decat niste pasari smintite ale
vazduhului. ~ Nikos Kazantzakis,
838:Remind me again-why do you hate me so much?"

I don't hate you."

Could've fooled me."

She folded her cap of invisibility. "Look...we're just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals."

Why?"

She sighed. "How many reasons do you want? One time my mom caught Poseidon with his girlfriend in Athena's temple, which is hugely disrespectful. Another time, Athena and Poseidon competed to be the patron god for the city of Athens. Your dad created some stupid saltwater spring for his gift. My mom created the olive tree. The people saw that her gift was better, so they named the city after her."

They must really like olives."

Oh, forget it."

Now, if she'd invented pizza-that I could understand. ~ Rick Riordan,
839:Tim collected his gifts within the metal hoop and then pestered Santa for more, investigating pockets, sticking his hands into straw, lifting the sides of the red coat until he contacted a Smith and
Wesson revolver. The boy snatched his hand back as if it were burnt and scowled at the man in the red suit. "You're not Santa Claus; you're Daddy."

Charley called across the room, "He's one of Santa's helpers!"

Jesse sat low in the chair with his boots kicked out, drew off the soft red cap by its cotton ball, then reached out and snuggled Tim close to his chest. He said, "Let me tell you a secret, son: there's always a mean old wolf in Grandma's bed, and a worm inside the apple. There's always a daddy inside the Santa suit. It's a world of trickery. ~ Ron Hansen,
840:Now that you have the menu, tell me what this is."
"Tuna, vanilla brioche crumbs, and a bruléed disk of monkfish liver."
"Ah, monkfish liver! Foie gras of the sea!" Michael Saltz said, lifting his cup in a toast. I refused to join him and just tipped the bite backlit a shot, letting the mouthful take shape all at once.
Michael Saltz squinted at me while I set the cup down. If he disregarded me, then I'd disregard him.
Next, Hugo brought out a single octopus tentacle, roasted to bring out the burgundy speckles in its skin, painted with sweet, sea-infused balsamic squid ink and framed by two quarters of a ruddy pear.
We stayed silent as I ate.
Skate came wading in a chorizo broth, a cap of seaweed poking through the surface like an island paradise. ~ Jessica Tom,
841:Then he remembered his wedding, the old times, the first pregnancy of his wife; he, too, had been very happy the day when he had taken her from her father to his home, and had carried her off on a pillion, trotting through the snow, for it was near Christmas-time, and the country was all white. She held him by one arm, her basket hanging from the other; the wind blew the long lace of her Cauchois headdress so that it sometimes flapped across his mouth, and when he turned his head he saw near him, on his shoulder, her little rosy face, smiling silently under the gold bands of her cap. To warm her hands she put them from time to time in his breast. How long ago it all was! Their son would have been thirty by now. Then he looked back and saw nothing on the road. ~ Gustave Flaubert,
842:Doctor controlled his anger. “Tom,” he said, “Tom, boy. Pull yourself together. Go back and lay cold cloths—cold as you can get them. I don’t suppose you have any ice. Well, keep changing the cloths. I’ll be out as fast as I can. Do you hear me? Tom, do you hear me?” He hung the receiver up and dressed. In angry weariness he opened the wall cabinet and collected scalpels and clamps, sponges and tubes of sutures, to put in his bag. He shook his gasoline pressure lantern to make sure it was full and arranged ether can and mask beside it on his bureau. His wife in boudoir cap and nightgown looked in. Dr. Tilson said, “I’m walking over to the garage. Call Will Hamilton. Tell him I want him to drive me to his father’s place. If he argues tell him his sister is—dying. ~ John Steinbeck,
843:Yet, if I were to adhere to my mom's advice, I would have had to drop out of school years ago (since a lot of folks in our inequitable education system refuse to love us), quit engaging public health offices (because I walked in as a human in need of medical services and walked out as a patient whose subjective world was mad invisible by research lingo: "MSM," otherwise known as "men who have sex with men'), sleep in my bed all damn day (knowing it is more likely that I would be stopped by police when walking to the store in Camden or Bed-Stuy while rocking a fitted cap and carrying books than my white male neighbors would be while walking around in ski masks in the middle of summer and dropping a dime bag on the ground in front of a walking police and his dog)... ~ Kiese Laymon,
844:Before and after the funeral I never ceased to cry and be miserable, but it makes me ashamed when I think back on that sadness of mine, seeing that always in it was an element of self-love - now a desire to show that I prayed more than any one else, now concern about the impression I was producing on others, now an aimless curiosity which caused me to observe Mimi's cap or the faces of those around me. I despised myself for not experiencing sorrow to the exclusion of everything else, and I tried to conceal all other feelings: this made my grief insincere and unnatural. Moreover, I felt a kind of enjoyment in knowing that I was unhappy and I tried to stimulate my sense of unhappiness, and this interest in myself did more than anything else to stifle real sorrow in me. ~ Leo Tolstoy,
845:I once visited a place where they killed people by putting them in a chair. Not torture — that was common enough; beds and chairs were very much the par when it came to getting people helpless and confined, to inflict pain upon them — but actually set it up to kill them while they sat. They — get this — they either gassed them or they passed very high electric currents through them. A pellet dropped into a container beneath the seat, like some obscene image of a commode, producing a fatal gas; or a cap over their head, and their hands dipped in some conducting fluid, to fry their brains.
You want to know the punch line? Yeah, [...] give us the punch line. This same state had a law that forbade — and I quote — “cruel and unusual punishments!” Can you believe that? ~ Iain M Banks,
846:It concerns the growing body of evidence that 12,800 years ago a giant comet traveling on an orbit that took it through the inner solar system broke up into multiple fragments, and that many of these fragments, some more than a mile (2.4 kilometers) in diameter, hit the earth. It is believed that North America was the epicenter of the resulting cataclysm with several of the largest impacts on the North American ice cap causing floods and tidal waves and throwing a vast cloud of dust into the upper atmosphere that enshrouded the earth, preventing the sun’s rays from reaching the surface and thus initiating the sudden, mysterious global deep freeze that geologists call the Younger Dryas. We will go into the evidence for all this, and how it relates to “Bretz’s flood ~ Graham Hancock,
847:On His Baldness
At dawn I sighed to see my hairs fall;
At dusk I sighed to see my hairs fall.
For I dreaded the time when the last lock should go ...
They are all gone and I do not mind at all!
I have done with that cumbrous washing and getting dry;
My tiresome comb for ever is laid aside.
Best of all, when the weather is hot and wet,
To have no top-knot weighing down on one's head!
I put aside my dustiy conical cap;
And loose my collar-fringe.
In a silver jar I have stored a cold stream;
On my bald pate I trickle a ladle-full.
Like one baptized with the Water of Buddha's Law,
I sit and receive this cool, cleansing joy.
Now I know why the priest who seeks Repose
Frees his heart by first shaving his head.
~ Bai Juyi,
848:Werner shyly. “Oh, come on, you didn’t already know?” With his glasses on, Frederick’s expression seems to ease; his face makes more sense—this, Werner thinks, is who he is. A soft-skinned boy in glasses with taffy-colored hair and the finest trace of a mustache needled across his lip. Bird lover. Rich kid. “I barely hit anything in marksmanship. You really didn’t know?” “Maybe,” says Werner. “Maybe I knew. How did you pass the eye exams?” “Memorized the charts.” “Don’t they have different ones?” “I memorized all four. Father got them ahead of time. Mother helped me study.” “What about your binoculars?” “They’re prescription. Cost a fortune.” They sit in a big kitchen at a butcher’s block with a marble cap. The maid named Fanni emerges with a dark loaf and a round of ~ Anthony Doerr,
849:To cap off your Trastevere stroll with one more sight, consider visiting Villa Farnesina, a Renaissance villa decorated by Raphael . To get there, face the Church of Santa Maria in Trastevere and leave the piazza by walking along the right side of the church, following Via della Paglia to Piazza di S. Egidio. Exit the piazza near the church and you’ll be on Via della Scala. Follow through the Porta Settimiana, where it changes names to Via della Lungara. On your right, you’ll pass John Cabot University. Look for a white arch that reads Accademia dei Lincei. The villa is through this gate at #230. If you’re in the mood to extend this walk, head to the river, cross the pedestrian bridge, Ponte Sisto, and make your way to Campo de’ Fiori, where the Heart of Rome Walk begins. ~ Rick Steves,
850:Well,” said he, “what are you thinking of?” “I am thinking,” said I, “that I shall be past thinking, this evening.” “Oh, that’s it,” returned he. “Come, come, you are too sad. Mr. Castaing conversed on the day of his execution.” Then, after a pause, he continued: “I accompanied Mr. Papavoine on his last day. He wore his otter-skin cap, and smoked his cigar. As for the young men of La Rochelle, they only spoke among themselves, but still they spoke. As for you, I really think you are too pensive, young man.” “Young man?” I repeated. “I am older than you; every quarter of an hour which passes makes me a year older.” He turned round, looked at me some minutes with stupid astonishment, and then began to titter. “Come, you are joking; older than I am? why, I might be your grandfather. ~ Victor Hugo,
851:If you two are starting a detective agency, I want in,” said Selene, adjusting her ball cap.

“Well, duh,” said Eli, beaming at her.

“And we’re going to need a name,” Selene said. “Something good and catchy.”

“You’re right.” Eli scratched his chin. “How about the Arkwell Detective Agency. The A.D.A.”

Selene wrinkled her nose. “Sounds too much like a chemical or something.”

“What about Booker and Associates?”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not all about you, you know?”

Eli grinned. “Says who?”

“I think we should call it Selene Investigations.”

“No, Nightmare Investigations.”

“Dreamer Investigations.”

“The Dream Team.”

“How about Magic Eyes? You know, like private eyes, only for magic.”

“Corny much? ~ Mindee Arnett,
852:Listen, little poor ones called by the Lord, who have come together from many parts and provinces: Live always in truth, that you may die in obedience. Do not look at the life outside, for that of the Spirit is better. I beg you through great love, to use with discretion the alms which the Lord gives you. Those who are weighed down by sickness and the others who are wearied because of them, all of you: bear it in peace. For you will sell this fatigue at a very high price and each one of you will be crowned queen in heaven with the Virgin Mary. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Francis of Assisi, Exhortation to St. Clare and Her Sisters
,
853:Democracy and free speech are not facets of one gem; democracy and free speech are eternal enemies. But in any battle between an institution and an idea, the idea, in the long run, has the better of it. Here I do not venture into the absurdity of arguing that, as the world wags on, the truth always survives. I believe nothing of the sort. As a matter of fact, it seems to me that an idea that happens to be true—or, more exactly, as near to truth as any human idea can be, and yet remain generally intelligible—it seems to me that such an idea carries a special and often fatal handi cap. The majority of men prefer delusion to truth. It soothes. It is easy to grasp. Above all, it fits more snugly than the truth into a universe of false appearances—of complex and irrational phenomena, ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
854:hotel where their relationship had finally been consummated. The Hôtel du Cap was one of the most beautiful, exclusive, and illustrious hotels in Europe, with prices to match. The main building had marble halls, high ceilings, and magnificent rooms and suites, most of them looking out at the sea shimmering like glass. There was an impressive outdoor staircase leading down to the even more exclusive Eden Roc, with gardens on either side of the wide path and closer to the water. It was the vacation spot for aristocrats, royalty, the immensely rich, and in recent years jet-setters, Russian tycoons, and movie stars, many of whom preferred to stay at the less formal lower building, with smaller but still elegantly appointed suites, and even better views of the sea from their balconies. There ~ Danielle Steel,
855:So what do you think so far, Tiff?” I asked as I started combing my hair.
“I’m thinking next year we need to have some sort of fund-raiser. These guys deserve better than old school buses.”
“If anyone can make it happen, it’s Miss Teen Ragland.”
“Next year, I’ll just be Tiffany.”
She put on her cap, and I tugged on the brim. “I think Tiffany can make it happen, too.”
“Especially since you and Bird will be on my committee.”
She walked out before we could respond.
“Did she just volunteer us?” Bird asked.
“Yep.” I dropped my comb into my tote. I put my cap and sunglasses back on. Next year’s fund-raising committee was the last thing I wanted to think about. For the next couple of hours, I planned to focus on this year’s team, this year’s pitcher.
Tonight’s date. ~ Rachel Hawthorne,
856:This ability to zoom in at very high resolution on a time window just 21 years wide and almost 13,000 years in the past comes to us courtesy of an amazing scientific resource consisting of ice cores from Greenland. Extracted with tubular drills that can reach depths of more than 3 kilometers, these cores preserve an unbroken 100,000-year record of any environmental and climatic events anywhere around the globe that affected the Greenland ice cap. What they show, and what Allen is referring to, is a mysterious spike in the metallic element platinum--'a 21-year interval with elevated platinum,' as he puts it now--'so we know that was the length of the impact event because there's very little way, once platinum falls on the ice sheet, that it can move around. It's pretty well locked in place. ~ Graham Hancock,
857:The first time I met Crenshaw was about three years ago, right after first grade ended. It was early evening, and my family and I had parked at a rest stop off a highway. I was lying on the grass near a picnic table, gazing up at the stars blinking to life. I heard a noise, a wheels-on-gravel skateboard sound. I sat up on my elbows. Sure enough, a skater on a board was threading his way through the parking lot. I could see right away that he was an unusual guy. He was a black and white kitten. A big one, taller than me. His eyes were the sparkly color of morning grass. He was wearing a black and orange San Francisco Giants baseball cap. He hopped off his board and headed my way. He was standing on two legs just like a human. “Meow,” he said. “Meow,” I said back, because it seemed polite. ~ Katherine Applegate,
858:When You have loved, You shall be chaste; when You have touched, You shall become pure; when You have accepted, You shall be a virgin. Whose power is stronger, Whose generosity is more abundant, Whose appearance more beautiful, Whose love more tender, Whose courtesy more gracious. In Whose embrace You are already caught up; Who has adorned Your breast with precious stones and has placed priceless pearls in Your ears and has surrounded You with sparkling gems as though blossoms of springtime and placed on Your head a golden crown as a sign of Your holiness. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Clare of Assisi, When You have loved, You shall be chaste
,
859:There is nothing I can salvage from this accusation, and the eyes pool, as I lose. From left side to right side, Queen’s Square’s bookends are the Bretts and the Blows, two overlarge and knowing Manchester families. Sitting on a thousand secrets, they are central to everything, vitalized and full of life – not rough, but happy – escapist and impossible to match. Both families welcome ours, the Dwyers, with doors always open in a way that modernists assume never actually happened. The Blows live at the end house in the square, rammed up against the high wall of Loreto, their annual November 5th bonfire drawing in all of the Square’s residents, unifying the leathery old with the darting young. Even Mr Tappley, who lives alone under his flat cap, creeps out to watch, determined to be unimpressed. Life ~ Morrissey,
860:He was sitting in the back of the booth, and Lila on the outside edge, as far from him as possible. She couldn't shake the feeling he was watching her beneath that brimmed cap, even though every time she checked, his attention was leveled on the tavern behind her head. His fingers traced absent pattern in a pool of spilled ale, but his green eye twitched in concentration. It took her several long seconds to realize he was counting bodies in the room.

"Nineteen," she said coolly, and Alucard and Kell both looked at her as if she'd spoken out of turn, but Holland simply answered, "Twenty," and despite herself, Lila swiveled in her seat. She did a swift count. He was right. She'd missed on e of the men behind the bar. Dammit.

"If you have to use your eyes," he added, "you're doing it wrong. ~ V E Schwab,
861:Seems to me," said Cap'n Bill, as he sat beside Trot under the big acacia tree, looking out over the blue ocean, "seems to me, Trot, as how the more we know, the more we find we don't know." "I can't quite make that out, Cap'n Bill," answered the little girl in a serious voice, after a moment's thought, during which her eyes followed those of the old sailor-man across the glassy surface of the sea. "Seems to me that all we learn is jus' so much gained." "I know; it looks that way at first sight," said the sailor, nodding his head; "but those as knows the least have a habit of thinkin' they know all there is to know, while them as knows the most admits what a turr'ble big world this is. It's the knowing ones that realize one lifetime ain't long enough to git more'n a few dips o' the oars of knowledge. ~ L Frank Baum,
862:We mark the days by chores that need to be done, the way farm families have always done. Al feeds the hens and horses and pigs, splits wood in the fall, slaughters a pig when the weather turns cold, cuts ice in the winter. I collect eggs from the laying hens and Al drives me into town to sell them. He times the planting so that by the Fourth of July we'll have new peas and by September there's a whole field of corn. Gulls lunge for a feast, ravaging the crop, so Al kills a few and hangs them from poles as warning. During haying season in midsummer, I see him from the dining room window in his visored cap, scything the hay by hand with six hired men walking abreast, forking the newly mown hay onto the hayrack. They haul the hay to the barn, where a block-and-tackle hoist lifts it into the mow. ~ Christina Baker Kline,
863:The nuggets themselves are pillow-shaped and vaguely striated to echo piratical treasure chests. Now, with a flake-type of cereal, Randy’s strategy would never work. But then, Cap’n Crunch in a flake form would be suicidal madness; it would last about as long, when immersed in milk, as snowflakes sifting down into a deep fryer. No, the cereal engineers at General Mills had to find a shape that would minimize surface area, and, as some sort of compromise between the sphere that is dictated by Euclidean geometry and whatever sunken-treasure-related shapes that the cereal-aestheticians were probably clamoring for, they came up with this hard-to-pin-down striated pillow formation. The important thing, for Randy’s purposes, is that the individual pieces of Cap’n Crunch are, to a very rough approximation, shaped ~ Neal Stephenson,
864:Releasing the Sherpas
The last two sherpas were the strongest,
faithful companions, their faces wind-peeled,
streaked with soot and glacier-light on the snowfield
below the summit where we stopped to rest.
The first was my body, snug in its cap of lynxfur, smelling of yak butter and fine mineral dirt,
agile, impetuous, broad-shouldered,
alive to the frozen bite of oxygen in the larynx.
The second was my intellect, dour and thirsty,
furrowing its fox-like brow, my calculating brain
searching for some cairn or chasm to explain
my decision to send them back without me.
Looking down from the next, ax-cleft serac
I saw them turn and dwindle and felt unafraid.
Blind as a diamond, sun-pure and rarefied,
whatever I was then, there was no turning back.
~ Campbell McGrath,
865:...
    “Ignatius, was you wearing that cap when you spoke to the insurance man?”
    “Of course I was. That office was improperly heated. I don’t know how the employees of that company manage to stay alive exposing themselves to that chill day after day. And then there are those fluorescent tubes baking their brains out and blinding them. I did not like the office at all. I tried to explain the inadequacies of the place to the personnel manager, but he seemed rather uninterested. He was ultimately very hostile.” Ignatius let out a monstrous belch. “However, I told you that it would be like this. I am an anachronism. People realize this and resent it.”
    “Lord, babe, you gotta look up.”
    “Look up?” Ignatius repeated savagely. “Who has been sowing that unnatural garbage into your mind?”
... ~ John Kennedy Toole,
866:I was crazy about goal keeping. In Russia and the Latin countries, that gallant art had been always surrounded with a halo of singular glamour. Aloof, solitary, impassive, the crack goalie is followed in the streets by entranced small boys. He vies with the matador and the flying ace as an object of thrilled adulation. His sweater, his peaked cap, his kneeguards, the gloves protruding from the hip pocket of his shorts, set him apart from the rest of the team. He is the lone eagle, the man of mystery, the last defender. Photographers, reverently bending one knee, snap him in the act of making a spectacular dive across the goal mouth to deflect with his fingertips a low, lightning-like shot, and the stadium roars in approval as he remains for a moment or two lying full length where he fell, his goal still intact. ~ Vladimir Nabokov,
867:Watching the children, he noticed two things especially. A girl of about five, and her sister, who was no more than three, wanted to drink from the pebbled concrete fountain at the playground’s edge, but it was too high for either of them, so the five-year-old…jumped up and, resting her stomach on the edge and grasping the sides, began to drink. But she was neither strong enough nor oblivious enough of the pain to hand on, and she began to slip off backward. At this, the three-year-old…advanced to her sister and, also grasping the edge of the fountain, placed her forehead against her sister’s behind, straining to hold her in place, eyes closed, body trembling, curls spilling from her cap. Her sister drank for a long time, held in position by an act as fine as Harry had ever seen on the battlefields of Europe.” Pg 32 ~ Mark Helprin,
868:And the purple parted before it, snapping back like skin after a slash, and what it let out wasn't blood but light: amazing orange light that filled her heart and mind with a terrible mixture of joy, terror, and sorrow. No wonder she had repressed this memory all these years. It was too much. Far too much. The light seemed to give the fading air of evening a silken texture, and the cry of a bird struck her ear like a pebble made of glass. A cap of breeze filled her nostrils with a hundred exotic perfumes: frangipani, bougainvillea, dusty roses, and oh dear God, night-blooming cereus... And rising above one horizon came the orange mansion of the moon, bloated and burning cold, while the sun sank below the other, boiling in a crimson house of fire. She thought that mixture of furious light would kill her with its beauty. ~ Stephen King,
869:Practically anything can go faster than Disc light, which is lazy and tame, unlike ordinary light. The only thing known to go faster than ordinary light is monarchy, according to the philosopher Ly Tin Wheedle. He reasoned like this: you can't have more than one king, and tradition demands that there is no cap between kings, so when a king dies the succession must therefore pass to the heir instantaneously. presumably, he said, these must be some elementary particles - kingons, or possibly queons - that do this job, but of course succession sometimes fails if, mid-flight, they strike an anti-particle, or republicon. His ambitious plan to use his discovery to send messages, involving the careful torturing of a small king in order to modulate the signal, were never fully expounded because, at that point, the bar closed. ~ Terry Pratchett,
870:This is in thee a nature but infected;
A poor unmanly melancholy sprung
From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place?
This slave-like habit? and these looks of care?
Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft;
Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods,
By putting on the cunning of a carper.
Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive
By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee,
And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe,
Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,
And call it excellent: thou wast told thus;
Thou gavest thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome
To knaves and all approachers: 'tis most just
That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again,
Rascals should have 't. Do not assume my likeness. ~ William Shakespeare,
871:The rate of taxation to supposedly “fund” Social Security has been increasing over time. Currently workers pay 6.2 percent of their first $117,000 of earnings in Social Security taxes and their employers pay an additional 6.2 percent. The self-employed pay the full 12.4 percent themselves.6 When the program started in the 1930s, however, the tax rate was only 1 percent of income on a much lower income threshold and did not reach 3 percent until 1960.7 In fact, the amount of money subject to the Social Security payroll tax has grown significantly over time. From the 1930s until 1950, workers paid tax on the first $3,000 of their income. That cap did not reach $10,000 until the 1970s. Presently, workers pay FICA taxes on the first $117,000 of their income, and that amount will continue to rise with increases in the average wage. ~ Mark R Levin,
872:He was as bold as a lion about it, and 'mightily convinced' not only himself, but everybody that heard him;—but then his idea of a fugitive was only an idea of the letters that spell the word,—or at the most, the image of a little newspaper picture of a man with a stick and bundle, with "Ran away from the subscriber" under it. The magic of the real presence of distress,—the imploring human eye, the frail, trembling human hand, the despairing appeal of helpless agony,—these he had never tried. He had never thought that a fugitive might be a hapless mother, a defenseless child,—like that one which was now wearing his lost boy's little well-known cap; and so, as our poor senator was not stone or steel,—as he was a man, and a downright noble-hearted one, too,—he was, as everybody must see, in a sad case for his patriotism. ~ Harriet Beecher Stowe,
873:A beggar had been sitting by the side of a road for over thirty years. One day a stranger walked by. “Spare some change?” mumbled the beggar, mechanically holding out his old baseball cap. “I have nothing to give you,” said the stranger. Then he asked: “What’s that you are sitting on?” “Nothing,” replied the beggar. “Just an old box. I have been sitting on it for as long as I can remember.” “Ever looked inside?” asked the stranger. “No,” said the beggar. “What’s the point? There’s nothing in there.” “Have a look inside,” insisted the stranger. The beggar managed to pry open the lid. With astonishment, disbelief, and elation, he saw that the box was filled with gold. I am that stranger who has nothing to give you and who is telling you to look inside. Not inside any box, as in the parable, but somewhere even closer: inside yourself. ~ Eckhart Tolle,
874:Jewish immigrants like the Floms and the Borgenichts and the Janklows were not like the other immigrants who came to America in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The Irish and the Italians were peasants, tenant farmers from the impoverished countryside of Europe. Not so the Jews. For centuries in Europe, they had been forbidden to own land, so they had clustered in cities and towns, taking up urban trades and professions. Seventy percent of the Eastern European Jews who came through Ellis Island in the thirty years or so before the First World War had some kind of occupational skill. They had owned small groceries or jewelry stores. They had been bookbinders or watchmakers. Overwhelmingly, though, their experience lay in the clothing trade. They were tailors and dressmakers, hat and cap makers, and furriers and tanners. ~ Malcolm Gladwell,
875:Aksënov was a handsome, fair-haired, curly-headed fellow, full of fun and very fond of singing. When quite a young man he had been given to drink and was riotous when he had too much; but after he married he gave up drinking except now and then. One summer Aksënov was going to the Nizhny Fair, and as he bade goodbye to his family his wife said to him, “Iván Dmitrich, do not start today; I have had a bad dream about you.’ Aksënov laughed, and said, ‘You are afraid that when I get to the fair I shall go on the spree.’ His wife replied: ‘I do not know what I am afraid of; all I know is that I had a bad dream. I dreamt you returned from the town, and when you took off your cap I saw that your hair was quite grey.’ Aksënov laughed. ‘That’s a lucky sign,’ said he. ‘See if I don’t sell out all my goods and bring you some presents from the fair. ~ Leo Tolstoy,
876:Alice haunted the mossy edge of the woods, lingering in patches of shade. She was waiting to hear his Austin-Healey throttle back when he careened down the utility road separating the state park from the cabins rimming the lake, but only the whistled conversation of buntings echoed in the branches above. The vibrant blue males darted deeper into the trees when she blew her own 'sweet-sweet chew-chew sweet-sweet' up to theirs. Pine seedlings brushed against her pants as she pushed through the understory, their green heads vivid beneath the canopy. She had dressed to fade into the forest; her hair was bundled up under a long-billed cap, her clothes drab and inconspicuous. When at last she heard his car, she crouched behind a clump of birch and made herself as small as possible, settling into a shallow depression of ferns and leaf litter. ~ Tracy Guzeman,
877:Deploying LOGCAP or other contractors instead of military personnel can alleviate the political and social pressures that have come to be a fact of life in the U.S. whenever military forces are deployed,” wrote Lt. Col. Steven Woods in his Army War College study about the effects of LOGCAP. “While there has been little to no public reaction to the deaths of five DynCorp employees killed in Latin America or the two American support contractors from Tapestry Solutions attacked (and one killed) in Kuwait … U.S. forces had to be withdrawn from Somalia after public outcry following the deaths of U.S. soldiers in Mogadishu.… “Additionally, military force structure often has a force cap, usually for political reasons. Force caps impose a ceiling on the number of soldiers that can be deployed into a defined area. Contractors expand this limit. ~ Rachel Maddow,
878:I have to say that the situation didn't look very promising. There was a woman in the bed right enough. But there was a man there too. Fully clothed, enormous in midnight-blue serge suit and peaked cap, he knelt above her rhythmically slapping her face with a pendulum action of his heavy-gloved hand. No, this didn't look like our kind of thing at all. Warily John slipped out of his socks and shirt. You have to give him credit: he keeps his cool and works the percentages. Now the two mean moved strangely past each other; and with some diffidence John climbed into bed. The other guy stared at us, with raised, with churning face. Then he did some shouting and strode out of there - though he paused, and thoughtfully dimmed the lights, as he left the room. We heard his boots on the stairs. The lady clutched me.

"My husband!" she explained. ~ Martin Amis,
879:Knock it off, you two.’ Annabeth handed her scroll to Sadie. ‘Carter, let’s trade. I’ll try your khopesh ; you try my Yankees cap.’

She tossed him the hat.

‘I’m usually more of a basketball guy, but …’ Carter put on the cap and disappeared. ‘Wow, okay. I’m invisible, aren’t I?’

Sadie applauded. ‘You’ve never looked better, brother dear.’

‘Very funny.’

‘If you can sneak up on Setne,’ Annabeth suggested, ‘you might be able to take him by surprise, get the crown away from him.’

‘But you told us Setne saw right through your invisibility,’ Carter said.

‘That was me ,’ Annabeth said, ‘a Greek using a Greek magic item. For you, maybe it’ll work better – or differently, at least.’

‘Carter, give it a shot,’ I said. ‘The only thing better than a giant chicken man is a giant invisible chicken man. ~ Rick Riordan,
880:Monkshood
Most beautiful of poisons,
border-plant,
wearing your small green cowl,
little friar, little murderer,
aconitine flows
from your roots
to your deep purple flowers,
small deceiver,
centerpiece
for a poisonous
feast.
A few leaves
in the salad,
a few seeds
in the soup,
a thick root
to flavor
the stock& it is all over.
Let the lover beware
who buys you
for love philters.
The dose is deceptive.
One pinch leads to passion
but two will surely lead
to death.
Yet you twinkle
little blue bell
at the edge
of the garden,
wearing no warning
about your slim green neck.
Wolfsbane, Friar's cap,
Chariot of Venus-
128
how many may claim
to be poisonous
head to toe?
That honorFriar Deathbelongs to you.
~ Erica Jong,
881:Paul Mcneely
Dear Jane! dear winsome Jane!
How you stole in the room (where I lay so ill)
In your nurse's cap and linen cuffs,
And took my hand and said with a smile:
"You are not so ill -- you'll soon be well."
And how the liquid thought of your eyes
Sank in my eyes like dew that slips
Into the heart of a flower.
Dear Jane! the whole McNeely fortune
Could not have bought your care of me,
By day and night, and night and day;
Nor paid for your smile, nor the warmth of your soul,
In your little hands laid on my brow.
Jane, till the flame of life went out
In the dark above the disk of night
I longed and hoped to be well again
To pillow my head on your little breasts,
And hold you fast in a clasp of love -Did my father provide for you when he died,
Jane, dear Jane?
~ Edgar Lee Masters,
882:What Has Happened?
The industrialist is having his aeroplane serviced.
The priest is wondering what he said in his sermon eight weeks ago
about tithes.
The generals are putting on civvies and looking like bank clerks.
Public officials are getting friendly.
The policeman points out the way to the man in the cloth cap.
The landlord comes to see whether the water supply is working.
The journalists write the word People with capital letters.
The singers sing at the opera for nothing.
Ships' captains check the food in the crew's galley,
Car owners get in beside their chauffeurs.
Doctors sue the insurance companies.
Scholars show their discoveries and hide their decorations.
Farmers deliver potatoes to the barracks.
The revolution has won its first battle:
That's what has happened.
~ Bertolt Brecht,
883:Faintly, Sara heard a noise from somewhere above them, the grating of wood against wood, but she thrust the sound from her mind. Then a voice called down from above, “Cap’n? Cap’n, you down here?”
Gideon tore his mouth from hers and jerked his hand back, a curse rumbling from his lips. “Yes, Silas, I’m here. I’ll be with you presently.”
Shame washed over Sara in buckets as she came out of her sensual fog. Good heavens, her hand was on his breeches! And he’d been touching her with an intimacy only allowed a husband!
As she snatched her hand away, the sound of descending footsteps echoed down to them. “Ive got to talk to you,” Silas said, his words punctuated by the clumping sound of his wooden leg on the steps. “It’s about that woman Louisa—“
“If you come any nearer, Silas” Gideon barked, “I’ll have you keelhauled, I swear I will! ~ Sabrina Jeffries,
884:Unchiul John duse sticla la gură și lichidul gâlgâi pe gâtul ei îngust. Tom zise, cu glas liniștit: — He-hei! Stai! Păi mie ce-mi mai lași? Unchiul John întoarse capul. — Da’ cine ești tu? — Vasăzică, m-ai și uitat. Ai băut până acuma de patru ori, și mie nu mi-ai dat decât o dată. — Lasă, Tom! Nu mai încerca să mă prostești. Aicea sunt numa’ eu singur. Tu n-ai fost cu mine. — Ei, și ce? Da’ acuma vezi că sunt. Ce-ar fi să-mi dai și mie să trag o dușcă? Unchiul John înălță încă o dată sticla și iar se auzi gâlgâitul. Apoi o clătină cu putere. Era goală. — Nu mai este! Tare-aș vrea să mor. Grozav aș mai vrea să mor. Măcar oleacă, așa, să mor. Trebuie cu orice chip. Ca și cum aș dormi. Măcar oleacă să mor. Sunt atât de ostenit! Ostenit rău. Poate… poate că n-am să mă mai trezesc. Și glasul îi suna a jelanie: Și am să port pe cap o coroană… O coroană de aur. ~ Anonymous,
885:A face stared up at her from the mirror beside her hand. Was that really what she looked like? Was that really what she looked like, all sharp lines and huge silver-grey eyes? Certainly, no one would ever call those features beautiful, Jame thought ruefully; but were they really enough like a boy's to have fooled that old man the alley? Well, maybe with that long black hair out of sight under a cap. It was a very young face and a defiant one, she thought with a odd sense of detachment, but frightened, too. And those extraordinary eyes... what memories lived in them that she could not share? Stranger, where have you been she asked silently. What have you seen? The thin lips locked in their secrets.

"Ahhh!" Jame said in sudden disgust, tossing away the mirror. Fool, to be obsessed with a past she couldn't even remember. But it was all behind her now. ~ P C Hodgell,
886:In his letter of 23 October 1928 Warnie wrote of a sea voyage to Hong Kong. ‘The most interesting person on board,’ he said, ‘was the Chief Engineer who was a character straight out of Kipling–such a man as I had always believed never existed outside novels…I first came across him one night after dinner when a few of us collected in the saloon for a mouthful of the port, and McAndrew’s Hymn being mentioned, he expressed his warmest approval of it…This and some more chat led to an invitation to adjourn to his room and inspect “ma buiks”. It was a severe shock after a discussion on Kipling to arrive at his room and come bolt under a withering collection of philosophy–Spencer, Comte, and similar books. I had to mumble something about having no philosophy, which was met with “When ye say ye haaaave no pheelawsophy, Cap’n, ye only mean ye haaave a bad pheelawsophy. ~ C S Lewis,
887:All of those thousands upon thousands of photographs my father had taken. Think of them instead. Each one a record, a testament, a bulwark against forgetting, against nothingness, against death. Look, this happened. A thing happened, and now it will never un happen. Here it is in a photograph: a baby putting its tiny hand in the wrinkled palm of an octogenarian. A fox running across a woodland path and a man raising a gun to shoot it. A plane crash. A comet smeared across a morning sky. A prime minister wiping his brow. The Beatles, sitting at a cafe table on the Champs-Elysees on a cold January day in 1964, John Lennon's pale face under the brim of a fisherman's cap. all these things happened, and my father committed them to a memory that wasn't just his own, but the world's. My father's life wasn't about disappearance. His was a life that worked against it. ~ Helen Macdonald,
888:Gabriel se había hecho reembolsar el pasaje de regreso para quedarse en París, vendiendo los periódicos atrasados y las botellas vacías que las camareras sacaban de un hotel lúgubre de la calle Dauphine. Aureliano podía imaginarlo entonces con un suéter de cuello alto que sólo se quitaba cuando las terrazas de Montparnasse se llenaban de enamorados primaverales, y durmiendo de día y escribiendo de noche para confundir el hambre, en el cuarto oloroso a espuma de coliflores hervidas donde había de morir Rocamadour. Sin embargo, sus noticias se fueron haciendo poco a poco tan inciertas, y tan esporádicas y melancólicas las cartas del sabio, que Aureliano se acostumbró a pensar en ellos como Amaranta Úrsula pensaba en su marido, y ambos quedaron flotando en un universo vacío, donde la única realidad cotidiana y eterna era el amor. Cap. 20, Cien Años de Soledad ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez,
889:Let the whole of mankind tremble the whole world shake and the heavens exult when Christ, the Son of the living God, is on the altar in the hands of a priest. O admirable heights and sublime lowliness! O sublime humility! O humble sublimity! That the Lord of the universe, God and the Son of God, so humbles Himself that for our salvation He hides Himself under the little form of bread! Look, brothers, at the humility of God and pour out your hearts before Him! Humble yourselves, as well, that you may be exalted by Him. Therefore, hold back nothing of yourselves for yourselves so that He Who gives Himself totally to you may receive you totally. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Francis of Assisi, Let the whole of mankind tremble
,
890:On the night that Obama clinched the Democratic nomination, he spoke passionately about climate change, vowing that Americans would look back knowing that “this was the moment when the rise of the oceans began to slow and our planet began to heal.” Once in office, he pledged to pass a “cap and trade” bill forcing the fossil fuel industry to pay for its pollution, as other industries did, rather than treating it as someone else’s problem. Cap and trade was a market-based solution, originally backed by Republicans, requiring permits for carbon emissions. The theory was that it would give the industry a financial incentive to stop polluting. It had worked surprisingly well in previous years to reduce industrial emissions that caused acid rain. By choosing a tested, moderate, bipartisan approach, the Obama administration and many environmentalists assumed a deal would be winnable. ~ Jane Mayer,
891:Chip asked me about New York and what I wanted to do, and how long my dad had owned the shop, and what it was I loved about Waco. He asked about my sisters and my family in general, and what I’d done at Baylor, and if I’d known a few communications majors he’d run around with at school. (I told y’all he was chatty!) Somehow none of these questions seemed intrusive or strange to me at the time, which is funny, because thinking back I find them particularly telling.
At the time, it was just like talking with an old friend.
John finally stood up, and this baseball-cap-wearing customer that John had introduced as Chip followed. “Well, nice talking to you,” he said.
“Nice talking to you too,” I replied, and that was it. I went back inside. The guys in the shop wanted to know what I thought about Hot John, and I just laughed. “Sorry, guys, I don’t think it’s gonna work out. ~ Joanna Gaines,
892:He went with olive green, because it almost matched his borrowed coat, which was tan. He chose pants with flannel lining, a T-shirt a flannel shirt, and a sweater made of thick cotton. He added white underwear and a pair of black gloves and a khaki watch cap. Total damage was a hundred and thirty bucks. The store owner took a hundred and twenty cash. Four days wear, probably, at the rate of thirty dollars a day. Which added up to more than ten grand a year, just for clothes. Insane, some would say. But Reacher liked the deal. He knew that most folks spent much less than ten grand a year on clothes. They had a small number of good items that they kept in closets and laundered in basements. But the closets and basements were surrounded by houses, and houses cost a whole lot more than ten grand a year, to buy or rent, and to maintain and repair and insure.
So who was really nuts ? ~ Lee Child,
893:Vimes shook some lather off the blade. "Hah! I bet they have. Tell me, Willikins, did you fight much when you were a kid? Were you in a gang or anything?"

"I was privileged to belong to the Shamlegger Street Rude Boys, sir," said the butler.

"Really?" said Vimes, genuinely impressed. "They were pretty tough nuts, as I recall."

"Thank you, sir," said Willikins smoothly. "I pride myself I used to give somewhat more than I got if we needed to discuss the vexed area of turf issues with the young men from Rope Street. Stevedore's hooks were their weapon of choice, as I recall."

"And yours...?" said Vimes, agog.

"A cap-brim sewn with sharpened pennies, sir. An ever-present help in times of trouble."

"Ye gods, man! You could put someone's eye out with something like that."

"With care, sir, yes," said Willikins, meticulously folding a towel. ~ Terry Pratchett,
894:He read the veinings of a leaf, the pattern on a mushroom cap, and divined mysteries, relations, futures, possibilities: the magic of symbols, the foreshadowing of numbers and writing, the reduction of infinitudes and multiplicities to simplicity, to system, to concept. For all these ways of comprehending the world through the mind no doubt lay within him, nameless, unnamed, but not inconceivable, not beyond the bounds of presentiment, still in the germ, but essential to his nature, part of him, growing organically within him. And if we were to go still further back beyond this Rainmaker and his time which to us seems so early and primitive, if we were to go several thousand years further back into the past, wherever we found man we would still find - this is our firm belief - the mind of man, that mind which has no beginning and always has contained everything that it later produces. ~ Hermann Hesse,
895:En el último salón abierto del desmantelado barrio de tolerancia un conjunto de acordeones tocaba los cantos de Rafael Escalona, el sobrino del obispo, heredero de los secretos de Francisco el Hombre. El cantinero, que tenía un brazo seco y como achicharrado por haberlo levantado contra su madre, invitó a Aureliano a tomarse una botella de aguardiente, y Aureliano
lo invitó a otra. El cantinero le habló de la desgracia de su brazo. Aureliano le habló de la desgracia de su corazón, seco y como achicharrado por haberlo levantado contra su hermana. Terminaron llorando juntos y Aureliano sintió por un momento que el dolor había terminado. Pero cuando volvió a quedar solo en la última madrugada de Macondo, se abrió de brazos en la mitad de la plaza, dispuesto a despertar al mundo entero, y gritó con toda su alma: -¡Los amigos son unos hijos de puta! Cap. 20, Cien Años de Soledad ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez,
896:Dar nu putură să intre în curtea mare încuiată, zăvorâtă, apărată de soldați și de mulțimea presată, strivită de bare. Rămăsaseră acolo până seara, luptându-se zadarnic. În jurul lor, oamenii ziceau:
-Asta e! Plecăm pe jos.
Rosteau cuvintele astea cu un fel de stupoare deznădăjduită. Se vedea bine că nici ei nu credeau. Se uitau în jur și așteptau minunea: o mașină, un camion, orice i-ar fi dus de acolo. Dar nu apărea nimic. Atunci plecau spre porțile Parisului, ieșeau, își târau bagajele după ei în praf, mergeau, ajungeau în suburbii, apoi la țară și-și ziceau: <>.
Soții Michaud plecaseră și ei tot pe jos. Era o noapte caldă de iunie. În fața lor, o femeie în negru care purta strâmb pe cap, peste părul alb, pălăria cu doliu, se poticnea pe pietrele de pe drum și mormăia, cu gesturi de nebună:
-Rugați-vă ca fuga noastră să n-aibă loc iarna... Rugați-vă!... Rugați-vă! ~ Ir ne N mirovsky,
897:World-class cereal-eating is a dance of fine compromises. The giant heaping bowl of sodden cereal, awash in milk, is the mark of the novice. Ideally one wants the bone-dry cereal nuggets and the cryogenic milk to enter the mouth with minimal contact and for the entire reaction between them to take place in the mouth. Randy has worked out a set of mental blueprints for a special cereal-eating spoon that will have a tube running down the handle and a little pump for the milk, so that you can spoon dry cereal up out of a bowl, hit a button with your thumb, and squirt milk into the bowl of the spoon even as you are introducing it into your mouth. The next best thing is to work in small increments, putting only a small amount of Cap’n Crunch in your bowl at a time and eating it all up before it becomes a pit of loathsome slime, which, in the case of Cap’n Crunch, takes about thirty seconds. ~ Neal Stephenson,
898:...He bade his heart go to her,
When the owls called out no more;
In a red and quivering garment
It sang to her through the door.

It had grown sweet-tongued by dreaming
Of a flutter of flower-like hair;
But she took up her fan from the table
And waved it off on the air.

'I have cap and bells,' he pondered,
'I will send them to her and die';
And when the morning whitened
He left them where she went by.

She laid them upon her bosom,
Under a cloud of her hair,
And her red lips sang them a love-song
Till stars grew out of the air.

She opened her door and her window,
And the heart and the soul came through,
To her right hand came the red one,
To her left hand came the blue.

They set up a noise like crickets,
A chattering wise and sweet,
And her hair was a folded flower
And the quiet of love in her feet... ~ W B Yeats,
899:A year and a half had passed since Berchtold had first taken charge of the Viennese Foreign Office, and in this time all his efforts at diplomacy had ended in failure. When the Balkan War had started Berchtold had been so confident of a Turkish victory that he had then declared that, no matter what happened at the front, the status quo in the Balkans would remain unchanged. He had spoken recklessly, and too soon, for almost at once the rebels in the Turkish provinces had chased the Ottoman armies from the field, and so there had been no question, after such dizzying triumphs, of ordering the victorious insurgents to withdraw behind their former frontiers. Berchtold had then found himself in the unenviable position of having to go cap in hand to the London Conference, defend his now untenable former convictions and somehow save what he could from the debacle he had failed to foresee. ~ Mikl s B nffy,
900:The official record for the fastest manmade object is the Helios 2 probe, which reached about 70 km/s in a close swing around the Sun. But it’s possible the actual holder of that title is a two-ton metal manhole cover. The cover sat atop a shaft at an underground nuclear test site operated by Los Alamos as part of Operation Plumbbob. When the 1-kiloton nuke went off below, the facility effectively became a nuclear potato cannon, giving the cap a gigantic kick. A high-speed camera trained on the lid caught only one frame of it moving upward before it vanished—which means it was moving at a minimum of 66 km/s. The cap was never found. Now, 66 km/s is about six times escape velocity, but contrary to common speculation, it’s unlikely the cap ever reached space. Newton’s impact depth approximation suggests that it was either destroyed completely by impact with the air or slowed and fell back to Earth. ~ Anonymous,
901:Good morning, sunshine,” he said, his smile quickly disappearing in the face of her murderous glance when she raised her face to look at him.

“Shut up and die, morning person. Coffee,” she mumbled.

Right. Note to self. Mate was not a morning person. He poured a cup of coffee and placed it on the table near her hand along with the sweetener and cream. He watched as she poured three packets of Equal into the coffee with her forehead still on the table. He looked on in amazement as she felt around and unscrewed the cap to the cream before dousing the dark liquid. She stirred for a second before dragging the cup to her lips. After a few sips she was able to lift her head. By the time she had finished half a cup she was sitting upright. When she finished the cup, her eyes were open and she was looking around.

“You need to be a coffee commercial,” Connor said, staring at his mate. ~ Alanea Alder,
902:. . . In that Empire, the Art of Cartography attained such Perfection that the map of a single Province occupied the entirety of a City, and the map of the Empire, the entirety of a Province. In time, those Unconscionable Maps no longer satisfied, and the Cartographers Guilds struck a Map of the Empire whose size was that of the Empire, and which coincided point for point with it. The following Generations, who were not so fond of the Study of Cartography as their Forebears had been, saw that that vast map was Useless, and not without some Pitilessness was it, that they delivered it up to the Inclemencies of Sun and Winters. In the Deserts of the West, still today, there are Tattered Ruins of that Map, inhabited by Animals and Beggars; in all the Land there is no other Relic of the Disciplines of Geography.

Suárez Miranda, Viajes de varones prudentes, Libro IV, Cap. XLV, Lérida, 1658 ~ Jorge Luis Borges,
903:EDGAR
A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled
my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of
my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with
her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and
broke them in the sweet face of heaven: one that
slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it:
wine loved I deeply, dice dearly: and in woman
out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of
ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth,
wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey.
Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of
silks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep thy foot
out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen
from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend.
Still through the hawthorn blows the cold wind:
Says suum, mun, ha, no, nonny.
Dolphin my boy, my boy, sessa! let him trot by.
Storm still. ~ William Shakespeare,
904:In the less than two years since Crux was released, science has continued to advance. In 2013, a pair of researchers at the University of Washington demonstrated that one human being could control part of another human being’s body via a non-invasive brain-computer interface. The two researchers, Rajesh Rao and Andrea Stocco, played a video game together, in a very peculiar way. Rajesh Rao, in one building on campus, could see the video game display, but had no controls. Andrea Stocco, in another building across the campus, had the controller (a fire button), but couldn’t see the display. When Professor Rao wanted to shoot, he would think about shooting, and an EEG cap on his skull would pick up his intent and transmit it across campus. There, a magnetic stimulator on Andrea Stocco’s head would send a pulse through part of Professor Stocco’s motor cortex, causing his finger to twitch and hit the fire button. ~ Ramez Naam,
905:Though it was warmer today, he was bundled up in a hoodie and wearing a ball cap which was a first. He looked exhausted and for the first time ever, thrown together. Something was . . . off. Abbie’s Mac: Things looked serious over there when I got here. Everything okay? Are you getting sick? He gave me a mustered wink as he did a slow perusal of me from the tip of my ankle boots to the top of my head. I didn’t know how he did it with a look alone, but by the time he was done, I felt worshiped. We’d been having coffee every day for the last week and I had to admit I was growing tired of my own rules. Cameron’s Mac: And now you’re worried about me? Everything’s fine, nothing a little sleep can’t fix. Besides, there’s a lot more I’m interested in going on over there. Abbie’s Mac: I’ll take that as a compliment. Cameron’s Mac: As you should. Fuck, you’re beautiful. Though the sky was gray, I felt covered in sun. ~ Kate Stewart,
906:Beauty
LIBERAL Nature did dispence
To all things Arms for their defence;
And some she arms with sin'ewy force,
And some with swiftness in the course;
Some with hard Hoofs, or forked claws,
And some with Horns, or tusked jaws.
And some with Scales, and some with Wings,
And some with Teeth, and some with Stings.
Wisdom to Man she did afford,
Wisdom for Shield, and Wit for Sword.
What to beauteous Woman-kind,
What Arms, what Armour has she'assigne'd?
Beauty is both; for with the Faire
What Arms, what Armour can compare?
What Steel, what Gold, or Diamond,
More Impassible is found?
And yet what Flame, what Lightning ere
So great an Active force did bear?
They are all weapon, and they dart
Like Porcupines from every part.
Who can, alas, their strength express,
Arm'd when they themselves undress,
Cap a pe* with Nakedness?
~ Abraham Cowley,
907:Sophia’s Fool’s-Cap
SOPHIA was a little child,
Obliging, good, and very mild,
Yet lest of dress she should be vain,
Mamma still dress'd her well, but plain.
Her parents, sensible and kind,
Wish'd only to adorn her mind;
No other dress, when good, had she,
But useful, neat simplicity.
Though seldom, yet when she was rude,
Or ever in a naughty mood,
Her punishment was this disgrace,
A large fine cap, adorn'd with lace,
With feathers and with ribbons too;
The work was neat, the fashion new,
Yet, as a fool's-cap was its name,
She dreaded much to wear the same.
A lady, fashionably gay,
Did to mamma a visit pay:
Sophia stared, then whisp'ring said,
'Why, dear mamma, look at her head!
To be so tall and wicked too,
The strangest thing I ever knew:
What naughty tricks, pray, has she done,
That they have put that fool's-cap on? '
~ Ann Taylor,
908:The view was breathtaking. Her gaze swept out across the splendid, exciting square. Yes, she could see the horizon, the view so much more sweeping than she had expected. She saw now what Jim had seen, what had been there all the time. So much to do and know, and yes, she could do this.
And then she saw something else. A familiar figure, cap pushed back, walking toward her. She saw him moving closer, saw those clear, blue eyes. She heard a laugh-- whose? Her own. And it was all right. She could be right or wrong, but her vow to herself was clear now. She would be strong and not always too careful, not settle for a smaller life, and face what was true.
What was true? Perhaps it was here, staring her in the face.
"May I help you down?" Jim said. He was standing beneath her now, his hands on the bridle, looking up, his eyes alight.
Palms up, arms stretched out, she reached toward him.
"Yes," she said. ~ Kate Alcott,
909:I accepted all this counsel politely, with a glassy smile and a glaring sense of unreality. Many adults seemed to interpret this numbness as a positive sign; I remember particularly Mr. Beeman (an overly clipped Brit in a dumb tweed motoring cap, whom despite his solicitude I had come to hate, irrationally, as an agent of my mother’s death) complimenting me on my maturity and informing me that I seemed to be “coping awfully well.” And maybe I was coping awfully well, I don’t know. Certainly I wasn’t howling aloud or punching my fist through windows or doing any of the things I imagined people might do who felt as I did. But sometimes, unexpectedly, grief pounded over me in waves that left me gasping; and when the waves washed back, I found myself looking out over a brackish wreck which was illumined in a light so lucid, so heartsick and empty, that I could hardly remember that the world had ever been anything but dead. ~ Donna Tartt,
910:Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of th purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.

The shepherds' swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love. ~ Christopher Marlowe,
911:Zombie!” Sammy calls. “I knew it was you.”
Zombie?
“Where are you taking him?” Ben says to me in a deep voice. I don’t remember it being that deep. Is my memory bad or is he lowering it on purpose, to sound older?
“Zombie, that’s Cassie,” Sam chides him. “You know—Cassie.”
“Cassie?” Like he’s never heard the name before.
“Zombie?” I say, because I really haven’t heard that name before.
I pull off the cap, thinking it might help him recognize me, then immediately regret it. I know what my hair must look like.
“We go to the same high school,” I say, drawing my fingers hastily through my chopped-off locks. “I sit in front of you in Honors Chemistry.”
Ben shakes his head like he’s clearing out the cobwebs.
Sammy goes, “I told you she was coming.”
“Quiet, Sam,” I scold him.
“Sam?” Ben asks.
“My name is Nugget now, Cassie,” Sam informs me.
“Well, sure it is.” I turn to Ben. “You know my brother. ~ Rick Yancey,
912:Catty and Vanessa were vamping it up on the corner of Fairfax and Beverly, in bell-bottoms with exaggerated lacy bells that they must have pulled from Catty's mother's closet.
Vanessa gave them the peace sign. "Feeling' groovy." She winked. She had gorgeous skin, movie-star blue eyes, and flawless blond hair. She was wearing a headband and blue-tinted glasses. Catty was forever getting Vanessa into trouble, but they remained best friends.
"Love and peace," Catty greeted them. Catty was stylish in an artsy sort of way. Right now, she wore a hand-knit cap with pom-pom ties that hung down to her waist, and her puddle-jumping Doc Martens were so wrong with the bell-bottoms that they looked totally right. Her curly brown hair poked from beneath the fuchsia cap and her brown eyes were framed by granny glasses, probably another steal from her mother.
"You like our retro look?" Vanessa giggled at all the cars honking at them. ~ Lynne Ewing,
913:1276
You'Ll Know Her—by Her Foot
634
You'll know Her—by Her Foot—
The smallest Gamboge Hand
With Fingers—where the Toes should be—
Would more affront the Sand—
Than this Quaint Creature's Boot—
Adjusted by a Stern—
Without a Button—I could vouch—
Unto a Velvet Limb—
You'll know Her—by Her Vest—
Tight fitting—Orange—Brown—
Inside a Jacket duller—
She wore when she was born—
Her Cap is small—and snug—
Constructed for the Winds—
She'd pass for Barehead—short way off—
But as She Closer stands—
So finer 'tis than Wool—
You cannot feel the Seam—
Nor is it Clasped unto of Band—
Nor held upon—of Brim—
You'll know Her—by Her Voice—
At first—a doubtful Tone—
A sweet endeavor—but as March
To April—hurries on—
She squanders on your Ear
Such Arguments of Pearl—
You beg the Robin in your Brain
To keep the other—still—
~ Emily Dickinson,
914:Svenson jammed the cap down over his ears and marched for the door. “ ‘Hi ho, hi ho, it’s off to war we go!’ ” “Mama, how do you stand him?” demanded Frideswiede, youngest of the seven sisters. Her father counterwheeled, snatched his wife in a Rudolph Valentino embrace, and bussed her mightily. “ ‘Farewell, my own. I return with my shield,’ or—What the hell’s the rest of it?” “For you there is no rest of it,” said his helpmeet, tucking back a strand of flaxen hair and casting a somewhat complacent glance at Frideswiede. “Go, then, I will keep a herring in the window for you.” “Mama,” said Gudrun, the second youngest, “it’s a candle you’re supposed to keep in the window.” “Nonsense, my child. A candle would smoke up the glass and drip on the sill. A herring lies looking mournful and bereft. The symbolism is much more meaningful. Also it comes in handy for smorgasbord later. Get ready now at once or you will miss the school bus. ~ Charlotte MacLeod,
915:In our view, when women fight for the wage for domes­tic work, they are also fight­ing against this work, as domes­tic work can con­tinue as such so long as and when it is not paid. It is like slav­ery. The demand for a domes­tic wage denat­u­ral­ized female slav­ery. Thus, the wage is not the ulti­mate goal, but an instru­ment, a strat­egy, to achieve a change in the power rela­tions between women and cap­i­tal. The aim of our strug­gle was to con­vert exploita­tive slave labor that was nat­u­ral­ized because of its unpaid char­ac­ter into socially rec­og­nized work; it was to sub­vert a sex­ual divi­sion of labor based on the power of the mas­cu­line wage to com­mand the repro­duc­tive labor of women, which in Cal­iban and the Witch I call “the patri­archy of the wage.” At the same time, we pro­posed to move beyond all of the blame gen­er­ated by the fact that it was always con­sid­ered as a female oblig­a­tion, as a female vocation. ~ Anonymous,
916:Ippolit Konovaloff
I was a gun-smith in Odessa.
One night the police broke in the room
Where a group of us were reading Spencer.
And seized our books and arrested us.
But I escaped and came to New York
And thence to Chicago, and then to Spoon River,
Where I could study my Kant in peace
And eke out a living repairing guns!
Look at my moulds! My architectonics!
One for a barrel, one for a hammer,
And others for other parts of a gun!
Well, now suppose no gun-smith living
Had anything else but duplicate moulds
Of these I show you -- well, all guns
Would be just alike, with a hammer to hit
The cap and a barrel to carry the shot,
All acting alike for themselves, and all
Acting against each other alike.
And there would be your world of guns!
Which nothing could ever free from itself
Except a Moulder with different moulds
To mould the metal over.
~ Edgar Lee Masters,
917:Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, But don’t judge on what you see, I’ll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all. There’s nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can’t see, So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be. You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart; You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil; Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you’ve a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind; Or perhaps in Slytherin You’ll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends. So put me on! Don’t be afraid! And don’t get in a flap! You’re in safe hands (though I have none) For I’m a Thinking Cap! ~ J K Rowling,
918:slowly, slowly pulling up. Or grabbing hold of Debby’s arm, vise-like, for an Indian rub and what starts as a joke gets more and more frantic, him rubbing until he draws speckles of blood, his teeth grinding. She could see him getting that same look Runner got when he was around the kids: jacked up and tense. “Dad needs to leave.” “Geez, Patty, not even a hi before you toss me out? Come on, let’s talk, I got a business proposition for you.” “I’m in no position to make a business deal, Runner,” she said. “I’m broke.” “You’re never as broke as you say,” he said with a leer, and twisted his baseball cap backward on stringy hair. He’d meant it to sound jokey, but it came out menacing, as if she’d better not be broke if she knew what was good for her. He dumped the girls off him and walked over to her, standing too close as always, beer sweat sticking his longjohn shirt to his chest. “Didn’t you just sell the tiller, Patty? Vern Evelee told ~ Gillian Flynn,
919:Problema cu sexul se tratează la fel ca oricare alta. Eşti mereu în recuperare. Cazi mereu în acelaşi păcat. Eşti mereu pe scenă. Înainte să găseşti o cauză mai bună pentru care să lupţi, îţi pui în cap să lupţi împotriva uneia. Toţi oamenii ăştia care pretind că vor o viaţă lipsită de obsesii sexuale… lăsaţi-o baltă, copii! La urma urmei, există ceva mai bun ca sexul?
E la mintea cocoşului că pînă şi cea mai amărîtă felaţie e mai bună decît să miroşi cel mai parfumat trandafir, să zicem… sau să asişti la cel mai spectaculos răsărit de soare. Sau să auzi rîsete de copii.
Cred că nu există poezie mai minunată decît orgasmul care face să-ţi clocotească vinele, să ţi se cutremure bucile şi să gemi de plăcere.
Pictezi un tablou sau compui o operă doar pînă-n clipa în care găseşti o bucăţică bună, fremătînd de dorinţă.
În ziua în care la orizont apare ceva mai bun ca sexul, să mă anunţaţi şi pe mine. Lăsaţi-mi un mesaj pe pager. ~ Chuck Palahniuk,
920:Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, But don’t judge on what you see, I’ll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all. There’s nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can’t see, So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be. You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart; You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil; Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you’ve a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind; Or perhaps in Slytherin You’ll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means To achieve their ends. So put me on! Don’t be afraid! And don’t get in a flap! You’re in safe hands (though I have none) For I’m a Thinking Cap!” The ~ J K Rowling,
921:Charles Lindbergh’s achievement in finding his way alone from Long Island to an airfield outside Paris deserves a moment’s consideration. Maintaining your bearings by means of dead reckoning means taking close note of compass headings, speed of travel, time elapsed since the last calculation, and any deviations from the prescribed route induced by drifting. Some measure of the difficulty is shown by the fact that the Byrd expedition the following month—despite having a dedicated navigator and radio operator, as well as pilot and copilot—missed their expected landfall by two hundred miles, were often only vaguely aware of where they were, and mistook a lighthouse on the Normandy coast for the lights of Paris. Lindbergh by contrast hit all his targets exactly—Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, the Dingle Peninsula in Ireland, Cap de la Hague in France, Le Bourget in Paris—and did so while making the calculations on his lap while flying an unstable plane. ~ Bill Bryson,
922:The Battle Between The Rats And The Weazles
In dire Contest the Rats and Weazles met,
And Foot to Foot, and Point to Point was set:
An ancient Quarrel had such Hatred wrought,
That for Revenge, as for Renown, they fought.
Now bloody was the Day, and hard the Strife,
Wherein bold Warriors lost neglected Life;
But as, some Errors still we must commit,
Nor Valour always ballanc'd is by Wit;
Among the Rats some Officers appear'd,
With lofty Plumage on their Foreheads rear'd,
Unthinking they, and ruin'd by their Pride:
For when the Weazles prov'd the stronger Side,
A gen'ral Rout befell, and a Retreat,
Was by the Vanquish'd now implor'd of Fate;
To slender Crannies all repair'd in haste,
Where easily the undress'd Vulgar past:
But when the Rats of Figure wou'd have fled,
So wide those branching Marks of Honour spread,
The Feather in the Cap was fatal to the Head.
~ Anne Kingsmill Finch,
923:A green hunting cap squeezed the top of the fleshy balloon of a head. The green earflaps, full of large ears and uncut hair and the fine bristles that grew in the ears themselves, stuck out on either side like turn signals indicating two directions at once. Full, pursed lips protruded beneath the bushy black moustache and, at their corners, sank into little folds filled with disapproval and potato chip crumbs. In the shadow under the green visor of the cap Ignatius J. Reilly’s supercilious blue and yellow eyes looked down upon the other people waiting under the clock at the D.H. Holmes department store, studying the crowd of people for signs of bad taste in dress. Several of the outfits, Ignatius noticed, were new enough and expensive enough to be properly considered offenses against taste and decency. Possession of anything new or expensive only reflected a person’s lack of theology and geometry; it could even cast doubts upon one’s soul. ~ John Kennedy Toole,
924:The cord, a familiar voice said. Remember your lifeline, dummy!
Suddenly there was a tug in my lower back. The current pulled at me, but it wasn't carrying me away anymore. I imagined the string in my back keeping me tied to the shore.
"Hold on, Seaweed Brain." It was Annabeth's voice, much clearer now. "You're not getting away from me that easily."
The cord strengthened.
I could see Annabeth now- standing barefoot above me on the canoe lake pier. I'd fallen out of my canoe. That was it. She was reaching out her hand to haul me up, and she was trying not to laugh. She wore her orange camp T-shirt and jeans. Her hair was tucked up in her Yankees cap, which was strange because that should have made her invisible.
"You are such an idiot sometimes." She smiled. "Come on. Take my hand."
Memories came flooding back to me- sharper and more colorful. I stopped dissolving. My name was Percy Jackson. I reached up and took Annabeth's hand. ~ Rick Riordan,
925:I do not like the killers, and the killing bravely and well crap. I do not like the bully boys, the Teddy Roosevelt’s, the Hemingways, the Ruarks. They are merely slightly more sophisticated versions of the New Jersey file clerks who swarm into the Adirondacks in the fall, in red cap, beard stubble and taut hero’s grin, talking out of the side of their mouths, exuding fumes of bourbon, come to slay the ferocious white-tailed deer. It is the search for balls. A man should have one chance to bring something down. He should have his shot at something, a shining running something, and see it come a-tumbling down, all mucus and steaming blood stench and gouted excrement, the eyes going dull during the final muscle spasms. And if he is, in all parts and purposes, a man, he will file that away as a part of his process of growth and life and eventual death. And if he is perpetually, hopelessly a boy, he will lust to go do it again, with a bigger beast. ~ John D MacDonald,
926:And speaking of this wonderful machine:
[840] I’m puzzled by the difference between
Two methods of composing: A, the kind Which goes on solely in the poet’s mind,
A testing of performing words, while he
Is soaping a third time one leg, and B,
The other kind, much more decorous, when
He’s in his study writing with a pen. In method B the hand supports the thought,
The abstract battle is concretely fought.
The pen stops in mid-air, then swoops to bar
[850] A canceled sunset or restore a star,
And thus it physically guides the phrase
Toward faint daylight through the inky maze.
But method A is agony! The brain
Is soon enclosed in a steel cap of pain.
A muse in overalls directs the drill Which grinds and which no effort of the will
Can interrupt, while the automaton
Is taking off what he has just put on Or walking briskly to the corner store [860] To buy the paper he has read before. ~ Vladimir Nabokov,
927:,,Cum poți să urăști o țară sau să iubești alta? Tibe vorbește despre asemenea lucruri, eu n-am abilitatea lui. Eu cunosc oameni, orașe, ferme, dealuri, râuri și stânci. Știu cum, toamna, razele amurgului scaldă un luminiș pe o colină. Dar ce rost are să înconjuri toate aceste lucruri cu o graniță, să le dai un nume și să te oprești cu iubirea acolo unde numele încetează? Dacă îți iubești țara înseamnă să urăști nețara? Atunci nu-i bine. E o simplă iubire de sine? Asta-i bine, dar nu trebuie să faci din ea o virtute sau o profesiune... Așa cum iubesc viața, iubesc și dealurile Domeniului Estre, însă genul acesta de iubire nu are o frontieră a urii. Iar dincolo de așa ceva sunt ignorant, sper...

Ignorant, în sensul Handdara: a ignora abstractul, a fi strâns legat de concret. Atitudinea respectivă avea în ea ceva feminin: refuzarea abstractului, a idealului, o supunere față de realitate, care nu mă încântă. (Estraven, cap. 15, ,,Spre Gheață”) ~ Ursula K Le Guin,
928:When he came out of the kitchen he saw her struggling out of her jacket, like maybe she was stiff or sore. The sight of it stopped him briefly and made him frown. She threw a look over her shoulder, as if she was caught doing something bad. Preacher put the food in front of her, his mind spinning. She was maybe five foot five and slight. She wore jeans and her curly brown hair was tucked through the back of the ball cap like a ponytail. She looked like a girl, but he guessed she was at least in her twenties. Maybe she’d been in a car accident, but it was more likely someone had smacked her around. The thought alone got him a little hot inside. “That looks great,” she said, accepting the soup. He went back behind the bar while she ate. She shoveled the soup in, smeared the bread with butter and ate it ravenously. Halfway through with her meal she gave him a sheepish, almost apologetic smile. It tore through him, that bruised face, split lip. Her hunger. When ~ Robyn Carr,
929:The Mimic Harlequin
'I'll make believe, and fancy something strange:
I will suppose I have the power to change
And make all things unlike to what they were,
To jump through windows and fly through the air,
And quite confound all places and all times,
Like harlequins we see in pantomimes.
These thread-papers my wooden sword must be,
Nothing more like one I at present see.
And now all round this drawing-room I'll range,
And every thing I look at I will change.
Here's Mopsa, our old cat, shall be a bird;
To a Poll parrot she is now transferred.
Here's mamma's work-bag, now I will engage
To whisk this little bag into a cage;
And now, my pretty parrot, get you in it,
Another change I'll show you in a minute.'
'O fie, you naughty child, what have you done?
There never was so mischievous a son.
You've put the cat among my work, and torn
A fine laced cap that I but once have worn.'
~ Charles Lamb,
930:Why, there’d be soldiers riding guard in the back of potato lorries going to the army’s mess hall—children would follow them, hoping potatoes would fall off into the street. Soldiers would look straight ahead, grim-like, and then flick potatoes off the pile—on purpose. “They did the same thing with oranges. Same with lumps of coal—my, those were precious when we didn’t have no fuel left. There was many such incidents. Just ask Mrs. Godfray about her boy. He had the pneumonia and she was worried half to death because she couldn’t keep him warm nor give him good food to eat. One day there’s a knock on her door and when she opens up, she sees an orderly from the German hospital on the step. Without a peep, he hands her a vial of that sulfonamide, tips his cap, and walks away. He had stolen it from their dispensary for her. They caught him later, trying to steal some again, and they sent him off to prison in Germany—maybe hung him. We’d not be knowing which. ~ Mary Ann Shaffer,
931:The Passionate Shepherd To His Love
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant poises,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.
The shepherds's swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
~ Christopher Marlowe,
932:Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.

And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle,
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle.

A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.

A belt of straw and ivy-buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs,
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning.
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.

---"The Passionate Shepherd to His Love ~ Christopher Marlowe,
933:his call when his manners were, as ever, gentlemanly in every particular. I have a sense, rightly or wrongly, that he was verifying an impression. Perhaps he is unused to conducting conversation in a conservatory stuffed to the gills with flora and parrots. Perhaps he disapproved of Bessy’s bringing him to me instead of asking him to wait in the drawing room. I saw the gleam in her eye when she announced him; I will hear about this come next bath day. But I am uneasy, I cannot deny it. I shoot up again, restless, and go to the mirror in the hall to check that it is not I who am surprising in some way. My hair is surprisingly tidy beneath a white cap and I am wearing an apple-green gown. The sleeves are not over full and the skirt is not excessively wide; I am a little reassured. Perhaps I am merely unused to being treated civilly by fine folk. Or perhaps it is just that he is so gleamingly handsome. Chapter Thirty-Three The much-anticipated ball is upon us at last. Priscilla ~ Tracy Rees,
934:We have been happily borne—or perhaps have unhappily dragged our weary way—down the long and crooked streets of our lives, past all kinds of walls and fences made of rotting wood, rammed earth, brick, concrete, iron railings. We have never given a thought to what lies behind them. We have never tried to penetrate them with our vision or our understanding. But there is where the Gulag country begins, right next to us, two yards away from us. In addition, we have failed to notice an enormous number of closely fitted, well-disguised doors and gates in these fences. All those gates were prepared for us, every last one! And all of a sudden the fateful gate swings quickly open, and four white male hands, unaccustomed to physical labor but nonetheless strong and tenacious, grab us by the leg, arm, collar, cap, ear, and drag us in like a sack, and the gate behind us, the gate to our past life, is slammed shut once and for all.
That's all there is to it! You are arrested! ~ Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn,
935:face lit up with a glow of gratitude that was prayer, though he did not know it. Then furtively the percussion-cap box came out. He released the tick and put him on the long flat desk. The creature probably glowed with a gratitude that amounted to prayer, too, at this moment, but it was premature: for when he started thankfully to travel off, Tom turned him aside with a pin and made him take a new direction. Tom's bosom friend sat next him, suffering just as Tom had been, and now he was deeply and gratefully interested in this entertainment in an instant. This bosom friend was Joe Harper. The two boys were sworn friends all the week, and embattled enemies on Saturdays. Joe took a pin out of his lapel and began to assist in exercising the prisoner. The sport grew in interest momently. Soon Tom said that they were interfering with each other, and neither getting the fullest benefit of the tick. So he put Joe's slate on the desk and drew a line down the middle of it from top to bottom. ~ Mark Twain,
936:Ryder Marsden could not possibly have said what I think he just said. Nope. Not in a million years. But then he rises up on one elbow, gazing down at me, and…
My breath leaves my lungs in a whoosh as his head angles down toward mine, his breath warm on my cheek. I swear my heart stops beating for a second--seizing up in my chest before resuming its noisy rhythm. He’s going to kiss me, I realize. Ryder is actually going to kiss me, and--
“You’ve got something…” He pauses, brushing his fingers across my cheek. “There. I got it.”
Disappointment washes over me. He wasn’t going to kiss me. He was just noticing a smudge of dirt on my face or something. I feel like a total idiot. My cheeks flare with heat as I scramble to a heated position and reach for a bottle of water.
“Thanks,” I mumble, unscrewing the cap. I drink for a long time, mostly to avoid meeting Ryder’s eyes. Problem is, I already have to pee. This is not going to help the situation. ~ Kristi Cook,
937:They can’t all be as charming as me,” Vieve replied with a smile.
“Or as adorable as me,” added Soap, coming up behind Vieve and nicking her cap. “Good evening, Miss Temminnick; Vieve. To what do we owe this honor? Shouldn’t you be watching a play or something highfalutin in town?”
“Give it back!” Vieve made a grab for her hat, but Soap held it out of reach. “Can’t stand the theater.”
“And I’m not allowed,” Sophronia added. “But Soap, Vieve and I were wondering if you could help us get out?”
“Out?”
“We want to pay a visit to Bunson’s.”
“But why? No one will be there.”
“Exactly,” crowed Vieve.
“They’ve got something we want to see.”
Soap was suspicious. “What kind of something?”
“A communication machine,” Sophronia explained.
Vieve nodded, grinning.
Soap looked back and forth between them. He ended with Sophronia. “Not you as well? Gone barmy over mechanics, have you? I should never have introduced you two. It’ll all end in tears and oil. ~ Gail Carriger,
938:Here is the recipe to blow something up: a Pyrex bowl; potassium chloride—found at health food stores, as a salt substitute. A hydrometer. Bleach. Take the bleach and pour it into the Pyrex, put it onto a stove burner. Meanwhile, weigh out your potassium chloride and add to the bleach. Check it with the hydrometer and boil until you get a reading of 1.3. Cool to room temperature, and filter out the crystals that form. This is what you will save.

[...]

You need 56 grams of these reserved crystals. Mix with distilled water. Heat to a boil and cool again, saving the crystals, pure potassium chlorate. Grind these to the consistency of face powder, and heat gently to dry. Melt five parts Vaseline with five parts wax. Dissolve in gasoline and pour this liquid onto 90 parts potassium chlorate crystals in a plastic bowl. Knead. Allow the gasoline to evaporate.

Mold into a cube and dip in wax to make it waterproof. This explosive requires a blasting cap of at least a grade A3. ~ Jodi Picoult,
939:And so even today, if, in a large provincial town, or in a quarter of Paris which I do not know very well, a passer-by who is "putting me on the right road" shows me in the distance, as a point to aim at, some hospital belfry or convent steeple lifting the peak of its ecclesiastical cap at the corner of the street which I am to take, my memory need only find in it some dim resemblance to that dear and vanished outline, and the passer-by, should he turn round to make sure that I have not gone astray, may be amazed to see me standing there, oblivious of the walk that I had planned to take or the place where I was obliged to call, gazing at the steeple for hours on end, motionless, trying to remember, feeling deep within myself a tract of soil reclaimed from the waters of Lethe slowly drying until the buildings rise on it again; and then no doubt, and then more anxiously than when, just now, I asked him to direct me, I seek my way again, I turn a corner ... but ... the goal is in my heart ... ~ Marcel Proust,
940:The whole brigade took a queer, perverse pride in the regimental band of the 6th Wisconsin—not because it was so good, but because it was so terrible. It was able to play only one selection, something called “The Village Quickstep,” and its dreadful inefficiency (the colonel referred to it in his memoirs as “that execrable band”) might have been due to the colonel’s quaint habit of assigning men to the band not for musical ability but as punishment for misdemeanors—or so, at least, the regiment stoutly believed. The only good thing about the band was its drum major, one William Whaley, who was an expert at high and fancy twirling of his baton. At one review, in camp around Washington, the brigade had paraded before McClellan, who had been so taken with this drum major’s “lofty pomposity” (as a comrade described it) that he took off his cap in jovial salute—whereupon the luckless Whaley, overcome by the honor, dropped his baton ignominiously in the mud, so that his big moment became a fizzle.4 ~ Bruce Catton,
941:Tuşiţi

La cele mai bune replici ale mele
Ai tuşit,
Scorpie bătrînă.

Ele erau cheia
Întregului spectacol,
Le pregăteam în febră
Ani în şir,
Oamenii m-aşteptau cu respiraţia tăiată,
Efectul trebuia să fie formidabil,
Dar pe tine tocmai atunci
Te îneca tusea,
Scorpie bătrînă.

Dacă se-ntîmpla
Să lipseşti odată,
Începea să tuşească
Scaunul pe care stătuseşi.

Acum ai molipsit
Toată sala,
Piesa se petrece de la un cap la altul
Într-o tuse măgărească...

Tuşiţi,
Răguşit, piţigăiat, dogit,
Cu pauze, în accese, uscat, pistruiat,
Ca la vocalize, ca la doctor,
Tuşiţi!

Credeţi că spun rolul pentru voi,
Ochii mei par că se uită la voi,
Cînd, de fapt, eu privesc peste capetele voastre
Becul roşu din fundul sălii.

Pentru el vorbesc,
Lui îi spun sufletul meu învăţat în nopţi de insomnie,
Becului roşu care arată locul pe unde, la sfîrşit,
Voi trebuie să evacuaţi sala,
Scorpii bătrîne. ~ Marin Sorescu,
942:If any one thing in my experience, more than another, served to deepen my conviction of the infernal character of slavery, and to fill me with unutterable loathing of slaveholders, it was their base ingratitude to my poor old grandmother. She had served my old master faithfully from youth to old age. She had been the source of all his wealth; she had peopled his plantation with slaves; she had become a great grandmother in his service. She had rocked him in infancy, attended him in childhood, served him through life, and at his death wiped from his icy brow the cold death-sweat, and closed his eyes forever. She was nevertheless left a slave—a slave for life—a slave in the hands of strangers; and in their hands she saw her children, her grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren, divided, like so many sheep, without being gratified with the small privilege of a single word, as to their or her own destiny. And, to cap the climax of their base ingratitude and fiendish barbarity, my grandmother, ~ Frederick Douglass,
943:The New Mistress
"Oh, sick I am to see you, will you never let me be?
You may be good for something, but you are not good for me.
Oh, go where you are wanted, for you are not wanted here.
And that was all the farewell when I parted from my dear.
"I will go where I am wanted, to a lady born and bred
Who will dress me free for nothing in a uniform of red;
She will not be sick to see me if I only keep it clean:
I will go where I am wanted for a soldier of the Queen.
"I will go where I am wanted, for the sergeant does not mind;
He may be sick to see me but he treats me very kind:
He gives me beer and breakfast and a ribbon for my cap,
And I never knew a sweetheart spend her money on a chap.
"I will go where I am wanted, where there's room for one or two,
And the men are none too many for the work there is to do;
Where the standing line wears thinner and the dropping dead lie thick;
And the enemies of England they shall see me and be sick."
~ Alfred Edward Housman,
944:He twirled one coppery lock around his finger, and that seemed to rouse her from her stunned silence.
"Stop that," she whispered, a troubled expression crossing her face.
"Why?" he smoothed her hair down over one shoulder, thinking that she had the creamiest skin he'd ever seen, skin that was just begging to be touched. She gasped when he stroked one finger up along the curved contours of her neck. "It's not..proper," she said.
That made him smile. "Proper? We crossed the line from proper to improper right after you left the Chastity. You're on a pirate ship, remember? You're alone in a cabin with a notorious pirate captain..you've lost your proper little cap..and I'm about to kiss you."
As soon as he'd said the words, he knew they were a mistake-and not because of the outrage that filled her face. It would be dangerous to kiss her. She wasn't the woman for him.
But he had to taste her once, just a little taste. So before a protest could even leave her lips, he brought his mouth down to hers. ~ Sabrina Jeffries,
945:The strategy was to frame energy as the heart of the economy while destroying environmentalism in the process. Here is how the strategy was carried out in the first months of the administration. • Put pro-business, pro-energy-development people in charge of the most environmentally sensitive agencies: the Interior Department (Gale Norton) and the EPA (Christie Whitman). • Cut funds for research and development on conservation (e.g., fuel economy, which would vastly lessen the need for oil) and environmentally responsible energy sources (biomass, wind, solar, and so on). • Announce a national energy supply crisis and call it a matter of national security. Develop a plan to respond to the “crisis.” • Frame the “crisis” so that environmentalists are defined as the problem: their regulations impede the development of supply. • Appoint commissioners to the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission (FERC) who would refuse to cap electricity prices overall, even though FERC’s mission is to guarantee reasonable energy prices. The ~ George Lakoff,
946:If we continue on this path, there is no doubt where it will end. If the government has the responsibility of protecting us from dangerous substances, the logic surely calls for prohibiting alcohol and tobacco. If it is appropriate for the government to protect us from using dangerous bicycles and cap guns, the logic calls for prohibiting still more dangerous activities such as hang-gliding, motorcycling, and skiing. Even the people who administer the regulatory agencies are appalled at this prospect and withdraw from it. As for the rest of us, the reaction of the public to the more extreme attempts to control our behavior—to the requirement of an interlock system on automobiles or the proposed ban of saccharin—is ample evidence that we want no part of it. Insofar as the government has information not generally available about the merits or demerits of the items we ingest or the activities we engage in, let it give us the information. But let it leave us free to choose what chances we want to take with our own lives. ~ Milton Friedman,
947:get it, but I hoped he would be all afternoon on the job. “Hurry, Cap!” was all I said. Ordinarily Dan is the swiftest of boatmen. To-day he was slower than molasses and all he did went wrong. What he said about the luck was more than melancholy. I had no way to gauge my own feelings because I had never had such an experience before. Nor had I ever heard or read of any one having it. We got a bait on and the kite out just in time to reach the first and larger school. I was so excited that I did not see we were heading right into it. My intent gaze was riveted upon my bait as it skimmed the surface. The swells were long, low, smooth mounds. My bait went out of sight behind one. It was then I saw water fly high and I felt a tug. I jerked so hard I nearly fell over. My bait shot over the top of the swell. Then that swell opened and burst—a bronze back appeared. He missed the hook. Another tuna, also missing, leaped into the air—a fish of one hundred and fifty pounds, glittering green and silver and blue, jaws open, fins stiff, tail ~ Zane Grey,
948:William’s weekend with his friends, Geoffrey and Maggie, was turning out to be neither restful nor enjoyable. Things could have been worse, of course: there must be weekends during which the hosts’ house burns to the ground, one of the guests murders another, the hostess is arrested in extradition proceedings or the guests are all poisoned by the inclusion of death’s cap mushrooms in the stew. Such weekends must be very difficult indeed, not least because of the wording of the thank-you letters that one would have to write. The disaster, whatever it was, could hardly be ignored, but must be referred to tactfully in the letter, and always set in proper perspective. Thus, in the case of the mushroom poisoning, one would comment on how the other courses of the meal were delicious; in the case of the hostess’s arrest, one would say something comforting about the ability of defence lawyers in the jurisdiction to which she was being extradited—and so on, mutatis mutandis, trying at all times to be as positive as possible. ~ Alexander McCall Smith,
949:Oh, you may not think I'm pretty
But don't judge on what you see
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap! ~ J K Rowling,
950:Zamyotov.” “Zamyotov?… The clerk?… What for?” Raskolnikov quickly turned and fixed his eyes on Razumikhin. “But what’s wrong with … Why be so worried? He wanted to make your acquaintance; he wanted it himself, because I talked about you a lot with him … Otherwise, who would have told me so much about you? He’s a nice fellow, brother, quite a wonderful one … in his own way, naturally. We’re friends now; we see each other almost every day. Because I’ve moved into this neighborhood. You didn’t know yet? I’ve just moved. We’ve called on Laviza twice. Remember Laviza, Laviza Ivanovna?” “Was I raving about something?” “Sure enough! You were out of your mind, sir.” “What did I rave about?” “Come now! What did he rave about? You know what people rave about … Well, brother, let’s not waste any more time. To business!” He got up from his chair and grabbed his cap. “What did I rave about?” “You just won’t let go! Afraid about some secret, are you? Don’t worry, you didn’t say anything about the countess. But about some bulldog, and about ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
951:The dragon roared, deep and thundering, but its triumphant victory call was cut short. I did not hear the weapon discharge over the din of the creature’s bellowing, but I saw, as if in slow motion, the harpoon sailing through the air. It struck the dragon solidly in the chest. A foot higher and it might have slipped through the broken scales to do some damage, but instead our best shot clanked off the dense hide and thudded into the dirt below.

The dragon swallowed its roar in surprise and turned its golden eyes to my employer. Jackaby tossed the spent harpoon gun aside and drew the dull machete from his belt. Silhouetted against the firelight, it was almost possible to imagine that he was some brave knight from the storybooks. My desperate mind could turn his ragged coat into a cape and the rusty blade into a sword—although it refused to let the atrocious knit cap become a shining helmet. Even delusions have their limits.

Jackaby stood alone against the looming dragon. “Well, Peanut?” he called out. “Shall we finish this? ~ William Ritter,
952:A Man Adrift On A Slim Spar"

A man adrift on a slim spar
A horizon smaller than the rim of a bottle
Tented waves rearing lashy dark points
The near whine of froth in circles.
God is cold.

The incessant raise and swing of the sea
And growl after growl of crest
The sinkings, green, seething, endless
The upheaval half-completed.
God is cold.

The seas are in the hollow of The Hand;
Oceans may be turned to a spray
Raining down through the stars
Because of a gesture of pity toward a babe.
Oceans may become gray ashes,
Die with a long moan and a roar
Amid the tumult of the fishes
And the cries of the ships,
Because The Hand beckons the mice.
A horizon smaller than a doomed assassin's cap,
Inky, surging tumults
A reeling, drunken sky and no sky
A pale hand sliding from a polished spar.
God is cold.

The puff of a coat imprisoning air:
A face kissing the water-death
A weary slow sway of a lost hand
And the sea, the moving sea, the sea.
God is cold. ~ Stephen Crane,
953:You are holy, Lord, the only God, You do wonders. You are strong, You are great, You are the most high, You are the almighty King. You, Holy Father, the King of heaven and earth. You are Three and One, Lord God of gods; You are good, all good, the highest good, Lord, God, living and true. You are love, charity. You are wisdom; You are humility; You are patience; You are beauty; You are meekness; You are security; You are inner peace; You are joy; You are our hope and joy; You are justice; You are moderation, You are all our riches. You are beauty, You are meekness; You are the protector, You are the guardian and defender; You are strength; You are refreshment. You are our hope, You are our faith, You are our charity, You are all our sweetness, You are our eternal life: Great and wonderful Lord, God almighty, Merciful Savior. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Francis of Assisi, The Praises of God
,
954:Suddenly she appears in the driveway, barefoot, in a t-shirt and tight black leggings, running to her car on her tiptoes. Yanks the door open, ass sticking out of the cab when she leans in, swiping an unseen object from the center console. Slams the door and turns back toward the house. She doesn’t see me standing here. “Laurel,” I call her name in the rain, loud enough that she spins on the grass, brows raised, surprised to see me in her yard. Shocked, actually. “Rhett?” She steps toward me, clutching her phone charger. “Rhett, what are you doing here?” She squints her blue eyes up at the sky as beads of water blanket her hair. Her skin is already dewy. “I came to see you.” “Okay.” She smiles, giving a hasty glance up at the sky. “Do you want to come inside?” “No.” My head shakes, adamant, the brim of my ball cap keeping only my face dry. “No, I need to say what I came to say.” Laurel nods slowly, hair now completely saturated, falling in limp sheets to her shoulders. She tightly winds her phone cord and tucks it into the back pocket of her jeans. ~ Sara Ney,
955:Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap! ~ J K Rowling,
956:Oh,you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your tops hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
Y ou might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell brave of heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achive their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And you won't get in a flap!
You're safe in my hands(though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!! ~ J K Rowling,
957:He shared his place with a Dr. Tubeside, whose practice consisted largely of injecting people with "vitamin B12", a euphemism for the physician's own blend of amphetamines. Today, early as it was, Doc still had to edge his way past a line of "B12"- deficient housewives of a certain melancholy index, actors with casting calls to show up at, deeply tanned geezers looking ahead to an active day of schmoozing in the sun, stewardii just off in some high-stress red-eye, even a few legit cases of pernicious anemia or vegetarian pregnancy, all shuffling along half asleep, chain-smoking, talking to themselves, sliding one by one into the lobby of the little cinder-block building through a turnstile, next to which, holding a clipboard and checking them in, stood Petunia Leeway, a stunner in a starched cap and micro-length medical outfit, not so much an actual nurse uniform as a lascivious commentary on one, which Dr. Tubeside claimed to've bought a truckload of from Fredericks's of Hollywood, in a variety of fashion pastels, today's being aqua, at close to wholesale. ~ Thomas Pynchon,
958:When Ida Puts Her Armor On
When Ida puts her armor on
And draws her trusty blade
The turnips in the bin turn pale,
The apples are afraid.
The quiet kitchen city wakes
And consternation feels,
And quick the tocsin pealeth forth
In long potato peels.
When Ida puts her armor on
The pots and pans succumb,
A wooden spoon her drum-stick is,
A mixing pan her drum;
She charges on the kitchen folk
With silver, tin and steel
She beat the eggs, she whips the cream,
The victory is a meal.
When Ida puts her apron on
Her breast-plate is of blue.
(Checked gingham ruffled top and sides)
Her gauntlets gingham, too;
And thus protected from assault
Of batter, stain and flour
She wars with vegetable foes
And conquers in an hour.
When Ida puts her armor on
She is so fair to see
Her battle with the kitchen folk
Is reproduced in me;
So sweet she is, armed cap-a-pie,
So good her kitchen art
I hardly know which loves her best
My palate or my heart.
~ Ellis Parker Butler,
959:Carl Hamblin
The press of the Spoon River Clarion was wrecked,
And I was tarred and feathered,
For publishing this on the day the Anarchists were hanged in Chicago:
"I saw a beautiful woman with bandaged eyes
Standing on the steps of a marble temple.
Great multitudes passed in front of her,
Lifting their faces to her imploringly.
In her left hand she held a sword.
She was brandishing the sword,
Sometimes striking a child, again a laborer,
Again a slinking woman, again a lunatic.
In her right hand she held a scale;
Into the scale pieces of gold were tossed
By those who dodged the strokes of the sword.
A man in a black gown read from a manuscript:
'She is no respecter of persons.'
Then a youth wearing a red cap
Leaped to her side and snatched away the bandage.
And lo, the lashes had been eaten away
From the oozy eye-lids;
The eye-balls were seared with a milky mucus;
The madness of a dying soul
Was written on her face -But the multitude saw why she wore the bandage."
~ Edgar Lee Masters,
960:Around 12,800 years ago, it was as though an enchantment of ice had gripped the earth. In many areas that had been approaching terminal meltdown full glacial conditions were restored with breathtaking rapidity and all the gains that had been made since the LGM were simply stripped away:
'Temperatures ... fell back on the order of 8-15 degrees centigrade ... with half this brutal decline possibly occurring within decades. The Polar Front in the North Atlantic redescended to the level of Cabo Finisterre in northwest Spain and glaciers readvanced in the high mountain chains. With respect to temperature the setback to full glacial conditions was nearly complete ...'
For human populations at the time, in many except the most accidentally favoured parts of the world, the sudden and inexplicable plunge into severe cold and aridity must have been devastating. And in the Karakoram-Himalayan region, as in other glaciated areas, it is very likely that it was accompanied by a significant readvance of the ice-cap that previously had been in recession for some 7000 years. ~ Graham Hancock,
961:the ide­o­log­i­cal defense of “pri­vate prop­erty” is both vague and mis­lead­ing. The seizure, or even abo­li­tion of pri­vate prop­erty doesn’t refer to the water bot­tles or homes that many of us have pur­chased; pri­vate prop­erty in the con­text of anti-capitalist pol­i­tics refers to the own­er­ship by bosses and land­lords of the resources peo­ple need to sur­vive. Most peo­ple have no access to the tools and sup­plies required to build their own fur­ni­ture, pro­vide all their own food, or main­tain a home entirely on their own. In a cap­i­tal­ist soci­ety, we depend on the mar­ket to pro­vide these for us in exchange for money. We work waged jobs, where we receive only a por­tion of the value we add to the com­modi­ties we pro­duce, and go into debt in order to afford them. When anti-capitalists talk about pri­vate prop­erty, they’re not refer­ring to the pos­ses­sions con­sumers have pur­chased in order to live; they’re refer­ring to those pos­ses­sions that the wealthy have accu­mu­lated in order to rent or sell to those who must work a waged job to survive. ~ Anonymous,
962:As I came over Windy Gap
They threw a halfpenny into my cap.
For I am running to paradise;
And all that I need do is to wish
And somebody puts his hand in the dish
To throw me a bit of salted fish:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
My brother Mourteen is worn out
With skelping his big brawling lout,
And I am running to paradise;
A poor life, do what he can,
And though he keep a dog and a gun,
A serving-maid and a serving-man:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
Poor men have grown to be rich men,
And rich men grown to be poor again,
And I am running to paradise;
And many a darling wit's grown dull
That tossed a bare heel when at school,
Now it has filled a old sock full:
And there the king is but as the beggar.
The wind is old and still at play
While I must hurry upon my way.
For I am running to paradise;
Yet never have I lit on a friend
To take my fancy like the wind
That nobody can buy or bind:
And there the king is but as the beggar.

~ William Butler Yeats, Running To Paradise
,
963:Somewhere along the line the American love affair with wilderness changed from the thoughtful, sensitive isolationism of Thoreau to the bully, manly, outdoorsman bravado of Teddy Roosevelt. It is not for me, as an outsider, either to bemoan or celebrate this fact, only to observe it. Deep in the male American psyche is a love affair with the backwoods, log-cabin, camping-out life.

There is no living creature here that cannot, in its right season, be hunted or trapped. Deer, moose, bear, squirrel, partridge, beaver, otter, possum, raccoon, you name it, there's someone killing one right now. When I say hunted, I mean, of course, shot at with a high-velocity rifle. I have no particular brief for killing animals with dogs or falcons, but when I hear the word 'hunt' I think of something more than a man in a forage cap and tartan shirt armed with a powerful carbine. In America it is different. Hunting means 'man bonding with man, man bonding with son, man bonding with pickup truck, man bonding with wood cabin, man bonding with rifle, man bonding above all with plaid'. ~ Stephen Fry,
964:Almost.” I cap the mascara and turn, fisting his shirt and pulling him towards me. When my lips meet his, I run my hands up his solid chest before pushing my fingers into his hair. He hums his approval into my mouth and just like that, we forget the world around us.

When he grabs my ass and pulls me to his body, I know I accidently woke the beast. Pulling away, offer him a look of regret before speaking, “Sorry, I really just wanted a kiss before we left.”

“Happy to accommodate you Beauty, but let’s make sure the next time you want a kiss like that, that we aren’t about to go meet up with the gang to have dinner. Sitting around for hours and shooting the shit is no fun when my dick is about to be strangled by my pants.” I start to laugh and turn to walk out into the bedroom, almost knocking Cohen over in the process.

“Daddy? What’s a dick and why are your pants hurting him?” I turn back and look at Greg. His face is open with astonishment and his cheeks have a little color on them. Who would have thought that it’s actually possible to shock the man. ~ Harper Sloan,
965:We are now seeing angels outsourcing due diligence to entities they assume will do it better. In one case, the entity is Y Combinator, the elite accelerator. Yuri Milner’s DST Fund and Ron Conway’s SV Angel fund recently announced that they will invest in every single startup coming out of Y Combinator. The seed rounds will provide $150,000 to every single one of the 40 startups that wants it, without any due diligence on their own part whatsoever. The capital is in the form of convertible debt with no cap and no discount. The loan will convert when and if the startup raises a proper angel or VC capital round at the same valuation that’s set in the round. Most convertible debt has a valuation ceiling and also gets a discount on conversion. The angels are banking on the premise that Y Combinator, in vetting the startups it stewards, has performed satisfactory due diligence. Milner has effectively shut out any other angel investors by offering such attractive terms. It’s almost free money. I’d be surprised if any of the 40 startups in each Y Combinator class decline such an offer. ~ Brian Cohen,
966:Daemon poked me in the back with his pen.
Lesa’s brows arched, but she wisely said nothing as I twisted around. “Yes?”
His half grin was all too familiar. “Reindeer socks today?”
“No. Polka dots.”
“Sock mittens?”
“Regular”, I said, fighting a stupid grin.
“I’m not sure how I feel about that.” He tapped his pen on the edge of his desk. “Regular socks just seem so boring after seeing the reindeer socks.”
Lesa cleared her throar. “Reindeer socks?”
“She has these socks that have reindeers on them and are kind of like mitten for the toes.” He explained.
“Oh, I have a pair like that,” Carissa said, grinning. “But mine have stripes on them. Love them in the winter.”
I passed Daemon a smug look. My socks were cool.
“Am I the only person who is wondering how you saw her socks”? Lesa asked.
Carissa punched her on the arm.
“We live next door to each other,” he reminded her. “I see lots of things.”
I shook my head frantically. “No, he doesn’t. He hardly sees anything.”
“Blushing,” he said, pointing at my cheeks with the blue cap of his pen. ~ Jennifer L Armentrout,
967:Mrs. Alingsby was tall and weird and intense, dressed rather like a bird-of-paradise that had been out in a high gale, but very well connected. She had long straight hair which fell over her forehead, and sometimes got in her eyes, and she wore on her head a scarlet jockey-cap with an immense cameo in front of it. She hated all art that was earlier than 1923, and a considerable lot of what was later. In music, on the other hand, she was primitive, and thought Bach decadent: in literature her taste was for stories without a story, and poems without metre or meaning. But she had collected round her a group of interesting outlaws, of whom the men looked like women, and the women like nothing at all, and though nobody ever knew what they were talking about, they themselves were talked about. Lucia had been to a party of hers, where they all sat in a room with black walls, and listened to early Italian music on a spinet while a charcoal brazier on a blue hearth was fed with incense… Lucia’s general opinion of her was that she might be useful up to a point, for she certainly excited interest. ~ E F Benson,
968:American accent. Broad shoulders, at least fifty years old. He was wearing generic sunglasses and a cap that read NASHVILLE PREDATORS. His lips were thin, sharp like a palm leaf. Lucie stood up; the man took up position behind her. The cop looked around for pedestrians, witnesses, but no luck. Alone and unarmed, she was helpless. They walked about a hundred yards without encountering a soul. A Datsun 240Z was waiting under the maples. “You drive.” He pushed her roughly into the car. Lucie’s throat was knotted and she was finding it hard to stay calm. The faces of her twins swam before her eyes. Not like this, she kept thinking. Not like this… The man took a seat next to her. Like a pro, he quickly patted her pockets, thighs, and hips. He took out her wallet, removed her police ID—which he looked at carefully—then turned off her cell phone. Lucie spoke in a slightly shaky voice: “No need—it isn’t working.” “Drive.” “What is it you want? I—” “Drive, I said.” She started the car. They headed out of Montreal due north, via the Charles de Gaulle Bridge. And left the lights of the city far behind. ~ Franck Thilliez,
969:Which parts of Pembrook Park had been real? Any of it? Even herself? The absurdity bubbled up inside her, and she laughed out loud. The woman next to her stiffened as if forcing herself not to look at the crazy person.
“Excuse me.”
The sound of the voice flattened Jane against the back of her seat as though the plane had taken off at a terrifying speed.
It was him. There he was. In the plane. Vest and cravat and jacket and all.
“Holy cow,” she said.
“Pardon me, ma’am,” Nobley said to the woman beside Jane. “My girlfriend and I don’t have tickets together, and I wonder if you would mind switching. I have a lovely seat on the exit row.”
The woman nodded and smiled sympathetically at Jane as though pondering the sadness of a crazy woman dating a man in Regency clothes.
The man who was Mr. Nobley sat beside her. He lifted his hand to remove his cap, discovered it’d been dislodged during the scuffle with Martin, and then inclined his head just as Mr. Nobley would have.
“How do you do? I’m Henry.”
So he was Henry Jenkins.
“I’m still Jane,” she said. Or, squeaked, rather. ~ Shannon Hale,
970:The rules are: your house is a safe zone. School is a safe zone, but not the parking lot. Once you step out the door, it’s all fair game. You’re out if you get hit with a two-hand touch.
And if you renege on your wish, your life is forfeit. Genevieve comes up with that last part and it gives me shivers. Trevor Pike shudders and says, “Girls are scary.”
“No, girls in their family are scary,” Peter says, gesturing at Chris and Genevieve. They both smile, and in those smiles I see the family resemblance. Casting a sidelong glance at me, Peter says hopefully, “You’re not scary, though. You’re sweet, right?” Suddenly I remember something Stormy said to me. Don’t ever let him get too sure of you. Peter is very sure of me. As sure as a person could be.
“I can be scary too,” I quietly say back, and he blanches. Then, to everyone else, I say, “Let’s just have fun with it.”
“Oh, it’ll be fun,” John assures me. He puts his Orioles cap on his head and pulls the brim down. “Game on.” He catches my eye. “If you thought I was good at Model UN, wait till you see my Zero Dark Thirty skills. ~ Jenny Han,
971:When I'm dressed like this, people will say I don't look like a doctor." Garrett paused before continuing wryly. "On the other hand, they already say that, even when I'm wearing a surgeon's cap and gown."
Carys, who was playing with the left-over glass beads on the vanity table, volunteered innocently, "You've always looked like a doctor to me."
Helen smiled at her little sister. "Did you know, Carys, that Dr. Gibson is the only lady doctor in England?"
Carys shook her head, regarding Garrett with round-eyed interest. "Why aren't there others?"
Garrett smiled. "Many people believe women aren't suited to work in the medical profession."
"But women can be nurses," Carys said with a child's clear-eyed logic. "Why can't they be doctors?"
"There are many female doctors, as a matter of fact, in countries such as America and France. Unfortunately, women aren't allowed to earn a medical degree here. Yet."
"But that's not fair."
Garrett smiled down into the girl's upturned face. "There will always be people who say your dreams are impossible. But they can't stop you unless you agree with them. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
972:Surâsul său era foarte inocent, dulce, l-am putea numi, şi totuşi de o profundă melancolie. Melancolia în vârsta lui este semnul caracteristic al orfanilor; el era orfan, o existenţă — cum sunt multe la noi — fără de speranţă şi afară de aceea determinat prin naştere la nepozitivism. În introducerea acestor şiruri am surprins unele din cugetările care-l preocupau în genere — şi c-un asemenea cap omul nu ajunge departe — şi mai cu seamă cel sărac — şi Dionis era un băiet sărac. Prin natura sa predispusă, el devenea şi mai sărac. Era tânăr — poate nici optsprezece ani — cu atât mai rău... ce viaţă-l aşteaptă pe el?... Un copist avizat a se cultiva pe apucate, singur... şi această libertate de alegere în elementele de cultura îl făcea să citească numai ceea ce se potrivea cu predispunerea sa sufletească atât de visătoare. Lucruri mistice, subtilităţi metafizice îi atrăgeau cugetarea ca un magnet — e minune oare că pentru el visul era o viaţă şi viaţa un vis? Era minune că devenea superstiţios? Adesa îşi închipuise el însuşi cât de trişti, cât de lungi, cât de monotoni vor trece anii vieţii lui — o frunză pe apă. ~ Mihai Eminescu,
973:Surâsul său era foarte inocent, dulce, l-am putea numi, şi totuşi de o profundă melancolie. Melancolia în vârsta lui este semnul caracteristic al orfanilor; el era orfan, o existenţă — cum sunt multe la noi — fără de speranţă şi afară de aceea determinat prin naştere la nepozitivism. În introducerea acestor şiruri am surprins unele din cugetările care-l preocupau în genere — şi c-un asemenea cap omul nu ajunge departe — şi mai cu seamă cel sărac — şi Dionis era un băiet sărac. Prin natura sa predispusă, el devenea şi mai sărac. Era tânăr — poate nici optsprezece ani — cu atât mai rău... ce viaţă-l aşteaptă pe el?... Un copist avizat a se cultiva pe apucate, singur... şi această libertate de alegere în elementele de cultura îl f��cea să citească numai ceea ce se potrivea cu predispunerea sa sufletească atât de visătoare. Lucruri mistice, subtilităţi metafizice îi atrăgeau cugetarea ca un magnet — e minune oare că pentru el visul era o viaţă şi viaţa un vis? Era minune că devenea superstiţios? Adesa îşi închipuise el însuşi cât de trişti, cât de lungi, cât de monotoni vor trece anii vieţii lui — o frunză pe apă. ~ Mihai Eminescu,
974:has your sister already gone, then, Stan?” Stanley’s eyelids fluttered. “We must get on,” he said, taking hold of my arm. “Miss Gibson has a train to catch.” “Oh . . . I see. Well, nice to meet you . . . See you later, Stan.” “You and Eileen Poynter seem on very familiar terms,” I said as we neared the steps down to the Underground. He laughed. “Not jealous, are you?” “No. But why did she think I was your sister?” “Haven’t the foggiest.” “Did you tell her you had a sister?” We were right by the steps, and he stopped and turned to me: “Of course I didn’t tell her I had a sister . . . To be honest, I think she’s a bit touched.” “Oh?” “They have endless problems with her at work . . . getting her to remember stuff. Hopeless. Hopeless, she is.” “But why did she say, ‘See you later’? You said you weren’t going into work tonight.” “It’s a figure of speech, isn’t it? See you later? Gawd blimey, Pearl, it’s like the Spanish Inquisition with you.” He pulled out his handkerchief, pushed back his cap and wiped his brow. He raised his eyes to the overcast sky. “Feels like funder.” “Th . . . thunder.” We stood for a few minutes, ~ Judith Kinghorn,
975:Then you can go to Cher's Pub at Lexington and Guilford, where that selfsame assistant state's attorney, if possessed of any human qualities at all, will buy you a bottle of domestic beer.

And you drink it. Because in a police department of about three thousand sworn souls, you are one of thirty-six investigators entrusted with the pursuit of that most extraordinary of crimes: the theft of a human life. You speak for the dead. You avenge those lost to the world. Your paycheck may come from fiscal services but, goddammit, after six beers you can pretty much convince yourself that you work for the Lord himself. If you are not as good as you should be, you'll be gone within a year or two, transferred to fugitive, or auto theft or check and fraud at the other end of the hall. If you are good enough, you will never do anything else as a cop that matters this much. Homicide is the major leagues, the center ring, the show. It always has been. When Cain threw a cap into Abel, you don't think The Big Guy told a couple of fresh uniforms to go down and work up the prosecution report. Hell no, he sent for a fucking detective. ~ David Simon,
976:I'm done doing this!' Obama said, finally erupting. 'We've all agreed on a plan. And we're all going to stick to that plan. I haven't agreed to anything beyond that.'

The 30,000 was a 'hard cap,' he said forcefully. 'I don't want enablers to be used as wiggle room. The easy thing for me to do - politically - would actually be to say no' to the 30,000. Then he gestured out the Oval Office windows, across the Potomac, in the direction of the Pentagon. Referring to Gates and the uniformed military, he said. 'They think it's the opposite. I'd be perfectly happy -' He stopped mid-sentence. 'Nothing would make Rahm happier than if I said no to the 30,000.'

There was some subdued laughter.

'Rahm would tell me it'd be much easier to do what I want to do by saying no,' the president said. He could then focus on the domestic agenda that he wanted to be the heart of his presidency. The military did not understand. 'Politically, what these guys don't get is it'd be a lot easier for me to go out and give a speech saying, 'You know what? The American people are sick of this war, and we're going to get out of there. ~ Bob Woodward,
977:Cutting class,” I muttered. “That idiot.”
Ben did a double-take when he spotted me, then slowly shook his head. As I drew near, he whispered something under his breath. His moron buddies exploded in laughter.
I’ll kill him. Then murder him afterward.
“What the hell are you doing?” Not the most diplomatic of greetings, but my temper was long gone. “Is your first class Parking Lot Maintenance?”
Ben waved a hand at me. “You see what I mean?”
Wallet Chain chuckled as he toked a cigarette. “That’s not very nice, sweetheart.”
“You’ll never land a man like that,” added Ski Cap. “This ain’t Beantown.”
“Ben?” Seething. “May I speak to you privately?”
Ben rolled his eyes. “Give me a sec, guys. I’ve been naughty.”
I waited until the stoners were out of earshot.
“Great crew you’ve assembled.” Dripping with sarcasm.
“Leave them out of this,” Ben warned. “What, I can’t even have friends, now that I’ve been kicked from the Ivory Tower?”
“Maybe go to class. You might find a better peer group in there.”
Ben snorted. “I’m pretty sure you have class right now, too.”
Touche. ~ Kathy Reichs,
978:The slaves destroyed tirelessly. Like the peasants in the Jacquerie or the Luddite wreckers, they were seeking their salvation in the most obvious way, the destruction of what they knew was the cause of their sufferings; and if they destroyed much it was because they had suffered much. [...] Now that they held power they did as they had been taught. In the frenzy of the first encounters they killed all. Yet they spared the priests whom they feared and the surgeons who had been kind to them. They, whose women had undergone countless violations, violated all the women who fell into their hands, often on the bodies of their still bleeding husbands, fathers and brothers. “Vengeance ! Vengeance” was their war-cry, and one of them carried a white child on a pike as a standard.
And yet they were surprisingly moderate, then and afterwards, far more humane than their masters had been or would ever be to them. [...] Compared with what their masters had done to them in cold blood, what they did was negligible, and they were spurred on by the ferocity with which the whites in Le Cap treated all slave prisoners who fell into their hands. ~ C L R James,
979:It was one of those red-gold early October days, the air crisp and tart as heady as applejack, and even at dawn the sky was the clear, purplish blue that only the finest of autumn days brings. There are maybe three such days in a year. I sang as I lifted my traps, and my voice bounced off the misty banks of the Loire like a challenge. It was the mushroom season, so after I had brought my catch back to the farm and cleaned it out, I took some bread and cheese for breakfast and set out into the woods to hunt for mushrooms. I was always good at that. Still am, to tell the truth, but in those days I had a nose like a truffle pig's. I could smell those mushrooms out, the gray chanterelle and the orange, with its apricot scent, the bolet and the petit rose and the edible puffball and the brown-cap and the blue-cap. Mother always told us to take our mushrooms to the pharmacy to ensure we had not gathered anything poisonous, but I never made a mistake. I knew the meaty scent of the bolet and the dry, earthy smell of the brown-cap mushroom. I knew their haunts and breeding grounds. I was a patient collector. ~ Joanne Harris,
980:He was walking back through the cemetery to his car when he came upon a black man digging a grave with a shovel. The man was standing about two feet down in the unfinished grave and stopped shoveling and hurling the dirt out to the side as the visitor approached him. He wore dark coveralls and an old baseball cap, and from the gray in his mustache and the lines in his face he looked to be at least fifty. His frame, however, was still thick and strong.
"I thought they did this with a machine," he said to the gravedigger.
"In big cemeteries, where they do many graves, a lot of times they use a machine, that's right." He spoke like a Southerner, but very matter-of-factly, very precisely, more like a pedantic schoolteacher than a physical laborer. "I don't use a machine," the gravedigger continued, "because it can sink the other graves. THe soil can give and it can crush in on the box. And you have the gravestones you have to deal with. It's just easier in my case to do everything by hand. Much neater. Easier to take the dirt away without ruining anything else. I use a real small tractor that I can maneuver easily, and I dig by hand. ~ Philip Roth,
981:Mignonne
Whate'er thou dost thou'rt dear.
Uncertain troubles sanctify
That magic well-spring of the willing tear,
Thine eye.
Thy jealous fear,
With not the rustle of a rival near;
Thy careless disregard of all
My tenderest care;
Thy dumb despair
When thy keen wit my worship may construe
Into contempt of thy divinity;
They please me too!
But should it once befall
These accidental charms to disappear,
Leaving withal
Thy sometime self the same throughout the year,
So glowing, grave and shy,
Kind, talkative and dear
As now thou sitt'st to ply
The fireside tune
Of that neat engine deft at which thou sew'st
With fingers mild and foot like the new moon,
O, then what cross of any further fate
Could my content abate?
Forget, then, (but I know
Thou canst not so,)
Thy customs of some prædiluvian state.
I am no Bullfinch, fair my Butterfly,
That thou should'st try
Those zigzag courses, in the welkin clear;
Nor cruel Boy that, fledd'st thou straight
Or paused, mayhap
Might catch thee, for thy colours, with his cap.
~ Coventry Patmore,
982:In this he was like most Midwesterners. Directions are very important to them. They have an innate need to be oriented, even in their anecdotes. Any story related by a Midwesterner will wander off at some point into a thicket of interior monologue along the lines of "We were staying at a hotel that was eight blocks northeast of the state capital building. Come to think of it, it was northwest. And I think it was probably more like nine blocks. And this woman without any clothes on, naked as the day she was born except for a coonskin cap, came running at us from the southwest... or was it the southeast?" If there are two Midwesterns present and they both witnessed the incident, you can just about write off the anecdote because they will spend the rest of the afternoon arguing points of the compass and will never get back to the original story. You can always tell a Midwestern couple in Europe because they will be standing on a traffic island in the middle of a busy intersection looking at a windblown map and arguing over which way is west. European cities, with their wandering streets and undisciplined alleys, drive Midwesterners practically insane. ~ Bill Bryson,
983:It’s a girl,” I heard Marlboro Man tell his mom. Nurses dabbed my bottom with gauze. “Ree did great,” he continued. “The baby’s fine.” The doctor opened up a suture kit.
I took a few deep breaths, staring at the baby’s striped knit cap, placed on her head by one of the nurses. Marlboro Man spoke quietly to his parents, answering their questions and providing them with details about when we’d gone to the hospital and how it had all gone. I drifted in and out of listening to him talk; I was too busy trying to assimilate what had just happened to me. Then, toward the end of the conversation, I heard him ask his mother a question.
“So…what do you do with girls?” he said.
His mother knew the answer, of course. Though she hadn’t had any girls of her own, she herself had been the oldest child of a rancher and had grown up being her father’s primary ranch hand throughout her childhood years. She knew better than anyone “what you do with girls” on a working ranch.
“The same thing you do with boys,” she answered.
I chuckled softly when Marlboro Man relayed his mom’s sentiments. For the first time in our relationship, he was the one in a foreign land. ~ Ree Drummond,
984:There were three or four of us, counting me. My working place was established in a corner of the warehouse, where Mr. Quinion could see me, when he chose to stand up on the bottom rail of his stool in the counting-house, and look at me through a window above the desk. Hither, on the first morning of my so auspiciously beginning life on my own account, the oldest of the regular boys was summoned to show me my business. His name was Mick Walker, and he wore a ragged apron and a paper cap. He informed me that his father was a bargeman, and walked, in a black velvet head-dress, in the Lord Mayor’s Show. He also informed me that our principal associate would be another boy whom he introduced by the - to me - extraordinary name of Mealy Potatoes. I discovered, however, that this youth had not been christened by that name, but that it had been bestowed upon him in the warehouse, on account of his complexion, which was pale or mealy. Mealy’s father was a waterman, who had the additional distinction of being a fireman, and was engaged as such at one of the large theatres; where some young relation of Mealy’s - I think his little sister - did Imps in the Pantomimes. ~ Charles Dickens,
985:În vremea aceasta se lăsa întunericul, iar singurătatea - singurătatea aceea înșelătoare, când omul, singur, nu este totuși singur, ci într-o dureroasă relație sufletească cu un alt om de dincolo de perete - dar îndeajuns de singur pentru ca frecarea mâinilor, încleștarea degetelor și alte manifestări să fie stupide - prin urmare, întunericul și acea falsă singurătate îmi pătrundeau în cap, mă orbeau, îmi răpeau și ultimele senzații de luciditate, mă aruncau în noapte. De câte ori noaptea nu ni se insenuează în zi! Singur, în camera aceasta, pe scăunel, în această acțiune, eram prea ireal și nu mai puteam rămâne prea mult timp aici. Procesele, care nu sunt primejdioase când le trăiești împreună cu cineva și aievea, devin insuportabil în lipsa unui partener. Singurătatea este sufocantă. Așa că, după un chin mai îndelungat, am deschis din nou ușa, am apărut în prag, ieșind din singurătate, orbecăind ca un liliac. Oprindu-mă în prag, mi-am dat seama că iar nu știu cum să încep și cum s-o abordez, era în continuare extrem de izolată și de închisă, diabolică treabă acest contur clar și precis al formei umane, această linie rece care ne particularizează - forma! ~ Witold Gombrowicz,
986:Every few weeks she would shut herself up in her room, put on her scribbling suit, and "fall into a vortex" as she expressed it, writing away at her novel with all her heart and soul, for till that was finished she could find no peace. Her "scribbling suit" consisted of a black woollen pinafore on which she could wipe her pen at will, and a cap of the same material, adorned with a cheerful red bow, into which she bundled her hair when the decks were cleared for action. This cap was a beacon to the inquiring eyes of her family, who during these periods kept their distance, merely popping in their heads semi-occasionally, to ask, with interest, "Does genius burn, Jo?" They did not always venture even to ask this question, but took an observation of the cap, and judged accordingly. If this expressive article of dress was drawn low upon the forehead, it was a sign that hard work was going on; in exciting moments it was pushed rakishly askew; and when despair seized the author it was plucked wholly off, and cast upon the floor. At such times the intruder silently withdrew; and not until the red bow was seen gayly erect upon the gifted brow, did any one dare address Jo. ~ Louisa May Alcott,
987:What was I thinking?" Chiron cried. " I can't let you get away without this."
He pulled a pen from his coat pocket. It was an ordinary disposable ballpoint, black ink, removable cap. Probably thirty cents.
Gee," I said. "Thanks."
Percy, that's a gift from your father. I've kept it for years, not knowing you were who I was waiting for. But the profecy is clear to me now. You are the one.
I remembered the feild trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, when I'd vaporized Mrs. Dodds. Chiron had thrown me a pen that turned into a sword. Could this be...?
I took off the cap, and the pen grew longer and heavier in my hand. In half a second, I held a shimmering bronze sword with a double-edged blade, a leather=wrapped grip, and a flat hilt riveted with gold studs. It was the first weapon that actually felt balanced in my hands.
The sword has a long and tragic history that we need not go into," Chiron told me. "It's name is Anaklusmos."
Riptide," I translated, surprised the Ancient Greek came so easily.
Use it only for emergencies" Chiron said, "and only against monsters No hero should harm mortals unless absolutely, of course, but this sword wouldn't harm them in any case. ~ Rick Riordan,
988:SINCE the start of the industrial revolution, humans have burned through enough fossil fuels—coal, oil, and natural gas—to add some 365 billion metric tons of carbon to the atmosphere. Deforestation has contributed another 180 billion tons. Each year, we throw up another nine billion tons or so, an amount that’s been increasing by as much as six percent annually. As a result of all this, the concentration of carbon dioxide in the air today—a little over four hundred parts per million—is higher than at any other point in the last eight hundred thousand years. Quite probably it is higher than at any point in the last several million years. If current trends continue, CO2 concentrations will top five hundred parts per million, roughly double the levels they were in preindustrial days, by 2050. It is expected that such an increase will produce an eventual average global temperature rise of between three and a half and seven degrees Fahrenheit, and this will, in turn, trigger a variety of world-altering events, including the disappearance of most remaining glaciers, the inundation of low-lying islands and coastal cities, and the melting of the Arctic ice cap. But this is only half the story. ~ Elizabeth Kolbert,
989:Ba am o religie, religia mea, sunt chiar mai religios decât ei toţi, cu maimuţărelile şi cu jongleriile lor! Tocmai că-l slăvesc pe Dumnezeu. Cred în Fiinţa supremă, într-un Creator, oricare ar fi el, puţin îmi pasă, care ne-a lăsat aici pe pământ ca să ne ducem la bun sfârşit datoria de cetăţean şi de cap de familie; dar n-am nevoie să intru într-o biserică, să sărut talgere de argint şi să îngraş din buzunarul meu o adunătură de pişicheri care mănâncă mai îndestulat ca noi! Fiindcă îl poţi cinsti la fel de bine şi într-o pădure, pe câmp sau chiar contemplând tăriile, aşa cum făceau anticii. Dumnezeul meu este Dumnezeul lui Socrate, al lui Franklin, al lui Voltaire şi al lui Beranger! Eu sunt pentru Profesiunea de credinţă a vicarului savoyard şi pentru nemuritoarele principii de la 89! De aceea nu accept un moşulică Doamne-Doamne, care se plimbă prin grădina lui cu toiagul în mână, care-şi găzduieşte prietenii în burţile balenelor, moare ţipând şi învie după trei zile: lucruri absurde în sine şi care, de altminteri, contrazic toate legile fizicii; ceea ce ne dovedeşte, în treacăt, că popii s-au bălăcit întotdeauna într-o ignoranţă abjectă, în care se străduiesc să cufunde şi populaţiile. ~ Gustave Flaubert,
990:Here’s my proposed innovation: The agency should create and regulate a market in which states can buy and sell all or part of their protection quota obligations. Both the agency and the selling state must enforce international standards to ensure that the receiving state protects the human rights of those it agrees to accept. Just as cap-and-trade schemes enhance environmental protection, this market would maximize the number of refugees protected by exploiting differences in states’ resources, politics, geography and attitudes toward newcomers. A more ethnically homogeneous or xenophobic state might eagerly pay a high price (in cash, credit, commodities, political support, development assistance or some other valuable) to more refugee-friendly states to assume its burden, rather than having to bring them in-country. Such payments already take place, in a way: The United States and other countries sometimes pay other states to harbor immigrants; Australia just agreed to give Cambodia $32 million to do so. Almost by definition, such a market would produce more protection than the status quo does, while ensuring that each state does its share in one form or another and that human rights are respected. ~ Anonymous,
991:În speranța unui viitor mai bun, m-am înscris la un curs de germană. A patra oară. Sunt la nivelul A2.2, care înseamnă elementar. Săptămâna asta, doamna profesoară a început să ne predea declinarea grupului nominal, ne-a umplut de foi cu tabele și pe mine de angoase existențiale. Văd cuvinte în fața ochilor de sute de ori și tot nu știu ce înseamnă, iar terminațiile pe cazuri, genuri și numere îmi vâjâie în cap ca biletele la loto când pornește instalația să le amestece.
Mă simt tot mai puțin inteligentă, mi se cojește inteligența de pe creier ca vopseaua de pe un lemn vechi. Limba germană la treizeci de ani mă face să mă simt consumată.
Otilia mă asigură că mai e speranță, mai am încă timp să emigrez, s-o iau de la capăt. Oare asta e soluția? Mă gândesc după ce trec de B2.
Grupa e plină de studente la Medicină. Vreo două dintre ele zbârnăie. Când avem de alcătuit propoziții, ele fac fraze complexe, când avem de compus mesaje, ele fac scrisori.
Am și astăzi curs, de la șase, și n-am apucat să-mi fac tema. Avem de completat cuvinte în mici dialoguri, sub imagini cu omuleți la restaurant. Omuleții comandă diverse mâncăruri, au păreri, cer nota, își iau rămas-bun. Omuleți în creion. ~ Lavinia Brani te,
992:You goin’ somewhere?” I asked.
“Out west.”
“Out west? What is this, a John Wayne movie? There’s a lot that’s west of Boston. How far out west?” I asked.
“Vegas,” he said, and turned down the strings.
“Huh.” Vegas. That was quite the drive. I wondered how long it would take. I really had no clue. It was all the way across the country. Major road trip.
“I’m headed that direction too,” I lied enthusiastically. He looked over at me, his eyebrows disappearing under the thick edge of his cap.
“You’re headed to Vegas?”
“Well, maybe not that far, you know, uh, just . . . west,” I hedged. I didn’t want him to think I wanted to tag along all the way to Vegas, although suddenly I thought I might. “Can I ride with you for a ways?”
“Look, kid—”
“Clyde?” I immediately interrupted. “I’m not a kid. I’m twenty-one years old. I’m not jailbait or an escapee from prison or a mental institution. I’m not a member of the Klan, or even a Bible salesman, although I do believe in Jesus and am not ashamed to admit it, though I will keep my love for him to myself if you’ve got issues with that. I have some money to contribute to gas and food and whatever else we need. I just need a lift out . . . west. ~ Amy Harmon,
993:A doua zi și în zilele următoare, se așeza în același loc, interpretând amator, dar destul de bine, rolul singuraticului excentric: la ora obișnuită, în locul obișnuit. Sosirea fetei, răsuflarea ei, picioarele ei, părul ei, tot ce făcea, fie că se scărpina pe gamba cu degetele ce lăsau dâre albe, fie că arunca în sus o mingiuță neagră ori se freca de el cu un umar gol când se așeza pe bancă - toate astea (în timp ce el părea adâncit într-o conversație plăcuta) stârneau în el o senzație insuportabilă de comuniune cu ea, sangvină, dermică, multivasculară, ca și cum bisectoarea monstruoasă care pompa toate sucurile din adâncurile lui se extindea în ea ca o linie punctată pulsândă, ca și cum fata asta creștea din el, ca și cum, cu fiecare mișcare nepăsătoare, ea se trăgea brusc și își scutura rădăcinile vitale înfipte în măruntaiele ființei lui, astfel încât când iși schimba brusc poziția sau pleca în grabă, el simțea o zdruncinătura, o smucitură barbară, o pierdere momentană a echilibrului: ca și cum te-ai trezi deodată târât pe spate prin praf, dând cu capul de pămant, tras cu putere spre locul unde vei fi spânzurat de măruntaie. Și în tot timpul ăsta stătea și asculta calm, zâmbind, dând din cap... ~ Vladimir Nabokov,
994:As he stood, a single red petal fell from his black velvet cloak. “I’m glad you came out of your room. I hope to see you at supper.” Luca unfastened the cloak from around his neck and handed it to her. “Here. It’s getting dark. You might get cold.”
Cass accepted the cloak and draped it across her front like a blanket. A square of white cotton fell out of the pocket and she reached down and picked it up. Luca’s handkerchief. Her fingers stroked the embroidered initials--LdP. She thought back to her conversation with Madalena about dropping handkerchiefs. It seemed like the exchange had happened in another lifetime. She tucked the square of fabric back into the pocket of his cloak.
Luca smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “I manage to lose more of those than you can imagine.” He turned back toward the house.
The air turned cool as the stars came out, but Luca’s cloak kept Cass surprisingly warm. A blurry face appeared at one of the windows. Cass recognized Agnese’s favorite white cap. Cass gave her aunt a hesitant wave and the face vanished. Cass wondered if everyone had been worrying about her. She remembered the cautious way Luca had approached her, as if she were a wild horse that might spook and run off. ~ Fiona Paul,
995:I’d spent months carefully winding my gift into a tight spool, only letting it out by inches, and only when I needed it. The strain of keeping it bound up had been a steady, constant reminder that I had to work to keep the life I’d built for myself out here. It was a muscle I’d carefully toned to withstand nearly any pressure.
Letting it all go felt like shaking a bottle of soda and ripping off the cap. It fizzed and flooded and swept out of me, searching for the connections waiting to be made. I didn’t guide it, and I didn’t stop it—I don’t know if I could have if I tried. I was the burning center of a galaxy of faces, memories, loves, heartbreaks, disappointments, and dreams. It was like living dozens of different lives. I was lifted and shattered by it, how strangely beautiful it was to feel their minds linked with my own.
The spinning inside my head slowed with the movement around me. I felt time hovering nearby, waiting to resume its usual tempo. The darkness slid into the edges of my vision, seeping through my mind like a drop of ink in water. But I was in control of the moment, and there was one last thing that I needed to say to them, one last idea to imprint in their minds.
“I’m Green. ~ Alexandra Bracken,
996:The forests had put on their sober brown and yellow, while some trees of the tenderer kind had been nipped by the frosts into brilliant dyes of orange, purple, and scarlet. Streaming files of wild ducks began to make their appearance high in the air; the back of the squirrel might be heard from the groves of beech and hickory-nuts, and the pensive whistle of the quail at intervals from the neighboring stubble field. The small birds were taking their farewell banquets. In the fullness of their revelry, they fluttered, chirping and frolicking from bush to bush, and tree to tree, capricious from the very profusion and variety around them. There was the honest cock robin, the favorite game of stripling sportsmen, with its loud querulous note; and the twittering blackbirds flying in sable clouds; and the golden-winged woodpecker with his crimson crest, his broad black gorget, and splendid plumage; and the cedar bird, with its red-tipt wings and yellow-tipt tail and its little monteiro cap of feathers; and the blue jay, that nosy coxcomb, in his gay light blue coat and white underclothes, screaming and chattering, nodding and bobbing and bowing, and pretending to be on good terms with every songster of the grove. ~ Washington Irving,
997:Lucia's abuela chortled, and her mother gave him a playful smack on the arm. But he could see both were pleased. They flanked him as if to escort him to the table. But before they could herd him in that direction, he politely asked permission to give Sanchia the present he'd brought.
Identical curious looks sprang into each of the women's eyes, and they stepped back, but crowded behind him to watch the show. Pepe wove through the press of people to kneel before Sanchia and held out the dolly, wrapped in the colorful knitted blanket. Since receiving it, he hadn't peeled back the covering to see Senora Thompson's handiwork, and he was almost as curious as the child.
With one finger, the girl traced a line of yellow yarn knitted into the blanket, as if she'd never seen anything so sunny. She looked up at her sister for permission to open the present. At Lucia's nod and encouraging smile, she slowly unwrapped the bundle.
The baby lay in splendor, wearing a pink gown and a matching cap and booties. Wonder brightened the little girl's thin, solemn face. She whispered in Lucia's ear, too softly for Pepe to hear. But Lucia's gentle, "Si Sanchia" made her grab the doll to her chest and rock her back and forth. ~ Debra Holland,
998:There are large and stately studios, panelled and high, in strong stone houses filled with gleaming brass and polished oak. There are workaday studios – summer perching-places rather than settled homes – where a good north light and a litter of brushes and canvas form the whole of the artistic stock-in-trade. There are little homely studios, gay with blue and red and yellow curtains and odd scraps of pottery, tucked away down narrow closes and adorned with gardens, where old-fashioned flowers riot in the rich and friendly soil. There are studios that are simply and solely barns, made beautiful by ample proportions and high-pitched rafters, and habitable by the addition of a tortoise stove and a gas-ring. There are artists who have large families and keep domestics in cap and apron; artists who engage rooms, and are taken care of by landladies; artists who live in couples or alone, with a woman who comes in to clean; artists who live hermit-like and do their own charing. There are painters in oils, painters in water-colours, painters in pastel, etchers and illustrators, workers in metal; artists of every variety, having this one thing in common – that they take their work seriously and have no time for amateurs. ~ Dorothy L Sayers,
999:As to the central fact in the case, it is my view that Simpson murdered his ex-wife and her friend on June 12. Any rational analysis of the events and evidence in question leads to that conclusion. This is true whether one considers evidence not presented to the jury—such as the results of Simpson’s polygraph examination and his flight with Al Cowlings on June 17—or just the evidence established in court. Notwithstanding the prosecution’s many errors, the evidence against Simpson at the trial was overwhelming. Simpson had a violent relationship with his ex-wife, and tensions between them were growing in the weeks leading up to the murders. Simpson had no alibi for the time of the murders, nor was his Bronco parked at his home during that time. Simpson had a cut on his left hand on the day after the murders, and DNA tests showed conclusively that it was Simpson’s blood to the left of the shoe prints leaving the scene. Nicole’s blood was found on a sock in his bedroom, and Goldman’s blood—as well as Simpson’s—was found in the Bronco. Hair consistent with Simpson’s was found on the killer’s cap and on Goldman’s shirt. The gloves that Nicole bought for Simpson in 1990 were almost certainly the ones used by her killer. ~ Jeffrey Toobin,
1000:I had not yet been down to the cellar where I was to sleep. I took a candle with me but was too tired to look around beyond finding a bed, pillow and blanket. Leaving the trap door of the cellar open so that cool, fresh air could reach me, I took off my shoes, cap, apron and dress, prayed briefly, and lay down. I was about to blow out the candle when I noticed the painting hanging at the foot of my bed. I sat up, wide awake now. It was another picture of Christ on the Cross, smaller than the one upstairs but even more disturbing. Christ had thrown his head back in pain, and Mary Magdalene’s eyes were rolling. I Iay back gingerly, unable to take my eyes off it. I could not imagine sleeping in the room with the painting. I wanted to take it down but did not dare. Finally I blew out the candle—I could not afford to waste candles on my first day in the new house. I lay back again, my eyes fixed to the place where I knew the painting hung. I slept badly that night, tired as I was. I woke often and looked for the painting. Though I could see nothing on the wall, every detail was fixed in my mind. Finally, when it was beginning to grow light, the painting appeared again and I was sure the Virgin Mary was looking down at me. ~ Tracy Chevalier,
1001:I would, from time to time, sit in the humble homes of black people in that city who were entering their tenth decade of life. These people were profound. Their homes were filled with the emblems of honorable life-citizenship awards, portraits of husbands and wives passed away, several generations of children in cap and gown. And they had drawn these accolades by cleaning big houses and living in one-room Alabama shacks before moving to the city. And they had done this despite the city, which was supposed to be a respite, revealing itself to simply be a more intricate specimen of plunder. They had worked two and three jobs, put children through high school and college, and become pillars of their community. I admired them, but I knew the whole time that I was encountering merely the survivors, ones who’d endured the banks and their stone-faced contempt, the realtors and their fake sympathy – ‘I’m sorry, that house just sold yesterday’ – the realtors who steered them back towards ghetto blocks or blocks earmarked to be ghettos soon, the lenders who found this captive class and tried to strip them of everything they had. In those homes I saw the best of us but behind each of them I knew that there were so many millions gone. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates,
1002:Against the background of bland colors he projected an unfadable blackness. In a world of men with harrowed faces, with smashed eyes, bloody, bruised and disfigured limbs, among the fetid, broken human bodies, of which I had already seen so many, he seemed an example of neat perfection that could not be sullied: the smooth, polished skin of his face, the bright golden hair showing under his peaked cap, his pure metal eyes. Every movement of his body seemed propelled by some tremendous internal force. The granite sound of his language was ideally suited to order the death of inferior, forlorn creatures. I was stung by a twinge of envy I had never experienced before, and I admired the glittering death's-head and crossbones that embellished his tall cap. I thought how good it would be to have such a gleaming and hairless skull instead of my Gypsy face which was so feared and disliked by decent people.
The officer surveyed me sharply. I felt like a squashed caterpillar oozing in the dust, a creature that could not harm anyone yet aroused loathing and disgust. In the presence of such a resplendent being, armed in all the symbols of might and majesty, I was genuinely ashamed of my appearance. I had nothing against his killing me. ~ Jerzy Kosi ski,
1003:Omenirea era săracă și se hrănea muncind, fără să distrugă bogățiile naturii, stînd la porțile ei cu modestie și fără să se gîndească încă la jaf. Răbdînd de foame putea să hrănească acolo cîțiva prinți și preoți, nu erau prea mulți, și această “nedreptate” socială este neînsemnată, dacă ținem seama de faptul că această diferență era necesară pentru formarea culturii. ... Nici o egalitate nu va înălța catedrale și palate, nu le va picta, nu le va împodobi. ... Din îndestulare se năștea disponibilitatea, din disponibilitate – capacitatea de apreciere, iar din capacitatea de apreciere – nivelul de cultură. În nici un caz invers. Cultura are nevoie de o bază, de bogăție. Nu pentru a satisface cerințele artistului, ci pentru a avea cu adevărat căutare. Este prea tîrziu deja să înțelegem acest rol pasiv, aproape biologic al aristocrației, și atît de evident. Nimănui nu-i trece acum prin cap că un extravagant din fruntea unui mic principat se pricepea pesemne foarte bine la muzică, dacă Haydn sau Bach erau “angajați” la el. Că papa se pricepea la pictură dacă avea de ales între Michelangelo și Rafael. Totuși aceștia erau niște oameni luminați. ... Doar pe seama inegalității sociale s-a perpetuat sensul umanității și posibilitatea ei. ~ Andrei Bitov,
1004:My mind is curiously alert; it's as though my skull had a thousand mirrors inside it. My nerves are taut, vibrant! the notes are like glass balls dancing on a million jets of water. I've never been to a concert before on such an empty belly. Nothing escapes me, not even the tiniest pin falling. It's as though I had no clothes on and every pore of my body was a window and all the windows open and the light flooding my gizzards. I can feel the light curving under the vault of my ribs and my ribs hang there over a hollow nave trembling with reverberations. How long this lasts I have no idea; I have lost all sense of time and place. After what seems like an eternity there follows an interval of semiconsciousness balanced by such a calm that I feel a great lake inside me, a lake of iridescent sheen, cool as jelly; and over this lake, rising in great swooping spirals, there emerge flocks of birds of passage with long slim legs and brilliant plumage. Flock after flock surge up from the cool, still surface of the lake and, passing under my clavicles, lose themselves in the white sea of space. And then slowly, very slowly, as if an old woman in a white cap were going the rounds of my body, slowly the windows are closed and my organs drop back into place. ~ Henry Miller,
1005:In Early Summer Lodging In A Temple To Enjoy The
Moonlight
In early summer, with two or three more
That were seeking fame in the city of Ch'ang-an,
Whose low employ gave them less business
Than ever they had since first they left their homes
With these I wandered deep into the shrine of Tao,
For the joy we sought was promised in this place.
When we reached the gate, we sent our coaches back;
We entered the yard with only cap and stick.
Still and clear, the first weeks of May,
When trees are green and bushes soft and wet;
When the wind has stolen the shadows of new leaves
And birds linger on the last boughs that bloom.
Towards evening when the sky grew clearer yet
And the South-east was still clothed in red,
To the western cloister we carried our jar of wine;
While we waited for the moon, our cups moved slow.
Soon, how soon her golden ghost was born,
Swiftly, as though she had waited for us to come.
The beams of her light shone in every place,
On towers and halls dancing to and fro.
Till day broke we sat in her clear light
Laughing and singing, and yet never grew tired.
In Ch'ang-an, the place of profit and fame,
Such moods as this, how many men know?
~ Bai Juyi,
1006:Best Way To Read A Book
Best way to read a book I know
Is get a lad of six or so,
And curl him up upon my knee
Deep in a big arm chair, where we
Can catch the warmth of blazing coals,
And then let two contented souls
Melt into one, old age and youth,
Sharing adventure's marvelous truth.
I read a page, and then we sit
And talk it over, bit by bit;
Just how the pirates looked, and why
They flung a black flag to the sky.
We pass no paragraph without
First knowing what it's all about,
And when the author starts a fight
We join the forces that are right.
We're deep in Treasure Island, and
From Spy Glass Hill we've viewed the land;
Through thickets dense we've followed Jim
And shared the doubts that came to him.
We've heard Cap. Smollett arguing there
With Long John Silver, gaunt and spare,
And mastering our many fears
We've battled with those buccaneers.
Best way to read a book I've found
Is have a little boy around
And take him up upon your knee;
Then talk about the tale, till he
Lives it and feels it, just as you,
And shares the great adventure, too.
Books have a deep and lasting joy
For him who reads them to his boy.
~ Edgar Albert Guest,
1007:Cold Care Capsules One of my favorite recipes for keeping a cold at bay or getting over one more quickly, these Cold Care Capsules are easy to make but pack a big punch. Take the half hour or so that’s required to make a batch, and keep it on hand for the cold season. You can find gelatin or vegetable capsules at most herb shops and natural foods stores, and some pharmacies. 1 part echinacea root powder 1 part goldenseal root powder (organically cultivated) ½ part marsh mallow root powder ¼–½ part cayenne powder (depending on your heattoler ance level) “OO” gelatin or vegetable capsules To make the capsules: Mix the powders together in a small bowl. Scoop the powder into each end of a capsule, packing tight, and recap. It takes only a few minutes to cap 50 to 75 capsules, a winter’s worth for most families. Store in a glass jar with a tight-fitting lid. To use: At the first sign of a cold or flu coming on, take 2 capsules every 2 to 3 hours until the symptoms subside, or up to 9 capsules a day. This is a high dose and should not be continued for longer than 2 to 3 days, at which time you should decrease the dose to 2 capsules three times a day (the normal adult dose for most herbal capsules; see pages 46–47 for further information on appropriate ~ Rosemary Gladstar,
1008:The Beggar-Man
Abject, stooping, old, and wan,
See yon wretched beggar-man;
Once a father's hopeful heir,
Once a mother's tender care.
When too young to understand
He but scorched his little hand,
By the candle's flaming light
Attracted, dancing, spiral, bright,
Clasping fond her darling round,
A thousand kisses healed the wound.
Now abject, stooping, old, and wan,
No mother tends the beggar-man.
Then nought too good for him to wear,
With cherub face and flaxen hair,
In fancy's choicest gauds arrayed,
Cap of lace with rose to aid,
Milk-white hat and feather blue,
Shoes of red, and coral too
With silver bells to please his ear,
And charm the frequent ready tear.
Now abject, stooping, old, and wan,
Neglected is the beggar-man.
See the boy advance in age,
And learning spreads her useful page;
In vain! for giddy pleasure calls,
And shows the marbles, tops, and balls.
What's learning to the charms of play?
The indulgent tutor must give way.
A heedless wilful dunce, and wild,
The parents' fondness spoiled the child;
The youth in vagrant courses ran;
Now abject, stooping, old, and wan,
Their fondling is the beggar-man.
121
~ Charles Lamb,
1009:The memory of his childhood suddenly grew dim. He tried to call forth some of its vivid moments but could not. He recalled only names. Dante, Parnell, Clane, Clongowes. A little boy had been taught geography by an old woman who kept two brushes in her wardrobe. Then he had been sent away from home to a college, he had made his first communion and eaten slim jim out of his cricket cap and watched the firelight leaping and dancing on the wall of a little bedroom in the infirmary and dreamed of being dead, of mass being said for him by the rector in a black and gold cope, of being buried then in the little graveyard of the community off the main avenue of limes. But he had not died then. Parnell had died. There had been no mass for the dead in the chapel and no procession. He had not died but he had faded out like a film in the sun. He had been lost or had wandered out of existence for he no longer existed. How strange to think of him passing out of existence in such a way, not by death but by fading out in the sun or by being lost and forgotten somewhere in the universe! It was strange to see his small body appear again for a moment: a little boy in a grey belted suit. His hands were in his side-pockets and his trousers were tucked in at the knees by elastic bands. ~ James Joyce,
1010:He could tell when the bullying, the relentless sarcasm, the constant, all-encompassing vigilance had become too exhausting. When one of his people was fed up with staying awake at night anticipating his likes and dislikes, was sick of charting his mood swings, was tired of feeling demeaned and beaten down after being asked, for instance, to clean out the grease trap, was ready to burst into tears and quit, then suddenly Bigfoot would appear with court side seats for a play-off game, a restaurant warm-up jacket (given out only to Most Honored Veterans), or a present for the wife or girlfriend — something thoughtful like a Movado watch. He always waited until the last possible second, when you were ready to shave your head, climb a tower and start gunning down strangers, when you were ready to strip off your clothes and run barking into the street, to scream to the world that you'd never never never again work for that manipulative, Machiavellian psychopath. And he'd get you back on the team, often with a gesture as simple and inexpensive as a baseball cap or a T-shirt. The timing was what did it, that he knew. He knew just when to apply that well-timed pat on the back, the strangled and difficult-for-him 'Thank you for your good work' appreciation of your labors. ~ Anthony Bourdain,
1011:The two strangers got to the waffle station at exactly the same time. (I swear I’m like an award-winning orchestra conductor sometimes.)

Cara poured a ladleful of regular batter onto her machine, while Sammy poured her own ladle and grabbed the container of chocolate chips.

Wait for it . . .

Wait for it . . .

“Shit!” Sammy stared at the mountain of chocolate now piled up on the batter. The cap of the container had come off completely and rolled along the floor right into Cara’s feet.

“Oh my god, let me help you!” Cara sprung to action, as I knew she would, grabbing a broom and dustpan that I’d placed nearby and cleaning up the chips on the floor.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Sammy stammered. “I’m sorry—I don’t know how that happened.”

Cara swept the chips into the dustpan and surveyed Sammy’s half-cooked waffle, which was now completely coated in messy, gooey chocolate. “I mean, I love chocolate as much as the next girl, but even that’s a little much for me.”

Sammy laughed, then fiddled with the container in her hand. “I think some dick unscrewed the top so they’d all fall out.” She rolled her eyes. “College boys.” (Or metaphysical entities. Either one.)

“Wow, what an asshole,” Cara said. “People are such idiots. ~ Leah Konen,
1012:To me, the best part about opening yourself up to hearing from Spirit is that you can do it just by being yourself. You don’t need tarot cards or crystals. You don’t even need to hold or wear an object with your family member’s energy, like a lot of people think. When I mention a necklace or ring during a session that you’ve brought with you, it’s not because I’m drawn to that energy like a magnet. It’s because Spirit tells me to reference it. In fact, I once did a phone reading for a woman who had a lot of female energy around her that had passed on, including a mom, grandmother, aunt, and cousin. She also had a grandfather and father on the Other Side. Anyway, Spirit showed me a picture I have of Victoria, wearing the most random clothes—a baseball cap, sunglasses, Rug Rat pajamas, holding the pet parakeet that Gram got her, and Mardi Gras beads. So I said, “This is going to sound bizarre, but I feel like you’re wearing a strange mix of items: pajamas, a silk scarf, a man’s hat, gloves, rosary beads, and jewelry that doesn’t match. Are you wearing an article from every dead person you want to hear from?” There was total silence on the phone. I think she was a little embarrassed, but I have to admit that I was actually relieved she didn’t dress like that all the time! ~ Theresa Caputo,
1013:Lassiter skidded in from the billiards room, the fallen angel glowing from his black-and-blond hair and white eyes, all the way down to his shitkickers. Then again, maybe the illumination wasn’t his nature, but that gold he insisted on wearing.
He looked like a living, breathing jewelry tree.
“I’m here. Where’s my chauffeur hat?”
“Here, use mine,” Butch said, outing a B Sox cap and throwing it over. “It’ll help that hair of yours.”
The angel caught the thing on the fly and stared at the red S. “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
“Do not tell me you’re a Yankees fan,” V drawled. “I’ll have to kill you, and frankly, tonight we need all the wingmen we’ve got.”
Lassiter tossed the cap back. Whistled. Looked casual.
“Are you serious?” Butch said. Like the guy had maybe volunteered for a lobotomy. Or a limb amputation. Or a pedicure.
“No fucking way,” V echoed. “When and where did you become a friend of the enemy—”
The angel held up his palms. “It’s not my fault you guys suck—”
Tohr actually stepped in front of Lassiter, like he was worried that something a lot more than smack talk was going to start flying. And the sad thing was, he was right to be concerned. Apart from their shellans, V and Butch loved the Sox above almost everything else—including sanity. ~ J R Ward,
1014:Was your dad mad?” I ask. It matters. It really does. I want her parents to like me, but I’m afraid I’m going about it all wrong. I’ve never met a girl’s parents before. Never had any need to. But with Reagan… Everything is different. She shrugs. “A little.” She laughs. “We had a talk about how to knee you in the nuts, the fact that men only want one thing, and then he gave me way TMI about birth control.” I stop walking. Wow. That’s a lot to take in. “You talk with your dad about that stuff?” She shrugs. “Some of it. He sent me to my mom for the rest of it.” “The rest of what?” Her cheeks get even rosier. “The talk about birth control and all that stuff.” “Oh,” I say. I sound like an idiot. But she just threw me for a loop. She walks toward a fence and bends to duck between the rails. I follow her, and Link does, too. He’s in his own world, and I think he’s singing a song. But it’s so soft, I can’t tell. “So, you’re…um…thinking about that kind of stuff, huh?” She bites her lower lip and nods. “Yep.” “I…ah…don’t know what to say about that.” I take my cap off and scratch the back of my head. “You don’t have to say anything,” she says with a shrug. “I just wanted you to know I’m thinking about it.” Oh, Jesus Christ. My heart trips in my chest like crazy. Shit just got real. ~ Tammy Falkner,
1015:Well, imagine you are alone in a room. The lights are down low, you’ve got some scented candles going. Soothing New Age tunes, nothing too druid-chanty, seep out of the hi-fi to gently massage your cerebral cortex. Feel good? Are you the best, most special person in the room right now? Yes. That’s the gift of being alone. Then a bozo in a CAT Diesel Power cap barges in. What’s the chance that you are the best, most special person in the room now? Fifty-fifty. If you both were dealt two cards, those would be your odds of holding the winning hand. Now imagine ten people are in the room. It’s cramped. You’re elbow to elbow, aerosolized dandruff floats in the air, and the candle’s lavender scent is complicated by BO tones, with a tuna sandwich finish. What are the chances you’re the best, most special person in the room? If you were handed cards, you might expect to be crowned one time out of ten. People, as ever, are the problem. The more people there are, the tougher you have it. Just by sitting next to you, they fuck you up, as if life were nothing more than a bus ride to hell (which it is). But what if you moved to another seat? Changed position? Your seat is everything. It can give you room to relax, to contemplate your next move. Or it might instigate your unraveling. ~ Colson Whitehead,
1016:Misdemeanor Mushrooms Preheat oven to 325 degrees F., rack in the middle position   This recipe is from Bill Jessup, Charlie Jessup’s cousin and he’s a detective. Charlie says he calls these “Misdemeanor Mushrooms,” because they’re so good they ought to be illegal.   2 pounds pork sausage 3 cloves of finely chopped garlic 2 Tablespoons ground sage 8-ounce package cream cheese 1 Tablespoon parsley 1 ounce Marsala wine (optional) 1 pound medium to large mushrooms Parmesan cheese (to sprinkle)   In a large, non-stick skillet, combine sausage, garlic and sage. Sauté until sausage is browned and garlic is translucent. Drain fat from skillet and add softened, cubed cream cheese and parsley. Simmer for 10 minutes, stir in the wine (if you want to use it,) remove from heat, and cover. Wash mushrooms. Remove stems and set caps aside. Chop the stems very fine and stir into the sausage/ cheese mixture. Brush caps with melted butter and arrange cap-down on a non-stick baking sheet. (Bill says if you shave just a bit from the bottom of the cap to make them flat, they’ll sit on the pan a lot better.) Fill each cap with a heaping mound of warm sausage mixture and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese. Bake in a 325-degree F. oven for 15 minutes. Yield: Serves 15 to 20 people as an appetizer (unless Charlie ~ Joanne Fluke,
1017:They remained standing on the road, which ended up being a big mistake for Luke. As he saw the bus barreling down the other lane, Luke also noted a sizable puddle in front of it. He quickly put himself between Shelby and the bus, pressing her up against Doc’s open window. With a hand on each side of her, he covered her with his body, barely in time to feel the splat from the puddle against his back. Shelby stifled a chuckle. Macho man, she thought with some humor. Luke heard downshifting, then the squeal of brakes. “Jesus,” he muttered as he backed off the girl and glared after the bus. As Luke turned and scowled at the bus, the driver leaned out the window. A round-faced woman in her fifties, rosy cheeked with a cap of short dark hair, grinned at him. She grinned! “Sorry, buddy,” she said. “Couldn’t hardly help that.” “You could if you went a lot slower,” he yelled back at her. To his astonishment, she laughed. “Aw, I wasn’t going too fast. I got a schedule, y’know,” she yelled. “My advice? Stay out of the way.” His scalp felt hot under his short hair and he really wanted to swear. When he turned back to Shelby and Doc, he found her smiling behind her hand and Doc’s eyes twinkling. “You got a little splatter on your back there, Luke,” she said, trying to keep control of her lips. Doc’s ~ Robyn Carr,
1018:Then Wanda proposed a health. "Health to abandoned wives!" she said. "Well now," I said. "'Abandoned,' that's a little strong." "Pushed out, jettisoned, abjured, thrown away," she said. "I remember," I said, "a degree of mutuality, in our parting." "And when guests came," she said, "you always made me sit in the kitchen." "I thought you liked it in the kitchen," I said. "You were forever telling me to get out of the bloody kitchen." "And when my overbite required correction," she said, "you would not pay for the apparatus." "Seven years of sitting by the window with your thumb in your mouth," I said. "What did you expect?" "And when I needed a new frock," she said, "you hid the Master Charge." "There was nothing wrong with the old one," I said, "that a few well-placed patches couldn't have fixed." "And when we were invited to the Argentine Embassy," she said, "you made me drive the car in a chauffeur's cap, and park the car, and stand about with the other drivers outside while you chatted up the Ambassador." "You know no Spanish," I pointed out. "It was not the happiest of marriages," she said, "all in all." "There has been a sixty percent increase in single-person households in the last ten years, according to the Bureau of the Census," I told her. "Perhaps we are part of a trend. ~ Donald Barthelme,
1019:Samuel reached into the special pocket of the ephod and pulled out two precious gems. David’s eyes went wide. The Urim and Thummim, or Lights and Perfections. Samuel held them in his hands and closed his eyes to pray. David followed suit, more out of fear that he didn’t want to see what would happen than from prayerfulness. Samuel prayed, “Yahweh show me your will. Is this son of Jesse whom you have chosen?” David could hear a hush go over the crowd, followed by some gasping and then excited murmuring. Then he felt a bright light flashing on his closed eyelids. He opened his eyes to see the glow of the Urim and Thummim casting their perfect light upon his face. David looked up at Samuel. His crotchety old face had transformed into a bright smile. He put the Urim and Thummim back into the pocket. He held out his hand to an accompanying servant who handed him a horn of oil. David felt dizzy, as if he was going to faint. He shook himself back. This could not be happening. What was happening? Samuel took the cap off the horn of oil and simply poured a stream over David’s head. He blinked his eyes as the holy ointment flowed over his head and face and onto his clothes. Samuel croaked as loud as his old voice could carry, “I anoint you, David, son of Jesse by the authority of Yahweh, god of Israel! ~ Brian Godawa,
1020:whenever two people kiss the world is born,
a drop of light with guts of transparency
the room like a fruit splits and begins to open
or burst like a star among the silences
and all laws now rat-gnawed and eaten away,
barred windows of banks and penitentiaries,
the bars of paper, and the barbed-wire fences,
the stamps and the seals, the sharp prongs and the spurs,
the one-note sermon of the bombs and wars,
the gentle scorpion in his cap and gown,
the tiger who is the president of the Society
for the Prevention of Cruelty and the Red Cross,
the pedagogical ass, and the crocodile
set up as saviour, father of his country,
the founder, the leader, the shark, the architect
of the future of us all, the hog in uniform,
and then that one, the favourite son of the Church
who can be seen brushing his black teeth
in holy water and taking evening courses
in English and democracy, the invisible
barriers, the mad and decaying masks
that are used to separate us, man from man,
and man from his own self
they are thrown down
for an enormous instant and we see darkly
our own lost unity, how vulnerable it is
to be women and men, the glory it is to be man
and share our bread and share our sun and our death,
the dark forgotten marvel of being alive; ~ Octavio Paz,
1021:That night, the tent that I had been alone in for so long was suddenly heaving with bodies, and piles of rope and kit--with Neil, Geoffrey, and Graham squeezed in beside me.
I tried to drink as much boiled water as I could get down. I knew that I would need to be as hydrated as I could possibly be to tackle what lay ahead. So I drank and I peed. But still my pee was dark brown.
It was almost impossible to hydrate at this altitude.
The ritual of peeing into a water bottle had become second nature to us all, even in the dark, and even with someone’s head inches away from the bottle. We each had two bottles: one for pee, one for water. It was worth having a good system to remember which was which.
At 10:00 P.M. I needed to pee--again. I grabbed my bottle, crouched over and filled it. I screwed it shut--or so I thought--then settled back into my bag to try and find some elusive sleep.
Soon I felt the dampness creeping through my clothes.
You have got to be joking. I swore to myself as I scrambled to the crouch position again.
I looked down. The cap was hanging loosely off the pee bottle.
Dark, stinking brown pee had soaked through all my clothes and sleeping bag. I obviously hadn’t done it up properly. Brute of a mistake. Maybe an omen for what lay ahead.
On that note I fell asleep. ~ Bear Grylls,
1022:THE jester walked in the garden:
The garden had fallen still;
He bade his soul rise upward
And stand on her window-sill.
It rose in a straight blue garment,
When owls began to call:
It had grown wise-tongued by thinking
Of a quiet and light footfall;
But the young queen would not listen;
She rose in her pale night-gown;
She drew in the heavy casement
And pushed the latches down.
He bade his heart go to her,
When the owls called out no more;
In a red and quivering garment
It sang to her through the door.
It had grown sweet-tongued by dreaming
Of a flutter of flower-like hair;
But she took up her fan from the table
And waved it off on the air.
"I have cap and bells,' he pondered,
"I will send them to her and die';
And when the morning whitened
He left them where she went by.
She laid them upon her bosom,
Under a cloud of her hair,
And her red lips sang them a love-song
Till stars grew out of the air.
She opened her door and her window,
And the heart and the soul came through,
To her right hand came the red one,
To her left hand came the blue.
They set up a noise like crickets,
A chattering wise and sweet,
And her hair was a folded flower
And the quiet of love in her feet.

~ William Butler Yeats, The Cap And Bells
,
1023:Company K
There is a cap in the closet,
Old, tattered, and blueOf very slight value,
It may be, to you:
But a crown, jewel studded,
Could not buy it to-day,
With its letters of honor,
Brave 'Co. K.'
The head that it sheltered
Needs shelter no more:
Dead heroes make holy
The trifles they wore;
So, like chaplet of honor,
Of laurel and bay,
Seems the cap of the soldier,
Marked 'Co. K.'
Bright eyes have looked calmly
Its visor beneath,
O'er the work of the Reaper,
Grim Harvester Death!
Let the muster roll meagre,
So mournfully say,
How foremost in danger
Went 'Co. K.'
Whose footsteps unbroken
Came up to the town,
Where rampart and bastion
Looked threat'ningly down!
Who, closing up breaches,
Still kept on their way,
Till, guns downward pointed,
Faced 'Co. K.'
Who faltered or shivered?
Who shunned battle stroke?
Whose fire was uncertain?
104
Whose battle line broke?
Go, ask it of History,
Years from to-day,
And the record shall tell you,
Not 'Co. K.'
Though my darling is sleeping
To-day with the dead,
And daisies and clover
Bloom over his head,
I smile through my tears
As I lay it awayThat battle-worn cap,
Lettered 'Co. K.'
~ Anonymous Americas,
1024:Ezekiel 25:17. "The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the inequities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he who, in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of the darkness. For he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know I am the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon you." I been sayin' that shit for years. And if you ever heard it, it meant your ass. I never really questioned what it meant. I thought it was just a cold-blooded thing to say to a motherfucker before you popped a cap in his ass. But I saw some shit this mornin' made me think twice. Now I'm thinkin': it could mean you're the evil man. And I'm the righteous man. And Mr. .45 here, he's the shepherd protecting my righteous ass in the valley of darkness. Or it could be you're the righteous man and I'm the shepherd and it's the world that's evil and selfish. I'd like that. But that shit ain't the truth. The truth is you're the weak. And I'm the tyranny of evil men. But I'm tryin, Ringo. I'm tryin' real hard to be the shepherd.

he became the shepherd instead of the vengeance.

Jules Winnfield- Samuel L. Jackson ~ Quentin Tarantino,
1025:There’s no need to say anything to Mr. Turing. I was the one who wasn’t watching where I was going”
“You were the one?” Mavis said indignantly. “Turing never pays the slightest attention to where he’s going. He simply plows through pedestrians”
Elspeth nodded. “Someone needs to tell him he must be more careful! He could have injured you!”
And I could have injured him, Mike thought. Or killed him. If Turing had lost control of his bicycle and crashed into a lamppost instead of the curb, or into a brick wall…
Mavis said, “I’ve a good mind to tell Cap—”
“No. There’s no need to tell anybody. I’m Fine. No Harm done. Thank you for picking me up and dusting me off.” He picked up his bag, which Mavis had carried in…
“Watch out for Turing on your way there,” Joan cut in.
“And for Dilly,” Elspeth said. “He’s even worse about not watching where he’s going, and he has a car! Whenever he comes to a crossing, he speeds up.”
“Dilly?” Mike said hoarsely.
“Captain Knox,” Mavis said. “We work for him. He has some sort of mathematical theory that by going faster he’ll it fewer people, because of being in the crossing a shorter time.”...
“I refuse to accept lifts from him anymore,” Elspeth was saying. “He forgets he’s driving and takes both hands off the—are you alright? You’re pale as a ghost. ~ Connie Willis,
1026:Tohrment spoke. "Bella's brother called. He's tabled the sehelusion request and asked that she stay here for a couple of days."

Z jacked his head up. "Why?"

"He didn't give a reason-" Tohr's eye's narrowed on Z's face. "Oh... my God."

"What the fuck are you looking at?"

Phury pointed to the antique mirror hanging on the wall next to the double doors. "See for yourself."

Zsadist marched across the room, ready to give them all hell. Bella was what mattered-

His mouth went lax at his reflection. With a shaky hand he reached out to the eyes in the old-fashioned leaded glass. His irises were no longer black. They were yellow. Just like his twin's.

"Phury?" he said softly. "Phury... what happened to me?"

As the male came up behind him, his brother's face appeared right beside Z's. And then Wrath's dark reflection showed up in the mirror, all long hair and sunglasses. Then Rhage's star-fallen beauty. And Vishous's Sox cap. And Tohrment's brush cut. And Butch's busted nose.

One by one they reached out and touched him, their big hands gently on his shoulders.

"Welcome back, my brother," Phury whispered.

Zsadist stared at the males who were behind him. And the oddest thought that if he were to let himself go limp and fall backward... they would catch him. ~ J R Ward,
1027:Wearing Deni's huge vicuna coat with the si cap over my ears, in cold biting winds of December New York, Irwin and Simon led me up to the Russian Tea Room to meet Salvador Dali.
He was sitting with his chin on a finely decorated tile headed cane, blue and white, next to his wife at the Cafe table. He had a cane, blue and white, next to his wife at the Cafe table. He had a little wax moustache, thin. When the waiter asked him what he wanted he said 'One grapefruit...peenk!' and he had big blue eyes like a baby, a real or Spaniard. He told us no artist was great unless he made money. Was he talking about Uccello, Ghianondri, Franca? We didn't even know what money really was or what to do with it. Dali had already read an article about the 'insurgent' 'beats' and was interested. When Irwin told him (in Spanish) we wanted to meet Marlon Brando (who ate in this Russian Tea Room) he said, waving three fingers at me, 'He is more beautiful than M. Brando.'
I wondered why he said that but he probably had a tiff with old Marlon. But what he meant was my eyes, which were blue, like his, and my hair, which is black, like his, and when I looked into his eyes, and he looked into my eyes, we couldn't stand all that sadness. In fact, when Dali and I look in the mirror we can't stand all that sadness. To Dali sadness is beautiful. ~ Jack Kerouac,
1028:My Mother
Reg wished me to go with him to the field,
I paused because I did not want to go;
But in her quiet way she made me yield
Reluctantly, for she was breathing low.
Her hand she slowly lifted from her lap
And, smiling sadly in the old sweet way,
She pointed to the nail where hung my cap.
Her eyes said: I shall last another day.
But scarcely had we reached the distant place,
When o'er the hills we heard a faint bell ringing;
A boy came running up with frightened face;
We knew the fatal news that he was bringing.
I heard him listlessly, without a moan,
Although the only one I loved was gone.
II
The dawn departs, the morning is begun,
The trades come whispering from off the seas,
The fields of corn are golden in the sun,
The dark-brown tassels fluttering in the breeze;
The bell is sounding and the children pass,
Frog-leaping, skipping, shouting, laughing shrill,
Down the red road, over the pasture-grass,
Up to the school-house crumbling on the hill.
The older folk are at their peaceful toil,
Some pulling up the weeds, some plucking corn,
And others breaking up the sun-baked soil.
Float, faintly-scented breeze, at early morn
Over the earth where mortals sow and reap-Beneath its breast my mother lies asleep.
~ Claude McKay,
1029:With six thousand miles separating me from sleep, I stumbled down into the subway at dawn and emerged on the outskirts of the Tsukiji market just as the sun broke across Tokyo Bay. Inside the market, I saw the entire ocean on display: swollen-bellied salmon, dark disks of abalone, vast armies of exotic crustaceans, conger eels so shiny and new they looked to be napping in their Styrofoam boxes. I stumbled onward to a tuna auction, where a man in a trader's cap worked his way through a hundred silver carcasses scattered across the cement floor, using a system of rapid hand motions and guttural noises unintelligible to all but a select group of tuna savants. When the auction ended, I followed one of the bodies back to its buyer's stall, where a man and his son used band saw, katana blade, cleaver, and fillet knife to work the massive fish down into sellable components: sinewy tail meat for the cheap izakaya, ruby loins for hotel restaurants, blocks of marbled belly for the high-end sushi temples.
By 8:00 a.m. I was starving. First, a sushi feast, a twelve-piece procession of Tsukiji's finest- fat-frizzled bluefin, chewy surf clam, a custardy slab of Hokkaido uni- washed down with frosty glasses of Kirin. Then a bowl of warm soba from the outer market, crowned at the last second with a golden nest of vegetable tempura. ~ Matt Goulding,
1030:I was having dinner…in London…when eventually he got, as the Europeans always do, to the part about “Your country’s never been invaded.” And so I said, “Let me tell you who those bad guys are. They’re us. WE BE BAD. We’re the baddest-assed sons of bitches that ever jogged in Reeboks. We’re three-quarters grizzly bear and two-thirds car wreck and descended from a stock market crash on our mother’s side. You take your Germany, France, and Spain, roll them all together and it wouldn’t give us room to park our cars. We’re the big boys, Jack, the original, giant, economy-sized, new and improved butt kickers of all time. When we snort coke in Houston, people lose their hats in Cap d’Antibes. And we’ve got an American Express card credit limit higher than your piss-ant metric numbers go. You say our country’s never been invaded? You’re right, little buddy. Because I’d like to see the needle-dicked foreigners who’d have the guts to try. We drink napalm to get our hearts started in the morning. A rape and a mugging is our way of saying 'Cheerio.' Hell can’t hold our sock-hops.
We walk taller, talk louder, spit further, fuck longer and buy more things than you know the names of. I’d rather be a junkie in a New York City jail than king, queen, and jack of all Europeans. We eat little countries like this for breakfast and shit them out before lunch. ~ P J O Rourke,
1031:Yes, it was quick, all right, he thought about saying to her--ah, how that would shatter her face all over again, and he felt a vicious urge to do it, to simply spray the words into her face. It was quick, no doubt about that, that's why the coffin's closed, nothing could have been done about Gage even if Rachel and I approved of dressing up dead relatives in their best like department store mannequins and rouging and powdering and painting their faces, It was quick, Missy-my-dear, one minute he was there on the road and the next minute he was lying in it, but way down by the Ringers' house. It hit him and killed him and then it dragged him and you better believe it was quick. A hundred yards or more all told, the length of a football field. I ran after him, Missy, I was screaming his name over and over again, almost as if I expected he would still be alive, me, a doctor. I ran ten yards and there was his baseball cap and I ran twenty yards and there was one of his Star Wars sneakers, I ran forty yards and by then the truck had run off the road and the box had jackknifed in that field beyond the Ringers' barn. People were coming out of their houses and I went on screaming his name, Missy, and at the fifty-yard line there was his jumper, it was turned inside-out, and on the seventy-yard line there was the other sneaker, and then there was Gage. ~ Stephen King,
1032:On October 7 the cormorants abruptly came back, hundreds of thousands of them, only to disappear after a week. On the 20th the birds returned, then vanished on the 24th. By November 7 they were back—only to bolt a few days later. In 1940 the warm waters came again. And in 1941. And they showed up earlier, at the beginning of nesting, so the birds then fled their nesting grounds and didn’t reproduce. Entire generations were not being born. Vogt was looking at a demographic collapse. But why were the Guanays fleeing? The temperature was not enough to hurt them directly; if they got hot, they could always take a swim. Nor did the birds’ returns correlate with colder weather. They suffered from no obvious disease. What was going on? The key to the puzzle, Vogt thought, was the condition of the few adults that didn’t leave the Chinchas: hungry. The remaining Guanays left every morning to hunt for fish. But they returned ever later in the day, and their crops were often empty, which meant they couldn’t feed their offspring. The lack of food, he concluded, was due to El Niño. Warmer water on the surface acted as a cap that blocked cold water from rising from the depths of the Humboldt Current, which set off a cascade of horribles: no upwelling meant no nutrients for plankton, which meant no plankton for anchovetas, which meant no anchovetas for Guanays. ~ Charles C Mann,
1033:A Meeting
… O'er uplands fresh swift sped my sleigh…
A light snow fell; along the way
Stood firs and birches slender.
The former pondered deep, alone,
The latter laughed, their white boughs shone;All brings a picture tender.
So light and free is now the air;
Of all its burdens stripped it bare
The snow with playful sally.
I glimpse behind its veil so thin
A landscape gay, and high within
A snow-peak o'er the valley.
But from the border white and brown,
Where'er I look, there's peeping down
A face… but whose, whose is it?
I bore my gaze 'neath cap and brim
And see the snowflakes swarm and swim;Will some one here me visit?
A star fell on my glove… right here…
And here again… its unlike peer;…
They will with riddles pose me.
And smiles that in the air abound
From eyes so good… I look around…
'T is memory besnows me.
The stars spin fine their filigree,
Can hidden spirits in it be?
There haunts me something awing…
You finer birch, you snow unstained,
You purer air,-a soul you've gained?
Who is it here now drawing
His features dear in nature's face,
In all this fascinating grace,
In falling stars that cheat me,In these white gleams that finely glance,
In all this silent rhythmic dance?…
Hans Brecke!-comes to meet me.
~ Bjornstjerne Bjornson,
1034:Cap’n don’t like us tellin’ tales,” another man added.
“That’s just ‘round his girl, is all,” the storyteller replied.
Camille ceased breathing and widened her eyes. They were right about her father banning such rubbish aboard his ships, but she’d never known she was the reason for it. Why did he feel the need to protect her from them? The few parts of stories she had managed to overhear were entertaining but obvious malarkey to scare young sailors ut of their wits.
“If he thinks she’s too fine for them, he shouldn’t bring her along,” Lucius said, his sneer reaching through to his tone of voice.
“This is her last time, ain’t it?” another sailor asked.
Her stomach cramped at the unwelcome reminder.
“If it is, I wager it’ll be Kildare’s, too. He won’t stick ‘round no more,” another chuckled. Camille’s ears perked at Oscar’s name, then reddened at the sailor’s implication that Oscar was there only for her. It was absurd.
“Good,” Lucius replied. “Who will be our new first mate?”
What were they going on about? Oscar was a perfect first mate. Her father had groomed him for it. Oscar couldn’t just…leave.
“Well, it won’t be you, Drake. You can’t even make a shroud knot!”
The sailors in the fo’c’sle burst out in laughter. Grabbing her chance to leave, Camille took off down the corridor until their laughter faded with the sighs of the ship. ~ Angie Frazier,
1035:Pel motiu que a Tità res no presentava una finalitat (en cap moment i per a ningú), i pel motiu que no actuava cap guillotina de l'evolució, amputant de cada genotip el que no contribuïa a la supervivència, la natura, que no estava frenada ni per la vida que creés ni per la mort que provoqués, podia causar l'alliberament de la matèria, la natura podia mostrar la prodigalitat característica d'ella mateixa, una desolació il·limitada, una magnificència brutal que resultava inútil, un poder etern de creació sense objectiu, sense necessitat, sense significança. Aquesta veritat, que s'emparava gradualment de l'observador, era més pertorbadora que la impressió de ser testimoni d'un mimetisme còsmic de la mort, o la impressió que eren despulles d'éssers desconeguts situades per sota de l'horitzó curull de tempestes. Per tant, calia capgirar la manera tradicional de pensar, que només seguia una sola direcció: aquestes formes eren semblants a ossos, costelles, cranis i ullals no pas perquè haguessin tingut vida alguna vegada (mai no n'havien tinguda), sinó perquè els esquelets dels vertebrats terrestres i la seva pell, i la cuirassa quitinosa dels insectes, i les closques dels mol·luscs presentaven la mateixa disposició estructural, la mateixa simetria i gràcia, ja que la natura podia crear-les, tot i que manquessin i sempre haguessin de mancar la vida i la finalitat pròpia de la vida. ~ Stanis aw Lem,
1036:Wednesday evening arrived, eight o'clock came, and eight members of the committee were punctual in their attendance. Mr Loggins, the solicitor, of Boswell-court, sent an excuse, and Mr Samuel Briggs, the ditto of Furnival's Inn, sent his brother, much to his (the brother's) satisfaction, and greatly to the discomfiture of Mr Percy Noakes. Between the Briggses and the Tauntons there existed a degree of implacable hatred, quite unprecedented. The animosity between the Montagues and Capulets was nothing to that which prevailed between these two illustrious houses. Mrs Briggs was a widow, with three daughters and two sons; Mr Samuel, the eldest, was an attorney, and Mr Alexander, the youngest, was under articles to his brother. They resided in Portland-street, Oxford-street, and moved in the same orbit as the Tauntons - hence their mutual dislike. If the Miss Briggs appeared in smart bonnets, the Miss Tauntons eclipsed them with smarter. If Mrs Taunton appeared in a cap of all the hues of the rainbow, Mrs Briggs forthwith mounted a toque, with all the patterns of a kaleidoscope. If Miss Sophia Taunton learnt a new song, two of the Miss Briggses came out with a new duet. The Tauntons had once gained a temporary triumph with the assistance of a harp, but the Briggses brought three guitars into the field, and effectually routed the enemy. There was no end to the rivalry between them. ~ Charles Dickens,
1037:Olmsted’s greatest concern, however, was that the main, Jackson Park portion of the exposition simply was not fun. “There is too much appearance of an impatient and tired doing of sight-seeing duty. A stint to be got through before it is time to go home. The crowd has a melancholy air in this respect, and strenuous measures should be taken to overcome it.” Just as Olmsted sought to conjure an aura of mystery in his landscape, so here he urged the engineering of seemingly accidental moments of charm. The concerts and parades were helpful but were of too “stated or programmed” a nature. What Olmsted wanted were “minor incidents … of a less evidently prepared character; less formal, more apparently spontaneous and incidental.” He envisioned French horn players on the Wooded Island, their music drifting across the waters. He wanted Chinese lanterns strung from boats and bridges alike. “Why not skipping and dancing masqueraders with tambourines, such as one sees in Italy? Even lemonade peddlers would help if moving about in picturesque dresses; or cake-sellers, appearing as cooks, with flat cap, and in spotless white from top to toe?” On nights when big events in Jackson Park drew visitors away from the Midway, “could not several of the many varieties of ‘heathen,’ black, white and yellow, be cheaply hired to mingle, unobtrusively, but in full native costume, with the crowd on the Main Court? ~ Erik Larson,
1038:How? How did you get Torin to Hex Hall?”
Dad blinked rapidly, and at first, I thought he was surprised by my question. Then I realized that, no, he was fighting tears. Seeing my father, who practically had a PhD in Stiff Upper Lip, on the verge of crying because he was so happy to see me made my own eyes sting. Then he cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, and said, “It was exceedingly difficult.”
I laughed through my tears. “I bet.”
“It was Torin’s idea,” someone said behind me, and I turned to see Izzy standing there. Like my parents and her sister, she was dressed in jeans and a black jacket, although she also had a black cap pulled over her bright hair. “We had tons of old spell books, and after you and Cal disappeared, he started looking through them. Found a spell that would let him travel to a different mirror.”
“Of course, the problem was finding your mirror,” Aislinn said, coming out of the darkness.
“Aren’t you afraid that he’ll permanently peace out from his mirror and start hanging out in girls’ locker rooms or something?”
Aislinn’s eyes slid to Izzy. “Torin has his reasons for wanting to stay with us,” she said, and even in the dim light, I saw red creepy up Izzy’s cheeks. Maybe one day, I’d get to the bottom of whatever was going on there. Preferably once I was done getting to the bottom of the thousand other things on my agenda. ~ Rachel Hawkins,
1039:Până la trecătoarea Gutâi erau zece kilometri și acolo, la nouă sute optzeci și șapte de metri înălțime, lumea se frângea pur și simplu în două. Acolo, la aproape un kilometru deasupra nivelului mării, continuitatea se rupea și își făcea de cap neantul. Memento sarcastic, Baia rămăsese în urmă, iar pe partea cealaltă, pe pantele nordice, într-un mod straniu, dăinuia trecutul. Desești, Hărnicești, Giulești arătau ca niște vise sculptate în lemn. În dantelăraia de lemn a caselor, porților și gardurilor se afla închisă enormitatea timpului, bogăția lui nesfârșită. Pentru a tăia, a perfora, a dăltui și a elibera totul din formele inițiale fusese nevoie de o veșnicie. Această minune a răbdării trebuie să se fi împlinit într-un alt timp, căci cel normal, cu care avem noi de a face, pur și simplu nu ar fi încăput toate acele gesturi individuale necesare pentru construirea acestei Arcadii de lemn. Nici orele, nici minutele nu puteau cuprinde nașterea acelei nebunii liniștite a formelor. Părea că totul pur și simplu crescuse, că este continuarea evoluției lente a nervurilor și a corolelor, că natura renunțase la formele ei de până atunci în favoarea unora care seamănă cu gospodăriile omenești. Da, era o nebunie, un basm maramureșean în genul a O mie și una de nopți, o Sagrada Familia dendrologică, și tot așa până la Sighet, unde se lăsase deja înserarea, despărțită prin culmea Piatra Goală de restul lumii. ~ Andrzej Stasiuk,
1040:When we entered a classroom we always tossed our caps on the floor, to free our hands; as soon as we crossed the threshold we would throw them under the bench so hard that they struck the wall and raised a cloud of dust; this was "the way it should be done."

But the new boy either failed to notice this maneuver or was too shy to perform it himself, for he was still holding his cap on his lap at the end of the prayer. It was a head-gear of composite nature, combining elements of the busby, the lancer cap, the round hat, the otter-skin cap and the cotton nightcap--one of those wretched things whose mute ugliness has great depths of expression, like an idiot's face. Egg-shaped and stiffened by whalebone, it began with three rounded bands, followed by alternating diamond-shaped patches of velvet and rabbit fur separated by a red stripe, and finally there was a kind of bag terminating in a cardboard-lined polygon covered with complicated braid. A network of gold wire was attached to the top of this polygon by a long, extremely thin cord, forming a kind of tassel. The cap was new; its visor was shiny.

"Stand up," said the teacher.

He stood up; his cap fell. The whole class began to laugh.

He bent down and picked it up. A boy beside him knocked it down again with his elbow; he picked it up once again.

"Will you please put your helmet away?" said the teacher, a witty man. ~ Gustave Flaubert,
1041:Victor Noir. He was a journalist shot by Pierre Bonaparte," St. Clair says, as if that explains anything. He pulls The Hat up off his eyes. "The statue on his grave is supposed to help...fertility."
"His wang us rubbed shiny," Josh elaborates. "For luck."
"Why are we talking about parts again?" Mer asks. "Can't we ever talk about anything else?"
"Really?" I ask. "Shiny wang?"
"Very," St. Clair says.
"Now that's something I've gotta see." I gulp my coffee dregs, wipe the bread crumbs from my mouth, and hop up. "Where's Victor?"
"Allow me." St. Clair springs up to his feet and takes off. I chase after him. He cuts through a stand of bare trees, and I crash through the twigs behind him. We're both laughing when we hit the pathway and run smack into a guard. He frowns at us from underneath his military-style cap. St. Clair gives an angelic smile and a small shrug. The guard shakes his head but allows us to pass.
St. Clair gets away with everything.
We stroll with exaggerated calm, and he points out an area occupied with people snapping pictures.We hang back and wait our turn. A scrawny black cat darts out from behind an altar strewn with roses and wine bottles,and rushes into the bushes.
"Well.That was sufficiently creepy. Happy Halloween."
"Did you know this place is home to three thousand cats?" St. Clair asks.
"Sure.It's filed away in my brain under 'Felines,Paris. ~ Stephanie Perkins,
1042:So,” holding his arms outstretched, like Kubla Khan welcoming Marco Polo to Xanadu, “what do you think?” “Nice,” I croaked. “Very nice.” “Home sweet home,” he said fondly, and slurped his tea. “Although . . . ,” I began. “Yeah?” “Well, I have to say,” I said, in a careless, jokey sort of way to show there were no hard feelings, “I don’t think much of your doorman.” “Doorman?” Frank repeated. “Yes, the doorman,” I said, trying to maintain my smile. “You know, he was really quite slovenly.” “That wasn’t a doorman, Charlie, he’s homeless.” “Homeless?” “Yeah, he lives in that cardboard box on the steps.” “Oh,” I said in a small voice. “I wondered why he wasn’t wearing a cap.” There was a pause. “Doorman,” Frank chuckled to himself. Light struggled in through the ungenerous window, weak gray light that was more like the residue of light. I looked down thoughtfully into my tea, which had bits in it. After a time I said judiciously, “I imagine that’s why it’s taking him so long to bring up my cases.” Frank put his cup down, wincing. “Ah, Charlie . . .” “You don’t suppose,” I ventured, “he might have forgotten which room—” But Frank had already leapt from his seat and was hurtling back down the stairs. I got up and hurried after him, catching up outside the front door, where he stood studying the cardboard box and blanket until a short while ago occupied by the homeless person–doorman. “Fuck,” he said, stroking his chin. ~ Paul Murray,
1043:She stepped back into the house. “I want to show you something.” Trying to get his legs back, his head wobbly, and his internal referee still giving him the eight count, Myron followed her silently up the stairway. She led him down a darkened corridor lined with modern lithographs. She stopped, opened a door, and flipped on the lights. The room was teenage-cluttered, as if someone had put all the belongings in the center of the room and dropped a hand grenade on them. The posters on the walls—Michael Jordan, Keith Van Horn, Greg Downing, Austin Powers, the words YEAH, BABY! across his middle in pink tie-dye lettering—had been hung askew, all tattered corners and missing pushpins. There was a Nerf basketball hoop on the closet door. There was a computer on the desk and a baseball cap dangling from a desk lamp. The corkboard had a mix of family snapshots and construction-paper crayons signed by Jeremy’s sister, all held up by oversized pushpins. There were footballs and autographed baseballs and cheap trophies and a couple of blue ribbons and three basketballs, one with no air in it. There were stacks of computer-game CD-ROMs and a Game Boy on the unmade bed and a surprising amount of books, several opened and facedown. Clothes littered the floor like war wounded; the drawers were half open, shirts and underwear hanging out like they’d been shot mid-escape. The room had the slight, oddly comforting smell of kids’ socks. ~ Harlan Coben,
1044:Sudden Things
A storm was coming, that was why it was dark. The
wind was blowing the fronds of the palm trees off. They were maples. I looked
out the window across the big lawn. The house was huge, full of children and old
people. The lion was loose. Either because of the wind, or by malevolent human
energy, which is the same thing, the cage had come open. Suppose a child
walked outside!
A child walked outside. I knew that I must protect
him from the lion. I threw myself on top of the child. The lion roared over me. In
the branches and the bushes there was suddenly a loud crackling. The lion
cringed. I looked up and saw that the elephant was loose!
The elephant was taller than the redwoods. He was
hairy like a mammoth. His tusks trailed vines. Parrots screeched around his
head. His eyes rolled crazily. He trumpeted. The ice-cap was breaking up!
The lion backed off, whining. The boy ran for the
house. I covered his retreat, locked all the doors and pulled the bars across
them. An old lady tried to open a door to get a better look. I spoke sharply to
her, she sat down grumbling and pulled a blanket over her knees.
Out of the window I saw zebras and rattlesnakes and
wildebeests and cougars and woodchucks on the lawns and in the tennis courts. I
worried how, after the storm, we would put the animals back in their cages, and
get to the mainland.
~ Donald Hall,
1045:When The French Band Plays
THERE'S a military band that plays, on Sunday afternoons,
In a certain nameless city's quaint old square.
It can rouse the blood to battle with its patriotic tunes,
And still render hymns as gentle as a prayer.
When it starts 'Ave Maria' there is no one in the throng
But would doff his cap, his heart to heaven raise;
And who would shrink from combat when, with brasses sounding strong,
There is flung out on the breeze 'La Marseillaise'?
When it starts to render 'Sambre et Meuse,' the march that won the day
At the battle of the Marne, one sees again
The grey-green hosts of Hundom melt before the stern array
Of our gallant sister-ally's blue-clad men.
And when it plays our Anthem, with rendition bold and clear-While the khaki lads stand steady--then we feel
That, though tongues and ways may vary, we've found brothers over here,
Tried in war, and in allegiance true as steel.
For it's olive-drab, horizon-blue, packed closely side by side,
Till their colors set ablaze the grey old square;
And it's olive-drab, horizon-blue, whatever may betide,
That will blaze the way to victory 'up there.'
So, while standing thus together, let us pledge anew our troth
To the Cause--the world set free!--for which we fight.
As the evening twilight gilds the ranks of blue and khaki both,
And the the bugles die away into the night
~ Anonymous Americas,
1046:A sudden streak of light made me blink, as if someone had flashed a mirror in my face. I looked around and I saw a brown delivery truck parked in the middle of the Great Lawn where no cars were allowed. Lettered on the side were the words: HERNIAS ARE US Wait…sorry. I’m dyslexic. I squinted and decided it probably read: HERMES EXPRESS “Oh, good,” I muttered. “We’ve got mail.” “What?” Annabeth asked. I pointed at the truck. The driver was climbing out. He wore a brown uniform shirt and knee-length shorts along with stylish black socks and cleats. His curly salt-and-pepper hair stuck out around the edges of his brown cap. He looked like a guy in his mid-thirties, but I knew from experience he was actually in his mid-five-thousands. Hermes. Messenger of the gods. Personal friend, dispenser of heroic quests, and frequent cause of migraine headaches. He looked upset. He kept patting his pockets and wringing his hands. Either he’d lost something important or he’d had too many espressos at the Mount Olympus Starbucks. Finally he spotted me and beckoned, Get over here! That could’ve meant several things. If he was delivering a message in person from the gods, it was bad news. If he wanted something from me, it was also bad news. But seeing as he’d just saved me from explaining myself to Annabeth, I was too relieved to care. “Bummer.” I tried to sound regretful, as if my rump hadn’t just been pulled from the barbecue. “We’d better see what he wants. ~ Rick Riordan,
1047:He did not look like a pirate.
He looked... familiar.
There was something there, in the handsome angles and deep, wicked shadows, the hollows of his cheeks, the straight line of his lips, the sharp line of his jaw- in need of a shave.
Yes, there was something there- a whisper of recognition.
He wore a pin-striped cap dusted with snow, the brim of which cast his eyes into darkness. They were a missing piece.
She would never know from where the instinct came- perhaps from a desire to discover the identity of the man who would end her days- but she could not stop herself from reaching up and pushing the hat back from his face to see his eyes.
Only later it would occur to her that he did not try to stop her.
His eyes were hazel, a mosaic of browns and greens and greys, framed by long, dark lashes, spiked with snow. She would have known them anywhere, even if they were far more serious now than she'd ever seen them before.
Shock coursed through her, followed by a thick current of happiness.
He was not a pirate.
"Michael?" He stiffened at the sound of his name, but she did not take the time to wonder why.
She flattened her palm against his cold cheek- an action at which she would later marvel- and laughed, the sound muffled by the snow falling around them. "It is you, isn't it?"
He reached up, pulling her hand from his face. He wasn't wearing gloves, and still, he was so warm.
And not at all clammy. ~ Sarah MacLean,
1048:At the sight of the dozen assorted cupcakes, as bright and optimistic as party hats, Louise's eyes lit up.
"How wonderful!" she said, clapping her hands together again.
I handed her one of the red velvet cupcakes that I'd made in the old-fashioned style, using beets instead of food coloring. I'd had to scrub my fingers raw for twenty minutes to get the crimson beet stain off them, but the result was worth it: a rich chocolate cake cut with a lighter, nearly unidentifiable, earthy sweetness, and topped with cream cheese icing and a feathery cap of coconut shavings. For Ogden, I selected a Moroccan vanilla bean and pumpkin spice cupcake that I'd been developing with Halloween in mind. It was not for the faint of heart, and I saw the exact moment in Ogden's eyes that the dash of heat- courtesy of a healthy pinch of cayenne- hit his tongue, and the moment a split-second later that the sugary vanilla swept away the heat, like salve on a wound.
"Oh," he said, after swallowing. He looked at me, and I could see it was his turn to be at a loss for words.
I smiled.
Louise, on the other hand, was half giggling, half moaning her way through a second cupcake, this time a lemonade pound cake with a layer of hot pink Swiss meringue buttercream icing curling into countless tiny waves as festive and feminine as a little girl's birthday tiara.
"Exquisite!" she said, mouth full. And then, shrugging in her son's direction, her eyes twinkling. "What? I didn't eat lunch. ~ Meg Donohue,
1049:When was the last contact you had with him?” Oscar asked.
Ira took a long swig from his canteen, replaced the cap, and scrunched up his nose. “Five years ago,” he answered, then let out a wet burp. “’Scuse me, love.”
Camille grimaced and sipped water from her own canteen.
“Then you can’t be sure he’s still in Port Adelaide,” Oscar continued.
Ira placed a hunk of salt pork in a pot with a few handfuls of small white beans and water. “Sure I can. Old Monty would’ve sent word if he packed up.” But Ira’s face darkened and his hand covered his stubbled beard. “Course, not if Stella went and told him ‘bout that time in Sydney.”
Camille closed her eyes and knitted her fingers to keep them from forming fists. Oscar sat with his head in his large hands, as though he had an unbearable headache. Looking back at Ira, she figured he probably did.
“Who is Stella and what happened in Sydney?” she asked.
“Monty’s wife and an act I can’t describe with a lady present,” Ira crowed.
“Well, aren’t you a gentleman,” Oscar said under his breath.
“Don’t worry, mate. Stella’s conscience is buried so far under her folds of skin, she’s bound never to find it.”
Ira stoked the small flames and showed them his toothy grin. “She’s a lot of woman to love, that Stella.”
Camille’s eyes watered with shock.
“I don’t think you could bluff your way out of that one,” Oscar said. Ira jumped into a crouch, bobbing up and down.
“Wait till you see me bluff. It’s like an art. ~ Angie Frazier,
1050:An inch?” Minh held his fingers apart trying to judge the unfamiliar measurement. Shake took his hand and squeezed the fingers closer together.           “By such small amounts...we win or lose.”           “Nobody won in that fight, Minh. We both lost.”           “The dreams...”           “Yes. I have them too...and you are always there.”           “Where is all the hate?”           “Gone. It always goes...when you realize your enemy is just another man...just another soldier trying to do his duty.”           “That’s how you think of me?”           “It is now. Before this you were the black-eyed monster of my nightmares.”           “And you were the green-eyed monster...”           They smiled and studied the glow of the candle.           “You stayed in your Marine Corps...”           “Yes. I had nothing in common with civilians. Didn’t like them much. I was comfortable as a Marine...among others who understand me.”           “I understand you...”           “I believe you do, Minh.”           “Did you marry? Have children?”           “I was married but that is finished now. This is my daughter...my only child.”Shake reached for his wallet and pulled out Stacey’s high school graduation picture in cap and gown.           “A scholar. She is very beautiful.”           “Yes...she is everything to me.”           “And if I had killed you that night up on those walls, she would never have been born.”Minh handed the photo back and nodded. “I wish I had known this. It makes me feel better. ~ Dale A Dye,
1051:There was one slight delay while the pilot went off in search of a thicker coat for McColl—“It’s bloody cold up there!”—and another when Plumley arrived to wish them luck. Eventually McColl and his suitcase were squeezed into the underslung sidecar, Lansley and his bombs into the B.E.12’s single seat, the propeller set in motion. The biplane drove steadily across the field, suddenly accelerated, and seemed to almost leap into the sky. As it climbed and turned, McColl could see the distant rows of lights that marked the two front lines. It was indeed “bloody cold,” and the exposed area of skin between flying cap and scarf soon felt coated with ice. McColl clasped his collar shut in front of his throat and tried to look on the bright side—he might be freezing to death, but at least he was still aloft, with an hour’s respite until the dreaded moment arrived. Or moments. If the chute surprised him and actually opened, there was still the small matter of getting down in one piece. At least he didn’t have a basketful of restless pigeons in his lap, as most of his predecessors had done. According to Lansley, hundreds had been taken into occupied Belgium, each with a tightly rolled piece of paper containing a list of questions about the occupation, which locals were asked to answer and return with the homing bird. The pilot had also told him, with a perfectly straight face, that scientists in England were trying to crossbreed pigeons and parrots, so that verbal reports might be delivered. ~ David Downing,
1052:English was my worst subject, and I was only two years older than the oldest pupils, so while I was walking over to the other building, where the eighth and ninth forms had their classroom, my stomach was churning again. I put my pile of books down on the raised table. The pupils were scattered across their desks as if they had just been hurled out of a spin dryer. No one paid any attention to me.
‘Hello, class!’ I said. ‘My name is Karl Ove Knausgaard, and I’m going to be your English teacher this year. How do you do?’
No one said anything. The class consisted of four boys and five girls. A couple of them watched me, the others sat scribbling something, one was knitting. I recognised the boy from the snack bar stand: he was wearing a baseball cap and rocking back and forth on his chair while eyeing me with a smirk on his face. He had to be Stian.
‘Well,’ I said. ‘Now I would like you to introduce yourselves in English.’
‘Snakk norsk!’ Stian said in Norwegian. The boy behind him, a conspicuously tall, thin figure, taller than me, and I was one metre ninety-four, guffawed. Some of the girls tittered.
‘If you are going to learn a language, then you have to talk it,’ I said.
One of the girls, dark-haired and white-skinned, with regular, slightly chubby facial features and blue eyes, put up her hand.
‘Yes?’ I said.
‘Isn’t your English a bit too bad? I mean, for teaching?’
I could feel my cheeks burning, I stepped forward with a smile to hide my embarrassment. ~ Karl Ove Knausg rd,
1053:Sam,” Astrid yelled. “Quick.”
Sam thought he was too far gone to respond, but he somehow started his feet moving again and went up to where Little Pete was standing and Astrid kneeling.
There was a girl lying in the dirt. Her clothing was a mess, her black hair ratty. She was Asian, pretty without being beautiful, and little more than skin and bones. But the first thing they noticed was that her forearms ended in a solid concrete block.
Astrid made a quick sign of the cross and pressed two fingers against the girl’s neck. “Lana,” Astrid cried.
Lana sized up the situation quickly. “I don’t see any injuries. I think maybe she’s starving or else sick in some other way.”
“What’s she doing out here?” Edilio wondered. “Oh, man, what did someone do to her hands?”
“I can’t heal hunger,” Lana said. “I tried it on myself when I was with the pack. Didn’t work.”
Edilio untwisted the cap from his water bottle, knelt, and carefully drizzled water across the girl’s cheek so that a few drops curled into her mouth.
“Look, she’s swallowing.”
Edilio broke a tiny bite from one of the PowerBars and placed it gently into the girl’s mouth. After a second the girl’s mouth began to move, to chew.
“There’s a road over there,” Sam said. “I think so, anyway. A dirt road, I think.”
“Someone drove by and dumped her here,” Astrid agreed.
Sam pointed at the dirt. “You can see how she dragged that block.”
“Some sick stuff going on,” Edilio muttered angrily. “Who would do something like this? ~ Michael Grant,
1054:It wasn’t something that would last, we both knew that, but it was a small, quick delight, and sometimes in this world, there was nothing wrong with that. I stumbled back across campus. There were students still out. I tried to stay in the shadows, but Barry, the student who visits my office weekly, spotted me and cried out, “Taking the walk of shame, Teach?” Caught. I gave him a good-hearted wave and continued serpentine-style to my humble abode. A sudden head rush hit me as I entered. I stayed still, waiting for my legs to come back to me. When the dizziness receded, I headed into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of ice water. I drank it in big gulps and poured another. I would be hurting tomorrow, no question about it. Exhaustion weighed down my bones. I stepped into my bedroom and flicked on the light. There, sitting on the edge of my bed, was the man with the maroon baseball cap. I jumped back, startled. The man gave me a friendly wave. “Hey, Jake. Sheesh, look at you. Have you been out carousing?” For a second, no more, I just stood there. The man smiled at me as though this were the most natural encounter in the history of the world. He even touched the front of his cap at me, as though he were a professional golfer acknowledging the gallery. “Who the hell are you?” I asked. “That’s not really relevant, Jake.” “Like hell it isn’t. Who are you?” The man sighed, let down, it seemed, by my seemingly irrational insistence on knowing his identity. “Let’s just say I’m a friend.” “You were in the café. In Vermont.” “Guilty.” “And ~ Harlan Coben,
1055:La Jeune Tarentine
Pleurez, doux alcyons! ô vous, oiseaux sacrés,
Oiseaux chers à Thétis, doux alcyons, pleurez!
Elle a vécu, Myrto, la jeune Tarentine!
Un vaisseau la portait aux bords de Camarine:
Là, l'hymen, les chansons, les flûtes, lentement
Devaient la reconduire au seuil de son amant.
Une clef vigilante a, pour cette journée,
Dans le cèdre enfermé sa robe d'hyménée,
Et l'or dont au festin ses bras seraient parés,
Et pour ses blonds cheveux les parfums préparés.
Mais, seule sur la proue, invoquant les étoiles,
Le vent impétueux qui soufflait dans les voiles
L'enveloppe; étonnée et loin des matelots,
Elle crie, elle tombe, elle est au sein des flots.
Elle est au sein des flots, la jeune Tarentine!
Son beau corps a roulé sous la vague marine.
Thétis, les yeux en pleurs, dans le creux d'un rocher,
Aux monstres dévorants eut soin de le cacher.
Par ses ordres bientôt les belles Néréides
L'élèvent au-dessus des demeures humides,
Le portent au rivage, et dans ce monument
L'ont au cap du Zéphyr déposé mollement;
Puis de loin, à grands cris appelant leurs compagnes,
Et les nymphes des bois, des sources, des montagnes,
Toutes, frappant leur sein et traînant un long deuil,
Répétèrent, hélas! autour de son cercueil:
'Hélas! chez ton amant tu n'es point ramenée;
Tu n'as point revêtu ta robe d'hyménée;
L'or autour de tes bras n'a point serré de noeuds;
Les doux parfums n'ont point coulé sur tes cheveux.'
~ Andre Marie de Chenier,
1056:Therefore let us desire nothing else let us wish for nothing else let nothing else please us and cause us delight except our Creator and Redeemer and Savior, the one true God, Who is the Fullness of Good all good, every good, the true and supreme good Who alone is Good merciful and gentle delectable and sweet Who alone is holy just and true holy and right Who alone is kind innocent pure from Whom and through Whom and in Whom is all pardon all grace all glory of all the penitent and the just of all the blessed who rejoice together in heaven. Therefore let nothing hinder us nothing separate us or nothing come between us. Let all of us wherever we are in every place at every hour at every time of day everyday and continually believe truly and humbly and keep in our heart and love, honor, adore,serve praise and bless glorify and exalt magnify and give thanks to the most high and supreme eternal God Trinity and Unity the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit Creator of all Savior of all who believe in Him and hope in Him and love Him Who is without beginning and without end unchangeable, invisible, indescribable, ineffable, incomprehensible, unfathomable, blessed, worthy of praise, glorious, exalted on high, sublime, most high, gentle, lovable, delectable and totally desirable above all else forever. Amen. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Francis of Assisi, Let us desire nothing else
,
1057:I hope you don’t mind that we’re crashing,” Wes says. “I’m trying to escape a hunting expedition. No joke. Dad thinks I’ll be more of a man if I can blow a rabbit’s head off. And my response? ‘Sorry, Dad, but as tempting as it is to obliterate Peter Cottontail first thing on a Sunday morning, I promised Camelia I’d swing by her house, because she’s been begging to abuse my body for weeks.’”
“And speaking of being delusional,” Kimmie segues, “did I mention that my plan to reunite my parents was totally dumb?” She leads us into my bedroom and then closes the door behind her. “They could smell the setup before their water glasses were even filled.”
“How’s that?” I ask, taking a seat on my bed.
“The violinist I arranged to serenade them at the table might have been a tip-off,” she begins. “Either that, or the wrist corsage I ordered for my mom. I handpicked the begonias and had the florist deliver it right to the table.”
“Don’t forget about the oyster appetizer you preordered for the occasion,” Wes adds.
“Because, you know what they say about oysters, right?” An evil grin breaks out across her face. ‘I know, I know.” She sighs, before I can even say anything. “I may have gone a little overboard, but what can I say? I’m a dorkus extremus. Hence my outit du jour.” She’s wearing a Catholic schoolgirl’s uniform, a pair of clunky black glasses (with the requisite amount of tape on the bridge), and a cone-shaped dunce cap.
“Yes, but you’re a dorkus extremus with a nice set of begonias,” Wes teases. ~ Laurie Faria Stolarz,
1058:He was grateful to have a big cooking job ahead to take his mind off things. He was making his lists, getting out his recipes. And he stopped shaving his head the day she left. Within four days a cap of short black hair covered his dome. “What’s going on with this?” Mel laughed, reaching up and rubbing a hand over his bristly, dark head. “Head’s cold,” he said. “I like it. Do you grow it in every winter?” “Head hasn’t been this cold on other winters,” he said. And he hadn’t been infatuated with a woman who had cut hair for a living other winters, either. “Have you told Paige you have hair on your head?” “Why would I do that?” he asked her. She shrugged. “I guess things that pass as news to women are not quite as interesting to men,” she said. “Have you heard from her this week?” she asked. “She called. She says they’re having a nice visit. Her friend has a dog and Chris is crazy about the dog.” He wiped down the counter. “You think a dog would get in the way around here?” She laughed at him. “Preacher, what’s that matter? You just miss them so much?” “Nah, it’s all good,” he said. “Paige hasn’t seen her friend in years.” “He’s killing me,” Mel told Jack. “Look at him—he’s miserable. He’s so in love with her he can’t think. But will he say anything? To anyone? And seeing him without that little blond angel riding his shoulders is kind of like seeing him with an amputation. He needs to call her—tell her he misses her.” Jack lifted an eyebrow and peered at his wife. “You don’t want to get into that,” he said. “He might try to break your jaw.” At ~ Robyn Carr,
1059:A Poet's Father
Welcker, I'm told, can boast a father great
And honored in the service of the State.
Public Instruction all his mind employs
He guides its methods and its wage enjoys.
Prime Pedagogue, imperious and grand,
He waves his ferule o'er a studious land
Where humming youth, intent upon the page,
Thirsting for knowledge with a noble rage,
Drink dry the whole Pierian spring and ask
To slake their fervor at his private flask.
Arrested by the terror of his frown,
The vaulting spit-ball drops untimely down;
The fly impaled on the tormenting pin
Stills in his awful glance its dizzy din;
Beneath that stern regard the chewing-gum
Which writhed and squeaked between the teeth is dumb;
Obedient to his will the dunce-cap flies
To perch upon the brows of the unwise;
The supple switch forsakes the parent wood
To settle where 'twill do the greatest good,
Puissant still, as when of old it strove
With Solomon for spitting on the stove
Learned Professor, variously great,
Guide, guardian, instructor of the State
Quick to discern and zealous to correct
The faults which mar the public intellect
From where of Siskiyou the northern bound
Is frozen eternal to the sunless ground
To where in San Diego's torrid clime
The swarthy Greaser swelters in his grime
Beneath your stupid nose can you not see
The dunce whom once you dandled on your knee?
O mighty master of a thousand schools,
Stop teaching wisdom, or stop breeding fools.
~ Ambrose Bierce,
1060:The official record for the fastest manmade object is the Helios 2 probe, which reached about 70 km/s in a close swing around the Sun. But it’s possible the actual holder of that title is a two-ton metal manhole cover. The cover sat atop a shaft at an underground nuclear test site operated by Los Alamos as part of Operation Plumbbob. When the 1-kiloton nuke went off below, the facility effectively became a nuclear potato cannon, giving the cap a gigantic kick. A high-speed camera trained on the lid caught only one frame of it moving upward before it vanished—which means it was moving at a minimum of 66 km/s. The cap was never found. Now, 66 km/s is about six times escape velocity, but contrary to common speculation, it’s unlikely the cap ever reached space. Newton’s impact depth approximation suggests that it was either destroyed completely by impact with the air or slowed and fell back to Earth. When we turn it back on, our reactivated hair dryer box, bobbing in lake water, undergoes a similar process. The heated steam below it expands outward, and as the box rises into the air, the entire surface of the lake turns to steam. The steam, heated to a plasma by the flood of radiation, accelerates the box faster and faster. Photo courtesy of Commander Hadfield Rather than slam into the atmosphere like the manhole cover, the box flies through a bubble of expanding plasma that offers little resistance. It exits the atmosphere and continues away, slowly fading from second sun to dim star. Much of the Northwest Territories is burning, but the Earth has survived. ~ Randall Munroe,
1061:The Shut-Eye Train
Come, my little one, with me!
There are wondrous sights to see
As the evening shadows fall;
In your pretty cap and gown,
Don't detain
The Shut-Eye train "Ting-a-ling!" the bell it goeth,
"Toot-toot!" the whistle bloweth,
And we hear the warning call:
"All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!"
Over hill and over plain
Soon will speed the Shut-Eye train!
Through the blue where bloom the stars
And the Mother Moon looks down
We'll away
To land of Fay Oh, the sights that we shall see there!
Come, my little one, with me there 'T is a goodly train of cars All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!
Swifter than a wild bird's flight,
Through the realms of fleecy light
We shall speed and speed away!
Let the Night in envy frown What care we
How wroth she be!
To the Balow-land above us,
To the Balow-folk who love us,
Let us hasten while we may All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!
Shut-Eye Town is passing fair Golden dreams await us there;
We shall dream those dreams, my dear,
Till the Mother Moon goes down See unfold
Delights untold!
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And in those mysterious places
We shall see beloved faces
And beloved voices hear
In the grace of Shut-Eye Town.
Heavy are your eyes, my sweet,
Weary are your little feet Nestle closer up to me
In your pretty cap and gown;
Don't detain
The Shut-Eye train!
"Ting-a-ling!" the bell it goeth,
"Toot-toot!" the whistle bloweth
Oh, the sights that we shall see!
All aboard for Shut-Eye Town!
~ Eugene Field,
1062:Constată, cu o presimțire nefastă, că n-are nici cel mai mic habar ce planuri are-n cap Irimias, la fel cum rămase și pentru el într-o ceață totală rostul părăsirii conacului cu o grabă atât de mare. Pentru o fracțiune de secundă își aminti acea imagine înspăimântătoare de care nu putea scăpa nicicum în ultimii ani: din nou se văzu pe sine, îmbrăcat în paltonu-i ponosit, mergând istovit pe drumul pietruit, sprijinit în baston, flămând și amărât până peste poate, în urma lui, încetul cu-ncetul colonia dispare în ceață, în fața lui, orizontul se vede din ce în ce mai incert... Iar acum, toropit din cauza duduitului motorului, era nevoit să recunoască faptul că presimțirea nu l-a înșelat: stă ghemuit, fără un ban în buzunar, flămând, extenuat și rănit, pe platforma unui camion apărut ca din senin și aleargă pe un drum ce duce cine știe unde, gonește în plin necunoscut, iar dacă vor ajunge la o bifurcație nici măcar nu va avea posibilitatea să decidă în ce direcție s-o pornească, întrucât nu exista altă variantă în afară de a se resemna neputincios că direcția vieții lui este stabilită de voința unei vechi rable, care abia se târăște, în timp ce zdrăngăne, zornăie, tușește. „Se pare că nu există scăpare, reflectă el blazat. Fie așa, fie altfel... oricum sunt un om pierdut. Mâine mă trezesc într-o cameră străină, și n-am să știu ce mă așteaptă, la fel cum n-aș fi știut nici în cazul în care aș fi pornit singur la drum... O să-mi pun boarfele vechi pe masă și pe prici, dacă o să am așa ceva, iar pe înserate mă pot uita în voie cum dispare lumina din fereastră... ~ L szl Krasznahorkai,
1063:Amy."  He felt the blood pounding in his ears.  "Amy."  He rested his brow against the top of her hooded head and just held her for a long, emotional moment.  "What the devil would have happened if I hadn't chanced to come along when I had?" "Oh, they would've left me alone, eventually," she said, her voice muffled against his chest.  "They just like to have a little sport with me, but I don't think they'd actually —" "Have a little sport with you?" "Well, not much.  You see, last week Mira gave me a knife that I could've used if things got beyond my control —" "I'd say they were already well beyond your control, madam, when I happened along!  Does Sylvanus know about this?" "No." And then, with a little shrug of her shoulders, "You know he probably wouldn't do much about it, anyhow.  I — I am not Ophelia or Mildred." She said it without pity or sadness; just a simple acceptance of her place.  "Oh, poppet," Charles murmured, his heart aching for her, and reaching down, he pushed her hood back, cradled her face between his hands, and turned it up to his. She was lovely.  The past sixteen months had further defined her already striking features, but otherwise, she was unchanged.  The same huge dark eyes still gazed up at him.  The same glossy hair was still parted in the middle, plaited, and pinned up beneath a little cap.  The same sweet mouth still warmed him with its shy smile. The same craving to kiss it still burned up his blood. "Amy," he said softly, as he lowered his head to hers, and before he even realized it, he was kissing her with a hunger too long denied.  ~ Danelle Harmon,
1064:At five o’clock Tatiana took off her coat and her mask and goggles, splashed water on her face, retied her hair into a neat ponytail, and left the building. She walked on Prospekt Stachek, along the famous Kirov wall, a concrete structure seven meters tall that ran fifteen city blocks. She walked three of those blocks to her bus stop. And waiting for her at the bus stop was Alexander. When she saw him—Tatiana couldn’t help herself—her face lit up. Putting her hand on her chest, she stopped walking for a moment, but he smiled at her and she blushed and, gulping down whatever was in her throat, walked toward him. She noticed that his officer’s cap was in his hands. She wished she had scrubbed her face harder. The presence of so many words inside her head made her incapable of small talk, just at the time when she needed small talk most. “What are you doing here?” she asked timidly. “We’re at war with Germany,” Alexander said. “I have no time for pretenses.” Tatiana wanted to say something, anything, not to let his words linger in the air. So she said, “Oh.” “Happy birthday.” “Thank you.” “Are you doing something special tonight?” “I don’t know. Today is Monday, so everyone will be tired. We’ll have dinner. A drink.” She sighed. In a different world, perhaps, she might have invited him over for dinner on her birthday. Not in this world. They waited. Somber people stood all around them. Tatiana did not feel somber. She thought, but is this what I’m going to look like when I’m here by myself, waiting for the bus like them? Is this what I am going to look like for the rest of my life? ~ Paullina Simons,
1065:Hail, Queen Wisdom, may the Lord protect you with your sister, holy pure Simplicity. Lady, holy Poverty, may the Lord protect you with your sister, holy Humility. Lady, holy Charity, may the Lord protect you with your sister, holy Obedience. O most holy Virtues, may the Lord protect all of you, from Whom you come and proceed. There is surely no one in the entire world who can possess any one of you unless he dies first. Whoever possesses one of you and does not offend the others, possesses all. And each one destroys vices and sins. Holy Wisdom destroys Satan and all his subtlety. Pure holy Simplicity destroys all the wisdom of this world and the wisdom of the body. Holy Poverty destroys the desire of riches and avarice and the cares of this world. Holy Humility destroys pride and all the people who are in the world and all the things that belong to the world. Holy Charity destroys every temptation of the devil and of the flesh and every carnal fear. Holy Obedience destroys every wish of the body and of the flesh and binds its mortified body to obedience of the Spirit and to obedience of one's brother and the person who possesses her is subject and submissive to all persons in the world and not to man only but even to all beasts and wild animals so that they may do whatever they want with him inasmuch as it has been given to them from above by the Lord. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Francis of Assisi, The Salutation of the Virtues
,
1066:[The cosmic impact that started the Younger Dryas] marked the end of their story, and the end of an epoch, really. There's not a single Clovis point found anywhere in North America that's above that black mat. They're all in it or below it. And there's not a single mammoth skeleton anywhere in North America that's above it. A huge part of the die-off could have been as a direct result of the impacts themselves, but impacts and airbursts south of the ice cap, particularly as far south as New Mexico, would also have set off wildfires. There's overwhelming evidence that gigantic wildfires raged at the onset of the Younger Dryas--in fact, more soot has been found at the Younger Dryas Boundary than at the Cretaceous-Paleogene Boundary. We did the calculations and it looks like as much as 25 percent of the edible biomass and around 9 percent of the total biomass of the planet was on fire and destroyed within days or weeks of the YDB. So in many areas if the animals weren't killed outright they wouldn't have been able to forage enough food afterwards to survive. The grass would have burned up, leaves on trees were gone. ... And you know, the other thing is that when comet fragments come in they're traveling incredibly fast and they literally punch a hole in the atmosphere. They actually push the air aside and they bring in that super cold from space, and when they explode in the air that cold plume continues to the ground and you literally have things frozen in place if they were close enough to where the plume came down. It's possible they were fried and then frozen all within a matter of seconds. ~ Graham Hancock,
1067:55. The Risk: Reward Ratio

In mountaineering, climbers become very familiar with the ‘risk: reward ratio’.

There are always crunch times on a mountain when you have to weigh up the odds for success against the risks of cold, bad weather or avalanche. But in essence the choice is simple - you cannot reach the big summits if you do not accept the big risks.

If you risk nothing, you gain nothing.

The great climbers know that great summits don’t come easy - they require huge, concerted, continuous effort. But mountains reward real effort. So does life and business.

Everything that is worthwhile requires risk and effort. If it was easy, then everyone would succeed.

Having a big goal is the easy bit. The part that separates the many from the few is how willing you are to go through the pain. How able you are to hold on and to keep going when it is tough?

The French Foreign Legion, with whom I once did simulated basic training in the deserts of North Africa, describe what it takes to earn the coveted cap, the képi blanc cap: ‘A thousand barrels of sweat.’

That is a lot of sweat! Trust me.

But ask any Legionnaire if it was worth it and I can tell you their answer. Every time. Because the pain and the discomfort, the blisters and the aching muscles, don’t last for ever. But the pride in an achievement reached or dream attained will be with you for the rest of your days.

The greater the effort, the better the reward. So learn to embrace hard work and great effort and risk. Without them, there can be no meaningful achievement. ~ Bear Grylls,
1068:The Bottom Drawer
In the best chamber of the house,
Shut up in dim, uncertain light,
There stood an antique chest of drawers,
Of foreign wood, with brasses bright.
One day a woman, frail and gray,
Stepped totteringly across the floor-'Let in,' said she, 'the light of day,
Then, Jean, unlock the bottom drawer.
The girl, in all youth's loveliness,
Knelt down with eager, curious face;
Perchance she dreamt of Indian silks,
Of jewels, and of rare old lace.
But when the summer sunshine fell
Upon the treasures hoarded there,
The tears rushed to her tender eyes,
Her heart was solemn as a prayer.
'Dear Grandmamma,' she softly sighed,
Lifted a withered rose and palm;
But on the elder face was naught
But sweet content and peaceful calm.
Leaning upon her staff, she gazed
Upon a baby's half-worn shoe;
A little frock of finest lawn;
A hat with tiny bows of blue;
A ball made fifty years ago;
A little glove; a tasselled cap;
A half-done 'long division' sum;
Some school-books fastened with a strap.
She touched them all, with trembling lips-'How much,' she said, 'the heart can bear!
Ah, Jean! I thought that I should die
The day that first I laid them there.
'But now it seems so good to know
That through these weary, troubled years
Their hearts have been untouched by grief,
301
Their eyes have been unstained by tears.
Dear Jean, we see with clearer sight
When earthly life is almost o'er;
Those children wait me in the skies,
For whom I locked the sacred drawer.'
~ Anonymous Americas,
1069:One winter in Manila in the mid-1930s, Wylie walked into the wardroom of his ship, the heavy cruiser Augusta (Captain Chester W. Nimitz commanding), and encountered a “fist-banging argument” between two of the ship’s up-and-coming young officers. At issue was what it took to become skilled at rifle or pistol marksmanship. One officer, Lloyd Mustin, said that only someone born with a special gift could learn to do it well. The other, a marine named Lewis B. Puller, said, “I can take any dumb son of a bitch and teach him to shoot.” Mustin would go on to become one of the Navy’s pioneers in radar-controlled gunnery. Puller would ascend to general, the most decorated U.S. Marine in history. Gesturing to Wylie standing in the doorway, Chesty Puller declared, “I can even teach him.” A ten-dollar bet ensued. The next time the Augusta’s marine detachment found time to do their annual qualifications at the rifle range, Wylie was Puller’s special guest. And by the end of the experiment, he was the proud owner of a Marine medal designating him an expert rifleman. The experience helped Wylie understand both native gifts and teachable skills and predisposed him to work with the rural kids under him. Now he could smile when the sighting of an aircraft approaching at a distant but undetermined range came through the Fletcher’s bridge phones as, “Hey, Cap’n, here’s another one of them thar aero-planes, but don’t you fret none. She’s a fur piece yet.” Wylie was a good enough leader to appreciate what the recruits from the countryside brought to the game. “They were highly motivated,” he said. “They just came to fight. ~ James D Hornfischer,
1070:Well, fuck a duck,” comes Morris’s delighted voice.

I jerk in surprise, then spin around to glare at him for sneaking up on me from behind. Judging by the amusement dancing in his eyes, it’s obvious he peeked over my shoulder and caught a glimpse of the photo I’d been drooling over.

“I was wondering how he’d pull that one off,” Morris remarks, still grinning like a fool. “Shouldn’t have doubted him, though. That dude is an unstoppable force of nature.”

I narrow my eyes. “He told you about the picture?”

“About the whole list, actually. We hung out last night—Lorris is close to taking over Brooklyn, by the way—and he was moaning and groaning about not being able to track down a red velvet couch.” Morris shrugs. “I offered to throw a red blanket on the sofa in my common room and take some pictures, but he said you’d consider that cheating and deprive him of your love.”

Stifling a sigh, I shove the phone in my purse, then walk over to the mini-fridge across the room and grab a bottle of water. I twist off the cap, doing my best to ignore the sheer enjoyment Morris is getting out of this.

“I wish I was gay,” he says ruefully.

A snicker pops out. “Uh-huh. Go on. I’m willing to follow you down this rabbit hole and see where it leads.”

“Seriously, Gretch, I love him. I have a boner for him.” Morris sighs. “If I’d known he existed, I wouldn’t have asked you out in the first place.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Oh, shut up. You’re awesome, and I’d tap that in a second. But I can’t compete with this guy. He’s operating on a whole other level when it comes to you. ~ Elle Kennedy,
1071:In those days, long before, a view over the rooftops of Paris was an unaffordable luxury. The apartment he had shared with a mousy young writer from Laon had a view of the Jardin de Luxembourg – if he stuck his head out of the window as far as it would go and twisted it to the left, a smudge of green foliage appeared in the corner of one eye. That had been his best apartment to date. They had decorated it in the ‘Bohemian’ style of the 1830s : a few volumes of Shakespeare and Victor Hugo, a Phrygian cap, an Algerian hookah, a skull on a broomstick handle (from the brother of a friend, Charles Toubin, who was an intern at one of the big hospitals) and, of course, a window box of geraniums, which was not only pretty but also illegal. (Death by falling window box was always high up the official list of fatalities.) For a proper view of Paris, they visited Henry’s painter friends who lived in a warren of attic rooms near the Barriere d’Enfer and called themselves the Water-Drinkers. When the weather was fine and the smell of their own squalor became unbearable, they clambered onto the roof and sat on the gutters and ridges, sketching chimneyscapes, and sending up more smoke from their pipes than the fireplaces below.
Three of the Water-Drinkers had since died of various illnesses known collectively as ‘lack of money’. When the last of the three was buried, in the spring of 1844, Henry and the others had found themselves at the graveside without a sou to give a gravedigger. ‘Never mind’, said he, “you can pay me the next time, ‘ and then, to his collegue : ‘It’s all right – these gentlemen are a regular customers. ~ Graham Robb,
1072:I wanted peace and quiet, tranquillity, but was too much aboil inside. Somewhere beneath the load of the emotion-freezing ice which my life had conditioned my brain to produce, a spot of black anger glowed and threw off a hot red light of such intensity that had Lord Kelvin known of its existence, he would have had to revise his measurements. A remote explosion had occurred somewhere, perhaps back at Emerson's or that night in Bledsoe's office, and it had caused the ice cap to melt and shift the slightest bit. But that bit, that fraction, was irrevocable. Coming to New York had perhaps been an unconscious attempt to keep the old freezing unit going, but it hadn't worked; hot water had gotten into its coils. Only a drop, perhaps, but that drop was the first wave of the deluge. One moment I believed, I was dedicated, willing to lie on the blazing coals, do anything to attain a position on the campus -- then snap! It was done with, finished, through. Now there was only the problem of forgetting it. If only all the contradictory voices shouting inside my head would calm down and sing a song in unison, whatever it was I wouldn't care as long as they sang without dissonance; yes, and avoided the uncertain extremes of the scale. But there was no relief. I was wild with resentment but too much under "self-control," that frozen virtue, that freezing vice. And the more resentful I became, the more my old urge to make speeches returned. While walking along the streets words would spill from my lips in a mumble over which I had little control. I became afraid of what I might do. All things were indeed awash in my mind. I longed for home. ~ Ralph Ellison,
1073:I never knew it happened like that."
I snap my gaze to her. "What?"
"You know. Romeo and Juliet stuff. Love at first sight and all that."
"It's not like that," I say quickly.
"You could have fooled me." We're up again. Catherine takes her shot. It swishes cleanly through the hoop.
When I shoot, the ball bounces hard off the backboard and flies wildly through the air, knocking the coach in the head. I slap a hand over my mouth. The coach barely catches herself from falling. Several students laugh. She glares at me and readjusts her cap.
With a small wave of apology, I head back to the end of the line.
Will's there, fighting laughter. "Nice," he says. "Glad I'm downcourt of you."
I cross my arms and resist smiling, resist letting myself feel good around him. But he makes it hard. I want to smile. I want to like him, to be around him, to know him. "Happy to amuse you."
His smile slips then, and he's looking at me with that strange intensity again. Only I understand. I know why. He must remember...must recognize me on some level even though he can't understand it.
"You want to go out?" he asks suddenly.
I blink. "As in a date?"
"Yes. That's what a guy usually means when he asks that question."
Whistles blow. The guys and girls head in opposite directions.
"Half-court scrimmage," Will mutters, looking unhappy as he watches the coaches toss out jerseys. "We'll talk later in study hall. Okay?"
I nod, my chest uncomfortably tight, breath hard to catch. Seventh period. A few hours to decide whether to date a hunter. The choice should be easy, obvious, but already my head aches. I doubt anything will ever be easy for me again. ~ Sophie Jordan,
1074: ~ glow of the light of daybreak is in your emerald vault, the goblet of the blood of twilight is your blood-measuring bowl
author class:Jalaluddin Rumi
/Farsi & Turkish The glow of the light of daybreak is in your emerald vault, the goblet of the blood of twilight is your blood-measuring bowl. Mile on mile, torrent on torrent come dancing and gliding to the shore of your sea. With all the abstention and aspiration of the moon, the cap falls off the head of the moon when the moon raises its face to gaze upon your height. Every morn the nightingales lament like the heart-forlorn ones to the melodies of those attaining your verdant meadow. The spirits seek vision, the hearts all seek the Beloved; you in whose broad orchard four streams are let flow -- one stream pure water, another honey, the third fresh milk, the fourth your ruby wine. You never give me a chance, you are giving wine upon wine; where is the head, that I may describe the drinking-cup of your wine? Yet who am I? Heaven itself in the round of this heavy bumper finds not a moment's peace from your love and the craving for you. Moon of silver girdle, you have experience of love; heaven, loverhood is apparent in your features. When love is yoked to the heart it wearies of the heart's chatter; heart, be silent! How long this striving and inquiring of yours? The heart said, "I am His reed pipe, I wail as the breath inn me." I said, "Be lamenting now, the slave of whose passion is the soul." We have opened your door; do not desert your companions; in thankfulness for an all-embracing love which has seized you from head to toe. [1494.jpg] -- from Mystical Poems of Rumi: Volume 2, Translated by A. J. Arberry

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1075:The Man In Chrysanthemum Land
There's a brave little berry-brown man
At the opposite side of the earth;
Of the White, and the Black, and the Tan,
He's the smallest in compass and girth.
O! he's little, and lively, and Tan,
And he's showing the world what he's worth.
For his nation is born, and its birth
Is for hardihood, courage, and sand,
So you take off your cap
To the brave little Jap
Who fights for Chrysanthemum Land.
Near the house that the little man keeps,
There's a Bug-a-boo building its lair;
It prowls, and it growls, and it sleeps
At the foot of his tiny back stair.
But the little brown man never sleeps,
For the Brownie will battle the Bear-He has soldiers and ships to command;
So take off you cap
To the brave little Jap
Who fights for Chrysanthemum Land.
Uncle Sam stands a-watching near by,
With his finger aside of his nose-John Bull with a wink in his eye,
Looks round to see how the wind blows-O! jolly old John, with his eye
Ever set on the East and its woes.
More than hoeing their own little rows
These wary old wags understand,
But they take off their caps
To the brave little Japs
Who fight for Chrysanthemum Land.
Now he's given us Geishas, and themes
For operas, stories, and plays,
His silks and his chinas are dreams,
And we copy his quaint little ways;
105
O! we look on his land in our dreams,
But his value we failed to appraise,
For he'll gather his laurels and bays-His Cruisers and Columns are manned,
And we take off our caps
To the brave little Japs
Who fight for Chrysanthemum Land.
~ Emily Pauline Johnson,
1076:TO HIS HEART, BIIDING IT HAVE NO FEAR

Be you still, be you still, trembling heart;
Remember the wisdom out of the old days:
Him who trembles before the flame and the flood,
And the winds that blow through the starry ways,
Let the starry winds and the flame and the flood
Cover over and hide, for he has no part
With the lonely, majestical multitude.


THE CAP AND THE BELLS

The jester walked in the garden:
The garden had fallen still;
He bade his soul rise upward
And stand on her window-sill.
It rose in a straight blue garment,
When owls began to call:
It had grown wise-tongued by thinking
Of a quiet and light footfall;
But the young queen would not listen;
She rose in her pale night-gown;
She drew in the heavy casement
And pushed the latches down.
He bade his heart go to her,
When the owls called out no more;
In a red and quivering garment
It sang to her through the door.
It had grown sweet-tongued by dreaming
Of a flutter of flower-like hair;
But she took up her fan from the table
And waved it off on the air.
'I have cap and bells,' he pondered,
'I will send them to her and die';
And when the morning whitened
He left them where she went by.
She laid them upon her bosom,
Under a cloud of her hair,
And her red lips sang them a love-song
Till stars grew out of the air.
She opened her door and her window,
And the heart and the soul came through,
To her right hand came the red one,
To her left hand came the blue.
They set up a noise like crickets,
A chattering wise and sweet,
And her hair was a folded flower
And the quiet of love in her feet. ~ W B Yeats,
1077:Nu te faci critic decât după ce te-ai convins tu însuți că nu poți fi poet. Înainte de a te resemna la tristul rol de a ține paltoanele și de a marca loviturile ca un băiat de biliard sau unul care servește mingea, multă vreme ai făcut curte muzei, ai încercat s-o deflorezi; dar nu ai avut destulă vigoare pentru asta, ți-ai pierdut răsuflarea și ai căzut, palid și istovit, la piciorul sfântului munte.
Înțeleg ura ta. E dureros să vezi pe un altul așezându-se la masa banchetului la care tu nu ai fost poftit și culcându-se cu o femeie care te-a refuzat pe tine. Îl plâng din inimă pe bietul eunuc obligat să asiste la zbenguielile stăpânului său.
El e admis în ascunzișurile cele mai secrete ale haremului; conduce cadânele la baie; vede lucind în apa argintie a marilor bazine frumoasele trupuri șiroind de perle, mai lucioase decât agatele; cele mai discrete frumuseți îi apar fără nici un văl. Prezența lui nu stingherește. E un eunuc. Sultanul își mângâie favorita și o sărută pe gura-i ca o rodie, în fața lui. E, într-adevăr, pus într-o situație cât se poate de falsă, și trebuie să se simtă desigur foarte încurcat, neștiind cum să se poarte.
În aceeași situație se află și criticul care-l vede pe poet plimbându-se în grădina poeziei cu cele nouă frumoase cadâne, și lăfăindu-se într-o dulce lene la umbra laurilor verzi. Cu greu se stăpânește să nu ridice o piatră de pe drum și să i-o arunce în cap; cu ce sete l-ar nimeri, dincolo de zidul verde unde se află, dacă ar fi destul de îndemânatic.
Criticul care nu a creat nimic e un laș; e întocmai ca acel abate care face curte soției unui laic: acesta din urmă nu se poate răzbuna în același fel și nici nu se poate bate cu el. ~ Th ophile Gautier,
1078:The Bull Moose
Down from the purple mist of trees on the mountain,
lurching through forests of white spruce and cedar,
stumbling through tamarack swamps,
came the bull moose
to be stopped at last by a pole-fenced pasture.
Too tired to turn or, perhaps, aware
there was no place left to go, he stood with the cattle.
They, scenting the musk of death, seeing his great head
like the ritual mask of a blood god, moved to the other end
of the field, and waited.
The neighbours heard of it, and by afternoon
cars lined the road. The children teased him
with alder switches and he gazed at them
like an old, tolerant collie. The woman asked
if he could have escaped from a Fair.
The oldest man in the parish remembered seeing
a gelded moose yoked with an ox for plowing.
The young men snickered and tried to pour beer
down his throat, while their girl friends took their pictures.
And the bull moose let them stroke his tick-ravaged flanks,
let them pry open his jaws with bottles, let a giggling girl
plant a little purple cap
of thistles on his head.
When the wardens came, everyone agreed it was a shame
to shoot anything so shaggy and cuddlesome.
He looked like the kind of pet
women put to bed with their sons.
So they held their fire. But just as the sun dropped in the river
the bull moose gathered his strength
like a scaffolded king, straightened and lifted his horns
so that even the wardens backed away as they raised their rifles.
When he roared, people ran to their cars. All the young men
leaned on their automobile horns as he toppled.
Submitted by cutebabystar
~ Alden Nowlan,
1079:Clowns' Houses
BENEATH the flat and paper sky
The sun, a demon's eye,
Glowed through the air, that mask of glass;
All wand'ring sounds that pass
Seemed out of tune, as if the light
Were fiddle-strings pulled tight.
The market-square with spire and bell
Clanged out the hour in Hell;
The busy chatter of the heat
Shrilled like a parakeet;
And shuddering at the noonday light
The dust lay dead and white
As powder on a mummy's face,
Or fawned with simian grace
Round booths with many a hard bright toy
And wooden brittle joy:
The cap and bells of Time the Clown
That, jangling, whistled down
Young cherubs hidden in the guise
Of every bird that flies;
And star-bright masks for youth to wear,
Lest any dream that fare
--Bright pilgrim--past our ken, should see
Hints of Reality.
Upon the sharp-set grass, shrill-green,
Tall trees like rattles lean,
And jangle sharp and dissily;
But when night falls they sign
Till Pierrot moon steals slyly in,
His face more white than sin,
Black-masked, and with cool touch lays bare
Each cherry, plum, and pear.
Then underneath the veiled eyes
Of houses, darkness lies-Tall houses; like a hopeless prayer
They cleave the sly dumb air.
Blind are those houses, paper-thin
Old shadows hid therein,
With sly and crazy movements creep
Like marionettes, and weep.
Tall windows show Infinity;
And, hard reality,
The candles weep and pry and dance
Like lives mocked at by Chance.
The rooms are vast as Sleep within;
When once I ventured in,
Chill Silence, like a surging sea,
Slowly enveloped me.
~ Dame Edith Louisa Sitwell,
1080:Mithras is a Persian light and warrior god adopted by the Roman army as their tutelary deity.  His name means “Friend”.  Mithras was the emissary of Ahura Mazda, the supreme power of good, who battled Ahriman, the supreme evil.  Mithras slew the divine bull to release its life-giving blood into the earth, and creatures that served Ahriman like scorpions and serpents tried to stop this happening. Mithras was often depicted with a pointed cap, and a number of reliefs show him in the act of slaying the bull.  As a solar god he was directly equated to Sol Invictus by the Romans, as can be seen from inscriptions.[469]  Twelve inscriptions to him have been found to date.[470] There were seven grades in the Mithraic mysteries, which were only open to free men.  The Mithraic cult was highly tolerant of other deities, as is evidences by depictions of other gods in the shrines.  Also as the soldier god, priesthoods were known to bring their statues to the Mithraea (temples) for protection when danger threatened. The Mithraea were usually small, and have preserved their mysteries to an extent as little writing remains from them.  A relief from Housesteads (Northumberland) shows Mithras bearing a sword and spear rising from an egg, surrounded by a hoop depicting the signs of the zodiac.  A silver amulet found at St Albans similarly depicts Mithras rising from a pile of stones.  More commonly images on altars showed him sacrificing a bull, such as at Rudchester (Northumberland), Carrawburgh (Northumberland) and the London Mithraeum.  There are now five known Mithraea in Britain, those at Caernarvon, Carrawburgh, Housesteads, London and Rudchester.  Of these all were purely military apart from the London Mithraea.  ~ David Rankine,
1081:Astr
Himself it was who wrote
His rank, and quartered his own coat.
There is no king nor sovereign state
That can fix a hero's rate;
Each to all is venerable,
Cap-a-pie invulnerable,
Until he write, where all eyes rest,
Slave or master on his breast.

I saw men go up and down
In the country and the town,
With this prayer upon their neck,
"Judgment and a judge we seek."
Not to monarchs they repair,
Nor to learned jurist's chair,
But they hurry to their peers,
To their kinsfolk and their dears,
Louder than with speech they pray,
What am I? companion; say.
And the friend not hesitates
To assign just place and mates,
Answers not in word or letter,
Yet is understood the better;
Is to his friend a looking-glass,
Reflects his figure that doth pass.
Every wayfarer he meets
What himself declared, repeats;
What himself confessed, records;
Sentences him in his words,
The form is his own corporal form,
And his thought the penal worm.

Yet shine for ever virgin minds,
Loved by stars and purest winds,
Which, o'er passion throned sedate,
Have not hazarded their state,
Disconcert the searching spy,
Rendering to a curious eye
The durance of a granite ledge
To those who gaze from the sea's edge.
It is there for benefit,
It is there for purging light,
There for purifying storms,
And its depths reflect all forms;
It cannot parley with the mean,
Pure by impure is not seen.
For there's no sequestered grot,
Lone mountain tam, or isle forgot,
But justice journeying in the sphere
Daily stoops to harbor there.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, Astrae
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1082:I’ve never quite mastered the art of holding my liquor,” she replied. He watched her root around in her purse a moment, before pulling out a tube of lip balm.
As Jonas watched her apply it, he nearly got distracted from her answer. Leaning forward, Jonas murmured, “Can’t hold your liquor, huh?”
She replaced the cap and dropped it back into her purse. “Not so much. I tend to get a bit too happy.”
His eyebrows shot up and his cock came to full-alert status. Happy--he liked the sound of that. “And that’s a bad thing?”
To his utter shock, Deanna blushed. “In my case it is.”
Curiosity got the better of him. “Care to explain?”
The waiter returned with the check, forcing Jonas to drop the conversation while he fished out his credit card. Once they were alone again, Jonas waited, hoping Deanna would go into more detail. She didn’t disappoint him. “All my inhibitions disappear. It’s not a comfortable feeling for me.”
She was killing him. An immediate picture of a carefree Deanna sprang to mind. He liked it a hell of a lot. “Most people enjoy letting it all hang out every once in a while. Taking life too seriously leads to an early grave.”
“Maybe, but if I suddenly develop the urge, I’d rather be coherent.”
“You don’t like to give up control,” he surmised.
She cocked her head to the side, as if unsure how to respond at first. “It’s not that,” she said. “I guess if I’m in the mood to go romping naked through a forest, for example, then I don’t want alcohol to blur the memorable event for me.” She laughed. “I mean, I’d want to remember a crazy moment like that. Wouldn’t you?”
No doubt about it, Jonas liked the way the lady’s mind worked. “You had me at ‘running naked’.”
Deanna snorted. “You need serious help. ~ Anne Rainey,
1083:Thompson’s Lunch Room—grand Central Station
STUDY IN WHITES
Wax-white—
Floor, ceiling, walls.
Ivory shadows
Over the pavement
Polished to cream surfaces
By constant sweeping.
The big room is coloured like the petals
Of a great magnolia,
And has a patina
Of flower bloom
Which makes it shine dimly
Under the electric lamps.
Chairs are ranged in rows
Like sepia seeds
Waiting fulfilment.
The chalk-white spot of a cook’s cap
Moves unglossily against the vaguely bright wall—
Dull chalk-white striking the retina like a blow
Thru the wavering uncertainty of steam.
Vitreous-white of glasses with green reflections,
Ice-green carboys, shifting—greener, bluer—with the jar of moving water.
Jagged green-white bowls of pressed glass
Rearing snow-peaks of chipped sugar
Above the lighthouse-shaped castors
Of grey pepper and grey-white salt.
Grey-white placards: “Oyster Stew, Cornbeef Hash, Frankfurters”:
Marble slabs veined with words in meandering lines.
Dropping on the white counter like horn notes
Through a web of violins,
The flat yellow lights of oranges,
The cube-red splashes of apples,
In high plated épergnes.
The electric clock jerks every half-minute:
“Coming!—Past!”
“Three beef-steaks and a chicken-pie,”
Bawled through a slide while the clock jerks heavily.
A man carries a china mug of coffee to a distant chair.
Two rice puddings and a salmon salad
415
Are pushed over the counter;
The unfulfilled chairs open to receive them.
A spoon falls upon the floor with the impact of metal striking stone,
And the sound throws across the room
Sharp, invisible zigzags
Of silver.
~ Amy Lowell,
1084:The human omnivore has, in addition to his senses and memory, the incalculable advantage of a culture, which stores the experience and accumulated wisdom of countless human tasters before him. I don't need to experiment with the mushroom now called, rather helpfully, the "death cap," and it is common knowledge that that first intrepid lobster eater was on to something very good. Our culture codifies the rules of wise eating in an elaborate structure of taboos, rituals, recipes, manners, and culinary traditions that keep us from having to reenact the omnivore's dilemma at every meal. One way to think about America's national eating disorder is as the return, with an almost atavistic vengeance, of the omnivore's dilemma. The cornucopia of the American supermarket has thrown us back on a bewildering food landscape where we once again have to worry that some of those tasty-looking morsels might kill us. (Perhaps not as quickly as a poisonous mushroom, but just as surely.) Certainly the extraordinary abundance of food in America complicates the whole problem of choice. At the same time, many of the tools with which people historically managed the omnivore's dilemma have lost their sharpness here—or simply failed. As a relatively new nation drawn from many different immigrant populations, each with its own culture of food, Americans have never had a single, strong, stable culinary tradition to guide us. The lack of a steadying culture of food leaves us especially vulnerable to the blandishments of the food scientist and the marketer, for whom the omnivore's dilemma is not so much a dilemma as an opportunity. It is very much in the interest of the food industry to exacerbate our anxieties about what to eat, the better to then assuage them with new products. ~ Anonymous,
1085:Chip asked me about New York and what I wanted to do, and how long my dad had owned the shop, and what it was I loved about Waco. He asked about my sisters and my family in general, and what I’d done at Baylor, and if I’d known a few communications majors he’d run around with at school. (I told y’all he was chatty!) Somehow none of these questions seemed intrusive or strange to me at the time, which is funny, because thinking back I find them particularly telling.
At the time, it was just like talking with an old friend.
John finally stood up, and this baseball-cap-wearing customer that John had introduced as Chip followed. “Well, nice talking to you,” he said.
“Nice talking to you too,” I replied, and that was it. I went back inside. The guys in the shop wanted to know what I thought about Hot John, and I just laughed. “Sorry, guys, I don’t think it’s gonna work out.”
The next day I came back from my lunch break to find a note on my desk: “Chip Gaines called. Call him back.” I thought, Oh, that must be the guy I met yesterday. So I called him. I honestly thought he was going to ask me about getting a better price on his brakes or something, but instead he said, “Hey, I really enjoyed our conversation yesterday. I was wondering…you want to go out sometime?”
And for some reason I said okay--just like that, without any hesitation. It wasn’t like me at all. When I hung up the phone, I went, “What in the world just happened!”

So you said okay immediately? I don’t even remember that. That’s fun! No reservations? Man, I must’ve been good-lookin’.

What Chip didn’t know was I didn’t even give myself time to have reservations. Something told me to just go for it.

Cute, Joey. This story makes me love you all over again. ~ Joanna Gaines,
1086:Cei ce aleargă după nemurire scriind cărţi nu se deosebesc prea tare de oratori. Cu toţii îmi sunt îndatorati până peste cap, dar de inspirat îi inspir mai cu seamă pe scriitorii de flecuşteţe şi istorioare. Căci autorii care prin opere miezoase aspiră la preţuirea puţinilor oameni înzestraţi cu judecată îmi par mai degrabă vrednici de milă decât de invidie. Îşi storc veşnic creierii, adaugă, schimbă, taie, pun la loc, se întorc, îndreaptă, citesc în stânga şi-n dreapta. Veşnic nemulţumiţi de roadele muncii lor, lucrează nouă sau zece ani la o carte. Şi cu ce se aleg după atâtea cazne şi trude; după atâtea nopti în care n-au gustat dulceaţa somnului? Cu cea mai deşartă şi mai uşuratică răsplată de pe lume, preţuirea câtorva cititori. Şi asta nu-i tot, căci mârjirea lor are şi urmări neplăcute. Sănătate, bunăstare, tihnă, se duc pe apa sâmbetei. Deoarece se lipsesc de toate plăcerile vieţii, ajung urduroşi, traşi la faţă, sfrijiţi, ba adesea şi orbesc. Sărăcia îi împovărează, invidia îi macină, bătrâneţea le este timpurie şi, copleşiţi de toate relele de soiul ăsta, mor înainte să le vină sorocul. Şi toate acestea le înfruntă scriitorii înţelepţi doar de dragul laudelor a încă trei ori patru prăpădiţi asemenea lor. Dimpotrivă, fericit autorul ce intră sub aripa mea ocrotitoare! El nu cunoaşte munca pe brânci şi chinul, scrie tot ce-i trece prin cap, pune pe hârtie tot ce visează noaptea cu mintea-i înfierbântată. Nu şterge şi nu îndreaptă nimic, încredinţat că va avea mai mulţi admiratori de va scrie gogomănii mai mari, pe gustul gloatei neghioabe şi neştiutoare. Ce-i pasă dacă rarii învăţaţi şi oamenii cu judecată îl citesc şi îl dispreţuiesc? Fluierăturile a două sau trei persoane cu capul pe umeri nu vor fi oare înăbuşite de aplauzele tunătoare ce răsună din toate părţile? ~ Erasmus,
1087:Sara noticed that his white teeth were slightly snaggled, giving his smile the appearance of a friendly snarl. It was then that she understood why so many women had been seduced by him. His grin held a wickedly irresistible appeal. She stared at his chest as he untied the laces and positioned her cap correctly.
"Thank you," she murmured, and tried to take the strings of the cap from his fingers.
But he didn't let go. He held the laces at her chin, his fingers tightening. Glancing up at him in confusion, Sara saw that his smile had vanished. In a decisive motion he pulled the concealing lace from her hair and let it fall. The cap fluttered to a patch of mud and rested there limply.
Sara lifted her hand to the loose braided coil of her hair, which threatened to tumble from its pins. The chestnut locks gleamed with fiery highlights, escaping in delicate wisps around her face and throat. "Mr. Craven," she scolded breathlessly. "I find your behavior untoward a-and offensive, not to mention-oh!" She stammered in astonishment as he reached for her spectacles and plucked them from her face. "Mr. Craven, h-how dare you..." She fumbled to retrieve them. "I... I need those..."
Derek held them out of reach as he stared at her uncovered face. This was what she had kept hidden beneath the old-maid disguise... pale, luminous skin, a mouth shaped with surprising lushness, a pert little nose, marked at the delicate bridge where the edge of her spectacles had pressed. Angel-blue eyes, pure and beguiling, surmounted by dark winged brows. She was beautiful. He could have devoured her in a few bites, like a fragrant red apple. He wanted to touch her, take her somewhere and pull her beneath him, as if he could somehow erase a lifetime of sin and shame within the sweetness of her body. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
1088:I’ve known Florence long, sir, but I’ve never known her so lovely as to-night. It’s as if the ghosts of her past were abroad in the empty streets. The present is sleeping; the past hovers about us like a dream made visible. Fancy the old Florentines strolling up in couples to pass judgment on the last performance of Michael, of Benvenuto! We should come in for a precious lesson if we might overhear what they say. The plainest burgher of them in his cap and gown had a taste in the matter! That was the prime of art, sir. The sun stood high in heaven, and his broad and equal blaze made the darkest places bright and the dullest eyes clear. We live in the evening of time! We grope in the gray dusk, carrying each our poor little taper of selfish and painful wisdom, holding it up to the great models and to the dim idea, and seeing nothing but overwhelming greatness and dimness. The days of illumination are gone! But do you know I fancy—I fancy”—and he grew suddenly almost familiar in this visionary fervor—“I fancy the light of that time rests upon us here for an hour! I have never seen the David so grand, the Perseus so fair! Even the inferior productions of John of Bologna and of Baccio Bandinelli seem to realize the artist’s dream. I feel as if the moonlit air were charged with the secrets of the masters, and as if, standing here in religious contemplation, we might—we might witness a revelation!” Perceiving at this moment, I suppose, my halting comprehension reflected in my puzzled face, this interesting rhapsodist paused and blushed. Then with a melancholy smile, “You think me a moonstruck charlatan, I suppose. It’s not my habit to hang about the piazza and pounce upon innocent tourists. But to-night I confess I’m under the charm. And then somehow I fancied you too were an artist! ~ Henry James,
1089:Sara noticed that his white teeth were slightly snaggled, giving his smile the appearance of a friendly snarl. It was then that she understood why so many women had been seduced by him. His grin held a wickedly irresistible appeal. She stared at his chest as he untied the laces and positioned her cap correctly.
"Thank you," she murmured, and tried to take the strings of the cap from his fingers.
But he didn't let go. He held the laces at her chin, his fingers tightening. Glancing up at him in confusion, Sara saw that his smile had vanished. In a decisive motion he pulled the concealing lace from her hair and let it fall. The cap fluttered to a patch of mud and rested there limply.
Sara lifted her hand to the loose braided coil of her hair, which threatened to tumble from its pins. The chestnut locks gleamed with fiery highlights, escaping in delicate wisps around her face and throat. "Mr. Craven," she scolded breathlessly. "I find your behavior untoward and a-and offensive, not to mention-oh!" She stammered in astonishment as he reached for her spectacles and plucked them from her face. "Mr. Craven, h-how dare you..." She fumbled to retrieve them. "I... I need those..."
Derek held them out of reach as he stared at her uncovered face. This was what she had kept hidden beneath the old-maid disguise... pale, luminous skin, a mouth shaped with surprising lushness, a pert little nose, marked at the delicate bridge where the edge of her spectacles had pressed. Angel-blue eyes, pure and beguiling, surmounted by dark winged brows. She was beautiful. He could have devoured her in a few bites, like a fragrant red apple. He wanted to touch her, take her somewhere and pull her beneath him, as if he could somehow erase a lifetime of sin and shame within the sweetness of her body. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
1090:I don't know just where I'm going
But I'm goin' to try for the kingdom if I can
'Cause it makes me feel like I'm a man
When I put a spike into my vein
Then I tell you things aren't quite the same

When I'm rushing on my run
And I feel just like Jesus' son
And I guess I just don't know
And I guess that I just don't know

I have made very big decision
I'm goin' to try to nullify my life
'Cause when the blood begins to flow
When it shoots up the dropper's neck
When I'm closing in on death

You can't help me not you guys
All you sweet girls with all your sweet talk
You can all go take a walk
And I guess I just don't know
And I guess I just don't know

I wish that I was born a thousand years ago
I wish that I'd sailed the darkened seas
On a great big clipper ship
Going from this land here to that
I put on a sailor's suit and cap

Away from the big city
Where a man cannot be free
Of all the evils in this town
And of himself and those around
Oh, and I guess I just don't know
Oh, and I guess I just don't know

Heroin, be the death of me
Heroin, it's my wife and it's my life
Because a mainer to my vein
Leads to a center in my head
And then I'm better off than dead

When the smack begins to flow
Then I really don't care anymore
About all the Jim-Jims in this town
And everybody putting everybody else down
And all of the politicians makin' crazy sounds
All the dead bodies piled up in mounds, yeah

Wow, that heroin is in my blood
And the blood is in my head
Yeah, thank God that I'm good as dead
Ooohhh, thank your God that I'm not aware
And thank God that I just don't care
And I guess I just don't know
And I guess I just don't know

- Heroin ~ Lou Reed,
1091:O femeie (88)
Există o femeie. S-a îndrăgostit de mine. Nu ne potrivim. Acest lucru uneori e deranjant, alteori nu. Cînd e deranjant, o urăsc, iar ea mă adoră
insuportabil de strident. în asemenea situaţii are şoldurile groase şi cochetează cu ele. In asemenea situaţii are buzele late şi o mentalitate vulgară, curul îi este teşit, respiraţia acră. Tot ceea ce altă dată era agerime, acum e doar abilitate. Tot ceea ce altădată era
un discernămînt sensibil, acum e doar un simplu arivism, complexitatea comportamentală, profundele şi multiplele nuanţe devin superficialitate, mirosul neplăcut al unui parfum scump şi rar — să nu mă ascund după deget —, un miros de căcat, iar dezinvoltura amuzantă e acum un comportament de zurbagiu.
Umorul fin — cabotinaj. Drăgălăşenia — o alintare pisicească. Exigenţa, brutalitate, veselia, bufonerie,
indispoziţia, îmbufnare, privirea însufleţită, neastîmpăr.
Şi aşa mai departe, orice. Cînd nu mă deranjează, atunci eu: sînt mort după ea, gîfîi însufleţit, dacă o privesc mi se înmoaie genunchii, îmi transpiră palmele şi simt că mi-a pus Dumnezeu mîna-n cap că o asemenea femeie mă onorează cu atenţia, iar ea: suportă
totul cu îngăduinţă. Are nişte sîni ca o adolescentă răscoaptă. Şoldurile ei, asemenea cotului Dunării (înainte de hidrocentrală). Partea dintre coapse
pîrleşte iarba. Pielea nu-i acoperită cu pete de bătrînete, e decorativă. Buzele ei au o viaţă aparte, clocotesc, nu zmeură, nu fruct, ci gust şi culoare (eleganţă, foc, ca de obicei). Privirea-i provoacă furnicături. Nici vorbă ca mersul să-i fie crispat, dimpotrivă, e un zbor
lin. în ziua de azi abia dacă mai sînt femei care să umble astfel. în urma paşilor ei renaşte o întreagă lume,
se înalţă cartiere, alei, corsouri, esplanade, serate, saloane,
terase, platouri, şampanii. ~ P ter Esterh zy,
1092:Totuşi, nu-mi pot scoate din cap diferenţa enormă ce există între idei şi viaţă. E o dislocare permanentă, cu toate că ne străduim să aruncăm peste amândouă un magnific acoperământ. Şi nu se potriveşte. Ideile trebuie însoţite de acţiune.’’

‘’Până acum, gândul meu, colaborând cu mine însumi, a fost acela de a mă îndepărta de etalonul de aur al literaturii. Pe scurt, gândul meu era să prezint o resurecţie a emoţiilor, să descriu comportamentul unei fiinţe omeneşti în stratosfera ideilor, adică în ghearele delirului. Să zugrăvesc o fiintă presocratică, o făptură jumătate ţap, jumătate titan.’’

‘’Când vâd siluetele bărbaţilor şi femeilor mişcându-se apatic în dosul zidurilor închisorii lor, la adăpost sigur, bine închişi pentru câteva ore fugare, mă înspăimântă potenţialul de dramă umană cuprins în aceste trupuri plăpânde, în dosul acestor ziduri cenuşii e plin de scântei umane şi totuşi nici un incendiu nu izbucneşte. Oare aceştia sunt bărbaţi şi femei, mă întreb eu, sau doar nişte umbre, umbrele unor marionete manevrate de nişte sfori invizibile? Aparent se mişcă fără nici un fel de constrângere, dar n-au unde să se ducă. Doar pe un singur tărâm sunt liberi şi pot hălădui în libertate, dar încă n-au învăţat să-şi ia avânt. Până acum nu se cunoaşte vreun vis care să-şi fi luat avântul. Nici un om n-a venit pe lume destul de uşor, destul de voios pentru a se putea desprinde de pământ!
Vulturii care au bătut o vreme din aripile lor puternice s-au zdrobit de pământ. Ne-au ameţit cu zgomotul pe care-1 fac când bat aerul cu apripile. Rămâneţi pe pământ, o, voi, vulturi ai viitorului! Cerurile au fost explorate şi s-au dovedit a fi pustii. Iar ceea ce zace sub pământ este tot un pustiu, umplut doar de oseminte şi de umbre. Rămâneţi deci pe pământ şi mai plutiţi
câteva sute de mii de ani! ~ Henry Miller,
1093:Mr. Normal stepped forward and offered him a Scotch bottle. "You look like you could use some."
Yeah, you think? Butch took a swig. "Thanks."
"So can we kill him now?" said the one with the goatee and the baseball hat.
Beth's man spoke harshly. "Back off, V."
"Why? He's just a human."
"And my shellan is half-human. The man doesn't die just because he's not one of us."
"Jesus, you've changed your tune." "So you need to catch up, brother." Butch got to his feet. If his death was going to be debated, he wanted in on the discussion. "I appreciate the support," he said to Beth's boy. "But I don't need it."
He went over to the guy with the hat, discreetly switching his grip on the bottle's neck in case he had to crack the damn thing over a head. He moved in tight, so their noses were almost touching. He could feel the vampire heating up, priming for a fight.
"I'm happy to take you on, asshole," Butch said. "I'll probably end up losing, but I fight dirty, so I'll make you hurt while you kill me." Then he eyed the guy's hat.
"Though I hate clocking the shit out of another Red Sox fan."
There was a shout of laughter from behind him. Someone said, "This is gonna be fun to watch."
The guy in front of Butch narrowed his eyes into slits. "You true about the Sox?"
"Born and raised in Southie. Haven't stopped grinning since '04."
There was a long pause.
The vampire snorted. "I don't like humans."
"Yeah, well, I'm not too crazy about you bloodsuckers."
Another stretch of silence.
The guy stroked his goatee. "What do you call twenty guys watching the World
Series?"
"The New York Yankees," Butch replied.
The vampire laughed in a loud burst, whipped the baseball cap off his head, and slapped it on his thigh. Just like that, the tension was broken. ~ J R Ward,
1094:Music In The Flat
When Tom and I were married, we took a little flat;
I had a taste for singing and playing and all that.
And Tom, who loved to hear me, said he hoped
I would not stop
All practice, like so many wives who let their
music drop.
So I resolved to set apart an hour or two each day
To keeping vocal chords and hands in trim to sing and play.
The second morning I had been for half and hour or more
At work on Haydn’s masses, when a tap came at my door.
A nurse, who wore a dainty cap and apron, and a smile,
Ran down to ask if I would cease my music for awhile.
The lady in the flat above was very ill, she said,
And the sound of my piano was distracting to her head.
A fortnight’s exercises lost, ere I began them, when,
The following morning at my door, there came that tap again;
A woman with an anguished face implored me to forego
My music for some days to come – a man was dead below.
I shut down my piano till the corpse had left the house,
And spoke to Tom in whispers and was quiet as a mouse.
A week of labour limbered up my stiffened hand and voice,
I stole an extra hour from sleep, to practice and rejoice;
When, ting-a-ling, the door-bell rang a discord in my trill –
The baby in the flat across was very, very ill.
For ten long days that infant’s life was hanging by a thread,
And all that time my instrument was silent as the dead.
So pain and death and sickness came in one perpetual row,
When babies were not born above, then tenants died below.
The funeral over underneath, some one fell ill on top,
And begged me, for the love of God, to let my music drop.
When trouble went not up or down, it stalked across the hall,
And so in spite of my resolve, I do not play at all.
~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox,
1095:We start with a next-generation miso soup: Kyoto's famous sweet white miso whisked with dashi made from lobster shells, with large chunks of tender claw meat and wilted spinach bobbing on the soup's surface.
The son takes a cube of topflight Wagyu off the grill, charred on the outside, rare in the center, and swaddles it with green onions and a scoop of melting sea urchin- a surf-and-turf to end all others.
The father lays down a gorgeous ceramic plate with a poem painted on its surface. "From the sixteenth century," he tells us, then goes about constructing the dish with his son, piece by piece: First, a chunk of tilefish wrapped around a grilled matsutake mushroom stem. Then a thick triangle of grilled mushroom cap, plus another grilled stem the size of a D-sized battery, topped with mushroom miso. A pickled ginger shoot, a few tender soybeans, and the crowning touch, the tilefish skin, separated from its body and fried into a ripple wave of crunch.
The rice course arrives in a small bamboo steamer. The young chef works quickly. He slices curtains of tuna belly from a massive, fat-streaked block, dips it briefly in house-made soy sauce, then lays it on the rice. Over the top he spoons a sauce of seaweed and crushed sesame seeds just as the tuna fat begins to melt into the grains below.
A round of tempura comes next: a harvest moon of creamy pumpkin, a gold nugget of blowfish capped with a translucent daikon sauce, and finally a soft, custardy chunk of salmon liver, intensely fatty with a bitter edge, a flavor that I've never tasted before.
The last savory course comes in a large ice block carved into the shape of a bowl. Inside, a nest of soba noodles tinted green with powdered matcha floating in a dashi charged with citrus and topped with a false quail egg, the white fashioned from grated daikon. ~ Matt Goulding,
1096:Temperance Dews stood with quiet confidence, a respectable women who lived in the sewer that was St. Giles. Her eyes had widened at the sight of Lazarus, but she made no move to flee. Indeed, finding a strange man in her pathetic sitting room seemed not to frighten her at all.

Interesting.

“I am Lazarus Huntington, Lord Caire,” he said.

“I know. What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head, studying her. She knew him, yet did not recoil in horror? Yes, she’d do quite well. “I’ve come to make a proposition to you, Mrs. Dews.”

Still no sign of fear, though she eyed the doorway. “You’ve chosen the wrong woman, my lord. The night is late. Please leave my house.”

No fear and no deference to his rank. An interesting woman indeed.

“My proposition is not, er, illicit in nature,” he drawled. “In fact, it’s quite respectable. Or nearly so.”

She sighed, looked down at her tray, and then back up at him. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

He almost smiled. Tea? When had he last been offered something so very prosaic by a woman? He couldn’t remember.

But he replied gravely enough. “Thank you, no.”

She nodded. “Then if you don’t mind?”

He waved a hand to indicate permission.

She set the tea tray on the wretched little table and sat on the padded footstool to pour herself a cup. He watched her. She was a monochromatic study. Her dress, bodice, hose, and shoes were all flat black. A fichu tucked in at her severe neckline, an apron, and cap—no lace or ruffles—were all white. No color marred her aspect, making the lush red of her full lips all the more startling. She wore the clothes of a nun, yet had the mouth of a sybarite.

The contrast was fascinating—and arousing.

“You’re a Puritan?” he asked.

Her beautiful mouth compressed. “No. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt,
1097:Virginity being blown down man will quicklier be blown up; marry, in blowing him down again, with the breach yourselves made you lose your city. It is not politic in the commonwealth of nature to preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is rational increase, and there was never virgin got till virginity was first lost. That you were made of is mettel to make virgins. Virginity, by being once lost may be ten times found; by being ever kept it is ever lost. ‘Tis too cold a companion. Away with ‘t!
There’s little can be said in’t; ’tis against the rule of nature. To speak on the part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; which is most infallible disobedience. He that hangs himself is a virgin; virginity murthers itself, and should be buried in highways out of all sanctified limit, as a desperate offendress against nature. Virginity breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes itself to the very paring, and so dies with feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love which is the most inhibited sin in the canon. Keep it not; you cannot choose but loose by’t. Out with ‘t! Within the year it will make itself two, which is a goodly increase, and the principal itself not much the worse. Away with ‘t! Tis a commodity that will lose the gloss with lying; the longer kept, the less worth: off with ’t, while ’tis vendible; answer the time of request. Virginity, like an old courtier, wears her cap out of fashion; richly suited, but unsuitable: just like the brooch and the toothpick, which wear not now. Your date is better in your pie and your porridge than in your cheek; and your virginity, your old virginity, is like one of our French withered pears: it looks ill, it eats drily. Marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was formerly better; marry, yet 'tis a withered pear! Will you anything with it? ~ William Shakespeare,
1098:The Flag On The Farm
We've raised a flagpole on the farm
And flung Old Glory to the sky,
And it's another touch of charm
That seems to cheer the passer-by,
But more than that, no matter where
We're laboring in wood and field,
We turn and see it in the air,
Our promise of a greater yield.
It whispers to us all day long,
From dawn to dusk: 'Be true, be strong;
Who falters now with plow or hoe
Gives comfort to his country's foe.'
It seems to me I've never tried
To do so much about the place,
Nor been so slow to come inside,
But since I've got the flag to face,
Each night when I come home to rest
I feel that I must look up there
And say: 'Old Flag, I've done my best,
To-day I've tried to do my share.'
And sometimes, just to catch the breeze,
I stop my work, and o'er the trees
Old Glory fairly shouts my way:
'You're shirking far too much to-day!'
The help have caught the spirit, too;
The hired man takes off his cap
Before the old red, white and blue,
Then to the horses says: 'giddap!'
And starting bravely to the field
He tells the milkmaid by the door:
'We're going to make these acres yield
More than they've ever done before.'
She smiles to hear his gallant brag,
Then drops a curtsy to the flag.
And in her eyes there seems to shine
A patriotism that is fine.
776
We've raised a flagpole on the farm
And flung Old Glory to the sky;
We're far removed from war's alarm,
But courage here is running high.
We're doing things we never dreamed
We'd ever find the time to do;
Deeds that impossible once seemed
Each morning now we hurry through.
The flag now waves above our toil
And sheds its glory on the soil,
And boy and man looks up to it
As if to say: 'I'll do my bit!'
~ Edgar Albert Guest,
1099:From that position he had a clear view of Lydia within her garden, working with an admirably single-minded steadiness.
She'd changed her hair. She normally pulled all of it straight back and off her face and bound it simply, letting part of its coiled length hang down beneath the plain white muslin of her cap. But on this morning she had not been so severe with it. He liked the fuller, softer waves of brown about her forehead and her temples.
"So," he told Pierre, "it would be useful for me, while I'm here, to learn more English, so that in the future I can speak to those I capture."
"You are maybe overconfident, Marine, to think you will return to war."
"I'll be exchanged eventually." With a shrug he said, "So then in English, tell me, would you tell someone that it's nice, the way they wear their hair today?"
Pierre's glance held amusement. "This is how you deal with men you capture, eh? You compliment their hair? It's very threatening and very tough, I'm sure it leaves them terrified."
He hadn't had much cause for smiling since coming here, but Jean-Philippe felt his features relaxing now into a genuine smile at the other man's dry remark, and without meaning to, he looked again toward Lydia.
And found her looking straight back at him.
Once he'd been hit an inch under his heart with a bullet- there had been no pain but he'd lost all the wind from his lungs and been knocked right off balance, and what he felt now felt like that. This time, though, despite its swift and sudden strike, the feeling was decidedly more pleasurable. As he sent a nod across the clearing to acknowledge her, his smile of its own volition broadened like a schoolboy's.
He was letting down his guard, he knew, allowing the Acadian to witness where his interest- and his weakness- lay, but for some reason, standing in the sunshine with her watching him, he'd ceased to care. ~ Susanna Kearsley,
1100:Cap'N Storm-Along
They are buffeting out in the bitter grey weather,
-Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!-
Sea-lark
singing to
Golden Feather
And burly blue waters all swelling aroun'.
There's
Thunderstone
butting ahead as they wallow,
With death in the mesh of their deep-sea trawl;
There's
Night-hawk
swooping by wild
Sea-swallow,
And old Cap'n Storm-along leading 'em all.
Bashing the seas to a welter of white,
Look at the fleet that he leads to the fight.
O, they're dancing like witches to open the ball;
And old Cap'n Storm-along's lord of 'em all.
Now, where have you seen such a bully old sailor?
His eyes are as blue as the scarf at his throat;
And he rolls on the bridge of his broad-beamed whaler,
In yellow sou'-wester and oilskin coat.
In trawler and drifter, in dinghy and dory,
Wherever he signals, they leap to his call;
They batter the seas to a lather of glory,
With old Cap'n Storm-along leading 'em all.
You'll find he's from Devon, the sailor I mean;
25
Look at his whaler now, shipping it green.
O, Fritz and his 'U'-boat must crab it and crawl
When old Cap'n Storm-along sails to the ball.
Ay, there is the skipper that knows how to scare 'em
-Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down!&mdash:
Look at the sea-wives he keeps in his harem,
Wicked young merry-maids, buxom and brown :
There's
Rosalind,
the sea-witch, and
Gipsy
so lissom,
All dancing like ducks in the teeth of the squall,
With a bright eye for Huns, and a Hotchkiss to kiss 'em;
For old Cap'n Storm-along's lord of 'em all.
Look at him, battering darkness to light!
Look at the fleet that he leads to the fight!
O, hearts that are mighty, in ships that are small,
Your old Cap'n Storm-along's king of us all.
~ Alfred Noyes,
1101:Sniff, swill, sip 329 words Leading whisky expert Charles MacLean on the underrated art of downing a good Scotch. USE ALL YOUR SENSES We all love a splash of golden liquor now and then, but the fine art of appreciating whisky requires a heightening of the senses. 'Nosing' whisky, a technique employed by blenders, is called sensory evaluation or analeptic assessment. Prior to sipping, examine its colour and 'tears', which are the reams left behind on the glass after you swirl it. Even our sense of hearing can help us judge the whisky; a full bottle should open with a happy little pluck of the cap. APPRECIATE A GOOD MALT Appreciation and enjoyment are two dimensions of downing a stiff one. Identify how you like your whisky (with ice, soda or water) and stick with it. Getting sloshed on blended whisky is all very good, but you will need single malt and an understanding of three simple things to truly cherish your drink. A squat glass with a bulb at the bottom releases the full burst of its aroma when swilled. A narrow rim is an added advantage. Instead of topping the drink with ice, which dilutes the aroma, go for water. NIBBLE, DON'T GOBBLE Small bites pair best with your whisky. It excites the palate minimally, letting you detect the characteristics of the whisky through contrast. If you're not a big fan of food and whisky pairing, skip it. OLD IS GOLD While old whiskies are not necessarily better, it's a known fact that most of the finer whiskies are well-aged. I would consider whiskies that are anywhere between 18 and 50 years as old, but it also depends on the age of the cask. If the cask is reactive, it will dominate the flavours of the whisky within ten years of the ageing process. If you leave the spirit in the cask for much longer, the flavour of the whisky will be overpowered by the wood, lending it a distinct edge. Maclean was in Delhi to conduct the Singleton Sensorial experience. ~ Anonymous,
1102:Wishing I had a towel, I used my fingers to wipe the raindrops off my face. My wet face that had been partially protected by the brim of his cap. Which would have worked if the rain fell straight down. This had been slashing across.
“Oh, no.”
“What?” Jason said.
“Turn on the light.”
He did. I lowered the sun visor, looked at my reflection in the mirror, groaned, and slapped the visor back into place. “Turn the light off.”
“What’s wrong?”
I didn’t look at him, didn’t want him to see. “The makeup ran.”
Not as badly as I’d expected, but I had dark smudges beneath my eyes and my bruising was more visible.
“So what?”
I leaned my head back. “I look worse than I did the night you met me.”
“I thought you looked fine.”
I rolled my head to the side, so I could see him. Hoping the shadows made it so he couldn’t see me. “What are you talking about? I looked like a Cirque de Soleil performer.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The black dots around my eyes?”
He shook his head. “I’m lost.”
“You were staring--”
“Oh, yeah.” He gazed through the windshield. “Sorry about that. I’ve just never seen eyes as green as yours. I was trying to figure out if you wore contacts.”
“You were looking at my eyes?”
“Yeah.”
“Not the makeup.”
He turned his attention back to me. “I didn’t realize you were wearing any. That night, anyway. Tonight it’s pretty obvious.”
“Oh.” Didn’t I feel silly? “I thought--” I shook my head. “Never mind.” On second thought…
“You don’t like all the makeup?”
“I just don’t think you need it. I mean, you look pretty without it.”
Oh, really? That was totally unexpected.
He started tapping the steering wheel like he was listening to a rock concert, or suddenly embarrassed, maybe wishing someone would shut him up. “Sorry I don’t have a towel in the car.”
Subject change. He was embarrassed. How cute was that? ~ Rachel Hawthorne,
1103:The Merry Guide
Once in the wind of morning
I ranged the thymy wold;
The world-wide air was azure
And all the brooks ran gold.
There through the dews beside me
Behold a youth that trod,
With feathered cap on forehead,
And poised a golden rod.
With mien to match the morning
And gay delightful guise
And friendly brows and laughter
He looked me in the eyes.
Oh whence, I asked, and whither?
He smiled and would not say.
And looked at me and beckoned,
And laughed and led the way.
And with kind looks and laughter
And nought to say beside,
We two went on together,
I and my happy guide.
Across the glittering pastures
And empty upland still
And solitude of shepherds
High in the folded hill,
By hanging woods and hamlets
That gaze through orchards down
On many a windmill turning
And far-discovered town,
With gay regards of promise
And sure unslackened stride
And smiles and nothing spoken
Led on my merry guide.
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By blowing realms of woodland
With sunstruck vanes afield
And cloud-led shadows sailing
About the windy weald,
By valley-guarded granges
And silver waters wide,
Content at heart I followed
With my delightful guide.
And like the cloudy shadows
Across the country blown
We two fare on for ever,
But not we two alone.
With the great gale we journey
That breathes from gardens thinned,
Borne in the drift of blossoms
Whose petals throng the wind;
Buoyed on the heaven-ward whisper
Of dancing leaflets whirled
From all the woods that autumn
Bereaves in all the world.
And midst the fluttering legion
Of all that ever died
I follow, and before us
Goes the delightful guide,
With lips that brim with laughter
But never once respond,
And feet that fly on feathers,
And serpent-circled wand.
~ Alfred Edward Housman,
1104:Cred ca deja am scris in notele mele despre faptul ca iubirea se aseamana izbitor cu o tortura sau cu o operatie chirurgicala. Aceasta idee poate fi insa dezvoltata la modul cel mai chinuitor. Chiar daca cei doi amanti ar fi foarte indragostiti si plini de dorinte unul fata de celalalt, unul din ei va fi intotdeauna mai calm sau mai putin posedat decat celalalt.
El - sau ea - este operatorul, sau calaul; celalalt, subiectul, victima. Auziti aceste suspine, preludiu al unei tragedii a dezonoarei, gemetele, strigatele, horcaiturile? Cine nu le-a proferat, cine nu le-a extorcat fara putinta de a se impotrivi? Si ce gasiti mai rau in supliciul profesat de niste tortionari meticulosi? Ochii acestia de somnambul, dati peste cap, membrele ale caror muschi tresar cu putere si se incordeaza, ca si cum ar fi actionati de o pila galvanica, betia, delirul, opiumul, in consecintele lor cele mai violente,nu va vor oferi, cu siguranta, exemple atat de curioase, atat de inspaimanatatoare. Si chipul omului, pe care Ovidiu il credea alcatuit pentru a oglindi astrele, iata-l nemairostind decat expresia unei ferocitati nebunesti ori destinzandu-se intr-un soi de moarte. Fiindca, desigur, as crede ca fac un sacrilegiu folosind extaz pentru acest soi de descompunere.
-Infricosator joc, in care trebuie ca unul dintre jucatori sa-si piarda controlul de sine !
Odata, in fata mea, s-a pus intrebarea : in ce consta placerea cea mai mare a dragostei? Cineva a raspuns cu naturalete : in a primi; iar un altul : in a se datui. Primul spuse: placere orgolioasa! Iar al doilea: voluptate a umilintei! Toti acesti obsceni vorbeau ca din Imitatio Christi. In fine, s-a gasit un isolent utopist care a spus ca cea mai mare placere a dragostei este aceea de a forma cetateni pentru patrie.
Eu spun ca unica, suprema voluptate, in iubire, sta in certitudinea de a face răul. Iar barbatul si femeia stiu asta din nastere ca intreaga voluptate se gaseste in rău. ~ Charles Baudelaire,
1105:Is there aught I can do for ye, sir?” He gave a single nod and reached inside his coat. “I want you to have this,” he muttered, extracting a small bag weighted with gold coins. To a servant of Maude's station, it amounted to a fortune. “Take it, and promise me that if there is ever anything Lady Holland needs, you'll send for me.” The maid's face was blank with surprise. She took the bag, felt its weight in her hand, and stared at him with wide eyes. “Ye don't need to pay me to do that, sir.” “Take it,” he insisted brusquely. A reluctant smile curved her lips, and she dropped the little bag into her apron pocket. “Ye've been a good master, sir. Don't fret about Lady Holland and Miss Rose, I'll serve them faithfully, and send for ye if any trouble arises.” “Good,” he said, and turned to leave. He paused and looked back at her as a question occurred to him. “Why did you try to hide the miniature from me, Maude?” She blushed a little, but her gaze was direct and honest as she replied, “I wished to spare ye the sight of him, sir. I know how ye feel about Lady Holland, ye see.” “You do?” he said neutrally. The maid gave a vigorous nod. “She's a dear, gentle lady, and a man would have a heart of stone not to care for her.” Maude lowered her voice confidentially. “Betwixt ye and me, sir, I think that if my lady were free to choose any man for herself, she might well have set her cap for ye. 'Tis plain as day that she's fair taken with ye. But Master George took most of her heart with him to the grave.” “Does she look at his miniature often?” Zachary asked, keeping his face expressionless. Maude's round face puckered thoughtfully. “Not so often since we came to live on yer estate, sir. To my knowledge, she hasn't taken it out at all in the past month or so. Why, there was even a bit of dust that settled on it.” For some reason the information comforted him. “Farewell, Maude,” he replied, taking his leave. “Good luck to ye, sir,” she said softly. ~ Lisa Kleypas,
1106:The general, whom the boys knew as the commander of their division, looked at the other officer and spoke coolly, as if he were criticising his clothes. "Th' enemy's formin' over there for another charge," he said. "It'll be directed against Whiterside, an' I fear they'll break through there unless we work like thunder t' stop them." The other swore at his restive horse, and then cleared his throat. He made a gesture toward his cap. "It'll be hell t' pay stoppin' them," he said shortly. "I presume so," remarked the general. Then he began to talk rapidly and in a lower tone. He frequently illustrated his words with a pointing finger. The two infantrymen could hear nothing until finally he asked: "What troops can you spare?" The officer who rode like a cowboy reflected for an instant. "Well," he said, "I had to order in th' 12th to help th' 76th, an' I haven't really got any. But there's th' 304th. They fight like a lot 'a mule drivers. I can spare them best of any." The youth and his friend exchanged glances of astonishment. The general spoke sharply. "Get 'em ready, then. I'll watch developments from here, an' send you word when t' start them. It'll happen in five minutes." As the other officer tossed his fingers toward his cap and wheeling his horse, started away, the general called out to him in a sober voice: "I don't believe many of your mule drivers will get back." The other shouted something in reply. He smiled. With scared faces, the youth and his companion hurried back to the line. These happenings had occupied an incredibly short time, yet the youth felt that in them he had been made aged. New eyes were given to him. And the most startling thing was to learn suddenly that he was very insignificant. The officer spoke of the regiment as if he referred to a broom. Some part of the woods needed sweeping, perhaps, and he merely indicated a broom in a tone properly indifferent to its fate. It was war, no doubt, but it appeared strange. ~ Stephen Crane,
1107:Between Two Worlds
Parting for Australia.
HERE sitting by the fire
I aspire, love, I aspire-Not to that 'other world' of your fond dreams,
But one as nigh and nigher,
Compared to which your real, unreal seems.
Together as to-night
In our light, love, in our light
Of reunited joy appears no shade:
From this our hope's reached height
All things are possible and level made.
Therefore we sit and view-I and you, love, I and you-That wondrous valley o'er southern seas,
Where in a country new
You will make for me a sweet nest of ease;
Where I, your poor tired bird,
(Nothing stirred? Love, nothing stirred?)
May fold her wings and be no more distrest:
Where troubles may be heard
Like outside winds at night which deepen rest.
Where in green pastures wide
We'll abide, love, we'll abide,
And keep content our patriarchal flocks,
Till at our aged side
Leap our young brown-faced shepherds of the rocks.
Ah, tale that's easy told!
(Hold my hand, love, tighter hold.)
What if this face of mine, which you think fair-If it should ne'er grow old,
Nor matron cap cover this maiden hair?
What if this silver ring
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(Loose it clings, love, yet does cling
Should ne'er be changed for any other? nay,
This very hand I fling.
About your neck should--Hush! to-day's to-day:
To-morrow is--ah, whose?
You'll not lose, love, you'll not lose
This hand I pledged, if never a wife's hand
For tender household use
Led by your fearless into a far, far land.
Kiss me and do not grieve;
I believe, love, I believe
That He who holds the measure of our days,
And did thus strangely weave
Our opposite lives together, to His praise-He never will divide
Us so wide, love, us so wide:
But will, whate'er befalls us, clearly show
That those in Him allied
In life or death are nearer than they know.
~ Dinah Maria Mulock Craik,
1108:their base ingratitude to my poor old grandmother. She had served my old master faithfully from youth to old age. She had been the source of all his wealth; she had peopled his plantation with slaves; she had become a great grandmother in his service. She had rocked him in infancy, attended him in childhood, served him through life, and at his death wiped from his icy brow the cold death-sweat, and closed his eyes forever. She was nevertheless left a slave—a slave for life—a slave in the hands of strangers; and in their hands she saw her children, her grandchildren, and her great-grandchildren, divided, like so many sheep, without being gratified with the small privilege of a single word, as to their or her own destiny. And, to cap the climax of their base ingratitude and fiendish barbarity, my grandmother, who was now very old, having outlived my old master and all his children, having seen the beginning and end of all of them, and her present owners finding she was of but little value, her frame already racked with the pains of old age, and complete helplessness fast stealing over her once active limbs, they took her to the woods, built her a little hut, put up a little mud-chimney, and then made her welcome to the privilege of supporting herself there in perfect loneliness; thus virtually turning her out to die! If my poor old grandmother now lives, she lives to suffer in utter loneliness; she lives to remember and mourn over the loss of children, the loss of grandchildren, and the loss of great-grandchildren. They are, in the language of the slave’s poet, Whittier,— “Gone, gone, sold and gone To the rice swamp dank and lone, Where the slave-whip ceaseless swings, Where the noisome insect stings, Where the fever-demon strews Poison with the falling dews, Where the sickly sunbeams glare Through the hot and misty air:— Gone, gone, sold and gone To the rice swamp dank and lone, From Virginia hills and waters— Woe is me, my stolen daughters! ~ Frederick Douglass,
1109:We had something real,” Nobley said, starting to sound a little desperate. “You must have felt it, seeping through the costumes and pretenses.”
The brunette nodded.
Seeping through the pretenses? Listen to him, he’s still acting.” Martin turned to the brunette in search of an ally.
“Do I detect any jealousy there, my flagpole-like friend?” Nobley said. “Still upset that you weren’t cast as a gentleman? You do make a very good gardener.”
Martin took a swing. Nobley ducked and rammed into his body, pushing them both to the ground. The brunette squealed and bounced on the balls of her feet.
“Stop it!” Jane pulled at Nobley, then slipped. He put out an arm and caught her midfall across her middle.
“Here, let me…” Nobley tried to give her a hand up and push Martin away at the same time.
“Get off me,” Martin said. “I’ll help her.”
He kicked Nobley in the rear, followed by some swatting of hands. Jane planted her feet, grabbed Nobley’s arm, and pulled him off. Martin was still swiping at Nobley from the ground. Nobley’s cap fell off, then his trench coat twisted up around Martin, who batted at it crazily.
“Cut it out!” Jane said, pushing Nobley back and putting herself between them. She felt more like a teacher stopping a schoolboy scuffle than an ingénue with two brawling beaus.
“M-m-martin’s gay!” Nobley said.
“I am not! You’re thinking of Edgar.”
“Who the hell is Edgar?”
“You know, that other gardener who always smells of fish.”
“Oh, right.”
Jane raised her hands in exasperation. “Would you two…”
A stuffed-up voice over the PA announced preboarding for Jane’s flight. The brunette made an audible moan of disappointment. Martin struggled to his feet with a hand up from Nobley, and they both stood before Jane, silent, pathetic as wet dogs who want to be let back in the house. She felt very sure of herself just then, tall and sleek and confident.
“Well, they’re playing my song, boys,” she said melodically. ~ Shannon Hale,
1110:Even single cells have astonishing regenerative abilities. Acetabularia, the mermaid’s wineglass, is a single-celled green alga about five centimeters long, with three main parts: root-like structures called rhizoids that attach it to a rock, a stem and a cap about a centimeter wide (Figure 5.2). This very large cell has a single nucleus in one of the rhizoids. As the plant grows, its stem lengthens, it forms a series of whorls of hairs that later drop off, and finally forms the cap. If the cap is cut off by snipping the stem in two, after the cut has healed, a new tip grows and the stem forms a series of whorls of hairs and then a new cap, in a similar way to the normal pattern of growth. This can happen over and over again if the cap is cut off repeatedly.2 As discussed in the following chapter, the usual assumption is that genes somehow control or “program” the development of form, as if the nucleus, containing the genes, is a kind of brain controlling the cell. But Acetabularia shows that morphogenesis can take place without genes. If the rhizoid containing the nucleus is cut off, the alga can stay alive for months, and if the cap is cut off, it can regenerate a new one. Even more remarkable, if a piece is cut out of the stem, after the cuts have healed, a new tip grows from the end where the cap used to be and makes a new cap (Figure 5.2).3 Morphogenesis is goal-directed, and moves toward a morphic attractor even in the absence of genes. FIGURE 5.2. Regeneration of the alga Acetabularia mediterranea, an unusually large single-celled organism, up to 5cm tall, containing a green cap at the top of a long stalk, anchored at the base by root-like rhizoids. There is a large nucleus (shown as a black oval) in the basal part of the cell. When the stalk is cut off near the bottom, the basal part of the cell regenerates a new stalk and cap (shown on the right). When a part of the upper stalk is cut out, it grows a new cap and more stalk, even though it contains no nucleus. ~ Rupert Sheldrake,
1111:First of all, she was uncertain how to read the statement. Did Harry actually mean what he said, or was there another underlying message? Did he mean “Wow, you are so completely unattractive, no other man could possibly be interested in you, so I’ll take advantage of you by pretending to desire you. And maybe I’ll get lucky and get laid while having a big laugh at your expense?”
Or did he mean “I’ll tell you this to make you feel better because, even though it’s not completely true, you don’t repulse me, and if we do end up having sex, I’ll just make sure all the lights are off.”
“Look, Allie, I didn’t mean to freak you out or anything,” Harry said. “I mean, by saying what I said back in the car . . .”
Alessandra realized that she had blindly followed him and they were standing on one of the lines, waiting to order their daily indigestion. She had been staring sightlessly up at the menu.
“It’s just . . . You wanted honesty,” he continued, “and I . . .” He shrugged. “I took it a little too far, as usual. Some things probably just shouldn’t be said.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” Alessandra admitted. “Talking to men was easy when I was beautiful. But now . . .”
Harry was looking at her, studying her very naked, very plain face, his dark brown eyes so intense. It was as if the crowd around them had ceased to exist, as if they were the only two people standing in that fast-food lobby. He touched her hair, pushing a limp lock back behind her ear.
“The haircut really sucks,” he told her.
She closed her eyes. “Yes, I believe you mentioned that once already today.”
“But it’s just hair.”
“Spoken by the reigning king of bad hair days.” She reached up and took off his baseball cap. His hair, as usual, was standing up in all directions.
He shrugged. “Maybe we should just get matching Mohawks.”
Alessandra had to laugh.
He touched her again, his fingers warm and slightly rough against her cheek. “You’re still beautiful,” he said softly. ~ Suzanne Brockmann,
1112:She sometimes takes her little brother for a walk round this way," explained Bingo. "I thought we would meet her and bow, and you could see her, you know, and then we would walk on."
"Of course," I said, "that's enough excitement for anyone, and undoubtedly a corking reward for tramping three miles out of one's way over ploughed fields with tight boots, but don't we do anything else? Don't we tack on to the girl and buzz along with her?"
"Good Lord!" said Bingo, honestly amazed. "You don't suppose I've got nerve enough for that, do you? I just look at her from afar off and all that sort of thing. Quick! Here she comes! No, I'm wrong!"
It was like that song of Harry Lauder's where he's waiting for the girl and says, "This is her-r-r. No, it's a rabbut." Young Bingo made me stand there in the teeth of a nor'-east half-gale for ten minutes, keeping me on my toes with a series of false alarms, and I was just thinking of suggesting that we should lay off and give the rest of the proceedings a miss, when round the corner there came a fox-terrier, and Bingo quivered like an aspen. Then there hove in sight a small boy, and he shook like a jelly. Finally, like a star whose entrance has been worked up by the personnel of the ensemble, a girl appeared, and his emotion was painful to witness. His face got so red that, what with his white collar and the fact that the wind had turned his nose blue, he looked more like a French flag than anything else. He sagged from the waist upwards, as if he had been filleted.
He was just raising his fingers limply to his cap when he suddenly saw that the girl wasn't alone. A chappie in clerical costume was also among those present, and the sight of him didn't seem to do Bingo a bit of good. His face got redder and his nose bluer, and it wasn't till they had nearly passed that he managed to get hold of his cap.
The girl bowed, the curate said, "Ah, Little. Rough weather," the dog barked, and then they toddled on and the entertainment was over. ~ P G Wodehouse,
1113:In under two weeks, and with no budget, thousands of college students protested the movie on their campuses nationwide, angry citizens vandalized our billboards in multiple neighborhoods, FoxNews.com ran a front-page story about the backlash, Page Six of the New York Post made their first of many mentions of Tucker, and the Chicago Transit Authority banned and stripped the movie’s advertisements from their buses. To cap it all off, two different editorials railing against the film ran in the Washington Post and Chicago Tribune the week it was released. The outrage about Tucker was great enough that a few years later, it was written into the popular television show Portlandia on IFC. I guess it is safe to admit now that the entire firestorm was, essentially, fake. I designed the advertisements, which I bought and placed around the country, and then promptly called and left anonymous complaints about them (and leaked copies of my complaints to blogs for support). I alerted college LGBT and women’s rights groups to screenings in their area and baited them to protest our offensive movie at the theater, knowing that the nightly news would cover it. I started a boycott group on Facebook. I orchestrated fake tweets and posted fake comments to articles online. I even won a contest for being the first one to send in a picture of a defaced ad in Chicago (thanks for the free T-shirt, Chicago RedEye. Oh, also, that photo was from New York). I manufactured preposterous stories about Tucker’s behavior on and off the movie set and reported them to gossip websites, which gleefully repeated them. I paid for anti-woman ads on feminist websites and anti-religion ads on Christian websites, knowing each would write about it. Sometimes I just Photoshopped ads onto screenshots of websites and got coverage for controversial ads that never actually ran. The loop became final when, for the first time in history, I put out a press release to answer my own manufactured criticism: TUCKER MAX RESPONDS TO CTA DECISION: “BLOW ME,” the headline read. ~ Ryan Holiday,
1114:I will here give a brief sketch of the progress of opinion on the Origin of Species. Until recently the great majority of naturalists believed that species were immutable productions, and had been separately created. This view has been ably maintained by many authors. Some few naturalists, on the other hand, have believed that species undergo modification, and that the existing forms of life are the descendants by true generation of pre existing forms. Passing over allusions to the subject in the classical writers (Aristotle, in his "Physicae Auscultationes" (lib.2, cap.8, s.2), after remarking that rain does not fall in order to make the corn grow, any more than it falls to spoil the farmer's corn when threshed out of doors, applies the same argument to organisation; and adds (as translated by Mr. Clair Grece, who first pointed out the passage to me), "So what hinders the different parts (of the body) from having this merely accidental relation in nature? as the teeth, for example, grow by necessity, the front ones sharp, adapted for dividing, and the grinders flat, and serviceable for masticating the food; since they were not made for the sake of this, but it was the result of accident. And in like manner as to other parts in which there appears to exist an adaptation to an end. Wheresoever, therefore, all things together (that is all the parts of one whole) happened like as if they were made for the sake of something, these were preserved, having been appropriately constituted by an internal spontaneity; and whatsoever things were not thus constituted, perished and still perish." We here see the principle of natural selection shadowed forth, but how little Aristotle fully comprehended the principle, is shown by his remarks on the formation of the teeth.), the first author who in modern times has treated it in a scientific spirit was Buffon. But as his opinions fluctuated greatly at different periods, and as he does not enter on the causes or means of the transformation of species, I need not here enter on details. ~ Charles Darwin,
1115:How Shall My Animal
How shall my animal
Whose wizard shape I trace in the cavernous skull,
Vessel of abscesses and exultation's shell,
Endure burial under the spelling wall,
The invoked, shrouding veil at the cap of the face,
Who should be furious,
Drunk as a vineyard snail, flailed like an octopus,
Roaring, crawling, quarrel
With the outside weathers,
The natural circle of the discovered skies
Draw down to its weird eyes?
How shall it magnetize,
Towards the studded male in a bent, midnight blaze
That melts the lionhead's heel and horseshoe of the heart
A brute land in the cool top of the country days
To trot with a loud mate the haybeds of a mile,
Love and labour and kill
In quick, sweet, cruel light till the locked ground sprout
The black, burst sea rejoice,
The bowels turn turtle,
Claw of the crabbed veins squeeze from each red particle
The parched and raging voice?
Fishermen of mermen
Creep and harp on the tide, sinking their charmed, bent pin
With bridebait of gold bread, I with a living skein,
Tongue and ear in the thread, angle the temple-bound
Curl-locked and animal cavepools of spells and bone,
Trace out a tentacle,
Nailed with an open eye, in the bowl of wounds and weed
To clasp my fury on ground
And clap its great blood down;
Never shall beast be born to atlas the few seas
Or poise the day on a horn.
Sigh long, clay cold, lie shorn,
Cast high, stunned on gilled stone; sly scissors ground in frost
Clack through the thicket of strength, love hewn in pillars drops
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With carved bird, saint, and suns the wrackspiked maiden mouth
Lops, as a bush plumed with flames, the rant of the fierce eye,
Clips short the gesture of breath.
Die in red feathers when the flying heaven's cut,
And roll with the knocked earth:
Lie dry, rest robbed, my beast.
You have kicked from a dark den, leaped up the whinnying light,
And dug your grave in my breast.
~ Dylan Thomas,
1116:My feeling then was of forlornness, of the desperate inadequacies of this human linguistic apparatus that we employ to forestall, a little longer, aloneness, and of how futile these fumblings so often are. In the next lurch of solitude I began trying to add to the list of things not to say to someone in your marriage: Don’t ever use a pen while lying on the bed; don’t ever forget to put the cap back on a pen after using the pen; don’t ever use a pen if it’s new; put items in the refrigerator at ninety-degree angles; do not throw things in the bathroom trash if there are already a lot of things in the trash; don’t ever lie on the bed, made or unmade, in your clothes; don’t get into the bed without having showered; don’t put your bag on the bed, don’t put your bag on the chair, don’t put your bag on the counter, don’t put your bag on the table; don’t ever do the laundry; don’t bite your nails; don’t put the toilet paper facing out; don’t put the toilet paper facing in; don’t accelerate quickly; don’t wear those colors together, don’t wear those colors together, don’t wear a stripe and a plaid, don’t wear that shirt, that looks bad on you, that looks bad on you, and that looks bad on you, and that looks bad on you, and that looks bad on you too, are you sure you want to wear that, that looks bad on you; please stay out of the house one night a week, please stay out of the house a couple of nights a week so I can have some privacy; don’t put that there; don’t put that there; that plastic cup was given to me by my grandmother; don’t use my towel; don’t use my bathroom; you don’t understand your own family; you don’t understand your own role in your own family; you don’t understand what people think of you; you don’t understand other people; you don’t understand me, you don’t understand yourself; I need money for clothes, I need money for credit cards, I need money for school; don’t cut your meat on the plate, that sound is awful, cut your meat on the cutting board before putting it on your plate; don’t touch me. And when I was done ~ Rick Moody,
1117:Tatăl meu mi-a povestit odată de un tovarăş de detenţie emaciat, din lagărul de concentrare de la Buchenwald, care era de formaţie matematician. Poţi spune unele lucruri despre oameni după ceea ce le vine în minte când aud cuvântul "pi". Pentru un "matematician", "pi" reprezintă raportul dintre circumferinţa şi diametrul unui cerc. Dacă l-aş fi întrebat pe tatăl meu, care avea doar şapte clase, ar fi spus că "pi" este o plăcintă rotundă, cu mere. Într-o zi, în pofida discrepanţei dintre ei, deţinutul matematician i-a dat tatălui meu să rezolve o enigmă matematică. Tatăl meu s-a gândit la ea timp de câteva zile, dar nu a reuşit să-i dea de capăt. Când s-a întâlnit din nou cu matematicianul, i-a cerut soluţia. Omul nu a vrut să i-o dea, zicându-i că trebuie s-o găsească el însuşi. După câtva timp, tatăl meu l-a rugat din nou, dar omul ţinea la secretul său ca la ochii din cap. Tatăl meu a încercat să-şi ignore curiozitatea, dar nu a putut. Înconjurat de duhoare şi moarte, el a făcut o obsesie pentru cunoaşterea răspunsului. Până la urmă, celălalt deţinut i-a propus un târg - el îi va dezvălui soluţia enigmei în schimbul colţului lui de pâine. Nu ştiu ce greutate avea tatăl meu atunci, dar când trupele americane au eliberat lagărul, el cântărea 38 de kilograme. Cu toate acestea, dorinţa lui de a şti a fost atât de puternică, încât a renunţat la pâine în schimbul răspunsului.

Aveam aproapre douăzeci de ani când tatăl meu mi-a povestit episodul acesta, care a avut un impact enorm asupra mea. Familia tatălui meu pierise, bunurile îi fuseseră confiscate, el însuşi era înfometat, emaciat şi bătut. Naziştii îl despuiaseră de tot ce era palpabil, şi totuşi imboldul lui de a gândi, de a raţiona şi de a cunoaşte supravieţuise. Deşi era întemniţat, mintea îi era liberă să cutreiere, şi aşa a şi făcut. Am înţeles atunci că a căuta cunoaşterea este cea mai omenească dintre toate dorinţele şi că, oricât de diferite ar fi circumstanţele noastre, pasiunea mea de a înţelege lumea a fost stimulată de acelaşi instinct ca şi a tatălui meu. ~ Leonard Mlodinow,
1118:Arianna simply wasn’t up to it. She had a pretty voice, she could carry a tune—that was never a problem. But she had no depth. She couldn’t interpret a song, place her stamp on it. Unlike Lesley, who fairly stomped on it! And that’s what you need in folk music. These are songs that have been around for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. They existed for centuries before any kind of recording was possible, even before people could write, for god’s sake! So the only way those songs lived and got passed on was by singers. The better singer you were, the more likely it was people were going to turn out to hear you and remember you—and remember the song—whether it was at a pub or wedding or ceilidh or just a knot of people seeking shelter under a tree during a storm. It’s a kind of time machine, really, the way you can trace a song from whoever’s singing it now back through the years—Dylan or Johnny Cash, Joanna Newsom or Vashti Bunyan—on through all those nameless folk who kept it alive a thousand years ago. People talk about carrying the torch, but I always think of that man they found in the ice up in the Alps. He’d been under the snow for 1,200 years, and when they discovered him, he was still wearing his clothes, a cloak of woven grass and a bearskin cap, and in his pocket they found a little bag of grass and tinder and a bit of dead coal. That was the live spark he’d been carrying, the bright ember he kept in his pocket to start a fire whenever he stopped. You’d have to be so careful, more careful than we can even imagine, to keep that one spark alive. Because that’s what kept you alive, in the cold and the dark. Folk music is like that. And by folk I mean whatever music it is that you love, whatever music it is that sustains you. It’s the spark that keeps us alive in the cold and night, the fire we all gather in front of so we know we’re not alone in the dark. And the longer I live, the colder and darker it gets. A song like “Windhover Morn” can keep your heart beating when the doctors can’t. You might laugh at that, but it’s true. ~ Elizabeth Hand,
1119:Sic Transit Gloria Mundi
"Sic transit gloria mundi,"
"How doth the busy bee,"
"Dum vivimus vivamus,"
I stay mine enemy!
Oh "veni, vidi, vici!"
Oh caput cap-a-pie!
And oh "memento mori"
When I am far from thee!
Hurrah for Peter Parley!
Hurrah for Daniel Boone!
Three cheers, sir, for the gentleman
Who first observed the moon!
Peter, put up the sunshine;
Patti, arrange the stars;
Tell Luna, tea is waiting,
And call your brother Mars!
Put down the apple, Adam,
And come away with me,
So shalt thou have a pippin
From off my father's tree!
I climb the "Hill of Science,"
I "view the landscape o'er;"
Such transcendental prospect,
I ne'er beheld before!
Unto the Legislature
My country bids me go;
I'll take my india rubbers,
In case the wind should blow!
During my education,
It was announced to me
822
That gravitation, stumbling,
Fell from an apple tree!
The earth upon an axis
Was once supposed to turn,
By way of a gymnastic
In honor of the sun!
It was the brave Columbus,
A sailing o'er the tide,
Who notified the nations
Of where I would reside!
Mortality is fatal—
Gentility is fine,
Rascality, heroic,
Insolvency, sublime!
Our Fathers being weary,
Laid down on Bunker Hill;
And tho' full many a morning,
Yet they are sleeping still,—
The trumpet, sir, shall wake them,
In dreams I see them rise,
Each with a solemn musket
A marching to the skies!
A coward will remain, Sir,
Until the fight is done;
But an immortal hero
Will take his hat, and run!
Good bye, Sir, I am going;
My country calleth me;
Allow me, Sir, at parting,
To wipe my weeping e'e.
In token of our friendship
Accept this "Bonnie Doon,"
And when the hand that plucked it
Hath passed beyond the moon,
823
The memory of my ashes
Will consolation be;
Then, farewell, Tuscarora,
And farewell, Sir, to thee!
~ Emily Dickinson,
1120:1.
Hush, hush! tread softly! hush, hush my dear!
All the house is asleep, but we know very well
That the jealous, the jealous old bald-pate may hear.
Tho' you've padded his night-cap -- O sweet Isabel!
Tho' your feet are more light than a Fairy's feet,
Who dances on bubbles where brooklets meet,--
Hush, hush! soft tiptoe! hush, hush my dear!
For less than a nothing the jealous can hear.

2.
No leaf doth tremble, no ripple is there
On the river, -- all's still, and the night's sleepy eye
Closes up, and forgets all its Lethean care,
Charm'd to death by the drone of the humming May-fly;
And the Moon, whether prudish or complaisant,
Hath fled to her bower, well knowing I want
No light in the dusk, no torch in the gloom,
But my Isabel's eyes, and her lips pulp'd with bloom.

3.
Lift the latch! ah gently! ah tenderly -- sweet!
We are dead if that latchet gives one little chink!
Well done -- now those lips, and a flowery seat --
The old man may sleep, and the planets may wink;
The shut rose shall dream of our loves, and awake
Full blown, and such warmth for the morning's take;
The stock-dove shall hatch her soft brace and shall coo,
While I kiss to the melody, aching all through!
'As far as I have been able to trace this poem, it appeared for the first time in the Life, Letters, and Literary Remains (1848), where it is dated 1818. The statement in the Aldine Edition of 1876 that it was first printed in The Literary Pocket-book or Companion for the Lover of Nature and Art, for 1818, must derive from some misapprehension, as there is no such book. The Pocket-book was started, by Hunt in 1819; and in a copy of the book for that year now in Sir Charles Dilke's possession Keats wrote the Song; but it is not printed in that or in either of the four later Pocket-books which complete the series.'
~ Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895. by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ John Keats, Song. Hush, Hush! Tread Softly!
,
1121:Noble Sisters
'Now did you mark a falcon,
Sister dear, sister dear,
Flying toward my window
In the morning cool and clear?
With jingling bells about her neck,
But what beneath her wing?
It may have been a ribbon,
Or it may have been a ring.'—
'I marked a falcon swooping
At the break of day;
And for your love, my sister dove,
I 'frayed the thief away.'—
'Or did you spy a ruddy hound,
Sister fair and tall,
Went snuffing round my garden bound,
Or crouched by my bower wall?
With a silken leash about his neck;
But in his mouth may be
A chain of gold and silver links,
Or a letter writ to me.'—
'I heard a hound, highborn sister,
Stood baying at the moon;
I rose and drove him from your wall
Lest you should wake too soon.'—
'Or did you meet a pretty page
Sat swinging on the gate;
Sat whistling whistling like a bird,
Or may be slept too late;
With eaglets broidered on his cap,
And eaglets on his glove?
If you had turned his pockets out,
You had found some pledge of love.'—
'I met him at this daybreak,
Scarce the east was red:
Lest the creaking gate should anger you,
I packed him home to bed.'—
296
'Oh patience, sister. Did you see
A young man tall and strong,
Swift-footed to uphold the right
And to uproot the wrong,
Come home across the desolate sea
To woo me for his wife?
And in his heart my heart is locked,
And in his life my life.'—
'I met a nameless man, sister,
Hard by your chamber door:
I said: Her husband loves her much.
And yet she loves him more.'—
'Fie, sister, fie, a wicked lie,
A lie, a wicked lie,
I have none other love but him,
Nor will have till I die.
And you have turned him from our door,
And stabbed him with a lie:
I will go seek him thro' the world
In sorrow till I die.'—
'Go seek in sorrow, sister,
And find in sorrow too:
If thus you shame our father's name
My curse go forth with you.'
~ Christina Georgina Rossetti,
1122:Riot Act, April 29, 1992
I'm going out and get something.
I don't know what.
I don't care.
Whatever's out there, I'm going to get it.
Look in those shop windows at boxes
and boxes of Reeboks and Nikes
to make me fly through the air
like Michael Jordan
like Magic.
While I'm up there, I see Spike Lee.
Looks like he's flying too
straight through the glass
that separates me
from the virtual reality
I watch everyday on TV.
I know the difference between
what it is and what it isn't.
Just because I can't touch it
doesn't mean it isn't real.
All I have to do is smash the screen,
reach in and take what I want.
Break out of prison.
South Central homey's newly risen
from the night of living dead,
but this time he lives,
he gets to give the zombies
a taste of their own medicine.
Open wide and let me in,
or else I'll set your world on fire,
but you pretend that you don't hear.
You haven't heard the word is coming down
like the hammer of the gun
of this black son, locked out of this big house,
while massa looks out the window and sees only smoke.
Massa doesn't see anything else,
not because he can't,
but because he won't.
He'd rather hear me talking about mo' money,
mo' honeys and gold chains
23
and see me carrying my favorite things
from looted stores
than admit that underneath my Raider's cap,
the aftermath is staring back
unblinking through the camera's lens,
courtesy of CNN,
my arms loaded with boxes of shoes
that I will sell at the swap meet
to make a few cents on the declining dollar.
And if I destroy myself
and my neighborhood
&quot;ain't nobody's business, if I do,&quot;
but the police are knocking hard
at my door
and before I can open it,
they break it down
and drag me in the yard.
They take me in to be processed and charged,
to await trial,
while Americans forget
the day the wealth finally trickled down
to the rest of us.
~ Ai Ogawa,
1123:Pinup
The murkiness of the local garage is not so dense
that you cannot make out the calendar of pinup
drawings on the wall above a bench of tools.
Your ears are ringing with the sound of
the mechanic hammering on your exhaust pipe,
and as you look closer you notice that this month's
is not the one pushing the lawn mower, wearing
a straw hat and very short blue shorts,
her shirt tied in a knot just below her breasts.
Nor is it the one in the admiral's cap, bending
forward, resting her hands on a wharf piling,
glancing over the tiny anchors on her shoulders.
No, this is March, the month of great winds,
so appropriately it is the one walking her dog
along a city sidewalk on a very blustery day.
One hand is busy keeping her hat down on her head
and the other is grasping the little dog's leash,
so of course there is no hand left to push down
her dress which is billowing up around her waist
exposing her long stockinged legs and yes the secret
apparatus of her garter belt. Needless to say,
in the confusion of wind and excited dog
the leash has wrapped itself around her ankles
several times giving her a rather bridled
and helpless appearance which is added to
by the impossibly high heels she is teetering on.
You would like to come to her rescue,
gather up the little dog in your arms,
untangle the leash, lead her to safety,
and receive her bottomless gratitude, but
the mechanic is calling you over to look
at something under your car. It seems that he has
run into a problem and the job is going
to cost more than he had said and take
much longer than he had thought.
Well, it can't be helped, you hear yourself say
as you return to your place by the workbench,
knowing that as soon as the hammering resumes
you will slowly lift the bottom of the calendar
46
just enough to reveal a glimpse of what
the future holds in store: ah,
the red polka dot umbrella of April and her
upturned palm extended coyly into the rain.
~ Billy Collins,
1124:What Would Freud Say?
Wasn't on purpose that I drilled
through my finger or the nurse
laughed. She apologized
three times and gave me a shot
of something that was a lusher
apology. The person
who drove me home
said my smile was a smeared
totem that followed
his body that night as it arced
over a cliff in a dream.
He's always flying
in his dreams and lands
on cruise ships or hovers
over Atlanta with an erection.
He put me to bed and the drugs
wore off and I woke
to cannibals at my extremities.
I woke with a sense
of what nails in the palms
might do to a spirit
temporarily confined to flesh.
That too was an accident
if you believe Judas
merely wanted to be loved.
To be loved by God,
Urban the 8th
had heads cut off
that were inadequately
bowed by dogma. To be loved
by Blondie, Dagwood
gets nothing right
except the hallucinogenic
architecture of sandwiches.
He would have drilled
through a finger too
while making a case for books
on home repair and health.
Drilling through my finger's
52
not the dumbest thing
I've done. Second place
was approaching
a frozen gas-cap with lighter
in hand while thinking
heat melts ice and not
explosion kills asshole. First
place was passing
through a bedroom door
and removing silk that did not
belong to my wife.
Making a bookcase is not
the extent of my apology.
I've also been beaten up
in a bar for saying huevos
rancheros in a way
insulting to the patrons'
ethnicity. I've also lost
my job because lying
face down on the couch
didn't jibe with my employer's
definition of home
office. I wanted her to come
through the door on Sunday
and see the bookcase
she'd asked me to build
for a year and be impressed
that it didn't lean
or wobble even though
I've only leaned and often
wobbled. Now it's half
done but certainly
a better gift with its map
of my unfaithful blood.
~ Bob Hicok,
1125:Says Mister Doojabs
Well, eight months ago one clear cold day,
I took a ramble up Broadway,
And with my hands behind my back
I strolled along on the streetcar track—
(I walked on the track, for walking there
Gives one, I think, a distinguished air.)
'Well, all of a sudden I felt a jar
And I said, 'I’ll bet that’s a trolley car,'
And, sure enough, when I looked to see
I saw it had run right over me!
And my limbs and things were so scattered about
That for a moment I felt put out.
Well, the motorman was a nice young chap!
And he came right up and tipped his cap
And said, 'Beg pardon,' and was so kind
That his gentle manner soothed my mind:
Especially as he took such pains
To gather up my spilt remains.
Well, he found my arms and found my head,
And then, in a contrite voice, he said,
'Say, mister, I guess I’ll have to beg Your pardon,
I can’t find your left leg,'
And he would have wept, but I said,
'No! no! It doesn’t matter, just let it go.'
Well, I went on home and on the way
I considered what my wife would say:
I knew she would have some sharp reply
If I let her know I was one leg shy,
So I thought, on the whole, ’twould be just as well
For my peace of mind if I didn’t tell.
Well, that was the first thing in my life
That I kept a secret from my wife.
And for eight long months I was in distress
To think that I didn’t dare confess,
53
And I’d probably still feel just that way
If it hadn’t come ’round to Christmas Day.
Well, in good old customs I still believe,
So I hung up my stocking Christmas Eve;
(A brand-new left one I’d never worn.)
And when I looked in it Christmas morn
There was my leg, as large as life,
With a ticket on it, 'From your wife.'
Well, my wife had had it stored away
In cotton, since last Easter Day,
When she ran across it, quite by chance,
In the left hip-pocket of my pants;
And the only reproachful thing she said
Was, 'Look out or some day you’ll lose your head.'
~ Ellis Parker Butler,
1126:Eu care am citit CRITICA RAȚIUNII PURE la 60 de wați, pe Beatrixgasse, pe Locke, Leibniz și Hume, eu care, la lumina slabă a lămpilor din bezna Bibliotecii Naționale, am devorat toate conceptele din toate timpurile, de la presocratici până la FIINȚA ȘI NEANTUL, care i-am citit pe Kafka, pe Rimbaud și pe Blake la 25 de wați, într-un hotel din Paris, pe Freud, pe Adler și pe Jung la 360 de wați, pe o stradă părăsită din Berlin, acompaniată în surdină de răsucirile amețitoare ale studiilor lui Chopin, eu care am studiat pe o plajă genoveză un discurs înflăcărat despre expropierea bunurilor intelectuale, scris pe o hârtie pătată de sare și îndoită de soare, care am citit la Klagenfurt LA COMEDIE HUMAINE în trei săptămâni, în pofida febrei și a slăbiciunii provocate de antibiotice, la München pe Proust până în zori, până când meseriașii au căzut cu acoperiș cu tot în camera mea de la mansardă, pe moraliștii francezi și pe logiștii vienezi, cu ciorapii lăsați, eu care am citit totul fumând treizeci de țigări pe zi, de la DE RERUM NATURA până la LE CULTE DE LA RAISON, care am practicat istoria și filozofia, medicina și psihologia, care am lucrat în ospiciul Steinhof la anamnezele schizofrenicilor și ale maniaco-depresivilor, eu care mi-am luat în Auditorium Maximum, la numai șase grade peste zero și la 38 de grade la umbră, notițe despre De mundo, De mente, De motu, eu care i-am citit pe Marx și pe Engels după ce m-am spălat pe cap și beată moartă pe V. I. Lenin, eu care am citit în derută și în dorința de a evada, jurnal după jurnal, încă de mică, în fața sobei, la foc, ziare, reviste, și cărți de buzunar peste tot, în toate gările, trenurile, în tramvaie, autobuze, avioane, eu care am citit totul despre toate, în patru limbi, fortiter, fortiter, înțelegând tot ce se poate citi, și eliberată pentru o oră de tot ce am citit, mă întind lângă Ivan și îi spun: O să scriu această carte, care încă nu există, pentru tine, dacă vrei cu adevărat. Dar trebuie să vrei cu adevărat, să mi-o ceri, iar eu n-am sa-ți cer niciodată s-o citești.
Ivan spune: Să sperăm că o să fie o carte cu final fericit.
Să sperăm. ~ Ingeborg Bachmann,
1127:She climbed down the cliffs after tying her sweater loosely around her waist. Down below she could see nothing but jagged rocks and waves. She was creful, but I watched her feet more than the view she saw- I worried about her slipping.
My mother's desire to reach those waves, touch her feet to another ocean on the other side of the country, was all she was thinking of- the pure baptismal goal of it. Whoosh and you can start over again. Or was life more like the horrible game in gym that has you running from one side of an enclosed space to another, picking up and setting down wooden blocks without end? She was thinking reach the waves, the waves, the waves, and I was watching her navigate the rocks, and when we heard her we did so together- looking up in shock.
It was a baby on the beach.
In among the rocks was a sandy cove, my mother now saw, and crawling across the sand on a blanket was a baby in knitted pink cap and singlet and boots. She was alone on the blanket with a stuffed white toy- my mother thought a lamb.
With their backs to my mother as she descended were a group of adults-very official and frantic-looking- wearing black and navy with cool slants to their hats and boots. Then my wildlife photographer's eye saw the tripods and silver circles rimmed by wire, which, when a young man moved them left or right, bounced light off or on the baby on her blanket.
My mother started laughing, but only one assistant turned to notice her up among the rocks; everyone else was too busy. This was an ad for something. I imagined, but what? New fresh infant girls to replace your own? As my mother laughed and I watched her face light up, I also saw it fall into strange lines.
She saw the waves behind the girl child and how both beautiful and intoxicating they were- they could sweep up so softly and remove this gril from the beach. All the stylish people could chase after her, but she would drown in a moment- no one, not even a mother who had every nerve attuned to anticipate disaster, could have saved her if the waves leapt up, if life went on as usual and freak accidents peppered a calm shore. ~ Alice Sebold,
1128:This is nice. Two friends being friendly,” he said.
Rolling my eyes, I sipped my drink and ignored his cocky smile.
“How long has it been?” he asked, tapping my sandal with his boot. “The abstaining thing.”
Crossing my arms under my tits, I tightened them and pushed up the girls for him to admire. I always loved teasing boys.
“I bet you’ve banged a girl recently. Like I could probably smell her on you, if I got close enough,” I grumbled, remembering how he smelled like chocolate and I had a sweet tooth. “You’re likely crawling with germs.”
Instead of finding offense, Vaughn watched me in a weird way. His lids lowered as the corners of his mouth lifted. A sly look on his face, Vaughn ran his tongue along his top teeth.
“I have a system,” he said softly. “After I hook up with a random chick, I shower with a big bottle of Purell. One of those economy-sized ones.”
Even smiling, I kicked his foot away from mine. “I’m a bath person myself. Just fill up the tub with really hot water then toss in a cap of bleach plus a few bubbles and I’m set.”
“Gotta have bubbles,” he said in a deep low voice.
“What are you doing?”
Vaughn shook his head, yet his gaze held mine. “Just admiring your beautiful smile.”
Rolling my eyes again, I sighed. “Lame.”
“I know. I really do. I use that line a lot, but it’s true with you. That smile changes your face. Makes you less sex kitten and more angel.”
“I’m no angel.”
“What a relief. I don’t like good girls.”
“I didn’t say I was bad.”
Vaughn sucked at his lower lip and sized me up with those eyes. “You didn’t have to, kitten.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sugar?” he said, grinning brighter now. “Your sister didn’t like my nickname for her either.”
“Why would you give my sister a nickname?”
“Don’t be jealous. I like giving girls nicknames. Even girls I don’t want to spend time inside.”
“I can’t believe those lines ever work.”
“They don’t. Girls are drawn to my looks, not my personality.”
Snorting, I begged myself to stop smiling. “And you’re proud of this fact?”
“I’m proud of very little, pumpkin.”
“Keep trying. ~ Bijou Hunter,
1129:Granny
Here, in her elbow chair, she sits
A soul alert, alive,
A poor old body shrunk and bent The queen-bee of the hive.
But hives of bees and hives of men
Obey their several laws;
No fiercely-loving filial throng
This mother-head adores.
This bringer of world-wealth, whereof
None may compute the worth,
Is possibly of no account
To anyone on earth.
Her cap and spectacles, that mean
Dim eyes and scanty hairs,
The humble symbols of her state The only crown she wears.
Lacking a kingdom and a court,
A relic of the past,
Almost a cumberer of the ground That is our queen at last.
But still not wholly without place,
Nor quite bereft of power;
A useful stopgap - a resource
In many a troubled hour.
She darns the stockings, keeps the house,
The nurseless infant tends,
While the young matrons and the men
Pursue their various ends Too keen-set on their great affairs,
Or little plays and pranks,
The things and people of their world,
To give her thought or thanks -
106
The children on whom all her thought
And time and love were spent
Through half a century of years!
Yet is she well content.
The schooling of those fiery years,
It has not been for nought;
A large philosophy of life
Has self-less service taught.
The outlook from the heights attained
By climbings sore and slow
Discovers worlds of wisdom, hid
From clearest eyes below.
So calmly, in her elbow chair,
Forgotten and alone,
She knits and dreams, and sometimes sighs
But never makes a moan.
Still dwelling with her brood unseen Ghosts of a bygone day The precious daughter in her grave,
The dear son gone astray And others, to whom once she stood
As only light and law,
The near and living, and yet lost,
That need her love no more.
Watching their joyous setting forth
To mingle with their kind,
With scarce a pang, with ne'er a grudge,
At being left behind.
'Let them be young, as I was young,
And happy while they may' . . . .
A dog that waits the night in peace
Since it has had its day.
107
~ Ada Cambridge,
1130:Phyllida's Love-Call
Phyllida. CORYDON, arise, my Corydon!
Titan shineth clear.
Corydon. Who is it that calleth Corydon?
Who is it that I hear?
Phyl. Phyllida, thy true love, calleth thee,
Arise then, arise then,
Arise and keep thy flock with me!
Cor. Phyllida, my true love, is it she?
I come then, I come then,
I come and keep my flock with thee.
Phyl. Here are cherries ripe for my Corydon;
Eat them for my sake.
Cor. Here 's my oaten pipe, my lovely one,
Sport for thee to make.
Phyl. Here are threads, my true love, fine as silk,
To knit thee, to knit thee,
A pair of stockings white as milk.
Cor. Here are reeds, my true love, fine and neat,
To make thee, to make thee,
A bonnet to withstand the heat.
Phyl. I will gather flowers, my Corydon,
To set in thy cap.
Cor. I will gather pears, my lovely one,
To put in thy lap.
Phyl. I will buy my true love garters gay,
For Sundays, for Sundays,
To wear about his legs so tall.
Cor. I will buy my true love yellow say,
For Sundays, for Sundays,
To wear about her middle small.
Phyl. When my Corydon sits on a hill
Making melody-Cor. When my lovely one goes to her wheel,
Singing cheerily-Phyl. Sure methinks my true love doth excel
For sweetness, for sweetness,
175
Our Pan, that old Arcadian knight.
Cor. And methinks my true love bears the bell
For clearness, for clearness,
Beyond the nymphs that be so bright.
Phyl. Had my Corydon, my Corydon,
Been, alack! her swain-Cor. Had my lovely one, my lovely one,
Been in Ida plain-Phyl. Cynthia Endymion had refused,
Preferring, preferring,
My Corydon to play withal.
Cor. The Queen of Love had been excused
Bequeathing, bequeathing,
My Phyllida the golden ball.
Phyl. Yonder comes my mother, Corydon!
Whither shall I fly?
Cor. Under yonder beech, my lovely one,
While she passeth by.
Phyl. Say to her thy true love was not here;
Remember, remember,
To-morrow is another day.
Cor. Doubt me not, my true love, do not fear;
Farewell then, farewell then!
Heaven keep our loves alway!
~ Anonymous,
1131:There was Customer Service, a chirpy brunette with a permanent smile behind the desk. And there was someone waiting there, someone dressed in jeans and a sweater, devilishly normal in the twenty-first-century crowd. He saw her, and he straightened, his eyes hopeful. Apparently, Mrs. Wattlesbrook’s barrister hadn’t been in his office to assure her that being a magazine writer doesn’t nullify a confidentially agreement.
“Jane.”
“Martin. You whistled?” She laid the rancor on thick. No need to tap dance around.
“Jane, I’m sorry. I was going to tell you today. Or tonight. The point is, I was going to tell you, and then we could still see if you and I--”
“You’re an actor,” Jane said as though “actor” and “bastard” were synonymous.
“Yes, but, but…” He looked around as though for cue cards.
“But you’re desperately in love with me,” she prompted him. “I’m unbelievably beautiful, and I make you feel like yourself. Oh, and I remind you of your sister.”
The chirpy brunette behind the counter furiously refused to look up from her monitor.
“Jane, please.”
“And the suddenly passionate feelings that sent you running after me at the airport have nothing to do with Mrs. Wattlesbrook’s fear that I’ll write a negative review of Pembrook Park.”
“No! Listen, I know I was a cad, and I lied and was misleading, and I’ve never actually been an NBA fan--go United--but romances have bloomed on stonier ground.”
“Romances…stonier ground…Did Mrs. Wattlesbrook write that line?”
Martin exhaled in exasperation.
Thinking of Molly’s dead end on the background check, she asked, “Your name’s not really Martin Jasper, is it?”
“Well,” he looked at the brunette as though for help. “Well, it is Martin.”
The brunette smiled encouragement.
Then, impossibly, another figure ran toward her. The sideburns and stiff-collared jacket looked ridiculous out of the context of Pembrook Park, though he’d stuck on a baseball cap and trench coat, trying to blend. His face was flushed from running, and when he saw Jane, he sighed with relief.
Jane dropped her jaw. Literally. She had never, even in her most ridiculous daydreaming, imagined that Mr. Nobley would come after her. ~ Shannon Hale,
1132:Just ahead, the path was drenched in a puddle that could not be bypassed. The men walked through fearlessly. Colonel Andrews took Miss Charming’s hand and helped her step across. Mr. Nobley placed his hands around Jane’s waist and lifted her over. As he set her down, their bodies were much nearer than was seemly in the early nineteenth century. They held still for a breath, their faces close together. He smelled good enough to kiss. Her thoughts raged--I hate him and he hates me. It’s perfect! Isn’t it? Of course, he isn’t real. Wait, am I supposed to be falling for someone or avoiding it? What was it again, Aunt Caroline?
He was the first to step back. She turned away, and there was Martin. She’d forgotten Martin. Off and on, she realized now, she’d been forgetting the entire real world in order to let herself sink into the fantasy.
He was on his knees among some rosebushes. His face was shaded by his cap, but she could feel his eyes on her. As the party started to walk again, Martin rose and removed his cap as though the walkers were a funeral barge. None of the others seemed to notice his presence, and they disappeared into the full trees that leaned over the path.
Martin took a step forward. “Jane, can we talk?”
She realized that she was still standing there, staring at him, as though begging to be rejected again. She started to walk away. “Martin, no, I can’t. They’re waiting for me, they’ll see.”
“Then meet me later.”
“No, I’m done playing around.” She left him, that awkward line buzzing around her head like a pesky insect. And Jane though, Done playing around, she says, as though she’s not wearing a bonnet and bloomers.
Then she saw that Mr. Nobley had stopped to wait for her. His eyes were angry, but they weren’t on her. She looked back. Martin had lowered his hat and thrust his hands back into the upturned earth.
Her heart was teeter-tottering precariously, and she almost put out her arms to balance herself. She didn’t like to see them together, Martin, the luscious man who’d made her laugh and kept her standing on real earth, and Mr. Nobley, who had begun to make the fake world feel as comfortable as her own bed. She stood on the curve of the path, her feet hesitating where to go. ~ Shannon Hale,
1133:>Your name is DAVE and you're not okay. >You're alone again. This time, it seems to be for good. You're tired of being alone as you are, and since Vriska ---- your last tie to your own timeline ---- died, those nasty thoughts of yours are growing louder and louder with each passing minute. >You're presently sitting on the kitchen counter, several pill bottles surrounding you, each one emptied into your hand. Meaning you were going to attempt to self medicate once again. >This would be the ninth try, meaning you wanted to stop trying to tell your story. Who would listen if everyone you knew was dead? Is there a reason to live when your story won't be heard? >Your fingers search for the water bottle, finding the cooled plastic and twisting the cap off in one smooth move, then picking it up and tossing your head back, placing the fourty-odd pills in your mouth and taking a huge gulp of water. >Lean your back on the bar behind you, closing your eyes as you feel the tears streak your cheeks once again. Being alone was never a good idea for you, and it could only hurt more when it's all your fault. im sorry >Your voice is a coarse whisper, making you wince just a tad at how broken and lifeless you sound. But your broken apology isn't going to be heard by anyone, not for a long while, and if your luck is a little better today, then never again. >You sit up as you feel the very violent mixture of medication kick in, taking in a deep breath as you feel your weight start to sway. This was a bad idea, sitting on the counter. bro'msorrh >You swear you can see little pinpricks of light in the corners of your eyes, feeling your stomach turn as your weight falls forward. The empty pill bottles scatter as you hit the kitchen floor, the pain that blossomed on the side of your head earning a weak cry from your chest. Something warm and sticky was matting your hair and covering your ear, and you felt cold. >Maybe this time, it'll finally work. Maybe this time, you'll be able to die and stay dead. >You grow still, your breath softening to something imperceptible, if at all existing. Does your heart still beat? Does your brain still tell your body that its in pain? Have you finally both won and lost this war with yourself? ~ Anonymous,
1134:If the case isn't plea bargained, dismissed or placed on the inactive docket for an indefinite period of time, if by some perverse twist of fate it becomes a trial by jury, you will then have the opportunity of sitting on the witness stand and reciting under oath the facts of the case-a brief moment in the sun that clouds over with the appearance of the aforementioned defense attorney who, at worst, will accuse you of perjuring yourself in a gross injustice or, at best, accuse you of conducting an investigation so incredibly slipshod that the real killer has been allowed to roam free.
Once both sides have argued the facts of the case, a jury of twelve men and women picked from computer lists of registered voters in one of America's most undereducated cities will go to a room and begin shouting. If these happy people manage to overcome the natural impulse to avoid any act of collective judgement, they just may find one human being guilty of murdering another. Then you can go to Cher's Pub at Lexington and Guilford, where that selfsame assistant state's attorney, if possessed of any human qualities at all, will buy you a bottle of domestic beer.
And you drink it. Because in a police department of about three thousand sworn souls, you are one of thirty-six investigators entrusted with the pursuit of that most extraordinary of crimes: the theft of a human life. You speak for the dead. You avenge those lost to the world. Your paycheck may come from fiscal services but, goddammit, after six beers you can pretty much convince yourself that you work for the Lord himself. If you are not as good as you should be, you'll be gone within a year or two, transferred to fugitive, or auto theft or check and fraud at the other end of the hall. If you are good enough, you will never do anything else as a cop that matters this much. Homicide is the major leagues, the center ring, the show. It always has been. When Cain threw a cap into Abel, you don't think The Big Guy told a couple of fresh uniforms to go down and work up the prosecution report. Hell no, he sent for a fucking detective. And it will always be that way, because the homicide unit of any urban police force has for generations been the natural habitat of that rarefied species, the thinking cop. ~ David Simon,
1135:Addison,” Taylor said quietly. “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe Corbin really cares for you?” “What? Don’t be silly.” I frowned. “I’m just a conquest to him—it’s a feather in his cap to be able to say that a non-glam Auditor is his consort. It’s like… like a mobster showing off his girlfriend who also just happens to be a cop or a judge.” “Maybe not.” Taylor looked thoughtful. “I’ve heard rumors about Corbin.” “Such as?” I raised an eyebrow and made a go on signal with one hand. “Well, he’s not nearly the playboy he makes himself out to be for one thing,” Taylor said. “He’s almost never with anyone—he mostly keeps to himself except to feed occasionally. And he never pays the Crimson Debt or lets anyone else pay it for him.” “Meaning he doesn’t feed on anyone during sex or let them feed on him?” I said. She nodded. “Honestly, I don’t think he has that much sex at all. Not even glam-sex.” “Oh come on, Taylor—he’s a vampire,” I objected. “Sex and blood, that’s what they’re all about—that’s what they do.” “Most of them maybe. But if what I’ve heard is right, Corbin mostly keeps to himself.” “But why?” I asked, frowning. “I mean, it’s not for lack of willing partners, I’m sure.” He got under my skin like a bad rash but there was no denying Corbin was gorgeous. “I don’t know why, exactly.” Taylor shrugged. “They say he had someone once—a human—but he lost her. Now he mostly keeps to himself out of respect for her memory.” I thought of what he’d told me, about having a human female he loved enough to be gentle with once and how she’d “died anyway.” “Why didn’t he just bond her to him?” I asked. Vamps can bond any human they want, which greatly increases the human’s lifespan, sometimes even enough to match the vamp’s. It makes them a little more durable too, though under the law they’re still not supposed to have sex with the vamp that bonds them. “I don’t know.” Taylor shook her head. “But I do know you’re pretty much the only girl he’s shown an interest in. I mean, he does a lot of casual flirting, you know?” “Yeah, I know.” I nodded. Nobody was better at eye-fucking than Corbin. “But none of it amounts to anything. I mean, I’ve never heard of him taking anyone into one of his daylight resting places the way he took you. Not vampire, not human—no one,” Taylor emphasized. ~ Evangeline Anderson,
1136:There are blondes and blondes and it is almost a joke word nowadays. All blondes have their points, except perhaps the metallic ones who are as blond as a Zulu under the bleach and as to disposition as soft as a sidewalk. There is the small cute blonde who cheeps and twitters, and the big statuesque blonde who straight-arms you with an ice-blue glare. There is the blonde who gives you the up-from-under look and smells lovely and shimmers and hangs on your arm and is always very tired when you take her home. She makes that helpless gesture and has that goddamned headache and you would like to slug her except that you are glad you found out about the headache before you invested too much time and money and hope in her. Because the headache will always be there, a weapon that never wears out and is as deadly as the bravo’s rapier or Lucrezia’s poison vial. There is the soft and willing and alcoholic blonde who doesn’t care what she wears as long as it is mink or where she goes as long as it is the Starlight Roof and there is plenty of dry champagne. There is the small perky blonde who is a little pal and wants to pay her own way and is full of sunshine and common sense and knows judo from the ground up and can toss a truck driver over her shoulder without missing more than one sentence out of the editorial in the Saturday Review. There is the pale, pale blonde with anemia of some non-fatal but incurable type. She is very languid and very shadowy and she speaks softly out of nowhere and you can’t lay a finger on her because in the first place you don’t want to and in the second place she is reading The Waste Land or Dante in the original, or Kafka or Kierkegaard or studying Provençal. She adores music and when the New York Philharmonic is playing Hindemith she can tell you which one of the six bass viols came in a quarter of a beat too late. I hear Toscanini can also. That makes two of them. And lastly there is the gorgeous show piece who will outlast three kingpin racketeers and then marry a couple of millionaires at a million a head and end up with a pale rose villa at Cap Antibes, an Alfa-Romeo town car complete with pilot and co-pilot, and a stable of shopworn aristocrats, all of whom she will treat with the affectionate absent-mindedness of an elderly duke saying goodnight to his butler. ~ Raymond Chandler,
1137:Then, impossibly, another figure ran toward her. The sideburns and stiff-collared jacket looked ridiculous out of the context of Pembrook Park, though he’d stuck on a baseball cap and trench coat, trying to blend. His face was flushed from running, and when he saw Jane, he sighed with relief.
Jane dropped her jaw. Literally. She had never, even in her most ridiculous daydreaming, imagined that Mr. Nobley would come after her. She took a step back, hit something slick with her boot heel, and tottered almost to the ground. Mr. Nobley caught her and set her back up on her feet.
Is this why women wear heels? thought Jane. We hobble ourselves so we can still be rescued by men?
She annoyed herself by having enjoyed it. Briefly.
“You haven’t left yet,” Nobley said. He seemed reluctant to let go of her, but he did and took a few steps back. “I’ve been panicked that…” He saw Martin. “What are you doing here?”
The brunette was watching with hungry intensity, though she kept tapping at a keyboard as though actually very busy at work.
“Jane and I got close these past weeks and--” Martin began.
Got close. That’s a load of duff. It’s one thing when you’re toying with the dowagers who guess what you are, but Jane should be off limits.” He took her arm. “You can’t believe a word he says. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier, but you must know now that he’s an actor.”
“I know,” Jane said.
Nobley blinked. “Oh.”
“So, what are you doing here?” She couldn’t help it if her tone sounded a little tired. This was becoming farcical.
“I came to tell you that I--” he rushed to speak, then composed himself, looked around, and stepped closer to her so he did not need to raise his voice to be heard. The brunette leaned forward just a tad.
“I apologize for having to tell you here, in this busy, dirty…this is not the scene I would set, but you must know that I…” He took off his cap and rubbed his hair ragged. “I’ve been working at Pembrook Park for nearly four years. All the women I see, week after week, they’re the same. Nearly from the first, that morning when we were alone in the park, I guessed that you might be different. You were sincere.”
He reached for her hand. He seemed to gain confidence, his lips started to smile, and he looked at her as though he never wished to look away. ~ Shannon Hale,
1138:EVEN BEFORE HE GOT ELECTROCUTED, Jason was having a rotten day. He woke in the backseat of a school bus, not sure where he was, holding hands with a girl he didn’t know. That wasn’t necessarily the rotten part. The girl was cute, but he couldn’t figure out who she was or what he was doing there. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to think. A few dozen kids sprawled in the seats in front of him, listening to iPods, talking, or sleeping. They all looked around his age…fifteen? Sixteen? Okay, that was scary. He didn’t know his own age. The bus rumbled along a bumpy road. Out the windows, desert rolled by under a bright blue sky. Jason was pretty sure he didn’t live in the desert. He tried to think back…the last thing he remembered… The girl squeezed his hand. “Jason, you okay?” She wore faded jeans, hiking boots, and a fleece snowboarding jacket. Her chocolate brown hair was cut choppy and uneven, with thin strands braided down the sides. She wore no makeup like she was trying not to draw attention to herself, but it didn’t work. She was seriously pretty. Her eyes seemed to change color like a kaleidoscope—brown, blue, and green. Jason let go of her hand. “Um, I don’t—” In the front of the bus, a teacher shouted, “All right, cupcakes, listen up!” The guy was obviously a coach. His baseball cap was pulled low over his hair, so you could just see his beady eyes. He had a wispy goatee and a sour face, like he’d eaten something moldy. His buff arms and chest pushed against a bright orange polo shirt. His nylon workout pants and Nikes were spotless white. A whistle hung from his neck, and a megaphone was clipped to his belt. He would’ve looked pretty scary if he hadn’t been five feet zero. When he stood up in the aisle, one of the students called, “Stand up, Coach Hedge!” “I heard that!” The coach scanned the bus for the offender. Then his eyes fixed on Jason, and his scowl deepened. A jolt went down Jason’s spine. He was sure the coach knew he didn’t belong there. He was going to call Jason out, demand to know what he was doing on the bus—and Jason wouldn’t have a clue what to say. But Coach Hedge looked away and cleared his throat. “We’ll arrive in five minutes! Stay with your partner. Don’t lose your worksheet. And if any of you precious little cupcakes causes any trouble on this trip, I will personally send you ~ Rick Riordan,
1139:At childhood’s end, the houses petered out
into playing fields, the factory, allotments
kept, like mistresses, by kneeling married men,
the silent railway line, the hermit’s caravan,
till you came at last to the edge of the woods.
It was there that I first clapped eyes on the wolf.

He stood in a clearing, reading his verse out loud
in his wolfy drawl, a paperback in his hairy paw,
red wine staining his bearded jaw. What big ears
he had! What big eyes he had! What teeth!
In the interval, I made quite sure he spotted me,
sweet sixteen, never been, babe, waif, and bought me a drink,

my first. You might ask why. Here’s why. Poetry.
The wolf, I knew, would lead me deep into the woods,
away from home, to a dark tangled thorny place
lit by the eyes of owls. I crawled in his wake,
my stockings ripped to shreds, scraps of red from my blazer
snagged on twig and branch, murder clues. I lost both shoes

but got there, wolf’s lair, better beware. Lesson one that night,
breath of the wolf in my ear, was the love poem.
I clung till dawn to his thrashing fur, for
what little girl doesn’t dearly love a wolf?
Then I slid from between his heavy matted paws
and went in search of a living bird – white dove –

which flew, straight, from my hands to his hope mouth.
One bite, dead. How nice, breakfast in bed, he said,
licking his chops. As soon as he slept, I crept to the back
of the lair, where a whole wall was crimson, gold, aglow with books.
Words, words were truly alive on the tongue, in the head,
warm, beating, frantic, winged; music and blood.

But then I was young – and it took ten years
in the woods to tell that a mushroom
stoppers the mouth of a buried corpse, that birds
are the uttered thought of trees, that a greying wolf
howls the same old song at the moon, year in, year out,
season after season, same rhyme, same reason. I took an axe

to a willow to see how it wept. I took an axe to a salmon
to see how it leapt. I took an axe to the wolf
as he slept, one chop, scrotum to throat, and saw
the glistening, virgin white of my grandmother’s bones.
I filled his old belly with stones. I stitched him up.
Out of the forest I come with my flowers, singing, all alone.

Little Red-Cap ~ Carol Ann Duffy,
1140:5. When Begging Ends I love the idea of Divine Source. It reminds us that everything, the fulfillment of every need, always emanates from the One. So if you learn how to keep your vibration high and attuned to That, whatever is needed to sustain you can always occur, often in surprising and delightful ways. Your Source is never a particular person, place, or thing, but God Herself. You never have to beg. Furthermore, Divine Source says that whatever resonates with you will always find you. That which does not, will fall away. It’s that simple. When Outrageous Openness first came out, I experienced this as I took the book around—some stores were simply not drawn to it. But knowing about Divine Source and resonance, I didn’t care. I remember taking it to a spiritual bookstore in downtown San Francisco. The desultory manager sort of half-growled, “Oh, we have a long, long wait here. You can leave a copy for our ‘pile’ in the back room. Then you could call a ton and plead with us. If you get lucky, maybe one day we’ll stock it. Just keep hoping.” “Oh, my God, no!” I shuddered. “Why would I keep twisting your arm? It’ll go easily to the places that are right. You never have to convince someone. The people who are right will just know.” He looked stunned when I thanked him, smiling, and left. And sure enough, other store clerks were so excited, even from the cover alone. They nearly ripped the book out of my hands as I walked in. When I brought it to the main bookstore in San Francisco’s Castro district, I noticed the manager striding toward me was wearing a baseball cap with an image of the goddess Lakshmi. “Great sign,” I mused. He held the book for a second without even cracking it open, then showed the cover to a coworker, yelling, “Hey, let’s give this baby a coming-out party!” So a few weeks later, they did. Sake, fortune cookies, and all. Because you see, what’s meant for you will always, always find you. You never have to be bothered by the people who aren’t meant to understand. And anyway, sometimes years later, they are ready . . . and they do. Change me Divine Beloved into One who knows that You alone are my Source. Let me trust that You fling open every door at the right time. Free me from the illusion of rejection, competition, and scarcity. Fill me with confidence and faith, knowing I never have to beg, just gratefully receive. ~ Tosha Silver,
1141:EVEN BEFORE HE GOT ELECTROCUTED, Jason was having a rotten day. He woke in the backseat of a school bus, not sure where he was, holding hands with a girl he didn’t know. That wasn’t necessarily the rotten part. The girl was cute, but he couldn’t figure out who she was or what he was doing there. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, trying to think. A few dozen kids sprawled in the seats in front of him, listening to iPods, talking, or sleeping. They all looked around his age…fifteen? Sixteen? Okay, that was scary. He didn’t know his own age. The bus rumbled along a bumpy road. Out the windows, desert rolled by under a bright blue sky. Jason was pretty sure he didn’t live in the desert. He tried to think back…the last thing he remembered… The girl squeezed his hand. “Jason, you okay?” She wore faded jeans, hiking boots, and a fleece snowboarding jacket. Her chocolate brown hair was cut choppy and uneven, with thin strands braided down the sides. She wore no makeup like she was trying not to draw attention to herself, but it didn’t work. She was seriously pretty. Her eyes seemed to change color like a kaleidoscope—brown, blue, and green. Jason let go of her hand. “Um, I don’t—” In the front of the bus, a teacher shouted, “All right, cupcakes, listen up!” The guy was obviously a coach. His baseball cap was pulled low over his hair, so you could just see his beady eyes. He had a wispy goatee and a sour face, like he’d eaten something moldy. His buff arms and chest pushed against a bright orange polo shirt. His nylon workout pants and Nikes were spotless white. A whistle hung from his neck, and a megaphone was clipped to his belt. He would’ve looked pretty scary if he hadn’t been five feet zero. When he stood up in the aisle, one of the students called, “Stand up, Coach Hedge!” “I heard that!” The coach scanned the bus for the offender. Then his eyes fixed on Jason, and his scowl deepened. A jolt went down Jason’s spine. He was sure the coach knew he didn’t belong there. He was going to call Jason out, demand to know what he was doing on the bus—and Jason wouldn’t have a clue what to say. But Coach Hedge looked away and cleared his throat. “We’ll arrive in five minutes! Stay with your partner. Don’t lose your worksheet. And if any of you precious little cupcakes causes any trouble on this trip, I will personally send you back to campus the hard way. ~ Rick Riordan,
1142:The principal energy sources of our present industrial civilization are the so-called fossil fuels. We burn wood and oil, coal and natural gas, and, in the process, release waste gases, principally CO2, into the air. Consequently, the carbon dioxide content of the Earth’s atmosphere is increasing dramatically. The possibility of a runaway greenhouse effect suggests that we have to be careful: Even a one- or two-degree rise in the global temperature can have catastrophic consequences. In the burning of coal and oil and gasoline, we are also putting sulfuric acid into the atmosphere. Like Venus, our stratosphere even now has a substantial mist of tiny sulfuric acid droplets. Our major cities are polluted with noxious molecules. We do not understand the long-term effects of our course of action. But we have also been perturbing the climate in the opposite sense. For hundreds of thousands of years human beings have been burning and cutting down forests and encouraging domestic animals to graze on and destroy grasslands. Slash-and-burn agriculture, industrial tropical deforestation and overgrazing are rampant today. But forests are darker than grasslands, and grasslands are darker than deserts. As a consequence, the amount of sunlight that is absorbed by the ground has been declining, and by changes in the land use we are lowering the surface temperature of our planet. Might this cooling increase the size of the polar ice cap, which, because it is bright, will reflect still more sunlight from the Earth, further cooling the planet, driving a runaway albedo* effect? Our lovely blue planet, the Earth, is the only home we know. Venus is too hot. Mars is too cold. But the Earth is just right, a heaven for humans. After all, we evolved here. But our congenial climate may be unstable. We are perturbing our poor planet in serious and contradictory ways. Is there any danger of driving the environment of the Earth toward the planetary Hell of Venus or the global ice age of Mars? The simple answer is that nobody knows. The study of the global climate, the comparison of the Earth with other worlds, are subjects in their earliest stages of development. They are fields that are poorly and grudgingly funded. In our ignorance, we continue to push and pull, to pollute the atmosphere and brighten the land, oblivious of the fact that the long-term consequences are largely unknown. ~ Carl Sagan,
1143:Mathilde watched as down the street came a little girl in a red snowsuit with purple racing stripes. Mittens, a cap too big for her head. Disoriented, the girl turned around and around and around. She began to climb the snow mountain that blocked her from the street. But she was so weak. Halfway up, she’d slip back down. She’d try again, digging her feet deeper into the drift. Mathilde held her breath each time, let it out when the girl fell. She thought of a cockroach in a wineglass, trying to climb up the smooth sides. When Mathilde looked across the street at a long brick apartment complex taking up the whole block, ornate in its 1920s style, she saw, in scattered windows, three women watching the little girl’s struggles. Mathilde watched the women as they watched the girl. One was laughing over her bare shoulder at someone in the room, flushed with sex. One was elderly, drinking her tea. The third, sallow and pinched, had crossed her skinny arms and was pursing her lips. At last, the girl, exhausted, slid down and rested, her face against the snow. Mathilde was sure she was crying. When Mathilde looked up again, the woman with crossed arms was staring angrily through all the glass and cold and snow directly at her. Mathilde startled, sure she’d been invisible. The woman disappeared. She reappeared on the sidewalk in inside clothes, tweedy and thin. She chucked her body into the snowdrift in front of the apartment building, crossed the street, grabbed the girl by the mittens and swung her over the mountain. Carried her across the street and did it again. Both mother and daughter were powdered with white when they went inside. Long after they were gone, Mathilde thought of the woman. What she was imagining when she saw her little girl fall and fall and fall. She wondered at the kind of anger that would crumple your heart up so hard that you could watch a child struggle and fail and weep for so long, without moving to help. Mothers, Mathilde had always known, were people who abandoned you to struggle alone. It occurred to her then that life was conical in shape, the past broadening beyond the sharp point of the lived moment. The more life you had, the more the base expanded, so that the wounds and treasons that were nearly imperceptible when they happened stretched like tiny dots on a balloon slowly blown up. A speck on the slender child grows into a gross deformity in the adult, inescapable, ragged at the edges. A ~ Lauren Groff,
1144:He smiled and pulled the ugly white fichu from her neck.
She blinked and looked down at the simple, square neckline of her bodice as if she'd never seen it. Perhaps she hadn't. Perhaps she dressed in the dark like a nun. "What are you doing?"
He sighed. "I confess, I find your naïveté perplexing. How have you arrived at the advanced age of six and twenty without having anyone attempt seduction upon yourself? I'm of two minds on the matter: One, utter astonishment at my sex and their deaf disregard for your siren call. Two, glee at the thought that your innocence might signal that you are indeed innocent. Why this should excite me so, I don't know- virginity has never before been a particular whim of mine. I think perhaps it's the setting. Who knows how many virgins were deflowered here by my lusty ancestors? Or," he said as he deftly unpinned and tossed aside her apron, "maybe it's simply you."
"I don't..." Her words trailed off and then, interestingly, she blushed a deep rose. Well. That question settled, then. His little maiden was really a maiden. "What?"
"I think it's you," he confided, pulling the strings tying her hideous mobcap beneath her chin.
She made a wild grab for it, but he was faster, snatching the bloody thing off- finally, and with a great deal of satisfaction. She might've deprived him of a wife that it'd taken him half a year and a rather large sum of money to entangle, but by God, he'd taken off her awful cap.
And underneath...
"Oh, Séraphine," he breathed, enchanted, for her hair was as black as coal, as black as night, as black as his own soul, save for one white streak just over her left eye. But she'd twisted and braided and tortured the strands, binding them tight to her head, and his fingers itched to let them free.
"Don't!" she said, as if she knew what he wanted, her hands flying up to cover her hair.
He batted them aside, laughing, pulling a pin here, a pin there, dropping them carelessly to the carpet as she squealed like a little girl and backed away from him, trying frantically to ward off his fingers.
He might've taken pity on her had he not just spent an hour on a freezing moor, wondering if he was going to find her dead, neck broken, at the bottom of a hill.
Her hair came down all at once, a tumbling mass, tousled and heavy and nearly down to her waist.
"Wonderful," he murmured, taking it in both hands and lifting it. ~ Elizabeth Hoyt,
1145:Întreaga psihologie de până acum a rămas împotmolită în prejudecăţi şi temeri de ordin moral: ea nu s-a încumetat să pătrundă în adâncuri. A o concepe, precum o fac eu, în chip de morfologie şi genetică a voinţei de putere, -iată o idee care nu i-a trecut nimănui prin cap, în măsura în care ne este îngăduit să ghicim din toate cele câte s-au scris până acum şi a ceea ce a fost trecut sub tăcere. Puterea prejudecăţilor morale a impregnat profund sfera spiritualităţii pure, în aparenţă sfera cea mai rece şi mai lipsită de idei preconcepute - exercitând bineînţeles o acţiune vătămătoare, paralizantă, orbitoare, deformantă. O fizio-psihologie autentică întâmpină rezistenţe inconştiente în ini-ma cercetătorului, ea are de luptat cu „inima“: chiar şi o teorie despre interdependenta instinctelor „bune“ şi „rele“ pare un rafinament de imoralitate care provoacă suferinţa şi dezgustul unei conştiinţe încă viguroase şi îndrăzneţe -, şi, cu atât mai mult, o teorie despre derivarea tuturor instinctelor bune din cele rele. Însă, presupunând că s-ar găsi cineva care să ia afectele de ură, invidie, cupiditate, patima puterii drept afecte esenţiale ale vieţii, drept lucruri care trebuie să facă parte, în esenţă şi în principiu, din economia generală a vieţii, dacă vrem ca viaţa să fie intensificată -, acest om ar suferi din pricina unei asemenea orientări a judecăţilor sale ca de un rău de mare. şi aceasta nu este încă nici pe departe cea mai penibilă şi mai ciudată ipoteză din acest imens şi aproape nedesţelenit domeniu de cunoştinţe primejdioase: iar cel care vrea va găsi o sută de temeiuri pentru a se tine la distantă de ea - de va fi în stare! Iar dacă totuşi nava vi s-a abătut prin aceste meleaguri, ei bine, curaj! strângeţi zdravăn din dinţi! deschideţi-vă ochii! apucaţi timona cu nădejde! - vom depăşi de-a dreptul morala, cu riscul de a strivi, de a zdrobi poate restul propriei noastre moralităţi, cutezând să pornim pe acest drum - dar ce contăm noi! Niciodată navigatorilor şi aventurierilor temerari nu li s-a mai înfăţişat vreo lume de cunoştinţe, mai profundă: iar psihologului care consimte la o asemenea „jertfă“ - acesta nu este sacrifizio dell'inteletto, dimpotrivă! - i se va îngădui cel puţin să pretindă în schimb ca psihologia să fie recunoscută iarăşi ca regină a ştiinţelor, pe care celelalte ştiinţe au menirea s-o slujească şi s-o pregătească. Căci de acum îna¬inte psihologia este din nou calea ce duce spre problemele fundamentale. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
1146:The Living Picture
HE RODE along one splendid noon,
When all the hills were lit with Spring,
And through the bushland throbbed a croon
Of every living, hopeful thing.
Between his teeth a rose he bore
As white as milk, and passing there
He tossed it with a laugh. I wore
It as it fell among my hair.
No day a-drip with golden rain,
No heat with drench of wattle scent
Can touch the heart of me again
But with that young, sweet wonder blent.
We wed upon a gusty day,
When baffled fury whipped the sea;
And now I love the swift, wet play
Of wind and rain besetting me.
I took white roses in my hand,
A white rose on my forehead shone,
For we had come to understand
White roses bloomed for us alone.
When scarce a year had gone he sped
To fight the wars. With eyes grown grim
He kissed my lips, and whispering said:
“The world we must keep sweet for him!”
He wrote of war, the soldier’s life.
“’Tis hard, my dearest, but be brave.
I did not make my love my wife
To be the mother of a slave!”
My babe was born a boy. He had
His father’s eyes, his smile, his hair,
And, oh, my soul was brimming glad—
It seemed his father’s self was there!
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But now came one who bade me still
In holy Heaven put my trust.
They’d laid my love beneath the hill,
And sealed his eyes with timeless dust.
Against my breast the babe I drew,
With strength from him to stay my fears.
I fought my fight the long days through;
He laughed and dabbled in my tears.
From my poor heart, at which it fed
With tiger teeth, I thrust despair,
And faced a world with shadow spread
And only echoes in the air.
The winter waned. One eve I went,
Led by a kindly hand to see
In moving scenes the churches rent,
The tumbled hill, the blasted lee.
Of soldiers resting by the road,
Who smoked and drowsed, a muddy rout,
One sprang alert, and forward strode,
With eager eyes to seek us out.
His fingers held a rose. He threw
The flower, and waved his cap. In me
A frenzy of assurance grew,
For, O dear God, ’twas he! ’twas he!
I called aloud. Aloft my child
I held, and nearer yet he came;
And when he understood and smiled,
My baby lisped his father’s name.
They say I fell like something dead,
But when I woke to morning’s glow
My boy sat by me on the bed,
And in his hand a rose of snow!
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~ Edward George Dyson,
1147:Hic Vir, Hic Est
Often, when o'er tree and turret,
Eve a dying radiance flings,
By that ancient pile I linger
Known familiarly as 'King's.'
And the ghosts of days departed
Rise, and in my burning breast
All the undergraduate wakens,
And my spirit is at rest.
What, but a revolting fiction,
Seems the actual result
Of the Census's enquiries
Made upon the 15th ult.?
Still my soul is in its boyhood;
Nor of year or changes recks.
Though my scalp is almost hairless,
And my figure grows convex.
Backward moves the kindly dial;
And I'm numbered once again
With those noblest of their species
Called emphatically 'Men':
Loaf, as I have loafed aforetime,
Through the streets, with tranquil mind,
And a long-backed fancy-mongrel
Trailing casually behind:
Past the Senate-house I saunter,
Whistling with an easy grace;
Past the cabbage-stalks that carpet
Still the beefy market-place;
Poising evermore the eye-glass
In the light sarcastic eye,
Lest, by chance, some breezy nursemaid
Pass, without a tribute, by.
Once, an unassuming Freshman,
Through these wilds I wandered on,
Seeing in each house a College,
34
Under every cap a Don:
Each perambulating infant
Had a magic in its squall,
For my eager eye detected
Senior Wranglers in them all.
By degrees my education
Grew, and I became as others;
Learned to court delirium tremens
By the aid of Bacon Brothers;
Bought me tiny boots of Mortlock,
And colossal prints of Roe;
And ignored the proposition
That both time and money go.
Learned to work the wary dogcart
Artfully through King's Parade;
Dress, and steer a boat, and sport with
Amaryllis in the shade:
Struck, at Brown's, the dashing hazard;
Or (more curious sport than that)
Dropped, at Callaby's, the terrier
Down upon the prisoned rat.
I have stood serene on Fenner's
Ground, indifferent to blisters,
While the Buttress of the period
Bowled me his peculiar twisters:
Sung 'We won't go home till morning';
Striven to part my backhair straight;
Drunk (not lavishly) of Miller's
Old dry wines at 78:When within my veins the blood ran,
And the curls were on my brow,
I did, oh ye undergraduates,
Much as ye are doing now.
Wherefore bless ye, O beloved ones:Now unto mine inn must I,
Your 'poor moralist,' {51a} betake me,
In my 'solitary fly.'
35
~ Charles Stuart Calverley,
1148:My bedroom looked very different the morning of my eighteenth birthday. It looked lonely. I opened my eyes just as the sun started creeping through the window, and I stared at the white chest of drawers that had greeted me every morning since I could remember. Maybe it’s stupid to think that a piece of furniture had feelings, but then again, I’m the same girl who kept my tattered old baby doll dressed in a sweater and knitted cap so she wouldn’t get cold sitting on the top shelf of my closet. And this morning that chest of drawers was looking sad. All the photographs and trophies and silly knickknacks that had blanketed the top and told my life story better than any words ever could were gone, packed in brown cardboard boxes and neatly stacked in the cellar.
Even my pretty pink walls were bare. Mama picked that color after I was born, and I’ve never wanted to change it. Ruthis Morgan used to try to convince me that my walls should be painted some other color. ‘Pink’s just not your color, Catherine Grace. You know as well as I do that there’s not a speck of pink on the football field.’
There was nothing she could say that was going to change my mind of the color on my walls. If I had I would have lost another piece of my mama. And I wasn’t letting go of any piece of her, pink or not.
Daddy insisted on replacing my tired, worn curtains a while back, but I threw such a fit that he spent a good seven weeks looking for the very same fabric, little bitsy pink flowers on a white -and-pink-checkered background. He finally found a few yards in some textile mill down in South Carolina. I told him there were a few things in life that should never be allowed to change, and my curtains were one of them.
So many other things were never going to stay the same, and this morning was one of them. I’d been praying for this day for as long as I could remember, and now that it was here, all I wanted to do was crawl under my covers and pretend it was any other day. . . .
I know that this would be the last morning I would wake up in this bed as a Sunday-school-going, dishwashing, tomato-watering member of this family. I knew this would be the last morning I would wake up in the same bed where I had calculated God only knows how many algebra problems, the same bed I had hid under playing hide-and-seek with Martha Ann, and the same bed I had lain on and cried myself to sleep too many nights after Mama died. I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it through the day considering I was having such a hard time just saying good-bye to my bed. ~ Susan Gregg Gilmore,
1149:My bedroom looked very different the morning of my eighteenth birthday. It looked lonely. I opened my eyes just as the sun started creeping through the window, and I stared at the white chest of drawers that had greeted me every morning since I could remember. Maybe it’s stupid to think that a piece of furniture had feelings, but then again, I’m the same girl who kept my tattered old baby doll dressed in a sweater and knitted cap so she wouldn’t get cold sitting on the top shelf of my closet. And this morning that chest of drawers was looking sad. All the photographs and trophies and silly knickknacks that had blanketed the top and told my life story better than any words ever could were gone, packed in brown cardboard boxes and neatly stacked in the cellar.
Even my pretty pink walls were bare. Mama picked that color after I was born, and I’ve never wanted to change it. Ruthis Morgan used to try to convince me that my walls should be painted some other color. ‘Pink’s just not your color, Catherine Grace. You know as well as I do that there’s not a speck of pink on the football field.’
There was nothing she could say that was going to change my mind of the color on my walls. If I had I would have lost another piece of my mama. And I wasn’t letting go of any piece of her, pink or not.
Daddy insisted on replacing my tired, worn curtains a while back, but I threw such a fit that he spent a good seven weeks looking for the very same fabric, little bitsy pink flowers on a white -and-pink-checkered background. He finally found a few yards in some textile mill down in South Carolina. I told him there were a few things in life that should never be allowed to change, and my curtains were one of them.
So many other things were never going to stay the same, and this morning was one of them. I’d been praying for this day for as long as I could remember, and now that it was here, all I wanted to do was crawl under my covers and pretend it was any other day. . . .
I know that this would be the last morning I would wake up in this bed as a Sunday-school-going, dishwashing, tomato-watering member of this family. I knew this would be the last morning I would wake up in the same bed where I had calculated God only knows how many algebra problems, the same bed I had hid under playing hide-and-seek with Martha Ann, and the same bed I had lain on and cried myself to sleep too many nights after Mama died. I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it through the day considering I was having such a hard time just saying good-bye to my bed. ~ Susan Gregg Gilmore,
1150:Once Alex enters the room, I forget I’m even hungry and nearly drop my plate. A helpful servant scoops it up from my hands.
I see him in profile, his long lean body in stark shades of black and white: knee-high socks, dark, well-fitted pants, a jacket the color of midnight, and a snowy-white cravat as pressed and starched as ever. I’d think he looked entirely too formal, except my own dress is at least as fancy. Today, it’s appropriate.
As much as it would be great to see him in a T-shirt, jeans, and ball cap, the formal attire simply suits him.
He surveys the room as the others take notice of his presence, but before they can bombard him, his eyes sweep across to me and then stop. His lips give way to the slightest of smiles, and then he’s heading straight toward me, leaving a gaggle of disappointed faces in his wake.
“Do I look okay?” I whisper to Emily, unable to take my eyes off of him long enough to check.
She squeezes my hand. “You look…”
“Stunning,” Alex finishes as he arrives in front of me.
“Your Grace,” I say, for the first time, and curtsy.
He looks amused that I’ve addressed him so formally. “My lady.” He bows, a deeper bow than I’ve ever seen him do.
I rise and look him in the eye again. “I thought you said I wasn’t a lady.”
He smirks. “I thought you said you were.”
We smile at one another, and the room fades around me.
“Save the next dance?”
I nod.
“Wonderful. I shall find you then.”
And then he leaves me with Emily, and I finally know what a swoon is as I grab her elbow.
“I thought he might ravish you right here on the floor,” she says with a giggle.
“Emily!”
“What?”
And then I can’t help it; I burst into a fit of giggles with her, until my sides ache and I can hardly breathe. A few guests stare as they pass us--I’m betting such behavior is frowned upon--but I find that I don’t even care. It’s been so long since I’ve had a friend who made me feel like I could be myself. Ironic, since I’m Rebecca here, but it’s still invigorating and exhilarating, and all we’re doing is standing here laughing like total lunatics. It’s definitely against Victoria’s Rules for Proper Young Ladies.
But I don’t care. I am me. Whether that is someone they like or someone they despise, I am who I am, and that’s the truth.
When have I ever been this sure of myself?
“Is everything all right?” Emily stops giggling.
“Yes. I--” I pause, taking a breath. “I’m…better than all right.” I glance around at the beautiful, sparkling ballroom and then back at Emily’s smiling face. “I’m perfect. ~ Mandy Hubbard,
1151:My cold-weather gear left a lot to be desired: black maternity leggings under boot-cut maternity jeans, and a couple of Marlboro Man’s white T-shirts under an extra-large ASU sweatshirt. I was so happy to have something warm to wear that I didn’t even care that I was wearing the letters of my Pac-10 rival. Add Marlboro Man’s old lumberjack cap and mud boots that were four sizes too big and I was on my way to being a complete beauty queen. I seriously didn’t know how Marlboro Man would be able to keep his hands off of me. If I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of the feed truck, I’d shiver violently.
But really, when it came right down to it, I didn’t care. No matter what I looked like, it just didn’t feel right sending Marlboro Man into the cold, lonely world day after day. Even though I was new at marriage, I still sensed that somehow--whether because of biology or societal conditioning or religious mandate or the position of the moon--it was I who was to be the cushion between Marlboro Man and the cruel, hard world. That it was I who’d needed to dust off his shoulders every day. And though he didn’t say it, I could tell that he felt better when I was bouncing along, chubby and carrying his child, in his feed truck next to him.
Occasionally I’d hop out of the pickup and open gates. Other times he’d hop out and open them. Sometimes I’d drive while he threw hay off the back of the vehicles. Sometimes I’d get stuck and he’d say shit. Sometimes we’d just sit in silence, shivering as the vehicle doors opened and closed. Other times we’d engage in serious conversation or stop and make out in the snow.
All the while, our gestating baby rested in the warmth of my body, blissfully unaware of all the work that awaited him on this ranch where his dad had grown up. As I accompanied Marlboro Man on those long, frigid mornings of work, I wondered if our child would ever know the fun of sledding on a golf course hill…or any hill, for that matter. I’d lived on the ranch for five months and didn’t remember ever hearing about anyone sledding…or playing golf…or participating in any recreational activities at all. I was just beginning to wrap my mind around the way daily life unfolded here: wake up early, get your work done, eat, relax, and go to bed. Repeat daily. There wasn’t a calendar of events or dinner dates with friends in town or really much room for recreation--because that just meant double the work when you got back to work. It was hard for me not to wonder when any of these people ever went out and had a good time, or built a snowman.
Or slept past 5:00 A.M. ~ Ree Drummond,
1152:Over Sir John's Hill
Over Sir John's hill,
The hawk on fire hangs still;
In a hoisted cloud, at drop of dusk, he pulls to his claws
And gallows, up the rays of his eyes the small birds of the bay
And the shrill child's play
Wars
Of the sparrows and such who swansing, dusk, in wrangling hedges.
And blithely they squawk
To fiery tyburn over the wrestle of elms until
The flash the noosed hawk
Crashes, and slowly the fishing holy stalking heron
In the river Towy below bows his tilted headstone.
Flash, and the plumes crack,
And a black cap of jackDaws Sir John's just hill dons, and again the gulled birds hare
To the hawk on fire, the halter height, over Towy's fins,
In a whack of wind.
There
Where the elegiac fisherbird stabs and paddles
In the pebbly dab-filled
Shallow and sedge, and 'dilly dilly,' calls the loft hawk,
'Come and be killed,'
I open the leaves of the water at a passage
Of psalms and shadows among the pincered sandcrabs prancing
And read, in a shell
Death clear as a bouy's bell:
All praise of the hawk on fire in hawk-eyed dusk be sung,
When his viperish fuse hangs looped with flames under the brand
Wing, and blest shall
Young
Green chickens of the bay and bushes cluck, 'dilly dilly,
Come let us die.'
We grieve as the blithe birds, never again, leave shingle and elm,
The heron and I,
I young Aesop fabling to the near night by the dingle
Of eels, saint heron hymning in the shell-hung distant
129
Crystal harbour vale
Where the sea cobbles sail,
And wharves of water where the walls dance and the white cranes stilt.
It is the heron and I, under judging Sir John's elmed
Hill, tell-tale the knelled
Guilt
Of the led-astray birds whom God, for their breast of whistles,
Have Mercy on,
God in his whirlwind silence save, who marks the sparrows hail,
For their souls' song.
Now the heron grieves in the weeded verge. Through windows
Of dusk and water I see the tilting whispering
Heron, mirrored, go,
As the snapt feathers snow,
Fishing in the tear of the Towy. Only a hoot owl
Hollows, a grassblade blown in cupped hands, in the looted elms
And no green cocks or hens
Shout
Now on Sir John's hill. The heron, ankling the scaly
Lowlands of the waves,
Makes all the music; and I who hear the tune of the slow,
Wear-willow river, grave,
Before the lunge of the night, the notes on this time-shaken
Stone for the sake of the souls of the slain birds sailing.
~ Dylan Thomas,
1153:O OUR most holy FATHER, Our Creator, Redeemer, Consoler, and Savior WHO ARE IN HEAVEN: In the angels and in the saints, Enlightening them to love, because You, Lord, are light Inflaming them to love, because You, Lord, are love Dwelling in them and filling them with happiness, because You, Lord, are the Supreme Good, the Eternal Good from Whom comes all good without Whom there is no good. HALLOWED BE YOUR NAME: May our knowledge of You become ever clearer That we may know the breadth of Your blessings the length of Your promises the height of Your majesty the depths of Your judgments YOUR KINGDOM COME: So that You may rule in us through Your grace and enable us to come to Your kingdom where there is an unclouded vision of You a perfect love of You a blessed companionship with You an eternal enjoyment of You YOUR WILL BE DONE ON EARTH AS IT IS IN HEAVEN: That we may love you with our whole heart by always thinking of You with our whole soul by always desiring You with our whole mind by directing all our intentions to You and by seeking Your glory in everything and with our whole strength by spending all our energies and affections of soul and body in the service of Your love and of nothing else and may we love our neighbors as ourselves by drawing them all with our whole strength to Your love by rejoicing in the good fortunes of others as well as our own and by sympathizing with the misfortunes of others and by giving offense to no one GIVE US THIS DAY: in memory and understanding and reverence of the love which our Lord Jesus Christ had for us and of those things which He said and did and suffered for us OUR DAILY BREAD Your own Beloved Son, our Lord Jesus Christ AND FORGIVE US OUR TRESPASSES: Through Your ineffable mercy through the power of the Passion of Your Beloved Son together with the merits and intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary and all Your chosen ones AS WE FORGIVE THOSE WHO TRESPASS AGAINST US: And whatever we do not forgive perfectly, do you, Lord, enable us to forgive to the full so that we may truly love our enemies and fervently intercede for them before You returning no one evil for evil and striving to help everyone in You AND LEAD US NOT INTO TEMPTATION Hidden or obvious Sudden or persistent BUT DELIVER US FROM EVIL Past, present and to come. Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit As it was in the beginning, is now, and will be forever. Amen. [1495.jpg] -- from Francis and Clare: The Complete Works: The Classics of Western Spirituality, Translated by Regis J. Armstrong, OFM CAP / Translated by Ignatius C. Brady, OFM

~ Saint Francis of Assisi, Prayer Inspired by the Our Father
,
1154:Wild Peaches
When the world turns completely upside down
You say we'll emigrate to the Eastern Shore
Aboard a river-boat from Baltimore;
We'll live among wild peach trees, miles from town,
You'll wear a coonskin cap, and I a gown
Homespun, dyed butternut's dark gold colour.
Lost, like your lotus-eating ancestor,
We'll swim in milk and honey till we drown.
The winter will be short, the summer long,
The autumn amber-hued, sunny and hot,
Tasting of cider and of scuppernong;
All seasons sweet, but autumn best of all.
The squirrels in their silver fur will fall
Like falling leaves, like fruit, before your shot.
The autumn frosts will lie upon the grass
Like bloom on grapes of purple-brown and gold.
The misted early mornings will be cold;
The little puddles will be roofed with glass.
The sun, which burns from copper into brass,
Melts these at noon, and makes the boys unfold
Their knitted mufflers; full as they can hold
Fat pockets dribble chestnuts as they pass.
Peaches grow wild, and pigs can live in clover;
A barrel of salted herrings lasts a year;
The spring begins before the winter's over.
By February you may find the skins
Of garter snakes and water moccasins
Dwindled and harsh, dead-white and cloudy-clear.
When April pours the colours of a shell
62
Upon the hills, when every little creek
Is shot with silver from the Chesapeake
In shoals new-minted by the ocean swell,
When strawberries go begging, and the sleek
Blue plums lie open to the blackbird's beak,
We shall live well -- we shall live very well.
The months between the cherries and the peaches
Are brimming cornucopias which spill
Fruits red and purple, sombre-bloomed and black;
Then, down rich fields and frosty river beaches
We'll trample bright persimmons, while you kill
Bronze partridge, speckled quail, and canvasback.
Down to the Puritan marrow of my bones
There's something in this richness that I hate.
I love the look, austere, immaculate,
Of landscapes drawn in pearly monotones.
There's something in my very blood that owns
Bare hills, cold silver on a sky of slate,
A thread of water, churned to milky spate
Streaming through slanted pastures fenced with stones.
I love those skies, thin blue or snowy gray,
Those fields sparse-planted, rendering meagre sheaves;
That spring, briefer than apple-blossom's breath,
Summer, so much too beautiful to stay,
Swift autumn, like a bonfire of leaves,
And sleepy winter, like the sleep of death.
~ Elinor Morton Wylie,
1155:Wild Peaches"

When the world turns completely upside down
You say we’ll emigrate to the Eastern Shore
Aboard a river-boat from Baltimore;
We’ll live among wild peach trees, miles from town,
You’ll wear a coonskin cap, and I a gown
Homespun, dyed butternut’s dark gold color.
Lost, like your lotus-eating ancestor,
We’ll swim in milk and honey till we drown.

The winter will be short, the summer long,
The autumn amber-hued, sunny and hot,
Tasting of cider and of scuppernong;
All seasons sweet, but autumn best of all.
The squirrels in their silver fur will fall
Like falling leaves, like fruit, before your shot.


2

The autumn frosts will lie upon the grass
Like bloom on grapes of purple-brown and gold.
The misted early mornings will be cold;
The little puddles will be roofed with glass.
The sun, which burns from copper into brass,
Melts these at noon, and makes the boys unfold
Their knitted mufflers; full as they can hold
Fat pockets dribble chestnuts as they pass.

Peaches grow wild, and pigs can live in clover;
A barrel of salted herrings lasts a year;
The spring begins before the winter’s over.
By February you may find the skins
Of garter snakes and water moccasins
Dwindled and harsh, dead-white and cloudy-clear.


3

When April pours the colors of a shell
Upon the hills, when every little creek
Is shot with silver from the Chesapeake
In shoals new-minted by the ocean swell,
When strawberries go begging, and the sleek
Blue plums lie open to the blackbird’s beak,
We shall live well — we shall live very well.

The months between the cherries and the peaches
Are brimming cornucopias which spill
Fruits red and purple, sombre-bloomed and black;
Then, down rich fields and frosty river beaches
We’ll trample bright persimmons, while you kill
Bronze partridge, speckled quail, and canvasback.


4

Down to the Puritan marrow of my bones
There’s something in this richness that I hate.
I love the look, austere, immaculate,
Of landscapes drawn in pearly monotones.
There’s something in my very blood that owns
Bare hills, cold silver on a sky of slate,
A thread of water, churned to milky spate
Streaming through slanted pastures fenced with stones.

I love those skies, thin blue or snowy gray,
Those fields sparse-planted, rendering meagre sheaves;
That spring, briefer than apple-blossom’s breath,
Summer, so much too beautiful to stay,
Swift autumn, like a bonfire of leaves,
And sleepy winter, like the sleep of death. ~ Elinor Wylie,
1156:To The Fool-Killer
Ah, welcome, welcome! Sit you down, old friend;
Your pipe I'll serve, your bottle I'll attend.
'Tis many a year since you and I have known
Society more pleasant than our own
In our brief respites from excessive work
I pointing out the hearts for you to dirk.
What have you done since lately at this board
We canvassed the deserts of all the horde
And chose what names would please the people best,
Engraved on coffin-plates-what bounding breast
Would give more satisfaction if at rest?
But never mind-the record cannot fail:
The loftiest monuments will tell the tale.
I trust ere next we meet you'll slay the chap
Who calls old Tyler 'Judge' and Merry 'Cap'
Calls John P. Irish 'Colonel' and John P.,
Whose surname Jack-son speaks his pedigree,
By the same title-men of equal rank
Though one is belly all, and one all shank,
Showing their several service in the fray:
One fought for food and one to get away.
I hope, I say, you'll kill the 'title' man
Who saddles one on every back he can,
Then rides it from Beersheba to Dan!
Another fool, I trust, you will perform
Your office on while my resentment's warm:
He shakes my hand a dozen times a day
If, luckless, I so often cross his way,
Though I've three senses besides that of touch,
To make me conscious of a fool too much.
Seek him, friend Killer, and your purpose make
Apparent as his guilty hand you take,
And set him trembling with a solemn: 'Shake!'
But chief of all the addle-witted crew
Conceded by the Hangman's League to you,
The fool (his dam's acquainted with a knave)
Whose fluent pen, of his no-brain the slave,
634
Strews notes of introduction o'er the land
And calls it hospitality-his hand
May palsy seize ere he again consign
To me his friend, as I to Hades mine!
Pity the wretch, his faults howe'er you see,
Whom A accredits to his victim, B.
Like shuttlecock which battledores attack
(One speeds it forward, one would drive it back)
The trustful simpleton is twice unblestA rare good riddance, an unwelcome guest.
The glad consignor rubs his hands to think
How duty is commuted into ink;
The consignee (his hands he cannot rub
He has the man upon them) mutters: 'Cub!'
And straightway plans to lose him at the Club.
You know, good Killer, where this dunce abides
The secret jungle where he writes and hides
Though no exploring foot has e'er upstirred
His human elephant's exhaustless herd.
Go, bring his blood! We'll drink it-letting fall
A due libation to the gods of Gall.
On second thought, the gods may have it all.
~ Ambrose Bierce,
1157:The Feast Of Stephen
The coltish horseplay of the locker room,
Moist with the steam of the tiled shower stalls,
With shameless blends of civet, musk and sweat,
Loud with the cap-gun snapping of wet towels
Under the steel-ribbed cages of bare bulbs,
In some such setting of thick basement pipes
And janitorial realities
Boys for the first time frankly eye each other,
Inspect each others’ bodies at close range,
And what they see is not so much another
As a strange, possible version of themselves,
And all the sparring dance, adrenal life,
Tense, jubilant nimbleness, is but a vague,
Busy, unfocused ballet of self-love.
II
If the heart has its reasons, perhaps the body
Has its own lumbering sort of carnal spirit,
Felt in the tingling bruises of collision,
And known to captains as esprit de corps.
What is this brisk fraternity of timing,
Pivot and lobbing arc, or indirection,
Mens sana in men’s sauna, in the flush
Of health and toilets, private and corporal glee,
These fleet caroms, plies and genuflections
Before the salmon-leap, the leaping fountain
All sheathed in glistening light, flexed and alert?
From the vast echo-chamber of the gym,
Among the stumbled shouts and shrill of whistles,
The bounced basketball sound of a leather whip.
III
42
Think of those barren places where men gather
To act in the terrible name of rectitude,
Of acned shame, punk’s pride, muscle or turf,
The bully’s thin superiority.
Think of the Sturm-Abteilungs Kommandant
Who loves Beethoven and collects Degas,
Or the blond boys in jeans whose narrowed eyes
Are focussed by some hard and smothered lust,
Who lounge in a studied mimicry of ease,
Flick their live butts into the standing weeds,
And comb their hair in the mirror of cracked windows
Of an abandoned warehouse where they keep
In darkened readiness for their occasion
The rope, the chains, handcuffs and gasoline.
IV
Out in the rippled heat of a neighbor’s field,
In the kilowatts of noon, they’ve got one cornered.
The bugs are jumping, and the burly youths
Strip to the waist for the hot work ahead.
They go to arm themselves at the dry-stone wall,
Having flung down their wet and salty garments
At the feet of a young man whose name is Saul.
He watches sharply these superbly tanned
Figures with a swimmer’s chest and shoulders,
A miler’s thighs, with their self-conscious grace,
And in between their sleek, converging bodies,
Brilliantly oiled and burnished by the sun,
He catches a brief glimpse of bloodied hair
And hears an unintelligible prayer.
~ Anthony Evan Hecht,
1158:Here’s a Reader’s Digest version of my approach. I select mutual funds that have had a good track record of winning for more than five years, preferably for more than ten years. I don’t look at their one-year or three-year track records because I think long term. I spread my retirement, investing evenly across four types of funds. Growth and Income funds get 25 percent of my investment. (They are sometimes called Large Cap or Blue Chip funds.) Growth funds get 25 percent of my investment. (They are sometimes called Mid Cap or Equity funds; an S&P Index fund would also qualify.) International funds get 25 percent of my investment. (They are sometimes called Foreign or Overseas funds.) Aggressive Growth funds get the last 25 percent of my investment. (They are sometimes called Small Cap or Emerging Market funds.) For a full discussion of what mutual funds are and why I use this mix, go to daveramsey.com and visit MyTotalMoneyMakeover.com. The invested 15 percent of your income should take advantage of all the matching and tax advantages available to you. Again, our purpose here is not to teach the detailed differences in every retirement plan out there (see my other materials for that), but let me give you some guidelines on where to invest first. Always start where you have a match. When your company will give you free money, take it. If your 401(k) matches the first 3 percent, the 3 percent you put in will be the first 3 percent of your 15 percent invested. If you don’t have a match, or after you have invested through the match, you should next fund Roth IRAs. The Roth IRA will allow you to invest up to $5,000 per year, per person. There are some limitations as to income and situation, but most people can invest in a Roth IRA. The Roth grows tax-FREE. If you invest $3,000 per year from age thirty-five to age sixty-five, and your mutual funds average 12 percent, you will have $873,000 tax-FREE at age sixty-five. You have invested only $90,000 (30 years x 3,000); the rest is growth, and you pay no taxes. The Roth IRA is a very important tool in virtually anyone’s Total Money Makeover. Start with any match you can get, and then fully fund Roth IRAs. Be sure the total you are putting in is 15 percent of your total household gross income. If not, go back to 401(k)s, 403(b)s, 457s, or SEPPs (for the self-employed), and invest enough so that the total invested is 15 percent of your gross annual pay. Example: Household Income $81,000 Husband $45,000 Wife $36,000 Husband’s 401(k) matches first 3%. 3% of 45,000 ($1,350) goes into the 401(k). Two Roth IRAs are next, totaling $10,000. The goal is 15% of 81,000, which is $12,150. You have $11,350 going in. So you bump the husband’s 401(k) to 5%, making the total invested $12,250. ~ Dave Ramsey,
1159:With means, if more than a little diminished means, of his own Ethan had done what his father before him, likewise a lawyer, had done, and had once in days past counselled him to do before it was too late, before this might spell an irrevocable retirement. He made a Retreat. (To be sure he had not been bidden so far afield as had his father, who’d spent the last year of peace before the First World War as a legal adviser on international cotton law in Czarist Russia, whence he brought back to his young son in Wales, or so he announced, lifting it whole out of a mysterious deep-Christmas-smelling wooden box, a beautiful toy model of Moscow; a city of tiny magical gold domes, pumpkin- or Christmas-bell-shaped, sparkling with Christmas tinsel-scented snow, bright as new silver half-crowns, and of minuscule Byzantine chimes; and at whose miniature frozen street corners waited minute sleighs, in which Ethan had imagined years later lilliputian Tchitchikovs brooding, or corners where lurked snow-bound Raskolnikovs, their hands stayed from murder evermore: much later still he was to become unsure whether the city, sprouting with snow-freaked onions after all, was intended to be Moscow or St. Petersburg, for part of it seemed in memory built on little piles in the water, like Eridanus; the city coming out of the box he was certain was magic too—for he had never seen it again after that evening of his father’s return, in a strange astrakhan-collared coat and Russian fur cap—the box that was always to be associated also with his mother’s death, which had occurred shortly thereafter; the magic bulbar city going back into the magic scented box forever, and himself too afraid of his father to ask him about it later—though how beautiful for years to him was the word city, the carilloning word city in the Christmas hymn, Once in Royal David’s City, and the tumultuous angel-winged city that was Bunyan’s celestial city; beautiful, that was, until he saw a city—it was London—for the first time, sullen, in fog, and bloodshot as if with the fires of hell, and he had never to this day seen Moscow—so that while this remained in his memory as nearly the only kind action he could recall on the part of either of his parents, if not nearly the only happy memory of his entire childhood, he was constrained to believe the gift had actually been intended for someone else, probably for the son of one of his father’s clients: no, to be sure he hadn’t wandered as far afield as Moscow; nor had he, like his younger brother Gwyn, wanting to go to Newfoundland, set out, because he couldn’t find another ship, recklessly for Archangel; he had not gone into the desert nor to sea himself again or entered a monastery, and moreover he’d taken his wife with him; but retreat it was just the same.) ~ Malcolm Lowry,
1160:I would rather face the devil himself than that man,” Elizabeth said with a repressed shudder.
“I daresay,” Lucinda agreed, clutching her umbrella with one hand and the side of the cart with her other.
The nearer the time came, the more angry and confused Elizabeth became about this meeting. For the first four days of their journey, her tension had been greatly allayed by the scenic grandeur of Scotland with its rolling hills and deep valleys carpeted in bluebells and hawthorne. Now, however, as the hour of confronting him drew near, not even the sight of the mountains decked out in spring flowers or the bright blue lakes below could calm her mounting tension. “Furthermore, I cannot believe he has the slightest desire to see me.”
“We shall soon find out.”
In the hills above the high, winding track that passed for a road, a shepherd paused to gape at an old wooden wagon making its laborious way along the road below. “Lookee there, Will,” he told his brother. “Do you see what I see?”
The brother looked down and gaped, his lips parting in a toothless grin of glee at the comical sight of two ladies-bonnets, gloves, and all-who were perched primly and precariously on the back of Sean MacLaesh’s haywagon, their backs ramrod-stiff, their feet sticking straight out beyond the wagon.
“Don’t that beat all,” Will laughed, and high above the haywagon he swept off his cap in a mocking salute to the ladies. “I heered in the village Ian Thornton was acomin’ home. I’ll wager ‘e’s arrived, and them two are his fancy pieces, come to warm ‘is bed an’ see to ‘is needs.”
Blessedly unaware of the conjecture taking place between the two spectators up in the hills, Miss Throckmorton-Jones brushed angrily and ineffectually at the coating of dust clinging to her black skirts. “I have never in all my life been subjected to such treatment!” she hissed furiously as the wagon they were riding in gave another violet, creaking lurch and her shoulder banged into Elizabeth’s. “You may depend on this-I shall give Mr. Ian Thornton a piece of my mind for inviting two gentlewomen to this godforsaken wilderness, and never even mentioning that a traveling baroche is too wide for the roads!”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to say something soothing, but just then the wagon gave another teeth-jarring lurch, and she clutched at the wooden side. “From what little I know of him, Lucy,” she managed finally when the wagon righted, “he wouldn’t care in the least what we’ve been through. He’s rude and inconsiderate-and those are his good points-“
Whoa there, whoa,” the farmer called out, sawing back on the swayback nags reins and bringing the wagon to a groaning stop. “That’s the Thornton place up there atop yon hill,” the farmer said, pointing. ~ Judith McNaught,
1161:Key to the Pronunciations This dictionary uses a simple respelling system to show how entries are pronounced, using the symbols listed below. Generally, only the first of two or more identical headwords will have a pronunciation respelling. Where a derivative simply adds a common suffix such as -less, -ness, or -ly to the headword, the derivative may not have a pronunciation respelling unless some other element of the pronunciation also changes. as in hat //, fashion // as in day //, rate // as in lot //, father //, barn // as in big // as in church //, picture // as in dog //, bed // as in men //, bet //, ferry // as in feet //, receive // as in air //, care // as in soda //, mother /, her // as in free //, graph //, tough // as in get //, exist // as in her //, behave // as in fit //, women // as in time /t/, hire //, sky // as in ear //, pierce // as in judge //, carriage // as in kettle //, cut //, quick // as in lap //, cellar //, cradle // as in main //, dam // as in need //, honor //, maiden // as in sing //, anger // as in go //, promote // as in law //, thought //, lore // as in boy //, noisy // as in wood //, sure // as in food //, music // as in mouse //, coward // as in put //, cap // as in run //, fur //, spirit // as in sit //, lesson //, face // as in shut //, social // as in top //, seat //, forty // as in thin //, truth // as in then //, father // as in very //, never // as in wait //, quit // as in when //, which // as in yet //, accuse // as in zipper //, musician // as in measure //, vision // Foreign Sounds as in Bach // as in en route //, Rodin / / as in hors d’oeuvre //, Goethe // as in Lully //, Utrecht // Stress Marks Stress (or accent) is represented by marks placed before the affected syllable. The primary stress mark is a short, raised vertical line // which signifies that the heaviest emphasis should be placed on the syllable that follows. The secondary stress mark is a short, lowered vertical line // which signifies a somewhat weaker emphasis than on the syllable with primary stress. Variant Pronunciations There are several ways in which variant pronunciations are indicated in the respellings. Some respellings show a pronunciation symbol within parentheses to indicate a possible variation in pronunciation; for example, in sandwich //. Variant pronunciations may be respelled in full, separated by semicolons. The more common pronunciation is listed first, if this can be determined, but many variants are so common and widespread as to be ofequal status. Variant pronunciations may be indicated by respelling only the part of the word that changes. A hyphen will replace the part of the pronunciation that has remained the same. Note: A hyphen sometimes serves to separate syllables where the respelling might otherwise look confusing, as at reinforce //. ~ Oxford University Press,
1162:Gray froze as Miss Turner emerged from the hold. For weeks, she’d plagued him-by day, he suffered glimpses of her beauty; by night, he was haunted by memories of her touch. And just when he thought he’d finally wrangled his desire into submission, today she’d ruined everything.
She’d gone and changed her dress.
Gone was that serge shroud, that forbidding thundercloud of a garment that had loomed in his peripheral vision for weeks. Today, she wore a cap-sleeved frock of sprigged muslin.
She stepped onto the deck, smiling face tilted to the wind. A flower opening to greet the sun. She bobbed on her toes, as though resisting the urge to make a girlish twirl. The pale, sheer fabric of her dress billowed and swelled in the breeze, pulling the undulating contour of calf, thigh, hip into relief.
Gray thought she just might be the loveliest creature he’d ever seen.
Therefore, he knew he ought to look away.
He did, for a moment. He made an honest attempt to scan the horizon for clouds. He checked the hour on his pocket watch, wound the small knob one, two, three, four times. He wiped a bit of salt spray from its glass face. He thought of England. And France, and Cuba, and Spain. He remembered his brother, his sister, and his singularly ugly Aunt Rosamond, on whom he hadn’t clapped eyes in decades. And all this Herculean effort resulting in nothing but a fine sheen of sweat on his brow and precisely thirty seconds’ delay in the inevitable.
He looked at her again.
Desire swept through his body with starling intensity. And beneath that hot surge of lust, a deeper emotion swelled. It wasn’t something Gray wished to examine. He preferred to let it sink back into the murky depths of his being. An unnamed creature of the deep, let for a more intrepid adventurer to catalog.
Instead, he examined Miss Turner’s new frock. The fabric was of fine quality, the sprig pattern evenly stamped, without variations in shape or hue. The dressmaker had taken great pains to match the pattern at the seams. The sleeves of the frock fit perfectly square with her shoulders, in a moment of calm, the skirt’s single flounce lapped the laces of her boots. Unlike that gray serge abomination, this dress was expensive, and it had been fashioned for her alone.
But it no longer fit. As she turned, Gray noted how the neckline gaped slightly, and the column of her skirt that ought to have skimmed the swell of her hip instead caught on nothing but air.
He frowned. And in that instant, she turned to face him. Their gazes caught and held. Her own smile faded to a quizzical expression. And because Gray didn’t know how to answer the unspoken question in her eyes, and because he hated the fact that he’d banished the giddy delight from her face, he gave her a curt nod and a churlish, “Good morning.”
And then he walked away. ~ Tessa Dare,
1163:In constraint-induced movement therapy, stroke patients wear a sling on their good arm for approximately 90 percent of waking hours for fourteen straight days. On ten of those days, they receive six hours of therapy, using their seemingly useless arm: they eat lunch, throw a ball, play dominoes or cards or Chinese checkers, write, push a broom, and use standard rehab equipment called dexterity boards. “It is fairly contrary to what is typically done with stroke patients,” says Taub, “which is to do some rehabilitation with the affected arm and then, after three or four months, train the unaffected arm to do the work of both arms.” Instead, for an intense six hours daily, the patient works closely with therapists to master basic but crucial movements with the affected arm. Sitting across a pegboard from the rehab specialist, for instance, the patient grasps a peg and labors to put it into a hole. It is excruciating to watch, the patient struggling with an arm that seems deaf to the brain’s commands to extend far enough to pick up the peg; to hold it tightly enough to keep it from falling back; to retract toward the target hole; and to aim precisely enough to get the peg in. The therapist offers encouragement at every step, tailoring the task to make it more attainable if a patient is failing, then more challenging once the patient makes progress. The reward for inserting a peg is, of course, doing it again—and again and again. If the patient cannot perform a movement at first, the therapist literally takes him by the hand, guiding the arm to the peg, to the hole—and always offering verbal kudos and encouragement for the slightest achievement. Taub explicitly told the patients, all of whose strokes were a year or more in the past, that they had the capacity for much greater use of their arm than they thought. He moved it for them and told them over and over that they would soon do the same. In just two weeks of constraint-induced movement therapy with training of the affected arm, Taub reported in 1993, patients regained significant use of a limb they thought would forever hang uselessly at their side. The patients outperformed control patients on such motor tasks as donning a sweater, unscrewing a jar cap, and picking up a bean on a spoon and lifting it to the mouth. The number of daily-living activities they could carry out one month after the start of therapy soared 97 percent. That was encouraging enough. Even more tantalizing was that these were patients who had long passed the period when the conventional rehab wisdom held that maximal recovery takes place. That, in fact, was why Taub chose to work with chronic stroke patients in the first place. According to the textbooks, whatever function a patient has regained one year after stroke is all he ever will: his range of motion will not improve for the rest of his life. ~ Jeffrey M Schwartz,
1164:So,” Will begins, “do you play ball as well as you run?”
I laugh a little. I can’t help it. He’s sweet and disarming and my nerves are racing. “Not even close.”
The conversation goes no further as we move up in our lines. Catherine looks over her shoulder at me, her wide sea eyes assessing. Like she can’t quite figure me out. My smile fades and I look away. She can never figure me out. I can never let her. Never let anyone here.
She faces me with her arms crossed. “You make friends fast. Since freshman year, I’ve spoken to like . . .” She paused and looks upward as though mentally counting. “Three, no—four people. And you’re number four.”
I shrug. “He’s just a guy.”
Catherine squares up at the free-throw line, dribbles a few times, and shoots. The ball swished cleanly through the net. She catches it and tosses it back to me.
I try copying her moves, but my ball flies low, glides beneath the backboard. I head to the end of the line again.
Will’s already waiting it half-court, letting others go before him. My face warms at his obvious stall.
“You weren’t kidding,” he teases over the thunder of basketballs.
“Did you make it?” I ask, wishing I had looked while he shot.
“Yeah.”
“Of course,” I mock.
He lets another kid go before him. I do the same. Catherine is several ahead of me now.
His gaze scans me, sweeping over my face and hair with deep intensity, like he’s memorizing my features. “Yeah, well. I can’t run like you.”
I move up in line, but when I sneak a look behind me, he’s looking back, too.
“Wow,” Catherine murmurs in her smoky low voice as she falls into line beside me. “I never knew it happened like that.”
I snap my gaze to her. “What?”
“You know. Romeo and Juliet stuff. Love at first sight and all that.”
“It’s not like that,” I say quickly.
“You could have fooled me.” We’re up again. Catherine takes her shot. It swishes cleanly through the hoop.
When I shoot, the ball bounces hard off the backboard and flies wildly through the air, knocking the coach in the head. I slap a hand over my mouth. The coach barely catches herself from falling. Several students laugh. She glares at me and readjusts her cap.
With a small wave of apology, I head back to the end of the line.
Will’s there, fighting laughter. “Nice,” he says. “Glad I’m downcourt of you.”
I cross my arms and resist smiling, resist letting myself feel good around him. But he makes it hard. I want to smile. I want to like him, to be around him, to know him. “Happy to amuse you.”
His smile slips then, and he’s looking at me with that strange intensity again. Only I understand. I know why. He must remember . . . must recognize me on some level even though he can’t understand it.
“You want to go out?” he asks suddenly.
I blink. “As in a date?”
“Yes. That’s what a guy usually means when he asks that question. ~ Sophie Jordan,
1165:Miss Mapp moved towards the screen.

"What a delicious big screen," she said.

"Yes, but don't go behind it, Mapp," said Irene, "or you'll see my model undressing."

Miss Mapp retreated from it precipitately, as from a wasp's nest, and examined some of the studies on the wall, for it was more than probable from the unfinished picture on the easel that Adam lurked behind the delicious screen. Terrible though it all was, she was conscious of an unbridled curiosity to know who Adam was. It was dreadful to think that there could be any man in Tilling so depraved as to stand to be looked at with so little on...

Irene strolled round the walls with her.

"Studies of Lucy," she said.

"I see, dear," said Miss Mapp. "How clever! Legs and things! But when you have your bridge-party, won't you perhaps cover some of them up, or turn them to the wall? We should all be looking at your pictures instead of attending to our cards. And if you were thinking of asking the Padre, you know..."

They were approaching the corner of the room where the screen stood, when a movement there as if Adam had hit it with his elbow made Miss Mapp turn round. The screen fell flat on the ground and within a yard of her stood Mr. Hopkins, the proprietor of the fish-shop just up the street. Often and often had Miss Mapp had pleasant little conversations with him, with a view to bringing down the price of flounders. He had little bathing-drawers on...

"Hullo, Hopkins, are you ready," said Irene. "You know Miss Mapp, don't you?"

Miss Mapp had not imagined that Time and Eternity combined could hold so embarrassing a moment. She did not know where to look, but wherever she looked, it should not be at Hopkins. But (wherever she looked) she could not be unaware that Hopkins raised his large bare arm and touched the place where his cap would have been, if he had had one.

"Good morning, Hopkins," she said. "Well, Irene darling, I must be trotting, and leave you to your--" she hardly knew what to call it--"to your work."

She tripped from the room, which seemed to be entirely full of unclothed limbs, and redder than one of Mr. Hopkins's boiled lobsters hurried down the street. She felt that she could never face him again, but would be obliged to go to the establishment in the High Street where Irene dealt, when it was fish she wanted from a fish-shop... Her head was in a whirl at the brazenness of mankind, especially womankind. How had Irene started the overtures that led to this? Had she just said to Hopkins one morning: "Will you come to my studio and take off all your clothes?" If Irene had not been such a wonderful mimic, she would certainly have felt it her duty to go straight to the Padre, and, pulling down her veil, confide to him the whole sad story. But as that was out of the question, she went into Twemlow's and ordered four pounds of dried apricots. ~ E F Benson,
1166:The Heathen Pass-Ee
Which I wish to remark,
And my language is plain,
That for plots that are dark
And not always in vain,
The heathen Pass-ee is peculiar,
And the same I would rise to explain.
I would also premise
That the term of Pass-ee
Most fitly applies,
As you probably see,
To one whose vocation is passing
The ‘ordinary B.A. degree’.
Tom crib was his name,
And I shall not deny
In regard to the same
What that name might imply,
But his face it was trustful and childlike,
And he had the most innocent eye.
Upon April the First,
The Little-Go fell,
And that was the worst
Of the gentleman’s sell,
For he fooled the examining Body
In a way I’m reluctant to tell.
The candidate came
And Tom Crib soon appeared;
It was Euclid,, The same
Was ‘the subject he feared’,
But he smiled as he sat by the table
With a smile that was wary and weird.
Yet he did what he could,
And the papers he showed
Were remarkably good,
And his countenance glowed
10
With pride when I met him soon after
As he walked down the Trumpington Road.
We did not find him out,
Which I bitterly grieve,
For I’ve not the least doubt
That he’d placed up his sleeve
Mr. Toodhunter’s excellent Euclid,
The same with intent to deceive
But I shall not forget
How the next day at two
As stiff paper was sett
By Examiner U……..
On Euripides’ tragedy, Bacchae.
A subject Tom ‘partially knew’.
But the knowledge displayed
By that heathen Pass-ee.
And the answers he made
Were quite frightful to see,
For he rapidly floored the whole paper
By about twenty minutes to three.
Then I looked up at U…..
And he gazed upon me.
I oberserved ‘This won’t do.’
He replies, ‘Goodness me!
We are fooled by this artful young person’,
And he sent for that heathen Pass-ee.
The scene that ensued
Was disgraceful to view,
For the floor it was strewed
With a tolerable few
Of the ‘tips’ that Tom Crib had been hiding
For the ‘subject he partially knew’
On the cuff of his shirt
He had managed to get
What we hoped had been dirt,
11
But which proved, I regret,
To be notes on the rise of the Drama,
A question invariably set.
In his various coats
We proceeded to seek,
Where we found sundry notes
And-with sorrow I speak—
One of Bohn’s publications, so useful
To the student of Latin or Greek.
In the crown of his cap
Were the Furies and Fates,
And a delicate map
Of the Dorian States
And we found in his palms which were hollow,
What are frequent in palms,-that is dates.
Which is why I remark,
And my language is plain,
That for plots that are dark
And not always in vain,
The heathen Pass-ee is peculiar,
Which the same I am free to maintain.
~ Arthur Clement Hilton,
1167:Account Of A Visit From St. Nicholas
'Twas the night before Christmas,when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads;
And Mama in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter's nap;
When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow,
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering sight should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny rein-deer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;
"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on, Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof-As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.
He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he look'd like a pedlar just opening his pack.
His eyes--how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;
The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlfull of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And fill'd all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."
~ Clement Clarke Moore,
1168:Kristin comes down the stairs, and the pressure on my chest snaps. I take a moment to turn away, inhaling deeply, blinking away tears. She sets the plate on a table behind the couch, and half tiptoes back up the stairs.

Thank god. I don’t think I could have handled maternal attention right this second. My body feels like it’s on a hair trigger.

I need to get it together. This is why people avoid me. Someone asks if I want a drink and I have a panic attack.

“You’re okay.” Declan is beside me, and his voice is low and soft, the way it was in the foyer. He’s so hard all the time, and that softness takes me by surprise. I blink up at him.

“You’re okay,” he says again.

I like that, how he’s so sure. Not Are you okay? No question about it.

You’re okay.

He lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “But if you’re going to lose it, this is a pretty safe place to fall apart.” He takes two cookies from the plate, then holds one out to me. “Here. Eat your feelings.”

I’m about to turn him down, but then I look at the cookie. I was expecting something basic, like sugar or chocolate chip. This looks like a miniature pie, and sugar glistens across the top. “What . . . is that?”

“Pecan pie cookies,” says Rev. He’s taken about five of them, and I think he might have shoved two in his mouth at once. “I could live on them for days.”

I take the one Declan offered and nibble a bit from the side. It is awesome.

I peer up at him sideways. “How did you know?”

He hesitates, but he doesn’t ask me what I mean. “I know the signs.”

“I’m going to get some sodas,” Rev says slowly, deliberately. “I’m going to bring you one. Blink once if that’s okay.”

I smile, but it feels watery around the edges. He’s teasing me, but it’s gentle teasing. Friendly. I blink once.

This is okay. I’m okay. Declan was right.

“Take it out on the punching bag,” calls Rev. “That’s what I do.”

My eyes go wide. “Really?”

“Do whatever you want,” says Declan. “As soon as we do anything meaningful, the baby will wake up.”

Rev returns with three sodas. “We’re doing something meaningful right now.”

“We are?” I say.

He meets my eyes. “Every moment is meaningful.”

The words could be cheesy—should be cheesy, in fact—but he says them with enough weight that I know he means them. I think of The Dark and all our talk of paths and loss and guilt.

Declan sighs and pops the cap on his soda. “This is where Rev starts to freak people out.”

“No,” I say, feeling like this afternoon could not be more surreal. Something about Rev’s statement steals some of my earlier guilt, to think that being here could carry as much weight as paying respects to my mother. I wish I knew how to tell whether this is a path I’m supposed to be on. “No, I like it. Can I really punch the bag?”

Rev shrugs and takes a sip of his soda. “It’s either that or we can break out the Play-Doh ~ Brigid Kemmerer,
1169:One evening in April a thirty-two-year-old woman, unconscious and severely injured, was admitted to the hospital in a provincial town south of Copenhagen. She had a concussion and internal bleeding, her legs and arms were broken in several places, and she had deep lesions in her face. A gas station attendant in a neighboring village, beside the bridge over the highway to Copenhagen, had seen her go the wrong way up the exit and drive at high speed into the oncoming traffic. The first three approaching cars managed to maneuver around her, but about 200 meters after the junction she collided head-on with a truck. The Dutch driver was admitted for observation but released the next day. According to his statement he started to brake a good 100 meters before the crash, while the car seemed to actually increase its speed over the last stretch. The front of the vehicle was totally crushed, part of the radiator was stuck between the road and the truck's bumper, and the woman had to be cut free. The spokesman for emergency services said it was a miracle she had survived. On arrival at the hospital the woman was in very critical condition, and it was twenty-four hours before she was out of serious danger. Her eyes were so badly damaged that she lost her sight. Her name was Lucca. Lucca Montale. Despite the name there was nothing particularly Italian about her appearance. She had auburn hair and green eyes in a narrow face with high cheek-bones. She was slim and fairly tall. It turned out she was Danish, born in Copenhagen. Her husband, Andreas Bark, arrived with their small son while she was still on the operating table. The couple's home was an isolated old farmhouse in the woods seven kilometers from the site of the accident. Andreas Bark told the police he had tried to stop his wife from driving. He thought she had just gone out for a breath of air when he heard the car start. By the time he got outside he saw it disappearing along the road. She had been drinking a lot. They had had a marital disagreement. Those were the words he used; he was not questioned further on that point. Early in the morning, when Lucca Montale was moved from the operating room into intensive care, her husband was still in the waiting room with the sleeping boy's head on his lap. He was looking out at the sky and the dark trees when Robert sat down next to him. Andreas Bark went on staring into the gray morning light with an exhausted, absent gaze. He seemed slightly younger than Robert, in his late thirties. He had dark, wavy hair and a prominent chin, his eyes were narrow and deep-set, and he was wearing a shabby leather jacket. Robert rested his hands on his knees in the green cotton trousers and looked down at the perforations in the leather uppers of his white clogs. He realized he had forgotten to take off his plastic cap after the operation. The thin plastic crackled between his hands. Andreas looked at him and Robert straightened up to meet his gaze. The boy woke. ~ Jens Christian Gr ndahl,
1170:And the winner is,” he sings. He waits, opening the folded piece of paper slowly, drawing out the suspense. I can barely hear him over my own heartbeat, which is thumping like crazy. Is it too late to back out? Shit. I don’t want to do this. “The winner is the person who guessed twelve hundred and forty-eight!” The crowd is silent, and all the participants look to one another. But then I hear a thump, thump, thump, thump as someone comes up the stairs onto the platform. I see the baseball cap before I see the rest of him, and I hope to God that’s Sean’s cap. But Sean didn’t even buy a ticket. Not a single one. Yet it’s his brown gaze that meets mine. It’s his baseball cap, and they are his tattoos. They’re his broad shoulders and his long strides that eat up the distance between us. He turns his hat backward and looks down at me. He stops with less than an inch to spare between us. “Congratulations,” I squeak out. “You didn’t even buy a ticket. How did you…?” “I bought one hundred and forty-two tickets, dummy,” he says. My heart trips a beat. “You did?” All he had to buy was one. I put the winning number on the piece of paper I gave him. He nods, and he takes my face in his hands. His thumbs draw little circles on my cheeks as his fingers thread into the hair at my temples. “You didn’t look at the paper I gave you….” My heart is pounding like mad. “What paper?” he asks. His smile is soft and inviting, and I want to fall into him. “The one you put in your pocket.” His brow furrows. “Never mind,” I say, breathless. He spent 142 dollars for a kiss he already owned in more ways than one. If I loved this man any more, it would be dangerous. He looks down into my eyes, not moving. He’s going to kiss me, right? “What’s the plan here?” “I’m going to kiss my girl,” he says, smiling at me. My breath hitches. “But you have to say yes, first.” He hasn’t let me go. He’s holding me tightly, forcing me to meet his eyes. “This isn’t going to be a one-time thing.” I can’t even think, and he wants me to commit? “It’s not,” I breathe. “You promise?” His gaze searches mine like he’s going to find the secrets to the universe there. “I swear on your life,” I say. He chuckles. “My life?” I nod. His eyebrows draw together. “Aren’t you supposed to swear on your own life?” “My life means nothing if you’re not in it.” His hands start to tremble against my face, and he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Logan’s brothers start to chant, “Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss…,” and the crowd joins in. “You better kiss me,” I say, “or they’re going to get restless.” A tear rolls down my cheek, and he brushes it back with his thumb, his gaze soft and warm. His eyes open, and he leans closer to me. I step onto my tiptoes to get to him because I can’t wait one more second. He stops a breath away from me, just like he did in the room. He waits. “You have to close the distance,” he says to me. He’s making me choose. I fall into him and press my lips to his. He freezes. But then he starts to kiss me. And all the fireworks at the state fair couldn’t compare to the ones that go off in my head. ~ Tammy Falkner,
1171:Shepley walked out of his bedroom pulling a T-shirt over his head. His eyebrows pushed together. “Did they just leave?”

“Yeah,” I said absently, rinsing my cereal bowl and dumping Abby’s leftover oatmeal in the sink. She’d barely touched it.

“Well, what the hell? Mare didn’t even say goodbye.”

“You knew she was going to class. Quit being a cry baby.”

Shepley pointed to his chest. “I’m the cry baby? Do you remember last night?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s what I thought.” He sat on the couch and slipped on his sneakers. “Did you ask Abby about her birthday?”

“She didn’t say much, except that she’s not into birthdays.”

“So what are we doing?”

“Throwing her a party.” Shepley nodded, waiting for me to explain. “I thought we’d surprise her. Invite some of our friends over and have America take her out for a while.”

Shepley put on his white ball cap, pulling it down so low over his brows I couldn’t see his eyes. “She can manage that. Anything else?”

“How do you feel about a puppy?”

Shepley laughed once. “It’s not my birthday, bro.”

I walked around the breakfast bar and leaned my hip against the stool. “I know, but she lives in the dorms. She can’t have a puppy.”

“Keep it here? Seriously? What are we going to do with a dog?”

“I found a Cairn Terrier online. It’s perfect.”

“A what?”

“Pidge is from Kansas. It’s the same kind of dog Dorothy had in the Wizard of Oz.”

Shepley’s face was blank. “The Wizard of Oz.”

“What? I liked the scarecrow when I was a little kid, shut the fuck up.”

“It’s going to crap every where, Travis. It’ll bark and whine and … I don’t know.”

“So does America … minus the crapping.”

Shepley wasn’t amused.

“I’ll take it out and clean up after it. I’ll keep it in my room. You won’t even know it’s here.”

“You can’t keep it from barking.”

“Think about it. You gotta admit it’ll win her over.”

Shepley smiled. “Is that what this is all about? You’re trying to win over Abby?”

My brows pulled together. “Quit it.”

His smile widened. “You can get the damn dog…”

I grinned with victory.

“…if you admit you have feelings for Abby.”

I frowned in defeat. “C’mon, man!”

“Admit it,” Shepley said, crossing his arms. What a tool. He was actually going to make me say it.

I looked to the floor, and everywhere else except Shepley’s smug ass smile. I fought it for a while, but the puppy was fucking brilliant. Abby would flip out (in a good way for once), and I could keep it at the apartment. She’d want to be there every day.

“I like her,” I said through my teeth.

Shepley held his hand to his ear. “What? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“You’re an asshole! Did you hear that?”

Shepley crossed his arms. “Say it.”

“I like her, okay?”

“Not good enough.”

“I have feelings for her. I care about her. A lot. I can’t stand it when she’s not around. Happy?”

“For now,” he said, grabbing his backpack off the floor. ~ Jamie McGuire,
1172:longer; it cannot deceive them too much." Madame Defarge looked superciliously at the client, and nodded in confirmation. "As to you," said she, "you would shout and shed tears for anything, if it made a show and a noise. Say! Would you not?" "Truly, madame, I think so. For the moment." "If you were shown a great heap of dolls, and were set upon them to pluck them to pieces and despoil them for your own advantage, you would pick out the richest and gayest. Say! Would you not?" "Truly yes, madame." "Yes. And if you were shown a flock of birds, unable to fly, and were set upon them to strip them of their feathers for your own advantage, you would set upon the birds of the finest feathers; would you not?" "It is true, madame." "You have seen both dolls and birds to-day," said Madame Defarge, with a wave of her hand towards the place where they had last been apparent; "now, go home!" XVI. Still Knitting Madame Defarge and monsieur her husband returned amicably to the bosom of Saint Antoine, while a speck in a blue cap toiled through the darkness, and through the dust, and down the weary miles of avenue by the wayside, slowly tending towards that point of the compass where the chateau of Monsieur the Marquis, now in his grave, listened to the whispering trees. Such ample leisure had the stone faces, now, for listening to the trees and to the fountain, that the few village scarecrows who, in their quest for herbs to eat and fragments of dead stick to burn, strayed within sight of the great stone courtyard and terrace staircase, had it borne in upon their starved fancy that the expression of the faces was altered. A rumour just lived in the village—had a faint and bare existence there, as its people had—that when the knife struck home, the faces changed, from faces of pride to faces of anger and pain; also, that when that dangling figure was hauled up forty feet above the fountain, they changed again, and bore a cruel look of being avenged, which they would henceforth bear for ever. In the stone face over the great window of the bed-chamber where the murder was done, two fine dints were pointed out in the sculptured nose, which everybody recognised, and which nobody had seen of old; and on the scarce occasions when two or three ragged peasants emerged from the crowd to take a hurried peep at Monsieur the Marquis petrified, a skinny finger would not have pointed to it for a minute, before they all started away among the moss and leaves, like the more fortunate hares who could find a living there. Chateau and hut, stone face and dangling figure, the red stain on the stone floor, and the pure water in the village well—thousands of acres of land—a whole province of France—all France itself—lay under the night sky, concentrated into a faint hair-breadth line. So does a whole world, with all its greatnesses and littlenesses, lie in a twinkling star. And as mere human knowledge can split a ray of light and analyse the manner of its composition, so, sublimer intelligences may read in the feeble shining of this earth of ours, every thought and act, every vice and virtue, of every responsible ~ Charles Dickens,
1173:DOAMNA SMITH, Pompierului: Încă una, căpitane.
POMPIERUL: Oh, nu, e prea târziu.
DOMNUL MARTIN: Spuneţi totuşi.
POMPIERUL: Sunt prea obosit.
DOMNUL SMITH: Haideţi, de dragul nostru.
DOMNUL MARTIN: Vă rog.
POMPIERUL: Nu.
DOAMNA MARTIN: Aveţi o inimă de gheaţă. Ne-aţi pus pe jar.
DOAMNA SMITH, cade la picioarele lui, plângând sau nu: Vă implor.
POMPIERUL: Fie.
DOMNUL SMITH, la urechea Doamnei Martin: A acceptat! Iar o să ne plictisim.
DOAMNA MARTIN: Fir-ar să fie!
DOAMNA SMITH: Ghinion. Am exagerat cu politeţea.
POMPIERUL: Guturaiul. „Cumnatul meu avea un văr primar din partea tatălui, al cărui unchi din partea mamei avea un cumnat al cărui bunic din partea tatălui se recăsătorise cu o tânără din partea locului al cărei frate întâlnise într-una din călătoriile lui o fată de care se îndrăgostise până peste urechi şi cu care a avut un fiu care s-a însurat cu o farmacistă curajoasă, nimeni alta decât nepoata unui şef de cart anonim din marina britanică, al cărui tată adoptiv avea o mătuşă care vorbea spaniola la perfecţie şi era, poate, una dintre nepoatele unui inginer mort în tinereţe, la rândul lui nepotul unui podgorean ale cărui vii dădeau un vin mediocru, dar care avea un verişor, om la casa lui, plutonier, al cărui fiu luase de nevastă pe-o tânără tare drăguţă, divorţată, al cărei prim soţ era fiul unui sincer patriot care a ştiut să-i bage în cap uneia din fiicele lui pofta de căpătuială, iar ea a luat de bărbat un vână-tor care-l cunoscuse pe Rotschild, şi al cărui frate, după ce-a schimbat mai multe meserii, s-a însurat şi a avut o fată al cărei străbunic era sfrijit şi purta nişte ochelari primiţi de la un văr de-al lui, cumnatul unui portughez, fiul natural al unui morar, nu prea sărac, al cărui frate de lapte luase de nevastă pe fiica unui fost medic de ţară, la rândul lui frate de lapte cu fiul unui lăptar, el însuşi fiul natural al unui alt medic de ţară, însurat de trei ori la rând, a cărui a treia soţie..."
DOMNUL MARTIN: Am cunoscut-o pe-a treia lui soţie, dacă nu mă-nşel. Mânca pui într-un viespar.
POMPIERUL: Nu-i aceeaşi.
DOAMNA SMITH: SSSSt!
POMPIERUL: Cum spuneam, deci: „... a cărui a treia soţie era fiica celei mai bune moaşe de prin partea locului şi care, rămasă văduvă în tinereţe..."
DOMNUL SMITH: Cazul soţiei mele!
POMPIERUL: „... s-a recăsătorit cu un geamgiu tare vesel din fire care-i făcuse fetei şefului de gară un copil care-şi croise un drum în viaţă..."
DOAMNA SMITH: Drum de fier...
DOMNUL MARTIN: Ba drum de fiere.
POMPIERUL: „Şi luase de nevastă o zarzavagioaică de brânzeturi al cărei tată avea un frate, primar într-un orăşel, care luase de nevastă pe-o învăţătoare blondă al cărei frate, pescar de coastă..."
DOMNUL MARTIN: Coasta lui Adam?
POMPIERUL: „... luase de nevastă pe-o altă învăţătoare blondă care se chema tot Mărie, al cărei frate se-nsurase cu altă Mărie, tot o învăţătoare blondă..."
DOMNUL SMITH: Dacă e blondă, nu poate fi decât Mărie.
POMPIERUL: „... şi-al cărei tată fusese crescut în Canada de-o bătrână, nepoata unui popă a cărui bunică făcea uneori, iarna, la fel ca toată lumea, guturai. ~ Eug ne Ionesco,
1174:Much of the so-called environmental movement today has transmuted into an aggressively nefarious and primitive faction. In the last fifteen years, many of the tenets of utopian statism have coalesced around something called the “degrowth” movement. Originating in Europe but now taking a firm hold in the United States, the “degrowthers,” as I shall characterize them, include in their ranks none other than President Barack Obama. On January 17, 2008, Obama made clear his hostility toward, of all things, electricity generated from coal and coal-powered plants. He told the San Francisco Chronicle, “You know, when I was asked earlier about the issue of coal . . . under my plan of a cap and trade system, electricity rates would necessarily skyrocket. . . .”3 Obama added, “. . . So if somebody wants to build a coal-powered plant, they can. It’s just that it will bankrupt them because they’re going to be charged a huge sum for all the greenhouse gas that’s being emitted.”4 Degrowthers define their agenda as follows: “Sustainable degrowth is a downscaling of production and consumption that increases human well-being and enhances ecological conditions and equity on the planet. It calls for a future where societies live within their ecological means, with open localized economies and resources more equally distributed through new forms of democratic institutions.”5 It “is an essential economic strategy to pursue in overdeveloped countries like the United States—for the well-being of the planet, of underdeveloped populations, and yes, even of the sick, stressed, and overweight ‘consumer’ populations of overdeveloped countries.”6 For its proponents and adherents, degrowth has quickly developed into a pseudo-religion and public-policy obsession. In fact, the degrowthers insist their ideology reaches far beyond the environment or even its odium for capitalism and is an all-encompassing lifestyle and governing philosophy. Some of its leading advocates argue that “Degrowth is not just an economic concept. We shall show that it is a frame constituted by a large array of concerns, goals, strategies and actions. As a result, degrowth has now become a confluence point where streams of critical ideas and political action converge.”7 Degrowth is “an interpretative frame for a social movement, understood as the mechanism through which actors engage in a collective action.”8 The degrowthers seek to eliminate carbon sources of energy and redistribute wealth according to terms they consider equitable. They reject the traditional economic reality that acknowledges growth as improving living conditions generally but especially for the impoverished. They embrace the notions of “less competition, large scale redistribution, sharing and reduction of excessive incomes and wealth.”9 Degrowthers want to engage in polices that will set “a maximum income, or maximum wealth, to weaken envy as a motor of consumerism, and opening borders (“no-border”) to reduce means to keep inequality between rich and poor countries.”10 And they demand reparations by supporting a “concept of ecological debt, or the demand that the Global North pays for past and present colonial exploitation in the Global South.”11 ~ Mark R Levin,
1175:How do people get to this clandestine Archipelago? Hour by hour planes fly there, ships steer their course there, and trains thunder off to it--but all with nary a mark on them to tell of their destination. And at ticket windows or at travel bureaus for Soviet or foreign tourists the employees would be astounded if you were to ask for a ticket to go there. They know nothing and they've never heard of the Archipelago as a whole or any one of its innumerable islands.

Those who go to the Archipelago to administer it get there via the training schools of the Ministry of Internal Affairs.

Those who go there to be guards are conscripted via the military conscription centers.

And those who, like you and me, dear reader, go there to die, must get there solely and compulsorily via arrest.

Arrest! Need it be said that it is a breaking point in your life, a bolt of lightning which has scored a direct hit on you? That it is an unassimilable spiritual earthquake not every person can cope with, as a result of which people often slip into insanity?

The Universe has as many different centers as there are living beings in it. Each of us is a center of the Universe, and that Universe is shattered when they hiss at you: "You are under arrest."

If you are arrested, can anything else remain unshattered by this cataclysm?

But the darkened mind is incapable of embracing these dis­placements in our universe, and both the most sophisticated and the veriest simpleton among us, drawing on all life's experience,
can gasp out only: "Me? What for?"

And this is a question which, though repeated millions and
millions of times before, has yet to receive an answer.

Arrest is an instantaneous, shattering thrust, expulsion, somer­sault from one state into another.

We have been happily borne—or perhaps have unhappily
dragged our weary way—down the long and crooked streets of
our lives, past all kinds of walls and fences made of rotting wood,
rammed earth, brick, concrete, iron railings. We have never given
a thought to what lies behind them. We have never tried to pene­trate them with our vision or our understanding. But there is
where the Gulag country begins, right next to us, two yards away
from us. In addition, we have failed to notice an enormous num­ber of closely fitted, well-disguised doors and gates in these
fences. All those gates were prepared for us, every last one! And
all of a sudden the fateful gate swings quickly open, and four
white male hands, unaccustomed to physical labor but none­theless strong and tenacious, grab us by the leg, arm, collar, cap,
ear, and drag us in like a sack, and the gate behind us, the gate to
our past life, is slammed shut once and for all.

That's all there is to it! You are arrested!

And you'll find nothing better to respond with than a lamblike
bleat: "Me? What for?"

That's what arrest is: it's a blinding flash and a blow which
shifts the present instantly into the past and the impossible into
omnipotent actuality.

That's all. And neither for the first hour nor for the first day
will you be able to grasp anything else. ~ Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn,
1176:I typed the winery address into the GPS and then proceeded to pull out of the rental company driveway. I screeched and slammed on the brakes every four feet until I got out onto the street. There was going to be a learning curve. The GPS lady successfully got me over the Golden Gate, but I didn’t get to enjoy one minute of it. Paranoid that I was going to hit a pedestrian or a cyclist or launch myself off the massive bridge, I couldn’t take my eyes off of the car in front of me. Once I was out of the city, I spotted a Wendy’s and pulled off the highway. GPS lady started getting frantic.

“Recalculating. Head North on DuPont for 1.3 miles.”

I did a quick U-turn to get to the other side of the freeway and into the loving arms of a chocolate frosty.

“Recalculating.” Shit. Shut up, lady. I was frantically hitting buttons until I was able to finally silence her. I made a right turn and then another turn immediately into the Wendy’s parking lot and into the drive-thru line. I glanced at the clock. It was three forty. I still had time. I pulled up to the speaker and shouted, “I’ll take a regular French fry and a large chocolate frosty.”

Just then, I heard a very loud, abbreviated siren sound. Whoop.

I looked into my rearview mirror and spotted the source. It was a police officer on a motorcycle. What’s he doing? I sat there waiting for the Wendy’s speaker to confirm my order, and then again, Whoop.

“Ma’am, please pull out of the drive-thru and off to the side.” What’s going on?

I quickly rolled the window all the way down, stuck my head out, and peered around until the policeman was in my view. “Are you talking to me?”

To my absolute horror, he used the speaker again. “Yes, ma’am, I am talking to you. Please pull out of the drive-thru.” Holy shit, I’m being pulled over in a Wendy’s drive-thru.

“Excuse me, Wendy’s people? You need to scratch that last order.”

A few seconds went by and then a young man’s voice came over the speaker. “Yeah, we figured that,” he said before bursting into laughter and cutting the speaker off.

The policeman was very friendly and seemed to find a little humor in the situation as well. Apparently I had made an illegal right turn at a red light just before I pulled into the parking lot. After completely and utterly humiliating me, he let me off with a warning, which was nice, but I still didn’t have a frosty.

Pulling my old Chicago Cubs cap from my bag, I decided that nothing was going to get in the way of my beloved frosty. Going incognito, I made my way through the door. Apparently the cap was not enough because the Justin Timberlake–looking fellow behind the counter could not contain himself.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi, what can I get you?” he said, and then he clapped his hand over his mouth, struggling to hold back a huge amount of laughter and making gagging noises in the back of his throat in the process.

“Can I get an extra-large chocolate frosty please, and make it snappy.”

“Do you still want the fries with that?” There was more laughter and then I heard laughter from the back as well.

“No, thank you.” I paid, grabbed my cup, and hightailed it out of there. ~ Renee Carlino,
1177:So, what are you doing here?” She couldn’t help it if her tone sounded a little tired. This was becoming farcical.
“I came to tell you that I--” he rushed to speak, then composed himself, looked around, and stepped closer to her so he did not need to raise his voice to be heard. The brunette leaned forward just a tad.
“I apologize for having to tell you here, in this busy, dirty…this is not the scene I would set, but you must know that I…” He took off his cap and rubbed his hair ragged. “I’ve been working at Pembrook Park for nearly four years. All the women I see, week after week, they’re the same. Nearly from the first, that morning when we were alone in the park, I guessed that you might be different. You were sincere.”
He reached for her hand. He seemed to gain confidence, his lips started to smile, and he looked at her as though he never wished to look away.
Zing, she thought, out of habit mostly, because she wasn’t buying any of it.
Martin groaned at the silliness. Nobley immediately stuck his cap back on and stepped back, and he seemed unsure if he’d been too forward, if he should still play by the rules.
“I know you have no reason to believe me, but I wish you would. Last night in the library, I wanted to tell you how I felt. I should have. But I wasn’t sure how you…I let myself speak the same tired sort of proposal I used on everyone. You were right to reject me. It was a proper slap in the face. No one had ever said no before. You made me sit up and think. Well, I didn’t want to think much, at first. But after you left this morning, I asked myself, are you going to let her go just because you met her while acting a part?” Nobley paused as if waiting for the answer.
“Oh, come on, Jane,” Martin said. “You’re not going to buy this from him.”
“Don’t talk to me like we’re friends,” Jane said. “You…you were paid to kiss me! And it was a game, a joke on me, you disgusting lurch. You’ve got no right to call me Jane. I’m Miss Erstwhile to you.”
“Don’t give me that,” Martin said. His patience was fraying. “All of Pembrook Park is one big drama, you’d have to be dense not to see that. You were acting too, just like the rest of us, having a fling on holiday, weren’t you? And it’s not as though kissing you was odious.”
“Odious?”
“I’m saying it wasn’t.” Martin paused and appeared to be putting back on his romancing-the-woman persona. “I enjoyed it, all of it. Well, except for the root beer. And if you’re going to write that article, you should know that I believe what we had was real.”
The brunette sighed. Jane just rolled her eyes.
“We had something real,” Nobley said, starting to sound a little desperate. “You must have felt it, seeping through the costumes and pretenses.”
The brunette nodded.
Seeping through the pretenses? Listen to him, he’s still acting.” Martin turned to the brunette in search of an ally.
“Do I detect any jealousy there, my flagpole-like friend?” Nobley said. “Still upset that you weren’t cast as a gentleman? You do make a very good gardener.”
Martin took a swing. Nobley ducked and rammed into his body, pushing them both to the ground. The brunette squealed and bounced on the balls of her feet. ~ Shannon Hale,
1178:Diablos: the name given to the igniting of, and ignited, farts. Trevor Hickey is the undisputed master of this arcane and perilous art. The stakes could not be higher. Get the timing even slightly wrong and there will be consequences far more serious than singed trousers; the word backdraught clamours unspoken at the back of every spectator’s mind. Total silence now as, with an almost imperceptible tremble (entirely artificial, ‘just part of the show’ as Trevor puts it) his hand brings the match between his legs and – foom! a sound like the fabric of the universe being ripped in two, counterpointed by its opposite, a collective intake of breath, as from Trevor’s bottom proceeds a magnificent plume of flame – jetting out it’s got to be nearly three feet, they tell each other afterwards, a cold and beautiful purple-blue enchantment that for an instant bathes the locker room in unearthly light.

No one knows quite what Trevor Hickey’s diet is, or his exercise regime; if you ask him about it, he will simply say that he has a gift, and having witnessed it, you would be hard-pressed to argue, although why God should have given him this gift in particular is less easy to say. But then, strange talents abound in the fourteen-year-old confraternity. As well as Trevor Hickey, ‘The Duke of Diablos’, you have people like Rory ‘Pins’ Moran, who on one occasion had fifty-eight pins piercing the epidermis of his left hand; GP O’Sullivan, able to simulate the noises of cans opening, mobile phones bleeping, pneumatic doors, etc., at least as well as the guy in Police Academy; Henry Lafayette, who is double-jointed and famously escaped from a box of jockstraps after being locked inside it by Lionel. These boys’ abilities are regarded quite as highly by their peers as the more conventional athletic and sporting kinds, as is any claim to physical freakishness, such as waggling ears (Mitchell Gogan), unusually high mucous production (Hector ‘Hectoplasm’ O’Looney), notable ugliness (Damien Lawlor) and inexplicably slimy, greenish hair (Vince Bailey). Fame in the second year is a surprisingly broad church; among the two-hundred-plus boys, there is scarcely anyone who does not have some ability or idiosyncrasy or weird body condition for which he is celebrated.

As with so many things at this particular point in their lives, though, that situation is changing by the day. School, with its endless emphasis on conformity, careers, the Future, may be partly to blame, but the key to the shift in attitudes is, without a doubt, girls. Until recently the opinion of girls was of little consequence; now – overnight, almost – it is paramount; and girls have quite different, some would go so far as to say deeply conservative, criteria with regard to what constitutes a gift. They do not care how many golf balls you can fit in your mouth; they are unmoved by third nipples; they do not, most of them, consider mastery of Diablos to be a feather in your cap – even when you explain to them how dangerous it is, even when you offer to teach them how to do it themselves, an offer you have never extended to any of your classmates, who would actually pay big money for this expertise, or you could even call it lore – wait, come back! ~ Paul Murray,
1179:When it passes us, the driver tips his cap our way, eying us as if he thinks we're up to no good-the kind of no good he might call the cops on. I wave to him and smile, wondering if I look as guilty as I feel. Better make this the quickest lesson in driving history. It's not like she needs to pass the state exam. If she can keep the car straight for ten seconds in a row, I've upheld my end of the deal.
I turn off the ignition and look at her. "So, how are you and Toraf doing?"
She cocks her head at me. "What does that have to do with driving?"
Aside from delaying it? "Nothing," I say, shrugging. "Just wondering."
She pulls down the visor and flips open the mirror. Using her index finger, she unsmudges the mascara Rachel put on her. "Not that it's your business, but we're fine. We were always fine."
"He didn't seem to think so."
She shoots me a look. "He can be oversensitive sometimes. I explained that to him."
Oversensitive? No way. She's not getting off that easy. "He's a good kisser," I tell her, bracing myself.
She turns in her seat, eyes narrowed to slits. "You might as well forget about that kiss, Emma. He's mine, and if you put your nasty Half-Breed lips on him again-"
"Now who's being oversensitive?" I say, grinning. She does love him.
"Switch places with me," she snarls. But I'm too happy for Toraf to return the animosity.
Once she's in the driver's seat, her attitude changes. She bounces up and down like she's mattress shopping, getting so much air that she'd puncture the top if I hadn't put it down already. She reaches for the keys in the ignition. I grab her hand. "Nope. Buckle up first."
It's almost cliché for her to roll her eyes now, but she does. When she's finished dramatizing the act of buckling her seat belt-complete with tugging on it to make sure it won't unclick-she turns to me in pouty expectation. I nod.
She wrenches the key and the engine fires up. The distant look in her eyes makes me nervous. Or maybe it's the guilt swirling around in my stomach. Galen might not like this car, but it still feels like sacrilege to put the fate of a BMW in Rayna's novice hands. As she grips the gear stick so hard her knuckles turn white, I thank God this is an automatic.
"D is for drive, right?" she says.
"Yes. The right pedal is to go. The left pedal is to stop. You have to step on the left one to change into drive."
"I know. I saw you do it." She mashes down on the brake, then throws us into drive. But we don't move.
"Okay, now you'll want to step on the right pedal, which is the gas-"
The tires start spinning-and so do we. Rayna stares at me wide-eyed and mouth ajar, which isn't a good thing since her hands are on the wheel. It occurs to me that she's screaming, but I can't hear her over my own screeching. The dust wall we've created whirls around us, blocking our view of the trees and the road and life as we knew it.
"Take your foot off the right one!" I yell. We stop so hard my teeth feel rattled.
"Are you trying to get us killed?" she howls, holding her hand to her cheek as if I've slapped her. Her eyes are wild and glassy; she just might cry.
"Are you freaking kidding me? You're the one driving! ~ Anna Banks,
1180:To the door of an inn in the provincial town of N. there drew up a smart britchka—a light spring-carriage of the sort affected by bachelors, retired lieutenant-colonels, staff-captains, land-owners possessed of about a hundred souls, and, in short, all persons who rank as gentlemen of the intermediate category. In the britchka was seated such a gentleman—a man who, though not handsome, was not ill-favoured, not over-fat, and not over-thin. Also, though not over-elderly, he was not over-young. His arrival produced no stir in the town, and was accompanied by no particular incident, beyond that a couple of peasants who happened to be standing at the door of a dramshop exchanged a few comments with reference to the equipage rather than to the individual who was seated in it. "Look at that carriage," one of them said to the other. "Think you it will be going as far as Moscow?" "I think it will," replied his companion. "But not as far as Kazan, eh?" "No, not as far as Kazan." With that the conversation ended. Presently, as the britchka was approaching the inn, it was met by a young man in a pair of very short, very tight breeches of white dimity, a quasi-fashionable frockcoat, and a dickey fastened with a pistol-shaped bronze tie-pin. The young man turned his head as he passed the britchka and eyed it attentively; after which he clapped his hand to his cap (which was in danger of being removed by the wind) and resumed his way. On the vehicle reaching the inn door, its occupant found standing there to welcome him the polevoi, or waiter, of the establishment—an individual of such nimble and brisk movement that even to distinguish the character of his face was impossible. Running out with a napkin in one hand and his lanky form clad in a tailcoat, reaching almost to the nape of his neck, he tossed back his locks, and escorted the gentleman upstairs, along a wooden gallery, and so to the bedchamber which God had prepared for the gentleman's reception. The said bedchamber was of quite ordinary appearance, since the inn belonged to the species to be found in all provincial towns—the species wherein, for two roubles a day, travellers may obtain a room swarming with black-beetles, and communicating by a doorway with the apartment adjoining. True, the doorway may be blocked up with a wardrobe; yet behind it, in all probability, there will be standing a silent, motionless neighbour whose ears are burning to learn every possible detail concerning the latest arrival. The inn's exterior corresponded with its interior. Long, and consisting only of two storeys, the building had its lower half destitute of stucco; with the result that the dark-red bricks, originally more or less dingy, had grown yet dingier under the influence of atmospheric changes. As for the upper half of the building, it was, of course, painted the usual tint of unfading yellow. Within, on the ground floor, there stood a number of benches heaped with horse-collars, rope, and sheepskins; while the window-seat accommodated a sbitentshik[1], cheek by jowl with a samovar[2]—the latter so closely resembling the former in appearance that, but for the fact of the samovar possessing a pitch-black lip, the samovar and the sbitentshik might have been two of a pair. ~ Nikolai Gogol,
1181:Bob,” she said, “offerings burned in the mortal world appear on this altar, right?” Bob frowned uncomfortably, like he wasn’t ready for a pop quiz. “Yes?” “So what happens if I burn something on the altar here?” “Uh…” “That’s all right,” Annabeth said. “You don’t know. Nobody knows, because it’s never been done.” There was a chance, she thought, just the slimmest chance that an offering burned on this altar might appear at Camp Half-Blood. Doubtful, but if it did work… “Annabeth?” Percy said again. “You’re planning something. You’ve got that I’m-planning-something look.” “I don’t have an I’m-planning-something look.” “Yeah, you totally do. Your eyebrows knit and your lips press together and—” “Do you have a pen?” she asked him. “You’re kidding, right?” He brought out Riptide. “Yes, but can you actually write with it?” “I—I don’t know,” he admitted. “Never tried.” He uncapped the pen. As usual, it sprang into a full-sized sword. Annabeth had watched him do this hundreds of times. Normally when he fought, Percy simply discarded the cap. It always appeared in his pocket later, as needed. When he touched the cap to the point of the sword, it would turn back into a ballpoint pen. “What if you touch the cap to the other end of the sword?” Annabeth said. “Like where you’d put the cap if you were actually going to write with the pen.” “Uh…” Percy looked doubtful, but he touched the cap to the hilt of the sword. Riptide shrank back into a ballpoint pen, but now the writing point was exposed. “May I?” Annabeth plucked it from his hand. She flattened the napkin against the altar and began to write. Riptide’s ink glowed Celestial bronze. “What are you doing?” Percy asked. “Sending a message,” Annabeth said. “I just hope Rachel gets it.” “Rachel?” Percy asked. “You mean our Rachel? Oracle of Delphi Rachel?” “That’s the one.” Annabeth suppressed a smile. Whenever she brought up Rachel’s name, Percy got nervous. At one point, Rachel had been interested in dating Percy. That was ancient history. Rachel and Annabeth were good friends now. But Annabeth didn’t mind making Percy a little uneasy. You had to keep your boyfriend on his toes. Annabeth finished her note and folded the napkin. On the outside, she wrote: Connor, Give this to Rachel. Not a prank. Don’t be a moron. Love, Annabeth She took a deep breath. She was asking Rachel Dare to do something ridiculously dangerous, but it was the only way she could think of to communicate with the Romans—the only way that might avoid bloodshed. “Now I just need to burn it,” she said. “Anybody got a match?” The point of Bob’s spear shot from his broom handle. It sparked against the altar and erupted in silvery fire. “Uh, thanks.” Annabeth lit the napkin and set it on the altar. She watched it crumble to ash and wondered if she was crazy. Could the smoke really make it out of Tartarus? “We should go now,” Bob advised. “Really, really go. Before we are killed.” Annabeth stared at the wall of blackness in front of them. Somewhere in there was a lady who dispensed a Death Mist that might hide them from monsters—a plan recommended by a Titan, one of their bitterest enemies. Another dose of weirdness to explode her brain. “Right,” she said. “I’m ready.” ANNABETH LITERALLY STUMBLED over the second Titan. ~ Rick Riordan,
1182:I looked back and forth between them, feeling the heat of their anger, the unspoken words swelling in the air like smoke. Jerry took a slow sip from his beer and lit another cigarette. "You don't know anything about that little girl," he told Nona. "You're just jealous because Cap belongs to her now."
I could see Nona's heartbeat flutter beneath her t-shirt, the cords tightening in her neck. "Her mommy and daddy might have paid for him," she whispered. "But he's mine."
I waited for Jerry to cave in to her, to apologize, to make things right between them. But he held her gaze, unwavering. "He's not."
Nona stubbed her cigarette out on the barn floor, then stood. "If you don't believe me," she whispered, "I'll show you."
My sister crossed the barn to Cap's stall and clicked her tongue at him. His gold head appeared in the doorway and Nona swung the stall door open. "Come on out." she told him.
Don't!" I said, but she didn't pause.
Cap took several steps forward until he was standing completely free in the barn. I jumped up, blocking the doorway so that he couldn't bolt. Jerry stood and widened himself beside me, stretching out his arms. "What the hell are you doing?" he asked.
Nona stood beside Cap's head and lifted her arms as though she was holding an invisible lead rope. When she began to walk, Cap moved alongside her, matching his pace to hers.
Whoa," Nona said quietly and Cap stopped. My sister made small noises with her tongue, whispering words we couldn't hear. Cap's ears twitched and his weight shifted as he adjusted his feet, setting up perfectly in showmanship form. Nona stepped back to present him to us, and Jerry and I dropped our arms to our sides.
Ta da!" she said, clapping her hands at her own accomplishment.
Very impressive," Jerry said in a low voice. "Now put the pony away."
Again, Nona lifted her hands as if holding a lead rope, and again, Cap followed. She stepped into him and he turned on his heel, then walked beside her through the barn and back into his stall. Once he was inside, Nona closed the door and held her hands out to us. She hadn't touched him once.
Now," she said evenly. "Tell me again what isn't mine."

Jerry sank back into his chair, cracking open a fresh beer. "If that horse was so important to you, maybe you shouldn't have left him behind to be sold off to strangers."
Nona's face constricted, her cheeks and neck darkening in splotches of red. "Alice, tell him," she whispered. "Tell him that Cap belongs to me."
Sheila Altman could practice for the rest of her life, and she would never be able to do what my sister had just done. Cap would never follow her blindly, never walk on water for her. But my eyes traveled sideways to Cap's stall where his embroidered halter hung from its hook. If the Altmans ever moved to a different town, they would take Cap with them. My sister would never see him again. It wouldn't matter what he would or wouldn't do for her.
My sister waited a moment for me to speak, and when I didn't, she burst into tears, her shoulders heaving, her mouth wrenching open. Jerry and I glanced at each other, startled by the sudden burst of emotion.
You can both go to hell," Nona hiccuped, and turned for the house. "Right straight to hell. ~ Aryn Kyle,
1183:Education was still considered a privilege in England. At Oxford you took responsibility for your efforts and for your performance. No one coddled, and no one uproariously encouraged. British respect for the individual, both learner and teacher, reigned. If you wanted to learn, you applied yourself and did it. Grades were posted publicly by your name after exams. People failed regularly. These realities never ceased to bewilder those used to “democracy” without any of the responsibility. For me, however, my expectations were rattled in another way. I arrived anticipating to be snubbed by a culture of privilege, but when looked at from a British angle, I actually found North American students owned a far greater sense of entitlement when it came to a college education. I did not realize just how much expectations fetter—these “mind-forged manacles,”2 as Blake wrote. Oxford upholds something larger than self as a reference point, embedded in the deep respect for all that a community of learning entails. At my very first tutorial, for instance, an American student entered wearing a baseball cap on backward. The professor quietly asked him to remove it. The student froze, stunned. In the United States such a request would be fodder for a laundry list of wrongs done against the student, followed by threatening the teacher’s job and suing the university. But Oxford sits unruffled: if you don’t like it, you can simply leave. A handy formula since, of course, no one wants to leave. “No caps in my classroom,” the professor repeated, adding, “Men and women have died for your education.” Instead of being disgruntled, the student nodded thoughtfully as he removed his hat and joined us. With its expanses of beautiful architecture, quads (or walled lawns) spilling into lush gardens, mist rising from rivers, cows lowing in meadows, spires reaching high into skies, Oxford remained unapologetically absolute. And did I mention? Practically every college within the university has its own pub. Pubs, as I came to learn, represented far more for the Brits than merely a place where alcohol was served. They were important gathering places, overflowing with good conversation over comforting food: vital humming hubs of community in communication. So faced with a thousand-year-old institution, I learned to pick my battles. Rather than resist, for instance, the archaic book-ordering system in the Bodleian Library with technological mortification, I discovered the treasure in embracing its seeming quirkiness. Often, when the wrong book came up from the annals after my order, I found it to be right in some way after all. Oxford often works such. After one particularly serendipitous day of research, I asked Robert, the usual morning porter on duty at the Bodleian Library, about the lack of any kind of sophisticated security system, especially in one of the world’s most famous libraries. The Bodleian was not a loaning library, though you were allowed to work freely amid priceless artifacts. Individual college libraries entrusted you to simply sign a book out and then return it when you were done. “It’s funny; Americans ask me about that all the time,” Robert said as he stirred his tea. “But then again, they’re not used to having u in honour,” he said with a shrug. ~ Carolyn Weber,
1184:XXIV.
And more than that - a furlong on - why, there!
What bad use was that engine for, that wheel,
Or brake, not wheel - that harrow fit to reel
Men's bodies out like silk? With all the air
Of Tophet's tool, on earth left unaware
Or brought to sharpen its rusty teeth of steel.

XXV.
Then came a bit of stubbed ground, once a wood,
Next a marsh it would seem, and now mere earth
Desperate and done with; (so a fool finds mirth,
Makes a thing and then mars it, till his mood
Changes and off he goes!) within a rood -
Bog, clay and rubble, sand, and stark black dearth.

XXVI.
Now blotches rankling, coloured gay and grim,
Now patches where some leanness of the soil's
Broke into moss, or substances like boils;
Then came some palsied oak, a cleft in him
Like a distorted mouth that splits its rim
Gaping at death, and dies while it recoils.

XXVII.
And just as far as ever from the end!
Naught in the distance but the evening, naught
To point my footstep further! At the thought,
A great black bird, Apollyon's bosom friend,
Sailed past, not best his wide wing dragon-penned
That brushed my cap - perchance the guide I sought.

XXVIII.
For, looking up, aware I somehow grew,
Spite of the dusk, the plain had given place
All round to mountains - with such name to grace
Mere ugly heights and heaps now stolen in view.
How thus they had surprised me - solve it, you!
How to get from them was no clearer case.

XXIX.
Yet half I seemed to recognise some trick
Of mischief happened to me, God knows when -
In a bad dream perhaps. Here ended, then
Progress this way. When, in the very nick
Of giving up, one time more, came a click
As when a trap shuts - you're inside the den.

XXX.
Burningly it came on me all at once,
This was the place! those two hills on the right,
Crouched like two bulls locked horn in horn in fight;
While to the left a tall scalped mountain ... Dunce,
Dotard, a-dozing at the very nonce,
After a life spent training for the sight!

XXXI.
What in the midst lay but the Tower itself?
The round squat turret, blind as the fool's heart,
Built of brown stone, without a counterpart
In the whole world. The tempest's mocking elf
Points to the shipman thus the unseen shelf
He strikes on, only when the timbers start.

XXXII.
Not see? because of night perhaps? - why day
Came back again for that! before it left
The dying sunset kindled through a cleft:
The hills, like giants at a hunting, lay,
Chin upon hand, to see the game at bay, -
Now stab and end the creature - to the heft!'

XXXIII.
Not hear? When noise was everywhere! it tolled
Increasing like a bell. Names in my ears
Of all the lost adventurers, my peers -
How such a one was strong, and such was bold,
And such was fortunate, yet each of old
Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.

XXXIV.
There they stood, ranged along the hillsides, met
To view the last of me, a living frame
For one more picture! In a sheet of flame
I saw them and I knew them all. And yet
Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set,
And blew. 'Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came. ~ Robert Browning,
1185:Năzuinţa omului spre „liberul arbitru“, în înţelesul superlativ şi metafizic care din păcate mai domneşte încă în creierele semidocte, vrerea de a purta întreaga şi ultima responsabilitate pentru actele sale, descărcând-o din spinarea lui Dumnezeu, a lumii, a eredităţii, a întâmplării, a societăţii, este nici mai mult, nici mai puţin decât dorinţa de a fi însăşi causa sui. Cu o cutezanţă mai mare decât aceea a baronului de Munchhausen, omul încearcă, trăgându-se de păr, să se smulgă din mlaştina neantului, pentru a se înălţa în existentă. Iar de s-ar hotărî vreunul să-i facă vânt neroziei rustice a acestei noţiuni faimoase a „liberului arbitru“ şi să şi-o scoată din cap l-aş ruga să mai facă un pas pe calea „iluminării“ sale şi să procedeze aşijderea şi în privinţa contrariului acestei pseudonoţiuni a „liberului arbitru“: mă refer la „vrerea încătuşată“ care conduce la un abuz al noţiunilor de cauză şi efect. „Cauza“ şi „efectul“ nu trebuie concretizate, precum o fac în mod greşit naturaliştii (şi toţi cei care naturalizează azi în gândire, asemenea lor), care se conformează neroziei mecaniciste dominante ce îşi imaginează cauza drept ceva care trage şi împinge până în momentul în care este obţinut efectul: trebuie să ne folosim de „cauză“ şi de „efect" doar ca de nişte noţiuni pure, adică în chip de ficţiuni convenţionale în scopul desemnării, al comunicării, şi nu pentru cel al explicaţiei. Noţiunea de „în sine“ nu conţine nici un dram de „legătură cauzală“, de „necesitate“, de „determinism psihologic“, în cazul ei efectul nu este urmarea cauzei, în cadrul ei nu domneşte nici o „lege“. Noi singuri am fost cei care am inventat cauzele, succesiunea, reciprocitatea, relativitatea, obligativitatea, numărul, legea, libertatea, temeiul, ţinta; iar când introducem şi amestecăm în lucruri această lume de semne născocite de noi înşine, în chip de lucruri „în sine“, procedăm iarăşi precum am făcut întotdeauna, şi anume mitologic. „Voinţa încătuşată“ este un mit: în realitate, se poate vorbi doar despre voinţe puternice şi slabe. - Când un gânditor simte că a descoperit deodată în întreaga „înlănţuire cauzală" şi în întreaga „necesitate psihologică“ ceva ce seamănă a constrângere, a necesitate, a succesiune obligatorie, a presiune, a încătuşare - aceasta este mai întotdeauna semnul că în cazul lui ceva nu este în regulă: a simţi astfel e un simptom revelator, - respectivul se demască pe sine; şi, în general, în caz că observaţiile mele sunt exacte, problema determinismului este cercetată sub două aspecte diametral opuse, însă întotdeauna într-un mod profund personal: unii nu vor să cedeze cu niciun preţ din „responsabilitatea“ lor, din credinţa în sine, din dreptul personal asupra meritelor tor (acesta e cazul raselor vanitoase), ceilalţi, dimpotrivă, nu vor să-si asume responsabilitatea şi vinovăţia pentru nimic, dorind, dintr-un tăinuit dispreţ de sine, să poată da bir cu fugiţii, indiferent în ce direcţie, din faţa eului lor. Când scriu cărţi, aceştia din urmă obişnuiesc să ia apărarea în zilele noastre răufăcătorilor; deghizarea lor preferată este un fel de compătimire socialistă. Si, într-adevăr, fatalismul celor cu voinţa slabă se înfrumuseţează uimitor din momentul în care reuşeşte să se dea drept la religion de la souffrance humaine: este felul său de a-si demonstra „bunul gust“. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,
1186:Nevertheless, it would be prudent to remain concerned. For, like death, IT would come: Armageddon. There would be-without exaggeration-a series of catastrophes. As a consequence of the evil in man...-no mere virus, however virulent, was even a burnt match for our madness, our unconcern, our cruelty-...there would arise a race of champions, predators of humans: namely earthquakes, eruptions, tidal waves, tornados, typhoons, hurricanes, droughts-the magnificent seven. Floods, winds, fires, slides. The classical elements, only angry. Oceans would warm, the sky boil and burn, the ice cap melt, the seas rise. Rogue nations, like kids killing kids at their grammar school, would fire atomic-hydrogen-neutron bombs at one another. Smallpox would revive, or out of the African jungle would slide a virus no one understood. Though reptilian only in spirit, the disease would make us shed our skins like snakes and, naked to the nerves, we'd expire in a froth of red spit. Markets worldwide would crash as reckless cars on a speedway do, striking the wall and rebounding into one another, hurling pieces of themselves at the spectators in the stands. With money worthless-that last faith lost-the multitude would riot, race against race at first, God against God, the gots against the gimmes. Insects hardened by generations of chemicals would consume our food, weeds smother our fields, fire ants, killer bees sting us while we're fleeing into refuge water, where, thrashing we would drown, our pride a sodden wafer. Pestilence. War. Famine. A cataclysm of one kind or another-coming-making millions of migrants. Wearing out the roads. Foraging in the fields. Looting the villages. Raping boys and women. There'd be no tent cities, no Red Cross lunches, hay drops. Deserts would appear as suddenly as patches of crusty skin. Only the sun would feel their itch. Floods would sweep suddenly over all those newly arid lands as if invited by the beach. Forest fires would burn, like those in coal mines, for years, uttering smoke, making soot for speech, blackening every tree leaf ahead of their actual charring. Volcanoes would erupt in series, and mountains melt as though made of rock candy till the cities beneath them were caught inside the lava flow where they would appear to later eyes, if there were any eyes after, like peanuts in brittle. May earthquakes jelly the earth, Professor Skizzen hotly whispered. Let glaciers advance like motorboats, he bellowed, threatening a book with his fist. These convulsions would be a sign the parasites had killed their host, evils having eaten all they could; we'd hear a groan that was the going of the Holy Ghost; we'd see the last of life pissed away like beer from a carouse; we'd feel a shudder move deeply through this universe of dirt, rock, water, ice, and air, because after its long illness the earth would have finally died, its engine out of oil, its sky of light, winds unable to catch a breath, oceans only acid; we'd be witnessing a world that's come to pieces bleeding searing steam from its many wounds; we'd hear it rattling its atoms around like dice in a cup before spilling randomly out through a split in the stratosphere, night and silence its place-well-not of rest-of disappearance. My wish be willed, he thought. Then this will be done, he whispered so no God could hear him. That justice may be served, he said to the four winds that raged in the corners of his attic. ~ William H Gass,
1187:Până când într-o seară - în Piaţa Republicii, îmi amintesc, ploua - mi se agăţă de braţ şi cu o voce ciudată la el, speriată, ca de copil, spuse:
— Mi s-a întâmplat o nenorocire.
Oh, înţelesesem eu, dar mă prefăcui că nu bănuiam nimic.
— Ce este?
El mă privi rugător, aşteptând parcă o iertare preventivă.
— O femeie, bâlbâi.
— Ştiam.
Omul în floarea vârstei, sigur pe sine, plin de energie şi idei, măreţ prin impetuozitatea şi hotărârea faţă de obstacolele care-i ieşeau în cale şi față de pericole, era un biet vierme care tremura.
— Şi te iubeşte?
— Nu.
— Atunci?
— Tocmai de-asta.
Îmi povesti, cu o sumedenie de amănunte inutile şi plicticoase, cine era, cum îl chinuia şi cum el nu mai putea să trăiască fără ea; una din multele poveşti triste de pe lumea aceasta imperfectă, asemănătoare cu atâtea altele. Numai că Umberto pricepea absurdul situaţiei: el îndrăgostit şi ea nepăsătoare. Şi spunea că era frumoasă, fireşte, dar nu încerca, cum fac bărbaţii în asemenea ocazii, s-o transforme într-o zeiţă. Ba o descria chiar cu cruzime calculată: vicleană, avidă de bani, o inimă de ciment nesimţitor. Dar el nu putea renunţa. II întrebai:
— Şi chiar crezi că n-ai putea-o lăsa?
— Acum nu.
— Dar pricepi bine, că o femeie ca asta te...
— Mă duce de râpă, vrei să zici? Sigur că pricep. Totuşi...
După două zile am cunoscut-o şi eu. Era la el în birou, aşezată pe divan. Foarte tânără, o faţă isteaţă de fetiţă, cu pielea întinsă de inexprimabila frăgezime a vârstei, cu părul negru şi lung, prins într-o ciudată pieptănătură ottocentescă, cu trupul încă adolescentin. Frumoasă? Nu ştiu. Desigur un tip neobişnuit, popular şi totodată chic. Dar era, între aspectul ei şi lucrurile pe care mi le povestise Umberto, o contradicţie de netrecut. Totul în ea era voioşie, lipsă de griji, bucurie de viaţă, ingenuă abandonare la solicitările vieţii ; sau aşa părea cel puţin. Se purtă foarte drăguţ cu mine. Ciripea, privindu-mă, şi buzele ei se deschideau în zâmbete maliţioase. Ba chiar exagera, în acest sens, ca pentru o declarată intenţie de cucerire. Şi pe Umberto nici nu-l băga în seamă, ca şi când n-ar fi existat. Umberto, în picioare, cu un zâmbet forţat pe buze, o contempla, stupid. Cu un gest de minunată neruşinare, Lunella îşi potrivi fusta lăsând să se zărească mai mult decât se cuvenea. Apoi lăsa capul în jos, provocatoare, ca o şcolăriţă impertinentă:
— Ştiţi cine sunt? Eu sunt ciclonul, îmi spuse, eu sunt tromba marină, eu sunt curcubeul. Eu sunt... eu sunt o fetiţă delicioasă.
Şi râdea de-a dreptul fericită. Chiar în clipa aceea descoperii, în spatele pălăvrăgelilor copilăreşti, o neţărmurită şi foarte controlată capacitate de a minţi. N-aş putea spune de ce. Ca o senzaţie fizică. Dar ea, în cele din urmă, se întoarse spre Umberto.
— Mocci, îi ceru ea cu cel mai viclean dintre surâsuri, hai spune-mi: veveriţica mea!
Umberto scutură din cap, între satisfacţie şi nehotărâre.
— Hai, Mocci, spune-mi: veveriţica mea!
Îl privi. Cu o expresie idioată murmură:
— Veveriţica...
— Mea! îl incită ea.
— Mea, confirmă bărbatul, învins. Şi atunci Lunella, încreţindu-şi graţioasele buze, mimetizându-se poate în vreun erou necuvântător de-al lui Walt Disney:
— Chiţ! chiţ! făcu ea copilăreşte.
Era atâta ironie în privirile sale, era o atât de rece satisfacţie a posesiunii, că-mi trecu un fior pe şira spinării. ~ Dino Buzzati,
1188:I work as fast as I can. Binah will come soon looking for me. It’s Mother, however, who descends the back steps into the yard. Binah and the other house slaves are clumped behind her, moving with cautious, synchronized steps as if they’re a single creature, a centipede crossing an unprotected space. I sense the shadow that hovers over them in the air, some devouring dread, and I crawl back into the green-black gloom of the tree. The slaves stare at Mother’s back, which is straight and without give. She turns and admonishes them. “You are lagging. Quickly now, let us be done with this.” As she speaks, an older slave, Rosetta, is dragged from the cow house, dragged by a man, a yard slave. She fights, clawing at his face. Mother watches, impassive. He ties Rosetta’s hands to the corner column of the kitchen house porch. She looks over her shoulder and begs. Missus, please. Missus. Missus. Please. She begs even as the man lashes her with his whip. Her dress is cotton, a pale yellow color. I stare transfixed as the back of it sprouts blood, blooms of red that open like petals. I cannot reconcile the savagery of the blows with the mellifluous way she keens or the beauty of the roses coiling along the trellis of her spine. Someone counts the lashes—is it Mother? Six, seven. The scourging continues, but Rosetta stops wailing and sinks against the porch rail. Nine, ten. My eyes look away. They follow a black ant traveling the far reaches beneath the tree—the mountainous roots and forested mosses, the endless perils—and in my head I say the words I fashioned earlier. Boy Run. Girl Jump. Sarah Go. Thirteen. Fourteen . . . I bolt from the shadows, past the man who now coils his whip, job well done, past Rosetta hanging by her hands in a heap. As I bound up the back steps into the house, Mother calls to me, and Binah reaches to scoop me up, but I escape them, thrashing along the main passage, out the front door, where I break blindly for the wharves. I don’t remember the rest with clarity, only that I find myself wandering across the gangplank of a sailing vessel, sobbing, stumbling over a turban of rope. A kind man with a beard and a dark cap asks what I want. I plead with him, Sarah Go. Binah chases me, though I’m unaware of her until she pulls me into her arms and coos, “Poor Miss Sarah, poor Miss Sarah.” Like a decree, a proclamation, a prophecy. When I arrive home, I am a muss of snot, tears, yard dirt, and harbor filth. Mother holds me against her, rears back and gives me an incensed shake, then clasps me again. “You must promise never to run away again. Promise me.” I want to. I try to. The words are on my tongue—the rounded lumps of them, shining like the marbles beneath the tree. “Sarah!” she demands. Nothing comes. Not a sound. I remained mute for a week. My words seemed sucked into the cleft between my collar bones. I rescued them by degrees, by praying, bullying and wooing. I came to speak again, but with an odd and mercurial form of stammer. I’d never been a fluid speaker, even my first spoken words had possessed a certain belligerent quality, but now there were ugly, halting gaps between my sentences, endless seconds when the words cowered against my lips and people averted their eyes. Eventually, these horrid pauses began to come and go according to their own mysterious whims. They might plague me for weeks and then remain away months, only to return again as abruptly as they left. ~ Sue Monk Kidd,
1189:Don't believe that, dear. Don't ever believe that. Nobody's bad just because of the way they look. It's what's inside a person that counts.' 'But, Ma, what's inside a person? When people look different are they different inside, too?' Ma didn't answer, she was looking at her hands now, kneading a ball of dough. Saroj thought she had forgotten her and so she said, 'Ma?' Ma turned her eyes back to Saroj. 'I'll show you in a moment, dear. I'll just finish making these.' Saroj watched the stack of dhal puris grow into a flat round tower and then Ma said she was finished and covered them with a cloth and washed her hands. Then she opened the cupboard where she kept her spare jars and bottles and took out six jars and placed them on the kitchen counter. 'Do you see these jars, Saroj? Are they all the same?' Saroj shook her head. 'No, Ma.' The glasses were all different. There was a short flat one and a tall thin one and a medium-sized one, and other shapes in between. Some were different colours: green or brown or clear. 'All right. Now, just imagine these jars are people. People with different shapes of bodies and colours of skin. Can you do that?' Saroj nodded. 'Right. Well, now the bodies are empty. But look…’ Ma picked up a big glass jug, filled it at the tap and poured water into all the jars. 'See, Saroj? Now all the glasses are filled. All the bodies are alive! They have what we call a spirit. Now, is that spirit the same in all the glasses, or different?' 'It's the same, Ma. So people are —' But Ma broke in. 'Now, can you run into the pantry and get the tin where I keep my dyes? You know it, don't you?' Saroj was back even before Ma had finished speaking. Ma opened the tin and picked up one of the tiny bottles of powdered dye. It was cherry-coloured. Ma held the bottle over one of the jars and tipped a little of the powder into the water. Immediately, the water turned pink-red. Ma returned the cap to the bottle and picked up another one. The water turned lime-green. She did that six times and each time the water turned a different colour so that in the end Ma had six different shaped jars of six different colours. 'So, Saroj, now you answer me. Are these people here all the same inside, or are they all different?' Saroj took her time before answering. She puckered her brow and thought hard. Finally she said, 'Well, Ma, really they're all the same but the colours make them different.' 'Yes, but what is more real, the sameness or the differences?' Saroj thought hard again. Then she said: 'The sameness, Ma. Because the sameness holds up the differences. The differences are only the powders you put in.' 'Exactly. So think of all these people as having a spirit which is the same in each one, and yet each one is also different — that is because each person has a different personality. A personality is made up of thoughts, and everyone has different kinds of thoughts. Some have loving thoughts, some have angry thoughts, some have sad thoughts, some have mean thoughts. Most people have jumbles of thoughts — but everybody's thoughts are different, and so everybody is different. Different outside and different inside. And they see those differences in each other and they squabble and fight, because everyone thinks the way he is, is right. But if they could see through the differences to the oneness beyond, linking them all, then…’ 'Then what, Ma?' 'Then we would all be so wise, Saroj, and so happy! ~ Sharon Maas,
1190:Personajul Gavrila Ardalionovici Ivolghin din naraţiunea noastră aparţinea unei alte categorii; făcea parte din categoria oamenilor „ceva mai deştepţi", deşi ardea, din cap pînă în picioare, de dorinţa de a părea original. După cum am arătat însă, categoria aceasta de oameni e mult mai nefericită decît prima. Chestiunea e că un om „obişnuit" deştept, chiar dacă îşi închipuie la un moment dat (sau poate chiar şi o viaţă întreagă) că este un om genial, deosebit de original, păstrează totuşi, în adîncul inimii, un viermişor de îndoială, care îl duce uneori la exasperare; iar dacă se resemnează, o face de aici încolo deplin înveninat de o puternică doză de vanitate refulată. E drept că în exemplificarea noastră am luat extrema şi am folosit un caz excepţional; în marea majoritate a cazurilor la această categorie de oameni mai deştepţi, lucrurile se petrec mai puţin tragic doar dacă la o vîrstă mai înaintată începe să-i supere ceva mai mult ficatul, atîta tot. Oricum însă, înainte de a se supune şi a se resemna, oamenii aceştia se încăpăţînează uneori să-şi facă de cap vreme indelungată, din tinereţe şi pînă la vîrsta resemnării şi tot numai din dorinţa de a fi originali. Se întîmplă şi cazuri destul de ciudate: din dorinţa de originalitate îl vezi pe cîte unul, om dintr-o bucată de altfel, că este gata să comită şi cîte o mîrşăvie, ba de multe ori se întîmplă ca nenorocitul să nu fie numai un om cinstit, dar şi bun pe deasupra, susţinător de familie, care mai întreţine sau ajută cu banii lui munciţi şi pe cîte un străin de familia lui, şi totuşi o viaţă întreagă să nu-şi găsească astîmpăr. Nu-l satisface nici pe departe şi nu-l consolează gîndul că îşi îndeplineşte atît de frumos îndatoririle de om, dimpotrivă tocmai asta îl enervează. „Uite pe ce mi-am irosit o viaţă întreagă, parcă ar vrea el să spună, iată ce m-a legat de mîini şi de picioare, iată ce m-a împiedicat să descopăr praful de puşcă! Dacă nu era această piedică, poate că aş fi descoperit negreşit ori praful de puşcă, ori America - precis nu ştiu încă ce anume - dar aş fi descoperit negreşit ceva". Ceea ce îi caracterizează îndeosebi pe toţi domnii aceştia e că, în tot decursul vieţii, ei nu izbutesc să se dumerească bine: ce anume trebuie neapărat să descopere şi ce anume sînt gata să descopere în cursul vieţii lor: praful de puşcă sau America? În ce priveşte însă năzuinţa, dorul descoperirii, s-ar putea spune că le posedă într-o doză care ar fi fost pe măsura unui Columb sau unui Galileu. Gavrila Ardalionovici apucase tocmai pe această cale dar nu era decît la începutul ei.
Avea încă mult de umblat pe drumuri nesăbuite. Încă din adolescenţă fusese mereu chinuit de conştiinţa mediocrităţii lui, căutînd în acelaşi timp să se convingă că e un om superior. Era un tînăr ros de ambiţii, cu veleităţi şi porniri nestăpînite, cu nervii cam şubrezi încă de la naştere. Impetuozitatea dorinţelor o lua drept semn al forţei sale. În dorinţa lui aprigă de a ieşi din comun, era gata chiar şi de acţiuni nechibzuite, dar în momentul cînd aceste acţiuni urmau să fie aduse la îndeplinire, eroul nostru se dovedea întotdeauna prea deştept pentru a le săvîrşi, şi ca atare se lăsa păgubaş. Asta îl ducea la disperare. Poate că în anumite împrejurări, s-ar fi hotârît şi la vreo ticăloşie, numai să obţină cele rîvnite, dar, ca un făcut, în clipa decisivă se dovedea a fi prea cinstit pentru o ticăloşie. De altfel, la una mai mică s-ar fi pretat oricînd. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
1191:The Memory Business Steven Sasson is a tall man with a lantern jaw. In 1973, he was a freshly minted graduate of the Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute. His degree in electrical engineering led to a job with Kodak’s Apparatus Division research lab, where, a few months into his employment, Sasson’s supervisor, Gareth Lloyd, approached him with a “small” request. Fairchild Semiconductor had just invented the first “charge-coupled device” (or CCD)—an easy way to move an electronic charge around a transistor—and Kodak needed to know if these devices could be used for imaging.4 Could they ever. By 1975, working with a small team of talented technicians, Sasson used CCDs to create the world’s first digital still camera and digital recording device. Looking, as Fast Company once explained, “like a ’70s Polaroid crossed with a Speak-and-Spell,”5 the camera was the size of a toaster, weighed in at 8.5 pounds, had a resolution of 0.01 megapixel, and took up to thirty black-and-white digital images—a number chosen because it fell between twenty-four and thirty-six and was thus in alignment with the exposures available in Kodak’s roll film. It also stored shots on the only permanent storage device available back then—a cassette tape. Still, it was an astounding achievement and an incredible learning experience. Portrait of Steven Sasson with first digital camera, 2009 Source: Harvey Wang, From Darkroom to Daylight “When you demonstrate such a system,” Sasson later said, “that is, taking pictures without film and showing them on an electronic screen without printing them on paper, inside a company like Kodak in 1976, you have to get ready for a lot of questions. I thought people would ask me questions about the technology: How’d you do this? How’d you make that work? I didn’t get any of that. They asked me when it was going to be ready for prime time? When is it going to be realistic to use this? Why would anybody want to look at their pictures on an electronic screen?”6 In 1996, twenty years after this meeting took place, Kodak had 140,000 employees and a $28 billion market cap. They were effectively a category monopoly. In the United States, they controlled 90 percent of the film market and 85 percent of the camera market.7 But they had forgotten their business model. Kodak had started out in the chemistry and paper goods business, for sure, but they came to dominance by being in the convenience business. Even that doesn’t go far enough. There is still the question of what exactly Kodak was making more convenient. Was it just photography? Not even close. Photography was simply the medium of expression—but what was being expressed? The “Kodak Moment,” of course—our desire to document our lives, to capture the fleeting, to record the ephemeral. Kodak was in the business of recording memories. And what made recording memories more convenient than a digital camera? But that wasn’t how the Kodak Corporation of the late twentieth century saw it. They thought that the digital camera would undercut their chemical business and photographic paper business, essentially forcing the company into competing against itself. So they buried the technology. Nor did the executives understand how a low-resolution 0.01 megapixel image camera could hop on an exponential growth curve and eventually provide high-resolution images. So they ignored it. Instead of using their weighty position to corner the market, they were instead cornered by the market. ~ Peter H Diamandis,
1192:In The Garret
Four little chests all in a row,
Dim with dust, and worn by time,
All fashioned and filled, long ago,
By children now in their prime.
Four little keys hung side by side,
With faded ribbons, brave and gay
When fastened there, with childish pride,
Long ago, on a rainy day.
Four little names, one on each lid,
Carved out by a boyish hand,
And underneath there lieth hid
Histories of the happy band
Once playing here, and pausing oft
To hear the sweet refrain,
That came and went on the roof aloft,
In the falling summer rain.

'Meg' on the first lid, smooth and fair.
I look in with loving eyes,
For folded here, with well-known care,
A goodly gathering lies,
The record of a peaceful life--
Gifts to gentle child and girl,
A bridal gown, lines to a wife,
A tiny shoe, a baby curl.
No toys in this first chest remain,
For all are carried away,
In their old age, to join again
In another small Meg's play.
Ah, happy mother! Well I know
You hear, like a sweet refrain,
Lullabies ever soft and low
In the falling summer rain.

'Jo' on the next lid, scratched and worn,
And within a motley store
Of headless dolls, of schoolbooks torn,
Birds and beasts that speak no more,
Spoils brought home from the fairy ground
Only trod by youthful feet,
Dreams of a future never found,
Memories of a past still sweet,
Half-writ poems, stories wild,
April letters, warm and cold,
Diaries of a wilful child,
Hints of a woman early old,
A woman in a lonely home,
Hearing, like a sad refrain--
'Be worthy, love, and love will come,'
In the falling summer rain.

My Beth! the dust is always swept
From the lid that bears your name,
As if by loving eyes that wept,
By careful hands that often came.
Death canonized for us one saint,
Ever less human than divine,
And still we lay, with tender plaint,
Relics in this household shrine--
The silver bell, so seldom rung,
The little cap which last she wore,
The fair, dead Catherine that hung
By angels borne above her door.
The songs she sang, without lament,
In her prison-house of pain,
Forever are they sweetly blent
With the falling summer rain.

Upon the last lid's polished field--
Legend now both fair and true
A gallant knight bears on his shield,
'Amy' in letters gold and blue.
Within lie snoods that bound her hair,
Slippers that have danced their last,
Faded flowers laid by with care,
Fans whose airy toils are past,
Gay valentines, all ardent flames,
Trifles that have borne their part
In girlish hopes and fears and shames,
The record of a maiden heart
Now learning fairer, truer spells,
Hearing, like a blithe refrain,
The silver sound of bridal bells
In the falling summer rain.

Four little chests all in a row,
Dim with dust, and worn by time,
Four women, taught by weal and woe
To love and labor in their prime.
Four sisters, parted for an hour,
None lost, one only gone before,
Made by love's immortal power,
Nearest and dearest evermore.
Oh, when these hidden stores of ours
Lie open to the Father's sight,
May they be rich in golden hours,
Deeds that show fairer for the light,
Lives whose brave music long shall ring,
Like a spirit-stirring strain,
Souls that shall gladly soar and sing
In the long sunshine after rain ~ Louisa May Alcott,
1193:Unredeemed
I saw the Christ down from His cross,
A tragic man lean-limbed and tall,
But weighed with suffering and loss.
His back was to a broken wall,
And out upon the tameless world
Was fixed His gaze His piercing eye
Beheld the towns to ruin hurled,
And saw the storm of death pass by.
Two thousand years it was since first
He offered to the race of men
His sovran boon, As one accurst
They nailed Him to the jibbet then,
And while they mocked Him for their mirth
He smiled, and from the hill of pain
To all the hating tribes of earth
Held forth His wondrous gift again.
To-day the thorns were on His brow,
His grief was deeper than before.
From ravaged field and city now
Arose the screams and reek of war.
The black smoke parted. Through the rift
God's sun fell on the b1oody lands.
Christ wept, for still His priceless gift
He held within His wounded hands.
Xxxx
The Living Picture
He rode along one splendid noon,
When all the hills were lit with Spring,
And through the bushland throbbed a croon
Of every living, hopeful thing.
Between his teeth a rose he bore
As white as milk, and passing there
He tossed it with a laugh. I wore
It as it fell among my hair.
174
No day a-drip with golden rain,
No heat with drench of wattle scent
Can touch the heart of me again
But with that young, sweet wonder blent.
We wed upon a gusty day,
When baffled fury whipped the sea;
And now I love the swift, wet play
Of wind and rain besetting me.
I took white roses in my hand,
A white rose on my forehead shone,
For we had come to understand
White roses bloomed for us alone.
When scarce a year had gone he sped
To fight the wars. With eyes grown grim
He kissed my lips, and whispering said:
“The world we must keep sweet for him!”
He wrote of war, the soldier's life.
“'Tis hard, my dearest, but be brave.
I did not make my love my wife
To be the mother of a slave!”
My babe was born a boy. He had
His father's eyes, his smile, his hair,
And, oh, my soul was brimming glad—
It seemed his father's self was there!
But now came one who bade me still
In holy Heaven put my trust.
They'd laid my love beneath the hill,
And sealed his eyes with timeless dust.
Against my breast the babe I drew,
With strength from him to stay my fears.
I fought my fight the long days through;
He laughed and dabbled in my tears.
From my poor heart, at which it fed
With tiger teeth, I thrust despair,
175
And faced a world with shadow spread
And only echoes in the air.
The winter waned. One eve I went,
Led by a kindly hand to see
In moving scenes the churches rent,
The tumbled hill, the blasted lee.
Of soldiers resting by the road,
Who smoked and drowsed, a muddy rout,
One sprang alert, and forward strode,
With eager eyes to seek us out.
His fingers held a rose. He threw
The flower, and waved his cap. In me
A frenzy of assurance grew,
For, O dear God, 'twas he! 'twas he!
I called aloud. Aloft my child
I held, and nearer yet he came;
And when he understood and smiled,
My baby lisped his father's name.
They say I fell like something dead,
But when I woke to morning's glow
My boy sat by me on the bed,
And in his hand a rose of snow!
~ Edward George Dyson,
1194:A change in direction was required. The story you finished was perhaps never the one you began. Yes! He would take charge of his life anew, binding his breaking selves together. Those changes in himself that he sought, he himself would initiate and make them. No more of this miasmic, absent drift. How had he ever persuaded himself that his money-mad burg would rescue him all by itself, this Gotham in which Jokers and Penguins were running riot with no Batman (or even Robin) to frustrate their schemes, this Metropolis built of Kryptonite in
which no Superman dared set foot, where wealth was mistaken for riches and the joy of possession for happiness, where people lived such polished lives that the great rough truths of raw existence had been rubbed and buffed away, and in which human souls had wandered so separately for so long that they barely remembered how to touch; this city whose fabled electricity powered the electric fences that were being erected between men and men, and men and women, too? Rome did not fall because her armies weakened but because Romans forgot what
being Roman meant. Might this new Rome actually be more provincial than its provinces; might these new Romans have forgotten what and how to value, or had they never known? Were all empires so undeserving, or was this one particularly crass? Was nobody in all this bustling endeavor and material plenitude engaged, any longer, on the deep quarry-work of the mind and heart? O Dream-America, was civilization's
quest to end in obesity and trivia, at Roy Rogers and Planet Hollywood, in USA Today and on E!; or in million-dollar-game-show greed or fly-on-the-wall voyeurism; or in the eternal confessional booth of Ricki and Oprah and Jerry, whose guests murdered each other after the show; or in a spurt of gross-out dumb-and-dumber comedies
designed for young people who sat in darkness howling their ignorance at the silver screen; or even at the unattainable tables of Jean-Georges Vongerichten and Alain Ducasse? What of the search for the hidden keys that unlock the doors of exaltation? Who demolished the City on the Hill and put in its place a row of electric chairs,
those dealers in death's democracy, where everyone, the innocent, the mentally deficient, the guilty, could come to die side by side? Who paved Paradise and put up a parking lot? Who settled for George W. Gush's boredom and Al Bore's gush? Who let Charlton Heston out of his cage and then asked why children were getting shot? What, America, of the Grail? O ye Yankee Galahads, ye Hoosier Lancelots, O Parsifals of the stockyards, what of the Table Round? He felt a flood bursting in him and did not hold back. Yes, it had seduced him, America; yes, its brilliance aroused him, and its vast potency too, and he was compromised by this seduction. What he opposed in it he must also attack in himself. It made him want what it promised and eternally withheld. Everyone was an American now, or at least Americanized: Indians, Uzbeks, Japanese, Lilliputians, all. America was the world's playing field, its rule book, umpire, and ball. Even anti-Americanism was Americanism in disguise, conceding, as it did, that America was the only game in town and the matter of America the only business at hand; and so, like everyone, Malik Solanka now walked its high corridors cap in hand, a supplicant at its feast; but that did not mean he could not look it in the eye. Arthur had fallen, Excalibur was lost and dark Mordred was king. Beside him on the throne of Camelot sat the queen, his sister, the witch Morgan le Fay. ~ Salman Rushdie,
1195:Shopping For Pomegranates At Wal-Mart On New
Year's Day
Beneath a ten-foot-tall apparition of Frosty the Snowman
with his corncob pipe and jovial, over-eager, button-black eyes,
holding, in my palm, the leathery, wine-colored purse
of a pomegranate, I realize, yet again, that America is a country
about which I understand everything and nothing at all,
that this is life, this ungovernable air
in which the trees rearrange their branches, season after season,
never certain which configuration will bear the optimal yield
of sunlight and water, the enabling balm of nutrients,
that so, too, do Wal-Mart’s ferocious sales managers
relentlessly analyze their end-cap placement, product mix,
and shopper demographics, that this is the culture
in all its earnestness and absurdity, that it never rests,
that each day is an eternity and every night is New Year’s Eve,
a cavalcade of B-list has-beens entirely unknown to me,
needy comedians and country singers in handsome Stetsons,
sitcom stars of every social trope and ethnic denomination,
pugilists and oligarchs, femmes fatales and anointed virgins
throat-slit in offering to the cannibal throng of Times Square.
Who are these people? I grow old. I lie unsleeping
as confetti falls, ash-girdled, robed in sweat and melancholy,
click-shifting from QVC to reality TV, strings of commercials
for breath freshener, debt reconsolidation, a new car
lacking any whisper of style or grace, like a final fetid gasp
from the lips of a dying Henry Ford, potato-faced actors
impersonating real people with real opinions
offered forth with idiot grins in the yellow, herniated studio light,
actual human beings, actual souls bought too cheaply.
That it never ends, O Lord, that it never ends!
That it is relentless, remorseless, and it is on right now.
That one sees it and sees it but sometimes it sees you, too,
cowering in a corner, transfixed by the crawler for the storm alert,
home videos of faces left dazed by the twister, the car bomb,
the war always beginning or already begun, always
the special report, the inside scoop, the hidden camera
revealing the mechanical lives of the sad, inarticulate people
we have come to know as “celebrities.”
20
Who assigns such value, who chose these craven avatars
if not the miraculous hand of the marketplace,
whose torn cuticles and gaudily painted fingernails resemble nothing
so much as our own? Where does the oracle reveal our truths
more vividly than upon that pixillated spirit glass
unless it is here, in this tabernacle of homely merchandise,
a Copernican model of a money-driven universe
revolving around its golden omphalos, each of us summed
and subtotalled, integers in an equation of need and consumption,
desire and consummation, because Hollywood had it right all along,
the years are a montage of calendar pages and autumn leaves,
sheet music for a nostalgic symphony of which our lives comprise
but single trumpet blasts, single notes in the hullabaloo,
or even less—we are but motes of dust in that atmosphere
shaken by the vibrations of time’s imperious crescendo.
That it never ends, O Lord. That it goes on,
without pause or cessation, without pity or remorse.
That we have willed it into existence, dreamed it into being.
That it is our divine monster, our factotum, our scourge.
That I can imagine nothing more beautiful
than to propitiate such a god upon the seeds of my own heart.
~ Campbell McGrath,
1196:Pokrovski cerea mereu ceva, cerea stăruitor, vorbind împleticit, cu limba încătuşată de moarte, iar eu nu pricepeam nimic din vorbele lui. Inima mi se frîngea de durere! Un ceas întreg s-a zbătut aşa, chinuit de o dorinţă; se trudea să facă un semn cu mîinile-i răcite şi iar începea să ceară jalnic, cu glasul răguşit şi surd... Dar vorbele lui nu erau altceva decît un şir de bîiguieli fără nici un înţeles, şi iar nu pricepeam nimic. Rînd pe rînd, îi aduceam lîngă pat pe fiecare dintre cei ai casei, îi dădeam apă, dar el clătina trist din cap. în cele din urmă, am înţeles ce voia: mă ruga să ridic storul de la fereastră şi să deschid obloanele. Voia — pesemne — să se mai uite o dată la lumina zilei, la soare. Am tras storul; dar ziua care abia începea era tristă şi mohorîtă ca şi viaţa nefericită a celui de pe patul de moarte, gata să se stingă. Nici pomeneală de soare! Cerul era acoperit de pîcla deasă a norilor, un cer ploios, mohorît, rece. O ploaie măruntă bătea în fereastră şi se prelingea pe geam în şiroaie reci şi murdare. O zi cenuşie, întunecată. Lumina ei slabă abia pătrundea în odaie, luptînd din greu cu flacăra tremurătoare a candelei din faţa icoanei. Muribundul îmi aruncă o privire plină de o nespusă tristeţe şi clătină din cap. Peste o clipă îşi dădu sufletul. Anna Feodorovna a luat asupră-şi grijile înmormîntării. I-a cumpărat lui Pokrovski coşciugul cel mai de rînd şi a tocmit un cărăuş ca să-l ducă. Dar ca să nu rămînă cumva păgubită de cheltuieîde pe care le făcea, a pus mîna pe toate cărţile şi pe toate lucrurile răposatului. Bătrînul a făcut gură, s-a certat cu ea şi la urmă i-a smuls un teanc de cărţi, pe care le-a vîrît în buzunare, în pălărie, pe unde a putut, şi nu s-a despărţit de ele în toate cele trei zile dinaintea înmormîntării, şi chiar şi atunci cînd a trebuit să se ducă la biserică; în tot acest timp, s-a purtat ca un ieşit din minţi, învîrtindu-se mereu, cu o grijă duioasă, pe lîngă sicriu: ba îndrepta cununiţa cu rugăciunea de dezlegare a mortului, ba aprindea cîte o luminare sau schimba alta. Se vedea cît de colo că nu-şi poate opri gîndul asupra niciunui lucru. Nici măicuţa şi nici Anna Feodorovna n-au fost în biserică la prohod. Măicuţa era bolnavă, iar Anna Feodorovna se pregătise să meargă, dar în ultima clipă s-a certat cu bătrînul Pokrovski şi a rămas acasă. Nu ne-am dus decît bătrînul şi cu mine. In timpul slujbei, m-a cuprins dintr-odată o teamă ciudată, un fel de presimţire a viitorului. Abia de am putut rămîne pînă la urmă în biserică, în sfîrşit, coşciugul a fost închis, bătut în cuie, apoi l-au pus în căruţă şi l-au dus. L-am petrecut numai pînă la capătul străzii. Căruţaşul a pornit-o la trap. Bătrînul s-a luat în fugă după el, plîngînd cu hohote. Plînsul lui tremura şi se frîngea din pricina alergăturii. Sărmanul şi-a pierdut şi pălăria, dar nu s-a oprit ca să şi-o ridice. Ploaia îi uda capul, se stîrnise vîntul, măzărichea rece îi biciuia şi-i înţepa obrazul. Dar bătrînul părea să nu simtă nimic şi alerga cînd de o parte, cînd de alta a căruţei, plîngînd într-una. Poalele hainei lui vechi fîlfîiau în bătaia vîntului ca nişte aripi. Din toate buzunarele îi ieşeau colţuri de cărţi. In mîini avea iarăşi o carte mare, pe care o strîngea cu putere. Trecătorii se descopereau şi-şi făceau cruce. Unii se opreau în loc şi priveau cu uimire la sărmanul bătrîn. Cărţile îi cădeau mereu din buzunare, în noroi. Oamenii îl opreau şi-i arătau cartea pierdută; el o ridica şi pornea iarăşi în fugă pe urma sicriului. La colţul străzii i s-a alăturat o bătrînă cerşetoare, care voia şi dînsa să petreacă mortul... Apoi căruţa a cotit şi n-am mai văzut nimic. ~ Fyodor Dostoyevsky,
1197:Canon 21. « Si quelqu’un dit que le juste ait le pouvoir de persévérer sans un secours spécial de Dieu, ou qu’il ne le puisse avec ce secours : qu’il soit anathème. » Canon 25. « Si quelqu’un dit que le juste pèche en toute bonne œuvre véniellement, ou, ce qui est plus insupportable, mortellement, et qu’il mérite la peine éternelle, mais qu’il n’est pas damné, par cette seule raison que Dieu ne lui impute pas ses œuvres à damnation : qu’il soit anathème. » Par où l’on voit, non-seulement que ces paroles, que « les commandemens ne sont pas impossibles aux justes, » sont restreintes à cette condition, quand ils sont secourus par la grâce ; mais qu’elles n’ont que la même force que celles-ci, que « les justes ne pèchent pas en toutes leurs actions ; » et enfin tant s’en faut que le pouvoir prochain soit étendu à tous les justes, qu’il est défendu de l’attribuer à ceux qui ne sont pas secourus de ce secours spécial, qui n’est pas commun à tous, comme il a été expliqué. Concluons donc que tous les Pères ne tiennent pas un autre langage. Saint Augustin et les Pères qui l’ont suivi, n’ont jamais parlé des commandemens, qu’en disant qu’ils ne sont pas impossibles à la charité, et qu’ils ne nous sont faits que pour nous faire sentir le besoin que nous avons de la charité, qui seule les accomplit. « Dieu, juste et bon, n’a pu commander des choses impossibles ; ce qui nous avertit de faire ce qui est facile, et de demander ce qui est difficile. » (Aug., De nat. et grat., cap. LXIX.) « Car toutes choses sont faciles à la charité. » (De perfect. justit., cap. x.) Et ailleurs : « Qui ne sait que ce qui se fait par amour n’est pas difficile? Ceux-là ressentent de la peine à accomplir les préceptes, qui s’efforcent de les observer par la crainte ; mais la parfaite charité chasse la crainte, et rend le joug du précepte doux ; et, bien loin d’accabler par son poids, elle soulève comme si elle nous donnoit des ailes. » Cette charité ne vient pas de notre libre arbitre (si la grâce de Jésus-Christ ne nous secourt), parce qu’elle est infuse et mise dans nos cœurs, non par nous-mêmes, mais par le Saint-Esprit. Et l’Écriture nous avertit que les préceptes ne sont pas difficiles, par cette seule raison, qui est que l’âme qui les ressent pesans, entende qu’elle n’a pas encore reçu les forces par lesquelles ils lui sont doux et légers. « Quand il nous est commandé de vouloir, notre devoir nous est marqué ; mais parce que nous ne pouvons pas l’avoir de nous-mêmes, nous sommes avertis à qui nous devons le demander ; mais toutefois nous ne pouvons pas faire cette demande, si Dieu n’opère en nous de le vouloir. » (Fulg., lib. II, De verit. praedest., cap. iv.) « Les préceptes ne nous sont donnés que par cette seule raison, qui est de nous faire rechercher le secours de celui qui nous commande, » etc. (Prosper, Epist. ad Demetriad.) « Les pélagiens s’imaginent dire quelque chose d’important, quand ils disent que Dieu ne commanderoit pas ce qu’il saurait que l’homme ne pourroit faire. Qui ne sait cela? Mais il commande des choses que nous ne pouvons pas, afin que nous connoissions à qui nous devons le demander. » (Aug., De nat. et grat., cap. xv et xvi.) « O homme! reconnois dans le précepte ce que tu dois ; dans la correction, que c’est par ton vice que tu ne le fais pas ; et dans la prière, d’où tu peux en avoir le pouvoir! (Aug., De corrept., cap. ni.) Car la loi commande, afin que l’homme, sentant qu’il manque de force pour l’accomplir, ne s’enfle pas de superbe, mais étant fatigué, recoure à la grâce, et qu’ainsi la loi l’épouvantant le mène à l’amour de Jésus-Christ » (Aug., De perfect. respons. et ratiocin. xj., cap. ~ Blaise Pascal,
1198:Îndreptarul pentru spovedanie era o cărțulie mică și cu paginile roase pe la margini. Se vedea că fusese folosită mult. Conținea, de fapt, o listă cu vreo două sute de păcate descrise pe scurt și instrucțiuni utile pentru cel care se pregătea de spovedanie. Având în față această listă de păcate, ne putem face un amănunțit examen de conștiință. Astfel putem descoperi mai ales păcatele ascunse pe care le-am făcut și nu știam că sunt păcate sau nu ne-am dat seama că păcătuim, scria pe prima pagină, după care urmau câteva sfaturi practice. Cel mai simplu și mai sigur este să luați ceva de scris și o hârtie și, pe măsură ce citiți păcatele, notați pe hârtie pe cele pe care le-ați făcut. Apoi i se explica cititorului că păcatele nu trebuie prezentate preotului pe larg, ci cât mai scurt, fără să se insiste asupra împrejurărilor în care s-au petrecut. — Am deznădăjduit în ajutorul și mila lui Dumnezeu, începu Anastasia cu păcatul numărul 1. Îi explicase Irinei în ce consta pregătirea pentru spovedanie. Stăteau amândouă în pridvorul bisericii, pe o băncuță de lemn, și Anastasia se oferise să bifeze ea păcatele pe o foaie de hârtie, pentru ca Irina să se poată concentra cât mai bine asupra răspunsurilor. — Am deznădăjduit…, repetă Irina. Nu se gândise niciodată că era mare păcat să deznădăjduiești. Anastasia o privi ca să-și dea seama dacă înțelegea despre ce era vorba. Părea să înțeleagă. Puse o liniuță în dreptul păcatului numărul 1. — Am zis că nu mă mai iartă Dumnezeu, că sunt prea păcătoasă și tot în iad voi merge, continuă călugărița cu păcatul al doilea. Irina rămase pe gânduri: deci era păcat să crezi că vei merge în iad! Ea chiar crezuse că fusese în iad. Dar era păcat să nu crezi în iertarea lui Dumnezeu. O privi pe Anastasia și dădu din cap. Da, se îndoise de iertarea lui Dumnezeu. Călugărița trase o liniuță în dreptul păcatului cu numărul 2. Irina se mai învioră. Deci Dumnezeu te iartă. Începea să-i placă trecerea asta în revistă a păcatelor. Parcă era un joc la care câștiga cine făcea mai multe liniuțe. Pe de altă parte, auzind ce păcate mai erau, își dădea seama că pe multe ea nu le făcuse și asta era așa, un fel de ușurare. Am asuprit pe slugi, pe săraci, pe orfani, pe văduve, pe neputincioși. I-am batjocorit. Nu, nu făcuse niciodată păcatul cu numărul 13. Și nici pe numărul 24: Am păgubit sufletește și trupește pe aproapele meu. Nu făcuse nici păcatul cu numărul 35: Am crezut că sufletul, după ce iese din om, trece în diferite animale. Și nici păcatul vrăjitoriei. Nu mutase hotarul ca să ia din terenul vecinului, nu ascunsese în casa ei lucruri străine, nu stricase averea nimănui, nu înșelase statul, nu luase pastile anticoncepționale, nu folosise sterilet, nu făcuse avort, nu preacurvise cu rudă, fin, naș, văr, frate, fiu, fiică, nepot, nu trăise necununată, nu mâncase spurcăciuni, nu făcuse glume despre cele sfinte, nu se împărtășise când fusese la ciclu, nu citise cărți sectare, nu ucisese, cu voie sau fără voie, nu intrase în Sfântul altar, nu dăduse anafură pe jos, nu se căsătorise cu evreu, turc, catolic, sectant…, nu pârâse pe cineva cu scopul de a-i face rău, nu trăsese pe nimeni la judecată. La păcatele 82, 83 și 84 trebui să recunoască: nu se rugase în fiecare dimineață și seară și la fiecare masă, mai mâncase de dulce miercurea și vinerea și nu ținuse cele patru posturi de peste an în întregime. În Germania era altfel, se ținea doar post de carne, dar ouă, lapte și brânză aveai voie. Pe urmă, mama Neli și moșu’, de la Cuptoare, tăiau cinci-șase porci pe an, viței, păsări și întindeau mese mari de sărbători, dar nu se omorau prea tare să postească. În plus, da, mai făcuse și alte păcate: vorbise cu mai multe înțelesuri, mințise, ~ Anonymous,
1199:The Fool Errant
The Fool Errant sat by the highway of life
And his gaze wandered up and his gaze wandered down,
A vigorous youth, but with no wish to walk,
Yet his longing was great for the distant town.
He whistled a little frivolous tune
Which he felt to be pulsing with ecstasy,
For he thought that success always followed desire,
Such a very superlative fool was he.
A maiden came by on an ambling mule,
Her gown was rose-red and her kerchief blue,
On her lap she carried a basket of eggs.
Thought the fool, "There is certainly room for two."
So he jauntily swaggered towards the maid
And put out his hand to the bridle-rein.
"My pretty girl," quoth the fool, "take me up,
For to ride with you to the town I am fain."
But the maiden struck at his upraised arm
And pelted him hotly with eggs, a score.
The mule, lashed into a fury, ran;
The fool went back to his stone and swore.
Then out of the cloud of settling dust
The burly form of an abbot appeared,
Reading his office he rode to the town.
And the fool got up, for his heart was cheered.
He stood in the midst of the long, white road
And swept off his cap till it touched the ground.
"Ah, Reverent Sir, well met," said the fool,
"A worthier transport never was found.
"I pray you allow me to mount with you,
Your palfrey seems both sturdy and young."
The abbot looked up from the holy book
310
And cried out in anger, "Hold your tongue!
"How dare you obstruct the King's highroad,
You saucy varlet, get out of my way."
Then he gave the fool a cut with his whip
And leaving him smarting, he rode away.
The fool was angry, the fool was sore,
And he cursed the folly of monks and maids.
"If I could but meet with a man," sighed the fool,
"For a woman fears, and a friar upbraids."
Then he saw a flashing of distant steel
And the clanking of harness greeted his ears,
And up the road journeyed knights-at-arms,
With waving plumes and glittering spears.
The fool took notice and slowly arose,
Not quite so sure was his foolish heart.
If priests and women would none of him
Was it likely a knight would take his part?
They sang as they rode, these lusty boys,
When one chanced to turn toward the highway's side,
"There's a sorry figure of fun," jested he,
"Well, Sirrah! move back, there is scarce room to ride."
"Good Sirs, Kind Sirs," begged the crestfallen fool,
"I pray of your courtesy speech with you,
I'm for yonder town, and have no horse to ride,
Have you never a charger will carry two?"
Then the company halted and laughed out loud.
"Was such a request ever made to a knight?"
"And where are your legs," asked one, "if you start,
You may be inside the town gates to-night."
"'T is a lazy fellow, let him alone,
They've no room in the town for such idlers as he."
But one bent from his saddle and said, "My man,
Art thou not ashamed to beg charity!
311
"Thou art well set up, and thy legs are strong,
But it much misgives me lest thou'rt a fool;
For beggars get only a beggar's crust,
Wise men are reared in a different school."
Then they clattered away in the dust and the wind,
And the fool slunk back to his lonely stone;
He began to see that the man who asks
Must likewise give and not ask alone.
Purple tree-shadows crept over the road,
The level sun flung an orange light,
And the fool laid his head on the hard, gray stone
And wept as he realized advancing night.
A great, round moon rose over a hill
And the steady wind blew yet more cool;
And crouched on a stone a wayfarer sobbed,
For at last he knew he was only a fool.
~ Amy Lowell,
1200:Cea mai minunată femeie din lume este cea care te iubeşte cu adevărat şi pe care-o iubeşti cu adevărat. Nimic altceva nu contează. Odată, pe vremea liceului, umblam pe bulevard cu un prieten, doi puşti zăluzi şi frustraţi care dădeau note «gagicilor» şi vorbeau cu atât mai scabros cu cât erau, de fapt, mai inocenţi erotic. Ce fund are una, ce balcoane are alta... Femeile nu erau nimic altceva pentru noi decât nişte obiecte de lux, ca automobilele lustruite din vitrinele magazinelor «Volvo» sau «Maserati»: nu ne imaginam cu adevărat că vom avea şi noi una vreodată. Prin dreptul cinematografului Patria am zărit o tipă trăznitoare. Am rămas înlemniţi: ce pulpe în ciorapi de plasă neagră, ce fund rotund şi ce mijloc subţire, ce ţoale pe ea, ce plete de sârmă roşie, răsucită în mii de feluri... Ne-am învârtit în jurul ei ca s-o vedem şi din faţă: cum putea avea aşa pereche de ţâţe, aşa de perfecte cum numai în albumele de artă — care pe-atunci ne ţineau loc de Penthouse—mai văzuserăm? Pentru cine era o astfel de fiinţă, cum putea fi o noapte de sex cu ea? Până la urmă ne-am aşezat la coadă la bilete, fără s-o scăpăm din ochi şi fără să-ncetăm comentariile. Când, îl auzim pe unul, un tip destul de jegos care stătea şi el la coadă, mâncând seminţe, înaintea noastră: «E bună paraşuta asta, nu? V-ar place şi vouă, ciutanilor... Da' ascultaţi-mă pe mine, c-am fumat destule ca ea: cât o vedeţi de futeşă, să ştiţi că e pe undeva un bărbat sătul de ea până peste cap! Poa'să fie cea mai mişto din lume, poa'să fie şi Brijibardo, că tot i-e drag vreunuia de ea ca mie de nevastă-mea...» Am fost mult mai şocat de remarcile astea decât mi-aş fi imaginat. Cum să te plictiseşti de frumuseţea însăşi, de neatins şi de neconceput? De cea pentru care ţi-ai da şi pielea de pe tine? Ce ar putea dori un bărbat mai mult decât să-şi poată trece braţul în jurul mijlocului ei, să poată privi minute-n şir în ochii ei, să o întindă încetişor pe pat... Să o scoată din învelişul ei de dantelă mătăsoasă... De-aici încolo imaginaţia mea se bloca, nu-mi puteam închipui cum e să faci dragoste. De câte ori mă gândeam cum ar fi, vedeam doar un ocean roz care se răsuceşte asupra ta şi te sufocă... Am cunoscut apoi femei reale, femei imaginare, femei din vis, femei din cărţi, femei din reclame, femei din filme, femei din videoclipuri. Femei din revistele porno. Fiecare altfel şi fiecare cu altceva de oferit. M-am îndrăgostit de câteva şi de fiecare dată a fost la fel: primul semn că aş putea-o iubi a fost mereu că nu m-am putut gândi, văzând-o, «cât de futeşă e». Chiar dacă era. Bărbaţii au creierul impregnat de hormoni. Nici cel mai distins intelectual nu e altfel, până şi el, la orice vârstă, îşi imaginează cum ar face-o cu fata plictisită, necunoscută, de lângă el. Dar când cunoşti cea mai minunată femeie din lume, care e cea pe care o poţi iubi, semnul este, trebuie să fie, că nici pulpele, nici «balcoanele» nu se mai văd, de parcă hormonii sexului şi-ai agresivităţii s-ar retrage din creierul tău tumefiat şi l-ar lăsa inocent ca un creier de copil şi translucid ca o corniţă de melc. Facem sex cu un creier de bărbat, dar iubim cu unul de copil, încrezător, dependent, dornic de a da şi a primi afecţiune. Femeile minunate din viaţa mea, toate cele pe care le-am iubit cu adevărat şi care-au răspuns cu dragoste dragostei mele, au fost într-un fel necorporale, au fost bucurie pură, nevroză pură, experienţă pură. Senzualitatea, uneori dusă până foarte departe, nu a fost decât un ingredient într-o aventură complexă şi epuizantă a minţii. Pentru mine nu există, deci, «cea mai minunată» în sensul de 90-60-90, nici în cel de blondă, brună sau roşcată, înaltă sau minionă, vânzătoare sau poetă. Cea mai minunată este cea cu care am putut avea un copil virtual numit «cuplul nostru», «dragostea noastră». ~ Mircea C rt rescu,
1201:joke around—nothing serious—as I work to get my leg back to where it was. Two weeks later, I’m in an ankle-to-hip leg brace and hobbling around on crutches. The brace can’t come off for another six weeks, so my parents lend me their townhouse in New York City and Lucien hires me an assistant to help me out around the house. Some guy named Trevor. He’s okay, but I don’t give him much to do. I want to regain my independence as fast as I can and get back out there for Planet X. Yuri, my editor, is griping that he needs me back and I’m more than happy to oblige. But I still need to recuperate, and I’m bored as hell cooped up in the townhouse. Some buddies of mine from PX stop by and we head out to a brunch place on Amsterdam Street my assistant sometimes orders from. Deacon, Logan, Polly, Jonesy and I take a table in Annabelle’s Bistro, and settle in for a good two hours, running our waitress ragged. She’s a cute little brunette doing her best to stay cheerful for us while we give her a hard time with endless coffee refills, loud laughter, swearing, and general obnoxiousness. Her nametag says Charlotte, and Deacon calls her “Sweet Charlotte” and ogles and teases her, sometimes inappropriately. She has pretty eyes, I muse, but otherwise pay her no mind. I have my leg up on a chair in the corner, leaning back, as if I haven’t a care in the world. And I don’t. I’m going to make a full recovery and pick up my life right where I left off. Finally, a manager with a severe hairdo and too much makeup, politely, yet pointedly, inquires if there’s anything else we need, and we take the hint. We gather our shit and Deacon picks up the tab. We file out, through the maze of tables, and I’m last, hobbling slowly on crutches. I’m halfway out when I realize I left my Yankees baseball cap on the table. I return to get it and find the waitress staring at the check with tears in her eyes. She snaps the black leather book shut when she sees me and hurriedly turns away. “Forget something?” she asks with false cheer and a shaky smile. “My hat,” I say. She’s short and I’m tall. I tower over her. “Did Deacon leave a shitty tip? He does that.” “Oh no, no, I mean…it’s fine,” she says, turning away to wipe her eyes. “I’m so sorry. I just…um, kind of a rough month. You know how it is.” She glances me up and down in my expensive jeans and designer shirt. “Or maybe you don’t.” The waitress realizes what she said, and another round of apologies bursts out of her as she begins stacking our dirty dishes. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. Really. I have this bad habit…blurting. I don’t know why I said that. Anyway, um…” I laugh, and fish into my back pocket for my wallet. “Don’t worry about it. And take this. For your trouble.” I offer her forty dollars and her eyes widen. Up close, her eyes are even prettier—large and luminous, but sad too. A blush turns her skin scarlet “Oh, no, I couldn’t. No, please. It’s fine, really.” She bustles even faster now, not looking at me. I shrug and drop the twenties on the table. “I hope your month improves.” She stops and stares at the money, at war with herself. “Okay. Thank you,” she says finally, her voice cracking. She takes the money and stuffs it into her apron. I feel sorta bad, poor girl. “Have a nice day, Charlotte,” I say, and start to hobble away. She calls after me, “I hope your leg gets better soon.” That was big of her, considering what ginormous bastards we’d been to her all morning. Or maybe she’s just doing her job. I wave a hand to her without looking back, and leave Annabelle’s. Time heals me. I go back to work. To Planet X. To the world and all its thrills and beauty. I don’t go back to my parents’ townhouse; hell I’m hardly in NYC anymore. I don’t go back to Annabelle’s and I never see—or think about—that cute waitress with the sad eyes ever again. “Fucking hell,” I whisper as the machine reads the last line of ~ Emma Scott,
1202:THE COMPANY INSPECTOR SAID, “You’ve been high-grading, Webb.” “Who don’t walk out of here with rocks in their dinner pail?” “Maybe over in Telluride, but not in this mine.” Webb looked at the “evidence” and said, “You know this was planted onto me. One of your finks over here. Maybe even you, Cap’n—” “Watch what you say.” “—no damned inspector yet ain’t taken a nugget when he thought he could.” Teeth bared, almost smiling. “Oh? seen a lot of that in your time?” “Everybody has. What’re we bullshittin’ about, here, really?” The first blow came out of the dark, filling Webb’s attention with light and pain. IT WAS TO BE a trail of pain, Deuce trying to draw it out, Sloat, closer to the realities of pain, trying to move it along. “Thought we ‘s just gonna shoot him simple and leave him where he fell.” “No, this one’s a special job, Sloat. Special handling. You might say we’re in the big time now.” “Looks like just some of the usual ten-day trash to me, Deuce.” “Well that’s where you’d be wrong. It turns out Brother Traverse here is a major figure in the world of criminal Anarchism.” “Of what’s that again?” “Apologies for my associate, the bigger words tend to throw him. You better get a handle on ‘Anarchism’ there, Sloat, because it’s the coming thing in our field. Piles of money to be made.” Webb just kept quiet. It didn’t look like these two were fixing to ask him any questions, because neither had spared him any pain that he could tell, pain and information usually being convertible, like gold and dollars, practically at a fixed rate. He didn’t know how long he’d hold out in any case if they really wanted to start in. But along with the pain, worse, he guessed, was how stupid he felt, what a hopeless damn fool, at just how deadly wrong he’d been about this kid. Before, Webb had only recognized it as politics, what Veikko called “procedure”—accepting that it might be necessary to lay down his life, that he was committed as if by signed contract to die for his brothers and sisters in the struggle. But now that the moment was upon him . . . Since teaming up, the partners had fallen into a division of labor, Sloat tending to bodies, Deuce specializing more in harming the spirit, and thrilled now that Webb was so demoralized that he couldn’t even look at them. Sloat had a railroad coupling pin he’d taken from the D.&R.G. once, figuring it would come in handy. It weighed a little over seven pounds, and Sloat at the moment was rolling it in a week-old copy of the Denver Post. “We done both your feet, how about let’s see your hands there, old-timer.” When he struck, he made a point of not looking his victim in the face but stayed professionally focused on what it was he was aiming to damage. Webb found himself crying out the names of his sons. From inside the pain, he was distantly surprised at a note of reproach in his voice, though not sure if it had been out loud or inside his thoughts. He watched the light over the ranges slowly draining away. After a while he couldn’t talk much. He was spitting blood. He wanted it over with. He sought Sloat’s eyes with his one undamaged one, looking for a deal. Sloat looked over at Deuce. “Where we headed for, li’l podner?” “Jeshimon.” With a malignant smile, meant to wither what spirit remained to Webb, for Jeshimon was a town whose main business was death, and the red adobe towers of Jeshimon were known and feared as the places you ended up on top of when nobody wanted you found. “You’re going over into Utah, Webb. We happen to run across some Mormon apostles in time, why you can even get baptized, get a bunch of them proxy wives what they call sealed on to you, so’s you’ll enjoy some respect among the Saints, how’s that, while you’re all waiting for that good bodily resurrection stuff.” Webb kept gazing at Sloat, blinking, waiting for some reaction, and when none came, he finally looked away. ~ Thomas Pynchon,
1203:Bibliothèque Nationale. Sunt mulți oameni în sală, dar nu-i simt. Ei sunt în cărți. Uneori se mișcă printre file, asemenea oamenilor care dorm și se răsucesc între două vise. Ah, ce bine este totuși să fii printre oamenii care citesc. De ce nu sunt mereu așa? Poți să te duci la unul și să-l atingi ușor: nu simte nimic. Și dacă îl atingi puțin pe vecin când te ridici și te scuzi, el face un semn din cap spre partea în care îți aude vocea, întoarce fața spre tine, dar nu te vede, iar părul lui arată ca părul unui om adormit. Ce bine e așa! Și eu stau și am un poet. Ce mai soartă! Acum poate că sunt în sală trei sute de oameni care citesc, dar este imposibil ca fiecare în parte să aibă un poet. (Dumnezeu știe ce au!) Nu există trei sute de poeți, dar ia uite ce soartă, eu, poate cel mai nevoiaș dintre acești cititori, un străin, eu am un poet. Deși sunt sărac. Deși costumul meu, pe care îl port zilnic, începe să se tocească în unele locuri, deși pantofii mei cam lasă de dorit. Ce-i drept, gulerul este curat, ca și lenjeria, și aș putea, așa cum sunt, să intru în orice cofetărie, chiar și pe marile bulevarde, să întind liniștit mâna spre farfuria cu prăjituri și să iau una. Nu s-ar mira nimeni de asta și n-aș fi certat și dat afară pentru că, oricum, este o mână din lumea bună, o mână spălată de patru-cinci ori pe zi. Da, sub unghii nu este nimic, degetul mijlociu nu e pătat de cerneală și în special încheieturile sunt impecabile. Este un fapt cunoscut că oamenii săraci nu se spală până acolo. De la curățenia lor se pot trage unele concluzii. Se și trag. Se trag în magazine. Există totuși câțiva oameni, pe Boulevard Saint-Michel de pildă și pe rue Racine, care nu se lasă derutați și cărora puțin le pasă de încheieturile mele. Ei mă privesc și știu. Ei știu că de fapt fac parte dintre ei, că joc doar un pic de comedie. Doar suntem în carnaval. Și nu vor să-și strice distracția; rânjesc un pic și-mi fac cu ochiul. N-a văzut nimeni. De altfel, mă tratează ca pe un domn. Trebuie numai să fie cineva în apropiere și atunci devin chiar servili. Se comportă ca și cum aș avea o haină de blană pe mine și în urma mea ar veni o mașină. Uneori le dau doi gologani, tremurând că ar putea să-i refuze, dar ei îi primesc. Și totul ar fi în regulă dacă n-ar rânji un pic și n-ar face cu ochiul. Cine sunt acești oameni? Ce vor de la mine? Mă așteaptă? De unde mă cunosc? Este adevărat, barba mea este cam neglijentă și de foarte, foarte departe, amintește de bărbile lor bolnave, bătrâne, spălăcite, care m-au impresionat întotdeauna, dar n-am oare dreptul să-mi neglijez barba? Mulți oameni ocupați fac asta și nimănui nu-i trece prin cap să-i socotească, din pricina asta, printre dezmoșteniți. Pentru mine este limpede: dezmoșteniții nu sunt numai cerșetori; nu, de fapt nu sunt cerșetori, trebuie să se facă distincție. Sunt deșeurile, cojile de oameni scuipate de soartă. Uzi încă de saliva sorții, se lipesc de un zid, de un felinar, de un stâlp cu afișe sau se scurg încet în josul străzii, lăsând în urma lor o dâră neagră, murdară. Ce dracu’ voia de la mine bătrâna aceea care, cu un sertar de noptieră în care se rostogoleau câțiva nasturi și câteva ace, ieșise din cine știe ce cocioabă? De ce se ținea întruna după mine și mă măsura cu privirea? Parcă încerca să mă recunoască cu ochii ei urduroși, care arătau ca și cum un bolnav ar fi scuipat flegmă verde pe pleoapele ei sângerii. Și cum a ajuns femeia aia cenușie, măruntă, să stea un sfert de oră lângă mine în fața unei vitrine, arătându-mi un creion vechi, lung, care ieșea nesfârșit de încet dintre mâinile ei murdare, împreunate. Mă prefăceam că privesc obiectele expuse în vitrină și că nu observ nimic. Ea însă știa că am văzut-o, știa că stau și mă întreb ce face de fapt. Înțelegeam foarte bine că nu putea fi vorba de creion: simțeam că era un semn, un semn pentru inițiați, un semn pe care-l cunosc dezmoșteniții. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke,
1204:In short the only fully rational world would be the world of wishing-caps, the world of telepathy, where every desire is fulfilled instanter, without having to consider or placate surrounding or intermediate powers. This is the Absolute's own world. He calls upon the phenomenal world to be, and it IS, exactly as he calls for it, no other condition being required. In our world, the wishes of the individual are only one condition. Other individuals are there with other wishes and they must be propitiated first. So Being grows under all sorts of resistances in this world of the many, and, from
compromise to compromise, only gets organized gradually into what may be called secondarily rational shape. We approach the wishing-cap type of organization only in a few departments of life. We want water and we turn a faucet. We want a kodak-picture and we press a button. We want information and we telephone. We want to travel and we buy a ticket. In these and similar cases, we hardly need to do more than the wishing—the world is rationally organized to do the rest.
But this talk of rationality is a parenthesis and a digression. What we were discussing was the idea of a world growing not integrally but piecemeal by the contributions of its several parts. Take the hypothesis seriously and as a live one. Suppose that the world's author put the case to you before creation, saying: "I am going to make a world not certain to be saved, a world the perfection of which shall be conditional merely, the condition being that each several agent does its own 'level best.' I offer you the chance of taking part in such a world. Its safety, you see, is unwarranted. It is a real adventure, with real danger, yet it may win through. It is a social scheme of co-operative work genuinely to be done. Will you join the procession? Will you trust yourself and trust the other agents enough to face the risk?"
Should you in all seriousness, if participation in such a world were proposed to you, feel bound to reject it as not safe enough? Would you say that, rather than be part and parcel of so fundamentally pluralistic and irrational a universe, you preferred to relapse into the slumber of nonentity from which you had been momentarily aroused by the tempter's voice?
Of course if you are normally constituted, you would do nothing of the sort. There is a healthy- minded buoyancy in most of us which such a universe would exactly fit. We would therefore accept the offer—"Top! und schlag auf schlag!" It would be just like the world we practically live in; and loyalty to our old nurse Nature would forbid us to say no. The world proposed would seem 'rational' to us in the most living way.
Most of us, I say, would therefore welcome the proposition and add our fiat to the fiat of the creator. Yet perhaps some would not; for there are morbid minds in every human collection, and to them the prospect of a universe with only a fighting chance of safety would probably make no appeal. There are moments of discouragement in us all, when we are sick of self and tired of vainly striving. Our own life breaks down, and we fall into the attitude of the prodigal son. We mistrust the chances of things. We want a universe where we can just give up, fall on our father's neck, and be absorbed into the absolute life as a drop of water melts into the river or the sea.
The peace and rest, the security desiderated at such moments is security against the bewildering accidents of so much finite experience. Nirvana means safety from this everlasting round of adventures of which the world of sense consists. The hindoo and the buddhist, for this is essentially their attitude, are simply afraid, afraid of more experience, afraid of life.
And to men of this complexion, religious monism comes with its consoling words: "All is needed and essential—even you with your sick soul and heart. All are one ~ William James,
1205:I.
There was a naughty boy,
A naughty boy was he,
He would not stop at home,
He could not quiet be-
  He took
  In his knapsack
  A book
  Full of vowels
  And a shirt
  With some towels,
  A slight cap
  For night cap,
  A hair brush,
  Comb ditto,
  New stockings
  For old ones
  Would split O!
  This knapsack
  Tight at's back
  He rivetted close
And followed his nose
  To the north,
  To the north,
And follow'd his nose
  To the north.

II.
There was a naughty boy
And a naughty boy was he,
For nothing would he do
But scribble poetry-
  He took
  An ink stand
  In his hand
  And a pen
  Big as ten
  In the other,
  And away
  In a pother
  He ran
  To the mountains
  And fountains
  And ghostes
  And postes
  And witches
  And ditches
  And wrote
  In his coat
  When the weather
  Was cool,
  Fear of gout,
  And without
  When the weather
  Was warm-
  Och the charm
  When we choose
To follow one's nose
  To the north,
  To the north,
To follow one's nose
  To the north!

III.
There was a naughty boy
And a naughty boy was he,
He kept little fishes
In washing tubs three
  In spite
  Of the might
  Of the maid
  Nor afraid
  Of his Granny-good-
  He often would
  Hurly burly
  Get up early
  And go
  By hook or crook
  To the brook
  And bring home
  Miller's thumb,
  Tittlebat
  Not over fat,
  Minnows small
  As the stall
  Of a glove,
  Not above
  The size
  Of a nice
  Little baby's
  Little fingers-
  O he made
  'Twas his trade
Of fish a pretty kettle
  A kettle-
  A kettle
Of fish a pretty kettle
  A kettle!

IV.
There was a naughty boy,
And a naughty boy was he,
He ran away to Scotland
The people for to see-
  There he found
  That the ground
  Was as hard,
  That a yard
  Was as long,
  That a song
  Was as merry,
  That a cherry
  Was as red,
  That lead
  Was as weighty,
  That fourscore
  Was as eighty,
  That a door
  Was as wooden
  As in England-
So he stood in his shoes
  And he wonder'd,
  He wonder'd,
He stood in his
  Shoes and he wonder'd.
'In a letter to his sister, Keats makes a fresh start with -- "since I scribbled the Song we have walked through a beautiful Country to Kirkcudbright -- at which place I will write you a song about myself." He then proceeds with the very curious piece of doggerel now first given from the manuscript, and excuses himself on the plea of fatigue. My chief purpose in including these verses here is that students may note the variety of the pieces of this class addressed to different correspondents. Compare this with the Devon pieces sent to Haydon, and more particularly with The Gadfly, sent to Tom Keats a little later than this. I presume this piece should be dated the 3rd of July 1818.

(stanza 2): This is a genuine autobiographic reminiscence of the time when the young Keatses lived with their grandmother after the death of their parents.

(stanza 4): There is an under-current of dissatisfaction with things Caledonian in this fourth stanza; and indeed I do not think Keats ever got entirely rid of this during the whole of the tour, albeit he enjoyed many transient visitations of true enthusiasm inspired both by fine scenery and by associations.
~ Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895. by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ John Keats, A Song About Myself
,
1206:PLOŞNIŢE: Dintre toate formele de sexualitate animală, cea a ploşniţelor de pat (Cimex lectularius) este cea mai stupefiantă. Nici o închipuire omenească nu poate egala o asemenea perversiune.
Prima particularitate: priapismul. Ploşniţa de pat nu se opreşte niciodată din copulaţie. Unii indivizi au peste două sute de raporturi sexuale pe zi.
A doua particularitate: homosexualitatea şi bestialitatea. Ploşniţele de pat întâmpină dificultăţi în deosebirea semenilor şi, dintre aceşti semeni, le este şi mai greu să recunoască femelele.
50% din raporturile lor sunt homosexuale, 20% se produc cu alte specii, iar 30% se efectuează cu femele.
A treia particularitate: penisul perforant. Ploşniţele de pat sunt echipate cu un sex lung dotat cu un vârf ascuţit. Prin intermediul acestui instrument asemănător cu o seringă, masculii străpung carapacea şi îşi injectează sămânţa oriunde, la întâmplare ― în cap, în abdomen, în labe, în spinare, ba chiar şi în inima doamnei lor! Operaţia nu afectează cu nimic sănătatea femelei, dar cum ar mai putea ele să rămână însărcinate în asemenea condiţii? De unde şi...
... A patra particularitate: virgina însărcinată. Din exterior, vaginul ei pare intact şi, totuşi, ea a primit o lovitură de penis în spinare. Cum pot supravieţui spermatozoizii în sânge? De fapt, majoritatea vor fi distruşi de sistemul imunitar, ca nişte vulgari microbi străini. Pentru a multiplica şansele ca vreo sută dintre aceşti gameţi masculi să ajungă la destinaţie, cantitatea de spermă eliberată e fenomenală. Cu titlu de comparaţie, dacă masculii ploşniţe ar avea dimensiunile unei fiinţe omeneşti, ei ar elibera treizeci de litri de spermă la fiecare ejaculare. Din această mulţime de spermatozoizi va supravieţui un număr extrem de mic. Ascunşi în ungherele arterelor, pitiţi prin vene, ei îşi vor aştepta sorocul. Femela îşi petrece iarna găzduindu-i pe aceşti locatari clandestini. Primăvara, conduşi de instinct, toţi spermatozoizii din cap, labe şi abdomen se strâng în jurul ovarelor, le străpung şi pătrund în interiorul lor. Fazele următoare ale ciclului se vor desfăşura fără nici o problemă.
A cincea particularitate: femela cu sexe multiple. Fiind tot timpul perforate pretutindeni de sexele masculilor, femelele ploşniţe ajung la un moment dat să fie acoperite de cicatrice care conturează fante maronii înconjurate de o zonă deschisă la culoare. Asemenea unor ţinte! În felul acesta se poate şti câte acuplări a avut femela.
Natura a încurajat aceste nelegiuiri dând naştere unor adaptări ciudate. Generaţie după generaţie, anumite mutaţii au ajuns să creeze incredibilul însuşi. Ploşniţele de sex feminin au ajuns să se nască având pe spate pete maronii, aureolate de o culoare deschisă. Fiecărei pete îi corespunde un receptacul care este un "sex sucursală" legat direct de sexul principal. Particularitatea aceasta există actualmente în toate fazele dezvoltării sale: lipsa cicatricelor, câteva cicatrice receptacule la naştere, veritabile vagine secundare pe spinare.
A şasea particularitate: autoîncornorarea. Ce se întâmplă atunci când un mascul este perforat de un alt mascul? Sperma supravieţuieşte şi înaintează ca de obicei spre regiunea ovarelor.
Negăsindu-le, se îndreaptă spre canalele deferente ale gazdei şi se amestecă cu spermatozoizii autohtoni. Rezultatul: când masculul pasiv va perfora, la rândul sau, o femelă, el îi va injecta propriii spermatozoizi, dar şi pe cei ai masculului cu care a întreţinut raporturi sexuale.
A şaptea particularitate: hermafroditismul. Natura nu conteneşte să facă experienţe ciudate pe cobaiul său sexual favorit şi masculii ploşniţe au suferit, la rândul lor, mutaţii: în Africa trăieşte ploşniţa Afrocimex constrictus, ai cărei masculi se nasc cu nişte mici vagine secundare pe spinare. Aceştia nu sunt, totuşi, fecunzi. Se pare că aceste vagine au un rol pur decorativ sau de încurajare a raporturilor homosexuale. ~ Bernard Werber,
1207:She locked herself in her room. She needed time to get used to her maimed consciousness, her poor lopped life, before she could walk steadily to the place allotted her. A new searching light had fallen on her husband's character, and she could not judge him leniently: the twenty years in which she had believed in him and venerated him by virtue of his concealments came back with particulars that made them seem an odious deceit. He had married her with that bad past life hidden behind him, and she had no faith left to protest his innocence of the worst that was imputed to him. Her honest ostentatious nature made the sharing of a merited dishonor as bitter as it could be to any mortal.
But this imperfectly taught woman, whose phrases and habits were an odd patchwork, had a loyal spirit within her. The man whose prosperity she had shared through nearly half a life, and who had unvaryingly cherished her—now that punishment had befallen him it was not possible to her in any sense to forsake him. There is a forsaking which still sits at the same board and lies on the same couch with the forsaken soul, withering it the more by unloving proximity. She knew, when she locked her door, that she should unlock it ready to go down to her unhappy husband and espouse his sorrow, and say of his guilt, I will mourn and not reproach. But she needed time to gather up her strength; she needed to sob out her farewell to all the gladness and pride of her life. When she had resolved to go down, she prepared herself by some little acts which might seem mere folly to a hard onlooker; they were her way of expressing to all spectators visible or invisible that she had begun a new life in which she embraced humiliation. She took off all her ornaments and put on a plain black gown, and instead of wearing her much-adorned cap and large bows of hair, she brushed her hair down and put on a plain bonnet-cap, which made her look suddenly like an early Methodist.
Bulstrode, who knew that his wife had been out and had come in saying that she was not well, had spent the time in an agitation equal to hers. He had looked forward to her learning the truth from others, and had acquiesced in that probability, as something easier to him than any confession. But now that he imagined the moment of her knowledge come, he awaited the result in anguish. His daughters had been obliged to consent to leave him, and though he had allowed some food to be brought to him, he had not touched it. He felt himself perishing slowly in unpitied misery. Perhaps he should never see his wife's face with affection in it again. And if he turned to God there seemed to be no answer but the pressure of retribution.
It was eight o'clock in the evening before the door opened and his wife entered. He dared not look up at her. He sat with his eyes bent down, and as she went towards him she thought he looked smaller—he seemed so withered and shrunken. A movement of new compassion and old tenderness went through her like a great wave, and putting one hand on his which rested on the arm of the chair, and the other on his shoulder, she said, solemnly but kindly—
"Look up, Nicholas."
He raised his eyes with a little start and looked at her half amazed for a moment: her pale face, her changed, mourning dress, the trembling about her mouth, all said, "I know;" and her hands and eyes rested gently on him. He burst out crying and they cried together, she sitting at his side. They could not yet speak to each other of the shame which she was bearing with him, or of the acts which had brought it down on them. His confession was silent, and her promise of faithfulness was silent. Open-minded as she was, she nevertheless shrank from the words which would have expressed their mutual consciousness, as she would have shrunk from flakes of fire. She could not say, "How much is only slander and false suspicion?" and he did not say, "I am innocent. ~ George Eliot,
1208:In The Baggage Room At Greyhound
In the depths of the Greyhound Terminal
sitting dumbly on a baggage truck looking at the sky
waiting for the Los Angeles Express to depart
worrying about eternity over the Post Office roof in
the night-time red downtown heaven
staring through my eyeglasses I realized shuddering
these thoughts were not eternity, nor the poverty
of our lives, irritable baggage clerks,
nor the millions of weeping relatives surrounding the
buses waving goodbye,
nor other millions of the poor rushing around from
city to city to see their loved ones,
nor an indian dead with fright talking to a huge cop
by the Coke machine,
nor this trembling old lady with a cane taking the last
trip of her life,
nor the red-capped cynical porter collecting his quarters and smiling over the smashed baggage,
nor me looking around at the horrible dream,
nor mustached negro Operating Clerk named Spade,
dealing out with his marvelous long hand the
fate of thousands of express packages,
nor fairy Sam in the basement limping from leaden
trunk to trunk,
nor Joe at the counter with his nervous breakdown
smiling cowardly at the customers,
nor the grayish-green whale's stomach interior loft
where we keep the baggage in hideous racks,
hundreds of suitcases full of tragedy rocking back and
forth waiting to be opened,
nor the baggage that's lost, nor damaged handles,
nameplates vanished, busted wires & broken
ropes, whole trunks exploding on the concrete
floor,
nor seabags emptied into the night in the final
warehouse.
43
II
Yet Spade reminded me of Angel, unloading a bus,
dressed in blue overalls black face official Angel's workman cap,
pushing with his belly a huge tin horse piled high with
black baggage,
looking up as he passed the yellow light bulb of the loft
and holding high on his arm an iron shepherd's crook.
III
It was the racks, I realized, sitting myself on top of
them now as is my wont at lunchtime to rest
my tired foot,
it was the racks, great wooden shelves and stanchions
posts and beams assembled floor to roof jumbled
with baggage,
--the Japanese white metal postwar trunk gaudily
flowered & headed for Fort Bragg,
one Mexican green paper package in purple rope
adorned with names for Nogales,
hundreds of radiators all at once for Eureka,
crates of Hawaiian underwear,
rolls of posters scattered over the Peninsula, nuts to
Sacramento,
one human eye for Napa,
an aluminum box of human blood for Stockton
and a little red package of teeth for Calistogait was the racks and these on the racks I saw naked
in electric light the night before I quit,
the racks were created to hang our possessions, to keep
us together, a temporary shift in space,
God's only way of building the rickety structure of
Time,
to hold the bags to send on the roads, to carry our
luggage from place to place
looking for a bus to ride us back home to Eternity
where the heart was left and farewell tears
began.
IV
44
A swarm of baggage sitting by the counter as the transcontinental bus pulls in.
The clock registering 12:15 A.M., May 9, 1956, the
second hand moving forward, red.
Getting ready to load my last bus.-Farewell, Walnut
Creek Richmond Vallejo Portland Pacific
Highway
Fleet-footed Quicksilver, God of transience.
One last package sits lone at midnight sticking up out
of the Coast rack high as the dusty fluorescent
light.
The wage they pay us is too low to live on. Tragedy
reduced to numbers.
This for the poor shepherds. I am a communist.
Farewell ye Greyhound where I suffered so much,
hurt my knee and scraped my hand and built
my pectoral muscles big as a vagina.
~ Allen Ginsberg,
1209:An April Fool
I sallied afield when the bud first swells,
And the sun first slanteth hotly,
And I came on a yokel in cap and bells,
And a suit of saffron motley.
He was squat on a bank where a self-taught stream,
Fingering flint and pebble,
Was playing in tune to the yaffel's scream,
And the shake of the throstle's treble.
``Now, who may you be?'' I asked, ``and where
Do you look for your meals and pillow?''
``My roof,'' he said, ``is the spacious air,
And my curtain the waving willow.
``My meal is a shive of the miller's loaf,
And hunger the grace that blesses:
'Tis banquet enough for a village oaf,
With a handful of fresh green cresses.
``A plague on your feasts where the dish goes round,
Though I know where the truffles burrow,
And the plover's eggs may, in fours, be found,
In the folds of the pleated furrow.
``And my name? O, I am an April Fool,
So yclept in the hamlet yonder;
For when old and young are at work or school,
I sit on a stile and ponder.
``I gather the yellow weasel-snout,
As I wander the woods at random,
Or I stoop stone-still, and tickle the trout,
And at times, for a lark, I land 'em.
``But I flick them back ere they gape and pant,
After gazing at gill and speckle.
For why should I keep what I do not want,
Who can fish without hook or heckle?
136
``Yes, I am an April Fool: confessed!
And my pate grows not wise for scratching;
But I know where the kingfisher drills his nest,
And the long-tailed tits are hatching.''
Then he leaped to his feet, and he shook his bells,
And they jangled all together,
As blithe as the chime that sinks and swells
For the joy of a nuptial tether.
And, as they chimed, in the covert near
Where ripens the juicy whortle,
The rustling whisper reached my ear
Of a loitering maiden's kirtle.
Whereat he laughed: ``I'm an April Fool,
But am jocund withal and jolly,
So long as I have this realm to rule,
And a lass to love my folly.
``Go and woo, where the deftly fair parade,
The smiles of a fine court lady;
But I will cuddle my rustic maid,
In the pheasant-drives husht and shady.
``Her cheek is as creamy as milk in June,
And the winds nor chap nor warp it;
We dance, with the blackbird to give the tune,
And with primroses for carpet.
``Her quick-flashing fingers knit the hose
For her little feet neat and nimble;
Her kiss is as sweet as a half-shut rose,
And her laugh like a silver cymbal.
``She never asks how my fortunes fare,
Nor wonders how full my purse is;
She sits on my knee, and she strokes my hair,
And I tell her my wildwood verses.
``She has not a gem she can call her own,
137
But I rest on a sheepfold hurdle,
And, out of the daffodils newly blown,
Entwine her a golden girdle.
``And soon I shall have for my nut-sweet girl,
When the May tree is adorning
Its weather-tanned skin with rows of pearl,
A new necklace, night and morning.
``When shortly we catch the cuckoo's call,
We shall clap our hands to hear him;
For let whom they may his gibes appal,
This April Fool don't fear him.''
Then a wind-cloud, hued like a ringdove's neck,
Made the rain run helter-skelter;
The keen drops pattered on bank and beck,
And I crouched in the ditch for shelter.
But he whistled his love, and he waved his cap,
And the bells all rang together;
``Just fancy!'' he cried, ``to care one rap
For the whims of wind or weather.
``Through all the seasons I keep my youth,
Which is more than you town-folk do, sir.
Now, which is the April Fool, in sooth?
Do you think it is I,-or you, sir?''
Then the rain ceased slashing on branch and pool,
And swift came the sunshine, after;
And the thrush and the yaffel screamed, ``April Fool!''
And the covert rang with laughter.
~ Alfred Austin,
1210:New Rule: If you're going to have a rally where hundreds of thousands of people show up, you may as well go ahead and make it about something. With all due respect to my friends Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert, it seems that if you truly wanted to come down on the side of restoring sanity and reason, you'd side with the sane and the reasonable--and not try to pretend the insanity is equally distributed in both parties. Keith Olbermann is right when he says he's not the equivalent of Glenn Beck. One reports facts; the other one is very close to playing with his poop. And the big mistake of modern media has been this notion of balance for balance's sake, that the left is just as violent and cruel as the right, that unions are just as powerful as corporations, that reverse racism is just as damaging as racism. There's a difference between a mad man and a madman.

Now, getting more than two hundred thousand people to come to a liberal rally is a great achievement that gave me hope, and what I really loved about it was that it was twice the size of the Glenn Beck crowd on the Mall in August--although it weight the same. But the message of the rally as I heard it was that if the media would just top giving voice to the crazies on both sides, then maybe we could restore sanity. It was all nonpartisan, and urged cooperation with the moderates on the other side. Forgetting that Obama tried that, and found our there are no moderates on the other side.

When Jon announced his rally, he said that the national conversation is "dominated" by people on the right who believe Obama's a socialist, and by people on the left who believe 9/11 was an inside job. But I can't name any Democratic leaders who think 9/11 was an inside job. But Republican leaders who think Obama's socialist? All of them. McCain, Boehner, Cantor, Palin...all of them. It's now official Republican dogma, like "Tax cuts pay for themselves" and "Gay men just haven't met the right woman."

As another example of both sides using overheated rhetoric, Jon cited the right equating Obama with Hitler, and the left calling Bush a war criminal. Except thinking Obama is like Hitler is utterly unfounded--but thinking Bush is a war criminal? That's the opinion of Major General Anthony Taguba, who headed the Army's investigation into Abu Ghraib.

Republicans keep staking out a position that is farther and farther right, and then demand Democrats meet them in the middle. Which now is not the middle anymore. That's the reason health-care reform is so watered down--it's Bob Dole's old plan from 1994. Same thing with cap and trade--it was the first President Bush's plan to deal with carbon emissions. Now the Republican plan for climate change is to claim it's a hoax.

But it's not--I know because I've lived in L.A. since '83, and there's been a change in the city: I can see it now. All of us who live out here have had that experience: "Oh, look, there's a mountain there." Governments, led my liberal Democrats, passed laws that changed the air I breathe. For the better. I'm for them, and not the party that is plotting to abolish the EPA. I don't need to pretend both sides have a point here, and I don't care what left or right commentators say about it, I can only what climate scientists say about it.

Two opposing sides don't necessarily have two compelling arguments. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke on that mall in the capital, and he didn't say, "Remember, folks, those southern sheriffs with the fire hoses and the German shepherds, they have a point, too." No, he said, "I have a dream. They have a nightmare. This isn't Team Edward and Team Jacob."

Liberals, like the ones on that field, must stand up and be counted, and not pretend we're as mean or greedy or shortsighted or just plain batshit at them. And if that's too polarizing for you, and you still want to reach across the aisle and hold hands and sing with someone on the right, try church. ~ Bill Maher,
1211:There was one Mrs. Cameron of 50 years of age and the fattest woman in all Inverness-shire who got up this Mountain some few years ago -- true she had her servants -- but then she had her self. She ought to have hired Sisyphus, -- "Up the high hill he heaves a huge round -- Mrs. Cameron." 'Tis said a little conversation took place between the mountain and the Lady. After taking a glass of W[h]iskey as she was tolerably seated at ease she thus began --

Mrs. C.
Upon my Life Sir Nevis I am pique'd
That I have so far panted tugg'd and reek'd
To do an honour to your old bald pate
And now am sitting on you just to bate,
Without your paying me one compliment.
Alas 'tis so with all, when our intent
Is plain, and in the eye of all Mankind
We fair ones show a preference, too blind!
You Gentle man immediately turn tail --
O let me then my hapless fate bewail!
Ungrateful Baldpate have I not disdain'd
The pleasant Valleys -- have I not madbrain'd
Deserted all my Pickles and preserves
My China closet too -- with wretched Nerves
To boot -- say wretched ingrate have I not
Le[f]t my soft cushion chair and caudle pot.
'Tis true I had no corns -- no! thank the fates
My Shoemaker was always Mr. Bates.
And if not Mr. Bates why I'm not old!
Still dumb ungrateful Nevis -- still so cold!

Here the Lady took some more w[h]iskey and was putting even more to her lips when she dashed [it] to the Ground for the Mountain began to grumble -- which continued for a few minutes before he thus began,

Ben Nevis.
What whining bit of tongue and Mouth thus dares
Disturb my slumber of a thousand years?
Even so long my sleep has been secure --
And to be so awakened I'll not endure.
Oh pain -- for since the Eagle's earliest scream
I've had a dam[n]'d confounded ugly dream,
A Nightmare sure. What Madam was it you?
It cannot be! My old eyes are not true!
Red-Crag, my Spectacles! Now let me see!
Good Heavens Lady how the gemini
Did you get here? O I shall split my sides!
I shall earthquake -----

Mrs. C.
Sweet Nevis do not quake, for though I love
You[r] honest Countenance all things above
Truly I should not like to be convey'd
So far into your Bosom -- gentle Maid
Loves not too rough a treatment gentle Sir --
Pray thee be calm and do not quake nor stir
No not a Stone or I shall go in fits--

Ben Nevis.
I must -- I shall -- I meet not such tid bits --
I meet not such sweet creatures every day --
By my old night cap night cap night and day
I must have one sweet Buss -- I must and shall:
Red Crag! -- What Madam can you then repent
Of all the toil and vigour you have spent
To see Ben Nevis and to touch his nose?
Red Crag I say! O I must have them close!
Red Crag, there lies beneath my farthest toe
A vein of Sulphur -- go dear Red Crag, go--
And rub your flinty back against it -- budge!
Dear Madam I must kiss you, faith I must!
I must Embrace you with my dearest gust!
Block-head, d'ye hear -- Block-head I'll make her feel
There lies beneath my east leg's northern heel
A cave of young earth dragons -- well my boy
Go thither quick and so complete my joy
Take you a bundle of the largest pines
And when the sun on fiercest Phosphor shines
Fire them and ram them in the Dragon's nest --
Then will the dragons fry and fizz their best
Until ten thousand now no bigger than
Poor Al[l]igators -- poor things of one span --
Will each one swell to twice ten times the size
Of northern whale -- then for the tender prize --
The moment then -- for then will Red Crag rub
His flinty back -- and I shall kiss and snub
And press my dainty morsel to my breast.
Block-head make haste!
O Muses weep the rest --
The Lady fainted and he thought her dead
So pulled the clouds again about his head
And went to sleep again -- soon she was rous'd
By her affrighted servants -- next day hous'd
Safe on the lowly ground she bless'd her fate
That fainting fit was not delayed too late.

But what surprises me above all is how this Lady got down again.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

~ John Keats, Ben Nevis - A Dialogue
,
1212:Old Robin Of Portingale
Let the mayors daughter of Lin, God wott,
He chose her to his wife,
And thought with her to have lived in love,
But they fell to hate and strife.
They scarce were in their wee-bed laid,
And scarce was hee asleepe,
But upp shee rose, and forth shee goes,
To the steward, and gan to weepe.
'Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles?
Or be you not within?
Sleepe you, wake you, faire Sir Gyles,
Arise and let me inn.'
'O, I am waking, sweete,' he said,
'Sweete ladye, what is your will?'
'I have unbethought me of a wile,
How my wed-lord weel spill.
'Twenty-four good knights,' shee sayes,
'That dwell about this towne,
Even twenty-four of my next cozens,
Will helpe to dinge him downe.
All that beheard his litle foote-page,
As he watered his masters steed,
And for his masters sad perille
His verry heart did bleed.
He mourned, sighed, and wept full sore;
I sweare by the holy roode,
The teares he for his master wept
Were blent water and bloude.
And that beheard his deare master
As he stood at his garden pale:
Sayes, 'Ever alacke, my litle footpage,
What causes thee to wail?
496
'Hath any one done to thee wronge,
Any of thy fellowes here?
Or is any of thy good friends dead,
That thou shedst manye a teare?
'Or, if it be my head bookes-man,
Aggrieved he shal bee,
For no man here within my howse,
Shall doe wrong unto thee.'
'O, it is not your head bookes-man,
Nor none of his degree,
But on to-morrow, ere it be noone,
All deemed to die are yee.
'And of that bethank your head steward,
And thank your gay ladye.'
'If this be true, my litle foot-page,
The heyre of my land thoust bee.'
'If it be not true, my dear master,
No good death let me die.'
'If it be not true, thou litle foot-page,
A dead corse shalt thou lie.
'O call now downe my faire ladye,
O call her downe to mee;
And tell my ladye gay how sicke,
And like to die I bee.'
Downe then came his ladye faire,
All clad in purple and pall,
The rings that were on her fingers
Cast light throughout the hall.
'What is your will, my owne wed-lord?
What is your will with mee?'
'O see, my ladye deere, how sicke,
And like to die I bee.'
'And thou be sicke, my owne wed-lord,
497
Soe sore it grieveth me,
But my five maydens and myselfe
Will 'watch thy' bedde for thee,
'And at the waking of your first sleepe,
We will a hott drinke make;
And at the waking of your 'next' sleepe
Your sorrowes we will slake.'
He put a silk cote on his backe,
And mail of many a fold;
And hee putt a steele cap on his head,
Was gilt with good red gold;
He layd a bright browne sword by his side,
And another att his feete;
'And twentye good knights he placed at hand,
To watch him in his sleepe.'
And about the middle time of the night,
Came twentye-four traitours inn:
Sir Giles he was the foremost man,
The leader of that ginn.
Old Robin with his bright browne sword
Sir Gyles head soon did winn;
And scant of all those twenty-four
Went out one quick agenn.
None save only a litle foot-page,
Crept forth at a window of stone,
And he had two armes when he came in,
And he went back with one.
Upp then came that ladye gaye
With torches burning bright;
She thought to have brought Sir Gyles a drinke,
Butt she found her owne wedd-knight.
The first thinge that she stumbled on,
It was Sir Gyles his foote:
Sayes, 'Ever alacke, and woe is mee,
498
Here lyes my sweete hart-roote!'
The next thinge that she stumbled on,
It was Sir Gyles his heade:
Sayes, 'Ever alacke, and woe is mee,
Heere lyes my true love deade!'
He cutt the papers beside her brest,
And didd her body spille;
He cutt the eares beside her heade,
And bade her love her fille.
He called then up his litle foot page,
And made him there his heyre;
And sayd, 'Henceforth my worldlye goodes
And countrye I forsweare.'
He shope the crosse on his right shoulder,
Of the white 'clothe' and the redde,
And went him into the Holy Land,
Wheras Christ was quicke and dead.
~ Anonymous Olde English,
1213:The Royal Jester
Once on a time, so ancient poets sing,
There reigned in Godknowswhere a certain king.
So great a monarch ne'er before was seen:
He was a hero, even to his queen,
In whose respect he held so high a place
That none was higher,-nay, not even the ace.
He was so just his Parliament declared
Those subjects happy whom his laws had spared;
So wise that none of the debating throng
Had ever lived to prove him in the wrong;
So good that Crime his anger never feared,
And Beauty boldly plucked him by the beard;
So brave that if his army got a beating
None dared to face him when he was retreating.
This monarch kept a Fool to make his mirth,
And loved him tenderly despite his worth.
Prompted by what caprice I cannot say,
He called the Fool before the throne one day
And to that jester seriously said:
'I'll abdicate, and you shall reign instead,
While I, attired in motley, will make sport
To entertain your Majesty and Court.'
'T was done and the Fool governed. He decreed
The time of harvest and the time of seed;
Ordered the rains and made the weather clear,
And had a famine every second year;
Altered the calendar to suit his freak,
Ordaining six whole holidays a week;
Religious creeds and sacred books prepared;
Made war when angry and made peace when scared.
New taxes he inspired; new laws he made;
Drowned those who broke them, who observed them, flayed,
In short, he ruled so well that all who'd not
Been starved, decapitated, hanged or shot
Made the whole country with his praises ring,
Declaring he was every inch a king;
And the High Priest averred 't was very odd
If one so competent were not a god.
551
Meantime, his master, now in motley clad,
Wore such a visage, woeful, wan and sad,
That some condoled with him as with a brother
Who, having lost a wife, had got another.
Others, mistaking his profession, often
Approached him to be measured for a coffin.
For years this highborn jester never broke
The silence-he was pondering a joke.
At last, one day, in cap-and-bells arrayed,
He strode into the Council and displayed
A long, bright smile, that glittered in the gloom
Like a gilt epithet within a tomb.
Posing his bauble like a leader's staff,
To give the signal when (and why) to laugh,
He brought it down with peremptory stroke
And simultaneously cracked his joke!
I can't repeat it, friends. I ne'er could school
Myself to quote from any other fool:
A jest, if it were worse than mine, would start
My tears; if better, it would break my heart.
So, if you please, I'll hold you but to state
That royal Jester's melancholy fate.
The insulted nation, so the story goes,
Rose as one man-the very dead arose,
Springing indignant from the riven tomb,
And babes unborn leapt swearing from the womb!
All to the Council Chamber clamoring went,
By rage distracted and on vengeance bent.
In that vast hall, in due disorder laid,
The tools of legislation were displayed,
And the wild populace, its wrath to sate,
Seized them and heaved them at the Jester's pate.
Mountains of writing paper; pools and seas
Of ink, awaiting, to become decrees,
Royal approval-and the same in stacks
Lay ready for attachment, backed with wax;
Pens to make laws, erasers to amend them;
With mucilage convenient to extend them;
Scissors for limiting their application,
552
And acids to repeal all legislationThese, flung as missiles till the air was dense,
Were most offensive weapons of offense,
And by their aid the Fool was nigh destroyed.
They ne'er had been so harmlessly employed.
Whelmed underneath a load of legal cap,
His mouth egurgitating ink on tap,
His eyelids mucilaginously sealed,
His fertile head by scissors made to yield
Abundant harvestage of ears, his pelt,
In every wrinkle and on every welt,
Quickset with pencil-points from feet to gills
And thickly studded with a pride of quills,
The royal Jester in the dreadful strife
Was made (in short) an editor for life!
An idle tale, and yet a moral lurks
In this as plainly as in greater works.
I shall not give it birth: one moral here
Would die of loneliness within a year.
~ Ambrose Bierce,
1214:A Miller, His Son, And Their Ass
THO' to Antiquity the Praise we yield
Of pleasing Arts; and Fable's earli'st Field
Own to be fruitful Greece; yet not so clean
Those Ears were reap'd, but still there's some to glean;
And from the Lands of vast Invention come
Daily new Authors, with Discov'ries home.
This curious Piece, which I shall now impart,
Fell from Malherbe, a Master in his Art,
To Racan, fill'd with like poetick Fire,
Both tuneful Servants of Apollo's Choir:
Rivals and Heirs to the Horatian Lyre:
Who meeting him, one Day, free and alone,
(For still their Thoughts were to each other known)
Thus ask'd his Aid–Some useful Counsel give,
Thou who, by living long, hast learnt to live;
Whose Observation nothing can escape;
Tell me, how I my course of Life shall shape:
To something I wou'd fix ere't be too late.
You know my Birth, my Talents, my Estate:
Shall I with these content, all Search resign,
And to the Country my Desires confine?
Or in the Court, or Camp, advancement gain?
The World's a mixture of Delight and Pain:
Tho' rough it seems, there's Pleasure in the Wars,
And Hymen's Joys are not without their Cares.
I need not ask, to what my Genius tends,
But wou'd content the World, the Court, my Friends.
Please all the World (in haste) Malherbe replies?
How vain th' Attempt will prove in him, that tries,
Learn from a Fable, I have somewhere found,
Before I answer all that you propound.
A Miller and his Son (the Father old,
The Boy about some fifteen Years had told)
Designed their Ass to sell, and for the Fair,
17
Some distance off, accordingly prepare.
But lest she in the walk should lose her Flesh,
And not appear, for Sale, so full and fresh,
Her Feet together ty'd; between them two
They heav'd her up; and on the Rusticks go:
Till those, who met them bearing thus the Ass,
Cry'd, Are these Fools about to act a Farce?
Surely the Beast (howe'er it seem to be)
Is not the greatest Ass of all the Three.
The Miller in their Mirth his Folly finds,
And down he sets her, and again unbinds;
And tho' her grumbling shew'd, she lik'd much more
The lazy way, she travell'd in before,
He minds her not; but up the Boy he sets
Upon her Back, and on the Crupper gets.
Thus on they jog, when of Three Men that pass'd,
The eldest thinking Age to be disgrac'd,
Call'd to the Youth, ho! you, young Man for shame!
Come down, lest Passengers your Manners blame,
And say, it ill becomes your tender Years
To ride before a Grandsire with grey Hairs.
Truly, the Gentlemen are in the right,
The Miller cries, and makes the Boy alight;
Then forward slides himself into his place,
And with a Mind content renews his pace:
But much he had not gain'd upon his way,
Before a Troop of Damsels, neat and gay,
(Partial to Youth) to one another cry'd,
See, how with walking by that Dotard's side,
The Boy is tir'd; whilst with a Prelate's state
He rides alone, and dangling in the Seat,
Hangs like a Calf thrown up, across the Beast.
The Miller, thinking to have spoiled that Jest,
Reply'd, he was too Old for Veal to pass,
But after more on him, and on his Ass,
He stands convinc'd, and takes his Son again
To ride at ease himself, still next the Mane.
Yet ere he'd thirty Paces borne the Lad,
The next they met, cry'd--Are these Fellows mad!
Have they no Pity thus t'o'erload the Jade!
Sure, at the Fair, they for her Skin may trade.
See, how's she spent, and sinks beneath their strokes!
18
The Miller, whom this most of all provokes,
Swears by his Cap, he shews his want of Brains,
Who thus to please the World, bestows his Pains.
Howe'er we'll try, if this way't may be done;
And off he comes, and fetches down his Son.
Behind they walk, and now the Creature drive,
But cou'd no better in their Purpose thrive;
Nor scape a Fellow's Censure, whom they meet,
That cries, to spare the Ass they break their Feet;
And whilst unladen at her ease she goes,
Trudge in the Dirt, and batter out their Shooes;
As if to burthen her they were afraid,
And Men for Beasts, not Beasts for Men were made.
The Proverb right, the Cart before the Horse.
The Miller, finding things grow worse and worse,
Cries out, I am an Ass, it is agreed,
And so are all, who wou'd in this succeed.
Hereafter, tho' Reproof or Praise I find,
I'll neither heed, but follow my own Mind,
Take my own Counsel, how my Beast to sell.
This he resolv'd, and did it, and did well.
For you, Sir, Follow Love, the Court, the War;
Obtain the Crosier, or the City's Furr;
Live single all your Days, or take a Wife;
Trust me, a Censure waits each state of Life.
~ Anne Kingsmill Finch,
1215:The Midnight Mass
An incident of the French Revolution.
The light lay trembling in a silver bar
Along the western borders of the sky;
From out the shadowy dome a little star
Stole forth to keep its patient watch on high;
And night came down, with solemn, soft embrace,
On storied Brittany.
Another night lay over all the land—
The dark of hell, and lurid with its fire.
She heard the roar of fiends; she saw the brand
Flung red and hissing over roof and spire;
She saw her golden spurs and reaping-hooks
Tossed on the funeral pyre.
She stood in calm defiance, while the flood
Swept over her;—while everywhere was seen
Her dim, majestic cities drenched in blood;
Ashes and smoke where temple-walls had been;
And high on woodland knoll and market-place,
The ghastly guillotine.
'Twas hard to tear her peasant-souls apart
From priest and liege, and clinging faith of old;
'Twas hard to bend the strong and simple heart
By fear of torture or by love of gold:
For naught those gory hands could offer them
Might consciences be sold.
“No tower or belfry shall be left to stand,”
Saint André swore, and waved his cap of red;
“You shall have naught in all this cursèd land
For sign of your superstition,—it is dead!”
A peasant heard, and raised his eyes to heaven;—
“You'll leave the stars,” he said.
True were the priests and people, each to each,
And all alike to their unlettered creed;
No violent force of sophistry could reach
Their rough-hewn faith in bitter time of need.
224
They died with deaf ears and dumb mouths; and theirs
Was martyrdom indeed!
Night—midnight—lay beneath her silver lamps;
Her deep sleep broken by the fitful glare
Of bivouac fires in noisy village camps,
And hoarse shouts mellowed through the listening air;
Save only where the sea-waves washed the coast—
'Twas still and quiet there:
The heave and swell, and sudden, plunging dash
Against the low rocks lying in their reach;
The hissing shingle, and the sweet, free plash
Of long-drawn breakers on the open beach;
And now and then, in momentary pause,
The curlew's mournful screech:
The soft, low gurgle in the hollowed track
Through reef and boulder; and the rippling fall
Of idle wandering waters, swirling back
From secret tryst in Naiads' rocky hall;—
Only these sounds—save that deep monotone
Which held and hushed them all.
Only these sounds? Was nothing to be heard
But voice of breaker as it rose and fell,
The kelpie's song, the wailing of a bird?
Ay, far and faint amid the restless swell,
One other voice stole whispering through the air—
The chime of a silver bell.
It came from dim mid-ocean, wild and free,
To listening ears, in silence of the night;
And watchful eyes saw, out upon the sea
And 'neath the stars, a little twinkling light—
Now lost behind a waving mountain-top,
Now shining clear and bright.
Softly the fishers' boats began to glide
From shadowy rock and sheltered cave and creek;
Bronzed men and gentle maidens, side by side,
225
Dipped muffled oars; no woman-hand was weak.
All eyes turned, wistful, to the beacon-lamp;
But no one dared to speak.
The scattered specks, with each its little crowd,
Drew near, converging on the distant bark;
The sweet bell rang out louder and more loud,
The light shone bright and brighter in the dark;
And soon a hundred lips burst forth in praise—
For all had reach'd the ark.
There was the priest, with whom they came to sup,
White-hair'd and holy, by his humble board;
There, amid light and darkness lifted up,
The blessed rood, by simple eyes adored.
Each head was bowed, each pious knee was bent
In presence of the Lord.
Ah! 'twas a grand cathedral where they knelt!
Grand was the organ-music—vast the crypt
Wherein its wild, mysterious echoes dwelt;
And fresh and pure the incense, as it slipp'd
Down shining floor and down wide altar-steps,
With frosted silver tipp'd.
Grand was the darken'd aisles and solemn nave—
The domèd roof, magnificently high—
The airy walls and mighty architrave—
The sweet star-tapers that could never die!
And grander still its purity of peace,
Its untouched sanctity.
The worn and weary ones came there, to search
For rest and hope in holy Eucharist;
There—in the splendour of that solemn church—
They, priest and people, communed with the Christ;
Thus—with all other temples overthrown—
They kept his sacred tryst.
With calm, grave eyes and even-pulsing breath,
They dipp'd their still oars in the darken'd space.
226
Strong now the hands fast rowing back to death!—
And strong the simple hearts, new clothed in grace—
The hush'd and quiet souls—ere long to meet
Their Saviour face to face.
~ Ada Cambridge,
1216:I.

Oh, what a dawn of day!
How the March sun feels like May!
  All is blue again
  After last night's rain,
And the South dries the hawthorn-spray.
  Only, my Love's away!
I'd as lief that the blue were grey,

II.

Runnels, which rillets swell,
Must be dancing down the dell,
With a foaming head
On the beryl bed
Paven smooth as a hermit's cell;
Each with a tale to tell,
Could my Love but attend as well.

III.

Dearest, three months ago!
When we lived blocked-up with snow,-
When the wind would edge
In and in his wedge,
In, as far as the point could go-
Not to our ingle, though,
Where we loved each the other so!

IV.

Laughs with so little cause!
We devised games out of straws.
We would try and trace
One another's face
In the ash, as an artist draws;
Free on each other's flaws,
How we chattered like two church daws!

V.

What's in the `Times''?-a scold
At the Emperor deep and cold;
He has taken a bride
To his gruesome side,
That's as fair as himself is bold:
There they sit ermine-stoled,
And she powders her hair with gold.

VI.

Fancy the Pampas' sheen!
Miles and miles of gold and green
Where the sunflowers blow
In a solid glow,
And-to break now and then the screen-
Black neck and eyeballs keen,
Up a wild horse leaps between!

VII.

Try, will our table turn?
Lay your hands there light, and yearn
Till the yearning slips
Thro' the finger-tips
In a fire which a few discern,
And a very few feel burn,
And the rest, they may live and learn!

VIII.

Then we would up and pace,
For a change, about the place,
Each with arm o'er neck:
'Tis our quarter-deck,
We are seamen in woeful case.
Help in the ocean-space!
Or, if no help, we'll embrace.

IX.

See, how she looks now, dressed
In a sledging-cap and vest!
'Tis a huge fur cloak-
Like a reindeer's yoke
Falls the lappet along the breast:
Sleeves for her arms to rest,
Or to hang, as my Love likes best.

X.

Teach me to flirt a fan
As the Spanish ladies can,
Or I tint your lip
With a burnt stick's tip
And you turn into such a man!
Just the two spots that span
Half the bill of the young male swan.

XI.

Dearest, three months ago
When the mesmerizer Snow
With his hand's first sweep
Put the earth to sleep:
'Twas a time when the heart could show
All-how was earth to know,
'Neath the mute hand's to-and-fro?

XII.

Dearest, three months ago
When we loved each other so,
Lived and loved the same
Till an evening came
When a shaft from the devil's bow
Pierced to our ingle-glow,
And the friends were friend and foe!

XIII.

Not from the heart beneath-
'Twas a bubble born of breath,
Neither sneer nor vaunt,
Nor reproach nor taunt.
See a word, how it severeth!
Oh, power of life and death
In the tongue, as the Preacher saith!

XIV.

Woman, and will you cast
For a word, quite off at last
Me, your own, your You,-
Since, as truth is true,
I was You all the happy past-
Me do you leave aghast
With the memories We amassed?

XV.

Love, if you knew the light
That your soul casts in my sight,
How I look to you
For the pure and true
And the beauteous and the right,-
Bear with a moment's spite
When a mere mote threats the white!

XVI.

What of a hasty word?
Is the fleshly heart not stirred
By a worm's pin-prick
Where its roots are quick?
See the eye, by a fly's foot blurred-
Ear, when a straw is heard
Scratch the brain's coat of curd!

XVII.

Foul be the world or fair
More or less, how can I care?
'Tis the world the same
For my praise or blame,
And endurance is easy there.
Wrong in the one thing rare-
Oh, it is hard to bear!

XVIII.

Here's the spring back or close,
When the almond-blossom blows:
We shall have the word
In a minor third
There is none but the cuckoo knows:
Heaps of the guelder-rose!
I must bear with it, I suppose.

XIX.

Could but November come,
Were the noisy birds struck dumb
At the warning slash
Of his driver's-lash-
I would laugh like the valiant Thumb
Facing the castle glum
And the giant's fee-faw-fum!

XX.

Then, were the world well stripped
Of the gear wherein equipped
We can stand apart,
Heart dispense with heart
In the sun, with the flowers unnipped,-
Oh, the world's hangings ripped,
We were both in a bare-walled crypt!

XXI.

Each in the crypt would cry
``But one freezes here! and why?
``When a heart, as chill,
``At my own would thrill
``Back to life, and its fires out-fly?
``Heart, shall we live or die?
``The rest. . . . settle by-and-by!''

XXII.

So, she'd efface the score,
And forgive me as before.
It is twelve o'clock:
I shall hear her knock
In the worst of a storm's uproar,
I shall pull her through the door,
I shall have her for evermore!


~ Robert Browning, A Lovers Quarrel
,
1217:How We Beat The Favourite
A Lay of the Loamshire Hunt Cup
'Aye, squire,' said Stevens, 'they back him at evens ;
The race is all over, bar shouting, they say ;
The Clown ought to beat her ; Dick Neville is sweeter
Than ever—he swears he can win all the way.
'A gentleman rider—well, I'm an outsider,
But if he's a gent who the mischief's a jock ?
You swells mostly blunder, Dick rides for the plunder,
He rides, too, like thunder—he sits like a rock.
'He calls 'hunted fairly' a horse that has barely
Been stripp'd for a trot within sight of the hounds,
A horse that at Warwick beat Birdlime and Yorick,
And gave Abdelkader at Aintree nine pounds.
'They say we have no test to warrant a protest ;
Dick rides for a lord and stands in with a steward ;
The light of their faces they show him—his case is
Prejudged and his verdict already secured.
'But none can outlast her, and few travel faster,
She strides in her work clean away from The Drag ;
You hold her and sit her, she couldn't be fitter,
Whenever you hit her she'll spring like a stag.
'And p'rhaps the green jacket, at odds though they back it,
May fall, or there's no knowing what may turn up ;
The mare is quite ready, sit still and ride steady,
Keep cool ; and I think you may just win the Cup.'
Dark-brown with tan muzzle, just stripped for the tussle,
Stood Iseult, arching her neck to the curb,
A lean head and fiery, strong quarters and wiry,
A loin rather light, but a shoulder superb.
Some parting injunction, bestowed with great unction,
I tried to recall, but forgot like a dunce,
192
When Reginald Murray, full tilt on White Surrey,
Came down in a hurry to start us at once.
'Keep back in the yellow ! Come up on Othello !
Hold hard on the chestnut ! Turn round on The Drag !
Keep back there on Spartan ! Back you, sir, in tartan !
So, steady there, easy !' and down went the flag.
We started, and Kerr made strong running on Mermaid,
Through furrows that led to the first stake-and-bound,
The crack, half extended, look'd bloodlike and splendid,
Held wide on the right where the headland was sound.
I pulled hard to baffle her rush with the snaffle,
Before her two-thirds of the field got away ;
All through the wet pasture where floods of the last year
Still loitered, they clotted my crimson with clay.
The
The
The
The
fourth fence, a wattle, floor'd Monk and Bluebottle ;
Drag came to grief at the blackthorn and ditch,
rails toppled over Redoubt and Red Rover,
lane stopped Lycurgus and Leicestershire Witch.
She
And
And
And
passed like an arrow Kildare and Cock Sparrow,
Mantrap and Mermaid refused the stone wall ;
Giles on The Greyling came down at the paling,
I was left sailing in front of them all.
I took them a burster, nor eased her nor nursed her
Until the Black Bullfinch led into the plough,
And through the strong bramble we bored with a scramble—
My cap was knock'd off by the hazel-tree bough.
Where furrows looked lighter I drew the rein tighter—
Her dark chest all dappled with flakes of white foam,
Her flanks mud-bespattered, a weak rail she shattered—
We landed on turf with our heads turn'd for home.
Then crash'd a low binder, and then close behind her
The sward to the strokes of the favourite shook ;
His rush roused her mettle, yet ever so little
She shortened her stride as we raced at the brook.
193
She rose when I hit her. I saw the stream glitter,
A wide scarlet nostril flashed close to my knee,
Between sky and water The Clown came and caught her,
The space that he cleared was a caution to see.
And forcing the running, discarding all cunning,
A length to the front went the rider in green ;
A long strip of stubble, and then the big double,
Two stiff flights of rails with a quickset between.
She raced at the rasper, I felt my knees grasp her,
I found my hands give to her strain on the bit ;
She rose when The Clown did—our silks as we bounded
Brush'd lightly, our stirrups clash'd loud as we lit.
A rise steeply sloping, a fence with stone coping—
The last—we diverged round the base of the hill ;
His path was the nearer, his leap was the clearer,
I flogg'd up the straight, and he led sitting still.
She came to his quarter, and on still I brought her,
And up to his girth, to his breastplate she drew ;
A short prayer from Neville just reach'd me, 'The Devil !'
He muttered—lock'd level the hurdles we flew.
A hum of hoarse cheering, a dense crowd careering,
All sights seen obscurely, all shouts vaguely heard ;
'The green wins !' 'The crimson !' The multitude swims on,
And figures are blended and features are blurr'd.
'The horse is her master !' 'The green forges past her !'
'The Clown will outlast her !' 'The Clown wins !' 'The Clown !'
The white railing races with all the white faces,
The chestnut outpaces, outstretches the brown.
On still past the gateway she strains in the straightway,
Still struggles, 'The Clown by a short neck at most,'
He swerves, the green scourges, the stand rocks and surges,
And flashes, and verges, and flits the white post.
Aye ! so ends the tussle,—I knew the tan muzzle
194
Was first, though the ring-men were yelling 'Dead heat !'
A nose I could swear by, but Clarke said, 'The mare by
A short head.' And that's how the favourite was beat.
~ Adam Lindsay Gordon,
1218:Our New Horse
The boys had come back from the races
All silent and down on their luck;
They'd backed 'em, straight out and for places,
But never a winner they's struck.
They lost their good money on Slogan,
And fell most uncommonly flat
When Partner, the pride of the Bogan,
Was beaten by Aristocrat.
And one said, "I move that instanter
We sell out our horses and quit;
The brutes ought to win in a canter,
Such trials they do when they're fit.
The last one they ran was a snorter -A gallop to gladden one's heart -Two-twelve for a mile and a quarter,
And finished as straight as a dart.
"And then when I think that they're ready
To win me a nice little swag,
They are licked like the veriest neddy -They're licked from the fall of the flag.
The mare held her own to the stable,
She died out to nothing at that,
And Partner he never seemed able
To pace with the Aristocrat.
"And times have been bad, and the seasons
Don't promise to be of the best;
In short, boys, there's plenty of reasons
For giving the racing a rest.
The mare can be kept on the station -Her breeding is good as can be -But Partner, his next destination
Is rather a trouble to me.
"We can't sell him here, for they know him
As well as the clerk of the course;
He's raced and won races till, blow him,
He's done as a handicap horse.
211
A jady, uncertain performer,
They weight him right out of the hunt,
And clap it on warmer and warmer
Whenever he gets near the front.
"It's no use to paint him or dot him
Or put any fake on his brand,
For bushmen are smart, and they'd spot him
In any sale-yard in the land.
The folk about here could all tell him,
Could swear to each separate hair;
Let us send him to Sydney and sell him,
There's plenty of Jugginses there.
"We'll call him a maiden, and treat 'em
To trials will open their eyes;
We'll run their best horses and beat 'em,
And then won't they think him a prize.
I pity the fellow that buys him,
He'll find in a very short space,
No matter how highly he tries him,
The beggar won't race in a race."
Next week, under "Seller and Buyer",
Appeared in the Daily Gazette:
"A racehorse for sale, and a flyer;
Has never been started as yet;
A trial will show what his pace is;
The buyer can get him in light,
And win all the handicap races.
Apply before Saturday night."
He sold for a hundred and thirty,
Because of a gallop he had
One morning with Bluefish and Bertie.
And donkey-licked both of 'em bad.
And when the old horse had departed,
The life on the station grew tame;
The race-track was dull and deserted,
The boys had gone back on the game.
212
*
The winter rolled by, and the station
Was green with the garland of Spring;
A spirit of glad exultation
Awoke in each animate thing;
And all the old love, the old longing,
Broke out in the breasts of the boys -The visions of racing came thronging
With all its delirious joys.
The rushing of floods in their courses,
The rattle of rain on the roofs,
Recalled the fierce rush of the horses,
The thunder of galloping hoofs.
And soon one broke out: "I can suffer
No longer the life of a slug;
The man that don't race is a duffer,
Let's have one more run for the mug.
"Why, everything races, no matter
Whatever its method may be:
The waterfowl hold a regatta;
The possums run heats up a tree;
The emus are constantly sprinting
A handicap out on the plain;
It seems that all nature is hinting
'Tis ime to be at it again.
"The cockatoo parrots are talking
Of races to far-away lands;
The native companions are walking
A go-as-you-please on the sands;
The little foals gallop for pastime;
The wallabies race down the gap;
Let's try it once more for the last time -Bring out the old jacket and cap.
"And now for a horse; we might try one
Of those that are bred on the place.
But I fancy it's better to buy one,
213
A horse that has proved he can race.
Let us send down to Sydney to Skinner,
A thorough good judge who can ride,
And ask him to buy us a spinner
To clean out the whole country-side."
They wrote him a letter as follows:
"we want you to buy us a horse;
He must have the speed to catch swallows,
And stamina with it, of course.
The price ain't a thing that'll grieve us,
It's getting a bad un annoys
The undersigned blokes, and believe us,
We're yours to a cinder, 'the boys'."
He answered: "I've bought you a hummer,
A horse that has never been raced;
I saw him run over the Drummer,
He held him outclassed and outpaced.
His breeding's not known, but they state he
Is born of a thoroughbred strain.
I've paid them a hundred and eighty,
And started the horse in the train."
They met him -- alas, that these verses
Aren't up to their subject's demands,
Can't set forth thier eloquent curses -For Partner was back in their hands.
They went in to meet him with gladness
They opened his box with delight -A silent procession of sadness
They crept to the station at night.
And life has grown dull on the station,
The boys are all silent and slow;
Their work is a daily vexation,
And sport is unknown to them now.
Whenever they think how they stranded,
They squeal just as guinea-pigs squeal;
They'd bit their own hook, and were landed
With fifty pounds loss on the deal.
214
~ Banjo Paterson,
1219:Gernutus The Jew Of Venice
The First Part
In Venice towne not long agoe
A cruel Jew did dwell,
Which lived all on usurie,
As Italian writers tell.
Gernutus called was the Jew,
Which never thought to dye,
Nor ever yet did any good
To them in streets that lie.
His life was like a barrow hogge,
That liveth many a day,
Yet never once doth any good
Until men will him slay.
Or like a filthy heap of dung,
That lieth in a whoard;
Which never can do any good,
Till it be spread abroad.
So fares it with the usurper,
He cannot sleep in rest,
For feare the thiefe will him pursue
To plucke him from his nest.
His hearte doth thinke on many a wile,
How to deceive the poore;
His mouth is almost ful of mucke,
Yet still he gapes for more.
His wife must lend a shilling,
For every weeke a penny,
Yet bring a pledge that is double worth,
If that you will have any.
And see, likewise, you keepe your day,
242
Or else you loose it all;
This was the living of the wife,
Her cow she did it call.
Within that citie dwelt that time
A marchant of great fame,
Which being distressed in his need,
Unto Gernutus came:
Desiring him to stand his friend
For twelve month and a day;
To lend to him an hundred crownes;
And he for it would pay
Whatsoever he would demand of him,
And pledges he should have:
'No' (quoth the Jew with flearing lookes),
'Sir, aske what you will have.
'No penny for the loane of it
For one you shall pay;
You may doe me as good a turne,
Before my dying day.
'But we will have a merry jeast,
For to be talked long:
You shall make me a bond,' quoth he,
'That shall be large and strong:
'And this shall be the forfeyture,
Of your owne fleshe a pound:
If you agree, make you the bond,
And here is a hundred crownes.'
'With right good will!' the marchant says:
And so the bond was made.
When twelve month and a day drew on,
That backe it should be payd,
The marchants ships were all at sea,
And money came not in;
Which way to take, or what to doe
243
To thinke he doth begin.
And to Gernutus strait he comes,
With cap and bended knee;
And sayde to him, 'Of curtesie,
I pray you beare with mee.
'My day is come, and I have not
The money for to pay:
And little good the forfeyture
Will doe you, I dare say.'
'With all my heart,' Gernutus sayd,
'Commaund it to your minde;
In thinges of bigger waight then this
You shall me ready finde.'
He goes his way; the day once past,
Gernutus doth not slacke
To get a sergiant presently,
And clapt him on the backe.
And layd him into prison strong,
And sued his bond withall;
And when the judgement day was come,
For judgement he did call.
The marchants friends came thither fast,
With many a weeping eye,
For other means they could not find,
But he that day must dye.
The Second Part.
'Of the Jews crueltie: setting foorth the mercfulnesse of the Judge towards the
Marchant. To the tune of
Black and Yellow.
Some offered for his hundred crownes
Five hundred for to pay;
244
And some a thousand, two or three,
Yet still he did denay.
And at the last ten thousand crownes
They offered, him to save:
Gernutus sayd, 'I will no gold,
My forfeite I will have.
'A pound of fleshe is my demand,
And that shall be my hire.'
Then sayd the judge, 'Yet, good my friend,
Let me of you desire
'To take the flesh from such a place,
As yet you let him live:
Do so, and lo! an hundred crownes
To thee here will I give.'
'No, no,' quoth he, 'no, judgement here;
For this it shall be tride;
For I will have my pound of fleshe
From under his right side.'
It grieved all the companie
His crueltie to see,
For neither friend nor foe could helpe
But he must spoyled bee.
The bloudie Jew now ready is
With whetted blade in hand,
To spoyle the bloud of innocent,
By forfeit of his bond.
And as he was about to strike
In him the deadly blow,
'Stay' (quoth the judge) 'thy crueltie;
I charge thee to do so.
'Sith needs thou wilt thy forfeit have,
Which is of flesh a pound,
See that thou shed no drop of bloud,
Nor yet the man confound.
245
'For if thou doe, like murderer
Thou here shalt hanged be:
Likewise of flesh see that thou cut
No more than longes to thee.
'For if thou take either more or lesse,
To the value of a mite,
Thou shalt be hanged presently,
As is both law and right.'
Gernutus now waxt franticke mad,
And wotes not what to say;
Quoth he at last, 'Ten thousand crownes
I will that he shall pay;
'And so I graunt to set him free.'
The judge doth answere make;
'You shall not have a penny given;
Your forfeyture now take.'
At the last he doth demaund
But for to have his owne:
'No,' quoth the judge, 'doe as you list,
Thy judgement shall be showne.
'Either take your pound of flesh,' quoth he,
'Or cancell me your bond:'
'O cruell judge,' then quoth the Jew,
'That doth against me stand!'
And so with griping grieved mind
He biddeth them fare-well:
'Then' all the people prays'd the Lord,
That ever this heard tell.
Good people, that doe heare this song,
For trueth I dare well say,
That many a wretch as ill as hee
Doth live now at this day;
That seeketh nothing but the spoyle
246
Of many a wealthey man,
And for to trap the innocent
Deviseth what they can.
From whome the Lord deliver me,
And every Christian too,
And send to them like sentence eke
That meaneth so to doe.
~ Anonymous Olde English,
1220:Dover To Munich
Farewell, farewell! Before our prow
Leaps in white foam the noisy channel,
A tourist's cap is on my brow,
My legs are cased in tourists' flannel:
Around me gasp the invalids (The quantity to-night is fearful) I take a brace or so of weeds,
And feel (as yet) extremely cheerful.
The night wears on:- my thirst I quench
With one imperial pint of porter;
Then drop upon a casual bench (The bench is short, but I am shorter) Place 'neath my head the harve-sac
Which I have stowed my little all in,
And sleep, though moist about the back,
Serenely in an old tarpaulin.
***
Bed at Ostend at 5 A.M.
Breakfast at 6, and train 6.30.
Tickets to Konigswinter (mem.
The seats objectionably dirty).
And onward through those dreary flats
We move, with scanty space to sit on,
Flanked by stout girls with steeple hats,
And waists that paralyse a Briton; By many a tidy little town,
Where tidy little Fraus sit knitting;
(The men's pursuits are, lying down,
Smoking perennial pipes, and spitting
And doze, and execrate the heat,
And wonder how far off Cologne is,
23
And if we shall get aught to eat,
Till we get there, save raw polonies:
Until at last the 'grey old pile'
Is seen, is past, and three hours later
We're ordering steaks, and talking vile
Mock-German to an Austrian waiter.
***
Konigswinter, hateful Konigswinter!
Burying-place of all I loved so well!
Never did the most extensive printer
Print a tale so dark as thou could'st tell!
In the sapphire West the eve yet lingered,
Bathed in kindly light those hill-tops cold;
Fringed each cloud, and, stooping rosy-fingered,
Changed Rhine's waters into molten gold; While still nearer did his light waves splinter
Into silvery shafts the streaming light;
And I said I loved thee, Konigswinter,
For the glory that was thine that night.
And we gazed, till slowly disappearing,
Like a day-dream, passed the pageant by,
And I saw but those lone hills, uprearing
Dull dark shapes against a hueless sky.
Then I turned, and on those bright hopes pondered
Whereof yon gay fancies were the type;
And my hand mechanically wandered
Towards my left-hand pocket for a pipe.
Ah! why starts each eyeball from its socket,
As, in Hamlet, start the guilty Queen's?
There, deep-hid in its accustomed pocket,
Lay my sole pipe, smashed to smithereens!
***
24
On, on the vessel steals;
Round go the paddle-wheels,
And now the tourist feels
As he should;
For king-like rolls the Rhine,
And the scenery's divine,
And the victuals and the wine
Rather good.
From every crag we pass'll
Rise up some hoar old castle;
The hanging fir-groves tassel
Every slope;
And the vine her lithe arms stretches
O'er peasants singing catches And you'll make no end of sketches,
I should hope.
We've a nun here (called Therese),
Two couriers out of place,
One Yankee, with a face
Like a ferret's:
And three youths in scarlet caps
Drinking chocolate and schnapps A diet which perhaps
Has its merits.
And day again declines:
In shadow sleep the vines,
And the last ray through the pines
Feebly glows,
Then sinks behind yon ridge;
And the usual evening midge
Is settling on the bridge
Of my nose.
And keen's the air and cold,
And the sheep are in the fold,
And Night walks sable-stoled
Through the trees;
And on the silent river
The floating starbeams quiver; -
25
And now, the saints deliver
Us from fleas.
***
Avenues of broad white houses,
Basking in the noontide glare; Streets, which foot of traveller shrinks from,
As on hot plates shrinks the bear; Elsewhere lawns, and vista'd gardens,
Statues white, and cool arcades,
Where at eve the German warrior
Winks upon the German maids; Such is Munich:- broad and stately,
Rich of hue, and fair of form;
But, towards the end of August,
Unequivocally WARM.
There, the long dim galleries threading,
May the artist's eye behold,
Breathing from the 'deathless canvass'
Records of the years of old:
Pallas there, and Jove, and Juno,
'Take' once more 'their walks abroad,'
Under Titian's fiery woodlands
And the saffron skies of Claude:
There the Amazons of Rubens
Lift the failing arm to strike,
And the pale light falls in masses
On the horsemen of Vandyke;
And in Berghem's pools reflected
Hang the cattle's graceful shapes,
And Murillo's soft boy-faces
Laugh amid the Seville grapes;
And all purest, loveliest fancies
That in poets' souls may dwell
26
Started into shape and substance
At the touch of Raphael. Lo! her wan arms folded meekly,
And the glory of her hair
Falling as a robe around her,
Kneels the Magdalene in prayer;
And the white-robed Virgin-mother
Smiles, as centuries back she smiled,
Half in gladness, half in wonder,
On the calm face of her Child:And that mighty Judgment-vision
Tells how man essayed to climb
Up the ladder of the ages,
Past the frontier-walls of Time;
Heard the trumpet-echoes rolling
Through the phantom-peopled sky,
And the still voice bid this mortal
Put on immortality.
***
Thence we turned, what time the blackbird
Pipes to vespers from his perch,
And from out the clattering city
Pass'd into the silent church;
Marked the shower of sunlight breaking
Thro' the crimson panes o'erhead,
And on pictured wall and window
Read the histories of the dead:
Till the kneelers round us, rising,
Cross'd their foreheads and were gone;
And o'er aisle and arch and cornice,
Layer on layer, the night came on.
~ Charles Stuart Calverley,
1221:Any Soldier To His Son
What did I do, sonny, in the Great World War?
Well, I learned to peel potatoes and to scrub the barrack floor.
I learned to push a barrow and I learned to swing a pick,
I learned to turn my toes out, and to make my eyeballs click.
I learned the road to Folkestone, and I watched the English shore,
Go down behind the skyline, as I thought, for evermore.
And the Blighty boats went by us and the harbour hove in sight,
And they landed us and sorted us and marched us "by the right".
"Quick march!" across the cobbles, by the kids who rang along
Singing "Appoo?" "Spearmant" "Shokolah?" through dingy old Boulogne;
By the widows and the nurses and the niggers and Chinese,
And the gangs of smiling Fritzes, as saucy as you please.
I learned to ride as soldiers ride from Etaps to the Line,
For days and nights in cattle trucks, packed in like droves of swine.
I learned to curl and kip it on a foot of muddy floor,
And to envy cows and horses that have beds of beaucoup straw.
I learned to wash in shell holes and to shave myself in tea,
While the fragments of a mirror did a balance on my knee.
I learned to dodge the whizz-bangs and the flying lumps of lead,
And to keep a foot of earth between the sniper and my head.
I learned to keep my haversack well filled with buckshee food,
To take the Army issue and to pinch what else I could.
I learned to cook Maconochie with candle-ends and string,
With "four-by-two" and sardine-oil and any God-dam thing.
I learned to use my bayonet according as you please
For a breadknife or a chopper or a prong for toasting cheese.
I learned "a first field dressing" to serve my mate and me
As a dish-rag and a face-rag and a strainer for our tea.
I learned to gather souvenirs that home I hoped to send,
And hump them round for months and months and dump them in the end.
I learned to hunt for vermin in the lining of my shirt,
To crack them with my finger-nail and feel the beggars spirt;
I learned to catch and crack them by the dozen and the score
And to hunt my shirt tomorrow and to find as many more.
I learned to sleep by snatches on the firestep of a trench,
And to eat my breakfast mixed with mud and Fritz's heavy stench.
I learned to pray for Blighty ones and lie and squirm with fear,
When Jerry started strafing and the Blighty ones were near.
I learned to write home cheerful with my heart a lump of lead
With the thought of you and mother, when she heard that I was dead.
And the only thing like pleasure over there I ever knew,
Was to hear my pal come shouting, "There's a parcel, mate, for you."
So much for what I did do - now for what I have not done:
Well, I never kissed a French girl and I never killed a Hun,
I never missed an issue of tobacco, pay, or rum,
I never made a friend and yet I never lacked a chum.
I never borrowed money, and I never lent - but once
(I can learn some sorts of lessons though I may be borne a dunce).
I never used to grumble after breakfast in the Line
That the eggs were cooked too lightly or the bacon cut too fine.
I never told a sergeant just exactly what I thought,
I never did a pack-drill, for I never quite got caught.
I never punched a Red-Cap's nose (be prudent like your Dad),
But I'd like as many sovereigns as the times I've wished I had.
I never stopped a whizz-bang, though I've stopped a lot of mud,
But the one that Fritz sent over with my name on was a dud.
I never played the hero or walked about on top,
I kept inside my funk hole when the shells began to drop.
Well, Tommy Jones's father must be made of different stuff:
I never asked for trouble - the issue was enough.
So I learned to live and lump it in the lovely land of war,
Where the face of nature seems a monstrous septic sore,
Where the bowels of earth of earth hang open, like the guts of something slain,
And the rot and wreck of everything are churned and churned again;
Where all is done in darkness and where all is still in day,
Where living men are buried and the dead unburied lay;
Where men inhabit holes like rats, and only rats live there;
Where cottage stood and castle once in days before La Guerre;
Where endless files of soldiers thread the everlasting way,
By endless miles of duckboards, through endless walls of clay;
Where life is one hard labour, and a soldiers gets his rest
When they leave him in the daisies with a puncture in his chest;
Where still the lark in summer pours her warble from the skies,
And underneath, unheeding, lie the blank upstaring eyes.
And I read the Blighty papers, where the warriors of the pen
Tell of "Christmas in the trenches" and "The Spirit of our men";
And I saved the choicest morsels and I read them to my chum,
And he muttered, as he cracked a louse and wiped it off his thumb:
"May a thousand chats from Belgium crawl under their fingers as they write;
May they dream they're not exempted till they faint with mortal fright;
May the fattest rats in Dickebusch race over them in bed;
May the lies they've written choke them like a gas cloud till they're dead;
May the horror and the torture and the things they never tell
(For they only write to order) be reserved for them in Hell!"
You'd like to be a soldier and go to France some day?
By all the dead in Delville Wood, by all the nights I lay
Between our lines and Fritz's before they brought me in;
By this old wood-and-leather stump, that once was flesh and skin;
By all the lads who crossed with me but never crossed again,
By all the prayers their mothers and their sweethearts prayed in vain,
Before the things that were that day should ever more befall
May God in common pity destroy us one and all!
~ Anonymous English,
1222:Xiii: Epistle: To Katherine, Lady Aubigny
'Tis growne almost a danger to speake true
Of any good minde, now: There are so few.
The bad, by number, are so fortified,
As what th'have lost t'expect, they dare deride.
So both the prais'd, and praisers suffer: Yet,
For others ill, ought none their good forget.
I, therefore, who professe my selfe in love
With every vertue, wheresoere it move,
And howsoever; as I am at fewd
With sinne and vice, though with a throne endew'd;
And, in this name, am given out dangerous
By arts, and practise of the vicious,
Such as suspect themselves, and think it fit
For their owne cap'tall crimes, t'indite my wit;
I, that have suffer'd this; and, though forsooke
Of Fortune, have not alter'd yet my looke,
Or so my selfe abandon'd, as because
Men are not just, or keepe no holy lawes
Of nature, and societie, I should faint;
Or feare to draw true lines, 'cause others paint:
I, Madame, am become your praiser. Where,
If it may stand with your soft blush to heare,
Your selfe but told unto your selfe, and see
In my character, what your features bee,
You will not from the paper slightly passe:
No Lady, but, at sometime loves her glasse.
And this shall be no false one, but as much
Remov'd, as you from need to have it such.
Looke then, and see your selfe. I will not say
Your beautie; for you see that every day:
And so doe many more. All which can call
It perfect, proper, pure, and naturall,
Not taken up o' th'Doctors, but as well
As I, can say, and see it doth excell.
That askes but to be censur'd by the eyes:
And, in those outward formes, all fooles are wise.
Nor that your beautie wanted not a dower,
Doe I reflect. Some Alderman has power,
Or cos'ning Farmer of the customes so,
161
T'advance his doubtfull issue, and ore-flow
A Princes fortune: These are gifts of chance,
And raise not vertue; they may vice enhance.
My mirror is more subtill, cleare, refin'd,
And takes, and gives the beauties of the mind.
Though it reject not those of Fortune: such
As Blood, and Match. Wherein, how more than much
Are you engaged to your happie fate,
For such a lot! that mixt you with a State
Of so great title, birth, but vertue most,
Without which, all the rest were sounds, or lost.
'Tis onely that can time, and chance defeat:
For he, that once is good, is ever great.
Wherewith, then, Madame, can you better pay
This blessing of your starres, than by that way
Of vertue, which you tread? what if alone?
Without companions? 'Tis safe to have none.
In single paths, dangers with ease are watch'd:
Contagion in the prease is soonest catch'd.
This makes, that wisely you decline your life,
Farre from the maze of custome, error, strife,
And keepe an even, and unalter'd gaite;
Not looking by, or back (like those, that waite
Times, and occasions, to start forth, and seeme)
Which though the turning world may dis-esteeme,
Because that studies spectacles, and showes,
And after varied, as fresh objects goes,
Giddie with change, and therefore cannot see
Right, the right way: yet must your comfort bee
Your conscience, and not wonder, if none askes
For Truths complexion, where they all weare maskes.
Let who will follow fashions, and attyres,
Maintaine their liedgers forth, for forrain wyres,
Melt downe their husbands land, to powre away
On the close groome, and page, on new-yeares day,
And almost, all dayes after, while they live;
(They finde it both so wittie, and safe to give)
Let 'hem on poulders, oyles, and paintings, spend,
Till that no usurer, nor his bawds dare lend
Them, or their officers: and no man know,
Whether it be a face they weare, or no.
Let 'hem waste body, and state; and after all,
162
When their owne Parasites laugh at their fall,
May they have nothing left, whereof they can
Boast, but how oft they have gone wrong to man:
And call it their brave sinne. For such there be
That doe sinne onely for the infamie:
And never think, how vice doth every houre,
Eat on her clients, and some one devoure.
You, Madam, yong have learn'd to shun these shelves,
Whereon the most of mankind wracke themselves,
And, keeping a just course, have early put
Into your harbour, and all passage shut
'Gainst stormes, or pyrats, that might charge your peace;
For which you worthy are the glad increase
Of your blest wombe, made fruitfull from above
To pay your lord the pledges of chaste love:
And raise a noble stemme, to give the fame,
To Cliftons blood, that is deny'd their name.
Grow, grow, faire tree, and as thy branches shoote,
Heare, what the Muses sing above thy root,
By me, their Priest (if they can ought divine)
Before the moones have fill'd their tripple trine,
To crowne the burthen which you go withall,
It shall a ripe and timely issue fall,
T'expect the honors of great 'Avbigny:
And greater rites, yet writ in mystery,
But which the Fates forbid me to reveale.
Only, thus much, out of a ravish'd zeale,
Unto your name, and goodnesse of your life,
They speake; since you are truly that rare wife,
Other great wives may blush at: when they see
What your try'd manners are, what theirs should be.
How you love one, and him you should; how still
You are depending on his word, and will;
Not fashion'd for the Court, or strangers eyes;
But to prease him, who is the dearer prise
Unto himselfe, by being so deare to you.
This makes, that your affections still be new,
And that your soules conspire, as they were gone
Each into other, and had now made one.
Live that one, still; and as long yeares do passe,
Madame, be bold to use this truest glasse:
Wherein, your forme, you still the same shall find;
163
Because nor it can change, nor such a mind.
~ Ben Jonson,
1223:Red Riding Hood
Many are the deceivers:
The suburban matron,
proper in the supermarket,
list in hand so she won't suddenly fly,
buying her Duz and Chuck Wagon dog food,
meanwhile ascending from earth,
letting her stomach fill up with helium,
letting her arms go loose as kite tails,
getting ready to meet her lover
a mile down Apple Crest Road
in the Congregational Church parking lot.
Two seemingly respectable women
come up to an old Jenny
and show her an envelope
full of money
and promise to share the booty
if she'll give them ten thou
as an act of faith.
Her life savings are under the mattress
covered with rust stains
and counting.
They are as wrinkled as prunes
but negotiable.
The two women take the money and disappear.
Where is the moral?
Not all knives are for
stabbing the exposed belly.
Rock climbs on rock
and it only makes a seashore.
Old Jenny has lost her belief in mattresses
and now she has no wastebasket in which
to keep her youth.
The standup comic
on the 'Tonight' show
who imitates the Vice President
and cracks up Johnny Carson
and delays sleep for millions
of bedfellows watching between their feet,
slits his wrist the next morning
157
in the Algonquin's old-fashioned bathroom,
the razor in his hand like a toothbrush,
wall as anonymous as a urinal,
the shower curtain his slack rubberman audience,
and then the slash
as simple as opening as a letter
and the warm blood breaking out like a rose
upon the bathtub with its claw and ball feet.
And I. I too.
Quite collected at cocktail parties,
meanwhile in my head
I'm undergoing open-heart surgery.
The heart, poor fellow,
pounding on his little tin drum
with a faint death beat,
The heart, that eyeless beetle,
running panicked through his maze,
never stopping one foot after the other
one hour after the other
until he gags on an apple
and it's all over.
And I. I too again.
I built a summer house on Cape Ann.
A simple A-frame and this too was
a deception - nothing haunts a new house.
When I moved in with a bathing suit and tea bags
the ocean rumbled like a train backing up
and at each window secrets came in
like gas. My mother, that departed soul,
sat in my Eames chair and reproached me
for losing her keys to the old cottage.
Even in the electric kitchen there was
the smell of a journey. The ocean
was seeping through its frontiers
and laying me out on its wet rails.
The bed was stale with my childhood
and I could not move to another city
where the worthy make a new life.
Long ago
there was a strange deception:
a wolf dressed in frills,
a kind of transvestite.
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But I get ahead of my story.
In the beginning
there was just little Red Riding Hood,
so called because her grandmother
made her a red cape and she was never without it.
It was her Linus blanket, besides
it was red, as red as the Swiss flag,
yes it was red, as red as chicken blood,
But more than she loved her riding hood
she loved her grandmother who lived
far from the city in the big wood.
This one day her mother gave her
a basket of wine and cake
to take to her grandmother
because she was ill.
Wine and cake?
Where's the aspirin? The penicillin?
Where's the fruit juice?
Peter Rabbit got chamomile tea.
But wine and cake it was.
On her way in the big wood
Red Riding Hood met the wolf.
Good day, Mr. Wolf, she said,
thinking him no more dangerous
than a streetcar or a panhandler.
He asked where she was going
and she obligingly told him
There among the roots and trunks
with the mushrooms pulsing inside the moss
he planned how to eat them both,
the grandmother an old carrot
and the child a shy budkin
in a red red hood.
He bade her to look at the bloodroot,
the small bunchberry and the dogtooth
and pick some for her grandmother.
And this she did.
Meanwhile he scampered off
to Grandmother's house and ate her up
as quick as a slap.
Then he put on her nightdress and cap
and snuggled down in to bed.
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A deceptive fellow.
Red Riding hood
knocked on the door and entered
with her flowers, her cake, her wine.
Grandmother looked strange,
a dark and hairy disease it seemed.
Oh Grandmother, what big ears you have,
ears, eyes, hands and then the teeth.
The better to eat you with my dear.
So the wolf gobbled Red Riding Hood down
like a gumdrop. Now he was fat.
He appeared to be in his ninth month
and Red Riding Hood and her grandmother
rode like two Jonahs up and down with
his every breath. One pigeon. One partridge.
He was fast asleep,
dreaming in his cap and gown,
wolfless.
Along came a huntsman who heard
the loud contented snores
and knew that was no grandmother.
He opened the door and said,
So it's you, old sinner.
He raised his gun to shoot him
when it occurred to him that maybe
the wolf had eaten up the old lady.
So he took a knife and began cutting open
the sleeping wolf, a kind of caesarian section.
It was a carnal knife that let
Red Riding Hood out like a poppy,
quite alive from the kingdom of the belly.
And grandmother too
still waiting for cakes and wine.
The wolf, they decided, was too mean
to be simply shot so they filled his belly
with large stones and sewed him up.
He was as heavy as a cemetery
and when he woke up and tried to run off
he fell over dead. Killed by his own weight.
Many a deception ends on such a note.
The huntsman and the grandmother and Red Riding Hood
sat down by his corpse and had a meal of wine and cake.
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Those two remembering
nothing naked and brutal
from that little death,
that little birth,
from their going down
and their lifting up.
~ Anne Sexton,
1224:The Wargeilah Handicap
Wargeilah town is very small,
There's no cathedral nor a club,
In fact the township, all in all,
Is just one unpretentious pub;
And there, from all the stations round,
The local sportsmen can be found.
The sportsmen of Wargeilah-side
Are very few but very fit;
There's scarcely any sport been tried
But they can hold their own at it;
In fact, to search their records o'er,
They hold their own and something more.
The precincts of Wargeilah town
An English new-chum did infest:
He used to wander up and down
In baggy English breeches drest;
His mental aspect seemed to be
Just stolid self-sufficiency.
The local sportsmen vainly sought
His tranquil calm to counteract
By urging that he should be brought
Within the Noxious Creatures Act.
"Nay, harm him not," said one more wise,
"He is a blessing in disguise!
"You see, he wants to buy a horse,
To ride, and hunt, and steeplechase,
And carry ladies, too, of course,
And pull a cart, and win a race.
Good gracious! he must be a flat
To think he'll get a horse like that!
"But, since he has so little sense
And such a lot of cash to burn,
We'll sell him some experience
By which alone a fool can learn.
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Suppose we let him have The Trap
To win Wargeilah Handicap!"
And her, I must explain to you
That round about Wargeilah run
There lived a very aged screw
Whose days of brilliancy were done.
A grand old warrior in his prime -But age will beat us any time.
A trooper's horse in seasons past
He did his share to keep the peace,
But took to falling, and at last
Was cast for age from the Police.
A publican at Conroy's Gap
Bought him and christened him The Trap.
When grass was good and horses dear,
He changed his owner now and then
At prices ranging somewhere near
The neighbourhood of two-pound-ten:
And manfully he earned his keep
By yarding cows and ration sheep.
They brought him in from off the grass
And fed and groomed the old horse up;
His coat began to shine like glass -You'd think he'd win the Melbourne Cup.
And when they'd got him fat and flash
They asked the new chum -- fifty -- cash!
And when he said the price was high,
Their indignation knew no bounds.
They said, "It's seldom you can buy
A horse like that for fifty pounds!
We'll refund twenty if The Trap
Should fail to win the handicap!"
The deed was done, the price was paid,
The new-chum put the horse in train.
The local sports were much afraid
That he would sad experience gain
495
By racing with some shearer's hack,
Who'd beat him half-way round the track.
So, on this guileless English spark
They did most fervently impress
That he must keep the matter dark,
And not let any person guess
That he was purchasing The Trap
To win Wargeilah Handicap.
They spoke of "spielers from the Bland",
And "champions from the Castlereagh",
And gave the youth to understand
That all of these would stop away,
And spoil the race, if they should hear
That they had got The Trap to fear.
"Keep dark! They'll muster thick as flies
When once the news gets sent around
We're giving such a splendid prize -A Snowdon horse worth fifty pound!
They'll come right in from Dandaloo,
And find -- that it's a gift for you!"
The race came on -- with no display
Nor any calling of the card,
But round about the pub all day
A crowd of shearers, drinking hard,
And using language in a strain
'Twere flattery to call profane.
Our hero, dressed in silk attire -Blue jacket and scarlet cap -With boots that shone like flames of fire,
Now did his canter on The Trap,
And walked him up and round about,
Until other steeds came out.
He eyed them with a haughty look,
But saw a sight that caught his breath!
It was Ah John! the Chinee cook!
In boots and breeches! pale as death!
496
Tied with a rope, like any sack,
Upon a piebald pony's back!
The next, a colt -- all mud and burrs,
Half-broken, with a black boy up,
Who said, "You gim'me pair o' spurs,
I win the bloomin' Melbourne Cup!"
These two were to oppose The Trap
For the Wargeilah Handicap!
They're off! The colt whipped down his head,
And humped his back, and gave a squeal,
And bucked into the drinking shed,
Revolving like a Catherine wheel!
Men ran like rats! The atmosphere
Was filled with oaths and pints of beer!
But up the course the bold Ah John
Beside The Trap raced neck and neck:
The boys had tied him firmly on,
Which ultimately proved his wreck;
The saddle turned, and, like a clown,
He rode some distance upside-down.
His legs around the horse were tied,
His feet towards the heavens were spread,
He swung and bumped at every stride
And ploughed the ground up with his head!
And when they rescued him, The Trap
Had won Wargeilah Handicap!
And no enquiries we could make
Could tell by what false statements swayed
Ah John was led to undertake
A task so foreign to his trade!
He only smiled and said, "Hoo Ki!
I stop topside, I win all li'!"
But never in Wargeilah Town
Was heard so eloquent a cheer
As when the President came down,
And toasted, in Colonial beer,
497
"The finest rider on the course!
The winner of the Snowdon Horse!
"You go and get your prize," he said;
"He's with a wild mob, somewhere round
The mountains near the Watershed;
He's honestly worth fifty pound -A noble horse, indeed, to win,
But none of us can run him in!
"We've chased him poor, we've chased him fat,
We've run him till our horses dropped;
But by such obstacles as that
A man like you will not be stopped;
You'll go and yard him any day,
So here's your health! Hooray! Hooray!"
The day wound up with booze and blow
And fights till all were well content.
But of the new-chum all I know
Is shown by this advertisement -"For sale, the well-known racehorse Trap.
He won Wargeilah Handicap!"
~ Banjo Paterson,
1225:The Old Bark Hut
In an old bark hut on a mountainside
In a spot that was lone and drear
A woman whose heart was aching sat
Watching from year to year.
A small boy, Jim, her only child,
Helped her to watch and wait,
But the time never came when they could go free,
Free from the bond of hate.
For McConnel was out on the mountainside
Living without a hope
And seeing nothing before him now
But death by a hangman’s rope.
Hated and chased by his fellow men,
To take him alive or dead,
An outlaw banned by the world was he
With five hundred pounds on his head.
A message had come that evening which said
“Now, Jim, you mustn’t wait,
If you want to save your father, or
By heaven, you’ll be too late.
“He’s out at Mackinnon’s Crossing, they say,
The track is rough, old man,
But if any here can do it—why
It’s you and old Darky can.”
And Jim knew well what the message meant,
As he brought his horse to the door!
While away through the gathering darkness came
The sound of the river’s roar.
But the brave little heart never faltered as
He stooped to kiss her good-bye
And said, “God bless you, Mother dear,
I’ll save Dad tonight or I’ll die.”
The old horse answered the touch of his hand
And galloped away from the door;
He seemed to know ‘twas a journey for life—
Well, he’d done such journey’s before.
Out from the firelight, and through the rails,
Out through the ghastly trees,
While all the time the warning roar
42
Of the river came back on the breeze;
Steadily down the mountainside
He rode, for his course was plain,
Though his heart was heavy, though not with fear,
But because of that brand of Cain.
The boy thinks over his mother’s last words:
“I’ll love him as long as I live!
He must have time for repentance on earth
But surely God will forgive.”
As he glanced back over his shoulder there
She stood by the light of the door
Trying to pierce the darkness in vain,
Thinking she’d see him no more.
Then as he looked she bowed her head
And slowly turned away,
And the boy knew that the noble wife
Had knelt by the bed to pray.
Mile after mile, hour after hour,
And then just ahead, shining and white,
Was the foam of Mackinnon’s Crossing—
What a jump for old Darky tonight!
And then Jim thinks of the long, lone years
And the hopes that are crushed and dead;
And a woman whose heart is as true as steel,
As rue as the day she was wed.
As she loved him then in the years gone by
When the future held promise in store,
So she loved him today when the future held
Naught but death by his country’s law.
Jim pressed his knees to the saddle flap
And tightened his hold on the rein;
They had jumped the river last summertime,
How he hoped they would do it again!
Then a voice rang out through the darkness there,
“Hold, now hold, stand still!
We know you, lad, it’s too late to run;
Hands up or we’ll shoot to kill!”
Then he knew that the police were around him,
In the darkness they moved to and fro;
For an instant he pulled on the bridle-rein,
But he’d promised his mother he’d go.
And he thought of the poor, sad woman alone,
43
Kneeling in prayer by the bed;
So he loosened the reins on old Darky’s neck
And rushed at the river ahead.
Then a volley rang out through the forest dark—
A fall in the roaring flood;
And the darkness hid from all human eyes
The form that was stained with blood.
The horse struggled hard, the waters rushed on;
He sank to rise no more.
But the boy fought the flood in silence, inch
By inch to the other shore.
Slowly and sadly, but bravely on,
Brushing away the tears;
He was leaving behind in the river’s flood
His friend and companion for years.
And all the time the blood trickled down,
O God! what a hot burning pain!
And he knew he was doing is duty clean
He would never come back again.
Staggering in through the yielding door
Into the cold dark room
Where his father lay, and the faint firelight
Showed through the ghostly gloom.
The bushranger sprang to his feet in alarm
And levelled the gun at his head
And his loud voice demanded, “Who are you?
Speak quick, or you are dead.”
And then a weak little voice made answer,
“It’s me; Mother sends you her love;
The police are back at the crossing now,
So clear out and meet Mother above.”
Then McConnel placed his gun by the wall
And knelt on the cold hard floor;
And somehow the tears came rushing down
As they never had before.
His arms went around the brave little lad,
He nursed his head on his breast;
He seemed to know that the end was nigh
And Jim would soon be at rest.
And the boy was speaking feebly at last,
“They shot me back at the creek,
And old Darky is dead and gone, Dad,
44
And oh, I’m so tired and weak.”
Then his voice fell away in a whisper soft,
So faint it could scarce be heard,
“Oh Dad,, clear out, they are coming fast;
Tell Mother, I kept my word.”
Quickly in silence the police gathered around,
They had captured the beast in his lair;
The outlaw sat with his boy in his arms,
He semed not to heed nor to care.
He was thinking now of the seed he had sown,
He was tasting its bitter fruit,
When the sergeant stepped to the door and said,
“McConnel, bail up or I’ll shoot.”
Then the sergeant placed a lamp by the door,
The rifles gleamed out in the light;
But the outlaw said, “Sergeant O’Drady,
Let’s have no more shooting tonight.
“You can take me now to the judgement seat
As God has taken this lad;
You’d die to take my life, you men—
He died to save his dad.
“I want you to help me dig his grave,
And perhaps you will say a prayer;
Then you can take me and hang me dead—
It’s my wife, or I wouldn’t care.
“Carefully now. . . Oh thank you, men,
Lay him as best you can;
The policeman is shown by his coat, of course;
But the tears—well, they show the man.”
Then the party went back to the old bark hut
As the sun was mounting the hill;
No smoke arose from the chimney cold
And all was silent and still.
The sergeant opened the creaky door,
And lifted his cap with a start,
…Ah, McConnel had broken the country’s laws
And broken a woman’s heart.
~ Anonymous Oceania,
1226:The Dance At Darmstadt
In the city of Darmstadt, the Sabbath morn
Shone over the broad Cathedral Square,
And to nobly, richly, and lowly born,
The belfry carilloned call to prayer.
Then banker, and burgher, and learn'd in law,
With clean-cut forehead and firm-set jaw,
Master, and prentice, and tradesman trim,
Pikemen stalwart of port and limb,
Pledged to die for their native town,
Scholars stately in cap and gown,
Splendid and simple, halt and hale,
Rosy tapster and student pale,
Stepped from their thresholds, and gravely trod
The streets that lead to the House of God.
And, hurrying after them, maid and dame,
Wives, and daughters, and sweethearts, came,
All in their Sabbath best arrayed,
Delicate ribbon and dainty braid,
Creaseless corset and kirtle clean,
Of sombre homespun or silken sheen,
Rustling by with looks demure,
As bright as posies, and just as pure.
And tight to their kirtles their children clung,
With ambling footstep and nimble tongue,
Prattled and questioned them all the way,
Forgetting quite 'twas the Sabbath Day,
Till they came to the great Cathedral Square,
Where the organ pealed through the House of Prayer.
``Now why do you waste the summer day?''
Cried a velveted stripling with locks of gold,
And eyes like forget-me-nots in May,
When the milch-cows stream from the wintry fold.
``Week after week you troop in there,
To mutter and mumble the self-same prayer,
Through the self-same psalmody drowse and nod;
And that's what you, sooth, call praising God!
Look! the sun is shining on roof and spire,
412
And the wings of the swallow never tire,
The stork hovers over her callow nest,
And Spring is folded to Summer's breast.
There's a flutter of love in the lime-tree leaves,
And the starlings flute on the Rathhaus eaves.
Come away, come away where the sycamore swings
Its tassels of gold, and the blackbird sings,
Where the river swirls past a tangled ledge
Of willow-weed, meadow-sweet, thyme, and sedge,
Where the veins of the vine are flushed with juice,
And the trout in the stream past the miller's sluice
Cast wavering shadows on stone and sand;
And, when we have rambled through all the land,
We will halt at the Inn with the Jocund Sign,
And freshen our throats with the Mosel wine.
But, ere ever we go, let us, hand in hand,
Be comrades sworn of a joyous band,
And, while they jabber and wail in there,
Have a dance in the sunny Cathedral Square.''
Then tabor and viol began to sound,
And ribald and losel to beat the ground,
Boys who mocked at the Sacred Name,
And wantons brazening out their shame.
With languishing eyes and streaming hair,
They footed it all about the Square,
Footed, and frolicked, and revelled round,
To the viol's twang and the tabor's sound;
Shouted, and clapped their hands for glee;
Was never such madcap company:
Forward, backward, forward once more,
Like ebb and flow on a tidal shore,
Trooped together more near and near,
Like a troop of colts at a sound they fear,
Then scampered away and scattered wide,
Again to draw to each other's side;
Hand within hand, and face to face,
Twirled and circled in lewd embrace,
Hurried, slackened, then swept along,
Trilling and trolling a shameful song,
Hurtful and hateful to godly ears.
Never, I ween, in all the years
413
Since the Autumn woods waxed sere and brown,
Was danced such a dance in Darmstadt town.
Now the sermon was over, the service done,
And the grave-faced worshippers, one by one,
Poured into the bright Cathedral Square,
And beheld the ungodly dancing there.
Then they cried, ``Now, shame on you! Stay! O stay!
Surely ye know 'tis the Sabbath Day,
The day of the merciful mighty Lord:
If ye flaunt His mercy, yet dread His sword!''
Yet never an instant the dancing stayed,
But ribald stripling, and wanton maid,
Gasped out, ``Don't you see we are nigh to drop
With panting and pain, but we cannot stop.
The demons have entered our limbs, and we
No longer have power to pause or flee.
They force us to hammer the hard hot ground,
And make us pirouette round and round.
Will never some Christian soul advance,
And break the spell of this demon dance!''
Then the sober and godly would fain have heard
Piteous cry and panting word.
But a something stronger than human will
Fettered their feet, and kept them still
Helplessly watching the ghastly crew;
So swiftly they whirled, and so fast they flew,
It made one giddy to see them there.
So, out of the broad Cathedral Square,
Banker and burgher, and learn'd in law,
With clean-cut forehead and firm-set jaw,
Master and prentice, and tradesman trim,
Pikemen stalwart of port and limb,
Sister, and sweetheart, and wife demure,
As fresh as posies, and just as pure,
With children clutching their mother's gown,
Homeward walked through the awestruck town.
But still, when the godly crowd had gone,
The derelict band went dancing on.
The sunlight glittered on roof and spire,
414
And the wings of the swallow did never tire,
The stork hovered over her callow nest,
And Spring was folded to Summer's breast.
Far away in the woodland the sycamore swung
Its tassels of gold, and the blackbird sung.
The river went swirling past tangled ledge
Of willow-weed, meadow-sweet, thyme, and sedge.
The veins of the vine were flushed with juice,
And the trout poised still by the miller's sluice.
But, though longer and longer the shadows grew,
Still gambolled and anticked the ribald crew,
Wavered and wantoned in broken line,
As though mad-drunk with the Mosel wine,
Reeled and rolled till the sun went down,
And the stars shone over the darkened town,
Golden stars in a dome of blue;
Careered and capered the whole night through,
Till their loose flesh flapped on their creaking bones,
And they staggered and dropped on the hard dry stones.
And when at last in a heap they lay,
Like refuse the scavenger carts away,
They throbbed up still, as at farmyard pyre
The flickering flames of an unfed fire;
Nor yet from their ghastly gambols ceased,
Till the sun ensanguined the pallid East,
And the starlings piped on the Rathhaus eaves.
Never, never since wintry woods waxed brown,
Was danced such a dance in Darmstadt town.
~ Alfred Austin,
1227:Nightmare: A Tale For An Autumn Evening
After a Print by George Cruikshank
It was a gusty night,
With the wind booming, and swooping,
Looping round corners,
Sliding over the cobble-stones,
Whipping and veering,
And careering over the roofs
Like a thousand clattering horses.
Mr. Spruggins had been dining in the city,
Mr. Spruggins was none too steady in his gait,
And the wind played ball with Mr. Spruggins
And laughed as it whistled past him.
It rolled him along the street,
With his little feet pit-a-patting on the flags of the sidewalk,
And his muffler and his coat-tails blown straight out behind him.
It bumped him against area railings,
And chuckled in his ear when he said 'Ouch!'
Sometimes it lifted him clear off his little patting feet
And bore him in triumph over three grey flagstones and a quarter.
The moon dodged in and out of clouds, winking.
It was all very unpleasant for Mr. Spruggins,
And when the wind flung him hard against his own front door
It was a relief,
Although the breath was quite knocked out of him.
The gas-lamp in front of the house flared up,
And the keyhole was as big as a barn door;
The gas-lamp flickered away to a sputtering blue star,
And the keyhole went out with it.
Such a stabbing, and jabbing,
And sticking, and picking,
And poking, and pushing, and prying
With that key;
And there is no denying that Mr. Spruggins rapped out an oath or two,
Rub-a-dub-dubbing them out to a real snare-drum roll.
But the door opened at last,
And Mr. Spruggins blew through it into his own hall
And slammed the door to so hard
That the knocker banged five times before it stopped.
143
Mr. Spruggins struck a light and lit a candle,
And all the time the moon winked at him through the window.
'Why couldn't you find the keyhole, Spruggins?'
Taunted the wind.
'I can find the keyhole.'
And the wind, thin as a wire,
Darted in and seized the candle flame
And knocked it over to one side
And pummelled it down - down - down -!
But Mr. Spruggins held the candle so close that it singed his chin,
And ran and stumbled up the stairs in a surprisingly agile manner,
For the wind through the keyhole kept saying, 'Spruggins! Spruggins!'
behind him.
The fire in his bedroom burned brightly.
The room with its crimson bed and window curtains
Was as red and glowing as a carbuncle.
It was still and warm.
There was no wind here, for the windows were fastened;
And no moon,
For the curtains were drawn.
The candle flame stood up like a pointed pear
In a wide brass dish.
Mr. Spruggins sighed with content;
He was safe at home.
The fire glowed - red and yellow roses
In the black basket of the grate And the bed with its crimson hangings
Seemed a great peony,
Wide open and placid.
Mr. Spruggins slipped off his top-coat and his muffler.
He slipped off his bottle-green coat
And his flowered waistcoat.
He put on a flannel dressing-gown,
And tied a peaked night-cap under his chin.
He wound his large gold watch
And placed it under his pillow.
Then he tiptoed over to the window and pulled back the curtain.
There was the moon dodging in and out of the clouds;
But behind him was his quiet candle.
There was the wind whisking along the street.
The window rattled, but it was fastened.
Did the wind say, 'Spruggins'?
144
All Mr. Spruggins heard was 'S-s-s-s-s -'
Dying away down the street.
He dropped the curtain and got into bed.
Martha had been in the last thing with the warming-pan;
The bed was warm,
And Mr. Spruggins sank into feathers,
With the familiar ticking of his watch just under his head.
Mr. Spruggins dozed.
He had forgotten to put out the candle,
But it did not make much difference as the fire was so bright . . .
Too bright!
The red and yellow roses pricked his eyelids,
They scorched him back to consciousness.
He tried to shift his position;
He could not move.
Something weighed him down,
He could not breathe.
He was gasping,
Pinned down and suffocating.
He opened his eyes.
The curtains of the window were flung back,
The fire and the candle were out,
And the room was filled with green moonlight.
And pressed against the window-pane
Was a wide, round face,
Winking - winking Solemnly dropping one eyelid after the other.
Tick - tock - went the watch under his pillow,
Wink - wink - went the face at the window.
It was not the fire roses which had pricked him,
It was the winking eyes.
Mr. Spruggins tried to bounce up;
He could not, because His heart flapped up into his mouth
And fell back dead.
On his chest was a fat pink pig,
On the pig a blackamoor
With a ten pound weight for a cap.
His mustachios kept curling up and down like angry snakes,
And his eyes rolled round and round,
With the pupils coming into sight, and disappearing,
And appearing again on the other side.
145
The holsters at his saddle-bow were two port bottles,
And a curved table-knife hung at his belt for a scimitar,
While a fork and a keg of spirits were strapped to the saddle behind.
He dug his spurs into the pig,
Which trampled and snorted,
And stamped its cloven feet deeper into Mr. Spruggins.
Then the green light on the floor began to undulate.
It heaved and hollowed,
It rose like a tide,
Sea-green,
Full of claws and scales
And wriggles.
The air above his bed began to move;
It weighed over him
In a mass of draggled feathers.
Not one lifted to stir the air.
They drooped and dripped
With a smell of port wine and brandy,
Closing down, slowly,
Trickling drops on the bed-quilt.
Suddenly the window fell in with a great scatter of glass,
And the moon burst into the room,
Sizzling - 'S-s-s-s-s - Spruggins! Spruggins!'
It rolled toward him,
A green ball of flame,
With two eyes in the center,
A red eye and a yellow eye,
Dropping their lids slowly,
One after the other.
Mr. Spruggins tried to scream,
But the blackamoor
Leapt off his pig
With a cry,
Drew his scimitar,
And plunged it into Mr. Spruggins's mouth.
Mr. Spruggins got up in the cold dawn
And remade the fire.
Then he crept back to bed
By the light which seeped in under the window curtains,
And lay there, shivering,
While the bells of St. George the Martyr chimed the quarter after seven.
146
~ Amy Lowell,
1228:Old Heltberg
I went to a school that was little and proper,
Both for church and for state a conventional hopper,
Feeding rollers that ground out their grist unwaiting;
And though it was clear from the gears' frequent grating
They rarely with oil of the spirit were smeared,
Yet no other school in that region appeared.
We
had
to go there till older;-though sorry,
I went there also,-but reveled in Snorre.
The self-same books, the same so-called education,
That teacher after teacher, by decrees of power royal,
Into class after class pounds with self-negation,
And that only bring promotion to them that are loyal!The self-same books, the same so-called education,
Quickly molding to one type all the men in the land,
An excellent fellow who on
one
leg can stand,
And as runs an anchor-rope reel off his rote-narration!The self-same books, the same so-called education
From Hammerfest to Mandal-('tis the state's creation
Of an everything-and-every-one-conserving dominion,
Wherein all the finer folk have but one opinion!)The self-same books, the same so-called education
My comrades devoured; but my appetite failed me,
And that fare I refused, till, to cure what had ailed me,
Home leaving I leaped o'er those bars of vexation.
What I met on the journey, what I thought in each case,
What arose in my soul in the new-chosen place,
Where the future was lying,-this to tell is refractory,
But I'll give you a picture of the 'student factory.'
Full-bearded fellows of thirty near died of
Their hunger for lore, as they slaved by the side of
Rejected aspirants with faces hairless,
Like sparrows in spring, scatter-brained and careless.
-Vigorous seamen whose adventurous mind
96
First drove them from school that real life they might findBut now to cruise wide on the sea they were craving,
Where the flag of free thought o'er all life wide is waving.
-Bankrupted merchants who their books had wooed
In their silent stores, till their creditors sued
And took from them their goods. Now they studied 'on credit.'
Beside them dawdling dandies. Near in scorn have I said it!
-'Non-Latin' law-students, young and ambitious,
'Prelims,' theologs, with their preaching officious;
-Cadets that in arm or in leg had a hurt;
-Peasants late in learning but now in for a spurt:Here
they all wished through their Latin to drive
In
one
year or in two,-not in eight or in five.
They hung over benches, 'gainst the walls they were lying,
In each window sat two, one the edge was just trying
Of his new-sharpened knife on an ink-spattered desk.
Through two large open rooms what a spectacle grotesque!
At one end, half in dreams, Aasmund Olavsen Vinje's
Long figure and spare, a contemplative genius;
Thin and intense, with the color of gypsum,
And a coal-black, preposterous beard, Henrik Ibsen.
I, the youngest of the lot, had to wait for company
Till a new litter came in, after Yule Jonas Lie.
But the 'boss' who ruled there with his logical rod,
'Old Heltberg' himself, was of all the most odd!
In his jacket of dog's skin and fur-boots stout
He waged a hard war with his asthma and gout.
No fur-cap could hide from us his forehead imperious,
His classical features, his eye's power mysterious.
Now erect in his might and now bowed by his pain,
Strong thoughts he threw out, and he threw not in vain.
If the suffering grew keener and again it was faced
By the will in his soul, and his body he braced
Against onset after onset, then his eyes were flaming
And his hands were clenched hard, as if deep were his shaming
That he seemed to have yielded! Oh, then we were sharing
97
Amazed all the grandeur of conflict, and bearing
Home with us a symbol of the storms of that age,
When 'Wergeland's wild hunt' o'er our country could rage!
There was power in the men who took part in that play,
There was will in the power that then broke its way.
Now alone he was left, forgotten in his corner:But in deeds was a hero,-let none dare to be his scorner!
He freed thought from the fetters that the schools inherit,
Independent in teaching, he led by the spirit;
Personality unique: for with manner anarchic
He carved up the text; and absolute-monarchic
Was his wrath at mistakes; but soon it subsided,
Or, controlled, into noblest pathos was guided,
Which oft turned in recoil into self-irony
And a downpour of wit letting no one go free.So he governed his 'horde,' so we went through the country,
The fair land of the classics, that we harried with effront'ry!
How Cicero, Sallust, and Virgil stood in fear
On the forum, in the temple, when we ravaging drew near!
'T was again. the Goths' invasion to the ruin of Rome,
It was Thor's and Odin's spirit over Jupiter's home,
-And the old man's 'grammar' was a dwarf-forged hammer,
When he swung it and smote with sparks, flames, and clamor.
The herd of 'barbarians' he thus headed on their way
Had no purpose to settle and just there to stay.
'Non-Latins' they remained, by no alien thought enslaved,
And found their true selves, as the foreign foes they braved.
In conquering the language we learned the laws of thought,
And following him, his fine longing we caught
For wanderings and wonders, all the conqueror's zeal,
To win unknown lands and their mysteries reveal.
Each lesson seemed a vision that henceforth was ours,
Inspiring each youth's individual powers.
His pictures made pregnant our creative desire,
His wit was our testing in an ordeal of fire,
His wisdom was our balance, to weigh things great and small,
His pathos told of passions, burning, but held in thrall,
Oft the stricken hero scarce his tedious toil could brook,
He wished to go and write, though it were but a single book,
To show a
98
little
what he was, and show it to the world:
He loosed his cable daily, but ne'er his sails unfurled.
His 'grammar' was not printed! And he passed from mortal ken
To where the laws of thought are not written with a pen.
His 'grammar' was not printed! But the life that it had,
In ink's prolonging power did not need to be clad.
It lived in his soul, so mighty, so warm,
That a thousand books' life seems but poor empty form.
It lives in a host of independent men,
To whose thought he gave life and who give it again
In the school, at the bar, in the church, and Storting's hall,
In poetry and art,-whose deeds and lifework all
Have proved to be the freer and the broader in their might,
Because Heltberg had given their youth higher flight.
~ Bjornstjerne Bjornson,
1229:The Conversazzhony
What conversazzhyonies wuz I really did not know,
For that, you must remember, wuz a powerful spell ago;
The camp wuz new 'nd noisy, 'nd only modrit sized,
So fashionable sossiety wuz hardly crystallized.
There hadn't been no grand events to interest the men,
But a lynchin', or a inquest, or a jackpot now an' then.
The wimmin-folks wuz mighty scarce, for wimmin, ez a rool,
Don't go to Colorado much, excep' for teachin' school,
An' bein' scarce an' chipper and pretty (like as not),
The bachelors perpose, 'nd air accepted on the spot.
Now Sorry Tom wuz owner uv the Gosh-all-Hemlock mine,
The wich allowed his better haff to dress all-fired fine;
For Sorry Tom wuz mighty proud uv her, an' she uv him,
Though she wuz short an' tacky, an' he wuz tall an' slim,
An' she wuz edjicated, an' Sorry Tom wuz not,
Yet, for her sake, he'd whack up every cussid cent he'd got!
Waal, jest by way uv celebratin' matrimonial joys,
She thought she'd give a conversazzhyony to the boys,-A peert an' likely lady, 'nd ez full uv 'cute idees
'Nd uv etiquettish notions ez a fyste is full uv fleas.
Three-fingered Hoover kind uv kicked, an' said they might be durned
So far ez any conversazzhyony was concerned;
He'd come to Red Hoss Mountain to tunnel for the ore,
An' not to go to parties,--quite another kind uv bore!
But, bein' he wuz candidate for marshal uv the camp,
I rayther had the upper holts in arguin' with the scamp;
Sez I, "Three-fingered Hoover, can't ye see it is yer game
To go for all the votes ye kin an' collar uv the same?"
The wich perceivin', Hoover sez, "Waal, ef I must, I must;
So I'll frequent that conversazzhyony, ef I bust!"
Three-fingered Hoover wuz a trump! Ez fine a man wuz he
Ez ever caused an inquest or blossomed on a tree!-A big, broad man, whose face bespoke a honest heart within,-With a bunch uv yaller whiskers appertainin' to his chin,
'Nd a fierce mustache turnt up so fur that both his ears wuz hid,
Like the picture that you always see in the "Life uv Cap'n Kidd."
304
His hair wuz long an' wavy an' fine as Southdown fleece,-Oh, it shone an' smelt like Eden when he slicked it down with grease!
I'll bet there wuzn't anywhere a man, all round, ez fine
Ez wuz Three-fingered Hoover in the spring uv '69!
The conversazzhyony wuz a notable affair,
The bong tong deckolett 'nd en regaly bein' there;
The ranch where Sorry Tom hung out wuz fitted up immense,-The Denver papers called it a "palashal residence."
There wuz mountain pines an' fern an' flowers a-hangin' on the walls,
An' cheers an' hoss-hair sofies wuz a-settin' in the halls;
An' there wuz heaps uv pictures uv folks that lived down East,
Sech ez poets an' perfessers, an' last, but not the least,
Wuz a chromo uv old Fremont,--we liked that best, you bet,
For there's lots uv us old miners that is votin' for him yet!
When Sorry Tom received the gang perlitely at the door,
He said that keerds would be allowed upon the second floor;
And then he asked us would we like a drop uv ody vee.
Connivin' at his meanin', we responded promptly, "Wee."
A conversazzhyony is a thing where people speak
The langwidge in the which they air partickulerly weak:
"I see," sez Sorry Tom, "you grasp what that 'ere lingo means."
"You bet yer boots," sez Hoover; "I've lived at Noo Orleens,
An', though I ain't no Frenchie, nor kin unto the same,
I kin parly voo, an' git there, too, like Eli, toot lee mame!"
As speakin' French wuz not my forte,--not even oovry poo,-I stuck to keerds ez played by them ez did not parly voo,
An' bein' how that poker wuz my most perficient game,
I poneyed up for 20 blues an' set into the same.
Three-fingered Hoover stayed behind an' parly-vood so well
That all the kramy delly krame allowed he wuz the belle.
The other candidate for marshal didn't have a show;
For, while Three-fingered Hoover parlyed, ez they said, tray bow,
Bill Goslin didn't know enough uv French to git along,
'Nd I reckon that he had what folks might call a movy tong.
From Denver they had freighted up a real pianny-fort
Uv the warty-leg and pearl-around-the-keys-an'-kivver sort,
An', later in the evenin', Perfesser Vere de Blaw
Performed on that pianny, with considerble eclaw,
305
Sech high-toned opry airs ez one is apt to hear, you know,
When he rounds up down to Denver at a Emmy Abbitt show;
An' Barber Jim (a talented but ornery galoot)
Discoursed a obligatter, conny mory, on the floot,
'Till we, ez sot up-stairs indulgin' in a quiet game,
Conveyed to Barber Jim our wish to compromise the same.
The maynoo that wuz spread that night wuz mighty hard to beat,-Though somewhat awkward to pernounce, it was not so to eat:
There wuz puddin's, pies, an' sandwidges, an' forty kinds uv sass,
An' floatin' Irelands, custards, tarts, an' patty dee foy grass;
An' millions uv cove oysters wuz a-settin' round in pans,
'Nd other native fruits an' things that grow out West in cans.
But I wuz all kufflummuxed when Hoover said he'd choose
"Oon peety morso, see voo play, de la cette Charlotte Rooze;"
I'd knowed Three-fingered Hoover for fifteen years or more,
'Nd I'd never heern him speak so light uv wimmin folks before!
Bill Goslin heern him say it, 'nd uv course he spread the news
Uv how Three-fingered Hoover had insulted Charlotte Rooze
At the conversazzhyony down at Sorry Tom's that night,
An' when they asked me, I allowed that Bill for once wuz right;
Although it broke my heart to see my friend go up the fluke,
We all opined his treatment uv the girl deserved rebuke.
It warn't no use for Sorry Tom to nail it for a lie,-When it come to sassin' wimmin, there wuz blood in every eye;
The boom for Charlotte Rooze swep' on an' took the polls by storm,
An' so Three-fingered Hoover fell a martyr to reform!
Three-fingered Hoover said it was a terrible mistake,
An' when the votes wuz in, he cried ez if his heart would break.
We never knew who Charlotte wuz, but Goslin's brother Dick
Allowed she wuz the teacher from the camp on Roarin' Crick,
That had come to pass some foreign tongue with them uv our alite
Ez wuz at the high-toned party down at Sorry Tom's that night.
We let it drop--this matter uv the lady--there an' then,
An' we never heerd, nor wanted to, of Charlotte Rooze again,
An' the Colorado wimmin-folks, ez like ez not, don't know
How we vindicated all their sex a twenty year ago.
For in these wondrous twenty years has come a mighty change,
An' most of them old pioneers have gone acrosst the range,
306
Way out into the silver land beyond the peaks uv snow,-The land uv rest an' sunshine, where all good miners go.
I reckon that they love to look, from out the silver haze,
Upon that God's own country where they spent sech happy days;
Upon the noble cities that have risen since they went;
Upon the camps an' ranches that are prosperous and content;
An' best uv all, upon those hills that reach into the air,
Ez if to clasp the loved ones that are waitin' over there.
~ Eugene Field,
1230:Young Calidore is paddling o'er the lake;
His healthful spirit eager and awake
To feel the beauty of a silent eve,
Which seem'd full loath this happy world to leave;
The light dwelt o'er the scene so lingeringly.
He bares his forehead to the cool blue sky,
And smiles at the far clearness all around,
Until his heart is well nigh over wound,
And turns for calmness to the pleasant green
Of easy slopes, and shadowy trees that lean
So elegantly o'er the waters' brim
And show their blossoms trim.
Scarce can his clear and nimble eye-sight follow
The freaks, and dartings of the black-wing'd swallow,
Delighting much, to see it half at rest,
Dip so refreshingly its wings, and breast
'Gainst the smooth surface, and to mark anon,
The widening circles into nothing gone.

And now the sharp keel of his little boat
Comes up with ripple, and with easy float,
And glides into a bed of water lillies:
Broad leav'd are they and their white canopies
Are upward turn'd to catch the heavens' dew.
Near to a little island's point they grew;
Whence Calidore might have the goodliest view
Of this sweet spot of earth. The bowery shore
Went off in gentle windings to the hoar
And light blue mountains: but no breathing man
With a warm heart, and eye prepared to scan
Nature's clear beauty, could pass lightly by
Objects that look'd out so invitingly
On either side. These, gentle Calidore
Greeted, as he had known them long before.

The sidelong view of swelling leafiness,
Which the glad setting sun, in gold doth dress;
Whence ever, and anon the jay outsprings,
And scales upon the beauty of its wings.

The lonely turret, shatter'd, and outworn,
Stands venerably proud; too proud to mourn
Its long lost grandeur: fir trees grow around,
Aye dropping their hard fruit upon the ground.

The little chapel with the cross above
Upholding wreaths of ivy; the white dove,
That on the windows spreads his feathers light,
And seems from purple clouds to wing its flight.

Green tufted islands casting their soft shades
Across the lake; sequesterd leafy glades,
That through the dimness of their twilight show
Large dock leaves, spiral foxgloves, or the glow
Of the wild cats eyes, or the silvery stems
Of delicate birch trees, or long grass which hems
A little brook. The youth had long been viewing
These pleasant things, and heaven was bedewing
The mountain flowers, when his glad senses caught
A trumpet's silver voice. Ah! it was fraught
With many joys for him: the warder's ken
Had found white coursers prancing in the glen:
Friends very dear to him he soon will see;
So pushes off his boat most eagerly,
And soon upon the lake he skims along,
Deaf to the nightingales first under-song;
Nor minds he the white swans that dream so sweetly:
His spirit flies before him so completely.

And now he turns a jutting point of land,
Whence may be seen the castle gloomy, and grand:
Nor will a bee buzz round two swelling peaches,
Before the point of his light shallop reaches
Those marble steps that through the water dip:
Now over them he goes with hasty trip,
And scarcely stays to ope the folding doors:
Anon he leaps along the oaken floors
Of halls and corridors.

Delicious sounds! those little bright-eyed things
That float about the air on azure wings,
Had been less heartfelt by him than the clang
Of clattering hoofs; into the court he sprang,
Just as two noble steeds, and palfreys twain,
Were slanting out their necks with loosened rein;
While from beneath the threat'ning portcullis
They brought their happy burthens. What a kiss,
What gentle squeeze he gave each lady's hand!
How tremblingly their delicate ancles spannd!
Into how sweet a trance his soul was gone,
While whisperings of affection
Made him delay to let their tender feet
Come to the earth; with an incline so sweet
From their low palfreys o'er his neck they bent:
And whether there were tears of languishment,
Or that the evening dew had pearl'd their tresses,
He feels a moisture on his cheek, and blesses
With lips that tremble, and with glistening eye
All the soft luxury
That nestled in his arms. A dimpled hand,
Fair as some wonder out of fairy land,
Hung from his shoulder like the drooping flowers
Of whitest Cassia, fresh from summer showers:
And this he fondled with his happy cheek
As if for joy he would no further seek;
When the kind voice of good Sir Clerimond
Came to his ear, like something from beyond
His present being: so he gently drew
His warm arms, thrilling now with pulses new,
From their sweet thrall, and forward gently bending,
Thank'd heaven that his joy was never ending;
While 'gainst his forehead he devoutly press'd
A hand heaven made to succour the distress'd;
A hand that from the world's bleak promontory
Had lifted Calidore for deeds of glory.
Amid the pages, and the torches' glare,
There stood a knight, patting the flowing hair
Of his proud horse's mane: he was withal
A man of elegance, and stature tall:
So that the waving of his plumes would be
High as the berries of a wild ash tree,
Or as the winged cap of Mercury.
His armour was so dexterously wrought
In shape, that sure no living man had thought
It hard, and heavy steel: but that indeed
It was some glorious form, some splendid weed,
In which a spirit new come from the skies
Might live, and show itself to human eyes.
'Tis the far-fam'd, the brave Sir Gondibert,
Said the good man to Calidore alert;
While the young warrior with a step of grace
Came up,--a courtly smile upon his face,
And mailed hand held out, ready to greet
The large-eyed wonder, and ambitious heat
Of the aspiring boy; who as he led
Those smiling ladies, often turned his head
To admire the visor arched so gracefully
Over a knightly brow; while they went by
The lamps that from the high-roof'd hall were pendent,
And gave the steel a shining quite transcendent.

Soon in a pleasant chamber they are seated;
The sweet-lipp'd ladies have already greeted
All the green leaves that round the window clamber,
To show their purple stars, and bells of amber.
Sir Gondibert has doff'd his shining steel,
Gladdening in the free, and airy feel
Of a light mantle; and while Clerimond
Is looking round about him with a fond,
And placid eye, young Calidore is burning
To hear of knightly deeds, and gallant spurning
Of all unworthiness; and how the strong of arm
Kept off dismay, and terror, and alarm
From lovely woman: while brimful of this,
He gave each damsel's hand so warm a kiss,
And had such manly ardour in his eye,
That each at other look'd half staringly;
And then their features started into smiles
Sweet as blue heavens o'er enchanted isles.

Softly the breezes from the forest came,
Softly they blew aside the taper's flame;
Clear was the song from Philomel's far bower;
Grateful the incense from the lime-tree flower;
Mysterious, wild, the far-heard trumpet's tone;
Lovely the moon in ether, all alone:
Sweet too the converse of these happy mortals,
As that of busy spirits when the portals
Are closing in the west; or that soft humming
We hear around when Hesperus is coming.
Sweet be their sleep. * * * * * * * * *
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

~ John Keats, Calidore - A Fragment
,
1231:Song Of Unending Sorrow.
China's Emperor, craving beauty that might shake an empire,
Was on the throne for many years, searching, never finding,
Till a little child of the Yang clan, hardly even grown,
Bred in an inner chamber, with no one knowing her,
But with graces granted by heaven and not to be concealed,
At last one day was chosen for the imperial household.
If she but turned her head and smiled, there were cast a hundred spells,
And the powder and paint of the Six Palaces faded into nothing.
...It was early spring. They bathed her in the FlowerPure Pool,
Which warmed and smoothed the creamy-tinted crystal of her skin,
And, because of her languor, a maid was lifting her
When first the Emperor noticed her and chose her for his bride.
The cloud of her hair, petal of her cheek, gold ripples of her crown when she
moved,
Were sheltered on spring evenings by warm hibiscus curtains;
But nights of spring were short and the sun arose too soon,
And the Emperor, from that time forth, forsook his early hearings
And lavished all his time on her with feasts and revelry,
His mistress of the spring, his despot of the night.
There were other ladies in his court, three thousand of rare beauty,
But his favours to three thousand were concentered in one body.
By the time she was dressed in her Golden Chamber, it would be almost evening;
And when tables were cleared in the Tower of Jade, she would loiter, slow with
wine.
Her sisters and her brothers all were given titles;
And, because she so illumined and glorified her clan,
She brought to every father, every mother through the empire,
Happiness when a girl was born rather than a boy.
...High rose Li Palace, entering blue clouds,
And far and wide the breezes carried magical notes
Of soft song and slow dance, of string and bamboo music.
The Emperor's eyes could never gaze on her enoughTill war-drums, booming from Yuyang, shocked the whole earth
And broke the tunes of The Rainbow Skirt and the Feathered Coat.
The Forbidden City, the nine-tiered palace, loomed in the dust
From thousands of horses and chariots headed southwest.
The imperial flag opened the way, now moving and now pausing- But thirty miles from the capital, beyond the western gate,
65
The men of the army stopped, not one of them would stir
Till under their horses' hoofs they might trample those moth- eyebrows....
Flowery hairpins fell to the ground, no one picked them up,
And a green and white jade hair-tassel and a yellowgold hair- bird.
The Emperor could not save her, he could only cover his face.
And later when he turned to look, the place of blood and tears
Was hidden in a yellow dust blown by a cold wind.
... At the cleft of the Dagger-Tower Trail they crisscrossed through a cloud-line
Under Omei Mountain. The last few came.
Flags and banners lost their colour in the fading sunlight....
But as waters of Shu are always green and its mountains always blue,
So changeless was His Majesty's love and deeper than the days.
He stared at the desolate moon from his temporary palace.
He heard bell-notes in the evening rain, cutting at his breast.
And when heaven and earth resumed their round and the dragon car faced
home,
The Emperor clung to the spot and would not turn away
From the soil along the Mawei slope, under which was buried
That memory, that anguish. Where was her jade-white face?
Ruler and lords, when eyes would meet, wept upon their coats
As they rode, with loose rein, slowly eastward, back to the capital.
...The pools, the gardens, the palace, all were just as before,
The Lake Taiye hibiscus, the Weiyang Palace willows;
But a petal was like her face and a willow-leaf her eyebrow -And what could he do but cry whenever he looked at them?
...Peach-trees and plum-trees blossomed, in the winds of spring;
Lakka-foliage fell to the ground, after autumn rains;
The Western and Southern Palaces were littered with late grasses,
And the steps were mounded with red leaves that no one swept away.
Her Pear-Garden Players became white-haired
And the eunuchs thin-eyebrowed in her Court of PepperTrees;
Over the throne flew fire-flies, while he brooded in the twilight.
He would lengthen the lamp-wick to its end and still could never sleep.
Bell and drum would slowly toll the dragging nighthours
And the River of Stars grow sharp in the sky, just before dawn,
And the porcelain mandarin-ducks on the roof grow thick with morning frost
And his covers of kingfisher-blue feel lonelier and colder
With the distance between life and death year after year;
And yet no beloved spirit ever visited his dreams.
...At Lingqiong lived a Taoist priest who was a guest of heaven,
Able to summon spirits by his concentrated mind.
And people were so moved by the Emperor's constant brooding
66
That they besought the Taoist priest to see if he could find her.
He opened his way in space and clove the ether like lightning,
Up to heaven, under the earth, looking everywhere.
Above, he searched the Green Void, below, the Yellow Spring;
But he failed, in either place, to find the one he looked for.
And then he heard accounts of an enchanted isle at sea,
A part of the intangible and incorporeal world,
With pavilions and fine towers in the five-coloured air,
And of exquisite immortals moving to and fro,
And of one among them-whom they called The Ever TrueWith a face of snow and flowers resembling hers he sought.
So he went to the West Hall's gate of gold and knocked at the jasper door
And asked a girl, called Morsel-of-Jade, to tell The Doubly- Perfect.
And the lady, at news of an envoy from the Emperor of China,
Was startled out of dreams in her nine-flowered, canopy.
She pushed aside her pillow, dressed, shook away sleep,
And opened the pearly shade and then the silver screen.
Her cloudy hair-dress hung on one side because of her great haste,
And her flower-cap was loose when she came along the terrace,
While a light wind filled her cloak and fluttered with her motion
As though she danced The Rainbow Skirt and the Feathered Coat.
And the tear-drops drifting down her sad white face
Were like a rain in spring on the blossom of the pear.
But love glowed deep within her eyes when she bade him thank her liege,
Whose form and voice had been strange to her ever since their parting -Since happiness had ended at the Court of the Bright Sun,
And moons and dawns had become long in Fairy-Mountain Palace.
But when she turned her face and looked down toward the earth
And tried to see the capital, there were only fog and dust.
So she took out, with emotion, the pledges he had given
And, through his envoy, sent him back a shell box and gold hairpin,
But kept one branch of the hairpin and one side of the box,
Breaking the gold of the hairpin, breaking the shell of the box;
"Our souls belong together," she said, " like this gold and this shell -Somewhere, sometime, on earth or in heaven, we shall surely
And she sent him, by his messenger, a sentence reminding him
Of vows which had been known only to their two hearts:
"On the seventh day of the Seventh-month, in the Palace of Long Life,
We told each other secretly in the quiet midnight world
That we wished to fly in heaven, two birds with the wings of one,
And to grow together on the earth, two branches of one tree."
Earth endures, heaven endures; some time both shall end,
67
While this unending sorrow goes on and on for ever.
~ Bai Juyi,
1232:Jamie Telfer
It fell about the Martinmas tyde,
When our Border steeds get corn and hay
The captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ryde,
And he's ower to Tividale to drive a prey.
The first ae guide that they met wi',
It was high up Hardhaughswire;
The second guide that we met wi',
It was laigh down in Borthwick water.
'What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?'
'Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee;
But, gin ye'll gae to the fair Dodhead,
Mony a cow's cauf I'll let thee see.'
And whan they cam to the fair Dodhead,
Right hastily they clam the peel;
They loosed the kye out, ane and a',
And ranshackled the house right weel.
Now Jamie Telfer's heart was sair,
The tear aye rowing in his e'e;
He pled wi' the captain to hae his gear,
Or else revenged he wad be.
The captain turned him round and leugh;
Said--'Man, there's naething in thy house,
But ae auld sword without a sheath,
That hardly now wad fell a mouse!'
The sun was na up, but the moon was down,
It was the gryming o' a new fa'n snaw,
Jamie Telfer has run three myles a-foot,
Between the Dodhead and the Stobs's Ha'
And whan he cam to the fair tower yate,
He shouted loud, and cried weel hie,
Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot-'Wha's this that brings the fraye to me?'
92
'It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be!
There's naething left at the fair Dodhead,
But a waefu' wife and bairnies three.
'Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha'.
For succour ye'se get nane frae me!
Gae seek your succour where ye paid black-mail,
For, man! ye ne'er paid money to me.'
Jamie has turned him round about,
I wat the tear blinded his e'e-'I'll ne'er pay mail to Elliot again,
And the fair Dodhead I'll never see!
'My hounds may a' rin masterless,
My hawks may fly frae tree to tree;
My lord may grip my vassal lands,
For there again maun I never be.'
He has turned him to the Tiviot side,
E'en as fast as he could drie,
Till he came to the Coultart Cleugh
And there he shouted baith loud and hie.
Then up bespak him auld Jock Grieve-'Wha's this that brings the fray to me?'
'It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,
A harried man I trow I be.
'There's naething left in the fair Dodhead,
But a greeting wife and bairnies three,
And sax poor ca's stand in the sta',
A' routing loud for their minnie.'
'Alack a wae!' quo' auld Jock Grieve,
'Alack! my heart is sair for thee!
For I was married on the elder sister,
And you on the youngest of a' the three.'
Then he has ta'en out a bonny black,
93
Was right weel fed wi' corn and hay,
And he's set Jamie Telfer on his back,
To the Catslockhill to tak' the fray.
And whan he cam to the Catslockhill,
He shouted loud and weel cried he,
Till out and spak him William's Wat-'O wha's this brings the fraye to me?'
'It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,
A harried man I think I be!
The captain of Bewcastle has driven my gear;
For God's sake rise, and succour me!'
'Alas for wae!' quo' William's Wat,
'Alack, for thee my heart is sair!
I never cam by the fair Dodhead,
That ever I fand thy basket bare.'
He's set his twa sons on coal-black steeds,
Himsel' upon a freckled gray,
And they are on wi, Jamie Telfer,
To Branksome Ha to tak the fray.
And whan they cam to Branksome Ha',
They shouted a' baith loud and hie,
Till up and spak him auld Buccleuch,
Said--'Wha's this brings the fray to me?
'It's I, Jamie Telfer o' the fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I think I be!
There's nought left in the fair Dodhead,
But a greeting wife and bairnies three.'
'Alack for wae!' quoth the gude auld lord,
'And ever my heart is wae for thee!
But fye gar cry on Willie, my son,
And see that he come to me speedilie!
'Gar warn the water, braid and wide,
Gar warn it soon and hastily!
They that winna ride for Telfer's kye,
94
Let them never look in the face o' me!
'Warn Wat o' Harden, and his sons,
Wi' them will Borthwick water ride;
Warn Gaudilands, and Allanhaugh,
And Gilmanscleugh, and Commonside.
'Ride by the gate at Priesthaughswire,
And warn the Currors o' the Lee;
As ye come down the Hermitage Slack,
Warn doughty Willie o' Gorrinbery.'
The Scots they rade, the Scots they ran,
Sae starkly and sae steadilie!
And aye the ower-word o' the thrang,
Was--'Rise for Branksome readilie!'
The gear was driven the Frostylee up,
Frae the Frostylee unto the plain,
Whan Willie has looked his men before,
And saw the kye right fast driving.
'Wha drives thir kye?' 'gan Willie say,
'To mak an outspeckle o' me?'
'It's I, the captain o' Bewcastle, Willie;
I winna layne my name for thee.'
'O will ye let Telfer's kye gae back,
Or will ye do aught for regard o' me?
Or, by the faith o' my body,' quo' Willie Scott,
'I se ware my dame's cauf's-skin on thee!'
'I winna let the kye gae back,
Neither for thy love, nor yet thy fear,
But I will drive Jamie Telfer's kye,
In spite of every Scot that's here.'
'Set on them, lads!' quo' Willie than,
'Fye, lads, set on them cruellie!
For ere they win to the Ritterford,
Mony a toom saddle there sall be!
95
But Willie was stricken ower the head,
And through the knapscap the sword has gane;
And Harden grat for very rage,
Whan Willie on the ground lay slain.
But he's ta'en aff his gude steel-cap,
And thrice he's waved it in the air-The Dinlay snaw was ne'er mair white,
Nor the lyart locks of Harden's hair.
'Revenge! revenge!' auld Wat 'gan cry;
'Fye, lads, lay on them cruellie!
We'll ne'er see Tiviotside again,
Or Willie's death revenged shall be.'
O mony a horse ran masterless,
The splintered lances flew on hie;
But or they wan to the Kershope ford,
The Scots had gotten the victory.
John o' Brigham there was slain,
And John o' Barlow, as I hear say;
And thirty mae o' the captain's men,
Lay bleeding on the grund that day.
The captain was run thro' the thick of the thigh-And broken was his right leg bane;
If he had lived this hundred year,
He had never been loved by woman again.
'Hae back thy kye!' the captain said;
'Dear kye, I trow, to some they be!
For gin I suld live a hundred years,
There will ne'er fair lady smile on me.'
Then word is gane to the captain's bride,
Even in the bower where that she lay,
That her lord was prisoner in enemy's land,
Since into Tividale he had led the way.
'I wad lourd have had a winding-sheet,
And helped to put it ower his head,
96
Ere he had been disgraced by the Border Scot,
When he ower Liddel his men did lead!'
There was a wild gallant amang us a',
His name was Watty wi' the Wudspurs,
Cried--'On for his house in Stanegirthside,
If ony man will ride with us!'
When they cam to the Stanegirthside,
They dang wi' trees, and burst the door;
They loosed out a' the captain's kye,
And set them forth our lads before.
There was an auld wife ayont the fire,
A wee bit o' the captain's kin-'Wha daur loose out the captain's kye,
Or answer to him and his men?'
'It's I, Watty Wudspurs, loose the kye,
I winna layne my name frae thee!
And I will loose out the captain's kye,
In scorn of a' his men and he.'
When they cam to the fair Dodhead,
They were a wellcum sight to see!
For instead of his ain ten milk-kye,
Jamie Telfer has gotten thirty and three.
And he has paid the rescue shot,
Baith wi' goud, and white monie;
And at the burial o' Willie Scott,
I wot was mony a weeping e'e.
~ Andrew Lang,
1233:Towns In Colour
Red Slippers
Red slippers in a shop-window, and outside in the street, flaws of grey,
windy sleet!
Behind the polished glass, the slippers hang in long threads of red,
festooning from the ceiling like stalactites of blood, flooding the eyes
of passers-by with dripping colour, jamming their crimson reflections
against the windows of cabs and tram-cars, screaming their claret and salmon
into the teeth of the sleet, plopping their little round maroon lights
upon the tops of umbrellas.
The row of white, sparkling shop fronts is gashed and bleeding,
it bleeds red slippers. They spout under the electric light,
fluid and fluctuating, a hot rain - and freeze again to red slippers,
myriadly multiplied in the mirror side of the window.
They balance upon arched insteps like springing bridges of crimson lacquer;
they swing up over curved heels like whirling tanagers sucked
in a wind-pocket; they flatten out, heelless, like July ponds,
flared and burnished by red rockets.
Snap, snap, they are cracker-sparks of scarlet in the white, monotonous
block of shops.
They plunge the clangour of billions of vermilion trumpets
into the crowd outside, and echo in faint rose over the pavement.
People hurry by, for these are only shoes, and in a window, farther down,
is a big lotus bud of cardboard whose petals open every few minutes
and reveal a wax doll, with staring bead eyes and flaxen hair,
lolling awkwardly in its flower chair.
One has often seen shoes, but whoever saw a cardboard lotus bud before?
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The flaws of grey, windy sleet beat on the shop-window where there are only
red slippers.
II
Thompson's Lunch Room - Grand Central Station
Study in Whites
Wax-white Floor, ceiling, walls.
Ivory shadows
Over the pavement
Polished to cream surfaces
By constant sweeping.
The big room is coloured like the petals
Of a great magnolia,
And has a patina
Of flower bloom
Which makes it shine dimly
Under the electric lamps.
Chairs are ranged in rows
Like sepia seeds
Waiting fulfilment.
The chalk-white spot of a cook's cap
Moves unglossily against the vaguely bright wall Dull chalk-white striking the retina like a blow
Through the wavering uncertainty of steam.
Vitreous-white of glasses with green reflections,
Ice-green carboys, shifting - greener, bluer - with the jar of moving water.
Jagged green-white bowls of pressed glass
Rearing snow-peaks of chipped sugar
Above the lighthouse-shaped castors
Of grey pepper and grey-white salt.
Grey-white placards: 'Oyster Stew, Cornbeef Hash, Frankfurters':
Marble slabs veined with words in meandering lines.
Dropping on the white counter like horn notes
425
Through a web of violins,
The flat yellow lights of oranges,
The cube-red splashes of apples,
In high plated `epergnes'.
The electric clock jerks every half-minute:
'Coming! - Past!'
'Three beef-steaks and a chicken-pie,'
Bawled through a slide while the clock jerks heavily.
A man carries a china mug of coffee to a distant chair.
Two rice puddings and a salmon salad
Are pushed over the counter;
The unfulfilled chairs open to receive them.
A spoon falls upon the floor with the impact of metal striking stone,
And the sound throws across the room
Sharp, invisible zigzags
Of silver.
III
An Opera House
Within the gold square of the proscenium arch,
A curtain of orange velvet hangs in stiff folds,
Its tassels jarring slightly when someone crosses the stage behind.
Gold carving edges the balconies,
Rims the boxes,
Runs up and down fluted pillars.
Little knife-stabs of gold
Shine out whenever a box door is opened.
Gold clusters
Flash in soft explosions
On the blue darkness,
Suck back to a point,
And disappear.
Hoops of gold
Circle necks, wrists, fingers,
Pierce ears,
Poise on heads
And fly up above them in coloured sparkles.
Gold!
Gold!
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The opera house is a treasure-box of gold.
Gold in a broad smear across the orchestra pit:
Gold of horns, trumpets, tubas;
Gold - spun-gold, twittering-gold, snapping-gold
Of harps.
The conductor raises his baton,
The brass blares out
Crass, crude,
Parvenu, fat, powerful,
Golden.
Rich as the fat, clapping hands in the boxes.
Cymbals, gigantic, coin-shaped,
Crash.
The orange curtain parts
And the prima-donna steps forward.
One note,
A drop: transparent, iridescent,
A gold bubble,
It floats . . . floats . . .
And bursts against the lips of a bank president
In the grand tier.
IV
Afternoon Rain in State Street
Cross-hatchings of rain against grey walls,
Slant lines of black rain
In front of the up and down, wet stone sides of buildings.
Below,
Greasy, shiny, black, horizontal,
The street.
And over it, umbrellas,
Black polished dots
Struck to white
An instant,
Stream in two flat lines
Slipping past each other with the smoothness of oil.
Like a four-sided wedge
The Custom House Tower
Pokes at the low, flat sky,
427
Pushing it farther and farther up,
Lifting it away from the house-tops,
Lifting it in one piece as though it were a sheet of tin,
With the lever of its apex.
The cross-hatchings of rain cut the Tower obliquely,
Scratching lines of black wire across it,
Mutilating its perpendicular grey surface
With the sharp precision of tools.
The city is rigid with straight lines and angles,
A chequered table of blacks and greys.
Oblong blocks of flatness
Crawl by with low-geared engines,
And pass to short upright squares
Shrinking with distance.
A steamer in the basin blows its whistle,
And the sound shoots across the rain hatchings,
A narrow, level bar of steel.
Hard cubes of lemon
Superimpose themselves upon the fronts of buildings
As the windows light up.
But the lemon cubes are edged with angles
Upon which they cannot impinge.
Up, straight, down, straight - square.
Crumpled grey-white papers
Blow along the side-walks,
Contorted, horrible,
Without curves.
A horse steps in a puddle,
And white, glaring water spurts up
In stiff, outflaring lines,
Like the rattling stems of reeds.
The city is heraldic with angles,
A sombre escutcheon of argent and sable
And countercoloured bends of rain
Hung over a four-square civilization.
When a street lamp comes out,
I gaze at it for fully thirty seconds
To rest my brain with the suffusing, round brilliance of its globe.
428
An Aquarium
Streaks of green and yellow iridescence,
Silver shiftings,
Rings veering out of rings,
Silver - gold Grey-green opaqueness sliding down,
With sharp white bubbles
Shooting and dancing,
Flinging quickly outward.
Nosing the bubbles,
Swallowing them,
Fish.
Blue shadows against silver-saffron water,
The light rippling over them
In steel-bright tremors.
Outspread translucent fins
Flute, fold, and relapse;
The threaded light prints through them on the pebbles
In scarcely tarnished twinklings.
Curving of spotted spines,
Slow up-shifts,
Lazy convolutions:
Then a sudden swift straightening
And darting below:
Oblique grey shadows
Athwart a pale casement.
Roped and curled,
Green man-eating eels
Slumber in undulate rhythms,
With crests laid horizontal on their backs.
Barred fish,
Striped fish,
Uneven disks of fish,
Slip, slide, whirl, turn,
And never touch.
Metallic blue fish,
With fins wide and yellow and swaying
Like Oriental fans,
Hold the sun in their bellies
And glow with light:
Blue brilliance cut by black bars.
429
An oblong pane of straw-coloured shimmer,
Across it, in a tangent,
A smear of rose, black, silver.
Short twists and upstartings,
Rose-black, in a setting of bubbles:
Sunshine playing between red and black flowers
On a blue and gold lawn.
Shadows and polished surfaces,
Facets of mauve and purple,
A constant modulation of values.
Shaft-shaped,
With green bead eyes;
Thick-nosed,
Heliotrope-coloured;
Swift spots of chrysolite and coral;
In the midst of green, pearl, amethyst irradiations.
Outside,
A willow-tree flickers
With little white jerks,
And long blue waves
Rise steadily beyond the outer islands.
~ Amy Lowell,
1234:City Without A Name
Who will honor the city without a name
If so many are dead and others pan gold
Or sell arms in faraway countries?
What shepherd's horn swathed in the bark of birch
Will sound in the Ponary Hills the memory of the absent—
Vagabonds, Pathfinders, brethren of a dissolved lodge?
This spring, in a desert, beyond a campsite flagpole,
—In silence that stretched to the solid rock of yellow and red mountains—
I heard in a gray bush the buzzing of wild bees.
The current carried an echo and the timber of rafts.
A man in a visored cap and a woman in a kerchief
Pushed hard with their four hands at a heavy steering oar.
In the library, below a tower painted with the signs of the zodiac,
Kontrym would take a whiff from his snuffbox and smile
For despite Metternich all was not yet lost.
And on crooked lanes down the middle of a sandy highway
Jewish carts went their way while a black grouse hooted
Standing on a cuirassier's helmet, a relict of La Grande Armée.
In Death Valley I thought about styles of hairdo,
About a hand that shifted spotlights at the Student's Ball
In the city from which no voice could reach me.
Minerals did not sound the last trumpet.
There was only the rustle of a loosened grain of lava.
38
In Death Valley salt gleams from a dried-up lake bed.
Defend, defend yourself, says the tick-tock of the blood.
From the futility of solid rock, no wisdom.
In Death Valley no hawk or eagle against the sky.
The prediction of a Gypsy woman has come true.
In a lane under an arcade, then, I was reading a poem
Of someone who had lived next door, entitled 'An Hour of Thought.'
I looked long at the rearview mirror: there, the one man
Within three miles, an Indian, was walking a bicycle uphill.
With flutes, with torches
And a drum, boom, boom,
Look, the one who died in Istanbul, there, in the first row.
He walks arm in arm with his young lady,
And over them swallows fly.
They carry oars or staffs garlanded with leaves
And bunches of flowers from the shores of the Green Lakes,
As they came closer and closer, down Castle Street.
And then suddenly nothing, only a white puff of cloud
Over the Humanities Student Club,
Division of Creative Writing.
Books, we have written a whole library of them.
Lands, we have visited a great many of them.
Battles, we have lost a number of them.
Till we are no more, we and our Maryla.
Understanding and pity,
We value them highly.
What else?
39
Beauty and kisses,
Fame and its prizes,
Who cares?
Doctors and lawyers,
Well-turned-out majors,
Six feet of earth.
Rings, furs, and lashes,
Glances at Masses,
Rest in peace.
Sweet twin breasts, good night.
Sleep through to the light,
Without spiders.
The sun goes down above the Zealous Lithuanian Lodge
And kindles fire on landscapes 'made from nature':
The Wilia winding among pines; black honey of the Żejmiana;
The Mereczanka washes berries near the Żegaryno village.
The valets had already brought in Theban candelabra
And pulled curtains, one after the other, slowly,
While, thinking I entered first, taking off my gloves,
I saw that all the eyes were fixed on me.
When I got rid of grieving
And the glory I was seeking,
Which I had no business doing,
I was carried by dragons
Over countries, bays, and mountains,
By fate, or by what happens.
40
Oh yes, I wanted to be me.
I toasted mirrors weepily
And learned my own stupidity.
From nails, mucous membrane,
Lungs, liver, bowels, and spleen
Whose house is made? Mine.
So what else is new?
I am not my own friend.
Time cuts me in two.
Monuments covered with snow,
Accept my gift. I wandered;
And where, I don't know.
Absent, burning, acrid, salty, sharp.
Thus the feast of Insubstantiality.
Under a gathering of clouds anywhere.
In a bay, on a plateau, in a dry arroyo.
No density. No harness of stone.
Even the Summa thins into straw and smoke.
And the angelic choirs fly over in a pomegranate seed
Sounding every few instants, not for us, their trumpets.
Light, universal, and yet it keeps changing.
For I love the light too, perhaps the light only.
Yet what is too dazzling and too high is not for me.
So when the clouds turn rosy, I think of light that is level
In the lands of birch and pine coated with crispy lichen,
Late in autumn, under the hoarfrost when the last milk caps
Rot under the firs and the hounds' barking echoes,
And jackdaws wheel over the tower of a Basilian church.
41
10
Unexpressed, untold.
But how?
The shortness of life,
the years quicker and quicker,
not remembering whether it happened in this or that autumn.
Retinues of homespun velveteen skirts,
giggles above a railing, pigtails askew,
sittings on chamberpots upstairs
when the sledge jingles under the columns of the porch
just before the moustachioed ones in wolf fur enter.
Female humanity,
children's snots, legs spread apart,
snarled hair, the milk boiling over,
stench, shit frozen into clods.
And those centuries,
conceiving in the herring smell of the middle of the night
instead of playing something like a game of chess
or dancing an intellectual ballet.
And palisades,
and pregnant sheep,
and pigs, fast eaters and poor eaters,
and cows cured by incantations.
11
Not the Last Judgment, just a kermess by a river.
Small whistles, clay chickens, candied hearts.
So we trudged through the slush of melting snow
To buy bagels from the district of Smorgonie.
A fortune-teller hawking: 'Your destiny, your planets.'
And a toy devil bobbing in a tube of crimson brine.
Another, a rubber one, expired in the air squeaking,
By the stand where you bought stories of King Otto and Melusine.
12
Why should that city, defenseless and pure as the wedding necklace of
42
a forgotten tribe, keep offering itself to me?
Like blue and red-brown seeds beaded in Tuzigoot in the copper desert
seven centuries ago.
Where ocher rubbed into stone still waits for the brow and cheekbone
it would adorn, though for all that time there has been no one.
What evil in me, what pity has made me deserve this offering?
It stands before me, ready, not even the smoke from one chimney is
lacking, not one echo, when I step across the rivers that separate us.
Perhaps Anna and Dora Drużyno have called to me, three hundred miles
inside Arizona, because except fo me no one else knows that they ever
lived.
They trot before me on Embankment Street, two hently born parakeets
from Samogitia, and at night they unravel their spinster tresses of gray
hair.
Here there is no earlier and no later; the seasons of the year and of the
day are simultaneous.
At dawn shit-wagons leave town in long rows and municipal employees
at the gate collect the turnpike toll in leather bags.
Rattling their wheels, 'Courier' and 'Speedy' move against the current
to Werki, and an oarsman shot down over England skiffs past, spreadeagled by his oars.
At St. Peter and Paul's the angels lower their thick eyelids in a smile
over a nun who has indecent thoughts.
43
Bearded, in a wig, Mrs. Sora Klok sits at the ocunter, instructing her
twelve shopgirls.
And all of German Street tosses into the air unfurled bolts of fabric,
preparing itself for death and the conquest of Jerusalem.
Black and princely, an underground river knocks at cellars of the
cathedral under the tomb of St. Casimir the Young and under the
half-charred oak logs in the hearth.
Carrying her servant's-basket on her shoulder, Barbara, dressed in
mourning, returns from the Lithuanian Mass at St. Nicholas to the
Romers' house in Bakszta Street.
How it glitters! the snow on Three Crosses Hill and Bekiesz Hill, not
to be melted by the breath of these brief lives.
And what do I know now, when I turn into Arsenal Street and open
my eyes once more on a useless end of the world?
I was running, as the silks rustled, through room after room without
stopping, for I believed in the existence of a last door.
But the shape of lips and an apple and a flower pinned to a dress were
all that one was permitted to know and take away.
The Earth, neither compassionate nor evil, neither beautiful nor atrocious, persisted, innocent, open to pain and desire.
And the gift was useless, if, later on, in the flarings of distant nights,
there was not less bitterness but more.
44
If I cannot so exhaust my life and their life that the bygone crying is
transformed, at last, into harmony.
Like a Noble Jan Dęboróg in the Straszun's secondhand-book shop, I am
put to rest forever between tow familiar names.
The castle tower above the leafy tumulus grows small and there is still
a hardly audible—is it Mozart's Requiem?—music.
In the immobile light I move my lips and perhaps I am even glad not
to find the desired word.
~ Czeslaw Milosz,
1235:"My friend, why are the Great Gods in conference?
(In my dream) Anu, Enlil, and Shamash held a council,
and Anu spoke to Enlil:
'Because they killed the Bull of Heaven and have also slain
Humbaba,
the one of them who pulled up the Cedar of the Mountain
must die!'
Enlil said:'Let Enkidu die, but Gilgamesh must not die!'
Bur the Sun God of Heavenl replied to valiant Enlil:
'Was it not at my command that they killed the Bull of
Heaven and Humbaba!
Should now innocent Enkidu die!'
Then Enlil became angry at Shamash, saying:
'it is you who are responsible because you traveled daily
with them as their friend!"'
Enkidu was lying (sick) in front of Gilgamesh.
His tears flowing like canals, he (Gilgamesh) said:
"O brother, dear brother, why are they absolving me instead of
my brother)"
Then Enkidu said "So now must 1 become a ghost,
to sit with the ghosts of the dead, to see my dear brother
nevermore!"
In the Cedar Forest where the Great (Gods dwell, I did not kill the Cedar."
Enkidu addressed Gilgamesh,
saying to Gilgamesh, his Friend:
"Come, Friend,
The door
Enkidu raised his eyes,and spoke to the door as if it were human:
"You stupid wooden door,
with no ability to understand !
Already at 10 leagues I selected the wood for you,
until I saw the towering Cedar
Your wood was without compare in my eyes.
Seventy-two cubits was your height, 14 cubits your width, one
cubit your thickness,
your door post, pivot stone, and post cap
I fashioned you, and I carried you; to Nippur
Had I known, O door, that this would he your gratitude
and this your gratitude,
I would have taken an axe and chopped you up,
and lashed your planks into
in its I erected the
and in Urukthey heard
But yet, O door, I fashioned you, and I carried you to Nippur!
May a king who comes after me reject you, may the god
may he remove my name and set his own name there!"
He ripped out.., threw down.
He(Gilgamesh) kept listening to his words, and retorted quickly,
Gilgamcsh listened to the words of Enkidu, his Friend, and his tears flowed.
Gilgamesh addressed Enkidu, raying:
'Frend, the gods have given you a mind broad and
Though it behooves you to be sensible, you keep uttering
improper things!
Why, my Friend, does your mind utter improper things?
The dream is important but very frightening,
your lips are buzzing like flies.
Though there is much fear, the dream is very important.
To the living they (the gods) leave sorrow,
to the living the dream leaves pain.
I will pray, and beseech the Great Gods,
I will seek, and appeal to your god.
Enlil, the Father of the Gods,
Enlil the Counseloryou.
I will fashion a statue of you of gold without measure,
do nor worry, gold
What Enlil says is not
What he has said cannot go back, cannot,
What he has laid down cannot go back, cannot
My friend, of fate goes to mankind."
a lust as dawn hegan to glow, Enkidu raised his head and cried out to Shamash,
at the (first) gleam of the sun his tears poured forth.
"I appeal to you, O Shamash, on behalf of my precious life (?),
because of that notorious trapper
who did not let me attain the same as my friend
May the trapper not get enough to feed himself .
May his profit be slashed, and his wages decrease,
may be his share before you,
may he not enter but go our of it like vapor(?)!"
After he had cursed the trapper to his satisfaction,
his heart prompted him to curse the Harlot.
"Come now, Harlot, I am going to decree your fate,
a fate that will never come to an end for eternity!
I will curse you with a Great Curse,
may my curses overwhelm you suddenly, in an instant!
May you not be able to make a household,
and not be able to love a child of your own (?)!
May you not dwell in the of girls,
may dregs of beer (?) stain your beautiful lap,
may a drunk soil your festal robe with vomit(?),
the beautiful (?)
of the potter.
May you never acquire anything of bright alabaster,
may the judge. ..
may shining silver(?), man's delight, not be cast into your house,
may a gateway be where you rake your pleasure,'
may a crossroad be your home
may a wasteland be your sleeping place,
may the shadow of the city wall be your place to stand,
may the thorns and briars skin your feet,
may both the drunk and the dry slap you on the cheek,
in your city's streets (?),
may owls nest in the cracks of your walls!
may no parties take place
present(?).
and your filthy "lap" may.., be his(?)
Because of me
while I, blameless, you have against me.
When Shamash heard what his mouth had uttered,
he suddenly called out to him from the sky:
"Enkidu, why are you cursing the harlot, Shamhat,
she who fed you bread fit for a god,
she who gave you wine fit for a king,
she who dressed you in grand garments,
and she who allowed you to make beautiful Gilgamesh your
comrade!
Now Gilgamesh is your beloved brother-friend!
He will have you lie on a grand couch,
will have you lie on a couch of honor.
He will seat you in the seat of ease, the seat at his left,
so that the princes of the world kiss your feet.
He will have the people of Uruk go into mourning and moaning over you,
will fill the happy people with woe over you.
And after you he will let his body bear a filthy mat of hair,
will don the skin of a lion and roam the wilderness."
As soon as Enkidu heard the words of valiant Shamash,
his agitated heart grew calm, his anger abated.
Enkidu spoke to the harlot, saying:
"Come, Shamhat, I will decree your fate for you.
Let my mouth which has cursed you, now turn to bless you!
May governors and nobles love you,
May he who is one league away bite his lip (in anticipation of you),
may he who is two leagues away shake our his locks (in preparation)!
May the soldier not refuse you, but undo his buckle for you,
may he give you rock crystal(!), lapis lazuli, and gold,
may his gift to you be earrings of filigree(?).
May his supplies be heaped up.
May he bring you into the of the gods.
May the wife, the mother of seven (children),
be abandoned because of you!"
Enkidu's innards were churning,
lying there so alone.
He spoke everything he felt, saying to his friend:
"Listen, my friend, to the dream that I had last night.
The heavens cried out and the earth replied,
and I was standing between them.
There appeared a man of dark visage
his face resembled the Anzu,"
his hands were the paws of a lion,
his nails the talons of an eagle!
he seized me by my hair and overpowered me.
I struck him a blow, but he skipped about like a jump rope,
and then he struck me and capsizcd me like a raft,
and trampled on me like a wild bull.
He encircled my whole body in a clamp.
'Help me, my friend" (I cried),
but you did not rescue me, you were afraid and did not.. ."
"Then he and turned me into a dove,
so that my arms were feathered like a bird.
Seizing me, he led me down to the House of Darkness,
the dwelling of Irkalla,
to the house where those who enter do not come out,
along the road of no return,
to the house where those who dwell, do without light,
where dirt is their drink, their food is of clay,
where, like a bird, they wear garments of feathers,
and light cannot be seen, they dwell in the dark,
and upon the door and bolt, there lies dust.
On entering the House of Dust,
everywhere I looked there were royal crowns gathered in heaps,
everywhere I listened, it was the bearers of crowns,
who, in the past, had ruled the land,
but who now served Anu and Enlil cooked meats,
served confections, and poured cool water from waterskins.
In the house of Dust that I entered
there sat the high priest and acolyte,
there sat the purification priest and ecstatic,
there sat the anointed priests of the Great Gods.
There sat Etana, there sat Sumukan,
there sat Ereshkigal, the Queen of the Netherworld.
Beletseri, the Scribe of the Netherworld, knelt before her,
she was holding the tablet and was reading it out to her Ereshkigal.
She raised her head when she saw me
'Who has taken this man?'

[50 lines are missing here]
I (?) who went through every difficulty,
remember me and forget(?) not all that I went through with you.
"My friend has had a dream that bodes ill?"
The day he had the dream came to an end.
Enkidu lies down a first day, a second day,
that Enkidu in his bed;
a third day and fourth day, that Enkidu in his bed;
a fifth, a sixth, and seventh, that Enkidu in his bed;
an eighth, a ninth, a tenth, that Enkidu in his bed.
Enkidu's illness grew ever worse.
Enkidu drew up from his bed,
and called out to Gilgamesh:
"My friend hates me
while he talked with me in Uruk
as I was afraid of the battle he encouraged me.
My friend who saved me in battle has now abandoned me!
I and you

[About 20 lines are missing]

At his noises Gilgamesh was roused
Like a dove he moaned
"May he not be held, in death
O preeminent among men"
To his friend
"I will mourn him (?)
I at his side"


~ Anonymous, The Epic of Gilgamesh Tablet VII
,
1236:The Kalevala - Rune I
BIRTH OF WAINAMOINEN.
In primeval times, a maiden,
Beauteous Daughter of the Ether,
Passed for ages her existence
In the great expanse of heaven,
O'er the prairies yet enfolded.
Wearisome the maiden growing,
Her existence sad and hopeless,
Thus alone to live for ages
In the infinite expanses
Of the air above the sea-foam,
In the far outstretching spaces,
In a solitude of ether,
She descended to the ocean,
Waves her coach, and waves her pillow.
Thereupon the rising storm-wind
Flying from the East in fierceness,
Whips the ocean into surges,
Strikes the stars with sprays of ocean
Till the waves are white with fervor.
To and fro they toss the maiden,
Storm-encircled, hapless maiden;
With her sport the rolling billows,
With her play the storm-wind forces,
On the blue back of the waters;
On the white-wreathed waves of ocean,
Play the forces of the salt-sea,
With the lone and helpless maiden;
Till at last in full conception,
Union now of force and beauty,
Sink the storm-winds into slumber;
Overburdened now the maiden
Cannot rise above the surface;
Seven hundred years she wandered,
Ages nine of man's existence,
Swam the ocean hither, thither,
Could not rise above the waters,
Conscious only of her travail;
Seven hundred years she labored
Ere her first-born was delivered.
Thus she swam as water-mother,
Toward the east, and also southward,
Toward the west, and also northward;
Swam the sea in all directions,
Frightened at the strife of storm-winds,
Swam in travail, swam unceasing,
Ere her first-born was delivered.
Then began she gently weeping,
Spake these measures, heavy-hearted:
'Woe is me, my life hard-fated!
Woe is me, in this my travail!
Into what have I now fallen?
Woe is me, that I unhappy,
Left my home in subtle ether,
Came to dwell amid the sea-foam,
To be tossed by rolling billows,
To be rocked by winds and waters,
On the far outstretching waters,
In the salt-sea's vast expanses,
Knowing only pain and trouble!
Better far for me, O Ukko!
Were I maiden in the Ether,
Than within these ocean-spaces,
To become a water-mother!
All this life is cold and dreary,
Painful here is every motion,
As I linger in the waters,
As I wander through the ocean.
Ukko, thou O God, up yonder,
Thou the ruler of the heavens,
Come thou hither, thou art needed,
Come thou hither, I implore thee,
To deliver me from trouble,
To deliver me in travail.
Come I pray thee, hither hasten,
Hasten more that thou art needed,
Haste and help this helpless maiden!'
When she ceased her supplications,
Scarce a moment onward passes,
Ere a beauteous duck descending,
Hastens toward the water-mother,
Comes a-flying hither, thither,
Seeks herself a place for nesting.
Flies she eastward, flies she westward,
Circles northward, circles southward,
Cannot find a grassy hillock,
Not the smallest bit of verdure;
Cannot find a spot protected,
Cannot find a place befitting,
Where to make her nest in safety.
Flying slowly, looking round her,
She descries no place for resting,
Thinking loud and long debating,
And her words are such as follow:
'Build I in the winds my dwelling,
On the floods my place of nesting?
Surely would the winds destroy it,
Far away the waves would wash it.'
Then the daughter of the Ether,
Now the hapless water-mother,
Raised her shoulders out of water,
Raised her knees above the ocean,
That the duck might build her dwelling,
Build her nesting-place in safety.
Thereupon the duck in beauty,
Flying slowly, looking round her,
Spies the shoulders of the maiden,
Sees the knees of Ether's daughter,
Now the hapless water-mother,
Thinks them to be grassy hillocks,
On the blue back of the ocean.
Thence she flies and hovers slowly,
Lightly on the knee she settles,
Finds a nesting-place befitting,
Where to lay her eggs in safety.
Here she builds her humble dwelling,
Lays her eggs within, at pleasure,
Six, the golden eggs she lays there,
Then a seventh, an egg of iron;
Sits upon her eggs to hatch them,
Quickly warms them on the knee-cap
Of the hapless water-mother;
Hatches one day, then a second,
Then a third day sits and hatches.
Warmer grows the water round her,
Warmer is her bed in ocean,
While her knee with fire is kindled,
And her shoulders too are burning,
Fire in every vein is coursing.
Quick the maiden moves her shoulders,
Shakes her members in succession,
Shakes the nest from its foundation,
And the eggs fall into ocean,
Dash in pieces on the bottom
Of the deep and boundless waters.
In the sand they do not perish,
Not the pieces in the ocean;
But transformed, in wondrous beauty
All the fragments come together
Forming pieces two in number,
One the upper, one the lower,
Equal to the one, the other.
From one half the egg, the lower,
Grows the nether vault of Terra:
From the upper half remaining,
Grows the upper vault of Heaven;
From the white part come the moonbeams,
From the yellow part the sunshine,
From the motley part the starlight,
From the dark part grows the cloudage;
And the days speed onward swiftly,
Quickly do the years fly over,
From the shining of the new sun
From the lighting of the full moon.
Still the daughter of the Ether,
Swims the sea as water-mother,
With the floods outstretched before her,
And behind her sky and ocean.
Finally about the ninth year,
In the summer of the tenth year,
Lifts her head above the surface,
Lifts her forehead from the waters,
And begins at last her workings,
Now commences her creations,
On the azure water-ridges,
On the mighty waste before her.
Where her hand she turned in water,
There arose a fertile hillock;
Wheresoe'er her foot she rested,
There she made a hole for fishes;
Where she dived beneath the waters,
Fell the many deeps of ocean;
Where upon her side she turned her,
There the level banks have risen;
Where her head was pointed landward,
There appeared wide bays and inlets;
When from shore she swam a distance,
And upon her back she rested,
There the rocks she made and fashioned,
And the hidden reefs created,
Where the ships are wrecked so often,
Where so many lives have perished.
Thus created were the islands,
Rocks were fastened in the ocean,
Pillars of the sky were planted,
Fields and forests were created,
Checkered stones of many colors,
Gleaming in the silver sunlight,
All the rocks stood well established;
But the singer, Wainamoinen,
Had not yet beheld the sunshine,
Had not seen the golden moonlight,
Still remaining undelivered.
Wainamoinen, old and trusty,
Lingering within his dungeon
Thirty summers altogether,
And of winters, also thirty,
Peaceful on the waste of waters,
On the broad-sea's yielding bosom,
Well reflected, long considered,
How unborn to live and flourish
In the spaces wrapped in darkness,
In uncomfortable limits,
Where he had not seen the moonlight,
Had not seen the silver sunshine.
10
Thereupon these words be uttered,
Let himself be heard in this wise:
'Take, O Moon, I pray thee, take me,
Take me, thou, O Sun above me,
Take me, thou O Bear of heaven,
From this dark and dreary prison,
From these unbefitting portals,
From this narrow place of resting,
From this dark and gloomy dwelling,
Hence to wander from the ocean,
Hence to walk upon the islands,
On the dry land walk and wander,
Like an ancient hero wander,
Walk in open air and breathe it,
Thus to see the moon at evening,
Thus to see the silver sunlight,
Thus to see the Bear in heaven,
That the stars I may consider.'
Since the Moon refused to free him,
And the Sun would not deliver,
Nor the Great Bear give assistance,
His existence growing weary,
And his life but an annoyance,
Bursts he then the outer portals
Of his dark and dismal fortress;
With his strong, but unnamed finger,
Opens he the lock resisting;
With the toes upon his left foot,
With the fingers of his right hand,
Creeps he through the yielding portals
To the threshold of his dwelling;
On his knees across the threshold,
Throws himself head foremost, forward
Plunges into deeps of ocean,
Plunges hither, plunges thither,
Turning with his hands the water;
Swims he northward, swims he southward,
Swims he eastward, swims he westward,
Studying his new surroundings.
Thus our hero reached the water,
Rested five years in the ocean,
Six long years, and even seven years,
11
Till the autumn of the eighth year,
When at last he leaves the waters,
Stops upon a promontory,
On a coast bereft of verdure;
On his knees he leaves the ocean,
On the land he plants his right foot,
On the solid ground his left foot,
Quickly turns his hands about him,
Stands erect to see the sunshine,
Stands to see the golden moonlight,
That he may behold the Great Bear,
That he may the stars consider.
Thus our hero, Wainamoinen,
Thus the wonderful enchanter
Was delivered from his mother,
Ilmatar, the Ether's daughter.
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1237:Requiem
Not under foreign skies
Nor under foreign wings protected I shared all this with my own people
There, where misfortune had abandoned us.
[1961]
INSTEAD OF A PREFACE
During the frightening years of the Yezhov terror, I
spent seventeen months waiting in prison queues in
Leningrad. One day, somehow, someone 'picked me out'.
On that occasion there was a woman standing behind me,
her lips blue with cold, who, of course, had never in
her life heard my name. Jolted out of the torpor
characteristic of all of us, she said into my ear
(everyone whispered there) - 'Could one ever describe
this?' And I answered - 'I can.' It was then that
something like a smile slid across what had previously
been just a face.
[The 1st of April in the year 1957. Leningrad]
DEDICATION
Mountains fall before this grief,
A mighty river stops its flow,
But prison doors stay firmly bolted
Shutting off the convict burrows
And an anguish close to death.
Fresh winds softly blow for someone,
Gentle sunsets warm them through; we don't know this,
We are everywhere the same, listening
To the scrape and turn of hateful keys
And the heavy tread of marching soldiers.
Waking early, as if for early mass,
Walking through the capital run wild, gone to seed,
We'd meet - the dead, lifeless; the sun,
Lower every day; the Neva, mistier:
But hope still sings forever in the distance.
The verdict. Immediately a flood of tears,
62
Followed by a total isolation,
As if a beating heart is painfully ripped out, or,
Thumped, she lies there brutally laid out,
But she still manages to walk, hesitantly, alone.
Where are you, my unwilling friends,
Captives of my two satanic years?
What miracle do you see in a Siberian blizzard?
What shimmering mirage around the circle of the moon?
I send each one of you my salutation, and farewell.
[March 1940]
INTRODUCTION
[PRELUDE]
It happened like this when only the dead
Were smiling, glad of their release,
That Leningrad hung around its prisons
Like a worthless emblem, flapping its piece.
Shrill and sharp, the steam-whistles sang
Short songs of farewell
To the ranks of convicted, demented by suffering,
As they, in regiments, walked along Stars of death stood over us
As innocent Russia squirmed
Under the blood-spattered boots and tyres
Of the black marias.
You were taken away at dawn. I followed you
As one does when a corpse is being removed.
Children were crying in the darkened house.
A candle flared, illuminating the Mother of God. . .
The cold of an icon was on your lips, a death-cold
sweat
On your brow - I will never forget this; I will gather
To wail with the wives of the murdered streltsy (1)
Inconsolably, beneath the Kremlin towers.
[1935. Autumn. Moscow]
II
63
Silent flows the river Don
A yellow moon looks quietly on
Swanking about, with cap askew
It sees through the window a shadow of you
Gravely ill, all alone
The moon sees a woman lying at home
Her son is in jail, her husband is dead
Say a prayer for her instead.
III
It isn't me, someone else is suffering. I couldn't.
Not like this. Everything that has happened,
Cover it with a black cloth,
Then let the torches be removed. . .
Night.
IV
Giggling, poking fun, everyone's darling,
The carefree sinner of Tsarskoye Selo (2)
If only you could have foreseen
What life would do with you That you would stand, parcel in hand,
Beneath the Crosses (3), three hundredth in
line,
Burning the new year's ice
With your hot tears.
Back and forth the prison poplar sways
With not a sound - how many innocent
Blameless lives are being taken away. . .
[1938]
For seventeen months I have been screaming,
Calling you home.
I've thrown myself at the feet of butchers
For you, my son and my horror.
Everything has become muddled forever I can no longer distinguish
64
Who is an animal, who a person, and how long
The wait can be for an execution.
There are now only dusty flowers,
The chinking of the thurible,
Tracks from somewhere into nowhere
And, staring me in the face
And threatening me with swift annihilation,
An enormous star.
[1939]
VI
Weeks fly lightly by. Even so,
I cannot understand what has arisen,
How, my son, into your prison
White nights stare so brilliantly.
Now once more they burn,
Eyes that focus like a hawk,
And, upon your cross, the talk
Is again of death.
[1939. Spring]
VII
THE VERDICT
The word landed with a stony thud
Onto my still-beating breast.
Nevermind, I was prepared,
I will manage with the rest.
I have a lot of work to do today;
I need to slaughter memory,
Turn my living soul to stone
Then teach myself to live again. . .
But how. The hot summer rustles
Like a carnival outside my window;
I have long had this premonition
Of a bright day and a deserted house.
[22 June 1939. Summer. Fontannyi Dom (4)]
VIII
65
TO DEATH
You will come anyway - so why not now?
I wait for you; things have become too hard.
I have turned out the lights and opened the door
For you, so simple and so wonderful.
Assume whatever shape you wish. Burst in
Like a shell of noxious gas. Creep up on me
Like a practised bandit with a heavy weapon.
Poison me, if you want, with a typhoid exhalation,
Or, with a simple tale prepared by you
(And known by all to the point of nausea), take me
Before the commander of the blue caps and let me
glimpse
The house administrator's terrified white face.
I don't care anymore. The river Yenisey
Swirls on. The Pole star blazes.
The blue sparks of those much-loved eyes
Close over and cover the final horror.
[19 August 1939. Fontannyi Dom]
IX
Madness with its wings
Has covered half my soul
It feeds me fiery wine
And lures me into the abyss.
That's when I understood
While listening to my alien delirium
That I must hand the victory
To it.
However much I nag
However much I beg
It will not let me take
One single thing away:
Not my son's frightening eyes A suffering set in stone,
Or prison visiting hours
Or days that end in storms
66
Nor the sweet coolness of a hand
The anxious shade of lime trees
Nor the light distant sound
Of final comforting words.
[14 May 1940. Fontannyi Dom]
CRUCIFIXION
Weep not for me, mother.
I am alive in my grave.
1.
A choir of angels glorified the greatest hour,
The heavens melted into flames.
To his father he said, 'Why hast thou forsaken me!'
But to his mother, 'Weep not for me. . .'
[1940. Fontannyi Dom]
2.
Magdalena smote herself and wept,
The favourite disciple turned to stone,
But there, where the mother stood silent,
Not one person dared to look.
[1943. Tashkent]
EPILOGUE
1.
I have learned how faces fall,
How terror can escape from lowered eyes,
How suffering can etch cruel pages
Of cuneiform-like marks upon the cheeks.
I know how dark or ash-blond strands of hair
Can suddenly turn white. I've learned to recognise
The fading smiles upon submissive lips,
The trembling fear inside a hollow laugh.
That's why I pray not for myself
But all of you who stood there with me
Through fiercest cold and scorching July heat
Under a towering, completely blind red wall.
67
2.
The hour has come to remember the dead.
I see you, I hear you, I feel you:
The one who resisted the long drag to the open window;
The one who could no longer feel the kick of familiar
soil beneath her feet;
The one who, with a sudden flick of her head, replied,
'I arrive here as if I've come home!'
I'd like to name you all by name, but the list
Has been removed and there is nowhere else to look.
So,
I have woven you this wide shroud out of the humble
words
I overheard you use. Everywhere, forever and always,
I will never forget one single thing. Even in new
grief.
Even if they clamp shut my tormented mouth
Through which one hundred million people scream;
That's how I wish them to remember me when I am dead
On the eve of my remembrance day.
If someone someday in this country
Decides to raise a memorial to me,
I give my consent to this festivity
But only on this condition - do not build it
By the sea where I was born,
I have severed my last ties with the sea;
Nor in the Tsar's Park by the hallowed stump
Where an inconsolable shadow looks for me;
Build it here where I stood for three hundred hours
And no-one slid open the bolt.
Listen, even in blissful death I fear
That I will forget the Black Marias,
Forget how hatefully the door slammed and an old woman
Howled like a wounded beast.
Let the thawing ice flow like tears
From my immovable bronze eyelids
And let the prison dove coo in the distance
While ships sail quietly along the river.
[March 1940. Fontannyi Dom]
68
FOOTNOTES
1 An elite guard which rose up in rebellion
against Peter the Great in 1698. Most were either
executed or exiled.
2 The imperial summer residence outside St
Petersburg where Ahmatova spent her early years.
3 A prison complex in central Leningrad near the
Finland Station, called The Crosses because of the
shape of two of the buildings.
4 The Leningrad house in which Ahmatova lived.
~ Anna Akhmatova,
1238:Ye Idyll Of Ye Hippopopotamus
With a Methodist hymn in his musical throat,
The Sun was emitting his ultimate note;
His quivering larynx enwrinkled the sea
Like an Ichthyosaurian blowing his tea;
When sweetly and pensively rattled and rang
This plaint which an Hippopopotamus sang:
'O, Camomile, Calabash, Cartilage-pie,
Spread for my spirit a peppermint fry;
Crown me with doughnuts, and drape me with cheese,
Settle my soul with a codliver sneeze.
Lo, how I stand on my head and repineLollipop Lumpkin can never be mine!'
Down sank the Sun with a kick and a plunge,
Up from the wave rose the head of a Sponge;
Ropes in his ringlets, eggs in his eyes,
Tip-tilted nose in a way to surprise.
These the conundrums he flung to the breeze,
The answers that Echo returned to him these:
'Cobblestone, Cobblestone, why do you sighWhy do you turn on the tears?'
'My mother is crazy on strawberry jam,
And my father has petrified ears.'
'Liverwort, Liverwort, why do you droopWhy do you snuffle and scowl?'
'My brother has cockle-burs into his eyes,
And my sister has married an owl.'
'Simia, Simia, why do you laughWhy do you cackle and quake?'
'My son has a pollywog stuck in his throat,
And my daughter has bitten a snake.'
660
Slow sank the head of the Sponge out of sight,
Soaken with sea-water-then it was night.
The Moon had now risen for dinner to dress,
When sweetly the Pachyderm sang from his nest;
He sang through a pestle of silvery shape,
Encrusted with custard-empurpled with crape;
And this was the burden he bore on his lips,
And blew to the listening Sturgeon that sips
From the fountain of opium under the lobes
Of the mountain whose summit in buffalo robes
The winter envelops, as Venus adorns
An elephant's trunk with a chaplet of thorns:
'Chasing mastodons through marshes upon stilts of light ratan,
Hunting spiders with a shotgun and mosquitoes with an axe,
Plucking peanuts ready roasted from the branches of the oak,
Waking echoes in the forest with our hymns of blessed bosh,
We roamed-my love and I.
By the margin of the fountain spouting thick with clabbered milk,
Under spreading boughs of bass-wood all alive with cooing toads,
Loafing listlessly on bowlders of octagonal design,
Standing gracefully inverted with our toes together knit,
We loved-my love and I.'
Hippopopotamus comforts his heart
Biting half-moons out of strawberry tart.
Epitaph on George Francis Train.
(Inscribed on a Pork-barrel.)
Beneath this casket rots unknown
A Thing that merits not a stone,
Save that by passing urchin cast;
Whose fame and virtues we express
By transient urn of emptiness,
With apt inscription (to its past
Relating-and to his): 'Prime Mess.'
No honour had this infidel,
That doth not appertain, as well,
To altered caitiff on the drop;
No wit that would not likewise pass
For wisdom in the famished ass
661
Who breaks his neck a weed to crop,
When tethered in the luscious grass.
And now, thank God, his hateful name
Shall never rescued be from shame,
Though seas of venal ink be shed;
No sophistry shall reconcile
With sympathy for Erin's Isle,
Or sorrow for her patriot dead,
The weeping of this crocodile.
Life's incongruity is past,
And dirt to dirt is seen at last,
The worm of worm afoul doth fall.
The sexton tolls his solemn bell
For scoundrel dead and gone to-well,
It matters not, it can't recall
This convict from his final cell.
Jerusalem, Old and New.
Didymus Dunkleton Doty Don John
Is a parson of high degree;
He holds forth of Sundays to marvelling crowds
Who wonder how vice can still be
When smitten so stoutly by Didymus DonDisciple of Calvin is he.
But sinners still laugh at his talk of the New
Jerusalem-ha-ha, te-he!
And biting their thumbs at the doughty Don-John
This parson of high degreeThey think of the streets of a village they know,
Where horses still sink to the knee,
Contrasting its muck with the pavement of gold
That's laid in the other citee.
They think of the sign that still swings, uneffaced
By winds from the salt, salt sea,
Which tells where he trafficked in tipple, of yoreDon Dunkleton Johnny, D. D.
Didymus Dunkleton Doty Don John
Still plays on his fiddle-D. D.,
His lambkins still bleat in full psalmody sweet,
And the devil still pitches the key.
Communing with Nature.
One evening I sat on a heavenward hill,
The winds were asleep and all nature was still,
662
Wee children came round me to play at my knee,
As my mind floated rudderless over the sea.
I put out one hand to caress them, but held
With the other my nose, for these cherubim smelled.
I cast a few glances upon the old sun;
He was red in the face from the race he had run,
But he seemed to be doing, for aught I could see,
Quite well without any assistance from me.
And so I directed my wandering eye
Around to the opposite side of the sky,
And the rapture that ever with ecstasy thrills
Through the heart as the moon rises bright from the hills,
Would in this case have been most exceedingly rare,
Except for the fact that the moon was not there.
But the stars looked right lovingly down in the sea,
And, by Jupiter, Venus was winking at me!
The gas in the city was flaring up bright,
Montgomery Street was resplendent with light;
But I did not exactly appear to advance
A sentiment proper to that circumstance.
So it only remains to explain to the town
That a rainstorm came up before I could come down.
As the boots I had on were uncommonly thin
My fancy leaked out as the water leaked in.
Though dampened my ardour, though slackened my strain,
I'll 'strike the wild lyre' who sings the sweet rain!
Conservatism and Progress.
Old Zephyr, dawdling in the West,
Looked down upon the sea,
Which slept unfretted at his feet,
And balanced on its breast a fleet
That seemed almost to be
Suspended in the middle air,
As if a magnet held it there,
Eternally at rest.
Then, one by one, the ships released
Their folded sails, and strove
Against the empty calm to press
North, South, or West, or East,
In vain; the subtle nothingness
Was impotent to move.
Ten Zephyr laughed aloud to see:
663
'No vessel moves except by me,
And, heigh-ho! I shall sleep.'
But lo! from out the troubled North
A tempest strode impatient forth,
And trampled white the deep;
The sloping ships flew glad away,
Laving their heated sides in spray.
The West then turned him red with wrath,
And to the North he shouted:
'Hold there! How dare you cross my path,
As now you are about it?'
The North replied with laboured breathHis speed no moment slowing:'My friend, you'll never have a path,
Unless you take to blowing.'
Inter Arma Silent Leges.
(An Election Incident.)
About the polls the freedmen drew,
To vote the freemen down;
And merrily their caps up-flew
As Grant rode through the town.
From votes to staves they next did turn,
And beat the freemen down;
Full bravely did their valour burn
As Grant rode through the town.
Then staves for muskets they forsook,
And shot the freemen down;
Right royally their banners shook
As Grant rode through the town.
Hail, final triumph of our cause!
Hail, chief of mute renown!
Grim Magistrate of Silent Laws,
A-riding freedom down!
Quintessence.
'To produce these spicy paragraphs, which have been unsuccessfully imitated by
every newspaper in the State, requires the combined efforts of five able-bodied
persons associated on the editorial staff of this journal.'-New York Herald.
Sir Muscle speaks, and nations bend the ear:
664
'Hark ye these Notes-our wit quintuple hear;
Five able-bodied editors combine
Their strength prodigious in each laboured line!'
O wondrous vintner! hopeless seemed the task
To bung these drainings in a single cask;
The riddle's read-five leathern skins contain
The working juice, and scarcely feel the strain.
Saviours of Rome! will wonders never cease?
A ballad cackled by five tuneful geese!
Upon one Rosinante five stout knights
Ride fiercely into visionary fights!
A cap and bells five sturdy fools adorn,
Five porkers battle for a grain of corn,
Five donkeys squeeze into a narrow stall,
Five tumble-bugs propel a single ball!
Resurgam.
Dawns dread and red the fateful morn
Lo, Resurrection's Day is born!
The striding sea no longer strides,
No longer knows the trick of tides;
The land is breathless, winds relent,
All nature waits the dread event.
From wassail rising rather late,
Awarding Jove arrives in state;
O'er yawning graves looks many a league,
Then yawns himself from sheer fatigue.
Lifting its finger to the sky,
A marble shaft arrests his eye
This epitaph, in pompous pride,
Engraven on its polished side:
'Perfection of Creation's plan,
Here resteth Universal Man,
Who virtues, segregated wide,
Collated, classed, and codified,
Reduced to practice, taught, explained,
And strict morality maintained.
Anticipating death, his pelf
He lavished on this monolith;
Because he leaves nor kin nor kith
He rears this tribute to himself,
That Virtue's fame may never cease.
Hic jacet-let him rest in peace!'
665
With sober eye Jove scanned the shaft,
Then turned away and lightly laughed
'Poor Man! since I have careless been
In keeping books to note thy sin,
And thou hast left upon the earth
This faithful record of thy worth,
Thy final prayer shall now be heard:
Of life I'll not renew thy lease,
But take thee at thy carven word,
And let thee rest in solemn peace!'
~ Ambrose Bierce,
1239:I.

My first thought was, he lied in every word,
That hoary cripple, with malicious eye
Askance to watch the working of his lie
On mine, and mouth scarce able to afford
Suppression of the glee, that pursed and scored
Its edge, at one more victim gained thereby.

II.

What else should he be set for, with his staff?
What, save to waylay with his lies, ensnare
All travellers who might find him posted there,
And ask the road? I guessed what skull-like laugh
Would break, what crutch 'gin write my epitaph
For pastime in the dusty thoroughfare,

III.

If at his counsel I should turn aside
Into that ominous tract which, all agree,
Hides the Dark Tower. Yet acquiescingly
I did turn as he pointed: neither pride
Nor hope rekindling at the end descried,
So much as gladness that some end might be.

IV.

For, what with my whole world-wide wandering,
What with my search drawn out thro' years, my hope
Dwindled into a ghost not fit to cope
With that obstreperous joy success would bring,
I hardly tried now to rebuke the spring
My heart made, finding failure in its scope.

V.

As when a sick man very near to death
Seems dead indeed, and feels begin and end
The tears and takes the farewell of each friend,
And hears one bid the other go, draw breath
Freelier outside, (``since all is o'er,'' he saith,
``And the blow falIen no grieving can amend;'')

VI.

While some discuss if near the other graves
Be room enough for this, and when a day
Suits best for carrying the corpse away,
With care about the banners, scarves and staves:
And still the man hears all, and only craves
He may not shame such tender love and stay.

VII.

Thus, I had so long suffered in this quest,
Heard failure prophesied so oft, been writ
So many times among ``The Band''-to wit,
The knights who to the Dark Tower's search addressed
Their steps-that just to fail as they, seemed best,
And all the doubt was now-should I be fit?

VIII.

So, quiet as despair, I turned from him,
That hateful cripple, out of his highway
Into the path he pointed. All the day
Had been a dreary one at best, and dim
Was settling to its close, yet shot one grim
Red leer to see the plain catch its estray.

IX.

For mark! no sooner was I fairly found
Pledged to the plain, after a pace or two,
Than, pausing to throw backward a last view
O'er the safe road, 'twas gone; grey plain all round:
Nothing but plain to the horizon's bound.
I might go on; nought else remained to do.

X.

So, on I went. I think I never saw
Such starved ignoble nature; nothing throve:
For flowers-as well expect a cedar grove!
But cockle, spurge, according to their law
Might propagate their kind, with none to awe,
You'd think; a burr had been a treasure-trove.

XI.

No! penury, inertness and grimace,
In some strange sort, were the land's portion. ``See
``Or shut your eyes,'' said nature peevishly,
``It nothing skills: I cannot help my case:
``'Tis the Last judgment's fire must cure this place,
``Calcine its clods and set my prisoners free.''

XII.

If there pushed any ragged thistle-stalk
Above its mates, the head was chopped; the bents
Were jealous else. What made those holes and rents
In the dock's harsh swarth leaves, bruised as to baulk
All hope of greenness?'tis a brute must walk
Pashing their life out, with a brute's intents.

XIII.

As for the grass, it grew as scant as hair
In leprosy; thin dry blades pricked the mud
Which underneath looked kneaded up with blood.
One stiff blind horse, his every bone a-stare,
Stood stupefied, however he came there:
Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!

XIV.

Alive? he might be dead for aught I know,
With that red gaunt and colloped neck a-strain,
And shut eyes underneath the rusty mane;
Seldom went such grotesqueness with such woe;
I never saw a brute I hated so;
He must be wicked to deserve such pain.

XV.

I shut my eyes and turned them on my heart.
As a man calls for wine before he fights,
I asked one draught of earlier, happier sights,
Ere fitly I could hope to play my part.
Think first, fight afterwards-the soldier's art:
One taste of the old time sets all to rights.

XVI.

Not it! I fancied Cuthbert's reddening face
Beneath its garniture of curly gold,
Dear fellow, till I almost felt him fold
An arm in mine to fix me to the place,
That way he used. Alas, one night's disgrace!
Out went my heart's new fire and left it cold.

XVII.

Giles then, the soul of honour-there he stands
Frank as ten years ago when knighted first.
What honest man should dare (he said) he durst.
Good-but the scene shifts-faugh! what hangman hands
Pin to his breast a parchment? His own bands
Read it. Poor traitor, spit upon and curst!

XVIII.

Better this present than a past like that;
Back therefore to my darkening path again!
No sound, no sight as far as eye could strain.
Will the night send a howlet or a bat?
I asked: when something on the dismal flat
Came to arrest my thoughts and change their train.

XIX.

A sudden little river crossed my path
As unexpected as a serpent comes.
No sluggish tide congenial to the glooms;
This, as it frothed by, might have been a bath
For the fiend's glowing hoof-to see the wrath
Of its black eddy bespate with flakes and spumes.

XX.

So petty yet so spiteful! All along,
Low scrubby alders kneeled down over it;
Drenched willows flung them headlong in a fit
Of route despair, a suicidal throng:
The river which had done them all the wrong,
Whate'er that was, rolled by, deterred no whit.

XXI.

Which, while I forded,-good saints, how I feared
To set my foot upon a dead man's cheek,
Each step, or feel the spear I thrust to seek
For hollows, tangled in his hair or beard!
-It may have been a water-rat I speared,
But, ugh! it sounded like a baby's shriek.

XXII.

Glad was I when I reached the other bank.
Now for a better country. Vain presage!
Who were the strugglers, what war did they wage,
Whose savage trample thus could pad the dank
Soil to a plash? Toads in a poisoned tank,
Or wild cats in a red-hot iron cage-

XXIII.

The fight must so have seemed in that fell cirque.
What penned them there, with all the plain to choose?
No foot-print leading to that horrid mews,
None out of it. Mad brewage set to work
Their brains, no doubt, like galley-slaves the Turk
Pits for his pastime, Christians against Jews.

XXIV.

And more than that-a furlong on-why, there!
What bad use was that engine for, that wheel,
Or brake, not wheel-that harrow fit to reel
Men's bodies out like silk? with all the air
Of Tophet's tool, on earth left unaware,
Or brought to sharpen its rusty teeth of steel.

XXV.

Then came a bit of stubbed ground, once a wood,
Next a marsh, it would seem, and now mere earth
Desperate and done with; (so a fool finds mirth,
Makes a thing and then mars it, till his mood
Changes and off he goes!) within a rood-
Bog, clay and rubble, sand and stark black dearth.

XXVI.

Now blotches rankling, coloured gay and grim,
Now patches where some leanness of the soil's
Broke into moss or substances like boils;
Then came some palsied oak, a cleft in him
Like a distorted mouth that splits its rim
Gaping at death, and dies while it recoils.

XXVII.

And just as far as ever from the end!
Nought in the distance but the evening, nought
To point my footstep further! At the thought,
great black bird, Apollyon's bosom-friend,
Sailed past, nor beat his wide wing dragon-penned
That brushed my cap-perchance the guide I sought.

XXVIII.

For, looking up, aware I somehow grew,
'Spite of the dusk, the plain had given place
All round to mountains-with such name to grace
Mere ugly heights and heaps now stolen in view.
How thus they had surprised me,-solve it, you!
How to get from them was no clearer case.

XXIX.

Yet half I seemed to recognize some trick
Of mischief happened to me, God knows when-
In a bad dream perhaps. Here ended, then,
Progress this way. When, in the very nick
Of giving up, one time more, came a click
As when a trap shuts-you're inside the den!

XXX.

Burningly it came on me all at once,
This was the place! those two hills on the right,
Crouched like two bulls locked horn in horn in fight;
While to the left, a tall scalped mountain Dunce,
Dotard, a-dozing at the very nonce,
After a life spent training for the sight!

XXXI.

What in the midst lay but the Tower itself?
The round squat turret, blind as the fool's heart,
Built of brown stone, without a counter-part
In the whole world. The tempest's mocking elf
Points to the shipman thus the unseen shelf
He strikes on, only when the timbers start.

XXXII.

Not see? because of night perhaps?-why, day
Came back again for that! before it left,
The dying sunset kindled through a cleft:
The hills, like giants at a hunting, lay,
Chin upon hand, to see the game at bay,-
``Now stab and end the creature-to the heft!''

XXXIII.

Not hear? when noise was everywhere! it tolled
Increasing like a bell. Names in my ears
Of all the lost adventurers my peers,-
How such a one was strong, and such was bold,
And such was fortunate, yet, each of old
Lost, lost! one moment knelled the woe of years.

XXXIV.

There they stood, ranged along the hill-sides, met
To view the last of me, a living frame
For one more picture! in a sheet of flame
I saw them and I knew them all. And yet
Dauntless the slug-horn to my lips I set,
And blew. ``Childe Roland to the Dark Tower came.''


~ Robert Browning, Childe Roland To The Dark Tower Came
,
1240:The south-wind brings
Life, sunshine, and desire,
And on every mount and meadow
Breathes aromatic fire,
But over the dead he has no power,
The lost, the lost he cannot restore,
And, looking over the hills, I mourn
The darling who shall not return.

I see my empty house,
I see my trees repair their boughs,
And he, the wondrous child,
Whose silver warble wild
Outvalued every pulsing sound
Within the air's cerulean round,
The hyacinthine boy, for whom
Morn well might break, and April bloom,
The gracious boy, who did adorn
The world whereinto he was born,
And by his countenance repay
The favor of the loving Day,
Has disappeared from the Day's eye;
Far and wide she cannot find him,
My hopes pursue, they cannot bind him.
Returned this day the south-wind searches
And finds young pines and budding birches,
But finds not the budding man;
Nature who lost him, cannot remake him;
Fate let him fall, Fate can't retake him;
Nature, Fate, men, him seek in vain.

And whither now, my truant wise and sweet,
Oh, whither tend thy feet?
I had the right, few days ago,
Thy steps to watch, thy place to know;
How have I forfeited the right?
Hast thou forgot me in a new delight?
I hearken for thy household cheer,
O eloquent child!
Whose voice, an equal messenger,
Conveyed thy meaning mild.
What though the pains and joys
Whereof it spoke were toys
Fitting his age and ken;
Yet fairest dames and bearded men,
Who heard the sweet request
So gentle, wise, and grave,
Bended with joy to his behest,
And let the world's affairs go by,
Awhile to share his cordial game,
Or mend his wicker wagon frame,
Still plotting how their hungry ear
That winsome voice again might hear,
For his lips could well pronounce
Words that were persuasions.

Gentlest guardians marked serene
His early hope, his liberal mien,
Took counsel from his guiding eyes
To make this wisdom earthly wise.
Ah! vainly do these eyes recall
The school-march, each day's festival,
When every morn my bosom glowed
To watch the convoy on the road;
The babe in willow wagon closed,
With rolling eyes and face composed,
With children forward and behind,
Like Cupids studiously inclined,
And he, the Chieftain, paced beside,
The centre of the troop allied,
With sunny face of sweet repose,
To guard the babe from fancied foes,
The little Captain innocent
Took the eye with him as he went,
Each village senior paused to scan
And speak the lovely caravan.

From the window I look out
To mark thy beautiful parade
Stately marching in cap and coat
To some tune by fairies played;
A music heard by thee alone
To works as noble led thee on.
Now love and pride, alas, in vain,
Up and down their glances strain.
The painted sled stands where it stood,
The kennel by the corded wood,
The gathered sticks to stanch the wall
Of the snow-tower, when snow should fall,
The ominous hole he dug in the sand,
And childhood's castles built or planned.
His daily haunts I well discern,
The poultry yard, the shed, the barn,
And every inch of garden ground
Paced by the blessed feet around,
From the road-side to the brook;
Whereinto he loved to look.
Step the meek birds where erst they ranged,
The wintry garden lies unchanged,
The brook into the stream runs on,
But the deep-eyed Boy is gone.

On that shaded day,
Dark with more clouds than tempests are,
When thou didst yield thy innocent breath
In bird-like heavings unto death,
Night came, and Nature had not thee,
I said, we are mates in misery.
The morrow dawned with needless glow,
Each snow-bird chirped, each fowl must crow,
Each tramper started, but the feet
Of the most beautiful and sweet
Of human youth had left the hill
And garden,they were bound and still,
There's not a sparrow or a wren,
There's not a blade of autumn grain,
Which the four seasons do not tend,
And tides of life and increase lend,
And every chick of every bird,
And weed and rock-moss is preferred.
O ostriches' forgetfulness!
O loss of larger in the less!
Was there no star that could be sent,
No watcher in the firmament,
No angel from the countless host,
That loiters round the crystal coast,
Could stoop to heal that only child,
Nature's sweet marvel undefiled,
And keep the blossom of the earth,
Which all her harvests were not worth?
Not mine, I never called thee mine,
But nature's heir, if I repine,
And, seeing rashly torn and moved,
Not what I made, but what I loved.
Grow early old with grief that then
Must to the wastes of nature go,
'Tis because a general hope
Was quenched, and all must doubt and grope
For flattering planets seemed to say,
This child should ills of ages stay,
By wondrous tongue and guided pen
Bring the flown muses back to men.
Perchance, not he, but nature ailed,
The world, and not the infant failed,
It was not ripe yet, to sustain
A genius of so fine a strain,
Who gazed upon the sun and moon
As if he came unto his own,
And pregnant with his grander thought,
Brought the old order into doubt.
Awhile his beauty their beauty tried,
They could not feed him, and he died,
And wandered backward as in scorn
To wait an on to be born.
Ill day which made this beauty waste;
Plight broken, this high face defaced!
Some went and came about the dead,
And some in books of solace read,
Some to their friends the tidings say,
Some went to write, some went to pray,
One tarried here, there hurried one,
But their heart abode with none.
Covetous death bereaved us all
To aggrandize one funeral.
The eager Fate which carried thee
Took the largest part of me.
For this losing is true dying,
This is lordly man's down-lying,
This is slow but sure reclining,
Star by star his world resigning.

O child of Paradise!
Boy who made dear his father's home
In whose deep eyes
Men read the welfare of the times to come;
I am too much bereft;
The world dishonored thou hast left;
O truths and natures costly lie;
O trusted, broken prophecy!
O richest fortune sourly crossed;
Born for the future, to the future lost!

The deep Heart answered, Weepest thou?
Worthier cause for passion wild,
If I had not taken the child.
And deemest thou as those who pore
With aged eyes short way before?
Think'st Beauty vanished from the coast
Of matter, and thy darling lost?
Taught he not thee, the man of eld,
Whose eyes within his eyes beheld
Heaven's numerous hierarchy span
The mystic gulf from God to man?
To be alone wilt thou begin,
When worlds of lovers hem thee in?
To-morrow, when the masks shall fall
That dizen nature's carnival,
The pure shall see, by their own will,
Which overflowing love shall fill,
'Tis not within the force of Fate
The fate-conjoined to separate.
But thou, my votary, weepest thou?
I gave thee sight, where is it now?
I taught thy heart beyond the reach
Of ritual, Bible, or of speech;
Wrote in thy mind's transparent table
As far as the incommunicable;
Taught thee each private sign to raise
Lit by the supersolar blaze.
Past utterance and past belief,
And past the blasphemy of grief,
The mysteries of nature's heart,
And though no muse can these impart,
Throb thine with nature's throbbing breast,
And all is clear from east to west.

I came to thee as to a friend,
Dearest, to thee I did not send
Tutors, but a joyful eye,
Innocence that matched the sky,
Lovely locks a form of wonder,
Laughter rich as woodland thunder;
That thou might'st entertain apart
The richest flowering of all art;
And, as the great all-loving Day
Through smallest chambers takes its way,
That thou might'st break thy daily bread
With Prophet, Saviour, and head;
That thou might'st cherish for thine own
The riches of sweet Mary's Son,
Boy-Rabbi, Israel's Paragon:
And thoughtest thou such guest
Would in thy hall take up his rest?
Would rushing life forget its laws,
Fate's glowing revolution pause?
High omens ask diviner guess,
Not to be conned to tediousness.
And know, my higher gifts unbind
The zone that girds the incarnate mind,
When the scanty shores are full
With Thought's perilous whirling pool,
When frail Nature can no more,
Then the spirit strikes the hour,
My servant Death with solving rite
Pours finite into infinite.
Wilt thou freeze love's tidal flow,
Whose streams through nature circling go?
Nail the star struggling to its track
On the half-climbed Zodiack?
Light is light which radiates,
Blood is blood which circulates,
Life is life which generates,
And many-seeming life is one,
Wilt thou transfix and make it none,
Its onward stream too starkly pent
In figure, bone, and lineament?

Wilt thou uncalled interrogate
Talker! the unreplying fate?
Nor see the Genius of the whole
Ascendant in the private soul,
Beckon it when to go and come,
Self-announced its hour of doom.
Fair the soul's recess and shrine,
Magic-built, to last a season,
Masterpiece of love benign!
Fairer than expansive reason
Whose omen 'tis, and sign.
Wilt thou not ope this heart to know
What rainbows teach and sunsets show,
Verdict which accumulates
From lengthened scroll of human fates,
Voice of earth to earth returned,
Prayers of heart that inly burned;
Saying, what is excellent,
As God lives, is permanent
Hearts are dust, hearts' loves remain,
Heart's love will meet thee again.
Revere the Maker; fetch thine eye
Up to His style, and manners of the sky.
Not of adamant and gold
Built He heaven stark and cold,
No, but a nest of bending reeds,
Flowering grass and scented weeds,
Or like a traveller's fleeting tent,
Or bow above the tempest pent,
Built of tears and sacred flames,
And virtue reaching to its aims;
Built of furtherance and pursuing,
Not of spent deeds, but of doing.
Silent rushes the swift Lord
Through ruined systems still restored,
Broad-sowing, bleak and void to bless,
Plants with worlds the wilderness,
Waters with tears of ancient sorrow
Apples of Eden ripe to-morrow;
House and tenant go to ground,
Lost in God, in Godhead found.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, Threnody
,
1241:Prairie
I WAS born on the prairie and the milk of its wheat, the red of its clover, the
eyes of its women, gave me a song and a
slogan.
Here the water went down, the icebergs slid with gravel, the gaps and the valleys
hissed, and the black loam came, and the
yellow sandy loam.
Here between the sheds of the Rocky Mountains and the Appalachians, here now
a morning star fixes a fire sign over the timber
claims and cow pastures, the corn belt, the cotton belt, the cattle ranches.
Here the gray geese go five hundred miles and back with a wind under their
wings honking the cry for a new home.
Here I know I will hanker after nothing so much as one more sunrise or a sky
moon of fire doubled to a river moon of water.
The prairie sings to me in the forenoon and I know in the night I rest easy in the
prairie arms, on the prairie heart.. .
After the sunburn of the day
handling a pitchfork at a hayrack,
after the eggs and biscuit and coffee,
the pearl-gray haystacks
in the gloaming
are cool prayers
to the harvest hands.
In the city among the walls the overland passenger train is choked and the
pistons hiss and the wheels curse.
On the prairie the overland flits on phantom wheels and the sky and the soil
between them muffle the pistons and cheer the
wheels.. . .
I am here when the cities are gone.
I am here before the cities come.
I nourished the lonely men on horses.
I will keep the laughing men who ride iron.
I am dust of men.
The running water babbled to the deer, the cottontail, the gopher.
You came in wagons, making streets and schools,
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Kin of the ax and rifle, kin of the plow and horse,
Singing Yankee Doodle, Old Dan Tucker, Turkey in the Straw,
You in the coonskin cap at a log house door hearing a lone wolf howl,
You at a sod house door reading the blizzards and chinooks let loose from
Medicine Hat,
I am dust of your dust, as I am brother and mother
To the copper faces, the worker in flint and clay,
The singing women and their sons a thousand years ago
Marching single file the timber and the plain.
I hold the dust of these amid changing stars.
I last while old wars are fought, while peace broods mother-like,
While new wars arise and the fresh killings of young men.
I fed the boys who went to France in great dark days.
Appomattox is a beautiful word to me and so is Valley Forge and the Marne and
Verdun,
I who have seen the red births and the red deaths
Of sons and daughters, I take peace or war, I say nothing and wait.
Have you seen a red sunset drip over one of my cornfields, the shore of night
stars, the wave lines of dawn up a wheat
valley?
Have you heard my threshing crews yelling in the chaff of a strawpile and the
running wheat of the wagonboards, my
cornhuskers, my harvest hands hauling crops, singing dreams of women, worlds,
horizons?. . .
Rivers cut a path on flat lands.
The mountains stand up.
The salt oceans press in
And push on the coast lines.
The sun, the wind, bring rain
And I know what the rainbow writes across the east or west in a half-circle:
A love-letter pledge to come again.. . .
Towns on the Soo Line,
Towns on the Big Muddy,
Laugh at each other for cubs
And tease as children.
Omaha and Kansas City, Minneapolis and St. Paul, sisters in a house together,
throwing slang, growing up.
Towns in the Ozarks, Dakota wheat towns, Wichita, Peoria, Buffalo, sisters
throwing slang, growing up.. . .
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Out of prairie-brown grass crossed with a streamer of wigwam smoke—out of a
smoke pillar, a blue promise—out of
wild ducks woven in greens and purples—
Here I saw a city rise and say to the peoples round world: Listen, I am strong, I
know what I want.
Out of log houses and stumps—canoes stripped from tree-sides—flatboats
coaxed with an ax from the timber
claims—in the years when the red and the white men met—the houses and
streets rose.
A thousand red men cried and went away to new places for corn and women: a
million white men came and put up skyscrapers,
threw out rails and wires, feelers to the salt sea: now the smokestacks bite the
skyline with stub teeth.
In an early year the call of a wild duck woven in greens and purples: now the
riveter's chatter, the police patrol, the
song-whistle of the steamboat.
To a man across a thousand years I offer a handshake.
I say to him: Brother, make the story short, for the stretch of a thousand years
is short.. . .
What brothers these in the dark?
What eaves of skyscrapers against a smoke moon?
These chimneys shaking on the lumber shanties
When the coal boats plow by on the river—
The hunched shoulders of the grain elevators—
The flame sprockets of the sheet steel mills
And the men in the rolling mills with their shirts off
Playing their flesh arms against the twisting wrists of steel:
what brothers these
in the dark
of a thousand years?. . .
A headlight searches a snowstorm.
A funnel of white light shoots from over the pilot of the Pioneer Limited crossing
Wisconsin.
In the morning hours, in the dawn,
The sun puts out the stars of the sky
And the headlight of the Limited train.
The fireman waves his hand to a country school teacher on a bobsled.
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A boy, yellow hair, red scarf and mittens, on the bobsled, in his lunch box a pork
chop sandwich and a V of gooseberry pie.
The horses fathom a snow to their knees.
Snow hats are on the rolling prairie hills.
The Mississippi bluffs wear snow hats.. . .
Keep your hogs on changing corn and mashes of grain,
O farmerman.
Cram their insides till they waddle on short legs
Under the drums of bellies, hams of fat.
Kill your hogs with a knife slit under the ear.
Hack them with cleavers.
Hang them with hooks in the hind legs.. . .
A wagonload of radishes on a summer morning.
Sprinkles of dew on the crimson-purple balls.
The farmer on the seat dangles the reins on the rumps of dapple-gray horses.
The farmer's daughter with a basket of eggs dreams of a new hat to wear to the
county fair.. . .
On the left-and right-hand side of the road,
Marching corn—
I saw it knee high weeks ago—now it is head high—tassels of red silk creep at
the ends of the ears.. . .
I am the prairie, mother of men, waiting.
They are mine, the threshing crews eating beefsteak, the farmboys driving steers
to the railroad cattle pens.
They are mine, the crowds of people at a Fourth of July basket picnic, listening to
a lawyer read the Declaration of
Independence, watching the pinwheels and Roman candles at night, the young
men and women two by two hunting the bypaths and
kissing bridges.
They are mine, the horses looking over a fence in the frost of late October saying
good-morning to the horses hauling wagons
of rutabaga to market.
They are mine, the old zigzag rail fences, the new barb wire.. . .
The cornhuskers wear leather on their hands.
There is no let-up to the wind.
Blue bandannas are knotted at the ruddy chins.
Falltime and winter apples take on the smolder of the five-o'clock November
sunset: falltime, leaves, bonfires, stubble,
the old things go, and the earth is grizzled.
The land and the people hold memories, even among the anthills and the
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angleworms, among the toads and woodroaches—among
gravestone writings rubbed out by the rain—they keep old things that never grow
old.
The frost loosens corn husks.
The Sun, the rain, the wind
loosen corn husks.
The men and women are helpers.
They are all cornhuskers together.
I see them late in the western evening
in a smoke-red dust.. . .
The phantom of a yellow rooster flaunting a scarlet comb, on top of a dung pile
crying hallelujah to the streaks of daylight,
The phantom of an old hunting dog nosing in the underbrush for muskrats,
barking at a coon in a treetop at midnight, chewing
a bone, chasing his tail round a corncrib,
The phantom of an old workhorse taking the steel point of a plow across a fortyacre field in spring, hitched to a harrow in
summer, hitched to a wagon among cornshocks in fall,
These phantoms come into the talk and wonder of people on the front porch of a
farmhouse late summer nights.
"The shapes that are gone are here," said an old man with a cob pipe
in his teeth one night in Kansas with a hot
wind on the alfalfa.. . .
Look at six eggs
In a mockingbird's nest.
Listen to six mockingbirds
Flinging follies of O-be-joyful
Over the marshes and uplands.
Look at songs
Hidden in eggs.. . .
When the morning sun is on the trumpet-vine blossoms, sing at the kitchen
pans: Shout All Over God's Heaven.
When the rain slants on the potato hills and the sun plays a silver shaft on the
last shower, sing to the bush at the
backyard fence: Mighty Lak a Rose.
When the icy sleet pounds on the storm windows and the house lifts to a great
breath, sing for the outside hills: The Ole
Sheep Done Know the Road, the Young Lambs Must Find the Way.. . .
Spring slips back with a girl face calling always: "Any new songs for me?
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Any new songs?"
O prairie girl, be lonely, singing, dreaming, waiting—your lover comes—your child
comes—the years creep with
toes of April rain on new-turned sod.
O prairie girl, whoever leaves you only crimson poppies to talk with, whoever
puts a good-by kiss on your lips and never
comes back—
There is a song deep as the falltime redhaws, long as the layer of black loam we
go to, the shine of the morning star over
the corn belt, the wave line of dawn up a wheat valley.. . .
O prairie mother, I am one of your boys.
I have loved the prairie as a man with a heart shot full of pain over love.
Here I know I will hanker after nothing so much as one more sunrise or a sky
moon of fire doubled to a river moon of water..
. .
I speak of new cities and new people.
I tell you the past is a bucket of ashes.
I tell you yesterday is a wind gone down,
a sun dropped in the west.
I tell you there is nothing in the world
only an ocean of to-morrows,
a sky of to-morrows.
I am a brother of the cornhuskers who say
at sundown:
To-morrow is a day.
~ Carl Sandburg,
1242:The Kalevala - Rune Xliv
BIRTH OF THE SECOND HARP.
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,
Long reflecting, sang these measures:
'It is now the time befitting
To awaken joy and gladness,
Time for me to touch the harp-strings,
Time to sing the songs primeval,
In these spacious halls and mansions,
In these homes of Kalevala;
But, alas! my harp lies hidden,
Sunk upon the deep-sea's bottom,
To the salmon's hiding-places,
To the dwellings of the whiting,
To the people of Wellamo,
Where the Northland-pike assemble.
Nevermore will I regain it,
Ahto never will return it,
Joy and music gone forever!
'O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Forge for me a rake of iron,
Thickly set the teeth of copper,
Many fathoms long the handle;
Make a rake to search the waters,
Search the broad-sea to the bottom,
Rake the weeds and reeds together,
Rake them to the curving sea-shore,
That I may regain my treasure,
May regain my harp of fish-bow
From the whiting's place of resting,
From the caverns of the salmon,
From the castles of Wellamo.'
Thereupon young Ilmarinen,
The eternal metal-worker,
Forges well a rake of iron,
Teeth in length a hundred fathoms,
And a thousand long the handle,
Thickly sets the teeth of copper.
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Straightway ancient Wainamoinen
Takes the rake of magic metals,
Travels but a little distance,
To the cylinders of oak-wood,
To the copper-banded rollers,
Where be finds two ships awaiting,
One was new, the other ancient.
Wainamoinen, old and faithful,
Thus addressed the new-made vessel:
'Go, thou boat of master-magic,
Hasten to the willing waters,
Speed away upon the blue-sea,
And without the hand to move thee;
Let my will impel thee seaward.'
Quick the boat rolled to the billows
On the cylinders of oak-wood,
Quick descended to the waters,
Willingly obeyed his master.
Wainamoinen, the magician,
Then began to rake the sea-beds,
Raked up all the water-flowers,
Bits of broken reeds and rushes,
Deep-sea shells and colored pebbles,
Did not find his harp of fish-bone,
Lost forever to Wainola!
Thereupon the ancient minstrel
Left the waters, homeward hastened,
Cap pulled clown upon his forehead,
Sang this song with sorrow laden:
'Nevermore shall I awaken
With my harp-strings, joy and gladness!
Nevermore will Wainamoinen
Charm the people of the Northland
With the harp of his creation!
Nevermore my songs will echo
O'er the hills of Kalevala!'
Thereupon the ancient singer
Went lamenting through the forest,
Wandered through the sighing pine-woods,
Heard the wailing of a birch-tree,
Heard a juniper complaining;
Drawing nearer, waits and listens,
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Thus the birch-tree he addresses:
'Wherefore, brother, art thou weeping,
Merry birch enrobed in silver,
Silver-leaved and silver-tasselled?
Art thou shedding tears of sorrow,
Since thou art not led to battle,
Not enforced to war with wizards?
Wisely does the birch make answer:
'This the language of the many,
Others speak as thou, unjustly,
That I only live in pleasure,
That my silver leaves and tassels
Only whisper my rejoicings;
That I have no cares, no sorrows,
That I have no hours unhappy,
Knowing neither pain nor trouble.
I am weeping for my smallness,
Am lamenting for my weakness,
Have no sympathy, no pity,
Stand here motionless for ages,
Stand alone in fen and forest,
In these woodlands vast and joyless.
Others hope for coming summers,
For the beauties of the spring-time;
I, alas! a helpless birch-tree,
Dread the changing of the seasons,
I must give my bark to, others,
Lose my leaves and silken tassels.
Men come the Suomi children,
Peel my bark and drink my life-blood:
Wicked shepherds in the summer,
Come and steal my belt of silver,
Of my bark make berry-baskets,
Dishes make, and cups for drinking.
Oftentimes the Northland maidens
Cut my tender limbs for birch-brooms,'
Bind my twigs and silver tassels
Into brooms to sweep their cabins;
Often have the Northland heroes
Chopped me into chips for burning;
Three times in the summer season,
In the pleasant days of spring-time,
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Foresters have ground their axes
On my silver trunk and branches,
Robbed me of my life for ages;
This my spring-time joy and pleasure,
This my happiness in summer,
And my winter days no better!
When I think of former troubles,
Sorrow settles on my visage,
And my face grows white with anguish;
Often do the winds of winter
And the hoar-frost bring me sadness,
Blast my tender leaves and tassels,
Bear my foliage to others,
Rob me of my silver raiment,
Leave me naked on the mountain,
Lone, and helpless, and disheartened!'
Spake the good, old Wainamoinen:
'Weep no longer, sacred birch-tree,
Mourn no more, my friend and brother,
Thou shalt have a better fortune;
I will turn thy grief to joyance,
Make thee laugh and sing with gladness.'
Then the ancient Wainamoinen
Made a harp from sacred birch-wood,
Fashioned in the days of summer,
Beautiful the harp of magic,
By the master's hand created
On the fog-point in the Big-Sea,
On the island forest-covered,
Fashioned from the birch the archings,
And the frame-work from the aspen.
These the words of the magician:
'All the archings are completed,
And the frame is fitly finished;
Whence the hooks and pins for tuning,
That the harp may sing in concord?'
Near the way-side grew an oak-tree,
Skyward grew with equal branches,
On each twig an acorn growing,
Golden balls upon each acorn,
On each ball a singing cuckoo.
As each cuckoo's call resounded,
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Five the notes of song that issued
From the songster's throat of joyance;
From each throat came liquid music,
Gold and silver for the master,
Flowing to the hills and hillocks,
To the silvery vales and mountains;
Thence he took the merry harp-pins,
That the harp might play in concord.
Spake again wise Wainamoinen:
'I the pins have well completed,
Still the harp is yet unfinished;
Now I need five strings for playing,
Where shall I procure the harp-strings?'
Then the ancient bard and minstrel
Journeyed through the fen and forest.
On a hillock sat a maiden,
Sat a virgin of the valley;
And the maiden was not weeping,
Joyful was the sylvan daughter,
Singing with the woodland songsters,
That the eventide might hasten,
In the hope that her beloved
Would the sooner sit beside her.
Wainamoinen, old and trusted,
Hastened, tripping to the virgin,
Asked her for her golden ringleta,
These the words of the magician.
'Give me, maiden, of thy tresses,
Give to me thy golden ringlets;
I will weave them into harp-strings,
To the joy of Wainamoinen,
To the pleasure of his people.'
Thereupon the forest-maiden
Gave the singer of her tresses,
Gave him of her golden ringlets,
And of these he made the harp-strings.
Sources of eternal pleasure
To the people of Wainola.
Thus the sacred harp is finished,
And the minstrel, Wainamoinen,
Sits upon the rock of joyance,
Takes the harp within his fingers,
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Turns the arch up, looking skyward;
With his knee the arch supporting,
Sets the strings in tuneful order,
Runs his fingers o'er the harp-strings,
And the notes of pleasure follow.
Straightway ancient Wainamoinen,
The eternal wisdom-singer,
Plays upon his harp of birch-wood.
Far away is heard the music,
Wide the harp of joy re-echoes;
Mountains dance and valleys listen,
Flinty rocks are tom asunder,
Stones are hurled upon the waters,
Pebbles swim upon the Big-Sea,
Pines and lindens laugh with pleasure,
Alders skip about the heather,
And the aspen sways in concord.
All the daughters of Wainola
Straightway leave their shining needles,
Hasten forward like the current,
Speed along like rapid rivers,
That they may enjoy and wonder.
Laugh the younger men and maidens,
Happy-hearted are the matrons
Flying swift to bear the playing,
To enjoy the common pleasure,
Hear the harp of Wainamoinen.
Aged men and bearded seniors,
Gray-haired mothers with their daughters
Stop in wonderment and listen.
Creeps the babe in full enjoyment
As he hears the magic singing,
Hears the harp of Wainamoinen.
All of Northland stops in wonder,
Speaks in unison these measures:
'Never have we heard such playing,
Never heard such strains of music,
Never since the earth was fashioned,
As the songs of this magician,
This sweet singer, Wainamoinen!'
Far and wide the sweet tones echo,
Ring throughout the seven hamlets,
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O'er the seven islands echo;
Every creature of the Northland
Hastens forth to look and listen,
Listen to the songs of gladness,
To the harp of Wainamoinen.
All the beasts that haunt the woodlands
Fall upon their knees and wonder
At the playing of the minstrel,
At his miracles of concord.
All the songsters of the forests
Perch upon the trembling branches,
Singing to the wondrous playing
Of the harp of Wainamoinen.
All the dwellers of the waters
Leave their beds, and eaves, and grottoes,
Swim against the shore and listen
To the playing of the minstrel,
To the harp of Wainamoinen.
All the little things in nature,
Rise from earth, and fall from ether,
Come and listen to the music,
To the notes of the enchanter,
To the songs of the magician,
To the harp of Wainamoinen.
Plays the singer of the Northland,
Plays in miracles of sweetness,
Plays one day, and then a second,
Plays the third from morn till even;
Plays within the halls and cabins,
In the dwellings of his people,
Till the floors and ceilings echo,
Till resound the roofs of pine-wood,
Till the windows speak and tremble,
Till the portals echo joyance,
And the hearth-stones sing in pleasure.
As he journeys through the forest,
As he wanders through the woodlands,
Pine and sorb-tree bid him welcome,
Birch and willow bend obeisance,
Beech and aspen bow submission;
And the linden waves her branches
To the measure of his playing,
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To the notes of the magician.
As the minstrel plays and wanders,
Sings upon the mead and heather,
Glen and hill his songs re-echo,
Ferns and flowers laugh in pleasure,
And the shrubs attune their voices
To the music of the harp-strings,
To the songs of Wainamoinen.
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1243:The Kalevala - Rune Xlviii
CAPTURE OF THE FIRE-FISH.
Wainamoinen, the enchanter,
The eternal wisdom-singer,
Long reflected, well considered,
How to weave the net of flax-yarn,
Weave the fish-net of the fathers.
Spake the minstrel of Wainola:
'Who will plow the field and fallow,
Sow the flax, and spin the flax-threads,
That I may prepare the fish-net,
Wherewith I may catch the Fire-pike,
May secure the thing of evil?'
Soon they found a fertile island,
Found the fallow soil befitting,
On the border of the heather,
And between two stately oak-trees.
They prepared the soil for sowing.
Searching everywhere for flax-seed,
Found it in Tuoni's kingdom,
In the keeping of an insect.
Then they found a pile of ashes,
Where the fire had burned a vessel;
In the ashes sowed the seedlings
Near the Alue-lake and border,
In the rich and loamy fallow.
There the seed took root and flourished,
Quickly grew to great proportions,
In a single night in summer.
Thus the flax was sowed at evening,
Placed within the earth by moonlight;
Quick it grew, and quickly ripened,
Quick Wainola's heroes pulled it,
Quick they broke it on the hackles,
Hastened with it to the waters,
Dipped it in the lake and washed it;
Quickly brought it borne and dried it.
Quickly broke, and combed, and smoothed it,
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Brushed it well at early morning,
Laid it into laps for spinning
Quick the maidens twirl the spindles,
Spin the flaxen threads for weaving,
In a single night in summer.
Quick the sisters wind and reel it,
Make it ready for the needle.
Brothers weave it into fish-nets,
And the fathers twist the cordage,
While the mothers knit the meshes,
Rapidly the mesh-stick circles;
Soon the fish-net is completed,
In a single night in summer.
As the magic net is finished,
And in length a hundred fathoms,
On the rim three hundred fathoms.
Rounded stones are fastened to it,
Joined thereto are seven float-boards.
Now the young men take the fish-net,
And the old men cheer them onward,
Wish them good-luck at their fishing.
Long they row and drag the flax-seine,
Here and there the net is lowered;
Now they drag it lengthwise, sidewise,
Drag it through the slimy reed-beds;
But they do not catch the Fire-pike,
Only smelts, and luckless red-fish,
Little fish of little value.
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:
'O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Let us go ourselves a-fishing,
Let us catch the fish of evil!'
To the fishing went the brothers,
Magic heroes of the Northland,
Pulled the fish-net through the waters,
Toward an island in the deep-sea
Then they turn and drag the fish-net
Toward a meadow jutting seaward;
Now they drag it toward Wainola,
Draw it lengthwise, sidewise, crosswise,
Catching fish of every species,
salmon, trout, and pike, and whiting,
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Do not catch the evil Fire-fish.
Then the master, Wainamoinen,
Made additions to its borders,
Made it many fathoms wider,
And a hundred fathoms longer,
Then these words the hero uttered
'Famous blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Let us go again a-fishing,
Row again the magic fish-net,
Drag it well through all the waters,
That we may obtain the Fire-pike!'
Thereupon the Northland heroes
Go a second time a-fishing,
Drag their nets across the rivers,
Lakelets, seas, and bays, and inlets,
Catching fish of many species,
But the Fire-fish is not taken.
Wainamoinen, ancient singer,
Long reflecting, spake these measures:
'Dear Wellamo, water-hostess,
Ancient mother with the reed-breast,
Come, exchange thy water-raiment,
Change thy coat of reeds and rushes
For the garments I shall give thee,
Light sea-foam, thine inner vesture,
And thine outer, moss and sea-grass,
Fashioned by the wind's fair daughters,
Woven by the flood's sweet maidens;
I will give thee linen vestments
Spun from flax of softest fiber,
Woven by the Moon's white virgins,
Fashioned by the Sun's bright daughters
Fitting raiment for Wellamo!
'Ahto, king of all the waters,
Ruler of a thousand grottoes,
Take a pole of seven fathoms,
Search with this the deepest waters,
Rummage well the lowest bottoms;
Stir up all the reeds and sea-weeds,
Hither drive a school of gray-pike,
Drive them to our magic fish-net,
From the haunts in pike abounding,
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From the caverns, and the trout-holes,
From the whirlpools of the deep-sea,
From the bottomless abysses,
Where the sunshine never enters,
Where the moonlight never visits,
And the sands are never troubled.'
Rose a pigmy from the waters,
From the floods a little hero,
Riding on a rolling billow,
And the pigmy spake these measures:
'Dost thou wish a worthy helper,
One to use the pole and frighten
Pike and salmon to thy fish-nets?'
Wainamoinen, old and faithful,
Answered thus the lake-born hero:
'Yea, we need a worthy helper,
One to hold the pole, and frighten
Pike and salmon to our fish-nets.'
Thereupon the water-pigmy
Cut a linden from the border,
Spake these words to Wainamoinen:
'Shall I scare with all my powers,
With the forces of my being,
As thou needest shall I scare them?'
Spake the minstrel, Wainamoinen:
'If thou scarest as is needed,
Thou wilt scare with all thy forces,
With the strength of thy dominions.'
Then began the pigmy-hero,
To affright the deep-sea-dwellers;
Drove the fish in countless numbers
To the net of the magicians.
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,
Drew his net along the waters,
Drew it with his ropes of flax-thread,
Spake these words of magic import:
'Come ye fish of Northland waters
To the regions of my fish-net,
As my hundred meshes lower.'
Then the net was drawn and fastened,
Many were the gray-pike taken
By he master and magician.
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Wainamoinen, happy-hearted,
Hastened to a neighboring island,
To a blue-point in the waters,
Near a red-bridge on the headland;
Landed there his draught of fishes,
Cast the pike upon the sea-shore,
And the Fire-pike was among them,
Cast the others to the waters.
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:
'May I touch thee with my fingers,
Using not my gloves of iron,
Using not my blue-stone mittens?
This the Sun-child hears and answers:
'I should like to carve the Fire-fish,
I should like this pike to handle,
If I had the knife of good-luck.'
Quick a knife falls from the heavens,
From the clouds a magic fish-knife,
Silver-edged and golden-headed,
To the girdle of the Sun-child;
Quick he grasps the copper handle,
Quick the hero carves the Fire-pike,
Finds therein the tortured lake-trout;
Carves the lake-trout thus discovered.
Finds therein the fated whiting;
Carves the whiting, finds a blue-ball
In the third cave of his body.
He, the blue-ball quick unwinding,
Finds within a ball of scarlet;
Carefully removes the cover,
Finds the ball of fire within it,
Finds the flame from heaven fallen,
From the heights of the seventh heaven,
Through nine regions of the ether.
Wainamoinen long reflected
How to get the magic fire-ball
To Wainola's fireless hearth-stones,
To his cold and cheerless dwellings.
Quick he snatched the fire of heaven
From the fingers of the Sun-child.
Wainamoinen's beard it singes,
Burns the brow of Ilmarinen,
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Burns the fingers of the blacksmith.
Rolling forth it hastens westward,
Hastens to the Alue shore-lines,
Burns the juniper and alder,
Burns the and heath and meadow,
Rises to the lofty linden,
Burns the firs upon the mountains;
Hastens onward, onward, onward,
Burns the islands of the Northland,
Burns the Sawa fields and forests,
Burns the dry lands of Karyala.
Straightway ancient Wainamoinen
Hastens through the fields and fenlands,
Tracks the ranger to the glen-wood,
Finds the Fire-child in an elm-tree,
Sleeping in a bed of fungus.
Thereupon wise Wainamoinen
Wakes the child and speaks these measures:
'Wicked fire that God created,
Flame of Ukko from the heavens,
Thou hast gone in vain to sea-caves,
To the lakes without a reason;
Better go thou to my village,
To the hearth-stones of my people;
Hide thyself within my chimneys,
In mine ashes sleep and linger.
In the day-time I will use thee
To devour the blocks of birch-wood;
In the evening I will hide thee
Underneath the golden circle.'
Then he took the willing Panu,
Took the willing fire of Ukko,
Laid it in a box of tinder,
In the punk-wood of a birch-tree,
In a vessel forged from copper;
Carried it with care and pleasure
To the fog-point in the waters,
To the island forest covered.
Thus returned the fire to Northland,
To the chambers of Wainola,
To the hearths of Kalevala.
Ilmarinen, famous blacksmith,
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Hastened to the deep-sea's margin,
Sat upon the rock of torture,
Feeling pain the flame had given,
Laved his wounds with briny water,
Thus to still the Fire-child's fury,
Thus to end his persecutions.
Long reflecting, Ilmarinen
Thus addressed the flame of Ukko:
'Evil Panu from the, heavens,
Wicked son of God from ether,
Tell me what has made thee angry,
Made thee burn my weary members,
Burn my beard, and face, and fingers,
Made me suffer death-land tortures?
Spake again young Ilmarinen:
'How can I wild Panu conquer,
How shall I control his conduct,
Make him end his evil doings?
Come, thou daughter from Pohyola,
Come, white virgin of the hoar-frost,
Come on shoes of ice from Lapland,
Icicles upon thy garments,
In one band a cup of white-frost,
In the other hand an ice-spoon;
Sprinkle snow upon my members,
Where the Fire-child has been resting,
Let the hoar-frost fall and settle.
'Should this prayer be unavailing,
Come, thou son of Sariola,
Come, thou child of Frost from Pohya,
Come, thou Long-man from the ice-plains,
Of the height of stately pine-trees,
Slender as the trunks of lindens,
On thy hands the gloves of Hoar-frost,
Cap of ice upon thy forehead,
On thy waist a white-frost girdle;
Bring the ice-dust from Pohyola,
From the cold and sunless village.
Rain is crystallized in Northland,
Ice in Pohya is abundant,
Lakes of ice and ice-bound rivers,
Frozen smooth, the sea of ether.
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Bounds the hare in frosted fur-robe,
Climbs the bear in icy raiment,
Ambles o'er the snowy mountains.
Swans of frost descend the rivers,
Ducks of ice in countless numbers
Swim upon thy freezing waters,
Near the cataract and whirlpool.
Bring me frost upon thy snow-sledge,
Snow and ice in great abundance,
From the summit of the wild-top,
From the borders of the mountains.
With thine ice, and snow, and hoar-frost
Cover well mine injured members
Where wild Panu has been resting,
Where the child of Fire has lingered.
'Should this call be ineffective,
Ukko, God of love and mercy,
First and last of the creators,
From the east send forth a snow-cloud,
From the west despatch a second,
Join their edges well together,
Let there be no vacant places,
Let these clouds bring snow and
Lay the healing balm of Ukko
On my burning, tortured tissues,
Where wild Panu has been resting.'
Thus the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Stills the pains by fire engendered,
Stills the agonies and tortures
Brought him by the child of evil,
Brought him by the wicked Panu.
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1244:Grandmother’s Teaching
``Grandmother dear, you do not know; you have lived the old-world life,
Under the twittering eaves of home, sheltered from storm and strife;
Rocking cradles, and covering jams, knitting socks for baby feet,
Or piecing together lavender bags for keeping the linen sweet:
Daughter, wife, and mother in turn, and each with a blameless breast,
Then saying your prayers when the nightfall came, and quietly dropping to rest.
``You must not think, Granny, I speak in scorn, for yours have been well-spent
days,
And none ever paced with more faithful feet the dutiful ancient ways.
Grandfather's gone, but while he lived you clung to him close and true,
And mother's heart, like her eyes, I know, came to her straight from you.
If the good old times, at the good old pace, in the good old grooves would run,
One could not do better, I'm sure of that, than do as you all have done.
``But the world has wondrously changed, Granny, since the days when you were
young;
It thinks quite different thoughts from then, and speaks with a different tongue.
The fences are broken, the cords are snapped, that tethered man's heart to
home;
He ranges free as the wind or the wave, and changes his shore like the foam.
He drives his furrows through fallow seas, he reaps what the breakers sow,
And the flash of his iron flail is seen mid the barns of the barren snow.
``He has lassoed the lightning and led it home, he has yoked it unto his need,
And made it answer the rein and trudge as straight as the steer or steed.
He has bridled the torrents and made them tame, he has bitted the champing
tide,
It toils as his drudge and turns the wheels that spin for his use and pride.
He handles the planets and weighs their dust, he mounts on the comet's car,
And he lifts the veil of the sun, and stares in the eyes of the uttermost star.
``'Tis not the same world you knew, Granny; its fetters have fallen off;
The lowliest now may rise and rule where the proud used to sit and scoff.
No need to boast of a scutcheoned stock, claim rights from an ancient wrong;
All are born with a silver spoon in their mouths whose gums are sound and
strong.
And I mean to be rich and great, Granny; I mean it with heart and soul:
At my feet is the ball, I will roll it on, till it spins through the golden goal.
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``Out on the thought that my copious life should trickle through trivial days,
Myself but a lonelier sort of beast, watching the cattle graze,
Scanning the year's monotonous change, gaping at wind and rain,
Or hanging with meek solicitous eyes on the whims of a creaking vane;
Wretched if ewes drop single lambs, blest so is oilcake cheap,
And growing old in a tedious round of worry, surfeit, and sleep.
``You dear old Granny, how sweet your smile, and how soft your silvery hari!
But all has moved on while you sate still in your cap and easy-chair.
The torch of knowledge is lit for all, it flashes from hand to hand;
The alien tongues of the earth converse, and whisper from strand to strand.
The very churches are changed and boast new hymns, new rites, new truth;
Men worship a wiser and greater God than the halfknown God of your youth.
``What! marry Connie and set up house, and dwell where my fathers dwelt,
Giving the homely feasts they gave and kneeling where they knelt?
She is pretty, and good, and void I am sure of vanity, greed, or guile;
But she has not travelled nor seen the world, and is lacking in air and style.
Women now are as wise and strong as men, and vie with men in renown;
The wife that will help to build my fame was not bred near a country town.
``What a notion! to figure at parish boards, and wrangle o'er cess and rate,
I, who mean to sit for the county yet, and vote on an Empire's fate;
To take the chair at the Farmers' Feast, and tickle their bumpkin ears,
Who must shake a senate before I die, and waken a people's cheers!
In the olden days was no choice, so sons to the roof of their fathers clave:
But now! 'twere to perish before one's time, and to sleep in a living grave.
``I see that you do not understand. How should you? Your memory clings
To the simple music of silenced days and the skirts of vanishing things.
Your fancy wanders round ruined haunts, and dwells upon oft-told tales;
Your eyes discern not the widening dawn, nor your ears catch the rising gales.
But live on, Granny, till I come back, and then perhaps you will own
The dear old Past is an empty nest, and the Present the brood that is flown.''
``And so, my dear, you've come back at last? I always fancied you would.
Well, you see the old home of your childhood's days is standing where it stood.
The roses still clamber from porch to roof, the elder is white at the gate,
And over the long smooth gravel path the peacock still struts in state.
On the gabled lodge, as of old, in the sun, the pigeons sit and coo,
And our hearts, my dear, are no whit more changed, but have kept still warm for
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you.
``You'll find little altered, unless it be me, and that since my last attack;
But so that you only give me time, I can walk to the church and back.
You bade me not die till you returned, and so you see I lived on:
I'm glad that I did now you've really come, but it's almost time I was gone.
I suppose that there isn't room for us all, and the old should depart the first.
That's as it should be. What is sad, is to bury the dead you've nursed.
``Won't you have bit nor sup, my dear? Not even a glass of whey?
The dappled Alderney calved last week, and the baking is fresh to-day.
Have you lost your appetite too in town, or is it you've grown over-nice?
If you'd rather have biscuits and cowslip wine, they'll bring them up in a trice.
But what am I saying? Your coming down has set me all in a maze:
I forgot that you travelled here by train; I was thinking of coaching days.
``There, sit you down, and give me your hand, and tell me about it all,
From the day that you left us, keen to go, to the pride that had a fall.
And all went well at the first? So it does, when we're young and puffed with
hope;
But the foot of the hill is quicker reached the easier seems the slope.
And men thronged round you, and women too! Yes, that I can understand.
When there's gold in the palm, the greedy world is eager to grasp the hand.
``I heard them tell of your smart town house, but I always shook my head.
One doesn't grow rich in a year and a day, in the time of my youth 'twas said.
Men do not reap in the spring, my dear, nor are granaries filled in May,
Save it be with the harvest of former years, stored up for a rainy day.
The seasons will keep their own true time, you can hurry nor furrow nor sod:
It's honest labour and steadfast thrift that alone are blest by God.
``You say you were honest. I trust you were, nor do I judge you, my dear:
I have old-fashioned ways, and it's quite enough to keep one's own conscience
clear.
But still the commandment, ``Thou shalt not steal,'' though a simple and ancient
rule,
Was not made for modern cunning to baulk, nor for any new age to befool;
And if my growing rich unto others brought but penury, chill, and grief,
I should feel, though I never had filched with my hands, I was only a craftier
thief.
``That isn't the way they look at it there? All worshipped the rising sun?
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Most of all the fine lady, in pride of purse you fancied your heart had won.
I don't want to hear of her beauty or birth: I reckon her foul and low;
Far better a steadfast cottage wench than grand loves that come and go.
To cleave to their husbands, through weal, through woe, is all women have to
do:
In growing as clever as men they seem to have matched them in fickleness too.
``But there's one in whose heart has your image still dwelt through many an
absent day,
As the scent of a flower will haunt a closed room, though the flower be taken
away.
Connie's not quite so young as she was, no doubt, but faithfulness never grows
old;
And were beauty the only fuel of love, the warmest hearth soon would grow cold.
Once you thought that she had not travelled, and knew neither the world nor life:
Not to roam, but to deem her own hearth the whole world, that's what a man
wants in a wife.
``I'm sure you'd be happy with Connie, at least if your own heart's in the right
place.
She will bring you nor power, nor station, nor wealth, but she never will bring
you disgrace.
They say that the moon, though she moves round the earth, never turns to him
morning or night
But one face of her sphere, and it must be because she's so true a satellite;
And Connie, if into your orbit once drawn by the sacrament sanctioned above,
Would revolve round you constantly, only to show the one-sided aspect of love.
``You will never grow rich by the land, I own; but if Connie and you should wed,
It will feed your children and household too, as it you and your fathers fed.
The seasons have been unkindly of late; there's a wonderful cut of hay,
But the showers have washed all the goodness out, till it's scarcely worth carting
away.
There's a fairish promise of barley straw, but the ears look rusty and slim:
I suppose God intends to remind us thus that something depends on Him.
``God neither progresses nor changes, dear, as I once heard you rashly say:
Man's schools and philosophies come and go, but His word doth not pass away.
We worship Him here as we did of old, with simple and reverent rite:
In the morning we pray Him to bless our work, to forgive our transgressions at
night.
To keep His commandments, to fear His name, and what should be done, to do,-
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That's the beginning of wisdom still; I suspect 'tis the end of it too.
``You must see the new-fangled machines at work, that harrow, and thresh, and
reap;
They're wonderful quick, there's no mistake, and they say in the end they're
cheap.
But they make such a clatter, and seem to bring the rule of the town to the
fields:
There's something more precious in country life than the balance of wealth it
yields.
But that seems going; I'm sure I hope that I shall be gone before:
Better poor sweet silence of rural toil than the factory's opulent roar.
``They're a mighty saving of labour, though; so at least I hear them tell,
Making fewer hands and fewer mouths, but fewer hearts as well:
They sweep up so close that there's nothing left for widows and bairns to glean;
If machines are growing like men, man seems to be growing a half machine.
There's no friendliness left; the only tie is the wage upon Saturday nights:
Right used to mean duty; you'll find that now there's no duty, but only rights.
``Still stick to your duty, my dear, and then things cannot go much amiss.
What made folks happy in bygone times, will make them happy in this.
There's little that's called amusement, here; but why should the old joys pall?
Has the blackbird ceased to sing loud in spring? Has the cuckoo forgotten to call?
Are bleating voices no longer heard when the cherryblossoms swarm?
And have home, and children, and fireside lost one gleam of their ancient charm?
``Come, let us go round; to the farmyard first, with its litter of fresh-strewn
straw,
Past the ash-tree dell, round whose branching tops the young rooks wheel and
caw;
Through the ten-acre mead that was mown the first, and looks well for
aftermath,
Then round by the beans-I shall tire by then,-and home up the garden-path,
Where the peonies hang their blushing heads, where the larkspur laughs from its
stalkWith my stick and your arm I can manage. But see! There, Connie comes up the
walk.''
~ Alfred Austin,
1245:A Pleasant Ballad Of King Henry Ii. And The Miller Of
Mansfield
Part the First.
Henry, our royall kind, would ride a hunting
To the greene forest so pleasant and faire;
To see the harts skipping, and dainty does tripping,
Unto merry Sherwood his nobles repaire:
Hawke and hound were unbound, all things prepar'd
For the game, in the same, with good regard.
All a long summers day rode the king pleasantlye,
With all his princes and nobles eche one;
Chasing the hart and hind, and the bucke gallantlye,
Till the dark evening forc'd all to turne home.
Then at last, riding fast, he had lost quite
All his lords in the wood, late in the night.
Wandering thus wearilye, all alone, up and downe,
With a rude miller he mett at the last;
Asking the ready way unto faire Nottingham,
'Sir,' quoth the miller, 'I meane not to jest,
Yet I thinke, what I thinke, sooth for to say;
You doe not lightlye ride out of your way.'
'Why, what dost thou tihnk of me,' quoth our king merrily,
'Passing thy judgement upon me so briefe?'
'Good faith,' sayd the miller, 'I meane not to flatter thee,
I guess thee to bee but some gentleman thiefe;
Stand thee backe, in the darke; light not adowne,
Lest that I presently crack thy knaves crowne.'
'Thou dost abuse me much,' quoth the king, 'saying thus;
I am a gentleman; lodging I lacke.'
'Thou hast not,' quoth th' miller, 'one groat in thy purse;
All thy inheritance hanges on thy backe.'
'I have gold to discharge all that I call;
If it be forty pence, I will pay all.'
13
'If thou beest a true man,' then quoth the miller,
'I sweare by my toll-dish, I'll lodge thee all night.'
'Here's my hand,' quoth the king, 'that was I ever.'
'Nay, soft,' quoth the miller, 'thou may'st be a sprite.
Better I'll know thee, ere hands we will shake;
With none but honest men hands will I take.'
Thus they went all along unto the millers house,
Where they were seething of puddings and souse;
The miller first enter'd in, after him went the king;
Never came hee in soe smoakye a house.
'Now,' quoth hee, 'let me see here what you are.'
Quoth our king, 'Looke your fill, and do not spare.'
'I like well thy countenance, thou hast an honest face:
With my son Richard this night thou shalt lye.'
Quoth his wife, 'By my troth, it is a handsome youth,
Yet it's best, husband, to deal warilye.
Art thou no run-away, prythee, youth, tell?
Shew me thy passport, and all shal be well.'
Then our king presentlye, making lowe courtesye,
WIth his hatt in his hand, thus he did say;
'I have no passport, nor never was servitor,
But a poor courtyer rode out of my way:
And for your kindness here offered to mee,
I will requite you in everye degree.'
Then to the miller his wife whisper'd secretlye,
Saying, 'It seemeth, this youth's of good kin,
Both by his apparel, and eke by his manners;
To turne him out, certainlye were a great sin.'
'Yea,' quoth hee, 'you may see he hath some grace,
When he doth speake to his betters in place.'
'Well,' quo' the millers wife, 'young man, ye're welcome here;
And, though I say it, well lodged shall be:
Fresh straw will I have, laid on thy bed so brave
And good brown hempen sheets likewise,' quoth shee.
'Aye,' quoth the good man; 'and when that is done,
Thou shalt lye with no worse than our own sonne.'
14
'Nay, first,' quoth Richard, 'good-fellowe, tell me true,
Hast thou noe creepers within thy gay hose?
Or art thou not troubled with the scabbado?'
'I pray,' quoth the king, 'what creatures are those?'
'Art thou not lowsy, nor scabby?' quoth he:
'If you beest, surely thou lyest not with mee.'
This caus'd the king, suddenlye, to laugh most hartilye,
Till the teares trickled fast downe from his eyes.
Then to their supper were they set orderlye,
With hot bag-puddings, and good apple-pyes;
Nappy ale, good and stale, in a browne bowle,
Which did about the board merrilye trowle.
'Here,' quoth the miller, 'good fellowe, I drinke to thee,
And to all 'cuckholds, wherever they bee.''
'I pledge thee,' quoth our king, 'and thanke thee heartilye
For my good welcome in everye degree:
And here, in like manner, I drinke to thy sonne.'
'Do then,' quoth Richard, 'and quicke let it come.'
'Wife,' quoth the miller, 'fetch me forth lightfoote,
And of his sweetnesse a little we'll taste,'
A fair ven'son pastye brought she out presentlye,
'Eate,' quoth the miller, 'but, sir, make no waste.
Here's dainty lightfoote!' 'In faith,' sayd the king,
'I never before eat so daintye a thing.'
'I-wis,' quoth Richard, 'no daintye at all it is,
For we doe eate of it everye day.'
'In what place,' sayd our king, 'may be bought like to this?'
'We never pay pennye for itt, by my fay:
From merry Sherwood we fetch it home here;
Now and then we make bold with our kings deer.'
'Then I thinke,' sayd our king, 'that it is venison.'
'Eche foole,' quoth Richard, 'full well may know that;
Never are wee without two or three in the roof,
Very well fleshed, and excellent fat:
But, prythee, say nothing wherever thou goe;
We would not, for two pence, the king should it knowe.'
15
'Doubt not,' then sayd the king, 'my promist secresye;
The king shall never know more on't for mee.'
A cupp of lambs-wool they dranke unto him then,
And to their bedds they past presentlie.
The nobles, next morning, went all up and down,
For to seeke out the king in everye towne.
At last, at the millers 'cott,' soone they espy'd him out,
As he was mounting upon his faire steede;
To whom they came presently, falling down on their knee;
Which made the millers heart wofully bleede;
Shaking and quaking, before him he stood,
Thinking he should have been hang'd, by the rood.
The king perceiving him fearfully trembling,
Drew forth his sword, but nothing he sed:
The miller downe did fall, crying before them all,
Doubting the king would have cut off his head.
But he his kind courtesye for to requite,
Gave him great living, and dubb'd him a knight.
Part the Second.
When as our royall king came home from Nottingham,
And with his nobles at Westminster lay,
Recounting the sports and pastimes they had taken,
In this late progress along the way,
Of them all, great and small, he did protest,
The miller of Mansfields sport liked him best.
'And now, my lords,' quoth the king, 'I am determined
Against St. Georges next sumptuous feast,
That this old miller, our new confirm'd knight,
With his son Richard, shall here be my guest:
For, in this merryment, 'tis my desire
To Talke with the jolly knight, and the young squire.'
When as the noble lords saw the kinges pleasantness,
They were right joyfull and glad in their hearts:
A pursuivant there was sent straighte on the business,
The which had often-times been in those parts.
When he came to the place where they did dwell,
16
His message orderlye then 'gan he tell.
'God save your worshippe,' then said the messenger,
'And grant your ladye her own hearts desire;
And to your sonne Richard good fortune and happiness,
That sweet, gentle, and gallant young squire.
Our king greets you well, and thus he doth say,
You must come to the court on St. George's day.
'Therefore, in any case, faile not to be in place.'
'I-wis,' quoth the miller, 'this is an odd jest:
What should we doe there? faith, I am halfe afraid.'
'I doubt,' quoth Richard, 'to be hang'd at the least.'
'Nay,' quoth the messenger, 'you doe mistake;
Our king he provides a great feast for your sake.'
Then sayd the miller, 'By my troth, messenger,
Thou hast contented my worshippe full well:
Hold, here are three farthings, to quite thy gentleness,
For these happy tydings which thou dost tell.
Let me see, hear thou mee; tell to our king,
We'll wayt on his mastershipp in everye thing.'
The pursuivant smiled at their simplicitye,
And making many leggs, tooke their reward,
And his leave taking with great humilitye,
To the kings court againe he repair'd;
Shewing unto his grace, merry and free,
The knightes most liberall gift and bountie.
When he was gone away, thus gan the miller say:
'Here comes expenses and charges indeed;
Now must we needs be brave, tho' we spend all we have,
For of new garments we have great need.
Of horses and serving-men we must have store,
With bridles and saddles, and twentye things more.'
'Tushe, Sir John,' quoth his wife, 'why should you frett or frowne?
You shall ne'er be att no charges for mee;
For I will turne and trim up my old russet gowne,
With everye thing else as fine as may bee;
And on our mill-horses swift we will ride,
17
With pillowes and pannells, as we shall provide.'
In this most statelye sort, rode they unto the court;
Their jolly sonne Richard rode foremost of all,
Who set up, for good hap, a cocks feather in his cap,
And so they jetted downe to the kings hall;
The merry old miller with hands on his side;
His wife like maid Merian did mince at that tide.
The king and his nobles, that heard of their coming,
Meeting this gallant knight with his brave traine,
'Welcome, sir knight,' quoth he, 'with your gay lady;
Good Sir John Cockle, once welcome againe;
And so is the squire of courage soe free.'
Quoth Dicke, 'A bots on you! do you know mee?'
Quoth our king gentlye, 'How should I forget thee?
Thou wast my owne bed-fellowe, well it I wot.'
'Yea, sir,' quoth Richard, 'and by the same token,
Thou with thy farting didst make the bed hot.'
'Thou whore-son unhappy knave,' then quoth the knight,
'Speake cleanly to our king, or else go sh***.'
The king and his courtiers laugh at this heartily,
While the king taketh them both by the hand;
With the court-dames and maids, like to the queen of spades,
The millers wife did soe orderly stand,
A milk-maids courtesye at every word;
And downe all the folkes were set to the board.
There the king royally, in princelye majestye,
Sate at his dinner with joy and delight;
When they had eaten well, then he to jesting fell,
And in a bowle of wine dranke to the knight.
'Here's to you both, in wine, ale, and beer;
Thanking you heartilye for my good cheer.'
Quoth Sir John Cockle, 'I'll pledge you a pottle,
Were it the best ale in Nottinghamshire;'
But then sayd our king, 'Now I think of a thing;
Some of your lightfoote I would we had here.'
'Ho! ho!' quoth Richard, 'full well I may say it,
18
'Tis knavery to eate it, and then to betray it.'
'Why art thou angry?' quoth our king merrilye;
'In faith, I take it now very unkind:
I thought thou wouldst pledge me in ale and wine heartily.'
Quoth Dicke, 'You are like to stay till I have din'd:
You feed us with twatling dishes to small;
Zounds, a blacke-pudding is better than all.'
'Aye, marry,' quoth our king, 'that were a daintye thing,
Could a man get but one here for to eate:'
With that Dicke straite arose, and pluckt one from his hose,
Which with heat of his breech gan to sweate.
The king made a proffer to snatch it away:''Tis meat for your master: good sir, you must stay.'
Thus in great merriment was the time wholly spent,
And then the ladyes prepared to dance.
Old Sir John Cockle, and Richard, incontinent
Unto their places the king did advance.
Here with the ladyes such sport they did make,
The nobles with laughing did make their sides ake.
Many thankes for their paines did the king give them,
Asking young Richard then, if he would wed;
'Among these ladyes free, tell me which liketh thee?'
Quoth he, 'Jugg Grumball, Sir, with the red head,
She's my love, she's my life, her will I wed;
She hath sworn I shall have her maidenhead.'
Then Sir John Cockle the king call'd unto him,
And of merry Sherwood made him o'er seer,
And gave him out of hand three hundred pound yearlye:
'Take heed now you steale no more of my deer;
And once a quarter let's here have your view;
And now, Sir John Cockle, I bid you adieu.'
~ Anonymous Olde English,
1246:I - NIGHT

(A lofty-arched, narrow, Gothic chamber. FAUST, in a chair at his
desk, restless.)
FAUST

I've studied now Philosophy
And Jurisprudence, Medicine,
And even, alas! Theology,
From end to end, with labor keen;
And here, poor fool! with all my lore
I stand, no wiser than before:
I'm Magisteryea, Doctorhight,
And straight or cross-wise, wrong or right,
These ten years long, with many woes,
I've led my scholars by the nose,
And see, that nothing can be known!
That knowledge cuts me to the bone.
I'm cleverer, true, than those fops of teachers,
Doctors and Magisters, Scribes and Preachers;
Neither scruples nor doubts come now to smite me,
Nor Hell nor Devil can longer affright me.

For this, all pleasure am I foregoing;
I do not pretend to aught worth knowing,
I do not pretend I could be a teacher
To help or convert a fellow-creature.
Then, too, I've neither lands nor gold,
Nor the world's least pomp or honor hold
No dog would endure such a curst existence!
Wherefore, from Magic I seek assistance,
That many a secret perchance I reach
Through spirit-power and spirit-speech,
And thus the bitter task forego
Of saying the things I do not know,
That I may detect the inmost force
Which binds the world, and guides its course;
Its germs, productive powers explore,
And rummage in empty words no more!

O full and splendid Moon, whom I
Have, from this desk, seen climb the sky
So many a midnight,would thy glow
For the last time beheld my woe!
Ever thine eye, most mournful friend,
O'er books and papers saw me bend;
But would that I, on mountains grand,
Amid thy blessed light could stand,
With spirits through mountain-caverns hover,
Float in thy twilight the meadows over,
And, freed from the fumes of lore that swa the me,
To health in thy dewy fountains ba the me!

Ah, me! this dungeon still I see.
This drear, accursed masonry,
Where even the welcome daylight strains
But duskly through the painted panes.
Hemmed in by many a toppling heap
Of books worm-eaten, gray with dust,
Which to the vaulted ceiling creep,
Against the smoky paper thrust,
With glasses, boxes, round me stacked,
And instruments together hurled,
Ancestral lumber, stuffed and packed
Such is my world: and what a world!

And do I ask, wherefore my heart
Falters, oppressed with unknown needs?
Why some inexplicable smart
All movement of my life impedes?
Alas! in living Nature's stead,
Where God His human creature set,
In smoke and mould the fleshless dead
And bones of beasts surround me yet!

Fly! Up, and seek the broad, free land!
And this one Book of Mystery
From Nostradamus' very hand,
Is't not sufficient company?
When I the starry courses know,
And Nature's wise instruction seek,
With light of power my soul shall glow,
As when to spirits spirits speak.
Tis vain, this empty brooding here,
Though guessed the holy symbols be:
Ye, Spirits, comeye hover near
Oh, if you hear me, answer me!

(He opens the Book, and perceives the sign of the Macrocosm.)

Ha! what a sudden rapture leaps from this
I view, through all my senses swiftly flowing!
I feel a youthful, holy, vital bliss
In every vein and fibre newly glowing.
Was it a God, who traced this sign,
With calm across my tumult stealing,
My troubled heart to joy unsealing,
With impulse, mystic and divine,
The powers of Nature here, around my path, revealing?
Am I a God?so clear mine eyes!
In these pure features I behold
Creative Nature to my soul unfold.
What says the sage, now first I recognize:
"The spirit-world no closures fasten;
Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead:
Disciple, up! untiring, hasten
To ba the thy breast in morning-red!"

(He contemplates the sign.)

How each the Whole its substance gives,
Each in the other works and lives!
Like heavenly forces rising and descending,
Their golden urns reciprocally lending,
With wings that winnow blessing
From Heaven through Earth I see them pressing,
Filling the All with harmony unceasing!
How grand a show! but, ah! a show alone.
Thee, boundless Nature, how make thee my own?
Where you, ye beasts? Founts of all Being, shining,
Whereon hang Heaven's and Earth's desire,
Whereto our withered hearts aspire,
Ye flow, ye feed: and am I vainly pining?

(He turns the leaves impatiently, and perceives the sign of the
Earth-Spirit.)

How otherwise upon me works this sign!
Thou, Spirit of the Earth, art nearer:
Even now my powers are loftier, clearer;
I glow, as drunk with new-made wine:
New strength and heart to meet the world incite me,
The woe of earth, the bliss of earth, invite me,
And though the shock of storms may smite me,
No crash of shipwreck shall have power to fright me!
Clouds gather over me
The moon conceals her light
The lamp's extinguished!
Mists rise,red, angry rays are darting
Around my head!There falls
A horror from the vaulted roof,
And seizes me!
I feel thy presence, Spirit I invoke!
Reveal thyself!
Ha! in my heart what rending stroke!
With new impulsion
My senses heave in this convulsion!
I feel thee draw my heart, absorb, exhaust me:
Thou must! thou must! and though my life it cost me!

(He seizes the book, and mysteriously pronounces the sign of
the Spirit. A ruddy flame flashes: the Spirit appears in
the flame.)
SPIRIT

Who calls me?
FAUST (with averted head)

Terrible to see!

SPIRIT

Me hast thou long with might attracted,
Long from my sphere thy food exacted,
And now

FAUST

Woe! I endure not thee!
SPIRIT

To view me is thine aspiration,
My voice to hear, my countenance to see;
Thy powerful yearning moveth me,
Here am I!what mean perturbation
Thee, superhuman, shakes? Thy soul's high calling, where?
Where is the breast, which from itself a world did bear,
And shaped and cherishedwhich with joy expanded,
To be our peer, with us, the Spirits, banded?
Where art thou, Faust, whose voice has pierced to me,
Who towards me pressed with all thine energy?
He art thou, who, my presence breathing, seeing,
Trembles through all the depths of being,
A writhing worm, a terror-stricken form?
FAUST

Thee, form of flame, shall I then fear?
Yes, I am Faust: I am thy peer!
SPIRIT

In the tides of Life, in Action's storm,
A fluctuant wave,
A shuttle free,
Birth and the Grave,
An eternal sea,
A weaving, flowing
Life, all-glowing,
Thus at Time's humming loom 'tis my hand prepares
The garment of Life which the Deity wears!
FAUST

Thou, who around the wide world wendest,
Thou busy Spirit, how near I feel to thee!
SPIRIT

Thou'rt like the Spirit which thou comprehendest,
Not me!

(Disappears.)
FAUST (overwhelmed)

Not thee!
Whom then?
I, image of the Godhead!
Not even like thee!

(A knock).

O Death!I know it'tis my Famulus!
My fairest luck finds no fruition:
In all the fullness of my vision
The soulless sneak disturbs me thus!

(Enter WAGNER, in dressing-gown and night-cap, a lamp in
his hand. FAUST turns impatiently.)
WAGNER

Pardon, I heard your declamation;
'Twas sure an old Greek tragedy you read?
In such an art I crave some preparation,
Since now it stands one in good stead.
I've often heard it said, a preacher
Might learn, with a comedian for a teacher.
FAUST

Yes, when the priest comedian is by nature,
As haply now and then the case may be.
WAGNER

Ah, when one studies thus, a prisoned creature,
That scarce the world on holidays can see,
Scarce through a glass, by rare occasion,
How shall one lead it by persuasion?
FAUST

You'll ne'er attain it, save you know the feeling,
Save from the soul it rises clear,
Serene in primal strength, compelling
The hearts and minds of all who hear.
You sit forever gluing, patching;
You cook the scraps from others' fare;
And from your heap of ashes hatching
A starveling flame, ye blow it bare!
Take children's, monkeys' gaze admiring,
If such your taste, and be content;
But ne'er from heart to heart you'll speak inspiring,
Save your own heart is eloquent!
WAGNER

Yet through delivery orators succeed;
I feel that I am far behind, indeed.
FAUST

Seek thou the honest recompense!
Beware, a tinkling fool to be!
With little art, clear wit and sense
Suggest their own delivery;
And if thou'rt moved to speak in earnest,
What need, that after words thou yearnest?
Yes, your discourses, with their glittering show,
Where ye for men twist shredded thought like paper,
Are unrefreshing as the winds that blow
The rustling leaves through chill autumnal vapor!
WAGNER

Ah, God! but Art is long,
And Life, alas! is fleeting.
And oft, with zeal my critic-duties meeting,
In head and breast there's something wrong.

How hard it is to compass the assistance
Whereby one rises to the source!
And, haply, ere one travels half the course
Must the poor devil quit existence.
FAUST

Is parchment, then, the holy fount before thee,
A draught wherefrom thy thirst forever slakes?
No true refreshment can restore thee,
Save what from thine own soul spontaneous breaks.
WAGNER

Pardon! a great delight is granted
When, in the spirit of the ages planted,
We mark how, ere our times, a sage has thought,
And then, how far his work, and grandly, we have brought.
FAUST

O yes, up to the stars at last!
Listen, my friend: the ages that are past
Are now a book with seven seals protected:
What you the Spirit of the Ages call
Is nothing but the spirit of you all,
Wherein the Ages are reflected.
So, oftentimes, you miserably mar it!
At the first glance who sees it runs away.
An offal-barrel and a lumber-garret,
Or, at the best, a Punch-and-Judy play,
With maxims most pragmatical and hitting,
As in the mouths of puppets are befitting!
WAGNER

But then, the world the human heart and brain!
Of these one covets some slight apprehension.
FAUST

Yes, of the kind which men attain!
Who dares the child's true name in public mention?
The few, who thereof something really learned,
Unwisely frank, with hearts that spurned concealing,
And to the mob laid bare each thought and feeling,
Have evermore been crucified and burned.
I pray you, Friend, 'tis now the dead of night;
Our converse here must be suspended.
WAGNER

I would have shared your watches with delight,
That so our learned talk might be extended.
To-morrow, though, I'll ask, in Easter leisure,
This and the other question, at your pleasure.
Most zealously I seek for erudition:
Much do I know but to know all is my ambition.

[Exit.
FAUST (solus)

That brain, alone, not loses hope, whose choice is
To stick in shallow trash forevermore,
Which digs with eager hand for buried ore,
And, when it finds an angle-worm, rejoices!

Dare such a human voice disturb the flow,
Around me here, of spirit-presence fullest?
And yet, this once my thanks I owe
To thee, of all earth's sons the poorest, dullest!
For thou hast torn me from that desperate state
Which threatened soon to overwhelm my senses:
The apparition was so giant-great,
It dwarfed and withered all my soul's pretences!

I, image of the Godhead, who began
Deeming Eternal Truth secure in nearness
Ye choirs, have ye begun the sweet, consoling chant,
Which, through the night of Death, the angels ministrant
Sang, God's new Covenant repeating?
CHORUS OF WOMEN

With spices and precious
Balm, we arrayed him;
Faithful and gracious,
We tenderly laid him:
Linen to bind him
Cleanlily wound we:
Ah! when we would find him,
Christ no more found we!
CHORUS OF ANGELS

Christ is ascended!
Bliss hath invested him,
Woes that molested him,
Trials that tested him,
Gloriously ended!
FAUST

Why, here in dust, entice me with your spell,
Ye gentle, powerful sounds of Heaven?
Peal rather there, where tender natures dwell.
Your messages I hear, but faith has not been given;
The dearest child of Faith is Miracle.
I venture not to soar to yonder regions
Whence the glad tidings hither float;
And yet, from childhood up familiar with the note,
To Life it now renews the old allegiance.
Once Heavenly Love sent down a burning kiss
Upon my brow, in Sabbath silence holy;
And, filled with mystic presage, chimed the church-bell slowly,
And prayer dissolved me in a fervent bliss.
A sweet, uncomprehended yearning
Drove forth my feet through woods and meadows free,
And while a thousand tears were burning,
I felt a world arise for me.
These chants, to youth and all its sports appealing,
Proclaimed the Spring's rejoicing holiday;
And Memory holds me now, with childish feeling,
Back from the last, the solemn way.
Sound on, ye hymns of Heaven, so sweet and mild!
My tears gush forth: the Earth takes back her child!
CHORUS OF DISCIPLES

Has He, victoriously,
Burst from the vaulted
Grave, and all-gloriously
Now sits exalted?
Is He, in glow of birth,
Rapture creative near?
Ah! to the woe of earth
Still are we native here.
We, his aspiring
Followers, Him we miss;
Weeping, desiring,
Master, Thy bliss!

CHORUS OF ANGELS

Christ is arisen,
Out of Corruption's womb:
Burst ye the prison,
Break from your gloom!
Praising and pleading him,
Lovingly needing him,
Brotherly feeding him,
Preaching and speeding him,
Blessing, succeeding Him,
Thus is the Master near,
Thus is He here!

~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, NIGHT
,
1247:Malmaison
How the slates of the roof sparkle in the sun, over there, over there,
beyond the high wall! How quietly the Seine runs in loops and windings,
over there, over there, sliding through the green countryside! Like ships
of the line, stately with canvas, the tall clouds pass along the sky,
over the glittering roof, over the trees, over the looped and curving river.
A breeze quivers through the linden-trees. Roses bloom at Malmaison.
Roses! Roses! But the road is dusty. Already the Citoyenne Beauharnais
wearies of her walk. Her skin is chalked and powdered with dust,
she smells dust, and behind the wall are roses! Roses with
smooth open petals, poised above rippling leaves . . . Roses . . .
They have told her so. The Citoyenne Beauharnais shrugs her shoulders
and makes a little face. She must mend her pace if she would be back
in time for dinner. Roses indeed! The guillotine more likely.
The tiered clouds float over Malmaison, and the slate roof sparkles
in the sun.
II
Gallop! Gallop! The General brooks no delay. Make way, good people,
and scatter out of his path, you, and your hens, and your dogs,
and your children. The General is returned from Egypt, and is come
in a `caleche' and four to visit his new property. Throw open the gates,
you, Porter of Malmaison. Pull off your cap, my man, this is your master,
the husband of Madame. Faster! Faster! A jerk and a jingle
and they are arrived, he and she. Madame has red eyes. Fie! It is for joy
at her husband's return. Learn your place, Porter. A gentleman here
for two months? Fie! Fie, then! Since when have you taken to gossiping.
Madame may have a brother, I suppose. That -- all green, and red,
and glitter, with flesh as dark as ebony -- that is a slave; a bloodthirsty,
stabbing, slashing heathen, come from the hot countries to cure your tongue
of idle whispering.
A fine afternoon it is, with tall bright clouds sailing over the trees.
125
'Bonaparte, mon ami, the trees are golden like my star, the star I pinned
to your destiny when I married you. The gypsy, you remember her prophecy!
My dear friend, not here, the servants are watching; send them away,
and that flashing splendour, Roustan. Superb -- Imperial, but . . .
My dear, your arm is trembling; I faint to feel it touching me! No, no,
Bonaparte, not that -- spare me that -- did we not bury that last night!
You hurt me, my friend, you are so hot and strong. Not long, Dear,
no, thank God, not long.'
The looped river runs saffron, for the sun is setting. It is getting dark.
Dark. Darker. In the moonlight, the slate roof shines palely milkily white.
The roses have faded at Malmaison, nipped by the frost. What need for roses?
Smooth, open petals -- her arms. Fragrant, outcurved petals -- her breasts.
He rises like a sun above her, stooping to touch the petals, press them wider.
Eagles. Bees. What are they to open roses! A little shivering breeze
runs through the linden-trees, and the tiered clouds blow across the sky
like ships of the line, stately with canvas.
III
The gates stand wide at Malmaison, stand wide all day. The gravel
of the avenue glints under the continual rolling of wheels.
An officer gallops up with his sabre clicking; a mameluke gallops down
with his charger kicking. `Valets de pied' run about in ones, and twos,
and groups, like swirled blown leaves. Tramp! Tramp! The guard is changing,
and the grenadiers off duty lounge out of sight, ranging along the roads
toward Paris.
The slate roof sparkles in the sun, but it sparkles milkily, vaguely,
the great glass-houses put out its shining. Glass, stone, and onyx
now for the sun's mirror. Much has come to pass at Malmaison.
New rocks and fountains, blocks of carven marble, fluted pillars uprearing
antique temples, vases and urns in unexpected places, bridges of stone,
bridges of wood, arbours and statues, and a flood of flowers everywhere,
new flowers, rare flowers, parterre after parterre of flowers. Indeed,
the roses bloom at Malmaison. It is youth, youth untrammeled and advancing,
trundling a country ahead of it as though it were a hoop. Laughter,
and spur janglings in tessellated vestibules. Tripping of clocked
126
and embroidered stockings in little low-heeled shoes over smooth grass-plots.
India muslins spangled with silver patterns slide through trees -mingle -- separate -- white day fireflies flashing moon-brilliance
in the shade of foliage.
'The kangaroos! I vow, Captain, I must see the kangaroos.'
'As you please, dear Lady, but I recommend the shady linden alley
and feeding the cockatoos.'
'They say that Madame Bonaparte's breed of sheep is the best in all France.'
'And, oh, have you seen the enchanting little cedar she planted
when the First Consul sent home the news of the victory of Marengo?'
Picking, choosing, the chattering company flits to and fro. Over the trees
the great clouds go, tiered, stately, like ships of the line
bright with canvas.
Prisoners'-base, and its swooping, veering, racing, giggling, bumping.
The First Consul runs plump into M. de Beauharnais and falls.
But he picks himself up smartly, and starts after M. Isabey. Too late,
M. Le Premier Consul, Mademoiselle Hortense is out after you. Quickly,
my dear Sir! Stir your short legs, she is swift and eager, and as graceful
as her mother. She is there, that other, playing too, but lightly, warily,
bearing herself with care, rather floating out upon the air than running,
never far from goal. She is there, borne up above her guests
as something indefinably fair, a rose above periwinkles. A blown rose,
smooth as satin, reflexed, one loosened petal hanging back and down.
A rose that undulates languorously as the breeze takes it,
resting upon its leaves in a faintness of perfume.
There are rumours about the First Consul. Malmaison is full of women,
and Paris is only two leagues distant. Madame Bonaparte stands
on the wooden bridge at sunset, and watches a black swan
pushing the pink and silver water in front of him as he swims,
crinkling its smoothness into pleats of changing colour with his breast.
Madame Bonaparte presses against the parapet of the bridge,
and the crushed roses at her belt melt, petal by petal, into the pink water.
127
IV
A vile day, Porter. But keep your wits about you. The Empress
will soon be here. Queer, without the Emperor! It is indeed,
but best not consider that. Scratch your head and prick up your ears.
Divorce is not for you to debate about. She is late? Ah, well,
the roads are muddy. The rain spears are as sharp as whetted knives.
They dart down and down, edged and shining. Clop-trop! Clop-trop!
A carriage grows out of the mist. Hist, Porter. You can keep on your hat.
It is only Her Majesty's dogs and her parrot. Clop-trop!
The Ladies in Waiting, Porter. Clop-trop! It is Her Majesty. At least,
I suppose it is, but the blinds are drawn.
'In all the years I have served Her Majesty she never before passed the gate
without giving me a smile!'
You're a droll fellow, to expect the Empress to put out her head
in the pouring rain and salute you. She has affairs of her own
to think about.
Clang the gate, no need for further waiting, nobody else will be coming
to Malmaison to-night.
White under her veil, drained and shaking, the woman crosses the antechamber.
Empress! Empress! Foolish splendour, perished to dust. Ashes of roses,
ashes of youth. Empress forsooth!
Over the glass domes of the hot-houses drenches the rain. Behind her
a clock ticks -- ticks again. The sound knocks upon her thought
with the echoing shudder of hollow vases. She places her hands on her ears,
but the minutes pass, knocking. Tears in Malmaison. And years to come
each knocking by, minute after minute. Years, many years, and tears,
and cold pouring rain.
'I feel as though I had died, and the only sensation I have
is that I am no more.'
Rain! Heavy, thudding rain!
128
The roses bloom at Malmaison. And not only roses. Tulips, myrtles,
geraniums, camelias, rhododendrons, dahlias, double hyacinths.
All the year through, under glass, under the sky, flowers bud, expand, die,
and give way to others, always others. From distant countries they have
been brought, and taught to live in the cool temperateness of France.
There is the `Bonapartea' from Peru; the `Napoleone Imperiale';
the `Josephinia Imperatrix', a pearl-white flower, purple-shadowed,
the calix pricked out with crimson points. Malmaison wears its flowers
as a lady wears her gems, flauntingly, assertively. Malmaison decks herself
to hide the hollow within.
The glass-houses grow and grow, and every year fling up hotter reflections
to the sailing sun.
The cost runs into millions, but a woman must have something
to console herself for a broken heart. One can play backgammon and patience,
and then patience and backgammon, and stake gold napoleons on each game
won.
Sport truly! It is an unruly spirit which could ask better. With her jewels,
her laces, her shawls; her two hundred and twenty dresses, her fichus,
her veils; her pictures, her busts, her birds. It is absurd that she
cannot be happy. The Emperor smarts under the thought of her ingratitude.
What could he do more? And yet she spends, spends as never before.
It is ridiculous. Can she not enjoy life at a smaller figure?
Was ever monarch plagued with so extravagant an ex-wife. She owes
her chocolate-merchant, her candle-merchant, her sweetmeat purveyor;
her grocer, her butcher, her poulterer; her architect, and the shopkeeper
who sells her rouge; her perfumer, her dressmaker, her merchant of shoes.
She owes for fans, plants, engravings, and chairs. She owes
masons and carpenters, vintners, lingeres. The lady's affairs
are in sad confusion.
And why? Why?
Can a river flow when the spring is dry?
Night. The Empress sits alone, and the clock ticks, one after one.
The clock nicks off the edges of her life. She is chipped like
an old bit of china; she is frayed like a garment of last year's wearing.
She is soft, crinkled, like a fading rose. And each minute flows by
129
brushing against her, shearing off another and another petal.
The Empress crushes her breasts with her hands and weeps. And the tall clouds
sail over Malmaison like a procession of stately ships bound for the moon.
Scarlet, clear-blue, purple epauletted with gold. It is a parade of soldiers
sweeping up the avenue. Eight horses, eight Imperial harnesses,
four caparisoned postilions, a carriage with the Emperor's arms on the panels.
Ho, Porter, pop out your eyes, and no wonder. Where else under the Heavens
could you see such splendour!
They sit on a stone seat. The little man in the green coat of a Colonel
of Chasseurs, and the lady, beautiful as a satin seed-pod, and as pale.
The house has memories. The satin seed-pod holds his germs of Empire.
We will stay here, under the blue sky and the turreted white clouds.
She draws him; he feels her faded loveliness urge him to replenish it.
Her soft transparent texture woos his nervous fingering. He speaks to her
of debts, of resignation; of her children, and his; he promises that she
shall see the King of Rome; he says some harsh things and some pleasant.
But she is there, close to him, rose toned to amber, white shot with violet,
pungent to his nostrils as embalmed rose-leaves in a twilit room.
Suddenly the Emperor calls his carriage and rolls away
across the looping Seine.
VI
Crystal-blue brightness over the glass-houses. Crystal-blue streaks
and ripples over the lake. A macaw on a gilded perch screams;
they have forgotten to take out his dinner. The windows shake. Boom! Boom!
It is the rumbling of Prussian cannon beyond Pecq. Roses bloom at Malmaison.
Roses! Roses! Swimming above their leaves, rotting beneath them.
Fallen flowers strew the unraked walks. Fallen flowers for a fallen Emperor!
The General in charge of him draws back and watches. Snatches of music -snarling, sneering music of bagpipes. They say a Scotch regiment
is besieging Saint-Denis. The Emperor wipes his face, or is it his eyes.
His tired eyes which see nowhere the grace they long for. Josephine!
Somebody asks him a question, he does not answer, somebody else does that.
There are voices, but one voice he does not hear, and yet he hears it
all the time. Josephine! The Emperor puts up his hand to screen his face.
The white light of a bright cloud spears sharply through the linden-trees.
130
`Vive l'Empereur!' There are troops passing beyond the wall,
troops which sing and call. Boom! A pink rose is jarred off its stem
and falls at the Emperor's feet.
'Very well. I go.' Where! Does it matter? There is no sword to clatter.
Nothing but soft brushing gravel and a gate which shuts with a click.
'Quick, fellow, don't spare your horses.'
A whip cracks, wheels turn, why burn one's eyes following a fleck of dust.
VII
Over the slate roof tall clouds, like ships of the line, pass along the sky.
The glass-houses glitter splotchily, for many of their lights are broken.
Roses bloom, fiery cinders quenching under damp weeds. Wreckage and misery,
and a trailing of petty deeds smearing over old recollections.
The musty rooms are empty and their shutters are closed, only in the gallery
there is a stuffed black swan, covered with dust. When you touch it,
the feathers come off and float softly to the ground. Through a chink
in the shutters, one can see the stately clouds crossing the sky
toward the Roman arches of the Marly Aqueduct.
~ Amy Lowell,
1248:I.

The morn when first it thunders in March,
The eel in the pond gives a leap, they say:
As I leaned and looked over the aloed arch
Of the villa-gate this warm March day,
No flash snapped, no dumb thunder rolled
In the valley beneath where, white and wide
And washed by the morning water-gold,
Florence lay out on the mountain-side.

II.

River and bridge and street and square
Lay mine, as much at my beck and call,
Through the live translucent bath of air,
As the sights in a magic crystal ball.
And of all I saw and of all I praised,
The most to praise and the best to see
Was the startling bell-tower Giotto raised:
But why did it more than startle me?

III.

Giotto, how, with that soul of yours,
Could you play me false who loved you so?
Some slights if a certain heart endures
Yet it feels, I would have your fellows know!
I' faith, I perceive not why I should care
To break a silence that suits them best,
But the thing grows somewhat hard to bear
When I find a Giotto join the rest.

IV.

On the arch where olives overhead
Print the blue sky with twig and leaf,
(That sharp-curled leaf which they never shed)
'Twixt the aloes, I used to lean in chief,
And mark through the winter afternoons,
By a gift God grants me now and then,
In the mild decline of those suns like moons,
Who walked in Florence, besides her men.

V.

They might chirp and chaffer, come and go
For pleasure or profit, her men alive-
My business was hardly with them, I trow,
But with empty cells of the human hive;
-With the chapter-room, the cloister-porch,
The church's apsis, aisle or nave,
Its crypt, one fingers along with a torch,
Its face set full for the sun to shave.

VI.

Wherever a fresco peels and drops,
Wherever an outline weakens and wanes
Till the latest life in the painting stops,
Stands One whom each fainter pulse-tick pains:
One, wishful each scrap should clutch the brick,
Each tinge not wholly escape the plaster,
-A lion who dies of an ****'s kick,
The wronged great soul of an ancient Master.

VII.

For oh, this world and the wrong it does
They are safe in heaven with their backs to it,
The Michaels and Rafaels, you hum and buzz
Round the works of, you of the little wit!
Do their eyes contract to the earth's old scope,
Now that they see God face to face,
And have all attained to be poets, I hope?
'Tis their holiday now, in any case.

VIII.

Much they reck of your praise and you!
But the wronged great souls-can they be quit
Of a world where their work is all to do,
Where you style them, you of the little wit,
Old Master This and Early the Other,
Not dreaming that Old and New are fellows:
A younger succeeds to an elder brother,
Da Vincis derive in good time from Dellos.

IX.

And here where your praise might yield returns,
And a handsome word or two give help,
Here, after your kind, the mastiff girns
And the puppy pack of poodles yelp.
What, not a word for Stefano there,
Of brow once prominent and starry,
Called Nature's Ape and the world's despair
For his peerless painting? (See Vasari.)

X.

There stands the Master. Study, my friends,
What a man's work comes to! So he plans it,
Performs it, perfects it, makes amends
For the toiling and moiling, and then, sic transit!
Happier the thrifty blind-folk labour,
With upturned eye while the hand is busy,
Not sidling a glance at the coin of their neighbour!
'Tis looking downward that makes one dizzy.

XI.

``If you knew their work you would deal your dole.''
May I take upon me to instruct you?
When Greek Art ran and reached the goal,
Thus much had the world to boast in fructu-
The Truth of Man, as by God first spoken,
Which the actual generations garble,
Was re-uttered, and Soul (which Limbs betoken)
And Limbs (Soul informs) made new in marble.

XII.

So, you saw yourself as you wished you were,
As you might have been, as you cannot be;
Earth here, rebuked by Olympus there:
And grew content in your poor degree
With your little power, by those statues' godhead,
And your little scope, by their eyes' full sway,
And your little grace, by their grace embodied,
And your little date, by their forms that stay.

XIII.

You would fain be kinglier, say, than I am?
Even so, you will not sit like Theseus.
You would prove a model? The Son of Priam
Has yet the advantage in arms' and knees' use.
You're wroth-can you slay your snake like Apollo?
You're grieved-still Niobe's the grander!
You live-there's the Racers' frieze to follow:
You die-there's the dying Alexander.

XIV.

So, testing your weakness by their strength,
Your meagre charms by their rounded beauty,
Measured by Art in your breadth and length,
You learned-to submit is a mortal's duty.
-When I say ``you'' 'tis the common soul,
The collective, I mean: the race of Man
That receives life in parts to live in a whole,
And grow here according to God's clear plan.

XV.

Growth came when, looking your last on them all,
You turned your eyes inwardly one fine day
And cried with a start-What if we so small
Be greater and grander the while than they?
Are they perfect of lineament, perfect of stature?
In both, of such lower types are we
Precisely because of our wider nature;
For time, theirs-ours, for eternity.

XVI.

To-day's brief passion limits their range;
It seethes with the morrow for us and more.
They are perfect-how else? they shall never change:
We are faulty-why not? we have time in store.
The Artificer's hand is not arrested
With us; we are rough-hewn, nowise polished:
They stand for our copy, and, once invested
With all they can teach, we shall see them abolished.

XVII.

'Tis a life-long toil till our lump be leaven-
The better! What's come to perfection perishes.
Things learned on earth, we shall practise in heaven:
Works done least rapidly, Art most cherishes.
Thyself shalt afford the example, Giotto!
Thy one work, not to decrease or diminish,
Done at a stroke, was just (was it not?) ``O!''
Thy great Campanile is still to finish.

XVIII.

Is it true that we are now, and shall be hereafter,
But what and where depend on life's minute?
Hails heavenly cheer or infernal laughter
Our first step out of the gulf or in it?
Shall Man, such step within his endeavour,
Man's face, have no more play and action
Than joy which is crystallized for ever,
Or grief, an eternal petrifaction?

XIX.

On which I conclude, that the early painters,
To cries of ``Greek Art and what more wish you?''-
Replied, ``To become now self-acquainters,
``And paint man man, whatever the issue!
``Make new hopes shine through the flesh they fray,
``New fears aggrandize the rags and tatters:
``To bring the invisible full into play!
``Let the visible go to the dogs-what matters?''

XX.

Give these, I exhort you, their guerdon and glory
For daring so much, before they well did it.
The first of the new, in our race's story,
Beats the last of the old; 'tis no idle quiddit.
The worthies began a revolution,
Which if on earth you intend to acknowledge,
Why, honour them now! (ends my allocution)
Nor confer your degree when the folk leave college.

XXI.

There's a fancy some lean to and others hate-
That, when this life is ended, begins
New work for the soul in another state,
Where it strives and gets weary, loses and wins:
Where the strong and the weak, this world's congeries,
Repeat in large what they practised in small,
Through life after life in unlimited series;
Only the scale's to be changed, that's all.

XXII.

Yet I hardly know. When a soul has seen
By the means of Evil that Good is best,
And, through earth and its noise, what is heaven's serene,-
When our faith in the same has stood the test-
Why, the child grown man, you burn the rod,
The uses of labour are surely done;
There remaineth a rest for the people of God:
And I have had troubles enough, for one.

XXIII.

But at any rate I have loved the season
Of Art's spring-birth so dim and dewy;
My sculptor is Nicolo the Pisan,
My painter-who but Cimabue?
Nor ever was man of them all indeed,
From these to Ghiberti and Ghirlandaio,
Could say that he missed my critic-meed.
So, now to my special grievance-heigh ho!

XXIV.

Their ghosts still stand, as I said before,
Watching each fresco flaked and rasped,
Blocked up, knocked out, or whitewashed o'er:
-No getting again what the church has grasped!
The works on the wall must take their chance;
``Works never conceded to England's thick clime!''
(I hope they prefer their inheritance
Of a bucketful of Italian quick-lime.)

XXV.

When they go at length, with such a shaking
Of heads o'er the old delusion, sadly
Each master his way through the black streets taking,
Where many a lost work breathes though badly-
Why don't they bethink them of who has merited?
Why not reveal, while their pictures dree
Such doom, how a captive might be out-ferreted?
Why is it they never remember me?

XXVI.

Not that I expect the great Bigordi,
Nor Sandro to hear me, chivalric, bellicose;
Nor the wronged Lippino; and not a word I
Say of a scrap of Fr Angelico's:
But are you too fine, Taddeo Gaddi,
To grant me a taste of your intonaco,
Some Jerome that seeks the heaven with a sad eye?
Not a churlish saint, Lorenzo Monaco?

XXVII.

Could not the ghost with the close red cap,
My Pollajolo, the twice a craftsman,
Save me a sample, give me the hap
Of a muscular Christ that shows the draughtsman?
No Virgin by him the somewhat petty,
Of finical touch and tempera crumbly-
Could not Alesso Baldovinetti
Contribute so much, I ask him humbly?

XXVIII.

Margheritone of Arezzo,
With the grave-clothes garb and swaddling barret
(Why purse up mouth and beak in a pet so,
You bald old saturnine poll-clawed parrot?)
Not a poor glimmering Crucifixion,
Where in the foreground kneels the donor?
If such remain, as is my conviction,
The hoarding it does you but little honour.

XXIX.

They pass; for them the panels may thrill,
The tempera grow alive and tinglish;
Their pictures are left to the mercies still
Of dealers and stealers, Jews and the English,
Who, seeing mere money's worth in their prize,
Will sell it to somebody calm as Zeno
At naked High Art, and in ecstasies
Before some clay-cold vile Carlino!

XXX.

No matter for these! But Giotto, you,
Have you allowed, as the town-tongues babble it,-
Oh, never! it shall not be counted true-
That a certain precious little tablet
Which Buonarroti eyed like a lover,-
Was buried so long in oblivion's womb
And, left for another than I to discover,
Turns up at last! and to whom?-to whom?

XXXI.

I, that have haunted the dim San Spirito,
(Or was it rather the Ognissanti?)
Patient on altar-step planting a weary toe!
Nay, I shall have it yet! Detur amanti!
My Koh-i-noor-or (if that's a platitude)
Jewel of Giamschid, the Persian Sofi's eye
So, in anticipative gratitude,
What if I take up my hope and prophesy?

XXXII.

When the hour grows ripe, and a certain dotard
Is pitched, no parcel that needs invoicing,
To the worse side of the Mont Saint Gothard,
We shall begin by way of rejoicing;
None of that shooting the sky (blank cartridge),
Nor a civic guard, all plumes and lacquer,
Hunting Radetzky's soul like a partridge
Over Morello with squib and cracker.

XXXIII.

This time we'll shoot better game and bag 'em hot-
No mere display at the stone of Dante,
But a kind of sober Witanagemot
(Ex: ``Casa Guidi,'' quod videas ante)
Shall ponder, once Freedom restored to Florence,
How Art may return that departed with her.
Go, hated house, go each trace of the Loraine's,
And bring us the days of Orgagna hither!

XXXIV.

How we shall prologize, how we shall perorate,
Utter fit things upon art and history,
Feel truth at blood-heat and falsehood at zero rate,
Make of the want of the age no mystery;
Contrast the fructuous and sterile eras,
Show-monarchy ever its uncouth cub licks
Out of the bear's shape into Chimra's,
While Pure Art's birth is still the republic's.

XXXV.

Then one shall propose in a speech (curt Tuscan,
Expurgate and sober, with scarcely an ``issimo,'')
To end now our half-told tale of Cambuscan,
And turn the bell-tower's alt to altissimo:
And fine as the beak of a young beccaccia
The Campanile, the Duomo's fit ally,
Shall soar up in gold full fifty braccia,
Completing Florence, as Florence Italy.

XXXVI.

Shall I be alive that morning the scaffold
Is broken away, and the long-pent fire,
Like the golden hope of the world, unbaffled
Springs from its sleep, and up goes the spire
While ``God and the People'' plain for its motto,
Thence the new tricolour flaps at the sky?
At least to foresee that glory of Giotto
And Florence together, the first am I!
A sculptor, died 1278.

Died 1455. Designed the bronze gates of the Baptistry at Florence.

A painter, died 1498.

The son of Fr Lippo Lippi. Wronged, because some of his
pictures have been attributed to others.

Died 1366. One of Giotto's pupils and assistants.

Rough cast.

Painter, sculptor, and goldsmith.

Distemper-mixture of water and egg yolk.

Sculptor and architect, died 1313-
All Saints.
A Florentine painter, died 1576.
Tartar king.
A woodcock


~ Robert Browning, Old Pictures In Florence
,
1249:The Kalevala - Rune Ii
WAINAMOINEN'S SOWING.
Then arose old Wainamoinen,
With his feet upon the island,
On the island washed by ocean,
Broad expanse devoid of verdure;
There remained be many summers,
There he lived as many winters,
On the island vast and vacant,
well considered, long reflected,
Who for him should sow the island,
Who for him the seeds should scatter;
Thought at last of Pellerwoinen,
First-born of the plains and prairies,
When a slender boy, called Sampsa,
Who should sow the vacant island,
Who the forest seeds should scatter.
Pellerwoinen, thus consenting,
Sows with diligence the island,
Seeds upon the lands he scatters,
Seeds in every swamp and lowland,
Forest seeds upon the loose earth,
On the firm soil sows the acorns,
Fir-trees sows he on the mountains,
Pine-trees also on the hill-tops,
Many shrubs in every valley,
Birches sows he in the marshes,
In the loose soil sows the alders,
In the lowlands sows the lindens,
In the moist earth sows the willow,
Mountain-ash in virgin places,
On the banks of streams the hawthorn,
Junipers in hilly regions;
This the work of Pellerwoinen,
Slender Sampsa, in his childhood.
Soon the fertile seeds were sprouting,
Soon the forest trees were growing,
Soon appeared the tops of fir-trees,
13
And the pines were far outspreading;
Birches rose from all the marshes,
In the loose soil grew the alders,
In the mellow soil the lindens;
Junipers were also growing,
Junipers with clustered berries,
Berries on the hawthorn branches.
Now the hero, Wainamoinen,
Stands aloft to look about him,
How the Sampsa-seeds are growing,
How the crop of Pellerwoinen;
Sees the young trees thickly spreading,
Sees the forest rise in beauty;
But the oak-tree has not sprouted,
Tree of heaven is not growing,
Still within the acorn sleeping,
Its own happiness enjoying.
Then he waited three nights longer,
And as many days he waited,
Waited till a week had vanished,
Then again the work examined;
But the oak-tree was not growing,
Had not left her acorn-dwelling.
Wainamoinen, ancient hero,
Spies four maidens in the distance,
Water-brides, he spies a fifth-one,
On the soft and sandy sea-shore,
In the dewy grass and flowers,
On a point extending seaward,
Near the forests of the island.
Some were mowing, some were raking,
Raking what was mown together,
In a windrow on the meadow.
From the ocean rose a giant,
Mighty Tursas, tall and hardy,
Pressed compactly all the grasses,
That the maidens had been raking,
When a fire within them kindles,
And the flames shot up to heaven,
Till the windrows burned to ashes,
Only ashes now remaining
Of the grasses raked together.
14
In the ashes of the windrows,
Tender leaves the giant places,
In the leaves he plants an acorn,
From the acorn, quickly sprouting,
Grows the oak-tree, tall and stately,
From the ground enriched by ashes,
Newly raked by water-maidens;
Spread the oak-tree's many branches,
Rounds itself a broad corona,
Raises it above the storm-clouds;
Far it stretches out its branches,
Stops the white-clouds in their courses,
With its branches hides the sunlight,
With its many leaves, the moonbeams,
And the starlight dies in heaven.
Wainamoinen, old and trusty,
Thought awhile, and well considered,
How to kill the mighty oak-tree,
First created for his pleasure,
How to fell the tree majestic,
How to lop its hundred branches.
Sad the lives of man and hero,
Sad the homes of ocean-dwellers,
If the sun shines not upon them,
If the moonlight does not cheer them
Is there not some mighty hero,
Was there never born a giant,
That can fell the mighty oak-tree,
That can lop its hundred branches?
Wainamoinen, deeply thinking,
Spake these words soliloquizing:
'Kape, daughter of the Ether,
Ancient mother of my being,
Luonnotar, my nurse and helper,
Loan to me the water-forces,
Great the powers of the waters;
Loan to me the strength of oceans,
To upset this mighty oak-tree,
To uproot this tree of evil,
That again may shine the sunlight,
That the moon once more may glimmer.'
Straightway rose a form from oceans,
15
Rose a hero from the waters,
Nor belonged he to the largest,
Nor belonged he to the smallest,
Long was he as man's forefinger,
Taller than the hand of woman;
On his head a cap of copper,
Boots upon his feet were copper,
Gloves upon his hands were copper,
And its stripes were copper-colored,
Belt around him made of copper,
Hatchet in his belt was copper;
And the handle of his hatchet
Was as long as hand of woman,
Of a finger's breadth the blade was.
Then the trusty Wainamoinen
Thought awhile and well considered,
And his measures are as follow:
'Art thou, sir, divine or human?
Which of these thou only knowest;
Tell me what thy name and station.
Very like a man thou lookest,
Hast the bearing of a hero,
Though the length of man's first finger,
Scarce as tall as hoof of reindeer.'
Then again spake Wainamoinen
To the form from out the ocean:
'Verily I think thee human,
Of the race of pigmy-heroes,
Might as well be dead or dying,
Fit for nothing but to perish.'
Answered thus the pigmy-hero,
Spake the small one from the ocean
To the valiant Wainamoinen
'Truly am I god and hero,
From the tribes that rule the ocean;
Come I here to fell the oak-tree,
Lop its branches with my hatchet.'
Wainamoinen, old and trusty,
Answers thus the sea-born hero:
'Never hast thou force sufficient,
Not to thee has strength been given,
To uproot this mighty oak-tree,
16
To upset this thing of evil,
Nor to lop its hundred branches.'
Scarcely had he finished speaking,
Scarcely had he moved his eyelids,
Ere the pigmy full unfolding,
Quick becomes a mighty giant.
With one step he leaves the ocean,
Plants himself, a mighty hero,
On the forest-fields surrounding;
With his head the clouds he pierces,
To his knees his beard extending,
And his locks fall to his ankles;
Far apart appear his eyeballs,
Far apart his feet are stationed.
Farther still his mighty shoulders.
Now begins his axe to sharpen,
Quickly to an edge he whets it,
Using six hard blocks of sandstone,
And of softer whetstones, seven.
Straightway to the oak-tree turning,
Thither stalks the mighty giant,
In his raiment long and roomy,
Flapping in the winds of heaven;
With his second step he totters
On the land of darker color;
With his third stop firmly planted,
Reaches he the oak-tree's branches,
Strikes the trunk with sharpened hatchet,
With one mighty swing he strikes it,
With a second blow he cuts it;
As his blade descends the third time,
From his axe the sparks fly upward,
From the oak-tree fire outshooting;
Ere the axe descends a fourth time,
Yields the oak with hundred branches,
Shaking earth and heaven in falling.
Eastward far the trunk extending,
Far to westward flew the tree-tops,
To the South the leaves were scattered,
To the North its hundred branches.
Whosoe'er a branch has taken,
Has obtained eternal welfare;
17
Who secures himself a tree-top,
He has gained the master magic;
Who the foliage has gathered,
Has delight that never ceases.
Of the chips some had been scattered,
Scattered also many splinters,
On the blue back of the ocean,
Of the ocean smooth and mirrored,
Rocked there by the winds and waters,
Like a boat upon the billows;
Storm-winds blew them to the Northland,
Some the ocean currents carried.
Northland's fair and slender maiden,
Washing on the shore a head-dress,
Beating on the rocks her garments,
Rinsing there her silken raiment,
In the waters of Pohyola,
There beheld the chips and splinters,
Carried by the winds and waters.
In a bag the chips she gathered,
Took them to the ancient court-yard,
There to make enchanted arrows,
Arrows for the great magician,
There to shape them into weapons,
Weapons for the skilful archer,
Since the mighty oak has fallen,
Now has lost its hundred branches,
That the North may see the sunshine,
See the gentle gleam of moonlight,
That the clouds may keep their courses,
May extend the vault of heaven
Over every lake and river,
O'er the banks of every island.
Groves arose in varied beauty,
Beautifully grew the forests,
And again, the vines and flowers.
Birds again sang in the tree-tops,
Noisily the merry thrushes,
And the cuckoos in the birch-trees;
On the mountains grew the berries,
Golden flowers in the meadows,
And the herbs of many colors,
18
Many kinds of vegetation;
But the barley is not growing.
Wainamoinen, old and trusty,
Goes away and well considers,
By the borders of the waters,
On the ocean's sandy margin,
Finds six seeds of golden barley,
Even seven ripened kernels,
On the shore of upper Northland,
In the sand upon the sea-shore,
Hides them in his trusty pouches,
Fashioned from the skin of squirrel,
Some were made from skin of marten;
Hastens forth the seeds to scatter,
Quickly sows the barley kernels,
On the brinks of Kalew-waters,
On the Osma-hills and lowlands.
Hark! the titmouse wildly crying,
From the aspen, words as follow:
'Osma's barley will not flourish,
Not the barley of Wainola,
If the soil be not made ready,
If the forest be not levelled,
And the branches burned to ashes.'
Wainamoinen, wise and ancient,
Made himself an axe for chopping,
Then began to clear the forest,
Then began the trees to level,
Felled the trees of all descriptions,
Only left the birch-tree standing
For the birds a place of resting,
Where might sing the sweet-voiced cuckoo,
Sacred bird in sacred branches.
Down from heaven came the eagle,
Through the air be came a-flying,
That he might this thing consider;
And he spake the words that follow:
'Wherefore, ancient Wainamoinen,
Hast thou left the slender birch-tree,
Left the birch-tree only standing?'
Wainamoinen thus made answer:
'Therefore is the birch left standing,
19
That the birds may liest within it,
That the eagle there may rest him,
There may sing the sacred cuckoo.'
Spake the eagle, thus replying:
Good indeed, thy hero-judgment,
That the birch-tree thou hast left us,
Left the sacred birch-tree standing,
As a resting-place for eagles,
And for birds of every feather,
Even I may rest upon it.'
Quickly then this bird of heaven,
Kindled fire among the branches;
Soon the flames are fanned by north-winds,
And the east-winds lend their forces,
Burn the trees of all descriptions,
Burn them all to dust and ashes,
Only is the birch left standing.
Wainamoinen, wise and ancient,
Brings his magic grains of barley,
Brings he forth his seven seed-grains,
Brings them from his trusty pouches,
Fashioned from the skin of squirrel,
Some were made from skin of marten.
Thence to sow his seeds he hastens,
Hastes the barley-grains to scatter,
Speaks unto himself these measures:
'I the seeds of life am sowing,
Sowing through my open fingers,
From the hand of my Creator,
In this soil enriched with ashes,
In this soil to sprout and flourish.
Ancient mother, thou that livest
Far below the earth and ocean,
Mother of the fields and forests,
Bring the rich soil to producing,
Bring the seed-grains to the sprouting,
That the barley well may flourish.
Never will the earth unaided,
Yield the ripe nutritious barley;
Never will her force be wanting,
If the givers give assistance,
If the givers grace the sowing,
20
Grace the daughters of creation.
Rise, O earth, from out thy slumber,
From the slumber-land of ages,
Let the barley-grains be sprouting,
Let the blades themselves be starting,
Let the verdant stalks be rising,
Let the ears themselves be growing,
And a hundredfold producing,
From my plowing and my sowing,
From my skilled and honest labor.
Ukko, thou O God, up yonder,
Thou O Father of the heavens,
Thou that livest high in Ether,
Curbest all the clouds of heaven,
Holdest in the air thy counsel,
Holdest in the clouds good counsel,
From the East dispatch a cloudlet,
From the North-east send a rain-cloud,
From the West another send us,
From the North-west, still another,
Quickly from the South a warm-cloud,
That the rain may fall from heaven,
That the clouds may drop their honey,
That the ears may fill and ripen,
That the barley-fields may rustle.'
Thereupon benignant Ukko,
Ukko, father of the heavens,
Held his counsel in the cloud-space,
Held good counsel in the Ether;
From the East, he sent a cloudlet,
From the North-east, sent a rain-cloud,
From the West another sent he,
From the North-west, still another,
Quickly from the South a warm-cloud;
Joined in seams the clouds together,
Sewed together all their edges,
Grasped the cloud, and hurled it earthward.
Quick the rain-cloud drops her honey,
Quick the rain-drops fall from heaven,
That the ears may quickly ripen,
That the barley crop may rustle.
Straightway grow the seeds of barley,
21
From the germ the blade unfolding,
Richly colored ears arising,
From the rich soil of the fallow,
From the work of Wainamoinen.
Here a few days pass unnoted
And as many nights fly over.
When the seventh day had journeyed,
On the morning of the eighth day,
Wainamoinen, wise and ancient,
Went to view his crop of barley,
How his plowing, how his sowing,
How his labors were resulting;
Found his crop of barley growing,
Found the blades were triple-knotted,
And the ears he found six-sided.
Wainamoinen, old and trusty,
Turned his face, and looked about him,
Lo! there comes a spring-time cuckoo,
Spying out the slender birch-tree,
Rests upon it, sweetly singing:
'Wherefore is the silver birch-tree
Left unharmed of all the forest? '
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:
'Therefore I have left the birch-tree,
Left the birch-tree only growing,
Home for thee for joyful singing.
Call thou here, O sweet-voiced cuckoo,
Sing thou here from throat of velvet,
Sing thou here with voice of silver,
Sing the cuckoo's golden flute-notes;
Call at morning, call at evening,
Call within the hour of noontide,
For the better growth of forests,
For the ripening of the barley,
For the richness of, the Northland,
For the joy of Kalevala.'
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1250:The Kalevala - Rune Xxi
ILMARINEN'S WEDDING-FEAST.
Louhi, hostess of the Northland,
Ancient dame of Sariola,
While at work within her dwelling,
Heard the whips crack on the fenlands,
Heard the rattle of the sledges;
To the northward turned her glances,
Turned her vision to the sunlight,
And her thoughts ran on as follow:
'Who are these in bright apparel,
On the banks of Pohya-waters,
Are they friends or hostile armies?'
Then the hostess of the Northland
Looked again and well considered,
Drew much nearer to examine,
Found they were not hostile armies,
Found that they were friends and suitors.
In the midst was Ilmarinen,
Son-in-law to ancient Louhi.
When the hostess of Pohyola
Saw the son-in-law approaching
She addressed the words that follow:
'I had thought the winds were raging,
That the piles of wood were falling,
Thought the pebbles in commotion,
Or perchance the ocean roaring;
Then I hastened nearer, nearer,
Drew still nearer and examined,
Found the winds were not in battle,
Found the piles of wood unshaken,
Found the ocean was not roaring,
Nor the pebbles in commotion,
Found my son-in-law was coming
With his heroes and attendants,
Heroes counted by the hundreds.
'Should you ask of me the question,
How I recognized the bridegroom
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Mid the hosts of men and heroes,
I should answer, I should tell you:
'As the hazel-bush in copses,
As the oak-tree in the forest,
As the Moon among the planets;
Drives the groom a coal-black courser,
Running like the famished black-dog,
Flying like the hungry raven,
Graceful as the lark at morning,
Golden cuckoos, six in number,
Twitter on the birchen cross-bow;
There are seven bluebirds singing
On the racer's hame and collar.'
Noises hear they in the court-yard,
On the highway hear the sledges,
To the court comes Ilmarinen,
With his body-guard of heroes;
In the midst the chosen suitor,
Not too far in front of others,
Not too far behind his fellows.
Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
'Hie ye hither, men and heroes,
Haste, ye watchers, to the stables,
There unhitch the suitor's stallion,
Lower well the racer's breast-plate,
There undo the straps and buckles,
Loosen well the shafts and traces,
And conduct the suitor hither,
Give my son-in-law good welcome!'
Ilmarinen turned his racer
Into Louhi's yard and stables,
And descended from his snow-sledge.
Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
'Come, thou servant of my bidding,
Best of all my trusted servants,
Take at once the bridegroom's courser
From the shafts adorned with silver,
From the curving arch of willow,
Lift the harness trimmed in copper,
Tie the white-face to the manger,
Treat the suitor's steed with kindness,
Lead him carefully to shelter
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By his soft and shining bridle,
By his halter tipped with silver;
Let him roll among the sand-hills,
On the bottoms soft and even,
On the borders of the snow-banks,
In the fields of milky color.
'Lead the hero's steed to water,
Lead him to the Pohya-fountains,
Where the living streams are flowing,
Sweet as milk of human kindness,
From the roots of silvery birches,
Underneath the shade of aspens.
'Feed the courser of the suitor,
On the sweetest corn and barley,
On the summer-wheat and clover,
In the caldron steeped in sweetness;
Feed him at the golden manger,
In the boxes lined with copper,
At my manger richly furnished,
In the warmest of the stables;
Tie him with a silk-like halter,
To the golden rings and staples,
To the hooks of purest silver,
Set in beams of birch and oak-wood;
Feed him on the hay the sweetest,
Feed him on the corn nutritious,
Give the best my barns can furnish.
'Curry well the suitor's courser
With the curry-comb of fish-bone,
Brush his hair with silken brushes,
Put his mane and tail in order,
Cover well with flannel blankets,
Blankets wrought in gold and silver,
Buckles forged from shining copper.
'Come, ye small lads of the village,
Lead the suitor to my chambers,
With your auburn locks uncovered,
From your hands remove your mittens,
See if ye can lead the hero
Through the door without his stooping,
Lifting not the upper cross-bar,
Lowering not the oaken threshold,
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Moving not the birchen casings,
Great the hero who must enter.
'Ilmarinen is too stately,
Cannot enter through the portals,
Not the son-in-law and bridegroom,
Till the portals have been heightened;
Taller by a head the suitor
Than the door-ways of the mansion.'
Quick the servants of Pohyola
Tore away the upper cross-bar,
That his cap might not be lifted;
Made the oaken threshold lower
That the hero might not stumble;
Made the birch-wood portals wider,
Opened full the door of welcome,
Easy entrance for the suitor.
Speaks the hostess of the Northland
As the bridegroom freely passes
Through the doorway of her dwelling:
'Thanks are due to thee, O Ukko,
That my son-in-law has entered!
Let me now my halls examine;
Make the bridal chambers ready,
Finest linen on my tables,
Softest furs upon my benches,
Birchen flooring scrubbed to whiteness,
All my rooms in perfect order.'
Then the hostess of Pohyola
Visited her spacious dwelling,
Did not recognize her chambers;
Every room had been remodeled,
Changed by force of mighty magic;
All the halls were newly burnished,
Hedge-hog bones were used for ceilings,
Bones of reindeer for foundations,
Bones of wolverine for door-sills,
For the cross-bars bones of roebuck,
Apple-wood were all the rafters,
Alder-wood, the window-casings,
Scales of trout adorned the windows,
And the fires were set in flowers.
All the seats were made of silver,
354
All the floors of copper-tiling,
Gold-adorned were all the tables,
On the floor were silken mattings,
Every fire-place set in copper,
Every hearth-stone cut from marble,
On each shelf were colored sea-shells,
Kalew's tree was their protection.
To the court-room came the hero,
Chosen suitor from Wainola,
These the words of Ilmarinen:
'Send, O Ukko, health and pleasure
To this ancient home and dwelling,
To this mansion richly fashioned!'
Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
'Let thy coming be auspicious
To these halls of thee unworthy,
To the home of thine affianced,
To this dwelling lowly fashioned,
Mid the lindens and the aspens.
'Come, ye maidens that should serve me,
Come, ye fellows from the village,
Bring me fire upon the birch-bark,
Light the fagots of the fir-tree,
That I may behold the bridegroom,
Chosen suitor of my daughter,
Fairy Maiden of the Rainbow,
See the color of his eyeballs,
Whether they are blue or sable,
See if they are warm and faithful.'
Quick the young lads from the village
Brought the fire upon the birch-bark,
Brought it on the tips of pine-wood;
And the fire and smoke commingled
Roll and roar about the hero,
Blackening the suitor's visage,
And the hostess speaks as follows;
'Bring the fire upon a taper,
On the waxen tapers bring it!'
Then the maidens did as bidden,
Quickly brought the lighted tapers,
Made the suitor's eyeballs glisten,
Made his cheeks look fresh and ruddy;
355
Made his eyes of sable color
Sparkle like the foam of waters,
Like the reed-grass on the margin,
Colored as the ocean jewels,
Iridescent as the rainbow.
'Come, ye fellows of the hamlet,
Lead my son-in-law and hero
To the highest seat at table,
To the seat of greatest honor,
With his back upon the blue-wall,
Looking on my bounteous tables,
Facing all the guests of Northland.'
Then the hostess of Pohyola
Served her guests in great abundance,
Richest drinks and rarest viands,
First of all she, served the bridegroom
On his platters, honeyed biscuit,
And the sweetest river salmon,
Seasoned butter, roasted bacon,
All the dainties of Pohyola.
Then the helpers served the others,
Filled the plates of all invited
With the varied food of Northland.
Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
'Come, ye maidens from the village,
Hither bring the beer in pitchers,
In the urns with double handles,
To the many guests in-gathered,
Ere all others, serve the bridegroom.'
Thereupon the merry maidens
Brought the beer in silver pitchers
From the copper-banded vessels,
For the wedding-guests assembled;
And the beer, fermenting, sparkled
On the beard of Ilmarinen,
On the beards of many heroes.
When the guests had all partaken
Of the wondrous beer of barley,
Spake the beer in merry accents
Through the tongues of the magicians,
Through the tongue of many a hero,
Through the tongue of Wainamoinen,
356
Famed to be the sweetest singer
Of the Northland bards and minstrels,
These the words of the enchanter:
'O thou beer of honeyed flavor,
Let us not imbibe in silence,
Let some hero sing thy praises,
Sing thy worth in golden measures;
Let the hostess start the singing,
Let the bridegroom sound thy virtues!
Have our songs thus quickly vanished,
Have our joyful tongues grown silent?
Evil then has been the brewing,
Then the beer must be unworthy,
That it does not cheer the singer,
Does not move the merry minstrel,
That the golden guests are joyless,
And the cuckoo is not singing.
Never will these benches echo
Till the bench-guests chant thy virtues;
Nor the floor resound thy praises
Till the floor-guests sing in concord;
Nor the windows join the chorus
Till the window-guests have spoken;
All the tables will keep silence
Till the heroes toast thy virtues;
Little singing from the chimney
Till the chimney-guests have chanted.'
On the floor a child was sitting,
Thus the little boy made answer:
'I am small and young in singing,
Have perchance but little wisdom;
Be that as it may, my seniors,
Since the elder minstrels sing not,
Nor the heroes chant their legends,
Nor the hostess lead the singing,
I will sing my simple stories,
Sing my little store of knowledge,
To the pleasure of the evening,
To the joy of the invited.'
Near the fire reclined an old man,
And the gray-beard thus made answer:
'Not the time for children's singing,
357
Children's wisdom is too ready,
Children's songs are filled with trifles,
Filled with shrewd and vain deceptions,
Maiden-songs are full of follies;
Leave the songs and incantations
To the ancient wizard-singers;
Leave the tales of times primeval
To the minstrel of Wainola,
To the hero of the Northland,
To the, ancient Wainamoinen.'
Thereupon Osmoinen answered:
'Are there not some sweeter singers
In this honored congregation,
That will clasp their hands together,
Sing the ancient songs unbroken,
Thus begin the incantations,
Make these ancient halls re-echo
For the pleasure of the evening,
For the joy of the in-gathered?'
From the hearth-stone spake, the gray-beard
'Not a singer of Pohyola,
Not a minstrel, nor magician,
That was better skilled in chanting
Legends of the days departed,
Than was I when I was singing,
In my years of vain ambition;
Then I chanted tales of heroes,
On the blue back of the waters,
Sang the ballads of my people,
In the vales and on the mountains,
Through the verdant fields and forests;
Sweet my voice and skilled my singing,
All my songs were highly lauded,
Rippled like the quiet rivers,
Easy-flowing like the waters,
Easy-gliding as the snow-shoes,
Like the ship upon the ocean.
'Woe is me, my days are ended,
Would not recognize my singing,
All its sweetness gone to others,
Flows no more like rippling waters,
Makes no more the hills re-echo!
358
Now my songs are full of discord,
Like the rake upon the stubble,
Like the sledge upon the gravel,
Like the boat upon the sea-shore!'
Then the ancient Wainamoinen
Spake these words in magic measures:
'Since no other bard appeareth
That will clasp my hand in singing,
I will sing some simple legends,
Sing my, garnered store of wisdom,
Make these magic halls re-echo
With my tales of ancient story,
Since a bard I was created,
Born an orator and singer;
Do not ask the ways of others,
Follow not the paths of strangers.'
Wainamoinen, famous minstrel,
Song's eternal, wise supporter,
Then began the songs of pleasure,
Made the halls resound with joyance,
Filled the rooms with wondrous singing;
Sang the ancient bard-magician
All the oldest wisdom-sayings,
Did not fail in voice nor legends,
All the wisest thoughts remembered.
Thus the ancient Wainamoinen
Sang the joy of all assembled,
To the pleasure of the evening,
To the merriment of maidens,
To the happiness of heroes;
All the guests were stilled in wonder
At the magic of his singing,
At the songs of the magician.
Spake again wise Wainamoinen,
When his wonder-tales had ended:
'l have little worth or power,
Am a bard of little value,
Little consequence my singing,
Mine abilities as nothing,
If but Ukko, my Creator,
Should intone his wisdom-sayings,
Sing the source of good and evil,
359
Sing the origin of matter,
Sing the legends of omniscience,
Sing his songs in full perfection.
God could sing the floods to honey,
Sing the sands to ruddy berries,
Sing the pebbles into barley,
Sing to beer the running waters,
Sing to salt the rocks of ocean,
Into corn-fields sing the forests,
Into gold the forest-fruitage,
Sing to bread the hills and mountains,
Sing to eggs the rounded sandstones;
He could touch the springs of magic,
He could turn the keys of nature,
And produce within thy pastures,
Hurdles filled with sheep and reindeer,
Stables filled with fleet-foot stallions,
Kine in every field and fallow;
Sing a fur-robe for the bridegroom,
For the bride a coat of ermine,
For the hostess, shoes of silver,
For the hero, mail of copper.
'Grant O Ukko, my Creator,
God of love, and truth, and justice,
Grant thy blessing on our feasting,
Bless this company assembled,
For the good of Sariola,
For the happiness of Northland!
May this bread and beer bring joyance,
May they come in rich abundance,
May they carry full contentment
To the people of Pohyola,
To the cabin and the mansion;
May the hours we spend in singing,
In the morning, in the evening,
Fill our hearts with joy and gladness!
Hear us in our supplications,
Grant to us thy needed blessings,
Send enjoyment, health, and comfort,
To the people here assembled,
To the host and to the hostess,
To the bride and to the bridegroom,
360
To the sons upon the waters,
To the daughters at their weavings,
To the hunters on the mountains,
To the shepherds in the fenlands,
That our lives may end in honor,
That we may recall with pleasure
Ilmarinen's magic marriage
To the Maiden of the Rainbow,
Snow-white virgin of the Northland.'
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1251:S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.

Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with years,
The swift innumerable spears,
The horsemen with their floating hair,
And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,
Those merry couples dancing in tune,
And the white body that lay by mine;
But the tale, though words be lighter than air.
Must live to be old like the wandering moon.

Caoilte, and Conan, and Finn were there,
When we followed a deer with our baying hounds.
With Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
And passing the Firbolgs' burial-moteds,
Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill
Where passionate Maeve is stony-still;
And found On the dove-grey edge of the sea
A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode
On a horse with bridle of findrinny;
And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,

But down to her feet white vesture flowed,
And with the glimmering crimson glowed
Of many a figured embroidery;
And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell
That wavered like the summer streams,
As her soft bosom rose and fell.

S. Patrick. You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.

Oisin. 'Why do you wind no horn?' she said
'And every hero droop his head?
The hornless deer is not more sad
That many a peaceful moment had,
More sleek than any granary mouse,
In his own leafy forest house
Among the waving fields of fern:
The hunting of heroes should be glad.'

'O pleasant woman,' answered Finn,
'We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,
And on the heroes lying slain
On Gabhra's raven-covered plain;
But where are your noble kith and kin,
And from what country do you ride?'

'My father and my mother are
Aengus and Edain, my own name
Niamh, and my country far
Beyond the tumbling of this tide.'

'What dream came with you that you came
Through bitter tide on foam-wet feet?
Did your companion wander away
From where the birds of Aengus wing?'
Thereon did she look haughty and sweet:
'I have not yet, war-weary king,
Been spoken of with any man;
Yet now I choose, for these four feet
Ran through the foam and ran to this
That I might have your son to kiss.'

'Were there no better than my son
That you through all that foam should run?'

'I loved no man, though kings besought,
Until the Danaan poets brought
Rhyme that rhymed upon Oisin's name,
And now I am dizzy with the thought
Of all that wisdom and the fame
Of battles broken by his hands,
Of stories builded by his words
That are like coloured Asian birds
At evening in their rainless lands.'

O Patrick, by your brazen bell,
There was no limb of mine but fell
Into a desperate gulph of love!
'You only will I wed,' I cried,
'And I will make a thousand songs,
And set your name all names above,
And captives bound with leathern thongs
Shall kneel and praise you, one by one,
At evening in my western dun.'

'O Oisin, mount by me and ride
To shores by the wash of the tremulous tide,
Where men have heaped no burial-mounds,
And the days pass by like a wayward tune,
Where broken faith has never been known
And the blushes of first love never have flown;
And there I will give you a hundred hounds;
No mightier creatures bay at the moon;
And a hundred robes of murmuring silk,
And a hundred calves and a hundred sheep
Whose long wool whiter than sea-froth flows,
And a hundred spears and a hundred bows,
And oil and wine and honey and milk,
And always never-anxious sleep;
While a hundred youths, mighty of limb,
But knowing nor tumult nor hate nor strife,
And a hundred ladies, merry as birds,
Who when they dance to a fitful measure
Have a speed like the speed of the salmon herds,
Shall follow your horn and obey your whim,
And you shall know the Danaan leisure;
And Niamh be with you for a wife.'
Then she sighed gently, 'It grows late.
Music and love and sleep await,
Where I would be when the white moon climbs,
The red sun falls and the world grows dim.'

And then I mounted and she bound me
With her triumphing arms around me,
And whispering to herself enwound me;
He shook himself and neighed three times:
Caoilte, Conan, and Finn came near,
And wept, and raised their lamenting hands,
And bid me stay, with many a tear;
But we rode out from the human lands.
In what far kingdom do you go'
Ah Fenians, with the shield and bow?
Or are you phantoms white as snow,
Whose lips had life's most prosperous glow?
O you, with whom in sloping valleys,
Or down the dewy forest alleys,
I chased at morn the flying deer,
With whom I hurled the hurrying spear,
And heard the foemen's bucklers rattle,
And broke the heaving ranks of battle!
And Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
Where are you with your long rough hair?
You go not where the red deer feeds,
Nor tear the foemen from their steeds.

S. Patrick. Boast not, nor mourn with drooping head
Companions long accurst and dead,
And hounds for centuries dust and air.

Oisin. We galloped over the glossy sea:
I know not if days passed or hours,
And Niamh sang continually
Danaan songs, and their dewy showers
Of pensive laughter, unhuman sound,
Lulled weariness, and softly round
My human sorrow her white arms wound.
We galloped; now a hornless deer
Passed by us, chased by a phantom hound
All pearly white, save one red ear;
And now a lady rode like the wind
With an apple of gold in her tossing hand;
And a beautiful young man followed behind
With quenchless gaze and fluttering hair.
'Were these two born in the Danaan land,
Or have they breathed the mortal air?'

'Vex them no longer,' Niamh said,
And sighing bowed her gentle head,
And sighing laid the pearly tip
Of one long finger on my lip.

But now the moon like a white rose shone
In the pale west, and the sun'S rim sank,
And clouds atrayed their rank on rank
About his fading crimson ball:
The floor of Almhuin's hosting hall
Was not more level than the sea,
As, full of loving fantasy,
And with low murmurs, we rode on,
Where many a trumpet-twisted shell
That in immortal silence sleeps
Dreaming of her own melting hues,
Her golds, her ambers, and her blues,
Pierced with soft light the shallowing deeps.
But now a wandering land breeze came
And a far sound of feathery quires;
It seemed to blow from the dying flame,
They seemed to sing in the smouldering fires.
The horse towards the music raced,
Neighing along the lifeless waste;
Like sooty fingers, many a tree
Rose ever out of the warm sea;
And they were trembling ceaselessly,
As though they all were beating time,
Upon the centre of the sun,
To that low laughing woodland rhyme.
And, now our wandering hours were done,
We cantered to the shore, and knew
The reason of the trembling trees:
Round every branch the song-birds flew,
Or clung thereon like swarming bees;
While round the shore a million stood
Like drops of frozen rainbow light,
And pondered in a soft vain mood
Upon their shadows in the tide,
And told the purple deeps their pride,
And murmured snatches of delight;
And on the shores were many boats
With bending sterns and bending bows,
And carven figures on their prows
Of bitterns, and fish-eating stoats,
And swans with their exultant throats:
And where the wood and waters meet
We tied the horse in a leafy clump,
And Niamh blew three merry notes
Out of a little silver trump;
And then an answering whispering flew
Over the bare and woody land,
A whisper of impetuous feet,
And ever nearer, nearer grew;
And from the woods rushed out a band
Of men and ladies, hand in hand,
And singing, singing all together;
Their brows were white as fragrant milk,
Their cloaks made out of yellow silk,
And trimmed with many a crimson feather;
And when they saw the cloak I wore
Was dim with mire of a mortal shore,
They fingered it and gazed on me
And laughed like murmurs of the sea;
But Niamh with a swift distress
Bid them away and hold their peace;
And when they heard her voice they ran
And knelt there, every girl and man,
And kissed, as they would never cease,
Her pearl-pale hand and the hem of her dress.
She bade them bring us to the hall
Where Aengus dreams, from sun to sun,
A Druid dream of the end of days
When the stars are to wane and the world be done.

They led us by long and shadowy ways
Where drops of dew in myriads fall,
And tangled creepers every hour
Blossom in some new crimson flower,
And once a sudden laughter sprang
From all their lips, and once they sang
Together, while the dark woods rang,
And made in all their distant parts,
With boom of bees in honey-marts,
A rumour of delighted hearts.
And once a lady by my side
Gave me a harp, and bid me sing,
And touch the laughing silver string;
But when I sang of human joy
A sorrow wrapped each merry face,
And, patrick! by your beard, they wept,
Until one came, a tearful boy;
'A sadder creature never stept
Than this strange human bard,' he cried;
And caught the silver harp away,
And, weeping over the white strings, hurled
It down in a leaf-hid, hollow place
That kept dim waters from the sky;
And each one said, with a long, long sigh,
'O saddest harp in all the world,
Sleep there till the moon and the stars die!'

And now, still sad, we came to where
A beautiful young man dreamed within
A house of wattles, clay, and skin;
One hand upheld his beardless chin,
And one a sceptre flashing out
Wild flames of red and gold and blue,
Like to a merry wandering rout
Of dancers leaping in the air;
And men and ladies knelt them there
And showed their eyes with teardrops dim,
And with low murmurs prayed to him,
And kissed the sceptre with red lips,
And touched it with their finger-tips.
He held that flashing sceptre up.
'Joy drowns the twilight in the dew,
And fills with stars night's purple cup,
And wakes the sluggard seeds of corn,
And stirs the young kid's budding horn,
And makes the infant ferns unwrap,
And for the peewit paints his cap,
And rolls along the unwieldy sun,
And makes the little planets run:
And if joy were not on the earth,
There were an end of change and birth,
And Earth and Heaven and Hell would die,
And in some gloomy barrow lie
Folded like a frozen fly;
Then mock at Death and Time with glances
And wavering arms and wandering dances.

'Men's hearts of old were drops of flame
That from the saffron morning came,
Or drops of silver joy that fell
Out of the moon's pale twisted shell;
But now hearts cry that hearts are slaves,
And toss and turn in narrow caves;
But here there is nor law nor rule,
Nor have hands held a weary tool;
And here there is nor Change nor Death,
But only kind and merry breath,
For joy is God and God is joy.'
With one long glance for girl and boy
And the pale blossom of the moon,
He fell into a Druid swoon.

And in a wild and sudden dance
We mocked at Time and Fate and Chance
And swept out of the wattled hall
And came to where the dewdrops fall
Among the foamdrops of the sea,
And there we hushed the revelry;
And, gathering on our brows a frown,
Bent all our swaying bodies down,
And to the waves that glimmer by
That sloping green De Danaan sod
Sang, 'God is joy and joy is God,
And things that have grown sad are wicked,
And things that fear the dawn of the morrow
Or the grey wandering osprey Sorrow.'

We danced to where in the winding thicket
The damask roses, bloom on bloom,
Like crimson meteors hang in the gloom.
And bending over them softly said,
Bending over them in the dance,
With a swift and friendly glance
From dewy eyes: 'Upon the dead
Fall the leaves of other roses,
On the dead dim earth encloses:
But never, never on our graves,
Heaped beside the glimmering waves,
Shall fall the leaves of damask roses.
For neither Death nor Change comes near us,
And all listless hours fear us,
And we fear no dawning morrow,
Nor the grey wandering osprey Sorrow.'

The dance wound through the windless woods;
The ever-summered solitudes;
Until the tossing arms grew still
Upon the woody central hill;
And, gathered in a panting band,
We flung on high each waving hand,
And sang unto the starry broods.
In our raised eyes there flashed a glow
Of milky brightness to and fro
As thus our song arose: 'You stars,
Across your wandering ruby cars
Shake the loose reins: you slaves of God.
He rules you with an iron rod,
He holds you with an iron bond,
Each one woven to the other,
Each one woven to his brother
Like bubbles in a frozen pond;
But we in a lonely land abide
Unchainable as the dim tide,
With hearts that know nor law nor rule,
And hands that hold no wearisome tool,
Folded in love that fears no morrow,
Nor the grey wandering osprey Sorrow.'

O Patrick! for a hundred years
I chased upon that woody shore
The deer, the badger, and the boar.
O patrick! for a hundred years
At evening on the glimmering sands,
Beside the piled-up hunting spears,
These now outworn and withered hands
Wrestled among the island bands.
O patrick! for a hundred years
We went a-fishing in long boats
With bending sterns and bending bows,
And carven figures on their prows
Of bitterns and fish-eating stoats.
O patrick! for a hundred years
The gentle Niamh was my wife;
But now two things devour my life;
The things that most of all I hate:
Fasting and prayers.

S. Patrick.   Tell on.

Oisin.         Yes, yes,
For these were ancient Oisin's fate
Loosed long ago from Heaven's gate,
For his last days to lie in wait.
When one day by the tide I stood,
I found in that forgetfulness
Of dreamy foam a staff of wood
From some dead warrior's broken lance:
I turned it in my hands; the stains
Of war were on it, and I wept,
Remembering how the Fenians stept
Along the blood-bedabbled plains,
Equal to good or grievous chance:
Thereon young Niamh softly came
And caught my hands, but spake no word
Save only many times my name,
In murmurs, like a frighted bird.
We passed by woods, and lawns of clover,
And found the horse and bridled him,
For we knew well the old was over.
I heard one say, 'His eyes grow dim
With all the ancient sorrow of men';
And wrapped in dreams rode out again
With hoofs of the pale findrinny
Over the glimmering purple sea.
Under the golden evening light,
The Immortals moved among the fountains
By rivers and the woods' old night;
Some danced like shadows on the mountains
Some wandered ever hand in hand;
Or sat in dreams on the pale strand,
Each forehead like an obscure star
Bent down above each hooked knee,
And sang, and with a dreamy gaze
Watched where the sun in a saffron blaze
Was slumbering half in the sea-ways;
And, as they sang, the painted birds
Kept time with their bright wings and feet;
Like drops of honey came their words,
But fainter than a young lamb's bleat.

'An old man stirs the fire to a blaze,
In the house of a child, of a friend, of a brother.
He has over-lingered his welcome; the days,
Grown desolate, whisper and sigh to each other;
He hears the storm in the chimney above,
And bends to the fire and shakes with the cold,
While his heart still dreams of battle and love,
And the cry of the hounds on the hills of old.

But We are apart in the grassy places,
Where care cannot trouble the least of our days,
Or the softness of youth be gone from our faces,
Or love's first tenderness die in our gaze.
The hare grows old as she plays in the sun
And gazes around her with eyes of brightness;
Before the swift things that she dreamed of were done
She limps along in an aged whiteness;
A storm of birds in the Asian trees
Like tulips in the air a-winging,
And the gentle waves of the summer seas,
That raise their heads and wander singing,
Must murmur at last, "Unjust, unjust";
And "My speed is a weariness," falters the mouse,
And the kingfisher turns to a ball of dust,
And the roof falls in of his tunnelled house.
But the love-dew dims our eyes till the day
When God shall come from the Sea with a sigh
And bid the stars drop down from the sky,
And the moon like a pale rose wither away.'

~ William Butler Yeats, The Wanderings Of Oisin - Book I
,
1252:Le Forgeron (The Blacksmith)
Le bras sur un marteau gigantesque, effrayant
D'ivresse et de grandeur, le front large, riant
Comme un clairon d'airain, avec toute sa bouche,
Et prenant ce gros-là dans son regard farouche,
Le Forgeron parlait à Louis Seize, un jour
Que le Peuple était là, se tordant tout autour,
Et sur les lambris d'or traînait sa veste sale.
Or le bon roi, debout sur son ventre, était pâle
Pâle comme un vaincu qu'on prend pour le gibet,
Et, soumis comme un chien, jamais ne regimbait,
Car ce maraud de forge aux énormes épaules
Lui disait de vieux mots et des choses si drôles,
Que cela l'empoignait au front, comme cela !
'Donc, Sire, tu sais bien, nous chantions tra la la
Et nous piquions les boeufs vers les sillons des autres :
Le Chanoine au soleil disait ses patenôtres
Sur des chapelets clairs grenés de pièces d'or.
Le Seigneur, à cheval, passait, sonnant du cor,
Et l'un avec la hart, l'autre avec la cravache,
Nous fouaillaient ; Hébétés comme des yeux de vache,
Nos yeux ne pleuraient pas : nous allions ! nous allions !
Et quand nous avions mis le pays en sillons,
Quand nous avions laissé dans cette terre noire
Un peu de notre chair... nous avions un pourboire :
- Nous venions voir flamber nos taudis dans la nuit ;
Nos enfants y faisaient un gâteau fort bien cuit !...
'Oh ! je ne me plains pas. Je te dis mes bêtises :
- C'est entre nous. J'admets que tu me contredises...
Or, n'est-ce pas joyeux de voir, au mois de juin
Dans les granges entrer des voitures de foin
Enormes ? De sentir l'odeur de ce qui pousse,
Des vergers quand il pleut un peu, de l'herbe rousse ?
De voir les champs de blé, les épis pleins de grain,
De penser que cela prépare bien du pain ?...
- Oui, l'on pourrait, plus fort, au fourneau qui s'allume,
Chanter joyeusement en martelant l'enclume,
Si l'on était certain qu'on pourrait prendre un peu,
71
Étant homme, à la fin !, de ce que donne Dieu !...
- Mais voilà, c'est toujours la même vieille histoire !
'... Oh ! je sais, maintenant ! Moi, je ne peux plus croire,
Quand j'ai deux bonnes mains, mon front et mon marteau,
Qu'un homme vienne là, dague sous le manteau
Et me dise : Maraud, ensemence ma terre ;
Que l'on arrive encor, quand ce serait la guerre,
Me prendre mon garçon comme cela, chez moi !...
- Moi, je serais un homme, et toi tu serais roi,
Tu me dirais : Je veux ! - Tu vois bien, c'est stupide !...
Tu crois que j'aime à voir ta baraque splendide,
Tes officiers dorés, tes mille chenapans,
Tes palsembleu bâtards tournant comme des paons ?
Ils ont rempli ton nid de l'odeur de nos filles,
Et de petits billets pour nous mettre aux Bastilles,
Et nous dirions : C'est bien : les pauvres à genoux !...
Nous dorerions ton Louvre en donnant nos gros sous,
Et tu te soûlerais, tu ferais belle fête,
Et tes Messieurs riraient, les reins sur notre tête !...
'Non ! Ces saletés-là datent de nos papas !
Oh ! Le Peuple n'est plus une putain ! Trois pas,
Et, tous, nous avons mis ta Bastille en poussière !
Cette bête suait du sang à chaque pierre...
Et c'était dégoûtant, la Bastille debout
Avec ses murs lépreux qui nous rappelaient tout
Et, toujours, nous tenaient enfermés dans leur ombre !
- Citoyen ! citoyen ! c'était le passé sombre
Qui croulait, qui râlait, quand nous prîmes la tour !
Nous avions quelque chose au coeur comme l'amour :
Nous avions embrassé nos fils sur nos poitrines,
Et, comme des chevaux, en soufflant des narines,
Nous marchions, nous chantions, et ça nous battait là,
Nous allions au soleil, front haut, comme cela,
Dans Paris accourant devant nos vestes sales !...
Enfin ! Nous nous sentions hommes ! Nous étions pâles,
Sire ; nous étions soûls de terribles espoirs,
Et quand nous fûmes là, devant les donjons noirs,
Agitant nos clairons et nos feuilles de chêne,
Les piques à la main ; nous n'eûmes pas de haine :
- Nous nous sentions si forts ! nous voulions être doux !
72
'Et depuis ce jour-là, nous sommes comme fous...
Le flot des ouvriers a monté dans la rue
Et ces maudits s'en vont, foule toujours accrue,
Comme des revenants, aux portes des richards !...
Moi, je cours avec eux assommer les mouchards,
Et je vais dans Paris le marteau sur l'épaule,
Farouche, à chaque coin balayant quelque drôle,
Et, si tu me riais au nez, je te tuerais !...
- Puis, tu dois y compter, tu te feras des frais
Avec tes avocats, qui prennent nos requêtes
Pour se les renvoyer comme sur des raquettes,
Et, tout bas, les malins ! Nous traitant de gros sots !
Pour mitonner des lois, ranger des de petits pots
Pleins de menus décrets, de méchantes droguailles,
S'amuser à couper proprement quelques tailles,
Puis se boucher le nez quand nous passons près d'eux,
- Ces chers avocassiers qui nous trouvent crasseux ! Pour débiter là-bas des milliers de sornettes
Et ne rien redouter sinon les baïonnettes,
Nous en avons assez, de tous ces cerveaux plats !
Ils embêtent le peuple !... Ah ! ce sont là les plats
Que tu nous sers, bourgeois, quand nous sommes féroces,
Quand nous cassons déjà les sceptres et les crosses !...'
Puis il le prend au bras, arrache le velours
Des rideaux, et lui montre, en bas, les larges cours
Où fourmille, où fourmille, où se lève la foule,
La foule épouvantable avec des bruits de houle,
Hurlant comme une chienne, hurlant comme une mer,
Avec ses bâtons forts et ses piques de fer,
Ses clameurs, ses grands cris de halles et de bouges,
Tas sombre de haillons taché de bonnets rouges !
L'Homme, par la fenêtre ouverte, montre tout
Au Roi pâle, suant qui chancelle debout,
Malade à regarder cela !...
spacespacespacespacespacespacespacespace'C'est la Crapule,
Sire ! ça bave aux murs, ça roule, ça pullule...
- Puisqu'ils ne mangent pas, Sire, ce sont les gueux !
- Je suis un forgeron : ma femme est avec eux :
Folle ! Elle vient chercher du pain aux Tuileries :
- On ne veut pas de nous dans les boulangeries !...
73
J'ai trois petits ; -Je suis crapule ! - Je connais
Des vieilles qui s'en vont pleurant sous leurs bonnets,
Parce qu'on leur a pris leur garçon ou leur fille :
- C'est la crapule. - Un homme était à la bastille,
D'autres étaient forçats ; c'étaient des citoyens
Honnêtes ; Libérés, ils sont comme des chiens ;
On les insulte ! Alors, ils ont là quelque chose
Qui leur fait mal, allez ! C'est terrible, et c'est cause
Que, se sentant brisés, que, se sentant damnés,
Ils viennent maintenant hurler sous votre nez !...
- Crapules : - Là-dedans sont des filles, infâmes
Parce que -, sachant bien que c'est faible, les femmes,
Messeigneurs de la cour, que ça veut toujours bien, Vous leur avez sali leur âme, comme rien !
Vos belles, aujourd'hui, sont là : - C'est la Crapule...
'Oh ! tous les Malheureux, tout ceux dont le dos brûle
Sous le soleil féroce, et qui vont, et qui vont,
Et dans ce travail-là sentent crever leur front,
Chapeau bas, mes bourgeois ! Oh ! ceux-là sont les hommes !
- Nous sommes Ouvriers ! Sire, Ouvriers ! - nous sommes
Pour les grands temps nouveaux où l'on voudra savoir,
Où l'homme forgera du matin jusqu'au soir,
Où, lentement vainqueur, il chassera les choses
Poursuivant les grands buts, cherchant les grandes causes,
Et montera sur Tout comme sur un cheval !
Oh ! nous sommes contents, nous aurons bien du mal !
- Tout ce qu'on ne sait pas, c'est peut-être terrible.
Nous pendrons nos marteaux, nous passerons au crible
Tout ce que nous savons, puis, Frères, en avant !...
- Nous faisons quelquefois ce grand rêve émouvant
De vivre simplement, ardemment, sans rien dire
De mauvais, travaillant sous l'auguste sourire
D'une femme qu'on aime avec un noble amour !
Et l'on travaillerait fièrement tout le jour,
Ecoutant le devoir comme un clairon qui sonne :
Et l'on se trouverait fort heureux, et personne,
Oh ! personne ! surtout, ne vous ferait plier !...
On aurait un fusil au-dessus du foyer....
'Oh ! mais ! l'air est tout plein d'une odeur de bataille !
Que te disais-je donc ? Je suis de la canaille !'
74
_____________________________________________________
Translation by A. S. Kline
His hand on a gigantic hammer, terrifying
In size and drunkenness, vast-browed, laughing
Like a bronze trumpet, his whole mouth displayed,
Devouring the fat man, now, with his wild gaze,
The Blacksmith spoke with Louis, with the king,
The People there, all around him, cavorting,
Trailing their dirty coats down gilded panels.
But the dear king, belly upright, was pallid,
Pale as the victim led to the guillotine,
Submissive like a dog, cowed by the scene,
Since that wide-shouldered forge-black soul
Spoke of things past and other things so droll,
He had him by the short hairs, just like that!
‘Now, Sir, you know how we’d sing tra-la-la,
And drive the ox down other people’s furrows:
The Canon spun paternosters in the shadows
On rosaries bright with golden coins adorned,
Some Lord, astride, passed blowing on his horn,
One with the noose, another with whip-blows
Lashed us on. – Dazed like the eyes of cows,
Our eyes no longer wept; on and on we went,
And when we’d ploughed a whole continent,
When we had left behind in that black soil
A little of our own flesh…to reward our toil:
They’d set alight our hovels in the night;
Our little ones made burnt cakes alright.
…Oh, I’m not complaining! All my follies,
They’re between us. I’ll let you contradict.
But, isn’t it fine to see, in the month of June,
The enormous hay-wains entering the barns?
To smell the odour of burgeoning things,
The orchards in fine rain, the oats reddening?
To see wheat, wheat, ears filled with grain,
To think it promises us good bread again?...
Oh! You’d go to the forge, be more cheerful,
Sing and hammer joyfully at the anvil,
75
If you were sure to gain a little in the end –
Being, in fact, a man – of what God intends!
– But there it is, always the same old story!...
But now I know! I don’t credit it any more,
Owning two strong hands, a head, a hammer,
That a man in a cloak, wearing a dagger
Can say: go and sow my land, there, fellow;
Or that another, if maybe war should follow,
Can take my son like that, from where I’m living!
– Suppose I were a man, and you a king,
You’d say: I will it!... – What stupidity.
You think your splendid barn pleases me,
Your gilded servants, your thousand rogues,
Your fancy bastards, peacocks in a row:
Filling your nest with our daughters’ odour,
Warrants to the Bastille for us, moreover
That we should say: fine: make the poor poorer!
We’ll give you our last sous to gild the Louvre!
While you get drunk and enjoy the feast,
– And they all laugh, riding our backs beneath!
No. Those puerilities were our fathers!
The People is no one’s whore now, three steps further
And then, we razed your Bastille to the ground.
That monster sweated blood from every mound,
Was an abomination, that Bastille standing,
With leprous walls its every story yielding,
And, we forever held fast in its shadow!
– Citizen! That was the past, its sorrow,
That broke, and died, when we stormed the tower!
We had something in our hearts like true ardour.
We had clutched our children to our breast.
And like chargers, snorting at the contest,
We went, proud and strong, beating here inside…
We marched in the sun – like this – heads high
Into Paris! They greeted us in our ragged clothes.
At last! We felt ourselves Men! We were sallow,
Sire, drunk, and pallid with terrifying hopes:
And there, in front of those black prison slopes,
Waving our bugles and our sprigs of oak,
Pikes in our fists; did we feel hatred, no!
76
– We felt such strength we wanted to be gentle! ...
And since that day, we have proved elementals!
A mass of workers sprang up in the street,
And, cursed, are gone, a swelling crowd replete
With ghostly shades, to haunt the rich man’s gate.
I, I run with them, and set informers straight:
I scour Paris, dark-faced, wild, hammer on shoulder,
Sweeping something droll out of every corner,
And, if you smile at me, then I’ll do for you!
– Well, count on it: all this is going to cost you
And your men in black, culling our requests
To bat them about on their racquets all in jest,
And whisper, the rascals, softly: “Oh, what sots!”
To cook up laws, and stick up little pots,
Filled with cute pink decrees, and sugar pills,
Cutting us down to size, to amuse themselves,
Then they hold their noses when we pass by,
– Our kind representatives who hate the sty! –
Fearful of nothing, nothing, but bayonets….
That’s fine. Enough of snuff and lorgnettes!
We’ve had our fill, here, of those dull heads
And bellies of gods. Ah! That’s the bread
You serve us, bourgeoisie, while we rage here,
While we shatter the sceptre and the crozier!...’
He takes his arm, tears back the velvet curtain
And shows the vast courtyards beneath them,
Where the mob swarms, and seethes, where rise,
Out of the frightful mob those storm-filled cries,
Howling as bitches howl, or like the sea,
With their knotted stakes, their pikes of steel,
With the clamour of their market-halls and slums,
A ragged mass of blood-stained caps, and drums:
The Man, through the open window, shows all
To the pale sweating king, reeling, about to fall,
Sick at the sight of it!
‘Those are the Scum, Sire.
Licking the walls, seething, rising higher:
– But then they’ve not eaten, Sire, these beggars!
I’m a blacksmith: my wife, madwoman, is there!
She thinks she’ll get bread at the Tuileries!
77
– They’ll have none of us in the bakeries.
I’ve three youngsters. I’m scum, too – I know
Old women weeping under their bonnets so
Because they’ve taken a daughter or a son:
One man was in the Bastille – oh, they’re scum –
Another the galleys: both honest citizens.
Freed, they’re treated like dogs, these men:
Insulted! Then, they have something here
That hurts them, see! It’s terrible, it’s clear
They feel broken, feel themselves damned,
There, screaming beneath you where you stand!
Scum. – Down there girls, infamous, shriek,
Because – well, you knew girls were weak –
Gentlemen of the court – gave all you sought –
You’d spit on their souls, as if they were naught!
Now, your pretty ones are there. They’re scum.
Oh, all the Wretched, whose backs, in the fierce sun
Burn, and yet they still work on and on,
Feeling their heads burst with their exertion,
Hats off, you bourgeoisie! Those are Men.
We are the Workers, Sire! Workers! And then
We’re for the great new age, of knowledge, light,
When Man will forge from morning to night,
Pursuing great effects, chasing great causes,
When he will tame things, slowly victorious,
And like a horse, mount the mighty All!
Oh! Splendour of the forges! And no more
Evil, then! – What’s unknown, its terror maybe
We’ll know! – Hammer in hand, let’s sieve freely
All that we know: then, Brothers, we’ll go on!
Sometimes we dream that dream’s vast emotion
Of the simple ardent life, where you revile
All evil, working beneath the august smile,
Of a woman you love with love’s nobility:
And all day long you labour on proudly,
Hearing the clarion call of duty sounding!
And you feel so happy; and nothing, nothing,
Oh, above all, no-one makes you kneel!
Over the fireplace, there, you’d have a rifle…
Oh! But the air is filled with the scent of battle.
78
What did I say? I too am one of the rascals!
And there are still sharks and informers.
But we are free! With our moments of terror
When we feel we are great, so great! Just now
I was talking of peaceful work, of how…
Look at that sky! – Too small for us, you see,
If we feared the heat, we’d live on our knees!
Look at that sky! – I’ll return to the crowd,
To the vast fearful mob who cry aloud
And roll your cannon through the cobbles’ sty;
– Oh! We will wash them clean when we die!
– And if, against our cries and our vengeance,
The claws of old gilded kings, all over France,
Urge on their regiments in full battle-dress,
Well then, you lot? Shit to those dogs, no less!’
– He shoulders his hammer once more.
The crowd
Feels soul-drunk close to that man, and now
Through the great courtyard, all those rooms,
Where Paris pants and the voices boom,
A shudder shakes the immense populace.
Then, with his broad hand, its grimy grace
Gilded, while the pot-bellied king sweats,
The Blacksmith set his red cap on that head!
~ Arthur Rimbaud,
1253:The Kalevala - Rune Xlii
CAPTURE OF THE SAMPO.
Wainamoinen, old and truthful,
With the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
With the reckless son of Lempo,
Handsome hero, Kaukomieli,
On the sea's smooth plain departed,
On the far-extending waters,
To the village, cold and dreary,
To the never-pleasant Northland,
Where the heroes fall and perish.
Ilmarinen led the rowers
On one side the magic war-ship,
And the reckless Lemminkainen
Led the rowers on the other.
Wainamoinen, old and trusty,
Laid his hand upon the rudder,
Steered his vessel o'er the waters,
Through the foam and angry billows
To Pohyola's place of landing,
To the cylinders of copper,
Where the war-ships lie at anchor.
When they had arrived at Pohya,
When their journey they had ended,
On the land they rolled their vessel,
On the copper-banded rollers,
Straightway journeyed to the village,
Hastened to the halls and hamlets
Of the dismal Sariola.
Louhi, hostess of the Northland,
Thus addressed the stranger-heroes:
Magic heroes of Wainola,
What the tidings ye are bringing
To the people of my village?'
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel.
Gave this answer to the hostess:
'All the hosts of Kalevala
Are inquiring for the Sampo,
192
Asking for the lid in colors;
Hither have these heroes journeyed
To divide the priceless treasure.
Thus the hostess spake in answer:
'No one would divide a partridge,
Nor a squirrel, with three heroes;
Wonderful the magic Sampo,
Plenty does it bring to Northland;
And the colored lid re-echoes
From the copper-bearing mountains,
From the stone-berg of Pohyola,
To the joy of its possessors.'
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,
Thus addressed the ancient Louhi:
'If thou wilt not share the Sampo,
Give to us an equal portion,
We will take it to Wainola,
With its lid of many colors,
Take by force the hope of Pohya.'
Thereupon the Northland hostess
Angry grew and sighed for vengeance;
Called her people into council,
Called the hosts of Sariola,
Heroes with their trusted broadswords,
To destroy old Wainamoinen
With his people of the Northland.
Wainamoinen, wise and ancient,
Hastened to his harp of fish-bone,
And began his magic playing;
All of Pohya stopped and listened,
Every warrior was silenced
By the notes of the magician;
Peaceful-minded grew the soldiers,
All the maidens danced with pleasure,
While the heroes fell to weeping,
And the young men looked in wonder.
Wainamoinen plays unceasing,
Plays the maidens into slumber,
Plays to sleep the young and aged,
All of Northland sleeps and listens.
Wise and wondrous Wainamoinen,
The eternal bard and singer,
193
Searches in his pouch of leather,
Draws therefrom his slumber-arrows,
Locks the eyelids of the sleepers,
Of the heroes of Pohyola,
Sings and charms to deeper slumber
All the warriors of the Northland.
Then the heroes of Wainola
Hasten to obtain the Sampo,
To procure the lid in colors
From the copper-bearing mountains.
From behind nine locks of copper,
In the stone-berg of Pohyola.
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,
Then began his wondrous singing,
Sang in gentle tones of magic,
At the entrance to the mountain,
At the border of the stronghold;
Trembled all the rocky portals,
And the iron-banded pillars
Fell and crumbled at his singing.
Ilmarinen, magic blacksmith,
Well anointed all the hinges,
All the bars and locks anointed,
And the bolts flew back by magic,
All the gates unlocked in silence,
Opened for the great magician.
Spake the minstrel Wainamoinen:
'O thou daring Lemminkainen,
Friend of mine in times of trouble,
Enter thou within the mountain,
Bring away the wondrous Sampo,
Bring away the lid in colors!'
Quick the reckless Lemminkainen,
Handsome hero, Kaukomieli,
Ever ready for a venture,
Hastens to the mountain-caverns,
There to find the famous Sampo,
There to get the lid in colors;
Strides along with conscious footsteps,
Thus himself he vainly praises:
'Great am I and full of glory,
Wonder-hero, son of Ukko,
194
I will bring away the Sampo,
Turn about the lid in colors,
Turn it on its magic hinges!'
Lemminkainen finds the wonder,
Finds the Sampo in the mountain,
Labors long with strength heroic,
Tugs with might and main to turn it;
Motionless remains the treasure,
Deeper sinks the lid in colors,
For the roots have grown about it,
Grown nine fathoms deep in sand-earth.
Lived a mighty ox in Northland,
Powerful in bone and sinew,
Beautiful in form and color,
Horns the length of seven fathoms,
Mouth and eyes of wondrous beauty.
Lemminkainen, reckless hero,
Harnesses the ox in pasture,
Takes the master-plow of Pohya,
Plows the roots about the Sampo,
Plows around the lid in colors,
And the sacred Sampo loosens,
Falls the colored lid in silence.
Straightway ancient Wainamoinen
Brings the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Brings the daring Lemminkainen,
Lastly brings the magic Sampo,
From the stone-berg of Pohyola,
From the copper-bearing mountain,
Hides it in his waiting vessel,
In the war-ship of Wainola.
Wainamoinen called his people,
Called his crew of men and maidens,
Called together all his heroes,
Rolled his vessel to the water,
Into billowy deeps and dangers.
Spake the blacksmith, Ilmarinen:
'Whither shall we take the Sampo,
Whither take the lid in colors,
From the stone-berg of Pohyola,
From this evil spot of Northland?'
Wainamoinen, wise and faithful,
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Gave this answer to the question:
'Thither shall we take the Sampo,
Thither take the lid in colors,
To the fog-point on the waters,
To the island forest-covered;
There the treasure may be hidden,
May remain in peace for ages,
Free from trouble, free from danger,
Where the sword will not molest it.'
Then the minstrel, Wainamoinen,
Joyful, left the Pohya borders,
Homeward sailed, and happy-hearted,
Spake these measures on departing:
'Turn, O man-of-war, from Pohya,
Turn thy back upon the strangers,
Turn thou to my distant country!
Rock, O winds, my magic vessel,
Homeward drive my ship, O billows,
Lend the rowers your assistance,
Give the oarsmen easy labor,
On this vast expanse of waters!
Give me of thine oars, O Ahto,
Lend thine aid, O King of sea-waves,
Guide as with thy helm in safety,
Lay thy hand upon the rudder,
And direct our war-ship homeward;
Let the hooks of metal rattle
O'er the surging of the billows,
On the white-capped waves' commotion.'
Then the master, Wainamoinen,
Guided home his willing vessel;
And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
With the lively Lemminkainen,
Led the mighty host of rowers,
And the war-ship glided homeward
O'er the sea's unruffled surface,
O'er the mighty waste of waters.
Spake the reckless Lemminkainen:
'Once before I rode these billows,
There were viands for the heroes,
There was singing for the maidens;
But to-day I hear no singing,
196
Hear no songs upon the vessel,
Hear no music on the waters.'
Wainamoinen, wise and ancient,
Answered thus wild Lemminkainen:
'Let none sing upon the blue-sea,
On the waters, no rejoicing;
Singing would prolong our journey,
Songs disturb the host of rowers;
Soon will die the silver sunlight,
Darkness soon will overtake us,
On this evil waste of waters,
On this blue-sea, smooth and level.'
These the words of Lemminkainen:
'Time will fly on equal pinions
Whether we have songs or silence;
Soon will disappear the daylight,
And the night as quickly follow,
Whether we be sad or joyous.'
Wainamoinen, the magician,
O'er the blue backs of the billows,
Steered one day, and then a second,
Steered the third from morn till even,
When the wizard, Lemminkainen,
Once again addressed the master:
'Why wilt thou, O famous minstrel,
Sing no longer for thy people,
Since the Sampo thou hast captured,
Captured too the lid in colors?'
These the words of Wainamoinen:
''Tis not well to sing too early!
Time enough for songs of joyance
When we see our home-land mansions,
When our journeyings have ended!'
Spake the reckless Lemminkainen:
'At the helm, if I were sitting,
I would sing at morn and evening,
Though my voice has little sweetness;
Since thy songs are not forthcoming
Listen to my wondrous singing!'
Thereupon wild Lemminkainen,
Handsome hero, Kaukomieli,
Raised his voice above the waters,
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O'er the sea his song resounded;
But his measures were discordant,
And his notes were harsh and frightful.
Sang the wizard, Lemminkainen,
Screeched the reckless Kaukomieli,
Till the mighty war-ship trembled;
Far and wide was heard his singing,
Heard his songs upon the waters,
Heard within the seventh village,
Heard beyond the seven oceans.
Sat a crane within the rushes,
On a hillock clothed in verdure,
And the crane his toes was counting;
Suddenly he heard the singing
Of the wizard, Lemminkainen;
And the bird was justly frightened
At the songs of the magician.
Then with horrid voice, and screeching,
Flew the crane across the broad-sea
To the lakes of Sariola,
O'er Pohyola's hills and hamlets,
Screeching, screaming, over Northland,
Till the people of the darkness
Were awakened from their slumbers.
Louhi hastens to her hurdles,
Hastens to her droves of cattle,
Hastens also to her garners,
Counts her herds, inspects her store-house;
Undisturbed she finds her treasures.
Quick she journeys to the entrance
To the copper-bearing mountain,
Speaks these words as she approaches:
'Woe is me, my life hard-fated,
Woe to Louhi, broken-hearted!
Here the tracks of the destroyers,
All my locks and bolts are broken
By the hands of cruel strangers!
Broken are my iron hinges,
Open stand the mountain-portals
Leading to the Northland-treasure.
Has Pohyola lost her Sampo?'
Then she hastened to the chambers
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Where the Sampo had been grinding;
But she found the chambers empty,
Lid and Sampo gone to others,
From the stone-berg of Pohyola,
From behind nine locks of copper,
In the copper-bearing mountain.
Louhi, hostess of the Northland,
Angry grew and cried for vengeance;
As she found her fame departing,
Found her-strength fast disappearing,
Thus addressed the sea-fog virgin:
'Daughter of the morning-vapors,
Sift thy fogs from distant cloud-land,
Sift the thick air from the heavens,
Sift thy vapors from the ether,
On the blue-back of the broad-sea,
On the far extending waters,
That the ancient Wainamoinen,
Friend of ocean-wave and billow,
May not baffle his pursuers!
'Should this prayer prove unavailing,
Iku-Turso, son of Old-age,
Raise thy head above the billows,
And destroy Wainola's heroes,
Sink them to thy deep sea-castles,
There devour them at thy pleasure;
Bring thou back the golden Sampo
To the people of Pohyola!
'Should these words be ineffective,
Ukko, mightiest of rulers,
Golden king beyond the welkin,
Sitting on a throne of silver,
Fill thy skies with heavy storm-clouds,
Call thy fleetest winds about thee,
Send them o'er the seven broad-seas,
There to find the fleeing vessel,
That the ancient Wainamoinen
May not baffle his pursuers!'
Quick the virgin of the vapors
Breathed a fog upon the waters,
Made it settle on the war-ship
Of the, heroes of the Northland,
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Held the minstrel, Wainamoinen,
Anchored in the fog and darkness;
Bound him one day, then a second,
Then a third till dawn of morning,
In the middle of the blue-sea,
Whence he could not flee in safety
From the wrath of his pursuers.
When the third night had departed,
Resting in the sea, and helpless,
Wainamoinen spake as follows,
'Not a man of strength and courage,
Not the weakest of the heroes,
Who upon the sea will suffer,
Sink and perish in the vapors,
Perish in the fog and darkness!'
With his sword he smote the billows,
From his magic blade flowed honey;
Quick the vapor breaks, and rises,
Leaves the waters clear for rowing;
Far extend the sky and waters,
Large the ring of the horizon,
And the troubled sea enlarges.
Time had journeyed little distance,
Scarce a moment had passed over,
When they heard a mighty roaring,
Heard a roaring and a rushing
Near the border of the vessel,
Where the foam was shooting skyward
O'er the boat of Wainamoinen.
Straightway youthful Ilmarinen
Sank in gravest apprehension,
From his cheeks the blood departed;
Pulled his cap down o'er his forehead,
Shook and trembled with emotion.
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,
Casts his eyes upon the waters
Near the broad rim of his war-ship;
There perceives an ocean-wonder
With his head above the sea-foam.
Wainamoinen, brave and mighty,
Seizes quick the water-monster,
Lifts him by his ears and questions:
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'Iku-Turso, son of Old-age,
Why art rising from the blue-sea?
Wherefore dost thou leave thy castle,
Show thyself to mighty heroes,
To the heroes of Wainola?'
Iku-Turso, son of Old-age,
Ocean monster, manifested
Neither pleasure, nor displeasure,
Was not in the least affrighted,
Did not give the hero answer.
Whereupon the ancient minstrel,
Asked the second time the monster,
Urgently inquired a third time:
'Iku-Turso, son of Old-age,
Why art rising from the waters,
Wherefore dost thou leave the blue-sea?
Iku-Turso gave this answer:
For this cause I left my castle
Underneath the rolling billows:
Came I here with the intention
To destroy the Kalew-heroes,
And return the magic Sampo
To the people of Pohyola.
If thou wilt restore my freedom,
Spare my life, from pain and sorrow,
I will quick retrace my journey,
Nevermore to show my visage
To the people of Wainola,
Never while the moonlight glimmers
On the hills of Kalevala!'
Then the singer, Wainamoinen,
Freed the monster, Iku-Turso,
Sent him to his deep sea-castles,
Spake these words to him departing:
'Iku-Turso, son of Old-age,
Nevermore arise from ocean,
Nevermore let Northland-heroes
See thy face above the waters I
Nevermore has Iku-Turso
Risen to the ocean-level;
Never since have Northland sailors
Seen the head of this sea-monster.
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Wainamoinen, old and truthful,
Onward rowed his goodly vessel,
Journeyed but a little distance,
Scarce a moment had passed over,
When the King of all creators,
Mighty Ukko of the heavens,
Made the winds blow full of power,
Made the storms arise in fury,
Made them rage upon the waters.
From the west the winds came roaring,
From the north-east came in anger,
Winds came howling from the south-west,
Came the winds from all directions,
In their fury, rolling, roaring,
Tearing branches from the lindens,
Hurling needles from the pine-trees,
Blowing flowers from the heather,
Grasses blowing from the meadow,
Tearing up the very bottom
Of the deep and boundless blue-sea.
Roared the winds and lashed the waters
Till the waves were white with fury;
Tossed the war-ship high in ether,
Tossed away the harp of fish-bone,
Magic harp of Wainamoinen,
To the joy of King Wellamo,
To the pleasure of his people,
To the happiness of Ahto,
Ahto, rising from his caverns,
On the floods beheld his people
Carry off the harp of magic
To their home below the billows.
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,
Heavy-hearted, spake these measures:
'I have lost what I created,
I have lost the harp of joyance;
Now my strength has gone to others,
All my pleasure too departed,
All my hope and comfort vanished!
Nevermore the harp of fish-bone
Will enchant the hosts of Suomi!'
Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
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Sorrow-laden, spake as follows:
'Woe is me, my life hard-fated!
Would that I had never journeyed
On these waters filled with dangers,
On the rolling waste before me,
In this war-ship false and feeble.
Winds and storms have I encountered,
Wretched days of toil and trouble,
I have witnessed in the Northland;
Never have I met such dangers
On the land, nor on the ocean,
Never in my hero life-time!'
Then the ancient Wainamoinen
Spake and these the words he uttered:
'Weep no more, my goodly comrades,
In my bark let no one murmur;
Weeping cannot mend disaster,
Tears can never still misfortune,
Mourning cannot save from evil.
'Sea, command thy warring forces,
Bid thy children cease their fury!
Ahto, still thy surging billows!
Sink, Wellamo, to thy slumber,
That our boat may move in safety.
Rise, ye storm-winds, to your kingdoms,
Lift your heads above the waters,
To the regions of your kindred,
To your people and dominions;
Cut the trees within the forest,
Bend the lindens of the valley,
Let our vessel sail in safety!'
Then the reckless Lemminkainen,
Handsome wizard, Kaukomieli,
Spake these words in supplication:
'Come, O eagle, Turyalander,
Bring three feathers from thy pinions,
Three, O raven, three, O eagle,
To protect this bark from evil!'
All the heroes of Wainola
Call their forces to the rescue,
And repair the sinking vessel.
By the aid of master-magic,
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Wainamoinen saved his war-ship,
Saved his people from destruction,
Well repaired his ship to battle
With the roughest seas of Northland;
Steers his mighty boat in safety
Through the perils of the whirlpool,
Through the watery deeps and dangers.
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1254:The Conference
Grace said in form, which sceptics must agree,
When they are told that grace was said by me;
The servants gone to break the scurvy jest
On the proud landlord, and his threadbare guest;
'The King' gone round, my lady too withdrawn;
My lord, in usual taste, began to yawn,
And, lolling backward in his elbow-chair,
With an insipid kind of stupid stare,
Picking his teeth, twirling his seals about-Churchill, you have a poem coming out:
You've my best wishes; but I really fear
Your Muse, in general, is too severe;
Her spirit seems her interest to oppose,
And where she makes one friend, makes twenty foes.
_C_. Your lordship's fears are just; I feel their force,
But only feel it as a thing of course.
The man whose hardy spirit shall engage
To lash, the vices of a guilty age,
At his first setting forward ought to know
That every rogue he meets must be his foe;
That the rude breath of satire will provoke
Many who feel, and more who fear the stroke.
But shall the partial rage of selfish men
From stubborn Justice wrench the righteous pen?
Or shall I not my settled course pursue,
Because my foes are foes to Virtue too?
_L_. What is this boasted Virtue, taught in schools,
And idly drawn from antiquated rules?
What is her use? Point out one wholesome end.
Will she hurt foes, or can she make a friend?
When from long fasts fierce appetites arise,
Can this same Virtue stifle Nature's cries?
Can she the pittance of a meal afford,
Or bid thee welcome to one great man's board?
When northern winds the rough December arm
With frost and snow, can Virtue keep thee warm?
Canst thou dismiss the hard unfeeling dun
Barely by saying, thou art Virtue's son?
Or by base blundering statesmen sent to jail,
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Will Mansfield take this Virtue for thy bail?
Believe it not, the name is in disgrace;
Virtue and Temple now are out of place.
Quit then this meteor, whose delusive ray
Prom wealth and honour leads thee far astray.
True virtue means--let Reason use her eyes-Nothing with fools, and interest with the wise.
Wouldst thou be great, her patronage disclaim,
Nor madly triumph in so mean a name:
Let nobler wreaths thy happy brows adorn,
And leave to Virtue poverty and scorn.
Let Prudence be thy guide; who doth not know
How seldom Prudence can with Virtue go?
To be successful try thy utmost force,
And Virtue follows as a thing of course.
Hirco--who knows not Hirco?--stains the bed
Of that kind master who first gave him bread;
Scatters the seeds of discord through the land,
Breaks every public, every private band;
Beholds with joy a trusting friend undone;
Betrays a brother, and would cheat a son:
What mortal in his senses can endure
The name of Hirco? for the wretch is poor!
Let him hang, drown, starve, on a dunghill rot,
By all detested live, and die forgot;
Let him--a poor return--in every breath
Feel all Death's pains, yet be whole years in death,
Is now the general cry we all pursue.
Let Fortune change, and Prudence changes too;
Supple and pliant, a new system feels,
Throws up her cap, and spaniels at his heels:
Long live great Hirco, cries, by interest taught,
And let his foes, though I prove one, be nought.
_C_. Peace to such men, if such men can have peace;
Let their possessions, let their state increase;
Let their base services in courts strike root,
And in the season bring forth golden fruit.
I envy not; let those who have the will,
And, with so little spirit, so much skill,
With such vile instruments their fortunes carve;
Rogues may grow fat, an honest man dares starve.
_L_. These stale conceits thrown off, let us advance
129
For once to real life, and quit romance.
Starve! pretty talking! but I fain would view
That man, that honest man, would do it too.
Hence to yon mountain which outbraves the sky,
And dart from pole to pole thy strengthen'd eye,
Through all that space you shall not view one man,
Not one, who dares to act on such a plan.
Cowards in calms will say, what in a storm
The brave will tremble at, and not perform.
Thine be the proof, and, spite of all you've said,
You'd give your honour for a crust of bread.
_C_. What proof might do, what hunger might effect,
What famish'd Nature, looking with neglect
On all she once held dear; what fear, at strife
With fainting virtue for the means of life,
Might make this coward flesh, in love with breath,
Shuddering at pain, and shrinking back from death,
In treason to my soul, descend to boar,
Trusting to fate, I neither know nor care.
Once,--at this hour those wounds afresh I feel,
Which, nor prosperity, nor time, can heal;
Those wounds which Fate severely hath decreed,
Mention'd or thought of, must for ever bleed;
Those wounds which humbled all that pride of man,
Which brings such mighty aid to Virtue's plan-Once, awed by Fortune's most oppressive frown,
By legal rapine to the earth bow'd clown,
My credit at last gasp, my state undone,
Trembling to meet the shock I could not shun,
Virtue gave ground, and blank despair prevail'd;
Sinking beneath the storm, my spirits fail'd
Like Peter's faith, till one, a friend indeed-May all distress find such in time of need!-One kind good man, in act, in word, in thought,
By Virtue guided, and by Wisdom taught,
Image of Him whom Christians should adore,
Stretch'd forth his hand, and brought me safe to shore.
Since, by good fortune into notice raised,
And for some little merit largely praised,
Indulged in swerving from prudential rules,
Hated by rogues, and not beloved by fools;
Placed above want, shall abject thirst of wealth,
130
So fiercely war 'gainst my soul's dearest health,
That, as a boon, I should base shackles crave,
And, born to freedom, make myself a slave?
That I should in the train of those appear,
Whom Honour cannot love, nor Manhood fear?
That I no longer skulk from street to street,
Afraid lest duns assail, and bailiffs meet;
That I from place to place this carcase bear;
Walk forth at large, and wander free as air;
That I no longer dread the awkward friend.
Whose very obligations must offend;
Nor, all too froward, with impatience burn
At suffering favours which I can't return;
That, from dependence and from pride secure,
I am not placed so high to scorn the poor,
Nor yet so low that I my lord should fear,
Or hesitate to give him sneer for sneer;
That, whilst sage Prudence my pursuits confirms,
I can enjoy the world on equal terms;
That, kind to others, to myself most true,
Feeling no want, I comfort those who do,
And, with the will, have power to aid distress:
These, and what other blessings I possess,
From the indulgence of the public rise,
All private patronage my soul defies.
By candour more inclined to save, than damn,
A generous Public made me what I am.
All that I have, they gave; just Memory bears
The grateful stamp, and what I am is theirs.
_L_. To feign a red-hot zeal for Freedom's cause,
To mouth aloud for liberties and laws,
For public good to bellow all abroad,
Serves well the purposes of private fraud.
Prudence, by public good intends her own;
If you mean otherwise, you stand alone.
What do we mean by country and by court?
What is it to oppose? what to support?
Mere words of course; and what is more absurd
Than to pay homage to an empty word?
Majors and minors differ but in name;
Patriots and ministers are much the same;
The only difference, after all their rout,
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Is, that the one is in, the other out.
Explore the dark recesses of the mind,
In the soul's honest volume read mankind,
And own, in wise and simple, great and small,
The same grand leading principle in all.
Whate'er we talk of wisdom to the wise,
Of goodness to the good, of public ties
Which to our country link, of private bands
Which claim most dear attention at our hands;
For parent and for child, for wife and friend,
Our first great mover, and our last great end
Is one, and, by whatever name we call
The ruling tyrant, Self is all in all.
This, which unwilling Faction shall admit,
Guided in different ways a Bute and Pitt;
Made tyrants break, made kings observe the law;
And gave the world a Stuart and Nassau.
Hath Nature (strange and wild conceit of pride!)
Distinguished thee from all her sons beside?
Doth virtue in thy bosom brighter glow,
Or from a spring more pure doth action flow?
Is not thy soul bound with those very chains
Which shackle us? or is that Self, which reigns
O'er kings and beggars, which in all we see
Most strong and sovereign, only weak in thee?
Fond man, believe it not; experience tells
'Tis not thy virtue, but thy pride rebels.
Think, (and for once lay by thy lawless pen)
Think, and confess thyself like other men;
Think but one hour, and, to thy conscience led
By Reason's hand, bow down and hang thy head:
Think on thy private life, recall thy youth,
View thyself now, and own, with strictest truth,
That Self hath drawn thee from fair Virtue's way
Farther than Folly would have dared to stray;
And that the talents liberal Nature gave,
To make thee free, have made thee more a slave.
Quit then, in prudence quit, that idle train
Of toys, which have so long abused thy brain.
And captive led thy powers; with boundless will
Let Self maintain her state and empire still;
But let her, with more worthy objects caught,
132
Strain all the faculties and force of thought
To things of higher daring; let her range
Through better pastures, and learn how to change;
Let her, no longer to weak Faction tied,
Wisely revolt, and join our stronger side.
_C_. Ah! what, my lord, hath private life to do
With things of public nature? Why to view
Would you thus cruelly those scenes unfold
Which, without pain and horror to behold,
Must speak me something more or less than man,
Which friends may pardon, but I never can?
Look back! a thought which borders on despair,
Which human nature must, yet cannot bear.
'Tis not the babbling of a busy world,
Where praise and censure are at random hurl'd,
Which can the meanest of my thoughts control,
Or shake one settled purpose of my soul;
Free and at large might their wild curses roam,
If all, if all, alas! were well at home.
No--'tis the tale which angry Conscience tells,
When she with more than tragic horror swells
Each circumstance of guilt; when, stern but true,
She brings bad actions forth into review;
And like the dread handwriting on the wall,
Bids late Remorse awake at Reason's call;
Arm'd at all points, bids scorpion Vengeance pass,
And to the mind holds up Reflection's glass,-The mind which, starting, heaves the heartfelt groan,
And hates that form she knows to be her own.
Enough of this,--let private sorrows rest,-As to the public, I dare stand the test;
Dare proudly boast, I feel no wish above
The good of England, and my country's love.
Stranger to party-rage, by Reason's voice,
Unerring guide! directed in my choice,
Not all the tyrant powers of earth combined,
No, nor of hell, shall make me change my mind.
What! herd with men my honest soul disdains,
Men who, with servile zeal, are forging chains
For Freedom's neck, and lend a helping hand
To spread destruction o'er my native land?
What! shall I not, e'en to my latest breath,
133
In the full face of danger and of death,
Exert that little strength which Nature gave,
And boldly stem, or perish in the wave?
_L_. When I look backward for some fifty years,
And see protesting patriots turn'd to peers;
Hear men, most loose, for decency declaim,
And talk of character, without a name;
See infidels assert the cause of God,
And meek divines wield Persecution's rod;
See men transferred to brutes, and brutes to men;
See Whitehead take a place, Ralph change his pen;
I mock the zeal, and deem the men in sport,
Who rail at ministers, and curse a court.
Thee, haughty as thou art, and proud in rhyme,
Shall some preferment, offer'd at a time
When Virtue sleeps, some sacrifice to Pride,
Or some fair victim, move to change thy side.
Thee shall these eyes behold, to health restored,
Using, as Prudence bids, bold Satire's sword,
Galling thy present friends, and praising those
Whom now thy frenzy holds thy greatest foes.
_C_. May I (can worse disgrace on manhood fall?)
Be born a Whitehead, and baptized a Paul;
May I (though to his service deeply tied
By sacred oaths, and now by will allied),
With false, feign'd zeal an injured God defend,
And use his name for some base private end;
May I (that thought bids double horrors roll
O'er my sick spirits, and unmans my soul)
Ruin the virtue which I held most dear,
And still must hold; may I, through abject fear,
Betray my friend; may to succeeding times,
Engraved on plates of adamant, my crimes
Stand blazing forth, whilst, mark'd with envious blot,
Each little act of virtue is forgot;
Of all those evils which, to stamp men cursed,
Hell keeps in store for vengeance, may the worst
Light on my head; and in my day of woe,
To make the cup of bitterness o'erflow,
May I be scorn'd by every man of worth,
Wander, like Cain, a vagabond on earth;
Bearing about a hell in my own mind,
134
Or be to Scotland for my life confined;
If I am one among the many known
Whom Shelburne fled, and Calcraft blush'd to own.
_L_. Do you reflect what men you make your foes?
_C_. I do, and that's the reason I oppose.
Friends I have made, whom Envy must commend,
But not one foe whom I would wish a friend.
What if ten thousand Butes and Hollands bawl?
One Wilkes had made a large amends for all.
'Tis not the title, whether handed down
From age to age, or flowing from the crown
In copious streams, on recent men, who came
From stems unknown, and sires without a name:
Tis not the star which our great Edward gave
To mark the virtuous, and reward the brave,
Blazing without, whilst a base heart within
Is rotten to the core with filth and sin;
'Tis not the tinsel grandeur, taught to wait,
At Custom's call, to mark a fool of state
From fools of lesser note, that soul can awe,
Whose pride is reason, whose defence is law.
_L_. Suppose, (a thing scarce possible in art,
Were it thy cue to play a common part)
Suppose thy writings so well fenced in law,
That Norton cannot find nor make a flaw-Hast thou not heard, that 'mongst our ancient tribes,
By party warp'd, or lull'd asleep by bribes,
Or trembling at the ruffian hand of Force,
Law hath suspended stood, or changed its course?
Art thou assured, that, for destruction ripe,
Thou may'st not smart beneath the self-same gripe?
What sanction hast thou, frantic in thy rhymes,
Thy life, thy freedom to secure?
_G_. The Times.
'Tis not on law, a system great and good,
By wisdom penn'd, and bought by noblest blood,
My faith relies; by wicked men and vain,
Law, once abused, may be abused again.
No; on our great Lawgiver I depend,
Who knows and guides her to her proper end;
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Whose royalty of nature blazes out
So fierce, 'twere sin to entertain a doubt.
Did tyrant Stuarts now the law dispense,
(Bless'd be the hour and hand which sent them hence!)
For something, or for nothing, for a word
Or thought, I might be doom'd to death, unheard.
Life we might all resign to lawless power,
Nor think it worth the purchase of an hour;
But Envy ne'er shall fix so foul a stain
On the fair annals of a Brunswick's reign.
If, slave to party, to revenge, or pride;
If, by frail human error drawn aside,
I break the law, strict rigour let her wear;
'Tis hers to punish, and 'tis mine to bear;
Nor, by the voice of Justice doom'd to death
Would I ask mercy with my latest breath:
But, anxious only for my country's good,
In which my king's, of course, is understood;
Form'd on a plan with some few patriot friends,
Whilst by just means I aim at noblest ends,
My spirits cannot sink; though from the tomb
Stern Jeffries should be placed in Mansfield's room;
Though he should bring, his base designs to aid,
Some black attorney, for his purpose made,
And shove, whilst Decency and Law retreat,
The modest Norton from his maiden seat;
Though both, in ill confederates, should agree,
In damned league, to torture law and me,
Whilst George is king, I cannot fear endure;
Not to be guilty, is to be secure.
But when, in after-times, (be far removed
That day!) our monarch, glorious and beloved,
Sleeps with his fathers, should imperious Fate,
In vengeance, with fresh Stuarts curse our state;
Should they, o'erleaping every fence of law,
Butcher the brave to keep tame fools in awe;
Should they, by brutal and oppressive force,
Divert sweet Justice from her even course;
Should they, of every other means bereft,
Make my right hand a witness 'gainst my left;
Should they, abroad by inquisitions taught,
Search out my soul, and damn me for a thought;
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Still would I keep my course, still speak, still write,
Till Death had plunged me in the shades of night.
Thou God of truth, thou great, all-searching eye,
To whom our thoughts, our spirits, open lie!
Grant me thy strength, and in that needful hour,
(Should it e'er come) when Law submits to Power,
With firm resolve my steady bosom steel,
Bravely to suffer, though I deeply feel.
Let me, as hitherto, still draw my breath,
In love with life, but not in fear of death;
And if Oppression brings me to the grave,
And marks me dead, she ne'er shall mark a slave.
Let no unworthy marks of grief be heard,
No wild laments, not one unseemly word;
Let sober triumphs wait upon my bier;
I won't forgive that friend who drops one tear.
Whether he's ravish'd in life's early morn,
Or in old age drops like an ear of corn,
Full ripe he falls, on Nature's noblest plan,
Who lives to Reason, and who dies a Man.
~ Charles Churchill,
1255:The Author
Accursed the man, whom Fate ordains, in spite,
And cruel parents teach, to read and write!
What need of letters? wherefore should we spell?
Why write our names? A mark will do as well.
Much are the precious hours of youth misspent,
In climbing Learning's rugged, steep ascent;
When to the top the bold adventurer's got,
He reigns, vain monarch, o'er a barren spot;
Whilst in the vale of Ignorance below,
Folly and Vice to rank luxuriance grow;
Honours and wealth pour in on every side,
And proud Preferment rolls her golden tide.
O'er crabbed authors life's gay prime to waste,
To cramp wild genius in the chains of taste,
To bear the slavish drudgery of schools,
And tamely stoop to every pedant's rules;
For seven long years debarr'd of liberal ease,
To plod in college trammels to degrees;
Beneath the weight of solemn toys to groan,
Sleep over books, and leave mankind unknown;
To praise each senior blockhead's threadbare tale,
And laugh till reason blush, and spirits fail;
Manhood with vile submission to disgrace,
And cap the fool, whose merit is his place,
Vice-Chancellors, whose knowledge is but small,
And Chancellors, who nothing know at all:
Ill-brook'd the generous spirit in those days
When learning was the certain road to praise,
When nobles, with a love of science bless'd,
Approved in others what themselves possess'd.
But now, when Dulness rears aloft her throne,
When lordly vassals her wide empire own;
When Wit, seduced by Envy, starts aside,
And basely leagues with Ignorance and Pride;
What, now, should tempt us, by false hopes misled,
Learning's unfashionable paths to tread;
To bear those labours which our fathers bore,
That crown withheld, which they in triumph wore?
When with much pains this boasted learning's got,
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'Tis an affront to those who have it not:
In some it causes hate, in others fear,
Instructs our foes to rail, our friends to sneer.
With prudent haste the worldly-minded fool
Forgets the little which he learn'd at school:
The elder brother, to vast fortunes born,
Looks on all science with an eye of scorn;
Dependent brethren the same features wear,
And younger sons are stupid as the heir.
In senates, at the bar, in church and state,
Genius is vile, and learning out of date.
Is this--oh, death to think!--is this the land
Where Merit and Reward went hand in hand?
Where heroes, parent-like, the poet view'd,
By whom they saw their glorious deeds renew'd?
Where poets, true to honour, tuned their lays,
And by their patrons sanctified their praise?
Is this the land, where, on our Spenser's tongue,
Enamour'd of his voice, Description hung?
Where Jonson rigid Gravity beguiled,
Whilst Reason through her critic fences smiled?
Where Nature listening stood whilst Shakspeare play'd,
And wonder'd at the work herself had made?
Is this the land, where, mindful of her charge
And office high, fair Freedom walk'd at large?
Where, finding in our laws a sure defence,
She mock'd at all restraints, but those of sense?
Where, Health and Honour trooping by her side,
She spread her sacred empire far and wide;
Pointed the way, Affliction to beguile,
And bade the face of Sorrow wear a smile;
Bade those, who dare obey the generous call,
Enjoy her blessings, which God meant for all?
Is this the land, where, in some tyrant's reign,
When a weak, wicked, ministerial train,
The tools of power, the slaves of interest, plann'd
Their country's ruin, and with bribes unmann'd
Those wretches, who, ordain'd in Freedom's cause,
Gave up our liberties, and sold our laws;
When Power was taught by Meanness where to go,
Nor dared to love the virtue of a foe;
When, like a leprous plague, from the foul head
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To the foul heart her sores Corruption spread;
Her iron arm when stern Oppression rear'd;
And Virtue, from her broad base shaken, fear'd
The scourge of Vice; when, impotent and vain,
Poor Freedom bow'd the neck to Slavery's chain?
Is this the land, where, in those worst of times,
The hardy poet raised his honest rhymes
To dread rebuke, and bade Controlment speak
In guilty blushes on the villain's cheek;
Bade Power turn pale, kept mighty rogues in awe,
And made them fear the Muse, who fear'd not law?
How do I laugh, when men of narrow souls,
Whom Folly guides, and Prejudice controls;
Who, one dull drowsy track of business trod,
Worship their Mammon, and neglect their God;
Who, breathing by one musty set of rules,
Dote from their birth, and are by system fools;
Who, form'd to dulness from their very youth,
Lies of the day prefer to gospel truth;
Pick up their little knowledge from Reviews,
And lay out all their stock of faith in news;
How do I laugh, when creatures, form'd like these,
Whom Reason scorns, and I should blush to please,
Rail at all liberal arts, deem verse a crime,
And hold not truth, as truth, if told in rhyme!
How do I laugh, when Publius, hoary grown
In zeal for Scotland's welfare, and his own,
By slow degrees, and course of office, drawn
In mood and figure at the helm to yawn,
Too mean (the worst of curses Heaven can send)
To have a foe, too proud to have a friend;
Erring by form, which blockheads sacred hold,
Ne'er making new faults, and ne'er mending old,
Rebukes my spirit, bids the daring Muse
Subjects more equal to her weakness choose;
Bids her frequent the haunts of humble swains,
Nor dare to traffic in ambitious strains;
Bids her, indulging the poetic whim
In quaint-wrought ode, or sonnet pertly trim,
Along the church-way path complain with Gray,
Or dance with Mason on the first of May!
'All sacred is the name and power of kings;
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All states and statesmen are those mighty things
Which, howsoe'er they out of course may roll,
Were never made for poets to control.'
Peace, peace, thou dotard! nor thus vilely deem
Of sacred numbers, and their power blaspheme.
I tell thee, wretch, search all creation round,
In earth, in heaven, no subject can be found:
(Our God alone except) above whose height
The poet cannot rise, and hold his state.
The blessed saints above in numbers speak
The praise of God, though there all praise is weak;
In numbers here below the bard shall teach
Virtue to soar beyond the villain's reach;
Shall tear his labouring lungs, strain his hoarse throat,
And raise his voice beyond the trumpet's note,
Should an afflicted country, awed by men
Of slavish principles, demand his pen.
This is a great, a glorious point of view,
Fit for an English poet to pursue;
Undaunted to pursue, though, in return,
His writings by the common hangman burn
How do I laugh, when men, by fortune placed
Above their betters, and by rank disgraced,
Who found their pride on titles which they stain,
And, mean themselves, are of their fathers vain;
Who would a bill of privilege prefer,
And treat a poet like a creditor;
The generous ardour of the Muse condemn,
And curse the storm they know must break on them!
'What! shall a reptile bard, a wretch unknown,
Without one badge of merit but his own,
Great nobles lash, and lords, like common men,
Smart from the vengeance of a scribbler's pen?'
What's in this name of lord, that I should fear
To bring their vices to the public ear?
Flows not the honest blood of humble swains
Quick as the tide which swells a monarch's veins?
Monarchs, who wealth and titles can bestow,
Cannot make virtues in succession flow.
Wouldst thou, proud man! be safely placed above
The censure of the Muse? Deserve her love:
Act as thy birth demands, as nobles ought;
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Look back, and, by thy worthy father taught,
Who earn'd those honours thou wert born to wear,
Follow his steps, and be his virtue's heir.
But if, regardless of the road to fame,
You start aside, and tread the paths of shame;
If such thy life, that should thy sire arise,
The sight of such a son would blast his eyes,
Would make him curse the hour which gave thee birth,
Would drive him shuddering from the face of earth,
Once more, with shame and sorrow, 'mongst the dead
In endless night to hide his reverend head;
If such thy life, though kings had made thee more
Than ever king a scoundrel made before;
Nay, to allow thy pride a deeper spring,
Though God in vengeance had made thee a king,
Taking on Virtue's wing her daring flight,
The Muse should drag thee, trembling, to the light,
Probe thy foul wounds, and lay thy bosom bare
To the keen question of the searching air.
Gods! with what pride I see the titled slave,
Who smarts beneath the stroke which Satire gave,
Aiming at ease, and with dishonest art
Striving to hide the feelings of his heart!
How do I laugh, when, with affected air,
(Scarce able through despite to keep his chair,
Whilst on his trembling lip pale Anger speaks,
And the chafed blood flies mounting to his cheeks)
He talks of Conscience, which good men secures
From all those evil moments Guilt endures,
And seems to laugh at those who pay regard
To the wild ravings of a frantic bard.
'Satire, whilst envy and ill-humour sway
The mind of man, must always make her way;
Nor to a bosom, with discretion fraught,
Is all her malice worth a single thought.
The wise have not the will, nor fools the power,
To stop her headstrong course; within the hour,
Left to herself, she dies; opposing strife
Gives her fresh vigour, and prolongs her life.
All things her prey, and every man her aim,
I can no patent for exemption claim,
Nor would I wish to stop that harmless dart
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Which plays around, but cannot wound my heart;
Though pointed at myself, be Satire free;
To her 'tis pleasure, and no pain to me.'
Dissembling wretch! hence to the Stoic school,
And there amongst thy brethren play the fool;
There, unrebuked, these wild, vain doctrines preach.
Lives there a man whom Satire cannot reach?
Lives there a man who calmly can stand by,
And see his conscience ripp'd with steady eye?
When Satire flies abroad on Falsehood's wing,
Short is her life, and impotent her sting;
But when to Truth allied, the wound she gives
Sinks deep, and to remotest ages lives.
When in the tomb thy pamper'd flesh shall rot,
And e'en by friends thy memory be forgot,
Still shalt thou live, recorded for thy crimes,
Live in her page, and stink to after-times.
Hast thou no feeling yet? Come, throw off pride,
And own those passions which thou shalt not hide.
Sandwich, who, from the moment of his birth,
Made human nature a reproach on earth,
Who never dared, nor wish'd, behind to stay,
When Folly, Vice, and Meanness led the way,
Would blush, should he be told, by Truth and Wit,
Those actions which he blush'd not to commit.
Men the most infamous are fond of fame,
And those who fear not guilt, yet start at shame.
But whither runs my zeal, whose rapid force,
Turning the brain, bears Reason from her course;
Carries me back to times, when poets, bless'd
With courage, graced the science they profess'd;
When they, in honour rooted, firmly stood,
The bad to punish, and reward the good;
When, to a flame by public virtue wrought,
The foes of freedom they to justice brought,
And dared expose those slaves who dared support
A tyrant plan, and call'd themselves a Court?
Ah! what are poets now? As slavish those
Who deal in verse, as those who deal in prose.
Is there an Author, search the kingdom round,
In whom true worth and real spirit's found?
The slaves of booksellers, or (doom'd by Fate
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To baser chains) vile pensioners of state;
Some, dead to shame, and of those shackles proud
Which Honour scorns, for slavery roar aloud;
Others, half-palsied only, mutes become,
And what makes Smollett write, makes Johnson dumb.
Why turns yon villain pale? Why bends his eye
Inward, abash'd, when Murphy passes by?
Dost thou sage Murphy for a blockhead take,
Who wages war with Vice for Virtue's sake?
No, no, like other worldlings, you will find
He shifts his sails and catches every wind.
His soul the shock of Interest can't endure:
Give him a pension then, and sin secure.
With laurell'd wreaths the flatterer's brows adorn:
Bid Virtue crouch, bid Vice exalt her horn;
Bid cowards thrive, put Honesty to flight,
Murphy shall prove, or try to prove it right.
Try, thou state-juggler, every paltry art;
Ransack the inmost closet of my heart;
Swear thou'rt my friend; by that base oath make way
Into my breast, and flatter to betray.
Or, if those tricks are vain; if wholesome doubt
Detects the fraud, and points the villain out;
Bribe those who daily at my board are fed,
And make them take my life who eat my bread.
On Authors for defence, for praise depend;
Pay him but well, and Murphy is thy friend:
He, he shall ready stand with venal rhymes,
To varnish guilt, and consecrate thy crimes;
To make Corruption in false colours shine,
And damn his own good name, to rescue thine.
But, if thy niggard hands their gifts withhold,
And Vice no longer rains down showers of gold,
Expect no mercy; facts, well-grounded, teach,
Murphy, if not rewarded, will impeach.
What though each man of nice and juster thought,
Shunning his steps, decrees, by Honour taught,
He ne'er can be a friend, who stoops so low
To be the base betrayer of a foe?
What though, with thine together link'd, his name
Must be with thine transmitted down to shame?
To every manly feeling callous grown,
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Rather than not blast thine, he 'll blast his own.
To ope the fountain whence sedition springs,
To slander government, and libel kings;
With Freedom's name to serve a present hour,
Though born and bred to arbitrary power;
To talk of William with insidious art,
Whilst a vile Stuart's lurking in his heart;
And, whilst mean Envy rears her loathsome head,
Flattering the living, to abuse the dead,
Where is Shebbeare? Oh, let not foul reproach,
Travelling thither in a city-coach,
The pillory dare to name: the whole intent
Of that parade was fame, not punishment;
And that old staunch Whig, Beardmore, standing by,
Can in full court give that report the lie.
With rude unnatural jargon to support,
Half-Scotch, half-English, a declining court;
To make most glaring contraries unite,
And prove beyond dispute that black is white;
To make firm Honour tamely league with Shame,
Make Vice and Virtue differ but in name;
To prove that chains and freedom are but one,
That to be saved must mean to be undone,
Is there not Guthrie? Who, like him, can call
All opposites to proof, and conquer all?
He calls forth living waters from the rock;
He calls forth children from the barren stock;
He, far beyond the springs of Nature led,
Makes women bring forth after they are dead;
He, on a curious, new, and happy plan,
In wedlock's sacred bands joins man to man;
And to complete the whole, most strange, but true,
By some rare magic, makes them fruitful too;
Whilst from their loins, in the due course of years,
Flows the rich blood of Guthrie's 'English Peers.'
Dost thou contrive some blacker deed of shame,
Something which Nature shudders but to name,
Something which makes the soul of man retreat,
And the life-blood run backward to her seat?
Dost thou contrive, for some base private end,
Some selfish view, to hang a trusting friend;
To lure him on, e'en to his parting breath,
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And promise life, to work him surer death?
Grown old in villany, and dead to grace,
Hell in his heart, and Tyburn in his face,
Behold, a parson at thy elbow stands,
Lowering damnation, and with open hands,
Ripe to betray his Saviour for reward,
The Atheist chaplain of an Atheist lord!
Bred to the church, and for the gown decreed,
Ere it was known that I should learn to read;
Though that was nothing, for my friends, who knew
What mighty Dulness of itself could do,
Never design'd me for a working priest,
But hoped I should have been a Dean at least:
Condemn'd, (like many more, and worthier men,
To whom I pledge the service of my pen)
Condemn'd (whilst proud and pamper'd sons of lawn,
Cramm'd to the throat, in lazy plenty yawn)
In pomp of reverend beggary to appear,
To pray, and starve on forty pounds a-year:
My friends, who never felt the galling load,
Lament that I forsook the packhorse road,
Whilst Virtue to my conduct witness bears,
In throwing off that gown which Francis wears.
What creature's that, so very pert and prim,
So very full of foppery, and whim,
So gentle, yet so brisk; so wondrous sweet,
So fit to prattle at a lady's feet;
Who looks as he the Lord's rich vineyard trod,
And by his garb appears a man of God?
Trust not to looks, nor credit outward show;
The villain lurks beneath the cassock'd beau;
That's an informer; what avails the name?
Suffice it that the wretch from Sodom came.
His tongue is deadly--from his presence run,
Unless thy rage would wish to be undone.
No ties can hold him, no affection bind,
And fear alone restrains his coward mind;
Free him from that, no monster is so fell,
Nor is so sure a blood-hound found in Hell.
His silken smiles, his hypocritic air,
His meek demeanour, plausible and fair,
Are only worn to pave Fraud's easier way,
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And make gull'd Virtue fall a surer prey.
Attend his church--his plan of doctrine view-The preacher is a Christian, dull, but true;
But when the hallow'd hour of preaching's o'er,
That plan of doctrine's never thought of more;
Christ is laid by neglected on the shelf,
And the vile priest is gospel to himself.
By Cleland tutor'd, and with Blacow bred,
(Blacow, whom, by a brave resentment led,
Oxford, if Oxford had not sunk in fame,
Ere this, had damn'd to everlasting shame)
Their steps he follows, and their crimes partakes;
To virtue lost, to vice alone he wakes,
Most lusciously declaims 'gainst luscious themes,
And whilst he rails at blasphemy, blasphemes.
Are these the arts which policy supplies?
Are these the steps by which grave churchmen rise?
Forbid it, Heaven; or, should it turn out so,
Let me and mine continue mean and low.
Such be their arts whom interest controls;
Kidgell and I have free and modest souls:
We scorn preferment which is gain'd by sin,
And will, though poor without, have peace within.
~ Charles Churchill,
1256:The Kalevala - Rune X
ILMARINEN FORGES THE SAMPO.
Wainamoinen, the magician,
Takes his steed of copper color,
Hitches quick his fleet-foot courser,
Puts his racer to the snow-sledge,
Straightway springs upon the cross-seat,
Snaps his whip adorned with jewels.
Like the winds the steed flies onward,
Like a lightning flash, the racer
Makes the snow-sledge creak and rattle,
Makes the highway quickly vanish,
Dashes on through fen and forest,
Over hills and through the valleys,
Over marshes, over mountains,
Over fertile plains and meadows;
Journeys one day, then a second,
So a third from morn till evening,
Till the third day evening brings him
To the endless bridge of Osmo,
To the Osmo-fields and pastures,
To the plains of Kalevala;
When the hero spake as follows:
'May the wolves devour the dreamer,
Eat the Laplander for dinner,
May disease destroy the braggart,
Him who said that I should never
See again my much-loved home-land,
Nevermore behold my kindred,
Never during all my life-time,
Never while the sunshine brightens,
Never while the moonlight glimmers
On the meadows of Wainola,
On the plains of Kalevala.'
Then began old Wainamoinen,
Ancient bard and famous singer,
To renew his incantations;
Sang aloft a wondrous pine-tree,
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Till it pierced the clouds in growing
With its golden top and branches,
Till it touched the very heavens,
Spread its branches in the ether,
In the ever-shining sunlight.
Now he sings again enchanting,
Sings the Moon to shine forever
In the fir-tree's emerald branches;
In its top he sings the Great Bear.
Then be quickly journeys homeward,
Hastens to his golden portals,
Head awry and visage wrinkled,
Crooked cap upon his forehead,
Since as ransom he had promised
Ilmarinen, magic artist,
Thus to save his life from torture
On the distant fields of Northland
In the dismal Sariola.
When his stallion he had halted
On the Osmo-field and meadow,
Quickly rising in his snow-sledge,
The magician heard one knocking,
Breaking coal within the smithy,
Beating with a heavy hammer.
Wainamoinen, famous minstrel,
Entering the smithy straightway,
Found the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Knocking with his copper hammer.
Ilmarinen spake as follows:
'Welcome, brother Wainamoinen,
Old and worthy Wainamoinen!
Why so long hast thou been absent,
Where hast thou so long been hiding?'
Wainamoinen then made answer,
These the words of the magician:
'Long indeed have I been living,
Many dreary days have wandered,
Many cheerless nights have lingered,
Floating on the cruel ocean,
Weeping in the fens and woodlands
Of the never-pleasant Northland,
In the dismal Sariola;
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With the Laplanders I've wandered,
With the people filled with witchcraft.'
Promptly answers Ilmarinen,
These the words the blacksmith uses:
'O thou ancient Wainamoinen,
Famous and eternal singer,
Tell me of thy journey northward,
Of thy wanderings in Lapland,
Of thy dismal journey homeward.'
Spake the minstrel, Wainamoinen:
'I have much to tell thee, brother,
Listen to my wondrous story:
In the Northland lives a virgin,
In a village there, a maiden,
That will not accept a lover,
That a hero's hand refuses,
That a wizard's heart disdaineth;
All of Northland sings her praises,
Sings her worth and magic beauty,
Fairest maiden of Pohyola,
Daughter of the earth and ocean.
From her temples beams the moonlight,
From her breast, the gleam of sunshine,
From her forehead shines the rainbow,
On her neck, the seven starlets,
And the Great Bear from her shoulder.
'Ilmarinen, worthy brother,
Thou the only skilful blacksmith,
Go and see her wondrous beauty,
See her gold and silver garments,
See her robed in finest raiment,
See her sitting on the rainbow,
Walking on the clouds of purple.
Forge for her the magic Sampo,
Forge the lid in many colors,
Thy reward shall be the virgin,
Thou shalt win this bride of beauty;
Go and bring the lovely maiden
To thy home in Kalevala.'
Spake the brother, Ilmarinen:
O thou cunning Wainamoinen,
Thou hast promised me already
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To the ever-darksome Northland,
Thy devoted head to ransom,
Thus to rescue thee from trouble.
I shall never visit Northland,
Shall not go to see thy maiden,
Do not love the Bride of Beauty;
Never while the moonlight glimmers,
Shall I go to dreary Pohya,
To the plains of Sariola,
Where the people eat each other,
Sink their heroes in the ocean,
Not for all the maids of Lapland.'
Spake the brother, Wainamoinen:
'I can tell thee greater wonders,
Listen to my wondrous story:
I have seen the fir-tree blossom,
Seen its flowers with emerald branches,
On the Osmo-fields and woodlands;
In its top, there shines the moonlight,
And the Bear lives in its branches.'
Ilmarinen thus made answer:
'I cannot believe thy story,
Cannot trust thy tale of wonder,
Till I see the blooming fir-tree,
With its many emerald branches,
With its Bear and golden moonlight.'
This is Wainamoinen's answer:
'Wilt thou not believe my story?
Come with me and I will show thee
If my lips speak fact or fiction.'
Quick they journey to discover,
Haste to view the wondrous fir-tree;
Wainamoinen leads the journey,
Ilmarinen closely follows.
As they near the Osmo-borders,
Ilmarinen hastens forward
That be may behold the wonder,
Spies the Bear Within the fir-top,
Sitting on its emerald branches,
Spies the gleam of golden moonlight.
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen,
These the words the singer uttered:
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Climb this tree, dear Ilmarinen,
And bring down the golden moonbeams,
Bring the Moon and Bear down with thee
From the fir-tree's lofty branches.'
Ilmarinen, full consenting,
Straightway climbed the golden fir-tree,
High upon the bow of heaven,
Thence to bring the golden moonbeams,
Thence to bring the Bear of heaven,
From the fir-tree's topmost branches.
Thereupon the blooming fir-tree
Spake these words to Ilmarinen:
'O thou senseless, thoughtless hero,
Thou hast neither wit nor instinct;
Thou dost climb my golden branches,
Like a thing of little judgment,
Thus to get my pictured moonbeams,
Take away my silver starlight,
Steal my Bear and blooming branches.'
Quick as thought old Wainamoinen
Sang again in magic accents,
Sang a storm-wind in the heavens,
Sang the wild winds into fury,
And the singer spake as follows:
`Take, O storm-wind, take the forgeman,
Carry him within thy vessel,
Quickly hence, and land the hero
On the ever-darksome Northland,
On the dismal Sariola.'
Now the storm-wind quickly darkens,
Quickly piles the air together,
Makes of air a sailing vessel,
Takes the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Fleetly from the fir-tree branches,
Toward the never-pleasant Northland,
Toward the dismal Sariola.
Through the air sailed Ilmarinen,
Fast and far the hero travelled,
Sweeping onward, sailing northward,
Riding in the track of storm-winds,
O'er the Moon, beneath the sunshine,
On the broad back of the Great Bear,
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Till he neared Pohyola's woodlands,
Neared the homes of Sariola,
And alighted undiscovered,
Was Dot noticed by the hunters,
Was not scented by the watch-dogs.
Louhi, hostess of Pohyola,
Ancient, toothless dame of Northland,
Standing in the open court-yard,
Thus addresses Ilmarinen,
As she spies the hero-stranger:
'Who art thou of ancient heroes,
Who of all the host of heroes,
Coming here upon the storm-wind,
O'er the sledge-path of the ether,
Scented not by Pohya's watch-dogs?
This is Ilmarinen's answer:
'I have surely not come hither
To be barked at by the watch-dogs,
At these unfamiliar portals,
At the gates of Sariola.'
Thereupon the Northland hostess
Asks again the hero-stranger:
'Hast thou ever been acquainted
With the blacksmith of Wainola,
With the hero, Ilmarinen,
With the skilful smith and artist?
Long I've waited for his coming,
Long this one has been expected,
On the borders of the Northland,
Here to forge for me the Sampo.'
Spake the hero, Ilmarinen:
'Well indeed am I acquainted
With the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
I myself am Ilmarinen,
I, the skilful smith and artist.'
Louhi, hostess of the Northland,
Toothless dame of Sariola,
Straightway rushes to her dwelling,
These the words that Louhi utters:
'Come, thou youngest of my daughters,
Come, thou fairest of my maidens,
Dress thyself in finest raiment,
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Deck thy hair with rarest jewels,
Pearls upon thy swelling bosom,
On thy neck, a golden necklace,
Bind thy head with silken ribbons,
Make thy cheeks look fresh and ruddy,
And thy visage fair and winsome,
Since the artist, Ilmarinen,
Hither comes from Kalevala,
Here to forge for us the Sampo,
Hammer us the lid in colors.'
Now the daughter of the Northland,
Honored by the land and water,
Straightway takes her choicest raiment,
Takes her dresses rich in beauty,
Finest of her silken wardrobe,
Now adjusts her silken fillet,
On her brow a band of copper,
Round her waist a golden girdle,
Round her neck a pearly necklace,
Shining gold upon her bosom,
In her hair the threads of silver.
From her dressing-room she hastens,
To the hall she bastes and listens,
Full of beauty, full of joyance,
Ears erect and eyes bright-beaming,
Ruddy cheeks and charming visage,
Waiting for the hero-stranger.
Louhi, hostess of Pohyola,
Leads the hero, Ilmarinen,
To her dwelling-rooms in Northland,
To her home in Sariola,
Seats him at her well-filled table,
Gives to him the finest viands,
Gives him every needed comfort,
Then addresses him as follows:
'O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Master of the forge and smithy,
Canst thou forge for me the Sampo,
Hammer me the lid in colors,
From the tips of white-swan feathers,
From the milk of greatest virtue,
From a single grain of barley,
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From the finest wool of lambkins?
Thou shalt have my fairest daughter,
Recompense for this thy service.'
These the words of Ilmarinen:
'I will forge for thee the Sampo,
Hammer thee the lid in colors,
From the tips of white-swan feathers,
From the milk of greatest virtue,
From a single grain of barley,
From the finest wool of lambkins?
Since I forged the arch of heaven,
Forged the air a concave cover,
Ere the earth had a beginning.'
Thereupon the magic blacksmith
Went to forge the wondrous Sampo,
Went to find a blacksmith's workshop,
Went to find the tools to work with;
But he found no place for forging,
Found no smithy, found no bellows,
Found no chimney, found no anvil,
Found no tongs, and found no hammer.
Then the-artist, Ilmarinen.
Spake these words, soliloquizing:
'Only women grow discouraged,
Only knaves leave work unfinished,
Not the devils, nor the heroes,
Nor the Gods of greater knowledge.'
Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Sought a place to build a smithy,
Sought a place to plant a bellows,
On the borders of the Northland,
On the Pohya-hills and meadows;
Searched one day, and then a second;
Ere the evening of the third day,
Came a rock within his vision,
Came a stone with rainbow-colors.
There the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Set at work to build his smithy,
Built a fire and raised a chimney;
On the next day laid his bellows,
On the third day built his furnace,
And began to forge the Sampo.
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The eternal magic artist,
Ancient blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
First of all the iron-workers,
Mixed together certain metals,
Put the mixture in the caldron,
Laid it deep within the furnace,
Called the hirelings to the forging.
Skilfully they work the bellows,
Tend the fire and add the fuel,
Three most lovely days of summer,
Three short nights of bright midsummer,
Till the rocks begin to blossom,
In the foot-prints of the workmen,
From the magic heat and furnace.
On the first day, Ilmarinen
Downward bent and well examined,
On the bottom of his furnace,
Thus to see what might be forming
From the magic fire and metals.
From the fire arose a cross-bow,
'With the brightness of the moonbeams,
Golden bow with tips of silver;
On the shaft was shining copper,
And the bow was strong and wondrous,
But alas! it was ill-natured,
Asking for a hero daily,
Two the heads it asked on feast-days.
Ilmarinen, skilful artist,
Was not pleased with this creation,
Broke the bow in many pieces,
Threw them back within the furnace,
Kept the workmen at the bellows,
Tried to forge the magic Sampo.
On the second day, the blacksmith
Downward bent and well examined,
On the bottom of the furnace;
From the fire, a skiff of metals,
Came a boat of purple color,
All the ribs were colored golden,
And the oars were forged from copper;
Thus the skiff was full of beauty,
But alas! a thing of evil;
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Forth it rushes into trouble,
Hastens into every quarrel,
Hastes without a provocation
Into every evil combat.
Ilmarinen, metal artist,
Is not pleased with this creation,
Breaks the skiff in many fragments,
Throws them back within the furnace,
Keeps the workmen at the bellows,
Thus to forge the magic Sampo.
On the third day, Ilmarinen,
First of all the metal-workers,
Downward bent and well examined,
On the bottom of the furnace;
There be saw a heifer rising,
Golden were the horns of Kimmo,
On her head the Bear of heaven,
On her brow a disc of sunshine,
Beautiful the cow of magic;
But alas! she is ill-tempered,
Rushes headlong through the forest,
Rushes through the swamps and meadows,
Wasting all her milk in running.
Ilmarinen, the magician.
Is not pleased with this creation,
Cuts the magic cow in pieces,
Throws them in the fiery furnace,
Sets the workmen at the bellows,
Thus to forge the magic Sampo.
On the fourth day, Ilmarinen
Downward bent and well examined,
To the bottom of the furnace;
There beheld a plow in beauty
Rising from the fire of metals,
Golden was the point and plowshare,
And the beam was forged from copper,
And the handles, molten silver,
Beautiful the plow and wondrous;
But alas! it is ill-mannered,
Plows up fields of corn and barley,
Furrows through the richest meadows.
Ilmarinen, metal artist,
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Is not pleased with this creation,
Quickly breaks the plow in pieces,
Throws them back within the furnace,
Lets the winds attend the bellows,
Lets the storm-winds fire the metals.
Fiercely vie the winds of heaven,
East-wind rushing, West-wind roaring,
South-wind crying, North-wind howling,
Blow one day and then a second,
Blow the third from morn till even,
When the fire leaps through the windows,
Through the door the sparks fly upward,
Clouds of smoke arise to heaven;
With the clouds the black smoke mingles,
As the storm-winds ply the bellows.
On the third night Ilmarinen,
Bending low to view his metals,
On the bottom of the furnace,
Sees the magic Sampo rising,
Sees the lid in many colors.
Quick the artist of Wainola
Forges with the tongs and anvil,
Knocking with a heavy hammer,
Forges skilfully the Sampo;
On one side the flour is grinding,
On another salt is making,
On a third is money forging,
And the lid is many-colored.
Well the Sampo grinds when finished,
To and fro the lid in rocking,
Grinds one measure at the day-break,
Grinds a measure fit for eating,
Grinds a second for the market,
Grinds a third one for the store-house.
Joyfully the dame of Northland,
Louhi, hostess of Pohyola,
Takes away the magic Sampo,
To the hills of Sariola,
To the copper-bearing mountains,
Puts nine locks upon the wonder,
Makes three strong roots creep around it;
In the earth they grow nine fathoms,
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One large root beneath the mountain,
One beneath the sandy sea-bed,
One beneath the mountain-dwelling.
Modestly pleads Ilmarinen
For the maiden's willing answer,
These the words of the magician:
'Wilt thou come with me, fair maiden,
Be my wife and queen forever?
I have forged for thee the Sampo,
Forged the lid in many colors.'
Northland's fair and lovely daughter
Answers thus the metal-worker:
'Who will in the coming spring-time,
Who will in the second summer,
Guide the cuckoo's song and echo?
Who will listen to his calling,
Who will sing with him in autumn,
Should I go to distant regions,
Should this cheery maiden vanish
From the fields of Sariola,
From Pohyola's fens and forests,
Where the cuckoo sings and echoes?
Should I leave my father's dwelling,
Should my mother's berry vanish,
Should these mountains lose their cherry,
Then the cuckoo too would vanish,
All the birds would leave the forest,
Leave the summit of the mountain,
Leave my native fields and woodlands,
Never shall I, in my life-time,
Say farewell to maiden freedom,
Nor to summer cares and labors,
Lest the harvest be ungarnered,
Lest the berries be ungathered,
Lest the song-birds leave the forest,
Lest the mermaids leave the waters,
Lest I sing with them no longer.'
Ilmarinen, the magician,
The eternal metal-forger,
Cap awry and head dejected,
Disappointed, heavy-hearted,
Empty-handed, well considers,
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How to reach his distant country,
Reach his much-loved home and kinded,
Gain the meadows of Wainola,
From the never-pleasant Northland,
From the darksome Sariola.
Louhi thus addressed the suitor:
'O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Why art thou so heavy-hearted,
Why thy visage so dejected?
Hast thou in thy mind to journey
From the vales and hills of Pohya,
To the meadows of Wainola,
To thy home in Kalevala?
This is Ilmarinen's answer:
'Thitherward my mind is tending,
To my home-land let me journey,
With my kindred let me linger,
Be at rest in mine own country.'
Straightway Louhi, dame of Northland,
Gave the hero every comfort,
Gave him food and rarest viands,
Placed him in a boat of copper,
In a copper-banded vessel,
Called the winds to his assistance,
Made the North-wind guide him homeward.
Thus the skilful Ilmarinen
Travels toward his native country,
On the blue back of the waters,
Travels one day, then a second,
Till the third day evening brings him
To Wainola's peaceful meadows,
To his home in Kalevala.
Straightway ancient Wainamoinen
Thus addresses Ilmarinen:
'O my brother, metal-artist,
Thou eternal wonder-worker,
Didst thou forge the magic Sampo,
Forge the lid in many colors?'
Spake the brother, Ilmarinen,
These the words the master uttered:
'Yea, I forged the magic Sampo,
Forged the lid in many colors;
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To and fro the lid in rocking
Grinds one measure at the day-dawn,
Grinds a measure fit for eating,
Grinds a second for the market,
Grinds a third one for the store-house.
Louhi has the wondrous Sampo,
I have not the Bride of Beauty.'
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1257:The Kalevala - Rune Xlvi
OTSO THE HONEY-EATER.
Came the tidings to Pohyola,
To the village of the Northland,
That Wainola had recovered
From her troubles and misfortunes,
From her sicknesses and sorrows.
Louhi, hostess of the Northland,
Toothless dame of Sariola,
Envy-laden, spake these measures:
'Know I other means of trouble,
I have many more resources;
I will drive the bear before me,
From the heather and the mountain,
Drive him from the fen and forest,
Drive great Otso from the glen-wood
On the cattle of Wainola,
On the flocks of Kalevala.'
Thereupon the Northland hostess
Drove the hungry bear of Pohya
From his cavern to the meadows,
To Wainola's plains and pastures.
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,
To his brother spake as follows:
'O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Forge a spear from magic metals,
Forge a lancet triple-pointed,
Forge the handle out of copper,
That I may destroy great Otso,
Slay the mighty bear of Northland,
That he may not eat my horses,
Nor destroy my herds of cattle,
Nor the flocks upon my pastures.'
Thereupon the skillful blacksmith
Forged a spear from magic metals,
Forged a lancet triple-pointed,
Not the longest, nor the shortest,
Forged the spear in wondrous beauty.
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On one side a bear was sitting,
Sat a wolf upon the other,
On the blade an elk lay sleeping,
On the shaft a colt was running,
Near the hilt a roebuck bounding.
Snows had fallen from the heavens,
Made the flocks as white as ermine
Or the hare, in days of winter,
And the minstrel sang these measures:
'My desire impels me onward
To the Metsola-dominions,
To the homes of forest-maidens,
To the courts of the white virgins;
I will hasten to the forest,
Labor with the woodland-forces.
'Ruler of the Tapio-forests,
Make of me a conquering hero,
Help me clear these boundless woodlands.
O Mielikki, forest-hostess,
Tapio's wife, thou fair Tellervo,
Call thy dogs and well enchain them,
Set in readiness thy hunters,
Let them wait within their kennels.
'Otso, thou O Forest-apple,
Bear of honey-paws and fur-robes,
Learn that Wainamoinen follows,
That the singer comes to meet thee;
Hide thy claws within thy mittens,
Let thy teeth remain in darkness,
That they may not harm the minstrel,
May be powerless in battle.
Mighty Otso, much beloved,
Honey-eater of the mountains,
Settle on the rocks in slumber,
On the turf and in thy caverns;
Let the aspen wave above thee,
Let the merry birch-tree rustle
O'er thy head for thy protection.
Rest in peace, thou much-loved Otso,
Turn about within thy thickets,
Like the partridge at her brooding,
In the spring-time like the wild-goose.'
243
When the ancient Wainamoinen
Heard his dog bark in the forest,
Heard his hunter's call and echo,
He addressed the words that follow:
'Thought it was the cuckoo calling,
Thought the pretty bird was singing;
It was not the sacred cuckoo,
Not the liquid notes of songsters,
'Twas my dog that called and murmured,
'Twas the echo of my hunter
At the cavern-doors of Otso,
On the border of the woodlands.'
Wainamoinen, old and trusty,
Finds the mighty bear in waiting,
Lifts in joy the golden covers,
Well inspects his shining fur-robes;
Lifts his honey-paws in wonder,
Then addresses his Creator:
'Be thou praised, O mighty Ukko,
As thou givest me great Otso,
Givest me the Forest-apple,
Thanks be paid to thee unending.'
To the bear he spake these measures:
'Otso, thou my well beloved,
Honey-eater of the woodlands,
Let not anger swell thy bosom;
I have not the force to slay thee,
Willingly thy life thou givest
As a sacrifice to Northland.
Thou hast from the tree descended,
Glided from the aspen branches,
Slippery the trunks in autumn,
In the fog-days, smooth the branches.
Golden friend of fen and forest,
In thy fur-robes rich and beauteous,
Pride of woodlands, famous Light-foot,
Leave thy cold and cheerless dwelling,
Leave thy home within the alders,
Leave thy couch among the willows,
Hasten in thy purple stockings,
Hasten from thy walks restricted,
Come among the haunts of heroes,
244
Join thy friends in Kalevala.
We shall never treat thee evil,
Thou shalt dwell in peace and plenty,
Thou shalt feed on milk and honey,
Honey is the food of strangers.
Haste away from this thy covert,
From the couch of the unworthy,
To a couch beneath the rafters
Of Wainola's ancient dwellings.
Haste thee onward o'er the snow-plain,
As a leaflet in the autumn;
Skip beneath these birchen branches,
As a squirrel in the summer,
As a cuckoo in the spring-time.'
Wainamoinen, the magician,
The eternal wisdom-singer,
O'er the snow-fields hastened homeward,
Singing o'er the hills and mountains,
With his guest, the ancient Otso,
With his friend, the, famous Light-foot,
With the Honey-paw of Northland.
Far away was heard the singing,
Heard the playing of the hunter,
Heard the songs of Wainamoinen;
All the people heard and wondered,
Men and maidens, young and aged,
From their cabins spake as follows:
'Hear the echoes from the woodlands,
Hear the bugle from the forest,
Hear the flute-notes of the songsters,
Hear the pipes of forest-maidens!'
Wainamoinen, old and trusty,
Soon appears within the court-yard.
Rush the people from their cabins,
And the heroes ask these questions:
'Has a mine of gold been opened,
Hast thou found a vein of silver,
Precious jewels in thy pathway?
Does the forest yield her treasures,
Give to thee the Honey-eater?
Does the hostess of the woodlands,
Give to thee the lynx and adder,
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Since thou comest home rejoicing,
Playing, singing, on thy snow-shoes?'
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,
Gave this answer to his people:
'For his songs I caught the adder,
Caught the serpent for his wisdom;
Therefore do I come rejoicing,
Singing, playing, on my snow-shoes.
Not the mountain lynx, nor serpent,
Comes, however, to our dwellings;
The Illustrious is coming,
Pride and beauty of the forest,
'Tis the Master comes among us,
Covered with his friendly fur-robe.
Welcome, Otso, welcome, Light-foot,
Welcome, Loved-one from the glenwood!
If the mountain guest is welcome,
Open wide the gates of entry;
If the bear is thought unworthy,
Bar the doors against the stranger.'
This the answer of the tribe-folk:
'We salute thee, mighty Otso,
Honey-paw, we bid thee welcome,
Welcome to our courts and cabins,
Welcome, Light-foot, to our tables
Decorated for thy coming!
We have wished for thee for ages,
Waiting since the days of childhood,
For the notes of Tapio's bugle,
For the singing of the wood-nymphs,
For the coming of dear Otso,
For the forest gold and silver,
Waiting for the year of plenty,
Longing for it as for summer,
As the shoe waits for the snow-fields,
As the sledge for beaten highways,
As the, maiden for her suitor,
And the wife her husband's coming;
Sat at evening by the windows,
At the gates have, sat at morning,
Sat for ages at the portals,
Near the granaries in winter, Vanished,
246
Till the snow-fields warmed and
Till the sails unfurled in joyance,
Till the earth grew green and blossomed,
Thinking all the while as follows:
'Where is our beloved Otso,
Why delays our forest-treasure?
Has he gone to distant Ehstland,
To the upper glens of Suomi?'
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:
'Whither shall I lead the stranger,
Whither take the golden Light-foot?
Shall I lead him to the garner,
To the house of straw conduct him?'
This the answer of his tribe-folk:
'To the dining-hall lead Otso,
Greatest hero of the Northland.
Famous Light-foot, Forest-apple,
Pride and glory of the woodlands,
Have no fear before these maidens,
Fear not curly-headed virgins,
Clad in silver-tinselled raiment
Maidens hasten to their chambers
When dear Otso joins their number,
When the hero comes among them.'
This the prayer of Wainamoinen:
'Grant, O Ukko, peace and plenty
Underneath these painted rafters,
In this ornamented dweling;
Thanks be paid to gracious Ukko!'
Spake again the ancient minstrel:
'Whither shall we lead dear Otso,
'Whither take the fur-clad stranger?
This the answer of his people:
'Hither let the fur-robed Light-foot
Be saluted on his coming;
Let the Honey-paw be welcomed
To the hearth-stone of the penthouse,
Welcomed to the boiling caldrons,
That we may admire his fur-robe,
May behold his cloak with joyance.
Have no care, thou much-loved Otso,
Let not anger swell thy bosom
247
As thy coat we view with pleasure;
We thy fur shall never injure,
Shall not make it into garments
To protect unworthy people.'
Thereupon wise Wainamoinen
Pulled the sacred robe from Otso,
Spread it in the open court-yard,
Cut the, members into fragments,
Laid them in the heating caldrons,
In the copper-bottomed vesselsO'er the fire the crane was hanging,
On the crane were hooks of copper,
On the hooks the broiling-vessels
Filled with bear-steak for the feasting,
Seasoned with the salt of Dwina,
From the Saxon-land imported,
From the distant Dwina-waters,
From the salt-sea brought in shallops.
Ready is the feast of Otso;
From the fire are swung the kettles
On the crane of polished iron;
In the centers of the tables
Is the bear displayed in dishes,
Golden dishes, decorated;
Of the fir-tree and the linden
Were the tables newly fashioned;
Drinking cups were forged from copper,
Knives of gold and spoons of silver;
Filled the vessels to their borders
With the choicest bits of Light-foot,
Fragments of the Forest-apple.
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen
'Ancient one with bosom golden,
Potent voice in Tapio's councils
Metsola's most lovely hostess,
Hostess of the glen and forest,
Hero-son of Tapiola,
Stalwart youth in cap of scarlet,
Tapio's most beauteous virgin,
Fair Tellervo of the woodlands,
Metsola with all her people,
Come, and welcome, to the feasting,
248
To the marriage-feast of Otso!
All sufficient, the provisions,
Food to eat and drink abundant,
Plenty for the hosts assembled,
Plenty more to give the village.'
This the question of the people:
'Tell us of the birth of Otso!
Was be born within a manger,
Was he nurtured in the bath-room
Was his origin ignoble?'
This is Wainamoinen's answer:
'Otso was not born a beggar,
Was not born among the rushes,
Was not cradled in a manger;
Honey-paw was born in ether,
In the regions of the Moon-land,
On the shoulders of Otava,
With the daughters of creation.
'Through the ether walked a maiden,
On the red rims of the cloudlets,
On the border of the heavens,
In her stockings purple-tinted,
In her golden-colored sandals.
In her hand she held a wool-box,
With a hair-box on her shoulder;
Threw the wool upon the ocean,
And the hair upon the rivers;
These are rocked by winds and waters,
Water-currents bear them onward,
Bear them to the sandy sea-shore,
Land them near the Woods of honey,
On an island forest-covered.
'Fair Mielikki, woodland hostess,
Tapio's most cunning daughter,
Took the fragments from the sea-side,
Took the white wool from the waters,
Sewed the hair and wool together,
Laid the bundle in her basket,
Basket made from bark of birch-wood,
Bound with cords the magic bundle;
With the chains of gold she bound it
To the pine-tree's topmost branches.
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There she rocked the thing of magic,
Rocked to life the tender baby,
Mid the blossoms of the pine-tree,
On the fir-top set with needles;
Thus the young bear well was nurtured,
Thus was sacred Otso cradled
On the honey-tree of Northland,
In the middle of the forest.
'Sacred Otso grew and flourished,
Quickly grew with graceful movements,
Short of feet, with crooked ankles,
Wide of mouth and broad of forehead,
Short his nose, his fur-robe velvet;
But his claws were not well fashioned,
Neither were his teeth implanted.
Fair Mielikki, forest hostess,
Spake these words in meditation:
'Claws I should be pleased to give him,
And with teeth endow the wonder,
Would be not abuse the favor.'
'Swore the bear a promise sacred,
On his knees before Mielikki,
Hostess of the glen and forest,
And before omniscient Ukko,
First and last of all creators,
That he would not harm the worthy,
Never do a deed of evil.
Then Mielikki, woodland hostess,
Wisest maid of Tapiola,
Sought for teeth and claws to give him,
From the stoutest mountain-ashes,
From the juniper and oak tree,
From the dry knots of the alder.
Teeth and claws of these were worthless,
Would not render goodly service.
'Grew a fir-tree on the mountain,
Grew a stately pine in Northland,
And the fir had silver branches,
Bearing golden cones abundant;
These the sylvan maiden gathered,
Teeth and claws of these she fashioned
In the jaws and feet of Otso,
250
Set them for the best of uses.
Then she freed her new-made creature,
Let the Light-foot walk and wander,
Let him lumber through the marshes,
Let him amble through the forest,
Roll upon the plains and pastures;
Taught him how to walk a hero,
How to move with graceful motion,
How to live in ease and pleasure,
How to rest in full contentment,
In the moors and in the marshes,
On the borders of the woodlands;
How unshod to walk in summer,
Stockingless to run in autumn;
How to rest and sleep in winter
In the clumps of alder-bushes
Underneath the sheltering fir-tree,
Underneath the pine's protection,
Wrapped securely in his fur-robes,
With the juniper and willow.
This the origin of Otso,
Honey-eater of the Northlands,
Whence the sacred booty cometh.
Thus again the people questioned:
Why became the woods so gracious,
Why so generous and friendly?
Why is Tapio so humored,
That he gave his dearest treasure,
Gave to thee his Forest-apple,
Honey-eater of his kingdom?
Was he startled with thine arrows,
Frightened with the spear and broadsword?'
Wainamoinen, the magician,
Gave this answer to the question:
'Filled with kindness was the forest,
Glen and woodland full of greetings,
Tapio showing greatest favor.
Fair Mielikki, forest hostess,
Metsola's bewitching daughter,
Beauteous woodland maid, Tellervo,
Gladly led me on my journey,
Smoothed my pathway through the glen-wood.
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Marked the trees upon the, mountains,
Pointing me to Otso's caverns,
To the Great Bear's golden island.
'When my journeyings had ended,
When the bear had been discovered,
Had no need to launch my javelins,
Did not need to aim the arrow;
Otso tumbled in his vaulting,
Lost his balance in his cradle,
In the fir-tree where he slumbered;
Tore his breast upon the branches,
Freely gave his life to others.
'Mighty Otso, my beloved,
Thou my golden friend and hero,
Take thy fur-cap from thy forehead,
Lay aside thy teeth forever,
Hide thy fingers in the darkness,
Close thy mouth and still thine anger,
While thy sacred skull is breaking.
'Now I take the eyes of Otso,
Lest he lose the sense of seeing,
Lest their former powers shall weaken;
Though I take not all his members,
Not alone must these be taken.
'Now I take the ears of Otso,
Lest he lose the sense of 'hearing,
Lest their former powers shall weaken;
Though I take not all his members,
Not alone must these be taken.
'Now I take the nose of Otso,
Lest he lose the sense of smelling,
Lest its former powers shall weaken;
Though I take not all his members,
Not alone must this be taken.
'Now I take the tongue of Otso,
Lest he lose the sense of tasting
Lest its former powers shall weaken;
Though I take not all his members,
Not alone must this be taken.
'Now I take the brain of Otso,
Lest he lose the means of thinking,
Lest his consciousness should fail him,
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Lest his former instincts weaken;
Though I take not all his members,
Not alone must this be taken.
'I will reckon him a hero,
That will count the teeth of Light-foot,
That will loosen Otso's fingers
From their settings firmly fastened.'
None he finds with strength sufficient
To perform the task demanded.
Therefore ancient Wainamoinen
Counts the teeth of sacred Otso;
Loosens all the claws of Light-foot,
With his fingers strong as copper,
Slips them from their firm foundations,
Speaking to the bear these measures:
'Otso, thou my Honey-eater,
Thou my Fur-ball of the woodlands,
Onward, onward, must thou journey
From thy low and lonely dwelling,
To the court-rooms of the village.
Go, my treasure, through the pathway
Near the herds of swine and cattle,
To the hill-tops forest covered,
To the high and rising mountains,
To the spruce-trees filled with needles,
To the branches of the pine-tree;
There remain, my Forest-apple,
Linger there in lasting slumber,
Where the silver bells are ringing,
To the pleasure of the shepherd.'
Thus beginning, and thus ending,
Wainamoinen, old and truthful,
Hastened from his emptied tables,
And the children thus addressed him:
'Whither hast thou led thy booty,
Where hast left thy Forest-apple,
Sacred Otso of the woodlands?
Hast thou left him on the iceberg,
Buried him upon the snow-field?
Hast thou sunk him in the quicksand,
Laid him low beneath the heather?'
Wainamoinen spake in answer:
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'Have not left him on the iceberg,
Have not buried him in snow-fields;
There the dogs would soon devour him,
Birds of prey would feast upon him;
Have not hidden him in Swamp-land,
Have not buried him in heather;
There the worms would live upon him,
Insects feed upon his body.
Thither I have taken Otso,
To the summit of the Gold-hill,
To the copper-bearing mountain,
Laid him in his silken cradle
In the summit of a pine-tree,
Where the winds and sacred branches
Rock him to his lasting slumber,
To the pleasure of the hunter,
To the joy of man and hero.
To the east his lips are pointing,
While his eyes are northward looking;
But dear Otso looks not upward,
For the fierceness of the storm-winds
Would destroy his sense of vision.'
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,
Touched again his harp of joyance,
Sang again his songs enchanting,
To the pleasure of the evening,
To the joy of morn arising.
Spake the singer of Wainola:
'Light for me a torch of pine-wood,
For the darkness is appearing,
That my playing may be joyous
And my wisdom-songs find welcome.'
Then the ancient sage and singer,
Wise and worthy Wainamoinen,
Sweetly sang and played, and chanted,
Through the long and dreary evening,
Ending thus his incantation:
'Grant, O Ukko, my Creator,
That the people of Wainola
May enjoy another banquet
In the company of Light-foot;
Grant that we may long remember
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Kalevala's feast with Otso!
'Grant, O Ukko, my Creator,
That the signs may guide our footsteps,
That the notches in the pine-tree
May direct my faithful people
To the bear-dens of the woodlands;
That great Tapio's sacred bugle
May resound through glen and forest;
That the wood-nymph's call may echo,
May be heard in field and hamlet,
To the joy of all that listen!
Let great Tapio's horn for ages
Ring throughout the fen and forest,
Through the hills and dales of Northland
O'er the meadows and the mountains,
To awaken song and gladness
In the forests of Wainola,
On the snowy plains of Suomi,
On the meads of Kalevala,
For the coming generations.'
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1258:The Kalevala - Rune Xvii
WAINAMOINEN FINDS THE LOST-WORD.
Wainamoinen, old and truthful,
Did not learn the words of magic
In Tuoni's gloomy regions,
In the kingdom of Manala.
Thereupon he long debated,
Well considered, long reflected,
Where to find the magic sayings;
When a shepherd came to meet him,
Speaking thus to Wainamoinen:
'Thou canst find of words a hundred,
Find a thousand wisdom-sayings,
In the mouth of wise Wipunen,
In the body of the hero;
To the spot I know the foot-path,
To his tomb the magic highway,
Trodden by a host of heroes;
Long the distance thou must travel,
On the sharpened points of needles;
Then a long way thou must journey
On the edges of the broadswords;
Thirdly thou must travel farther
On the edges of the hatchets.'
Wainamoinen, old and trustful,
Well considered all these journeys,
Travelled to the forge and smithy,
Thus addressed the metal-worker:
'Ilmarinen, worthy blacksmith,
Make a shoe for me of iron,
Forge me gloves of burnished copper,
Mold a staff of strongest metal,
Lay the steel upon the inside,
Forge within the might of magic;
I am going on a journey
To procure the magic sayings,
Find the lost-words of the Master,
From the mouth of the magician,
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From the tongue of wise Wipunen.'
Spake the artist, Ilmarinen:
'Long ago died wise Wipunen,
Disappeared these many ages,
Lays no more his snares of copper,
Sets no longer traps of iron,
Cannot learn from him the wisdom,
Cannot find in him the lost-words.'
Wainamoinen, old and hopeful,
Little heeding, not discouraged,
In his metal shoes and armor,
Hastens forward on his journey,
Runs the first day fleetly onward,
On the sharpened points of needles;
'Wearily he strides the second,
On the edges of the broadswords
Swings himself the third day forward,
On the edges of the hatchets.
Wise Wipunen, wisdom-singer,
Ancient bard, and great magician,
With his magic songs lay yonder,
Stretched beside him, lay his sayings,
On his shoulder grew the aspen,
On each temple grew the birch-tree,
On his mighty chin the alder,
From his beard grew willow-bushes,
From his mouth the dark green fir-tree,
And the oak-tree from his forehead.
Wainamoinen, coming closer,
Draws his sword, lays bare his hatchet
From his magic leathern scabbard,
Fells the aspen from his shoulder,
Fells the birch-tree from his temples,
From his chin he fells the alder,
From his beard, the branching willows,
From his mouth the dark-green fir-tree,
Fells the oak-tree from his forehead.
Now he thrusts his staff of iron
Through the mouth of wise Wipunen,
Pries his mighty jaws asunder,
Speaks these words of master-magic:
'Rise, thou master of magicians,
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From the sleep of Tuonela,
From thine everlasting slumber!'
Wise Wipunen, ancient singer,
Quickly wakens from his sleeping,
Keenly feels the pangs of torture,
From the cruel staff of iron;
Bites with mighty force the metal,
Bites in twain the softer iron,
Cannot bite the steel asunder,
Opens wide his mouth in anguish.
Wainamoinen of Wainola,
In his iron-shoes and armor,
Careless walking, headlong stumbles
In the spacious mouth and fauces
Of the magic bard, Wipunen.
Wise Wipunen, full of song-charms,
Opens wide his mouth and swallows
Wainamoinen and his magic,
Shoes, and staff, and iron armor.
Then outspeaks the wise Wipunen:
'Many things before I've eaten,
Dined on goat, and sheep, and reindeer,
Bear, and ox, and wolf, and wild-boar,
Never in my recollection,
Have I tasted sweeter morsels!'
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:
'Now I see the evil symbols,
See misfortune hanging o'er me,
In the darksome Hisi-hurdles,
In the catacombs of Kalma.'
Wainamoinen long considered
How to live and how to prosper,
How to conquer this condition.
In his belt he wore a poniard,
With a handle hewn from birch-wood,
From the handle builds a vessel,
Builds a boat through magic science;
In this vessel rows he swiftly
Through the entrails of the hero,
Rows through every gland and vessel
Of the wisest of magicians.
Old Wipunen, master-singer,
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Barely feels the hero's presence,
Gives no heed to Wainamoinen.
Then the artist of Wainola
Straightway sets himself to forging,
Sets at work to hammer metals;
Makes a smithy from his armor,
Of his sleeves he makes the bellows,
Makes the air-valve from his fur-coat,
From his stockings, makes the muzzle,
Uses knees instead of anvil,
Makes a hammer of his fore-arm;
Like the storm-wind roars the bellows,
Like the thunder rings the anvil;
Forges one day, then a second,
Forges till the third day closes,
In the body of Wipunen,
In the sorcerer's abdomen.
Old Wipunen, full of magic,
Speaks these words in wonder, guessing:
'Who art thou of ancient heroes,
Who of all the host of heroes?
Many heroes I have eaten,
And of men a countless number,
Have not eaten such as thou art;
Smoke arises from my nostrils,
From my mouth the fire is streaming,
In my throat are iron-clinkers.
'Go, thou monster, hence to wander,
Flee this place, thou plague of Northland,
Ere I go to seek thy mother,
Tell the ancient dame thy mischief;
She shall bear thine evil conduct,
Great the burden she shall carry;
Great a mother's pain and anguish,
When her child runs wild and lawless;
Cannot comprehend the meaning,
Nor this mystery unravel,
Why thou camest here, O monster,
Camest here to give me torture.
Art thou Hisi sent from heaven,
Some calamity from Ukko?
Art, perchance, some new creation,
306
Ordered here to do me evil?
If thou art some evil genius,
Some calamity from Ukko,
Sent to me by my Creator,
Then am I resigned to suffer
God does not forsake the worthy,
Does not ruin those that trust him,
Never are the good forsaken.
If by man thou wert created,
If some hero sent thee hither,
I shall learn thy race of evil,
Shall destroy thy wicked tribe-folk.
'Thence arose the violation,
Thence arose the first destruction,
Thence came all the evil-doings:
From the neighborhood of wizards,
From the homes of the magicians,
From the eaves of vicious spirits,
From the haunts of fortune-tellers,
From the cabins of the witches,
From the castles of Tuoni,
From the bottom of Manala,
From the ground with envy swollen,
From Ingratitude's dominions,
From the rocky shoals and quicksands,
From the marshes filled with danger,
From the cataract's commotion,
From the bear-caves in the mountains,
From the wolves within the thickets,
From the roarings of the pine-tree,
From the burrows of the fox-dog,
From the woodlands of the reindeer,
From the eaves and Hisi-hurdles,
From the battles of the giants,
From uncultivated pastures,
From the billows of the oceans,
From the streams of boiling waters,
From the waterfalls of Rutya,
From the limits of the storm-clouds,
From the pathways of the thunders,
From the flashings of the lightnings,
From the distant plains of Pohya,
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From the fatal stream and whirlpool,
From the birthplace of Tuoni.
'Art thou coming from these places?
Hast thou, evil, hastened hither,
To the heart of sinless hero,
To devour my guiltless body,
To destroy this wisdom-singer?
Get thee hence, thou dog of Lempo,
Leave, thou monster from Manala,
Flee from mine immortal body,
Leave my liver, thing of evil,
In my body cease thy forging,
Cease this torture of my vitals,
Let me rest in peace and slumber.
'Should I want in means efficient,
Should I lack the magic power
To outroot thine evil genius,
I shall call a better hero,
Call upon a higher power,
To remove this dire misfortune,
To annihilate this monster.
I shall call the will of woman,
From the fields, the old-time heroes?
Mounted heroes from the sand-hills,
Thus to rescue me from danger,
From these pains and ceaseless tortures.
'If this force prove inefficient,
Should not drive thee from my body,
Come, thou forest, with thy heroes,
Come, ye junipers and pine-trees,
With your messengers of power,
Come, ye mountains, with your wood-nymphs,
Come, ye lakes, with all your mermaids,
Come, ye hundred ocean-spearmen,
Come, torment this son of Hisi,
Come and kill this evil monster.
'If this call is inefficient,
Does not drive thee from my vitals,
Rise, thou ancient water-mother,
With thy blue-cap from the ocean,
From the seas, the lakes, the rivers,
Bring protection to thy hero,
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Comfort bring and full assistance,
That I guiltless may not suffer,
May not perish prematurely.
'Shouldst thou brave this invocation,
Kapè, daughter of Creation,
Come, thou beauteous, golden maiden,
Oldest of the race of women,
Come and witness my misfortunes,
Come and turn away this evil,
Come, remove this biting torment,
Take away this plague of Piru.
'If this call be disregarded,
If thou wilt not leave me guiltless,
Ukko, on the arch of heaven,
In the thunder-cloud dominions,
Come thou quickly, thou art needed,
Come, protect thy tortured hero,
Drive away this magic demon,
Banish ever his enchantment,
With his sword and flaming furnace,
With his fire-enkindling bellows.
'Go, thou demon, hence to wander,
Flee, thou plague of Northland heroes;
Never come again for shelter,
Nevermore build thou thy dwelling
In the body of Wipunen;
Take at once thy habitation
To the regions of thy kindred,
To thy distant fields and firesides;
When thy journey thou hast ended,
Gained the borders of thy country,
Gained the meads of thy Creator,
Give a signal of thy coming,
Rumble like the peals of thunder,
Glisten like the gleam of lightning,
Knock upon the outer portals,
Enter through the open windows,
Glide about the many chambers,
Seize the host and seize the hostess,
Knock their evil beads together,
Wring their necks and hurl their bodies
To the black-dogs of the forest.
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'Should this prove of little value,
Hover like the bird of battle,
O'er the dwellings of the master,
Scare the horses from the mangers,
From the troughs affright the cattle,
Twist their tails, and horns, and forelocks,
Hurl their carcasses to Lempo.
'If some scourge the winds have sent me,
Sent me on the air of spring-tide,
Brought me by the frosts of winter,
Quickly journey whence thou camest,
On the air-path of the heavens,
Perching not upon some aspen,
Resting not upon the birch-tree;
Fly away to copper mountains,
That the copper-winds may nurse thee,
Waves of ether, thy protection.
'Didst those come from high Jumala,
From the hems of ragged snow-clouds,
Quick ascend beyond the cloud-space,
Quickly journey whence thou camest,
To the snow-clouds, crystal-sprinkled,
To the twinkling stars of heaven
There thy fire may burn forever,
There may flash thy forked lightnings,
In the Sun's undying furnace.
'Wert thou sent here by the spring-floods,
Driven here by river-torrents?
Quickly journey whence thou camest,
Quickly hasten to the waters,
To the borders of the rivers,
To the ancient water-mountain,
That the floods again may rock thee,
And thy water-mother nurse thee.
'Didst thou come from Kalma's kingdom,
From the castles of the death-land?
Haste thou back to thine own country,
To the Kalma-halls and castles,
To the fields with envy swollen,
Where contending armies perish.
'Art thou from the Hisi-woodlands,
From ravines in Lempo's forest,
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From the thickets of the pine-wood,
From the dwellings of the fir-glen?
Quick retrace thine evil footsteps
To the dwellings of thy master,
To the thickets of thy kindred;
There thou mayest dwell at pleasure,
Till thy house decays about thee,
Till thy walls shall mould and crumble.
Evil genius, thee I banish,
Got thee hence, thou horrid monster,
To the caverns of the white-bear,
To the deep abysm of serpents,
To the vales, and swamps, and fenlands,
To the ever-silent waters,
To the hot-springs of the mountains,
To the dead-seas of the Northland,
To the lifeless lakes and rivers,
To the sacred stream and whirlpool.
'Shouldst thou find no place of resting,
I will banish thee still farther,
To the Northland's distant borders,
To the broad expanse of Lapland,
To the ever-lifeless deserts,
To the unproductive prairies,
Sunless, moonless, starless, lifeless,
In the dark abyss of Northland;
This for thee, a place befitting,
Pitch thy tents and feast forever
On the dead plains of Pohyola.
'Shouldst thou find no means of living,
I will banish thee still farther,
To the cataract of Rutya,
To the fire-emitting whirlpool,
Where the firs are ever falling,
To the windfalls of the forest;
Swim hereafter in the waters
Of the fire-emitting whirlpool,
Whirl thou ever in the current
Of the cataract's commotion,
In its foam and boiling waters.
Should this place be unbefitting,
I will drive thee farther onward,
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To Tuoni's coal-black river,
To the endless stream of Mana,
Where thou shalt forever linger;
Thou canst never leave Manala,
Should I not thy head deliver,
Should I never pay thy ransom;
Thou canst never safely journey
Through nine brother-rams abutting,
Through nine brother-bulls opposing
Through nine brother-stallions thwarting,
Thou canst not re-cross Death-river
Thickly set with iron netting,
Interlaced with threads of copper.
'Shouldst thou ask for steeds for saddle,
Shouldst thou need a fleet-foot courser,
I will give thee worthy racers,
I will give thee saddle-horses;
Evil Hisi has a charger,
Crimson mane, and tail, and foretop,
Fire emitting from his nostrils,
As he prances through his pastures;
Hoofs are made of strongest iron,
Legs are made of steel and copper,
Quickly scales the highest mountains,
Darts like lightning through the valleys,
When a skilful master rides him.
'Should this steed be insufficient,
I will give thee Lempo's snow-shoes,
Give thee Hisi's shoes of elm-wood,
Give to thee the staff of Piru,
That with these thou mayest journey
Into Hisi's courts and castles,
To the woods and fields of Juutas;
If the rocks should rise before thee,
Dash the flinty rocks in pieces,
Hurl the fragments to the heavens;
If the branches cross thy pathway,
Make them turn aside in greeting;
If some mighty hero hail thee,
Hurl him headlong to the woodlands.
'Hasten hence, thou thing of evil,
Heinous monster, leave my body,
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Ere the breaking of the morning
Ere the Sun awakes from slumber,
Ere the sinning of the cuckoo;
Haste away, thou plague of Northland,
Haste along the track of' moonbeams,
Wander hence, forever wander,
To the darksome fields or Pohya.
'If at once thou dost not leave me,
I will send the eagle's talons,
Send to thee the beaks of vultures,
To devour thine evil body,
Hurl thy skeleton to Hisi.
Much more quickly cruel Lempo
Left my vitals when commanded,
When I called the aid of Ukko,
Called the help of my Creator.
Flee, thou motherless offendant,
Flee, thou fiend of Sariola,
Flee, thou hound without a master,
Ere the morning sun arises,
Ere the Moon withdraws to slumber!'
Wainamoinen, ancient hero,
Speaks at last to old Wipunen:
'Satisfied am I to linger
In these old and spacious caverns,
Pleasant here my home and dwelling;
For my meat I have thy tissues,
Have thy heart, and spleen, and liver,
For my drink the blood of ages,
Goodly home for Wainamoinen.
'I shall set my forge and bellows
Deeper, deeper in thy vitals;
I shall swing my heavy hammer,
Swing it with a greater power
On thy heart, and lungs, and liver;
I shall never, never leave thee
Till I learn thine incantations,
Learn thy many wisdom-sayings,
Learn the lost-words of the Master;
Never must these words be bidden,
Earth must never lose this wisdom,
Though the wisdom-singers perish.'
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Old Wipunen, wise magician,
Ancient prophet, filled with power,
Opens fall his store of knowledge,
Lifts the covers from his cases,
Filled with old-time incantations,
Filled with songs of times primeval,
Filled with ancient wit and wisdom;
Sings the very oldest folk-songs,
Sings the origin of witchcraft,
Sings of Earth and its beginning
Sings the first of all creations,
Sings the source of good and evil
Sung alas! by youth no longer,
Only sung in part by heroes
In these days of sin and sorrow.
Evil days our land befallen.
Sings the orders of enchantment.
How, upon the will of Ukko,
By command of the Creator,
How the air was first divided,
How the water came from ether,
How the earth arose from water,
How from earth came vegetation,
Fish, and fowl, and man, and hero.
Sings again the wise Wipunen,
How the Moon was first created,
How the Sun was set in heaven,
Whence the colors of the rainbow,
Whence the ether's crystal pillars,
How the skies with stars were sprinkled.
Then again sings wise Wipunen,
Sings in miracles of concord,
Sings in magic tones of wisdom,
Never was there heard such singing;
Songs he sings in countless numbers,
Swift his notes as tongues of serpents,
All the distant hills re-echo;
Sings one day, and then a second,
Sings a third from dawn till evening,
Sings from evening till the morning;
Listen all the stars of heaven,
And the Moon stands still and listens
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Fall the waves upon the deep-sea,
In the bay the tides cease rising,
Stop the rivers in their courses,
Stops the waterfall of Rutya,
Even Jordan ceases flowing,
And the Wuoksen stops and listens.
When the ancient Wainamoinen
Well had learned the magic sayings,
Learned the ancient songs and legends,
Learned the words of ancient wisdom,
Learned the lost-words of the Master,
Well had learned the secret doctrine,
He prepared to leave the body
Of the wisdom-bard, Wipunen,
Leave the bosom of the master,
Leave the wonderful enchanter.
Spake the hero, Wainamoinen:
'O, thou Antero Wipunen,
Open wide thy mouth and fauces,
I have found the magic lost-words,
I will leave thee now forever,
Leave thee and thy wondrous singing,
Will return to Kalevala,
To Wainola's fields and firesides.'
Thus Wipunen spake in answer:
'Many are the things I've eaten,
Eaten bear, and elk, and reindeer,
Eaten ox, and wolf, and wild-boar,
Eaten man, and eaten hero,
Never, never have I eaten
Such a thing as Wainamoinen;
Thou hast found what thou desirest,
Found the three words of the Master;
Go in peace, and ne'er returning,
Take my blessing on thy going.'
Thereupon the bard Wipunen
Opens wide his mouth, and wider;
And the good, old Wainamoinen
Straightway leaves the wise enchanter,
Leaves Wipunen's great abdomen;
From the mouth he glides and journeys
O'er the hills and vales of Northland,
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Swift as red-deer or the forest,
Swift as yellow-breasted marten,
To the firesides of Wainola,
To the plains of Kalevala.
Straightway hastes he to the smithy
Of his brother, Ilmarinen,
Thus the iron-artist greets him:
Hast thou found the long-lost wisdom,
Hast thou heard the secret doctrine,
Hast thou learned the master magic,
How to fasten in the ledges,
How the stern should be completed,
How complete the ship's forecastle?
Wainamoinen thus made answer:
'I have learned of words a hundred,
Learned a thousand incantations,
Hidden deep for many ages,
Learned the words of ancient wisdom,
Found the keys of secret doctrine,
Found the lost-words of the Master.'
Wainamoinen, magic-builder,
Straightway journeys to his vessel,
To the spot of magic labor,
Quickly fastens in the ledges,
Firmly binds the stern together
And completes the boat's forecastle.
Thus the ancient Wainamoinen
Built the boat with magic only,
And with magic launched his vessel,
Using not the hand to touch it,
Using not the foot to move it,
Using not the knee to turn it,
Using nothing to propel it.
Thus the third task was completed,
For the hostess of Pohyola,
Dowry for the Maid of Beauty
Sitting on the arch of heaven,
On the bow of many colors.
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1259:The Kalevala - Rune Ix
ORIGIN OF IRON.
Wainamoinen, thus encouraged,
Quickly rises in his snow-sledge,
Asking no one for assistance,
Straightway hastens to the cottage,
Takes a seat within the dwelling.
Come two maids with silver pitchers,
Bringing also golden goblets;
Dip they up a very little,
But the very smallest measure
Of the blood of the magician,
From the wounds of Wainamoinen.
From the fire-place calls the old man,
Thus the gray-beard asks the minstrel:
'Tell me who thou art of heroes,
Who of all the great magicians?
Lo! thy blood fills seven sea-boats,
Eight of largest birchen vessels,
Flowing from some hero's veinlets,
From the wounds of some magician.
Other matters I would ask thee;
Sing the cause of this thy trouble,
Sing to me the source of metals,
Sing the origin of iron,
How at first it was created.'
Then the ancient Wainamoinen
Made this answer to the gray-beard:
'Know I well the source of metals,
Know the origin of iron;
f can tell bow steel is fashioned.
Of the mothers air is oldest,
Water is the oldest brother,
And the fire is second brother,
And the youngest brother, iron;
Ukko is the first creator.
Ukko, maker of the heavens,
Cut apart the air and water,
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Ere was born the metal, iron.
Ukko, maker of the heavens,
Firmly rubbed his hands together,
Firmly pressed them on his knee-cap,
Then arose three lovely maidens,
Three most beautiful of daughters;
These were mothers of the iron,
And of steel of bright-blue color.
Tremblingly they walked the heavens,
Walked the clouds with silver linings,
With their bosoms overflowing
With the milk of future iron,
Flowing on and flowing ever,
From the bright rims of the cloudlets
To the earth, the valleys filling,
To the slumber-calling waters.
'Ukko's eldest daughter sprinkled
Black milk over river channels
And the second daughter sprinkled
White milk over hills and mountains,
While the youngest daughter sprinkled
Red milk over seas and oceans.
Whero the black milk had been sprinked,
Grew the dark and ductile iron;
Where the white milk had been sprinkled.
Grew the iron, lighter-colored;
Where the red milk had been sprinkled,
Grew the red and brittle iron.
'After Time had gone a distance,
Iron hastened Fire to visit,
His beloved elder brother,
Thus to know his brother better.
Straightway Fire began his roarings,
Labored to consume his brother,
His beloved younger brother.
Straightway Iron sees his danger,
Saves himself by fleetly fleeing,
From the fiery flame's advances,
Fleeing hither, fleeing thither,
Fleeing still and taking shelter
In the swamps and in the valleys,
In the springs that loudly bubble,
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By the rivers winding seaward,
On the broad backs of the marshes,
Where the swans their nests have builded,
Where the wild geese hatch their goslings.
'Thus is iron in the swamp-lands,
Stretching by the water-courses,
Hidden well for many ages,
Hidden in the birchen forests,
But he could not hide forever
From the searchings of his brother;
Here and there the fire has caught him,
Caught and brought him to his furnace,
That the spears, and swords, and axes,
Might be forged and duly hammered.
In the swamps ran blackened waters,
From the heath the bears came ambling,
And the wolves ran through the marshes.
Iron then made his appearance,
Where the feet of wolves had trodden,
Where the paws of bears had trampled.
'Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Came to earth to work the metal;
He was born upon the Coal-mount,
Skilled and nurtured in the coal-fields;
In one hand, a copper hammer,
In the other, tongs of iron;
In the night was born the blacksmith,
In the morn he built his smithy,
Sought with care a favored hillock,
Where the winds might fill his bellows;
Found a hillock in the swamp-lands,
Where the iron hid abundant;
There he built his smelting furnace,
There he laid his leathern bellows,
Hastened where the wolves had travelled,
Followed where the bears had trampled,
Found the iron's young formations,
In the wolf-tracks of the marshes,
In the foot-prints of the gray-bear.
'Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
'Thus addressed the sleeping iron:
Thou most useful of the metals,
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Thou art sleeping in the marshes,
Thou art hid in low conditions,
Where the wolf treads in the swamp-lands,
Where the bear sleeps in the thickets.
Hast thou thought and well considered,
What would be thy future station,
Should I place thee in the furnace,
Thus to make thee free and useful?'
'Then was Iron sorely frightened,
Much distressed and filled with horror,
When of Fire he heard the mention,
Mention of his fell destroyer.
'Then again speaks Ilmarinen,
Thus the smith addresses Iron:
'Be not frightened, useful metal,
Surely Fire will not consume thee,
Will not burn his youngest brother,
Will not harm his nearest kindred.
Come thou to my room and furnace,
Where the fire is freely burning,
Thou wilt live, and grow, and prosper,
Wilt become the swords of heroes,
Buckles for the belts of women.'
'Ere arose the star of evening,
Iron ore had left the marshes,
From the water-beds had risen,
Had been carried to the furnace,
In the fire the smith had laid it,
Laid it in his smelting furnace.
Ilmarinen starts the bellows,
Gives three motions of the handle,
And the iron flows in streamlets
From the forge of the magician,
Soon becomes like baker's leaven,
Soft as dough for bread of barley.
Then out-screamed the metal, Iron:
'Wondrous blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Take, O take me from thy furnace,
From this fire and cruel torture.'
'Ilmarinen thus made answer:
'I will take thee from my furnace,
'Thou art but a little frightened,
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Thou shalt be a mighty power,
Thou shalt slay the best of heroes,
Thou shalt wound thy dearest brother.'
'Straightway Iron made this promise,
Vowed and swore in strongest accents,
By the furnace, by the anvil,
By the tongs, and by the hammer,
These the words he vowed and uttered:
'Many trees that I shall injure,
Shall devour the hearts of mountains,
Shall not slay my nearest kindred,
Shall not kill the best of heroes,
Shall not wound my dearest brother;
Better live in civil freedom,
Happier would be my life-time,
Should I serve my fellow-beings,
Serve as tools for their convenience,
Than as implements of warfare,
Slay my friends and nearest. kindred,
Wound the children of my mother.'
'Now the master, Ilmarinen,
The renowned and skilful blacksmith,
From the fire removes the iron,
Places it upon the anvil,
Hammers well until it softens,
Hammers many fine utensils,
Hammers spears, and swords, and axes,
Hammers knives, and forks, and hatchets,
Hammers tools of all descriptions.
'Many things the blacksmith needed,
Many things he could not fashion,
Could not make the tongue of iron,
Could not hammer steel from iron,
Could not make the iron harden.
Well considered Ilmarinen,
Deeply thought and long reflected.
Then he gathered birchen ashes,
Steeped the ashes in the water,
Made a lye to harden iron,
Thus to form the steel most needful.
With his tongue he tests the mixture,
Weighs it long and well considers,
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And the blacksmith speaks as follows:
'All this labor is for nothing,
Will not fashion steel from iron,
Will not make the soft ore harden.'
'Now a bee flies from the meadow,
Blue-wing coming from the flowers,
Flies about, then safely settles
Near the furnace of the smithy.
''Thus the smith the bee addresses,
These the words of Ilmarinen:
'Little bee, thou tiny birdling,
Bring me honey on thy winglets,
On thy tongue, I pray thee, bring me
Sweetness from the fragrant meadows,
From the little cups of flowers,
From the tips of seven petals,
That we thus may aid the water
To produce the steel from iron.'
'Evil Hisi's bird, the hornet,
Heard these words of Ilmarinen,
Looking from the cottage gable,
Flying to the bark of birch-trees,
While the iron bars were heating
While the steel was being tempered;
Swiftly flew the stinging hornet,
Scattered all the Hisi horrors,
Brought the blessing of the serpent,
Brought the venom of the adder,
Brought the poison of the spider,
Brought the stings of all the insects,
Mixed them with the ore and water,
While the steel was being, tempered.
'Ilmarinen, skilful blacksmith,
First of all the iron-workers,
Thought the bee had surely brought him
Honey from the fragrant meadows,
From the little cups of flowers,
From the tips of seven petals,
And he spake the words that follow:
'Welcome, welcome, is thy coming,
Honeyed sweetness from the flowers
Thou hast brought to aid the water,
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Thus to form the steel from iron!'
'Ilmarinen, ancient blacksmith,
Dipped the iron into water,
Water mixed with many poisons,
Thought it but the wild bee's honey;
Thus he formed the steel from iron.
When he plunged it into water,
Water mixed with many poisons,
When be placed it in the furnace,
Angry grew the hardened iron,
Broke the vow that he had taken,
Ate his words like dogs and devils,
Mercilessly cut his brother,
Madly raged against his kindred,
Caused the blood to flow in streamlets
From the wounds of man and hero.
This, the origin of iron,
And of steel of light blue color.'
From the hearth arose the gray-beard,
Shook his heavy looks and answered:
'Now I know the source of iron,
Whence the steel and whence its evils;
Curses on thee, cruel iron,
Curses on the steel thou givest,
Curses on thee, tongue of evil,
Cursed be thy life forever!
Once thou wert of little value,
Having neither form nor beauty,
Neither strength nor great importance,
When in form of milk thou rested,
When for ages thou wert hidden
In the breasts of God's three daughters,
Hidden in their heaving bosoms,
On the borders of the cloudlets,
In the blue vault of the heavens.
'Thou wert once of little value,
Having neither form nor beauty,
Neither strength nor great importance,
When like water thou wert resting
On the broad back of the marshes,
On the steep declines of mountains,
When thou wert but formless matter,
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Only dust of rusty color.
'Surely thou wert void of greatness,
Having neither strength nor beauty,
When the moose was trampling on thee,
When the roebuck trod upon thee,
When the tracks of wolves were in thee,
And the bear-paws scratched thy body.
Surely thou hadst little value
When the skilful Ilmarinen,
First of all the iron-workers,
Brought thee from the blackened swamp-lands,
Took thee to his ancient smithy,
Placed thee in his fiery furnace.
Truly thou hadst little vigor,
Little strength, and little danger,
When thou in the fire wert hissing,
Rolling forth like seething water,
From the furnace of the smithy,
When thou gavest oath the strongest,
By the furnace, by the anvil,
By the tongs, and by the hammer,
By the dwelling of the blacksmith,
By the fire within the furnace.
'Now forsooth thou hast grown mighty,
Thou canst rage in wildest fury;
Thou hast broken all thy pledges,
All thy solemn vows hast broken,
Like the dogs thou shamest honor,
Shamest both thyself and kindred,
Tainted all with breath of evil.
Tell who drove thee to this mischief,
Tell who taught thee all thy malice,
Tell who gavest thee thine evil!
Did thy father, or thy mother,
Did the eldest of thy brothers,
Did the youngest of thy sisters,
Did the worst of all thy kindred
Give to thee thine evil nature?
Not thy father, nor thy mother,
Not the eldest of thy brothers,
Not the youngest of thy sisters,
Not the worst of all thy kindred,
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But thyself hast done this mischief,
Thou the cause of all our trouble.
Come and view thine evil doings,
And amend this flood of damage,
Ere I tell thy gray-haired mother,
Ere I tell thine aged father.
Great indeed a mother's anguish,
Great indeed a father's sorrow,
When a son does something evil,
When a child runs wild and lawless.
'Crimson streamlet, cease thy flowing
From the wounds of Wainamoinen;
Blood of ages, stop thy coursing
From the veins of the magician;
Stand like heaven's crystal pillars,
Stand like columns in the ocean,
Stand like birch-trees in the forest,
Like the tall reeds in the marshes,
Like the high-rocks on the sea-coast,
Stand by power of mighty magic!
'Should perforce thy will impel thee,
Flow thou on thine endless circuit,
Through the veins of Wainamoinen,
Through the bones, and through the muscles,
Through the lungs, and heart, and liver,
Of the mighty sage and singer;
Better be the food of heroes,
Than to waste thy strength and virtue
On the meadows and the woodlands,
And be lost in dust and ashes.
Flow forever in thy circle;
Thou must cease this crimson out-flow;
Stain no more the grass and flowers,
Stain no more these golden hill-tops,
Pride and beauty of our heroes.
In the veins of the magician,
In the heart of Wainamoinen,
Is thy rightful home and storehouse.
Thither now withdraw thy forces,
Thither hasten, swiftly flowing;
Flow no more as crimson currents,
Fill no longer crimson lakelets,
62
Must not rush like brooks in spring-tide,
Nor meander like the rivers.
'Cease thy flow, by word of magic,
Cease as did the falls of Tyrya,
As the rivers of Tuoni,
When the sky withheld her rain-drops,
When the sea gave up her waters,
In the famine of the seasons,
In the years of fire and torture.
If thou heedest not this order,
I shall offer other measures,
Know I well of other forces;
I shall call the Hisi irons,
In them I shall boil and roast thee,
Thus to check thy crimson flowing,
Thus to save the wounded hero.
'If these means be inefficient,
Should these measures prove unworthy,
I shall call omniscient Ukko,
Mightiest of the creators,
Stronger than all ancient heroes,
Wiser than the world-magicians;
He will check the crimson out-flow,
He will heal this wound of hatchet.
'Ukko, God of love and mercy,
God and Master Of the heavens,
Come thou hither, thou art needed,
Come thou quickly I beseech thee,
Lend thy hand to aid thy children,
Touch this wound with healing fingers,
Stop this hero's streaming life-blood,
Bind this wound with tender leaflets,
Mingle with them healing flowers,
Thus to check this crimson current,
Thus to save this great magician,
Save the life of Wainamoinen.'
Thus at last the blood-stream ended,
As the magic words were spoken.
Then the gray-beard, much rejoicing,
Sent his young son to the smithy,
There to make a healing balsam,
From the herbs of tender fibre,
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From the healing plants and flowers,
From the stalks secreting honey,
From the roots, and leaves, and blossoms.
On the way he meets an oak-tree,
And the oak the son addresses:
'Hast thou honey in thy branches,
Does thy sap run full of sweetness?'
Thus the oak-tree wisely answers:
'Yea, but last night dripped the honey
Down upon my spreading branches,
And the clouds their fragrance sifted,
Sifted honey on my leaflets,
From their home within the heavens.'
Then the son takes oak-wood splinters,
Takes the youngest oak-tree branches,
Gathers many healing grasses,
Gathers many herbs and flowers,
Rarest herbs that grow in Northland,
Places them within the furnace
In a kettle made of copper;
Lets them steep and boil together,
Bits of bark chipped from the oak-tree,
Many herbs of healing virtues;
Steeps them one day, then a second,
Three long days of summer weather,
Days and nights in quick succession;
Then he tries his magic balsam,
Looks to see if it is ready,
If his remedy is finished;
But the balsam is unworthy.
Then he added other grasses,
Herbs of every healing virtue,
That were brought from distant nations,
Many hundred leagues from Northland,
Gathered by the wisest minstrels,
Thither brought by nine enchanters.
Three days more be steeped the balsam,
Three nights more the fire be tended,
Nine the days and nights be watched it,
Then again be tried the ointment,
Viewed it carefully and tested,
Found at last that it was ready,
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Found the magic balm was finished.
Near by stood a branching birch-tree.
On the border of the meadow,
Wickedly it had been broken,
Broken down by evil Hisi;
Quick he takes his balm of healing,
And anoints the broken branches,
Rubs the balsam in the fractures,
Thus addresses then the birch-tree:
'With this balsam I anoint thee,
With this salve thy wounds I cover,
Cover well thine injured places;
Now the birch-tree shall recover,
Grow more beautiful than ever.'
True, the birch-tree soon recovered,
Grew more beautiful than ever,
Grew more uniform its branches,
And its bole more strong and stately.
Thus it was be tried the balsam,
Thus the magic salve he tested,
Touched with it the splintered sandstone,
Touched the broken blocks of granite,
Touched the fissures in the mountains,
And the broken parts united,
All the fragments grew together.
Then the young boy quick returning
With the balsam he had finished,
To the gray-beard gave the ointment,
And the boy these measures uttered
'Here I bring the balm of healing,
Wonderful the salve I bring thee;
It will join the broken granite,
Make the fragments grow together,
Heat the fissures in the mountains,
And restore the injured birch-tree.'
With his tongue the old man tested,
Tested thus the magic balsam,
Found the remedy effective,
Found the balm had magic virtues;
Then anointed he the minstrel,
Touched the wounds of Wainamoinen,
Touched them with his magic balsam,
65
With the balm of many virtues;
Speaking words of ancient wisdom,
These the words the gray-beard uttered:
'Do not walk in thine own virtue,
Do not work in thine own power,
Walk in strength of thy Creator;
Do not speak in thine own wisdom,
Speak with tongue of mighty Ukko.
In my mouth, if there be sweetness,
It has come from my Creator;
If my bands are filled with beauty,
All the beauty comes from Ukko.'
When the wounds had been anointed,
When the magic salve had touched them,
Straightway ancient Wainamoinen
Suffered fearful pain and anguish,
Sank upon the floor in torment,
Turning one way, then another,
Sought for rest and found it nowhere,
Till his pain the gray-beard banished,
Banished by the aid of magic,
Drove away his killing torment
To the court of all our trouble,
To the highest hill of torture,
To the distant rocks and ledges,
To the evil-bearing mountains,
To the realm of wicked Hisi.
Then be took some silken fabric,
Quick he tore the silk asunder,
Making equal strips for wrapping,
Tied the ends with silken ribbons,
Making thus a healing bandage;
Then he wrapped with skilful fingers
Wainamoinen's knee and ankle,
Wrapped the wounds of the magician,
And this prayer the gray-beard uttered
'Ukko's fabric is the bandage,
Ukko's science is the surgeon,
These have served the wounded hero,
Wrapped the wounds of the magician.
Look upon us, God of mercy,
Come and guard us, kind Creator,
66
And protect us from all evil!
Guide our feet lest they may stumble,
Guard our lives from every danger,
From the wicked wilds of Hisi.'
Wainamoinen, old and truthful,
Felt the mighty aid of magic,
Felt the help of gracious Ukko,
Straightway stronger grew in body,
Straightway were the wounds united,
Quick the fearful pain departed.
Strong and hardy grew the hero,
Straightway walked in perfect freedom,
Turned his knee in all directions,
Knowing neither pain nor trouble.
Then the ancient Wainamoinen
Raised his eyes to high Jumala,
Looked with gratitude to heaven,
Looked on high, in joy and gladness,
Then addressed omniscient Ukko,
This the prayer the minstrel uttered:
'O be praised, thou God of mercy,
Let me praise thee, my Creator,
Since thou gavest me assistance,
And vouchsafed me thy protection,
Healed my wounds and stilled mine anguish,
Banished all my pain and trouble,
Caused by Iron and by Hisi.
O, ye people of Wainola,
People of this generation,
And the folk of future ages,
Fashion not in emulation,
River boat, nor ocean shallop,
Boasting of its fine appearance,
God alone can work completion,
Give to cause its perfect ending,
Never hand of man can find it,
Never can the hero give it,
Ukko is the only Master.'
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1260:The Kalevala - Rune Xxix
THE ISLE OF REFUGE.
Lemminkainen, full of joyance,
Handsome hero, Kaukomieli,
Took provisions in abundance,
Fish and butter, bread and bacon,
Hastened to the Isle of Refuge,
Sailed away across the oceans,
Spake these measures on departing:
'Fare thee well, mine Island-dwelling,
I must sail to other borders,
To an island more protective,
Till the second summer passes;
Let the serpents keep the island,
Lynxes rest within the glen-wood,
Let the blue-moose roam the mountains,
Let the wild-geese cat the barley.
Fare thee well, my helpful mother!
When the warriors of the Northland,
From the dismal Sariola,
Come with swords, and spears, and cross-bows,
Asking for my head in vengeance,
Say that I have long departed,
Left my mother's Island-dwelling,
When the barley had been garnered.'
Then he launched his boat of copper,
Threw the vessel to the waters,
From the iron-banded rollers,
From the cylinders of oak-wood,
On the masts the sails he hoisted,
Spread the magic sails of linen,
In the stern the hero settled
And prepared to sail his vessel,
One hand resting on the rudder.
Then the sailor spake as follows,
These the words of Lemminkainen:
'Blow, ye winds, and drive me onward,
Blow ye steady, winds of heaven,
409
Toward the island in the ocean,
That my bark may fly in safety
To my father's place of refuge,
To the far and nameless island!'
Soon the winds arose as bidden,
Rocked the vessel o'er the billows,
O'er the blue-back of the waters,
O'er the vast expanse of ocean;
Blew two months and blew unceasing,
Blew a third month toward the island,
Toward his father's Isle of Refuge.
Sat some maidens on the seaside,
On the sandy beach of ocean,
Turned about in all directions,
Looking out upon the billows;
One was waiting for her brother,
And a second for her father,
And a third one, anxious, waited
For the, coming of her suitor;
There they spied young Lemminkainen,
There perceived the hero's vessel
Sailing o'er the bounding billows;
It was like a hanging cloudlet,
Hanging twixt the earth and heaven.
Thus the island-maidens wondered,
Thus they spake to one another:
'What this stranger on the ocean,
What is this upon the waters?
Art thou one of our sea-vessels?
Wert thou builded on this island?
Sail thou straightway to the harbor,
To the island-point of landing
That thy tribe may be discovered.'
Onward did the waves propel it,
Rocked his vessel o'er the billows,
Drove it to the magic island,
Safely landed Lemminkainen
On the sandy shore and harbor.
Spake he thus when he had landed,
These the words that Ahti uttered:
'Is there room upon this island,
Is there space within this harbor,
410
Where my bark may lie at anchor,
Where the sun may dry my vessel?'
This the answer of the virgins,
Dwellers on the Isle of Refuge:
'There is room within this harbor,
On this island, space abundant,
Where thy bark may lie at anchor,
Where the sun may dry thy vessel;
Lying ready are the rollers,
Cylinders adorned with copper;
If thou hadst a hundred vessels,
Shouldst thou come with boats a thousand,
We would give them room in welcome.'
Thereupon wild Lemminkainen
Rolled his vessel in the harbor,
On the cylinders of copper,
Spake these words when he had ended:
'Is there room upon this island,
Or a spot within these forests,
Where a hero may be hidden
From the coming din of battle,
From the play of spears and arrows?
Thus replied the Island-maidens:
'There are places on this island,
On these plains a spot befitting
Where to hide thyself in safety,
Hero-son of little valor.
Here are many, many castles,
Many courts upon this island;
Though there come a thousand heroes,
Though a thousand spearmen. follow,
Thou canst hide thyself in safety.'
Spake the hero, Lemminkainen:
'Is there room upon this island,
Where the birch-tree grows abundant,
Where this son may fell the forest,
And may cultivate the fallow? '
Answered thus the Island-maidens:
'There is not a spot befitting,
Not a place upon the island,
Where to rest thy wearied members,
Not the smallest patch of birch-wood,
411
Thou canst bring to cultivation.
All our fields have been divided,
All these woods have been apportioned,
Fields and forests have their owners.'
Lemminkainen asked this question,
These the words of Kaukomieli:
'Is there room upon this island,
Worthy spot in field or forest,
Where to Sing my songs of magic,
Chant my gathered store of wisdom,
Sing mine ancient songs and legends?'
Answered thus the Island-maidens:
'There is room upon this island,
Worthy place in these dominions,
Thou canst sing thy garnered wisdom,
Thou canst chant thine ancient legends,
Legends of the times primeval,
In the forest, in the castle,
On the island-plains and pastures.'
Then began the reckless minstrel
To intone his wizard-sayings;
Sang he alders to the waysides,
Sang the oaks upon the mountains,
On the oak-trees sang be branches,
On each branch he sang an acorn,
On the acorns, golden rollers,
On each roller, sang a cuckoo;
Then began the cuckoos, calling,
Gold from every throat came streaming,
Copper fell from every feather,
And each wing emitted silver,
Filled the isle with precious metals.
Sang again young Lemminkainen,
Conjured on, and sang, and chanted,
Sang to precious stones the sea-sands,
Sang the stones to pearls resplendent,
Robed the groves in iridescence,
Sang the island full of flowers,
Many-colored as the rainbow.
Sang again the magic minstrel,
In the court a well he conjured,
On the well a golden cover,
412
On the lid a silver dipper,
That the boys might drink the water,
That the maids might lave their eyelids.
On the plains he conjured lakelets,
Sang the duck upon the waters,
Golden-cheeked and silver-headed,
Sang the feet from shining copper;
And the Island-maidens wondered,
Stood entranced at Ahti's wisdom,
At the songs of Lemminkainen,
At the hero's magic power.
Spake the singer, Lemminkainen,
Handsome hero, Kaukomieli:
'I would sing a wondrous legend,
Sing in miracles of sweetness,
If within some hall or chamber,
I were seated at the table.
If I sing not in the castle,
In some spot by walls surrounded
Then I sing my songs to zephyrs,
Fling them to the fields and forests.'
Answered thus the Island-maidens:
'On this isle are castle-chambers,
Halls for use of magic singers,
Courts complete for chanting legends,
Where thy singing will be welcome,
Where thy songs will not be scattered
To the forests of the island,
Nor thy wisdom lost in ether.'
Straightway Lemminkainen journeyed
With the maidens to the castle;
There he sang and conjured pitchers
On the borders of the tables,
Sang and conjured golden goblets
Foaming with the beer of barley;
Sang he many well-filled vessels,
Bowls of honey-drink abundant,
Sweetest butter, toothsome biscuit,
Bacon, fish, and veal, and venison,
All the dainties of the Northland,
Wherewithal to still his hunger.
But the proud-heart, Lemminkainen,
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Was not ready for the banquet,
Did not yet begin his feasting,
Waited for a knife of silver,
For a knife of golden handle;
Quick he sang the precious metals,
Sang a blade from purest silver,
To the blade a golden handle,
Straightway then began his feasting,
Quenched his thirst and stilled his hunger,
Charmed the maidens on the island.
Then the minstrel, Lemminkainen,
Roamed throughout the island-hamlets,
To the joy of all the virgins,
All the maids of braided tresses;
Wheresoe'er he turned his footsteps,
There appeared a maid to greet him;
When his hand was kindly offered,
There his band was kindly taken;
When he wandered out at evening,
Even in the darksome places,
There the maidens bade him welcome;
There was not an island-village
Where there were not seven castles,
In each castle seven daughters,
And the daughters stood in waiting,
Gave the hero joyful greetings,
Only one of all the maidens
Whom he did not greet with pleasure.
Thus the merry Lemminkainen
Spent three summers in the ocean,
Spent a merry time in refuge,
In the hamlets on the island,
To the pleasure of the maidens,
To the joy of all the daughters;
Only one was left neglected,
She a poor and graceless spinster,
On the isle's remotest border,
In the smallest of the hamlets.
'Then he thought about his journey
O'er the ocean to his mother,
To the cottage of his father.
There appeared the slighted spinster,
414
To the Northland son departing,
Spake these words to Lemminkainen:
'O, thou handsome Kaukomieli,
Wisdom-bard, and magic singer,
Since this maiden thou hast slighted,
May the winds destroy thy vessel,
Dash thy bark to countless fragments
On the ocean-rocks and ledges!'
Lemminkainen's thoughts were homeward,
Did not heed the maiden's murmurs,
Did not rise before the dawning
Of the morning on the island,
To the pleasure of the maiden
Of the much-neglected hamlet.
Finally at close of evening,
He resolved to leave the island,
He resolved to waken early,
Long before the dawn of morning;
Long before the time appointed,
He arose that he might wander
Through the hamlets of the island,
Bid adieu to all the maidens,
On the morn of his departure.
As he wandered hither, thither,
Walking through the village path-ways
To the last of all the hamlets;
Saw he none of all the castle-,
Where three dwellings were not standing;
Saw he none of all the dwellings
Where three heroes were not watching;
Saw he none of all the heroes,
Who was not engaged in grinding
Swords, and spears, and battle-axes,
For the death of Lemminkainen.
And these words the hero uttered:
'Now alas! the Sun arises
From his couch within the ocean,
On the frailest of the heroes,
On the saddest child of Northland;
On my neck the cloak of Lempo
Might protect me from all evil,
Though a hundred foes assail me,
415
Though a thousand archers follow.'
Then he left the maids ungreeted,
Left his longing for the daughters
Of the nameless Isle of Refuge,
With his farewell-words unspoken,
Hastened toward the island-harbor,
Toward his magic bark at anchor;
But he found it burned to ashes,
Sweet revenge had fired his vessel,
Lighted by the slighted spinster.
Then he saw the dawn of evil,
Saw misfortune hanging over,
Saw destruction round about him.
Straightway he began rebuilding
Him a magic sailing-vessel,
New and wondrous, full of beauty;
But the hero needed timber,
Boards, and planks, and beams, and braces,
Found the smallest bit of lumber,
Found of boards but seven fragments,
Of a spool he found three pieces,
Found six pieces of the distaff;
With these fragments builds his vessel,
Builds a ship of magic virtue,
Builds the bark with secret knowledge,
Through the will of the magician;
Strikes one blow, and builds the first part,
Strikes a second, builds the centre,
Strikes a third with wondrous power,
And the vessel is completed.
Thereupon the ship he launches,
Sings the vessel to the ocean,
And these words the hero utters:
'Like a bubble swim these waters,
Like a flower ride the billows;
Loan me of thy magic feathers,
Three, O eagle, four, O raven,
For protection to my vessel,
Lest it flounder in the ocean!'
Now the sailor, Lemminkainen,
Seats himself upon the bottom
Of the vessel he has builded,
416
Hastens on his journey homeward,
Head depressed and evil-humored,
Cap awry upon his forehead,
Mind dejected, heavy-hearted,
That he could not dwell forever
In the castles of the daughters
Of the nameless Isle of Refuge.
Spake the minstrel, Lemminkainen,
Handsome hero, Kaukomieli:
'Leave I must this merry island,
Leave her many joys and pleasures,
Leave her maids with braided tresses,
Leave her dances and her daughters,
To the joys of other heroes;
But I take this comfort with me:
All the maidens on the island,
Save the spinster who was slighted,
Will bemoan my loss for ages,
Will regret my quick departure;
They will miss me at the dances,
In the halls of mirth and joyance,
In the homes of merry maidens,
On my father's Isle of Refuge.'
Wept the maidens on the island,
Long lamenting, loudly calling
To the hero sailing homeward:
'Whither goest, Lemminkainen,
Why depart, thou best of heroes?
Dost thou leave from inattention,
Is there here a dearth of maidens,
Have our greetings been unworthy?'
Sang the magic Lemminkainen
To the maids as he was sailing,
This in answer to their calling:
'Leaving not for want of pleasure,
Do not go from dearth of women
Beautiful the island-maidens,
Countless as the sands their virtues.
This the reason of my going,
I am longing for my home-land,
Longing for my mother's cabins,
For the strawberries of Northland,
417
For the raspberries of Kalew,
For the maidens of my childhood,
For the children of my mother.'
Then the merry Lemminkainen
Bade farewell to all the island;
Winds arose and drove his vessel
On the blue-back of the ocean,
O'er the far-extending waters,
Toward the island of his mother.
On the shore were grouped the daughters
Of the magic Isle of Refuge,
On the rocks sat the forsaken,
Weeping stood the island-maidens,
Golden daughters, loud-lamenting.
Weep the maidens of the island
While the sail-yards greet their vision,
While the copper-beltings glisten;
Do not weep to lose the sail-yards,
Nor to lose the copper-beltings;
Weep they for the loss of Ahti,
For the fleeing Kaukomieli
Guiding the departing vessel.
Also weeps young Lemminkainen,
Sorely weeps, and loud-lamenting,
Weeps while he can see the island,
While the island hill-tops glisten;
Does not mourn the island-mountains,
Weeps he only for the maidens,
Left upon the Isle of Refuge.
Thereupon sailed Kaukomieli
On the blue-back of the ocean;
Sailed one day, and then a second,
But, alas! upon the third day,
There arose a mighty storm-wind,
And the sky was black with fury.
Blew the black winds from the north-west,
From the south-east came the whirlwind,
Tore away the ship's forecastle,
Tore away the vessel's rudder,
Dashed the wooden hull to pieces.
Thereupon wild Lemminkainen
Headlong fell upon the waters;
418
With his head he did the steering,
With his hands and feet, the rowing;
Swam whole days and nights unceasing,
Swam with hope and strength united,
Till at last appeared a cloudlet,
Growing cloudlet to the westward,
Changing to a promontory,
Into land within the ocean.
Swiftly to the shore swam Ahti,
Hastened to a magic castle,
Found therein a hostess baking,
And her daughters kneading barley,
And these words the hero uttered:
'O, thou hostess, filled with kindness,
Couldst thou know my pangs of hunger,
Couldst thou guess my name and station,
Thou wouldst hasten to the storehouse,
Bring me beer and foaming liquor,
Bring the best of thy provisions,
Bring me fish, and veal, and bacon,
Butter, bread, and honeyed biscuits,
Set for me a wholesome dinner,
Wherewithal to still my hunger,
Quench the thirst of Lemminkainen.
Days and nights have I been swimming,
Buffeting the waves of ocean,
Seemed as if the wind protected,
And the billows gave me shelter,'
Then the hostess, filled with kindness,
Hastened to the mountain storehouse,
Cut some butter, veal, and bacon,
Bread, and fish, and honeyed biscuit,
Brought the best of her provisions,
Brought the mead and beer of barley,
Set for him a toothsome dinner,
Wherewithal to still his hunger,
Quench the thirst of Lemminkainen.
When the hero's feast had ended,
Straightway was a magic vessel
Given by the kindly hostess
To the weary Kaukomieli,
Bark of beauty, new and hardy,
419
Wherewithal to aid the stranger
In his journey to his home-land,
To the cottage of his mother.
Quickly sailed wild Lemminkainen
On the blue-back of the ocean;
Sailed he days and nights unceasing,
Till at last he reached the borders
Of his own loved home and country;
There beheld he scenes familiar,
Saw the islands, capes, and rivers,
Saw his former shipping-stations,
Saw he many ancient landmarks,
Saw the mountains with their fir-trees,
Saw the pine-trees on the hill-tops,
Saw the willows in the lowlands;
Did not see his father's cottage,
Nor the dwellings of his mother.
Where a mansion once had risen,
There the alder-trees were growing,
Shrubs were growing on the homestead,
Junipers within the court-yard.
Spake the reckless Lemminkainen:
'In this glen I played and wandered,
On these stones I rocked for ages,
On this lawn I rolled and tumbled,
Frolicked on these woodland-borders,
When a child of little stature.
Where then is my mother's dwelling,
Where the castles of my father?
Fire, I fear, has found the hamlet,
And the winds dispersed the ashes.'
Then he fell to bitter weeping,
Wept one day and then a second,
Wept the third day without ceasing;
Did not mourn the ancient homestead,
Nor the dwellings of his father;
Wept he for his darling mother,
Wept he for the dear departed,
For the loved ones of the island.
Then he saw the bird of heaven,
Saw an eagle flying near him,
And he asked the bird this question:
420
'Mighty eagle, bird majestic,
Grant to me the information,
Where my mother may have wandered,
Whither I may go and find her!'
But the eagle knew but little,
Only knew that Ahti's people
Long ago together perished;
And the raven also answered
That his people had been scattered
By the, swords, and spears, and arrows,
Of his enemies from Pohya.
Spake the hero, Lemminkainen:
'Faithful mother, dear departed,
Thou who nursed me in my childhood,
Art thou dead and turned to ashes,
Didst thou perish for my follies,
O'er thy head are willows weeping,
Junipers above thy body,
Alders watching o'er thy slumbers?
This my punishment for evil,
This the recompense of folly!
Fool was I, a son unworthy,
That I measured swords in Northland
With the landlord of Pohyola,
To my tribe came fell destruction,
And the death of my dear mother,
Through my crimes and misdemeanors.'
Then the ministrel [sic] looked about him,
Anxious, looked in all directions,
And beheld some gentle foot-prints,
Saw a pathway lightly trodden
Where the heather had been beaten.
Quick as thought the path he followed,
Through the meadows, through the brambles,
O'er the hills, and through the valleys,
To a forest, vast and cheerless;
Travelled far and travelled farther,
Still a greater distance travelled,
To a dense and hidden glenwood,
In the middle of the island;
Found therein a sheltered cabin,
Found a small and darksome dwelling
421
Built between the rocky ledges,
In the midst of triple pine-trees;
And within he spied his mother,
Found his gray-haired mother weeping.
Lemminkainen loud rejoices,
Cries in tones of joyful greetings,
These the words that Ahti utters:
'Faithful mother, well-beloved,
Thou that gavest me existence,
Happy I, that thou art living,
That thou hast not yet departed
To the kingdom of Tuoni,
To the islands of the blessed,
I had thought that thou hadst perished,
Hadst been murdered by my foemen,
Hadst been slain with bows and arrows.
Heavy are mine eyes from weeping,
And my checks are white with sorrow,
Since I thought my mother slaughtered
For the sins I had committed!'
Lemminkainen's mother answered:
'Long, indeed, hast thou been absent,
Long, my son, hast thou been living
In thy father's Isle of Refuge,
Roaming on the secret island,
Living at the doors of strangers,
Living in a nameless country,
Refuge from the Northland foemen.'
Spake the, hero, Lemminkainen:
'Charming is that spot for living,
Beautiful the magic island,
Rainbow-colored was the forest,
Blue the glimmer of the meadows,
Silvered were, the pine-tree branches,
Golden were the heather-blossoms;
All the woodlands dripped with honey,
Eggs in every rock and crevice,
Honey flowed from birch and sorb-tree,
Milk in streams from fir and aspen,
Beer-foam dripping from the willows,
Charming there to live and linger,
All their edibles delicious.
422
This their only source of trouble:
Great the fear for all the maidens,
All the heroes filled with envy,
Feared the coming of the stranger;
Thought that all the island-maidens,
Thought that all the wives and daughters,
All the good, and all the evil,
Gave thy son too much attention;
Thought the stranger, Lemminkainen,
Saw the Island-maids too often;
Yet the virgins I avoided,
Shunned the good and shunned the evil,
Shunned the host of charming daughters,
As the black-wolf shuns the sheep-fold,
As the hawk neglects the chickens.'
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1261:Tamerton Church-Tower, Or, First Love
I.
We left the Church at Tamerton
In gloomy western air;
To greet the day we gallop'd on,
A merry-minded pair.
The hazy East hot noon did bode;
Our horses sniff'd the dawn;
We made ten Cornish miles of road
Before the dew was gone.
We clomb the hill where Lanson's Keep
Fronts Dartmoor's distant ridge;
Thence trotted South; walk'd down the steep
That slants to Gresson Bridge;
And paused awhile, where Tamar waits,
In many a shining coil,
And teeming Devon separates
From Cornwall's sorry soil.
II.
Our English skies contain'd, that Spring,
A Caribbean sun;
The singing birds forgot to sing,
The rivulets to run.
For three noons past, the skies had frown'd,
Obscured with blighting shades
That only mock'd the thirsty ground
And unrejoicing glades.
To-day, before the noon was nigh,
Bright-skirted vapours grew,
And on the sky hung languidly;
The sky was languid too.
Our horses dropp'd their necks, and nosed
The dusty wayside grass,
Whilst we beneath still boughs reposed
And watch'd the water pass.
We spoke of plighted Bertha: Frank
Shot pebbles in the stream;
And I lay by him on the bank,
43
But dreamt no lover's dream.
She was a blythe and bashful maid,
Much blushing in her glee;
Yet gracing all she did and said
With sweet sufficiency.
‘Is Blanche as fair?’ ask'd I, who yearn'd
To feel my life complete;
To taste unselfish pleasures earn'd
By service strict and sweet.
‘Well, some say fairer: she'll surprise
Your heart with crimson lips;
Fat underlids, that hold bright eyes
In laughing half-eclipse;
Alluring locks, done up with taste
Behind her dainty ears;
And manners full of wayward haste,
Tho' facile as the deer's.’
III.
‘You paint a leaflet, here and there;
And not the blossom: tell
What mysteries of good and fair
These blazon'd letters spell.’
IV.
‘Her mouth and teeth, by Cupid's bow!
Are letters spelling 'kiss;'
And, witchingly withdrawn below
Twin worlds of baby-bliss,
Her waist, so soft and small, may mean,
'O, when will some one come
To make me catch my breath between
His finger and his thumb!'’
V.
My life, 'twas like a land of dreams,
Where nothing noble throve:
Dull seem'd it as to maiden seems
The verse that's not of love.
44
‘See where,’ sigh'd I, ‘the water dim
Repeats, with leaden hue,
The fervid sun, the cloud's hot rim,
The gap of dazzling blue!’
Quoth Frank, ‘I do, and hence foresee
And all too plainly scan
Some sentimental homily
On Duty, Death, or Man.’
‘'Tis this;’ said I, ‘our senses mar,
Ev'n so, sweet Nature's face,
Unless by love revived they are,
Or lit by heavenly grace.
Below the hazel talks the rill;
My heart speaks not again;
The solemn cloud, the stately hill,
I look on each in vain.
Sure he for whom no Power shall strike
This darkness into day—’
‘Is damn'd,’ said Frank, who morall'd like
The Fool in an old Play.
‘That's true!’ cried I, ‘yet, as the worm
That sickens ere it change—’
‘Or as the pup that nears the term
At which pups have the mange—
Pooh! Come, Man, let us on,’ he said,
‘For now the storm is nigh!’
And whilst we rode quaint sense we read
Within the changing sky.
Above us bent a prophet wild,
Pointing to hidden harm;
Beyond, a magic woman smiled,
And wove some wondrous charm;
Past that, a censer jetted smoke:
Black convolutions roll'd
Sunwards, and caught the light, and broke
In crowns of shining gold.
VI.
The gaps of blue shrank fast in span;
The long-forgotten breeze,
45
By lazy starts and fits, began
To stir the higher trees.
At noon, we came to Tavistock;
And sunshine still was there,
But gloomy Dartmoor seem'd to mock
Its weak and yellow glare.
The swallows, in the wrathful light,
Were pitching up and down;
A string of rooks made rapid flight,
Due southward, o'er the town,
Where, baiting at the Tiger-Inn,
We talk'd by windows wide,
Of Blanche and all my unseen kin,
Who did our coming bide.
VII.
The heavy sign-board swung and shriek'd,
In dark air whirl'd the vane,
Blinds flapp'd, dust rose, and, straining, creak'd
The shaken window-pane;
And, just o'erhead, a huge cloud flung,
For earnest of its stores,
A few calm drops, that struck among
The light-leaved sycamores.
Hot to be gone, Frank rose and eyed
Dark cloud and swinging branch;
But less long'd he to greet his Bride
Than I to look on Blanche.
Her name, pair'd still with praise at home,
Would make my pulses start;
The hills between us were become
A weight upon my heart.
‘Behold,’ I cried, ‘the storm comes not;
The northern heavens grow fair.’
‘Look South,’ said Frank, ‘'tis one wide blot
Of thunder-threatening air.’
The string of rooks had travell'd on,
Against the southern shroud,
And, like some snaky skeleton,
Lay twisted in the cloud.
46
‘No storm to-day!’ said I, ‘for, see,
Yon black thing travels south.’
We follow'd soon; our spirits free,
Our bodies slaked from drouth.
I rode in silence; Frank, with tongue
Made lax by too much port,
Soliloquising, said or sung
After this tipsy sort:
‘Yea, nerves they are the Devil's mesh,
And pups begin quite blind,
And health is ofttimes in the flesh,
And measles in the mind!
‘Foolish and fair was Joan without;
Foolish and foul within;
High as a hunted pig his snout,
She carried a foolish chin.
‘The Boy beheld, and brisk rose he
At this badly painted fly:
That boys less wise than fish will be
Makes many a man to sigh.’
VIII.
On, on we toil'd, amidst the blaze
From Dartmoor's ridges bare;
Beneath the hush'd and scorching haze,
And through the twinkling air;
Along the endless mountain-side,
That seem'd with us to move;
Past dreary mine-mouths, far and wide;
Huge dross-heap, wheel, and groove;
Dark towns by disembowell'd hills,
Where swarthy tribes abode,
Who, in hard rocks with harder wills,
Pursued the crooked lode;
Up heights, that seem'd against us match'd;
Until, from table-land,
Before the teasing midge was hatch'd,
We hail'd the southern strand.
Then pleasantly, on level ground
And through the lighter air,
47
We paced along and breathed around,
A merry-minded pair.
A western night of even cloud
Suck'd in the sultry disk;
Bright racks look'd on, a fiery crowd,
To seamen boding risk;
The late crow wing'd his silent way
Across the shadowy East;
The gnat danced out his little day,
His ceaseless singing ceased;
Along the dim horizon round
Fled faint electric fires;
Blue glow-worms lit the fresher ground
By moisture-harbouring briers;
Far northward twinkled lonely lights,
The peopled vales among;
In front, between the gaping heights,
The mystic ocean hung.
IX.
Our weary spirits flagg'd beneath
The still and loaded air;
We left behind the freër heath,
A moody-minded pair.
With senses slack and sick of mirth,
Tho' near the happy goal,
I murmur'd, fearing nought on earth
Could quite content the soul:
‘Suppose your love prove such a light
As yonder glow-worm's lamp,
That gleams, at distance, strong and bright,
Approach'd, burns weak and damp.
Perchance, by much of bliss aroused,
Your heart will pant for more;
And then the worm of want lies housed
Within the sweet fruit's core!
Far worse, if, led by fancy blind,
But undeceiv'd by use—’
‘I dream,’ yawn'd Frank, ‘and wake to find
My Goddess a green goose!’
48
‘Vain, vain,’ said I, ‘is worldly weal:
We faint, within the heart,
For good which all we see and feel
Foreshadows but in part.’
Frank answer'd, ‘What you faint for, win!
Faint not, but forward press.
Heav'n proffers all: 'twere grievous sin
To live content in less.
The Sun rolls by us every day;
And it and all things speak
To the sinking heart of man, and say,
'Tis wicked to be weak.
We would not hear the hated sound;
But, by the Lord, we must:
If not, the heavy world goes round,
And grinds us into dust.’
With each a moral in his mouth,
We rein'd our sweating nags,
Where quiet Ocean, on the South,
Kiss'd Edgecumb's ruddy crags.
II
I.
So subtly love within me wrought,
So excellent she seem'd,
Daily of Blanche was all my thought,
Nightly of Blanche I dream'd;
And this was all my wish, and all
The work now left for life,
To make this Wonder mine, to call
This laughing Blanche my Wife.
II.
I courted her till hope grew bold;
Then sought her in her place,
And all my passion freely told,
Before her blushing face.
I kiss'd her twice, I kiss'd her thrice,
Thro' tresses and thro' tears;
I kiss'd her lips, I kiss'd her eyes,
49
And calm'd her joys and fears.
So woo'd I Blanche, and so I sped,
And so, with small delay,
I and the patient Frank were wed
Upon the self-same day.
And friends all round kiss'd either Bride,
I Frank's, Frank mine; and he
Laugh'd as for once we thus defied
Love's sweet monopoly.
And then we drove by garth and grove;
And soon forgot the place
Where all the world had look'd shy Love
So rudely in the face.
III
I.
The noon was hot and close and still,
When, steadying Blanche's hand,
I led her down the southern hill,
And row'd with her from land.
Ere summer's prime that year the wasp
Lay gorged within the peach;
The tide, as though the sea did gasp,
Fell lax upon the beach.
Quietly dipp'd the dripping scull,
And all beside was calm;
But o'er the strange and weary lull
No angel waved his palm.
The sun was rayless, pale the sky,
The distance thick with light:
We glided past the fort and by
The war-ship's sleeping might.
Her paddle stirr'd: without a breeze,
A mimic tempest boil'd:
The sailors on the silent seas
With storm-tuned voices toil'd.
I could not toil; I seldom pray'd:
What was to do or ask?
Love's purple glory round me play'd,
Unfed by prayer or task.
All perfect my contentment was,
50
For Blanche was all my care;
And heaven seem'd only heaven because
My goddess would be there.
No wafted breeze the ships did strike,
No wish unwon moved me;
The peace within my soul was like
The peace upon the sea.
At times, when action sleeps, unstirr'd
By any motive gale,
A mystic wind, with warning heard,
Ruffles life's idle sail.
The fancy, then, a fear divines,
And, borne on gloomy wings,
Sees threats and formidable signs
In simply natural things.
It smote my heart, how, yesternight,
The moon rose in eclipse,
And how her maim'd and shapeless light
O'erhung the senseless ships.
The passion pass'd, as, lightning-lit,
Red cloud-scenes shew and close;
And soon came wonder at the fit,
And smiles and full repose.
Again I turn'd me, all devote,
To my sweet Idol's shrine;
Again I gazed where, on the boat,
Her shadow mix'd with mine.
II.
Cried Frank, who, with his Wife, was there,
‘We dream! sing each a song.’
And he sang first an old, brave air,
And pull'd the boat along:
‘Sir Pelles woo'd, in scorn's despite;
He cherish'd love's sweet smart;
Ettarde proved light; then, like a Knight,
He turn'd her from his heart.
‘O, the remorse with which we pay
For duties done too well!
But conscience gay does grief allay;
As all true knights can tell.’
51
III.
‘Alas, poor Knight!’ cried Blanche, ‘Nay, hear,’
Said Frank, ‘the saddest half!’
And drearily he troll'd, while clear
Rose Blanche's puzzled laugh.
‘Sir Lob was drunk; the stars were bright.
Within an empty ditch,
Sir Lob all night lay right and tight
As a Saint within his niche.
‘Now, well, quoth he, goes life with me;
I've liquor and to spare;
I hate the herd that vulgar be;
And, O, the stars are fair!
‘The mill-dam burst: Sir Lob lay sunk
In that celestial swound:
The mill-stream found the knight dead drunk,
And the Jury found him drown'd.’
IV.
‘The tunes are good; the words,’ said I,
‘Are hard to understand.’
And soon I prefaced with a sigh
This pagan love-song grand:
‘When Love's bright Ichor fills the veins,
Love's Amaranth lights the brow,
The Past grows dark, the Future wanes,
Before the golden Now.
‘Marc Antony the war-flags furl'd,
For Egypt's Queen said, 'Stay:
He reck'd not of the worthless world,
Well lost by that delay.
‘Quoth Antony, Here set I up
My everlasting rest:
Leave me to drain Joy's magic cup,
To dream on Egypt's breast.’
V.
Frank smiled, and said my note was wrong;
52
'Twas neither Man's nor Boy's;
And Blanche sang next, some modern song,
Of ‘Flowers’ and ‘Fairy Joys.’
As bright disparted skies that break
To let a cherub through,
So seem'd her mouth: my sight did ache,
Glitt'ring with fiery dew;
And, in the laugh of her brown eye,
My heart, contented so,
Lay like the honey-thirsty fly
Drows'd in the cactus' glow.
Nor heeded I what sang my Saint,
Such magic had the sound.
The myrtle in her breath made faint
The air that hearken'd round.
VI.
‘Now, Wife,’ said Frank, ‘to shame our lays,
Try you in turn your power;
And sing your little song in praise
Of Love's selectest flower.’
Her hand felt his: thus sang she then,
Submitted to his rule,
Tho' shyer than the water-hen
On Tamar's shadiest pool.
‘The Myrtle sates with scent the air
That flows by Grecian hills;
Its fervid leaflets glisten fair
By warm Italian rills.
The North too has its Lover's-Flower,
The glad Forget-me-not;
Too bold thro' sunshine, wind, and shower,
Too blue to be forgot.’
VII.
Pointing far East, Frank said, ‘Do you see
Yon porpoise-droves at play?’
We gazed, and saw, with failing glee,
Bright lines of spotted spray.
Once more the boded terror shook
53
My heart, and made me dumb.
‘To land! to land!’ cried Frank, ‘for, look,
The storm, at last, is come!’
Above us, heated fields of mist
Precipitated cloud;
For shore we pull'd; the swift keel hiss'd;
Above us grew the shroud.
The pale gull flapp'd the stagnant air;
The thunder-drop fell straight;
The first wind lifted Blanche's hair;
Looking to me she sate.
Across the boundless mirror crept,
In dark'ning blasts, the squall;
And round our terror lightly leapt
Mad wavelets, many and small.
The oars cast by, convuls'd outflew
Our perilous hope the sail.
None spoke; all watch'd the waves, that grew
Under the splashing hail.
With urgent hearts and useless hands,
We sate and saw them rise,
Coursing to shore in gloomy bands,
Below the appalling skies.
The wrathful thunder scared the deeps,
And where, upon our wake,
The sea got up in ghastly heaps,
White lines of lightning strake.
On, on, with fainting hope we fled,
Hard-hunted by the grave;
Slow seem'd it, though like wind we sped
Over the shouldering wave;
In front swift rose the crags, where still
A storm of sunshine pour'd;
At last, beneath the southern hill,
The pitiless breakers roar'd.
O, bolt foreseen before it burst!
O, chastening hard to bear!
O, cup of sweetness quite revers'd,
And turn'd to void despair!
Blanche in fear swooning, I let go
The helm; we struck the ground;
The sea fell in from stern to prow,
54
And Blanche, my Bride, was drown'd.
What guilt was hers? But God is great,
And all that may be known
To each of any other's fate
Is, that it helps his own.
IV
I.
In a swift vortex go the years,
Each swifter than the last,
And seasons four their set careers
Pursued, and somehow pass'd.
The spirit of Spring, this year, was quench'd
With clouds and wind and rain;
All night the gust-blown torrent drench'd
The gloomy window-pane;
Against the pane the flapping blind
Flapp'd ever, dismally;
And ever, above the rain and wind,
Sounded the dismal sea.
The billows, like some guilty crew
Devour'd by vain remorse,
Dash'd up the beach, sighing withdrew,
And mix'd, with murmurs hoarse.
The morning was a cheerless sight,
Amongst the turbid skies;
But sweet was the relief of light
Within my restless eyes;
For then I rose to prayer and toil,
Forgat the ocean's moan,
Or faced the dizzy crash and coil
That drown'd its mournfuller tone.
But never, when the tide drew back,
Trod I the weltering strand;
For horribly my single track
Pursued me in the sand.
II.
One morn I watch'd the rain subside;
And then fared singly forth,
55
Below the clouds, till eve to ride
From Edgecumb to the North.
Once, only once, I paused upon
The sea-transcending height,
And turn'd to gaze: far breakers shone,
Slow gleams of silent light.
Into my horse I struck the spur;
Sad was the soul in me;
Sore were my lids with tears for her
Who slept beneath the sea.
But soon I sooth'd my startled horse,
And check'd that sudden grief,
And look'd abroad on crag and gorse
And Dartmoor's cloudy reef.
Far forth the air was dark and clear,
The crags acute and large,
The clouds uneven, black, and near,
And ragged at the marge.
The spider, in his rainy mesh,
Shook not, but, as I rode,
The opposing air, sweet, sharp, and fresh,
Against my hot lids flow'd.
Peat-cutters pass'd me, carrying tools;
Hawks glimmer'd on the wing;
The ground was glad with grassy pools,
And brooklets galloping;
And sparrows chirp'd, with feathers spread,
And dipp'd and drank their fill,
Where, down its sandy channel, fled
The lessening road-side rill.
III.
I cross'd the furze-grown table-land,
And near'd the northern vales,
That lay perspicuously plann'd
In lesser hills and dales.
Then rearward, in a slow review,
Fell Dartmoor's jagged lines;
Around were dross-heaps, red and blue,
Old shafts of gutted mines,
Impetuous currents copper-stain'd,
56
Wheels stream-urged with a roar,
Sluice-guiding grooves, strong works that strain'd
With freight of upheaved ore.
And then, the train, with shock on shock,
Swift rush and birth-scream dire,
Grew from the bosom of the rock,
And pass'd in noise and fire.
With brazen throb, with vital stroke,
It went, far heard, far seen,
Setting a track of shining smoke
Against the pastoral green.
Then, bright drops, lodged in budding trees,
Were loos'd in sudden showers,
Touch'd by the novel western breeze,
Friend of the backward flowers.
Then rose the Church at Tavistock,
The rain still falling there;
But sunny Dartmoor seem'd to mock
The gloom with cheerful glare.
About the West the gilt vane reel'd
And pois'd; and, with sweet art,
The sudden, jangling changes peal'd
Until, around my heart,
Conceits of brighter times, of times
The brighter for past storms,
Clung thick as bees, when brazen chimes
Call down the hiveless swarms.
IV.
I rested at the Tiger Inn,
There half-way on my ride,
And mused with joy of friends and kin
Who did my coming bide.
The Vicar, in his sombre wear
That shone about the knees,
Before me stood, his aspect fair
With godly memories.
I heard again his kind ‘Good-bye:
Christ speed and keep thee still
From frantic passions, for they die
And leave a frantic will.’
57
My fond, old Tutor, learn'd and meek!
A soul, in strangest truth,
As wide as Asia and as weak;
Not like his daughter Ruth.
A Girl of fullest heart she was;
Her spirit's lovely flame
Nor dazzled nor surprised, because
It always burn'd the same;
And in the maiden path she trod
Fair was the wife foreshown,
A Mary in the house of God,
A Martha in her own.
Charms for the sight she had; but these
Were tranquil, grave, and chaste,
And all too beautiful to please
A rash, untutor'd taste.
V.
In love with home, I rose and eyed
The rainy North; but there
The distant hill-top, in its pride,
Adorn'd the brilliant air:
And, as I pass'd from Tavistock,
The scatter'd dwellings white,
The Church, the golden weather-cock,
Were whelm'd in happy light;
The children 'gan the sun to greet,
With song and senseless shout;
The lambs to skip, their dams to bleat;
In Tavy leapt the trout;
Across a fleeting eastern cloud,
The splendid rainbow sprang,
And larks, invisible and loud,
Within its zenith sang.
VI.
So lay the Earth that saw the skies
Grow clear and bright above,
As the repentant spirit lies
In God's forgiving love.
58
The lark forsook the waning day,
And all loud songs did cease;
The Robin, from a wither'd spray,
Sang like a soul at peace.
Far to the South, in sunset glow'd
The peaks of Dartmoor ridge,
And Tamar, full and tranquil, flow'd
Beneath the Gresson Bridge.
There, conscious of the numerous noise
Of rain-awaken'd rills,
And gathering deep and sober joys
From the heart-enlarging hills,
I sat, until the first white star
Appear'd, with dewy rays,
And the fair moon began to bar
With shadows all the ways.
O, well is thee, whate'er thou art,
And happy shalt thou be,
If thou hast known, within thy heart,
The peace that came to me.
O, well is thee, if aught shall win
Thy spirit to confess,
God proffers all, 'twere grievous sin
To live content in less!
VII.
I mounted, now, my patient nag;
And scaled the easy steep;
And soon beheld the quiet flag
On Lanson's solemn Keep.
And now, whenas the waking lights
Bespake the valley'd Town,
A child o'ertook me, on the heights,
In cap and russet gown.
It was an alms-taught scholar trim,
Who, on her happy way,
Sang to herself the morrow's hymn;
For this was Saturday.
‘Saint Stephen, stoned, nor grieved nor groan'd:
'Twas all for his good gain;
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For Christ him blest, till he confess'd
A sweet content in pain.
‘Then Christ His cross is no way loss,
But even a present boon:
Of His dear blood fair shines a flood
On heaven's eternal noon.’
VIII.
My sight, once more, was dim for her
Who slept beneath the sea,
As on I sped, without the spur,
By homestead, heath, and lea.
Beside my path the moon kept pace,
In meek and brilliant power,
And lit, ere long, the eastern face
Of Tamerton Church-tower.
~ Coventry Patmore,
1262:The Kalevala - Rune Xx
THE BREWING OF BEER.
Now we sing the wondrous legends,
Songs of wedding-feasts and dances,
Sing the melodies of wedlock,
Sing the songs of old tradition;
Sing of Ilmarinen's marriage
To the Maiden of the Rainbow,
Fairest daughter of the Northland,
Sing the drinking-songs of Pohya.
Long prepared they for the wedding
In Pohyola's halls and chambers,
In the courts of Sariola;
Many things that Louhi ordered,
Great indeed the preparations
For the marriage of the daughter,
For the feasting of the heroes,
For the drinking of the strangers,
For the feeding of the poor-folk,
For the people's entertainment.
Grew an ox in far Karjala,
Not the largest, nor the smallest,
Was the ox that grew in Suomi;
But his size was all-sufficient,
For his tail was sweeping Jamen,
And his head was over Kemi,
Horns in length a hundred fathoms,
Longer than the horns his mouth was;
Seven days it took a weasel
To encircle neck and shoulders;
One whole day a swallow journeyed
From one horn-tip to the other,
Did not stop between for resting.
Thirty days the squirrel travelled
From the tail to reach the shoulders,
But he could not gain the horn-tip
Till the Moon had long passed over.
This young ox of huge dimensions,
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This great calf of distant Suomi,
Was conducted from Karjala
To the meadows of Pohyola;
At each horn a hundred heroes,
At his head and neck a thousand.
When the mighty ox was lassoed,
Led away to Northland pastures,
Peacefully the monster journeyed
By the bays of Sariola,
Ate the pasture on the borders;
To the clouds arose his shoulders,
And his horns to highest heaven.
Not in all of Sariola
Could a butcher be discovered
That could kill the ox for Louhi,
None of all the sons of Northland,
In her hosts of giant people,
In her rising generation,
In the hosts of those grown older.
Came a hero from a distance,
Wirokannas from Karelen,
And these words the gray-beard uttered:
'Wait, O wait, thou ox of Suomi,
Till I bring my ancient war-club;
Then I'll smite thee on thy forehead,
Break thy skull, thou willing victim!
Nevermore wilt thou in summer
Browse the woods of Sariola,
Bare our pastures, fields, and forests;
Thou, O ox, wilt feed no longer
Through the length and breadth of Northland,
On the borders of this ocean!'
When the ancient Wirokannas
Started out the ox to slaughter,
When Palwoinen swung his war-club,
Quick the victim turned his forehead,
Flashed his flaming eyes upon him;
To the fir-tree leaped the hero,
In the thicket hid Palwoinen,
Hid the gray-haired Wirokannas.
Everywhere they seek a butcher,
One to kill the ox of Suomi,
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In the country of Karelen,
And among the Suomi-giants,
In the quiet fields of Ehstland,
On the battle-fields of Sweden,
Mid the mountaineers of Lapland,
In the magic fens of Turya;
Seek him in Tuoni's empire,
In the death-courts of Manala.
Long the search, and unsuccessful,
On the blue back of the ocean,
On the far-outstretching pastures.
There arose from out the sea-waves,
Rose a hero from the waters,
On the white-capped, roaring breakers,
From the water's broad expanses;
Nor belonged he to the largest,
Nor belonged he to the smallest;
Made his bed within a sea-shell,
Stood erect beneath a flour-sieve,
Hero old, with hands of iron,
And his face was copper-colored;
Quick the hero full unfolded,
Like the full corn from the kernel.
On his head a hat of flint-stone,
On his feet were sandstone-sandals,
In his hand a golden cleaver,
And the blade was copper-handled.
Thus at last they found a butcher,
Found the magic ox a slayer.
Nothing has been found so mighty
That it has not found a master.
As the sea-god saw his booty,
Quickly rushed he on his victim,
Hurled him to his knees before him,
Quickly felled the calf of Suomi,
Felled the young ox of Karelen.
Bountifully meat was furnished;
Filled at least a thousand hogsheads
Of his blood were seven boatfuls,
And a thousand weight of suet,
For the banquet of Pohyola,
For the marriage-feast of Northland.
337
In Pohyola was a guest-room,
Ample was the hall of Louhi,
Was in length a hundred furlongs,
And in breadth was nearly fifty;
When upon the roof a rooster
Crowed at break of early morning,
No one on the earth could hear him;
When the dog barked at one entrance,
None could hear him at the other.
Louhi, hostess of Pohyola,
Hastens to the hall and court-room,
In the centre speaks as follows:
'Whence indeed will come the liquor,
Who will brew me beer from barley,
Who will make the mead abundant,
For the people of the Northland,
Coming to my daughter's marriage,
To her drinking-feast and nuptials?
Cannot comprehend the malting,
Never have I learned the secret,
Nor the origin of brewing.'
Spake an old man from his corner:
'Beer arises from the barley,
Comes from barley, hops, and water,
And the fire gives no assistance.
Hop-vine was the son of Remu,
Small the seed in earth was planted,
Cultivated in the loose soil,
Scattered like the evil serpents
On the brink of Kalew-waters,
On the Osmo-fields and borders.
There the young plant grew and flourished,
There arose the climbing hop-vine,
Clinging to the rocks and alders.
'Man of good-luck sowed the barley
On the Osmo hills and lowlands,
And the barley grew and flourished,
Grew and spread in rich abundance,
Fed upon the air and water,
On the Osmo plains and highlands,
On the fields of Kalew-heroes.
'Time had travelled little distance,
338
Ere the hops in trees were humming,
Barley in the fields was singing,
And from Kalew's well the water,
This the language of the trio:
'Let us join our triple forces,
Join to each the other's powers;
Sad alone to live and struggle,
Little use in working singly,
Better we should toil together.'
'Osmotar, the beer-preparer,
Brewer of the drink refreshing,
Takes the golden grains of barley,
Taking six of barley-kernels,
Taking seven tips of hop-fruit,
Filling seven cups with water,
On the fire she sets the caldron,
Boils the barley, hops, and water,
Lets them steep, and seethe, and bubble
Brewing thus the beer delicious,
In the hottest days of summer,
On the foggy promontory,
On the island forest-covered;
Poured it into birch-wood barrels,
Into hogsheads made of oak-wood.
'Thus did Osmotar of Kalew
Brew together hops and barley,
Could not generate the ferment.
Thinking long and long debating,
Thus she spake in troubled accents:
'What will bring the effervescence,
Who will add the needed factor,
That the beer may foam and sparkle,
May ferment and be delightful?'
Kalevatar, magic maiden,
Grace and beauty in her fingers,
Swiftly moving, lightly stepping,
In her trimly-buckled sandals,
Steps upon the birch-wood bottom,
Turns one way, and then another,
In the centre of the caldron;
Finds within a splinter lying
From the bottom lifts the fragment,
339
Turns it in her fingers, musing:
'What may come of this I know not,
In the hands of magic maidens,
In the virgin hands of Kapo,
Snowy virgin of the Northland!'
'Kalevatar took the splinter
To the magic virgin, Kapo,
Who by unknown force and insight.
Rubbed her hands and knees together,
And produced a snow-white squirrel;
Thus instructed she her creature,
Gave the squirrel these directions:
'Snow-white squirrel, mountain-jewel,
Flower of the field and forest,
Haste thee whither I would send thee,
Into Metsola's wide limits,
Into Tapio's seat of wisdom;
Hasten through the heavy tree-tops,
Wisely through the thickest branches,
That the eagle may not seize thee,
Thus escape the bird of heaven.
Bring me ripe cones from the fir-tree,
From the pine-tree bring me seedlings,
Bring them to the hands of Kapo,
For the beer of Osmo's daughter.'
Quickly hastened forth the squirrel,
Quickly sped the nimble broad-tail,
Swiftly hopping on its journey
From one thicket to another,
From the birch-tree to the aspen,
From the pine-tree to the willow,
From the sorb-tree to the alder,
Jumping here and there with method,
Crossed the eagle-woods in safety,
Into Metsola's wide limits,
Into Tapio's seat of wisdom;
There perceived three magic pine-trees,
There perceived three smaller fir-trees,
Quickly climbed the dark-green branches,
Was not captured by the eagle,
Was not mangled in his talons;
Broke the young cones from the fir-tree,
340
Cut the shoots of pine-tree branches,
Hid the cones within his pouches,
Wrapped them in his fur-grown mittens
Brought them to the hands of Kapo,
To the magic virgin's fingers.
Kapo took the cones selected,
Laid them in the beer for ferment,
But it brought no effervescence,
And the beer was cold and lifeless.
'Osmotar, the beer-preparer,
Kapo, brewer of the liquor,
Deeply thought and long considered:
'What will bring the effervescence,
Who will lend me aid efficient,
That the beer may foam and sparkle,
May ferment and be refreshing?'
'Kalevatar, sparkling maiden,
Grace and beauty in her fingers,
Softly moving, lightly stepping,
In her trimly-buckled sandals,
Steps again upon the bottom,
Turns one way and then another,
In the centre of the caldron,
Sees a chip upon the bottom,
Takes it from its place of resting,
Looks upon the chip and muses
'What may come of this I know not,
In the hands of mystic maidens,
In the hands of magic Kapo,
In the virgin's snow-white fingers.'
'Kalevatar took the birch-chip
To the magic maiden, Kapo,
Gave it to the white-faced maiden.
Kapo, by the aid of magic,
Rubbed her hands and knees together,
And produced a magic marten,
And the marten, golden-breasted;
Thus instructed she her creature,
Gave the marten these directions.
'Thou, my golden-breasted marten,
Thou my son of golden color,
Haste thou whither I may send thee,
341
To the bear-dens of the mountain,
To the grottoes of the growler,
Gather yeast upon thy fingers,
Gather foam from lips of anger,
From the lips of bears in battle,
Bring it to the hands of Kapo,
To the hands of Osmo's daughter.'
'Then the marten golden-breasted,
Full consenting, hastened onward,
Quickly bounding on his journey,
Lightly leaping through the distance
Leaping o'er the widest rivers,
Leaping over rocky fissures,
To the bear-dens of the mountain,
To the grottoes of the growler,
Where the wild-bears fight each other,
Where they pass a dread existence,
Iron rocks, their softest pillows,
In the fastnesses of mountains;
From their lips the foam was dripping,
From their tongues the froth of anger;
This the marten deftly gathered,
Brought it to the maiden, Kapo,
Laid it in her dainty fingers.
'Osmotar, the beer-preparer,
Brewer of the beer of barley,
Used the beer-foam as a ferment;
But it brought no effervescence,
Did not make the liquor sparkle.
'Osmotar, the beer-preparer,
Thought again, and long debated:
'Who or what will bring the ferment,
Th at my beer may not be lifeless?'
'Kalevatar, magic maiden,
Grace and beauty in her fingers,
Softly moving, lightly stepping,
In her trimly-buckled sandals,
Steps again upon the bottom,
Turns one way and then another,
In the centre of the caldron,
Sees a pod upon the bottom,
Lifts it in her snow-white fingers,
342
Turns it o'er and o'er, and muses:
'What may come of this I know not,
In the hands of magic maidens,
In the hands of mystic Kapo,
In the snowy virgin's fingers?'
'Kalevatar, sparkling maiden,
Gave the pod to magic Kapo;
Kapo, by the aid of magic,
Rubbed the pod upon her knee-cap,
And a honey-bee came flying
From the pod within her fingers,
Kapo thus addressed her birdling:
'Little bee with honeyed winglets,
King of all the fragrant flowers,
Fly thou whither I direct thee,
To the islands in the ocean,
To the water-cliffs and grottoes,
Where asleep a maid has fallen,
Girdled with a belt of copper
By her side are honey-grasses,
By her lips are fragrant flowers,
Herbs and flowers honey-laden;
Gather there the sweetened juices,
Gather honey on thy winglets,
From the calyces of flowers,
From the tips of seven petals,
Bring it to the hands of Kapo,
To the hands of Osmo's daughter.'
'Then the bee, the swift-winged birdling,
Flew away with lightning-swiftness
On his journey to the islands,
O'er the high waves of the ocean;
Journeyed one day, then a second,
Journeyed all the next day onward,
Till the third day evening brought him
To the islands in the ocean,
To the water-cliffs and grottoes;
Found the maiden sweetly sleeping,
In her silver-tinselled raiment,
Girdled with a belt of copper,
In a nameless meadow, sleeping,
In the honey-fields of magic;
343
By her side were honeyed grasses,
By her lips were fragrant flowers,
Silver stalks with golden petals;
Dipped its winglets in the honey,
Dipped its fingers in the juices
Of the sweetest of the flowers,
Brought the honey back to Kapo,
To the mystic maiden's fingers.
'Osmotar, the beer-preparer,
Placed the honey in the liquor;
Kapo mixed the beer and honey,
And the wedding-beer fermented;
Rose the live beer upward, upward,
From the bottom of the vessels,
Upward in the tubs of birch-wood,
Foaming higher, higher, higher,
Till it touched the oaken handles,
Overflowing all the caldrons;
To the ground it foamed and sparkled,
Sank away in sand and gravel.
'Time had gone but little distance,
Scarce a moment had passed over,
Ere the heroes came in numbers
To the foaming beer of Northland,
Rushed to drink the sparkling liquor.
Ere all others Lemminkainen
Drank, and grew intoxicated
On the beer of Osmo's daughter,
On the honey-drink of Kalew.
'Osmotar, the beer-preparer,
Kapo, brewer of the barley,
Spake these words in saddened accents:
'Woe is me, my life hard-fated,
Badly have I brewed the liquor,
Have not brewed the beer in wisdom,
Will not live within its vessels,
Overflows and fills Pohyola!'
'From a tree-top sings the redbreast,
From the aspen calls the robin:
'Do not grieve, thy beer is worthy,
Put it into oaken vessels,
Into strong and willing barrels
344
Firmly bound with hoops of copper.'
'Thus was brewed the beer or Northland,
At the hands of Osmo's daughter;
This the origin of brewing
Beer from Kalew-hops and barley;
Great indeed the reputation
Of the ancient beer of Kalew,
Said to make the feeble hardy,
Famed to dry the tears of women,
Famed to cheer the broken-hearted,
Make the aged young and supple,
Make the timid brave and mighty,
Make the brave men ever braver,
Fill the heart with joy and gladness,
Fill the mind with wisdom-sayings,
Fill the tongue with ancient legends,
Only makes the fool more foolish.'
When the hostess of Pohyola
Heard how beer was first fermented,
Heard the origin of brewing,
Straightway did she fill with water
Many oaken tubs and barrels;
Filled but half the largest vessels,
Mixed the barley with the water,
Added also hops abundant;
Well she mixed the triple forces
In her tubs of oak and birch-wood,
Heated stones for months succeeding,
Thus to boil the magic mixture,
Steeped it through the days of summer,
Burned the wood of many forests,
Emptied all the, springs of Pohya;
Daily did the, forests lesson,
And the wells gave up their waters,
Thus to aid the hostess, Louhi,
In the brewing of the liquors,
From the water, hops, and barley,
And from honey of the islands,
For the wedding-feast of Northland,
For Pohyola's great carousal
And rejoicings at the marriage
Of the Malden of the Rainbow
345
To the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Metal-worker of Wainola.
Smoke is seen upon the island,
Fire, upon the promontory,
Black smoke rising to the heavens
From the fire upon the island;
Fills with clouds the half of Pohya,
Fills Karelen's many hamlets;
All the people look and wonder,
This the chorus of the women:
'Whence are rising all these smoke-clouds,
Why this dreadful fire in Northland?
Is not like the smoke of camp-fires,
Is too large for fires of shepherds!'
Lemminkainen's ancient mother
Journeyed in the early morning
For some water to the fountain,
Saw the smoke arise to heaven,
In the region of Pohyola,
These the words the mother uttered:
''Tis the smoke of battle-heroes,
From the beat of warring armies!'
Even Ahti, island-hero,
Ancient wizard, Lemminkainen,
Also known as Kaukomieli,
Looked upon the scene in wonder,
Thought awhile and spake as follows:
'I would like to see this nearer,
Learn the cause of all this trouble,
Whence this smoke and great confusion,
Whether smoke from heat of battle,
Or the bonfires of the shepherds.'
Kaukomieli gazed and pondered,
Studied long the rising smoke-clouds;
Came not from the heat of battle,
Came not from the shepherd bonfires;
Heard they were the fires of Louhi
Brewing beer in Sariola,
On Pohyola's promontory;
Long and oft looked Lemminkainen,
Strained in eagerness his vision,
Stared, and peered, and thought, and wondered,
346
Looked abashed and envy-swollen,
'O beloved, second mother,
Northland's well-intentioned hostess,
Brew thy beer of honey-flavor,
Make thy liquors foam and sparkle,
For thy many friends invited,
Brew it well for Lemminkainen,
For his marriage in Pohyola
With the Maiden of the Rainbow.'
Finally the beer was ready,
Beverage of noble heroes,
Stored away in casks and barrels,
There to rest awhile in silence,
In the cellars of the Northland,
In the copper-banded vessels,
In the magic oaken hogsheads,
Plugs and faucets made of copper.
Then the hostess of Pohyola
Skilfully prepared the dishes,
Laid them all with careful fingers
In the boiling-pans and kettles,
Ordered countless loaves of barley,
Ordered many liquid dishes,
All the delicacies of Northland,
For the feasting of her people,
For their richest entertainment,
For the nuptial songs and dances,
At the marriage of her daughter
With the blacksmith, Ilmarinen.
When the loaves were baked and ready.
When the dishes all were seasoned,
Time had gone but little distance,
Scarce a moment had passed over,
Ere the beer, in casks imprisoned,
Loudly rapped, and sang, and murmured:
'Come, ye heroes, come and take me,
Come and let me cheer your spirits,
Make you sing the songs of wisdom,
That with honor ye may praise me,
Sing the songs of beer immortal!'
Straightway Louhi sought a minstrel,
Magic bard and artist-singer,
347
That the beer might well be lauded,
Might be praised in song and honor.
First as bard they brought a salmon,
Also brought a pike from ocean,
But the salmon had no talent,
And the pike had little wisdom;
Teeth of pike and gills of salmon
Were not made for singing legends.
Then again they sought a singer,
Magic minstrel, beer-enchanter,
Thus to praise the drink of heroes,
Sing the songs of joy and gladness;
And a boy was brought for singing;
But the boy had little knowledge,
Could not praise the beer in honor;
Children's tongues are filled with questions,
Children cannot speak in wisdom,
Cannot sing the ancient legends.
Stronger grew the beer imprisoned
In the copper-banded vessels,
Locked behind the copper faucets,
Boiled, and foamed, and sang, and murmured:
'If ye do not bring a singer,
That will sing my worth immortal,
That will sing my praise deserving,
I will burst these bands of copper,
Burst the heads of all these barrels;
Will not serve the best of heroes
Till he sings my many virtues.'
Louhi, hostess of Pohyola,
Called a trusted maiden-servant,
Sent her to invite the people
To the marriage of her daughter,
These the words that Louhi uttered:
'O my trusted, truthful maiden,
Servant-maid to me belonging,
Call together all my people,
Call the heroes to my banquet,
Ask the rich, and ask the needy,
Ask the blind and deaf, and crippled,
Ask the young, and ask the aged;
Go thou to the hills, and hedges,
348
To the highways, and the by-ways,
Urge them to my daughter's wedding;
Bring the blind, and sorely troubled,
In my boats upon the waters,
In my sledges bring the halting,
With the old, and sick, and needy;
Ask the whole of Sariola,
Ask the people of Karelen,
Ask the ancient Wainamoinen,
Famous bard and wisdom-singer;
But I give command explicit
Not to ask wild Lemminkainen,
Not the island-dweller, Ahti!'
This the question of the servant:
'Why not ask wild Lemminkainen,
Ancient islander and minstrel?'
Louhi gave this simple answer:
'Good the reasons that I give thee
Why the wizard, Lemminkainen,
Must not have an invitation
To my daughter's feast and marriage
Ahti courts the heat of battle,
Lemminkainen fosters trouble,
Skilful fighter of the virtues;
Evil thinking, acting evil,
He would bring but pain and sorrow,
He would jest and jeer at maidens
In their trimly buckled raiment,
Cannot ask the evil-minded!'
Thus again the servant questions:
'Tell me how to know this Ahti,
Also known as Lemminkainen,
That I may not ask him hither;
Do not know the isle of Ahti,
Nor the home of Kaukomieli
Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
'Easy 'tis to know the wizard,
Easy find the Ahti-dwelling:
Ahti lives on yonder island,
On that point dwells Lemminkainen,
In his mansion near the water,
Far at sea his home and dwelling.'
349
Thereupon the trusted maiden
Spread the wedding-invitations
To the people of Pohyola,
To the tribes of Kalevala;
Asked the friendless, asked the homeless
Asked the laborers and shepherds,
Asked the fishermen and hunters,
Asked the deaf, the dumb, the crippled,
Asked the young, and asked the aged,
Asked the rich, and asked the needy;
Did not give an invitation
To the reckless Lemminkainen,
Island-dweller of the ocean.
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1263:Daughter of Heaven and Earth, coy Spring,
With sudden passion languishing,
Maketh all things softly smile,
Painteth pictures mile on mile,
Holds a cup with cowslip-wreaths,
Whence a smokeless incense breathes.
Girls are peeling the sweet willow,
Poplar white, and Gilead-tree,
And troops of boys
Shouting with whoop and hilloa,
And hip, hip three times three.
The air is full of whistlings bland;
What was that I heard
Out of the hazy land?
Harp of the wind, or song of bird,
Or clapping of shepherd's hands,
Or vagrant booming of the air,
Voice of a meteor lost in day?
Such tidings of the starry sphere
Can this elastic air convey.
Or haply 't was the cannonade
Of the pent and darkened lake,
Cooled by the pendent mountain's shade,
Whose deeps, till beams of noonday break,
Afflicted moan, and latest hold
Even unto May the iceberg cold.
Was it a squirrel's pettish bark,
Or clarionet of jay? or hark,
Where yon wedged line the Nestor leads,
Steering north with raucous cry
Through tracts and provinces of sky,
Every night alighting down
In new landscapes of romance,
Where darkling feed the clamorous clans
By lonely lakes to men unknown.
Come the tumult whence it will,
Voice of sport, or rush of wings,
It is a sound, it is a token
That the marble sleep is broken,
And a change has passed on things.

Beneath the calm, within the light,
A hid unruly appetite
Of swifter life, a surer hope,
Strains every sense to larger scope,
Impatient to anticipate
The halting steps of aged Fate.
Slow grows the palm, too slow the pearl:
When Nature falters, fain would zeal
Grasp the felloes of her wheel,
And grasping give the orbs another whirl.
Turn swiftlier round, O tardy ball!
And sun this frozen side,
Bring hither back the robin's call,
Bring back the tulip's pride.

Why chidest thou the tardy Spring?
The hardy bunting does not chide;
The blackbirds make the maples ring
With social cheer and jubilee;
The redwing flutes his o-ka-lee,
The robins know the melting snow;
The sparrow meek, prophetic-eyed,
Her nest beside the snow-drift weaves,
Secure the osier yet will hide
Her callow brood in mantling leaves;
And thou, by science all undone,
Why only must thy reason fail
To see the southing of the sun?

As we thaw frozen flesh with snow,
So Spring will not, foolish fond,
Mix polar night with tropic glow,
Nor cloy us with unshaded sun,
Nor wanton skip with bacchic dance,
But she has the temperance
Of the gods, whereof she is one,--
Masks her treasury of heat
Under east-winds crossed with sleet.
Plants and birds and humble creatures
Well accept her rule austere;
Titan-born, to hardy natures
Cold is genial and dear.
As Southern wrath to Northern right
Is but straw to anthracite;
As in the day of sacrifice,
When heroes piled the pyre,
The dismal Massachusetts ice
Burned more than others' fire,
So Spring guards with surface cold
The garnered heat of ages old:
Hers to sow the seed of bread,
That man and all the kinds be fed;
And, when the sunlight fills the hours,
Dissolves the crust, displays the flowers.

The world rolls round,--mistrust it not,--
Befalls again what once befell;
All things return, both sphere and mote,
And I shall hear my bluebird's note,
And dream the dream of Auburn dell.

When late I walked, in earlier days,
All was stiff and stark;
Knee-deep snows choked all the ways,
In the sky no spark;
Firm-braced I sought my ancient woods,
Struggling through the drifted roads;
The whited desert knew me not,
Snow-ridges masked each darling spot;
The summer dells, by genius haunted,
One arctic moon had disenchanted.
All the sweet secrets therein hid
By Fancy, ghastly spells undid.
Eldest mason, Frost, had piled,
With wicked ingenuity,
Swift cathedrals in the wild;
The piny hosts were sheeted ghosts
In the star-lit minster aisled.
I found no joy: the icy wind
Might rule the forest to his mind.
Who would freeze in frozen brakes?
Back to books and sheltered home,
And wood-fire flickering on the walls,
To hear, when, 'mid our talk and games,
Without the baffled north-wind calls.
But soft! a sultry morning breaks;
The cowslips make the brown brook gay;
A happier hour, a longer day.
Now the sun leads in the May,
Now desire of action wakes,
And the wish to roam.

The caged linnet in the Spring
Hearkens for the choral glee,
When his fellows on the wing
Migrate from the Southern Sea;
When trellised grapes their flowers unmask,
And the new-born tendrils twine,
The old wine darkling in the cask
Feels the bloom on the living vine,
And bursts the hoops at hint of Spring:
And so, perchance, in Adam's race,
Of Eden's bower some dream-like trace
Survived the Flight, and swam the Flood,
And wakes the wish in youngest blood
To tread the forfeit Paradise,
And feed once more the exile's eyes;
And ever when the happy child
In May beholds the blooming wild,
And hears in heaven the bluebird sing,
"Onward," he cries, "your baskets bring,--
In the next field is air more mild,
And o'er yon hazy crest is Eden's balmier Spring."

Not for a regiment's parade,
Nor evil laws or rulers made,
Blue Walden rolls its cannonade,
But for a lofty sign
Which the Zodiac threw,
That the bondage-days are told,
And waters free as winds shall flow.
Lo! how all the tribes combine
To rout the flying foe.
See, every patriot oak-leaf throws
His elfin length upon the snows,
Not idle, since the leaf all day
Draws to the spot the solar ray,
Ere sunset quarrying inches down,
And half-way to the mosses brown;
While the grass beneath the rime
Has hints of the propitious time,
And upward pries and perforates
Through the cold slab a thousand gates,
Till green lances peering through
Bend happy in the welkin blue.

April cold with dropping rain
Willows and lilacs brings again,
The whistle of returning birds,
And trumpet-lowing of the herds.
The scarlet maple-keys betray
What potent blood hath modest May;
What fiery force the earth renews,
The wealth of forms, the flush of hues;
Joy shed in rosy waves abroad
Flows from the heart of Love, the Lord.

Hither rolls the storm of heat;
I feel its finer billows beat
Like a sea which me infolds;
Heat with viewless fingers moulds,
Swells, and mellows, and matures,
Paints, and flavours, and allures,
Bird and brier inly warms,
Still enriches and transforms,
Gives the reed and lily length,
Adds to oak and oxen strength,
Boils the world in tepid lakes,
Burns the world, yet burnt remakes;
Enveloping heat, enchanted robe,
Wraps the daisy and the globe,
Transforming what it doth infold,
Life out of death, new out of old,
Painting fawns' and leopards' fells,
Seethes the gulf-encrimsoning shells,
Fires garden with a joyful blaze
Of tulips in the morning's rays.
The dead log touched bursts into leaf,
The wheat-blade whispers of the sheaf.
What god is this imperial Heat,
Earth's prime secret, sculpture's seat?
Doth it bear hidden in its heart
Water-line patterns of all art,
All figures, organs, hues, and graces?
Is it Daedalus? is it Love?
Or walks in mask almighty Jove,
And drops from Power's redundant horn
All seeds of beauty to be born?

Where shall we keep the holiday,
And duly greet the entering May?
Too strait and low our cottage doors,
And all unmeet our carpet floors;
Nor spacious court, nor monarch's hall,
Suffice to hold the festival.
Up and away! where haughty woods
Front the liberated floods:
We will climb the broad-backed hills,
Hear the uproar of their joy;
We will mark the leaps and gleams
Of the new-delivered streams,
And the murmuring rivers of sap
Mount in the pipes of the trees,
Giddy with day, to the topmost spire,
Which for a spike of tender green
Bartered its powdery cap;
And the colours of joy in the bird,
And the love in its carol heard,
Frog and lizard in holiday coats,
And turtle brave in his golden spots;
We will hear the tiny roar
Of the insects evermore,
While cheerful cries of crag and plain
Reply to the thunder of river and main.

As poured the flood of the ancient sea
Spilling over mountain chains,
Bending forests as bends the sedge,
Faster flowing o'er the plains,--
A world-wide wave with a foaming edge
That rims the running silver sheet,--
So pours the deluge of the heat
Broad northward o'er the land,
Painting artless paradises,
Drugging herbs with Syrian spices,
Fanning secret fires which glow
In columbine and clover-blow,
Climbing the northern zones,
Where a thousand pallid towns
Lie like cockles by the main,
Or tented armies on a plain.
The million-handed sculptor moulds
Quaintest bud and blossom folds,
The million-handed painter pours
Opal hues and purple dye;
Azaleas flush the island floors,
And the tints of heaven reply.

Wreaths for the May! for happy Spring
To-day shall all her dowry bring,
The love of kind, the joy, the grace,
Hymen of element and race,
Knowing well to celebrate
With song and hue and star and state,
With tender light and youthful cheer,
The spousals of the new-born year.
Lo Love's inundation poured
Over space and race abroad!

Spring is strong and virtuous,
Broad-sowing, cheerful, plenteous,
Quickening underneath the mould
Grains beyond the price of gold.
So deep and large her bounties are,
That one broad, long midsummer day
Shall to the planet overpay
The ravage of a year of war.

Drug the cup, thou butler sweet,
And send the nectar round;
The feet that slid so long on sleet
Are glad to feel the ground.
Fill and saturate each kind
With good according to its mind,
Fill each kind and saturate
With good agreeing with its fate,
Willow and violet, maiden and man.

The bitter-sweet, the haunting air,
Creepeth, bloweth everywhere;
It preys on all, all prey on it,
Blooms in beauty, thinks in wit,
Stings the strong with enterprise,
Makes travellers long for Indian skies,
And where it comes this courier fleet
Fans in all hearts expectance sweet,
As if to-morrow should redeem
The vanished rose of evening's dream.
By houses lies a fresher green,
On men and maids a ruddier mien,
As if time brought a new relay
Of shining virgins every May,
And Summer came to ripen maids
To a beauty that not fades.

The ground-pines wash their rusty green,
The maple-tops their crimson tint,
On the soft path each track is seen,
The girl's foot leaves its neater print.
The pebble loosened from the frost
Asks of the urchin to be tost.
In flint and marble beats a heart,
The kind Earth takes her children's part,
The green lane is the school-boy's friend,
Low leaves his quarrel apprehend,
The fresh ground loves his top and ball,
The air rings jocund to his call,
The brimming brook invites a leap,
He dives the hollow, climbs the steep.
The youth reads omens where he goes,
And speaks all languages the rose.
The wood-fly mocks with tiny noise
The far halloo of human voice;
The perfumed berry on the spray
Smacks of faint memories far away.
A subtle chain of countless rings
The next unto the farthest brings,
And, striving to be man, the worm
Mounts through all the spires of form.

I saw the bud-crowned Spring go forth,
Stepping daily onward north
To greet staid ancient cavaliers
Filing single in stately train.
And who, and who are the travellers?
They were Night and Day, and Day and Night,
Pilgrims wight with step forthright.
I saw the Days deformed and low,
Short and bent by cold and snow;
The merry Spring threw wreaths on them,
Flower-wreaths gay with bud and bell;
Many a flower and many a gem,
They were refreshed by the smell,
They shook the snow from hats and shoon,
They put their April raiment on;
And those eternal forms,
Unhurt by a thousand storms,
Shot up to the height of the sky again,
And danced as merrily as young men.
I saw them mask their awful glance
Sidewise meek in gossamer lids;
And to speak my thought if none forbids.
It was as if the eternal gods,
Tired of their starry periods,
Hid their majesty in cloth
Woven of tulips and painted moth.
On carpets green the maskers march
Below May's well-appointed arch,
Each star, each god, each grace amain,
Every joy and virtue speed,
Marching duly in her train,
And fainting Nature at her need
Is made whole again.

'T was the vintage-day of field and wood,
When magic wine for bards is brewed;
Every tree and stem and chink
Gushed with syrup to the brink.
The air stole into the streets of towns,
And betrayed the fund of joy
To the high-school and medalled boy:
On from hall to chamber ran,
From youth to maid, from boy to man,
To babes, and to old eyes as well.
'Once more,' the old man cried, 'ye clouds,
Airy turrets purple-piled,
Which once my infancy beguiled,
Beguile me with the wonted spell.
I know ye skilful to convoy
The total freight of hope and joy
Into rude and homely nooks,
Shed mocking lustres on shelf of books,
On farmer's byre, on meadow-pipes,
Or on a pool of dancing chips.
I care not if the pomps you show
Be what they soothfast appear,
Or if yon realms in sunset glow
Be bubbles of the atmosphere.
And if it be to you allowed
To fool me with a shining cloud,
So only new griefs are consoled
By new delights, as old by old,
Frankly I will be your guest,
Count your change and cheer the best.
The world hath overmuch of pain,--
If Nature give me joy again,
Of such deceit I'll not complain.'

Ah! well I mind the calendar,
Faithful through a thousand years,
Of the painted race of flowers,
Exact to days, exact to hours,
Counted on the spacious dial
Yon broidered zodiac girds.
I know the pretty almanac
Of the punctual coming-back,
On their due days, of the birds.
I marked them yestermorn,
A flock of finches darting
Beneath the crystal arch,
Piping, as they flew, a march,--
Belike the one they used in parting
Last year from yon oak or larch;
Dusky sparrows in a crowd,
Diving, darting northward free,
Suddenly betook them all,
Every one to his hole in the wall,
Or to his niche in the apple-tree.
I greet with joy the choral trains
Fresh from palms and Cuba's canes.
Best gems of Nature's cabinet,
With dews of tropic morning wet,
Beloved of children, bards, and Spring,
O birds, your perfect virtues bring,
Your song, your forms, your rhythmic flight,
Your manners for the heart's delight,
Nestle in hedge, or barn, or roof,
Here weave your chamber weather-proof,
Forgive our harms, and condescend
To man, as to a lubber friend,
And, generous, teach his awkward race
Courage, and probity, and grace!

Poets praise that hidden wine
Hid in milk we drew
At the barrier of Time,
When our life was new.
We had eaten fairy fruit,
We were quick from head to foot,
All the forms we look on shone
As with diamond dews thereon.
What cared we for costly joys,
The Museum's far-fetched toys?
Gleam of sunshine on the wall
Poured a deeper cheer than all
The revels of the Carnival.
We a pine-grove did prefer
To a marble theatre,
Could with gods on mallows dine,
Nor cared for spices or for wine.
Wreaths of mist and rainbow spanned,
Arch on arch, the grimmest land;
Whistle of a woodland bird
Made the pulses dance,
Note of horn in valleys heard
Filled the region with romance.

None can tell how sweet,
How virtuous, the morning air;
Every accent vibrates well;
Not alone the wood-bird's call,
Or shouting boys that chase their ball,
Pass the height of minstrel skill,
But the ploughman's thoughtless cry,
Lowing oxen, sheep that bleat,
And the joiner's hammer-beat,
Softened are above their will.
All grating discords melt,
No dissonant note is dealt,
And though thy voice be shrill
Like rasping file on steel,
Such is the temper of the air,
Echo waits with art and care,
And will the faults of song repair.

So by remote Superior Lake,
And by resounding Mackinac,
When northern storms and forests shake,
And billows on the long beach break,
The artful Air doth separate
Note by note all sounds that grate,
Smothering in her ample breast
All but godlike words,
Reporting to the happy ear
Only purified accords.
Strangely wrought from barking waves,
Soft music daunts the Indian braves,--
Convent-chanting which the child
Hears pealing from the panther's cave
And the impenetrable wild.

One musician is sure,
His wisdom will not fail,
He has not tasted wine impure,
Nor bent to passion frail.
Age cannot cloud his memory,
Nor grief untune his voice,
Ranging down the ruled scale
From tone of joy to inward wail,
Tempering the pitch of all
In his windy cave.
He all the fables knows,
And in their causes tells,--
Knows Nature's rarest moods,
Ever on her secret broods.
The Muse of men is coy,
Oft courted will not come;
In palaces and market squares
Entreated, she is dumb;
But my minstrel knows and tells
The counsel of the gods,
Knows of Holy Book the spells,
Knows the law of Night and Day,
And the heart of girl and boy,
The tragic and the gay,
And what is writ on Table Round
Of Arthur and his peers,
What sea and land discoursing say
In sidereal years.
He renders all his lore
In numbers wild as dreams,
Modulating all extremes,--
What the spangled meadow saith
To the children who have faith;
Only to children children sing,
Only to youth will spring be spring.

Who is the Bard thus magnified?
When did he sing, and where abide?

Chief of song where poets feast
Is the wind-harp which thou seest
In the casement at my side.

AEolian harp,
How strangely wise thy strain!
Gay for youth, gay for youth,
(Sweet is art, but sweeter truth,)
In the hall at summer eve
Fate and Beauty skilled to weave.
From the eager opening strings
Rung loud and bold the song.
Who but loved the wind-harp's note?
How should not the poet doat
On its mystic tongue,
With its primeval memory,
Reporting what old minstrels said
Of Merlin locked the harp within,--
Merlin paying the pain of sin,
Pent in a dungeon made of air,--
And some attain his voice to hear,
Words of pain and cries of fear,
But pillowed all on melody,
As fits the griefs of bards to be.
And what if that all-echoing shell,
Which thus the buried Past can tell,
Should rive the Future, and reveal
What his dread folds would fain conceal?
It shares the secret of the earth,
And of the kinds that owe her birth.
Speaks not of self that mystic tone,
But of the Overgods alone:
It trembles to the cosmic breath,--
As it heareth, so it saith;
Obeying meek the primal Cause,
It is the tongue of mundane laws:
And this, at least, I dare affirm,
Since genius too has bound and term,
There is no bard in all the choir,
Not Homer's self, the poet sire,
Wise Milton's odes of pensive pleasure,
Or Shakspeare, whom no mind can measure,
Nor Collins' verse of tender pain,
Nor Byron's clarion of disdain,
Scott, the delight of generous boys,
Or Wordsworth, Pan's recording voice,--
Not one of all can put in verse,
Or to this presence could rehearse,
The sights and voices ravishing
The boy knew on the hills in Spring,
When pacing through the oaks he heard
Sharp queries of the sentry-bird,
The heavy grouse's sudden whirr,
The rattle of the kingfisher;
Saw bonfires of the harlot flies
In the lowland, when day dies;
Or marked, benighted and forlorn,
The first far signal-fire of morn.
These syllables that Nature spoke,
And the thoughts that in him woke,
Can adequately utter none
Save to his ear the wind-harp lone.
And best can teach its Delphian chord
How Nature to the soul is moored,
If once again that silent string,
As erst it wont, would thrill and ring.

Not long ago, at eventide,
It seemed, so listening, at my side
A window rose, and, to say sooth,
I looked forth on the fields of youth:
I saw fair boys bestriding steeds,
I knew their forms in fancy weeds,
Long, long concealed by sundering fates,
Mates of my youth,--yet not my mates,
Stronger and bolder far than I,
With grace, with genius, well attired,
And then as now from far admired,
Followed with love
They knew not of,
With passion cold and shy.
O joy, for what recoveries rare!
Renewed, I breathe Elysian air,
See youth's glad mates in earliest bloom,--
Break not my dream, obtrusive tomb!
Or teach thou, Spring! the grand recoil
Of life resurgent from the soil
Wherein was dropped the mortal spoil.

Soft on the south-wind sleeps the haze!
So on thy broad mystic van
Lie the opal-coloured days,
And waft the miracle to man.
Soothsayer of the eldest gods,
Repairer of what harms betide,
Revealer of the inmost powers
Prometheus proffered, Jove denied;
Disclosing treasures more than true,
Or in what far to-morrow due;
Speaking by the tongues of flowers,
By the ten-tongued laurel speaking,
Singing by the oriole songs,
Heart of bird the man's heart seeking;
Whispering hints of treasure hid
Under Morn's unlifted lid,
Islands looming just beyond
The dim horizon's utmost bound;--
Who can, like thee, our rags upbraid,
Or taunt us with our hope decayed?
Or who like thee persuade,
Making the splendour of the air,
The morn and sparkling dew, a snare?
Or who resent
Thy genius, wiles, and blandishment?

There is no orator prevails
To beckon or persuade
Like thee the youth or maid:
Thy birds, thy songs, thy brooks, thy gales,
Thy blooms, thy kinds,
Thy echoes in the wilderness,
Soothe pain, and age, and love's distress,
Fire fainting will, and build heroic minds.

For thou, O Spring! canst renovate
All that high God did first create.
Be still his arm and architect,
Rebuild the ruin, mend defect;
Chemist to vamp old worlds with new,
Coat sea and sky with heavenlier blue,
New-tint the plumage of the birds,
And slough decay from grazing herds,
Sweep ruins from the scarped mountain,
Cleanse the torrent at the fountain,
Purge alpine air by towns defiled,
Bring to fair mother fairer child,
Not less renew the heart and brain,
Scatter the sloth, wash out the stain,
Make the aged eye sun-clear,
To parting soul bring grandeur near.
Under gentle types, my Spring
Masks the might of Nature's king,
An energy that searches thorough
From Chaos to the dawning morrow;
Into all our human plight,
The soul's pilgrimage and flight;
In city or in solitude,
Step by step, lifts bad to good,
Without halting, without rest,
Lifting Better up to Best;
Planting seeds of knowledge pure,
Through earth to ripen, through heaven endure.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson, May-Day
,
1264:The Old Manor House
AN old house, crumbling half away, all barnacled and lichen-grown,
Of saddest, mellowest, softest grey,—with a grand history of its own—
Grand with the work and strife and tears of more than half a thousand years.
Such delicate, tender, russet tones of colour on its gables slept,
With streaks of gold betwixt the stones, where wind-sown flowers and mosses
crept:
Wild grasses waved in sun and shade o'er terrace slab and balustrade.
Around the clustered chimneys clung the ivy's wreathed and braided threads,
And dappled lights and shadows flung across the sombre browns and reds;
Where'er the graver's hand had been, it spread its tendrils bright and green.
Far-stretching branches shadowed deep the blazoned windows and broad eaves,
And rocked the faithful rooks asleep, and strewed the terraces with leaves.
A broken dial marked the hours amid damp lawns and garden bowers.
An old house, silent, sad, forlorn, yet proud and stately to the last;
Of all its power and splendour shorn, but rich with memories of the past;
And pitying, from its own decay, the gilded piles of yesterday.
Pitying the new race that passed by, with slighting note of its grey walls,—
And entertaining tenderly the shades of dead knights in its halls,
Whose blood, that soaked these hallowed sods, came down from Scandinavian
gods.
I saw it first in summer-time. The warm air hummed and buzzed with bees,
Where now the pale green hop-vines climb about the sere trunks of the trees,
And waves of roses on the ground scented the tangled glades around.
Some long fern-plumes drooped there—below; the heaven above was still and
blue;
Just here—between the gloom and glow—a cedar and an aged yew
Parted their dusky arms, to let the glory fall on Margaret.
She leaned on that old balustrade, her white dress tinged with golden air,
Her small hands loosely clasped, and laid amongst the moss and maidenhair:
I watched her, hearing, as I stood, a turtle cooing in the wood—
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Hearing a mavis far away, piping his dreamy interludes,
While gusts of soft wind, sweet with hay, swept through those garden
solitudes,—
And thinking she was lovelier e'en than my young ideal love had been.
Tall, with that subtle, sensitive grace, which made so plainly manifest
That she was born of noble race,—a cool, hushed presence, bringing rest,
Of one who felt and understood the dignity of womanhood.
Tall, with a slow, proud step and air; with skin half marble and half milk;
With twisted coils of raven hair, blue-tinged, and fine and soft as silk;
With haughty, clear-cut chin and cheek, and broad brows exquisitely Greek;
With still, calm mouth, whose dreamy smile possessed me like a haunting pain,
So rare, so sweet, so free from guile, with that slight accent of disdain;
With level, liquid tones that fell like chimings of a vesper bell;
With large, grave stag-eyes, soft, yet keen with slumbering passion, hazelbrown,
Long-lashed and dark, whose limpid sheen my thirsty spirit swallowed down;—
O poor, pale words, wherewith to paint my queen, my goddess, and my saint!
You see that oriel, ivy-grown, with the blurred sculpture underneath?
Her sweet head, like the Clytie's own, with a white stephanotis wreath
Inwoven with its coiling hair, first bent to me in greeting there.
I shall remember till I die that night when we were introduced!
The great Sir Hildebrand stood by—her cousin— scowling as he used
To scowl if e'en a poor dumb cur ventured to lift his eyes to her.
I cared not. Well I knew her grace was not for him. I watched them dance,
And knew it by her locked-up face, and her slow, haughty utterance.
I knew he chafed and raged to see how kind and sweet she was to me.
O dear old window!—nevermore the red and purple lights, that stray
Through your dim panes upon the floor on sunny summer-night, will lay
Soft rainbows on her glossy hair and the white dress she used to wear!
Those panes the ivy used to scratch—I hear it now when I'm alone!
A pair of martlets used to hatch their young ones in the sculptured stone;
Those warm slabs were the bloodhound's bed, with fine yew-needles carpeted.
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The missel-thrushes used to search there for the berries as they fell;
On that high twig, at morn, would perch a shy and shivering locustelle,—
From yon low sweep of furzy brake, we used to watch it thrill and shake.
The banksia roses twined a wreath all round that ancient coat and crest,
And trailed the time-worn steps beneath, and almost touched the martin's nest;
The honey bees swam in and out, and little lizards flashed about.
And when we flung the casement wide, the wind would play about her brow,
As she sat, etching, by my side,—I see the bright locks lifted now!
And such a view would meet our eyes of crimson woods and azure skies!
'Twas there, when fell the twilight hush, I used to feed her wistful ears,
And make her cheek and forehead flush, and her dark eyes fill full of tears,
With tales of my wild, fighting life—our bitter, brave Crimean strife.
We had, too, little concerts in that dear recess,—I used to play
Accompaniments on my violin, and she would sing “Old Robin Gray,”
And simple, tender Scottish songs of loyal love and royal wrongs.
My violin is dead for me, the dust lies thick upon the case;
And she is dead,—yet I can see e'en now the rapt and listening face;
And all about the garden floats the echo of those crying notes!
'Tis a sweet garden, is it not? So wild and tangled, nothing prim;
No quaint-cut bed, no shaven plot, no stunted bushes, stiff and trim;
Its flowers and shrubs all overblown, its long paths moss and lichen-grown.
'Twas on that terrace that we read the “Idylls,” sauntering up and down
With gentle, musing, measured tread, while leaves kept falling, gold and brown,
And mists kept rising, silver-grey, one still and peaceful autumn-day.
In those long glades we roamed apart, and studied Spanish, and the tales
Of Chaucer,—there we talked of art, and listened to the nightingales;
E'en now, when summer daylight dies, I hear their bubbling melodies.
You see that bower, half-hidden, made by the low-branching willow-tree?
We used to lounge there in the shade, and laugh, and gossip, and drink tea:
I wreathed her head with ferns, one night, and little rose-buds sweet and white.
It grew my habit, by-and-by, to gather all the flowers she wore;
She used to take them silently, or I would leave them at her door,—
And wait about till she was drest, to see them nestling on her breast.
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In that green nook she used to sit, and I would watch her as she worked.
Her face had such a spell in it, and such a subtle glamour lurked
In even the motion of her hand!—why, I could never understand.
'Twas there I tied the little strap that held her netting down, one day,
And kissed the soft palm in her lap, which she so gently drew away.
Ay me, we held our tongues for hours! and I plucked off and ate the flowers.
She would not look at me at first—I recollect it all so well!
Her delicate, downcast features, erst so pale, were tinted like a shell—
Then like the petals that enclose the inmost heart of a moss rose.
The others came and chatted round, but we could laugh and chat no more;
I propped my elbow on the ground, and watched her count her stitches o'er;
Their talk I did not comprehend,—she was too busy to attend.
The days passed on, and still we sat in our old place; but things were changed.
We were so silent after that!—so oddly formal—so estranged!
No more we met to worship art,—our little pathways branched apart.
All day I kept her face in view—scarce one low tone I failed to hear;
And, though she would not see, I knew she felt when I was far or near.
Yet brief and seldom was the chance that gave me word, or smile, or glance.
One night I came home in the gloom. The other guests were mostly gone.
A light was burning in her room, and from the lawn it shone upon
I plucked a flower for her to wear—a white rose, fringed with maidenhair.
I passed through that long corridor—those are its windows, to the west—
That I might leave it at her door,—and saw her cross her threshold, drest.
No lamps were lit,—the twilight shed a grey mist on her shiny head.
Her garments swept the oaken stairs; I stood below her, hushed and dumb;
She started, seeing me unawares, and stopped. “Come down,” I whispered;
“come!”
She waited, but I waited too;—and she had nothing else to do.
She came down, slowly, haughtily, with sweet pretence of carelessness.
I watched each step as she drew nigh, each brighter gleam on her white dress.
I did not speak, I did not stir, but all my heart went out to her.
She would have passed me, shy and still,—she would not suffer herself to mark
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That I was grown so bold, until I took her dear hands in the dark.
And then—and then—Well! she was good and patient, and she understood.
My arms were strong, and rude, and rough—because my love was so intense;
She knew the reason well enough, and so she would not take offence;
Though 'twas by force I made her stay, she did not try to get away.
Ah, then we had some happy hours—some blessed days of peace and rest!
This garden, full of shady bowers and lonely pathways, from whose breast
A thousand blending perfumes rise, became a very Paradise.
'Twas fair as the first Eden, then; and Adam had no fairer mate!
Nor grieved he more than I grieved, when the angel drove him from the gate.
When God cursed him from His high throne, He did not cast him out alone!
'Twas on that broken step we sat, where the yew branch is fall'n and bent,
And read the Colonel's letter, that recalled me to my regiment.
'Twas there, on such a night as this, I stood to give my parting kiss.
'Twas there I hugged the small Greek head upon my bosom, damp with dew;
'Twas there she soothed my grief, and said, “But I shall still belong to you.”
O my sweet Eve, with your pure eyes!—you're mine now, in God's Paradise.
I sailed, you know, within a week, en route for Malta's heat and blaze;
And tender letters came, to speak of love, and comfort, and bright days.
I tried to think it was not hard—of what was coming afterward.
I used to dream, and dream, and dream, from night till morn, from morn till
night;
My future life just then did seem so full, so beautiful, so bright!
I could not see, I could not feel, the sorrow dogging at my heel.
At length it touched me. By-and-by the letters ceased. I looked in vain;
I roamed the streets dejectedly, and gnawed my long moustache in pain.
I wrote twice—thrice; no answer still. Surely, I thought, she must be ill.
Until one evening Eyre came in, to lounge and gossip, drink and smoke,
I gave him leisure to begin; and, when his pipe was lit, he spoke,
Through curling vapour, soft and blue—“Guy, I've a piece of news for you.
“One of the girls you met last year at that poor tumble-down old place—
The dark-haired one—she with the clear white skin and sweet Madonna face,—
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She's married now, I understand, to her rich cousin Hildebrand.”
I felt my limbs grow stark and stiff; I felt my heart grow cold as lead;
I heard Eyre's quiet, musing whiff—the noise swam round and round my head.
I veiled my eyes, lest he should see their passionate, mute misery.
“I only heard,” he said, “to-day. It's out in all the papers, though.
She did not care for him, they say. But the old house was falling low—
Her father's name and fame at stake. She would do anything for his sake.
“Some mortgages foreclosed—the price of years and centuries of debt;
The manor doomed for sacrifice—or else the Lady Margaret.
Doubtless for Hildebrand's red gold the rare Madonna face was sold.
“I fancy that's the history,” he ended, in a bitter tone.
“It's not a new one, by-the-bye.” And when he went, I sat alone,
And tried to ease me with a prayer, but ground my teeth in my despair.
Then I grew stupid, numb, and tired. A fever crept through all my veins,
And wearied out my heart, and fired my dazed, tumultuous, teeming brains.
I hung suspended by a breath, for weeks and months, 'twixt life and death.
Then I recovered, and had leave to go to England— where she dwelt;
In my home climate to retrieve my broken health and strength. I felt
Twice ten years older than before. I knew I should come back no more.
Soon as I touched my native land, my feet turned toward the manor house.
They told me that Sir Hildebrand was in the Highlands, shooting grouse;
That she was in her father's care. That night I found her, sitting there,
On that third step, just where the trees cast down their greenest, coolest shade;
Her weary hands about her knees, her head against the balustrade;
And such dumb woe in her sweet eyes, uplifted to the fading skies.
She did not see me till I burst through the rose-thickets round about.
She sprang up with a cry at first—and then her arms were half stretched out—
And then caught backward, for his sake. I felt as if my heart would break.
I knew the truth. I did not care. I did not think. I flung me down,
And kissed her hands, her wrists, her hair, the very fringes of her gown;
While she sat cowering in a heap, and moaned, and shook, but could not weep.
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It was soon over. O good God, forgive me!—I was sorely tried.
'Twas a dark pathway that I trod; I could not see Thee at my side.
It was soon over. “I shall die,” she whispered, “if you stay here, Guy!
“O Guy! Guy! you were kind to me in our old days,—be kinder now,—
Be kind, and go, and let me be!” And then I felt on my hot brow
The brush of her cold finger-tips—the last soft contact of her lips.
And I obeyed her will and went, and vowed to tempt her nevermore.
I tried hard, too, to be content, and think of that which lay before.
I knew my dream of love was past, yet strove to serve her to the last.
I left my comrades—I had lost all taste for glory and for mirth—
And, without hopes or aims, I cross'd the seas and wander'd o'er the earth.
Without a light, without a guide, I drifted with the wind and tide.
My heart was broken when 'twas struck that bitter blow, and joy ran out!
Only a few stray treasures stuck—a few gleams flickered round about.
My old art-love still lingered there,—I think that kept me from despair.
With strange companions did I dwell, one scorching summer, on the heights
Of Tangiers' Moorish citadel, and mused away the days and nights.
With loose white garments and long gun, I roamed the deserts in the sun.
I painted Atlas, capped with snow, and lifted, cool, and still, and fair,
Out of the burning heat and glow, into the solemn upper air;
And Tetuan's gleaming walls I drew on fields of Mediterranean blue.
I haunted Cairo's crowded ways, and sketched carved doors and gilded grates,
Mosque-domes and minarets ablaze, and sweet dark heads with shining plaits;
And now a grave old Arab sheikh, and then a slim, straight-featured Greek.
In a swift wing-sailed boat I slid across the stream where Libya looms,
And from King Cheop's pyramid saw Pharaoh-cities, Pharaoh-tombs;
And, stretching off for many a mile, the sacred waters of the Nile.
I saw the graves of mighty states,—I saw Thebes' temple, overturned—
The City of the Hundred Gates, where Moses and Greek sages learned,
Where hungry lions prowl at noon, and hyaenas snarl at the bright moon.
I roamed through Nubian desert flats, where vultures sailed o'er burning seas;
And forests where the yellow bats hung, cloaked and hooded, from the trees;
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And marshy wastes, where crocodiles slept on the shores of sandy isles.
I followed, through long days and nights, where, with their little ones and flocks,
Had passed the wandering Israelites; I read the writing on the rocks;
And e'en these restless feet of mine tracked holy feet in Palestine.
Roaming through India's burning plains, I chased wild boars and antelopes;
Swam brawling nullahs in the rains, and haunted dew-wet mango-topes;
Shot bears and tigers in the gloom of the dense forests of Beerbhoom.
Through swathing-nets I watched at night the clear moon gild a palm-tree ledge;
And, through the flood of silver light, heard jackals at the compound-hedge;
While punkahs waved above my head, and faint airs hovered round my bed.
I mused by many a sacred tank, where lonely temples fell away,
Where the fat alligators drank, and scarlet lotus-flowers lay;
Smoked curling pipes 'neath roof and tree, the while dark nautch-girls danced to
me.
I trod the creeper-netted ground of deadly, beautiful, bright woods,
Where birds and monkeys chattered round, and serpents reared their crimson
hoods.
I dwelt 'neath breathless desert-glows, and Simla's Himalayan snows.
From the hot glades of garden reach, I wandered upward to Cabool—
From the bright Hooghly's flowering beach to the wild mountains, calm and cool.
I wept at Cawnpore's fatal well, and where our heroes fought and fell.
I roamed through Lucknow's battered gate—thick-thronged with memories so
intense!
And Delhi's ruins of wild state and old Mogul magnificence.
I pressed the rank, blood-nurtured grass that creeps along the Khyber Pass.
I sailed the Irrawaddy's stream, 'mid dense teak forests; saw the moon
Light up with broad and glittering gleam the golden Dagun of Rangoon—
The delicate, fretted temple-shells, whose roofs were rimmed with swaying bells.
In his gold palace, all alone, with square, hard face and eyes aslant,
I saw upon his royal throne the Lord of the White Elephant.
I mixed in wild, barbaric feasts with Buddha's yellow-robèd priests.
I crept with curious feet within imperial China's sacred bounds;
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I saw the Palace of Pekin, and all its fairy garden-grounds;
The green rice-fields, the tremulous rills, the white azaleas on the hills;
The tea-groves climbing mountain backs; the girls' rich robes of blue and white;
The cattle 'neath the paddy-stacks; the gilt pagodas, tall and bright;—
And in a merchant-junk I ran across the waters to Japan.
I saw, where silk-fringed mats were spread, within his laquered, bare saloon,
With his curled roofs above his head, on muffled heels, the great Tycoon.
Familiar things they were to me—the pipes, and betelnuts, and tea.
I dug in Californian ground, at Sacramento's golden brim,
With hunger, murder, all around, and fever shaking every limb;
Saw, in lush forests and rude sheds, the Dyaks roast ing pirates' heads.
I shot white condors on the brows of snowy Andes; and I chased
Wild horses, and wild bulls and cows, o'er the wide Pampas' jungle-waste;
And saw, while wandering to and fro, the silver mines of Mexico.
In Caffre waggons I was drawn up lone Cape gorges, green and steep,
And camped by river-grove and lawn, where nightly tryst the wild things keep;
Where glaring eyes without the line of circling watch-fires used to shine.
I chased o'er sandy plains and shot the ostrich,—at the reedy brink
Of pools, the lion, on the slot of antelopes that came to drink;
Giraffes, that held their heads aloof'neath the mimosa's matted roof;
And brindled gnus, and cowardly, striped shard-wolves, and, 'mid water-plants
And flags, black hippopotami, and snakes, and shrieking elephants.
From courted sickness, hunger, strife, God spared my weary, reckless life.
In the bright South Seas did I toss through wild blue nights and fainting days,
With the snow-plumaged albatross. I saw Tahiti's peaks ablaze;
And still, palm-fringed lagoons asleep o'er coral grottoes, cool and deep.
I built an Australian hut of logs, and lived alone— with just a noose,
A trap, a gun, my horse and dogs; I hunted long-legged kangaroos;
And oft I spent the calm night-hours beneath the gum-trees' forest-bowers.
I threaded miles and miles and miles, where Lena's sad, slow waters flow,
'Mid silent rocks, and woods, and isles, and drear Siberian steppes of snow;
Where pines and larches, set alight, blaze in the dark and windless night.
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I shot a wild fowl on the shore of a still, lonely mountain lake,
And, o'er the sheer white torrents' roar, heard long-drawn, plaintive echoes
wake;
Caught squirrels in their leafy huts, munching the little cedar-nuts.
I trapped the small, soft sables, stripped the bloomy fur from off their backs,
And hunted grey wolves as they slipped and snuffed and snarled down reindeer
tracks;
I brought the brown, bald eagle down from the white sea-hill's rugged crown.
I saw the oil-lamp shining through the small and dim ice window-pane;
And the near sky, so deeply blue, spangled with sparks, like golden rain;
While dogs lay tethered, left and right, howling across the arctic night.
I saw when, in my flying sledge, I swept the frozen tundra-slopes,
The white bears on some craggy ledge, far-off, where ocean blindly gropes
In her dim caves—where bones lie furled, the tokens of a vanished world.
I saw across the dread blue sky, spanning blue ice and bluer mist
(That shows where open waters lie), the bright Aurora keep her tryst,—
That arch of tinted flame—so fair! lighting the crystals in the air.
Then, all at once—I know not why—I felt I could no longer roam;
A voice seemed calling to my heart—Return to England and thy home;
I found my thoughts were yearning yet, for one more glimpse of Margaret.
So on a sudden I returned. I reached the village in the night.
At one small inn a candle burned with feeble, pale, unsteady light:
The hostess curtseyed, grave and strange. She did not know me for the change.
My broad white brows were bronzed, and scarred with lines of trouble, thought,
and
care;
My young bright eyes were dim and hard—the sunshine was no longer there;
My brown moustache was hid away in a great beard of iron-grey.
“The Manor House is habited,” to my brief question she replied.
“To-night my lady lies there dead. She's long been ailing, and she died
At noon. A happy thing for her! Were you acquainted with her, sir?
“A sweeter lady never walked! So kind and good to all the poor!
She ne'er disdained us when she talked—ne'er turned a beggar from her door.
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Ah, sir, but we may look in vain; we ne'er shall see her likes again.
“I heard the squire's great bloodhound's bark; I woke, and shook, and held my
breath.
My man, he stirred too in the dark. Said he to me, ‘My lady's death
Is not far off. Another night she'll never see.’ And he was right.
“'Twas over in twelve hours or less. She lies there, on the golden bed,
In her old confirmation dress, with the small white cap on her head
Which bore the bishop's blessing hand,—she asked that of Sir Hildebrand.”
You see that window in the shade of those old beeches? 'Twas that room
Wherein my dear dead love was laid. I climbed the ivy in the gloom
And silence—just once more to see the face that had belonged to me.
I stood beside her. No one heard. On the great rajah's bed, alone
She lay. The night-breeze softly stirred the Cashmere curtains, and the moan
Of my wild kisses seemed to thrill the solitude. All else was still.
In the pale yellow taper light, I gazed upon her till the morn.
I see her now—so sweet and white! the fair, pure face so trouble-worn!
The thin hands folded on her breast, in peace at last, and perfect rest!
~ Ada Cambridge,
1265:The Kalevala - Rune Iii
WAINAMOINEN AND YOUKAHAINEN.
Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel,
Passed his years in full contentment,
On the meadows of Wainola,
On the plains of Kalevala,
Singing ever wondrous legends,
Songs of ancient wit and wisdom,
Chanting one day, then a second,
Singing in the dusk of evening,
Singing till the dawn of morning,
Now the tales of old-time heroes,
Tales of ages long forgotten,
Now the legends of creation,
Once familiar to the children,
By our children sung no longer,
Sung in part by many heroes,
In these mournful days of evil,
Evil days our race befallen.
Far and wide the story travelled,
Far away men spread the knowledge
Of the chanting of the hero,
Of the song of Wainamoinen;
To the South were heard the echoes,
All of Northland heard the story.
Far away in dismal Northland,
Lived the singer, Youkahainen,
Lapland's young and reckless minstrel,
Once upon a time when feasting,
Dining with his friends and fellows,
Came upon his ears the story
That there lived a sweeter singer,
On the meadows of Wainola,
On the plains of Kalevala,
Better skilled in chanting legends,
Better skilled than Youkahainen,
Better than the one that taught him.
Straightway then the bard grew angry,
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Envy rose within his bosom,
Envy of this Wainamoinen,
Famed to be a sweeter singer;
Hastes he angry to his mother,
To his mother, full of wisdom,
Vows that he will southward hasten,
Hie him southward and betake him
To the dwellings of Wainola,
To the cabins of the Northland,
There as bard to vie in battle,
With the famous Wainamoinen.
'Nay,' replies the anxious father,
'Do not go to Kalevala.'
'Nay,' replies the fearful mother,
'Go not hence to Wainamoinen,
There with him to offer battle;
He will charm thee with his singing
Will bewitch thee in his anger,
He will drive thee back dishonored,
Sink thee in the fatal snow-drift,
Turn to ice thy pliant fingers,
Turn to ice thy feet and ankles.'
These the words of Youkahainen:
Good the judgement of a father,
Better still, a mother's counsel,
Best of all one's own decision.
I will go and face the minstrel,
Challenge him to sing in contest,
Challenge him as bard to battle,
Sing to him my sweet-toned measures,
Chant to him my oldest legends,
Chant to him my garnered wisdom,
That this best of boasted singers,
That this famous bard of Suomi,
Shall be worsted in the contest,
Shall become a hapless minstrel;
By my songs shall I transform him,
That his feet shall be as flint-stone,
And as oak his nether raiment;
And this famous, best of singers,
Thus bewitched, shall carry ever,
In his heart a stony burden,
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On his shoulder bow of marble,
On his hand a flint-stone gauntlet,
On his brow a stony visor.'
Then the wizard, Youkahainen,
Heeding not advice paternal,
Heeding not his mother's counsel,
Leads his courser from his stable,
Fire outstreaming from his nostrils,
From his hoofs, the sparks outshooting,
Hitches to his sledge, the fleet-foot,
To his golden sledge, the courser,
Mounts impetuous his snow-sledge,
Leaps upon the hindmost cross-bench,
Strikes his courser with his birch-whip,
With his birch-whip, pearl-enamelled.
Instantly the prancing racer
Springs away upon his journey;
On he, restless, plunges northward,
All day long be onward gallops,
All the next day, onward, onward,
So the third from morn till evening,
Till the third day twilight brings him
To the meadows of Wainola,
To the plains of Kalevala.
As it happened, Wainamoinen,
Wainamoinen, the magician,
Rode that sunset on the highway,
Silently for pleasure driving
Down Wainola's peaceful meadows,
O'er the plains of Kalevala.
Youkahainen, young and fiery,
Urging still his foaming courser,
Dashes down upon the singer,
Does not turn aside in meeting,
Meeting thus in full collision;
Shafts are driven tight together,
Hames and collars wedged and tangled,
Tangled are the reins and traces.
Thus perforce they make a stand-still,
Thus remain and well consider;
Water drips from hame and collar,
Vapors rise from both their horses.
25
Speaks the minstrel, Wainamoinen:
'Who art thou, and whence? Thou comest
Driving like a stupid stripling,
Wainamoinen and Youkahainen.
Careless, dashing down upon me.
Thou hast ruined shafts and traces;
And the collar of my racer
Thou hast shattered into ruin,
And my golden sleigh is broken,
Box and runners dashed to pieces.'
Youkahainen then make answer,
Spake at last the words that follow:
'I am youthful Youkahainen,
But make answer first, who thou art,
Whence thou comest, where thou goest,
From what lowly tribe descended?'
Wainamolinen, wise and ancient,
Answered thus the youthful minstrel:
'If thou art but Youkahainen,
Thou shouldst give me all the highway;
I am many years thy senior.'
Then the boastful Youkahainen
Spake again to Wainamoinen:
'Young or ancient, little matter,
Little consequence the age is;
He that higher stands in wisdom,
He whose knowledge is the greater,
He that is the sweeter singer,
He alone shall keep the highway,
And the other take the roadside.
Art thou ancient Wainamoinen,
Famous sorcerer and minstrel?
Let us then begin our singing,
Let us sing our ancient legends,
Let us chant our garnered wisdom,
That the one may hear the other,
That the one may judge the other,
In a war of wizard sayings.'
Wainamoinen, wise and ancient,
Thus replied in modest accents:
'What I know is very little,
Hardly is it worth the singing,
26
Neither is my singing wondrous:
All my days I have resided
In the cold and dreary Northland,
In a desert land enchanted,
In my cottage home for ayes;
All the songs that I have gathered,
Are the cuckoo's simple measures,
Some of these I may remember;
But since thou perforce demandest,
I accept thy boastful challenge.
Tell me now, my golden youngster,
What thou knowest more than others,
Open now thy store of wisdom.'
Thus made answer Youkahainen,
Lapland's young and fiery minstrel:
'Know I many bits of learning
This I know in perfect clearness:
Every roof must have a chimney,
Every fire-place have a hearth-stone;
Lives of seal are free and merry,
Merry is the life of walrus,
Feeding on incautious salmon,
Daily eating perch and whiting;
Whitings live in quiet shallows,
Salmon love the level bottoms;
Spawns the pike in coldest weather,
And defies the storms of winter.
Slowly perches swim in Autumn,
Wry-backed, hunting deeper water,
Spawn in shallows in the summer,
Bounding on the shore of ocean.
Should this wisdom seem too little,
I can tell thee other matters,
Sing thee other wizard sayings:
All the Northmen plow with reindeer,
Mother-horses plow the Southland,
Inner Lapland plows with oxen;
All the trees on Pisa-mountain,
Know I well in all their grandeur;
On the Horna-rock are fir-trees,
Fir-trees growing tall and slender;
Slender grow the trees on mountains.
27
Three, the water-falls in number,
Three in number, inland oceans,
Three in number, lofty mountains,
Shooting to the vault of heaven.
Hallapyora's near to Yaemen,
Katrakoski in Karyala;
Imatra, the falling water,
Tumbles, roaring, into Wuoksi.'
Then the ancient Wainimoinen:
'Women's tales and children's wisdom
Do not please a bearded hero,
Hero, old enough for wedlock;
Tell the story of creation,
Tell me of the world's beginning,
Tell me of the creatures in it,
And philosophize a little.'
Then the youthful Youkahainen
Thus replied to Wainamoinen:
'Know I well the titmouse-fountains,
Pretty birdling is the titmouse;
And the viper, green, a serpent;
Whitings live in brackish waters;
Perches swim in every river;
Iron rusts, and rusting weakens;
Bitter is the taste of umber;
Boiling water is malicious;
Fire is ever full of danger;
First physician, the Creator;
Remedy the oldest, water;
Magic is the child of sea-foam;
God the first and best adviser;
Waters gush from every mountain;
Fire descended first from heaven;
Iron from the rust was fashioned;
Copper from the rocks created;
Marshes are of lands the oldest;
First of all the trees, the willow;
Fir-trees were the first of houses;
Hollowed stones the first of kettles.'
Now the ancient Wainamoinen
Thus addresses Youkahainen:
'Canst thou give me now some wisdom,
28
Is this nonsense all thou knowest?'
Youkahainen thus made answer:
'I can tell thee still a trifle,
Tell thee of the times primeval,
When I plowed the salt-sea's bosom,
When I raked the sea-girt islands,
When I dug the salmon-grottoes,
Hollowed out the deepest caverns,
When I all the lakes created,
When I heaped the mountains round them,
When I piled the rocks about them.
I was present as a hero,
Sixth of wise and ancient heroes,
Seventh of all primeval heroes,
When the heavens were created,
When were formed the ether-spaces,
When the sky was crystal-pillared,
When was arched the beauteous rainbow,
When the Moon was placed in orbit,
When the silver Sun was planted,
When the Bear was firmly stationed,
And with stars the heavens were sprinkled.'
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:
'Thou art surely prince of liars,
Lord of all the host of liars;
Never wert thou in existence,
Surely wert thou never present,
When was plowed the salt-sea's bosom,
When were raked the sea-girt islands,
When were dug the salmon-grottoes,
When were hollowed out the caverns,
When the lakes were all created,
When were heaped the mountains round them,
When the rocks were piled about them.
Thou wert never seen or heard of
When the earth was first created,
When were made the ether-spaces,
When the air was crystal-pillared,
When the Moon was placed in orbit,
When the silver Sun was planted,
When the Bear was firmly stationed,
When the skies with stars were sprinkled.'
29
Then in anger Youkahainen
Answered ancient Wainamoinen:
'Then, sir, since I fail in wisdom,
With the sword I offer battle;
Come thou, famous bard and minstrel,
Thou the ancient wonder-singer,
Let us try our strength with broadswords,
let our blades be fully tested.'
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:
'Not thy sword and not thy wisdom,
Not thy prudence, nor thy cunning,
Do I fear a single moment.
Let who may accept thy challenge,
Not with thee, a puny braggart,
Not with one so vain and paltry,
Will I ever measure broadswords.'
Then the youthful Youkahainen,
Mouth awry and visage sneering,
Shook his golden locks and answered:
'Whoso fears his blade to measure,
Fears to test his strength at broadswords,
Into wild-boar of the forest,
Swine at heart and swine in visage,
Singing I will thus transform him;
I will hurl such hero-cowards,
This one hither, that one thither,
Stamp him in the mire and bedding,
In the rubbish of the stable.'
Angry then grew Wainamoinen,
Wrathful waxed, and fiercely frowning,
Self-composed he broke his silence,
And began his wondrous singing.
Sang he not the tales of childhood,
Children's nonsense, wit of women,
Sang he rather bearded heroes,
That the children never heard of,
That the boys and maidens knew not
Known but half by bride and bridegroom,
Known in part by many heroes,
In these mournful days of evil,
Evil times our race befallen.
Grandly sang wise Wainamoinen,
30
Till the copper-bearing mountains,
And the flinty rocks and ledges
Heard his magic tones and trembled;
Mountain cliffs were torn to pieces,
All the ocean heaved and tumbled;
And the distant hills re-echoed.
Lo! the boastful Youkahainen
Is transfixed in silent wonder,
And his sledge with golden trimmings
Floats like brushwood on the billows;
Sings his braces into reed-grass,
Sings his reins to twigs of willow,
And to shrubs his golden cross-bench.
Lo! his birch-whip, pearl-enameled,
Floats a reed upon the border;
Lo! his steed with golden forehead,
Stands a statue on the waters;
Hames and traces are as fir-boughs,
And his collar, straw and sea-grass.
Still the minstrel sings enchantment,
Sings his sword with golden handle,
Sings it into gleam of lightning,
Hangs it in the sky above him;
Sings his cross-bow, gaily painted,
To a rainbow o'er the ocean;
Sings his quick and feathered arrows
Into hawks and screaming eagles;
Sings his dog with bended muzzle,
Into block of stone beside him;
Sings his cap from off his forehead,
Sings it into wreaths of vapor;
From his hands he sings his gauntlets
Into rushes on the waters;
Sings his vesture, purple-colored,
Into white clouds in the heavens;
Sings his girdle, set with jewels,
Into twinkling stars around him;
And alas! for Youkahainen,
Sings him into deeps of quick-sand;
Ever deeper, deeper, deeper,
In his torture, sinks the wizard,
To his belt in mud and water.
31
Now it was that Youkahainen
Comprehended but too clearly
What his folly, what the end was,
Of the journey he had ventured,
Vainly he had undertaken
For the glory of a contest
With the grand, old Wainamoinen.
When at last young Youkahainen,
Pohyola's old and sorry stripling,
Strives his best to move his right foot,
But alas! the foot obeys not;
When he strives to move his left foot,
Lo! he finds it turned to flint-stone.
Thereupon sad Youkahainen,
In the deeps of desperation,
And in earnest supplication,
Thus addresses Wainamoinen:
'O thou wise and worthy minstrel,
Thou the only true, magician,
Cease I pray thee thine enchantment,.
Only turn away thy magic,
Let me leave this slough of horror,
Loose me from this stony prison,
Free me from this killing torment,
I will pay a golden ransom.'
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:
'What the ransom thou wilt give me
If I cease from mine enchantment,
If I turn away my magic,
Lift thee from thy slough of horror,
Loose thee from thy stony prison,
Free thee from thy killing torment?'
Answered youthful Youkahainen:
'Have at home two magic cross-bows,
Pair of bows of wondrous power,
One so light a child can bend it,
Only strength can bend the other,
Take of these the one that pleases.'
Then the ancient Wainamoinen:
'Do not wish thy magic cross-bows,
Have a few of such already,
Thine to me are worse than useless
32
I have bows in great abundance,
Bows on every nail and rafter,
Bows that laugh at all the hunters,
Bows that go themselves a-hunting.'
Then the ancient Wainamoinen
Sang alas! poor Youkahainen
Deeper into mud and water,
Deeper in the slough of torment.
Youkahainen thus made answer:
'Have at home two magic shallops,
Beautiful the boats and wondrous;
One rides light upon the ocean,
One is made for heavy burdens;
Take of these the one that pleases.'
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:
'Do not wish thy magic shallops,
Have enough of such already;
All my bays are full of shallops,
All my shores are lined with shallops,
Some before the winds are sailors,
Some were built to sail against them.'
Still the Wainola bard and minstrel
Sings again poor Youkahainen
Deeper, deeper into torment,
Into quicksand to his girdle,
Till the Lapland bard in anguish
Speaks again to Wainamoinen:
'Have at home two magic stallions,
One a racer, fleet as lightning,
One was born for heavy burdens;
Take of these the one that pleases.'
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:
'Neither do I wish thy stallions,
Do not need thy hawk-limbed stallions,
Have enough of these already;
Magic stallions swarm my stables,
Eating corn at every manger,
Broad of back to hold the water,
Water on each croup in lakelets.'
Still the bard of Kalevala
Sings the hapless Lapland minstrel
Deeper, deeper into torment,
33
To his shoulders into water.
Spake again young Youkahainen:
'O thou ancient Wainamoinen,
Thou the only true magician,
Cease I pray thee thine enchantment,
Only turn away thy magic,
I will give thee gold abundant,
Countless stores of shining silver;
From the wars my father brought it,
Brought it from the hard-fought battles.'
Spake the wise, old Wainamoinen:
'For thy gold I have no longing,
Neither do I wish thy silver,
Have enough of each already;
Gold abundant fills my chambers,
On each nail hang bags of silver,
Gold that glitters in the sunshine,
Silver shining in the moonlight.'
Sank the braggart, Youkahainen,
Deeper in his slough of torment,
To his chin in mud and water,
Ever praying, thus beseeching:
'O thou ancient Wainamoinen,
Greatest of the old magicians,
Lift me from this pit of horror,
From this prison-house of torture;
I will give thee all my corn-fields,
Give thee all my corn in garners,
Thus my hapless life to ransom,
Thus to gain eternal freedom.'
Wainamoinen thus made answer:
'Take thy corn to other markets,
Give thy garners to the needy;
I have corn in great abundance,
Fields have I in every quarter,
Corn in all my fields is growing;
One's own fields are always richer,
One's own grain is much the sweeter.'
Lapland's young and reckless minstrel,
Sorrow-laden, thus enchanted,
Deeper sinks in mud and water,
Fear-enchained and full of anguish,
34
In the mire, his beard bedrabbled,
Mouth once boastful filled with sea-weed,
In the grass his teeth entangled,
Youkahainen thus beseeches:
'O thou ancient Wainamoinen,
Wisest of the wisdom-singers,
Cease at last thine incantations,
Only turn away thy magic,
And my former life restore me,
Lift me from this stifling torment,
Free mine eyes from sand and water,
I will give thee sister, Aino,
Fairest daughter of my mother,
Bride of thine to be forever,
Bride of thine to do thy pleasure,
Sweep the rooms within thy cottage,
Keep thy dwelling-place in order,
Rinse for thee the golden platters,
Spread thy couch with finest linens,
For thy bed, weave golden covers,
Bake for thee the honey-biscuit.'
Wainamoinen, old and truthful,
Finds at last the wished-for ransom,
Lapland's young and fairest daughter,
Sister dear of Youkahainen;
Happy he, that he has won him,
In his age a beauteous maiden,
Bride of his to be forever,
Pride and joy of Kalevala.
Now the happy Wainamoinen,
Sits upon the rock of gladness,
Joyful on the rock of music,
Sings a little, sings and ceases,
Sings again, and sings a third time,
Thus to break the spell of magic,
Thus to lessen the enchantment,
Thus the potent charm to banish.
As the magic spell is broken,
Youkahainen, sad, but wiser,
Drags his feet from out the quicksand,
Lifts his beard from out the water,
From the rocks leads forth his courser,
35
Brings his sledge back from the rushes,
Calls his whip back from the ocean,
Sets his golden sledge in order,
Throws himself upon the cross-bench,
Snaps his whip and hies him homeward,
Hastens homeward, heavy-hearted,
Sad indeed to meet his mother,
Aino's mother, gray and aged.
Careless thus be hastens homeward,
Nears his home with noise and bustle,
Reckless drives against the pent-house,
Breaks the shafts against the portals,
Breaks his handsome sledge in pieces.
Then his mother, quickly guessing,
Would have chided him for rashness,
But the father interrupted:
'Wherefore dost thou break thy snow-sledge,
Wherefore dash thy thills in fragments,
Wherefore comest home so strangely,
Why this rude and wild behavior?'
Now alas! poor Youkahainen,
Cap awry upon his forehead,
Falls to weeping, broken-hearted,
Head depressed and mind dejected,
Eyes and lips expressing sadness,
Answers not his anxious father.
Then the mother quickly asked him,
Sought to find his cause for sorrow:
'Tell me, first-born, why thou weepest,
Why thou weepest, heavy-hearted,
Why thy mind is so dejected,
Why thine eyes express such sadness.'
Youkahainen then made answer:
'Golden mother, ever faithful,
Cause there is to me sufficient,
Cause enough in what has happened,
Bitter cause for this my sorrow,
Cause for bitter tears and murmurs:
All my days will pass unhappy,
Since, O mother of my being,
I have promised beauteous Aino,
Aino, thy beloved daughter,
36
Aino, my devoted sister,
To decrepit Wainamoinen,
Bride to be to him forever,
Roof above him, prop beneath him,
Fair companion at his fire-side.'
Joyful then arose the mother,
Clapped her hands in glee together,
Thus addressing Youkahainen:
'Weep no more, my son beloved,
Thou hast naught to cause thy weeping,
Hast no reason for thy sorrow,
Often I this hope have cherished;
Many years have I been praying
That this mighty bard and hero,
Wise and valiant Wainamoinen,
Spouse should be to beauteous Aino,
Son-in-law to me, her mother.'
But the fair and lovely maiden,
Sister dear of Youkahainen,
Straightway fell to bitter weeping,
On the threshold wept and lingered,
Wept all day and all the night long,
Wept a second, then a third day,
Wept because a bitter sorrow
On her youthful heart had fallen.
Then the gray-haired mother asked her:
'Why this weeping, lovely Aino?
Thou hast found a noble suitor,
Thou wilt rule his spacious dwelling,
At his window sit and rest thee,
Rinse betimes his golden platters,
Walk a queen within his dwelling.'
Thus replied the tearful Aino:
'Mother dear, and all-forgiving,
Cause enough for this my sorrow,
Cause enough for bitter weeping:
I must loose my sunny tresses,
Tresses beautiful and golden,
Cannot deck my hair with jewels,
Cannot bind my head with ribbons,
All to be hereafter hidden
Underneath the linen bonnet
37
That the wife. must wear forever;
Weep at morning, weep at evening,
Weep alas! for waning beauty,
Childhood vanished, youth departed,
Silver sunshine, golden moonlight,
Hope and pleasure of my childhood,
Taken from me now forever,
And so soon to be forgotten
At the tool-bench of my brother,
At the window of my sister,
In the cottage of my father.'
Spake again the gray-haired mother
To her wailing daughter Aino:
'Cease thy sorrow, foolish maiden,
By thy tears thou art ungrateful,
Reason none for thy repining,
Not the slightest cause for weeping;
Everywhere the silver sunshine
Falls as bright on other households;
Not alone the moonlight glimmers
Through thy father's open windows,
On the work-bench of thy brother;
Flowers bloom in every meadow,
Berries grow on every mountain;
Thou canst go thyself and find them,
All the day long go and find them;
Not alone thy brother's meadows
Grow the beauteous vines and flowers;
Not alone thy father's mountains
Yield the ripe, nutritious berries;
Flowers bloom in other meadows,
Berries grow on other mountains,
There as here, my lovely Aino.'
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1266:IV - THE STUDY

FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES

FAUST

A knock? Come in! Again my quiet broken?

MEPHISTOPHELES

'Tis I!

FAUST
Come in!

MEPHISTOPHELES
Thrice must the words be spoken.

FAUST

Come in, then!

MEPHISTOPHELES
Thus thou pleasest me.
I hope we'll suit each other well;
For now, thy vapors to dispel,
I come, a squire of high degree,
In scarlet coat, with golden trimming,
A cloak in silken lustre swimming,
A tall cock's-feather in my hat,
A long, sharp sword for show or quarrel,
And I advise thee, brief and flat,
To don the self-same gay apparel,
That, from this den released, and free,
Life be at last revealed to thee!

FAUST

This life of earth, whatever my attire,
Would pain me in its wonted fashion.
Too old am I to play with passion;
Too young, to be without desire.
What from the world have I to gain?
Thou shalt abstainrenouncerefrain!
Such is the everlasting song
That in the ears of all men rings,
That unrelieved, our whole life long,
Each hour, in passing, hoarsely sings.
In very terror I at morn awake,
Upon the verge of bitter weeping,
To see the day of disappointment break,
To no one hope of minenot oneits promise keeping:
That even each joy's presentiment
With wilful cavil would diminish,
With grinning masks of life prevent
My mind its fairest work to finish!
Then, too, when night descends, how anxiously
Upon my couch of sleep I lay me:
There, also, comes no rest to me,
But some wild dream is sent to fray me.
The God that in my breast is owned
Can deeply stir the inner sources;
The God, above my powers enthroned,
He cannot change external forces.
So, by the burden of my days oppressed,
Death is desired, and Life a thing unblest!

MEPHISTOPHELES

And yet is never Death a wholly welcome guest.

FAUST

O fortunate, for whom, when victory glances,
The bloody laurels on the brow he bindeth!
Whom, after rapid, maddening dances,
In clasping maiden-arms he findeth!
O would that I, before that spirit-power,
Ravished and rapt from life, had sunken!

MEPHISTOPHELES

And yet, by some one, in that nightly hour,
A certain liquid was not drunken.

FAUST

Eavesdropping, ha! thy pleasure seems to be.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Omniscient am I not; yet much is known to me.

FAUST

Though some familiar tone, retrieving
My thoughts from torment, led me on,
And sweet, clear echoes came, deceiving
A faith bequea thed from Childhood's dawn,
Yet now I curse whate'er entices
And snares the soul with visions vain;
With dazzling cheats and dear devices
Confines it in this cave of pain!
Cursed be, at once, the high ambition
Wherewith the mind itself deludes!
Cursed be the glare of apparition
That on the finer sense intrudes!
Cursed be the lying dream's impression
Of name, and fame, and laurelled brow!
Cursed, all that flatters as possession,
As wife and child, as knave and plow!
Cursed Mammon be, when he with treasures
To restless action spurs our fate!
Cursed when, for soft, indulgent leisures,
He lays for us the pillows straight!
Cursed be the vine's transcendent nectar,
The highest favor Love lets fall!
Cursed, also, Hope!cursed Faith, the spectre!
And cursed be Patience most of all!

CHORUS OF SPIRITS (invisible)

Woe! woe!
Thou hast it destroyed,
The beautiful world,
With powerful fist:
In ruin 'tis hurled,
By the blow of a demigod shattered!
The scattered
Fragments into the Void we carry,
Deploring
The beauty perished beyond restoring.
Mightier
For the children of men,
Brightlier
Build it again,
In thine own bosom build it anew!
Bid the new career
Commence,
With clearer sense,
And the new songs of cheer
Be sung thereto!

MEPHISTOPHELES

These are the small dependants
Who give me attendance.
Hear them, to deeds and passion
Counsel in shrewd old-fashion!
Into the world of strife,
Out of this lonely life
That of senses and sap has betrayed thee,
They would persuade thee.
This nursing of the pain forego thee,
That, like a vulture, feeds upon thy breast!
The worst society thou find'st will show thee
Thou art a man among the rest.
But 'tis not meant to thrust
Thee into the mob thou hatest!
I am not one of the greatest,
Yet, wilt thou to me entrust
Thy steps through life, I'll guide thee,
Will willingly walk beside thee,
Will serve thee at once and forever
With best endeavor,
And, if thou art satisfied,
Will as servant, slave, with thee abide.

FAUST

And what shall be my counter-service therefor?

MEPHISTOPHELES

The time is long: thou need'st not now insist.

FAUST

Nono! The Devil is an egotist,
And is not apt, without a why or wherefore,
"For God's sake," others to assist.
Speak thy conditions plain and clear!
With such a servant danger comes, I fear.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Here, an unwearied slave, I'll wear thy tether,
And to thine every nod obedient be:
When There again we come together,
Then shalt thou do the same for me.

FAUST

The There my scruples naught increases.
When thou hast dashed this world to pieces,
The other, then, its place may fill.
Here, on this earth, my pleasures have their sources;
Yon sun beholds my sorrows in his courses;
And when from these my life itself divorces,
Let happen all that can or will!
I'll hear no more: 'tis vain to ponder
If there we cherish love or hate,
Or, in the spheres we dream of yonder,
A High and Low our souls await.

MEPHISTOPHELES

In this sense, even, canst thou venture.
Come, bind thyself by prompt indenture,
And thou mine arts with joy shalt see:
What no man ever saw, I'll give to thee.

FAUST

Canst thou, poor Devil, give me whatsoever?
When was a human soul, in its supreme endeavor,
E'er understood by such as thou?
Yet, hast thou food which never satiates, now,
The restless, ruddy gold hast thou,
That runs, quicksilver-like, one's fingers through,
A game whose winnings no man ever knew,
A maid that, even from my breast,
Beckons my neighbor with her wanton glances,
And Honor's godlike zest,
The meteor that a moment dances,
Show me the fruits that, ere they're gathered, rot,
And trees that daily with new leafage clo the them!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Such a demand alarms me not:
Such treasures have I, and can show them.
But still the time may reach us, good my friend.
When peace we crave and more luxurious diet.

FAUST

When on an idler's bed I stretch myself in quiet.
There let, at once, my record end!
Canst thou with lying flattery rule me,
Until, self-pleased, myself I see,
Canst thou with rich enjoyment fool me,
Let that day be the last for me!
The bet I offer.

MEPHISTOPHELES
Done!

FAUST
And heartily!
When thus I hail the Moment flying:
"Ah, still delaythou art so fair!"
Then bind me in thy bonds undying,
My final ruin then declare!
Then let the death-bell chime the token.
Then art thou from thy service free!
The clock may stop, the hand be broken,
Then Time be finished unto me!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Consider well: my memory good is rated.

FAUST

Thou hast a perfect right thereto.
My powers I have not rashly estimated:
A slave am I, whate'er I do
If thine, or whose? 'tis needless to debate it.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Then at the Doctors'-banquet I, to-day,
Will as a servant wait behind thee.
But one thing more! Beyond all risk to bind thee,
Give me a line or two, I pray.

FAUST

Demand'st thou, Pedant, too, a document?
Hast never known a man, nor proved his word's intent?
Is't not enough, that what I speak to-day
Shall stand, with all my future days agreeing?
In all its tides sweeps not the world away,
And shall a promise bind my being?
Yet this delusion in our hearts we bear:
Who would himself therefrom deliver?
Blest he, whose bosom Truth makes pure and fair!
No sacrifice shall he repent of ever.
Nathless a parchment, writ and stamped with care,
A spectre is, which all to shun endeavor.
The word, alas! dies even in the pen,
And wax and leather keep the lordship then.
What wilt from me, Base Spirit, say?
Brass, marble, parchment, paper, clay?
The terms with graver, quill, or chisel, stated?
I freely leave the choice to thee.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Why heat thyself, thus instantly,
With eloquence exaggerated?
Each leaf for such a pact is good;
And to subscribe thy name thou'lt take a drop of blood.

FAUST

If thou therewith art fully satisfied,
So let us by the farce abide.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Blood is a juice of rarest quality.

FAUST

Fear not that I this pact shall seek to sever?
The promise that I make to thee
Is just the sum of my endeavor.
I have myself inflated all too high;
My proper place is thy estate:
The Mighty Spirit deigns me no reply,
And Nature shuts on me her gate.
The thread of Thought at last is broken,
And knowledge brings disgust unspoken.
Let us the sensual deeps explore,
To quench the fervors of glowing passion!
Let every marvel take form and fashion
Through the impervious veil it wore!
Plunge we in Time's tumultuous dance,
In the rush and roll of Circumstance!
Then may delight and distress,
And worry and success,
Alternately follow, as best they can:
Restless activity proves the man!

MEPHISTOPHELES

For you no bound, no term is set.
Whether you everywhere be trying,
Or snatch a rapid bliss in flying,
May it agree with you, what you get!
Only fall to, and show no timid balking.

FAUST

But thou hast heard, 'tis not of joy we're talking.
I take the wildering whirl, enjoyment's keenest pain,
Enamored hate, exhilarant disdain.
My bosom, of its thirst for knowledge sated,
Shall not, henceforth, from any pang be wrested,
And all of life for all mankind created
Shall be within mine inmost being tested:
The highest, lowest forms my soul shall borrow,
Shall heap upon itself their bliss and sorrow,
And thus, my own sole self to all their selves expanded,
I too, at last, shall with them all be stranded!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Believe me, who for many a thousand year
The same tough meat have chewed and tested,
That from the cradle to the bier
No man the ancient leaven has digested!
Trust one of us, this Whole supernal
Is made but for a God's delight!
He dwells in splendor single and eternal,
But us he thrusts in darkness, out of sight,
And you he dowers with Day and Night.

FAUST

Nay, but I will!

MEPHISTOPHELES

A good reply!
One only fear still needs repeating:
The art is long, the time is fleeting.
Then let thyself be taught, say I!
Go, league thyself with a poet,
Give the rein to his imagination,
Then wear the crown, and show it,
Of the qualities of his creation,
The courage of the lion's breed,
The wild stag's speed,
The Italian's fiery blood,
The North's firm fortitude!
Let him find for thee the secret tether
That binds the Noble and Mean together.
And teach thy pulses of youth and pleasure
To love by rule, and hate by measure!
I'd like, myself, such a one to see:
Sir Microcosm his name should be.

FAUST

What am I, then, if 'tis denied my part
The crown of all humanity to win me,
Whereto yearns every sense within me?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Why, on the whole, thou'rtwhat thou art.
Set wigs of million curls upon thy head, to raise thee,
Wear shoes an ell in height,the truth betrays thee,
And thou remainestwhat thou art.

FAUST

I feel, indeed, that I have made the treasure
Of human thought and knowledge mine, in vain;
And if I now sit down in restful leisure,
No fount of newer strength is in my brain:
I am no hair's-breadth more in height,
Nor nearer, to the Infinite,

MEPHISTOPHELES

Good Sir, you see the facts precisely
As they are seen by each and all.
We must arrange them now, more wisely,
Before the joys of life shall pall.
Why, Zounds! Both hands and feet are, truly
And head and virile forcesthine:
Yet all that I indulge in newly,
Is't thence less wholly mine?
If I've six stallions in my stall,
Are not their forces also lent me?
I speed along, completest man of all,
As though my legs were four-and-twenty.
Take hold, then! let reflection rest,
And plunge into the world with zest!
I say to thee, a speculative wight
Is like a beast on moorlands lean,
That round and round some fiend misleads to evil plight,
While all about lie pastures fresh and green.

FAUST

Then how shall we begin?

MEPHISTOPHELES

We'll try a wider sphere.
What place of martyrdom is here!
Is't life, I ask, is't even prudence,
To bore thyself and bore the students?
Let Neighbor Paunch to that attend!
Why plague thyself with threshing straw forever?
The best thou learnest, in the end
Thou dar'st not tell the youngstersnever!
I hear one's footsteps, hither steering.

FAUST
To see him now I have no heart.

MEPHISTOPHELES

So long the poor boy waits a hearing,
He must not unconsoled depart.
Thy cap and mantle straightway lend me!
I'll play the comedy with art.

(He disguises himself.)

My wits, be certain, will befriend me.
But fifteen minutes' time is all I need;
For our fine trip, meanwhile, prepare thyself with speed!

[Exit FAUST.

MEPHISTOPHELES

(In FAUST'S long mantle.)

Reason and Knowledge only thou despise,
The highest strength in man that lies!
Let but the Lying Spirit bind thee
With magic works and shows that blind thee,
And I shall have thee fast and sure!
Fate such a bold, untrammelled spirit gave him,
As forwards, onwards, ever must endure;
Whose over-hasty impulse drave him
Past earthly joys he might secure.
Dragged through the wildest life, will I enslave him,
Through flat and stale indifference;
With struggling, chilling, checking, so deprave him
That, to his hot, insatiate sense,
The dream of drink shall mock, but never lave him:
Refreshment shall his lips in vain implore
Had he not made himself the Devil's, naught could save him,
Still were he lost forevermore!

(A STUDENT enters.)

STUDENT

A short time, only, am I here,
And come, devoted and sincere,
To greet and know the man of fame,
Whom men to me with reverence name.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Your courtesy doth flatter me:
You see a man, as others be.
Have you, perchance, elsewhere begun?

STUDENT

Receive me now, I pray, as one
Who comes to you with courage good,
Somewhat of cash, and healthy blood:
My mother was hardly willing to let me;
But knowledge worth having I fain would get me.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Then you have reached the right place now.

STUDENT

I'd like to leave it, I must avow;
I find these walls, these vaulted spaces
Are anything but pleasant places.
Tis all so cramped and close and mean;
One sees no tree, no glimpse of green,
And when the lecture-halls receive me,
Seeing, hearing, and thinking leave me.

MEPHISTOPHELES

All that depends on habitude.
So from its mother's breasts a child
At first, reluctant, takes its food,
But soon to seek them is beguiled.
Thus, at the breasts of Wisdom clinging,
Thou'lt find each day a greater rapture bringing.

STUDENT

I'll hang thereon with joy, and freely drain them;
But tell me, pray, the proper means to gain them.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Explain, before you further speak,
The special faculty you seek.

STUDENT

I crave the highest erudition;
And fain would make my acquisition
All that there is in Earth and Heaven,
In Nature and in Science too.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Here is the genuine path for you;
Yet strict attention must be given.

STUDENT

Body and soul thereon I'll wreak;
Yet, truly, I've some inclination
On summer holidays to seek
A little freedom and recreation.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Use well your time! It flies so swiftly from us;
But time through order may be won, I promise.
So, Friend (my views to briefly sum),
First, the collegium logicum.
There will your mind be drilled and braced,
As if in Spanish boots 'twere laced,
And thus, to graver paces brought,
'Twill plod along the path of thought,
Instead of shooting here and there,
A will-o'-the-wisp in murky air.
Days will be spent to bid you know,
What once you did at a single blow,
Like eating and drinking, free and strong,
That one, two, three! thereto belong.
Truly the fabric of mental fleece
Resembles a weaver's masterpiece,
Where a thousand threads one treadle throws,
Where fly the shuttles hither and thither.
Unseen the threads are knit together.
And an infinite combination grows.
Then, the philosopher steps in
And shows, no otherwise it could have been:
The first was so, the second so,
Therefore the third and fourth are so;
Were not the first and second, then
The third and fourth had never been.
The scholars are everywhere believers,
But never succeed in being weavers.
He who would study organic existence,
First drives out the soul with rigid persistence;
Then the parts in his hand he may hold and class,
But the spiritual link is lost, alas!
Encheiresin natures, this Chemistry names,
Nor knows how herself she banters and blames!

STUDENT

I cannot understand you quite.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Your mind will shortly be set aright,
When you have learned, all things reducing,
To classify them for your using.

STUDENT

I feel as stupid, from all you've said,
As if a mill-wheel whirled in my head!

MEPHISTOPHELES

And afterfirst and foremost dutyOf
Metaphysics learn the use and beauty!
See that you most profoundly gain
What does not suit the human brain!
A splendid word to serve, you'll find
For what goes inor won't go inyour mind.
But first, at least this half a year,
To order rigidly adhere;
Five hours a day, you understand,
And when the clock strikes, be on hand!
Prepare beforeh and for your part
With paragraphs all got by heart,
So you can better watch, and look
That naught is said but what is in the book:
Yet in thy writing as unwearied be,
As did the Holy Ghost dictate to thee!

STUDENT

No need to tell me twice to do it!
I think, how useful 'tis to write;
For what one has, in black and white,
One carries home and then goes through it.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Yet choose thyself a faculty!

STUDENT

I cannot reconcile myself to Jurisprudence.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Nor can I therefore greatly blame you students:
I know what science this has come to be.
All rights and laws are still transmitted
Like an eternal sickness of the race,
From generation unto generation fitted,
And shifted round from place to place.
Reason becomes a sham, Beneficence a worry:
Thou art a grandchild, therefore woe to thee!
The right born with us, ours in verity,
This to consider, there's, alas! no hurry.

STUDENT

My own disgust is streng thened by your speech:
O lucky he, whom you shall teach!
I've almost for Theology decided.

MEPHISTOPHELES

I should not wish to see you here misguided:
For, as regards this science, let me hint
'Tis very hard to shun the false direction;
There's so much secret poison lurking in 't,
So like the medicine, it baffles your detection.
Hear, therefore, one alone, for that is best, in sooth,
And simply take your master's words for truth.
On words let your attention centre!
Then through the safest gate you'll enter
The temple-halls of Certainty.

STUDENT

Yet in the word must some idea be.

MEPHISTOPHELES

Of course! But only shun too over-sharp a tension,
For just where fails the comprehension,
A word steps promptly in as deputy.
With words 'tis excellent disputing;
Systems to words 'tis easy suiting;
On words 'tis excellent believing;
No word can ever lose a jot from thieving.

STUDENT

Pardon! With many questions I detain you.
Yet must I trouble you again.
Of Medicine I still would fain
Hear one strong word that might explain you.
Three years is but a little space.
And, God! who can the field embrace?
If one some index could be shown,
'Twere easier groping forward, truly.

MEPHISTOPHELES (aside)

I'm tired enough of this dry tone,
Must play the Devil again, and fully.

(Aloud)

To grasp the spirit of Medicine is easy:
Learn of the great and little world your fill,
To let it go at last, so please ye,
Just as God will!
In vain that through the realms of science you may drift;
Each one learns onlyjust what learn he can:
Yet he who grasps the Moment's gift,
He is the proper man.
Well-made you are, 'tis not to be denied,
The rest a bold address will win you;
If you but in yourself confide,
At once confide all others in you.
To lead the women, learn the special feeling!
Their everlasting aches and groans,
In thousand tones,
Have all one source, one mode of healing;
And if your acts are half discreet,
You'll always have them at your feet.
A title first must draw and interest them,
And show that yours all other arts exceeds;
Then, as a greeting, you are free to touch and test them,
While, thus to do, for years another pleads.
You press and count the pulse's dances,
And then, with burning sidelong glances,
You clasp the swelling hips, to see
If tightly laced her corsets be.

STUDENT

That's better, now! The How and Where, one sees.

MEPHISTOPHELES

My worthy friend, gray are all theories,
And green alone Life's golden tree.

STUDENT

I swear to you, 'tis like a dream to me.
Might I again presume, with trust unbounded,
To hear your wisdom thoroughly expounded?

MEPHISTOPHELES

Most willingly, to what extent I may.

STUDENT

I cannot really go away:
Allow me that my album first I reach you,
Grant me this favor, I beseech you!

MEPHISTOPHELES

Assuredly.

(He writes, and returns the book.)

STUDENT (reads)

Eritis sicut Deus, scientes bonum et malum.
(Closes the book with reverence, and withdraws)

MEPHISTOPHELES

Follow the ancient text, and the snake thou wast ordered to trample!
With all thy likeness to God, thou'lt yet be a sorry example!

(FAUST enters.)

FAUST

Now, whither shall we go?

MEPHISTOPHELES

As best it pleases thee.
The little world, and then the great, we'll see.
With what delight, what profit winning,
Shalt thou sponge through the term beginning!

FAUST

Yet with the flowing beard I wear,
Both ease and grace will fail me there.
The attempt, indeed, were a futile strife;
I never could learn the ways of life.
I feel so small before others, and thence
Should always find embarrassments.

MEPHISTOPHELES

My friend, thou soon shalt lose all such misgiving:
Be thou but self-possessed, thou hast the art of living!

FAUST

How shall we leave the house, and start?
Where hast thou servant, coach and horses?

MEPHISTOPHELES

We'll spread this cloak with proper art,
Then through the air direct our courses.
But only, on so bold a flight,
Be sure to have thy luggage light.
A little burning air, which I shall soon prepare us,
Above the earth will nimbly bear us,
And, if we're light, we'll travel swift and clear:
I gratulate thee on thy new career!


~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, THE STUDY (The Compact)
,
1267:The Kalevala - Rune Xviii
THE RIVAL SUITORS
Wainamoinen, old and truthful,
Long considered, long debated,
How to woo and win the daughter
Of the hostess of Pohyola,
How to lead the Bride of Beauty,
Fairy maiden of the rainbow,
To the meadows of Wainola,
From the dismal Sariola.
Now he decks his magic vessel,
Paints the boat in blue and scarlet,
Trims in gold the ship's forecastle,
Decks the prow in molten silver;
Sings his magic ship down gliding,
On the cylinders of fir-tree:
Now erects the masts of pine-wood,
On each mast the sails of linen,
Sails of blue, and white, and scarlet,
Woven into finest fabric.
Wainamoinen, the magician,
Steps aboard his wondrous vessel,
Steers the bark across the waters,
On the blue back of the broad-sea,
Speaks these words in sailing northward,
Sailing to the dark Pohyola:
'Come aboard my ship, O Ukko,
Come with me, thou God of mercy,
To protect thine ancient hero,
To support thy trusting servant,
On the breasts of raging billows,
On the far out-stretching waters.
'Rock, O winds, this wondrous vessel,
Causing not a single ripple;
Rolling waves, bear ye me northward,
That the oar may not be needed
In my journey to Pohyola,
O'er this mighty waste of waters.'
317
Ilmarinen's beauteous sister,
Fair and goodly maid, Annikki,
Of the Night and Dawn, the daughter,
Who awakes each morning early,
Rises long before the daylight,
Stood one morning on the sea-shore,
Washing in the foam her dresses,
Rinsing out her silken ribbons,
On the bridge of scarlet color,
On the border of the highway,
On a headland jutting seaward,
On the forest-covered island.
Here Annikki, looking round her,
Looking through the fog and ether,
Looking through the clouds of heaven,
Gazing far out on the blue-sea,
Sees the morning sun arising,
Glimmering along the billows,
Looks with eyes of distant vision
Toward the sunrise on the waters,
Toward the winding streams of Suomi,
Where the Wina-waves were flowing.
There she sees, on the horizon,
Something darkle in the sunlight,
Something blue upon the billows,
Speaks these words in wonder guessing:
What is this upon the surges,
What this blue upon the waters,
What this darkling in the sunlight?
'Tis perhaps a flock of wild-geese,
Or perchance the blue-duck flying;
Then upon thy wings arising,
Fly away to highest heaven.
'Art thou then a shoal of sea-trout,
Or perchance a school of salmon?
Dive then to the deep sea-bottom,
In the waters swim and frolic.
'Art thou then a cliff of granite,
Or perchance a mighty oak-tree,
Floating on the rough sea-billows?
May the floods then wash and beat thee
Break thee to a thousand fragments.'
318
Wainamoinen, sailing northward,
Steers his wondrous ship of magic
Toward the headland jutting seaward,
Toward the island forest-covered.
Now Annikki, goodly maiden,
Sees it is the magic vessel
Of a wonderful enchanter,
Of a mighty bard and hero,
And she asks this simple question:
'Art thou then my father's vessel,
Or my brother's ship of magic?
Haste away then to thy harbor,
To thy refuge in Wainola.
Hast thou come a goodly distance?
Sail then farther on thy journey,
Point thy prow to other waters.'
It was not her father's vessel,
Not a sail-boat from the distance,
'Twas the ship of Wainamoinen,
Bark of the eternal singer;
Sails within a hailing distance,
Swims still nearer o'er the waters,
Brings one word and takes another,
Brings a third of magic import.
Speaks the goodly maid, Annikki,
Of the Night and Dawn, the daughter,
To the sailor of the vessel:
'Whither sailest, Wainamoinen,
Whither bound, thou friend of waters,
Pride and joy of Kalevala?'
From the vessel Wainamomen
Gives this answer to the maiden:
'I have come to catch some sea-trout,
Catch the young and toothsome whiting,
Hiding in tbese-reeds and rushes.'
This the answer of Annikki:
'Do not speak to me in falsehood,
Know I well the times of fishing;
Long ago my honored father
Was a fisherman in Northland,
Came to catch the trout and whiting,
Fished within these seas and rivers.
319
Very well do I remember
How the fisherman disposes,
How he rigs his fishing vessel,
Lines, and gaffs, and poles, and fish-nets;
Hast not come a-fishing hither.
Whither goest, Wainamoinen,
Whither sailest, friend of waters?
Spake the ancient Wainamoinen:
'I have come to catch some wild-geese,
Catch the hissing birds of Suomi,
In these far-extending borders,
In the Sachsensund dominions.'
Good Annikki gives this answer:
'Know I well a truthful speaker,
Easily detect a falsehood;
Formerly my aged father
Often came a-hunting hither,
Came to hunt the hissing wild-geese,
Hunt the red-bill of these waters.
Very well do I remember
How the hunter rigs his vessel,
Bows, and arrows, knives, and quiver,
Dogs enchained within the vessel,
Pointers hunting on the sea-shore,
Setters seeking in the marshes,
Tell the truth now Wainamoinen,
Whither is thy vessel sailing?'
Spake the hero of the Northland:
'To the wars my ship is sailing,
To the bloody fields of battle,
Where the streams run scarlet-colored,
Where the paths are paved with bodies!'
These the words of fair Annikki:
'Know I well the paths to battle.
Formerly my aged father
Often sounded war's alarum,
Often led the hosts to conquest;
In each ship a hundred rowers,
And in arms a thousand heroes,
Oil the prow a thousand cross-bows,
Swords, and spears, and battle-axes;
Know I well the ship of battle.
320
Speak Do longer fruitless falsehoods,
Whither sailest, Wainamoinen,
Whither steerest, friend of waters?
These the words of Wainamoinen:
'Come, O maiden, to my vessel,
In my magic ship be seated,
Then I'll give thee truthful answer.'
Thus Annikki, silver-tinselled,
Answers ancient Wainamoinen:
'With the winds I'll fill thy vessel,
To thy bark I'll send the storm-winds
And capsize thy ship of magic,
Break in pieces its forecastle,
If the truth thou dost not tell me,
If thou dost not cease thy falsehoods,
If thou dost not tell me truly
Whither sails thy magic vessel.'
These the words of Wainamoinen:
'Now I make thee truthful answer,
Though at first I spake deception:
I am sailing to the Northland
To the dismal Sariola,
Where the ogres live and flourish,
Where they drown the worthy heroes,
There to woo the Maid of Beauty
Sitting on the bow of heaven,
Woo and win the fairy virgin,
Bring her to my home and kindred,
To the firesides of Walnola.'
Then Aunikki, graceful maiden,
Of the Night and Dawn, the daughter,
As she heard the rightful answer,
Knew the truth was fully spoken,
Straightway left her coats unbeaten,
Left unwashed her linen garments,
Left unrinsed her silks and ribbons
On the highway by the sea-shore,
On the bridge of scarlet color
On her arm she threw her long-robes,
Hastened off with speed of roebuck
To the shops of Ilmarinen,
To the iron-forger's furnace,
321
To the blacksmith's home and smithy,
Here she found the hero-artist,
Forging out a bench of iron,
And adorning it with silver.
Soot lay thick upon his forehead,
Soot and coal upon his shoulders.
On the threshold speaks Annikki,
These the words his sister uses:
'Ilmarinen, dearest brother,
Thou eternal artist-forger,
Forge me now a loom of silver,
Golden rings to grace my fingers,
Forge me gold and silver ear-rings,
Six or seven golden girdles,
Golden crosslets for my bosom,
For my head forge golden trinkets,
And I'll tell a tale surprising,
Tell a story that concerns thee
Truthfully I'll tell the story.'
Then the blacksmith Ilmarinen
Spake and these the words he uttered:
'If thou'lt tell the tale sincerely,
I will forge the loom of silver,
Golden rings to grace thy fingers,
Forge thee gold and silver ear-rings,
Six or seven golden girdles,
Golden crosslets for thy bosom,
For thy head forge golden trinkets;
But if thou shouldst tell me falsely,
I shall break thy beauteous jewels,
Break thine ornaments in pieces,
Hurl them to the fire and furnace,
Never forge thee other trinkets.'
This the answer of Annikki:
'Ancient blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Dost thou ever think to marry
Her already thine affianced,
Beauteous Maiden of the Rainbow,
Fairest virgin of the Northland,
Chosen bride of Sariola?
Shouldst thou wish the Maid of Beauty,
Thou must forge, and forge unceasing,
322
Hammering the days and nights through;
Forge the summer hoofs for horses,
Forge them iron hoofs for winter,
In the long nights forge the snow-sledge,
Gaily trim it in the daytime,
Haste thou then upon thy journey
To thy wooing in the Northland,
To the dismal Sariola;
Thither journeys one more clever,
Sails another now before thee,
There to woo thy bride affianced,
Thence to lead thy chosen virgin,
Woo and win the Maid of Beauty;
Three long years thou hast been wooing.
Wainamoinen now is sailing
On the blue back of the waters,
Sitting at his helm of copper;
On the prow are golden carvings,
Beautiful his boat of magic,
Sailing fleetly o'er the billows,
To the never-pleasant Northland,
To the dismal Sariola.'
Ilmarinen stood in wonder,
Stood a statue at the story;
Silent grief had settled o'er him,
Settled o'er the iron-artist;
From one hand the tongs descended,
From the other fell the hammer,
As the blacksmith made this answer:
'Good Annikki, worthy sister,
I shall forge the loom of silver,
Golden rings to grace thy fingers,
Forge thee gold and silver ear-rings,
Six or seven golden girdles,
Golden crosslets for thy bosom;
Go and heat for me the bath-room,
Fill with heat the honey-chambers,
Lay the faggots on the fire-place,
Lay the smaller woods around them,
Pour some water through the ashes,
Make a soap of magic virtue,
Thus to cleanse my blackened visage,
323
Thus to cleanse the blacksmith's body,
Thus remove the soot and ashes.'
Then Annikki, kindly sister,
Quickly warmed her brother's bath-room,
Warmed it with the knots of fir-trees,
That the thunder-winds had broken;
Gathered pebbles from the fire-stream,
Threw them in the heating waters;
Broke the tassels from the birch-trees,
Steeped the foliage in honey,
Made a lye from milk and ashes,
Made of these a strong decoction,
Mixed it with the fat and marrow
Of the reindeer of the mountains,
Made a soap of magic virtue,
Thus to cleanse the iron-artist,
Thus to beautify the suitor,
Thus to make the hero worthy.
Ilmarinen, ancient blacksmith,
The eternal metal-worker,
Forged the wishes of his sister,
Ornaments for fair Annikki,
Rings, and bracelets, pins and ear-drops,
Forged for her six golden girdles,
Forged a weaving loom of silver,
While the maid prepared the bath-room,
Set his toilet-room in order.
To the maid he gave the trinkets,
Gave the loom of molten silver,
And the sister thus made answer:
'I have heated well thy bath-room,
Have thy toilet-things in order,
Everything as thou desirest;
Go prepare thyself for wooing,
Lave thy bead to flaxen whiteness,
Make thy cheeks look fresh and ruddy,
Lave thyself in Love's aroma,
That thy wooing prove successful.'
Ilmarinen, magic artist,
Quick repairing to his bath-room,
Bathed his head to flaxen whiteness,
Made his cheeks look fresh and ruddy,
324
Laved his eyes until they sparkled
Like the moonlight on the waters;
Wondrous were his form and features,
And his cheeks like ruddy berries.
These the words of Ilmarinen:
'Fair Annikki, lovely sister,
Bring me now my silken raiment,
Bring my best and richest vesture,
Bring me now my softest linen,
That my wooing prove successful.'
Straightway did the helpful sister
Bring the finest of his raiment,
Bring the softest of his linen,
Raiment fashioned by his mother;
Brought to him his silken stockings,
Brought him shoes of marten-leather,
Brought a vest of sky-blue color,
Brought him scarlet-colored trousers,
Brought a coat with scarlet trimming,
Brought a red shawl trimmed in ermine
Fourfold wrapped about his body;
Brought a fur-coat made of seal-skin,
Fastened with a thousand bottons,
And adorned with countless jewels;
Brought for him his magic girdle,
Fastened well with golden buckles,
That his artist-mother fashioned;
Brought him gloves with golden wristlets,
That the Laplanders had woven
For a head of many ringlets;
Brought the finest cap in Northland,
That his ancient father purchased
When he first began his wooing.
Ilmarinen, blacksmith-artist,
Clad himself to look his finest,
When he thus addressed a servant:
'Hitch for me a fleet-foot racer,
Hitch him to my willing snow-sledge,
For I start upon a journey
To the distant shores of Pohya,
To the dismal Sariola.'
Spake the servant thus in answer:
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'Thou hast seven fleet-foot racers,
Munching grain within their mangers,
Which of these shall I make ready?'
Spake the blacksmith, Ilmarinen:
'Take the fleetest of my coursers,
Put the gray steed in the harness,
Hitch him to my sledge of magic;
Place six cuckoos on the break-board,
Seven bluebirds on the cross-bars,
Thus to charm the Northland maidens,
Thus to make them look and listen,
As the cuckoos call and echo.
Bring me too my largest bear-skin,
Fold it warm about the cross-bench;
Bring me then my marten fur-robes,
As a cover and protection.'
Straightway then the trusty servant
Of the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Put the gray steed in the harness,
Hitched the racer to the snow-sledge,
Placed six cuckoos on the break-board,
Seven bluebirds on the cross-bars,
On the front to sing and twitter;
Then he brought the largest bear-skin,
Folded it upon the cross-bench;
Brought the finest robes of marten,
Warm protection for the master.
Ilmarinen, forger-artist,
The eternal metal-worker,
Earnestly entreated Ukko:
'Send thy snow-flakes, Ukko, father,
Let them gently fall from heaven,
Let them cover all the heather,
Let them hide the berry-bushes,
That my sledge may glide in freedom
O'er the hills to Sariola!'
Ukko sent the snow from heaven,
Gently dropped the crystal snow-flakes,
Lending thus his kind assistance
To the hero, Ilmarinen,
On his journey to the Northland.
Reins in hand, the ancient artist
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Seats him in his metal snow-sledge,
And beseeches thus his Master:
'Good luck to my reins and traces,
Good luck to my shafts and runners!
God protect my magic snow-sledge,
Be my safeguard on my journey
To the dismal Sariola!'
Now the ancient Ilmarinen
Draws the reins upon the racer,
Snaps his whip above the courser,
To the gray steed gives this order,
And the charger plunges northward:
'Haste away, my flaxen stallion,
Haste thee onward, noble white-face,
To the never-pleasant Pohya,
To the dreary Sariola!'
Fast and faster flies the fleet-foot,
On the curving snow-capped sea-coast,
On the borders of the lowlands,
O'er the alder-hills and mountains.
Merrily the steed flies onward,
Bluebirds singing, cuckoos calling,
On the sea-shore looking northward,
Through the sand and falling snow-flakes
Blinding winds, and snow, and sea-foam,
Cloud the hero, Ilmarinen,
As he glides upon his journey,
Looking seaward for the vessel
Of the ancient Wainamoinen;
Travels one day, then a second,
Travels all the next day northward,
Till the third day Ilmarinen
Overtakes old Wainamoinen,
Rails him in his magic vessel,
And addresses thus the minstrel:
'O thou ancient Wainamoinen,
Let us woo in peace the maiden,
Fairest daughter or the Northland,
Sitting on the bow of heaven,
Let each labor long to win her,
Let her wed the one she chooses,
Him selecting, let her follow.'
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Wainamoinen thus makes answer:
'I agree to thy proposal,
Let us woo in peace the maiden,
Not by force, nor faithless measures,
Shall we woo the Maid of Beauty,
Let her follow him she chooses;
Let the unsuccessful suitor
Harbor neither wrath nor envy
For the hero that she follows.'
Thus agreeing, on they journey,
Each according to his pleasure;
Fleetly does the steed fly onward,
Quickly flies the magic vessel,
Sailing on the broad-sea northward;
Ilmarinen's fleet-foot racer
Makes the hills of Northland tremble,
As he gallops on his journey
To the dismal Sariola.
Wainamoinen calls the South-winds,
And they fly to his assistance;
Swiftly sails his ship of beauty,
Swiftly plows the rough sea-billows
In her pathway to Pohyola.
Time had gone but little distance,
Scarce a moment had passed over,
Ere the dogs began their barking,
In the mansions of the Northland,
In the courts of Sariola,
Watch-dogs of the court of Louhi;
Never had they growled so fiercely,
Never had they barked so loudly,
Never with their tails had beaten
Northland into such an uproar.
Spake the master of Pohyola:
'Go and learn, my worthy daughter,
Why the watch-dogs have been barking,
Why the black-dog signals danger.'
Quickly does the daughter answer:
'I am occupied, dear father,
I have work of more importance,
I must tend my flock of lambkins,
I must turn the nether millstone,
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Grind to flour the grains of barley,
Run the grindings through the sifter,
Only have I time for grinding.'
Lowly growls the faithful watch-dog,
Seldom does he growl so strangely.
Spake the master of Pohyola:
'Go and learn, my trusted consort,
Why the Northland dogs are barking,
Why the black-dog signals danger.'
Thus his aged wife makes answer;
'Have no time, nor inclination,
I must feed my hungry household,
Must prepare a worthy dinner,
I must bake the toothsome biscuit,
Knead the dough till it is ready,
Only have I strength for kneading.'
Spake the master of Pohyola:
'Dames are always in a hurry,
Maidens too are ever busy,
Whether warming at the oven,
Or asleep upon their couches;
Go my son, and learn the danger,
Why the black-dog growls displeasure,'
Quickly does the son give answer:
'Have no time, nor inclination,
Am in haste to grind my hatchet;
I must chop this log to cordwood,
For the fire must cut the faggots,
I must split the wood in fragments,
Large the pile and small the fire-wood,
Only have I strength for chopping.'
Still the watch-dog growls in anger,
Growl the whelps within the mansion,
Growl the dogs chained in the kennel,
Growls the black-dog on the hill-top,
Setting Northland in an uproar.
Spake the master of Pohyola:
'Never, never does my black-dog
Growl like this without a reason;
Never does he bark for nothing,
Does not growl at angry billows,
Nor the sighing of the pine-trees.'
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Then the master of Pohyola
Went himself to learn the reason
For the barking of the watch-dogs;
Strode he through the spacious court-yard,
Through the open fields beyond it,
To the summit of the uplands.
Looking toward his black-dog barking,
He beholds the muzzle pointed
To a distant, stormy hill-top,
To a mound with alders covered;
There he learned the rightful reason,
Why his dogs had barked so loudly,
Why had growled the wool-tail bearer,
Why his whelps had signalled danger.
At full sail, he saw a vessel,
And the ship was scarlet-colored,
Entering the bay of Lempo;
Saw a sledge of magic colors,
Gliding up the curving sea-shore,
O'er the snow-fields of Pohyola.
Then the master of the Northland
Hastened straightway to his dwelling,
Hastened forward to his court-room,
These the accents of the master:
'Often strangers journey hither,
On the blue back of the ocean,
Sailing in a scarlet vessel,
Rocking in the bay of Lempo;
Often strangers come in sledges
To the honey-lands of Louhi.'
Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
How shall we obtain a token
Why these strangers journey hither?
My beloved, faithful daughter,
Lay a branch upon the fire-place,
Let it burn with fire of magic
If it trickle drops of scarlet,
War and bloodshed do they bring us;
If it trickle drops of water,
Peace and plenty bring the strangers.'
Northland's fair and slender maiden,
Beautiful and modest daughter,
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Lays a sorb-branch on the fire-place,
Lights it with the fire of magic;
Does not trickle drops of scarlet,
Trickles neither blood, nor water,
From the wand come drops of honey.
From the corner spake Suowakko,
This the language of the wizard:
'If the wand is dripping honey,
Then the strangers that are coming
Are but worthy friends and suitors.'
Then the hostess of the Northland,
With the daughter of the hostess,
Straightway left their work, and hastened
From their dwelling to the court-yard;
Looked about in all directions,
Turned their eyes upon the waters,
Saw a magic-colored vessel
Rocking slowly in the harbor,
Having sailed the bay of Lempo,
Triple sails, and masts, and rigging,
Sable was the nether portion,
And the upper, scarlet-colored,
At the helm an ancient hero
Leaning on his oars of copper;
Saw a fleet-foot racer running,
Saw a red sledge lightly follow,
Saw the magic sledge emblazoned,
Guided toward the courts of Louhi;
Saw and heard six golden cuckoos
Sitting on the break-board, calling,
Seven bluebirds richly colored
Singing from the yoke and cross-bar;
In the sledge a magic hero,
Young, and strong, and proud, and handsome,
Holding reins upon the courser.
Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
'Dearest daughter, winsome maiden,
Dost thou wish a noble suitor?
Should these heroes come to woo thee,
Wouldst thou leave thy home and country,
Be the bride of him that pleases,
Be his faithful life-companion?
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'He that comes upon the waters,
Sailing in a magic vessel,
Having sailed the bay of Lempo,
Is the good, old Wainamoinen;
In his ship are countless treasures,
Richest presents from Wainola.
'He that rides here in his snow-sledge
In his sledge of magic beauty,
With the cuckoos and the bluebirds,
Is the blacksmith, Ilmarinen,
Cometh hither empty-handed,
Only brings some wisdom-sayings.
When they come within the dwelling,
Bring a bowl of honeyed viands,
Bring a pitcher with two handles,
Give to him that thou wouldst follow
Give it to old Wainamoinen,
Him that brings thee countless treasures,
Costly presents in his vessel,
Priceless gems from Kalevala.'
Spake the Northland's lovely daughter,
This the language of the maiden
'Good, indeed, advice maternal,
But I will not wed for riches,
Wed no man for countless treasures;
For his worth I'll choose a husband,
For his youth and fine appearance,
For his noble form and features;
In the olden times the maidens
Were not sold by anxious mothers
To the suitors that they loved not.
I shall choose without his treasures
Ilmarinen for his wisdom,
For his worth and good behavior,
Him that forged the wondrous Sampo,
Hammered thee the lid in colors.'
Spake the hostess of Pohyola:
'Senseless daughter, child of folly,
Thus to choose the ancient blacksmith,
From whose brow drips perspiration,
Evermore to rinse his linen,
Lave his hands, and eyes, and forehead,
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Keep his ancient house in order;
Little use his wit and wisdom
When compared with gold and silver.'
This the answer of the daughter:
'I will never, never, never,
Wed the ancient Wainamoinen
With his gold and priceless jewels;
Never will I be a helpmate
To a hero in his dotage,
Little thanks my compensation.'
Wainamoinen, safely landing
In advance of Ilmarinen,
Pulls his gaily-covered vessel
From the waves upon the sea-beach,
On the cylinders of birch-wood,
On the rollers copper-banded,
Straightway hastens to the guest-room
Of the hostess of Pohyola,
Of the master of the Northland,
Speaks these words upon the threshold
To the famous Maid of Beauty:
'Come with me, thou lovely virgin,
Be my bride and life-companion,
Share with me my joys and sorrows,
Be my honored wife hereafter!'
This the answer of the maiden:
'Hast thou built for me the vessel,
Built for me the ship of magic
From the fragments of the distaff,
From the splinters of the spindle?'
Wainamoinen thus replying:
'I have built the promised vessel,
Built the wondrous ship for sailing,
Firmly joined the parts by magic;
It will weather roughest billows,
Will outlive the winds and waters,
Swiftly glide upon the blue-back
Of the deep and boundless ocean
It will ride the waves in beauty,
Like an airy bubble rising,
Like a cork on lake and river,
Through the angry seas of Northland,
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Through Pohyola's peaceful waters.'
Northland's fair and slender daughter
Gives this answer to her suitor:
'Will not wed a sea-born hero,
Do not care to rock the billows,
Cannot live with such a husband
Storms would bring us pain and trouble,
Winds would rack our hearts and temples;
Therefore thee I cannot follow,
Cannot keep thy home in order,
Cannot be thy life-companion,
Cannot wed old Wainamoinen.'
~ Elias Lönnrot,
1268:The Princess (Part 4)
'There sinks the nebulous star we call the Sun,
If that hypothesis of theirs be sound'
Said Ida; 'let us down and rest;' and we
Down from the lean and wrinkled precipices,
By every coppice-feathered chasm and cleft,
Dropt through the ambrosial gloom to where below
No bigger than a glow-worm shone the tent
Lamp-lit from the inner. Once she leaned on me,
Descending; once or twice she lent her hand,
And blissful palpitations in the blood,
Stirring a sudden transport rose and fell.
But when we planted level feet, and dipt
Beneath the satin dome and entered in,
There leaning deep in broidered down we sank
Our elbows: on a tripod in the midst
A fragrant flame rose, and before us glowed
Fruit, blossom, viand, amber wine, and gold.
Then she, 'Let some one sing to us: lightlier move
The minutes fledged with music:' and a maid,
Of those beside her, smote her harp, and sang.
'Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean,
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes,
In looking on the happy Autumn-fields,
And thinking of the days that are no more.
'Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
'Ah, sad and strange as in dark summer dawns
The earliest pipe of half-awakened birds
To dying ears, when unto dying eyes
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The casement slowly grows a glimmering square;
So sad, so strange, the days that are no more.
'Dear as remembered kisses after death,
And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned
On lips that are for others; deep as love,
Deep as first love, and wild with all regret;
O Death in Life, the days that are no more.'
She ended with such passion that the tear,
She sang of, shook and fell, an erring pearl
Lost in her bosom: but with some disdain
Answered the Princess, 'If indeed there haunt
About the mouldered lodges of the Past
So sweet a voice and vague, fatal to men,
Well needs it we should cram our ears with wool
And so pace by: but thine are fancies hatched
In silken-folded idleness; nor is it
Wiser to weep a true occasion lost,
But trim our sails, and let old bygones be,
While down the streams that float us each and all
To the issue, goes, like glittering bergs of ice,
Throne after throne, and molten on the waste
Becomes a cloud: for all things serve their time
Toward that great year of equal mights and rights,
Nor would I fight with iron laws, in the end
Found golden: let the past be past; let be
Their cancelled Babels: though the rough kex break
The starred mosaic, and the beard-blown goat
Hang on the shaft, and the wild figtree split
Their monstrous idols, care not while we hear
A trumpet in the distance pealing news
Of better, and Hope, a poising eagle, burns
Above the unrisen morrow:' then to me;
'Know you no song of your own land,' she said,
'Not such as moans about the retrospect,
But deals with the other distance and the hues
Of promise; not a death's-head at the wine.'
Then I remembered one myself had made,
What time I watched the swallow winging south
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From mine own land, part made long since, and part
Now while I sang, and maidenlike as far
As I could ape their treble, did I sing.
'O Swallow, Swallow, flying, flying South,
Fly to her, and fall upon her gilded eaves,
And tell her, tell her, what I tell to thee.
'O tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each,
That bright and fierce and fickle is the South,
And dark and true and tender is the North.
'O Swallow, Swallow, if I could follow, and light
Upon her lattice, I would pipe and trill,
And cheep and twitter twenty million loves.
'O were I thou that she might take me in,
And lay me on her bosom, and her heart
Would rock the snowy cradle till I died.
'Why lingereth she to clothe her heart with love,
Delaying as the tender ash delays
To clothe herself, when all the woods are green?
'O tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown:
Say to her, I do but wanton in the South,
But in the North long since my nest is made.
'O tell her, brief is life but love is long,
And brief the sun of summer in the North,
And brief the moon of beauty in the South.
'O Swallow, flying from the golden woods,
Fly to her, and pipe and woo her, and make her mine,
And tell her, tell her, that I follow thee.'
I ceased, and all the ladies, each at each,
Like the Ithacensian suitors in old time,
Stared with great eyes, and laughed with alien lips,
And knew not what they meant; for still my voice
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Rang false: but smiling 'Not for thee,' she said,
O Bulbul, any rose of Gulistan
Shall burst her veil: marsh-divers, rather, maid,
Shall croak thee sister, or the meadow-crake
Grate her harsh kindred in the grass: and this
A mere love-poem! O for such, my friend,
We hold them slight: they mind us of the time
When we made bricks in Egypt. Knaves are men,
That lute and flute fantastic tenderness,
And dress the victim to the offering up,
And paint the gates of Hell with Paradise,
And play the slave to gain the tyranny.
Poor soul! I had a maid of honour once;
She wept her true eyes blind for such a one,
A rogue of canzonets and serenades.
I loved her. Peace be with her. She is dead.
So they blaspheme the muse! But great is song
Used to great ends: ourself have often tried
Valkyrian hymns, or into rhythm have dashed
The passion of the prophetess; for song
Is duer unto freedom, force and growth
Of spirit than to junketing and love.
Love is it? Would this same mock-love, and this
Mock-Hymen were laid up like winter bats,
Till all men grew to rate us at our worth,
Not vassals to be beat, nor pretty babes
To be dandled, no, but living wills, and sphered
Whole in ourselves and owed to none. Enough!
But now to leaven play with profit, you,
Know you no song, the true growth of your soil,
That gives the manners of your country-women?'
She spoke and turned her sumptuous head with eyes
Of shining expectation fixt on mine.
Then while I dragged my brains for such a song,
Cyril, with whom the bell-mouthed glass had wrought,
Or mastered by the sense of sport, began
To troll a careless, careless tavern-catch
Of Moll and Meg, and strange experiences
Unmeet for ladies. Florian nodded at him,
I frowning; Psyche flushed and wanned and shook;
The lilylike Melissa drooped her brows;
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'Forbear,' the Princess cried; 'Forbear, Sir' I;
And heated through and through with wrath and love,
I smote him on the breast; he started up;
There rose a shriek as of a city sacked;
Melissa clamoured 'Flee the death;' 'To horse'
Said Ida; 'home! to horse!' and fled, as flies
A troop of snowy doves athwart the dusk,
When some one batters at the dovecote-doors,
Disorderly the women. Alone I stood
With Florian, cursing Cyril, vext at heart,
In the pavilion: there like parting hopes
I heard them passing from me: hoof by hoof,
And every hoof a knell to my desires,
Clanged on the bridge; and then another shriek,
'The Head, the Head, the Princess, O the Head!'
For blind with rage she missed the plank, and rolled
In the river. Out I sprang from glow to gloom:
There whirled her white robe like a blossomed branch
Rapt to the horrible fall: a glance I gave,
No more; but woman-vested as I was
Plunged; and the flood drew; yet I caught her; then
Oaring one arm, and bearing in my left
The weight of all the hopes of half the world,
Strove to buffet to land in vain. A tree
Was half-disrooted from his place and stooped
To wrench his dark locks in the gurgling wave
Mid-channel. Right on this we drove and caught,
And grasping down the boughs I gained the shore.
There stood her maidens glimmeringly grouped
In the hollow bank. One reaching forward drew
My burthen from mine arms; they cried 'she lives:'
They bore her back into the tent: but I,
So much a kind of shame within me wrought,
Not yet endured to meet her opening eyes,
Nor found my friends; but pushed alone on foot
(For since her horse was lost I left her mine)
Across the woods, and less from Indian craft
Than beelike instinct hiveward, found at length
The garden portals. Two great statues, Art
And Science, Caryatids, lifted up
A weight of emblem, and betwixt were valves
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Of open-work in which the hunter rued
His rash intrusion, manlike, but his brows
Had sprouted, and the branches thereupon
Spread out at top, and grimly spiked the gates.
A little space was left between the horns,
Through which I clambered o'er at top with pain,
Dropt on the sward, and up the linden walks,
And, tost on thoughts that changed from hue to hue,
Now poring on the glowworm, now the star,
I paced the terrace, till the Bear had wheeled
Through a great arc his seven slow suns.
A step
Of lightest echo, then a loftier form
Than female, moving through the uncertain gloom,
Disturbed me with the doubt 'if this were she,'
But it was Florian. 'Hist O Hist,' he said,
'They seek us: out so late is out of rules.
Moreover "seize the strangers" is the cry.
How came you here?' I told him: 'I' said he,
'Last of the train, a moral leper, I,
To whom none spake, half-sick at heart, returned.
Arriving all confused among the rest
With hooded brows I crept into the hall,
And, couched behind a Judith, underneath
The head of Holofernes peeped and saw.
Girl after girl was called to trial: each
Disclaimed all knowledge of us: last of all,
Melissa: trust me, Sir, I pitied her.
She, questioned if she knew us men, at first
Was silent; closer prest, denied it not:
And then, demanded if her mother knew,
Or Psyche, she affirmed not, or denied:
From whence the Royal mind, familiar with her,
Easily gathered either guilt. She sent
For Psyche, but she was not there; she called
For Psyche's child to cast it from the doors;
She sent for Blanche to accuse her face to face;
And I slipt out: but whither will you now?
And where are Psyche, Cyril? both are fled:
What, if together? that were not so well.
Would rather we had never come! I dread
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His wildness, and the chances of the dark.'
'And yet,' I said, 'you wrong him more than I
That struck him: this is proper to the clown,
Though smocked, or furred and purpled, still the clown,
To harm the thing that trusts him, and to shame
That which he says he loves: for Cyril, howe'er
He deal in frolic, as tonight--the song
Might have been worse and sinned in grosser lips
Beyond all pardon--as it is, I hold
These flashes on the surface are not he.
He has a solid base of temperament:
But as the waterlily starts and slides
Upon the level in little puffs of wind,
Though anchored to the bottom, such is he.'
Scarce had I ceased when from a tamarisk near
Two Proctors leapt upon us, crying, 'Names:'
He, standing still, was clutched; but I began
To thrid the musky-circled mazes, wind
And double in and out the boles, and race
By all the fountains: fleet I was of foot:
Before me showered the rose in flakes; behind
I heard the puffed pursuer; at mine ear
Bubbled the nightingale and heeded not,
And secret laughter tickled all my soul.
At last I hooked my ankle in a vine,
That claspt the feet of a Mnemosyne,
And falling on my face was caught and known.
They haled us to the Princess where she sat
High in the hall: above her drooped a lamp,
And made the single jewel on her brow
Burn like the mystic fire on a mast-head,
Prophet of storm: a handmaid on each side
Bowed toward her, combing out her long black hair
Damp from the river; and close behind her stood
Eight daughters of the plough, stronger than men,
Huge women blowzed with health, and wind, and rain,
And labour. Each was like a Druid rock;
Or like a spire of land that stands apart
Cleft from the main, and wailed about with mews.
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Then, as we came, the crowd dividing clove
An advent to the throne: and therebeside,
Half-naked as if caught at once from bed
And tumbled on the purple footcloth, lay
The lily-shining child; and on the left,
Bowed on her palms and folded up from wrong,
Her round white shoulder shaken with her sobs,
Melissa knelt; but Lady Blanche erect
Stood up and spake, an affluent orator.
'It was not thus, O Princess, in old days:
You prized my counsel, lived upon my lips:
I led you then to all the Castalies;
I fed you with the milk of every Muse;
I loved you like this kneeler, and you me
Your second mother: those were gracious times.
Then came your new friend: you began to change-I saw it and grieved--to slacken and to cool;
Till taken with her seeming openness
You turned your warmer currents all to her,
To me you froze: this was my meed for all.
Yet I bore up in part from ancient love,
And partly that I hoped to win you back,
And partly conscious of my own deserts,
And partly that you were my civil head,
And chiefly you were born for something great,
In which I might your fellow-worker be,
When time should serve; and thus a noble scheme
Grew up from seed we two long since had sown;
In us true growth, in her a Jonah's gourd,
Up in one night and due to sudden sun:
We took this palace; but even from the first
You stood in your own light and darkened mine.
What student came but that you planed her path
To Lady Psyche, younger, not so wise,
A foreigner, and I your countrywoman,
I your old friend and tried, she new in all?
But still her lists were swelled and mine were lean;
Yet I bore up in hope she would be known:
Then came these wolves: ~they~ knew her: ~they~ endured,
Long-closeted with her the yestermorn,
755
To tell her what they were, and she to hear:
And me none told: not less to an eye like mine
A lidless watcher of the public weal,
Last night, their mask was patent, and my foot
Was to you: but I thought again: I feared
To meet a cold "We thank you, we shall hear of it
From Lady Psyche:" you had gone to her,
She told, perforce; and winning easy grace
No doubt, for slight delay, remained among us
In our young nursery still unknown, the stem
Less grain than touchwood, while my honest heat
Were all miscounted as malignant haste
To push my rival out of place and power.
But public use required she should be known;
And since my oath was ta'en for public use,
I broke the letter of it to keep the sense.
I spoke not then at first, but watched them well,
Saw that they kept apart, no mischief done;
And yet this day (though you should hate me for it)
I came to tell you; found that you had gone,
Ridden to the hills, she likewise: now, I thought,
That surely she will speak; if not, then I:
Did she? These monsters blazoned what they were,
According to the coarseness of their kind,
For thus I hear; and known at last (my work)
And full of cowardice and guilty shame,
I grant in her some sense of shame, she flies;
And I remain on whom to wreak your rage,
I, that have lent my life to build up yours,
I that have wasted here health, wealth, and time,
And talent, I--you know it--I will not boast:
Dismiss me, and I prophesy your plan,
Divorced from my experience, will be chaff
For every gust of chance, and men will say
We did not know the real light, but chased
The wisp that flickers where no foot can tread.'
She ceased: the Princess answered coldly, 'Good:
Your oath is broken: we dismiss you: go.
For this lost lamb (she pointed to the child)
Our mind is changed: we take it to ourself.'
756
Thereat the Lady stretched a vulture throat,
And shot from crooked lips a haggard smile.
'The plan was mine. I built the nest' she said
'To hatch the cuckoo. Rise!' and stooped to updrag
Melissa: she, half on her mother propt,
Half-drooping from her, turned her face, and cast
A liquid look on Ida, full of prayer,
Which melted Florian's fancy as she hung,
A Niobëan daughter, one arm out,
Appealing to the bolts of Heaven; and while
We gazed upon her came a little stir
About the doors, and on a sudden rushed
Among us, out of breath as one pursued,
A woman-post in flying raiment. Fear
Stared in her eyes, and chalked her face, and winged
Her transit to the throne, whereby she fell
Delivering sealed dispatches which the Head
Took half-amazed, and in her lion's mood
Tore open, silent we with blind surmise
Regarding, while she read, till over brow
And cheek and bosom brake the wrathful bloom
As of some fire against a stormy cloud,
When the wild peasant rights himself, the rick
Flames, and his anger reddens in the heavens;
For anger most it seemed, while now her breast,
Beaten with some great passion at her heart,
Palpitated, her hand shook, and we heard
In the dead hush the papers that she held
Rustle: at once the lost lamb at her feet
Sent out a bitter bleating for its dam;
The plaintive cry jarred on her ire; she crushed
The scrolls together, made a sudden turn
As if to speak, but, utterance failing her,
She whirled them on to me, as who should say
'Read,' and I read--two letters--one her sire's.
'Fair daughter, when we sent the Prince your way,
We knew not your ungracious laws, which learnt,
We, conscious of what temper you are built,
Came all in haste to hinder wrong, but fell
Into his father's hands, who has this night,
You lying close upon his territory,
757
Slipt round and in the dark invested you,
And here he keeps me hostage for his son.'
The second was my father's running thus:
'You have our son: touch not a hair of his head:
Render him up unscathed: give him your hand:
Cleave to your contract: though indeed we hear
You hold the woman is the better man;
A rampant heresy, such as if it spread
Would make all women kick against their Lords
Through all the world, and which might well deserve
That we this night should pluck your palace down;
And we will do it, unless you send us back
Our son, on the instant, whole.'
So far I read;
And then stood up and spoke impetuously.
'O not to pry and peer on your reserve,
But led by golden wishes, and a hope
The child of regal compact, did I break
Your precinct; not a scorner of your sex
But venerator, zealous it should be
All that it might be: hear me, for I bear,
Though man, yet human, whatsoe'er your wrongs,
From the flaxen curl to the gray lock a life
Less mine than yours: my nurse would tell me of you;
I babbled for you, as babies for the moon,
Vague brightness; when a boy, you stooped to me
From all high places, lived in all fair lights,
Came in long breezes rapt from inmost south
And blown to inmost north; at eve and dawn
With Ida, Ida, Ida, rang the woods;
The leader wildswan in among the stars
Would clang it, and lapt in wreaths of glowworm light
The mellow breaker murmured Ida. Now,
Because I would have reached you, had you been
Sphered up with Cassiopëia, or the enthroned
Persephonè in Hades, now at length,
Those winters of abeyance all worn out,
A man I came to see you: but indeed,
Not in this frequence can I lend full tongue,
O noble Ida, to those thoughts that wait
758
On you, their centre: let me say but this,
That many a famous man and woman, town
And landskip, have I heard of, after seen
The dwarfs of presage: though when known, there grew
Another kind of beauty in detail
Made them worth knowing; but in your I found
My boyish dream involved and dazzled down
And mastered, while that after-beauty makes
Such head from act to act, from hour to hour,
Within me, that except you slay me here,
According to your bitter statute-book,
I cannot cease to follow you, as they say
The seal does music; who desire you more
Than growing boys their manhood; dying lips,
With many thousand matters left to do,
The breath of life; O more than poor men wealth,
Than sick men health--yours, yours, not mine--but half
Without you; with you, whole; and of those halves
You worthiest; and howe'er you block and bar
Your heart with system out from mine, I hold
That it becomes no man to nurse despair,
But in the teeth of clenched antagonisms
To follow up the worthiest till he die:
Yet that I came not all unauthorized
Behold your father's letter.'
On one knee
Kneeling, I gave it, which she caught, and dashed
Unopened at her feet: a tide of fierce
Invective seemed to wait behind her lips,
As waits a river level with the dam
Ready to burst and flood the world with foam:
And so she would have spoken, but there rose
A hubbub in the court of half the maids
Gathered together: from the illumined hall
Long lanes of splendour slanted o'er a press
Of snowy shoulders, thick as herded ewes,
And rainbow robes, and gems and gemlike eyes,
And gold and golden heads; they to and fro
Fluctuated, as flowers in storm, some red, some pale,
All open-mouthed, all gazing to the light,
Some crying there was an army in the land,
And some that men were in the very walls,
759
And some they cared not; till a clamour grew
As of a new-world Babel, woman-built,
And worse-confounded: high above them stood
The placid marble Muses, looking peace.
Not peace she looked, the Head: but rising up
Robed in the long night of her deep hair, so
To the open window moved, remaining there
Fixt like a beacon-tower above the waves
Of tempest, when the crimson-rolling eye
Glares ruin, and the wild birds on the light
Dash themselves dead. She stretched her arms and called
Across the tumult and the tumult fell.
'What fear ye, brawlers? am not I your Head?
On me, me, me, the storm first breaks: ~I~ dare
All these male thunderbolts: what is it ye fear?
Peace! there are those to avenge us and they come:
If not,--myself were like enough, O girls,
To unfurl the maiden banner of our rights,
And clad in iron burst the ranks of war,
Or, falling, promartyr of our cause,
Die: yet I blame you not so much for fear:
Six thousand years of fear have made you that
From which I would redeem you: but for those
That stir this hubbub--you and you--I know
Your faces there in the crowd--tomorrow morn
We hold a great convention: then shall they
That love their voices more than duty, learn
With whom they deal, dismissed in shame to live
No wiser than their mothers, household stuff,
Live chattels, mincers of each other's fame,
Full of weak poison, turnspits for the clown,
The drunkard's football, laughing-stocks of Time,
Whose brains are in their hands and in their heels
But fit to flaunt, to dress, to dance, to thrum,
To tramp, to scream, to burnish, and to scour,
For ever slaves at home and fools abroad.'
She, ending, waved her hands: thereat the crowd
Muttering, dissolved: then with a smile, that looked
A stroke of cruel sunshine on the cliff,
760
When all the glens are drowned in azure gloom
Of thunder-shower, she floated to us and said:
'You have done well and like a gentleman,
And like a prince: you have our thanks for all:
And you look well too in your woman's dress:
Well have you done and like a gentleman.
You saved our life: we owe you bitter thanks:
Better have died and spilt our bones in the flood-Then men had said--but now--What hinders me
To take such bloody vengeance on you both?-Yet since our father--Wasps in our good hive,
You would-be quenchers of the light to be,
Barbarians, grosser than your native bears-O would I had his sceptre for one hour!
You that have dared to break our bound, and gulled
Our servants, wronged and lied and thwarted us-~I~ wed with thee! ~I~ bound by precontract
Your bride, our bondslave! not though all the gold
That veins the world were packed to make your crown,
And every spoken tongue should lord you. Sir,
Your falsehood and yourself are hateful to us:
I trample on your offers and on you:
Begone: we will not look upon you more.
Here, push them out at gates.'
In wrath she spake.
Then those eight mighty daughters of the plough
Bent their broad faces toward us and addressed
Their motion: twice I sought to plead my cause,
But on my shoulder hung their heavy hands,
The weight of destiny: so from her face
They pushed us, down the steps, and through the court,
And with grim laughter thrust us out at gates.
We crossed the street and gained a petty mound
Beyond it, whence we saw the lights and heard the voices murmuring. While I
listened, came
On a sudden the weird seizure and the doubt:
I seemed to move among a world of ghosts;
The Princess with her monstrous woman-guard,
The jest and earnest working side by side,
The cataract and the tumult and the kings
761
Were shadows; and the long fantastic night
With all its doings had and had not been,
And all things were and were not.
This went by
As strangely as it came, and on my spirits
Settled a gentle cloud of melancholy;
Not long; I shook it off; for spite of doubts
And sudden ghostly shadowings I was one
To whom the touch of all mischance but came
As night to him that sitting on a hill
Sees the midsummer, midnight, Norway sun
Set into sunrise; then we moved away.
Thy voice is heard through rolling drums,
That beat to battle where he stands;
Thy face across his fancy comes,
And gives the battle to his hands:
A moment, while the trumpets blow,
He sees his brood about thy knee;
The next, like fire he meets the foe,
And strikes him dead for thine and thee.
So Lilia sang: we thought her half-possessed,
She struck such warbling fury through the words;
And, after, feigning pique at what she called
The raillery, or grotesque, or false sublime-Like one that wishes at a dance to change
The music--clapt her hands and cried for war,
Or some grand fight to kill and make an end:
And he that next inherited the tale
Half turning to the broken statue, said,
'Sir Ralph has got your colours: if I prove
Your knight, and fight your battle, what for me?'
It chanced, her empty glove upon the tomb
Lay by her like a model of her hand.
She took it and she flung it. 'Fight' she said,
'And make us all we would be, great and good.'
He knightlike in his cap instead of casque,
A cap of Tyrol borrowed from the hall,
Arranged the favour, and assumed the Prince.
762
~ Alfred Lord Tennyson,
1269:The Dunciad: Book Iv
Yet, yet a moment, one dim ray of light
Indulge, dread Chaos, and eternal Night!
Of darkness visible so much be lent,
As half to show, half veil, the deep intent.
Ye pow'rs! whose mysteries restor'd I sing,
To whom time bears me on his rapid wing,
Suspend a while your force inertly strong,
Then take at once the poet and the song.
Now flam'd the Dog Star's unpropitious ray,
Smote ev'ry brain, and wither'd every bay;
Sick was the sun, the owl forsook his bow'r.
The moon-struck prophet felt the madding hour:
Then rose the seed of Chaos, and of Night,
To blot out order, and extinguish light,
Of dull and venal a new world to mould,
And bring Saturnian days of lead and gold.
She mounts the throne: her head a cloud conceal'd,
In broad effulgence all below reveal'd;
('Tis thus aspiring Dulness ever shines)
Soft on her lap her laureate son reclines.
Beneath her footstool, Science groans in chains,
And Wit dreads exile, penalties, and pains.
There foam'd rebellious Logic , gagg'd and bound,
There, stripp'd, fair Rhet'ric languish'd on the ground;
His blunted arms by Sophistry are borne,
And shameless Billingsgate her robes adorn.
Morality , by her false guardians drawn,
Chicane in furs, and Casuistry in lawn,
Gasps, as they straighten at each end the cord,
And dies, when Dulness gives her page the word.
Mad Mathesis alone was unconfin'd,
Too mad for mere material chains to bind,
Now to pure space lifts her ecstatic stare,
Now running round the circle finds it square.
But held in tenfold bonds the Muses lie,
Watch'd both by Envy's and by Flatt'ry's eye:
191
There to her heart sad Tragedy addres'd
The dagger wont to pierce the tyrant's breast;
But sober History restrain'd her rage,
And promised vengeance on a barb'rous age.
There sunk Thalia, nerveless, cold, and dead,
Had not her sister Satire held her head:
Nor couldst thou, Chesterfield! a tear refuse,
Thou weptst, and with thee wept each gentle Muse.
When lo! a harlot form soft sliding by,
With mincing step, small voice, and languid eye;
Foreign her air, her robe's discordant pride
In patchwork flutt'ring, and her head aside:
By singing peers upheld on either hand,
She tripp'd and laugh'd, too pretty much to stand;
Cast on the prostrate Nine a scornful look,
Then thus in quaint recitativo spoke.
'O
Cara! Cara!
silence all that train:
Joy to great Chaos! let Division reign:
Chromatic tortures soon shall drive them hence,
Break all their nerves, and fritter all their sense:
One trill shall harmonize joy, grief, and rage,
Wake the dull Church, and lull the ranting Stage;
To the same notes thy sons shall hum, or snore,
And all thy yawning daughters cry,
encore
Another Phoebus, thy own Phoebus, reigns,
Joys in my jigs, and dances in my chains.
But soon, ah soon, Rebellion will commence,
If Music meanly borrows aid from Sense.
Strong in new arms, lo! Giant Handel stands,
Like bold Briarerus, with a hundred hands;
To stir, to rouse, to shake the soul he comes,
And Jove's own thunders follow Mars's drums.
Arrest him, Empress, or you sleep no more-'
She heard, and drove him to th' Hibernian shore.
And now had Fame's posterior trumpet blown,
192
And all the nations summoned to the throne.
The young, the old, who feel her inward sway,
One instinct seizes, and transports away.
None need a guide, by sure attraction led,
And strong impulsive gravity of head:
None want a place, for all their centre found
Hung to the Goddess, and coher'd around.
Not closer, orb in orb, conglob'd are seen
The buzzing bees about their dusky Queen.
The gath'ring number, as it moves along,
Involves a vast involuntary throng,
Who gently drawn, and struggling less and less,
Roll in her Vortex, and her pow'r confess.
Not those alone who passive own her laws,
But who, weak rebels, more advance her cause.
Whate'er of dunce in college or in town
Sneers at another, in toupee or gown;
Whate'er of mongrel no one class admits,
A wit with dunces, and a dunce with wits.
Nor absent they, no members of her state,
Who pay her homage in her sons, the Great;
Who false to Phoebus bow the knee to Baal;
Or, impious, preach his Word without a call.
Patrons, who sneak from living worth to dead,
Withhold the pension, and set up the head;
Or vest dull Flattery in the sacred gown;
Or give from fool to fool the laurel crown.
And (last and worst) with all the cant of wit,
Without the soul, the Muse's hypocrite.
There march'd the bard and blockhead, side by side,
Who rhym'd for hire, and patroniz'd for pride.
Narcissus, prais'd with all a Parson's pow'r,
Look'd a white lily sunk beneath a show'r.
There mov'd Montalto with superior air;
His stretch'd-out arm display'd a volume fair;
Courtiers and Patriots in two ranks divide,
Through both he pass'd, and bow'd from side to side:
But as in graceful act, with awful eye
Compos'd he stood, bold Benson thrust him by:
193
On two unequal crutches propp'd he came,
Milton's on this, on that one Johnston's name.
The decent knight retir'd with sober rage,
Withdrew his hand, and closed the pompous page.
But (happy for him as the times went then)
Appear'd Apollo's mayor and aldermen,
On whom three hundred gold-capp'd youths await,
To lug the pond'rous volume off in state.
When Dulness, smiling-'Thus revive the Wits!
But murder first, and mince them all to bits;
As erst Medea (cruel, so to save!)
A new edition of old Aeson gave;
Let standard authors, thus, like trophies born,
Appear more glorious as more hack'd and torn,
And you, my Critics! in the chequer'd shade,
Admire new light through holes yourselves have made.
Leave not a foot of verse, a foot of stone,
A page, a grave, that they can call their own;
But spread, my sons, your glory thin or thick,
On passive paper, or on solid brick.
So by each bard an Alderman shall sit,
A heavy lord shall hang at ev'ry wit,
And while on Fame's triumphal Car they ride,
Some Slave of mine be pinion'd to their side.'
Now crowds on crowds around the Goddess press,
Each eager to present their first address.
Dunce scorning dunce beholds the next advance,
But fop shows fop superior complaisance,
When lo! a spector rose, whose index hand
Held forth the virtue of the dreadful wand;
His beaver'd brow a birchen garland wears,
Dropping with infant's blood, and mother's tears.
O'er every vein a shud'ring horror runs;
Eton and Winton shake through all their sons.
All flesh is humbl'd, Westminster's bold race
Shrink, and confess the Genius of the place:
The pale boy senator yet tingling stands,
And holds his breeches close with both his hands.
194
Then thus. 'Since man from beast by words is known,
Words are man's province, words we teach alone.
When reason doubtful, like the Samian letter,
Points him two ways, the narrower is the better.
Plac'd at the door of learning, youth to guide,
We never suffer it to stand too wide.
To ask, to guess, to know, as they commence,
As fancy opens the quick springs of sense,
We ply the memory, we load the brain,
Bind rebel Wit, and double chain on chain,
Confine the thought, to exercise the breath;
And keep them in the pale of words till death.
Whate'er the talents, or howe'er design'd,
We hang one jingling padlock on the mind:
A Poet the first day, he dips his quill;
And what the last? A very Poet still.
Pity! the charm works only in our wall,
Lost, lost too soon in yonder house or hall.
There truant Wyndham every Muse gave o'er,
There Talbot sunk, and was a wit no more!
How sweet an Ovid, Murray was our boast!
How many Martials were in Pult'ney lost!
Else sure some bard, to our eternal praise,
In twice ten thousand rhyming nights and days,
Had reach'd the work, and All that mortal can;
And South beheld that Masterpiece of Man.'
'Oh' (cried the Goddess) 'for some pedant Reign!
Some gentle James, to bless the land again;
To stick the Doctor's chair into the throne,
Give law to words, or war with words alone,
Senates and courts with Greek and Latin rule,
And turn the council to a grammar school!
For sure, if Dulness sees a grateful day,
'Tis in the shade of arbitrary sway.
O! if my sons may learn one earthly thing,
Teach but that one, sufficient for a king;
That which my priests, and mine alone, maintain,
Which as it dies, or lives, we fall, or reign:
May you, may Cam and Isis, preach it long!
'The Right Divine of Kings to govern wrong'.'
195
Prompt at the call, around the Goddess roll
Broad hats, and hoods, and caps, a sable shoal:
Thick and more thick the black blockade extends,
A hundred head of Aristotle's friends.
Nor wert thou, Isis! wanting to the day,
Though Christ Church long kept prudishly away.
Each staunch polemic, stubborn as a rock,
Each fierce logician, still expelling Locke,
Came whip and spur, and dash'd through thin and thick
On German Crousaz, and Dutch Burgersdyck.
As many quit the streams that murm'ring fall
To lull the sons of Marg'ret and Clare Hall,
Where Bentley late tempestuous wont to sport
In troubled waters, but now sleeps in Port.
Before them march'd that awful Aristarch;
Plow'd was his front with many a deep remark:
His hat, which never vail'd to human pride,
Walker with rev'rence took, and laid aside.
Low bowed the rest: He, kingly, did but nod;
So upright Quakers please both man and God.
'Mistress! dismiss that rabble from your throne:
Avaunt-is Aristarchus yet unknown?
Thy mighty scholiast, whose unwearied pains
Made Horace dull, and humbl'd Milton's strains.
Turn what they will to verse, their toil is vain,
Critics like me shall make it prose again.
Roman and Greek grammarians! know your better:
Author of something yet more great than letter;
While tow'ring o'er your alphabet, like Saul,
Stands our Digamma, and o'ertops them all.
'Tis true, on words is still our whole debate,
Disputes of
Me
or
Te
, of
aut
or
at
To sound or sink in
196
cano
, O or A,
Or give up Cicero to C or K.
Let Freind affect to speak as Terence spoke,
And Alsop never but like Horace joke:
For me, what Virgil, Pliny may deny,
Manilius or Solinus shall supply:
For Attic Phrase in Plato let them seek,
I poach in Suidas for unlicens'd Greek.
In ancient sense if any needs will deal,
Be sure I give them fragments, not a meal;
What Gellius or Stobaeus hash'd before,
Or chew'd by blind old Scholiasts o'er and o'er.
The critic eye, that microscope of wit,
Sees hairs and pores, examines bit by bit:
How parts relate to parts, or they to whole,
The body's harmony, the beaming soul,
Are things which Kuster, Burman, Wasse shall see,
When man's whole frame is obvious to a
Flea
'Ah, think not, Mistress! more true dulness lies
In Folly's cap, than Wisdom's grave disguise.
Like buoys, that never sink into the flood,
On learning's surface we but lie and nod.
Thine is the genuine head of many a house,
And much Divinity without a Nous.
Nor could a Barrow work on every block,
Nor has one Atterbury spoil'd the flock.
See! still thy own, the heavy canon roll,
And metaphysic smokes involve the pole.
For thee we dim the eyes, and stuff the head
With all such reading as was never read:
For thee explain a thing till all men doubt it,
And write about it, Goddess, and about it:
So spins the silkworm small its slender store,
And labours till it clouds itself all o'er.
'What tho' we let some better sort of fool
Thrid ev'ry science, run through ev'ry school?
Never by tumbler through the hoops was shown
197
Such skill in passing all, and touching none.
He may indeed (if sober all this time)
Plague with dispute, or persecute with rhyme.
We only furnish what he cannot use,
Or wed to what he must divorce, a Muse:
Full in the midst of Euclid dip at once,
And petrify a Genius to a Dunce:
Or set on metaphysic ground to prance,
Show all his paces, not a step advance.
With the same cement ever sure to bind,
We bring to one dead level ev'ry mind.
Then take him to develop, if you can,
And hew the block off, and get out the man.
But wherefore waste I words? I see advance
Whore, pupil, and lac'd governor from France.
Walker! our hat' -nor more he deign'd to say,
But, stern as Ajax' spectre, strode away.
In flow'd at once a gay embroider'd race,
And titt'ring push'd the Pedants off the place;
Some would have spoken, but the voice was drown'd
By the French horn, or by the op'ning hound.
The first came forwards, with as easy mien,
As if he saw St. James's and the Queen.
When thus th' attendant Orator begun,
Receive, great Empress! thy accomplish'd Son:
Thine from the birth, and sacred from the rod,
A dauntless infant! never scar'd with God.
The Sire saw, one by one, his Virtues wake:
The Mother begg'd the blessing of a Rake.
Thou gav'st that Ripeness, which so soon began,
And ceas'd so soon, he ne'er was Boy, nor Man,
Thro' School and College, thy kind cloud o'ercast,
Safe and unseen the young AEneas past:
Thence bursting glorious, all at once let down,
Stunn'd with his giddy Larum half the town.
Intrepid then, o'er seas and lands he flew:
Europe he saw, and Europe saw him too.
There all thy gifts and graces we display,
Thou, only thou, directing all our way!
To where the Seine, obsequious as she runs,
Pours at great Bourbon's feet her silken sons;
198
Or Tyber, now no longer Roman, rolls,
Vain of Italian Arts, Italian Souls:
To happy Convents, bosom'd deep in vines,
Where slumber Abbots, purple as their wines:
To Isles of fragrance, lilly-silver'd vales,
Diffusing languor in the panting gales:
To lands of singing, or of dancing slaves,
Love-whisp'ring woods, and lute-resounding waves.
But chief her shrine where naked Venus keeps,
And Cupids ride the Lyon of the Deeps;
Where, eas'd of Fleets, the Adriatic main
Wafts the smooth Eunuch and enamour'd swain.
Led by my hand, he saunter'd Europe round,
And gather'd ev'ry Vice on Christian ground;
Saw ev'ry Court, hear'd ev'ry King declare
His royal Sense, of Op'ra's or the Fair;
The Stews and Palace equally explor'd,
Intrigu'd with glory, and with spirit whor'd;
Try'd all hors-d' uvres, all Liqueurs defin'd,
Judicious drank, and greatly-daring din'd;
Dropt the dull lumber of the Latin store,
Spoil'd his own Language, and acquir'd no more;
All Classic learning lost on Classic ground;
And last turn'd Air, the Eccho of a Sound!
See now, half-cur'd, and perfectly well-bred,
With nothing but a Solo in his head;
As much Estate, and Principle, and Wit,
As Jansen, Fleetwood, Cibber shall think fit;
Stol'n from a Duel, follow'd by a Nun,
And, if a Borough chuse him, not undone;
See, to my country happy I restore
This glorious Youth, and add one Venus more.
Her too receive (for her my soul adores)
So may the sons of sons of sons of whores,
Prop thine, O Empress! like each neighbour Throne,
And make a long Posterity thy own.
Pleas'd, she accepts the Hero, and the Dame,
Wraps in her Veil, and frees from sense of Shame.
Then look'd, and saw a lazy, lolling sort,
Unseen at Church, at Senate, or at Court,
Of ever-listless Loit'rers, that attend
No Cause, no Trust, no Duty, and no Friend.
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Thee too, my Paridel! she mark'd thee there,
Stretch'd on the rack of a too easy chair,
And heard thy everlasting yawn confess
The Pains and Penalties of Idleness.
She pity'd! but her Pity only shed
Benigner influence on thy nodding head.
But Annius, crafty Seer, with ebon wand,
And well-dissembl'd Em'rald on his hand,
False as his Gems and canker'd as his Coins,
Came, cramm'd with Capon, from where Pollio dines.
Soft, as the wily Fox is seen to creep,
Where bask on sunny banks the simple sheep,
Walk round and round, now prying here, now there;
So he; but pious, whisper'd first his pray'r.
Grant, gracious Goddess! grant me still to cheat,
O may thy cloud still cover the deceit!
Thy choicer mists on this assembly shed,
But pour them thickest on the noble head.
So shall each youth, assisted by our eyes,
See other C‘sars, other Homers rise;
Thro' twilight ages hunt th'Athenian fowl,
Which Chalcis Gods, and mortals call an Owl,
Now see an Attys, now a Cecrops clear,
Nay, Mahomet! the Pigeon at thine ear;
Be rich in ancient brass, tho' not in gold,
And keep his Lares, tho' his house be sold;
To headless Ph be his fair bride postpone,
Honour a Syrian Prince above his own;
Lord of an Otho, if I vouch it true;
Blest in one Niger, till he knows of two.
Mummius o'erheard him; Mummius, Fool-renown'd,
Who like his Cheops stinks above the ground,
Fierce as a startled Adder, swell'd, and said,
Rattling an ancient Sistrum at his head.
Speak'st thou of Syrian Princes? Traitor base!
Mine, Goddess! mine is all the horned race.
True, he had wit, to make their value rise;
From foolish Greeks to steal them, was as wise;
More glorious yet, from barb'rous hands to keep,
When Sallee Rovers chac'd him on the deep.
Then taught by Hermes, and divinely bold,
Down his own throat he risqu'd the Grecian gold;
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Receiv'd each Demi-God, with pious care,
Deep in his Entrails — I rever'd them there,
I bought them, shrouded in that living shrine,
And, at their second birth, they issue mine.
Witness great Ammon! by whose horns I swore,
(Reply'd soft Annius) this our paunch before
Still bears them, faithful; and that thus I eat,
Is to refund the Medals with the meat.
To prove me, Goddess! clear of all design,
Bid me with Pollio sup, as well as dine:
There all the Learn'd shall at the labour stand,
And Douglas lend his soft, obstetric hand.
The Goddess smiling seem'd to give consent;
So back to Pollio, hand in hand, they went.
Then thick as Locusts black'ning all the ground,
A tribe, with weeds and shells fantastic crown'd,
Each with some wond'rous gift approach'd the Pow'r,
A Nest, a Toad, a Fungus, or a Flow'r.
But far the foremost, two, with earnest zeal,
And aspect ardent to the Throne appeal.
The first thus open'd: Hear thy suppliant's call,
Great Queen, and common Mother of us all!
Fair from its humble bed I rear'd this Flow'r,
Suckled, and chear'd, with air, and sun, and show'r,
Soft on the paper ruff its leaves I spread,
Bright with the gilded button tipt its head,
Then thron'd in glass, and nam'd it Caroline:
Each Maid cry'd, charming! and each Youth, divine!
Did Nature's pencil ever blend such rays,
Such vary'd light in one promiscuous blaze?
Now prostrate! dead! behold that Caroline:
No Maid cries, charming! and no Youth, divine!
And lo the wretch! whose vile, whose insect lust
Lay'd this gay daughter of the Spring in dust.
Oh punish him, or to th' Elysian shades
Dismiss my soul, where no Carnation fades.
He ceas'd, and wept. With innocence of mien,
Th'Accus'd stood forth, and thus address'd the Queen.
Of all th'enamel'd race, whose silv'ry wing
Waves to the tepid Zephyrs of the spring,
Or swims along the fluid atmosphere,
Once brightest shin'd this child of Heat and Air.
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I saw, and started from its vernal bow'r
The rising game, and chac'd from flow'r to flow'r.
It fled, I follow'd; now in hope, now pain;
It stopt, I stopt; it mov'd, I mov'd again.
At last it fix'd, 'twas on what plant it pleas'd,
And where it fix'd, the beauteous bird I seiz'd:
Rose or Carnation was below my care;
I meddle, Goddess! only in my sphere.
I tell the naked fact without disguise,
And, to excuse it, need but shew the prize;
Whose spoils this paper offers to your eye,
Fair ev'n in death! this peerless Butterfly.
My sons! (she answer'd) both have done your parts:
Live happy both, and long promote our arts.
But hear a Mother, when she recommends
To your fraternal care, our sleeping friends.
The common Soul, of Heav'n's more frugal make,
Serves but to keep fools pert, and knaves awake:
A drowzy Watchman, that just gives a knock,
And breaks our rest, to tell us what's a clock.
Yet by some object ev'ry brain is stirr'd;
The dull may waken to a Humming-bird;
The most recluse, discreetly open'd, find
Congenial matter in the Cockle-kind;
The mind, in Metaphysics at a loss,
May wander in a wilderness of Moss;
The head that turns at super-lunar things,
Poiz'd with a tail, may steer on Wilkins' wings.
'O! would the sons of men once think their eyes
And reason given them but to study flies !
See Nature in some partial narrow shape,
And let the Author of the Whole escape:
Learn but to trifle; or, who most observe,
To wonder at their Maker, not to serve.'
'Be that my task' (replies a gloomy clerk,
Sworn foe to Myst'ry, yet divinely dark;
Whose pious hope aspires to see the day
When Moral Evidence shall quite decay,
And damns implicit faith, and holy lies,
Prompt to impose, and fond to dogmatize):
'Let others creep by timid steps, and slow,
On plain experience lay foundations low,
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By common sense to common knowledge bred,
And last, to Nature's Cause through Nature led.
All-seeing in thy mists, we want no guide,
Mother of Arrogance, and Source of Pride!
We nobly take the high Priori Road,
And reason downward, till we doubt of God:
Make Nature still encroach upon his plan;
And shove him off as far as e'er we can:
Thrust some Mechanic Cause into his place;
Or bind in matter, or diffuse in space.
Or, at one bound o'erleaping all his laws,
Make God man's image, man the final Cause,
Find virtue local, all relation scorn
See all in self , and but for self be born:
Of naught so certain as our reason still,
Of naught so doubtful as of soul and will .
Oh hide the God still more! and make us see
Such as Lucretius drew, a god like thee:
Wrapp'd up in self, a god without a thought,
Regardless of our merit or default.
Or that bright image to our fancy draw,
Which Theocles in raptur'd vision saw,
While through poetic scenes the Genius roves,
Or wanders wild in academic groves;
That Nature our society adores,
Where Tindal dictates, and Silenus snores.'
Rous'd at his name up rose the bousy Sire,
And shook from out his pipe the seeds of fire;
Then snapp'd his box, and strok'd his belly down:
Rosy and rev'rend, though without a gown.
Bland and familiar to the throne he came,
Led up the youth, and call'd the Goddess Dame .
Then thus, 'From priestcraft happily set free,
Lo! ev'ry finished Son returns to thee:
First slave to words, then vassal to a name,
Then dupe to party; child and man the same;
Bounded by Nature, narrow'd still by art,
A trifling head, and a contracted heart.
Thus bred, thus taught, how many have I seen,
Smiling on all, and smil'd on by a queen.
Marked out for honours, honour'd for their birth,
203
To thee the most rebellious things on earth:
Now to thy gentle shadow all are shrunk,
All melted down, in pension, or in punk!
So K-- so B-- sneak'd into the grave,
A monarch's half, and half a harlot's slave.
Poor W-- nipp'd in Folly's broadest bloom,
Who praises now? his chaplain on his tomb.
Then take them all, oh take them to thy breast!
Thy Magus , Goddess! shall perform the rest.'
With that, a Wizard old his Cup extends;
Which whoso tastes, forgets his former friends,
Sire, ancestors, himself. One casts his eyes
Up to a Star , and like Endymion dies:
A Feather , shooting from another's head,
Extracts his brain, and principle is fled,
Lost is his God, his country, ev'rything;
And nothing left but homage to a king!
The vulgar herd turn off to roll with hogs,
To run with horses, or to hunt with dogs;
But, sad example! never to escape
Their infamy, still keep the human shape.
But she, good Goddess, sent to ev'ry child
Firm impudence, or stupefaction mild;
And straight succeeded, leaving shame no room,
Cibberian forehead, or Cimmerian gloom.
Kind self-conceit to somewhere glass applies,
Which no one looks in with another's eyes:
But as the flatt'rer or dependant paint,
Beholds himself a patriot, chief, or saint.
On others Int'rest her gay liv'ry flings,
Int'rest that waves on party-colour'd wings:
Turn'd to the sun, she casts a thousand dyes,
And, as she turns, the colours fall or rise.
Others the siren sisters warble round,
And empty heads console with empty sound.
No more, Alas! the voice of Fame they hear,
The balm of Dulness trickling in their ear.
Great C--, H--, P--, R--, K--,
Why all your toils? your Sons have learn'd to sing.
How quick ambition hastes to ridicule!
The sire is made a peer, the son a fool.
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On some, a Priest succinct in amice white
Attends; all flesh is nothing in his sight!
Beeves, at his touch, at once to jelly turn,
And the huge boar is shrunk into an urn:
The board with specious miracles he loads,
Turns hares to larks, and pigeons into toads.
Another (for in all what one can shine?)
Explains the
Seve
and
Verdeur
of the vine.
What cannot copious sacrifice atone?
Thy truffles, Perigord! thy hams, Bayonne!
With French libation, and Italian strain,
Wash Bladen white, and expiate Hays's stain.
Knight lifts the head, for what are crowds undone.
To three essential partridges in one?
Gone ev'ry blush, and silent all reproach,
Contending princes mount them in their coach.
Next, bidding all draw near on bended knees,
The Queen confers her Titles and Degrees .
Her children first of more distinguish'd sort,
Who study Shakespeare at the Inns of Court,
Impale a glowworm, or vertú profess,
Shine in the dignity of F.R.S.
Some, deep Freemasons, join the silent race
Worthy to fill Pythagoras's place:
Some botanists, or florists at the least,
Or issue members of an annual feast.
Nor pass'd the meanest unregarded, one
Rose a Gregorian, one a Gormogon.
The last, not least in honour or applause,
Isis and Cam made Doctors of her Laws.
Then, blessing all, 'Go, Children of my care!
To practice now from theory repair.
All my commands are easy, short, and full:
My sons! be proud, be selfish, and be dull.
Guard my prerogative, assert my throne:
This nod confirms each privilege your own.
The cap and switch be sacred to his Grace;
205
With staff and pumps the Marquis lead the race;
From stage to stage the licens'd Earl may run,
Pair'd with his fellow charioteer the sun;
The learned Baron butterflies design,
Or draw to silk Arachne's subtle line;
The Judge to dance his brother Sergeant call;
The Senator at cricket urge the ball;
The Bishop stow (pontific luxury!)
An hundred souls of turkeys in a pie;
The sturdy Squire to Gallic masters stoop,
And drown his lands and manors in a soupe .
Others import yet nobler arts from France,
Teach kings to fiddle, and make senates dance.
Perhaps more high some daring son may soar,
Proud to my list to add one monarch more;
And nobly conscious, princes are but things
Born for first ministers, as slaves for kings,
Tyrant supreme! shall three Estates command,
And make one mighty Dunciad of the Land!
More she had spoke, but yawn'd-All Nature nods:
What mortal can resist the yawn of gods?
Churches and Chapels instantly it reach'd;
(St. James's first, for leaden Gilbert preach'd)
Then catch'd the schools; the Hall scarce kept awake;
The Convocation gap'd, but could not speak:
Lost was the nation's sense, nor could be found,
While the long solemn unison went round:
Wide, and more wide, it spread o'er all the realm;
Even Palinurus nodded at the helm:
The vapour mild o'er each committee crept;
Unfinish'd treaties in each office slept;
And chiefless armies doz'd out the campaign;
And navies yawn'd for orders on the main.
O Muse! relate (for you can tell alone,
Wits have short memories, and Dunces none),
Relate, who first, who last resign'd to rest;
Whose heads she partly, whose completely blest;
What charms could faction, what ambition lull,
The venal quiet, and entrance the dull;
Till drown'd was sense, and shame, and right, and wrongO sing, and hush the nations with thy song!
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In vain, in vain-the all-composing hour
Resistless falls: The Muse obeys the Pow'r.
She comes! she comes! the sable throne behold
Of Night primeval, and of Chaos old!
Before her, Fancy's gilded clouds decay,
And all its varying rainbows die away.
Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires,
The meteor drops, and in a flash expires.
As one by one, at dread Medea's strain,
The sick'ning stars fade off th' ethereal plain;
As Argus' eyes by Hermes' wand oppress'd,
Clos'd one by one to everlasting rest;
Thus at her felt approach, and secret might,
Art after Art goes out, and all is Night.
See skulking Truth to her old cavern fled,
Mountains of Casuistry heap'd o'er her head!
Philosophy, that lean'd on Heav'n before,
Shrinks to her second cause, and is no more.
Physic of Metaphysic begs defence,
And Metaphysic calls for aid on Sense !
See Mystery to Mathematics fly!
In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
Religion blushing veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires.
Nor public Flame, nor private , dares to shine;
Nor human Spark is left, nor Glimpse divine !
Lo! thy dread Empire, Chaos! is restor'd;
Light dies before thy uncreating word:
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall;
And universal Darkness buries All.
~ Alexander Pope,
1270:The Great Adventure Of Max Breuck
A yellow band of light upon the street
Pours from an open door, and makes a wide
Pathway of bright gold across a sheet
Of calm and liquid moonshine. From inside
Come shouts and streams of laughter, and a snatch
Of song, soon drowned and lost again in mirth,
The clip of tankards on a table top,
And stir of booted heels. Against the patch
Of candle-light a shadow falls, its girth
Proclaims the host himself, and master of his shop.
This is the tavern of one Hilverdink,
Jan Hilverdink, whose wines are much esteemed.
Within his cellar men can have to drink
The rarest cordials old monks ever schemed
To coax from pulpy grapes, and with nice art
Improve and spice their virgin juiciness.
Here froths the amber beer of many a brew,
Crowning each pewter tankard with as smart
A cap as ever in his wantonness
Winter set glittering on top of an old yew.
Tall candles stand upon the table, where
Are twisted glasses, ruby-sparked with wine,
Clarets and ports. Those topaz bumpers were
Drained from slim, long-necked bottles of the Rhine.
The centre of the board is piled with pipes,
Slender and clean, the still unbaptized clay
Awaits its burning fate. Behind, the vault
Stretches from dim to dark, a groping way
Bordered by casks and puncheons, whose brass stripes
326
And bands gleam dully still, beyond the gay tumult.
'For good old Master Hilverdink, a toast!'
Clamoured a youth with tassels on his boots.
'Bring out your oldest brandy for a boast,
From that small barrel in the very roots
Of your deep cellar, man. Why here is Max!
Ho! Welcome, Max, you're scarcely here in time.
We want to drink to old Jan's luck, and smoke
His best tobacco for a grand climax.
Here, Jan, a paper, fragrant as crushed thyme,
We'll have the best to wish you luck, or may we choke!'
Max Breuck unclasped his broadcloth cloak, and sat.
'Well thought of, Franz; here's luck to Mynheer Jan.'
The host set down a jar; then to a vat
Lost in the distance of his cellar, ran.
Max took a pipe as graceful as the stem
Of some long tulip, crammed it full, and drew
The pungent smoke deep to his grateful lung.
It curled all blue throughout the cave and flew
Into the silver night. At once there flung
Into the crowded shop a boy, who cried to them:
'Oh, sirs, is there some learned lawyer here,
Some advocate, or all-wise counsellor?
My master sent me to inquire where
Such men do mostly be, but every door
Was shut and barred, for late has grown the hour.
I pray you tell me where I may now find
One versed in law, the matter will not wait.'
'I am a lawyer, boy,' said Max, 'my mind
Is not locked to my business, though 'tis late.
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I shall be glad to serve what way is in my power.
Then once more, cloaked and ready, he set out,
Tripping the footsteps of the eager boy
Along the dappled cobbles, while the rout
Within the tavern jeered at his employ.
Through new-burst elm leaves filtered the white moon,
Who peered and splashed between the twinkling boughs,
Flooded the open spaces, and took flight
Before tall, serried houses in platoon,
Guarded by shadows. Past the Custom House
They took their hurried way in the Spring-scented night.
Before a door which fronted a canal
The boy halted. A dim tree-shaded spot.
The water lapped the stones in musical
And rhythmic tappings, and a galliot
Slumbered at anchor with no light aboard.
The boy knocked twice, and steps approached. A flame
Winked through the keyhole, then a key was turned,
And through the open door Max went toward
Another door, whence sound of voices came.
He entered a large room where candelabra burned.
An aged man in quilted dressing gown
Rose up to greet him. 'Sir,' said Max, 'you sent
Your messenger to seek throughout the town
A lawyer. I have small accomplishment,
But I am at your service, and my name
Is Max Breuck, Counsellor, at your command.'
'Mynheer,' replied the aged man, 'obliged
Am I, and count myself much privileged.
I am Cornelius Kurler, and my fame
328
Is better known on distant oceans than on land.
10
My ship has tasted water in strange seas,
And bartered goods at still uncharted isles.
She's oft coquetted with a tropic breeze,
And sheered off hurricanes with jaunty smiles.'
'Tush, Kurler,' here broke in the other man,
'Enough of poetry, draw the deed and sign.'
The old man seemed to wizen at the voice,
'My good friend, Grootver, --' he at once began.
'No introductions, let us have some wine,
And business, now that you at last have made your choice.'
11
A harsh and disagreeable man he proved to be,
This Grootver, with no single kindly thought.
Kurler explained, his old hands nervously
Twisting his beard. His vessel he had bought
From Grootver. He had thought to soon repay
The ducats borrowed, but an adverse wind
Had so delayed him that his cargo brought
But half its proper price, the very day
He came to port he stepped ashore to find
The market glutted and his counted profits naught.
12
Little by little Max made out the way
That Grootver pressed that poor harassed old man.
His money he must have, too long delay
Had turned the usurer to a ruffian.
'But let me take my ship, with many bales
Of cotton stuffs dyed crimson, green, and blue,
Cunningly patterned, made to suit the taste
Of mandarin's ladies; when my battered sails
Open for home, such stores will I bring you
329
That all your former ventures will be counted waste.
13
Such light and foamy silks, like crinkled cream,
And indigo more blue than sun-whipped seas,
Spices and fragrant trees, a massive beam
Of sandalwood, and pungent China teas,
Tobacco, coffee!' Grootver only laughed.
Max heard it all, and worse than all he heard
The deed to which the sailor gave his word.
He shivered, 'twas as if the villain gaffed
The old man with a boat-hook; bleeding, spent,
He begged for life nor knew at all the road he went.
14
For Kurler had a daughter, young and gay,
Carefully reared and shielded, rarely seen.
But on one black and most unfriendly day
Grootver had caught her as she passed between
The kitchen and the garden. She had run
In fear of him, his evil leering eye,
And when he came she, bolted in her room,
Refused to show, though gave no reason why.
The spinning of her future had begun,
On quiet nights she heard the whirring of her doom.
15
Max mended an old goosequill by the fire,
Loathing his work, but seeing no thing to do.
He felt his hands were building up the pyre
To burn two souls, and seized with vertigo
He staggered to his chair. Before him lay
White paper still unspotted by a crime.
'Now, young man, write,' said Grootver in his ear.
'`If in two years my vessel should yet stay
From Amsterdam, I give Grootver, sometime
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A friend, my daughter for his lawful wife.' Now swear.'
16
And Kurler swore, a palsied, tottering sound,
And traced his name, a shaking, wandering line.
Then dazed he sat there, speechless from his wound.
Grootver got up: 'Fair voyage, the brigantine!'
He shuffled from the room, and left the house.
His footsteps wore to silence down the street.
At last the aged man began to rouse.
With help he once more gained his trembling feet.
'My daughter, Mynheer Breuck, is friendless now.
Will you watch over her? I ask a solemn vow.'
17
Max laid his hand upon the old man's arm,
'Before God, sir, I vow, when you are gone,
So to protect your daughter from all harm
As one man may.' Thus sorrowful, forlorn,
The situation to Max Breuck appeared,
He gave his promise almost without thought,
Nor looked to see a difficulty. 'Bred
Gently to watch a mother left alone;
Bound by a dying father's wish, who feared
The world's accustomed harshness when he should be dead;
18
Such was my case from youth, Mynheer Kurler.
Last Winter she died also, and my days
Are passed in work, lest I should grieve for her,
And undo habits used to earn her praise.
My leisure I will gladly give to see
Your household and your daughter prosperous.'
The sailor said his thanks, but turned away.
He could not brook that his humility,
So little wonted, and so tremulous,
331
Should first before a stranger make such great display.
19
'Come here to-morrow as the bells ring noon,
I sail at the full sea, my daughter then
I will make known to you. 'Twill be a boon
If after I have bid good-by, and when
Her eyeballs scorch with watching me depart,
You bring her home again. She lives with one
Old serving-woman, who has brought her up.
But that is no friend for so free a heart.
No head to match her questions. It is done.
And I must sail away to come and brim her cup.
20
My ship's the fastest that owns Amsterdam
As home, so not a letter can you send.
I shall be back, before to where I am
Another ship could reach. Now your stipend --'
Quickly Breuck interposed. 'When you once more
Tread on the stones which pave our streets. -- Good night!
To-morrow I will be, at stroke of noon,
At the great wharf.' Then hurrying, in spite
Of cake and wine the old man pressed upon
Him ere he went, he took his leave and shut the door.
21
'Twas noon in Amsterdam, the day was clear,
And sunshine tipped the pointed roofs with gold.
The brown canals ran liquid bronze, for here
The sun sank deep into the waters cold.
And every clock and belfry in the town
Hammered, and struck, and rang. Such peals of bells,
To shake the sunny morning into life,
And to proclaim the middle, and the crown,
Of this most sparkling daytime! The crowd swells,
332
Laughing and pushing toward the quays in friendly strife.
22
The 'Horn of Fortune' sails away to-day.
At highest tide she lets her anchor go,
And starts for China. Saucy popinjay!
Giddy in freshest paint she curtseys low,
And beckons to her boats to let her start.
Blue is the ocean, with a flashing breeze.
The shining waves are quick to take her part.
They push and spatter her. Her sails are loose,
Her tackles hanging, waiting men to seize
And haul them taut, with chanty-singing, as they choose.
23
At the great wharf's edge Mynheer Kurler stands,
And by his side, his daughter, young Christine.
Max Breuck is there, his hat held in his hands,
Bowing before them both. The brigantine
Bounces impatient at the long delay,
Curvets and jumps, a cable's length from shore.
A heavy galliot unloads on the walls
Round, yellow cheeses, like gold cannon balls
Stacked on the stones in pyramids. Once more
Kurler has kissed Christine, and now he is away.
24
Christine stood rigid like a frozen stone,
Her hands wrung pale in effort at control.
Max moved aside and let her be alone,
For grief exacts each penny of its toll.
The dancing boat tossed on the glinting sea.
A sun-path swallowed it in flaming light,
Then, shrunk a cockleshell, it came again
Upon the other side. Now on the lee
It took the 'Horn of Fortune'. Straining sight
333
Could see it hauled aboard, men pulling on the crane.
25
Then up above the eager brigantine,
Along her slender masts, the sails took flight,
Were sheeted home, and ropes were coiled. The shine
Of the wet anchor, when its heavy weight
Rose splashing to the deck. These things they saw,
Christine and Max, upon the crowded quay.
They saw the sails grow white, then blue in shade,
The ship had turned, caught in a windy flaw
She glided imperceptibly away,
Drew farther off and in the bright sky seemed to fade.
26
Home, through the emptying streets, Max took Christine,
Who would have hid her sorrow from his gaze.
Before the iron gateway, clasped between
Each garden wall, he stopped. She, in amaze,
Asked, 'Do you enter not then, Mynheer Breuck?
My father told me of your courtesy.
Since I am now your charge, 'tis meet for me
To show such hospitality as maiden may,
Without disdaining rules must not be broke.
Katrina will have coffee, and she bakes today.'
27
She straight unhasped the tall, beflowered gate.
Curled into tendrils, twisted into cones
Of leaves and roses, iron infoliate,
It guards the pleasance, and its stiffened bones
Are budded with much peering at the rows,
And beds, and arbours, which it keeps inside.
Max started at the beauty, at the glare
Of tints. At either end was set a wide
Path strewn with fine, red gravel, and such shows
334
Of tulips in their splendour flaunted everywhere!
28
From side to side, midway each path, there ran
A longer one which cut the space in two.
And, like a tunnel some magician
Has wrought in twinkling green, an alley grew,
Pleached thick and walled with apple trees; their flowers
Incensed the garden, and when Autumn came
The plump and heavy apples crowding stood
And tapped against the arbour. Then the dame
Katrina shook them down, in pelting showers
They plunged to earth, and died transformed to sugared food.
29
Against the high, encircling walls were grapes,
Nailed close to feel the baking of the sun
From glowing bricks. Their microscopic shapes
Half hidden by serrated leaves. And one
Old cherry tossed its branches near the door.
Bordered along the wall, in beds between,
Flickering, streaming, nodding in the air,
The pride of all the garden, there were more
Tulips than Max had ever dreamed or seen.
They jostled, mobbed, and danced. Max stood at helpless stare.
30
'Within the arbour, Mynheer Breuck, I'll bring
Coffee and cakes, a pipe, and Father's best
Tobacco, brought from countries harbouring
Dawn's earliest footstep. Wait.' With girlish zest
To please her guest she flew. A moment more
She came again, with her old nurse behind.
Then, sitting on the bench and knitting fast,
She talked as someone with a noble store
Of hidden fancies, blown upon the wind,
335
Eager to flutter forth and leave their silent past.
31
The little apple leaves above their heads
Let fall a quivering sunshine. Quiet, cool,
In blossomed boughs they sat. Beyond, the beds
Of tulips blazed, a proper vestibule
And antechamber to the rainbow. Dyes
Of prismed richness: Carmine. Madder. Blues
Tinging dark browns to purple. Silvers flushed
To amethyst and tinct with gold. Round eyes
Of scarlet, spotting tender saffron hues.
Violets sunk to blacks, and reds in orange crushed.
32
Of every pattern and in every shade.
Nacreous, iridescent, mottled, checked.
Some purest sulphur-yellow, others made
An ivory-white with disks of copper flecked.
Sprinkled and striped, tasselled, or keenest edged.
Striated, powdered, freckled, long or short.
They bloomed, and seemed strange wonder-moths new-fledged,
Born of the spectrum wedded to a flame.
The shade within the arbour made a port
To o'ertaxed eyes, its still, green twilight rest became.
33
Her knitting-needles clicked and Christine talked,
This child matured to woman unaware,
The first time left alone. Now dreams once balked
Found utterance. Max thought her very fair.
Beneath her cap her ornaments shone gold,
And purest gold they were. Kurler was rich
And heedful. Her old maiden aunt had died
Whose darling care she was. Now, growing bold,
She asked, had Max a sister? Dropped a stitch
336
At her own candour. Then she paused and softly sighed.
34
Two years was long! She loved her father well,
But fears she had not. He had always been
Just sailed or sailing. And she must not dwell
On sad thoughts, he had told her so, and seen
Her smile at parting. But she sighed once more.
Two years was long; 'twas not one hour yet!
Mynheer Grootver she would not see at all.
Yes, yes, she knew, but ere the date so set,
The 'Horn of Fortune' would be at the wall.
When Max had bid farewell, she watched him from the door.
35
The next day, and the next, Max went to ask
The health of Jufvrouw Kurler, and the news:
Another tulip blown, or the great task
Of gathering petals which the high wind strews;
The polishing of floors, the pictured tiles
Well scrubbed, and oaken chairs most deftly oiled.
Such things were Christine's world, and his was she
Winter drew near, his sun was in her smiles.
Another Spring, and at his law he toiled,
Unspoken hope counselled a wise efficiency.
36
Max Breuck was honour's soul, he knew himself
The guardian of this girl; no more, no less.
As one in charge of guineas on a shelf
Loose in a china teapot, may confess
His need, but may not borrow till his friend
Comes back to give. So Max, in honour, said
No word of love or marriage; but the days
He clipped off on his almanac. The end
Must come! The second year, with feet of lead,
337
Lagged slowly by till Spring had plumped the willow sprays.
37
Two years had made Christine a woman grown,
With dignity and gently certain pride.
But all her childhood fancies had not flown,
Her thoughts in lovely dreamings seemed to glide.
Max was her trusted friend, did she confess
A closer happiness? Max could not tell.
Two years were over and his life he found
Sphered and complete. In restless eagerness
He waited for the 'Horn of Fortune'. Well
Had he his promise kept, abating not one pound.
38
Spring slipped away to Summer. Still no glass
Sighted the brigantine. Then Grootver came
Demanding Jufvrouw Kurler. His trespass
Was justified, for he had won the game.
Christine begged time, more time! Midsummer went,
And Grootver waxed impatient. Still the ship
Tarried. Christine, betrayed and weary, sank
To dreadful terrors. One day, crazed, she sent
For Max. 'Come quickly,' said her note, 'I skip
The worst distress until we meet. The world is blank.'
39
Through the long sunshine of late afternoon
Max went to her. In the pleached alley, lost
In bitter reverie, he found her soon.
And sitting down beside her, at the cost
Of all his secret, 'Dear,' said he, 'what thing
So suddenly has happened?' Then, in tears,
She told that Grootver, on the following morn,
Would come to marry her, and shuddering:
'I will die rather, death has lesser fears.'
338
Max felt the shackles drop from the oath which he had sworn.
40
'My Dearest One, the hid joy of my heart!
I love you, oh! you must indeed have known.
In strictest honour I have played my part;
But all this misery has overthrown
My scruples. If you love me, marry me
Before the sun has dipped behind those trees.
You cannot be wed twice, and Grootver, foiled,
Can eat his anger. My care it shall be
To pay your father's debt, by such degrees
As I can compass, and for years I've greatly toiled.
41
This is not haste, Christine, for long I've known
My love, and silence forced upon my lips.
I worship you with all the strength I've shown
In keeping faith.' With pleading finger tips
He touched her arm. 'Christine! Beloved! Think.
Let us not tempt the future. Dearest, speak,
I love you. Do my words fall too swift now?
They've been in leash so long upon the brink.'
She sat quite still, her body loose and weak.
Then into him she melted, all her soul at flow.
42
And they were married ere the westering sun
Had disappeared behind the garden trees.
The evening poured on them its benison,
And flower-scents, that only night-time frees,
Rose up around them from the beamy ground,
Silvered and shadowed by a tranquil moon.
Within the arbour, long they lay embraced,
In such enraptured sweetness as they found
Close-partnered each to each, and thinking soon
339
To be enwoven, long ere night to morning faced.
43
At last Max spoke, 'Dear Heart, this night is ours,
To watch it pale, together, into dawn,
Pressing our souls apart like opening flowers
Until our lives, through quivering bodies drawn,
Are mingled and confounded. Then, far spent,
Our eyes will close to undisturbed rest.
For that desired thing I leave you now.
To pinnacle this day's accomplishment,
By telling Grootver that a bootless quest
Is his, and that his schemes have met a knock-down blow.'
44
But Christine clung to him with sobbing cries,
Pleading for love's sake that he leave her not.
And wound her arms about his knees and thighs
As he stood over her. With dread, begot
Of Grootver's name, and silence, and the night,
She shook and trembled. Words in moaning plaint
Wooed him to stay. She feared, she knew not why,
Yet greatly feared. She seemed some anguished saint
Martyred by visions. Max Breuck soothed her fright
With wisdom, then stepped out under the cooling sky.
45
But at the gate once more she held him close
And quenched her heart again upon his lips.
'My Sweetheart, why this terror? I propose
But to be gone one hour! Evening slips
Away, this errand must be done.' 'Max! Max!
First goes my father, if I lose you now!'
She grasped him as in panic lest she drown.
Softly he laughed, 'One hour through the town
By moonlight! That's no place for foul attacks.
340
Dearest, be comforted, and clear that troubled brow.
46
One hour, Dear, and then, no more alone.
We front another day as man and wife.
I shall be back almost before I'm gone,
And midnight shall anoint and crown our life.'
Then through the gate he passed. Along the street
She watched his buttons gleaming in the moon.
He stopped to wave and turned the garden wall.
Straight she sank down upon a mossy seat.
Her senses, mist-encircled by a swoon,
Swayed to unconsciousness beneath its wreathing pall.
47
Briskly Max walked beside the still canal.
His step was firm with purpose. Not a jot
He feared this meeting, nor the rancorous gall
Grootver would spit on him who marred his plot.
He dreaded no man, since he could protect
Christine. His wife! He stopped and laughed aloud.
His starved life had not fitted him for joy.
It strained him to the utmost to reject
Even this hour with her. His heart beat loud.
'Damn Grootver, who can force my time to this employ!'
48
He laughed again. What boyish uncontrol
To be so racked. Then felt his ticking watch.
In half an hour Grootver would know the whole.
And he would be returned, lifting the latch
Of his own gate, eager to take Christine
And crush her to his lips. How bear delay?
He broke into a run. In front, a line
Of candle-light banded the cobbled street.
Hilverdink's tavern! Not for many a day
341
Had he been there to take his old, accustomed seat.
49
'Why, Max! Stop, Max!' And out they came pell-mell,
His old companions. 'Max, where have you been?
Not drink with us? Indeed you serve us well!
How many months is it since we have seen
You here? Jan, Jan, you slow, old doddering goat!
Here's Mynheer Breuck come back again at last,
Stir your old bones to welcome him. Fie, Max.
Business! And after hours! Fill your throat;
Here's beer or brandy. Now, boys, hold him fast.
Put down your cane, dear man. What really vicious whacks!'
50
They forced him to a seat, and held him there,
Despite his anger, while the hideous joke
Was tossed from hand to hand. Franz poured with care
A brimming glass of whiskey. 'Here, we've broke
Into a virgin barrel for you, drink!
Tut! Tut! Just hear him! Married! Who, and when?
Married, and out on business. Clever Spark!
Which lie's the likeliest? Come, Max, do think.'
Swollen with fury, struggling with these men,
Max cursed hilarity which must needs have a mark.
51
Forcing himself to steadiness, he tried
To quell the uproar, told them what he dared
Of his own life and circumstance. Implied
Most urgent matters, time could ill be spared.
In jesting mood his comrades heard his tale,
And scoffed at it. He felt his anger more
Goaded and bursting; -- 'Cowards! Is no one loth
To mock at duty --' Here they called for ale,
And forced a pipe upon him. With an oath
342
He shivered it to fragments on the earthen floor.
52
Sobered a little by his violence,
And by the host who begged them to be still,
Nor injure his good name, 'Max, no offence,'
They blurted, 'you may leave now if you will.'
'One moment, Max,' said Franz. 'We've gone too far.
I ask your pardon for our foolish joke.
It started in a wager ere you came.
The talk somehow had fall'n on drugs, a jar
I brought from China, herbs the natives smoke,
Was with me, and I thought merely to play a game.
53
Its properties are to induce a sleep
Fraught with adventure, and the flight of time
Is inconceivable in swiftness. Deep
Sunken in slumber, imageries sublime
Flatter the senses, or some fearful dream
Holds them enmeshed. Years pass which on the clock
Are but so many seconds. We agreed
That the next man who came should prove the scheme;
And you were he. Jan handed you the crock.
Two whiffs! And then the pipe was broke, and you were freed.'
54
'It is a lie, a damned, infernal lie!'
Max Breuck was maddened now. 'Another jest
Of your befuddled wits. I know not why
I am to be your butt. At my request
You'll choose among you one who'll answer for
Your most unseasonable mirth. Good-night
And good-by, -- gentlemen. You'll hear from me.'
But Franz had caught him at the very door,
'It is no lie, Max Breuck, and for your plight
343
I am to blame. Come back, and we'll talk quietly.
55
You have no business, that is why we laughed,
Since you had none a few minutes ago.
As to your wedding, naturally we chaffed,
Knowing the length of time it takes to do
A simple thing like that in this slow world.
Indeed, Max, 'twas a dream. Forgive me then.
I'll burn the drug if you prefer.' But Breuck
Muttered and stared, -- 'A lie.' And then he hurled,
Distraught, this word at Franz: 'Prove it. And when
It's proven, I'll believe. That thing shall be your work.
56
I'll give you just one week to make your case.
On August thirty-first, eighteen-fourteen,
I shall require your proof.' With wondering face
Franz cried, 'A week to August, and fourteen
The year! You're mad, 'tis April now.
April, and eighteen-twelve.' Max staggered, caught
A chair, -- 'April two years ago! Indeed,
Or you, or I, are mad. I know not how
Either could blunder so.' Hilverdink brought
'The Amsterdam Gazette', and Max was forced to read.
57
'Eighteen hundred and twelve,' in largest print;
And next to it, 'April the twenty-first.'
The letters smeared and jumbled, but by dint
Of straining every nerve to meet the worst,
He read it, and into his pounding brain
Tumbled a horror. Like a roaring sea
Foreboding shipwreck, came the message plain:
'This is two years ago! What of Christine?'
He fled the cellar, in his agony
344
Running to outstrip Fate, and save his holy shrine.
58
The darkened buildings echoed to his feet
Clap-clapping on the pavement as he ran.
Across moon-misted squares clamoured his fleet
And terror-winged steps. His heart began
To labour at the speed. And still no sign,
No flutter of a leaf against the sky.
And this should be the garden wall, and round
The corner, the old gate. No even line
Was this! No wall! And then a fearful cry
Shattered the stillness. Two stiff houses filled the ground.
59
Shoulder to shoulder, like dragoons in line,
They stood, and Max knew them to be the ones
To right and left of Kurler's garden. Spine
Rigid next frozen spine. No mellow tones
Of ancient gilded iron, undulate,
Expanding in wide circles and broad curves,
The twisted iron of the garden gate,
Was there. The houses touched and left no space
Between. With glassy eyes and shaking nerves
Max gazed. Then mad with fear, fled still, and left that place.
60
Stumbling and panting, on he ran, and on.
His slobbering lips could only cry, 'Christine!
My Dearest Love! My Wife! Where are you gone?
What future is our past? What saturnine,
Sardonic devil's jest has bid us live
Two years together in a puff of smoke?
It was no dream, I swear it! In some star,
Or still imprisoned in Time's egg, you give
Me love. I feel it. Dearest Dear, this stroke
345
Shall never part us, I will reach to where you are.'
61
His burning eyeballs stared into the dark.
The moon had long been set. And still he cried:
'Christine! My Love! Christine!' A sudden spark
Pricked through the gloom, and shortly Max espied
With his uncertain vision, so within
Distracted he could scarcely trust its truth,
A latticed window where a crimson gleam
Spangled the blackness, and hung from a pin,
An iron crane, were three gilt balls. His youth
Had taught their meaning, now they closed upon his dream.
62
Softly he knocked against the casement, wide
It flew, and a cracked voice his business there
Demanded. The door opened, and inside
Max stepped. He saw a candle held in air
Above the head of a gray-bearded Jew.
'Simeon Isaacs, Mynheer, can I serve
You?' 'Yes, I think you can. Do you keep arms?
I want a pistol.' Quick the old man grew
Livid. 'Mynheer, a pistol! Let me swerve
You from your purpose. Life brings often false alarms --'
63
'Peace, good old Isaacs, why should you suppose
My purpose deadly. In good truth I've been
Blest above others. You have many rows
Of pistols it would seem. Here, this shagreen
Case holds one that I fancy. Silvered mounts
Are to my taste. These letters `C. D. L.'
Its former owner? Dead, you say. Poor Ghost!
'Twill serve my turn though --' Hastily he counts
The florins down upon the table. 'Well,
346
Good-night, and wish me luck for your to-morrow's toast.'
64
Into the night again he hurried, now
Pale and in haste; and far beyond the town
He set his goal. And then he wondered how
Poor C. D. L. had come to die. 'It's grown
Handy in killing, maybe, this I've bought,
And will work punctually.' His sorrow fell
Upon his senses, shutting out all else.
Again he wept, and called, and blindly fought
The heavy miles away. 'Christine. I'm well.
I'm coming. My Own Wife!' He lurched with failing pulse.
65
Along the dyke the keen air blew in gusts,
And grasses bent and wailed before the wind.
The Zuider Zee, which croons all night and thrusts
Long stealthy fingers up some way to find
And crumble down the stones, moaned baffled. Here
The wide-armed windmills looked like gallows-trees.
No lights were burning in the distant thorps.
Max laid aside his coat. His mind, half-clear,
Babbled 'Christine!' A shot split through the breeze.
The cold stars winked and glittered at his chilling corpse.
~ Amy Lowell,
1271:Scene. Colmar in Alsatia: an Inn. 1528.
Paracelsus, Festus.
Paracelsus
[to Johannes Oporinus, his Secretary].
Sic itur ad astra! Dear Von Visenburg
Is scandalized, and poor Torinus paralysed,
And every honest soul that Basil holds
Aghast; and yet we live, as one may say,
Just as though Liechtenfels had never set
So true a value on his sorry carcass,
And learned Ptter had not frowned us dumb.
We live; and shall as surely start to morrow
For Nuremberg, as we drink speedy scathe
To Basil in this mantling wine, suffused
A delicate blush, no fainter tinge is born
I' the shut heart of a bud. Pledge me, good John
"Basil; a hot plague ravage it, and Ptter
"Oppose the plague!" Even so? Do you too share
Their panic, the reptiles? Ha, ha; faint through these,
Desist for these! They manage matters so
At Basil, 't is like: but others may find means
To bring the stoutest braggart of the tribe
Once more to crouch in silencemeans to breed
A stupid wonder in each fool again,
Now big with admiration at the skill
Which stript a vain pretender of his plumes:
And, that done,means to brand each slavish brow
So deeply, surely, ineffaceably,
That henceforth flattery shall not pucker it
Out of the furrow; there that stamp shall stay
To show the next they fawn on, what they are,
This Basil with its magnates,fill my cup,
Whom I curse soul and limb. And now despatch,
Despatch, my trusty John; and what remains
To do, whate'er arrangements for our trip
Are yet to be completed, see you hasten
This night; we'll weather the storm at least: to-morrow
For Nuremberg! Now leave us; this grave clerk
Has divers weighty matters for my ear:
[Oporinus goes out.
And spare my lungs. At last, my gallant Festus,
I am rid of this arch-knave that dogs my heels
As a gaunt crow a gasping sheep; at last
May give a loose to my delight. How kind,
How very kind, my first best only friend!
Why, this looks like fidelity. Embrace me!
Not a hair silvered yet? Right! you shall live
Till I am worth your love; you shall be pround,
And Ibut let time show! Did you not wonder?
I sent to you because our compact weighed
Upon my conscience(you recall the night
At Basil, which the gods confound!)because
Once more I aspire. I call you to my side:
You come. You thought my message strange?
Festus.
                      So strange
That I must hope, indeed, your messenger
Has mingled his own fancies with the words
Purporting to be yours.
Paracelsus.
            He said no more,
'T is probable, than the precious folk I leave
Said fiftyfold more roughly. Well-a-day,
'T is true! poor Paracelsus is exposed
At last; a most egregious quack he proves:
And those he overreached must spit their hate
On one who, utterly beneath contempt,
Could yet deceive their topping wits. You heard
Bare truth; and at my bidding you come here
To speed me on my enterprise, as once
Your lavish wishes sped me, my own friend!
Festus.
What is your purpose, Aureole?
Paracelsus.
                Oh, for purpose,
There is no lack of precedents in a case
Like mine; at least, if not precisely mine,
The case of men cast off by those they sought
To benefit.
Festus.
     They really cast you off?
I only heard a vague tale of some priest,
Cured by your skill, who wrangled at your claim,
Knowing his life's worth best; and how the judge
The matter was referred to, saw no cause
To interfere, nor you to hide your full
Contempt of him; nor he, again, to smother
His wrath thereat, which raised so fierce a flame
That Basil soon was made no place for you.
Paracelsus.
The affair of Liechtenfels? the shallowest fable,
The last and silliest outragemere pretence!
I knew it, I foretold it from the first,
How soon the stupid wonder you mistook
For genuine loyaltya cheering promise
Of better things to comewould pall and pass;
And every word comes true. Saul is among
The prophets! Just so long as I was pleased
To play off the mere antics of my art,
Fantastic gambols leading to no end,
I got huge praise: but one can ne'er keep down
Our foolish nature's weakness. There they flocked,
Poor devils, jostling, swearing and perspiring,
Till the walls rang again; and all for me!
I had a kindness for them, which was right;
But then I stopped not till I tacked to that
A trust in them and a respecta sort
Of sympathy for them; I must needs begin
To teach them, not amaze them, "to impart
"The spirit which should instigate the search
"Of truth," just what you bade me! I spoke out.
Forthwith a mighty squadron, in disgust,
Filed off"the sifted chaff of the sack," I said,
Redoubling my endeavours to secure
The rest. When lo! one man had tarried so long
Only to ascertain if I supported
This tenet of his, or that; another loved
To hear impartially before he judged,
And having heard, now judged; this bland disciple
Passed for my dupe, but all along, it seems,
Spied error where his neighbours marvelled most;
That fiery doctor who had hailed me friend,
Did it because my by-paths, once proved wrong
And beaconed properly, would commend again
The good old ways our sires jogged safely o'er,
Though not their squeamish sons; the other worthy
Discovered divers verses of St. John,
Which, read successively, refreshed the soul,
But, muttered backwards, cured the gout, the stone,
The colic and what not. Quid multa? The end
Was a clear class-room, and a quiet leer
From grave folk, and a sour reproachful glance
From those in chief who, cap in hand, installed
The new professor scarce a year before;
And a vast flourish about patient merit
Obscured awhile by flashy tricks, but sure
Sooner or later to emerge in splendour
Of which the example was some luckless wight
Whom my arrival had discomfited,
But now, it seems, the general voice recalled
To fill my chair and so efface the stain
Basil had long incurred. I sought no better,
Only a quiet dismissal from my post,
And from my heart I wished them better suited
And better served. Good night to Basil, then!
But fast as I proposed to rid the tribe
Of my obnoxious back, I could not spare them
The pleasure of a parting kick.
Festus.
                 You smile:
Despise them as they merit!
Paracelsus.
               If I smile,
'T is with as very contempt as ever turned
Flesh into stone. This courteous recompense,
This grateful . . . Festus, were your nature fit
To be defiled, your eyes the eyes to ache
At gangrene-blotches, eating poison-blains,
The ulcerous barky scurf of leprosy
Which findsa man, and leavesa hideous thing
That cannot but be mended by hell fire,
I would lay bare to you the human heart
Which God cursed long ago, and devils make since
Their pet nest and their never-tiring home.
Oh, sages have discovered we are born
For various endsto love, to know: has ever
One stumbled, in his search, on any signs
Of a nature in us formed to hate? To hate?
If that be our true object which evokes
Our powers in fullest strength, be sure 't is hate!
Yet men have doubted if the best and bravest
Of spirits can nourish him with hate alone.
I had not the monopoly of fools,
It seems, at Basil.
Festus.
          But your plans, your plans!
I have yet to learn your purpose, Aureole!
Paracelsus.
Whether to sink beneath such ponderous shame,
To shrink up like a crushed snail, undergo
In silence and desist from further toil,
and so subside into a monument
Of one their censure blasted? or to bow
Cheerfully as submissively, to lower
My old pretensions even as Basil dictates,
To drop into the rank her wits assign me
And live as they prescribe, and make that use
Of my poor knowledge which their rules allow,
Proud to be patted now and then, and careful
To practise the true posture for receiving
The amplest benefit from their hoofs' appliance
When they shall condescend to tutor me?
Then, one may feel resentment like a flame
Within, and deck false systems in truth's garb,
And tangle and entwine mankind with error,
And give them darkness for a dower and falsehood
For a possession, ages: or one may mope
Into a shade through thinking, or else drowse
Into a dreamless sleep and so die off.
But I,now Festus shall divine!but I
Am merely setting out once more, embracing
My earliest aims again! What thinks he now?
Festus.
Your aims? the aims?to Know? and where is found
The early trust . . .
Paracelsus.
           Nay, not so fast; I say,
The aimsnot the old means. You know they made me
A laughing-stock; I was a fool; you know
The when and the how: hardly those means again!
Not but they had their beauty; who should know
Their passing beauty, if not I? Still, dreams
They were, so let them vanish, yet in beauty
If that may be. Stay: thus they pass in song!
[He sings.
Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes
Of labdanum, and aloe-balls,
Smeared with dull nard an Indian wipes
From out her hair: such balsam falls
Down sea-side mountain pedestals,
From tree-tops where tired winds are fain,
Spent with the vast and howling main,
To treasure half their island-gain.
And strew faint sweetness from some old
Egyptian's fine worm-eaten shroud
Which breaks to dust when once unrolled;
Or shredded perfume, like a cloud
From closet long to quiet vowed,
With mothed and dropping arras hung,
Mouldering her lute and books among,
As when a queen, long dead, was young.
Mine, every word! And on such pile shall die
My lovely fancies, with fair perished things,
Themselves fair and forgotten; yes, forgotten,
Or why abjure them? So, I made this rhyme
That fitting dignity might be preserved;
No little proud was I; though the list of drugs
Smacks of my old vocation, and the verse
Halts like the best of Luther's psalms.
Festus.
                     But, Aureole,
Talk not thus wildly and madly. I am here
Did you know all! I have travelled far, indeed,
To learn your wishes. Be yourself again!
For in this mood I recognize you less
Than in the horrible despondency
I witnessed last. You may account this, joy;
But rather let me gaze on that despair
Than hear these incoherent words and see
This flushed cheek and intensely-sparkling eye.
Paracelsus.
Why, man, I was light-hearted in my prime
I am light-hearted now; what would you have?
Aprile was a poet, I make songs
'T is the very augury of success I want!
Why should I not be joyous now as then?
Festus.
Joyous! and how? and what remains for joy?
You have declared the ends (which I am sick
Of naming) are impracticable.
Paracelsus.
               Ay,
Pursued as I pursued themthe arch-fool!
Listen: my plan will please you not, 't is like,
But you are little versed in the world's ways.
This is my plan(first drinking its good luck)
I will accept all helps; all I despised
So rashly at the outset, equally
With early impulses, late years have quenched:
I have tried each way singly: now for both!
All helps! no one sort shall exclude the rest.
I seek to know and to enjoy at once,
Not one without the other as before.
Suppose my labour should seem God's own cause
Once more, as first I dreamed,it shall not baulk me
Of the meanest earthliest sensualest delight
That may be snatched; for every joy is gain,
And gain is gain, however small. My soul
Can die then, nor be taunted"what was gained?"
Nor, on the other hand, should pleasure follow
As though I had not spurned her hitherto,
Shall she o'ercloud my spirit's rapt communion
With the tumultuous past, the teeming future,
Glorious with visions of a full success.
Festus.
Success!
Paracelsus.
    And wherefore not? Why not prefer
Results obtained in my best state of being,
To those derived alone from seasons dark
As the thoughts they bred? When I was best, my youth
Unwasted, seemed success not surest too?
It is the nature of darkness to obscure.
I am a wanderer: I remember well
One journey, how I feared the track was missed,
So long the city I desired to reach
Lay hid; when suddenly its spires afar
Flashed through the circling clouds; you may conceive
My transport. Soon the vapours closed again,
But I had seen the city, and one such glance
No darkness could obscure: nor shall the present
A few dull hours, a passing shame or two,
Destroy the vivid memories of the past.
I will fight the battle out; a little spent
Perhaps, but still an able combatant.
You look at my grey hair and furrowed brow?
But I can turn even weakness to account:
Of many tricks I know, 't is not the least
To push the ruins of my frame, whereon
The fire of vigour trembles scarce alive,
Into a heap, and send the flame aloft.
What should I do with age? So, sickness lends
An aid; it being, I fear, the source of all
We boast of: mind is nothing but disease,
And natural health is ignorance.
Festus.
                 I see
But one good symptom in this notable scheme.
I feared your sudden journey had in view
To wreak immediate vengeance on your foes
'T is not so: I am glad.
Paracelsus.
             And if I please
To spit on them, to trample them, what then?
'T is sorry warfare truly, but the fools
Provoke it. I would spare their self-conceit
But if they must provoke me, cannot suffer
Forbearance on my part, if I may keep
No quality in the shade, must needs put forth
Power to match power, my strength against their strength,
And teach them their own game with their own arms
Why, be it so and let them take their chance!
I am above them like a god, there's no
Hiding the fact: what idle scruples, then,
Were those that ever bade me soften it,
Communicate it gently to the world,
Instead of proving my supremacy,
Taking my natural station o'er their head,
Then owning all the glory was a man's!
And in my elevation man's would be.
But live and learn, though life's short, learning, hard!
And therefore, though the wreck of my past self,
I fear, dear Ptter, that your lecture-room
Must wait awhile for its best ornament,
The penitent empiric, who set up
For somebody, but soon was taught his place;
Now, but too happy to be let confess
His error, snuff the candles, and illustrate
(Fiat experientia corpore vili)
Your medicine's soundness in his person. Wait,
Good Ptter!
Festus.
      He who sneers thus, is a god!
      Paracelsus.
Ay, ay, laugh at me! I am very glad
You are not gulled by all this swaggering; you
Can see the root of the matter!how I strive
To put a good face on the overthrow
I have experienced, and to bury and hide
My degradation in its length and breadth;
How the mean motives I would make you think
Just mingle as is due with nobler aims,
The appetites I modestly allow
May influence me as being mortal still
Do goad me, drive me on, and fast supplant
My youth's desires. You are no stupid dupe:
You find me out! Yes, I had sent for you
To palm these childish lies upon you, Festus!
Laughyou shall laugh at me!
Festus.
               The past, then, Aureole,
Proves nothing? Is our interchange of love
Yet to begin? Have I to swear I mean
No flattery in this speech or that? For you,
Whate'er you say, there is no degradation;
These low thoughts are no inmates of your mind,
Or wherefore this disorder? You are vexed
As much by the intrusion of base views,
Familiar to your adversaries, as they
Were troubled should your qualities alight
Amid their murky souls; not otherwise,
A stray wolf which the winter forces down
From our bleak hills, suffices to affright
A village in the valeswhile foresters
Sleep calm, though all night long the famished troop
Snuff round and scratch against their crazy huts.
These evil thoughts are monsters, and will flee.
Paracelsus.
May you be happy, Festus, my own friend!
Festus.
Nay, further; the delights you fain would think
The superseders of your nobler aims,
Though ordinary and harmless stimulants,
Will ne'er content you. . . .
Paracelsus.
               Hush! I once despised them,
But that soon passes. We are high at first
In our demand, nor will abate a jot
Of toil's strict value; but time passes o'er,
And humbler spirits accept what we refuse:
In short, when some such comfort is doled out
As these delights, we cannot long retain
Bitter contempt which urges us at first
To hurl it back, but hug it to our breast
And thankfully retire. This life of mine
Must be lived out and a grave thoroughly earned:
I am just fit for that and nought beside.
I told you once, I cannot now enjoy,
Unless I deem my knowledge gains through joy;
Nor can I know, but straight warm tears reveal
My need of linking also joy to knowledge:
So, on I drive, enjoying all I can,
And knowing all I can. I speak, of course,
Confusedly; this will better explainfeel here!
Quick beating, is it not?a fire of the heart
To work off some way, this as well as any.
So, Festus sees me fairly launched; his calm
Compassionate look might have disturbed me once,
But now, far from rejecting, I invite
What bids me press the closer, lay myself
Open before him, and be soothed with pity;
I hope, if he command hope, and believe
As he directs mesatiating myself
With his enduring love. And Festus quits me
To give place to some credulous disciple
Who holds that God is wise, but Paracelsus
Has his peculiar merits: I suck in
That homage, chuckle o'er that admiration,
And then dismiss the fool; for night is come.
And I betake myself to study again,
Till patient searchings after hidden lore
Half wring some bright truth from its prison; my frame
Trembles, my forehead's veins swell out, my hair
Tingles for triumph. Slow and sure the morn
Shall break on my pent room and dwindling lamp
And furnace dead, and scattered earths and ores;
When, with a failing heart and throbbing brow,
I must review my captured truth, sum up
Its value, trace what ends to what begins,
Its present power with its eventual bearings,
Latent affinities, the views it opens,
And its full length in perfecting my scheme.
I view it sternly circumscribed, cast down
From the high place my fond hopes yielded it,
Proved worthlesswhich, in getting, yet had cost
Another wrench to this fast-falling frame.
Then, quick, the cup to quaff, that chases sorrow!
I lapse back into youth, and take again
My fluttering pulse for evidence that God
Means good to me, will make my cause his own.
See! I have cast off this remorseless care
Which clogged a spirit born to soar so free,
And my dim chamber has become a tent,
Festus is sitting by me, and his Michal . . .
Why do you start? I say, she listening here,
(For yonderWrzburg through the orchard-bough!)
Motions as though such ardent words should find
No echo in a maiden's quiet soul,
But her pure bosom heaves, her eyes fill fast
With tears, her sweet lips tremble all the while!
Ha, ha!
Festus.
   It seems, then, you expect to reap
No unreal joy from this your present course,
But rather . . .
Paracelsus.
         Death! To die! I owe that much
To what, at least, I was. I should be sad
To live contented after such a fall,
To thrive and fatten after such reverse!
The whole plan is a makeshift, but will last
My time.
Festus.
    And you have never mused and said,
"I had a noble purpose, and the strength
"To compass it; but I have stopped half-way,
"And wrongly given the first-fruits of my toil
"To objects little worthy of the gift.
"Why linger round them still? why clench my fault?
"Why seek for consolation in defeat,
"In vain endeavours to derive a beauty
"From ugliness? why seek to make the most
"Of what no power can change, nor strive instead
"With mighty effort to redeem the past
"And, gathering up the treasures thus cast down,
"To hold a steadfast course till I arrive
"At their fit destination and my own?"
You have never pondered thus?
Paracelsus.
               Have I, you ask?
Often at midnight, when most fancies come,
Would some such airy project visit me:
But ever at the end . . . or will you hear
The same thing in a tale, a parable?
You and I, wandering over the world wide,
Chance to set foot upon a desert coast.
Just as we cry, "No human voice before
"Broke the inveterate silence of these rocks!"
Their querulous echo startles us; we turn:
What ravaged structure still looks o'er the sea?
Some characters remain, too! While we read,
The sharp salt wind, impatient for the last
Of even this record, wistfully comes and goes,
Or sings what we recover, mocking it.
This is the record; and my voice, the wind's.
[He sings.
Over the sea our galleys went,
With cleaving prows in order brave
To a speeding wind and a bounding wave,
A gallant armament:
Each bark built out of a forest-tree
Left leafy and rough as first it grew,
And nailed all over the gaping sides,
Within and without, with black bull-hides,
Seethed in fat and suppled in flame,
To bear the playful billows' game:
So, each good ship was rude to see,
Rude and bare to the outward view,
But each upbore a stately tent
Where cedar pales in scented row
Kept out the flakes of the dancing brine,
And an awning drooped the mast below,
In fold on fold of the purple fine,
That neither noontide nor starshine
Nor moonlight cold which maketh mad,
Might pierce the regal tenement.
When the sun dawned, oh, gay and glad
We set the sail and plied the oar;
But when the night-wind blew like breath,
For joy of one day's voyage more,
We sang together on the wide sea,
Like men at peace on a peaceful shore;
Each sail was loosed to the wind so free,
Each helm made sure by the twilight star,
And in a sleep as calm as death,
We, the voyagers from afar,
Lay stretched along, each weary crew
In a circle round its wondrous tent
Whence gleamed soft light and curled rich scent,
And with light and perfume, music too:
So the stars wheeled round, and the darkness past,
And at morn we started beside the mast,
And still each ship was sailing fast.
Now, one morn, land appeareda speck
Dim trembling betwixt sea and sky:
"Avoid it," cried our pilot, "check
"The shout, restrain the eager eye!"
But the heaving sea was black behind
For many a night and many a day,
And land, though but a rock, drew nigh;
So, we broke the cedar pales away,
Let the purple awning flap in the wind,
And a statute bright was on every deck!
We shouted, every man of us,
And steered right into the harbour thus,
With pomp and pan glorious.
A hundred shapes of lucid stone!
All day we built its shrine for each,
A shrine of rock for every one,
Nor paused till in the westering sun
We sat together on the beach
To sing because our task was done.
When lo! what shouts and merry songs!
What laughter all the distance stirs!
A loaded raft with happy throngs
Of gentle islanders!
"Our isles are just at hand," they cried,
"Like cloudlets faint in even sleeping
"Our temple-gates are opened wide,
"Our olive-groves thick shade are keeping
"For these majestic forms"they cried.
Oh, then we awoke with sudden start
From our deep dream, and knew, too late,
How bare the rock, how desolate,
Which had received our precious freight:
Yet we called out"Depart!
"Our gifts, once given, must here abide.
"Our work is done; we have no heart
"To mar our work,"we cried.
Festus.
In truth?
Paracelsus.
     Nay, wait: all this in tracings faint
On rugged stones strewn here and there, but piled
In order once: then followsmark what follows!
"The sad rhyme of the men who proudly clung
"To their first fault, and withered in their pride."
Festus.
Come back then, Aureole; as you fear God, come!
This is foul sin; come back! Renounce the past,
Forswear the future; look for joy no more,
But wait death's summons amid holy sights,
And trust me for the eventpeace, if not joy.
Return with me to Einsiedeln, dear Aureole!
Paracelsus.
No way, no way! it would not turn to good.
A spotless child sleeps on the flowering moss
'T is well for him; but when a sinful man,
Envying such slumber, may desire to put
His guilt away, shall he return at once
To rest by lying there? Our sires knew well
(Spite of the grave discoveries of their sons)
The fitting course for such: dark cells, dim lamps,
A stone floor one may writhe on like a worm:
No mossy pillow blue with violets!
Festus.
I see no symptom of these absolute
And tyrannous passions. You are calmer now.
This verse-making can purge you well enough
Without the terrible penance you describe.
You love me still: the lusts you fear will never
Outrage your friend. To Einsiedeln, once more!
Say but the word!
Paracelsus.
         No, no; those lusts forbid:
They crouch, I know, cowering with half-shut eye
Beside you; 't is their nature. Thrust yourself
Between them and their prey; let some fool style me
Or king or quack, it matters notthen try
Your wisdom, urge them to forego their treat!
No, no; learn better and look deeper, Festus!
If you knew how a devil sneers within me
While you are talking now of this, now that,
As though we differed scarcely save in trifles!
Festus.
Do we so differ? True, change must proceed,
Whether for good or ill; keep from me, which!
Do not confide all secrets: I was born
To hope, and you . . .
Paracelsus.
           To trust: you know the fruits!
           Festus.
Listen: I do believe, what you call trust
Was self-delusion at the best: for, see!
So long as God would kindly pioneer
A path for you, and screen you from the world,
Procure you full exemption from man's lot,
Man's common hopes and fears, on the mere pretext
Of your engagement in his serviceyield you
A limitless licence, make you God, in fact,
And turn your slaveyou were content to say
Most courtly praises! What is it, at last,
But selfishness without example? None
Could trace God's will so plain as you, while yours
Remained implied in it; but now you fail,
And we, who prate about that will, are fools!
In short, God's service is established here
As he determines fit, and not your way,
And this you cannot brook. Such discontent
Is weak. Renounce all creatureship at once!
Affirm an absolute right to have and use
Your energies; as though the rivers should say
"We rush to the ocean; what have we to do
"With feeding streamlets, lingering in the vales,
"Sleeping in lazy pools?" Set up that plea,
That will be bold at least!
Paracelsus.
               'T is like enough.
The serviceable spirits are those, no doubt,
The East produces: lo, the master bids,
They wake, raise terraces and garden-grounds
In one night's space; and, this done, straight begin
Another century's sleep, to the great praise
Of him that framed them wise and beautiful,
Till a lamp's rubbing, or some chance akin,
Wake them again. I am of different mould.
I would have soothed my lord, and slaved for him
And done him service past my narrow bond,
And thus I get rewarded for my pains!
Beside, 't is vain to talk of forwarding
God's glory otherwise; this is alone
The sphere of its increase, as far as men
Increase it; why, then, look beyond this sphere?
We are his glory; and if we be glorious,
Is not the thing achieved?
Festus.
              Shall one like me
Judge hearts like yours? Though years have changed you much,
And you have left your first love, and retain
Its empty shade to veil your crooked ways,
Yet I still hold that you have honoured God.
And who shall call your course without reward?
For, wherefore this repining at defeat
Had triumph ne'er inured you to high hopes?
I urge you to forsake the life you curse,
And what success attends me?simply talk
Of passion, weakness and remorse; in short,
Anything but the naked truthyou choose
This so-despised career, and cheaply hold
My happiness, or rather other men's.
Once more, return!
Paracelsus.
         And quickly. John the thief
Has pilfered half my secrets by this time:
And we depart by daybreak. I am weary,
I know not how; not even the wine-cup soothes
My brain to-night . . .
Do you not thoroughly despise me, Festus?
No flattery! One like you needs not be told
We live and breathe deceiving and deceived.
Do you not scorn me from your heart of hearts,
Me and my cant, each petty subterfuge,
My rhymes and all this frothy shower of words,
My glozing self-deceit, my outward crust
Of lies which wrap, as tetter, morphew, furfair
Wrapt the sound flesh?so, see you flatter not!
Even God flatters: but my friend, at least,
Is true. I would depart, secure henceforth
Against all further insult, hate and wrong
From puny foes; my one friend's scorn shall brand me:
No fear of sinking deeper!
Festus.
              No, dear Aureole!
No, no; I came to counsel faithfully.
There are old rules, made long ere we were born,
By which I judge you. I, so fallible,
So infinitely low beside your mighty
Majestic spirit!even I can see
You own some higher law than ours which call
Sin, what is no sinweakness, what is strength.
But I have only these, such as they are,
To guide me; and I blame you where they bid,
Only so long as blaming promises
To win peace for your soul: the more, that sorrow
Has fallen on me of late, and they have helped me
So that I faint not under my distress.
But wherefore should I scruple to avow
In spite of all, as brother judging brother,
Your fate is most inexplicable to me?
And should you perish without recompense
And satisfaction yettoo hastily
I have relied on love: you may have sinned,
But you have loved. As a mere human matter
As I would have God deal with fragile men
In the endI say that you will triumph yet!
Paracelsus.
Have you felt sorrow, Festus?'t is because
You love me. Sorrow, and sweet Michal yours!
Well thought on: never let her know this last
Dull winding-up of all: these miscreants dared
Insult meme she loved:so, grieve her not!
Festus.
Your ill success can little grieve her now.
Paracelsus.
Michal is dead! pray Christ we do not craze!
Festus.
Aureole, dear Aureole, look not on me thus!
Fool, fool! this is the heart grown sorrow-proof
I cannot bear those eyes.
Paracelsus.
             Nay, really dead?
             Festus.
'T is scarce a month.
Paracelsus.
           Stone dead!then you have laid her
Among the flowers ere this. Now, do you know,
I can reveal a secret which shall comfort
Even you. I have no julep, as men think,
To cheat the grave; but a far better secret.
Know, then, you did not ill to trust your love
To the cold earth: I have thought much of it:
For I believe we do not wholly die.
Festus.
Aureole!
Paracelsus.
    Nay, do not laugh; there is a reason
For what I say: I think the soul can never
Taste death. I am, just now, as you may see,
Very unfit to put so strange a thought
In an intelligible dress of words;
But take it as my trust, she is not dead.
Festus.
But not on this account alone? you surely,
Aureole, you have believed this all along?
Paracelsus.
And Michal sleeps among the roots and dews,
While I am moved at Basil, and full of schemes
For Nuremberg, and hoping and despairing,
As though it mattered how the farce plays out,
So it be quickly played. Away, away!
Have your will, rabble! while we fight the prize,
Troop you in safety to the snug back-seats
And leave a clear arena for the brave
About to perish for your sport!Behold!


~ Robert Browning, Paracelsus - Part IV - Paracelsus Aspires
,
1272:had to instruct the announcers to say "'Dillan,' the way he himself pronounced
it". His middle name, Marlais, was given to him in honour of his great-uncle,
Unitarian minister William Thomas, whose bardic name was Gwilym Marles.
His childhood was spent largely in Swansea, with regular summer trips to visit his
maternal aunts' Carmarthenshire farms. These rural sojourns and the contrast
with the town life of Swansea provided inspiration for much of his work, notably
many short stories, radio essays, and the poem Fern Hill. Thomas was known to
be a sickly child who suffered from bronchitis and asthma. He shied away from
school and preferred reading on his own. He was considered too frail to fight in
World War II, instead serving the war effort by writing scripts for the
government. Thomas's formal education began at Mrs. Hole's Dame school, a
private school which was situated a few streets away on Mirador Crescent. He
described his experience there in Quite Early One Morning:
Never was there such a dame school as ours, so firm and kind and smelling of
galoshes, with the sweet and fumbled music of the piano lessons drifting down
from upstairs to the lonely schoolroom, where only the sometimes tearful wicked
sat over undone sums, or to repent a little crime — the pulling of a girl's hair
during geography, the sly shin kick under the table during English literature.
In October 1925, Thomas attended the single-sex Swansea Grammar School, in
the Mount Pleasant district of the city, where his father taught. He was an
undistinguished student. Thomas's first poem was published in the school's
magazine. He later became its editor. He began keeping poetry notebooks and
amassed 200 poems in four such journals between 1930 and 1934. He left school
at 16 to become a reporter for the local newspaper, the South Wales Daily Post,
only to leave the job under pressure 18 months later in 1932. After leaving the
job he filled his notebooks even faster. Of the 90 poems he published, half were
written during these first years. He then joined an amateur dramatic group in
Mumbles called Little Theatre (Now Known as Swansea Little Theatre), but still
continued to work as a freelance journalist for a few more years.
Thomas spent his time visiting the cinema in the Uplands, walking along
Swansea Bay, visiting a theatre where he used to perform, and frequenting
Swansea's pubs. He especially patronised those in the Mumbles area such the
Antelope Hotel and the Mermaid Hotel. A short walk from the local newspaper
where he worked was the Kardomah Café in Castle Street, central Swansea. At
the café he met with various artist contemporaries, such as his good friend the
poet Vernon Watkins. These writers, musicians and artists became known as 'The
Kardomah Gang'. In 1932, Thomas embarked on what would be one of his
various visits to London.
In February 1941, Swansea was bombed by the German Luftwaffe in a "three
nights' blitz". Castle Street was just one of the many streets in Swansea that
suffered badly; the rows of shops, including the 'Kardomah Café', were
destroyed. Thomas later wrote about this in his radio play Return Journey Home,
in which he describes the café as being "razed to the snow". Return Journey
Home was first broadcast on 15 June 1947, having been written soon after the
bombing raids. Thomas walked through the bombed-out shell of the town centre
with his friend Bert Trick. Upset at the sight, he concluded: "Our Swansea is
dead". The Kardomah Café later reopened on Portland Street, not far from the
original location
Career and Family
It is often commented that Thomas was indulged like a child and he was, in fact,
still a teenager when he published many of the poems he would become famous
for: “And death shall have no dominion" “Before I Knocked” and “The Force That
Through the Green Fuse Drives the Flower". "And death shall have no dominion",
appeared in the New English Weekly in May 1933 and further work appeared in
The Listener in 1934 catching the attention of two of the most senior poets of the
day T. S. Eliot and Stephen Spender. His highly acclaimed first poetry volume, 18
Poems, was published on 18 December 1934, and went on to win a contest run
by The Sunday Referee, netting him new admirers from the London poetry world,
including Edith Sitwell. The anthology was published by Fortune Press, which did
not pay its writers and expected them to buy a certain number of copies
themselves. A similar arrangement would later be used by a number of other
new authors, including Philip Larkin.
His passionate musical lyricism caused a sensation in these years of desiccated
Modernism; the critic Desmond Hawkins said it was “the sort of bomb that bursts
no more than once in three years”. In all, he wrote half of his poems while living
at 5 Cwmdonkin Drive before he moved to London.It was also the time that
Thomas's reputation for heavy drinking developed.
In the spring of 1936, ~ Dylan Thomas



met dancer Caitlin Macnamara in the
Wheatsheaf pub, in the Fitzrovia area of London's West End. They were
introduced by Augustus John, who was Macnamara's lover at the time (there
were rumours that she continued her relationship with John after she married
Thomas). A drunken Thomas proposed to Macnamara on the spot, and the two
began a courtship. On 11 July 1937, Thomas married Macnamara in a register
office in Penzance, Cornwall. In 1938, the couple rented a cottage in the village
of Laugharne, Carmarthenshire, West Wales. Their first child, Llewelyn Edouard,
was born on 30 January 1939 (d. 2000). Their daughter, Aeronwy Thomas-Ellis,
was born on 3 March 1943 (d. 2009). A second son, Colm Garan Hart, was born
on 24 July 1949.
Wartime and After
At the outset of the Second World War, Thomas was designated C3, which meant
that although he could, in theory, be called up for service he would be in one of
the last groups to be so. He was saddened to see his friends enter active service
leaving him behind and drank whilst struggling to support his family. He lived on
tiny fees from writing and reviewing and borrowed heavily from friends and
acquaintances, writing begging letters to random literary figures in hope of
support, envisaging this as a plan of long term regular income. He wrote to the
director of the films division of the Ministry of Information asking for employment
but after a rebuff eventually ended up working for Strand Films. Strand produced
films for the Ministry of Information and Thomas scripted at least five in 1942
with titles such as This Is Colour (about dye), New Towns For Old, These Are The
Men and Our Country (a sentimental tour of Britain). He actively sought to build
a reputation as a raconteur and outrageous writer, heavy drinker and wit.
The publication of Deaths and Entrances in 1946 was a major turning point for
Thomas. Poet and critic W. J. Turner commented in The Spectator "This book
alone, in my opinion, ranks him as a major poet". Thomas was well known for
being a versatile and dynamic speaker, best known for his poetry readings. He
made over 200 broadcasts for the BBC.
Often considered his greatest single work, Under Milk Wood, a radio play
featuring the characters of Llareggub, is set in a fictional Welsh fishing village
('Llareggub' is 'Bugger All' backwards, implying that there is absolutely nothing
to do there). The BBC credited their producer Stella Hillier with ensuring the play
actually materialised. Assigned "some of the more wayward characters who were
then writing for the BBC", she dragged the notoriously unreliable Thomas out of
the pub and back to her office to finish the work. The play took several years to
write, the first half mostly in South Leigh, Oxford, in 1948, whilst the second half
was mostly written in America in May 1953. Fewer than 300 lines were written in
Laugharne, according to one account, which also explains the influence of New
Quay on the play.
New York
John Malcolm Brinnin invited Thomas to New York and in 1950 embarked on a
lucrative three month tour of arts centres and campuses in the States. He toured
there again in 1952, this time with Caitlin, who discovered that he had been
unfaithful on his 1950 trip. They both drank heavily, as if in competition,
Thomas's health beginning to suffer with gout and lung problems. Thomas
performed a 'work in progress' version of Under Milk Wood solo for the first time
on 3 May at Harvard during his early 1953 US tour, and then with a cast at the
Poetry Centre in New York on 14 May. He worked on the play further in Wales,
where in its completed form it premiered the Lyric Theatre, Carmarthen, Wales
on 8 October 1953, just 12 miles away from Laugharne. It was said Thomas gave
a 'supreme virtuoso performance'. He then travelled to London and on the 19
October he flew to America. He died in New York on 5 November 1953 before the
BBC could record the play. Richard Burton starred in the first broadcast in 1954
and was joined by Elizabeth Taylor in a subsequent film.
Thomas's last collection Collected Poems, 1934–1952, published when he was
38, won the Foyle poetry prize. He wrote "Do not go gentle into that good night",
a villanelle, to his dying father, who passed away in 1952, one of the poet's last
poems.
Death
Thomas arrived in New York on 20 October 1953, to take part in a performance
of Under Milk Wood at the city's prestigious Poetry Centre. He was already ill and
had a history of blackouts and heart problems, using an inhaler in New York to
help his breathing. Thomas had liked to boast of his addiction to drinking, saying
"An alcoholic is someone you don't like, who drinks as much as you do." He
"liked the taste of whisky" and had a powerful reputation for his drinking. The
writer Elizabeth Hardwick recalled how intoxicating a performer he was and how
the tension would build before a performance: “Would he arrive only to break
down on the stage? Would some dismaying scene take place at the faculty party?
Would he be offensive, violent, obscene? These were alarming and yet exciting
possibilities.” His wife Caitlin said in her embittered memoir “Nobody ever needed
encouragement less, and he was drowned in it.” Thomas “exhibited the excesses
and experienced the adulation which would later be associated with rock stars,”
however the amount he is supposed to have drunk in his lifetime and in New
York before his death, may well have been exaggerated as Thomas became
mythologised.
On the evening of 27 October 1953, Thomas's 39th birthday, the poet attended a
party in his honour but felt so unwell that he returned to his hotel. On 28 October
1953, he took part in Poetry And The Film, a recorded symposium at Cinema 16,
which included panellists Amos Vogel, Maya Deren, Parker Tyler, and Willard
Maas. The director of the Poetry Centre, John Brinnin, was also Thomas's tour
agent. Brinnin didn't travel to New York, remaining at home in Boston and
handed responsibility to his assistant, Liz Reitell. Reitell met Thomas at Idlewild
Airport (now JFK airport) and he told her that he had had a terrible week, had
missed her terribly and wanted to go to bed with her. Despite Reitell's previous
misgivings about their relationship they spent the rest of the day and night
together at the Chelsea Hotel. The next day she invited him to her apartment but
he declined, saying that he was not feeling well and retired to his bed for the rest
of the afternoon. After spending the night at the hotel with Thomas, Reitell went
back to her own apartment for a change of clothes. At breakfast Herb Hannum
noticed how sick Thomas looked and suggested a visit to a Dr. Feltenstein before
the performance of Under Milk Wood that evening. The doctor went to work with
his needle, and Thomas made it through the two performances of Under Milk
Wood, but collapsed straight afterwards. Reitell would later describe Feltenstein
as a wild doctor who believed injections could cure anything.
A turning point came on 2 November. Air pollution in New York had risen
significantly and exacerbated chest illnesses, such as Thomas had. By the end of
the month, over two hundred New Yorkers had died from the smog. On 3
November Thomas spent most of that day in bed drinking He went out in the
evening to keep two drink appointments. After returning to the hotel, he went
out again for a drink at 2am. After drinking at the White Horse Tavern, a pub
he'd found through Scottish poet Ruthven Todd, Thomas returned to the Hotel
Chelsea, declaring, "I've had eighteen straight whiskies. I think that's the
record!" The barman and the owner of the pub who served Thomas at the time
later commented that Thomas couldn't have imbibed more than half that
amount. Thomas had an appointment to visit a clam house in New Jersey on 4
November. When phoned at the Chelsea that morning, he said that he was
feeling awful and asked to take a rain-check. Later, he did go drinking with
Reitell at the White Horse and, feeling sick again, returned to the hotel. Dr.
Feltenstein came to see him three times that day, on the third call prescribing
morphine, which seriously affected Thomas's breathing. At midnight on 5
November, his breathing became more difficult and his face turned blue. Reitell
unsuccessfully tried to get hold of Feltenstein.
Thomas was admitted to the emergency ward at nearby St Vincent's hospital.
The medical notes state that he arrived in a coma at 1.58am, and that the
"impression upon admission was acute alcoholic encephalopathy damage to the
brain by alcohol, for which the patient was treated without response". The duty
doctors found bronchitis in all parts of his bronchial tree, both left and right
sides. An X-ray showed pneumonia, and a raised white cell count confirmed the
presence of an infection. Caitlin in Laugharne was sent a telegram on 5
November, notifying her that Dylan was in hospital. She flew to America the
following day and was taken, with a police escort, to the hospital. Her alleged
first words were "Is the bloody man dead yet?" The pneumonia worsened and
Thomas died, whilst in coma, at noon on 9 November.
Poetry
Thomas's verbal style played against strict verse forms, such as in the villanelle
Do not go gentle into that good night. His images were carefully ordered in a
patterned sequence, and his major theme was the unity of all life, the continuing
process of life and death and new life that linked the generations. Thomas saw
biology as a magical transformation producing unity out of diversity, and in his
poetry he sought a poetic ritual to celebrate this unity. He saw men and women
locked in cycles of growth, love, procreation, new growth, death, and new life
again. Therefore, each image engenders its opposite. Thomas derived his closely
woven, sometimes self-contradictory images from the Bible, Welsh folklore and
preaching, and Freud. Thomas's poetry is notable for its musicality, most clear in
poems such as Fern Hill, In Country Sleep, Ballad of the Long-legged Bait or In
the White Giant's Thigh from Under Milkwood:
Who once were a bloom of wayside brides in the hawed house
and heard the lewd, wooed field flow to the coming frost,
the scurrying, furred small friars squeal in the dowse
of day, in the thistle aisles, till the white owl crossed
Thomas once confided that the poems which had most influenced him were
Mother Goose rhymes which his parents taught him when he was a child:
I should say I wanted to write poetry in the beginning because I had fallen in
love with words. The first poems I knew were nursery rhymes and before I could
read them for myself I had come to love the words of them. The words alone.
What the words stood for was of a very secondary importance. [...] I fell in love,
that is the only expression I can think of, at once, and am still at the mercy of
words, though sometimes now, knowing a little of their behavior very well, I
think I can influence them slightly and have even learned to beat them now and
then, which they appear to enjoy. I tumbled for words at once. And, when I
began to read the nursery rhymes for myself, and, later, to read other verses
and ballads, I knew that I had discovered the most important things, to me, that
could be ever.
A Child's Christmas In Wales
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town
corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I
sometimes hear a moment before sleep, that I can never remember whether it
snowed for six days and six nights when I was twelve or whether it snowed for
twelve days and twelve nights when I was six.
All the Christmases roll down toward the two-tongued sea, like a cold and
headlong moon bundling down the sky that was our street; and they stop at the
rim of the ice-edged fish-freezing waves, and I plunge my hands in the snow and
bring out whatever I can find. In goes my hand into that wool-white bell-tongued
ball of holidays resting at the rim of the carol-singing sea, and out come Mrs.
Prothero and the firemen.
It was on the afternoon of the Christmas Eve, and I was in Mrs. Prothero's
garden, waiting for cats, with her son Jim. It was snowing. It was always snowing
at Christmas. December, in my memory, is white as Lapland, though there were
no reindeers. But there were cats. Patient, cold and callous, our hands wrapped
in socks, we waited to snowball the cats. Sleek and long as jaguars and horriblewhiskered, spitting and snarling, they would slink and sidle over the white backgarden walls, and the lynx-eyed hunters, Jim and I, fur-capped and moccasined
trappers from Hudson Bay, off Mumbles Road, would hurl our deadly snowballs at
the green of their eyes. The wise cats never appeared.
We were so still, Eskimo-footed arctic marksmen in the muffling silence of the
eternal snows - eternal, ever since Wednesday - that we never heard Mrs.
Prothero's first cry from her igloo at the bottom of the garden. Or, if we heard it
at all, it was, to us, like the far-off challenge of our enemy and prey, the
neighbor's polar cat. But soon the voice grew louder.
"Fire!" cried Mrs. Prothero, and she beat the dinner-gong.
And we ran down the garden, with the snowballs in our arms, toward the house;
and smoke, indeed, was pouring out of the dining-room, and the gong was
bombilating, and Mrs. Prothero was announcing ruin like a town crier in Pompeii.
This was better than all the cats in Wales standing on the wall in a row. We
bounded into the house, laden with snowballs, and stopped at the open door of
the smoke-filled room.
Something was burning all right; perhaps it was Mr. Prothero, who always slept
there after midday dinner with a newspaper over his face. But he was standing in
the middle of the room, saying, "A fine Christmas!" and smacking at the smoke
with a slipper.
"Call the fire brigade," cried Mrs. Prothero as she beat the gong.
"There won't be there," said Mr. Prothero, "it's Christmas."
There was no fire to be seen, only clouds of smoke and Mr. Prothero standing in
the middle of them, waving his slipper as though he were conducting.
"Do something," he said. And we threw all our snowballs into the smoke - I think
we missed Mr. Prothero - and ran out of the house to the telephone box.
"Let's call the police as well," Jim said. "And the ambulance." "And Ernie Jenkins,
he likes fires."
But we only called the fire brigade, and soon the fire engine came and three tall
men in helmets brought a hose into the house and Mr. Prothero got out just in
time before they turned it on. Nobody could have had a noisier Christmas Eve.
And when the firemen turned off the hose and were standing in the wet, smoky
room, Jim's Aunt, Miss. Prothero, came downstairs and peered in at them. Jim
and I waited, very quietly, to hear what she would say to them. She said the
right thing, always. She looked at the three tall firemen in their shining helmets,
standing among the smoke and cinders and dissolving snowballs, and she said,
"Would you like anything to read?"
Years and years ago, when I was a boy, when there were wolves in Wales, and
birds the color of red-flannel petticoats whisked past the harp-shaped hills, when
we sang and wallowed all night and day in caves that smelt like Sunday
afternoons in damp front farmhouse parlors, and we chased, with the jawbones
of deacons, the English and the bears, before the motor car, before the wheel,
before the duchess-faced horse, when we rode the daft and happy hills bareback,
it snowed and it snowed. But here a small boy says: "It snowed last year, too. I
made a snowman and my brother knocked it down and I knocked my brother
down and then we had tea."
"But that was not the same snow," I say. "Our snow was not only shaken from
white wash buckets down the sky, it came shawling out of the ground and swam
and drifted out of the arms and hands and bodies of the trees; snow grew
overnight on the roofs of the houses like a pure and grandfather moss, minutely
-ivied the walls and settled on the postman, opening the gate, like a dumb, numb
thunder-storm of white, torn Christmas cards."
"Were there postmen then, too?"
"With sprinkling eyes and wind-cherried noses, on spread, frozen feet they
crunched up to the doors and mittened on them manfully. But all that the
children could hear was a ringing of bells."
"You mean that the postman went rat-a-tat-tat and the doors rang?"
"I mean that the bells the children could hear were inside them."
"I only hear thunder sometimes, never bells."
"There were church bells, too."
"Inside them?"
"No, no, no, in the bat-black, snow-white belfries, tugged by bishops and storks.
And they rang their tidings over the bandaged town, over the frozen foam of the
powder and ice-cream hills, over the crackling sea. It seemed that all the
churches boomed for joy under my window; and the weathercocks crew for
Christmas, on our fence."
"Get back to the postmen"
"They were just ordinary postmen, found of walking and dogs and Christmas and
the snow. They knocked on the doors with blue knuckles ...."
"Ours has got a black knocker...."
"And then they stood on the white Welcome mat in the little, drifted porches and
huffed and puffed, making ghosts with their breath, and jogged from foot to foot
like small boys wanting to go out."
"And then the presents?"
"And then the Presents, after the Christmas box. And the cold postman, with a
rose on his button-nose, tingled down the tea-tray-slithered run of the chilly
glinting hill. He went in his ice-bound boots like a man on fishmonger's slabs. "He
wagged his bag like a frozen camel's hump, dizzily turned the corner on one foot,
and, by God, he was gone."
"Get back to the Presents."
"There were the Useful Presents: engulfing mufflers of the old coach days, and
mittens made for giant sloths; zebra scarfs of a substance like silky gum that
could be tug-o'-warred down to the galoshes; blinding tam-o'-shanters like
patchwork tea cozies and bunny-suited busbies and balaclavas for victims of
head-shrinking tribes; from aunts who always wore wool next to the skin there
were mustached and rasping vests that made you wonder why the aunts had any
skin left at all; and once I had a little crocheted nose bag from an aunt now, alas,
no longer whinnying with us. And pictureless books in which small boys, though
warned with quotations not to, would skate on Farmer Giles' pond and did and
drowned; and books that told me everything about the wasp, except why."
"Go on the Useless Presents."
"Bags of moist and many-colored jelly babies and a folded flag and a false nose
and a tram-conductor's cap and a machine that punched tickets and rang a bell;
never a catapult; once, by mistake that no one could explain, a little hatchet;
10
and a celluloid duck that made, when you pressed it, a most unducklike sound, a
mewing moo that an ambitious cat might make who wished to be a cow; and a
painting book in which I could make the grass, the trees, the sea and the animals
any colour I pleased, and still the dazzling sky-blue sheep are grazing in the red
field under the rainbow-billed and pea-green birds. Hardboileds, toffee, fudge
and allsorts, crunches, cracknels, humbugs, glaciers, marzipan, and butterwelsh
for the Welsh. And troops of bright tin soldiers who, if they could not fight, could
always run. And Snakes-and-Families and Happy Ladders. And Easy HobbiGames for Little Engineers, complete with instructions. Oh, easy for Leonardo!
And a whistle to make the dogs bark to wake up the old man next door to make
him beat on the wall with his stick to shake our picture off the wall. And a packet
of cigarettes: you put one in your mouth and you stood at the corner of the
street and you waited for hours, in vain, for an old lady to scold you for smoking
a cigarette, and then with a smirk you ate it. And then it was breakfast under the
balloons."
"Were there Uncles like in our house?"
"There are always Uncles at Christmas. The same Uncles. And on Christmas
morning, with dog-disturbing whistle and sugar fags, I would scour the swatched
town for the news of the little world, and find always a dead bird by the Post
Office or by the white deserted swings; perhaps a robin, all but one of his fires
out. Men and women wading or scooping back from chapel, with taproom noses
and wind-bussed cheeks, all albinos, huddles their stiff black jarring feathers
against the irreligious snow. Mistletoe hung from the gas brackets in all the front
parlors; there was sherry and walnuts and bottled beer and crackers by the
dessertspoons; and cats in their fur-abouts watched the fires; and the highheaped fire spat, all ready for the chestnuts and the mulling pokers. Some few
large men sat in the front parlors, without their collars, Uncles almost certainly,
trying their new cigars, holding them out judiciously at arms' length, returning
them to their mouths, coughing, then holding them out again as though waiting
for the explosion; and some few small aunts, not wanted in the kitchen, nor
anywhere else for that matter, sat on the very edge of their chairs, poised and
brittle, afraid to break, like faded cups and saucers."
Not many those mornings trod the piling streets: an old man always, fawnbowlered, yellow-gloved and, at this time of year, with spats of snow, would take
his constitutional to the white bowling green and back, as he would take it wet or
fire on Christmas Day or Doomsday; sometimes two hale young men, with big
pipes blazing, no overcoats and wind blown scarfs, would trudge, unspeaking,
down to the forlorn sea, to work up an appetite, to blow away the fumes, who
knows, to walk into the waves until nothing of them was left but the two furling
smoke clouds of their inextinguishable briars. Then I would be slap-dashing
11
home, the gravy smell of the dinners of others, the bird smell, the brandy, the
pudding and mince, coiling up to my nostrils, when out of a snow-clogged side
lane would come a boy the spit of myself, with a pink-tipped cigarette and the
violet past of a black eye, cocky as a bullfinch, leering all to himself.
I hated him on sight and sound, and would be about to put my dog whistle to my
lips and blow him off the face of Christmas when suddenly he, with a violet wink,
put his whistle to his lips and blew so stridently, so high, so exquisitely loud, that
gobbling faces, their cheeks bulged with goose, would press against their tinsled
windows, the whole length of the white echoing street. For dinner we had turkey
and blazing pudding, and after dinner the Uncles sat in front of the fire, loosened
all buttons, put their large moist hands over their watch chains, groaned a little
and slept. Mothers, aunts and sisters scuttled to and fro, bearing tureens. Auntie
Bessie, who had already been frightened, twice, by a clock-work mouse,
whimpered at the sideboard and had some elderberry wine. The dog was sick.
Auntie Dosie had to have three aspirins, but Auntie Hannah, who liked port,
stood in the middle of the snowbound back yard, singing like a big-bosomed
thrush. I would blow up balloons to see how big they would blow up to; and,
when they burst, which they all did, the Uncles jumped and rumbled. In the rich
and heavy afternoon, the Uncles breathing like dolphins and the snow
descending, I would sit among festoons and Chinese lanterns and nibble dates
and try to make a model man-o'-war, following the Instructions for Little
Engineers, and produce what might be mistaken for a sea-going tramcar.
Or I would go out, my bright new boots squeaking, into the white world, on to
the seaward hill, to call on Jim and Dan and Jack and to pad through the still
streets, leaving huge footprints on the hidden pavements.
"I bet people will think there's been hippos."
"What would you do if you saw a hippo coming down our street?"
"I'd go like this, bang! I'd throw him over the railings and roll him down the hill
and then I'd tickle him under the ear and he'd wag his tail."
"What would you do if you saw two hippos?"
Iron-flanked and bellowing he-hippos clanked and battered through the scudding
snow toward us as we passed Mr. Daniel's house.
"Let's post Mr. Daniel a snow-ball through his letter box."
"Let's write things in the snow."
"Let's write, 'Mr. Daniel looks like a spaniel' all over his lawn."
Or we walked on the white shore. "Can the fishes see it's snowing?"
The silent one-clouded heavens drifted on to the sea. Now we were snow-blind
travelers lost on the north hills, and vast dewlapped dogs, with flasks round their
12
necks, ambled and shambled up to us, baying "Excelsior." We returned home
through the poor streets where only a few children fumbled with bare red fingers
in the wheel-rutted snow and cat-called after us, their voices fading away, as we
trudged uphill, into the cries of the dock birds and the hooting of ships out in the
whirling bay. And then, at tea the recovered Uncles would be jolly; and the ice
cake loomed in the center of the table like a marble grave. Auntie Hannah laced
her tea with rum, because it was only once a year.
Bring out the tall tales now that we told by the fire as the gaslight bubbled like a
diver. Ghosts whooed like owls in the long nights when I dared not look over my
shoulder; animals lurked in the cubbyhole under the stairs and the gas meter
ticked. And I remember that we went singing carols once, when there wasn't the
shaving of a moon to light the flying streets. At the end of a long road was a
drive that led to a large house, and we stumbled up the darkness of the drive
that night, each one of us afraid, each one holding a stone in his hand in case,
and all of us too brave to say a word. The wind through the trees made noises as
of old and unpleasant and maybe webfooted men wheezing in caves. We reached
the black bulk of the house. "What shall we give them? Hark the Herald?"
"No," Jack said, "Good King Wencelas. I'll count three." One, two three, and we
began to sing, our voices high and seemingly distant in the snow-felted darkness
round the house that was occupied by nobody we knew. We stood close together,
near the dark door. Good King Wencelas looked out On the Feast of Stephen ...
And then a small, dry voice, like the voice of someone who has not spoken for a
long time, joined our singing: a small, dry, eggshell voice from the other side of
the door: a small dry voice through the keyhole. And when we stopped running
we were outside our house; the front room was lovely; balloons floated under the
hot-water-bottle-gulping gas; everything was good again and shone over the
town.
"Perhaps it was a ghost," Jim said.
"Perhaps it was trolls," Dan said, who was always reading.
"Let's go in and see if there's any jelly left," Jack said. And we did that.
Always on Christmas night there was music. An uncle played the fiddle, a cousin
sang "Cherry Ripe," and another uncle sang "Drake's Drum." It was very warm in
the little house. Auntie Hannah, who had got on to the parsnip wine, sang a song
about Bleeding Hearts and Death, and then another in which she said her heart
was like a Bird's Nest; and then everybody laughed again; and then I went to
bed. Looking through my bedroom window, out into the moonlight and the
unending smoke-colored snow, I could see the lights in the windows of all the
other houses on our hill and hear the music rising from them up the long, steady
falling night. I turned the gas down, I got into bed. I said some words to the
close and holy darkness, and then I slept.
13
~ Dylan Thomas,
1273:The Moat House
PART I
UNDER the shade of convent towers,
Where fast and vigil mark the hours,
From childhood into youth there grew
A maid as fresh as April dew,
And sweet as May's ideal flowers,
Brighter than dawn in wind-swept skies,
Like children's dreams most pure, unwise,
Yet with a slumbering soul-fire too,
That sometimes shone a moment through
Her wondrous unawakened eyes.
The nuns, who loved her coldly, meant
The twig should grow as it was bent;
That she, like them, should watch youth's bier,
Should watch her day-dreams disappear,
And go the loveless way they went.
The convent walls were high and grey;
How could Love hope to find a way
Into that citadel forlorn,
Where his dear name was put to scorn,
Or called a sinful thing to say?
Yet Love did come; what need to tell
Of flowers downcast, that sometimes fell
Across her feet when dreamily
She paced, with unused breviary,
Down paths made still with August's spell--
Of looks cast through the chapel grate,
331
Of letters helped by Love and Fate,
That to cold fingers did not come
But lay within a warmer home,
Upon her heart inviolate?
Somehow he loved her--she loved him:
Then filled her soul's cup to the brim,
And all her daily life grew bright
With such a flood of rosy light
As turned the altar candles dim.
But love that lights is love that leads,
And lives upon the heart it feeds;
Soon grew she pale though not less fair,
And sighed his name instead of prayer,
And told her heart-throbs, not her beads.
How could she find the sunlight fair,
A sunlight that he did not share?
How could a rose smell sweet within
The cruel bars that shut her in,
And shut him out while she was there?
He vowed her fealty firm and fast,
Then to the winds her fears she cast;
They found a way to cheat the bars,
And in free air, beneath free stars,
Free, and with him, she stood at last.
'Now to some priest,' he said, 'that he
May give thee--blessing us--to me.'
'No priest,' she cried in doubt and fear,
'He would divide, not join us, dear.
I am mine--I give myself to thee.
'Since thou and I are mine and thine,
332
What need to swear it at a shrine?
Would love last longer if we swore
That we would love for evermore?
God gives me thee--and thou art mine.'
'God weds us now,' he said, 'yet still
Some day shall we all forms fulfil.
Eternal truth affords to smile
At laws wherewith man marks his guile,
Yet law shall join us--when you will.
'So look your last, my love, on these
Forbidding walls and wooing trees.
Farewell to grief and gloom,' said he;
'Farewell to childhood's joy,' said she;
But neither said, 'Farewell to peace.'
Song.
My sweet, my sweet,
She is complete
From dainty head to darling feet;
So warm and white,
So brown and bright,
So made for love and love's delight.
God could but spare
One flower so fair,
There is none like her anywhere;
Beneath wide skies
The whole earth lies,
But not two other such brown eyes.
The world we're in,
If one might win?
Not worth that dimple in her chin
A heaven to know?
I'll let that go
333
But once to see her lids droop low
Over her eyes,
By love made wise:
To see her bosom fall and rise
Is more than worth
The angels' mirth,
And all the heaven-joys of earth.
This is the hour
Which gives me power
To win and wear earth's whitest flower.
Oh, Love, give grace,
Through all life's ways
Keep pure this heart, her dwelling place.
II
The fields were reaped and the pastures bare,
And the nights grown windy and chill,
When the lovers passed through the beech woods fair,
And climbed the brow of the hill.
In the hill's spread arm the Moat House lies
With elm and willow tree;
'And is that your home at last?' she sighs.
'Our home at last,' laughs he.
Across the bridge and into the hall
Where the waiting housefolk were.
'This is my lady,' he said to them all,
And she looked so sweet and fair
That every maid and serving-boy
God-blessed them then and there,
And wished them luck, and gave them joy,
For a happy, handsome pair.
And only the old nurse shook her head:
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'Too young,' she said, 'too young.'
She noted that no prayers were read,
No marriage bells were rung;
No guests were called, no feast was spread,
As was meet for a marriage tide;
The young lord in the banquet hall broke bread
Alone with his little bride.
Yet her old heart warmed to the two, and blessed,
They were both so glad and gay,
By to-morrow and yesterday unoppressed,
Fulfilled of the joy of to-day;
Like two young birds in that dull old nest,
So careless of coming care,
So rapt in the other that each possessed,
The two young lovers were.
He was heir to a stern hard-natured race,
That had held the Moat House long,
But the gloom of his formal dwelling place
Dissolved at her voice and song;
So bright, so sweet, to the house she came,
So winning of way and word,
The household knew her by one pet name,
'My Lady Ladybird.'
First love so rarely gets leave to bring,
In our world where money is might,
Its tender buds to blossoming
With the sun of its own delight.
We love at rose or at vintage prime,
In the glare and heat of the day,
Forgetting the dawn and the violet time,
And the wild sweet scent of the may.
These loved like children, like children played,
The old house laughed with delight
At her song of a voice, at the radiance made
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By her dress's flashing flight.
Up the dark oak stair, through the gallery's gloom,
She ran like a fairy fleet,
And ever her lover from room to room
Fast followed her flying feet.
They gathered the buds of the late-lived rose
In the ordered garden ways,
They walked through the sombre yew-walled close
And threaded the pine woods maze,
They rode through woods where their horses came
Knee-deep through the rustling leaves,
Through fields forlorn of the poppies' flame
And bereft of their golden sheaves.
In the mellow hush of October noon
They rowed in the flat broad boat,
Through the lily leaves so thickly strewn
On the sunny side of the moat.
They were glad of the fire of the beech-crowned hill,
And glad of the pale deep sky,
And the shifting shade that the willows made
On the boat as she glided by.
They roamed each room of the Moat House through
And questioned the wraiths of the past,
What legends rare the old dresses knew,
And the swords, what had wet them last?
What faces had looked through the lozenge panes,
What shadows darkened the door,
What feet had walked in the jewelled stains
That the rich glass cast on the floor?
She dressed her beauty in old brocade
That breathed of loss and regret,
In laces that broken hearts had swayed,
In the days when the swords were wet;
And the rubies and pearls laughed out and said,
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'Though the lovers for whom we were set,
And the women who loved us, have long been dead,
Yet beauty and we live yet.'
When the wild white winter's spectral hand
Effaced the green and the red,
And crushed the fingers brown of the land
Till they grew death-white instead,
The two found cheer in their dark oak room,
And their dreams of a coming spring,
For a brighter sun shone through winter's gloom
Than ever a summer could bring.
They sat where the great fires blazed in the hall,
Where the wolf-skins lay outspread,
The pictured faces looked down from the wall
To hear his praise of the dead.
He told her ghostly tales of the past,
And legends rare of his house,
Till she held her breath at the shade fire-cast,
And the scamper-rush of the mouse,
Till she dared not turn her head to see
What shape might stand by her chair-Till she cried his name, and fled to his knee,
And safely nestled there.
Then they talked of their journey, the city's crowd,
Of the convent's faint joy and pain,
Till the ghosts of the past were laid in the shroud
Of commonplace things again.
So the winter died, and the baby spring,
With hardly voice for a cry,
And hands too weak the signs to bring
That all men might know her by,
Yet woke, and breathed through the soft wet air
The promise of all things dear,
And poets and lovers knew she was there,
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And sang to their hearts, 'She is here.'
Song.
Soft is the ground underfoot,
Soft are the skies overhead,
Green is the ivy round brown hedge root,
Green is the moss where we tread.
Purple the woods are, and brown;
The blackbird is glossy and sleek,
He knows that the worms are no more kept down
By frost out of reach of his beak.
Grey are the sheep in the fold,
Tired of their turnip and beet,
Dreaming of meadow and pasture and wold,
And turf the warm rain will make sweet.
Leaves sleep, no bud wakens yet,
But we know by the song of the sun,
And the happy way that the world smiles, wet,
That the spring--oh, be glad!--is begun.
What stirs the heart of the tree?
What stirs the seed the earth bears?
What is it stirring in you and in me
Longing for summer, like theirs?-Longing you cannot explain,
Yearning that baffles me still!
Ah! that each spring should bring longings again
No summer can ever fulfil!
III
When all the world had echoed the song
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That the poet and lover sang,
When 'Glory to spring,' sweet, soft, and strong,
From the ferny woods outrang,
In wet green meadow, in hollow green,
The primrose stars outshone,
And the bluebells balanced their drooping sheen
In copses lovely and lone.
The green earth laughed, full of leaf and flower,
The sky laughed too, full of sun;
Was this the hour for a parting hour,
With the heaven of spring just won?
The woods and fields were echoing
To a chorus of life and bliss.
Oh, hard to sting the face of the spring
With the smart of a parting kiss!
A kinsman ailing, a summons sent
To haste to his dying bed.
'Oh, cruel sentence of banishment!
For my heart says 'Go'!' he said.
'So now good-bye to my home, my dear,
To the spring we watched from its birth;
There is no spring, oh, my sweet, but here,
'Tis winter all over the earth.
'But I come again, oh, spring of my life,
You hold the cord in your hand
That will draw me back, oh, my sweetheart wife,
To the place where your dear feet stand;
But a few short days, and my arms shall be
Once more round your little head,
And you will be weeping glad tears with me
On the grave of our parting, dead!
'I leave you my heart for a short short while,
It will ache if 'tis wrapped in fears;
Keep it safe and warm in the sun of your smile,
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Not wet with the rain of your tears.
Be glad of the joy that shall soon be won,
Be glad to-day, though we part;
You shall weep for our parting when parting is done,
And drop your tears on my heart.'
Song.
Good-bye, my love, my only dear, I know your heart is true
And that it lingers here with me while mine fares forth with you.
We part? Our hearts are almost one, and are so closely tied
'Tis yours that stirs my bosom-lace, mine beats against your side.
So not at losing you I grieve, since heart and soul stay here,
But all the gladness of my life, I cry to lose it, dear;
Warmth of the sun, sweet of the rose, night's rest and light of day,
I mourn for these, for if you go, you take them all away.
You are sad too--not at leaving me, whose heart must with you go,
But at the heaven you leave behind--ah, yes--you told me so,
You said wherever you might go you could not ever find
A spring so sweet, love so complete, as these you leave behind.
No future joy will ever pay this moment's bitter ache,
Yet I am glad to be so sad, since it is for your sake.
You take so much, I do but wish that you could take the whole,
Could take me, since you take my rest, my light, my joy, my soul.
Song.
Oh, love, I leave
This springtide eve,
When woods in sunset shine blood-red;
The long road lies
Before my eyes,
My horse goes on with even tread.
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I dare not turn
These eyes that burn
Back to the terrace where you lean;
If I should see
Your tears for me,
I must turn back to dry them, O my queen!
Yet I must go,
Fate has it so,
Duty spoke once, and I obey;
Sadly I rise,
Leave paradise,
And turn my face the other way.
Nothing is dear
On earth but here,
There is no joy away from you;
What though there be
New things to see,
New friends, new faces, and adventures new?
Yet since I may
Not with you stay,
Hey for the outer world of life!
Brace limbs, shake rein,
And seek again
The hurry, jostle, jar and strife.
Hey for the new!
Yet, love, for you-I have loved you so--the last hand-kiss.
How vast a world
Lies here unfurled!
How small, if sweet, home's inner round of bliss!
The road bends right,
341
Leads out of sight,
Here I may turn, nor fear to see;
So far away,
One could not say
If you are weeping now for me.
Behind this eve
My love I leave,
The big bright world spreads out before;
Yet will I come,
To you and home,
Oh, love, and rest beneath your yoke once more.
IV
She stood upon the terrace, gazing still
Down the long road to watch him out of sight,
Dry-eyed at first, until the swelling hill
Hid him. Then turned she to the garden bright,
Whose ways held memories of lover's laughter,
And lover's sadness that had followed after,
Both born of passion's too intense delight.
The garden knew her secrets, and its bowers
Threw her her secrets back in mocking wise;
''Twas here he buried you in lilac flowers.
Here while he slept you covered up his eyes
With primroses. They died; and by that token
Love, like a flower whose stalk has once been broken,
Will live no more for all your tears and sighs.'
The sundial that had marked their happy hours
Cried out to her, 'I know that he is gone;
So many twos have wreathed me round with flowers,
And always one came afterwards alone,
And always wept--even as you are weeping.
The flowers while they lived were cold, shade keeping,
But always through the tears the sun still shone.'
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She left the garden; but the house still more
Whispered, 'You love him--he has gone away.'
Where fell her single footstep sighed the floor,
'Another foot than yours fell here to-day.'
The very hound she stroked looked round and past her,
Then in her face, and whined, 'Where is our master?'
The whole house had the same one thing to say.
Empty, without its soul, disconsolate,
The great house was: through all the rooms went she,
And every room was dark and desolate,
Nothing seemed good to do or good to see.
At last, upon the wolf-skins, worn with weeping,
The old nurse found her, like a tired child, sleeping
With face tear-stained, and sobbing brokenly.
Wearily went the days, all sad the same,
Yet each brought its own added heaviness.
Why was it that no letter from him came
To ease the burden of her loneliness?
Why did he send no message, word, or greeting,
To help her forward to their day of meeting,
No written love--no black and white caress?
At last there came a letter, sweet but brief,
'He was so busy--had no time for more.'
No time! She had had time enough for grief,
There never had been so much time before;
And yet the letter lay within her bosom,
Pressed closely to her breathing beauty's blossom,
Worn for a balm, because her heart was sore.
She knew not where he stayed, and so could send,
Of all the letters that she wrote, not one;
Hour after soft spring hour the child would spend
In pouring out her soul, for, once begun,
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The tale of all her love and grief flowed over
Upon the letters that she wrote her lover,
And that the fire read when the tale was done.
And yet she never doubted he would come,
If not before, yet when a baby's eyes
Should look for him, when his deserted home
Should waken to a baby's laughs and cries.
'He judges best--perhaps he comes to-morrow,
But come he will, and we shall laugh at sorrow
When in my arms our little baby lies.'
And in the August days a soft hush fell
Upon the house--the old nurse kept her place
Beside the little wife--and all was well;
After rapt anguish came a breathing space,
And she, mid tears and smiles, white-faced, glad-eyed,
Felt her wee baby move against her side,
Kissed its small hands, worshipped its tiny face.
Song.
Oh, baby, baby, baby dear,
We lie alone together here;
The snowy gown and cap and sheet
With lavender are fresh and sweet;
Through half-closed blinds the roses peer
To see and love you, baby dear.
We are so tired, we like to lie
Just doing nothing, you and I,
Within the darkened quiet room.
The sun sends dusk rays through the gloom,
Which is no gloom since you are here,
My little life, my baby dear.
Soft sleepy mouth so vaguely pressed
Against your new-made mother's breast,
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Soft little hands in mine I fold,
Soft little feet I kiss and hold,
Round soft smooth head and tiny ear,
All mine, my own, my baby dear.
And he we love is far away!
But he will come some happy day.
You need but me, and I can rest
At peace with you beside me pressed.
There are no questions, longings vain,
No murmuring, nor doubt, nor pain,
Only content and we are here,
My baby dear.
PART II
While winged Love his pinions folded in the Moat House by the hill,
In the city there was anger, doubt, distrust, and thoughts of ill;
For his kinsmen, hearing rumours of the life the lovers led,
Wept, and wrung their hands, and sorrowed--'Better that the lad were dead
Than to live thus--he, the son of proudest man and noblest earl-Thus in open sin with her, a nameless, shameless, foreign girl.'
(Ever when they thus lamented, 'twas the open sin they named,
Till one wondered whether sinning, if less frank, had been less blamed.)
''Tis our duty to reclaim him--mate him to a noble bride
Who shall fitly grace his station, and walk stately by his side-Gently loose him from the fetters of this siren fair and frail
(In such cases time and absence nearly always will prevail).
He shall meet the Duke's fair daughter--perfect, saintly Lady May-Beauty is the surest beacon to a young man gone astray!
Not at all precipitately, but with judgment sure and fine,
We will rescue and redeem him from his shameful husks and swine.
So--his uncle's long been ailing (gout and dropsy for his sins)-Let that serve for pretext; hither bring the youth--his cure begins.'
So they summoned him and welcomed, and their utmost efforts bent
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To snatch back a brand from burning and a soul from punishment-Sought to charm him with their feastings, each more sumptuous than the last,
From his yearning recollections of his very sinful past-Strove to wipe his wicked doings from his memory's blotted
By the chaster, purer interests of the ball-room and the stage.
And for Lady May--they hinted to the girl, child-innocent,
That her hand to save the sinner by her Saviour had been sent,
That her voice might bring his voice her Master's triumph choir to swell,
And might save a man from sorrow and a human soul from hell.
So she used her maiden graces, maiden glances, maiden smiles,
To protect the erring pilgrim from the devil's subtle wiles-Saw him daily, sent him letters, pious verses by the score,
Every angel's trap she baited with her sweet religious lore-Ventured all she knew, not knowing that her beauty and her youth
Were far better to bait traps with than her odds and ends of truth.
First he listened, vain and flattered that a girl as fair as she
Should be so distinctly anxious for his lost humanity,
Yet determined no attentions, even from the Lady May,
Should delay his home-returning one unnecessary day.
But as she--heart-wrung with pity for his erring soul--grew kind,
Fainter, fainter grew the image of his sweetheart left behind;
Till one day May spoke of sorrow--prayed him to reform--repent,
Urged the festival in heaven over every penitent;
Bold in ignorance, spoke vaguely and low-toned of sin and shame,
And at last her voice, half breathless, faltered, broke upon his name,
And two tears fell from her lashes on the roses at her breast,
Far more potent in their silence than her preaching at its best.
And his weak soul thrilled and trembled at her beauty, and he cried,
'Not for me those priceless tears: I am your slave--you shall decide.'
'Save your soul,' she sighed. 'Was ever man so tempted, tried, before?
It is yours!' and at the word his soul was lost for evermore.
Never woman pure and saintly did the devil's work so well!
Never soul ensnared for heaven took a surer road to hell!
Lady May had gained her convert, loved him, and was satisfied,
And before the last leaves yellowed she would kneel down as his bride.
She was happy, and he struggled to believe that perfidy
Was repentance--reformation was not one with cruelty,
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Yet through all congratulations, friends' smiles, lovers' flatteries,
Lived a gnawing recollection of the lost love harmonies.
In the day he crushed it fiercely, kept it covered out of sight,
But it held him by the heart-strings and came boldly out at night:
In the solemn truthful night his soul shrank shuddering from its lies,
And his base self knew its baseness, and looked full in its false eyes.
In the August nights, when all the sky was deep and toneless blue,
And the gold star-points seemed letting the remembered sunlight through,
When the world was hushed and peaceful in the moonlight's searching white,
He would toss and cast his arms out through the silence and the night
To those eyes that through the night and through the silence came again,
Haunting him with the persistence and the passion of their pain.
'Oh, my little love--my sweetheart--oh, our past--our sweet love-day-Oh, if I were only true--or you were only Lady May!'
But the sunshine scared the vision, and he rose once more love-warm
To the Lady May's perfections and his own proposed reform.
Coward that he was! he could not write and break that loving heart:
To the worn-out gouty kinsman was assigned that pleasing part.
'Say it kindly,' said her lover, 'always friends--I can't forget-We must meet no more--but give her tenderest thought and all regret;
Bid her go back to the convent--she and I can't meet as friends-Offer her a good allowance--any terms to make amends
For what nought could make amends for--for my baseness and my sin.
Oh, I know which side the scale this deed of mine will figure in!
Curse reform!--she may forget me--'tis on me the burdens fall,
For I love her only, solely--not the Lady May at all!'
'Patience,' said the uncle, 'patience, this is but the natural pain
When a young man turns from sinning to the paths of grace again.
Your wild oats are sown--you're plighted to the noble Lady May
(Whose estates adjoin your manor in a providential way).
Do your duty, sir, for surely pangs like these are such as win
Pardon and the heavenly blessing on the sinner weaned from sin.'
Song.
Day is fair, and so is she
Whom so soon I wed;
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But the night, when memory
Guards my sleepless bed,
And with cold hands brings once more
Thorns from rose-sweet days of yore-Night I curse and dread.
Day is sweet, as sweet as her
Girlish tenderness;
But the night, when near me stir
Rustlings of a dress,
Echoes of a loving tone
Now renounced, forsworn, foregone,
Night is bitterness.
Day can stir my blood like wine
Or her beauty's fire,
But at night I burn and pine,
Torture, turn and tire,
With a longing that is pain,
Just to kiss and clasp again
Love's one lost desire.
Day is glad and pure and bright,
Pure, glad, bright as she;
But the sad and guilty night
Outlives day--for me.
Oh, for days when day and night
Equal balance of delight
Were alike to me!
In the day I see my feet
Walk in steadfast wise,
Following my lady sweet
To her Paradise,
Like some stray-recovered lamb;
But I see the beast I am
When the night stars rise.
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Yet in wedding day there lies
Magic--so they say;
Ghosts will have no chance to rise
Near my Lady May.
Vain the hope! In good or ill
Those lost eyes will haunt me still
Till my dying day.
II
Quickly died the August roses, and the kin of Lady May
Dowered her richly, blessed her freely, and announced her wedding day;
And his yearnings and remorses fainter grew as days went on
'Neath the magic of the beauty of the woman he had won;
And less often and less strongly was his fancy caught and crossed
By remembrance of the dearness of the woman he had lost.
Long sweet mornings in the boudoir where the flowers stood about,
Whisperings in the balcony when stars and London lamps came out,
Concerts, flower shows, garden parties, balls and dinners, rides and drives,
All the time-killing distractions of these fashionable lives;
Dreary, joyless as a desert, pleasure's everlasting way,
But enchantment can make lovely even deserts, so they say,
Sandy waste, or waste of London season, where no green leaf grows,
Shone on but by love or passion, each will blossom like the rose!
Came no answer to the letter that announced his marriage day;
But his people wrote that Lady Ladybird had gone away.
So he sent to bid get ready to receive his noble wife.
Two such loving women granted to one man, and in one life!
Though he shuddered to remember with what ghosts the Moat House swarmed-Ghosts of lovely days and dreamings ere the time when he reformed-Yet he said, 'She cannot surely greatly care, or I had heard
Some impulsive, passionate pleading, had some sorrowing written word;
She has journeyed to her convent--will be glad as ere I came,
Through her beauty's dear enchantment, to a life of shameless shame;
And the memories of her dearness passion's flaming sword shall slay,
When the Moat House sees the bridal of myself and Lady May!'
III
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Bright the mellow autumn sunshine glows upon the wedding day;
Lawns are swept from leaves, and doorways are wreathed round with garlands
gay,
Flowery arches span the carriage drive from grass again to grass,
Flowers are ready for the flinging when the wedded pair shall pass;
Bells are ringing, clanging, clamouring from the belfry 'mid the trees,
And the sound rings out o'er woodlands, parks and gardens, lawns and leas;
All the village gay with banners waits the signal, 'Here they come!'
To strew flowers, wave hats, drop curtseys, and hurra its 'Welcome home!'
At the gates the very griffins on the posts are wreathed with green.
In their ordered lines wait servants for the pair to pass between;
But among them there is missing more than one familiar face,
And new faces, blank expectant, fill up each vacated place,
And the other servants whisper, 'Nurse would wail to see this day,
It was well she left the service when 'my Lady' ran away.'
Louder, clearer ring the joy-bells through the shaken, shattered air,
Till the echoes of them waken in the hillside far and fair;
Level shine the golden sunbeams in the golden afternoon.
In the east the wan ghost rises of the silver harvest moon.
Hark! wheels was it? No, but fancy. Listen! No--yes--can you hear?
Yes, it is the coming carriage rolling nearer and more near!
Till the horse-hoofs strike the roadway, unmistakable and clear!
They are coming! shout your welcome to my lord and lady fair:
May God shower his choicest blessings on the happy wedded pair!
Here they are! the open carriage and surrounding dusty cloud,
Whence he smiles his proud acceptance of the homage of the crowd;
And my lady's sweet face! Bless her! there's a one will help the poor,
Eyes like those could never turn a beggar helpless from her door!
Welcome, welcome! scatter flowers: see, they smile--bow left and right,
Reach the lodge gates--God of heaven! what was that, the flash of white?
Shehas sprung out from the ambush of the smiling, cheering crowd:
'Fling your flowers--here's my welcome!' sharp the cry rings out and loud.
Sudden sight of wild white face, and haggard eyes, and outstretched hands-Just one heart-beat's space before the bridal pair that figure stands,
Then the horses, past controlling, forward bound, their hoofs down thrust-And the carriage wheels jolt over something bloody in the dust.
'Stop her! Stop her! Stop the horses!' cry the people all too late,
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For my lord and Lady May have had their welcome at their gate.
'Twas the old nurse who sprang to her, raised the brown-haired, dust-soiled
head,
Looked a moment, closed the eyelids--then turned to my lord and said,
Kneeling still upon the roadway, with her arm flung round the dead,
While the carriage waited near her, blood and dust upon its wheels
(Ask my lord within to tell you how a happy bridegroom feels):
'Now, my lord, you are contented; you have chosen for your bride
This same fine and dainty lady who is sitting by your side.
Did ye tell her ere this bridal of the girl who bore your shame,
Bore your love-vows--bore your baby--everything except your name?
When they strewed the flowers to greet you, and the banners were unfurled,
She has flung before your feet the sweetest flower in all the world!
Woe's the day I ever nursed you--loved your lisping baby word,
For you grew to name of manhood, and to title of my lord;
Woe's the day you ever saw her, brought her home to wreck her life,
Throwing by your human plaything, to seek out another wife.
God will judge, and I would rather be the lost child lying there,
With your babe's milk in her bosom, your horse-hoof marks on her hair,
Than be you when God shall thunder, when your days on earth are filled,
'Where is she I gave, who loved you, whom you ruined, left and killed?'
Murderer, liar, coward, traitor, look upon your work and say
That your heart is glad within you on your happy wedding day!
And for you, my noble lady, take my blessing on your head,
Though it is not like the blessing maidens look for when they wed.
Never bride had such a welcome, such a flower laid on her way,
As was given you when your carriage crushed her out of life to-day.
Take my blessing--see her body, see what you and he have done-And I wish you joy, my lady, of the bridegroom you have won.'
Like a beaten cur, that trembles at the whistling of the lash,
He stands listening, hands a-tremble, face as pale as white wood ash;
But the Lady May springs down, her soul shines glorious in her eyes,
Moving through the angry silence comes to where the other lies,
Gazes long upon her silent, but at last she turns her gaze
On the nurse, and lips a-tremble, hands outstretched, she slowly says,
'She is dead--but, but her baby--' all her woman's heart is wild
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With an infinite compassion for the little helpless child.
Then she turns to snatch the baby from the arms of one near by,
Holds it fast and looks towards him with a voiceless bitter cry,
As imploring him to loose her from some nightmare's deadly bands.
Dogged looks he down and past her, and she sees and understands,
Then she speaks--'I keep your baby--that's my right in sight of men,
But by God I vow I'll never see your dastard face again.'
So she turned with no word further towards the purple-clouded west,
And passed thither with his baby clasped against her maiden breast.
Little Ladybird was buried in the old ancestral tomb.
From that grave there streams a shadow that wraps up his life in gloom,
And he drags the withered life on, longs for death that will not come,
The interminable night hours riven by that 'Welcome home!'
And he dares not leave this earthly hell of sharp remorse behind,
Lest through death not rest but hotter fire of anguish he should find.
Coward to the last, he will not risk so little for so much,
So he burns, convicted traitor, in the hell self-made of such:
And at night he wakes and shivers with unvanquishable dread
At the ghosts that press each other for a place beside his bed,
And he shudders to remember all the dearness that is dead.
Song.
I had a soul,
Not strong, but following good if good but led.
I might have kept it clean and pure and whole,
And given it up at last, grown strong with days
Of steadfast striving in truth's stern sweet ways;
Instead, I soiled and smutched and smothered it
With poison-flowers it valued not one whit-Now it is dead.
I had a heart
Most true, most sweet, that on my loving fed.
I might have kept her all my life, a part
Of all my life--I let her starve and pine,
Ruined her life and desolated mine.
Sin brushed my lips--I yielded at a touch,
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Tempted so little, and I sinned so much,
And she is dead.
There was a life
That in my sin I took and chained and wed,
And made--perpetual remorse!--my wife.
In my sin's harvest she must reap her share,
That makes its sheaves less light for me to bear.
Oh, life I might have left to bloom and grow!
I struck its root of happiness one blow,
And it is dead.
Once joy I had,
Now I have only agony instead,
That maddens, yet will never send me mad.
The best that comes is numbed half-sick despair,
Remembering how sweet the dear dead were.
My whole life might have been one clear joy song!
Now--oh, my heart, how still life is, how long,
For joy is dead.
Yet there is this:
I chose the thorns not grapes, the stones not bread;
I had my chance, they say, to gain or miss.
And yet I feel it was predestinate
From the first hour, from the first dawn of fate,
That I, thus placed, when that hour should arise,
Must act thus, and could not act otherwise.
This is the worst of all that can be said;
For hope is dead.
~ Edith Nesbit,
1274:The Candidate
This poem was written in , on occasion of the contest between the
Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich for the High-stewardship of the
University of Cambridge, vacant by the death of the Lord Chancellor
Hardwicke. The spirit of party ran high in the University, and no
means were left untried by either candidate to obtain a majority. The
election was fixed for the th of March, when, after much
altercation, the votes appearing equal, a scrutiny was demanded;
whereupon the Vice-Chancellor adjourned the senate _sine die_. On
appeal to the Lord High-Chancellor, he determined in favour of the
Earl of Hardwicke, and a mandamus issued accordingly.
Enough of Actors--let them play the player,
And, free from censure, fret, sweat, strut, and stare;
Garrick abroad, what motives can engage
To waste one couplet on a barren stage?
Ungrateful Garrick! when these tasty days,
In justice to themselves, allow'd thee praise;
When, at thy bidding, Sense, for twenty years,
Indulged in laughter, or dissolved in tears;
When in return for labour, time, and health,
The town had given some little share of wealth,
Couldst thou repine at being still a slave?
Darest thou presume to enjoy that wealth she gave?
Couldst thou repine at laws ordain'd by those
Whom nothing but thy merit made thy foes?
Whom, too refined for honesty and trade,
By need made tradesmen, Pride had bankrupts made;
Whom Fear made drunkards, and, by modern rules,
Whom Drink made wits, though Nature made them fools;
With such, beyond all pardon is thy crime,
In such a manner, and at such a time,
To quit the stage; but men of real sense,
Who neither lightly give, nor take offence,
Shall own thee clear, or pass an act of grace,
Since thou hast left a Powell in thy place.
Enough of Authors--why, when scribblers fail,
Must other scribblers spread the hateful tale?
Why must they pity, why contempt express,
And why insult a brother in distress?
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Let those, who boast the uncommon gift of brains
The laurel pluck, and wear it for their pains;
Fresh on their brows for ages let it bloom,
And, ages past, still flourish round their tomb.
Let those who without genius write, and write,
Versemen or prosemen, all in Nature's spite,
The pen laid down, their course of folly run
In peace, unread, unmention'd, be undone.
Why should I tell, to cross the will of Fate,
That Francis once endeavour'd to translate?
Why, sweet oblivion winding round his head,
Should I recall poor Murphy from the dead?
Why may not Langhorne, simple in his lay,
Effusion on effusion pour away;
With friendship and with fancy trifle here,
Or sleep in pastoral at Belvidere?
Sleep let them all, with Dulness on her throne,
Secure from any malice but their own.
Enough of Critics--let them, if they please,
Fond of new pomp, each month pass new decrees;
Wide and extensive be their infant state,
Their subjects many, and those subjects great,
Whilst all their mandates as sound law succeed,
With fools who write, and greater fools who read.
What though they lay the realms of Genius waste,
Fetter the fancy and debauch the taste;
Though they, like doctors, to approve their skill,
Consult not how to cure, but how to kill;
Though by whim, envy, or resentment led,
They damn those authors whom they never read;
Though, other rules unknown, one rule they hold,
To deal out so much praise for so much gold:
Though Scot with Scot, in damned close intrigues,
Against the commonwealth of letters leagues;
Uncensured let them pilot at the helm,
And rule in letters, as they ruled the realm:
Ours be the curse, the mean tame coward's curse,
(Nor could ingenious Malice make a worse,
To do our sense and honour deep despite)
To credit what they say, read what they write.
Enough of Scotland--let her rest in peace;
The cause removed, effects of course should cease;
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Why should I tell, how Tweed, too mighty grown,
And proudly swell'd with waters not his own,
Burst o'er his banks, and, by Destruction led,
O'er our fair England desolation spread,
Whilst, riding on his waves, Ambition, plumed
In tenfold pride, the port of Bute assumed,
Now that the river god, convinced, though late,
And yielding, though reluctantly, to Fate,
Holds his fair course, and with more humble tides,
In tribute to the sea, as usual, glides?
Enough of States, and such like trifling things;
Enough of kinglings, and enough of kings;
Henceforth, secure, let ambush'd statesmen lie,
Spread the court web, and catch the patriot fly;
Henceforth, unwhipt of Justice, uncontroll'd
By fear or shame, let Vice, secure and bold,
Lord it with all her sons, whilst Virtue's groan
Meets with compassion only from the throne.
Enough of Patriots--all I ask of man
Is only to be honest as he can:
Some have deceived, and some may still deceive;
'Tis the fool's curse at random to believe.
Would those, who, by opinion placed on high,
Stand fair and perfect in their country's eye,
Maintain that honour, let me in their ear
Hint this essential doctrine--Persevere.
Should they (which Heaven forbid) to win the grace
Of some proud courtier, or to gain a place,
Their king and country sell, with endless shame
The avenging Muse shall mark each traitorous name;
But if, to Honour true, they scorn to bend,
And, proudly honest, hold out to the end,
Their grateful country shall their fame record,
And I myself descend to praise a lord.
Enough of Wilkes--with good and honest men
His actions speak much stronger than my pen,
And future ages shall his name adore,
When he can act and I can write no more.
England may prove ungrateful and unjust,
But fostering France shall ne'er betray her trust:
'Tis a brave debt which gods on men impose,
To pay with praise the merit e'en of foes.
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When the great warrior of Amilcar's race
Made Rome's wide empire tremble to her base,
To prove her virtue, though it gall'd her pride,
Rome gave that fame which Carthage had denied.
Enough of Self--that darling luscious theme,
O'er which philosophers in raptures dream;
Of which with seeming disregard they write,
Then prizing most, when most they seem to slight;
Vain proof of folly tinctured strong with pride!
What man can from himself, himself divide?
For me,(nor dare I lie) my leading aim
(Conscience first satisfied) is love of fame;
Some little fame derived from some brave few,
Who, prizing Honour, prize her votaries too.
Let all (nor shall resentment flush my cheek)
Who know me well, what they know, freely speak,
So those (the greatest curse I meet below)
Who know me not, may not pretend to know.
Let none of those whom, bless'd with parts above
My feeble genius, still I dare to love,
Doing more mischief than a thousand foes,
Posthumous nonsense to the world expose,
And call it mine; for mine though never known,
Or which, if mine, I living blush'd to own.
Know all the world, no greedy heir shall find,
Die when I will, one couplet left behind.
Let none of those, whom I despise, though great,
Pretending friendship to give malice weight,
Publish my life; let no false sneaking peer,
(Some such there are) to win the public ear,
Hand me to shame with some vile anecdote.
Nor soul-gall'd bishop damn me with a note.
Let one poor sprig of bay around my head
Bloom whilst I live, and point me out when dead;
Let it (may Heaven, indulgent, grant that prayer!)
Be planted on my grave, nor wither there;
And when, on travel bound, some rhyming guest
Roams through the churchyard, whilst his dinner's dress'd,
Let it hold up this comment to his eyes-'Life to the last enjoy'd, here Churchill lies;'
Whilst (oh, what joy that pleasing flattery gives!)
Reading my works, he cries--'Here Churchill lives.'
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Enough of Satire--in less harden'd times
Great was her force, and mighty were her rhymes.
I've read of men, beyond man's daring brave,
Who yet have trembled at the strokes she gave;
Whose souls have felt more terrible alarms
From her one line, than from a world in arms.
When in her faithful and immortal page
They saw transmitted down from age to age
Recorded villains, and each spotted name
Branded with marks of everlasting shame,
Succeeding villains sought her as a friend,
And, if not really mended, feign'd to mend;
But in an age, when actions are allow'd
Which strike all honour dead, and crimes avow'd
Too terrible to suffer the report,
Avow'd and praised by men who stain a court,
Propp'd by the arm of Power; when Vice, high born,
High-bred, high-station'd, holds rebuke in scorn;
When she is lost to every thought of fame,
And, to all virtue dead, is dead to shame;
When Prudence a much easier task must hold
To make a new world, than reform the old,
Satire throws by her arrows on the ground,
And if she cannot cure, she will not wound.
Come, Panegyric--though the Muse disdains,
Founded on truth, to prostitute her strains
At the base instance of those men, who hold
No argument but power, no god but gold,
Yet, mindful that from Heaven she drew her birth,
She scorns the narrow maxims of this earth;
Virtuous herself, brings Virtue forth to view,
And loves to praise, where praise is justly due.
Come, Panegyric--in a former hour,
My soul with pleasure yielding to thy power,
Thy shrine I sought, I pray'd--but wanton air,
Before it reach'd thy ears, dispersed my prayer;
E'en at thy altars whilst I took my stand,
The pen of Truth and Honour in my hand,
Fate, meditating wrath 'gainst me and mine,
Chid my fond zeal, and thwarted my design,
Whilst, Hayter brought too quickly to his end,
I lost a subject and mankind a friend.
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Come, Panegyric--bending at thy throne,
Thee and thy power my soul is proud to own
Be thou my kind protector, thou my guide,
And lead me safe through passes yet untried.
Broad is the road, nor difficult to find,
Which to the house of Satire leads mankind;
Narrow and unfrequented are the ways,
Scarce found out in an age, which lead to praise.
What though no theme I choose of vulgar note,
Nor wish to write as brother bards have wrote,
So mild, so meek in praising, that they seem
Afraid to wake their patrons from a dream;
What though a theme I choose, which might demand
The nicest touches of a master's hand;
Yet, if the inward workings of my soul
Deceive me not, I shall attain the goal,
And Envy shall behold, in triumph raised,
The poet praising, and the patron praised.
What patron shall I choose? Shall public voice,
Or private knowledge, influence my choice?
Shall I prefer the grand retreat of Stowe,
Or, seeking patriots, to friend Wildman's go?
'To Wildman's!' cried Discretion, (who had heard,
Close standing at my elbow, every word)
'To Wildman's! Art thou mad? Canst thou be sure
One moment there to have thy head secure?
Are they not all, (let observation tell)
All mark'd in characters as black as Hell,
In Doomsday book, by ministers set down,
Who style their pride the honour of the crown?
Make no reply--let Reason stand aloof-Presumptions here must pass as solemn proof.
That settled faith, that love which ever springs
In the best subjects, for the best of kings,
Must not be measured now by what men think,
Or say, or do;--by what they eat and drink,
Where, and with whom, that question's to be tried,
And statesmen are the judges to decide;
No juries call'd, or, if call'd, kept in awe;
They, facts confess'd, in themselves vest the law.
Each dish at Wildman's of sedition smacks;
Blasphemy may be gospel at Almacks.'
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Peace, good Discretion! peace--thy fears are vain;
Ne'er will I herd with Wildman's factious train;
Never the vengeance of the great incur,
Nor, without might, against the mighty stir.
If, from long proof, my temper you distrust,
Weigh my profession, to my gown be just;
Dost thou one parson know so void of grace
To pay his court to patrons out of place?
If still you doubt (though scarce a doubt remains)
Search through my alter'd heart, and try my reins;
There, searching, find, nor deem me now in sport,
A convert made by Sandwich to the court.
Let madmen follow error to the end,
I, of mistakes convinced, and proud to mend,
Strive to act better, being better taught,
Nor blush to own that change which Reason wrought:
For such a change as this, must Justice speak;
My heart was honest, but my head was weak.
Bigot to no one man, or set of men,
Without one selfish view, I drew my pen;
My country ask'd, or seem'd to ask, my aid,
Obedient to that call, I left off trade;
A side I chose, and on that side was strong,
Till time hath fairly proved me in the wrong:
Convinced, I change, (can any man do more?)
And have not greater patriots changed before?
Changed, I at once, (can any man do less?)
Without a single blush, that change confess;
Confess it with a manly kind of pride,
And quit the losing for the winning side,
Granting, whilst virtuous Sandwich holds the rein,
What Bute for ages might have sought in vain.
Hail, Sandwich!--nor shall Wilkes resentment show,
Hearing the praises of so brave a foe-Hail, Sandwich!--nor, through pride, shalt thou refuse
The grateful tribute of so mean a Muse-Sandwich, all hail!--when Bute with foreign hand,
Grown wanton with ambition, scourged the land;
When Scots, or slaves to Scotsmen, steer'd the helm;
When peace, inglorious peace, disgraced the realm,
Distrust, and general discontent prevail'd;
But when, (he best knows why) his spirits fail'd;
114
When, with a sudden panic struck, he fled,
Sneak'd out of power, and hid his recreant head;
When, like a Mars, (Fear order'd to retreat)
We saw thee nimbly vault into his seat,
Into the seat of power, at one bold leap,
A perfect connoisseur in statesmanship;
When, like another Machiavel, we saw
Thy fingers twisting, and untwisting law,
Straining, where godlike Reason bade, and where
She warranted thy mercy, pleased to spare;
Saw thee resolved, and fix'd (come what, come might)
To do thy God, thy king, thy country right;
All things were changed, suspense remain'd no more,
Certainty reign'd where Doubt had reign'd before:
All felt thy virtues, and all knew their use,
What virtues such as thine must needs produce.
Thy foes (for Honour ever meets with foes)
Too mean to praise, too fearful to oppose,
In sullen silence sit; thy friends (some few,
Who, friends to thee, are friends to Honour too)
Plaud thy brave bearing, and the Commonweal
Expects her safety from thy stubborn zeal.
A place amongst the rest the Muses claim,
And bring this freewill-offering to thy fame;
To prove their virtue, make thy virtues known,
And, holding up thy fame, secure their own.
From his youth upwards to the present day,
When vices, more than years, have mark'd him gray;
When riotous Excess, with wasteful hand,
Shakes life's frail glass, and hastes each ebbing sand,
Unmindful from what stock he drew his birth,
Untainted with one deed of real worth,
Lothario, holding honour at no price,
Folly to folly added, vice to vice,
Wrought sin with greediness, and sought for shame
With greater zeal than good men seek for fame.
Where (Reason left without the least defence)
Laughter was mirth, obscenity was sense:
Where Impudence made Decency submit;
Where noise was humour, and where whim was wit;
Where rude, untemper'd license had the merit
Of liberty, and lunacy was spirit;
115
Where the best things were ever held the worst,
Lothario was, with justice, always first.
To whip a top, to knuckle down at taw,
To swing upon a gate, to ride a straw,
To play at push-pin with dull brother peers,
To belch out catches in a porter's ears,
To reign the monarch of a midnight cell,
To be the gaping chairman's oracle;
Whilst, in most blessed union, rogue and whore
Clap hands, huzza, and hiccup out, 'Encore;'
Whilst gray Authority, who slumbers there
In robes of watchman's fur, gives up his chair;
With midnight howl to bay the affrighted moon,
To walk with torches through the streets at noon;
To force plain Nature from her usual way,
Each night a vigil, and a blank each day;
To match for speed one feather 'gainst another,
To make one leg run races with his brother;
'Gainst all the rest to take the northern wind,
Bute to ride first, and he to ride behind;
To coin newfangled wagers, and to lay 'em,
Laying to lose, and losing not to pay 'em;
Lothario, on that stock which Nature gives,
Without a rival stands, though March yet lives.
When Folly, (at that name, in duty bound,
Let subject myriads kneel, and kiss the ground,
Whilst they who, in the presence, upright stand,
Are held as rebels through the loyal land)
Queen every where, but most a queen in courts,
Sent forth her heralds, and proclaim'd her sports;
Bade fool with fool on her behalf engage,
And prove her right to reign from age to age,
Lothario, great above the common size,
With all engaged, and won from all the prize;
Her cap he wears, which from his youth he wore,
And every day deserves it more and more.
Nor in such limits rests his soul confined;
Folly may share but can't engross his mind;
Vice, bold substantial Vice, puts in her claim,
And stamps him perfect in the books of Shame.
Observe his follies well, and you would swear
Folly had been his first, his only care;
116
Observe his vices, you'll that oath disown,
And swear that he was born for vice alone.
Is the soft nature of some hapless maid,
Fond, easy, full of faith, to be betray'd?
Must she, to virtue lost, be lost to fame,
And he who wrought her guilt declare her shame?
Is some brave friend, who, men but little known,
Deems every heart as honest as his own,
And, free himself, in others fears no guile,
To be ensnared, and ruin'd with a smile?
Is Law to be perverted from her course?
Is abject fraud to league with brutal force?
Is Freedom to be crush'd, and every son
Who dares maintain her cause, to be undone?
Is base Corruption, creeping through the land,
To plan, and work her ruin, underhand,
With regular approaches, sure, though slow?
Or must she perish by a single blow?
Are kings, who trust to servants, and depend
In servants (fond, vain thought!) to find a friend,
To be abused, and made to draw their breath
In darkness thicker than the shades of death?
Is God's most holy name to be profaned,
His word rejected, and his laws arraign'd,
His servants scorn'd, as men who idly dream'd,
His service laugh'd at, and his Son blasphemed?
Are debauchees in morals to preside?
Is Faith to take an Atheist for her guide?
Is Science by a blockhead to be led?
Are States to totter on a drunkard's head?
To answer all these purposes, and more,
More black than ever villain plann'd before,
Search earth, search hell, the Devil cannot find
An agent like Lothario to his mind.
Is this nobility, which, sprung from kings,
Was meant to swell the power from whence it springs;
Is this the glorious produce, this the fruit,
Which Nature hoped for from so rich a root?
Were there but two, (search all the world around)
Were there but two such nobles to be found,
The very name would sink into a term
Of scorn, and man would rather be a worm
117
Than be a lord: but Nature, full of grace,
Nor meaning birth and titles to be base,
Made only one, and having made him, swore,
In mercy to mankind, to make no more:
Nor stopp'd she there, but, like a generous friend,
The ills which Error caused, she strove to mend,
And having brought Lothario forth to view,
To save her credit, brought forth Sandwich too.
Gods! with what joy, what honest joy of heart,
Blunt as I am, and void of every art,
Of every art which great ones in the state
Practise on knaves they fear, and fools they hate,
To titles with reluctance taught to bend,
Nor prone to think that virtues can descend,
Do I behold (a sight, alas! more rare
Than Honesty could wish) the noble wear
His father's honours, when his life makes known
They're his by virtue, not by birth alone;
When he recalls his father from the grave,
And pays with interest back that fame he gave:
Cured of her splenetic and sullen fits,
To such a peer my willing soul submits,
And to such virtue is more proud to yield
Than 'gainst ten titled rogues to keep the field.
Such, (for that truth e'en Envy shall allow)
Such Wyndham was, and such is Sandwich now.
O gentle Montague! in blessed hour
Didst thou start up, and climb the stairs of power;
England of all her fears at once was eased,
Nor, 'mongst her many foes, was one displeased:
France heard the news, and told it cousin Spain;
Spain heard, and told it cousin France again;
The Hollander relinquished his design
Of adding spice to spice, and mine to mine;
Of Indian villanies he thought no more,
Content to rob us on our native shore:
Awed by thy fame, (which winds with open mouth
Shall blow from east to west, from north to south)
The western world shall yield us her increase,
And her wild sons be soften'd into peace;
Rich eastern monarchs shall exhaust their stores,
And pour unbounded wealth on Albion's shores;
118
Unbounded wealth, which from those golden scenes,
And all acquired by honourable means,
Some honourable chief shall hither steer,
To pay our debts, and set the nation clear.
Nabobs themselves, allured by thy renown,
Shall pay due homage to the English crown;
Shall freely as their king our king receive-Provided the Directors give them leave.
Union at home shall mark each rising year,
Nor taxes be complain'd of, though severe;
Envy her own destroyer shall become,
And Faction with her thousand mouths be dumb:
With the meek man thy meekness shall prevail,
Nor with the spirited thy spirit fail:
Some to thy force of reason shall submit,
And some be converts to thy princely wit:
Reverence for thee shall still a nation's cries,
A grand concurrence crown a grand excise;
And unbelievers of the first degree,
Who have no faith in God, have faith in thee.
When a strange jumble, whimsical and vain,
Possess'd the region of each heated brain;
When some were fools to censure, some to praise,
And all were mad, but mad in different ways;
When commonwealthsmen, starting at the shade
Which in their own wild fancy had been made,
Of tyrants dream'd, who wore a thorny crown,
And with state bloodhounds hunted Freedom down;
When others, struck with fancies not less vain,
Saw mighty kings by their own subjects slain,
And, in each friend of Liberty and Law,
With horror big, a future Cromwell saw,
Thy manly zeal stept forth, bade discord cease,
And sung each jarring atom into peace;
Liberty, cheer'd by thy all-cheering eye,
Shall, waking from her trance, live and not die;
And, patronised by thee, Prerogative
Shall, striding forth at large, not die, but live;
Whilst Privilege, hung betwixt earth and sky,
Shall not well know whether to live or die.
When on a rock which overhung the flood,
And seem'd to totter, Commerce shivering stood;
119
When Credit, building on a sandy shore,
Saw the sea swell, and heard the tempest roar,
Heard death in every blast, and in each wave
Or saw, or fancied that she saw her grave;
When Property, transferr'd from hand to band,
Weaken'd by change, crawl'd sickly through the land;
When mutual confidence was at an end,
And man no longer could on man depend;
Oppress'd with debts of more than common weight,
When all men fear'd a bankruptcy of state;
When, certain death to honour, and to trade,
A sponge was talk'd of as our only aid;
That to be saved we must be more undone,
And pay off all our debts, by paying none;
Like England's better genius, born to bless,
And snatch his sinking country from distress,
Didst thou step forth, and, without sail or oar,
Pilot the shatter'd vessel safe to shore:
Nor shalt thou quit, till, anchor'd firm and fast,
She rides secure, and mocks the threatening blast!
Born in thy house, and in thy service bred,
Nursed in thy arms, and at thy table fed,
By thy sage counsels to reflection brought,
Yet more by pattern than by precept taught,
Economy her needful aid shall join
To forward and complete thy grand design,
And, warm to save, but yet with spirit warm,
Shall her own conduct from thy conduct form.
Let friends of prodigals say what they will,
Spendthrifts at home, abroad are spendthrifts still.
In vain have sly and subtle sophists tried
Private from public justice to divide;
For credit on each other they rely,
They live together, and together die,
'Gainst all experience 'tis a rank offence,
High treason in the eye of Common-sense,
To think a statesman ever can be known
To pay our debts, who will not pay his own:
But now, though late, now may we hope to see
Our debts discharged, our credit fair and free,
Since rigid Honesty (fair fall that hour!)
Sits at the helm, and Sandwich is in power.
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With what delight I view thee, wondrous man,
With what delight survey thy sterling plan,
That plan which all with wonder must behold,
And stamp thy age the only age of Gold.
Nor rest thy triumphs here--that Discord fled,
And sought with grief the hell where she was bred;
That Faction, 'gainst her nature forced to yield,
Saw her rude rabble scatter'd o'er the field,
Saw her best friends a standing jest become,
Her fools turn'd speakers, and her wits struck dumb;
That our most bitter foes (so much depends
On men of name) are turn'd to cordial friends;
That our offended friends (such terror flows
From men of name) dare not appear our foes;
That Credit, gasping in the jaws of Death,
And ready to expire with every breath,
Grows stronger from disease; that thou hast saved
Thy drooping country; that thy name, engraved
On plates of brass, defies the rage of Time;
Than plates of brass more firm, that sacred rhyme
Embalms thy memory, bids thy glories live,
And gives thee what the Muse alone can give:-These heights of Virtue, these rewards of Fame,
With thee in common other patriots claim.
But, that poor sickly Science, who had laid
And droop'd for years beneath Neglect's cold shade,
By those who knew her purposely forgot,
And made the jest of those who knew her not:
Whilst Ignorance in power, and pamper'd pride,
'Clad like a priest, pass'd by on t'other side,'
Recover'd from her wretched state, at length
Puts on new health, and clothes herself with strength,
To thee we owe, and to thy friendly hand
Which raised, and gave her to possess the land:
This praise, though in a court, and near a throne,
This praise is thine, and thine, alas! alone.
With what fond rapture did the goddess smile,
What blessings did she promise to this isle,
What honour to herself, and length of reign,
Soon as she heard that thou didst not disdain
To be her steward; but what grief, what shame,
What rage, what disappointment, shook her frame,
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When her proud children dared her will dispute,
When Youth was insolent, and Age was mute!
That young men should be fools, and some wild few,
To Wisdom deaf, be deaf to Interest too,
Moved not her wonder; but that men, grown gray
In search of wisdom; men who own'd the sway
Of Reason; men who stubbornly kept down
Each rising passion; men who wore the gown;
That they should cross her will, that they should dare
Against the cause of Interest to declare;
That they should be so abject and unwise,
Having no fear of loss before their eyes,
Nor hopes of gain; scorning the ready means
Of being vicars, rectors, canons, deans,
With all those honours which on mitres wait,
And mark the virtuous favourites of state;
That they should dare a Hardwicke to support,
And talk, within the hearing of a court,
Of that vile beggar, Conscience, who, undone,
And starved herself, starves every wretched son;
This turn'd her blood to gall, this made her swear
No more to throw away her time and care
On wayward sons who scorn'd her love, no more
To hold her courts on Cam's ungrateful shore.
Rather than bear such insults, which disgrace
Her royalty of nature, birth, and place,
Though Dulness there unrivall'd state doth keep,
Would she at Winchester with Burton sleep;
Or, to exchange the mortifying scene
For something still more dull, and still more mean,
Rather than bear such insults, she would fly
Far, far beyond the search of English eye,
And reign amongst the Scots: to be a queen
Is worth ambition, though in Aberdeen.
Oh, stay thy flight, fair Science! what though some,
Some base-born children, rebels are become?
All are not rebels; some are duteous still,
Attend thy precepts, and obey thy will;
Thy interest is opposed by those alone
Who either know not, or oppose their own.
Of stubborn virtue, marching to thy aid,
Behold in black, the livery of their trade,
122
Marshall'd by Form, and by Discretion led,
A grave, grave troop, and Smith is at their head,
Black Smith of Trinity; on Christian ground
For faith in mysteries none more renown'd.
Next, (for the best of causes now and then
Must beg assistance from the worst of men)
Next (if old story lies not) sprung from Greece,
Comes Pandarus, but comes without his niece:
Her, wretched maid! committed to his trust,
To a rank letcher's coarse and bloated lust
The arch, old, hoary hypocrite had sold,
And thought himself and her well damn'd for gold.
But (to wipe off such traces from the mind,
And make us in good humour with mankind)
Leading on men, who, in a college bred,
No woman knew, but those which made their bed;
Who, planted virgins on Cam's virtuous shore,
Continued still male virgins at threescore,
Comes Sumner, wise, and chaste as chaste can be,
With Long, as wise, and not less chaste than he.
Are there not friends, too, enter'd in thy cause
Who, for thy sake, defying penal laws,
Were, to support thy honourable plan,
Smuggled from Jersey, and the Isle of Man?
Are there not Philomaths of high degree
Who, always dumb before, shall speak for thee?
Are there not Proctors, faithful to thy will,
One of full growth, others in embryo still,
Who may, perhaps, in some ten years, or more,
Be ascertain'd that two and two make four,
Or may a still more happy method find,
And, taking one from two, leave none behind?
With such a mighty power on foot, to yield
Were death to manhood; better in the field
To leave our carcases, and die with fame,
Than fly, and purchase life on terms of shame.
Sackvilles alone anticipate defeat,
And ere they dare the battle, sound retreat.
But if persuasions ineffectual prove,
If arguments are vain, nor prayers can move,
Yet in thy bitterness of frantic woe
Why talk of Burton? why to Scotland go?
123
Is there not Oxford? she, with open arms,
Shall meet thy wish, and yield up all her charms:
Shall for thy love her former loves resign,
And jilt the banish'd Stuarts to be thine.
Bow'd to the yoke, and, soon as she could read,
Tutor'd to get by heart the despot's creed,
She, of subjection proud, shall knee thy throne,
And have no principles but thine alone;
She shall thy will implicitly receive,
Nor act, nor speak, nor think, without thy leave.
Where is the glory of imperial sway
If subjects none but just commands obey?
Then, and then only, is obedience seen,
When by command they dare do all that's mean:
Hither, then, wing thy flight, here fix thy stand,
Nor fail to bring thy Sandwich in thy hand.
Gods! with what joy, (for Fancy now supplies,
And lays the future open to my eyes)
Gods! with what joy I see the worthies meet,
And Brother Litchfield Brother Sandwich greet!
Blest be your greetings, blest each dear embrace;
Blest to yourselves, and to the human race.
Sickening at virtues, which she cannot reach,
Which seem her baser nature to impeach,
Let Envy, in a whirlwind's bosom hurl'd,
Outrageous, search the corners of the world,
Ransack the present times, look back to past,
Rip up the future, and confess at last,
No times, past, present, or to come, could e'er
Produce, and bless the world with such a pair.
Phillips, the good old Phillips, out of breath,
Escaped from Monmouth, and escaped from death,
Shall hail his Sandwich with that virtuous zeal,
That glorious ardour for the commonweal,
Which warm'd his loyal heart and bless'd his tongue,
When on his lips the cause of rebels hung;
Whilst Womanhood, in habit of a nun,
At Medenham lies, by backward monks undone;
A nation's reckoning, like an alehouse score,
Whilst Paul, the aged, chalks behind a door,
Compell'd to hire a foe to cast it up,
Dashwood shall pour, from a communion cup,
124
Libations to the goddess without eyes,
And hob or nob in cider and excise.
From those deep shades, where Vanity, unknown,
Doth penance for her pride, and pines alone,
Cursed in herself, by her own thoughts undone,
Where she sees all, but can be seen by none;
Where she, no longer mistress of the schools,
Hears praise loud pealing from the mouths of fools,
Or hears it at a distance, in despair
To join the crowd, and put in for a share,
Twisting each thought a thousand different ways,
For his new friends new-modelling old praise;
Where frugal sense so very fine is spun,
It serves twelve hours, though not enough for one,
King shall arise, and, bursting from the dead,
Shall hurl his piebald Latin at thy head.
Burton (whilst awkward affectation hung
In quaint and labour'd accents on his tongue,
Who 'gainst their will makes junior blockheads speak,
Ignorant of both, new Latin and new Greek,
Not such as was in Greece and Latium known,
But of a modern cut, and all his own;
Who threads, like beads, loose thoughts on such a string,
They're praise and censure; nothing, every thing;
Pantomime thoughts, and style so full of trick,
They even make a Merry Andrew sick;
Thoughts all so dull, so pliant in their growth,
They're verse, they're prose, they're neither, and they're both)
Shall (though by nature ever both to praise)
Thy curious worth set forth in curious phrase;
Obscurely stiff, shall press poor Sense to death,
Or in long periods run her out of breath;
Shall make a babe, for which, with all his fame,
Adam could not have found a proper name,
Whilst, beating out his features to a smile,
He hugs the bastard brat, and calls it Style.
Hush'd be all Nature as the land of Death;
Let each stream sleep, and each wind hold his breath;
Be the bells muffled, nor one sound of Care,
Pressing for audience, wake the slumbering air;
Browne comes--behold how cautiously he creeps-How slow he walks, and yet how fast he sleeps--
125
But to thy praise in sleep he shall agree;
He cannot wake, but he shall dream of thee.
Physic, her head with opiate poppies crown'd,
Her loins by the chaste matron Camphire bound;
Physic, obtaining succour from the pen
Of her soft son, her gentle Heberden,
If there are men who can thy virtue know,
Yet spite of virtue treat thee as a foe,
Shall, like a scholar, stop their rebel breath,
And in each recipe send classic death.
So deep in knowledge, that few lines can sound
And plumb the bottom of that vast profound,
Few grave ones with such gravity can think,
Or follow half so fast as he can sink;
With nice distinctions glossing o'er the text,
Obscure with meaning, and in words perplex'd,
With subtleties on subtleties refined,
Meant to divide and subdivide the mind,
Keeping the forwardness of youth in awe,
The scowling Blackstone bears the train of law.
Divinity, enrobed in college fur,
In her right hand a new Court Calendar,
Bound like a book of prayer, thy coming waits
With all her pack, to hymn thee in the gates.
Loyalty, fix'd on Isis' alter'd shore,
A stranger long, but stranger now no more,
Shall pitch her tabernacle, and, with eyes
Brimful of rapture, view her new allies;
Shall, with much pleasure and more wonder, view
Men great at court, and great at Oxford too.
O sacred Loyalty! accursed be those
Who, seeming friends, turn out thy deadliest foes,
Who prostitute to kings thy honour'd name,
And soothe their passions to betray their fame;
Nor praised be those, to whose proud nature clings
Contempt of government, and hate of kings,
Who, willing to be free, not knowing how,
A strange intemperance of zeal avow,
And start at Loyalty, as at a word
Which without danger Freedom never heard.
Vain errors of vain men--wild both extremes,
And to the state not wholesome, like the dreams,
126
Children of night, of Indigestion bred,
Which, Reason clouded, seize and turn the head;
Loyalty without Freedom is a chain
Which men of liberal notice can't sustain;
And Freedom without Loyalty, a name
Which nothing means, or means licentious shame.
Thine be the art, my Sandwich, thine the toil,
In Oxford's stubborn and untoward soil
To rear this plant of union, till at length,
Rooted by time, and foster'd into strength,
Shooting aloft, all danger it defies,
And proudly lifts its branches to the skies;
Whilst, Wisdom's happy son but not her slave,
Gay with the gay, and with the grave ones grave,
Free from the dull impertinence of thought,
Beneath that shade, which thy own labours wrought
And fashion'd into strength, shalt thou repose,
Secure of liberal praise, since Isis flows,
True to her Tame, as duty hath decreed,
Nor longer, like a harlot, lust for Tweed,
And those old wreaths, which Oxford once dared twine
To grace a Stuart brow, she plants on thine.
~ Charles Churchill,
1275:I.

You're my friend:
I was the man the Duke spoke to;
I helped the Duchess to cast off his yoke, too;
So here's the tale from beginning to end,
My friend!

II.

Ours is a great wild country:
If you climb to our castle's top,
I don't see where your eye can stop;
For when you've passed the cornfield country,
Where vineyards leave off, flocks are packed,
And sheep-range leads to cattle-tract,
And cattle-tract to open-chase,
And open-chase to the very base
Of the mountain where, at a funeral pace,
Round about, solemn and slow,
One by one, row after row,
Up and up the pine-trees go,
So, like black priests up, and so
Down the other side again
To another greater, wilder country,
That's one vast red drear burnt-up plain,
Branched through and through with many a vein
Whence iron's dug, and copper's dealt;
Look right, look left, look straight before,-
Beneath they mine, above they smelt,
Copper-ore and iron-ore,
And forge and furnace mould and melt,
And so on, more and ever more,
Till at the last, for a bounding belt,
Comes the salt sand hoar of the great sea-shore,
-And the whole is our Duke's country.

III.

I was born the day this present Duke was-
(And O, says the song, ere I was old!)
In the castle where the other Duke was-
(When I was happy and young, not old!)
I in the kennel, he in the bower:
We are of like age to an hour.
My father was huntsman in that day;
Who has not heard my father say
That, when a boar was brought to bay,
Three times, four times out of five,
With his huntspear he'd contrive
To get the killing-place transfixed,
And pin him true, both eyes betwixt?
And that's why the old Duke would rather
He lost a salt-pit than my father,
And loved to have him ever in call;
That's why my father stood in the hall
When the old Duke brought his infant out
To show the people, and while they passed
The wondrous bantling round about,
Was first to start at the outside blast
As the Kaiser's courier blew his horn
Just a month after the babe was born.
``And,'' quoth the Kaiser's courier, ``since
``The Duke has got an heir, our Prince
``Needs the Duke's self at his side: ''
The Duke looked down and seemed to wince,
But he thought of wars o'er the world wide,
Castles a-fire, men on their march,
The toppling tower, the crashing arch;
And up he looked, and awhile he eyed
The row of crests and shields and banners
Of all achievements after all manners,
And ``ay,'' said the Duke with a surly pride.
The more was his comfort when he died
At next year's end, in a velvet suit,
With a gilt glove on his hand, his foot
In a silken shoe for a leather boot,
Petticoated like a herald,
In a chamher next to an ante-room,
Where he breathed the breath of page and groom,
What he called stink, and they, perfume:
-They should have set him on red Berold
Mad with pride, like fire to manage!
They should have got his cheek fresh tannage
Such a day as to-day in the merry sunshine!
Had they stuck on his fist a rough-foot merlin!
(Hark, the wind's on the heath at its game!
Oh for a noble falcon-lanner
To flap each broad wing like a banner,
And turn in the wind, and dance like flame!)
Had they broached a white-beer cask from Berlin
-Or if you incline to prescribe mere wine
Put to his lips, when they saw him pine,
A cup of our own Moldavia fine,
Cotnar for instance, green as May sorrel
And ropy with sweet,-we shall not quarrel.

IV.

So, at home, the sick tall yellow Duchess
Was left with the infant in her clutches,
She being the daughter of God knows who:
And now was the time to revisit her tribe.
Abroad and afar they went, the two,
And let our people rail and gibe
At the empty hall and extinguished fire,
As loud as we liked, but ever in vain,
Till after long years we had our desire,
And back came the Duke and his mother again.

V.

And he came back the pertest little ape
That ever affronted human shape;
Full of his travel, struck at himself.
You'd say, he despised our bluff old ways?
-Not he! For in Paris they told the elf
Our rough North land was the Land of Lays,
The one good thing left in evil days;
Since the Mid-Age was the Heroic Time,
And only in wild nooks like ours
Could you taste of it yet as in its prime,
And see true castles, with proper towers,
Young-hearted women, old-minded men,
And manners now as manners were then.
So, all that the old Dukes had been, without knowing it,
This Duke would fain know he was, without being it;
'Twas not for the joy's self, but the joy of his showing it,
Nor for the pride's self, but the pride of our seeing it,
He revived all usages thoroughly worn-out,
The souls of them fumed-forth, the hearts of them torn-out:
And chief in the chase his neck he perilled
On a lathy horse, all legs and length,
With blood for bone, all speed, no strength;
-They should have set him on red Berold
With the red eye slow consuming in fire,
And the thin stiff ear like an abbey-spire!

VI.

Well, such as he was, he must marry, we heard:
And out of a convent, at the word,
Came the lady, in time of spring.
-Oh, old thoughts they cling, they cling!
That day, I know, with a dozen oaths
I clad myself in thick hunting-clothes
Fit for the chase of urochs or buffle
In winter-time when you need to muffle.
But the Duke had a mind we should cut a figure,
And so we saw the lady arrive:
My friend, I have seen a white crane bigger!
She was the smallest lady alive,
Made in a piece of nature's madness,
Too small, almost, for the life and gladness
That over-filled her, as some hive
Out of the bears' reach on the high trees
Is crowded with its safe merry bees:
In truth, she was not hard to please!
Up she looked, down she looked, round at the mead,
Straight at the castle, that's best indeed
To look at from outside the walls:
As for us, styled the ``serfs and thralls,''
She as much thanked me as if she had said it,
(With her eyes, do you understand?)
Because I patted her horse while I led it;
And Max, who rode on her other hand,
Said, no bird flew past but she inquired
What its true name was, nor ever seemed tired-
If that was an eagle she saw hover,
And the green and grey bird on the field was the plover.
When suddenly appeared the Duke:
And as down she sprung, the small foot pointed
On to my hand,-as with a rebuke,
And as if his backbone were not jointed,
The Duke stepped rather aside than forward,
And welcomed her with his grandest smile;
And, mind you, his mother all the while
Chilled in the rear, like a wind to Nor'ward;
And up, like a weary yawn, with its pullies
Went, in a shriek, the rusty portcullis;
And, like a glad sky the north-wind sullies,
The lady's face stopped its play,
As if her first hair had grown grey;
For such things must begin some one day.

VII.

In a day or two she was well again;
As who should say, ``You labour in vain!
``This is all a jest against God, who meant
``I should ever be, as I am, content
`` And glad in his sight; therefore, glad I will be.''
So, smiling as at first went she.

VIII.

She was active, stirring, all fire-
Could not rest, could not tire-
To a stone she might have given life!
(I myself loved once, in my day)
-For a shepherd's, miner's, huntsman's wife,
(I had a wife, I know what I say)
Never in all the world such an one!
And here was plenty to be done,
And she that could do it, great or small,
She was to do nothing at all.
There was already this man in his post,
This in his station, and that in his office,
And the Duke's plan admitted a wife, at most,
To meet his eye, with the other trophies,
Now outside the hall, now in it,
To sit thus, stand thus, see and be seen,
At the proper place in the proper minute,
And die away the life between.
And it was amusing enough, each infraction
Of rule-(but for after-sadness that came)
To hear the consummate self-satisfaction
With which the young Duke and the old dame
Would let her advise, and criticise,
And, being a fool, instruct the wise,
And, child-like, parcel out praise or blame:
They bore it all in complacent guise,
As though an artificer, after contriving
A wheel-work image as if it were living,
Should find with delight it could motion to strike him!
So found the Duke, and his mother like him:
The lady hardly got a rebuff-
That had not been contemptuous enough,
With his cursed smirk, as he nodded applause,
And kept off the old mother-cat's claws.

IX.

So, the little lady grew silent and thin,
Paling and ever paling,
As the way is with a hid chagrin;
And the Duke perceived that she was ailing,
And said in his heart, ``'Tis done to spite me,
``But I shall find in my power to right me!''
Don't swear, friend! The old one, many a year,
Is in hell, and the Duke's self . . . you shall hear.

X.

Well, early in autumn, at first winter-warning,
When the stag had to break with his foot, of a morning,
A drinking-hole out of the fresh tender ice
That covered the pond till the sun, in a trice,
Loosening it, let out a ripple of gold,
And another and another, and faster and faster,
Till, dimpling to blindness, the wide water rolled:
Then it so chanced that the Duke our master
Asked himself what were the pleasures in season,
And found, since the calendar bade him be hearty,
He should do the Middle Age no treason
In resolving on a hunting-party.
Always provided, old books showed the way of it!
What meant old poets by their strictures?
And when old poets had said their say of it,
How taught old painters in their pictures?
We must revert to the proper channels,
Workings in tapestry, paintings on panels,
And gather up woodcraft's authentic traditions:
Here was food for our various ambitions,
As on each case, exactly stated-
To encourage your dog, now, the properest chirrup,
Or best prayer to Saint Hubert on mounting your stirrup-
We of the house hold took thought and debated.
Blessed was he whose back ached with the jerkin
His sire was wont to do forest-work in;
Blesseder he who nobly sunk ``ohs''
And ``ahs'' while he tugged on his grand-sire's trunk-hose;
What signified hats if they had no rims on,
Each slouching before and behind like the scallop,
And able to serve at sea for a shallop,
Loaded with lacquer and looped with crimson?
So that the deer now, to make a short rhyme on't,
What with our Venerers, Prickers and Yerderers,
Might hope for real hunters at length and not murderers,
And oh the Duke's tailor, he had a hot time on't!

XI.

Now you must know that when the first dizziness
Of flap-hats and buff-coats and jack-boots subsided,
The Duke put this question, ``The Duke's part provided,
``Had not the Duchess some share in the business?''
For out of the mouth of two or three witnesses
Did he establish all fit-or-unfitnesses:
And, after much laying of heads together,
Somebody's cap got a notable feather
By the announcement with proper unction
That he had discovered the lady's function;
Since ancient authors gave this tenet,
``When horns wind a mort and the deer is at siege,
``Let the dame of the castle prick forth on her jennet,
``And, with water to wash the hands of her liege
``In a clean ewer with a fair toweling,
`` Let her preside at the disemboweling.''
Now, my friend, if you had so little religion
As to catch a hawk, some falcon-lanner,
And thrust her broad wings like a banner
Into a coop for a vulgar pigeon;
And if day by day and week by week
You cut her claws, and sealed her eyes,
And clipped her wings, and tied her beak,
Would it cause you any great surprise
If, when you decided to give her an airing,
You found she needed a little preparing?
-I say, should you be such a curmudgeon,
If she clung to the perch, as to take it in dudgeon?
Yet when the Duke to his lady signified,
Just a day before, as he judged most dignified,
In what a pleasure she was to participate,-
And, instead of leaping wide in flashes,
Her eyes just lifted their long lashes,
As if pressed by fatigue even he could not dissipate,
And duly acknowledged the Duke's forethought,
But spoke of her health, if her health were worth aught,
Of the weight by day and the watch by night,
And much wrong now that used to be right,
So, thanking him, declined the hunting,-
Was conduct ever more affronting?
With all the ceremony settled-
With the towel ready, and the sewer
Polishing up his oldest ewer,
And the jennet pitched upon, a piebald,
Black-barred, cream-coated and pink eye-balled,-
No wonder if the Duke was nettled
And when she persisted nevertheless,-
Well, I suppose here's the time to confess
That there ran half round our lady's chamber
A balcony none of the hardest to clamber;
And that Jacynth the tire-woman, ready in waiting,
Stayed in call outside, what need of relating?
And since Jacynth was like a June rose, why, a fervent
Adorer of Jacynth of course was your servant;
And if she had the habit to peep through the casement,
How could I keep at any vast distance?
And so, as I say, on the lady's persistence,
The Duke, dumb-stricken with amazement,
Stood for a while in a sultry smother,
And then, with a smile that partook of the awful,
Turned her over to his yellow mother
To learn what was held decorous and lawful;
And the mother smelt blood with a cat-like instinct,
As her cheek quick whitened thro' all its quince-tinct.
Oh, but the lady heard the whole truth at once!
What meant she?Who was she?-Her duty and station,
The wisdom of age and the folly of youth, at once,
Its decent regard and its fitting relation-
In brief, my friend, set all the devils in hell free
And turn them out to carouse in a belfry
And treat the priests to a fifty-part canon,
And then you may guess how that tongue of hers ran on!
Well, somehow or other it ended at last
And, licking her whiskers, out she passed;
And after her,-making (he hoped) a face
Like Emperor Nero or Sultan Saladin,
Stalked the Duke's self with the austere grace
Of ancient hero or modern paladin,
From door to staircase-oh such a solemn
Unbending of the vertebral column!

XII.

However, at sunrise our company mustered;
And here was the huntsman bidding unkennel,
And there 'neath his bonnet the pricker blustered,
With feather dank as a bough of wet fennel;
For the court-yard walls were filled with fog
You might have cut as an axe chops a log-
Like so much wool for colour and bulkiness;
And out rode the Duke in a perfect sulkiness,
Since, before breakfast, a man feels but queasily,
And a sinking at the lower abdomen
Begins the day with indifferent omen.
And lo, as he looked around uneasily,
The sun ploughed the fog up and drove it asunder
This way and that from the valley under;
And, looking through the court-yard arch,
Down in the valley, what should meet him
But a troop of Gipsies on their march?
No doubt with the annual gifts to greet him.

XIII.

Now, in your land, Gipsies reach you, only
After reaching all lands beside;
North they go, South they go, trooping or lonely,
And still, as they travel far and wide,
Catch they and keep now a trace here, trace there,
That puts you in mind of a place here, a place there.
But with us, I believe they rise out of the ground,
And nowhere else, I take it, are found
With the earth-tint yet so freshly embrowned:
Born, no doubt, like insects which breed on
The very fruit they are meant to feed on.
For the earth-not a use to which they don't turn it,
The ore that grows in the mountain's womb,
Or the sand in the pits like a honeycomb,
They sift and soften it, bake it and burn it-
Whether they weld you, for instance, a snaffle
With side-bars never a brute can baffle;
Or a lock that's a puzzle of wards within wards;
Or, if your colt's fore-foot inclines to curve inwards,
Horseshoes they hammer which turn on a swivel
And won't allow the hoof to shrivel.
Then they cast bells like the shell of the winkle
That keep a stout heart in the ram with their tinkle;
But the sand-they pinch and pound it like otters;
Commend me to Gipsy glass-makers and potters!
Glasses they'll blow you, crystal-clear,
Where just a faint cloud of rose shall appear,
As if in pure water you dropped and let die
A bruised black-blooded mulberry;
And that other sort, their crowning pride,
With long white threads distinct inside,
Like the lake-flower's fibrous roots which dangle
Loose such a length and never tangle,
Where the bold sword-lily cuts the clear waters,
And the cup-lily couches with all the white daughters:
Such are the works they put their hand to,
The uses they turn and twist iron and sand to.
And these made the troop, which our Duke saw sally
Toward his castle from out of the valley,
Men and women, like new-hatched spiders,
Come out with the morning to greet our riders.
And up they wound till they reached the ditch,
Whereat all stopped save one, a witch
That I knew, as she hobbled from the group,
By her gait directly and her stoop,
I, whom Jacynth was used to importune
To let that same witch tell us our fortune.
The oldest Gipsy then above ground;
And, sure as the autumn season came round,
She paid us a visit for profit or pastime,
And every time, as she swore, for the last time.
And presently she was seen to sidle
Up to the Duke till she touched his bridle,
So that the horse of a sudden reared up
As under its nose the old witch peered up
With her worn-out eyes, or rather eye-holes
Of no use now but to gather brine,
And began a kind of level whine
Such as they used to sing to their viols
When their ditties they go grinding
Up and down with nobody minding:
And then, as of old, at the end of the humming
Her usual presents were forthcoming
-A dog-whistle blowing the fiercest of trebles,
(Just a sea-shore stone holding a dozen fine pebbles,)
Or a porcelain mouth-piece to screw on a pipe-end,-
And so she awaited her annual stipend.
But this time, the Duke would scarcely vouchsafe
A word in reply; and in vain she felt
With twitching fingers at her belt
For the purse of sleek pine-martin pelt,
Ready to ptlt what he gave in her pouch safe,-
Till, either to quicken his apprehension,
Or possibly with an after-intention,
She was come, she said, to pay her duty
To the new Duchess, the youthful beauty.
No sooner had she named his lady,
Than a shine lit up the face so shady,
And its smirk returned with a novel meaning-
For it struck him, the babe just wanted weaning;
If one gave her a taste of what life was and sorrow,
She, foolish to-day, would be wiser tomorrow;
And who so fit a teacher of trouble
As this sordid crone bent well-nigh double?
So, glancing at her wolf-skin vesture,
(If such it was, for they grow so hirsute
That their own fleece serves for natural fur-suit)
He was contrasting, 'twas plain from his gesture,
The life of the lady so flower-like and delicate
With the loathsome squalor of this helicat.
I, in brief, was the man the Duke beckoned
From out of the throng, and while I drew near
He told the crone-as I since have reckoned
By the way he bent and spoke into her ear
With circumspection and mystery-
The main of the lady's history,
Her frowardness and ingratitude:
And for all the crone's submissive attitude
I could see round her mouth the loose plaits tightening,
And her brow with assenting intelligence brightening,
As though she engaged with hearty good-will
Whatever he now might enjoin to fulfil,
And promised the lady a thorough frightening.
And so, just giving her a glimpse
Of a purse, with the air of a man who imps
The wing of the hawk that shall fetch the hernshaw,
He bade me take the Gipsy mother
And set her telling some story or other
Of hill or dale, oak-wood or fernshaw,
To wile away a weary hour
For the lady left alone in her bower,
Whose mind and body craved exertion
And yet shrank from all better diversion.

XIV.

Then clapping heel to his horse, the mere curveter,
Out rode the Duke, and after his hollo
Horses and hounds swept, huntsman and servitor,
And back I turned and bade the crone follow.
And what makes me confident what's to be told you
Had all along been of this crone's devising,
Is, that, on looking round sharply, behold you,
There was a novelty quick as surprising:
For first, she had shot up a full head in stature,
And her step kept pace with mine nor faltered,
As if age had foregone its usurpature,
And the ignoble mien was wholly altered,
And the face looked quite of another nature,
And the change reached too, whatever the change meant,
Her shaggy wolf-skin cloak's arrangement:
For where its tatters hung loose like sedges,
Gold coins were glittering on the edges,
Like the band-roll strung with tomans
Which proves the veil a Persian woman's.
And under her brow, like a snail's horns newly
Come out as after the rain he paces,
Two unmistakeable eye-points duly
Live and aware looked out of their places.
So, we went and found Jacynth at the entry
Of the lady's chamber standing sentry;
I told the command and produced my companion,
And Jacynth rejoiced to admit any one,
For since last night, by the same token,
Not a single word had the lady spoken:
They went in both to the presence together,
While I in the balcony watched the weather.

XV.

And now, what took place at the very first of all,
I cannot tell, as I never could learn it:
Jacynth constantly wished a curse to fall
On that little head of hers and burn it
If she knew how she came to drop so soundly
Asleep of a sudden and there continue
The whole time sleeping as profoundly
As one of the boars my father would pin you
'Twixt the eyes where life holds garrison,
-Jacynth forgive me the comparison!
But where I begin asy own narration
Is a little after I took my station
To breathe the fresh air from the balcony,
And, having in those days a falcon eye,
To follow the hunt thro' the open country,
From where the bushes thinlier crested
The hillocks, to a plain where's not one tree.
When, in a moment, my ear was arrested
By-was it singing, or was it saying,
Or a strange musical instrument playing
In the chamber?-and to be certain
I pushed the lattice, pulled the curtain,
And there lay Jacynth asleep,
Yet as if a watch she tried to keep,
In a rosy sleep along the floor
With her head against the door;
While in the midst, on the seat of state,
Was a queen-the Gipsy woman late,
With head and face downbent
On the lady's head and face intent:
For, coiled at her feet like a child at ease,
The lady sat between her knees
And o'er them the lady's clasped hands met,
And on those hands her chin was set,
And her upturned face met the face of the crone
Wherein the eyes had grown and grown
As if she could double and quadruple
At pleasure the play of either pupil
-Very like, by her hands' slow fanning,
As up and down like a gor-crow's flappers
They moved to measure, or bell-clappers.
I said ``Is it blessing, is it banning,
``Do they applaud you or burlesque you-
``Those hands and fingers with no flesh on?''
But, just as I thought to spring in to the rescue,
At once I was stopped by the lady's expression:
For it was life her eyes were drinking
From the crone's wide pair above unwinking,
-Life's pure fire received without shrinking,
Into the heart and breast whose heaving
Told you no single drop they were leaving,
-Life, that filling her, passed redundant
Into her very hair, back swerving
Over each shoulder, loose and abundant,
As her head thrown back showed the white throat curving;
And the very tresses shared in the pleasure,
Moving to the mystic measure,
Bounding as the bosom bounded.
I stopped short, more and more confounded,
As still her cheeks burned and eyes glistened,
As she listened and she listened:
When all at once a hand detained me,
The selfsame contagion gained me,
And I kept time to the wondrous chime,
Making out words and prose and rhyme,
Till it seemed that the music furled
Its wings like a task fulfilled, and dropped
From under the words it first had propped,
And left them midway in the world:
Word took word as hand takes hand,
I could hear at last, and understand,
And when I held the unbroken thread,
The Gipsy said:-

``And so at last we find my tribe.
``And so I set thee in the midst,
``And to one and all of them describe
``What thou saidst and what thou didst,
``Our long and terrible journey through,
``And all thou art ready to say and do
``In the trials that remain:
``I trace them the vein and the other vein
``That meet on thy brow and part again,
``Making our rapid mystic mark;
``And I bid my people prove and probe
``Each eye's profound and glorious globe
``Till they detect the kindred spark
``In those depths so dear and dark,
``Like the spots that snap and burst and flee,
``Circling over the midnight sea.
``And on that round young cheek of thine
``I make them recognize the tinge,
``As when of the costly scarlet wine
``They drip so much as will impinge
``And spread in a thinnest scale afloat
``One thick gold drop from the olive's coat
``Over a silver plate whose sheen
``Still thro' the mixture shall be seen.
``For so I prove thee, to one and all,
``Fit, when my people ope their breast,
``To see the sign, and hear the call,
``And take the vow, and stand the test
``Which adds one more child to the rest-
``When the breast is bare and the arms are wide,
``And the world is left outside.
``For there is probation to decree,
``And many and long must the trials be
``Thou shalt victoriously endure,
``If that brow is true and those eyes are sure;
``Like a jewel-finder's fierce assay
``Of the prize he dug from its mountain-tomb-
``Let once the vindicating ray
``Leap out amid the anxious gloom,
``And steel and fire have done their part
``And the prize falls on its finder's heart;
`'So, trial after trial past,
``Wilt thou fall at the very last
``Breathless, half in trance
``With the thrill of the great deliverance,
``Into our arms for evermore;
``And thou shalt know, those arms once curled
``About thee, what we knew before,
``How love is the only good in the world.
``Henceforth be loved as heart can love,
``Or brain devise, or hand approve!
``Stand up, look below,
``It is our life at thy feet we throw
``To step with into light and joy;
``Not a power of life but we employ
``To satisfy thy nature's want;
``Art thou the tree that props the plant,
``Or the climbing plant that seeks the tree-
``Canst thou help us, must we help thee?
``If any two creatures grew into one,
``They would do more than the world has done.
``Though each apart were never so weak,
``Ye vainly through the world should seek
``For the knowledge and the might
``Which in such union grew their right:
``So, to approach at least that end,
``And blend,-as much as may be, blend
``Thee with us or us with thee,-
``As climbing plant or propping tree,
``Shall some one deck thee, over and down,
``Up and about, with blossoms and leaves?
``Fix his heart's fruit for thy garland crown,
``Cling with his soul as the gourd-vine cleaves,
``Die on thy boughs and disappear
``While not a leaf of thine is sere?
``Or is the other fate in store,
``And art thou fitted to adore,
``To give thy wondrous self away,
``And take a stronger nature's sway?
``I foresee and could foretell
``Thy future portion, sure and well:
``But those passionate eyes speak true, speak true,
``Let them say what thou shalt do!
``Only be sure thy daily life,
``In its peace or in its strife,
``Never shall be unobserved:
``We pursue thy whole career,
``And hope for it, or doubt, or fear,-
``Lo, hast thou kept thy path or swerved,
``We are beside thee in all thy ways,
``With our blame, with our praise,
``Our shame to feel, our pride to show,
``Glad, angry-but indifferent, no!
``Whether it be thy lot to go,
``For the good of us all, where the haters meet
``In the crowded city's horrible street;
``Or thou step alone through the morass
``Where never sound yet was
``Save the dry quick clap of the stork's bill,
``For the air is still, and the water still,
``When the blue breast of the dipping coot
``Dives under, and all is mute.
``So, at the last shall come old age,
``Decrepit as befits that stage;
``How else wouldst thou retire apart
``With the hoarded memories of thy heart,
``And gather all to the very least
``Of the fragments of life's earlier feast,
``Let fall through eagerness to find
``The crowning dainties yet behind?
``Ponder on the entire past
``Laid together thus at last,
``When the twilight helps to fuse
``The first fresh with the faded hues,
``And the outline of the whole,
``As round eve's shades their framework roll,
``Grandly fronts for once thy soul.
``And then as, 'mid the dark, a glean
``Of yet another morning breaks,
``And like the hand which ends a dream,
``Death, with the might of his sunbeam,
``Touches the flesh and the soul awakes,
``Then''
Ay, then indeed something would happen!
But what? For here her voice changed like a bird's;
There grew more of the music and less of the words;
Had Jacynth only been by me to clap pen
To paper and put you down every syllable
With those clever clerkly fingers,
All I've forgotten as well as what lingers
In this old brain of mine that's but ill able
To give you even this poor version
Of the speech I spoil, as it were, with stammering
-More fault of those who had the hammering
Of prosody into me and syntax,
And did it, not with hobnails but tintacks!
But to return from this excursion,-
Just, do you mark, when the song was sweetest,
The peace most deep and the charm completest,
There came, shall I say, a snap-
And the charm vanished!
And my sense returned, so strangely banished,
And, starting as from a nap,
I knew the crone was bewitching my lady,
With Jacynth asleep; and but one spring made I
Down from the casement, round to the portal,
Another minute and I had entered,-
When the door opened, and more than mortal
Stood, with a face where to my mind centred
All beauties I ever saw or shall see,
The Duchess: I stopped as if struck by palsy.
She was so different, happy and beautiful,
I felt at once that all was best,
And that I had nothing to do, for the rest,
But wait her commands, obey and be dutiful.
Not that, in fact, there was any commanding;
I saw the glory of her eye,
And the brow's height and the breast's expanding,
And I was hers to live or to die.
As for finding what she wanted,
You know God Almighty granted
Such little signs should serve wild creatures
To tell one another all their desires,
So that each knows what his friend requires,
And does its bidding without teachers.
I preceded her; the crone
Followed silent and alone;
I spoke to her, but she merely jabbered
In the old style; both her eyes had slunk
Back to their pits; her stature shrunk;
In short, the soul in its body sunk
Like a blade sent home to its scabbard.
We descended, I preceding;
Crossed the court with nobody heeding,
All the world was at the chase,
The courtyard like a desert-place,
The stable emptied of its small fry;
I saddled myself the very palfrey
I remember patting while it carried her,
The day she arrived and the Duke married her.
And, do you know, though it's easy deceiving
Oneself in such matters, I can't help believing
The lady had not forgotten it either,
And knew the poor devil so much beneath her
Would have been only too glad for her service
To dance on hot ploughshares like a Turk dervise,
But, unable to pay proper duty where owing it,
Was reduced to that pitiful method of showing it:
For though the moment I began setting
His saddle on my own nag of Berold's begetting,
(Not that I meant to be obtrusive)
She stopped me, while his rug was shifting,
By a single rapid finger's lifting,
And, with a gesture kind but conclusive,
And a little shake of the head, refused me,-
I say, although she never used me,
Yet when she was mounted, the Gipsy behind her,
And I ventured to remind her,
I suppose with a voice of less steadiness
Than usual, for my feeling exceeded me,
-Something to the effect that I was in readiness
Whenever God should please she needed me,-
Then, do you know, her face looked down on me
With a look that placed a crown on me,
And she felt in her bosom,-mark, her bosom-
And, as a flower-tree drops its blossom,
Dropped me . . . ah, had it been a purse
Of silver, my friend, or gold that's worse,
Why, you see, as soon as I found myself
So understood,-that a true heart so may gain
Such a reward,-I should have gone home again,
Kissed Jacynth, and soberly drowned myself!
It was a little plait of hair
Such as friends in a convent make
To wear, each for the other's sake,-
This, see, which at my breast I wear,
Ever did (rather to Jacynth's grudgment),
And ever shall, till the Day of Judgment.
And then,-and then,-to cut short,-this is idle,
These are feelings it is not good to foster,-
I pushed the gate wide, she shook the bridle,
And the palfrey bounded,-and so we lost her.

XVI.

When the liquor's out why clink the cannikin?
I did think to describe you the panic in
The redoubtable breast of our master the mannikin,
And what was the pitch of his mother's yellowness,
How she turned as a shark to snap the spare-rib
Clean off, sailors say, from a pearl-diving Carib,
When she heard, what she called the flight of the feloness
-But it seems such child's play,
What they said and did with the lady away!
And to dance on, when we've lost the music,
Always made me-and no doubt makes you-sick.
Nay, to my mind, the world's face looked so stern
As that sweet form disappeared through the postern,
She that kept it in constant good humour,
It ought to have stopped; there seemed nothing to do more.
But the world thought otherwise and went on,
And my head's one that its spite was spent on:
Thirty years are fled since that morning,
And with them all my head's adorning.
Nor did the old Duchess die outright,
As you expect, of suppressed spite,
The natural end of every adder
Not suffered to empty its poison-bladder:
But she and her son agreed, I take it,
That no one should touch on the story to wake it,
For the wound in the Duke's pride rankled fiery,
So, they made no search and small inquiry-
And when fresh Gipsies have paid us a visit, I've
Noticed the couple were never inquisitive,
But told them they're folks the Duke don't want here,
And bade them make haste and cross the frontier.
Brief, the Duchess was gone and the Duke was glad of it,
And the old one was in the young one's stead,
And took, in her place, the household's head,
And a blessed time the household had of it!
And were I not, as a man may say, cautious
How I trench, more than needs, on the nauseous,
I could favour you with sundry touches
Of the paint-smutches with which the Duchess
Heightened the mellowness of her cheek's yellowness
(To get on faster) until at last her
Cheek grew to be one master-plaster
Of mucus and focus from mere use of ceruse:
In short, she grew from scalp to udder
Just the object to make you shudder.

XVII.

You're my friend-
What a thing friendship is, world without end!
How it gives the heart and soul a stir-up
As if somebody broached you a glorious runlet,
And poured out, all lovelily, sparklingly, sunlit,
Our green Moldavia, the streaky syrup,
Cotnar as old as the time of the Druids-
Friendship may match with that monarch of fluids;
Each supples a dry brain, fills you its ins-and-outs,
Gives your life's hour-glass a shake when the thin sand doubts
Whether to run on or stop short, and guarantees
Age is not all made of stark sloth and arrant ease.
I have seen my little lady once more,
Jacynth, the Gipsy, Berold, and the rest of it,
For to me spoke the Duke, as I told you before;
I always wanted to make a clean breast of it:
And now it is made-why, my heart's blood, that went trickle,
Trickle, but anon, in such muddy driblets,
Is pumped up brisk now, through the main ventricle,
And genially floats me about the giblets.
I'll tell you what I intend to do:
I must see this fellow his sad life through-
He is our Duke, after all,
And I, as he says, but a serf and thrall.
My father was born here, and I inherit
His fame, a chain he bound his son with;
Could I pay in a lump I should prefer it,
But there's no mine to blow up and get done with:
So, I must stay till the end of the chapter.
For, as to our middle-age-manners-adapter,
Be it a thing to be glad on or sorry on,
Some day or other, his head in a morion
And breast in a hauberk, his heels he'll kick up,
Slain by an onslaught fierce of hiccup.
And then, when red doth the sword of our Duke rust,
And its leathern sheath lie o'ergrown with a blue crust,
Then I shall scrape together my earnings;
For, you see, in the churchyard Jacynth reposes,
And our children all went the way of the roses:
It's a long lane that knows no turnings.
One needs but little tackle to travel in;
So, just one stout cloak shall I indue:
And for a stall, what beats the javelin
With which his boars my father pinned you?
And then, for a purpose you shall hear presently,
Taking some Cotnar, a tight plump skinful,
I shall go journeying, who but I, pleasantly!
Sorrow is vain and despondency sinful.
What's a man's age? He must hurry more, that's all;
Cram in a day, what his youth took a year to hold.
When we mind labour, then only, we're too old-
What age had Methusalem when he begat Saul?
And at last, as its haven some buffeted ship sees,
(Come all the way from the north-parts with sperm oil)
I hope to get safely out of the turmoil
And arrive one day at the land of the Gipsies,
And find my lady, or hear the last news of her
From some old thief and son of Lucifer,
His forehead chapleted green with wreathy hop,
Sunburned all over like an thiop.
And when my Cotnar begins to operate
And the tongue of the rogue to run at a proper rate,
And our wine-skin, tight once, shows each flaccid dent,
I shall drop in with-as if by accident-
``You never knew, then, how it all ended,
``What fortune good or bad attended
``The little lady your Queen befriended?''
-And when that's told me, what's remaining?
This world's too hard for my explaining.
The same wise judge of matters equine
Who still preferred some slim four-year-old
To the big-boned stock of mighty Berold,
And, fur strong Cotnar, drank French weak wine,
He also umst be such a lady's scorner!
Smooth Jacob still rubs homely Esau:
Now up, now down, the world's one see-saw.
-So, I shall find out some snug corner
Under a hedge, like Orson the wood-knight,
Turn myself round and bid the world good night;
And sleep a sound sleep till the trumpet's blowing
Wakes me (unless priests cheat us laymen)
To a world where will be no furtiner throwing
Pearls befare swine that Can't value them. Amen!


~ Robert Browning, The Flight Of The Duchess
,
1276:A TRAGEDY IN TWO ACTS

Translated from the Original Doric

'Choose Reform or Civil War,
When through thy streets, instead of hare with dogs,
A Consort-Queen shall hunt a King with hogs,
Riding on the IONIAN MINOTAUR.'

DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Tyrant Swellfoot, King of Thebes.
Iona Taurina, his Queen.
Mammon, Arch-Priest of Famine.
Purganax Wizard, Minister of Swellfoot.
Dakry Wizard, Minister of Swellfoot.
Laoctonos Wizard, Minister of Swellfoot.
The Gadfly.
The Leech.
The Rat.
Moses, the Sow-gelder.
Solomon, the Porkman.
Zephaniah, Pig-butcher.
The Minotaur.
Chorus of the Swinish Multitude.
Guards, Attendants, Priests, etc., etc.

SCENE.--THEBES

ACT I.

Scene I.-- A magnificent Temple, built of thigh-bones and death's-heads, and tiled with scalps. Over the Altar the statue of Famine, veiled; a number of Boars, Sows, and Sucking-Pigs, crowned with thistle, shamrock, and oak, sitting on the steps, and clinging round the Altar of the Temple.
Enter Swellfoot, in his Royal robes, without perceiving the Pigs.
Swellfoot.
Thou supreme Goddess! by whose power divine
These graceful limbs are clothed in proud array [He contemplates himself with satisfaction.

Of gold and purple, and this kingly paunch
Swells like a sail before a favouring breeze,
And these most sacred nether promontories
Lie satisfied with layers of fat; and these
Boeotian cheeks, like Egypt's pyramid,
(Nor with less toil were their foundations laid)[1],
Sustain the cone of my untroubled brain,
That point, the emblem of a pointless nothing!
Thou to whom Kings and laurelled Emperors,
Radical-butchers, Paper-money-millers,
Bishops and Deacons, and the entire army
Of those fat martyrs to the persecution
Of stifling turtle-soup, and brandy-devils,
Offer their secret vows! Thou plenteous Ceres
Of their Eleusis, hail!
The Swine.
            Eigh! eigh! eigh! eigh!
            Swellfoot.
                         Ha! what are ye,
Who, crowned with leaves devoted to the Furies,
Cling round this sacred shrine?
Swine.
                 Aigh! aigh! aigh!
                 Swellfoot.
                          What! ye that are
The very beasts that, offered at her altar
With blood and groans, salt-cake, and fat, and inwards,
Ever propitiate her reluctant will
When taxes are withheld?
Swine.
             Ugh! ugh! ugh!
             Swellfoot.
                     What! ye who grub
With filthy snouts my red potatoes up
In Allan's rushy bog? Who eat the oats
Up, from my cavalry in the Hebrides?
Who swill the hog-wash soup my cooks digest
From bones, and rags, and scraps of shoe-leather,
Which should be given to cleaner Pigs than you?
The Swine.Semichorus I.
The same, alas! the same;
Though only now the name
Of Pig remains to me.
Semichorus II.
If 'twere your kingly will
Us wretched Swine to kill,
What should we yield to thee?
Swellfoot.
Why, skin and bones, and some few hairs for mortar.
Chorus of Swine.
I have heard your Laureate sing,
That pity was a royal thing;
Under your mighty ancestors, we Pigs
Were bless'd as nightingales on myrtle sprigs,
Or grasshoppers that live on noonday dew,
And sung, old annals tell, as sweetly too;
But now our sties are fallen in, we catch
The murrain and the mange, the scab and itch;
Sometimes your royal dogs tear down our thatch,
And then we seek the shelter of a ditch;
Hog-wash or grains, or ruta-baga, none
Has yet been ours since your reign begun.
First Sow.
My Pigs, 'tis in vain to tug.
Second Sow.
I could almost eat my litter.
First Pig.
I suck, but no milk will come from the dug.
Second Pig.
Our skin and our bones would be bitter.
The Boars.
We fight for this rag of greasy rug,
Though a trough of wash would be fitter.
Semichorus.
  Happier Swine were they than we,
  Drowned in the Gadarean sea
I wish that pity would drive out the devils,
Which in your royal bosom hold their revels,
And sink us in the waves of thy compassion!
Alas! the Pigs are an unhappy nation!
Now if your Majesty would have our bristles
To bind your mortar with, or fill our colons
With rich blood, or make brawn out of our gristles,
In policyask else your royal Solons
You ought to give us hog-wash and clean straw,
And sties well thatched; besides it is the law!
Swellfoot.
This is sedition, and rank blasphemy!
Ho! there, my guards!
Enter a Guard.
Guard.
           Your sacred Majesty.
           Swellfoot.
Call in the Jews, Solomon the court porkman,
Moses the sow-gelder, and Zephaniah
The hog-butcher.
Guard.
         They are in waiting, Sire.
         Enter Solomon, Moses, and Zephaniah.
Swellfoot.
Out with your knife, old Moses, and spay those Sows [The Pigs run about in consternation.

That load the earth with Pigs; cut close and deep.
Moral restraint I see has no effect,
Nor prostitution, nor our own example,
Starvation, typhus-fever, war, nor prison
This was the art which the arch-priest of Famine
Hinted at in his charge to the Theban clergy
Cut close and deep, good Moses.
Moses.
                 Let your Majesty
Keep the Boars quiet, else
Swellfoot.
               Zephaniah, cut
That fat Hog's throat, the brute seems overfed;
Seditious hunks! to whine for want of grains.
Zephaniah.
Your sacred Majesty, he has the dropsy;
We shall find pints of hydatids in's liver,
He has not half an inch of wholesome fat
Upon his carious ribs
Swellfoot.
            'Tis all the same,
He'll serve instead of riot money, when
Our murmuring troops bivouac in Thebes' streets;
And January winds, after a day
Of butchering, will make them relish carrion.
Now, Solomon, I'll sell you in a lump
The whole kit of them.
Solomon.
            Why, your Majesty,
I could not give
Swellfoot.
          Kill them out of the way,
That shall be price enough, and let me hear
Their everlasting grunts and whines no more!
[Exeunt, driving in the Swine.
Enter Mammon, the Arch-Priest; and Purganax, Chief of the Council of Wizards.
Purganax.
The future looks as black as death, a cloud,
Dark as the frown of Hell, hangs over it
The troops grow mutinousthe revenue fails
There's something rotten in usfor the level
Of the State slopes, its very bases topple,
The boldest turn their backs upon themselves!
Mammon.
Why what's the matter, my dear fellow, now?
Do the troops mutiny?decimate some regiments;
Does money fail?come to my mintcoin paper,
Till gold be at a discount, and ashamed
To show his bilious face, go purge himself,
In emulation of her vestal whiteness.
Purganax.
Oh, would that this were all! The oracle!!
Mammon.
Why it was I who spoke that oracle,
And whether I was dead drunk or inspired,
I cannot well remember; nor, in truth,
The oracle itself!
Purganax.
          The words went thus:
'Boeotia, choose reform or civil war!
When through the streets, instead of hare with dogs,
A Consort Queen shall hunt a King with Hogs,
Riding on the Ionian Minotaur.'
Mammon.
Now if the oracle had ne'er foretold
This sad alternative, it must arrive,
Or not, and so it must now that it has;
And whether I was urged by grace divine
Or Lesbian liquor to declare these words,
Which must, as all words must, be false or true,
It matters not: for the same Power made all,
Oracle, wine, and me and youor none
'Tis the same thing. If you knew as much
Of oracles as I do
Purganax.
           You arch-priests
Believe in nothing; if you were to dream
Of a particular number in the Lottery,
You would not buy the ticket?
Mammon.
                Yet our tickets
Are seldom blanks. But what steps have you taken?
For prophecies, when once they get abroad,
Like liars who tell the truth to serve their ends,
Or hypocrites who, from assuming virtue,
Do the same actions that the virtuous do,
Contrive their own fulfilment. This Iona
Wellyou know what the chaste Pasiphae did,
Wife to that most religious King of Crete,
And still how popular the tale is here;
And these dull Swine of Thebes boast their descent
From the free Minotaur. You know they still
Call themselves Bulls, though thus degenerate,
And everything relating to a Bull
Is popular and respectable in Thebes.
Their arms are seven Bulls in a field gules;
They think their strength consists in eating beef,
Now there were danger in the precedent
If Queen Iona
Purganax.
        I have taken good care
That shall not be. I struck the crust o' the earth
With this enchanted rod, and Hell lay bare!
And from a cavern full of ugly shapes
I chose a Leech, a Gadfly, and a Rat.
The Gadfly was the same which Juno sent
To agitate Io[2], and which Ezekiel[3] mentions
That the Lord whistled for out of the mountains
Of utmost Aethiopia, to torment
Mesopotamian Babylon. The beast
Has a loud trumpet like the scarabee,
His crookd tail is barbed with many stings,
Each able to make a thousand wounds, and each
Immedicable; from his convex eyes
He sees fair things in many hideous shapes,
And trumpets all his falsehood to the world.
Like other beetles he is fed on dung
He has eleven feet with which he crawls,
Trailing a blistering slime, and this foul beast
Has tracked Iona from the Theban limits,
From isle to isle, from city unto city,
Urging her flight from the far Chersonese
To fabulous Solyma, and the Aetnean Isle,
Ortygia, Melite, and Calypso's Rock,
And the swart tribes of Garamant and Fez,
Aeolia and Elysium, and thy shores,
Parthenope, which now, alas! are free!
And through the fortunate Saturnian land,
Into the darkness of the West.
Mammon.
                But if
This Gadfly should drive Iona hither?
Purganax.
Gods! what an if! but there is my gray Rat:
So thin with want, he can crawl in and out
Of any narrow chink and filthy hole,
And he shall creep into her dressing-room,
And
Mammon.
   My dear friend, where are your wits? as if
She does not always toast a piece of cheese
And bait the trap? and rats, when lean enough
To crawl through such chinks
Purganax.
                But my Leecha leech
Fit to suck blood, with lubricous round rings,
Capaciously expatiative, which make
His little body like a red balloon,
As full of blood as that of hydrogen,
Sucked from men's hearts; insatiably he sucks
And clings and pullsa horse-leech, whose deep maw
The plethoric King Swellfoot could not fill,
And who, till full, will cling for ever.
Mammon.
                      This
For Queen Iona would suffice, and less;
But 'tis the Swinish multitude I fear,
And in that fear I have
Purganax.
              Done what?
              Mammon.
                   Disinherited
My eldest son Chrysaor, because he
Attended public meetings, and would always
Stand prating there of commerce, public faith,
Economy, and unadulterate coin,
And other topics, ultra-radical;
And have entailed my estate, called the Fool's Paradise,
And funds in fairy-money, bonds, and bills,
Upon my accomplished daughter Banknotina,
And married her to the gallows[4].
Purganax.
                  A good match!
                  Mammon.
A high connexion, Purganax. The bridegroom
Is of a very ancient family,
Of Hounslow Heath, Tyburn, and the New Drop,
And has great influence in both Houses;oh!
He makes the fondest husband; nay, too fond,
New-married people should not kiss in public;
But the poor souls love one another so!
And then my little grandchildren, the gibbets,
Promising children as you ever saw,
The young playing at hanging, the elder learning
How to hold radicals. They are well taught too,
For every gibbet says its catechism
And reads a select chapter in the Bible
Before it goes to play.
[A most tremendous humming is heard.
Purganax.
            Ha! what do I hear?
            Enter the Gadfly.
Mammon.
Your Gadfly, as it seems, is tired of gadding.
Gadfly.
  Hum! hum! hum!
From the lakes of the Alps, and the cold gray scalps
Of the mountains, I come!
  Hum! hum! hum!
From Morocco and Fez, and the high palaces
Of golden Byzantium;
From the temples divine of old Palestine,
From Athens and Rome,
With a ha! and a hum!
I come! I come!
  All inn-doors and windows
  Were open to me:
I saw all that sin does,
  Which lamps hardly see
That burn in the night by the curtained bed,
The impudent lamps! for they blushed not red,
Dinging and singing,
From slumber I rung her,
Loud as the clank of an ironmonger;
   Hum! hum! hum!
    Far, far, far!
With the trump of my lips, and the sting at my hips,
I drove herafar!
Far, far, far!
From city to city, abandoned of pity,
A ship without needle or star;
Homeless she passed, like a cloud on the blast,
Seeking peace, finding war;
She is here in her car,
From afar, and afar;
  Hum! hum!
   I have stung her and wrung her,
  The venom is working;
And if you had hung her
  With canting and quirking,
She could not be deader than she will be soon;
I have driven her close to you, under the moon,
Night and day, hum! hum! ha!
I have hummed her and drummed her
From place to place, till at last I have dumbed her,
   Hum! hum! hum!
   Enter the Leech and the Rat.
Leech.
I will suck
Blood or muck!
The disease of the state is a plethory,
Who so fit to reduce it as I?
Rat.
I'll slily seize and
Let blood from her weasand,
Creeping through crevice, and chink, and cranny,
With my snaky tail, and my sides so scranny.
Purganax.
Aroint ye! thou unprofitable worm! [To the Leech.

And thou, dull beetle, get thee back to hell! [To the Gadfly.

To sting the ghosts of Babylonian kings,
And the ox-headed Io
Swine
(within).
            Ugh, ugh, ugh!
Hail! Iona the divine,
We will be no longer Swine,
But Bulls with horns and dewlaps.
Rat.
                  For,
You know, my lord, the Minotaur
Purganax
(fiercely).
Be silent! get to hell! or I will call
The cat out of the kitchen. Well, Lord Mammon,
This is a pretty business.
[Exit the Rat.
Mammon.
              I will go
And spell some scheme to make it ugly then.
[Exit.
Enter Swellfoot.
Swellfoot.
She is returned! Taurina is in Thebes,
When Swellfoot wishes that she were in hell!
Oh, Hymen, clothed in yellow jealousy,
And waving o'er the couch of wedded kings
The torch of Discord with its fiery hair;
This is thy work, thou patron saint of queens!
Swellfoot is wived! though parted by the sea,
The very name of wife had conjugal rights;
Her cursd image ate, drank, slept with me,
And in the arms of Adiposa oft
Her memory has received a husband's
[A loud tumult, and cries of 'Iona for ever!No Swellfoot!'!
                    Hark!
How the Swine cry Iona Taurina;
I suffer the real presence; Purganax,
Off with her head!
Purganax.
          But I must first impanel
A jury of the Pigs.
Swellfoot.
          Pack them then.
          Purganax.
Or fattening some few in two separate sties,
And giving them clean straw, tying some bits
Of ribbon round their legsgiving their Sows
Some tawdry lace, and bits of lustre glass,
And their young Boars white and red rags, and tails
Of cows, and jay feathers, and sticking cauliflowers
Between the ears of the old ones; and when
They are persuaded, that by the inherent virtue
Of these things, they are all imperial Pigs,
Good Lord! they'd rip each other's bellies up,
Not to say, help us in destroying her.
Swellfoot.
This plan might be tried too;where's General
Laoctonos?
Enter Laoctonos and Dakry.
     It is my royal pleasure
That you, Lord General, bring the head and body,
If separate it would please me better, hither
Of Queen Iona.
Laoctonos.
       That pleasure I well knew,
And made a charge with those battalions bold,
Called, from their dress and grin, the royal apes,
Upon the Swine, who in a hollow square
Enclosed her, and received the first attack
Like so many rhinoceroses, and then
Retreating in good order, with bare tusks
And wrinkled snouts presented to the foe,
Bore her in triumph to the public sty.
What is still worse, some Sows upon the ground
Have given the ape-guards apples, nuts, and gin,
And they all whisk their tails aloft, and cry,
'Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot!'
Purganax.
                     Hark!
                     The Swine
(without).
Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot!
Dakry.
                    I
Went to the garret of the swineherd's tower,
Which overlooks the sty, and made a long
Harangue (all words) to the assembled Swine,
Of delicacy, mercy, judgement, law,
Morals, and precedents, and purity,
Adultery, destitution, and divorce,
Piety, faith, and state necessity,
And how I loved the Queen!and then I wept
With the pathos of my own eloquence,
And every tear turned to a mill-stone, which
Brained many a gaping Pig, and there was made
A slough of blood and brains upon the place,
Greased with the pounded bacon; round and round
The mill-stones rolled, ploughing the pavement up,
And hurling Sucking-Pigs into the air,
With dust and stones.
Enter Mammon.
Mammon.
            I wonder that gray wizards
Like you should be so beardless in their schemes;
It had been but a point of policy
To keep Iona and the Swine apart.
Divide and rule! but ye have made a junction
Between two parties who will govern you
But for my art.Behold this BAG! it is
The poison BAG of that Green Spider huge,
On which our spies skulked in ovation through
The streets of Thebes, when they were paved with dead:
A bane so much the deadlier fills it now
As calumny is worse than death,for here
The Gadfly's venom, fifty times distilled,
Is mingled with the vomit of the Leech,
In due proportion, and black ratsbane, which
That very Rat, who, like the Pontic tyrant,
Nurtures himself on poison, dare not touch;
All is sealed up with the broad seal of Fraud,
Who is the Devil's Lord High Chancellor,
And over it the Primate of all Hell
Murmured this pious baptism:'Be thou called
The GREEN BAG; and this power and grace be thine:
That thy contents, on whomsoever poured,
Turn innocence to guilt, and gentlest looks
To savage, foul, and fierce deformity.
Let all baptized by thy infernal dew
Be called adulterer, drunkard, liar, wretch!
No name left out which orthodoxy loves,
Court Journal or legitimate Review!
Be they called tyrant, beast, fool, glutton, lover
Of other wives and husbands than their own
The heaviest sin on this side of the Alps!
Wither they to a ghastly caricature
Of what was human!let not man or beast
Behold their face with unaverted eyes!
Or hear their names with ears that tingle not
With blood of indignation, rage, and shame!'
This is a perilous liquor;good my Lords. [Swellfoot approaches to touch the GREEN BAG.

Beware! for God's sake, beware!if you should break
The seal, and touch the fatal liquor
Purganax.
                     There,
Give it to me. I have been used to handle
All sorts of poisons. His dread Majesty
Only desires to see the colour of it.
Mammon.
Now, with a little common sense, my Lords,
Only undoing all that has been done
(Yet so as it may seem we but confirm it),
Our victory is assured. We must entice
Her Majesty from the sty, and make the Pigs
Believe that the contents of the GREEN BAG
Are the true test of guilt or innocence.
And that, if she be guilty, 'twill transform her
To manifest deformity like guilt.
If innocent, she will become transfigured
Into an angel, such as they say she is;
And they will see her flying through the air,
So bright that she will dim the noonday sun;
Showering down blessings in the shape of comfits.
This, trust a priest, is just the sort of thing
Swine will believe. I'll wager you will see them
Climbing upon the thatch of their low sties,
With pieces of smoked glass, to watch her sail
Among the clouds, and some will hold the flaps
Of one another's ears between their teeth,
To catch the coming hail of comfits in.
You, Purganax, who have the gift o' the gab,
Make them a solemn speech to this effect:
I go to put in readiness the feast
Kept to the honour of our goddess Famine,
Where, for more glory, let the ceremony
Take place of the uglification of the Queen.
Dakry
(to Swellfoot).
I, as the keeper of your sacred conscience,
Humbly remind your Majesty that the care
Of your high office, as Man-milliner
To red Bellona, should not be deferred.
Purganax.
All part, in happier plight to meet again.
[Exeunt.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.

ACT II
Scene I.
The Public Sty. The Boars in full Assembly.
Enter Purganax.
Purganax.
Grant me your patience, Gentlemen and Boars,
Ye, by whose patience under public burthens
The glorious constitution of these sties
Subsists, and shall subsist. The Lean-Pig rates
Grow with the growing populace of Swine,
The taxes, that true source of Piggishness
(How can I find a more appropriate term
To include religion, morals, peace, and plenty,
And all that fit Boeotia as a nation
To teach the other nations how to live?),
Increase with Piggishness itself; and still
Does the revenue, that great spring of all
The patronage, and pensions, and by-payments,
Which free-born Pigs regard with jealous eyes,
Diminish, till at length, by glorious steps,
All the land's produce will be merged in taxes,
And the revenue will amount tonothing!
The failure of a foreign market for
Sausages, bristles, and blood-puddings,
And such home manufactures, is but partial;
And, that the population of the Pigs,
Instead of hog-wash, has been fed on straw
And water, is a fact which isyou know
That isit is a state-necessity
Temporary, of course. Those impious Pigs,
Who, by frequent squeaks, have dared impugn
The settled Swellfoot system, or to make
Irreverent mockery of the genuflexions
Inculcated by the arch-priest, have been whipped
Into a loyal and an orthodox whine.
Things being in this happy state, the Queen
Iona
[A loud cry from the Pigs.
   She is innocent! most innocent!
   Purganax.
That is the very thing that I was saying,
Gentlemen Swine; the Queen Iona being
Most innocent, no doubt, returns to Thebes,
And the lean Sows and Boars collect about her,
Wishing to make her think that we believe
(I mean those more substantial Pigs, who swill
Rich hog-wash, while the others mouth damp straw)
That she is guilty; thus, the Lean-Pig faction
Seeks to obtain that hog-wash, which has been
Your immemorial right, and which I will
Maintain you in to the last drop of
A Boar
(interrupting him).
                    What
Does any one accuse her of?
Purganax.
               Why, no one
Makes any positive accusation;but
There were hints dropped, and so the privy wizards
Conceived that it became them to advise
His Majesty to investigate their truth;
Not for his own sake; he could be content
To let his wife play any pranks she pleased,
If, by that sufferance, he could please the Pigs;
But then he fears the morals of the Swine,
The Sows especially, and what effect
It might produce upon the purity and
Religion of the rising generation
Of Sucking-Pigs, if it could be suspected
That Queen Iona
[A pause.
First Boar.
         Well, go on; we long
To hear what she can possibly have done.
Purganax.
Why, it is hinted, that a certain Bull
Thus much is known:the milk-white Bulls that feed
Beside Clitumnus and the crystal lakes
Of the Cisalpine mountains, in fresh dews
Of lotus-grass and blossoming asphodel
Sleeking their silken hair, and with sweet breath
Loading the morning winds until they faint
With living fragrance, are so beautiful!
Well, I say nothing;but Europa rode
On such a one from Asia into Crete,
And the enamoured sea grew calm beneath
His gliding beauty. And Pasiphae,
Iona's grandmother,but she is innocent!
And that both you and I, and all assert.
First Boar.
Most innocent!
Purganax.
       Behold this BAG; a bag
       Second Boar.
Oh! no GREEN BAGS!! Jealousy's eyes are green,
Scorpions are green, and water-snakes, and efts,
And verdigris, and
Purganax.
           Honourable Swine,
In Piggish souls can prepossessions reign?
Allow me to remind you, grass is green
All flesh is grass;no bacon but is flesh
Ye are but bacon. This divining BAG
(Which is not green, but only bacon colour)
Is filled with liquor, which if sprinkled o'er
A woman guilty ofwe all know what
Makes her so hideous, till she finds one blind
She never can commit the like again.
If innocent, she will turn into an angel,
And rain down blessings in the shape of comfits
As she flies up to heaven. Now, my proposal
Is to convert her sacred Majesty
Into an angel (as I am sure we shall do),
By pouring on her head this mystic water.[Showing the Bag.

I know that she is innocent; I wish
Only to prove her so to all the world.
First Boar.
Excellent, just, and noble Purganax.
Second Boar.
How glorious it will be to see her Majesty
Flying above our heads, her petticoats
Streaming likelikelike
Third Boar.
               Anything.
               Purganax.
                    Oh no!
But like a standard of an admiral's ship,
Or like the banner of a conquering host,
Or like a cloud dyed in the dying day,
Unravelled on the blast from a white mountain;
Or like a meteor, or a war-steed's mane,
Or waterfall from a dizzy precipice
Scattered upon the wind.
First Boar.
             Or a cow's tail.
             Second Boar.
Or anything, as the learned Boar observed.
Purganax.
Gentlemen Boars, I move a resolution,
That her most sacred Majesty should be
Invited to attend the feast of Famine,
And to receive upon her chaste white body
Dews of Apotheosis from this BAG.
[A great confusion is heard of the Pigs out of Doors, which communicates itself to those within. During the first Strophe, the doors of the Sty are staved in, and a number of exceedingly leanPigs and Sows and Boars rush in.
Semichorus I.
No! Yes!
Semichorus II.
Yes! No!
Semichorus I.
A law!
Semichorus II.
A flaw!
Semichorus I.
Porkers, we shall lose our wash,
Or must share it with the Lean-Pigs!
First Boar.
Order! order! be not rash!
Was there ever such a scene, Pigs!
An old Sow
(rushing in).
I never saw so fine a dash
Since I first began to wean Pigs.
Second Boar
(solemnly).
The Queen will be an angel time enough.
I vote, in form of an amendment, that
Purganax rub a little of that stuff
Upon his face.
Purganax
(his heart is seen to beat through his waistcoat).
         Gods! What would ye be at?
         Semichorus I.
Purganax has plainly shown a
Cloven foot and jackdaw feather.
Semichorus II.
I vote Swellfoot and Iona
Try the magic test together;
Whenever royal spouses bicker,
Both should try the magic liquor.
An old Boar
(aside).
A miserable state is that of Pigs,
For if their drivers would tear caps and wigs,
The Swine must bite each other's ear therefore.
An old Sow
(aside).
A wretched lot Jove has assigned to Swine,
Squabbling makes Pig-herds hungry, and they dine
On bacon, and whip Sucking-Pigs the more.
Chorus.
  Hog-wash has been ta'en away:
   If the Bull-Queen is divested,
  We shall be in every way
   Hunted, stripped, exposed, molested;
  Let us do whate'er we may,
   That she shall not be arrested.
Queen, we entrench you with walls of brawn,
And palisades of tusks, sharp as a bayonet:
Place your most sacred person here. We pawn
Our lives that none a finger dare to lay on it.
  Those who wrong you, wrong us;
  Those who hate you, hate us;
  Those who sting you, sting us;
  Those who bait you, bait us;
The oracle is now about to be
Fulfilled by circumvolving destiny;
Which says: 'Thebes, choose reform or civil war,
When through your streets, instead of hare with dogs,
A Consort Queen shall hunt a King with Hogs,
Riding upon the IONIAN MINOTAUR.'
Enter Iona Taurina.
Iona Taurina
(coming forward).
Gentlemen Swine, and gentle Lady-Pigs,
The tender heart of every Boar acquits
Their Queen, of any act incongruous
With native Piggishness, and she, reposing
With confidence upon the grunting nation,
Has thrown herself, her cause, her life, her all,
Her innocence, into their Hoggish arms;
Nor has the expectation been deceived
Of finding shelter there. Yet know, great Boars,
(For such whoever lives among you finds you,
And so do I), the innocent are proud!
I have accepted your protection only
In compliment of your kind love and care,
Not for necessity. The innocent
Are safest there where trials and dangers wait;
Innocent Queens o'er white-hot ploughshares tread
Unsinged, and ladies, Erin's laureate sings it[5],
Decked with rare gems, and beauty rarer still,
Walked from Killarney to the Giant's Causeway,
Through rebels, smugglers, troops of yeomanry,
White-boys and Orange-boys, and constables,
Tithe-proctors, and excise people, uninjured!
Thus I!
Lord Purganax, I do commit myself
Into your custody, and am prepared
To stand the test, whatever it may be!
Purganax.
This magnanimity in your sacred Majesty
Must please the Pigs. You cannot fail of being
A heavenly angel. Smoke your bits of glass,
Ye loyal Swine, or her transfiguration
Will blind your wondering eyes.
An old Boar
(aside).
                 Take care, my Lord,
They do not smoke you first.
Purganax.
               At the approaching feast
Of Famine, let the expiation be.
Swine.
Content! content!
Iona Taurina
(aside).
         I, most content of all,
Know that my foes even thus prepare their fall!
[Exeunt omnes.
Scene II.
The interior of the Temple of Famine. The statue of the Goddess, a skeleton clothed in parti-coloured rags, seated upon a heap of skulls and loaves intermingled. A number of exceedingly fat Priests in black garments arrayed on each side, with marrow-bones and cleavers in their hands. [Solomon, the Court Porkman.] A flourish of trumpets.
Enter Mammon as arch-priest, Swellfoot, Dakry, Purganax, Laoctonos, followed by Iona Taurina guarded. On the other side enter the Swine.
Chorus of Priests, accompanied by the Court Porkman on marrow-bones and cleavers.
  Goddess bare, and gaunt, and pale,
  Empress of the world, all hail!
  What though Cretans old called thee
  City-crested Cybele?
   We call thee Famine!
Goddess of fasts and feasts, starving and cramming!
Through thee, for emperors, kings, and priests and lords,
Who rule by viziers, sceptres, bank-notes, words,
The earth pours forth its plenteous fruits,
Corn, wool, linen, flesh, and roots
Those who consume these fruits through thee grow fat,
Those who produce these fruits through thee grow lean,
Whatever change takes place, oh, stick to that!
And let things be as they have ever been;
  At least while we remain thy priests,
  And proclaim thy fasts and feasts.
Through thee the sacred Swellfoot dynasty
Is based upon a rock amid that sea
Whose waves are Swineso let it ever be!
[Swellfoot, etc., seat themselves at a table magnificently covered at the upper end of the Temple. Attendants pass over the stage with hog-wash in pails. A number of Pigs, exceedingly lean, follow them licking up the wash.
Mammon.
I fear your sacred Majesty has lost
The appetite which you were used to have.
Allow me now to recommend this dish
A simple kickshaw by your Persian cook,
Such as is served at the great King's second table.
The price and pains which its ingredients cost
Might have maintained some dozen families
A winter or twonot moreso plain a dish
Could scarcely disagree.
Swellfoot.
              After the trial,
And these fastidious Pigs are gone, perhaps
I may recover my lost appetite,
I feel the gout flying about my stomach
Give me a glass of Maraschino punch.
Purganax
(filling his glass, and standing up).
The glorious Constitution of the Pigs!
All.
A toast! a toast! stand up, and three times three!
Dakry.
No heel-tapsdarken daylights!
Laoctonos.
                  Claret, somehow,
Puts me in mind of blood, and blood of claret!
Swellfoot.
Laoctonos is fishing for a compliment,
But 'tis his due. Yes, you have drunk more wine,
And shed more blood, than any man in Thebes. [To Purganax.

For God's sake stop the grunting of those Pigs!
Purganax.
We dare not, Sire, 'tis Famine's privilege.
Chorus of Swine.
Hail to thee, hail to thee, Famine!
Thy throne is on blood, and thy robe is of rags;
Thou devil which livest on damning;
Saint of new churches, and cant, and GREEN BAGS,
Till in pity and terror thou risest,
Confounding the schemes of the wisest;
When thou liftest thy skeleton form,
When the loaves and the skulls roll about,
We will greet theethe voice of a storm
Would be lost in our terrible shout!
Then hail to thee, hail to thee, Famine!
Hail to thee, Empress of Earth!
When thou risest, dividing possessions;
When thou risest, uprooting oppressions,
In the pride of thy ghastly mirth;
Over palaces, temples, and graves,
We will rush as thy minister-slaves,
Trampling behind in thy train,
Till all be made level again!
Mammon.
I hear a crackling of the giant bones
Of the dread image, and in the black pits
Which once were eyes, I see two livid flames.
These prodigies are oracular, and show
The presence of the unseen Deity.
Mighty events are hastening to their doom!
Swellfoot.
I only hear the lean and mutinous Swine
Grunting about the temple.
Dakry.
              In a crisis
Of such exceeding delicacy, I think
We ought to put her Majesty, the Queen,
Upon her trial without delay.
Mammon.
                THE BAG
Is here.
Purganax.
    I have rehearsed the entire scene
With an ox-bladder and some ditchwater,
On Lady P-; it cannot fail. (Taking up the Bag.)
Your Majesty [To Swellfoot.

In such a filthy business had better
Stand on one side, lest it should sprinkle you.
A spot or two on me would do no harm,
Nay, it might hide the blood, which the sad Genius
Of the Green Isle has fixed, as by a spell,
Upon my browwhich would stain all its seas,
But which those seas could never wash away!
Iona Taurina.
My Lord, I am readynay, I am impatient
To undergo the test.
[A graceful figure in a semi-transparent veil passes unnoticed through the Temple; the word LIBERTY is seen through the veil, as if it were written in fire upon its forehead. Its words are almost drowned in the furious grunting of the Pigs, and the business of the trial. She kneels on the steps of the Altar, and speaks in tones at first faint and low, but which ever become louder and louder.
  Mighty Empress! Death's white wife!
  Ghastly mother-in-law of Life!
  By the God who made thee such,
  By the magic of thy touch,
  By the starving and the cramming
Of fasts and feasts! by thy dread self, O Famine!
I charge thee! when thou wake the multitude,
Thou lead them not upon the paths of blood.
The earth did never mean her foison
For those who crown life's cup with poison
Of fanatic rage and meaningless revenge
But for those radiant spirits, who are still
The standard-bearers in the van of Change.
Be they th'appointed stewards, to fill
The lap of Pain, and Toil, and Age!
Remit, O Queen! thy accustomed rage!
Be what thou art not! In voice faint and low
Freedom calls Famine,her eternal foe,
To brief alliance, hollow truce.Rise now!
[Whilst the Veiled Figure has been chanting this strophe, Mammon, Dakry, Laoctonos, and Swellfoot, have surrounded Iona Taurina, who, with her hands folded on her breast, and her eyes lifted to Heaven, stands, as with saint-like resignation, to wait the issue of the business, in perfect confidence of her innocence.
[Purganax, after unsealing the Green Bag, is gravely about to pour the liquor upon her head, when suddenly the whole expression of her figure and countenance changes; she snatches it from his hand with a loud laugh of triumph, and empties it over Swellfoot and his whole Court, who are instantly changed into a number of filthy and ugly animals, and rush out of the Temple. The image of Famine then arises with a tremendous sound, the Pigs begin scrambling for the loaves, and are tripped up by the skulls; all those who eat the loaves are turned into Bulls, and arrange themselves quietly behind the altar. The image of Famine sinks through a chasm in the earth, and a Minotaur rises.
Minotaur.
I am the Ionian Minotaur, the mightiest
Of all Europa's taurine progeny
I am the old traditional Man-Bull;
And from my ancestors having been Ionian,
I am called Ion, which, by interpretation,
Is John; in plain Theban, that is to say,
My name's John Bull; I am a famous hunter,
And can leap any gate in all Boeotia,
Even the palings of the royal park,
Or double ditch about the new enclosures;
And if your Majesty will deign to mount me,
At least till you have hunted down your game,
I will not throw you.
Iona Taurina.
(During this speech she has been putting on boots and spurs, and a hunting-cap, buckishly cocked on one side, and tucking up her hair, she leaps nimbly on his back.)
           Hoa! hoa! tallyho! tallyho! ho! ho!
Come, let us hunt these ugly badgers down,
These stinking foxes, these devouring otters,
These hares, these wolves, these anything but men.
Hey, for a whipper-in! my loyal Pigs,
Now let your noses be as keen as beagles',
Your steps as swift as greyhounds', and your cries
More dulcet and symphonious than the bells
Of village-towers, on sunshine holiday;
Wake all the dewy woods with jangling music.
Give them no law (are they not beasts of blood?)
But such as they gave you. Tallyho! ho!
Through forest, furze, and bog, and den, and desert,
Pursue the ugly beasts! tallyho! ho!
Full Chorus of Iona and the Swine.
Tallyho! tallyho!
Through rain, hail, and snow,
Through brake, gorse, and briar,
Through fen, flood, and mire,
We go! we go!
  Tallyho! tallyho!
Through pond, ditch, and slough,
Wind them, and find them,
Like the Devil behind them,
Tallyho! tallyho!
[Exeunt, in full cry; Iona driving on the Swine, with the empty Green Bag.
THE END
'Begun at the Baths of San Giuliano, near Pisa, August 24, 1819; published anonymously by J. Johnston, Cheapside (imprint C. F. Seyfang,) 1820. On a threat of prosecution the publisher surrendered the whole impression, seven copies -- the total number sold -- excepted. Oedipus does not appear in the first edition of the Poetical Works, 1839, but it was included by Mrs. Shelley in the second edition of that year.' ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, Oedipus Tyrannus or Swellfoot The Tyrant
,
1277:I.
In midmost Ind, beside Hydaspes cool,
There stood, or hover'd, tremulous in the air,
A faery city 'neath the potent rule
Of Emperor Elfinan; fam'd ev'rywhere
For love of mortal women, maidens fair,
Whose lips were solid, whose soft hands were made
Of a fit mould and beauty, ripe and rare,
To tamper his slight wooing, warm yet staid:
He lov'd girls smooth as shades, but hated a mere shade.

II.
This was a crime forbidden by the law;
And all the priesthood of his city wept,
For ruin and dismay they well foresaw,
If impious prince no bound or limit kept,
And faery Zendervester overstept;
They wept, he sin'd, and still he would sin on,
They dreamt of sin, and he sin'd while they slept;
In vain the pulpit thunder'd at the throne,
Caricature was vain, and vain the tart lampoon.

III.
Which seeing, his high court of parliament
Laid a remonstrance at his Highness' feet,
Praying his royal senses to content
Themselves with what in faery land was sweet,
Befitting best that shade with shade should meet:
Whereat, to calm their fears, he promis'd soon
From mortal tempters all to make retreat,--
Aye, even on the first of the new moon,
An immaterial wife to espouse as heaven's boon.

IV.
Meantime he sent a fluttering embassy
To Pigmio, of Imaus sovereign,
To half beg, and half demand, respectfully,
The hand of his fair daughter Bellanaine;
An audience had, and speeching done, they gain
Their point, and bring the weeping bride away;
Whom, with but one attendant, safely lain
Upon their wings, they bore in bright array,
While little harps were touch'd by many a lyric fay.

V.
As in old pictures tender cherubim
A child's soul thro' the sapphir'd canvas bear,
So, thro' a real heaven, on they swim
With the sweet princess on her plumag'd lair,
Speed giving to the winds her lustrous hair;
And so she journey'd, sleeping or awake,
Save when, for healthful exercise and air,
She chose to "promener l'aile," or take
A pigeon's somerset, for sport or change's sake.

VI.
"Dear Princess, do not whisper me so loud,"
Quoth Corallina, nurse and confidant,
"Do not you see there, lurking in a cloud,
Close at your back, that sly old Crafticant?
He hears a whisper plainer than a rant:
Dry up your tears, and do not look so blue;
He's Elfinan's great state-spy militant,
His running, lying, flying foot-man too,--
Dear mistress, let him have no handle against you!

VII.
"Show him a mouse's tail, and he will guess,
With metaphysic swiftness, at the mouse;
Show him a garden, and with speed no less,
He'll surmise sagely of a dwelling house,
And plot, in the same minute, how to chouse
The owner out of it; show him a" --- "Peace!
Peace! nor contrive thy mistress' ire to rouse!"
Return'd the Princess, "my tongue shall not cease
Till from this hated match I get a free release.

VIII.
"Ah, beauteous mortal!" "Hush!" quoth Coralline,
"Really you must not talk of him, indeed."
"You hush!" reply'd the mistress, with a shinee
Of anger in her eyes, enough to breed
In stouter hearts than nurse's fear and dread:
'Twas not the glance itself made nursey flinch,
But of its threat she took the utmost heed;
Not liking in her heart an hour-long pinch,
Or a sharp needle run into her back an inch.

IX.
So she was silenc'd, and fair Bellanaine,
Writhing her little body with ennui,
Continued to lament and to complain,
That Fate, cross-purposing, should let her be
Ravish'd away far from her dear countree;
That all her feelings should be set at nought,
In trumping up this match so hastily,
With lowland blood; and lowland blood she thought
Poison, as every staunch true-born Imaian ought.

X.
Sorely she griev'd, and wetted three or four
White Provence rose-leaves with her faery tears,
But not for this cause; -- alas! she had more
Bad reasons for her sorrow, as appears
In the fam'd memoirs of a thousand years,
Written by Crafticant, and published
By Parpaglion and Co., (those sly compeers
Who rak'd up ev'ry fact against the dead,)
In Scarab Street, Panthea, at the Jubal's Head.

XI.
Where, after a long hypercritic howl
Against the vicious manners of the age,
He goes on to expose, with heart and soul,
What vice in this or that year was the rage,
Backbiting all the world in every page;
With special strictures on the horrid crime,
(Section'd and subsection'd with learning sage,)
Of faeries stooping on their wings sublime
To kiss a mortal's lips, when such were in their prime.

XII.
Turn to the copious index, you will find
Somewhere in the column, headed letter B,
The name of Bellanaine, if you're not blind;
Then pray refer to the text, and you will see
An article made up of calumny
Against this highland princess, rating her
For giving way, so over fashionably,
To this new-fangled vice, which seems a burr
Stuck in his moral throat, no coughing e'er could stir.

XIII.
There he says plainly that she lov'd a man!
That she around him flutter'd, flirted, toy'd,
Before her marriage with great Elfinan;
That after marriage too, she never joy'd
In husband's company, but still employ'd
Her wits to 'scape away to Angle-land;
Where liv'd the youth, who worried and annoy'd
Her tender heart, and its warm ardours fann'd
To such a dreadful blaze, her side would scorch her hand.

XIV.
But let us leave this idle tittle-tattle
To waiting-maids, and bed-room coteries,
Nor till fit time against her fame wage battle.
Poor Elfinan is very ill at ease,
Let us resume his subject if you please:
For it may comfort and console him much,
To rhyme and syllable his miseries;
Poor Elfinan! whose cruel fate was such,
He sat and curs'd a bride he knew he could not touch.

XV.
Soon as (according to his promises)
The bridal embassy had taken wing,
And vanish'd, bird-like, o'er the suburb trees,
The Emperor, empierc'd with the sharp sting
Of love, retired, vex'd and murmuring
Like any drone shut from the fair bee-queen,
Into his cabinet, and there did fling
His limbs upon a sofa, full of spleen,
And damn'd his House of Commons, in complete chagrin.

XVI.
"I'll trounce some of the members," cry'd the Prince,
"I'll put a mark against some rebel names,
I'll make the Opposition-benches wince,
I'll show them very soon, to all their shames,
What 'tis to smother up a Prince's flames;
That ministers should join in it, I own,
Surprises me! -- they too at these high games!
Am I an Emperor? Do I wear a crown?
Imperial Elfinan, go hang thyself or drown!

XVII.
"I'll trounce 'em! -- there's the square-cut chancellor,
His son shall never touch that bishopric;
And for the nephew of old Palfior,
I'll show him that his speeches made me sick,
And give the colonelcy to Phalaric;
The tiptoe marquis, mortal and gallant,
Shall lodge in shabby taverns upon tick;
And for the Speaker's second cousin's aunt,
She sha'n't be maid of honour,-- by heaven that she sha'n't!

XVIII.
"I'll shirk the Duke of A.; I'll cut his brother;
I'll give no garter to his eldest son;
I won't speak to his sister or his mother!
The Viscount B. shall live at cut-and-run;
But how in the world can I contrive to stun
That fellow's voice, which plagues me worse than any,
That stubborn fool, that impudent state-dun,
Who sets down ev'ry sovereign as a zany,--
That vulgar commoner, Esquire Biancopany?

XIX.
"Monstrous affair! Pshaw! pah! what ugly minx
Will they fetch from Imaus for my bride?
Alas! my wearied heart within me sinks,
To think that I must be so near ally'd
To a cold dullard fay,--ah, woe betide!
Ah, fairest of all human loveliness!
Sweet Bertha! what crime can it be to glide
About the fragrant plaintings of thy dress,
Or kiss thine eyes, or count thy locks, tress after tress?"

XX.
So said, one minute's while his eyes remaind'
Half lidded, piteous, languid, innocent;
But, in a wink, their splendour they regain'd,
Sparkling revenge with amorous fury blent.
Love thwarted in bad temper oft has vent:
He rose, he stampt his foot, he rang the bell,
And order'd some death-warrants to be sent
For signature: -- somewhere the tempest fell,
As many a poor fellow does not live to tell.

XXI.
"At the same time, Eban," -- (this was his page,
A fay of colour, slave from top to toe,
Sent as a present, while yet under age,
From the Viceroy of Zanguebar, -- wise, slow,
His speech, his only words were "yes" and "no,"
But swift of look, and foot, and wing was he,--)
"At the same time, Eban, this instant go
To Hum the soothsayer, whose name I see
Among the fresh arrivals in our empery.

XXII.
"Bring Hum to me! But stay -- here, take my ring,
The pledge of favour, that he not suspect
Any foul play, or awkward murdering,
Tho' I have bowstrung many of his sect;
Throw in a hint, that if he should neglect
One hour, the next shall see him in my grasp,
And the next after that shall see him neck'd,
Or swallow'd by my hunger-starved asp,--
And mention ('tis as well) the torture of the wasp."

XXIII.
These orders given, the Prince, in half a pet,
Let o'er the silk his propping elbow slide,
Caught up his little legs, and, in a fret,
Fell on the sofa on his royal side.
The slave retreated backwards, humble-ey'd,
And with a slave-like silence clos'd the door,
And to old Hun thro' street and alley hied;
He "knew the city," as we say, of yore,
And for short cuts and turns, was nobody knew more.

XXIV.
It was the time when wholesale dealers close
Their shutters with a moody sense of wealth,
But retail dealers, diligent, let loose
The gas (objected to on score of health),
Convey'd in little solder'd pipes by stealth,
And make it flare in many a brilliant form,
That all the powers of darkness it repell'th,
Which to the oil-trade doth great scaith and harm,
And superseded quite the use of the glow-worm.

XXV.
Eban, untempted by the pastry-cooks,
(Of pastry he got store within the palace,)
With hasty steps, wrapp'd cloak, and solemn looks,
Incognito upon his errand sallies,
His smelling-bottle ready for the allies;
He pass'd the Hurdy-gurdies with disdain,
Vowing he'd have them sent on board the gallies;
Just as he made his vow; it 'gan to rain,
Therefore he call'd a coach, and bade it drive amain.

XXVI.
"I'll pull the string," said he, and further said,
"Polluted Jarvey! Ah, thou filthy hack!
Whose springs of life are all dry'd up and dead,
Whose linsey-woolsey lining hangs all slack,
Whose rug is straw, whose wholeness is a crack;
And evermore thy steps go clatter-clitter;
Whose glass once up can never be got back,
Who prov'st, with jolting arguments and bitter,
That 'tis of modern use to travel in a litter.

XXVII.
"Thou inconvenience! thou hungry crop
For all corn! thou snail-creeper to and fro,
Who while thou goest ever seem'st to stop,
And fiddle-faddle standest while you go;
I' the morning, freighted with a weight of woe,
Unto some lazar-house thou journeyest,
And in the evening tak'st a double row
Of dowdies, for some dance or party drest,
Besides the goods meanwhile thou movest east and west.

XXVIII.
"By thy ungallant bearing and sad mien,
An inch appears the utmost thou couldst budge;
Yet at the slightest nod, or hint, or sign,
Round to the curb-stone patient dost thou trudge,
School'd in a beckon, learned in a nudge,
A dull-ey'd Argus watching for a fare;
Quiet and plodding, thou dost bear no grudge
To whisking Tilburies, or Phaetons rare,
Curricles, or Mail-coaches, swift beyond compare."

XXIX.
Philosophizing thus, he pull'd the check,
And bade the Coachman wheel to such a street,
Who, turning much his body, more his neck,
Louted full low, and hoarsely did him greet:
"Certes, Monsieur were best take to his feet,
Seeing his servant can no further drive
For press of coaches, that to-night here meet,
Many as bees about a straw-capp'd hive,
When first for April honey into faint flowers they dive."

XXX.
Eban then paid his fare, and tiptoe went
To Hum's hotel; and, as he on did pass
With head inclin'd, each dusky lineament
Show'd in the pearl-pav'd street, as in a glass;
His purple vest, that ever peeping was
Rich from the fluttering crimson of his cloak,
His silvery trowsers, and his silken sash
Tied in a burnish'd knot, their semblance took
Upon the mirror'd walls, wherever he might look.

XXXI.
He smil'd at self, and, smiling, show'd his teeth,
And seeing his white teeth, he smil'd the more;
Lifted his eye-brows, spurn'd the path beneath,
Show'd teeth again, and smil'd as heretofore,
Until he knock'd at the magician's door;
Where, till the porter answer'd, might be seen,
In the clear panel more he could adore,--
His turban wreath'd of gold, and white, and green,
Mustachios, ear-ring, nose-ring, and his sabre keen.

XXXII.
"Does not your master give a rout to-night?"
Quoth the dark page. "Oh, no!" return'd the Swiss,
"Next door but one to us, upon the right,
The Magazin des Modes now open is
Against the Emperor's wedding;--and, sir, this
My master finds a monstrous horrid bore;
As he retir'd, an hour ago I wis,
With his best beard and brimstone, to explore
And cast a quiet figure in his second floor.

XXXIII.
"Gad! he's oblig'd to stick to business!
For chalk, I hear, stands at a pretty price;
And as for aqua vitae -- there's a mess!
The dentes sapientiae of mice,
Our barber tells me too, are on the rise,--
Tinder's a lighter article, -- nitre pure
Goes off like lightning, -- grains of Paradise
At an enormous figure! -- stars not sure! --
Zodiac will not move without a slight douceur!

XXXIV.
"Venus won't stir a peg without a fee,
And master is too partial, entre nous,
To" -- "Hush -- hush!" cried Eban, "sure that is he
Coming down stairs, -- by St. Bartholomew!
As backwards as he can, -- is't something new?
Or is't his custom, in the name of fun?"
"He always comes down backward, with one shoe"--
Return'd the porter -- "off, and one shoe on,
Like, saving shoe for sock or stocking, my man John!"

XXXV.
It was indeed the great Magician,
Feeling, with careful toe, for every stair,
And retrograding careful as he can,
Backwards and downwards from his own two pair:
"Salpietro!" exclaim'd Hum, "is the dog there?
He's always in my way upon the mat!"
"He's in the kitchen, or the Lord knows where,"--
Reply'd the Swiss, -- "the nasty, yelping brat!"
"Don't beat him!" return'd Hum, and on the floor came pat.

XXXVI.
Then facing right about, he saw the Page,
And said: "Don't tell me what you want, Eban;
The Emperor is now in a huge rage,--
'Tis nine to one he'll give you the rattan!
Let us away!" Away together ran
The plain-dress'd sage and spangled blackamoor,
Nor rested till they stood to cool, and fan,
And breathe themselves at th' Emperor's chamber door,
When Eban thought he heard a soft imperial snore.

XXXVII.
"I thought you guess'd, foretold, or prophesy'd,
That's Majesty was in a raving fit?"
"He dreams," said Hum, "or I have ever lied,
That he is tearing you, sir, bit by bit."
"He's not asleep, and you have little wit,"
Reply'd the page; "that little buzzing noise,
Whate'er your palmistry may make of it,
Comes from a play-thing of the Emperor's choice,
From a Man-Tiger-Organ, prettiest of his toys."

XXXVIII.
Eban then usher'd in the learned Seer:
Elfinan's back was turn'd, but, ne'ertheless,
Both, prostrate on the carpet, ear by ear,
Crept silently, and waited in distress,
Knowing the Emperor's moody bitterness;
Eban especially, who on the floor 'gan
Tremble and quake to death,-- he feared less
A dose of senna-tea or nightmare Gorgon
Than the Emperor when he play'd on his Man-Tiger-Organ.

XXXIX.
They kiss'd nine times the carpet's velvet face
Of glossy silk, soft, smooth, and meadow-green,
Where the close eye in deep rich fur might trace
A silver tissue, scantly to be seen,
As daisies lurk'd in June-grass, buds in green;
Sudden the music ceased, sudden the hand
Of majesty, by dint of passion keen,
Doubled into a common fist, went grand,
And knock'd down three cut glasses, and his best ink-stand.

XL.
Then turning round, he saw those trembling two:
"Eban," said he, "as slaves should taste the fruits
Of diligence, I shall remember you
To-morrow, or next day, as time suits,
In a finger conversation with my mutes,--
Begone! -- for you, Chaldean! here remain!
Fear not, quake not, and as good wine recruits
A conjurer's spirits, what cup will you drain?
Sherry in silver, hock in gold, or glass'd champagne?"

XLI.
"Commander of the faithful!" answer'd Hum,
"In preference to these, I'll merely taste
A thimble-full of old Jamaica rum."
"A simple boon!" said Elfinan; "thou may'st
Have Nantz, with which my morning-coffee's lac'd."
"I'll have a glass of Nantz, then," -- said the Seer,--
"Made racy -- (sure my boldness is misplac'd!)--
With the third part -- (yet that is drinking dear!)--
Of the least drop of crme de citron, crystal clear."

XLII.
"I pledge you, Hum! and pledge my dearest love,
My Bertha!" "Bertha! Bertha!" cry'd the sage,
"I know a many Berthas!" "Mine's above
All Berthas!" sighed the Emperor. "I engage,"
Said Hum, "in duty, and in vassalage,
To mention all the Berthas in the earth;--
There's Bertha Watson, -- and Miss Bertha Page,--
This fam'd for languid eyes, and that for mirth,--
There's Bertha Blount of York, -- and Bertha Knox of Perth."

XLIII.
"You seem to know" -- "I do know," answer'd Hum,
"Your Majesty's in love with some fine girl
Named Bertha; but her surname will not come,
Without a little conjuring." "'Tis Pearl,
'Tis Bertha Pearl! What makes my brain so whirl?
And she is softer, fairer than her name!"
"Where does she live?" ask'd Hum. "Her fair locks curl
So brightly, they put all our fays to shame!--
Live? -- O! at Canterbury, with her old grand-dame."

XLIV.
"Good! good!" cried Hum, "I've known her from a child!
She is a changeling of my management;
She was born at midnight in an Indian wild;
Her mother's screams with the striped tiger's blent,
While the torch-bearing slaves a halloo sent
Into the jungles; and her palanquin,
Rested amid the desert's dreariment,
Shook with her agony, till fair were seen
The little Bertha's eyes ope on the stars serene."

XLV.
"I can't say," said the monarch; "that may be
Just as it happen'd, true or else a bam!
Drink up your brandy, and sit down by me,
Feel, feel my pulse, how much in love I am;
And if your science is not all a sham.
Tell me some means to get the lady here."
"Upon my honour!" said the son of Cham,
"She is my dainty changeling, near and dear,
Although her story sounds at first a little queer."

XLVI.
"Convey her to me, Hum, or by my crown,
My sceptre, and my cross-surmounted globe,
I'll knock you" -- "Does your majesty mean -- down?
No, no, you never could my feelings probe
To such a depth!" The Emperor took his robe,
And wept upon its purple palatine,
While Hum continued, shamming half a sob,--
"In Canterbury doth your lady shine?
But let me cool your brandy with a little wine."

XLVII.
Whereat a narrow Flemish glass he took,
That since belong'd to Admiral De Witt,
Admir'd it with a connoisseuring look,
And with the ripest claret crowned it,
And, ere the lively bead could burst and flit,
He turn'd it quickly, nimbly upside down,
His mouth being held conveniently fit
To catch the treasure: "Best in all the town!"
He said, smack'd his moist lips, and gave a pleasant frown.

XLVIII.
"Ah! good my Prince, weep not!" And then again
He filled a bumper. "Great Sire, do not weep!
Your pulse is shocking, but I'll ease your pain."
"Fetch me that Ottoman, and prithee keep
Your voice low," said the Emperor; "and steep
Some lady's-fingers nice in Candy wine;
And prithee, Hum, behind the screen do peep
For the rose-water vase, magician mine!
And sponge my forehead, -- so my love doth make me pine.

XLIX.
"Ah, cursed Bellanaine!" "Don't think of her,"
Rejoin'd the Mago, "but on Bertha muse;
For, by my choicest best barometer,
You shall not throttled be in marriage noose;
I've said it, Sire; you only have to choose
Bertha or Bellanaine." So saying, he drew
From the left pocket of his threadbare hose,
A sampler hoarded slyly, good as new,
Holding it by his thumb and finger full in view.

L.
"Sire, this is Bertha Pearl's neat handy-work,
Her name, see here, Midsummer, ninety-one."
Elfinan snatch'd it with a sudden jerk,
And wept as if he never would have done,
Honouring with royal tears the poor homespun;
Whereon were broider'd tigers with black eyes,
And long-tail'd pheasants, and a rising sun,
Plenty of posies, great stags, butterflies
Bigger than stags,-- a moon,-- with other mysteries.

LI.
The monarch handled o'er and o'er again
Those day-school hieroglyphics with a sigh;
Somewhat in sadness, but pleas'd in the main,
Till this oracular couplet met his eye
Astounded -- Cupid, I do thee defy!
It was too much. He shrunk back in his chair,
Grew pale as death, and fainted -- very nigh!
"Pho! nonsense!" exclaim'd Hum, "now don't despair;
She does not mean it really. Cheer up, hearty -- there!

LII.
"And listen to my words. You say you won't,
On any terms, marry Miss Bellanaine;
It goes against your conscience -- good! Well, don't.
You say you love a mortal. I would fain
Persuade your honour's highness to refrain
From peccadilloes. But, Sire, as I say,
What good would that do? And, to be more plain,
You would do me a mischief some odd day,
Cut off my ears and limbs, or head too, by my fay!

LIII.
"Besides, manners forbid that I should pass any
Vile strictures on the conduct of a prince
Who should indulge his genius, if he has any,
Not, like a subject, foolish matters mince.
Now I think on't, perhaps I could convince
Your Majesty there is no crime at all
In loving pretty little Bertha, since
She's very delicate,-- not over tall, --
A fairy's hand, and in the waist why -- very small."

LIV.
"Ring the repeater, gentle Hum!" "'Tis five,"
Said the gentle Hum; "the nights draw in apace;
The little birds I hear are all alive;
I see the dawning touch'd upon your face;
Shall I put out the candles, please your Grace?"
"Do put them out, and, without more ado,
Tell me how I may that sweet girl embrace,--
How you can bring her to me." "That's for you,
Great Emperor! to adventure, like a lover true."

LV.
"I fetch her!" -- "Yes, an't like your Majesty;
And as she would be frighten'd wide awake
To travel such a distance through the sky,
Use of some soft manoeuvre you must make,
For your convenience, and her dear nerves' sake;
Nice way would be to bring her in a swoon,
Anon, I'll tell what course were best to take;
You must away this morning." "Hum! so soon?"
"Sire, you must be in Kent by twelve o'clock at noon."

LVI.
At this great Caesar started on his feet,
Lifted his wings, and stood attentive-wise.
"Those wings to Canterbury you must beat,
If you hold Bertha as a worthy prize.
Look in the Almanack -- Moore never lies --
April the twenty- fourth, -- this coming day,
Now breathing its new bloom upon the skies,
Will end in St. Mark's Eve; -- you must away,
For on that eve alone can you the maid convey."

LVII.
Then the magician solemnly 'gan to frown,
So that his frost-white eyebrows, beetling low,
Shaded his deep green eyes, and wrinkles brown
Plaited upon his furnace-scorched brow:
Forth from his hood that hung his neck below,
He lifted a bright casket of pure gold,
Touch'd a spring-lock, and there in wool or snow,
Charm'd into ever freezing, lay an old
And legend-leaved book, mysterious to behold.

LVIII.
"Take this same book,-- it will not bite you, Sire;
There, put it underneath your royal arm;
Though it's a pretty weight it will not tire,
But rather on your journey keep you warm:
This is the magic, this the potent charm,
That shall drive Bertha to a fainting fit!
When the time comes, don't feel the least alarm,
But lift her from the ground, and swiftly flit
Back to your palace. * * * * * * * * * *

LIX.
"What shall I do with that same book?" "Why merely
Lay it on Bertha's table, close beside
Her work-box, and 'twill help your purpose dearly;
I say no more." "Or good or ill betide,
Through the wide air to Kent this morn I glide!"
Exclaim'd the Emperor. "When I return,
Ask what you will, -- I'll give you my new bride!
And take some more wine, Hum; -- O Heavens! I burn
To be upon the wing! Now, now, that minx I spurn!"

LX.
"Leave her to me," rejoin'd the magian:
"But how shall I account, illustrious fay!
For thine imperial absence? Pho! I can
Say you are very sick, and bar the way
To your so loving courtiers for one day;
If either of their two archbishops' graces
Should talk of extreme unction, I shall say
You do not like cold pig with Latin phrases,
Which never should be used but in alarming cases."

LXI.
"Open the window, Hum; I'm ready now!"
Zooks!" exclaim'd Hum, as up the sash he drew.
"Behold, your Majesty, upon the brow
Of yonder hill, what crowds of people!" "Whew!
The monster's always after something new,"
Return'd his Highness, "they are piping hot
To see my pigsney Bellanaine. Hum! do
Tighten my belt a little, -- so, so, -- not
Too tight, -- the book! -- my wand! -- so, nothing is forgot."

LXII.
"Wounds! how they shout!" said Hum, "and there, -- see, see!
Th' ambassador's return'd from Pigmio!
The morning's very fine, -- uncommonly!
See, past the skirts of yon white cloud they go,
Tinging it with soft crimsons! Now below
The sable-pointed heads of firs and pines
They dip, move on, and with them moves a glow
Along the forest side! Now amber lines
Reach the hill top, and now throughout the valley shines."

LXIII.
"Why, Hum, you're getting quite poetical!
Those 'nows' you managed in a special style."
"If ever you have leisure, Sire, you shall
See scraps of mine will make it worth your while,
Tid-bits for Phoebus! -- yes, you well may smile.
Hark! hark! the bells!" "A little further yet,
Good Hum, and let me view this mighty coil."
Then the great Emperor full graceful set
His elbow for a prop, and snuff'd his mignonnette.

LXIV.
The morn is full of holiday; loud bells
With rival clamours ring from every spire;
Cunningly-station'd music dies and swells
In echoing places; when the winds respire,
Light flags stream out like gauzy tongues of fire;
A metropolitan murmur, lifeful, warm,
Comes from the northern suburbs; rich attire
Freckles with red and gold the moving swarm;
While here and there clear trumpets blow a keen alarm.

LXV.
And now the fairy escort was seen clear,
Like the old pageant of Aurora's train,
Above a pearl-built minister, hovering near;
First wily Crafticant, the chamberlain,
Balanc'd upon his grey-grown pinions twain,
His slender wand officially reveal'd;
Then black gnomes scattering sixpences like rain;
Then pages three and three; and next, slave-held,
The Imaian 'scutcheon bright, -- one mouse in argent field.

LXVI.
Gentlemen pensioners next; and after them,
A troop of winged Janizaries flew;
Then slaves, as presents bearing many a gem;
Then twelve physicians fluttering two and two;
And next a chaplain in a cassock new;
Then Lords in waiting; then (what head not reels
For pleasure?) -- the fair Princess in full view,
Borne upon wings, -- and very pleas'd she feels
To have such splendour dance attendance at her heels.

LXVII.
For there was more magnificence behind:
She wav'd her handkerchief. "Ah, very grand!"
Cry'd Elfinan, and clos'd the window-blind;
"And, Hum, we must not shilly-shally stand,--
Adieu! adieu! I'm off for Angle-land!
I say, old Hocus, have you such a thing
About you, -- feel your pockets, I command,--
I want, this instant, an invisible ring,--
Thank you, old mummy! -- now securely I take wing."

LXVIII.
Then Elfinan swift vaulted from the floor,
And lighted graceful on the window-sill;
Under one arm the magic book he bore,
The other he could wave about at will;
Pale was his face, he still look'd very ill;
He bow'd at Bellanaine, and said -- "Poor Bell!
Farewell! farewell! and if for ever! still
For ever fare thee well!" -- and then he fell
A laughing! -- snapp'd his fingers! -- shame it is to tell!

LXIX.
"By'r Lady! he is gone!" cries Hum, "and I --
(I own it) -- have made too free with his wine;
Old Crafticant will smoke me. By-the-bye!
This room is full of jewels as a mine,--
Dear valuable creatures, how ye shine!
Sometime to-day I must contrive a minute,
If Mercury propitiously incline,
To examine his scutoire, and see what's in i,
For of superfluous diamonds I as well may thin it.

LXX.
"The Emperor's horrid bad; yes, that's my cue!"
Some histories say that this was Hum's last speech;
That, being fuddled, he went reeling through
The corridor, and scarce upright could reach
The stair-head; that being glutted as a leech,
And us'd, as we ourselves have just now said,
To manage stairs reversely, like a peach
Too ripe, he fell, being puzzled in his head
With liquor and the staircase: verdict -- found stone dead.

LXXI.
This as a falsehood Crafticanto treats;
And as his style is of strange elegance,
Gentle and tender, full of soft conceits,
(Much like our Boswell's,) we will take a glance
At his sweet prose, and, if we can, make dance
His woven periods into careless rhyme;
O, little faery Pegasus! rear -- prance --
Trot round the quarto -- ordinary time!
March, little Pegasus, with pawing hoof sublime!

LXXII.
Well, let us see, -- tenth book and chapter nine,--
Thus Crafticant pursues his diary:--
"'Twas twelve o'clock at night, the weather fine,
Latitude thirty-six; our scouts descry
A flight of starlings making rapidly
Towards Thibet. Mem.: -- birds fly in the night;
From twelve to half-past -- wings not fit to fly
For a thick fog -- the Princess sulky quite;
Call'd for an extra shawl, and gave her nurse a bite.

LXXIII.
"Five minutes before one -- brought down a moth
With my new double-barrel -- stew'd the thighs
And made a very tolerable broth --
Princess turn'd dainty, to our great surprise,
Alter'd her mind, and thought it very nice;
Seeing her pleasant, try'd her with a pun,
She frown'd; a monstrous owl across us flies
About this time, -- a sad old figure of fun;
Bad omen -- this new match can't be a happy one.

LXXIV.
"From two to half-past, dusky way we made,
Above the plains of Gobi, -- desert, bleak;
Beheld afar off, in the hooded shade
Of darkness, a great mountain (strange to speak),
Spitting, from forth its sulphur-baken peak,
A fan-shap'd burst of blood-red, arrowy fire,
Turban'd with smoke, which still away did reek,
Solid and black from that eternal pyre,
Upon the laden winds that scantly could respire.

LXXV.
"Just upon three o'clock a falling star
Created an alarm among our troop,
Kill'd a man-cook, a page, and broke a jar,
A tureen, and three dishes, at one swoop,
Then passing by the princess, singed her hoop:
Could not conceive what Coralline was at,
She clapp'd her hands three times and cry'd out 'Whoop!'
Some strange Imaian custom. A large bat
Came sudden 'fore my face, and brush'd against my hat.

LXXVI.
"Five minutes thirteen seconds after three,
Far in the west a mighty fire broke out,
Conjectur'd, on the instant, it might be,
The city of Balk -- 'twas Balk beyond all doubt:
A griffin, wheeling here and there about,
Kept reconnoitring us -- doubled our guard --
Lighted our torches, and kept up a shout,
Till he sheer'd off -- the Princess very scar'd --
And many on their marrow-bones for death prepar'd.

LXXVII.
"At half-past three arose the cheerful moon--
Bivouack'd for four minutes on a cloud --
Where from the earth we heard a lively tune
Of tambourines and pipes, serene and loud,
While on a flowery lawn a brilliant crowd
Cinque-parted danc'd, some half asleep reposed
Beneath the green-fan'd cedars, some did shroud
In silken tents, and 'mid light fragrance dozed,
Or on the opera turf their soothed eyelids closed.

LXXVIII.
"Dropp'd my gold watch, and kill'd a kettledrum--
It went for apoplexy -- foolish folks! --
Left it to pay the piper -- a good sum --
(I've got a conscience, maugre people's jokes,)
To scrape a little favour; 'gan to coax
Her Highness' pug-dog -- got a sharp rebuff --
She wish'd a game at whist -- made three revokes --
Turn'd from myself, her partner, in a huff;
His majesty will know her temper time enough.

LXXIX.
"She cry'd for chess -- I play'd a game with her --
Castled her king with such a vixen look,
It bodes ill to his Majesty -- (refer
To the second chapter of my fortieth book,
And see what hoity-toity airs she took).
At half-past four the morn essay'd to beam --
Saluted, as we pass'd, an early rook --
The Princess fell asleep, and, in her dream,
Talk'd of one Master Hubert, deep in her esteem.

LXXX.
"About this time, -- making delightful way,--
Shed a quill-feather from my larboard wing --
Wish'd, trusted, hop'd 'twas no sign of decay --
Thank heaven, I'm hearty yet! -- 'twas no such thing:--
At five the golden light began to spring,
With fiery shudder through the bloomed east;
At six we heard Panthea's churches ring --
The city wall his unhiv'd swarms had cast,
To watch our grand approach, and hail us as we pass'd.

LXXXI.
"As flowers turn their faces to the sun,
So on our flight with hungry eyes they gaze,
And, as we shap'd our course, this, that way run,
With mad-cap pleasure, or hand-clasp'd amaze;
Sweet in the air a mild-ton'd music plays,
And progresses through its own labyrinth;
Buds gather'd from the green spring's middle-days,
They scatter'd, -- daisy, primrose, hyacinth,--
Or round white columns wreath'd from capital to plinth.

LXXXII.
"Onward we floated o'er the panting streets,
That seem'd throughout with upheld faces paved;
Look where we will, our bird's-eye vision meets
Legions of holiday; bright standards waved,
And fluttering ensigns emulously craved
Our minute's glance; a busy thunderous roar,
From square to square, among the buildings raved,
As when the sea, at flow, gluts up once more
The craggy hollowness of a wild reefed shore.

LXXXIII.
"And 'Bellanaine for ever!' shouted they,
While that fair Princess, from her winged chair,
Bow'd low with high demeanour, and, to pay
Their new-blown loyalty with guerdon fair,
Still emptied at meet distance, here and there,
A plenty horn of jewels. And here I
(Who wish to give the devil her due) declare
Against that ugly piece of calumny,
Which calls them Highland pebble-stones not worth a fly.

LXXXIV.
"Still 'Bellanaine!' they shouted, while we glide
'Slant to a light Ionic portico,
The city's delicacy, and the pride
Of our Imperial Basilic; a row
Of lords and ladies, on each hand, make show
Submissive of knee-bent obeisance,
All down the steps; and, as we enter'd, lo!
The strangest sight -- the most unlook'd for chance --
All things turn'd topsy-turvy in a devil's dance.

LXXXV.
"'Stead of his anxious Majesty and court
At the open doors, with wide saluting eyes,
Conges and scrape-graces of every sort,
And all the smooth routine of gallantries,
Was seen, to our immoderate surprise,
A motley crowd thick gather'd in the hall,
Lords, scullions, deputy-scullions, with wild cries
Stunning the vestibule from wall to wall,
Where the Chief Justice on his knees and hands doth crawl.

LXXXVI.
"Counts of the palace, and the state purveyor
Of moth's-down, to make soft the royal beds,
The Common Council and my fool Lord Mayor
Marching a-row, each other slipshod treads;
Powder'd bag-wigs and ruffy-tuffy heads
Of cinder wenches meet and soil each other;
Toe crush'd with heel ill-natur'd fighting breeds,
Frill-rumpling elbows brew up many a bother,
And fists in the short ribs keep up the yell and pother.

LXXXVII.
"A Poet, mounted on the Court-Clown's back,
Rode to the Princess swift with spurring heels,
And close into her face, with rhyming clack,
Began a Prothalamion; -- she reels,
She falls, she faints! while laughter peels
Over her woman's weakness. 'Where!' cry'd I,
'Where is his Majesty?' No person feels
Inclin'd to answer; wherefore instantly
I plung'd into the crowd to find him or die.

LXXXVIII.
"Jostling my way I gain'd the stairs, and ran
To the first landing, where, incredible!
I met, far gone in liquor, that old man,
That vile impostor Hum. ----"
So far so well,--
For we have prov'd the Mago never fell
Down stairs on Crafticanto's evidence;
And therefore duly shall proceed to tell,
Plain in our own original mood and tense,
The sequel of this day, though labour 'tis immense!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
'Lord Houghton first gave this composition in the Life, Letters &c. (1848), and in Volume II, page 51, refers to it as "the last of Keats's literary labours." The poet says in a letter to Brown, written after the first attack of blood-spitting,
"I shall soon begin upon 'Lucy Vaughan Lloyd.' I do not begin composition yet, being willing, in case of a relapse, to have nothing to reproach myself with."
I presume, therefore, that the composition may be assigned to the Spring or Summer of 1820. In August of that year, Leigh Hunt seems to have had the manuscript in his hands, for, in the first part of his article on Coaches, which fills The Indicator for the 23rd of August 1820, he quotes four stanzas and four lines from the poem, as by "a very good poetess, of the name of Lucy V---- L----, who has favoured us with a sight of a manuscript poem," &c. The stanzas quoted are XXV to XXIX. Lord Houghton gives, in the Aldine Edition of 1876, the following note by Brown: --
"This Poem was written subject to future amendments and omissions: it was begun without a plan, and without any prescribed laws for the supernatural machinery."

His Lordship adds an interesting passage from a letter written to him by Lord Jeffrey: --
"There are beautiful passages and lines of ineffable sweetness in these minor pieces, and strange outbursts of individual fancy and felicitous expressions in the 'Cap and Bells,' though the general extravagance of the poetry is more suited to an Italian than to an English taste."
The late Dante Gabriel Rossetti wrote to me of this poem as "the only unworthy stuff Keats ever wrote except an early trifle or two," and again as "the to me hateful Cap and Bells." I confess that it seems to me entirely unworthy of Keats, though certainly a proof, if proof were needed, of his versatility. It has the character of a mere intellectual and mechanical exercise, performed at a time when those higher forces constituting the mainspring of poetry were exhausted; but even so I find it difficult to figure Keats as doing anything so aimless as this appears when regarded solely as an effort of the fancy. He probably had a satirical under-current of meaning; and it needs no great stretch of the imagination to see the illicit passion of Emperor Elfinan, and his detestation for his authorized bride-elect, an oblique glance at the martial relations of George IV.
It is not difficult to suggest prototypes for many of the faery-land statesmen against whom Elfinan vows vengeance; and there are many particulars in which earthly incidents are too thickly strewn to leave one in the settled belief that the poet's programme was wholly unearthly.--- H. B. F.'
~ Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895. by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ John Keats, The Cap And Bells; Or, The Jealousies - A Faery Tale .. Unfinished
,
1278:And the font took them: let our laurels lie!
Braid moonfern now with mystic trifoly
Because once more Goito gets, once more,
Sordello to itself! A dream is o'er,
And the suspended life begins anew;
Quiet those throbbing temples, then, subdue
That cheek's distortion! Nature's strict embrace,
Putting aside the past, shall soon efface
Its print as wellfactitious humours grown
Over the trueloves, hatreds not his own
And turn him pure as some forgotten vest
Woven of painted byssus, silkiest
Tufting the Tyrrhene whelk's pearl-sheeted lip,
Left welter where a trireme let it slip
I' the sea, and vexed a satrap; so the stain
O' the world forsakes Sordello, with its pain,
Its pleasure: how the tinct loosening escapes,
Cloud after cloud! Mantua's familiar shapes
Die, fair and foul die, fading as they flit,
Men, women, and the pathos and the wit,
Wise speech and foolish, deeds to smile or sigh
For, good, bad, seemly or ignoble, die.
The last face glances through the eglantines,
The last voice murmurs, 'twixt the blossomed vines,
Of Men, of that machine supplied by thought
To compass self-perception with, he sought
By forcing half himselfan insane pulse
Of a god's blood, on clay it could convulse,
Never transmuteon human sights and sounds,
To watch the other half with; irksome bounds
It ebbs from to its source, a fountain sealed
Forever. Better sure be unrevealed
Than part revealed: Sordello well or ill
Is finished: then what further use of Will,
Point in the prime idea not realized,
An oversight? inordinately prized,
No less, and pampered with enough of each
Delight to prove the whole above its reach.
"To need become all natures, yet retain
"The law of my own natureto remain
"Myself, yet yearn . . . as if that chestnut, think,
"Should yearn for this first larch-bloom crisp and pink,
"Or those pale fragrant tears where zephyrs stanch
"March wounds along the fretted pine-tree branch!
"Will and the means to show will, great and small,
"Material, spiritual,abjure them all
"Save any so distinct, they may be left
"To amuse, not tempt become! and, thus bereft,
"Just as I first was fashioned would I be!
"Nor, moon, is it Apollo now, but me
"Thou visitest to comfort and befriend!
"Swim thou into my heart, and there an end,
"Since I possess thee!nay, thus shut mine eyes
"And know, quite know, by this heart's fall and rise,
"When thou dost bury thee in clouds, and when
"Out-standest: wherefore practise upon men
"To make that plainer to myself?"
                 Slide here
Over a sweet and solitary year
Wasted; or simply notice change in him
How eyes, once with exploring bright, grew dim
And satiate with receiving. Some distress
Was caused, too, by a sort of consciousness
Under the imbecility,nought kept
That down; he slept, but was aware he slept,
So, frustrated: as who brainsick made pact
Erst with the overhanging cataract
To deafen him, yet still distinguished plain
His own blood's measured clicking at his brain.
To finish. One declining Autumn day
Few birds about the heaven chill and grey,
No wind that cared trouble the tacit woods
He sauntered home complacently, their moods
According, his and nature's. Every spark
Of Mantua life was trodden out; so dark
The embers, that the Troubadour, who sung
Hundreds of songs, forgot, its trick his tongue,
Its craft his brain, how either brought to pass
Singing at all; that faculty might class
With any of Apollo's now. The year
Began to find its early promise sere
As well. Thus beauty vanishes; thus stone
Outlingers flesh: nature's and his youth gone,
They left the world to you, and wished you joy.
When, stopping his benevolent employ,
A presage shuddered through the welkin; harsh
The earth's remonstrance followed. 'T was the marsh
Gone of a sudden. Mincio, in its place,
Laughed, a broad water, in next morning's face,
And, where the mists broke up immense and white
I' the steady wind, burned like a spilth of light
Out of the crashing of a myriad stars.
And here was nature, bound by the same bars
Of fate with him!
         "No! youth once gone is gone:
"Deeds, let escape, are never to be done.
"Leaf-fall and grass-spring for the year; for us
"Oh forfeit I unalterably thus
"My chance? nor two lives wait me, this to spend,
"Learning save that? Nature has time, may mend
"Mistake, she knows occasion will recur;
"Landslip or seabreach, how affects it her
"With her magnificent resources?I
"Must perish once and perish utterly.
"Not any strollings now at even-close
"Down the field-path, Sordello! by thorn-rows
"Alive with lamp-flies, swimming spots of fire
"And dew, outlining the black cypress' spire
"She waits you at, Elys, who heard you first
"Woo her, the snow-month through, but ere she durst
"Answer 't was April. Linden-flower-time-long
"Her eyes were on the ground; 't is July, strong
"Now; and because white dust-clouds overwhelm
"The woodside, here or by the village elm
"That holds the moon, she meets you, somewhat pale,
"But letting you lift up her coarse flax veil
"And whisper (the damp little hand in yours)
"Of love, heart's love, your heart's love that endures
"Till death. Tush! No mad mixing with the rout
"Of haggard ribalds wandering about
"The hot torchlit wine-scented island-house
"Where Friedrich holds his wickedest carouse,
"Parading,to the gay Palermitans,
"Soft Messinese, dusk Saracenic clans
"Nuocera holds,those tall grave dazzling Norse,
"High-cheeked, lank-haired, toothed whiter than the morse,
"Queens of the caves of jet stalactites,
"He sent his barks to fetch through icy seas,
"The blind night seas without a saving star,
"And here in snowy birdskin robes they are,
"Sordello!here, mollitious alcoves gilt
"Superb as Byzant domes that devils built!
"Ah, Byzant, there again! no chance to go
"Ever like august cheery Dandolo,
"Worshipping hearts about him for a wall,
"Conducted, blind eyes, hundred years and all,
"Through vanquished Byzant where friends note for him
"What pillar, marble massive, sardius slim,
"'T were fittest he transport to Venice' Square
"Flattered and promised life to touch them there
"Soon, by those fervid sons of senators!
"No more lifes, deaths, loves, hatreds, peaces, wars!
"Ah, fragments of a whole ordained to be,
"Points in the life I waited! what are ye
"But roundels of a ladder which appeared
"Awhile the very platform it was reared
"To lift me on?that happiness I find
"Proofs of my faith in, even in the blind
"Instinct which bade forego you all unless
"Ye led me past yourselves. Ay, happiness
"Awaited me; the way life should be used
"Was to acquire, and deeds like you conduced
"To teach it by a self-revealment, deemed
"Life's very use, so long! Whatever seemed
"Progress to that, was pleasure; aught that stayed
"My reaching itno pleasure. I have laid
"The ladder down; I climb not; still, aloft
"The platform stretches! Blisses strong and soft,
"I dared not entertain, elude me; yet
"Never of what they promised could I get
"A glimpse till now! The common sort, the crowd,
"Exist, perceive; with Being are endowed,
"However slight, distinct from what they See,
"However bounded; Happiness must be,
"To feed the first by gleanings from the last,
"Attain its qualities, and slow or fast
"Become what they behold; such peace-in-strife,
"By transmutation, is the Use of Life,
"The Alien turning Native to the soul
"Or bodywhich instructs me; I am whole
"There and demand a Palma; had the world
"Been from my soul to a like distance hurled,
"'T were Happiness to make it one with me:
"Whereas I must, ere I begin to Be,
"Include a world, in flesh, I comprehend
"In spirit now; and this done, what 's to blend
"With? Nought is Alien in the worldmy Will
"Owns all already; yet can turn itstill
"LessNative, since my Means to correspond
"With Will are so unworthy, 't was my bond
"To tread the very joys that tantalize
"Most now, into a grave, never to rise.
"I die then! Will the rest agree to die?
"Next Age or no? Shall its Sordello try
"Clue after clue, and catch at last the clue
"I miss?that 's underneath my finger too,
"Twice, thrice a day, perhaps,some yearning traced
"Deeper, some petty consequence embraced
"Closer! Why fled I Mantua, then?complained
"So much my Will was fettered, yet remained
"Content within a tether half the range
"I could assign it?able to exchange
"My ignorance (I felt) for knowledge, and
"Idle because I could thus understand
"Could e'en have penetrated to its core
"Our mortal mystery, yetfoolforbore,
"Preferred elaborating in the dark
"My casual stuff, by any wretched spark
"Born of my predecessors, though one stroke
"Of mine had brought the flame forth! Mantua's yoke,
"My minstrel's-trade, was to behold mankind,
"My own concern was just to bring my mind
"Behold, just extricate, for my acquist,
"Each object suffered stifle in the mist
"Which hazard, custom, blindness interpose
"Betwixt things and myself."
               Whereat he rose.
The level wind carried above the firs
Clouds, the irrevocable travellers,
Onward.
   "Pushed thus into a drowsy copse,
"Arms twine about my neck, each eyelid drops
"Under a humid finger; while there fleets,
"Outside the screen, a pageant time repeats
"Never again! To be deposed, immured
"Clandestinelystill petted, still assured
"To govern were fatiguing workthe Sight
"Fleeting meanwhile! 'T is noontide: wreak ere night
"Somehow my will upon it, rather! Slake
"This thirst somehow, the poorest impress take
"That serves! A blasted bud displays you, torn,
"Faint rudiments of the full flower unborn;
"But who divines what glory coats o'erclasp
"Of the bulb dormant in the mummy's grasp
"Taurello sent?" . . .
           "Taurello? Palma sent
"Your Trouvere," (Naddo interposing leant
Over the lost bard's shoulder)"and, believe,
"You cannot more reluctantly receive
"Than I pronounce her message: we depart
"Together. What avail a poet's heart
"Verona's pomps and gauds? five blades of grass
"Suffice him. News? Why, where your marish was,
"On its mud-banks smoke rises after smoke
"I' the valley, like a spout of hell new-broke.
"Oh, the world's tidings! small your thanks, I guess,
"For them. The father of our Patroness,
"Has played Taurello an astounding trick,
"Parts between Ecelin and Alberic
"His wealth and goes into a convent: both
"Wed Guelfs: the Count and Palma plighted troth
"A week since at Verona: and they want
"You doubtless to contrive the marriage-chant
"Ere Richard storms Ferrara." Then was told
The tale from the beginninghow, made bold
By Salinguerra's absence, Guelfs had burned
And pillaged till he unawares returned
To take revenge: how Azzo and his friend
Were doing their endeavour, how the end
O' the siege was nigh, and how the Count, released
From further care, would with his marriage-feast
Inaugurate a new and better rule,
Absorbing thus Romano.
           "Shall I school
"My master," added Naddo, "and suggest
"How you may clothe in a poetic vest
"These doings, at Verona? Your response
"To Palma! Wherefore jest? 'Depart at once?
"A good resolve! In truth, I hardly hoped
"So prompt an acquiescence. Have you groped
"Out wisdom in the wilds here?thoughts may be
"Over-poetical for poetry.
"Pearl-white, you poets liken Palma's neck;
"And yet what spoils an orient like some speck
"Of genuine white, turning its own white grey?
"You take me? Curse the cicala!"
                 One more day,
One eveappears Verona! Many a group,
(You mind) instructed of the osprey's swoop
On lynx and ounce, was gatheringChristendom
Sure to receive, whate'er the end was, from
The evening's purpose cheer or detriment,
Since Friedrich only waited some event
Like this, of Ghibellins establishing
Themselves within Ferrara, ere, as King
Of Lombardy, he 'd glad descend there, wage
Old warfare with the Pontiff, disengage
His barons from the burghers, and restore
The rule of Charlemagne, broken of yore
By Hildebrand.
       I' the palace, each by each,
Sordello sat and Palma: little speech
At first in that dim closet, face with face
(Despite the tumult in the market-place)
Exchanging quick low laughters: now would rush
Word upon word to meet a sudden flush,
A look left off, a shifting lips' surmise
But for the most part their two histories
Ran best thro' the locked fingers and linked arms.
And so the night flew on with its alarms
Till in burst one of Palma's retinue;
"Now, Lady!" gasped he. Then arose the two
And leaned into Verona's air, dead-still.
A balcony lay black beneath until
Out, 'mid a gush of torchfire, grey-haired men
Came on it and harangued the people: then
Sea-like that people surging to and fro
Shouted, "Hale forth the carrochtrumpets, ho,
"A flourish! Run it in the ancient grooves!
"Back from the bell! Hammerthat whom behoves
"May hear the League is up! Peallearn who list,
"Verona means not first of towns break tryst
"To-morrow with the League!"
               Enough. Now turn
Over the eastern cypresses: discern!
Is any beacon set a-glimmer?
               Rang
The air with shouts that overpowered the clang
Of the incessant carroch, even: "Haste
"The candle 's at the gateway! ere it waste,
"Each soldier stand beside it, armed to march
"With Tiso Sampier through the eastern arch!"
Ferrara's succoured, Palma!
               Once again
They sat together; some strange thing in train
To say, so difficult was Palma's place
In taking, with a coy fastidious grace
Like the bird's flutter ere it fix and feed.
But when she felt she held her friend indeed
Safe, she threw back her curls, began implant
Her lessons; telling of another want
Goito's quiet nourished than his own;
Palmato serve himto be served, alone
Importing; Agnes' milk so neutralized
The blood of Ecelin. Nor be surprised
If, while Sordello fain had captive led
Nature, in dream was Palma subjected
To some out-soul, which dawned not though she pined
Delaying, till its advent, heart and mind
Their life. "How dared I let expand the force
"Within me, till some out-soul, whose resource
"It grew for, should direct it? Every law
"Of life, its every fitness, every flaw,
"Must One determine whose corporeal shape
"Would be no other than the prime escape
"And revelation to me of a Will
"Orb-like o'ershrouded and inscrutable
"Above, save at the point which, I should know,
"Shone that myself, my powers, might overflow
"So far, so much; as now it signified
"Which earthly shape it henceforth chose my guide,
"Whose mortal lip selected to declare
"Its oracles, what fleshly garb would wear
"The first of intimations, whom to love;
"The next, how love him. Seemed that orb, above
"The castle-covert and the mountain-close,
"Slow in appearing?if beneath it rose
"Cravings, aversions,did our green precinct
"Take pride in me, at unawares distinct
"With this or that endowment,how, repressed
"At once, such jetting power shrank to the rest!
"Was I to have a chance touch spoil me, leave
"My spirit thence unfitted to receive
"The consummating spell?that spell so near
"Moreover! 'Waits he not the waking year?
"'His almond-blossoms must be honey-ripe
"'By this; to welcome him, fresh runnels stripe
"'The thawed ravines; because of him, the wind
"'Walks like a herald. I shall surely find
"'Him now!'
     "And chief, that earnest April morn
"Of Richard's Love-court, was it time, so worn
"And white my cheek, so idly my blood beat,
"Sitting that morn beside the Lady's feet
"And saying as she prompted; till outburst
"One face from all the faces. Not then first
"I knew it; where in maple chamber glooms,
"Crowned with what sanguine-heart pomegranate blooms,
"Advanced it ever? Men's acknowledgment
"Sanctioned my own: 't was taken, Palma's bent,
"Sordello,recognized, accepted.
                 "Dumb
"Sat she still scheming. Ecelin would come
"Gaunt, scared, 'Cesano baffles me,' he 'd say:
"'Better I fought it out, my father's way!
"'Strangle Ferrara in its drowning flats,
"'And you and your Taurello yonder!what's
"'Romano's business there?' An hour's concern
"To cure the froward Chief!induce return
"As heartened from those overmeaning eyes,
"Wound up to persevere,his enterprise
"Marked out anew, its exigent of wit
"Apportioned,she at liberty to sit
"And scheme against the next emergence, I
"To covet her Taurello-sprite, made fly
"Or fold the wingto con your horoscope
"For leave command those steely shafts shoot ope,
"Or straight assuage their blinding eagerness
"In blank smooth snow What semblance of success
"To any of my plans for making you
"Mine and Romano's? Break the first wall through,
"Tread o'er the ruins of the Chief, supplant
"His sons beside, still, vainest were the vaunt:
"There, Salinguerra would obstruct me sheer,
"And the insuperable Tuscan, here,
"Stay me! But one wild eve that Lady died
"In her lone chamber: only I beside:
"Taurello far at Naples, and my sire
"At Padua, Ecelin away in ire
"With Alberic. She held me thusa clutch
"To make our spirits as our bodies touch
"And so began flinging the past up heaps
"Of uncouth treasure from their sunless sleeps
"Within her soul; deeds rose along with dreams,
"Fragments of many miserable schemes,
"Secrets, more secrets, thenno, not the last
"'Mongst others, like a casual trick o' the past,
"How . . . ay, she told me, gathering up her face,
"All left of it, into one arch-grimace
"To die with . . .
         "Friend, 't is gone! but not the fear
"Of that fell laughing, heard as now I hear.
"Nor faltered voice, nor seemed her heart grow weak
"When i' the midst abrupt she ceased to speak
"Dead, as to serve a purpose, mark!for in
"Rushed o' the very instant Ecelin
"(How summoned, who divines?)looking as if
"He understood why Adelaide lay stiff
"Already in my arms; for 'Girl, how must
"'I manage Este in the matter thrust
"'Upon me, how unravel your bad coil?
"'Since' (he declared) ''t is on your browa soil
"'Like hers there!' then in the same breath, 'he lacked
"'No counsel after all, had signed no pact
"'With devils, nor was treason here or there,
"'Goito or Vicenza, his affair:
"'He buried it in Adelaide's deep grave,
"'Would begin life afresh, now,would not slave
"'For any Friedrich's nor Taurello's sake!
"'What booted him to meddle or to make
"'In Lombardy?' And afterward I knew
"The meaning of his promise to undo
"All she had donewhy marriages were made,
"New friendships entered on, old followers paid
"With curses for their pains,new friends' amaze
"At height, when, passing out by Gate St. Blaise,
"He stopped short in Vicenza, bent his head
"Over a friar's neck,'had vowed,' he said,
"'Long since, nigh thirty years, because his wife
"'And child were saved there, to bestow his life
"'On God, his gettings on the Church.'
                     "Exiled
"Within Goito, still one dream beguiled
"My days and nights; 't was found, the orb I sought
"To serve, those glimpses came of Fomalhaut,
"No other: but how serve it?authorize
"You and Romano mingle destinies?
"And straight Romano's angel stood beside
"Me who had else been Boniface's bride,
"For Salinguerra 't was, with neck low bent,
"And voice lightened to music, (as he meant
"To learn, not teach me,) who withdrew the pall
"From the dead past and straight revived it all,
"Making me see how first Romano waxed,
"Wherefore he waned now, why, if I relaxed
"My grasp (even I!) would drop a thing effete,
"Frayed by itself, unequal to complete
"Its course, and counting every step astray
"A gain so much. Romano, every way
"Stable, a Lombard House nowwhy start back
"Into the very outset of its track?
"This patching principle which late allied
"Our House with other Houseswhat beside
"Concerned the apparition, the first Knight
"Who followed Conrad hither in such plight
"His utmost wealth was summed in his one steed?
"For Ecelo, that prowler, was decreed
"A task, in the beginning hazardous
"To him as ever task can be to us;
"But did the weather-beaten thief despair
"When first our crystal cincture of warm air
"That binds the Trevisan,as its spice-belt
"(Crusaders say) the tract where Jesus dwelt,
"Furtive he pierced, and Este was to face
"Despaired Saponian strength of Lombard grace?
"Tried he at making surer aught made sure,
"Maturing what already was mature?
"No; his heart prompted Ecelo, 'Confront
"'Este, inspect yourself. What 's nature? Wont.
"'Discard three-parts your nature, and adopt
"'The rest as an advantage!' Old strength propped
"The man who first grew Podest among
"The Vicentines, no less than, while there sprung
"His palace up in Padua like a threat,
"Their noblest spied a grace, unnoticed yet
"In Conrad's crew. Thus far the object gained,
"Romano was establishedhas remained
"'For are you not Italian, truly peers
"'With Este? Azzo better soothes our ears
"'Than Alberic? or is this lion's-crine
"'From over-mounts' (this yellow hair of mine)
"'So weak a graft on Agnes Este's stock?'
"(Thus went he on with something of a mock)
"'Wherefore recoil, then, from the very fate
"'Conceded you, refuse to imitate
"'Your model farther? Este long since left
"'Being mere Este: as a blade its heft,
"'Este required the Pope to further him:
"'And you, the Kaiserwhom your father's whim
"'Foregoes or, better, never shall forego
"'If Palma dare pursue what Ecelo
"'Commenced, but Ecelin desists from: just
"'As Adelaide of Susa could intrust
"'Her donative,her Piedmont given the Pope,
"'Her Alpine-pass for him to shut or ope
"''Twixt France and Italy,to the superb
"'Matilda's perfecting,so, lest aught curb
"'Our Adelaide's great counter-project for
"'Giving her Trentine to the Emperor
"'With passage here from Germany,shall you
"'Take it,my slender plodding talent, too!'
"Urged me Taurello with his half-smile
                     "He
"As Patron of the scattered family
"Conveyed me to his Mantua, kept in bruit
"Azzo's alliances and Richard's suit
"Until, the Kaiser excommunicate,
"'Nothing remains,' Taurello said, 'but wait
"'Some rash procedure: Palma was the link,
"'As Agnes' child, between us, and they shrink
"'From losing Palma: judge if we advance,
"'Your father's method, your inheritance!'
"The day I was betrothed to Boniface
"At Padua by Taurello's self, took place
"The outrage of the Ferrarese: again,
"The day I sought Verona with the train
"Agreed for,by Taurello's policy
"Convicting Richard of the fault, since we
"Were present to annul or to confirm,
"Richard, whose patience had outstayed its term,
"Quitted Verona for the siege.
                "And now
"What glory may engird Sordello's brow
"Through this? A month since at Oliero slunk
"All that was Ecelin into a monk;
"But how could Salinguerra so forget
"His liege of thirty years as grudge even yet
"One effort to recover him? He sent
"Forthwith the tidings of this last event
"To Ecelindeclared that he, despite
"The recent folly, recognized his right
"To order Salinguerra: 'Should he wring
"'Its uttermost advantage out, or fling
"'This chance away? Or were his sons now Head
"'O' the House?' Through me Taurello's missive sped;
"My father's answer will by me return.
"Behold! 'For him,' he writes, 'no more concern
"'With strife than, for his children, with fresh plots
"'Of Friedrich. Old engagements out he blots
"'For aye: Taurello shall no more subserve,
"'Nor Ecelin impose.' Lest this unnerve
"Taurello at this juncture, slack his grip
"Of Richard, suffer the occasion slip,
"I, in his sons' default (who, mating with
"Este, forsake Romano as the frith
"Its mainsea for that firmland, sea makes head
"Against) I stand, Romano,in their stead
"Assume the station they desert, and give
"Still, as the Kaiser's representative,
"Taurello licence he demands. Midnight
"Morningby noon to-morrow, making light
"Of the League's issue, we, in some gay weed
"Like yours, disguised together, may precede
"The arbitrators to Ferrara: reach
"Him, let Taurello's noble accents teach
"The rest! Then say if I have misconceived
"Your destiny, too readily believed
"The Kaiser's cause your own!"
                And Palma's fled.
Though no affirmative disturbs the head,
A dying lamp-flame sinks and rises o'er,
Like the alighted planet Pollux wore,
Until, morn breaking, he resolves to be
Gate-vein of this heart's blood of Lombardy,
Soul of this bodyto wield this aggregate
Of souls and bodies, and so conquer fate
Though he should livea centre of disgust
Evenapart, core of the outward crust
He vivifies, assimilates. For thus
I bring Sordello to the rapturous
Exclaim at the crowd's cry, because one round
Of life was quite accomplished; and he found
Not only that a soul, whate'er its might,
Is insufficient to its own delight,
Both in corporeal organs and in skill
By means of such to body forth its Will
And, after, insufficient to apprise
Men of that Will, oblige them recognize
The Hid by the Revealedbut that,the last
Nor lightest of the struggles overpast,
Will, he bade abdicate, which would not void
The throne, might sit there, suffer he enjoyed
Mankind, a varied and divine array
Incapable of homage, the first way,
Nor fit to render incidentally
Tribute connived at, taken by the by,
In joys. If thus with warrant to rescind
The ignominious exile of mankind
Whose proper service, ascertained intact
As yet, (to be by him themselves made act,
Not watch Sordello acting each of them)
Was to secureif the true diadem
Seemed imminent while our Sordello drank
The wisdom of that golden Palma,thank
Verona's Lady in her citadel
Founded by Gaulish Brennus, legends tell:
And truly when she left him, the sun reared
A head like the first clamberer's who peered
A-top the Capitol, his face on flame
With triumph, triumphing till Manlius came.
Nor slight too much my rhymesthat spring, dispread,
Dispart, disperse, lingering over head
Like an escape of angels! Rather say,
My transcendental platan! mounting gay
(An archimage so courts a novice-queen)
With tremulous silvered trunk, whence branches sheen
Laugh out, thick-foliaged next, a-shiver soon
With coloured buds, then glowing like the moon
One mild flame,last a pause, a burst, and all
Her ivory limbs are smothered by a fall,
Bloom-flinders and fruit-sparkles and leaf-dust,
Ending the weird work prosecuted just
For her amusement; he decrepit, stark,
Dozes; her uncontrolled delight may mark
Apart
   Yet not so, surely never so
Only, as good my soul were suffered go
O'er the lagune: forth fare thee, put aside
Entrance thy synod, as a god may glide
Out of the world he fills, and leave it mute
For myriad ages as we men compute,
Returning into it without a break
O' the consciousness! They sleep, and I awake
O'er the lagune, being at Venice.
                 Note,
In just such songs as Eglamor (say) wrote
With heart and soul and strength, for he believed
Himself achieving all to be achieved
By singerin such songs you find alone
Completeness, judge the song and singer one,
And either purpose answered, his in it
Or its in him: while from true works (to wit
Sordello's dream-performances that will
Never be more than dreamed) escapes there still
Some proof, the singer's proper life was 'neath
The life his song exhibits, this a sheath
To that; a passion and a knowledge far
Transcending these, majestic as they are,
Smouldered; his lay was but an episode
In the bard's life: which evidence you owed
To some slight weariness, some looking-off
Or start-away. The childish skit or scoff
In "Charlemagne," (his poem, dreamed divine
In every point except one silly line
About the restiff daughters)what may lurk
In that? "My life commenced before this work,"
(So I interpret the significance
Of the bard's start aside and look askance)
"My life continues after: on I fare
"With no more stopping, possibly, no care
"To note the undercurrent, the why and how,
"Where, when, o' the deeper life, as thus just now.
"But, silent, shall I cease to live? Alas
"For you! who sigh, 'When shall it come to pass
"'We read that story? How will he compress
"'The future gains, his life's true business,
"'Into the better lay whichthat one flout,
"'Howe'er inopportune it be, lets out
"'Engrosses him already, though professed
"'To meditate with us eternal rest,
"'And partnership in all his life has found?'"
'T is but a sailor's promise, weather-bound:
"Strike sail, slip cable, here the bark be moored
"For once, the awning stretched, the poles assured!
"Noontide above; except the wave's crisp dash,
"Or buzz of colibri, or tortoise' splash,
"The margin 's silent: out with every spoil
"Made in our tracking, coil by mighty coil,
"This serpent of a river to his head
"I' the midst! Admire each treasure, as we spread
"The bank, to help us tell our history
"Aright: give ear, endeavour to descry
"The groves of giant rushes, how they grew
"Like demons' endlong tresses we sailed through,
"What mountains yawned, forests to give us vent
"Opened, each doleful side, yet on we went
"Till . . . may that beetle (shake your cap) attest
"The springing of a land-wind from the West!"
Wherefore? Ah yes, you frolic it to-day!
To-morrow, and, the pageant moved away
Down to the poorest tent-pole, we and you
Part company: no other may pursue
Eastward your voyage, be informed what fate
Intends, if triumph or decline await
The tempter of the everlasting steppe.
I muse this on a ruined palace-step
At Venice: why should I break off, nor sit
Longer upon my step, exhaust the fit
England gave birth to? Who 's adorable
Enough reclaim a - no Sordello's Will
Alack!be queen to me? That Bassanese
Busied among her smoking fruit-boats? These
Perhaps from our delicious Asolo
Who twinkle, pigeons o'er the portico
Not prettier, bind June lilies into sheaves
To deck the bridge-side chapel, dropping leaves
Soiled by their own loose gold-meal? Ah, beneath
The cool arch stoops she, brownest cheek! Her wreath
Endures a montha half-monthif I make
A queen of her, continue for her sake
Sordello's story? Nay, that Paduan girl
Splashes with barer legs where a live whirl
In the dead black Giudecca proves sea-weed
Drifting has sucked down three, four, all indeed
Save one pale-red striped, pale-blue turbaned post
For gondolas.
       You sad dishevelled ghost
That pluck at me and point, are you advised
I breathe? Let stay those girls (e'en her disguised
Jewels i' the locks that love no crownet like
Their native field-buds and the green wheat-spike,
So fair!who left this end of June's turmoil,
Shook off, as might a lily its gold soil,
Pomp, save a foolish gem or two, and free
In dream, came join the peasants o'er the sea.)
Look they too happy, too tricked out? Confess
There is such ****rd stock of happiness
To share, that, do one's uttermost, dear wretch,
One labours ineffectually to stretch
It o'er you so that mother and children, both
May equitably flaunt the sumpter-cloth!
Divide the robe yet farther: be content
With seeing just a score pre-eminent
Through shreds of it, acknowledged happy wights,
Engrossing what should furnish all, by rights!
For, these in evidence, you clearlier claim
A like garb for the rest,grace all, the same
As these my peasants. I ask youth and strength
And health for each of you, not moreat length
Grown wise, who asked at home that the whole race
Might add the spirit's to the body's grace,
And all be dizened out as chiefs and bards.
But in this magic weather one discards
Much old requirement. Venice seems a type
Of Life'twixt blue and blue extends, a stripe,
As Life, the somewhat, hangs 'twixt nought and nought:
'T is Venice, and 't is Lifeas good you sought
To spare me the Piazza's slippery stone
Or keep me to the unchoked canals alone,
As hinder Life the evil with the good
Which make up Living, rightly understood.
Only, do finish something! Peasants, queens,
Take them, made happy by whatever means,
Parade them for the common credit, vouch
That a luckless residue, we send to crouch
In corners out of sight, was just as framed
For happiness, its portion might have claimed
As well, and so, obtaining joy, had stalked
Fastuous as any!such my project, baulked
Already; I hardly venture to adjust
The first rags, when you find me. To mistrust
Me!nor unreasonably. You, no doubt,
Have the true knack of tiring suitors out
With those thin lips on tremble, lashless eyes
Inveterately tear-shot: there, be wise,
Mistress of mine, there, there, as if I meant
You insult!shall your friend (not slave) be shent
For speaking home? Beside, care-bit erased
Broken-up beauties ever took my taste
Supremely; and I love you more, far more
Than her I looked should foot Life's temple-floor.
Years ago, leagues at distance, when and where
A whisper came, "Let others seek!thy care
"Is found, thy life's provision; if thy race
"Should be thy mistress, and into one face
"The many faces crowd?" Ah, had I, judge,
Or no, your secret? Rough apparelgrudge
All ornaments save tag or tassel worn
To hint we are not thoroughly forlorn
Slouch bonnet, unloop mantle, careless go
Alone (that's saddest, but it must be so)
Through Venice, sing now and now glance aside,
Aught desultory or undignified,
Then, ravishingest lady, will you pass
Or not each formidable group, the mass
Before the Basilic (that feast gone by,
God's great day of the Corpus Domini)
And, wistfully foregoing proper men,
Come timid up to me for alms? And then
The luxury to hesitate, feign do
Some unexampled grace!when, whom but you
Dare I bestow your own upon? And hear
Further before you say, it is to sneer
I call you ravishing; for I regret
Little that she, whose early foot was set
Forth as she 'd plant it on a pedestal,
Now, i' the silent city, seems to fall
Toward meno wreath, only a lip's unrest
To quiet, surcharged eyelids to be pressed
Dry of their tears upon my bosom. Strange
Such sad chance should produce in thee such change,
My love! Warped souls and bodies! yet God spoke
Of right-hand, foot and eyeselects our yoke,
Sordello, as your poetship may find!
So, sleep upon my shoulder, child, nor mind
Their foolish talk; we 'll manage reinstate
Your old worth; ask moreover, when they prate
Of evil men past hope, "Don't each contrive,
"Despite the evil you abuse, to live?
"Keeping, each losel, through a maze of lies,
"His own conceit of truth? to which he hies
"By obscure windings, tortuous, if you will,
"But to himself not inaccessible;
"He sees truth, and his lies are for the crowd
"Who cannot see; some fancied right allowed
"His vilest wrong, empowered the losel clutch
"One pleasure from a multitude of such
"Denied him." Then assert, "All men appear
"To think all better than themselves, by here
"Trusting a crowd they wrong; but really," say,
"All men think all men stupider than they,
"Since, save themselves, no other comprehends
"The complicated scheme to make amends
"Evil, the scheme by which, thro' Ignorance,
"Good labours to exist." A slight advance,
Merely to find the sickness you die through,
And nought beside! but if one can't eschew
One's portion in the common lot, at least
One can avoid an ignorance increased
Tenfold by dealing out hint after hint
How nought were like dispensing without stint
The water of lifeso easy to dispense
Beside, when one has probed the centre whence
Commotion 's borncould tell you of it all!
"Meantime, just meditate my madrigal
"O' the mugwort that conceals a dewdrop safe!"
What, dullard? we and you in smothery chafe,
Babes, baldheads, stumbled thus far into Zin
The Horrid, getting neither out nor in,
A hungry sun above us, sands that bung
Our throats,each dromedary lolls a tongue,
Each camel churns a sick and frothy chap,
And you, 'twixt tales of Potiphar's mishap,
And sonnets on the earliest **** that spoke,
Remark, you wonder any one needs choke
With founts about! Potsherd him, Gibeonites!
While awkwardly enough your Moses smites
The rock, though he forego his Promised Land
Thereby, have Satan claim his carcass, and
Figure as Metaphysic Poet . . . ah,
Mark ye the dim first oozings? Meribah!
Then, quaffing at the fount my courage gained,
Recallnot that I prompt yewho explained . . .
"Presumptuous!" interrupts one. You, not I
'T is brother, marvel at and magnify
Such office: "office," quotha? can we get
To the beginning of the office yet?
What do we here? simply experiment
Each on the other's power and its intent
When elsewhere tasked,if this of mine were trucked
For yours to either's good,we watch construct,
In short, an engine: with a finished one,
What it can do, is all,nought, how 't is done.
But this of ours yet in probation, dusk
A kernel of strange wheelwork through its husk
Grows into shape by quarters and by halves;
Remark this tooth's spring, wonder what that valve's
Fall bodes, presume each faculty's device,
Make out each other more or less precise
The scope of the whole engine 's to be proved;
We die: which means to say, the whole 's removed,
Dismounted wheel by wheel, this complex gin,
To be set up anew elsewhere, begin
A task indeed, but with a clearer clime
Than the murk lodgment of our building-time.
And then, I grant you, it behoves forget
How 't is doneall that must amuse us yet
So long: and, while you turn upon your heel,
Pray that I be not busy slitting steel
Or shredding brass, camped on some virgin shore
Under a cluster of fresh stars, before
I name a tithe o' the wheels I trust to do!
So occupied, then, are we: hitherto,
At present, and a weary while to come,
The office of ourselves,nor blind nor dumb,
And seeing somewhat of man's state,has been,
For the worst of us, to say they so have seen;
For the better, what it was they saw; the best
Impart the gift of seeing to the rest:
"So that I glance," says such an one, "around,
"And there 's no face but I can read profound
"Disclosures in; this stands for hope, thatfear,
"And for a speech, a deed in proof, look here!
"'Stoop, else the strings of blossom, where the nuts
"'O'erarch, will blind thee! Said I not? She shuts
"'Both eyes this time, so close the hazels meet!
"'Thus, prisoned in the Piombi, I repeat
"'Events one rove occasioned, o'er and o'er,
"'Putting 'twixt me and madness evermore
"'Thy sweet shape, Zanze! Therefore stoop!'
                       "'That's truth!'
"(Adjudge you) 'the incarcerated youth
"'Would say that!'
         "Youth? Plara the bard? Set down
"That Plara spent his youth in a grim town
"Whose cramped ill-featured streets huddled about
"The minster for protection, never out
"Of its black belfry's shade and its bells' roar.
"The brighter shone the suburb,all the more
"Ugly and absolute that shade's reproof
"Of any chance escape of joy,some roof,
"Taller than they, allowed the rest detect,
"Before the sole permitted laugh (suspect
"Who could, 't was meant for laughter, that ploughed cheek's
"Repulsive gleam!) when the sun stopped both peaks
"Of the cleft belfry like a fiery wedge,
"Then sank, a huge flame on its socket edge,
"With leavings on the grey glass oriel-pane
"Ghastly some minutes more. No fear of rain
"The minster minded that! in heaps the dust
"Lay everywhere. This town, the minster's trust,
"Held Plara; who, its denizen, bade hail
"In twice twelve sonnets, Tempe's dewy vale."
"'Exact the town, the minster and the street!'"
"As all mirth triumphs, sadness means defeat:
"Lust triumphs and is gay, Love 's triumphed o'er
"And sad: but Lucio 's sad. I said before,
"Love's sad, not Lucio; one who loves may be
"As gay his love has leave to hope, as he
"Downcast that lusts' desire escapes the springe:
"'T is of the mood itself I speak, what tinge
"Determines it, else colourless,or mirth,
"Or melancholy, as from heaven or earth."
"'Ay, that 's the variation's gist!'
                   "Indeed?
"Thus far advanced in safety then, proceed!
"And having seen too what I saw, be bold
"And next encounter what I do behold
"(That's sure) but bid you take on trust!"
                       Attack
The use and purpose of such sights! Alack,
Not so unwisely does the crowd dispense
On Salinguerras praise in preference
To the Sordellos: men of action, these!
Who, seeing just as little as you please,
Yet turn that little to account,engage
With, do not gaze at,carry on, a stage,
The work o' the world, not merely make report
The work existed ere their day! In short,
When at some future no-time a brave band
Sees, using what it sees, then shake my hand
In heaven, my brother! Meanwhile where's the hurt
Of keeping the Makers-see on the alert,
At whose defection mortals stare aghast
As though heaven's bounteous windows were slammed fast
Incontinent? Whereas all you, beneath,
Should scowl at, bruise their lips and break their teeth
Who ply the pullies, for neglecting you:
And therefore have I moulded, made anew
A Man, and give him to be turned and tried,
Be angry with or pleased at. On your side,
Have ye times, places, actors of your own?
Try them upon Sordello when full-grown,
And thenah then! If Hercules first parched
His foot in Egypt only to be marched
A sacrifice for Jove with pomp to suit,
What chance have I? The demigod was mute
Till, at the altar, where time out of mind
Such guests became oblations, chaplets twined
His forehead long enough, and he began
Slaying the slayers, nor escaped a man.
Take not affront, my gentle audience! whom
No Hercules shall make his hecatomb,
Believe, nor from his brows your chaplet rend
That's your kind suffrage, yours, my patron-friend,
Whose great verse blares unintermittent on
Like your own trumpeter at Marathon,
You who, Plata and Salamis being scant,
Put up with tna for a stimulant
And did well, I acknowledged, as he loomed
Over the midland sea last month, presumed
Long, lay demolished in the blazing West
At eve, while towards him tilting cloudlets pressed
Like Persian ships at Salamis. Friend, wear
A crest proud as desert while I declare
Had I a flawless ruby fit to wring
Tears of its colour from that painted king
Who lost it, I would, for that smile which went
To my heart, fling it in the sea, content,
Wearing your verse in place, an amulet
Sovereign against all passion, wear and fret!
My English Eyebright, if you are not glad
That, as I stopped my task awhile, the sad
Dishevelled form, wherein I put mankind
To come at times and keep my pact in mind,
Renewed me,hear no crickets in the hedge,
Nor let a glowworm spot the river's edge
At home, and may the summer showers gush
Without a warning from the missel thrush!
So, to our business, nowthe fate of such
As find our common natureovermuch
Despised because restricted and unfit
To bear the burthen they impose on it
Cling when they would discard it; craving strength
To leap from the allotted world, at length
They do leap,flounder on without a term,
Each a god's germ, doomed to remain a germ
In unexpanded infancy, unless . . .
But that 's the storydull enough, confess!
There might be fitter subjects to allure;
Still, neither misconceive my portraiture
Nor undervalue its adornments quaint:
What seems a fiend perchance may prove a saint.
Ponder a story ancient pens transmit,
Then say if you condemn me or acquit.
John the Beloved, banished Antioch
For Patmos, bade collectively his flock
Farewell, but set apart the closing eve
To comfort those his exile most would grieve,
He knew: a touching spectacle, that house
In motion to receive him! Xanthus' spouse
You missed, made panther's meat a month since; but
Xanthus himself (his nephew 't was, they shut
'Twixt boards and sawed asunder) Polycarp,
Soft Charicle, next year no wheel could warp
To swear by Csar's fortune, with the rest
Were ranged; thro' whom the grey disciple pressed,
Busily blessing right and left, just stopped
To pat one infant's curls, the hangman cropped
Soon after, reached the portal. On its hinge
The door turns and he enters: what quick twinge
Ruins the smiling mouth, those wide eyes fix
Whereon, why like some spectral candlestick's
Branch the disciple's arms? Dead swooned he, woke
Anon, heaved sigh, made shift to gasp, heart-broke,
"Get thee behind me, Satan! Have I toiled
"To no more purpose? Is the gospel foiled
"Here too, and o'er my son's, my Xanthus' hearth,
"Portrayed with sooty garb and features swarth
"Ah Xanthus, am I to thy roof beguiled
"To see thethethe Devil domiciled?"
Whereto sobbed Xanthus, "Father, 't is yourself
"Installed, a limning which our utmost pelf
"Went to procure against to-morrow's loss;
"And that's no twy-prong, but a pastoral cross,
"You 're painted with!"
            His puckered brows unfold
And you shall hear Sordello's story told.


~ Robert Browning, Sordello - Book the Third
,
1279:A thing of beauty is a joy for ever:
Its loveliness increases; it will never
Pass into nothingness; but still will keep
A bower quiet for us, and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
Of all the unhealthy and o'er-darkened ways
Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all,
Some shape of beauty moves away the pall
From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon,
Trees old and young, sprouting a shady boon
For simple sheep; and such are daffodils
With the green world they live in; and clear rills
That for themselves a cooling covert make
'Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake,
Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms:
And such too is the grandeur of the dooms
We have imagined for the mighty dead;
All lovely tales that we have heard or read:
An endless fountain of immortal drink,
Pouring unto us from the heaven's brink.

Nor do we merely feel these essences
For one short hour; no, even as the trees
That whisper round a temple become soon
Dear as the temple's self, so does the moon,
The passion poesy, glories infinite,
Haunt us till they become a cheering light
Unto our souls, and bound to us so fast,
That, whether there be shine, or gloom o'ercast,
They alway must be with us, or we die.

Therefore, 'tis with full happiness that I
Will trace the story of Endymion.
The very music of the name has gone
Into my being, and each pleasant scene
Is growing fresh before me as the green
Of our own vallies: so I will begin
Now while I cannot hear the city's din;
Now while the early budders are just new,
And run in mazes of the youngest hue
About old forests; while the willow trails
Its delicate amber; and the dairy pails
Bring home increase of milk. And, as the year
Grows lush in juicy stalks, I'll smoothly steer
My little boat, for many quiet hours,
With streams that deepen freshly into bowers.
Many and many a verse I hope to write,
Before the daisies, vermeil rimm'd and white,
Hide in deep herbage; and ere yet the bees
Hum about globes of clover and sweet peas,
I must be near the middle of my story.
O may no wintry season, bare and hoary,
See it half finished: but let Autumn bold,
With universal tinge of sober gold,
Be all about me when I make an end.
And now at once, adventuresome, I send
My herald thought into a wilderness:
There let its trumpet blow, and quickly dress
My uncertain path with green, that I may speed
Easily onward, thorough flowers and weed.

Upon the sides of Latmos was outspread
A mighty forest; for the moist earth fed
So plenteously all weed-hidden roots
Into o'er-hanging boughs, and precious fruits.
And it had gloomy shades, sequestered deep,
Where no man went; and if from shepherd's keep
A lamb strayed far a-down those inmost glens,
Never again saw he the happy pens
Whither his brethren, bleating with content,
Over the hills at every nightfall went.
Among the shepherds, 'twas believed ever,
That not one fleecy lamb which thus did sever
From the white flock, but pass'd unworried
By angry wolf, or pard with prying head,
Until it came to some unfooted plains
Where fed the herds of Pan: ay great his gains
Who thus one lamb did lose. Paths there were many,
Winding through palmy fern, and rushes fenny,
And ivy banks; all leading pleasantly
To a wide lawn, whence one could only see
Stems thronging all around between the swell
Of turf and slanting branches: who could tell
The freshness of the space of heaven above,
Edg'd round with dark tree tops? through which a dove
Would often beat its wings, and often too
A little cloud would move across the blue.

Full in the middle of this pleasantness
There stood a marble altar, with a tress
Of flowers budded newly; and the dew
Had taken fairy phantasies to strew
Daisies upon the sacred sward last eve,
And so the dawned light in pomp receive.
For 'twas the morn: Apollo's upward fire
Made every eastern cloud a silvery pyre
Of brightness so unsullied, that therein
A melancholy spirit well might win
Oblivion, and melt out his essence fine
Into the winds: rain-scented eglantine
Gave temperate sweets to that well-wooing sun;
The lark was lost in him; cold springs had run
To warm their chilliest bubbles in the grass;
Man's voice was on the mountains; and the mass
Of nature's lives and wonders puls'd tenfold,
To feel this sun-rise and its glories old.

Now while the silent workings of the dawn
Were busiest, into that self-same lawn
All suddenly, with joyful cries, there sped
A troop of little children garlanded;
Who gathering round the altar, seemed to pry
Earnestly round as wishing to espy
Some folk of holiday: nor had they waited
For many moments, ere their ears were sated
With a faint breath of music, which ev'n then
Fill'd out its voice, and died away again.
Within a little space again it gave
Its airy swellings, with a gentle wave,
To light-hung leaves, in smoothest echoes breaking
Through copse-clad vallies,ere their death, oer-taking
The surgy murmurs of the lonely sea.

And now, as deep into the wood as we
Might mark a lynx's eye, there glimmered light
Fair faces and a rush of garments white,
Plainer and plainer shewing, till at last
Into the widest alley they all past,
Making directly for the woodland altar.
O kindly muse! let not my weak tongue faulter
In telling of this goodly company,
Of their old piety, and of their glee:
But let a portion of ethereal dew
Fall on my head, and presently unmew
My soul; that I may dare, in wayfaring,
To stammer where old Chaucer used to sing.

Leading the way, young damsels danced along,
Bearing the burden of a shepherd song;
Each having a white wicker over brimm'd
With April's tender younglings: next, well trimm'd,
A crowd of shepherds with as sunburnt looks
As may be read of in Arcadian books;
Such as sat listening round Apollo's pipe,
When the great deity, for earth too ripe,
Let his divinity o'er-flowing die
In music, through the vales of Thessaly:
Some idly trailed their sheep-hooks on the ground,
And some kept up a shrilly mellow sound
With ebon-tipped flutes: close after these,
Now coming from beneath the forest trees,
A venerable priest full soberly,
Begirt with ministring looks: alway his eye
Stedfast upon the matted turf he kept,
And after him his sacred vestments swept.
From his right hand there swung a vase, milk-white,
Of mingled wine, out-sparkling generous light;
And in his left he held a basket full
Of all sweet herbs that searching eye could cull:
Wild thyme, and valley-lilies whiter still
Than Leda's love, and cresses from the rill.
His aged head, crowned with beechen wreath,
Seem'd like a poll of ivy in the teeth
Of winter hoar. Then came another crowd
Of shepherds, lifting in due time aloud
Their share of the ditty. After them appear'd,
Up-followed by a multitude that rear'd
Their voices to the clouds, a fair wrought car,
Easily rolling so as scarce to mar
The freedom of three steeds of dapple brown:
Who stood therein did seem of great renown
Among the throng. His youth was fully blown,
Shewing like Ganymede to manhood grown;
And, for those simple times, his garments were
A chieftain king's: beneath his breast, half bare,
Was hung a silver bugle, and between
His nervy knees there lay a boar-spear keen.
A smile was on his countenance; he seem'd,
To common lookers on, like one who dream'd
Of idleness in groves Elysian:
But there were some who feelingly could scan
A lurking trouble in his nether lip,
And see that oftentimes the reins would slip
Through his forgotten hands: then would they sigh,
And think of yellow leaves, of owlets cry,
Of logs piled solemnly.Ah, well-a-day,
Why should our young Endymion pine away!

Soon the assembly, in a circle rang'd,
Stood silent round the shrine: each look was chang'd
To sudden veneration: women meek
Beckon'd their sons to silence; while each cheek
Of virgin bloom paled gently for slight fear.
Endymion too, without a forest peer,
Stood, wan, and pale, and with an awed face,
Among his brothers of the mountain chase.
In midst of all, the venerable priest
Eyed them with joy from greatest to the least,
And, after lifting up his aged hands,
Thus spake he: "Men of Latmos! shepherd bands!
Whose care it is to guard a thousand flocks:
Whether descended from beneath the rocks
That overtop your mountains; whether come
From vallies where the pipe is never dumb;
Or from your swelling downs, where sweet air stirs
Blue hare-bells lightly, and where prickly furze
Buds lavish gold; or ye, whose precious charge
Nibble their fill at ocean's very marge,
Whose mellow reeds are touch'd with sounds forlorn
By the dim echoes of old Triton's horn:
Mothers and wives! who day by day prepare
The scrip, with needments, for the mountain air;
And all ye gentle girls who foster up
Udderless lambs, and in a little cup
Will put choice honey for a favoured youth:
Yea, every one attend! for in good truth
Our vows are wanting to our great god Pan.
Are not our lowing heifers sleeker than
Night-swollen mushrooms? Are not our wide plains
Speckled with countless fleeces? Have not rains
Green'd over April's lap? No howling sad
Sickens our fearful ewes; and we have had
Great bounty from Endymion our lord.
The earth is glad: the merry lark has pour'd
His early song against yon breezy sky,
That spreads so clear o'er our solemnity."

Thus ending, on the shrine he heap'd a spire
Of teeming sweets, enkindling sacred fire;
Anon he stain'd the thick and spongy sod
With wine, in honour of the shepherd-god.
Now while the earth was drinking it, and while
Bay leaves were crackling in the fragrant pile,
And gummy frankincense was sparkling bright
'Neath smothering parsley, and a hazy light
Spread greyly eastward, thus a chorus sang:

"O THOU, whose mighty palace roof doth hang
From jagged trunks, and overshadoweth
Eternal whispers, glooms, the birth, life, death
Of unseen flowers in heavy peacefulness;
Who lov'st to see the hamadryads dress
Their ruffled locks where meeting hazels darken;
And through whole solemn hours dost sit, and hearken
The dreary melody of bedded reeds
In desolate places, where dank moisture breeds
The pipy hemlock to strange overgrowth;
Bethinking thee, how melancholy loth
Thou wast to lose fair Syrinxdo thou now,
By thy love's milky brow!
By all the trembling mazes that she ran,
Hear us, great Pan!

"O thou, for whose soul-soothing quiet, turtles
Passion their voices cooingly 'mong myrtles,
What time thou wanderest at eventide
Through sunny meadows, that outskirt the side
Of thine enmossed realms: O thou, to whom
Broad leaved fig trees even now foredoom
Their ripen'd fruitage; yellow girted bees
Their golden honeycombs; our village leas
Their fairest-blossom'd beans and poppied corn;
The chuckling linnet its five young unborn,
To sing for thee; low creeping strawberries
Their summer coolness; pent up butterflies
Their freckled wings; yea, the fresh budding year
All its completionsbe quickly near,
By every wind that nods the mountain pine,
O forester divine!

"Thou, to whom every fawn and satyr flies
For willing service; whether to surprise
The squatted hare while in half sleeping fit;
Or upward ragged precipices flit
To save poor lambkins from the eagle's maw;
Or by mysterious enticement draw
Bewildered shepherds to their path again;
Or to tread breathless round the frothy main,
And gather up all fancifullest shells
For thee to tumble into Naiads' cells,
And, being hidden, laugh at their out-peeping;
Or to delight thee with fantastic leaping,
The while they pelt each other on the crown
With silvery oak apples, and fir cones brown
By all the echoes that about thee ring,
Hear us, O satyr king!

"O Hearkener to the loud clapping shears,
While ever and anon to his shorn peers
A ram goes bleating: Winder of the horn,
When snouted wild-boars routing tender corn
Anger our huntsman: Breather round our farms,
To keep off mildews, and all weather harms:
Strange ministrant of undescribed sounds,
That come a swooning over hollow grounds,
And wither drearily on barren moors:
Dread opener of the mysterious doors
Leading to universal knowledgesee,
Great son of Dryope,
The many that are come to pay their vows
With leaves about their brows!

Be still the unimaginable lodge
For solitary thinkings; such as dodge
Conception to the very bourne of heaven,
Then leave the naked brain: be still the leaven,
That spreading in this dull and clodded earth
Gives it a touch ethereala new birth:
Be still a symbol of immensity;
A firmament reflected in a sea;
An element filling the space between;
An unknownbut no more: we humbly screen
With uplift hands our foreheads, lowly bending,
And giving out a shout most heaven rending,
Conjure thee to receive our humble Paean,
Upon thy Mount Lycean!

Even while they brought the burden to a close,
A shout from the whole multitude arose,
That lingered in the air like dying rolls
Of abrupt thunder, when Ionian shoals
Of dolphins bob their noses through the brine.
Meantime, on shady levels, mossy fine,
Young companies nimbly began dancing
To the swift treble pipe, and humming string.
Aye, those fair living forms swam heavenly
To tunes forgottenout of memory:
Fair creatures! whose young children's children bred
Thermopyl its heroesnot yet dead,
But in old marbles ever beautiful.
High genitors, unconscious did they cull
Time's sweet first-fruitsthey danc'd to weariness,
And then in quiet circles did they press
The hillock turf, and caught the latter end
Of some strange history, potent to send
A young mind from its bodily tenement.
Or they might watch the quoit-pitchers, intent
On either side; pitying the sad death
Of Hyacinthus, when the cruel breath
Of Zephyr slew him,Zephyr penitent,
Who now, ere Phoebus mounts the firmament,
Fondles the flower amid the sobbing rain.
The archers too, upon a wider plain,
Beside the feathery whizzing of the shaft,
And the dull twanging bowstring, and the raft
Branch down sweeping from a tall ash top,
Call'd up a thousand thoughts to envelope
Those who would watch. Perhaps, the trembling knee
And frantic gape of lonely Niobe,
Poor, lonely Niobe! when her lovely young
Were dead and gone, and her caressing tongue
Lay a lost thing upon her paly lip,
And very, very deadliness did nip
Her motherly cheeks. Arous'd from this sad mood
By one, who at a distance loud halloo'd,
Uplifting his strong bow into the air,
Many might after brighter visions stare:
After the Argonauts, in blind amaze
Tossing about on Neptune's restless ways,
Until, from the horizon's vaulted side,
There shot a golden splendour far and wide,
Spangling those million poutings of the brine
With quivering ore: 'twas even an awful shine
From the exaltation of Apollo's bow;
A heavenly beacon in their dreary woe.
Who thus were ripe for high contemplating,
Might turn their steps towards the sober ring
Where sat Endymion and the aged priest
'Mong shepherds gone in eld, whose looks increas'd
The silvery setting of their mortal star.
There they discours'd upon the fragile bar
That keeps us from our homes ethereal;
And what our duties there: to nightly call
Vesper, the beauty-crest of summer weather;
To summon all the downiest clouds together
For the sun's purple couch; to emulate
In ministring the potent rule of fate
With speed of fire-tailed exhalations;
To tint her pallid cheek with bloom, who cons
Sweet poesy by moonlight: besides these,
A world of other unguess'd offices.
Anon they wander'd, by divine converse,
Into Elysium; vieing to rehearse
Each one his own anticipated bliss.
One felt heart-certain that he could not miss
His quick gone love, among fair blossom'd boughs,
Where every zephyr-sigh pouts and endows
Her lips with music for the welcoming.
Another wish'd, mid that eternal spring,
To meet his rosy child, with feathery sails,
Sweeping, eye-earnestly, through almond vales:
Who, suddenly, should stoop through the smooth wind,
And with the balmiest leaves his temples bind;
And, ever after, through those regions be
His messenger, his little Mercury.
Some were athirst in soul to see again
Their fellow huntsmen o'er the wide champaign
In times long past; to sit with them, and talk
Of all the chances in their earthly walk;
Comparing, joyfully, their plenteous stores
Of happiness, to when upon the moors,
Benighted, close they huddled from the cold,
And shar'd their famish'd scrips. Thus all out-told
Their fond imaginations,saving him
Whose eyelids curtain'd up their jewels dim,
Endymion: yet hourly had he striven
To hide the cankering venom, that had riven
His fainting recollections. Now indeed
His senses had swoon'd off: he did not heed
The sudden silence, or the whispers low,
Or the old eyes dissolving at his woe,
Or anxious calls, or close of trembling palms,
Or maiden's sigh, that grief itself embalms:
But in the self-same fixed trance he kept,
Like one who on the earth had never stept.
Aye, even as dead-still as a marble man,
Frozen in that old tale Arabian.

Who whispers him so pantingly and close?
Peona, his sweet sister: of all those,
His friends, the dearest. Hushing signs she made,
And breath'd a sister's sorrow to persuade
A yielding up, a cradling on her care.
Her eloquence did breathe away the curse:
She led him, like some midnight spirit nurse
Of happy changes in emphatic dreams,
Along a path between two little streams,
Guarding his forehead, with her round elbow,
From low-grown branches, and his footsteps slow
From stumbling over stumps and hillocks small;
Until they came to where these streamlets fall,
With mingled bubblings and a gentle rush,
Into a river, clear, brimful, and flush
With crystal mocking of the trees and sky.
A little shallop, floating there hard by,
Pointed its beak over the fringed bank;
And soon it lightly dipt, and rose, and sank,
And dipt again, with the young couple's weight,
Peona guiding, through the water straight,
Towards a bowery island opposite;
Which gaining presently, she steered light
Into a shady, fresh, and ripply cove,
Where nested was an arbour, overwove
By many a summer's silent fingering;
To whose cool bosom she was used to bring
Her playmates, with their needle broidery,
And minstrel memories of times gone by.

So she was gently glad to see him laid
Under her favourite bower's quiet shade,
On her own couch, new made of flower leaves,
Dried carefully on the cooler side of sheaves
When last the sun his autumn tresses shook,
And the tann'd harvesters rich armfuls took.
Soon was he quieted to slumbrous rest:
But, ere it crept upon him, he had prest
Peona's busy hand against his lips,
And still, a sleeping, held her finger-tips
In tender pressure. And as a willow keeps
A patient watch over the stream that creeps
Windingly by it, so the quiet maid
Held her in peace: so that a whispering blade
Of grass, a wailful gnat, a bee bustling
Down in the blue-bells, or a wren light rustling
Among seer leaves and twigs, might all be heard.

O magic sleep! O comfortable bird,
That broodest o'er the troubled sea of the mind
Till it is hush'd and smooth! O unconfin'd
Restraint! imprisoned liberty! great key
To golden palaces, strange minstrelsy,
Fountains grotesque, new trees, bespangled caves,
Echoing grottos, full of tumbling waves
And moonlight; aye, to all the mazy world
Of silvery enchantment!who, upfurl'd
Beneath thy drowsy wing a triple hour,
But renovates and lives?Thus, in the bower,
Endymion was calm'd to life again.
Opening his eyelids with a healthier brain,
He said: "I feel this thine endearing love
All through my bosom: thou art as a dove
Trembling its closed eyes and sleeked wings
About me; and the pearliest dew not brings
Such morning incense from the fields of May,
As do those brighter drops that twinkling stray
From those kind eyes,the very home and haunt
Of sisterly affection. Can I want
Aught else, aught nearer heaven, than such tears?
Yet dry them up, in bidding hence all fears
That, any longer, I will pass my days
Alone and sad. No, I will once more raise
My voice upon the mountain-heights; once more
Make my horn parley from their foreheads hoar:
Again my trooping hounds their tongues shall loll
Around the breathed boar: again I'll poll
The fair-grown yew tree, for a chosen bow:
And, when the pleasant sun is getting low,
Again I'll linger in a sloping mead
To hear the speckled thrushes, and see feed
Our idle sheep. So be thou cheered sweet,
And, if thy lute is here, softly intreat
My soul to keep in its resolved course."

Hereat Peona, in their silver source,
Shut her pure sorrow drops with glad exclaim,
And took a lute, from which there pulsing came
A lively prelude, fashioning the way
In which her voice should wander. 'Twas a lay
More subtle cadenced, more forest wild
Than Dryope's lone lulling of her child;
And nothing since has floated in the air
So mournful strange. Surely some influence rare
Went, spiritual, through the damsel's hand;
For still, with Delphic emphasis, she spann'd
The quick invisible strings, even though she saw
Endymion's spirit melt away and thaw
Before the deep intoxication.
But soon she came, with sudden burst, upon
Her self-possessionswung the lute aside,
And earnestly said: "Brother, 'tis vain to hide
That thou dost know of things mysterious,
Immortal, starry; such alone could thus
Weigh down thy nature. Hast thou sinn'd in aught
Offensive to the heavenly powers? Caught
A Paphian dove upon a message sent?
Thy deathful bow against some deer-herd bent,
Sacred to Dian? Haply, thou hast seen
Her naked limbs among the alders green;
And that, alas! is death. No, I can trace
Something more high perplexing in thy face!"

Endymion look'd at her, and press'd her hand,
And said, "Art thou so pale, who wast so bland
And merry in our meadows? How is this?
Tell me thine ailment: tell me all amiss!
Ah! thou hast been unhappy at the change
Wrought suddenly in me. What indeed more strange?
Or more complete to overwhelm surmise?
Ambition is no sluggard: 'tis no prize,
That toiling years would put within my grasp,
That I have sigh'd for: with so deadly gasp
No man e'er panted for a mortal love.
So all have set my heavier grief above
These things which happen. Rightly have they done:
I, who still saw the horizontal sun
Heave his broad shoulder o'er the edge of the world,
Out-facing Lucifer, and then had hurl'd
My spear aloft, as signal for the chace
I, who, for very sport of heart, would race
With my own steed from Araby; pluck down
A vulture from his towery perching; frown
A lion into growling, loth retire
To lose, at once, all my toil breeding fire,
And sink thus low! but I will ease my breast
Of secret grief, here in this bowery nest.

"This river does not see the naked sky,
Till it begins to progress silverly
Around the western border of the wood,
Whence, from a certain spot, its winding flood
Seems at the distance like a crescent moon:
And in that nook, the very pride of June,
Had I been used to pass my weary eves;
The rather for the sun unwilling leaves
So dear a picture of his sovereign power,
And I could witness his most kingly hour,
When he doth lighten up the golden reins,
And paces leisurely down amber plains
His snorting four. Now when his chariot last
Its beams against the zodiac-lion cast,
There blossom'd suddenly a magic bed
Of sacred ditamy, and poppies red:
At which I wondered greatly, knowing well
That but one night had wrought this flowery spell;
And, sitting down close by, began to muse
What it might mean. Perhaps, thought I, Morpheus,
In passing here, his owlet pinions shook;
Or, it may be, ere matron Night uptook
Her ebon urn, young Mercury, by stealth,
Had dipt his rod in it: such garland wealth
Came not by common growth. Thus on I thought,
Until my head was dizzy and distraught.
Moreover, through the dancing poppies stole
A breeze, most softly lulling to my soul;
And shaping visions all about my sight
Of colours, wings, and bursts of spangly light;
The which became more strange, and strange, and dim,
And then were gulph'd in a tumultuous swim:
And then I fell asleep. Ah, can I tell
The enchantment that afterwards befel?
Yet it was but a dream: yet such a dream
That never tongue, although it overteem
With mellow utterance, like a cavern spring,
Could figure out and to conception bring
All I beheld and felt. Methought I lay
Watching the zenith, where the milky way
Among the stars in virgin splendour pours;
And travelling my eye, until the doors
Of heaven appear'd to open for my flight,
I became loth and fearful to alight
From such high soaring by a downward glance:
So kept me stedfast in that airy trance,
Spreading imaginary pinions wide.
When, presently, the stars began to glide,
And faint away, before my eager view:
At which I sigh'd that I could not pursue,
And dropt my vision to the horizon's verge;
And lo! from opening clouds, I saw emerge
The loveliest moon, that ever silver'd o'er
A shell for Neptune's goblet: she did soar
So passionately bright, my dazzled soul
Commingling with her argent spheres did roll
Through clear and cloudy, even when she went
At last into a dark and vapoury tent
Whereat, methought, the lidless-eyed train
Of planets all were in the blue again.
To commune with those orbs, once more I rais'd
My sight right upward: but it was quite dazed
By a bright something, sailing down apace,
Making me quickly veil my eyes and face:
Again I look'd, and, O ye deities,
Who from Olympus watch our destinies!
Whence that completed form of all completeness?
Whence came that high perfection of all sweetness?
Speak, stubborn earth, and tell me where, O Where
Hast thou a symbol of her golden hair?
Not oat-sheaves drooping in the western sun;
Notthy soft hand, fair sister! let me shun
Such follying before theeyet she had,
Indeed, locks bright enough to make me mad;
And they were simply gordian'd up and braided,
Leaving, in naked comeliness, unshaded,
Her pearl round ears, white neck, and orbed brow;
The which were blended in, I know not how,
With such a paradise of lips and eyes,
Blush-tinted cheeks, half smiles, and faintest sighs,
That, when I think thereon, my spirit clings
And plays about its fancy, till the stings
Of human neighbourhood envenom all.
Unto what awful power shall I call?
To what high fane?Ah! see her hovering feet,
More bluely vein'd, more soft, more whitely sweet
Than those of sea-born Venus, when she rose
From out her cradle shell. The wind out-blows
Her scarf into a fluttering pavilion;
'Tis blue, and over-spangled with a million
Of little eyes, as though thou wert to shed,
Over the darkest, lushest blue-bell bed,
Handfuls of daisies.""Endymion, how strange!
Dream within dream!""She took an airy range,
And then, towards me, like a very maid,
Came blushing, waning, willing, and afraid,
And press'd me by the hand: Ah! 'twas too much;
Methought I fainted at the charmed touch,
Yet held my recollection, even as one
Who dives three fathoms where the waters run
Gurgling in beds of coral: for anon,
I felt upmounted in that region
Where falling stars dart their artillery forth,
And eagles struggle with the buffeting north
That balances the heavy meteor-stone;
Felt too, I was not fearful, nor alone,
But lapp'd and lull'd along the dangerous sky.
Soon, as it seem'd, we left our journeying high,
And straightway into frightful eddies swoop'd;
Such as ay muster where grey time has scoop'd
Huge dens and caverns in a mountain's side:
There hollow sounds arous'd me, and I sigh'd
To faint once more by looking on my bliss
I was distracted; madly did I kiss
The wooing arms which held me, and did give
My eyes at once to death: but 'twas to live,
To take in draughts of life from the gold fount
Of kind and passionate looks; to count, and count
The moments, by some greedy help that seem'd
A second self, that each might be redeem'd
And plunder'd of its load of blessedness.
Ah, desperate mortal! I ev'n dar'd to press
Her very cheek against my crowned lip,
And, at that moment, felt my body dip
Into a warmer air: a moment more,
Our feet were soft in flowers. There was store
Of newest joys upon that alp. Sometimes
A scent of violets, and blossoming limes,
Loiter'd around us; then of honey cells,
Made delicate from all white-flower bells;
And once, above the edges of our nest,
An arch face peep'd,an Oread as I guess'd.

"Why did I dream that sleep o'er-power'd me
In midst of all this heaven? Why not see,
Far off, the shadows of his pinions dark,
And stare them from me? But no, like a spark
That needs must die, although its little beam
Reflects upon a diamond, my sweet dream
Fell into nothinginto stupid sleep.
And so it was, until a gentle creep,
A careful moving caught my waking ears,
And up I started: Ah! my sighs, my tears,
My clenched hands;for lo! the poppies hung
Dew-dabbled on their stalks, the ouzel sung
A heavy ditty, and the sullen day
Had chidden herald Hesperus away,
With leaden looks: the solitary breeze
Bluster'd, and slept, and its wild self did teaze
With wayward melancholy; and r thought,
Mark me, Peona! that sometimes it brought
Faint fare-thee-wells, and sigh-shrilled adieus!
Away I wander'dall the pleasant hues
Of heaven and earth had faded: deepest shades
Were deepest dungeons; heaths and sunny glades
Were full of pestilent light; our taintless rills
Seem'd sooty, and o'er-spread with upturn'd gills
Of dying fish; the vermeil rose had blown
In frightful scarlet, and its thorns out-grown
Like spiked aloe. If an innocent bird
Before my heedless footsteps stirr'd, and stirr'd
In little journeys, I beheld in it
A disguis'd demon, missioned to knit
My soul with under darkness; to entice
My stumblings down some monstrous precipice:
Therefore I eager followed, and did curse
The disappointment. Time, that aged nurse,
Rock'd me to patience. Now, thank gentle heaven!
These things, with all their comfortings, are given
To my down-sunken hours, and with thee,
Sweet sister, help to stem the ebbing sea
Of weary life."

         Thus ended he, and both
Sat silent: for the maid was very loth
To answer; feeling well that breathed words
Would all be lost, unheard, and vain as swords
Against the enchased crocodile, or leaps
Of grasshoppers against the sun. She weeps,
And wonders; struggles to devise some blame;
To put on such a look as would say, Shame
On this poor weakness! but, for all her strife,
She could as soon have crush'd away the life
From a sick dove. At length, to break the pause,
She said with trembling chance: "Is this the cause?
This all? Yet it is strange, and sad, alas!
That one who through this middle earth should pass
Most like a sojourning demi-god, and leave
His name upon the harp-string, should achieve
No higher bard than simple maidenhood,
Singing alone, and fearfully,how the blood
Left his young cheek; and how he used to stray
He knew not where; and how he would say, nay,
If any said 'twas love: and yet 'twas love;
What could it be but love? How a ring-dove
Let fall a sprig of yew tree in his path;
And how he died: and then, that love doth scathe,
The gentle heart, as northern blasts do roses;
And then the ballad of his sad life closes
With sighs, and an alas!Endymion!
Be rather in the trumpet's mouth,anon
Among the winds at largethat all may hearken!
Although, before the crystal heavens darken,
I watch and dote upon the silver lakes
Pictur'd in western cloudiness, that takes
The semblance of gold rocks and bright gold sands,
Islands, and creeks, and amber-fretted strands
With horses prancing o'er them, palaces
And towers of amethyst,would I so tease
My pleasant days, because I could not mount
Into those regions? The Morphean fount
Of that fine element that visions, dreams,
And fitful whims of sleep are made of, streams
Into its airy channels with so subtle,
So thin a breathing, not the spider's shuttle,
Circled a million times within the space
Of a swallow's nest-door, could delay a trace,
A tinting of its quality: how light
Must dreams themselves be; seeing they're more slight
Than the mere nothing that engenders them!
Then wherefore sully the entrusted gem
Of high and noble life with thoughts so sick?
Why pierce high-fronted honour to the quick
For nothing but a dream?" Hereat the youth
Look'd up: a conflicting of shame and ruth
Was in his plaited brow: yet his eyelids
Widened a little, as when Zephyr bids
A little breeze to creep between the fans
Of careless butterflies: amid his pains
He seem'd to taste a drop of manna-dew,
Full palatable; and a colour grew
Upon his cheek, while thus he lifeful spake.

"Peona! ever have I long'd to slake
My thirst for the world's praises: nothing base,
No merely slumberous phantasm, could unlace
The stubborn canvas for my voyage prepar'd
Though now 'tis tatter'd; leaving my bark bar'd
And sullenly drifting: yet my higher hope
Is of too wide, too rainbow-large a scope,
To fret at myriads of earthly wrecks.
Wherein lies happiness? In that which becks
Our ready minds to fellowship divine,
A fellowship with essence; till we shine,
Full alchemiz'd, and free of space. Behold
The clear religion of heaven! Fold
A rose leaf round thy finger's taperness,
And soothe thy lips: hist, when the airy stress
Of music's kiss impregnates the free winds,
And with a sympathetic touch unbinds
Eolian magic from their lucid wombs:
Then old songs waken from enclouded tombs;
Old ditties sigh above their father's grave;
Ghosts of melodious prophecyings rave
Round every spot where trod Apollo's foot;
Bronze clarions awake, and faintly bruit,
Where long ago a giant battle was;
And, from the turf, a lullaby doth pass
In every place where infant Orpheus slept.
Feel we these things?that moment have we stept
Into a sort of oneness, and our state
Is like a floating spirit's. But there are
Richer entanglements, enthralments far
More self-destroying, leading, by degrees,
To the chief intensity: the crown of these
Is made of love and friendship, and sits high
Upon the forehead of humanity.
All its more ponderous and bulky worth
Is friendship, whence there ever issues forth
A steady splendour; but at the tip-top,
There hangs by unseen film, an orbed drop
Of light, and that is love: its influence,
Thrown in our eyes, genders a novel sense,
At which we start and fret; till in the end,
Melting into its radiance, we blend,
Mingle, and so become a part of it,
Nor with aught else can our souls interknit
So wingedly: when we combine therewith,
Life's self is nourish'd by its proper pith,
And we are nurtured like a pelican brood.
Aye, so delicious is the unsating food,
That men, who might have tower'd in the van
Of all the congregated world, to fan
And winnow from the coming step of time
All chaff of custom, wipe away all slime
Left by men-slugs and human serpentry,
Have been content to let occasion die,
Whilst they did sleep in love's elysium.
And, truly, I would rather be struck dumb,
Than speak against this ardent listlessness:
For I have ever thought that it might bless
The world with benefits unknowingly;
As does the nightingale, upperched high,
And cloister'd among cool and bunched leaves
She sings but to her love, nor e'er conceives
How tiptoe Night holds back her dark-grey hood.
Just so may love, although 'tis understood
The mere commingling of passionate breath,
Produce more than our searching witnesseth:
What I know not: but who, of men, can tell
That flowers would bloom, or that green fruit would swell
To melting pulp, that fish would have bright mail,
The earth its dower of river, wood, and vale,
The meadows runnels, runnels pebble-stones,
The seed its harvest, or the lute its tones,
Tones ravishment, or ravishment its sweet,
If human souls did never kiss and greet?

"Now, if this earthly love has power to make
Men's being mortal, immortal; to shake
Ambition from their memories, and brim
Their measure of content; what merest whim,
Seems all this poor endeavour after fame,
To one, who keeps within his stedfast aim
A love immortal, an immortal too.
Look not so wilder'd; for these things are true,
And never can be born of atomies
That buzz about our slumbers, like brain-flies,
Leaving us fancy-sick. No, no, I'm sure,
My restless spirit never could endure
To brood so long upon one luxury,
Unless it did, though fearfully, espy
A hope beyond the shadow of a dream.
My sayings will the less obscured seem,
When I have told thee how my waking sight
Has made me scruple whether that same night
Was pass'd in dreaming. Hearken, sweet Peona!
Beyond the matron-temple of Latona,
Which we should see but for these darkening boughs,
Lies a deep hollow, from whose ragged brows
Bushes and trees do lean all round athwart,
And meet so nearly, that with wings outraught,
And spreaded tail, a vulture could not glide
Past them, but he must brush on every side.
Some moulder'd steps lead into this cool cell,
Far as the slabbed margin of a well,
Whose patient level peeps its crystal eye
Right upward, through the bushes, to the sky.
Oft have I brought thee flowers, on their stalks set
Like vestal primroses, but dark velvet
Edges them round, and they have golden pits:
'Twas there I got them, from the gaps and slits
In a mossy stone, that sometimes was my seat,
When all above was faint with mid-day heat.
And there in strife no burning thoughts to heed,
I'd bubble up the water through a reed;
So reaching back to boy-hood: make me ships
Of moulted feathers, touchwood, alder chips,
With leaves stuck in them; and the Neptune be
Of their petty ocean. Oftener, heavily,
When love-lorn hours had left me less a child,
I sat contemplating the figures wild
Of o'er-head clouds melting the mirror through.
Upon a day, while thus I watch'd, by flew
A cloudy Cupid, with his bow and quiver;
So plainly character'd, no breeze would shiver
The happy chance: so happy, I was fain
To follow it upon the open plain,
And, therefore, was just going; when, behold!
A wonder, fair as any I have told
The same bright face I tasted in my sleep,
Smiling in the clear well. My heart did leap
Through the cool depth.It moved as if to flee
I started up, when lo! refreshfully,
There came upon my face, in plenteous showers,
Dew-drops, and dewy buds, and leaves, and flowers,
Wrapping all objects from my smothered sight,
Bathing my spirit in a new delight.
Aye, such a breathless honey-feel of bliss
Alone preserved me from the drear abyss
Of death, for the fair form had gone again.
Pleasure is oft a visitant; but pain
Clings cruelly to us, like the gnawing sloth
On the deer's tender haunches: late, and loth,
'Tis scar'd away by slow returning pleasure.
How sickening, how dark the dreadful leisure
Of weary days, made deeper exquisite,
By a fore-knowledge of unslumbrous night!
Like sorrow came upon me, heavier still,
Than when I wander'd from the poppy hill:
And a whole age of lingering moments crept
Sluggishly by, ere more contentment swept
Away at once the deadly yellow spleen.
Yes, thrice have I this fair enchantment seen;
Once more been tortured with renewed life.
When last the wintry gusts gave over strife
With the conquering sun of spring, and left the skies
Warm and serene, but yet with moistened eyes
In pity of the shatter'd infant buds,
That time thou didst adorn, with amber studs,
My hunting cap, because I laugh'd and smil'd,
Chatted with thee, and many days exil'd
All torment from my breast;'twas even then,
Straying about, yet, coop'd up in the den
Of helpless discontent,hurling my lance
From place to place, and following at chance,
At last, by hap, through some young trees it struck,
And, plashing among bedded pebbles, stuck
In the middle of a brook,whose silver ramble
Down twenty little falls, through reeds and bramble,
Tracing along, it brought me to a cave,
Whence it ran brightly forth, and white did lave
The nether sides of mossy stones and rock,
'Mong which it gurgled blythe adieus, to mock
Its own sweet grief at parting. Overhead,
Hung a lush screen of drooping weeds, and spread
Thick, as to curtain up some wood-nymph's home.
"Ah! impious mortal, whither do I roam?"
Said I, low voic'd: "Ah whither! 'Tis the grot
Of Proserpine, when Hell, obscure and hot,
Doth her resign; and where her tender hands
She dabbles, on the cool and sluicy sands:
Or 'tis the cell of Echo, where she sits,
And babbles thorough silence, till her wits
Are gone in tender madness, and anon,
Faints into sleep, with many a dying tone
Of sadness. O that she would take my vows,
And breathe them sighingly among the boughs,
To sue her gentle ears for whose fair head,
Daily, I pluck sweet flowerets from their bed,
And weave them dyinglysend honey-whispers
Round every leaf, that all those gentle lispers
May sigh my love unto her pitying!
O charitable echo! hear, and sing
This ditty to her!tell her"so I stay'd
My foolish tongue, and listening, half afraid,
Stood stupefied with my own empty folly,
And blushing for the freaks of melancholy.
Salt tears were coming, when I heard my name
Most fondly lipp'd, and then these accents came:
Endymion! the cave is secreter
Than the isle of Delos. Echo hence shall stir
No sighs but sigh-warm kisses, or light noise
Of thy combing hand, the while it travelling cloys
And trembles through my labyrinthine hair."
At that oppress'd I hurried in.Ah! where
Are those swift moments? Whither are they fled?
I'll smile no more, Peona; nor will wed
Sorrow the way to death, but patiently
Bear up against it: so farewel, sad sigh;
And come instead demurest meditation,
To occupy me wholly, and to fashion
My pilgrimage for the world's dusky brink.
No more will I count over, link by link,
My chain of grief: no longer strive to find
A half-forgetfulness in mountain wind
Blustering about my ears: aye, thou shalt see,
Dearest of sisters, what my life shall be;
What a calm round of hours shall make my days.
There is a paly flame of hope that plays
Where'er I look: but yet, I'll say 'tis naught
And here I bid it die. Have not I caught,
Already, a more healthy countenance?
By this the sun is setting; we may chance
Meet some of our near-dwellers with my car."

This said, he rose, faint-smiling like a star
Through autumn mists, and took Peona's hand:
They stept into the boat, and launch'd from land.
ENDYMION.
A Romance.

"The stretched metre of an antique song." ~
Shakspeare's Sonnets.
INSCRIBED,
With Every Feeling Of Pride and Regret
and With "A Bowed Mind,"
To the Memory of
The Most English of Poets Except Shakspeare,
THOMAS CHATTERON.
------------------------

(line 144): A lovely allusion to the story of Apollo's nine years' sojourn on earth as the herdsman of Admetus, when banished from Olympus for killing the Cyclops who had forged the thunder-bolts wherewith AEsculapius had been slain.

(line 232): It was the Hymn to Pan beginning here that the young poet when engaged in the composition of Endymion was induced to recite in the presence of Wordsworth, on the 28th of December 1817, at Haydon's house. Leigh Hunt records that the elder poet pronounced it "a very pretty piece of paganism."

(line 319): Doubtless meant to refer specially to the Elgin marbles.

(line 347): The reference here is to the passage from the second Book of the Argonautica of Apollonius Rhodius, beginning at verse 674 ... which Shelley had in mind when (Prose Works, Vol. 3, p. 56) he alluded to the Apollo "so finely described by Apollonius Rhodius when the dazzling radiance of his beautiful limbs suddenly shone over the dark Euxine."

__ note found before the Preface of Endymion, in the Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895. ...,

'In Woodhouse's copy of Endymion there is a note against the passage "so I will begin" &c., line 39, Book I, to the effect that the poem was begun in the spring of 1817 and finished in the winter of 1817-18; and in the title-page he has inserted April before 1818. The statement corresponds with Keats's own record of May 1817, that he was busying himself at Margate with the commencement of Endymion.'

PREFACE.
Knowing within myself the manner in which this Poem has been produced, it is not without a feeling of regret that I make it public.
What manner I mean, will be quite clear to the reader, who must soon perceive great inexperience, immaturity, and every error denoting a feverish attempt, rather than a deed accomplished. The two first books, and indeed the two last, I feel sensible are not of such completion as to warrant their passing the press; nor should they if I thought a year's castigation would do them any good; -- it will not: the foundations are too sandy. It is just that this youngster should die away: a sad thought for me, if I had not some hope that while it is dwindling I may be plotting, and fitting myself for verses fit to live.
This may be speaking too presumptuously, and may deserve a punishment: but no feeling man will be forward to inflict it: he will leave me alone, with the conviction that there is not a fiercer hell than the failure in a great object. This is not written with the least atom of purpose to forestall criticisms of course, but from the desire I have to conciliate men who are competent to look, and who do look with a zealous eye, to the honor of English literature.
The imagination of a boy is healthy, and the mature imagination of a man is healthy; but there is a space of life between, in which the soul is in a ferment, the character undecided, the way of life uncertain, the ambition thick-sighted: thence proceeds mawkishness, and all the thousand bitters which those men I speak of must necessarily taste in going over the following pages.
I hope I have not in too late a day touched the beautiful mythology of Greece, and dulled its brightness: for I wish to try once more, before I bid it farewell.
Teignmouth, April 10, 1818.
[footnote] Woodhouse notes -- "[for I wish to try once more,] This alluded to his then intention of writing a poem on the fall of Hyperion. He commenced this poem: but, thanks to the critics who fell foul of this work, he discontinued it. The fragment was published in 1820." by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ John Keats, Endymion - Book I
,
1280:Tannhauser
The Landgrave Hermann held a gathering
Of minstrels, minnesingers, troubadours,
At Wartburg in his palace, and the knight,
Sir Tannhauser of France, the greatest bard,
Inspired with heavenly visions, and endowed
With apprehension and rare utterance
Of noble music, fared in thoughtful wise
Across the Horsel meadows. Full of light,
And large repose, the peaceful valley lay,
In the late splendor of the afternoon,
And level sunbeams lit the serious face
Of the young knight, who journeyed to the west,
Towards the precipitous and rugged cliffs,
Scarred, grim, and torn with savage rifts and chasms,
That in the distance loomed as soft and fair
And purple as their shadows on the grass.
The tinkling chimes ran out athwart the air,
Proclaiming sunset, ushering evening in,
Although the sky yet glowed with yellow light.
The ploughboy, ere he led his cattle home,
In the near meadow, reverently knelt,
And doffed his cap, and duly crossed his breast,
Whispering his 'Ave Mary,' as he heard
The pealing vesper-bell. But still the knight,
Unmindful of the sacred hour announced,
Disdainful or unconscious, held his course.
'Would that I also, like yon stupid wight,
Could kneel and hail the Virgin and believe!'
He murmured bitterly beneath his breath.
'Were I a pagan, riding to contend
For the Olympic wreath, O with what zeal,
What fire of inspiration, would I sing
The praises of the gods! How may my lyre
Glorify these whose very life I doubt?
The world is governed by one cruel God,
Who brings a sword, not peace. A pallid Christ,
Unnatural, perfect, and a virgin cold,
They give us for a heaven of living gods,
Beautiful, loving, whose mere names were song;
207
A creed of suffering and despair, walled in
On every side by brazen boundaries,
That limit the soul's vision and her hope
To a red hell or and unpeopled heaven.
Yea, I am lost already,-even now
Am doomed to flaming torture for my thoughts.
O gods! O gods! where shall my soul find peace?'
He raised his wan face to the faded skies,
Now shadowing into twilight; no response
Came from their sunless heights; no miracle,
As in the ancient days of answering gods.
With a long, shuddering sigh he glanced to earth,
Finding himself among the Horsel cliffs.
Gray, sullen, gaunt, they towered on either side;
Scant shrubs sucked meagre life between the rifts
Of their huge crags, and made small darker spots
Upon their wrinkled sides; the jaded horse
Stumbled upon loose, rattling, fallen stones,
Amidst the gathering dusk, and blindly fared
Through the weird, perilous pass. As darkness waxed,
And an oppressive mystery enwrapped
The roadstead and the rocks, Sir Tannhauser
Fancied he saw upon the mountain-side
The fluttering of white raiment. With a sense
Of wild joy and horror, he gave pause,
For his sagacious horse that reeked of sweat,
Trembling in every limb, confirmed his thought,
That nothing human scaled that haunted cliff.
The white thing seemed descending,-now a cloud
It looked, and now a rag of drifted mist,
Torn in the jagged gorge precipitous,
And now an apparition clad in white,
Shapely and real,-then he lost it quite,
Gazing on nothing with blank, foolish face.
As with wide eyes he stood, he was aware
Of a strange splendor at his very side,
A presence and a majesty so great,
That ere he saw, he felt it was divine.
He turned, and, leaping from his horse, fell prone,
In speechless adoration, on the earth,
Before the matchless goddess, who appeared
With no less freshness of immortal youth
208
Than when first risen from foam of Paphian seas.
He heard delicious strains of melody,
Such as his highest muse had ne'er attained,
Float in the air, while in the distance rang,
Harsh and discordant, jarring with those tones,
The gallop of his frightened horse's hoofs,
Clattering in sudden freedom down the pass.
A voice that made all music dissonance
Then thrilled through heart and flesh of that prone knight,
Triumphantly: 'The gods need but appear,
And their usurped thrones are theirs again!'
Then tenderly: 'Sweet knight, I pray thee, rise;
Worship me not, for I desire thy love.
Look on me, follow me, for I am fain
Of thy fair, human face.' He rose and looked,
Stirred by that heavenly flattery to the soul.
Her hair, unbraided and unfilleted,
Rained in a glittering shower to the ground,
And cast forth lustre. Round her zone was clasped
The scintillant cestus, stiff with flaming gold,
Thicker with restless gems than heaven with stars.
She might have flung the enchanted wonder forth;
Her eyes, her slightest gesture would suffice
To bind all men in blissful slavery.
She sprang upon the mountain's dangerous side,
With feet that left their print in flowers divine,Flushed amaryllis and blue hyacinth,
Impurpled amaranth and asphodel,
Dewy with nectar, and exhaling scents
Richer than all the roses of mid-June.
The knight sped after her, with wild eyes fixed
Upon her brightness, as she lightly leapt
From crag to crag, with flying auburn hair,
Like a gold cloud, that lured him ever on,
Higher and higher up the haunted cliff.
At last amidst a grove of pines she paused,
Until he reached her, breathing hard with haste,
Delight, and wonder. Then upon his hand
She placed her own, and all his blood at once
Tingled and hotly rushed to brow and cheek,
At the supreme caress; but the mere touch
Infused fresh life, and when she looked at him
209
With gracious tenderness, he felt himself
Strong suddenly to bear the blinding light
Of those great eyes. 'Dear knight,' she murmured low,
'For love of me, wilt thou accord this boon,To grace my weary home in banishment?'
His hungry eyes gave answer ere he spoke,
In tones abrupt that startled his own ears
With their strange harshness; but with thanks profuse
She guided him, still holding his cold hand
In her warm, dainty palm, unto a cave,
Whence a rare glory issued, and a smell
Of spice and roses, frankincense and balm.
They entering stood within a marble hall,
With straight, slim pillars, at whose farther end
The goddess led him to a spiral flight
Of stairs, descending always 'midst black gloom
Into the very bowels of the earth.
Down these, with fearful swiftness, they made way,
The knight's feet touching not the solid stair,
But sliding down as in a vexing dream,
Blind, feeling but that hand divine that still
Empowered him to walk on empty air.
Then he was dazzled by a sudden blaze,
In vast palace filled with reveling folk.
Cunningly pictured on the ivory walls
Were rolling hills, cool lakes, and boscage green,
And all the summer landscape's various pomp.
The precious canopy aloft was carved
In semblance of the pleached forest trees,
Enameled with the liveliest green, wherethrough
A light pierced, more resplendent than the day.
O'er the pale, polished jasper of the floor
Of burnished metal, fretted and embossed
With all the marvelous story of her birth
Painted in prodigal splendor of rich tincts,
And carved by heavenly artists,-crystal seas,
And long-haired Nereids in their pearly shells,
And all the wonder of her lucent limbs
Sphered in a vermeil mist. Upon the throne
She took her seat, the knight beside her still,
Singing on couches of fresh asphodel,
And the dance ceased, and the flushed revelers came
210
In glittering phalanx to adore their queen.
Beautiful girls, with shining delicate heads,
Crested with living jewels, fanned the air
With flickering wings from naked shoulders soft.
Then with preluding low, a thousand harps,
And citherns, and strange nameless instruments,
Sent through the fragrant air sweet symphonies,
And the winged dancers waved in mazy rounds,
With changing lustres like a summer sea.
Fair boys, with charming yellow hair crisp-curled,
And frail, effeminate beauty, the knight saw,
But of strong, stalwart men like him were none.
He gazed thereon bewitched, until the hand
Of Venus, erst withdrawn, now fell again
Upon his own, and roused him from his trance.
He looked on her, and as he looked, a cloud
Auroral, flaming as at sunrising,
Arose from nothing, floating over them
In luminous folds, like that vermilion mist
Penciled upon the throne, and as it waxed
In density and brightness, all the throng
Of festal dancers, less and less distinct,
Grew like pale spirits in a vague, dim dream,
And vanished altogether; and these twain,
Shut from the world in that ambrosial cloud,
Now with a glory inconceivable,
Vivid and conflagrant, looked each on each.
All hours came laden with their own delights
In that enchanted place, wherein Time
Knew no divisions harsh of night and day,
But light was always, and desire of sleep
Was satisfied at once with slumber soft,
Desire of food with magical repast,
By unseen hands on golden tables spread.
But these the knight accepted like a god,
All less was lost in that excess of joy,
The crowning marvel of her love for him,
Assuring him of his divinity.
Meanwhile remembrance of the earth appeared
Like the vague trouble of a transient dream,The doubt, the scruples, the remorse for thoughts
211
Beyond his own control, the constant thirst
For something fairer than his life, more real
Than airy revelations of his Muse.
Here was his soul's desire satisfied.
All nobler passions died; his lyre he flung
Recklessly forth, with vows to dedicate
His being to herself. She knew and seized
The moment of her mastery, and conveyed
The lyre beyond his sight and memory.
With blandishment divine she changed for him,
Each hour, her mood; a very woman now,
Fantastic, voluble, affectionate,
And jealous of the vague, unbodied air,
Exacting, penitent, and pacified,
All in a breath. And often she appeared
Majestic with celestial wrath, with eyes
That shot forth fire, and a heavy brow,
Portentous as the lowering front of heaven,
When the reverberant, sullen thunder rolls
Among the echoing clouds. Thus she denounced
Her ancient, fickle worshippers, who left
Her altars desecrate, her fires unfed,
Her name forgotten. 'But I reign, I reign!'
She would shrill forth, triumphant; 'yea, I reign.
Men name me not, but worship me unnamed,
Beauty and Love within their heart of hearts;
Not with bent knees and empty breath of words,
But with devoted sacrifice of lives.'
Then melting in a moment, she would weep
Ambrosial tears, pathetic, full of guile,
Accusing her own base ingratitude,
In craving worship, when she had his heart,
Her priceless knight, her peerless paladin,
Her Tannhauser; then, with an artful glance
Of lovely helplessness, entreated him
Not to desert her, like the faithless world,
For these unbeautiful and barbarous gods,
Or she would never cease her prayers to Jove,
Until he took from her the heavy curse
Of immortality. With closer vows,
The knight then sealed his worship and forswore
All other aims and deeds to serve her cause.
212
Thus passed unnoted seven barren years
Of reckless passion and voluptuous sloth,
Undignified by any lofty thought
In his degraded mind, that sometime was
Endowed with noble capability.
From revelry to revelry he passed,
Craving more pungent pleasure momently,
And new intoxications, and each hour
The siren goddess answered his desires.
Once when she left him with a weary sense
Of utter lassitude, he sat alone,
And, raising listless eyes, he saw himself
In a great burnished mirror, wrought about
With cunning imagery of twisted vines.
He scarcely knew those sunken, red-rimmed eyes,
For his who in the flush of manhood rode
Among the cliffs, and followed up the crags
The flying temptress; and there fell on him
A horror of her beauty, a disgust
For his degenerate and corrupted life,
With irresistible, intense desire,
To feel the breath of heaven on his face.
Then as Fate willed, who rules above the gods,
He saw, within the glass, behind him glide
The form of Venus. Certain of her power,
She had laid by, in fond security,
The enchanted cestus, and Sir Tannhauser,
With surfeited regard, beheld her now,
No fairer than the women of the earth,
Whom with serenity and health he left,
Duped by a lovely witch. Before he moved,
She knew her destiny; and when he turned,
He seemed to drop a mask, disclosing thus
An alien face, and eyes with vision true,
That for long time with glamour had been blind.
Hiding the hideous rage within her breast,
With girlish simpleness of folded hands,
Auroral blushes, and sweet, shamefast mien,
She spoke: 'Behold, my love, I have cast forth
All magic, blandishments and sorcery,
For I have dreamed a dream so terrible,
That I awoke to find my pillow stained
213
With tears as of real woe. I thought my belt,
By Vulcan wrought with matchless skill and power,
Was the sole bond between us; this being doffed,
I seemed to thee an old, unlovely crone,
Wrinkled by every year that I have seen.
Thou turnedst from me with a brutal sneer,
So that I woke with weeping. Then I rose,
And drew the glittering girdle from my zone,
Jealous thereof, yet full of fears, and said,
'If it be this he loves, then let him go!
I have no solace as a mortal hath,
No hope of change or death to comfort me
Through all eternity; yet he is free,
Though I could hold him fast with heavy chains,
Bound in perpetual imprisonment.'
Tell me my vision was a baseless dream;
See, I am kneeling, and kiss thy hands,In pity, look on me, before thy word
Condemns me to immortal misery!'
As she looked down, the infernal influence
Worked on his soul again; for she was fair
Beyond imagination, and her brow
Seemed luminous with high self-sacrifice.
He bent and kissed her head, warm, shining, soft,
With its close-curling gold, and love revived.
But ere he spoke, he heard the distant sound
Of one sweet, smitten lyre, and a gleam
Of violent anger flashed across the face
Upraised to his in feigned simplicity
And singleness of purpose. Then he sprang,
Well-nigh a god himself, with sudden strength
to vanquish and resist, beyond her reach,
Crying, 'My old Muse calls me, and I hear!
Thy fateful vision is no baseless dream;
I will be gone from this accursed hall!'
Then she, too, rose, dilating over him,
And sullen clouds veiled all her rosy limbs,
Unto her girdle, and her head appeared
Refulgent, and her voice rang wrathfully:
'Have I cajoled and flattered thee till now,
To lose thee thus! How wilt thou make escape?
214
ONCE BEING MINE THOU ART FOREVER MINE:
Yea, not my love, but my poor slave and fool.'
But he, with both hands pressed upon his eyes,
Against that blinding lustre, heeded not
Her thundered words, and cried in sharp despair,
'Help me, O Virgin Mary! and thereat,
The very bases of the hall gave way,
The roof was rived, the goddess disappeared,
And Tannhauser stood free upon the cliff,
Amidst the morning sunshine and fresh air.
Around him were the tumbled blocks and crags,
Huge ridges and sharp juts of flinty peaks,
Black caves, and masses of the grim, bald rock.
The ethereal, unfathomable sky,
Hung over him, the valley lay beneath,
Dotted with yellow hayricks, that exhaled
Sweet, healthy odors to the mountain-top.
He breathed intoxicate the infinite air,
And plucked the heather blossoms where they blew,
Reckless with light and dew, in crannies green,
And scarcely saw their darling bells for tears.
No sounds of labor reached him from the farms
And hamlets trim, nor from the furrowed glebe;
But a serene and sabbath stillness reigned,
Till broken by the faint, melodious chimes
Of the small village church that called to prayer.
He hurried down the rugged, scarped cliff,
And swung himself from shelving granite slopes
To narrow foot-holds, near wide-throated chasms,
Tearing against the sharp stones his bleeding hands,
With long hair flying from his dripping brow,
Uncovered head, and white, exalted face.
No memory had he of his smooth ascent,
No thought of fear upon those dreadful hills;
He only heard the bell, inviting him
To satisfy the craving of his heart,
For worship 'midst his fellow men. He reached
The beaten, dusty road, and passed thereon
The pious peasants faring towards the church,
And scarce refrained from greeting them like friends
Dearly beloved, after long absence met.
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How more than fair the sunburnt wenches looked,
In their rough, homespun gowns and coifs demure,
After the beauty of bare, rosy limbs,
And odorous, loose hair! He noted not
Suspicious glances on his garb uncouth,
His air extravagant and face distraught,
With bursts of laughter from the red-cheeked boys,
And prudent crossings of the women's breasts.
He passed the flowering close about the church,
And trod the well worn-path, with throbbing heart,
The little heather-bell between his lips,
And his eyes fastened on the good green grass.
Thus entered he the sanctuary, lit
With frequent tapers, and with sunbeams stained
Through painted glass. How pure and innocent
The waiting congregation seemed to him,
Kneeling, or seated with calm brows upraised!
With faltering strength, he cowered down alone,
And held sincere communion with the Lord,
For one brief moment, in a sudden gush
Of blessed tears. The minister of God
Rose to invoke a blessing on his flock,
And then began the service,-not in words
To raise the lowly, and to heal the sick,
But an alien tongue, with phrases formed,
And meaningless observances. The knight,
Unmoved, yet thirsting for the simple word
That might have moved him, held his bitter thoughts,
But when in his own speech a new priest spake,
Looked up with hope revived, and heard the text:
'Go, preach the Gospel unto all the world.
He that believes and is baptized, is saved.
He that believeth not, is damned in hell!'
He sat with neck thrust forth and staring eyes;
The crowded congregation disappeared;
He felt alone in some black sea of hell,
While a great light smote one exalted face,
Vivid already with prophetic fire,
Whose fatal mouth now thundered forth his doom.
He longed in that void circle to cry out,
With one clear shriek, but sense and voice seemed bound,
And his parched tongue clave useless to his mouth.
216
As the last words resounded through the church,
And once again the pastor blessed his flock,
Who, serious and subdued, passed slowly down
The arrow aisle, none noted, near the wall,
A fallen man with face upon his knees,
A heap of huddled garments and loose hair,
Unconscious 'mid the rustling, murmurous stir,
'Midst light and rural smell of grass and flowers,
Let in athwart the doorway. One lone priest,
Darkening the altar lights, moved noiselessly,
Now with the yellow glow upon his face,
Now a black shadow gliding farther on,
Amidst the smooth, slim pillars of hewn ash.
But from the vacant aisles he heard at once
A hollow sigh, heaved from a depth profound.
Upholding his last light above his head,
And peering eagerly amidst the stalls,
He cried, 'Be blest who cometh in God's name.'
Then the gaunt form of Tannhauser arose.
'Father, I am a sinner, and I seek
Forgiveness and help, by whatso means
I can regain the joy of peace with God.'
'The Lord hath mercy on the penitent.
'Although thy sins be scarlet,' He hath said,
'Will I not make them white as wool?' Confess,
And I will shrive you.' Thus the good priest moved
Towards the remorseful knight and pressed his hand.
But shrinking down, he drew his fingers back
From the kind palm, and kissed the friar's feet.
'Thy pure hand is anointed, and can heal.
The cool, calm pressure brings back sanity,
And what serene, past joys! yet touch me not,
My contact is pollution,-hear, O hear,
While I disburden my charged soul.' He lay,
Casting about for words and strength to speak.
'O father, is there help for such a one,'
In tones of deep abasement he began,
'Who hath rebelled against the laws of God,
With pride no less presumptuous than his
Who lost thereby his rank in heaven?' 'My son,
There is atonement for all sins,-or slight
Or difficult, proportioned to the crime.
217
Though this may be the staining of thy hands
With blood of kinsmen or of fellow-men.'
'My hands are white,-my crime hath found no name,
This side of hell; yet though my heart-strings snap
To live it over, let me make the attempt.
I was a knight and bard, with such a gift
Of revelation that no hour of life
Lacked beauty and adornment, in myself
The seat and centre of all happiness.
What inspiration could my lofty Muse
Draw from those common and familiar themes,
Painted upon the windows and the walls
Of every church,-the mother and her child,
The miracle and mystery of the birth,
The death, the resurrection? Fool and blind!
That saw not symbols of eternal truth
In that grand tragedy and victory,
Significant and infinite as life.
What tortures did my skeptic soul endure,
At war against herself and all mankind!
The restless nights of feverish sleeplessness,
With balancing of reasons nicely weighed;
The dawn that brought no hope nor energy,
The blasphemous arraignment of the Lord,
Taxing His glorious divinity
With all the grief and folly of the world.
Then came relapses into abject fear,
And hollow prayer and praise from craven heart.
Before a sculptured Venus I would kneel,
Crown her with flowers, worship her, and cry,
'O large and noble type of our ideal,
At least my heart and prayer return to thee,
Amidst a faithless world of proselytes.
Madonna Mary, with her virgin lips,
And eyes that look perpetual reproach,
Insults and is a blasphemy on youth.
Is she to claim the worship of a man
Hot with the first rich flush of ripened life?'
Realities, like phantoms, glided by,
Unnoted 'midst the torment and delights
Of my conflicting spirit, and I doffed
the modest Christian weeds of charity
218
And fit humility, and steeled myself
In pagan panoply of stoicism
And self-sufficing pride. Yet constantly
I gained men's charmed attention and applause,
With the wild strains I smote from out my lyre,
To me the native language of my soul,
To them attractive and miraculous,
As all things whose solution and whose source
Remain a mystery. Then came suddenly
The summons to attend the gathering
Of minstrels at the Landgrave Hermann's court.
Resolved to publish there my pagan creed
In harmonies so high and beautiful
That all the world would share my zeal and faith,
I journeyed towards the haunted Horsel cliffs.
O God! how may I tell you how SHE came,
The temptress of a hundred centuries,
Yet fresh as April? She bewitched my sense,
Poisoned my judgment with sweet flatteries,
And for I may not guess how many years
Held me a captive in degrading bonds.
There is no sin of lust so lewd and foul,
Which I learned not in that alluring hell,
Until this morn, I snapped the ignoble tie,
By calling on the Mother of our Lord.
O for the power to stand again erect,
And look men in the eyes! What penitence,
What scourging of the flesh, what rigid fasts,
What terrible privations may suffice
To cleanse me in the sight of God and man?'
Ill-omened silence followed his appeal.
Patient and motionless he lay awhile,
Then sprang unto his feet with sudden force,
Confronting in his breathless vehemence,
With palpitating heart, the timid priest.
'Answer me, as you hope for a response,
One day, at the great judgment seat yourself.'
'I cannot answer,' said the timid priest,
'I have not understood.' 'Just God! is this
The curse Thou layest upon me? I outstrip
The sympathy and brotherhood of men,
So far removed is my experience
219
From their clean innocence. Inspire me,
Prompt me to words that bring me near to them!
Father,' in gentler accents he resumed,
'Thank Heaven at your every orison
That sin like mine you cannot apprehend.
More than the truth perchance I have confessed,
But I have sinned, and darkly,-this is true;
And I have suffered, and am suffering now.
Is there no help in your great Christian creed
Of liberal charity, for such a one?'
'My son,' the priest replied, 'your speech distraught
Hath quite bewildered me. I fain would hope
That Christ's large charity can reach your sin,
But I know naught. I cannot but believe
That the enchantress who first tempted you
Must be the Evil one,-your early doubt
Was the possession of your soul by him.
Travel across the mountain to the town,
The first cathedral town upon the road
That leads to Rome,-a sage and reverend priest,
The Bishop Adrian, bides there. Say you have come
From his leal servant, Friar Lodovick;
He hath vast lore and great authority,
And may absolve you freely of your sin.'
Over the rolling hills, through summer fields,
By noisy villages and lonely lanes,
Through glowing days, when all the landscape stretched
Shimmering in the heat, a pilgrim fared
Towards the cathedral town. Sir Tannhauser
Had donned the mournful sackcloth, girt his loins
With a coarse rope that ate into his flesh,
Muffled a cowl about his shaven head,
Hung a great leaden cross around his neck;
And bearing in his hands a knotty staff,
With swollen, sandaled feet he held his course.
He snatched scant rest at twilight or at dawn,
When his forced travel was least difficult.
But most he journeyed when the sky, o'ercast,
Uprolled its threatening clouds of dusky blue,
And angry thunder grumbled through the hills,
And earth grew dark at noonday, till the flash
220
Of the thin lightning through the wide sky leapt.
And tumbling showers scoured along the plain.
Then folk who saw the pilgrim penitent,
Drenched, weird, and hastening as as to some strange doom,
Swore that the wandering Jew had crossed their land,
And the Lord Christ had sent the deadly bolt
Harmless upon his cursed, immortal head.
At length the hill-side city's spires and roofs,
With all its western windows smitten red
By a rich sunset, and with massive towers
Of its cathedral overtopping all,
greeted his sight. Some weary paces more,
And as the twilight deepened in the streets,
He stood within the minster. How serene,
In sculptured calm of centuries, it seemed!
How cool and spacious all the dim-lit aisles,
Still hazy with fumes of frankincense!
The vesper had been said, yet here and there
A wrinkled beldam, or mourner veiled,
Or burly burgher on the cold floor knelt,
And still the organist, with wandering hands,
Drew from the keys mysterious melodies,
And filled the church with flying waifs of song,
That with ethereal beauty moved the soul
To a more tender prayer and gentler faith
Than choral anthems and the solemn mass.
A thousand memories, sweet to bitterness,
Rushed on the knight and filled his eyes with tears;
Youth's blamelessness and faith forever lost,
The love of his neglected lyre, his art,
Revived by these aerial harmonies.
He was unworthy now to touch the strings,
Too base to stir men's soul to ecstasy
And high resolves, as in the days agone;
And yet, with all his spirit's earnestness,
He yearned to feel the lyre between his hands,
To utter all the trouble of his life
Unto the Muse who understands and helps.
Outworn with travel, soothed to drowsiness
By dying music and sweet-scented air,
His limbs relaxed, and sleep possessed his frame.
Auroral light the eastern oriels touched,
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When with delicious sense of rest he woke,
Amidst the cast and silent empty aisles.
'God's peace hath fallen upon me in this place;
This is my Bethel; here I feel again
A holy calm, if not of innocence,
Yet purest after that, the calm serene
Of expiation and forgiveness.'
He spake, and passed with staff and wallet forth
Through the tall portal to the open square,
And turning, paused to look upon the pile.
The northern front against the crystal sky
Loomed dark and heavy, full of sombre shade,
With each projecting buttress, carven cross,
Gable and mullion, tipped with laughing light
By the slant sunbeams of the risen morn.
The noisy swallows wheeled above their nests,
Builded in hidden nooks about the porch.
No human life was stirring in the square,
Save now and then a rumbling market-team,
Fresh from the fields and farms without the town.
He knelt upon the broad cathedral steps,
And kissed the moistened stone, while overhead
The circling swallows sang, and all around
The mighty city lay asleep and still.
To stranger's ears must yet again be made
The terrible confession; yet again
A deathly chill, with something worse than fear,
Seized the knight's heart, who knew his every word
Widened the gulf between his kind and him.
The Bishop sat with pomp of mitred head,
In pride of proven virtue, hearkening to all
With cold, official apathy, nor made
A sign of pity nor encouragement.
The friar understood the pilgrim's grief,
The language of his eyes; his speech alone
Was alien to these kind, untutored ears.
But this was truly to be misconstrued,
To tear each palpitating word alive
From out the depths of his remorseful soul,
And have it weighed with the precision cool
And the nice logic of a reasoning mind.
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This spiritual Father judged his crime
As the mad mischief of a reckless boy,
That call for strict, immediate punishment.
But Tannhauser, who felt himself a man,
Though base, yet fallen through passions and rare gifts
Of an exuberant nature rankly rich,
And knew his weary head was growing gray
With a life's terrible experience,
Found his old sense of proper worth revive;
But modestly he ended: 'Yet I felt,
O holy Father, in the church, this morn,
A strange security, a peace serene,
As though e'en yet the Lord regarded me
With merciful compassion; yea, as though
Even so vile a worm as I might work
Mine own salvation, through repentant prayers.'
'Presumptuous man, it is no easy task
To expiate such sin; a space of prayer
That deprecates the anger of the Lord,
A pilgrimage through pleasant summer lands,
May not atone for years of impious lust;
Thy heart hath lied to thee in offering hope.'
'Is there no hope on earth?' the pilgrim sighed.
'None through thy penance,' said the saintly man.
'Yet there may be through mediation, help.
There is a man who by a blameless life
Hath won the right to intercede with God.
No sins of his own flesh hath he to purge,The Cardinal Filippo,-he abides,
Within the Holy City. Seek him out;
This is my only counsel,-through thyself
Can be no help and no forgiveness.'
How different from the buoyant joy of morn
Was this discouraged sense of lassitude,
The Bishop's words were ringing in his ears,
Measured and pitiless, and blent with these,
The memory of the goddess' last wild cry,'ONCE BEING MINE, THOU ART FOREVER MINE.'
Was it the truth, despite his penitence,
And the dedication of his thought to God,
That still some portion of himself was hers,
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Some lust survived, some criminal regret,
For her corrupted love? He searched his heart:
All was remorse, religious and sincere,
And yet her dreadful curse still haunted him;
For all men shunned him, and denied him help,
Knowing at once in looking on his face,
Ploughed with deep lines and prematurely old,
That he had struggled with some deadly fiend,
And that he was no longer kin to them.
Just past the outskirts of the town, he stopped,
To strengthen will and courage to proceed.
The storm had broken o'er the sultry streets,
But now the lessening clouds were flying east,
And though the gentle shower still wet his face,
The west was cloudless while the sun went down,
And the bright seven-colored arch stood forth,
Against the opposite dull gray. There was
A beauty in the mingled storm and peace,
Beyond clear sunshine, as the vast, green fields
Basked in soft light, though glistening yet with rain.
The roar of all the town was now a buzz
Less than the insects' drowsy murmuring
That whirred their gauzy wings around his head.
The breeze that follows on the sunsetting
Was blowing whiffs of bruised and dripping grass
Into the heated city. But he stood,
Disconsolate with thoughts of fate and sin,
Still wrestling with his soul to win it back
From her who claimed it to eternity.
Then on the delicate air there came to him
The intonation of the minster bells,
Chiming the vespers, musical and faint.
He knew not what of dear and beautiful
There was in those familiar peals, that spake
Of his first boyhood and his innocence,
Leading him back, with gracious influence,
To pleasant thoughts and tender memories,
And last, recalling the fair hour of hope
He passed that morning in the church. Again,
The glad assurance of God's boundless love
Filled all his being, and he rose serene,
And journeyed forward with a calm content.
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Southward he wended, and the landscape took
A warmer tone, the sky a richer light.
The gardens of the graceful, festooned with hops,
With their slight tendrils binding pole to pole,
Gave place to orchards and the trellised grape,
The hedges were enwreathed with trailing vines,
With clustering, shapely bunches, 'midst the growth
Of tangled greenery. The elm and ash
Less frequent grew than cactus, cypresses,
And golden-fruited or large-blossomed trees.
The far hills took the hue of the dove's breast,
Veiled in gray mist of olive groves. No more
He passed dark, moated strongholds of grim knights,
But terraces with marble-paven steps,
With fountains leaping in the sunny air,
And hanging gardens full of sumptuous bloom.
Then cloisters guarded by their dead gray walls,
Where now and then a golden globe of fruit
Or full-flushed flower peered out upon the road,
Nodding against the stone, and where he heard
Sometimes the voices of the chanting monks,
Sometimes the laugh of children at their play,
Amidst the quaint, old gardens. But these sights
Were in the suburbs of the wealthy towns.
For many a day through wildernesses rank,
Or marshy, feverous meadow-lands he fared,
The fierce sun smiting his close-muffled head;
Or 'midst the Alpine gorges faced the storm,
That drave adown the gullies melted snow
And clattering boulders from the mountain-tops.
At times, between the mountains and the sea
Fair prospects opened, with the boundless stretch
Of restless, tideless water by his side,
And their long wash upon the yellow sand.
Beneath this generous sky the country-folk
Could lead a freer life,-the fat, green fields
Offered rich pasturage, athwart the air
Rang tinkling cow-bells and the shepherds' pipes.
The knight met many a strolling troubadour,
Bearing his cithern, flute, or dulcimer;
And oft beneath some castle's balcony,
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At night, he heard their mellow voices rise,
Blent with stringed instruments or tambourines,
Chanting some lay as natural as a bird's.
Then Nature stole with healthy influence
Into his thoughts; his love of beauty woke,
His Muse inspired dreams as in the past.
But after this came crueler remorse,
And he would tighten round his loins the rope,
And lie for hours beside some wayside cross,
And feel himself unworthy to enjoy
The splendid gift and privilege of life.
Then forth he hurried, spurred by his desire
To reach the City of the Seven Hills,
And gain his absolution. Some leagues more
Would bring him to the vast Campagna land,
When by a roadside well he paused to rest.
'T was noon, and reapers in the field hard by
Lay neath the trees upon the sun-scorched grass.
But from their midst one came towards the well,
Not trudging like a man forespent with toil,
But frisking like a child at holiday,
With light steps. The pilgrim watched him come,
And found him scarcely older than a child,
A large-mouthed earthen pitcher in his hand,
And a guitar upon his shoulder slung.
A wide straw hat threw all his face in shade,
But doffing this, to catch whatever breeze
Might stir among the branches, he disclosed
A charming head of rippled, auburn hair,
A frank, fair face, as lovely as a girls,
With great, soft eyes, as mild and grave as kine's.
Above his head he slipped the instrument,
And laid it with his hat upon the turf,
Lowered his pitcher down the well-head cool,
And drew it dripping upward, ere he saw
The watchful pilgrim, craving (as he thought)
The precious draught. 'Your pardon, holy sir,
Drink first,' he cried, 'before I take the jar
Unto my father in the reaping-field.'
Touched by the cordial kindness of the lad,
The pilgrim answered,-'Thanks, my thirst is quenched
From mine own palm.' The stranger deftly poised
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The brimming pitcher on his head, and turned
Back to the reaping-folk, while Tannhauser
Looked after him across the sunny fields,
Clasping each hand about his waist to bear
The balanced pitcher; then, down glancing, found
The lad's guitar near by, and fell at once
To striking its tuned string with wandering hands,
And pensive eyes filled full of tender dreams.
'Yea, holy sir, it is a worthless thing,
And yet I love it, for I make it speak.'
The boy again stood by him and dispelled
His train of fantasies half sweet, half sad.
'That was not in my thought,' the knight replied.
'Its worth is more than rubies; whoso hath
The art to make this speak is raised thereby
Above all loneliness or grief or fear.'
More to himself than to the lad he spake,
Who, understanding not, stood doubtfully
At a loss for answer; but the knight went on:
'How came it in your hands, and who hath tuned
your voice to follow it.' 'I am unskilled,
Good father, but my mother smote its strings
To music rare.' Diverted from one theme,
Pleased with the winsome candor of the boy,
The knight encouraged him to confidence;
Then his own gift of minstrelsy revealed,
And told bright tales of his first wanderings,
When in lords' castles and kings' palaces
Men still made place for him, for in his land
The gift was rare and valued at its worth,
And brought great victory and sounding fame.
Thus, in retracing all his pleasant youth,
His suffering passed as though it had not been.
Wide-eyed and open-mouthed the boy gave ear,
His fair face flushing with the sudden thoughts
That went and came,-then, as the pilgrim ceased,
Drew breath and spake: 'And where now is your lyre?'
The knight with both hands hid his changed, white face,
Crying aloud, 'Lost! lost! forever lost!'
Then, gathering strength, he bared his face again
Unto the frightened, wondering boy, and rose
With hasty fear. 'Ah, child, you bring me back
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Unwitting to remembrance of my grief,
For which I donned eternal garb of woe;
And yet I owe you thanks for one sweet hour
Of healthy human intercourse and peace.
'T is not for me to tarry by the way.
Farewell!' The impetuous, remorseful boy,
Seeing sharp pain on that kind countenance,
Fell at his feet and cried, 'Forgive my words,
Witless but innocent, and leave me not
Without a blessing.' Moved unutterably,
The pilgrim kissed with trembling lips his head,
And muttered, 'At this moment would to God
That I were worthy!' Then waved wasted hands
Over the youth in act of blessing him,
But faltered, 'Cleanse me through his innocence,
O heavenly Father!' and with quickening steps
Hastened away upon the road to Rome.
The noon was past, the reapers drew broad swaths
With scythes sun-smitten 'midst the ripened crop.
Thin shadows of the afternoon slept soft
On the green meadows as the knight passed forth.
He trudged amidst the sea of poisonous flowers
On the Campagna's undulating plain,
With Rome, the many-steepled, many-towered,
Before him regnant on her throne of hills.
A thick blue cloud of haze o'erhung the town,
But the fast-sinking sun struck fiery light
From shining crosses, roofs, and flashing domes.
Across his path an arching bridge of stone
Was raised above a shrunken yellow stream,
Hurrying with the light on every wave
Towards the great town and outward to the sea.
Upon the bridge's crest he paused, and leaned
Against the barrier, throwing back his cowl,
And gazed upon the dull, unlovely flood
That was the Tiber. Quaggy banks lay bare,
Muddy and miry, glittering in the sun,
And myriad insects hovered o'er the reeds,
Whose lithe, moist tips by listless airs were stirred.
When the low sun had dropped behind the hills,
He found himself within the streets of Rome,
228
Walking as in a sleep, where naught seemed real.
The chattering hubbub of the market-place
Was over now; but voices smote his ear
Of garrulous citizens who jostled past.
Loud cries, gay laughter, snatches of sweet song,
The tinkling fountains set in gardens cool
About the pillared palaces, and blent
With trickling of the conduits in the squares,
The noisy teams within the narrow streets,All these the stranger heard and did not hear,
While ringing bells pealed out above the town,
And calm gray twilight skies stretched over it.
Wide open stood the doors of every church,
And through the porches pressed a streaming throng.
Vague wonderment perplexed him, at the sight
Of broken columns raised to Jupiter
Beside the cross, immense cathedrals reared
Upon a dead faith's ruins; all the whirl
And eager bustle of the living town
Filling the storied streets, whose very stones
Were solemn monuments, and spake of death.
Although he wrestled with himself, the thought
Of that poor, past religion smote his heart
With a huge pity and deep sympathy,
Beyond the fervor which the Church inspired.
Where was the noble race who ruled the world,
Moulded of purest elements, and stuffed
With sternest virtues, every man a king,
Wearing the purple native in his heart?
These lounging beggars, stealthy monks and priests,
And womanish patricians filled their place.
Thus Tannhauser, still half an infidel,
Pagan through mind and Christian through the heart,
Fared thoughtfully with wandering, aimless steps,
Till in the dying glimmer of the day
He raised his eyes and found himself alone
Amid the ruined arches, broken shafts,
And huge arena of the Coliseum.
He did not see it as it was, dim-lit
By something less than day and more than night,
With wan reflections of the rising moon
Rather divined than seen on ivied walls,
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And crumbled battlements, and topless columnsBut by the light of all the ancient days,
Ringed with keen eager faces, living eyes,
Fixed on the circus with a savage joy,
Where brandished swords flashed white, and human blood
Streamed o'er the thirsty dust, and Death was king.
He started, shuddering, and drew breath to see
The foul pit choked with weeds and tumbled stones,
The cross raised midmost, and the peaceful moon
Shining o'er all; and fell upon his knees,
Restored to faith in one wise, loving God.
Day followed day, and still he bode in Rome,
Waiting his audience with the Cardinal,
And from the gates, on pretext frivolous,
Passed daily forth,-his Eminency slept,Again, his Eminency was fatigued
By tedious sessions of the Papal court,
And thus the patient pilgrim was referred
Unto a later hour. At last the page
Bore him a missive with Filippo's seal,
That in his name commended Tannhauser
Unto the Pope. The worn, discouraged knight
Read the brief scroll, then sadly forth again,
Along the bosky alleys of the park,
Passed to the glare and noise of summer streets.
'Good God!' he muttered, 'Thou hast ears for all,
And sendest help and comfort; yet these men,
Thy saintly ministers, must deck themselves
With arrogance, and from their large delight
In all the beauty of the beauteous earth,
And peace of indolent, untempted souls,
Deny the hungry outcast a bare word.'
Yet even as he nourished bitter thoughts,
He felt a depth of clear serenity,
Unruffled in his heart beneath it all.
No outward object now had farther power
To wound him there, for the brooding o'er those deeps
Of vast contrition was boundless hope.
Yet not to leave a human chance untried,
He sought the absolution of the Pope.
In a great hall with airy galleries,
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Thronged with high dignitaries of the Church,
He took his seat amidst the humblest friars.
Through open windows came sweet garden smells,
Bright morning light, and twittered song of birds.
Around the hall flashed gold and sunlit gems,
And splendid wealth of color,-white-stoled priests,
And scarlet cardinals, and bishops clad
In violet vestments,-while beneath the shade
Of the high gallery huddled dusky shapes,
With faded, travel-tattered, sombre smocks,
And shaven heads, and girdles of coarse hemp;
Some, pilgrims penitent like Tannhauser;
Some, devotees to kiss the sacred feet.
The brassy blare of trumpets smote the air,
Shrill pipes and horns with swelling clamor came,
And through the doorway's wide-stretched tapestries
Passed the Pope's trumpeters and mace-bearers,
His vergers bearing slender silver wands,
Then mitred bishops, red-clad cardinals,
The stalwart Papal Guard with halberds raised,
And then, with white head crowned with gold ingemmed,
The vicar of the lowly Galilean,
Holding his pastoral rod of smooth-hewn wood,
With censer swung before and peacock fans
Waved constantly by pages, either side.
Attended thus, they bore him to his throne,
And priests and laymen fell upon their knees.
Then, after pause of brief and silent prayer,
The pilgrims singly through the hall defiled,
To kiss the borders of the papal skirts,
Smiting their foreheads on the paven stone;
Some silent, abject, some accusing them
Of venial sins in accents of remorse,
Craving his grace, and passing pardoned forth.
Sir Tannhauser came last, no need for him
To cry 'Peccavi,' and crook suppliant knees.
His gray head rather crushed than bowed, his face
Livid and wasted, his deep thoughtful eyes,
His tall gaunt form in those unseemly weeds,
Spake more than eloquence. His hollow voice
Brake silence, saying, 'I am Tannhauser.
For seven years I lived apart from men,
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Within the Venusberg.' A horror seized
The assembled folk; some turbulently rose;
Some clamored, 'From the presence cast him forth!'
But the knight never ceased his steady gaze
Upon the Pope. At last,-'I have not spoken
To be condemned,' he said, 'by such as these.
Thou, spiritual Father, answer me.
Look thou upon me with the eyes of Christ.
Can I through expiation gain my shrift,
And work mine own redemption?' 'Insolent man!'
Thundered the outraged Pope, 'is this the tone
Wherewith thou dost parade thy loathsome sin?
Down on thy knees, and wallow on the earth!
Nay, rather go! there is no ray of hope,
No gleam, through cycles of eternity,
For the redemption of a soul like thine.
Yea, sooner shall my pastoral rod branch forth
In leaf and blossom, and green shoots of spring,
Than Christ will pardon thee.' And as he spoke,
He struck the rod upon the floor with force
That gave it entrance 'twixt two loosened tiles,
So that it stood, fast-rooted and alone.
The knight saw naught, he only heard his judge
Ring forth his curses, and the court cry out
'Anathema!' and loud, and blent therewith,
Derisive laughter in the very hall,
And a wild voice that thrilled through flesh and heart:
'ONCE BEING MINE, THOU ART FOREVER MINE!'
Half-mad he clasped both hands upon his brow,
Amidst the storm of voices, till they died,
And all was silence, save the reckless song
Of a young bird upon a twig without.
Then a defiant, ghastly face he raised,
And shrieked, ''T is false! I am no longer thine!'
And through the windows open to the park,
Rushed forth, beyond the sight and sound of men.
By church nor palace paused he, till he passed
All squares and streets, and crossed the bridge of stone,
And stood alone amidst the broad expanse
Of the Campagna, twinkling in the heat.
He knelt upon a knoll of turf, and snapped
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The cord that held the cross about his neck,
And far from him the leaden burden flung.
'O God! I thank Thee, that my faith in Thee
Subsists at last, through all discouragements.
Between us must no type nor symbol stand,
No mediator, were he more divine
Than the incarnate Christ. All forms, all priests,
I part aside, and hold communion free
Beneath the empty sky of noon, with naught
Between my nothingness and thy high heavensSpirit with spirit. O, have mercy, God!
Cleanse me from lust and bitterness and pride,
Have mercy in accordance with my faith.'
Long time he lay upon the scorching grass,
With his face buried in the tangled weeds.
Ah! who can tell the struggles of his soul
Against its demons in that sacred hour,
The solitude, the anguish, the remorse?
When shadows long and thin lay on the ground,
Shivering with fever, helpless he arose,
But with a face divine, ineffable,
Such as we dream the face of Israel,
When the Lord's wrestling angel, at gray dawn,
Blessed him, and disappeared.
Upon the marsh,
All night, he wandered, striving to emerge
From the wild, pathless plain,-now limitless
And colorless beneath the risen moon;
Outstretching like a sea, with landmarks none,
Save broken aqueducts and parapets,
And ruined columns glinting 'neath the moon.
His dress was dank and clinging with the dew;
A thousand insects fluttered o'er his head,
With buzz and drone; unseen cicadas chirped
Among the long, rank grass, and far and near
The fire-flies flickered through the summer air.
Vague thoughts and gleams prophetic filled his brain.
'Ah, fool!' he mused, 'to look for help from men.
Had they the will to aid, they lack the power.
In mine own flesh and soul the sin had birth,
Through mine own anguish it must be atoned.
Our saviours are not saints and ministers,
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But tear-strung women, children soft of heart,
Or fellow-sufferers, who, by some chance word,
Some glance of comfort, save us from despair.
These I have found, thank heaven! to strengthen trust
In mine own kind, when all the world grew dark.
Make me not proud in spirit, O my God!
Yea, in thy sight I am one mass of sin,
One black and foul corruption, yet I know
My frailty is exceeded by thy love.
Neither is this the slender straw of hope,
Whereto I, drowning, cling, but firm belief,
That fills my inmost soul with vast content.
As surely as the hollow faiths of old
Shriveled to dust before one ray of Truth,
So will these modern temples pass away,
Piled upon rotten doctrines, baseless forms,
And man will look in his own breast for help,
Yea, search for comfort his own inward reins,
Revere himself, and find the God within.
Patience and patience!' Through the sleepless night
He held such thoughts; at times before his eyes
Flashed glimpses of the Church that was to be,
Sublimely simple in the light serene
Of future ages; then the vision changed
To the Pope's hall, thronged with high priests, who hurled
Their curses on him. Staggering, he awoke
Unto the truth, and found himself alone,
Beneath the awful stars. When dawn's first chill
Crept though the shivering grass and heavy leaves,
Giddy and overcome, he fell and slept
Upon the dripping weeds, nor dreamed nor stirred,
Until the wide plain basked in noon's broad light.
He dragged his weary frame some paces more,
Unto a solitary herdsman's hut,
Which, in the vagueness of the moonlit night,
Was touched with lines of beauty, till it grew
Fair as the ruined works of ancient art,
Now squat and hideous with its wattled roof,
Decaying timbers, and loose door wide oped,
Half-fallen from the hinge. A drowsy man,
Bearded and burnt, in shepherd habit lay,
Stretched on the floor, slow-munching, half asleep,
234
His frugal fare; for thus, at blaze of noon,
The shepherds sought a shelter from the sun,
Leaving their vigilant dogs beside their flock.
The knight craved drink and bread, and with respect
For pilgrim weeds, the Roman herdsman stirred
His lazy length, and shared with him his meal.
Refreshed and calm, Sir Tannhauser passed forth,
Yearning with morbid fancy once again
To see the kind face of the minstrel boy
He met beside the well. At set of sun
He reached the place; the reaping-folk were gone,
The day's toil over, yet he took his seat.
A milking-girl with laden buckets full,
Came slowly from the pasture, paused and drank.
From a near cottage ran a ragged boy,
And filled his wooden pail, and to his home
Returned across the fields. A herdsman came,
And drank and gave his dog to drink, and passed,
Greeting the holy man who sat there still,
Awaiting. But his feeble pulse beat high
When he descried at last a youthful form,
Crossing the field, a pitcher on his head,
Advancing towards the well. Yea, this was he,
The same grave eyes, and open, girlish face.
But he saw not, amidst the landscape brown,
The knight's brown figure, who, to win his ear,
Asked the lad's name. 'My name is Salvator,
To serve you, sir,' he carelessly replied,
With eyes and hands intent upon his jar,
Brimming and bubbling. Then he cast one glance
Upon his questioner, and left the well,
Crying with keen and sudden sympathy,
'Good Father, pardon me, I knew you not.
Ah! you have travelled overmuch: your feet
Are grimed with mud and wet, your face is changed,
Your hands are dry with fever.' But the knight:
'Nay, as I look on thee, I think the Lord
Wills not that I should suffer any more.'
'Then you have suffered much,' sighed Salvator,
With wondering pity. 'You must come with me;
My father knows of you, I told him all.
A knight and minstrel who cast by his lyre,
235
His health and fame, to give himself to God,Yours is a life indeed to be desired!
If you will lie with us this night, our home
Will verily be blessed.' By kindness crushed,
Wandering in sense and words, the broken knight
Resisted naught, and let himself be led
To the boy's home. The outcast and accursed
Was welcomed now by kindly human hands;
Once more his blighted spirit was revived
By contact with refreshing innocence.
There, when the morning broke upon the world,
The humble hosts no longer knew their guest.
His fleshly weeds of sin forever doffed,
Tannhauser lay and smiled, for in the night
The angel came who brings eternal peace.
__________
Far into Wartburg, through all Italy,
In every town the Pope sent messengers,
Riding in furious haste; among them, one
Who bore a branch of dry wood burst in bloom;
The pastoral rod had borne green shoots of spring,
And leaf and blossom. God is merciful.
~ Emma Lazarus,
1281:The Door Of Humility
ENGLAND
We lead the blind by voice and hand,
And not by light they cannot see;
We are not framed to understand
The How and Why of such as He;
But natured only to rejoice
At every sound or sign of hope,
And, guided by the still small voice,
In patience through the darkness grope;
Until our finer sense expands,
And we exchange for holier sight
The earthly help of voice and hands,
And in His light behold the Light.
Let there be Light! The self-same Power
That out of formless dark and void
Endued with life's mysterious dower
Planet, and star, and asteroid;
That moved upon the waters' face,
And, breathing on them His intent,
Divided, and assigned their place
To, ocean, air, and firmament;
That bade the land appear, and bring
Forth herb and leaf, both fruit and flower,
Cattle that graze, and birds that sing,
Ordained the sunshine and the shower;
That, moulding man and woman, breathed
In them an active soul at birth
In His own image, and bequeathed
To them dominion over Earth;
That, by whatever is, decreed
418
His Will and Word shall be obeyed,
From loftiest star to lowliest seed;The worm and me He also made.
And when, for nuptials of the Spring
With Summer, on the vestal thorn
The bridal veil hung flowering,
A cry was heard, and I was born.
II
To be by blood and long descent
A member of a mighty State,
Whose greatness, sea-girt, but unpent
By ocean, makes the world more great;
That, ranging limitless, hath won
A Rule more wide than that of Rome,
And, journeying onward with the sun,
In every zone hath found a home;
That, keeping old traditions fast,
Still hails the things that are to be,
And, firmly rooted in the Past,
On Law hath grafted Liberty;That is a birthright nobler far
Than princely claim or Right Divine
From far-off rapine, wanton war,
And I could feel this birthright mine.
And not the lowliest hand that drives
Or share or loom, if so it be
Of British strain, but thence derives
A patent of nobility.
III
The guiding of the infant years
Onward to good, away from guile,
A mother's humanising tears,
A father's philosophic smile;
419
Refining beauty, gentle ways,
The admonitions of the wise,
The love that watches, helps, and prays,
And pities, but doth ne'er despise;
An ancient Faith, abiding hope,
The charity that suffers long,
But flames with sacred zeal to cope
With man's injustice, nature's wrong;
Melodious leisure, learnëd shelf,
Discourse of earnest, temperate mind,
The playful wit that of itself
Flashes, but leaves no wound behind;
The knowledge gleaned from Greece and Rome,
From studious Teuton, sprightly Gaul,
The lettered page, the mellow tome,
And poets' wisdom more than all;These, when no lips severe upbraid,
But counsel rather than control,
In budding boyhood lend their aid
To sensibility of soul.
IV
But, more than mentor, mother, sire,
Can lend to shape the future man
With help of learning or of lyre,
Of ancient rule, or modern plan,
Is that which with our breath we bring
Into the world, we know not whence,
That needs nor care nor fostering,
Because an instinct and a sense.
And days and years are all forgot
When Nature's aspect, growth, and grace,
And veering moods, to me were not
The features of the Loved One's face.
420
The
The
The
The
cloud whose shadow skims the lake,
shimmering haze of summer noon,
voice of April in the brake,
silence of the mounting moon,
Swaying of bracken on the hill,
The murmur of the vagrant stream,
These motions of some unseen Will,
These babblings of some heavenly dream,
Seemed tokens of divine desire
To hold discourse with me, and so
To touch my lips with hallowed fire,
And tell me things I ought to know.
I gazed and listened, all intent,
As to the face and voice of Fate,
But what they said, or what they meant,
I could surmise not, nor translate.
They did but lure me to unrest,
Unanswered questioning, longings vain,
As when one scans some palimpsest
No erudition can explain;
But left me with a deep distaste
For common speech, that still did seem
More meaningless than mountain waste,
Less human than the far-off stream.
So that a stranger in the land
Wherein I moved, where'er I went,
I dwelt, whom none could understand,
Or exorcise my discontent.
And I to them, and they to me
Seemed from two different planets come,
And, save to flower and wild-bird's glee,
My heart was deaf, my soul was dumb.
421
But slowly dawned a happier time
When I began to apprehend,
And catch, as in some poet's rhyme,
The intimations of a friend;
When Nature spake no unknown tongue,
But language kindred to my thought,
Till everything She said, I sung,
In notes unforced, in words unsought.
And I to Her so closely drew,
The seasons round, in mind and mood,
I felt at length as if we knew
Self-same affection, self-same feud:
That both alike scorned worldly aim,
Profit, applause, parade, and pride,
Whereby the love of generous fame
And worthy deeds grows petrified.
I did as yet not understand
Nature is far more vast than I,
Deep as the ocean, wide as land,
And overarching as the sky;
And but responded to my call,
And only felt and fed my need,
Because She doth the same for all
Who to her pity turn and plead.
VI
Shall man have mind, and Nature none,
Shall I, not she, have soul and heart?
Nay, rather, if we be not one,
Each is of each the counterpart.
She too may have within her breast
A conscience, if not like to yours,
A sense of rightness ill at rest,
Long as her waywardness endures.
422
And hence her thunder, earthquakes, hail,
Her levin bolts, her clouds' discharge:
She sins upon a larger scale,
Because She is herself more large.
Hence, too, when She hath pierced with pain
The heart of man, and wrecked his years,
The pity of the April rain,
And late repentance of her tears.
She is no better, worse, than we;
We can but say she seems more great,
That half her will, like ours, is free,
And half of it is locked in Fate.
Nor need we fear that we should err
Beyond our scope in reasoning thus,That there must be a God for Her,
If that there be a God for us.
VII
The chiming of the Sabbath bell,
The silence of the Sabbath fields,
Over the hamlet cast a spell
To which the gracious spirit yields.
Sound is there none of wheel or wain,
Husht stands the anvil, husht the forge,
No shout is heard in rustic lane,
No axe resounds in timbered gorge.
No flail beats time on granary floor,
The windmill's rushing wings are stayed,
And children's glee rings out no more
From hedgerow bank or primrose glade.
The big-boned team that firm and slow
Draw yoked, are free to couch or stray;
The basking covey seem to know
None will invade their peace to-day.
423
And speckless swains, and maidens neat,
Through rustic porch, down cottage stair,
Demurely up the village street
Stream onward to the House of Prayer.
They kneel as they were taught to kneel
In childhood, and demand not why,
But, as they chant or answer, feel
A vague communion with the sky.
VIII
But when the impetuous mind is spurred
To range through epochs great but gone,
And, heedless of dogmatic word,
With fearless ardour presses on,
Confronting pulpit, sceptre, shrine,
With point by Logic beaten out,
And, questioning tenets deemed divine
With human challenge, human doubt,
Hoists Reason's sail, and for the haze
Of ocean quits Tradition's shore,
Awhile he comes, and kneels, and prays,
Then comes and kneels, but prays no more;
And only for the love he bears
To those who love him, and who reared
His frame to genuflexion, shares
In ritual, vain, if still revered.
His Gods are many or are none,
Saturn and Mithra, Christ and Jove,
Consorting, as the Ages run,
With Vestal choir or Pagan drove.
Abiding still by Northern shores,
He sees far off on Grecian coast
Veiled Aphrodite, but adores
Minerva and Apollo most.
424
Beauty of vision, voice, and mind,
Enthrall him so, that unto him
All Creeds seem true, if he but find
Siren, or saint, or seraphim.
And thus once more he dwells apart,
His inward self enswathed in mist,
Blending with poet's pious heart
The dreams of pagan Hedonist.
IX
If Beauty be the Spirit's quest,
Its adoration, creed, and shrine,
Wherein its restlessness finds rest,
And earthly type of the Divine,
Must there for such not somewhere be
A blending of all beauteous things
In some one form wherein we see
The sum of our imaginings?
The smile on mountain's musing brow,
Sunrise and sunset, moon and star,
Wavelets around the cygnet's prow,
Glamour anear and charm afar;
The silence of the silvery pool,
Autumn's reserve and Summer's fire,
Slow vanishings of Winter's rule
To free full voice of April's choir;The worshippers of Beauty find
In maiden form, and face, and tress;
Faint intimations of her mind
And undulating loveliness.
Bound, runnels, bound, bound on, and flow!
Sing, merle and mavis, pair and sing!
425
Gone is the Winter, fled the snow,
And all that lives is flushed with Spring.
Harry the woods, young truant folk,
For flowers to deck your cottage sills,
And, underneath my orchard oak,
Cluster, ye golden daffodils!
Unfettered by domestic vow,
Cuckoo, proclaim your vagrant loves,
And coo upon the self-same bough,
Inseparable turtle-doves.
Soar, laverock, soar on song to sky,
And with the choir of Heaven rejoice!
You cannot be more glad than I,
Who feel Her gaze, and hear Her voice:
Who see Her cheek more crimson glow,
And through Her veins love's current stream,
And feel a fear She doth but know
Is kin to joy and dawning dream.
Bound, rivulets, bound, bound on, and flow!
Sing, merle and mavis, pair and sing!
Gone from the world are want and woe,
And I myself am one with Spring.
XI
They err who say that Love is blind,
Or, if it be, 'tis but in part,
And that, if for fair face it find
No counterpart in mind and heart,
It dwells on that which it beholds,
Fair fleshly vision void of soul,
Deeming, illusioned, this enfolds,
Longing's fulfilment, end, and whole.
Were such my hapless carnal lot,
I too might evanescent bliss
426
Embrace, fierce-fancied, fast forgot,
Then leave for some fresh loveliness.
But April gaze, and Summer tress,
With something of Autumnal thought,
In Her seem blent to crown and bless
A bond I long in dreams have sought.
She looks as though She came to grace
The earth, from world less soiled than this,
Around her head and virgin face
Halo of heavenly holiness.
XII
He who hath roamed through various lands,
And, wheresoe'er his steps are set,
The kindred meaning understands
Of spire, and dome, and minaret;
By Roman river, Stamboul's sea,
In Peter's or Sophia's shrine,
Acknowledges with reverent knee
The presence of the One Divine;
Who, to the land he loves so well
Returning, towards the sunset hour
Wends homeward, feels yet stronger spell
In lichened roof and grey church-tower;
Round whose foundations, side by side,
Sleep hamlet wit and village sage,
While loud the blackbird cheers his bride
Deep in umbrageous Vicarage.
XIII
Was it that sense which some aver
Foreshadows Fate it doth not see,
That gave unwittingly to Her
The name, for ever dear to me,
427
Borne by that tearful Mother whom,
Nigh unto Ostia's shelving sand,
Augustine laid in lonely tomb,
Ere sailing for his Afric land?
But I at least should have foreseen,
When Monica to me had grown
Familiar word, that names may mean
More than by word and name is shown;
That nought can keep two lives apart
More than divorce 'twixt mind and mind,
Even though heart be one with heart;Alas! Alas! Yes, Love is blind.
XIV
How could I think of jarring Creeds,
And riddles that unread remain,
Or ask if Heaven's indulgence heeds
Broils born of man's polemic brain,
And pause because my venturous mind
Had roamed through tracks of polar thought,
Whence mightiest spirits turn back blind,
Since finding not the thing they sought,
When Love, with luring gifts in hand,
Beauty, refinement, smile, caress,
Heart to surmise and understand,
And crowning grace of holiness,
Stood there before me, and, with gaze
I had been purblind not to see,
Said, ``I to you will, all my days,
Give what you yearn to give to me''?
Must both then sorrow, while we live,
Because, rejoicing, I forgot
Something there was I could not give,
Because, alas! I had it not.
428
XV
She comes from Vicarage Garden, see!
Radiant as morning, lithe and tall,
Fresh lilies in her hand, but She
The loveliest lily of them all.
The thrushes in their fluting pause,
The bees float humming round her head,
Earth, air, and heaven shine out because
They hear her voice, and feel her tread.
Up in the fretted grey church-tower,
That rustic gaze for miles can see,
The belfry strikes the silvery hour,
Announcing her propinquity.
And I who, fearful to be late,
Passed long since through the deerpark pale,
And loitered by the churchyard gate,
Once more exclaim, ``Hail! loved one! hail!''
We pass within, and up the nave,
Husht, because Heaven seems always there,
Wend choirward, where, devoutly grave,
She kneels, to breathe a silent prayer.
She takes the flowers I too have brought,
Blending them deftly with her own,
And ranges them, as quick as thought,
Around the white-draped altar-throne.
How could she know my gaze was not
On things unseen, but fixed on Her,
That, as She prayed, I all forgot
The worship in the worshipper?While She beheld, as in a glass,
The Light Divine, that I but sought
Sight of her soul?-Alas! Alas!
Love is yet blinder than I thought.
429
XVI
Who hath not seen a little cloud
Up from the clear horizon steal,
And, mounting lurid, mutter loud
Premonitory thunder-peal?
Husht grows the grove, the summer leaf
Trembles and writhes, as if in pain,
And then the sky, o'ercharged with grief,
Bursts into drenching tears of rain.
I through the years had sought to hide
My darkening doubts from simple sight.
'Tis sacrilegious to deride
Faith of unquestioning neophyte.
And what, methought, is Doubt at best?
A sterile wind through seeded sedge
Blowing for nought, an empty nest
That lingers in a leafless hedge.
Pain, too, there is we should not share
With others lest it mar their joy;
There is a quiet bliss in prayer
None but the heartless would destroy.
But just as Love is quick divined
From heightened glow or visage pale,
The meditations of the Mind
Disclose themselves through densest veil.
And 'tis the unloving and least wise
Who through life's inmost precincts press,
And with unsympathetic eyes
Outrage our sacred loneliness.
Then, when their sacrilegious gaze
The mournful void hath half surmised,
To some more tender soul they raise
The veil of ignorance it prized.
430
XVII
`What though I write farewell I could
Not utter, lest your gaze should chide,
'Twill by your love be understood
My love is still, dear, at your side.
``Nor must we meet to speak goodbye,
Lest that my Will should lose its choice,
And conscience waver, for then I
Should see your face and hear your voice.
``But, when you find yourself once more,
Come back, come back and look for me,
Beside the little lowly door,
The Doorway of Humility.''
XVIII
There! Peace at last! The far-off roar
Of human passion dies away.
``Welcome to our broad shade once more,''
The waning woodlands seem to say:
The music of the vagrant wind,
That wandered aimlessly, is stilled;
The songless branches all remind
That Summer's glory is fulfilled.
The fluttering of the falling leaves
Dimples the leaden pool awhile;
So Age impassively receives
Youth's tale of troubles with a smile.
Thus, as the seasons steal away,
How much is schemed, how little done,
What splendid plans at break of day!
What void regrets at set of sun!
The world goes round, for you, for me,
For him who sleeps, for him who strives,
And the cold Fates indifferent see
431
Crowning or failure of our lives.
Then fall, ye leaves, fade, summer breeze!
Grow, sedges, sere on every pool!
Let each old glowing impulse freeze,
Let each old generous project cool!
It is not wisdom, wit, nor worth,
Self-sacrifice nor friendship true,
Makes venal devotees of earth
Prostrate themselves and worship you.
The consciousness of sovran powers,
The stubborn purpose, steadfast will,
Have ever, in this world of ours,
Achieved success, achieve it still.
Farewell, ye woods! No more I sit;
Great voices in the distance call.
If this be peace, enough of it!
I go. Fall, unseen foliage, fall!
XIX
Nay, but repress rebellious woe!
In grief 'tis not that febrile fool,
Passion, that can but overthrow,
But Resignation, that should rule.
In patient sadness lurks a gift
To purify the life it stings,
And, as the days move onward, lift
The lonely heart to loftier things;
Bringing within one's ripening reach
The sceptre of majestic Thought,
Wherefrom one slowly learns to teach
The Wisdom to oneself it taught.
And unto what can man aspire,
On earth, more worth the striving for,
Than to be Reason's loftier lyre,
432
And reconciling monitor;
To strike a more resounding string
And deeper notes of joy and pain,
Than such as but lamenting sing,
Or warble but a sensuous strain:
So, when my days are nearly sped,
And my last harvest labours done,
That I may have around my head
The halo of a setting sun.
Yet even if be heard above
Such selfish hope, presumptuous claim,
Better one hour of perfect love
Than an eternity of Fame!
XX
Where then for grief seek out the cure?
What scenes will bid my smart to cease?
High peaks should teach one to endure,
And lakes secluded bring one peace.
Farewell awhile, then, village bells,
Autumnal wood and harvest wain!
And welcome, as it sinks or swells,
The music of the mighty main,
That seems to say, now loud, now low,
Rising or falling, sweet or shrill,
``I pace, a sentry, to and fro,
To guard your Island fortress still.''
The roses falter on their stalk,
The late peach reddens on the wall,
The flowers along the garden walk
Unheeded fade, unheeded fall.
My gates unopened drip with rain,
The wolf-hound wends from floor to floor,
And, listening for my voice in vain,
433
Waileth along the corridor.
Within the old accustomed place
Where we so oft were wont to be,
Kneeling She prays, while down her face
The fruitless tears fall silently.
SWITZERLAND
XXI
Rain, wind, and rain. The writhing lake
Scuds to and fro to scape their stroke:
The mountains veil their heads, and make
Of cloud and mist a wintry cloak.
Through where the arching pinewoods make
Dusk cloisters down the mountain side,
The loosened avalanches take
Valeward their way, with death for guide,
And toss their shaggy manes and fling
To air their foam and tawny froth,
From ledge and precipice bound and spring,
With hungry roar and deepening wrath;
Till, hamlet homes and orchards crushed,
And, rage for further ravin stayed,
They slumber, satiated, husht,
Upon the ruins they have made.
I rise from larch-log hearth, and, lone,
Gaze on the spears of serried rain,
That faster, nigher, still are blown,
Then stream adown the window pane.
The peasant's goatskin garments drip,
As home he wends with lowered head,
Shakes off the drops from lid and lip,
Then slinks within his châlet shed.
434
The cattle bells sound dull and hoarse,
The boats rock idly by the shore;
Only the swollen torrents course
With faster feet and fuller roar.
Mournful, I shape a mournful song,
And ask the heavens, but ask in vain,
``How long, how long?'' Ah! not so long
As, in my heart, rain, wind, and rain.
XXII
I ask the dark, the dawn, the sun,
The domeward-pointing peaks of snow,
Lofty and low alike, but none
Will tell me what I crave to know.
My mind demands, ``Whence, Whither, Why?''
From mountain slope and green defile,
And wait the answer. The replyA far-off irresponsive smile.
I ask the stars, when mortals sleep,
The pensive moon, the lonely winds;
But, haply if they know, they keep
The secret of secluded minds.
Shall I in
Straining
Where in
Where in
vain, then, strive to find,
towards merely fancied goal?
the lily lurks the mind,
the rose discern the soul?
More mindless still, stream, pasture, lake,
The mountains yet more heartless seem,
And life's unceasing quest and ache
Only a dream within a dream.
We know no more, though racked with thought
Than he who, in yon châlet born,
Gives not the riddle, Life, a thought,
But lays him down and sleeps till morn.
435
Sometimes he kneels; I cannot kneel,
So suffer from a wider curse
Than Eden's outcasts, for I feel
An exile in the universe.
The rudeness of his birth enures
His limbs to every season's stings,
And, never probing, so endures
The sadness at the heart of things.
When lauwine growls, and thunder swells,
Their far-off clamour sounds to me
But as the noise of clanging bells
Above a silent sanctuary.
It is their silence that appals,
Their aspect motionless that awes,
When searching spirit vainly calls
On the effect to bare the Cause.
I get no answer, near or far;
The mountains, though they soar so high,
And scale the pathless ether, are
No nearer unto God than I.
There dwells nor mystery nor veil
Round the clear peaks no foot hath trod;
I, gazing on their frontage pale,
See but the waning ghost of God.
Is Faith then but a drug for sleep,
And Hope a fondly soothing friend
That bids us, when it sees us weep,
Wait for the End that hath no end?
Then do I hear voice unforgot
Wailing across the distance dim,
``Think, dear! If God existeth not,
Why are you always seeking Him?''
XXIII
436
Like glowing furnace of the forge,
How the winds rise and roar, as they
Up twisting valley, craggy gorge,
Seek, and still seek, to storm their way;
Then, baffled, up the open slope
With quickening pulses scale and pant,
Indomitably bent to cope
With bristling fronts of adamant.
All through the day resounds the strife,
Then doth at sunset hour subside:
So the fierce passions of our life
Slowly expire at eventide.
By Nature we are ne'er misled;
We see most truly when we dream.
A singer wise was he who said,
``Follow the gleam! Follow the gleam!''
XXIV
I dreamed, last night, again I stood,
Silent, without the village shrine,
While She in modest maidenhood
Left, fondly clasped, her hand in mine.
And, with a face as cerecloth white,
And tears like those that by the bier
Of loved one lost make dim the sight,
She poured her sorrows in mine ear.
``I love your voice, I love your gaze,
But there is something dearer still,
The faith that kneels, the hope that prays,
And bows before the Heavenly Will.
``Not where hills rise, or torrents roll,
Seek Him, nor yet alone, apart;
He dwells within the troubled soul,
His home is in the human heart.
437
``Withal, the peaceful mountains may
'Twixt doubt and yearning end the strife:
So ponder, though you cannot pray,
And think some meaning into life:
``Nor like to those that cross the main
To wander witless through strange land,
Hearing unmastered tongues, disdain
The speech they do not understand.
``Firm stands my faith that they who sound
The depths of doubt Faith yet will save:
They are like children playing round
A still remembered mother's grave;
``Not knowing, when they wax more old,
And somewhat can her vision share,
She will the winding-sheet unfold,
And beckon them to evening prayer.''
Then, with my hand betwixt her hands,
She laid her lips upon my brow,
And, as to one who understands,
Said, ``Take once more my vestal vow.
``No other gaze makes mine to glow,
No other footstep stirs my heart,
To me you only dearer grow,
Dearer and nearer, more apart.
``Whene'er you come with humble mind,
The little Door stands open wide,
And, bending low, you still will find
Me waiting on the other side.''
Her silence woke me. . . . To your breast
Fold me, O sleep! and seal mine ears;
That She may roam through my unrest
Till all my dreams are drenched with tears!
XXV
438
Why linger longer, subject, here,
Where Nature sits and reigns alone,
Inspiring love not, only fear,
Upon her autocratic throne?
Her edicts are the rigid snow,
The wayward winds, the swaying branch;
She hath no pity to bestow,
Her law the lawless avalanche.
Though soon cascades will bound and sing,
That now but drip with tears of ice,
And upland meadows touched by Spring
Blue gentian blend with edelweiss,
Hence to the Land of youthful dreams,
The Land that taught me all I know.
Farewell, lone mountain-peaks and streams;
Yet take my thanks before I go.
You gave me shelter when I fled,
But sternly bade me stem my tears,
Nor aimless roam with rustling tread
'Mong fallen leaves of fruitless years.
ITALY
XXVI
Upon the topmost wheel-track steep,
The parting of two nations' ways,
Athwart stone cross engraven deep,
The name ``Italia'' greets the gaze!
I trembled, when I saw it first,
With joy, my boyish longings fed,
The headspring of my constant thirst,
The altar of my pilgrim tread.
Now once again the magic word,
So faintly borne to Northern home,
Sounds like a silvery trumpet heard
439
Beneath some universal dome.
The forests soften to a smile,
A smile the very mountains wear,
Through mossy gorge and grassed defile
Torrents race glad and debonair.
From casement, balcony and door,
Hang golden gourds, droops tear-tipped vine,
And sun-bronzed faces bask before
Thin straw-swathed flasks of last year's wine.
Unyoked, the patient sleek-skinned steers
Take, like their lords, no heed of time.
Hark! now the evening star appears,
Ave Maria belfries chime.
The maidens knit, and glance, and sing,
With glowing gaze 'neath ebon tress,
And, like to copse-buds sunned by Spring,
Seem burgeoning into tenderness.
On waveless lake where willows weep,
The Borromean Islands rest
As motionless as babe asleep
Upon a slumbering Mother's breast.
O Land of sunshine, song, and Love!
Whether thy children reap or sow,
Of Love they chant on hills above,
Of Love they sing in vale below.
But what avail the love-linked hands,
And love-lit eyes, to them that roam
Passionless through impassioned lands,
Since they have left their heart at home!
XXVII
Among my dreams, now known as dreams
In this my reawakened life,
I thought that by historic streams,
440
Apart from stress, aloof from strife,
By rugged paths that twist and twine
Through olive slope and chesnut wood
Upward to mediaeval shrine,
Or high conventual brotherhood,
Along the mountain-curtained track
Round peaceful lake where wintry bands
Halt briefly but to bivouac
Ere blustering on to Northern lands;Through these, through all I first did see,
With me to share my raptures none,
That nuptialled Monica would be
My novice and companion:
That we should float from mere to mere,
And sleep within some windless cove,
With nightingales to lull the ear,
From ilex wood and orange grove;
Linger at hamlets lost to fame,
That still wise-wandering feet beguile,
To gaze on frescoed wall or frame
Lit by Luini's gracious smile.
Now, but companioned by my pain,
Among each well-remembered scene
I can but let my Fancy feign
The happiness that might have been;
Imagine that I hear her voice,
Imagine that I feel her hand,
And I, enamoured guide, rejoice
To see her swift to understand.
Alack! Imagination might
As lief with rustic Virgil roam,
Reverent, or, welcomed guest, alight
At Pliny's philosophic home;
441
Hear one majestically trace
Rome's world-wide sway from wattled wall,
And read upon the other's face
The omens of an Empire's fall.
XXVIII
Like moonlight seen through forest leaves,
She shines upon me from afar,
What time men reap the ripened sheaves,
And Heaven rains many a falling star.
I gaze up to her lofty height,
And feel how far we dwell apart:
O if I could, this night, this night,
Fold her full radiance to my heart!
But She in Heaven, and I on earth,
Still journey on, but each alone;
She, maiden Queen of sacred birth,
Who with no consort shares her throne.
XXIX
What if She ever thought She saw
The self within myself prefer
Communion with the silent awe
Of far-off mountains more than Her;
That Nature hath the mobile grace
To make life with our moods agree,
And so had grown the Loved One's face,
Since it nor checked nor chided me;
Or from the tasks that irk and tire
I sought for comfort from the Muse,
Because it grants the mind's desire
All that familiar things refuse.
How vain such thought! The face, the form,
Of mountain summits but express,
Clouded or clear, in sun or storm,
442
Feebly Her spirit's loftiness.
Did I explore from pole to pole,
In Nature's aspect I should find
But faint reflections of Her soul,
Dim adumbrations of Her mind.
O come and test with lake, with stream,
With mountain, which the stronger be,
Thou, my divinest dearest dream,
My Muse, and more than Muse, to me!
XXX
They tell me that Jehovah speaks
In silent grove, on lonely strand,
And summit of the mountain peaks;
Yet there I do not understand.
The stars, disdainful of my thought,
Majestic march toward their goal,
And to my nightly watch have brought
No explanation to my soul.
The truth I seek I cannot find,
In air or sky, on land or sea;
If the hills have their secret mind,
They will not yield it up to me:
Like one who lost mid lonely hills
Still seeks but cannot find his way,
Since guide is none save winding rills,
That seem themselves, too, gone astray.
And so from rise to set of sun,
At glimmering dawn, in twilight haze,
I but behold the face of One
Who veils her face, and weeps, and prays.
What know I that She doth not know?
What I know not, She understands:
With heavenly gifts She overflows,
443
While I have only empty hands.
O weary wanderer! Best forego
This questioning of wind and wave.
For you the sunshine and the snow,
The womb, the cradle, and the grave.
XXXI
How blest, when organ concords swell,
And anthems are intoned, are they
Who neither reason nor rebel,
But meekly bow their heads and pray.
And such the peasants mountain-bred,
Who hail to-day with blithe accord
Her Feast Who to the Angel said,
``Behold the Handmaid of the Lord!''
Downward they wind from pastoral height,
Or hamlet grouped round shattered towers,
To wend to shrine more richly dight,
And bring their gift of wilding flowers;
Their gifts, their griefs, their daily needs,
And lay these at Her statue's base,
Who never, deem they, intercedes
Vainly before the Throne of Grace.
Shall I, because I stand apart,
A stranger to their pious vows,
Scorn their humility of heart
That pleads before the Virgin Spouse,
Confiding that the Son will ne'er,
If in His justice wroth with them,
Refuse to harken to Her prayer
Who suckled Him in Bethlehem?
Of all the intercessors born
By man's celestial fancy, none
444
Hath helped the sorrowing, the forlorn,
Lowly and lone, as She hath done.
The maiden faithful to Her shrine
Bids demons of temptation flee,
And mothers fruitful as the vine
Retain their vestal purity.
Too trustful love, by lust betrayed,
And by cold worldlings unforgiven,
Unto Her having wept and prayed,
Faces its fate, consoled and shriven.
The restless, fiercely probing mind
No honey gleans, though still it stings.
What comfort doth the spirit find
In Reason's endless reasonings?
They have no solace for my grief,
Compassion none for all my pain:
They toss me like the fluttering leaf,
And leave me to the wind and rain.
XXXII
If Conscience be God's Law to Man,
Then Conscience must perforce arraign
Whatever falls beneath the ban
Of that allotted Suzerain.
And He, who bids us not to swerve,
Whither the wayward passions draw,
From its stern sanctions, must observe
The limits of the self-same Law.
Yet, if obedient Conscience scan
The sum of wrongs endured and done
Neither by act nor fault of Man,
They rouse it to rebellion.
Life seems of life by life bereft
445
Through some immitigable curse,
And Man sole moral being left
In a non-moral Universe.
My Conscience would my Will withstand,
Did Will project a world like this:
Better Eternal vacuum still,
Than murder, lust, and heartlessness!
If Man makes Conscience, then being good
Is only being worldly wise,
And universal brotherhood
A comfortable compromise.
O smoke of War! O blood-steeped sod!
O groans of fratricidal strife!
Who will explain the ways of God,
That I may be at peace with life!
The moral riddle 'tis that haunts,
Primeval and unending curse,
Racking the mind when pulpit vaunts
A Heaven-created Universe.
Yet whence came Life, and how begin?
Rolleth the globe by choice or chance?
Dear Lord! Why longer shut me in
This prison-house of ignorance!
FLORENCE
XXXIII
City acclaimed ere Dante's days
Fair, and baptized in field of flowers,
Once more I scan with tender gaze
Your glistening domes, your storied towers.
I feel as if long years had flown
Since first with eager heart I came,
446
And, girdled by your mountain zone,
Found you yet fairer than your fame.
It was the season purple-sweet
When figs are plump, and grapes are pressed,
And all your sons with following feet
Bore a dead Poet to final rest.
You seemed to fling your gates ajar,
And softly lead me by the hand,
Saying, ``Behold! henceforth you are
No stranger in the Tuscan land.''
And though no love my love can wean
From native crag and cradling sea,
Yet Florence from that hour hath been
More than a foster-nurse to me.
When mount I terraced slopes arrayed
In bridal bloom of peach and pear,
While under olive's phantom shade
Lupine and beanflower scent the air,
The wild-bees hum round golden bay,
The green frog sings on fig-tree bole,
And, see! down daisy-whitened way
Come the slow steers and swaying pole.
The fresh-pruned vine-stems, curving, bend
Over the peaceful wheaten spears,
And with the glittering sunshine blend
Their transitory April tears.
O'er wall and trellis trailed and wound,
Hang roses blushing, roses pale;
And, hark! what was that silvery sound?
The first note of the nightingale.
Curtained, I close my lids and dream
Of Beauty seen not but surmised,
And, lulled by scent and song, I seem
Immortally imparadised.
447
When from the deep sweet swoon I wake
And gaze past slopes of grape and grain,
Where Arno, like some lonely lake,
Silvers the far-off seaward plain,
I see celestial sunset fires
That lift us from this earthly leaven,
And darkly silent cypress spires
Pointing the way from hill to Heaven.
Then something more than mortal steals
Over the wavering twilight air,
And, messenger of nightfall, peals
From each crowned peak a call to prayer.
And now the last meek prayer is said,
And, in the hallowed hush, there is
Only a starry dome o'erhead,
Propped by columnar cypresses.
XXXIV
Re-roaming through this palaced town,
I suddenly, 'neath grim-barred pile,
Catch sight of Dante's awful frown,
Or Leonardo's mystic smile;
Then, swayed by memory's fancy, stroll
To where from May-day's flaming pyre
Savonarola's austere soul
Went up to Heaven in tongues of fire;
Or Buonarroti's plastic hand
Made marble block from Massa's steep
Dawn into Day at his command,
Then plunged it into Night and Sleep.
No later wanderings can dispel
The glamour of the bygone years;
And, through the streets I know so well,
448
I scarce can see my way for tears.
XXXV
A sombre shadow seems to fall
On comely altar, transept fair;
The saints are still on frescoed wall,
But who comes thither now for prayer?
Men throng from far-off stranger land,
To stare, to wonder, not to kneel,
With map and guide-book in their hand
To tell them what to think and feel.
They scan, they prate, they marvel why
The figures still expressive glow,
Oblivious they were painted by
Adoring Frà Angelico.
Did Dante from his tomb afar
Return, his wrongs redressed at last,
And see you, Florence, as you are,
Half alien to your gracious Past,
Finding no Donatello now,
No reverent Giotto 'mong the quick,
To glorify ascetic vow
Of Francis or of Dominic;
Self-exiled by yet sterner fate
Than erst, he would from wandering cease,
And, ringing at monastic gate,
Plead, ``I am one who craves for peace.''
And what he sought but ne'er could find,
Shall I, less worthy, hope to gain,
The freedom of the tranquil mind,
The lordship over loss and pain?
More than such peace I found when I
Did first, in unbound youth, repair
449
To Tuscan shrine, Ausonian sky.
I found it, for I brought it there.
XXXVI
Yet Art brings peace, itself is Peace,
And, as I on these frescoes gaze,
I feel all fretful tumults cease
And harvest calm of mellower days.
For Soul too hath its seasons. Time,
That leads Spring, Summer, Autumn, round,
Makes our ephemeral passions chime
With something permanent and profound.
And, as in Nature, April oft
Strives to revert to wintry hours,
But shortly upon garth and croft
Re-sheds warm smiles and moistening showers,
Or, for one day, will Autumn wear
The gayer garments of the Spring,
And then athwart the wheatfields bare
Again her graver shadows fling;
So, though the Soul hath moods that veer,
And seem to hold no Rule in awe,
Like the procession of the year,
It too obeys the sovran Law.
Nor Art itself brings settled peace,
Until the mind is schooled to know
That gusts subside and tumults cease
Only in sunset's afterglow.
Life's contradictions vanish then,
Husht thought replacing clashing talk
Among the windy ways of men.
'Tis in the twilight Angels walk.
450
ROME
XXXVII
The last warm gleams of sunset fade
From cypress spire and stonepine dome,
And, in the twilight's deepening shade,
Lingering, I scan the wrecks of Rome.
Husht the Madonna's Evening Bell;
The steers lie loosed from wain and plough;
The vagrant monk is in his cell,
The meek nun-novice cloistered now.
Pedant's presumptuous voice no more
Vexes the spot where Caesar trod,
And o'er the pavement's soundless floor
Come banished priest and exiled God.
The lank-ribbed she-wolf, couched among
The regal hillside's tangled scrubs,
With doting gaze and fondling tongue
Suckles the Vestal's twin-born cubs.
Yet once again Evander leads
Æneas to his wattled home,
And, throned on Tiber's fresh-cut reeds,
Talks of burnt Troy and rising Rome.
From out the tawny dusk one hears
The half-feigned scream of Sabine maids,
The rush to arms, then swift the tears
That separate the clashing blades.
The Lictors with their fasces throng
To quell the Commons' rising roar,
As Tullia's chariot flames along,
Splashed with her murdered father's gore.
Her tresses free from band or comb,
Love-dimpled Venus, lithe and tall,
451
And fresh as Fiumicino's foam,
Mounts her pentelic pedestal.
With languid lids, and lips apart,
And curving limbs like wave half-furled,
Unarmed she dominates the heart,
And without sceptre sways the world.
Nerved by her smile, avenging Mars
Stalks through the Forum's fallen fanes,
Or, changed of mien and healed of scars,
Threads sylvan slopes and vineyard plains.
With waves of song from wakening lyre
Apollo routs the wavering night,
While, parsley-crowned, the white-robed choir
Wind chanting up the Sacred Height,
Where Jove, with thunder-garlands wreathed,
And crisp locks frayed like fretted foam,
Sits with his lightnings half unsheathed,
And frowns against the foes of Rome.
You cannot kill the Gods. They still
Reclaim the thrones where once they reigned,
Rehaunt the grove, remount the rill,
And renovate their rites profaned.
Diana's hounds still lead the chase,
Still Neptune's Trident crests the sea,
And still man's spirit soars through space
On feathered heels of Mercury.
No flood can quench the Vestals' Fire;
The Flamen's robes are still as white
As ere the Salii's armoured choir
Were drowned by droning anchorite.
The saint may seize the siren's seat,
The shaveling frown where frisked the Faun;
Ne'er will, though all beside should fleet,
The Olympian Presence be withdrawn.
452
Here, even in the noontide glare,
The Gods, recumbent, take their ease;
Go look, and you will find them there,
Slumbering behind some fallen frieze.
But most, when sunset glow hath paled,
And come, as now, the twilight hour,
In vesper vagueness dimly veiled
I feel their presence and their power.
What though their temples strew the ground,
And to the ruin owls repair,
Their home, their haunt, is all around;
They drive the cloud, they ride the air.
And, when the planets wend their way
Along the never-ageing skies,
``Revere the Gods'' I hear them say;
``The Gods are old, the Gods are wise.''
Build as man may, Time gnaws and peers
Through marble fissures, granite rents;
Only Imagination rears
Imperishable monuments.
Let Gaul and Goth pollute the shrine,
Level the altar, fire the fane:
There is no razing the Divine;
The Gods return, the Gods remain.
XXXVIII
Christ is arisen. The place wherein
They laid Him shows but cerements furled,
And belfry answers belfry's din
To ring the tidings round the world.
Grave Hierarchs come, an endless band,
In jewelled mitre, cope embossed,
Who bear Rome's will to every land
453
In all the tongues of Pentecost.
Majestic, along marble floor,
Walk Cardinals in blood-red robe,
Martyrs for Faith and Christ no more,
Who gaze as though they ruled the globe.
With halberds bare and doublets slashed,
Emblems that war will never cease,
Come martial guardians, unabashed,
And march afront the Prince of Peace.
Then, in his gestatorial Chair
See Christ's vicegerent, bland, benign,
To crowds all prostrate as in prayer
Lean low, and make the Holy Sign.
Then trumpets shrill, and organ peals,
Throughout the mighty marble pile,
Whileas a myriad concourse kneels
In dense-packed nave and crowded aisle.
Hark to the sudden hush! Aloft
From unseen source in empty dome
Swells prayerful music silvery-soft,
Borne from far-off celestial Home.
Then, when the solemn rite is done,
The worshippers stream out to where
Dance fountains glittering in the sun,
While expectation fills the air.
Now on high balcony He stands,
And-save for the Colonna curse,Blesses with high-uplifted hands
The City and the Universe.
Christ is arisen! But scarce as when,
On the third day of death and gloom,
Came ever-loving Magdalen
With tears and spices to His tomb.
454
XXXIX
The Tiber winds its sluggish way
Through niggard tracts whence Rome's command
Once cast the shadow of her sway,
O'er Asian city, Afric sand.
Nor even yet doth She resign
Her sceptre. Still the spell is hers,
Though she may seem a rifled shrine
'Mid circumjacent sepulchres.
One after one, they came, they come,
Gaul, Goth, Savoy, to work their will;
She answers, when She most seems dumb,
``I wore the Crown, I wear it still.
``From Jove I first received the gift,
I from Jehovah wear it now,
Nor shall profane invader lift
The diadem from off my brow.
``The Past is mine, and on the Past
The Future builds; and Time will rear
The next strong structure on the last,
Where men behold but shattered tier.
``The Teuton hither hies to teach,
To prove, disprove, to delve and probe.
Fool! Pedant! Does he think to reach
The deep foundations of the globe?''
For me, I am content to tread
On Sabine dust and Gothic foe.
Leave me to deepening silent dread
Of vanished Empire's afterglow.
In this Imperial wilderness
Why rashly babble and explore?
O, let me know a little less,
So I may feel a little more!
455
XL
For upward of one thousand years,
Here men and women prayed to Jove,
With smiles and incense, gifts and tears,
In secret shrine, or civic grove;
And, when Jove did not seem to heed,
Sought Juno's mediatorial power,
Or begged fair Venus intercede
And melt him in his amorous hour.
Sages invoked Minerva's might;
The Poet, ere he struck the lyre,
Prayed to the God of Song and Light
To touch the strings with hallowed fire.
With flaming herbs were altars smoked
Sprinkled with blood and perfumed must,
And gods and goddesses invoked
To second love or sanction lust.
And did they hear and heed the prayer,
Or, through that long Olympian reign,
Were they divinities of air
Begot of man's fantastic brain?
In Roman halls their statues still
Serenely stand, but no one now
Ascends the Capitolian Hill,
To render thanks, or urge the vow.
Through now long centuries hath Rome
Throned other God, preached other Creed,
That here still have their central home,
And feed man's hope, content his need.
Against these, too, will Time prevail?
No! Let whatever gestates, be,
Secure will last the tender tale
456
From Bethlehem to Calvary.
Throughout this world of pain and loss,
Man ne'er will cease to bend his knee
To Crown of Thorns, to Spear, to Cross,
And Doorway of Humility.
XLI
If Reason be the sole safe guide
In man implanted from above,
Why crave we for one only face,
Why consecrate the name of Love?
Faces there are no whit less fair,
Yet ruddier lip, more radiant eye,
Same rippling smile, same auburn hair,
But not for us. Say, Reason, why.
Why bound our hearts when April pied
Comes singing, or when hawthorn blows?
Doth logic in the lily hide,
And where's the reason in the rose?
Why weld our keels and launch our ships,
If Reason urge some wiser part,
Kiss England's Flag with dying lips
And fold its glories to the heart?
In this gross world we touch and see,
If Reason be no trusty guide,
For world unseen why should it be
The sole explorer justified?
The homing swallow knows its nest,
Sure curves the comet to its goal,
Instinct leads Autumn to its rest,
And why not Faith the homing soul?
Is Reason so aloof, aloft,
It doth not 'gainst itself rebel,
457
And are not Reason's reasonings oft
By Reason proved unreasonable?
He is perplexed no more, who prays,
``Hail, Mary Mother, full of grace!''
O drag me from Doubt's endless maze,
And let me see my Loved One's face!
XLII
``Upon this rock!'' Yet even here
Where Christian God ousts Pagan wraith,
Rebellious Reason whets its spear,
And smites upon the shield of Faith.
On sacred mount, down seven-hilled slopes,
Fearless it faces foe and friend,
Saying to man's immortal hopes,
``Whatso began, perforce must end.''
Not men alone, but gods too, die;
Fanes are, like hearths, left bare and lone;
This earth will into fragments fly,
And Heaven itself be overthrown.
Why then should Man immortal be?
He is but fleeting form, to fade,
Like momentary cloud, or sea
Of waves dispersed as soon as made.
Yet if 'tis Force, not Form, survives,
Meseems therein that one may find
Some comfort for distressful lives;
For, if Force ends not, why should Mind?
Is Doubt more forceful than Belief?
The doctor's cap than friar's cowl?
O ripeness of the falling leaf!
O wisdom of the moping owl!
Man's Mind will ever stand apart
458
From Science, save this have for goal
The evolution of the heart,
And sure survival of the Soul.
XLIII
The Umbilicum lonely stands
Where once rose porch and vanished dome;
But he discerns who understands
That every road may lead to Rome.
Enthroned in Peter's peaceful Chair,
The spiritual Caesar sways
A wider Realm of earth and air
Than trembled at Octavian's gaze.
His universal arms embrace
The saint, the sinner, and the sage,
And proffer refuge, comfort, grace
To tribulation's pilgrimage.
Here scientific searchers find
Precursors for two thousand years,
Who in a drouthy world divined
Fresh springs for human doubts and fears.
Here fair chaste Agnes veils her face
From prowlers of the sensual den,
And pity, pardon, and embrace
Await repentant Magdalen.
Princess and peasant-mother wend
To self-same altar, self-same shrine,
And Cardinal and Patriarch bend
Where lepers kneel, and beggars whine.
And is there then, in my distress,
No road, no gate, no shrine, for me?
The answer comes, ``Yes, surely, yes!
The Doorway of Humility.''
459
O rival Faiths! O clamorous Creeds!
Would you but hush your strife in prayer,
And raise one Temple for our needs,
Then, then, we all might worship there.
But dogma new with dogma old
Clashes to soothe the spirit's grief,
And offer to the unconsoled
Polyglot Babel of Belief!
XLIV
The billows roll, and rise, and break,
Around me; fixedly shine the stars
In clear dome overhead, and take
Their course, unheeding earthly jars.
Yet if one's upward gaze could be
But stationed where the planets are,
The star were restless as the sea,
The sea be tranquil as the star.
Hollowed like cradle, then like grave,
Now smoothly curved, now shapeless spray,
Withal the undirected wave
Forms, and reforms, and knows its way.
Then, waters, bear me on where He,
Ere death absolved at Christian font,
Removed Rome's menaced majesty
Eastward beyond the Hellespont.
Foreseeing not what Fate concealed,
But Time's caprice would there beget,
That Cross would unto Crescent yield,
Caesar and Christ to Mahomet.
Is it then man's predestined state
To search for, ne'er to find, the Light?
Arise, my Star, illuminate
These empty spaces of the Night!
460
XLV
Last night I heard the cuckoo call
Among the moist green glades of home,
And in the Chase around the Hall
Saw the May hawthorn flower and foam.
Deep in the wood where primrose stars
Paled before bluebell's dazzling reign,
The nightingale's sad sobbing bars
Rebuked the merle's too joyful strain.
The kine streamed forth from stall and byre,
The foal frisked round its mother staid,
The meads, by sunshine warmed, took fire,
And lambs in pasture, bleating, played.
The uncurbed rivulets raced to where
The statelier river curled and wound,
And trout, of human step aware,
Shot through the wave without a sound.
Adown the village street, as clear
As in one's wakeful mid-day hours,
Beheld I Monica drawing near,
Her vestal lap one crib of flowers.
Lending no look to me, she passed
By the stone path, as oft before,
Between old mounds Spring newly grassed,
And entered through the Little Door.
Led by her feet, I hastened on,
But, ere my feverish steps could get
To the low porch, lo! Morning shone
On Moslem dome and minaret!
CONSTANTINOPLE
461
XLVI
Now Vesper brings the sunset hour,
And, where crusading Knighthood trod,
Muezzin from his minaret tower
Proclaims, ``There is no God but God!''
Male God who shares his godhead with
No Virgin Mother's sacred tear,
But finds on earth congenial kith
In wielders of the sword and spear:
Male God who on male lust bestows
The ruddy lip, the rounded limb,
And promises, at battle's close,
Houri, not saint nor seraphim.
Swift through the doubly-guarded stream,
Shoots the caïque 'neath oarsmen brisk,
While from its cushioned cradle gleam
The eyes of yashmaked odalisque.
Unchanged adown the changing years,
Here where the Judas blossoms blaze,
Against Sophia's marble piers
The scowling Muslim lean and gaze;
And still at sunset's solemn hour,
Where Christ's devout Crusader trod,
Defiant from the minaret's tower
Proclaim, ``There is no God but God!''
XLVII
Three rival Rituals. One revered
In that loved English hamlet where,
With flowers in Vicarage garden reared,
She decks the altar set for prayer:
Another, where majestic Rome,
With fearless Faith and flag unfurled
462
'Gainst Doubt's ephemeral wave and foam,
Demands obedience from the world.
The third, where now I stand, and where
Two hoary Continents have met,
And Islam guards from taint and tare
Monistic Creed of Mahomet.
Yet older than all three, but banned
To suffer still the exile's doom
From shrine where Turkish sentries stand,
And Christians wrangle round Christ's tomb.
Where then find Creed, divine or dead,
All may embrace, and none contemn?Remember Who it was that said,
``Not here, nor at Jerusalem!''
ATHENS
XLVIII
To Acrocorinth's brow I climb,
And, lulled in retrospective bliss,
Descry, as through the mists of time,
Faintly the far Acropolis.
Below me, rivers, mountains, vales,
Wide stretch of ancient Hellas lies:
Symbol of Song that never fails,
Parnassus communes with the skies.
I linger, dream-bound by the Past,
Till sundown joins time's deep abyss,
Then skirt, through shadows moonlight-cast,
Lone strand of sailless Salamis,
Until Eleusis gleams through dawn,
Where, though a suppliant soul I come,
The veil remains still unwithdrawn,
463
And all the Oracles are dumb.
So onward to the clear white Light,
Where, though the worshippers be gone,
Abides on unmysterious height
The calm unquestioning Parthenon.
Find I, now there I stand at last,
That naked Beauty, undraped Truth,
Can satisfy our yearnings vast,
The doubts of age, the dreams of youth;
That, while we ask, in futile strife,
From altar, tripod, fount, or well,
Form is the secret soul of life,
And Art the only Oracle;
That Hera and Athena, linked
With Aphrodite, hush distress,
And, in their several gifts distinct,
Withal are Triune Goddesses?
That mortal wiser then was He
Who gave the prize to Beauty's smile,
Divides his gifts among the Three,
And thuswise baffles Discord's guile?
But who is wise? The nobler twain,
Who the restraining girdle wear,
Contend too often all in vain
With sinuous curve and frolic hair.
Just as one sees in marble, still,
Pan o'er Apollo's shoulder lean,
Suggesting to the poet's quill
The sensual note, the hint obscene.
Doth then the pure white Light grow dim,
And must it be for ever thus?
Listen! I hear a far-off Hymn,
Veni, Creator, Spiritus!
464
XLIX
The harvest of Hymettus drips
As sweet as when the Attic bees
Swarmed round the honey-laden lips
Of heavenly-human Sophocles.
The olives are as green in grove
As in the days the poets bless,
When Pallas with Poseidon strove
To be the City's Patroness.
The wine-hued main, white marble frieze,
Dome of blue ether over all,
One still beholds, but nowhere sees
Panathenaic Festival.
O'erhead, no Zeus or frowns or nods,
Olympus none in air or skies;
Below, a sepulchre of Gods,
And tombs of dead Divinities.
Yet, are they dead? Still stricken blind,
Tiresiaslike, are they that see,
With bold uncompromising mind,
Wisdom in utter nudity;
Experiencing a kindred fate
With the First Parents of us all,
Jehovah thrust through Eden's Gate,
When Knowledge brought about their Fall.
Hath Aphrodite into foam,
Whence She first flowered, sunk back once more,
And doth She nowhere find a home,
Or worship, upon Christian shore?
Her shrine is in the human breast,
To find her none need soar or dive.
Goodness or Loveliness our quest,
The ever-helpful Gods survive.
465
Hellas retorts, when Hebrew gibes
At Gods of levity and lust,
``God of Judaea's wandering tribes
Was jealous, cruel, and unjust.''
Godhead, withal, remains the same,
And Art embalms its symbols still;
As Poets, when athirst for Fame,
Still dream of Aganippe's rill.
Why still pursue a bootless quest,
And wander heartsore farther East,
Because unanswered, south or west,
By Pagan seer or Christian priest?
Brahma and Buddha, what have they
To offer to my shoreless search?
``Let Contemplation be,'' they say,
``Your ritual, Nothingness your Church.
``Passion and purpose both forsake,
Echoes from non-existent wall;
We do but dream we are awake,
Ourselves the deepest dream of all.
``We dream we think, feel, touch, and see,
And what these are, still dreaming, guess,
Though there is no Reality
Behind their fleeting semblances.''
Thus the East answers my appeal,
Denies, and so illudes, my want.
Alas! Could I but cease to feel,
Brahma should be my Hierophant.
But, hampered by my Western mind,
I cannot set the Spirit free
From Matter, but Illusion find,
466
Of all, the most illusory.
DELPHI
LI
The morning mists that hid the bay
And curtained mountains fast asleep,
Begin to feel the touch of day,
And roll from off both wave and steep.
In floating folds they curve and rise,
Then slowly melt and merge in air,
Till high above me glow the skies,
And cloudless sunshine everywhere.
Parnassus wears nor veil nor frown,
Windless the eagle wings his way,
As I from Delphi gaze adown
On Salona and Amphissa.
It was the sovran Sun that drew
Aloft and scattered morning haze,
And now fills all the spacious blue
With its own glorifying rays.
And, no less sovran than the sun,
Imagination brings relief
Of morning light to shadows dun,
To heart's distress, and spirit's grief.
Parnassus boasts no loftier peak
Than Poet's heavenward song; which, though
Harbouring among the sad and weak,
Lifteth aloft man's griefs below.
Though sun-bronzed Phocian maidens lave
Their kerchiefs in Castalia's spring,
The Muses linger round its wave,
And aid the pilgrim sent to sing.
467
And, listening there, I seem to hear
The unseen Oracle say, ``Be strong:
Subdue the sigh, repress the tear,
And let not sorrow silence Song.
``You now have learnt enough from pain;
And, if worse anguish lurk behind,
Breathe in it some unselfish strain,
And with grief's wisdom aid your kind.
``Who but of his own suffering sings,
Is like an eagle, robbed, distressed,
That vainly shrieks and beats its wings,
Because it cannot find its nest.
``Let male Imagination wed
The orphan, Sorrow, to console
Its virgin loneness, whence are bred
Serenity and self-control.
``Hence let the classic breezes blow
You to your Land beyond the sea,
That you may make, for others' woe,
Your own a healing melody;
``To wintry woe no more a slave,
But, having dried your April tears,
Behold a helpful harvest wave
From ridges of the fallow years.''
LII
Rebuked thus by the stately Past,
Whose solemn choruses endure
Through voices new and visions vast,
And centuries of sepulture,
Because, serene, it never blinked
At sheen or shadow of the sun,
But Hades and Olympus linked
468
With Salamis and Marathon;
Which held despondency at bay
And, while revering Fate's decree,
Reconciled with majestic lay
Man to the Human Tragedy;
To Gods of every land I vowed,
Judaea, Hellas, Mecca, Rome,
No more to live by sorrow bowed,
But, wending backward to my home,
Thenceforth to muse on woe more wide
Than individual distress,
The loftier Muses for my guide,
Minerva for my monitress;
Nor yet to scorn the tender aid
Of Christian martyr, virgin, sage,
And, meekly pondering in the shade,
Proffer ripe counsel to my Age.
And, haply, since 'tis Song alone
Can baffle death, and conquer time,
Maiden unborn in days unknown,
Under the leaves of fragrant lime,
Scanning the verse that here is writ,
While cherishing some secret smart
Of love or loss, may glean from it
Some comfort for her weary heart;
And, gently warned, grave minds may own
The world hath more to bear than they,
And, while I dream 'neath mossy stone,
Repeat my name, and love my lay.
LIII
Scarce to the all-indwelling Power
That vow was uttered, ere there came
469
A messenger in boyhood's flower,
Winged with his search, his face aflame.
From Amphissa he straight had clomb,
Thridding that devious mountain land,
With letter from my far-off home,
And written by my Loved One's hand.
``Come to me where I drooping lie.
None yet have died of Love, they say:
Withal, I sometimes think that I
Have prayed and sighed my life away.
``I want your absolution, dear,
For whatso wrong I may have done;
My conscience waneth less severe,
In softness of the setting sun.
``'Twas I, 'twas I, far more than you,
That stood in need, as now I see,
Stooping, to enter meekly through
The Doorway of Humility.
``In vain I turn to Throne of Grace,
Where sorrows cease, and tears are dry;
I fain once more would see your face,
And hear your voice, before I die.''
ENGLAND
LIV
The oak logs smoulder on my hearth,
Though round them hums no household talk;
The roses in the garden-garth
Hang mournfully on curving stalk.
My wolf-hound round me leaps and bays,
That wailed lost footsteps when I went:
He little knows the grief that weighs
470
On my return from banishment.
Half Autumn now, half Summer yet,
For Nature hath a human heart,
It seems as though they, having met,
To take farewell, are loth to part.
The splendour of the Year's decline
Hath not yet come. One still can see
Late honeysuckle intertwine
With Maiden's-Bower and briony.
The bracken-fronds, fast yellowing, tower
From out sere needles of the pine;
Now hawkweed blooms where foxgloves flower,
And bramble where once eglantine.
And, as I wend with hurrying feet
Across the park, along the lane
That leads unto the hamlet street,
And cradle of my bliss and bane,
In cottage plots on either side,
O'er mignonette and fragrant stock
Soar tiger-lilies lithe and tall,
And homely-sheltered hollyhock.
And when I reach the low grey wall
That skirts God's-acre on the hill,
I see, awaiting my recall,
The Little Door stand open still.
A dip, a slight descent, and then
Into the Vicarage Walk I passed;
It seemed as though the tongues of men
Had left it since I saw it last.
Round garden-plot, in westering sun,
Her agëd parents slowly stepped:
Her Mother had the face of one
Who oft hath prayed, and oft hath wept.
471
She wore the silent plaintive grace
Of Autumn just before its close,
And on her slowly fading face
The pathos of November rose.
With pitying gaze and accents kind,
``Go in,'' she said, ``and mount the stair;
And you through open door will find
That Monica awaits you there.''
LV
I mounted. At half-open door
Pausing, I softly called her name,
As one would pause and halt before
Heaven's Gateway. But no answer came.
She lies, methought, in Sleep's caress,
So, passing in, I seemed to see,
So saintly white the vision, less
A chamber than a Sanctuary.
Vestured in white, on snow-white bed,
She lay, as dreaming something sweet,
Madonna lilies at her head,
Madonna lilies at her feet.
A thought, I did not dare to speak,``Is this the sleep of life or death?''
And, with my cheek against her cheek,
Listening, I seemed to hear her breath.
'Twas Love's last blindness not to see
Her sinless soul had taken wing
Unto the Land, if such there be,
Where saints adore, and Seraphs sing.
And yet I felt within my heart,
Though lids were closed and lips were dumb,
That, for Love's sake, her soul in part
Had lingered here, till I should come.
472
I kissed her irresponsive hand,
I laid my lips on her cold brow,
That She, like me, should understand
'Twas thus I sealed our nuptial vow.
And then I saw upon her breast
A something writ, she fain had said
Had I been near, to me addressed,
Which, kneeling down, I took and read.
LVI
``I prayed I might prolong my years
Till you could come and hush my sighs,
And dry my penitential tears;
But Heaven hath willed it otherwise:
``That I may expiate the wrong
By me inflicted on us both,
When, yet Love's novice, feebly strong,
I sinned against Love's sovran troth.
``Now Death, the mirror unto Life,
Shows me that nought should keep apart
Those who, though sore perplexed by strife
'Twixt Faith and Doubt, are one in heart.
``For Doubt is one with Faith when they,
Who doubt, for Truth's sake suffering live;
And Faith meanwhile should hope and pray,
Withholding not what Love can give.
``We lead the blind by voice and hand,
And not by light they cannot see;
We are not framed to understand
The How and Why of such as He,
``But natured only to rejoice
At every sound or sign of hope,
And, guided by the still small voice,
473
In patience through the darkness grope;
``Until our finer sense expands,
And we exchange for holier sight
The earthly help of voice and hands,
And in His light behold the Light.
``Had my poor Love but been more wise,
I should have ta'en you to my breast,
Striving to hush your plaintive cries,
And rock your Reason back to rest.
``But, though alone you now must tread
Where we together should have trod,
In loneliness you may be led,
Through faith in me, to Faith in God.
``With tranquil purpose, fervent mind,
Foster, while you abide on earth,
And humbly proffer to your kind,
The gift assigned to you at birth.
``As in the far-off boyish year
When did your singing voice awake,
Disinterestedly revere
And love it for its own great sake.
``And when life takes autumnal hues,
With fervent reminiscence woo
All the affections of the Muse,
And write the poem lived by you.
``And should, until your days shall end,
You still the lyric voice retain,
With its seductive music blend
A graver note, a loftier strain.
``While buoyant youth and manhood strong
Follow where Siren sounds entice,
The Deities of Love and Song,
Rapture and loveliness, suffice.
474
``But when decay, and pain, and loss,
Remind one of the Goal forgot,
And we in turn must bear the Cross,
The Pagan Gods can help us not.
``Nor need you then seek, far and near,
More sumptuous shrines on alien strand,
But with domestic mind revere
The Ritual of your native Land.
``The Little Door stands open wide,
And, if you meekly pass therethrough,
Though I no longer kneel inside,
I shall be hovering near to you.
``Farewell! till you shall learn the whole
Of what we here but see in part.
Now I to God commend my soul,
And unto you I leave my heart.''
LVII
I wended up the slope once more
To where the Church stands lone and still,
And passed beneath the Little Door,
My will the subject of Her will.
The sunset rays through pictured pane
Fell, fretted into weft and woof,
On transept, nave, and aisle, to wane
On column cold and vaulted roof.
Within the carven altar screen
Were lilies tall, and white, and fair,
So like to those I late had seen,
It seemed She must be sleeping there.
Mutely I knelt, with bended brow
And shaded eyes, but heart intent,
To learn, should any teach me now,
What Life, and Love, and Sorrow meant.
475
And there remained until the shroud
Of dusk foretold the coming night;
And then I rose, and prayed aloud,
``Let there be Light! Let there be Light!''
~ Alfred Austin,
1282:The Victories Of Love. Book I
From Frederick Graham
Mother, I smile at your alarms!
I own, indeed, my Cousin's charms,
But, like all nursery maladies,
Love is not badly taken twice.
Have you forgotten Charlotte Hayes,
My playmate in the pleasant days
At Knatchley, and her sister, Anne,
The twins, so made on the same plan,
That one wore blue, the other white,
To mark them to their father's sight;
And how, at Knatchley harvesting,
You bade me kiss her in the ring,
Like Anne and all the others? You,
That never of my sickness knew,
Will laugh, yet had I the disease,
And gravely, if the signs are these:
As, ere the Spring has any power,
The almond branch all turns to flower,
Though not a leaf is out, so she
The bloom of life provoked in me;
And, hard till then and selfish, I
Was thenceforth nought but sanctity
And service: life was mere delight
In being wholly good and right,
As she was; just, without a slur;
Honouring myself no less than her;
Obeying, in the loneliest place,
Ev'n to the slightest gesture, grace
Assured that one so fair, so true,
He only served that was so too.
For me, hence weak towards the weak,
No more the unnested blackbird's shriek
Startled the light-leaved wood; on high
Wander'd the gadding butterfly,
Unscared by my flung cap; the bee,
242
Rifling the hollyhock in glee,
Was no more trapp'd with his own flower,
And for his honey slain. Her power,
From great things even to the grass
Through which the unfenced footways pass,
Was law, and that which keeps the law,
Cherubic gaiety and awe;
Day was her doing, and the lark
Had reason for his song; the dark
In anagram innumerous spelt
Her name with stars that throbb'd and felt;
'Twas the sad summit of delight
To wake and weep for her at night;
She turn'd to triumph or to shame
The strife of every childish game;
The heart would come into my throat
At rosebuds; howsoe'er remote,
In opposition or consent,
Each thing, or person, or event,
Or seeming neutral howsoe'er,
All, in the live, electric air,
Awoke, took aspect, and confess'd
In her a centre of unrest,
Yea, stocks and stones within me bred
Anxieties of joy and dread.
O, bright apocalyptic sky
O'erarching childhood! Far and nigh
Mystery and obscuration none,
Yet nowhere any moon or sun!
What reason for these sighs? What hope,
Daunting with its audacious scope
The disconcerted heart, affects
These ceremonies and respects?
Why stratagems in everything?
Why, why not kiss her in the ring?
'Tis nothing strange that warriors bold,
Whose fierce, forecasting eyes behold
The city they desire to sack,
Humbly begin their proud attack
By delving ditches two miles off,
Aware how the fair place would scoff
243
At hasty wooing; but, O child,
Why thus approach thy playmate mild?
One morning, when it flush'd my thought
That, what in me such wonder wrought
Was call'd, in men and women, love,
And, sick with vanity thereof,
I, saying loud, ‘I love her,’ told
My secret to myself, behold
A crisis in my mystery!
For, suddenly, I seem'd to be
Whirl'd round, and bound with showers of threads
As when the furious spider sheds
Captivity upon the fly
To still his buzzing till he die;
Only, with me, the bonds that flew,
Enfolding, thrill'd me through and through
With bliss beyond aught heaven can have
And pride to dream myself her slave.
A long, green slip of wilder'd land,
With Knatchley Wood on either hand,
Sunder'd our home from hers. This day
Glad was I as I went her way.
I stretch'd my arms to the sky, and sprang
O'er the elastic sod, and sang
‘I love her, love her!’ to an air
Which with the words came then and there;
And even now, when I would know
All was not always dull and low,
I mind me awhile of the sweet strain
Love taught me in that lonely lane.
Such glories fade, with no more mark
Than when the sunset dies to dark.
They pass, the rapture and the grace
Ineffable, their only trace
A heart which, having felt no less
Than pure and perfect happiness,
Is duly dainty of delight;
A patient, poignant appetite
For pleasures that exceed so much
244
The poor things which the world calls such,
That, when these lure it, then you may
The lion with a wisp of hay.
That Charlotte, whom we scarcely knew
From Anne but by her ribbons blue,
Was loved, Anne less than look'd at, shows
That liking still by favour goes!
This Love is a Divinity,
And holds his high election free
Of human merit; or let's say,
A child by ladies call'd to play,
But careless of their becks and wiles,
Till, seeing one who sits and smiles
Like any else, yet only charms,
He cries to come into her arms.
Then, for my Cousins, fear me not!
None ever loved because he ought.
Fatal were else this graceful house,
So full of light from ladies' brows.
There's Mary; Heaven in her appears
Like sunshine through the shower's bright tears;
Mildred's of Earth, yet happier far
Than most men's thoughts of Heaven are;
But, for Honoria, Heaven and Earth
Seal'd amity in her sweet birth.
The noble Girl! With whom she talks
She knights first with her smile; she walks,
Stands, dances, to such sweet effect,
Alone she seems to move erect.
The brightest and the chastest brow
Rules o'er a cheek which seems to show
That love, as a mere vague suspense
Of apprehensive innocence,
Perturbs her heart; love without aim
Or object, like the sunlit flame
That in the Vestals' Temple glow'd,
Without the image of a god.
And this simplicity most pure
She sets off with no less allure
Of culture, subtly skill'd to raise
The power, the pride, and mutual praise
245
Of human personality
Above the common sort so high,
It makes such homely souls as mine
Marvel how brightly life may shine.
How you would love her! Even in dress
She makes the common mode express
New knowledge of what's fit so well
'Tis virtue gaily visible!
Nay, but her silken sash to me
Were more than all morality,
Had not the old, sweet, feverous ill
Left me the master of my will!
So, Mother, feel at rest, and please
To send my books on board. With these,
When I go hence, all idle hours
Shall help my pleasures and my powers.
I've time, you know, to fill my post,
And yet make up for schooling lost
Through young sea-service. They all speak
German with ease; and this, with Greek,
(Which Dr. Churchill thought I knew,)
And history, which I fail'd in too,
Will stop a gap I somewhat dread,
After the happy life I've led
With these my friends; and sweet 'twill be
To abridge the space from them to me.
II
From Mrs. Graham
My Child, Honoria Churchill sways
A double power through Charlotte Hayes.
In minds to first-love's memory pledged
The second Cupid's born full-fledged.
I saw, and trembled for the day
When you should see her beauty, gay
And pure as apple-blooms, that show
Outside a blush and inside snow,
Her high and touching elegance
Of order'd life as free as chance.
246
Ah, haste from her bewitching side,
No friend for you, far less a bride!
But, warning from a hope so wild,
I wrong you. Yet this know, my Child:
He that but once too nearly hears
The music of forefended spheres,
Is thenceforth lonely, and for all
His days like one who treads the Wall
Of China, and, on this hand, sees
Cities and their civilities,
And, on the other, lions. Well,
(Your rash reply I thus foretell,)
Good is the knowledge of what's fair,
Though bought with temporal despair!
Yes, good for one, but not for two.
Will it content a wife that you
Should pine for love, in love's embrace,
Through having known a happier grace;
And break with inward sighs your rest,
Because, though good, she's not the best?
You would, you think, be just and kind,
And keep your counsel! You will find
You cannot such a secret keep;
'Twill out, like murder, in your sleep;
A touch will tell it, though, for pride,
She may her bitter knowledge hide;
And, while she accepts love's make-believe,
You'll twice despise what you'd deceive.
I send the books. Dear Child, adieu!
Tell me of all you are and do.
I know, thank God, whate'er it be,
'Twill need no veil 'twixt you and me.
III
From Frederick
The multitude of voices blythe
Of early day, the hissing scythe
Across the dew drawn and withdrawn,
The noisy peacock on the lawn,
247
These, and the sun's eye-gladding gleam,
This morning, chased the sweetest dream
That e'er shed penitential grace
On life's forgetful commonplace;
Yet 'twas no sweeter than the spell
To which I woke to say farewell.
Noon finds me many a mile removed
From her who must not be beloved;
And us the waste sea soon shall part,
Heaving for aye, without a heart!
Mother, what need to warn me so?
I love Miss Churchill? Ah, no, no.
I view, enchanted, from afar,
And love her as I love a star,
For, not to speak of colder fear,
Which keeps my fancy calm, I hear,
Under her life's gay progress hurl'd,
The wheels of the preponderant world,
Set sharp with swords that fool to slay
Who blunders from a poor byway,
To covet beauty with a crown
Of earthly blessing added on;
And she's so much, it seems to me,
Beyond all women womanly,
I dread to think how he should fare
Who came so near as to despair.
IV
From Frederick
Yonder the sombre vessel rides
Where my obscure condition hides.
Waves scud to shore against the wind
That flings the sprinkling surf behind;
In port the bickering pennons show
Which way the ships would gladly go;
Through Edgecumb Park the rooted trees
Are tossing, reckless, in the breeze;
On top of Edgecumb's firm-set tower,
As foils, not foibles, of its power,
248
The light vanes do themselves adjust
To every veering of the gust:
By me alone may nought be given
To guidance of the airs of heaven?
In battle or peace, in calm or storm,
Should I my daily task perform,
Better a thousand times for love,
Who should my secret soul reprove?
Beholding one like her, a man
Longs to lay down his life! How can
Aught to itself seem thus enough,
When I have so much need thereof?
Blest in her place, blissful is she;
And I, departing, seem to be
Like the strange waif that comes to run
A few days flaming near the sun,
And carries back, through boundless night,
Its lessening memory of light.
Oh, my dear Mother, I confess
To a deep grief of homelessness,
Unfelt, save once, before. 'Tis years
Since such a shower of girlish tears
Disgraced me? But this wretched Inn,
At Plymouth, is so full of din,
Talkings and trampings to and fro.
And then my ship, to which I go
To-night, is no more home. I dread,
As strange, the life I long have led;
And as, when first I went to school,
And found the horror of a rule
Which only ask'd to be obey'd,
I lay and wept, of dawn afraid,
And thought, with bursting heart, of one
Who, from her little, wayward son,
Required obedience, but above
Obedience still regarded love,
So change I that enchanting place,
The abode of innocence and grace
And gaiety without reproof,
For the black gun-deck's louring roof,
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Blind and inevitable law
Which makes light duties burdens, awe
Which is not reverence, laughters gain'd
At cost of purities profaned,
And whatsoever most may stir
Remorseful passion towards her,
Whom to behold is to depart
From all defect of life and heart.
But, Mother, I shall go on shore,
And see my Cousin yet once more!
'Twere wild to hope for her, you say.
l've torn and cast those words away.
Surely there's hope! For life 'tis well
Love without hope's impossible;
So, if I love, it is that hope
Is not outside the outer scope
Of fancy. You speak truth: this hour
I must resist, or lose the power.
What! and, when some short months are o'er,
Be not much other than before?
Drop from the bright and virtuous sphere
In which I'm held but while she's dear?
For daily life's dull, senseless mood,
Slay the fine nerves of gratitude
And sweet allegiance, which I owe
Whether the debt be weal or woe?
Nay, Mother, I, forewarn'd, prefer
To want for all in wanting her.
For all? Love's best is not bereft
Ever from him to whom is left
The trust that God will not deceive
His creature, fashion'd to believe
The prophecies of pure desire.
Not loss, not death, my love shall tire.
A mystery does my heart foretell;
Nor do I press the oracle
For explanations. Leave me alone,
And let in me love's will be done.
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V
From Frederick
Fashion'd by Heaven and by art
So is she, that she makes the heart
Ache and o'erflow with tears, that grace
So lovely fair should have for place,
(Deeming itself at home the while,)
The unworthy earth! To see her smile
Amid this waste of pain and sin,
As only knowing the heaven within,
Is sweet, and does for pity stir
Passion to be her minister:
Wherefore last night I lay awake,
And said, ‘Ah, Lord, for Thy love's sake,
Give not this darling child of Thine
To care less reverent than mine!’
And, as true faith was in my word,
I trust, I trust that I was heard.
The waves, this morning, sped to land,
And shouted hoarse to touch the strand,
Where Spring, that goes not out to sea,
Lay laughing in her lovely glee;
And, so, my life was sunlit spray
And tumult, as, once more to-day,
For long farewell did I draw near
My Cousin, desperately dear.
Faint, fierce, the truth that hope was none
Gleam'd like the lightning in the sun;
Yet hope I had, and joy thereof.
The father of love is hope, (though love
Lives orphan'd on, when hope is dead,)
And, out of my immediate dread
And crisis of the coming hour,
Did hope itself draw sudden power.
So the still brooding storm, in Spring,
Makes all the birds begin to sing.
Mother, your foresight did not err:
I've lost the world, and not won her.
And yet, ah, laugh not, when you think
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What cup of life I sought to drink!
The bold, said I, have climb'd to bliss
Absurd, impossible, as this,
With nought to help them but so great
A heart it fascinates their fate.
If ever Heaven heard man's desire,
Mine, being made of altar-fire,
Must come to pass, and it will be
That she will wait, when she shall see,
This evening, how I go to get,
By means unknown, I know not yet
Quite what, but ground whereon to stand,
And plead more plainly for her hand!
And so I raved, and cast in hope
A superstitious horoscope!
And still, though something in her face
Portended ‘No!’ with such a grace
It burthen'd me with thankfulness,
Nothing was credible but ‘Yes.’
Therefore, through time's close pressure bold,
I praised myself, and boastful told
My deeds at Acre; strain'd the chance
I had of honour and advance
In war to come; and would not see
Sad silence meant, ‘What's this to me.’
When half my precious hour was gone,
She rose to greet a Mr. Vaughan;
And, as the image of the moon
Breaks up, within some still lagoon
That feels the soft wind suddenly,
Or tide fresh flowing from the sea,
And turns to giddy flames that go
Over the water to and fro,
Thus, when he took her hand to-night,
Her lovely gravity of light
Was scatter'd into many smiles
And flattering weakness. Hope beguiles
No more my heart, dear Mother. He,
By jealous looks, o'erhonour'd me.
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With nought to do, and fondly fain
To hear her singing once again,
I stay'd, and turn'd her music o'er;
Then came she with me to the door.
‘Dearest Honoria,’ I said,
(By my despair familiar made,)
‘Heaven bless you!’ Oh, to have back then stepp'd
And fallen upon her neck, and wept,
And said, ‘My friend, I owe you all
‘I am, and have, and hope for. Call
‘For some poor service; let me prove
‘To you, or him here whom you love,
‘My duty. Any solemn task,
‘For life's whole course, is all I ask!’
Then she must surely have wept too,
And said, ‘My friend, what can you do!’
And I should have replied, ‘I'll pray
‘For you and him three times a-day,
‘And, all day, morning, noon, and night,
‘My life shall be so high and right
‘That never Saint yet scaled the stairs
‘Of heaven with more availing prayers!’
But this (and, as good God shall bless
Somehow my end, I'll do no less,)
I had no right to speak. Oh, shame,
So rich a love, so poor a claim!
My Mother, now my only friend,
Farewell. The school-books which you send
I shall not want, and so return.
Give them away, or sell, or burn.
I'll write from Malta. Would I might
But be your little Child to-night,
And feel your arms about me fold,
Against this loneliness and cold!
VI
From Mrs. Graham
The folly of young girls! They doff
Their pride to smooth success, and scoff
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At far more noble fire and might
That woo them from the dust of fight!
But, Frederick, now the storm is past,
Your sky should not remain o'ercast.
A sea-life's dull, and, oh, beware
Of nourishing, for zest, despair.
My Child, remember, you have twice
Heartily loved; then why not thrice,
Or ten times? But a wise man shuns
To cry ‘All's over,’ more than once.
I'll not say that a young man's soul
Is scarcely measure of the whole
Earthly and heavenly universe,
To which he inveterately prefers
The one beloved woman. Best
Speak to the senses' interest,
Which brooks no mystery nor delay:
Frankly reflect, my Son, and say,
Was there no secret hour, of those
Pass'd at her side in Sarum Close,
When, to your spirit's sick alarm,
It seem'd that all her marvellous charm
Was marvellously fled? Her grace
Of voice, adornment, movement, face
Was what already heart and eye
Had ponder'd to satiety;
And so the good of life was o'er,
Until some laugh not heard before,
Some novel fashion in her hair,
Or style of putting back her chair,
Restored the heavens. Gather thence
The loss-consoling inference.
Yet blame not beauty, which beguiles,
With lovely motions and sweet smiles,
Which while they please us pass away,
The spirit to lofty thoughts that stay
And lift the whole of after-life,
Unless you take the vision to wife,
Which then seems lost, or serves to slake
Desire, as when a lovely lake
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Far off scarce fills the exulting eye
Of one athirst, who comes thereby,
And inappreciably sips
The deep, with disappointed lips.
To fail is sorrow, yet confess
That love pays dearly for success!
No blame to beauty! Let's complain
Of the heart, which can so ill sustain
Delight. Our griefs declare our fall,
But how much more our joys! They pall
With plucking, and celestial mirth
Can find no footing on the earth,
More than the bird of paradise,
Which only lives the while it flies.
Think, also, how 'twould suit your pride
To have this woman for a bride.
Whate'er her faults, she's one of those
To whom the world's last polish owes
A novel grace, which all who aspire
To courtliest custom must acquire.
The world's the sphere she's made to charm,
Which you have shunn'd as if 'twere harm.
Oh, law perverse, that loneliness
Breeds love, society success!
Though young, 'twere now o'er late in life
To train yourself for such a wife;
So she would suit herself to you,
As women, when they marry, do.
For, since 'tis for our dignity
Our lords should sit like lords on high,
We willingly deteriorate
To a step below our rulers' state;
And 'tis the commonest of things
To see an angel, gay with wings,
Lean weakly on a mortal's arm!
Honoria would put off the charm
Of lofty grace that caught your love,
For fear you should not seem above
Herself in fashion and degree,
As in true merit. Thus, you see,
'Twere little kindness, wisdom none,
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To light your cot with such a sun.
VII
From Frederick
Write not, my Mother, her dear name
With the least word or hint of blame.
Who else shall discommend her choice,
I giving it my hearty voice?
Wed me? Ah, never near her come
The knowledge of the narrow home!
Far fly from her dear face, that shows
The sunshine lovelier than the rose,
The sordid gravity they wear
Who poverty's base burthen bear!
(And all are poor who come to miss
Their custom, though a crown be this.)
My hope was, that the wheels of fate,
For my exceeding need, might wait,
And she, unseen amidst all eyes,
Move sightless, till I sought the prize,
With honour, in an equal field.
But then came Vaughan, to whom I yield
With grace as much as any man,
In such cause, to another can.
Had she been mine, it seems to me
That I had that integrity
And only joy in her delight—
But each is his own favourite
In love! The thought to bring me rest
Is that of us she takes the best.
'Twas but to see him to be sure
That choice for her remain'd no more!
His brow, so gaily clear of craft;
His wit, the timely truth that laugh'd
To find itself so well express'd;
His words, abundant yet the best;
His spirit, of such handsome show
You mark'd not that his looks were so;
His bearing, prospects, birth, all these
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Might well, with small suit, greatly please;
How greatly, when she saw arise
The reflex sweetness of her eyes
In his, and every breath defer
Humbly its bated life to her;
Whilst power and kindness of command,
Which women can no more withstand
Than we their grace, were still unquell'd,
And force and flattery both compell'd
Her softness! Say I'm worthy. I
Grew, in her presence, cold and shy.
It awed me, as an angel's might
In raiment of reproachful light.
Her gay looks told my sombre mood
That what's not happy is not good;
And, just because 'twas life to please,
Death to repel her, truth and ease
Deserted me; I strove to talk,
And stammer'd foolishness; my walk
Was like a drunkard's; if she took
My arm, it stiffen'd, ached, and shook:
A likely wooer! Blame her not;
Nor ever say, dear Mother, aught
Against that perfectness which is
My strength, as once it was my bliss.
And do not chafe at social rules.
Leave that to charlatans and fools.
Clay graffs and clods conceive the rose,
So base still fathers best. Life owes
Itself to bread; enough thereof
And easy days condition love;
And, kindly train'd, love's roses thrive,
No more pale, scentless petals five,
Which moisten the considerate eye
To see what haste they make to die,
But heavens of colour and perfume,
Which, month by month, renew the bloom
Of art-born graces, when the year
In all the natural grove is sere.
Blame nought then! Bright let be the air
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About my lonely cloud of care.
VIII
From Frederick
Religion, duty, books, work, friends,—
'Tis good advice, but there it ends.
I'm sick for what these have not got.
Send no more books: they help me not;
I do my work: the void's there still
Which carefullest duty cannot fill.
What though the inaugural hour of right
Comes ever with a keen delight?
Little relieves the labour's heat;
Disgust oft crowns it when complete;
And life, in fact, is not less dull
For being very dutiful.
‘The stately homes of England,’ lo,
‘How beautiful they stand!’ They owe
How much to nameless things like me
Their beauty of security!
But who can long a low toil mend
By looking to a lofty end?
And let me, since 'tis truth, confess
The void's not fill'd by godliness.
God is a tower without a stair,
And His perfection, love's despair.
'Tis He shall judge me when I die;
He suckles with the hissing fly
The spider; gazes calmly down,
Whilst rapine grips the helpless town.
His vast love holds all this and more.
In consternation I adore.
Nor can I ease this aching gulf
With friends, the pictures of myself.
Then marvel not that I recur
From each and all of these to her.
For more of heaven than her have I
No sensitive capacity.
Had I but her, ah, what the gain
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Of owning aught but that domain!
Nay, heaven's extent, however much,
Cannot be more than many such;
And, she being mine, should God to me
Say ‘Lo! my Child, I give to thee
All heaven besides,’ what could I then,
But, as a child, to Him complain
That whereas my dear Father gave
A little space for me to have
In His great garden, now, o'erblest,
I've that, indeed, but all the rest,
Which, somehow, makes it seem I've got
All but my only cared-for plot.
Enough was that for my weak hand
To tend, my heart to understand.
Oh, the sick fact, 'twixt her and me
There's naught, and half a world of sea.
IX
From Frederick
In two, in less than two hours more
I set my foot on English shore,
Two years untrod, and, strange to tell,
Nigh miss'd through last night's storm! There fell
A man from the shrouds, that roar'd to quench
Even the billows' blast and drench.
Besides me none was near to mark
His loud cry in the louder dark,
Dark, save when lightning show'd the deeps
Standing about in stony heaps.
No time for choice! A rope; a flash
That flamed as he rose; a dizzy splash;
A strange, inopportune delight
Of mounting with the billowy might,
And falling, with a thrill again
Of pleasure shot from feet to brain;
And both paced deck, ere any knew
Our peril. Round us press'd the crew,
With wonder in the eyes of most.
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As if the man who had loved and lost
Honoria dared no more than that!
My days have else been stale and flat.
This life's at best, if justly scann'd,
A tedious walk by the other's strand,
With, here and there cast up, a piece
Of coral or of ambergris,
Which, boasted of abroad, we ignore
The burden of the barren shore.
I seldom write, for 'twould be still
Of how the nerves refuse to thrill;
How, throughout doubly-darken'd days,
I cannot recollect her face;
How to my heart her name to tell
Is beating on a broken bell;
And, to fill up the abhorrent gulf,
Scarce loving her, I hate myself.
Yet, latterly, with strange delight,
Rich tides have risen in the night,
And sweet dreams chased the fancies dense
Of waking life's dull somnolence.
I see her as I knew her, grace
Already glory in her face;
I move about, I cannot rest,
For the proud brain and joyful breast
I have of her. Or else I float,
The pilot of an idle boat,
Alone, alone with sky and sea,
And her, the third simplicity.
Or Mildred, to some question, cries,
(Her merry meaning in her eyes,)
‘The Ball, oh, Frederick will go;
‘Honoria will be there!’ and, lo,
As moisture sweet my seeing blurs
To hear my name so link'd with hers,
A mirror joins, by guilty chance,
Either's averted, watchful glance!
Or with me, in the Ball-Room's blaze,
Her brilliant mildness thrids the maze;
Our thoughts are lovely, and each word
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Is music in the music heard,
And all things seem but parts to be
Of one persistent harmony.
By which I'm made divinely bold;
The secret, which she knows, is told;
And, laughing with a lofty bliss
Of innocent accord, we kiss;
About her neck my pleasure weeps;
Against my lip the silk vein leaps;
Then says an Angel, ‘Day or night,
‘If yours you seek, not her delight,
‘Although by some strange witchery
‘It seems you kiss her, 'tis not she;
‘But, whilst you languish at the side
‘Of a fair-foul phantasmal bride,
‘Surely a dragon and strong tower
‘Guard the true lady in her bower.’
And I say, ‘Dear my Lord, Amen!’
And the true lady kiss again.
Or else some wasteful malady
Devours her shape and dims her eye;
No charms are left, where all were rife,
Except her voice, which is her life,
Wherewith she, for her foolish fear,
Says trembling, ‘Do you love me, Dear?’
And I reply, ‘Sweetest, I vow
‘I never loved but half till now.’
She turns her face to the wall at this,
And says, ‘Go, Love, 'tis too much bliss.’
And then a sudden pulse is sent
About the sounding firmament
In smitings as of silver bars;
The bright disorder of the stars
Is solved by music; far and near,
Through infinite distinctions clear,
Their twofold voices' deeper tone
Utters the Name which all things own,
And each ecstatic treble dwells
On one whereof none other tells;
And we, sublimed to song and fire,
Take order in the wheeling quire,
Till from the throbbing sphere I start,
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Waked by the heaving of my heart.
Such dreams as these come night by night,
Disturbing day with their delight.
Portend they nothing? Who can tell!
God yet may do some miracle.
'Tis nigh two years, and she's not wed,
Or you would know! He may be dead,
Or mad, and loving some one else,
And she, much moved that nothing quells
My constancy, or, simply wroth
With such a wretch, accept my troth
To spite him; or her beauty's gone,
(And that's my dream!) and this man Vaughan
Takes her release: or tongues malign,
Confusing every ear but mine,
Have smirch'd her: ah, 'twould move her, sure,
To find I loved her all the more!
Nay, now I think, haply amiss
I read her words and looks, and his,
That night! Did not his jealousy
Show—Good my God, and can it be
That I, a modest fool, all blest,
Nothing of such a heaven guess'd?
Oh, chance too frail, yet frantic sweet,
To-morrow sees me at her feet!
Yonder, at last, the glad sea roars
Along the sacred English shores!
There lies the lovely land I know,
Where men and women lordliest grow;
There peep the roofs where more than kings
Postpone state cares to country things,
And many a gay queen simply tends
The babes on whom the world depends;
There curls the wanton cottage smoke
Of him that drives but bears no yoke;
There laughs the realm where low and high
Are lieges to society.
And life has all too wide a scope,
Too free a prospect for its hope,
For any private good or ill,
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Except dishonour, quite to fill!
—Mother, since this was penn'd, I've read
That ‘Mr. Vaughan, on Tuesday, wed
‘The beautiful Miss Churchill.’ So
That's over; and to-morrow I go
To take up my new post on board
The ‘Wolf,’ my peace at last restored;
My lonely faith, like heart-of-oak,
Shock-season'd. Grief is now the cloak
I clasp about me to prevent
The deadly chill of a content
With any near or distant good,
Except the exact beatitude
Which love has shown to my desire.
Talk not of ‘other joys and higher,’
I hate and disavow all bliss
As none for me which is not this.
Think not I blasphemously cope
With God's decrees, and cast off hope.
How, when, and where can mine succeed?
I'll trust He knows who made my need.
Baseness of men! Pursuit being o'er,
Doubtless her Husband feels no more
The heaven of heavens of such a Bride,
But, lounging, lets her please his pride
With fondness, guerdons her caress
With little names, and turns a tress
Round idle fingers. If 'tis so,
Why then I'm happier of the two!
Better, for lofty loss, high pain,
Than low content with lofty gain.
Poor, foolish Dove, to trust from me
Her happiness and dignity!
From Frederick
I thought the worst had brought me balm:
'Twas but the tempest's central calm.
Vague sinkings of the heart aver
263
That dreadful wrong is come to her,
And o'er this dream I brood and dote,
And learn its agonies by rote.
As if I loved it, early and late
I make familiar with my fate,
And feed, with fascinated will,
On very dregs of finish'd ill.
I think, she's near him now, alone,
With wardship and protection none;
Alone, perhaps, in the hindering stress
Of airs that clasp him with her dress,
They wander whispering by the wave;
And haply now, in some sea-cave,
Where the ribb'd sand is rarely trod,
They laugh, they kiss. Oh, God! oh, God!
There comes a smile acutely sweet
Out of the picturing dark; I meet
The ancient frankness of her gaze,
That soft and heart-surprising blaze
Of great goodwill and innocence,
And perfect joy proceeding thence!
Ah! made for earth's delight, yet such
The mid-sea air's too gross to touch.
At thought of which, the soul in me
Is as the bird that bites a bee,
And darts abroad on frantic wing,
Tasting the honey and the sting;
And, moaning where all round me sleep
Amidst the moaning of the deep,
I start at midnight from my bed—
And have no right to strike him dead.
What world is this that I am in,
Where chance turns sanctity to sin!
'Tis crime henceforward to desire
The only good; the sacred fire
That sunn'd the universe is hell!
I hear a Voice which argues well:
‘The Heaven hard has scorn'd your cry;
‘Fall down and worship me, and I
‘Will give you peace; go and profane
‘This pangful love, so pure, so vain,
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‘And thereby win forgetfulness
‘And pardon of the spirit's excess,
‘Which soar'd too nigh that jealous Heaven
‘Ever, save thus, to be forgiven.
‘No Gospel has come down that cures
‘With better gain a loss like yours.
‘Be pious! Give the beggar pelf,
‘And love your neighbour as yourself!
‘You, who yet love, though all is o'er,
‘And she'll ne'er be your neighbour more,
‘With soul which can in pity smile
‘That aught with such a measure vile
‘As self should be at all named 'love!'
‘Your sanctity the priests reprove;
‘Your case of grief they wholly miss;
‘The Man of Sorrows names not this.
‘The years, they say, graff love divine
‘On the lopp'd stock of love like thine;
‘The wild tree dies not, but converts.
‘So be it; but the lopping hurts,
‘The graff takes tardily! Men stanch
‘Meantime with earth the bleeding branch,
‘There's nothing heals one woman's loss,
‘And lighten's life's eternal cross
‘With intermission of sound rest,
‘Like lying in another's breast.
‘The cure is, to your thinking, low!
‘Is not life all, henceforward, so?’
Ill Voice, at least thou calm'st my mood.
I'll sleep! But, as I thus conclude,
The intrusions of her grace dispel
The comfortable glooms of hell.
A wonder! Ere these lines were dried,
Vaughan and my Love, his three-days' Bride,
Became my guests. I look'd, and, lo,
In beauty soft as is the snow
And powerful as the avalanche,
She lit the deck. The Heav'n-sent chance!
She smiled, surprised. They came to see
The ship, not thinking to meet me.
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At infinite distance she's my day:
What then to him? Howbeit they say
'Tis not so sunny in the sun
But men might live cool lives thereon!
All's well; for I have seen arise
That reflex sweetness of her eyes
In his, and watch'd his breath defer
Humbly its bated life to her,
His wife. My Love, she's safe in his
Devotion! What ask'd I but this?
They bade adieu; I saw them go
Across the sea; and now I know
The ultimate hope I rested on,
The hope beyond the grave, is gone,
The hope that, in the heavens high,
At last it should appear that I
Loved most, and so, by claim divine,
Should have her, in the heavens, for mine,
According to such nuptial sort
As may subsist in the holy court,
Where, if there are all kinds of joys
To exhaust the multitude of choice
In many mansions, then there are
Loves personal and particular,
Conspicuous in the glorious sky
Of universal charity,
As Phosphor in the sunrise. Now
I've seen them, I believe their vow
Immortal; and the dreadful thought,
That he less honour'd than he ought
Her sanctity, is laid to rest,
And, blessing them, I too am blest.
My goodwill, as a springing air,
Unclouds a beauty in despair;
I stand beneath the sky's pure cope
Unburthen'd even by a hope;
And peace unspeakable, a joy
Which hope would deaden and destroy,
Like sunshine fills the airy gulf
266
Left by the vanishing of self.
That I have known her; that she moves
Somewhere all-graceful; that she loves,
And is belov'd, and that she's so
Most happy, and to heaven will go,
Where I may meet with her, (yet this
I count but accidental bliss,)
And that the full, celestial weal
Of all shall sensitively feel
The partnership and work of each,
And thus my love and labour reach
Her region, there the more to bless
Her last, consummate happiness,
Is guerdon up to the degree
Of that alone true loyalty
Which, sacrificing, is not nice
About the terms of sacrifice,
But offers all, with smiles that say,
'Tis little, but it is for aye!
XI
From Mrs. Graham
You wanted her, my Son, for wife,
With the fierce need of life in life.
That nobler passion of an hour
Was rather prophecy than power;
And nature, from such stress unbent,
Recurs to deep discouragement.
Trust not such peace yet; easy breath,
In hot diseases, argues death;
And tastelessness within the mouth
Worse fever shows than heat or drouth.
Wherefore take, Frederick, timely fear
Against a different danger near:
Wed not one woman, oh, my Child,
Because another has not smiled!
Oft, with a disappointed man,
The first who cares to win him can;
For, after love's heroic strain,
Which tired the heart and brought no gain,
267
He feels consoled, relieved, and eased
To meet with her who can be pleased
To proffer kindness, and compute
His acquiescence for pursuit;
Who troubles not his lonely mood;
And asks for love mere gratitude.
Ah, desperate folly! Yet, we know,
Who wed through love wed mostly so.
At least, my Son, when wed you do,
See that the woman equals you,
Nor rush, from having loved too high,
Into a worse humility.
A poor estate's a foolish plea
For marrying to a base degree.
A woman grown cannot be train'd,
Or, if she could, no love were gain'd;
For, never was a man's heart caught
By graces he himself had taught.
And fancy not 'tis in the might
Of man to do without delight;
For, should you in her nothing find
To exhilarate the higher mind,
Your soul would deaden useless wings
With wickedness of lawful things,
And vampire pleasure swift destroy
Even the memory of joy.
So let no man, in desperate mood,
Wed a dull girl because she's good.
All virtues in his wife soon dim,
Except the power of pleasing him,
Which may small virtue be, or none!
I know my just and tender Son,
To whom the dangerous grace is given
That scorns a good which is not heaven;
My Child, who used to sit and sigh
Under the bright, ideal sky,
And pass, to spare the farmer's wheat,
The poppy and the meadow-sweet!
He would not let his wife's heart ache
For what was mainly his mistake;
268
But, having err'd so, all his force
Would fix upon the hard, right course.
She's graceless, say, yet good and true,
And therefore inly fair, and, through
The veils which inward beauty fold,
Faith can her loveliness behold.
Ah, that's soon tired; faith falls away
Without the ceremonial stay
Of outward loveliness and awe.
The weightier matters of the law
She pays: mere mint and cumin not;
And, in the road that she was taught,
She treads, and takes for granted still
Nature's immedicable ill;
So never wears within her eyes
A false report of paradise,
Nor ever modulates her mirth
With vain compassion of the earth,
Which made a certain happier face
Affecting, and a gayer grace
With pathos delicately edged!
Yet, though she be not privileged
To unlock for you your heart's delight,
(Her keys being gold, but not the right,)
On lower levels she may do!
Her joy is more in loving you
Than being loved, and she commands
All tenderness she understands.
It is but when you proffer more
The yoke weighs heavy and chafes sore.
It's weary work enforcing love
On one who has enough thereof,
And honour on the lowlihead
Of ignorance! Besides, you dread,
In Leah's arms, to meet the eyes
Of Rachel, somewhere in the skies,
And both return, alike relieved,
To life less loftily conceived.
Alas, alas!
Then wait the mood
269
In which a woman may be woo'd
Whose thoughts and habits are too high
For honour to be flattery,
And who would surely not allow
The suit that you could proffer now.
Her equal yoke would sit with ease;
It might, with wearing, even please,
(Not with a better word to move
The loyal wrath of present love);
She would not mope when you were gay,
For want of knowing aught to say;
Nor vex you with unhandsome waste
Of thoughts ill-timed and words ill-placed;
Nor reckon small things duties small,
And your fine sense fantastical;
Nor would she bring you up a brood
Of strangers bound to you by blood,
Boys of a meaner moral race,
Girls with their mother's evil grace,
But not her chance to sometimes find
Her critic past his judgment kind;
Nor, unaccustom'd to respect,
Which men, where 'tis not claim'd, neglect,
Confirm you selfish and morose,
And slowly, by contagion, gross;
But, glad and able to receive
The honour you would long to give,
Would hasten on to justify
Expectancy, however high,
Whilst you would happily incur
Compulsion to keep up with her.
XII
From Frederick
Your letter, Mother, bears the date
Of six months back, and comes too late.
My Love, past all conceiving lost,
A change seem'd good, at any cost,
From lonely, stupid, silent grief,
Vain, objectless, beyond relief,
270
And, like a sea-fog, settled dense
On fancy, feeling, thought, and sense.
I grew so idle, so despised
Myself, my powers, by Her unprized,
Honouring my post, but nothing more,
And lying, when I lived on shore,
So late of mornings: weak tears stream'd
For such slight cause,—if only gleam'd,
Remotely, beautifully bright,
On clouded eves at sea, the light
Of English headlands in the sun,—
That soon I deem'd 'twere better done
To lay this poor, complaining wraith
Of unreciprocated faith:
And so, with heart still bleeding quick,
But strengthen'd by the comfort sick
Of knowing that She could not care,
I turn'd away from my despair,
And told our chaplain's daughter, Jane,—
A dear, good girl, who saw my pain,
And look'd as if she pitied me,—
How glad and thankful I should be
If some kind woman, not above
Myself in rank, would give her love
To one that knew not how to woo.
Whereat she, without more ado,
Blush'd, spoke of love return'd, and closed
With what she thought I had proposed.
And, trust me, Mother, I and Jane,
We suit each other well. My gain
Is very great in this good Wife,
To whom I'm bound, for natural life,
By hearty faith, yet crossing not
My faith towards—I know not what!
As to the ether is the air,
Is her good to Honoria's fair;
One place is full of both, yet each
Lies quite beyond the other's reach
And recognition.
If you say,
271
Am I contented? Yea and nay!
For what's base but content to grow
With less good than the best we know?
But think me not from life withdrawn,
By passion for a hope that's gone,
So far as to forget how much
A woman is, as merely such,
To man's affection. What is best,
In each, belongs to all the rest;
And though, in marriage, quite to kiss
And half to love the custom is,
'Tis such dishonour, ruin bare,
The soul's interior despair,
And life between two troubles toss'd,
To me, who think not with the most;
Whatever 'twould have been, before
My Cousin's time, 'tis now so sore
A treason to the abiding throne
Of that sweet love which I have known,
I cannot live so, and I bend
My mind perforce to comprehend
That He who gives command to love
Does not require a thing above
The strength He gives. The highest degree
Of the hardest grace, humility;
The step t'ward heaven the latest trod,
And that which makes us most like God,
And us much more than God behoves,
Is, to be humble in our loves.
Henceforth for ever therefore I
Renounce all partiality
Of passion. Subject to control
Of that perspective of the soul
Which God Himself pronounces good,
Confirming claims of neighbourhood,
And giving man, for earthly life,
The closest neighbour in a wife,
I'll serve all. Jane be much more dear
Than all as she is much more near!
I'll love her! Yea, and love's joy comes
Ever from self-love's martyrdoms!
272
Yet, not to lie for God, 'tis true
That 'twas another joy I knew
When freighted was my heart with fire
Of fond, irrational desire
For fascinating, female charms,
And hopeless heaven in Her mild arms.
Nor wrong I any, if I profess
That care for heaven with me were less
But that I'm utterly imbued
With faith of all Earth's hope renew'd
In realms where no short-coming pains
Expectance, and dear love disdains
Time's treason, and the gathering dross,
And lasts for ever in the gloss
Of newness.
All the bright past seems,
Now, but a splendour in my dreams,
Which shows, albeit the dreamer wakes,
The standard of right life. Life aches
To be therewith conform'd; but, oh,
The world's so stolid, dark, and low!
That and the mortal element
Forbid the beautiful intent,
And, like the unborn butterfly,
It feels the wings, and wants the sky.
But perilous is the lofty mood
Which cannot yoke with lowly good.
Right life, for me, is life that wends
By lowly ways to lofty ends.
I well perceive, at length, that haste
T'ward heaven itself is only waste;
And thus I dread the impatient spur
Of aught that speaks too plain of Her.
There's little here that story tells;
But music talks of nothing else.
Therefore, when music breathes, I say,
(And urge my task,) Away, away!
Thou art the voice of one I knew,
But what thou say'st is not yet true;
Thou art the voice of her I loved,
273
And I would not be vainly moved.
So that which did from death set free
All things, now dons death's mockery,
And takes its place with things that are
But little noted. Do not mar
For me your peace! My health is high.
The proud possession of mine eye
Departed, I am much like one
Who had by haughty custom grown
To think gilt rooms, and spacious grounds,
Horses, and carriages, and hounds,
Fine linen, and an eider bed
As much his need as daily bread,
And honour of men as much or more.
Till, strange misfortune smiting sore,
His pride all goes to pay his debts,
A lodging anywhere he gets,
And takes his family thereto
Weeping, and other relics few,
Allow'd, by them that seize his pelf,
As precious only to himself.
Yet the sun shines; the country green
Has many riches, poorly seen
From blazon'd coaches; grace at meat
Goes well with thrift in what they eat;
And there's amends for much bereft
In better thanks for much that's left!
Jane is not fair, yet pleases well
The eye in which no others dwell;
And features somewhat plainly set,
And homely manners leave her yet
The crowning boon and most express
Of Heaven's inventive tenderness,
A woman. But I do her wrong,
Letting the world's eyes guide my tongue!
She has a handsomeness that pays
No homage to the hourly gaze,
And dwells not on the arch'd brow's height
And lids which softly lodge the light,
Nor in the pure field of the cheek
274
Flow'rs, though the soul be still to seek;
But shows as fits that solemn place
Whereof the window is the face:
Blankness and leaden outlines mark
What time the Church within is dark;
Yet view it on a Festal night,
Or some occasion else for light,
And each ungainly line is seen
A special character to mean
Of Saint or Prophet, and the whole
Blank window is a living scroll.
For hours, the clock upon the shelf,
Has all the talking to itself;
But to and fro her needle runs
Twice, while the clock is ticking once;
And, when a wife is well in reach,
Not silence separates, but speech;
And I, contented, read, or smoke,
And idly think, or idly stroke
The winking cat, or watch the fire,
In social peace that does not tire;
Until, at easeful end of day,
She moves, and puts her work away,
And, saying ‘How cold 'tis,’ or ‘How warm,’
Or something else as little harm,
Comes, used to finding, kindly press'd,
A woman's welcome to my breast,
With all the great advantage clear
Of none else having been so near.
But sometimes, (how shall I deny!)
There falls, with her thus fondly by,
Dejection, and a chilling shade.
Remember'd pleasures, as they fade,
Salute me, and colossal grow,
Like foot-prints in the thawing snow.
I feel oppress'd beyond my force
With foolish envy and remorse.
I love this woman, but I might
Have loved some else with more delight;
And strange it seems of God that He
275
Should make a vain capacity.
Such times of ignorant relapse,
'Tis well she does not talk, perhaps.
The dream, the discontent, the doubt,
To some injustice flaming out,
Were't else, might leave us both to moan
A kind tradition overthrown,
And dawning promise once more dead
In the pernicious lowlihead
Of not aspiring to be fair.
And what am I, that I should dare
Dispute with God, who moulds one clay
To honour and shame, and wills to pay
With equal wages them that delve
About His vines one hour or twelve!
XIII
From Lady Clitheroe To Mary Churchill
I've dreadful news, my Sister dear!
Frederick has married, as we hear,
Oh, such a girl! This fact we get
From Mr. Barton, whom we met
At Abury once. He used to know,
At Race and Hunt, Lord Clitheroe,
And writes that he ‘has seen Fred Graham,
‘Commander of the 'Wolf,'—the same
‘The Mess call'd Joseph,—with his Wife
‘Under his arm.’ He ‘lays his life,
‘The fellow married her for love,
‘For there was nothing else to move.
‘H. is her Shibboleth. 'Tis said
‘Her Mother was a Kitchen-Maid.’
Poor Fred! What will Honoria say?
She thought so highly of him. Pray
Tell it her gently. I've no right,
I know you hold, to trust my sight;
But Frederick's state could not be hid!
And Felix, coming when he did,
276
Was lucky; for Honoria, too,
Was half in love. How warm she grew
On ‘worldliness,’ when once I said
I fancied that, in ladies, Fred
Had tastes much better than his means!
His hand was worthy of a Queen's,
Said she, and actually shed tears
The night he left us for two years,
And sobb'd, when ask'd the cause to tell,
That ‘Frederick look'd so miserable.’
He did look very dull, no doubt,
But such things girls don't cry about.
What weathercocks men always prove!
You're quite right not to fall in love.
I never did, and, truth to tell,
I don't think it respectable.
The man can't understand it, too.
He likes to be in love with you,
But scarce knows how, if you love him,
Poor fellow. When 'tis woman's whim
To serve her husband night and day,
The kind soul lets her have her way!
So, if you wed, as soon you should,
Be selfish for your husband's good.
Happy the men who relegate
Their pleasures, vanities, and state
To us. Their nature seems to be
To enjoy themselves by deputy,
For, seeking their own benefit,
Dear, what a mess they make of it!
A man will work his bones away,
If but his wife will only play;
He does not mind how much he's teased,
So that his plague looks always pleased;
And never thanks her, while he lives,
For anything, but what he gives!
'Tis hard to manage men, we hear!
Believe me, nothing's easier, Dear.
The most important step by far
Is finding what their colours are.
The next is, not to let them know
277
The reason why they love us so.
The indolent droop of a blue shawl,
Or gray silk's fluctuating fall,
Covers the multitude of sins
In me. Your husband, Love, might wince
At azure, and be wild at slate,
And yet do well with chocolate.
Of course you'd let him fancy he
Adored you for your piety.
XIV
From Jane To Her Mother
Dear Mother, as you write, I see
How glad and thankful I should be
For such a husband. Yet to tell
The truth, I am so miserable!
How could he—I remember, though,
He never said he loved me! No,
He is so right that all seems wrong
I've done and thought my whole life long!
I'm grown so dull and dead with fear
That Yes and No, when he is near,
Is all I have to say. He's quite
Unlike what most would call polite,
And yet, when first I saw him come
To tea in Aunt's fine drawing-room,
He made me feel so common! Oh,
How dreadful if he thinks me so!
It's no use trying to behave
To him. His eye, so kind and grave,
Sees through and through me! Could not you,
Without his knowing that I knew,
Ask him to scold me now and then?
Mother, it's such a weary strain
The way he has of treating me
As if 'twas something fine to be
A woman; and appearing not
To notice any faults I've got!
I know he knows I'm plain, and small,
Stupid, and ignorant, and all
278
Awkward and mean; and, by degrees,
I see a beauty which he sees,
When often he looks strange awhile,
Then recollects me with a smile.
I wish he had that fancied Wife,
With me for Maid, now! all my life
To dress her out for him, and make
Her looks the lovelier for his sake;
To have her rate me till I cried;
Then see her seated by his side,
And driven off proudly to the Ball;
Then to stay up for her, whilst all
The servants were asleep; and hear
At dawn the carriage rolling near,
And let them in; and hear her laugh,
And boast, he said that none was half
So beautiful, and that the Queen,
Who danced with him the first, had seen
And noticed her, and ask'd who was
That lady in the golden gauze?
And then to go to bed, and lie
In a sort of heavenly jealousy,
Until 'twas broad day, and I guess'd
She slept, nor knew how she was bless'd.
Pray burn this letter. I would not
Complain, but for the fear I've got
Of going wild, as we hear tell
Of people shut up in a cell,
With no one there to talk to. He
Must never know he is loved by me
The most; he'd think himself to blame;
And I should almost die for shame.
If being good would serve instead
Of being graceful, ah, then, Fred—
But I, myself, I never could
See what's in women's being good;
For all their goodness is to do
Just what their nature tells them to.
Now, when a man would do what's right,
279
He has to try with all his might.
Though true and kind in deed and word,
Fred's not a vessel of the Lord.
But I have hopes of him; for, oh,
How can we ever surely know
But that the very darkest place
May be the scene of saving grace!
XV
From Frederick
‘How did I feel?’ The little wight
Fill'd me, unfatherly, with fright!
So grim it gazed, and, out of the sky,
There came, minute, remote, the cry,
Piercing, of original pain.
I put the wonder back to Jane,
And her delight seem'd dash'd, that I,
Of strangers still by nature shy,
Was not familiar quite so soon
With her small friend of many a moon.
But, when the new-made Mother smiled,
She seem'd herself a little child,
Dwelling at large beyond the law
By which, till then, I judged and saw;
And that fond glow which she felt stir
For it, suffused my heart for her;
To whom, from the weak babe, and thence
To me, an influent innocence,
Happy, reparative of life,
Came, and she was indeed my wife,
As there, lovely with love she lay,
Brightly contented all the day
To hug her sleepy little boy,
In the reciprocated joy
Of touch, the childish sense of love,
Ever inquisitive to prove
Its strange possession, and to know
If the eye's report be really so.
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XVI
From Jane To Mrs. Graham
Dear Mother,—such if you'll allow,
In love, not law, I'll call you now,—
I hope you're well. I write to say
Frederick has got, besides his pay,
A good appointment in the Docks;
Also to thank you for the frocks
And shoes for Baby. I, (D.V.,)
Shall soon be strong. Fred goes to sea
No more. I am so glad; because,
Though kinder husband never was,
He seems still kinder to become
The more he stays with me at home.
When we are parted, I see plain
He's dull till he gets used again
To marriage. Do not tell him, though;
I would not have him know I know,
For all the world.
I try to mind
All your advice; but sometimes find
I do not well see how. I thought
To take it about dress; so bought
A gay new bonnet, gown, and shawl;
But Frederick was not pleased at all;
For, though he smiled, and said, ‘How smart!’
I feel, you know, what's in his heart.
But I shall learn! I fancied long
That care in dress was very wrong,
Till Frederick, in his startling way,
When I began to blame, one day,
The Admiral's Wife, because we hear
She spends two hours, or something near,
In dressing, took her part, and said
How all things deck themselves that wed;
How birds and plants grow fine to please
Each other in their marriages;
And how (which certainly is true—
It never struck me—did it you?)
281
Dress was, at first, Heaven's ordinance,
And has much Scripture countenance.
For Eliezer, we are told,
Adorn'd with jewels and with gold
Rebecca. In the Psalms, again,
How the King's Daughter dress'd! And, then,
The Good Wife in the Proverbs, she
Made herself clothes of tapestry,
Purple and silk: and there's much more
I had not thought about before!
But Fred's so clever! Do you know,
Since Baby came, he loves me so!
I'm really useful, now, to Fred;
And none could do so well instead.
It's nice to fancy, if I died,
He'd miss me from the Darling's side!
Also, there's something now, you see,
On which we talk, and quite agree;
On which, without pride too, I can
Hope I'm as wise as any man.
I should be happy now, if quite
Sure that in one thing Fred was right.
But, though I trust his prayers are said,
Because he goes so late to bed,
I doubt his Calling. Glad to find
A text adapted to his mind,—
That where St. Paul, in Man and Wife,
Allows a little worldly life,—
He smiled, and said that he knew all
Such things as that without St. Paul!
And once he said, when I with pain
Had got him just to read Romaine,
‘Men's creeds should not their hopes condemn.
‘Who wait for heaven to come to them
‘Are little like to go to heaven,
‘If logic's not the devil's leaven!’
I cried at such a wicked joke,
And he, surprised, went out to smoke.
But to judge him is not for me,
Who myself sin so dreadfully
As half to doubt if I should care
282
To go to heaven, and he not there.
He must be right; and I dare say
I shall soon understand his way.
To other things, once strange, I've grown
Accustom'd, nay, to like. I own
'Twas long before I got well used
To sit, while Frederick read or mused
For hours, and scarcely spoke. When he
For all that, held the door to me,
Pick'd up my handkerchief, and rose
To set my chair, with other shows
Of honour, such as men, 'tis true,
To sweethearts and fine ladies do,
It almost seem'd an unkind jest;
But now I like these ways the best.
They somehow make me gentle and good;
And I don't mind his quiet mood.
If Frederick does seem dull awhile,
There's Baby. You should see him smile!
I'm pretty and nice to him, sweet Pet,
And he will learn no better yet:
Indeed, now little Johnny makes
A busier time of it, and takes
Our thoughts off one another more,
I'm happy as need be, I'm sure!
XVII
From Felix To Honoria
Let me, Beloved, while gratitude
Is garrulous with coming good,
Or ere the tongue of happiness
Be silenced by your soft caress,
Relate how, musing here of you,
The clouds, the intermediate blue,
The air that rings with larks, the grave
And distant rumour of the wave,
The solitary sailing skiff,
The gusty corn-field on the cliff,
The corn-flower by the crumbling ledge,
Or, far-down at the shingle's edge,
283
The sighing sea's recurrent crest
Breaking, resign'd to its unrest,
All whisper, to my home-sick thought,
Of charms in you till now uncaught,
Or only caught as dreams, to die
Ere they were own'd by memory.
High and ingenious Decree
Of joy-devising Deity!
You whose ambition only is
The assurance that you make my bliss,
(Hence my first debt of love to show,
That you, past showing, indeed do so!)
Trust me, the world, the firmament,
With diverse-natured worlds besprent,
Were rear'd in no mere undivine
Boast of omnipotent design,
The lion differing from the snake
But for the trick of difference sake,
And comets darting to and fro
Because in circles planets go;
But rather that sole love might be
Refresh'd throughout eternity
In one sweet faith, for ever strange,
Mirror'd by circumstantial change.
For, more and more, do I perceive
That everything is relative
To you, and that there's not a star,
Nor nothing in't, so strange or far,
But, if 'twere scanned, 'twould chiefly mean
Somewhat, till then, in you unseen,
Something to make the bondage strait
Of you and me more intimate,
Some unguess'd opportunity
Of nuptials in a new degree.
But, oh, with what a novel force
Your best-conn'd beauties, by remorse
Of absence, touch; and, in my heart,
How bleeds afresh the youthful smart
Of passion fond, despairing still
To utter infinite good-will
284
By worthy service! Yet I know
That love is all that love can owe,
And this to offer is no less
Of worth, in kind speech or caress,
Than if my life-blood I should give.
For good is God's prerogative,
And Love's deed is but to prepare
The flatter'd, dear Belov'd to dare
Acceptance of His gifts. When first
On me your happy beauty burst,
Honoria, verily it seem'd
That naught beyond you could be dream'd
Of beauty and of heaven's delight.
Zeal of an unknown infinite
Yet bade me ever wish you more
Beatified than e'er before.
Angelical were your replies
To my prophetic flatteries;
And sweet was the compulsion strong
That drew me in the course along
Of heaven's increasing bright allure,
With provocations fresh of your
Victorious capacity.
Whither may love, so fledged, not fly?
Did not mere Earth hold fast the string
Of this celestial soaring thing,
So measure and make sensitive,
And still, to the nerves, nice notice give
Of each minutest increment
Of such interminable ascent,
The heart would lose all count, and beat
Unconscious of a height so sweet,
And the spirit-pursuing senses strain
Their steps on the starry track in vain!
But, reading now the note just come,
With news of you, the babes, and home,
I think, and say, ‘To-morrow eve
‘With kisses me will she receive;’
And, thinking, for extreme delight
Of love's extremes, I laugh outright.
285
XVIII
From Frederick
Eight wedding-days gone by, and none
Yet kept, to keep them all in one,
Jane and myself, with John and Grace
On donkeys, visited the place
I first drew breath in, Knatchley Wood.
Bearing the basket, stuff'd with food,
Milk, loaves, hard eggs, and marmalade,
I halted where the wandering glade
Divides the thicket. There I knew,
It seem'd, the very drops of dew
Below the unalter'd eglantine.
Nothing had changed since I was nine!
In the green desert, down to eat
We sat, our rustic grace at meat
Good appetite, through that long climb
Hungry two hours before the time.
And there Jane took her stitching out,
And John for birds'-nests pry'd about,
And Grace and Baby, in between
The warm blades of the breathing green,
Dodged grasshoppers; and I no less,
In conscientious idleness,
Enjoy'd myself, under the noon
Stretch'd, and the sounds and sights of June
Receiving, with a drowsy charm,
Through muffled ear and folded arm.
And then, as if I sweetly dream'd,
I half-remember'd how it seem'd
When I, too, was a little child
About the wild wood roving wild.
Pure breezes from the far-off height
Melted the blindness from my sight,
Until, with rapture, grief, and awe,
I saw again as then I saw.
As then I saw, I saw again
The harvest-waggon in the lane,
286
With high-hung tokens of its pride
Left in the elms on either side;
The daisies coming out at dawn
In constellations on the lawn;
The glory of the daffodil;
The three black windmills on the hill,
Whose magic arms, flung wildly by,
Sent magic shadows o'er the rye.
Within the leafy coppice, lo,
More wealth than miser's dreams could show,
The blackbird's warm and woolly brood,
Five golden beaks agape for food;
The Gipsies, all the summer seen
Native as poppies to the Green;
The winter, with its frosts and thaws
And opulence of hips and haws;
The lovely marvel of the snow;
The Tamar, with its altering show
Of gay ships sailing up and down,
Among the fields and by the Town;
And, dearer far than anything,
Came back the songs you used to sing.
(Ah, might you sing such songs again,
And I, your Child, but hear as then,
With conscious profit of the gulf
Flown over from my present self!)
And, as to men's retreating eyes,
Beyond high mountains higher rise,
Still farther back there shone to me
The dazzling dusk of infancy.
Thither I look'd, as, sick of night,
The Alpine shepherd looks to the height,
And does not see the day, 'tis true,
But sees the rosy tops that do.
Meantime Jane stitch'd, and fann'd the flies
From my repose, with hush'd replies
To Grace, and smiles when Baby fell.
Her countenance love visible
Appear'd, love audible her voice.
Why in the past alone rejoice,
Whilst here was wealth before me cast
287
Which, I could feel, if 'twere but past
Were then most precious? Question vain,
When ask'd again and yet again,
Year after year; yet now, for no
Cause, but that heaven's bright winds will blow
Not at our pray'r but as they list,
It brought that distant, golden mist
To grace the hour, firing the deep
Of spirit and the drowsy keep
Of joy, till, spreading uncontain'd,
The holy power of seeing gain'd
The outward eye, this owning even
That where there's love and truth there's heaven.
Debtor to few, forgotten hours
Am I, that truths for me are powers.
Ah, happy hours, 'tis something yet
Not to forget that I forget!
And now a cloud, bright, huge and calm,
Rose, doubtful if for bale or balm;
O'ertoppling towers and bulwarks bright
Appear'd, at beck of viewless might,
Along a rifted mountain range.
Untraceable and swift in change,
Those glittering peaks, disrupted, spread
To solemn bulks, seen overhead;
The sunshine quench'd, from one dark form
Fumed the appalling light of storm.
Straight to the zenith, black with bale,
The Gipsies' smoke rose deadly pale;
And one wide night of hopeless hue
Hid from the heart the recent blue.
And soon, with thunder crackling loud,
A flash reveal'd the formless cloud:
Lone sailing rack, far wavering rim,
And billowy tracks of stormland dim.
We stood, safe group'd beneath a shed.
Grace hid behind Jane's gown for dread,
Who told her, fondling with her hair,
‘The naughty noise! but God took care
288
‘Of all good girls.’ John seem'd to me
Too much for Jane's theology,
Who bade him watch the tempest. Now
A blast made all the woodland bow;
Against the whirl of leaves and dust
Kine dropp'd their heads; the tortured gust
Jagg'd and convuls'd the ascending smoke
To mockery of the lightning's stroke.
The blood prick'd, and a blinding flash
And close coinstantaneous crash
Humbled the soul, and the rain all round
Resilient dimm'd the whistling ground,
Nor flagg'd in force from first to last,
Till, sudden as it came, 'twas past,
Leaving a trouble in the copse
Of brawling birds and tinkling drops.
Change beyond hope! Far thunder faint
Mutter'd its vast and vain complaint,
And gaps and fractures, fringed with light,
Show'd the sweet skies, with squadrons bright
Of cloudlets, glittering calm and fair
Through gulfs of calm and glittering air.
With this adventure, we return'd.
The roads the feet no longer burn'd.
A wholesome smell of rainy earth
Refresh'd our spirits, tired of mirth.
The donkey-boy drew friendly near
My Wife, and, touch'd by the kind cheer
Her countenance show'd, or sooth'd perchance
By the soft evening's sad advance,
As we were, stroked the flanks and head
Of the ass, and, somewhat thick-voiced, said,
‘To 'ave to wop the donkeys so
‘'Ardens the 'art, but they won't go
‘Without!’ My Wife, by this impress'd,
As men judge poets by their best,
When now we reach'd the welcome door,
Gave him his hire, and sixpence more.
289
XIX
From Jane
Dear Mrs. Graham, the fever's past,
And Fred is well. I, in my last,
Forgot to say that, while 'twas on,
A lady, call'd Honoria Vaughan,
One of his Salisbury Cousins, came.
Had I, she ask'd me, heard her name?
'Twas that Honoria, no doubt,
Whom he would sometimes talk about
And speak to, when his nights were bad,
And so I told her that I had.
She look'd so beautiful and kind!
And just the sort of wife my mind
Pictured for Fred, with many tears,
In those sad early married years.
Visiting, yesterday, she said,
The Admiral's Wife, she learn'd that Fred
Was very ill; she begg'd to be,
If possible, of use to me.
What could she do? Last year, his Aunt
Died, leaving her, who had no want,
Her fortune. Half was his, she thought;
But he, she knew, would not be brought
To take his rights at second hand.
Yet something might, she hoped, be plann'd.
What did I think of putting John
To school and college? Mr. Vaughan,
When John was old enough, could give
Preferment to her relative;
And she should be so pleased.—I said
I felt quite sure that dearest Fred
Would be most thankful. Would we come,
And make ourselves, she ask'd, at home,
Next month, at High-Hurst? Change of air
Both he and I should need, and there
At leisure we could talk, and then
Fix plans, as John was nearly ten.
290
It seemed so rude to think and doubt,
So I said, Yes. In going out,
She said, ‘How strange of Frederick, Dear,’
(I wish he had been there to hear,)
‘To send no cards, or tell me what
‘A nice new Cousin I had got!’
Was not that kind?
When Fred grew strong,
I had, I found, done very wrong.
Anger was in his voice and eye.
With people born and bred so high
As Fred and Mrs. Vaughan and you,
It's hard to guess what's right to do;
And he won't teach me!
Dear Fred wrote,
Directly, such a lovely note,
Which, though it undid all I had done,
Was, both to me and Mrs. Vaughan,
So kind! His words, I can't say why,
Like soldiers' music, made me cry.
~ Coventry Patmore,

IN CHAPTERS [300/2315]



1036 Integral Yoga
  271 Poetry
  165 Occultism
  133 Christianity
  107 Philosophy
   87 Fiction
   57 Psychology
   49 Yoga
   26 Science
   25 Islam
   18 Education
   15 Integral Theory
   14 Mythology
   14 Mysticism
   13 Philsophy
   10 Hinduism
   9 Theosophy
   7 Kabbalah
   6 Baha i Faith
   5 Sufism
   5 Cybernetics
   4 Buddhism
   1 Zen
   1 Thelema
   1 Alchemy


  590 The Mother
  539 Sri Aurobindo
  332 Satprem
  212 Nolini Kanta Gupta
   67 H P Lovecraft
   66 Aleister Crowley
   59 Carl Jung
   47 Pierre Teilhard de Chardin
   45 James George Frazer
   40 Plotinus
   35 Walt Whitman
   32 Saint Augustine of Hippo
   31 William Wordsworth
   29 Sri Ramakrishna
   27 Robert Browning
   25 Muhammad
   22 Percy Bysshe Shelley
   22 Aldous Huxley
   21 A B Purani
   18 Jorge Luis Borges
   17 John Keats
   17 Friedrich Nietzsche
   16 Rudolf Steiner
   15 Swami Krishnananda
   13 Ralph Waldo Emerson
   12 Saint Teresa of Avila
   12 Franz Bardon
   12 Anonymous
   10 Saint John of Climacus
   10 Plato
   10 Ovid
   10 George Van Vrekhem
   8 William Butler Yeats
   8 Vyasa
   8 Saint Francis of Assisi
   7 Saint Clare of Assisi
   7 Rabbi Moses Luzzatto
   7 Li Bai
   7 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
   7 Edgar Allan Poe
   7 Aristotle
   6 Sri Ramana Maharshi
   6 Rabindranath Tagore
   6 Nirodbaran
   6 Jordan Peterson
   6 Baha u llah
   5 Swami Vivekananda
   5 Paul Richard
   5 Norbert Wiener
   5 Friedrich Schiller
   4 Thubten Chodron
   4 Lucretius
   4 Joseph Campbell
   4 Bokar Rinpoche
   4 Al-Ghazali
   3 Peter J Carroll
   3 Ken Wilber
   2 Swami Sivananda Saraswati
   2 R Buckminster Fuller
   2 Mahendranath Gupta
   2 Jorge Luis Borges
   2 Jalaluddin Rumi
   2 Henry David Thoreau
   2 Genpo Roshi
   2 Alice Bailey


  120 The Synthesis Of Yoga
   67 Lovecraft - Poems
   66 Record of Yoga
   52 The Life Divine
   50 Questions And Answers 1957-1958
   45 The Golden Bough
   45 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04
   44 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 03
   39 Essays In Philosophy And Yoga
   38 On Thoughts And Aphorisms
   38 Agenda Vol 10
   37 Magick Without Tears
   37 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07
   35 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01
   34 Whitman - Poems
   34 Questions And Answers 1953
   33 Agenda Vol 08
   33 Agenda Vol 01
   32 Questions And Answers 1950-1951
   31 Wordsworth - Poems
   30 Letters On Yoga IV
   28 The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna
   28 Letters On Yoga II
   27 Savitri
   27 Browning - Poems
   27 Agenda Vol 04
   26 Liber ABA
   25 Quran
   25 Questions And Answers 1954
   24 Questions And Answers 1956
   23 Questions And Answers 1955
   23 Mysterium Coniunctionis
   23 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02
   23 Agenda Vol 03
   22 The Perennial Philosophy
   22 Shelley - Poems
   22 City of God
   22 Agenda Vol 11
   21 Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo
   21 Agenda Vol 13
   20 The Human Cycle
   20 Agenda Vol 12
   20 Agenda Vol 02
   19 Agenda Vol 09
   18 On Education
   17 Sri Aurobindo or the Adventure of Consciousness
   17 Keats - Poems
   17 Essays Divine And Human
   17 Agenda Vol 06
   16 Prayers And Meditations
   16 Agenda Vol 05
   15 The Study and Practice of Yoga
   15 The Future of Man
   15 Questions And Answers 1929-1931
   15 Labyrinths
   15 Essays On The Gita
   14 The Practice of Psycho therapy
   14 The Bible
   13 The Phenomenon of Man
   13 On the Way to Supermanhood
   13 Emerson - Poems
   13 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 05
   13 Agenda Vol 07
   12 Thus Spoke Zarathustra
   12 Some Answers From The Mother
   12 Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 04
   12 Letters On Yoga I
   12 Collected Poems
   12 Aion
   11 The Confessions of Saint Augustine
   11 Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 02
   11 Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 01
   11 Let Me Explain
   10 Words Of Long Ago
   10 The Ladder of Divine Ascent
   10 The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious
   10 Talks
   10 Preparing for the Miraculous
   10 Metamorphoses
   9 Letters On Yoga III
   8 Yeats - Poems
   8 Words Of The Mother II
   8 Vishnu Purana
   8 Vedic and Philological Studies
   8 The Problems of Philosophy
   8 The Practice of Magical Evocation
   8 Hymn of the Universe
   7 The Secret Of The Veda
   7 Theosophy
   7 The Mother With Letters On The Mother
   7 Poetics
   7 Li Bai - Poems
   7 Knowledge of the Higher Worlds
   7 Isha Upanishad
   7 General Principles of Kabbalah
   7 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 08
   7 5.1.01 - Ilion
   6 Twilight of the Idols
   6 Twelve Years With Sri Aurobindo
   6 The Way of Perfection
   6 The Secret Doctrine
   6 Tagore - Poems
   6 Poe - Poems
   6 Plotinus - Complete Works Vol 03
   6 Maps of Meaning
   6 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 06
   6 A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah
   5 Words Of The Mother III
   5 The Interior Castle or The Mansions
   5 The Divine Comedy
   5 The Blue Cliff Records
   5 Schiller - Poems
   5 Letters On Poetry And Art
   5 Cybernetics
   4 The Hero with a Thousand Faces
   4 The Alchemy of Happiness
   4 The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People
   4 Tara - The Feminine Divine
   4 Of The Nature Of Things
   4 Initiation Into Hermetics
   4 How to Free Your Mind - Tara the Liberator
   4 Faust
   4 Anonymous - Poems
   3 Writings In Bengali and Sanskrit
   3 The Red Book Liber Novus
   3 The Book of Certitude
   3 Sex Ecology Spirituality
   3 Liber Null
   3 Kena and Other Upanishads
   3 Hymns to the Mystic Fire
   3 Goethe - Poems
   3 Dark Night of the Soul
   2 Walden
   2 The Zen Teaching of Bodhidharma
   2 The Lotus Sutra
   2 The Integral Yoga
   2 The Essentials of Education
   2 Synergetics - Explorations in the Geometry of Thinking
   2 Symposium
   2 Selected Fictions
   2 Raja-Yoga
   2 God Exists
   2 Crowley - Poems
   2 Borges - Poems
   2 Bhakti-Yoga
   2 Beating the Cloth Drum Letters of Zen Master Hakuin
   2 A Treatise on Cosmic Fire
   2 Advanced Dungeons and Dragons 2E


00.01 - The Approach to Mysticism, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   For true knowledge comes of, and means, identity of being. All other knowledge may be an apprehension of things but not comprehension. In the former, the knower stands apart from the object and so can envisage only the outskirts, the contour, the surface nature; the mind is capable of this alone. But comprehension means an embracing and penetration which is possible when the knower identifies himself with the object. And when we are so identified we not merely know the object, but becoming it in our consciousness, we love it and live it.
   The mystic's knowledge is a part and a formation of his life. That is why it is a knowledge not abstract and remote but living and intimate and concrete. It is a knowledge that pulsates with delight: indeed it is the radiance that is shed by the purest and intensest joy. For this reason it may be that in approaching through the heart there is a chance of one's getting arrested there and not caring for the still higher, the solar lights; but this need not be so. In the heart there is a golden door leading to the deepest delights, but there is also a diamond door opening up into the skies of the brightest luminosities.

00.02 - Mystic Symbolism, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   If, however, we have to speak of these other worlds, then, since we can speak only in the terms of this world, we have to use them in a different sense from those they usually bear; we must employ them as figures and symbols. Even then they may prove inadequate and misleading; so there are Mystics who are averse to all speech and expression they are mauni; in silence they experience the inexpressible and in silence they communicate it to the few who have the capacity to receive in silence.
   But those who do speak, how do they choose their figures and symbols? What is their methodology? For it might be said, since the unseen and the seen differ out and out, it does not matter what forms or signs are taken from the latter; for any meaning and significance could be put into anything. But in reality, it does not so happen. For, although there is a great divergence between figures and symbols on the one hand and the things figured and symbolised on the other, still there is also some link, some common measure. And that is why we see not unoften the same or similar figures and symbols representing an identical experience in ages and countries far apart from each other.

000 - Humans in Universe, #Synergetics - Explorations in the Geometry of Thinking, #R Buckminster Fuller, #Science
  mechanical and leverage calculation capabilities of Leonardo; and in the art of shipdesign the cipher gave birth to structural and mechanical engineering, which made
  possible the intertensioning and compressioning calculations of the ribbed structural
  --
  resistive capability (also approximately 10,000 p.s.i.). Wood floated on water and
  could move useful loads horizontally; wood made good rafts for transporting
  --
  compression-resisting capability of 50.000 p.s.i. Steel has the same compression-
  resistance capability as masonry, but it also has a thousand times greater tensile
   capability than masonry and five times the tensile or compressive strength of wood.
  Steel brought mankind a structural-tension capability to match stone's previous
  millions of years of exclusive compressional supremacy. With far higher tensile
  --
  structuring capability of 600,000 p.s.i. The means of accomplishing this new and
  overwhelming structural strength has become entirely invisible. Fully 99 percent of
  humanity has as yet no idea that this increase in tensile capability has come about or
  how it came about or why it works. While humans cannot see the ever-lessening
  --
  witness the ever more vertical takeoff-angle capabilities manifesting human
  comprehension of the fundamental structuring principles and their military
  --
  now converts the ever-increasing work capacity per pound of materials invested
  primarily to yield monetary profits for the government-subsidized private-enterprise
  --
  structures-political, religious, or capitalist-would find their interests disastrouslythreatened by total human success. They are founded upon assumption of scarcity;
  they are organized for and sustained by the problems imposed by the assumption of

0.00 - INTRODUCTION, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
   Very soon a tender relationship sprang up between Sri Ramakrishna and the Brahmani, she looking upon him as the Baby Krishna, and he upon her as mother. Day after day she watched his ecstasy during the kirtan and meditation, his samadhi, his mad yearning; and she recognized in him a power to transmit spirituality to others. She came to the conclusion that such things were not possible for an ordinary devotee, not even for a highly developed soul. Only an Incarnation of God was capable of such spiritual manifestations. She proclaimed openly that Sri Ramakrishna, like Sri Chaitanya, was an Incarnation of God.
   When Sri Ramakrishna told Mathur what the Brahmani had said about him, Mathur shook his head in doubt. He was reluctant to accept him as an Incarnation of God, an Avatar comparable to Rama, Krishna, Buddha, and Chaitanya, though he admitted Sri Ramakrishna's extraordinary spirituality. Whereupon the Brahmani asked Mathur to arrange a conference of scholars who should discuss the matter with her. He agreed to the proposal and the meeting was arranged. It was to be held in the natmandir in front of the Kali temple.

0.00 - The Book of Lies Text, #The Book of Lies, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
     This cannot be done at all unless one is capable of
    making Dhyana at least on any conceivable thing, at
  --
    lotus of the Sahasrara. "Lily" is spelt with a capital to
    connect with Laylah.
  --
    Zayin (OZ), and He-Goat, the symbol of matter, capri-
    cornus, the Devil of the Tarot; which is the picture of the

0.00 - The Wellspring of Reality, #Synergetics - Explorations in the Geometry of Thinking, #R Buckminster Fuller, #Science
  Anticipating, cooperating with, and employing the forces of nature can be accomplished only by the mind. The wisdom manifest in the omni-interorderliness of the family of generalized principles operative in Universe can be employed only by the highest integrity of engagement of the mind's metaphysical intuiting and formulating capabilities.
  We are able to assert that this rationally coordinating system bridge has been established between science and the humanities because we have made adequate experimental testing of it in a computerized world-resource-use-exploration system, which by virtue of the proper inclusion of all the parameters-as guaranteed by the synergetic start with Universe and the progressive differentiation out of all the parts-has demonstrated a number of alternate ways in which it is eminently feasible not only to provide full life support for all humans but also to permit all humans' individual enjoyment of all the Earth without anyone profiting at the expense of another and without any individuals interfering with others.
  --
  It is synergetically reasonable to assume that relativistic evaluation of any of the separate drives of art, science, education, economics, and ideology, and their complexedly interacting trends within our own times, may be had only through the most comprehensive historical sweep of which we are capable.
  There could be produced a synergetic understanding of humanity's cosmic functioning, which, until now, had been both undiscovered and unpredictable due to our deliberate and exclusive preoccupation only with the separate statistics of separate events. As a typical consequence of the latter, we observe our society's persistent increase of educational and employment specialization despite the already mentioned, well-documented scientific disclosure that the extinctions of biological species are always occasioned by overspecialization. Specialization's preoccupation with parts deliberately forfeits the opportunity to apprehend and comprehend what is provided exclusively by synergy.

0.00 - To the Reader, #Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo, #unset, #Zen
   The reader is requested to note that Sri Aurobindo is not responsible for these records as he had no opportunity to see them. So, it is not as if Sri Aurobindo said exactly these things but that I remember him to have said them. All I can say is that I have tried to be as faithful in recording them as I was humanly capable. That does not minimise my personal responsibility which I fully accept.
   A. B. PURANI

0.01f - FOREWARD, #The Phenomenon of Man, #Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, #Christianity
  should look closely at man in order to increase our capacity to
  live.
  --
  A sense of movement, capable of perceiving the irresistible
  developments hidden in extreme slowness extreme agitation

0.02 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  So long as you are capable of beating somebody, you open the
  door to the possibility of being beaten yourself.
  --
  beyond my capacity.
  I am afraid it is a lack of affinity in the vital and even in the

0.02 - The Three Steps of Nature, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
   to this conclusion that mental life, far from being a recent appearance in man, is the swift repetition in him of a previous achievement from which the Energy in the race had undergone one of her deplorable recoils. The savage is perhaps not so much the first forefa ther of civilised man as the degenerate descendant of a previous civilisation. For if the actuality of intellectual achievement is unevenly distributed, the capacity is spread everywhere. It has been seen that in individual cases even the racial type considered by us the lowest, the negro fresh from the perennial barbarism of Central Africa, is capable, without admixture of blood, without waiting for future generations, of the intellectual culture, if not yet of the intellectual accomplishment of the dominant European. Even in the mass men seem to need, in favourable circumstances, only a few generations to cover ground that ought apparently to be measured in the terms of millenniums. Either, then, man by his privilege as a mental being is exempt from the full burden of the tardy laws of evolution or else he already represents and with helpful conditions and in the right stimulating atmosphere can always display a high level of material capacity for the activities of the intellectual life.
  It is not mental in capacity, but the long rejection or seclusion from opportunity and withdrawal of the awakening impulse that creates the savage. Barbarism is an intermediate sleep, not an original darkness.
  Moreover the whole trend of modern thought and modern endeavour reveals itself to the observant eye as a large conscious effort of Nature in man to effect a general level of intellectual equipment, capacity and farther possibility by universalising the opportunities which modern civilisation affords for the mental life. Even the preoccupation of the European intellect, the protagonist of this tendency, with material Nature and the externalities of existence is a necessary part of the effort. It seeks to prepare a sufficient basis in man's physical being and vital energies and in his material environment for his full mental possibilities. By the spread of education, by the advance of the backward races, by the elevation of depressed classes, by the multiplication of labour-saving appliances, by the movement
  The Three Steps of Nature
   towards ideal social and economic conditions, by the labour of Science towards an improved health, longevity and sound physique in civilised humanity, the sense and drift of this vast movement translates itself in easily intelligible signs. The right or at least the ultimate means may not always be employed, but their aim is the right preliminary aim, - a sound individual and social body and the satisfaction of the legitimate needs and demands of the material mind, sufficient ease, leisure, equal opportunity, so that the whole of mankind and no longer only the favoured race, class or individual may be free to develop the emotional and intellectual being to its full capacity. At present the material and economic aim may predominate, but always, behind, there works or there waits in reserve the higher and major impulse.
  And when the preliminary conditions are satisfied, when the great endeavour has found its base, what will be the nature of that farther possibility which the activities of the intellectual life must serve? If Mind is indeed Nature's highest term, then the entire development of the rational and imaginative intellect and the harmonious satisfaction of the emotions and sensibilities must be to themselves sufficient. But if, on the contrary, man is more than a reasoning and emotional animal, if beyond that which is being evolved, there is something that has to be evolved, then it may well be that the fullness of the mental life, the suppleness, flexibility and wide capacity of the intellect, the ordered richness of emotion and sensibility may be only a passage towards the development of a higher life and of more powerful faculties which are yet to manifest and to take possession of the lower instrument, just as mind itself has so taken possession of the body that the physical being no longer lives only for its own satisfaction but provides the foundation and the materials for a superior activity.
  The assertion of a higher than the mental life is the whole foundation of Indian philosophy and its acquisition and organisation is the veritable object served by the methods of Yoga.
  --
  The immanence itself would have no credible reason for being if it did not end in such a transfiguration. But if human mind can become capable of the glories of the divine Light, human emotion and sensibility can be transformed into the mould and assume the measure and movement of the supreme Bliss, human action not only represent but feel itself to be the motion of a divine and non-egoistic Force and the physical substance of our being sufficiently partake of the purity of the supernal essence, sufficiently unify plasticity and durable constancy to support and prolong these highest experiences and agencies, then all the long labour of Nature will end in a crowning justification and her evolutions reveal their profound significance.
  So dazzling is even a glimpse of this supreme existence and so absorbing its attraction that, once seen, we feel readily justified in neglecting all else for its pursuit. Even, by an opposite exaggeration to that which sees all things in Mind and the mental life as an exclusive ideal, Mind comes to be regarded as an unworthy deformation and a supreme obstacle, the source of an illusory universe, a negation of the Truth and itself to be denied and all its works and results annulled if we desire the final liberation. But this is a half-truth which errs by regarding only the actual limitations of Mind and ignores its divine intention.

0.03 - Letters to My little smile, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  Then the work must be proceeding very fast. You have a marvellous capacity for work, my dear little child.
  18 January 1934
  --
  I shall capture You in my heart. I don't need to think
  of peace and happiness. When You dwell in our hearts,

0.03 - The Threefold Life, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  For man, the head of terrestrial Nature, the sole earthly frame in which her full evolution is possible, is a triple birth. He has been given a living frame in which the body is the vessel and life the dynamic means of a divine manifestation. His activity is centred in a progressive mind which aims at perfecting itself as well as the house in which it dwells and the means of life that it uses, and is capable of awaking by a progressive self-realisation to its own true nature as a form of the Spirit. He culminates in what he always really was, the illumined and beatific spirit which is intended at last to irradiate life and mind with its now concealed splendours.
  Since this is the plan of the divine Energy in humanity, the whole method and aim of our existence must work by the interaction of these three elements in the being. As a result of their separate formulation in Nature, man has open to him a choice between three kinds of life, the ordinary material existence, a life of mental activity and progress and the unchanging spiritual beatitude. But he can, as he progresses, combine these three forms, resolve their discords into a harmonious rhythm and so create in himself the whole godhead, the perfect Man.
  --
  But if Progress also is one of the chief terms of worldexistence and a progressive manifestation of the Divine the true sense of Nature, this limitation also is invalid. It is possible for the spiritual life in the world, and it is its real mission, to change the material life into its own image, the image of the Divine. Therefore, besides the great solitaries who have sought and attained their self-liberation, we have the great spiritual teachers who have also liberated others and, supreme of all, the great dynamic souls who, feeling themselves stronger in the might of the Spirit than all the forces of the material life banded together, have thrown themselves upon the world, grappled with it in a loving wrestle and striven to compel its consent to its own transfiguration. Ordinarily, the effort is concentrated on a mental and moral change in humanity, but it may extend itself also to the alteration of the forms of our life and its institutions so that they too may be a better mould for the inpourings of the Spirit. These attempts have been the supreme landmarks in the progressive development of human ideals and the divine preparation of the race. Every one of them, whatever its outward results, has left Earth more capable of Heaven and quickened in its tardy movements the evolutionary Yoga of Nature.
  In India, for the last thousand years and more, the spiritual life and the material have existed side by side to the exclusion of the progressive mind. Spirituality has made terms for itself with Matter by renouncing the attempt at general progress. It has obtained from society the right of free spiritual development for all who assume some distinctive symbol, such as the garb of the Sannyasin, the recognition of that life as man's goal and those who live it as worthy of an absolute reverence, and the casting of society itself into such a religious mould that its most customary acts should be accompanied by a formal reminder of the spiritual symbolism of life and its ultimate destination. On the other hand, there was conceded to society the right of inertia and immobile self-conservation. The concession destroyed much of the value of the terms. The religious mould being fixed, the formal reminder tended to become a routine and to lose its living sense. The constant attempts to change the mould by new sects and religions ended only in a new routine or a modification of the old; for the saving element of the free and active mind had been exiled. The material life, handed over to the Ignorance, the purposeless and endless duality, became a leaden and dolorous yoke from which flight was the only es cape.

0.04 - The Systems of Yoga, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  The results of Hathayoga are thus striking to the eye and impose easily on the vulgar or physical mind. And yet at the end we may ask what we have gained at the end of all this stupendous labour. The object of physical Nature, the preservation of the mere physical life, its highest perfection, even in a certain sense the capacity of a greater enjoyment of physical living have been carried out on an abnormal scale. But the weakness of Hathayoga is that its laborious and difficult processes make so great a demand on the time and energy and impose so complete a severance from the ordinary life of men that the utilisation of its results for the life of the world becomes either impracticable or is extraordinarily restricted. If in return for this loss we gain another life in another world within, the mental, the dynamic, these results could have been acquired through other systems, through Rajayoga, through Tantra, by much less laborious methods and held on much less exacting terms. On the other hand the physical results, increased vitality, prolonged youth, health, longevity are of small avail if they must be held by us as misers of ourselves, apart from the common life, for their own sake, not utilised, not thrown into the common sum of the world's activities. Hathayoga attains large results, but at an exorbitant price and to very little purpose.
  Rajayoga takes a higher flight. It aims at the liberation and perfection not of the bodily, but of the mental being, the control of the emotional and sensational life, the mastery of the whole apparatus of thought and consciousness. It fixes its eyes on the citta, that stuff of mental consciousness in which all these activities arise, and it seeks, even as Hathayoga with its physical material, first to purify and to tranquillise. The normal state of man is a condition of trouble and disorder, a kingdom either at war with itself or badly governed; for the lord, the Purusha, is subjected to his ministers, the faculties, subjected even to his subjects, the instruments of sensation, emotion, action, enjoyment. Swarajya, self-rule, must be substituted for this subjection.
  --
  By Samadhi, in which the mind acquires the capacity of withdrawing from its limited waking activities into freer and higher states of consciousness, Rajayoga serves a double purpose. It compasses a pure mental action liberated from the confusions of the outer consciousness and passes thence to the higher supra-mental planes on which the individual soul enters into its true spiritual existence. But also it acquires the capacity of that free and concentrated energising of consciousness on
  The Systems of Yoga
   its object which our philosophy asserts as the primary cosmic energy and the method of divine action upon the world. By this capacity the Yogin, already possessed of the highest supracosmic knowledge and experience in the state of trance, is able in the waking state to acquire directly whatever knowledge and exercise whatever mastery may be useful or necessary to his activities in the objective world. For the ancient system of
  Rajayoga aimed not only at Swarajya, self-rule or subjective empire, the entire control by the subjective consciousness of all the states and activities proper to its own domain, but included
  --
  We perceive that as Hathayoga, dealing with the life and body, aims at the supernormal perfection of the physical life and its capacities and goes beyond it into the domain of the mental life, so Rajayoga, operating with the mind, aims at a supernormal perfection and enlargement of the capacities of the mental life and goes beyond it into the domain of the spiritual existence.
  But the weakness of the system lies in its excessive reliance on abnormal states of trance. This limitation leads first to a certain aloofness from the physical life which is our foundation and the sphere into which we have to bring our mental and spiritual gains. Especially is the spiritual life, in this system, too much associated with the state of Samadhi. Our object is to make the spiritual life and its experiences fully active and fully utilisable in the waking state and even in the normal use of the functions.

0.05 - Letters to a Child, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  himself - that is, in control of his lower nature and capable of
  becoming a true Yogi if that be his aspiration. And the more this
  --
  For you I want consciousness, knowledge, artistic capacity, selfmastery in peace and perfect equality, and the happiness that is
  the result of spiritual realisation. Is this too grand and vast a
  --
  says that there is no doubt about your poetic capacity. Today's
  poem is very good. But when you try to write every day, it
  --
  I shall fail. On the other hand, I have neither the inclination nor the capacity for the ordinary life. And I
  know that I shall never be able to leave this life. This is

0.05 - The Synthesis of the Systems, #The Synthesis Of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  Hathayoga and Rajayoga are thus successively practised. And in a recent unique example, in the life of Ramakrishna Paramhansa, we see a colossal spiritual capacity first driving straight to the divine realisation, taking, as it were, the kingdom of heaven by violence, and then seizing upon one Yogic method after another and extracting the substance out of it with an incredible rapidity, always to return to the heart of the whole matter, the realisation and possession of God by the power of love, by the extension of inborn spirituality into various experience and by the spontaneous play of an intuitive knowledge. Such an example cannot be generalised. Its object also was special and temporal, to exemplify in the great and decisive experience of a master-soul the truth, now most necessary to humanity, towards which a world long divided into jarring sects and schools is with difficulty labouring, that all sects are forms and fragments of a single integral truth and all disciplines labour in their different ways towards one supreme experience. To know, be and possess
  The Conditions of the Synthesis
  --
  Yogic disciplines and seizing rather on some central principle common to all which will include and utilise in the right place and proportion their particular principles, and on some central dynamic force which is the common secret of their divergent methods and capable therefore of organising a natural selection and combination of their varied energies and different utilities.
  This was the aim which we set before ourselves at first when we entered upon our comparative examination of the methods of
  --
  Nature, in the other it becomes swift and self-conscious and the instrument confesses the hand of the Master. All life is a Yoga of Nature seeking to manifest God within itself. Yoga marks the stage at which this effort becomes capable of self-awareness and therefore of right completion in the individual. It is a gathering up and concentration of the movements dispersed and loosely combined in the lower evolution.
  An integral method and an integral result. First, an integral realisation of Divine Being; not only a realisation of the One in its indistinguishable unity, but also in its multitude of aspects which are also necessary to the complete knowledge of it by
  --
  Beloved. And by a similar wideness, being capable of a freedom in spirit that embraces life and does not depend upon withdrawal from life, we are able to become without egoism, bondage or reaction the channel in our mind and body for a divine action poured out freely upon the world.
  The divine existence is of the nature not only of freedom, but of purity, beatitude and perfection. An integral purity which shall enable on the one hand the perfect reflection of the divine

0.06 - Letters to a Young Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  is capable of overcoming all suffering and even death.
  It may be that human life is indeed in capable of it; but for the
  --
  you capable of feeling me, experiencing concretely my presence,
  even when your physical eyes do not see me? I don't think so, for
  --
  consciousness, the Power and capacity in us. It is to Him that
  we must entrust ourselves, give ourselves without reserve, and it

0.07 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  my love is capable of understanding and that my blessings do
  not depend on such surface movements.

0.08 - Letters to a Young Captain, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  object:0.08 - Letters to a Young captain
  author class:The Mother
  --
  Letters to a Young captain
  To a young captain in the Sri Aurobindo Ashram Department
  of Physical Education.
  --
  Series Eight - To a Young captain
  may classify them generally into vital energies, mental energies, spiritual energies. Modern science tells us that Matter is
  --
  Series Eight - To a Young captain
  For the desires are not the expression of needs but of preferences.
  --
  Series Eight - To a Young captain
  (2) Establish a sort of bridge between the waking and the
  --
  Series Eight - To a Young captain
  The best way to receive what He gives is to come to the
  --
  the feelings, all the movements of emotion can be captured,
  experienced, re-felt as if they were produced in ourselves.
  --
  Series Eight - To a Young captain
  very complete and detailed descriptions and explanations of all
  --
  different personality which the photo has captured and whose
  image it conveys.
  --
  Series Eight - To a Young captain
  We too carry it in ourselves, in the substance of our body,
  --
  Series Eight - To a Young captain
  concentration. These masteries are no easier than the mastery
  --
  Series Eight - To a Young captain
  regions he receives the light of the Truth. These faculties are not

0.09 - Letters to a Young Teacher, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  is what opens us to the divine influence and makes us capable
  of receiving what it brings us.
  --
  ambition or a vital caprice for the spiritual call - for that alone
  is a sure sign that one should take up Yoga. The spiritual call is

01.01 - The New Humanity, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   And now the days of captivity or rather of inner preparation are at an end. The voice in the wilderness was necessary, for it was a call and a communion in the silence of the soul. Today the silence seeks utterance. Today the shell is ripe enough to break and to bring out the mature and full-grown being. The king that was in hiding comes in glory and triumph, in his complete regalia.
   Another humanity is rising out of the present human species. The beings of the new order are everywhere and it is they who will soon hold sway over earth, be the head and front of the terrestrial evolution in the cycle that is approaching as it was with man in the cycle that is passing away. What will this new order of being be like? It will be what man is not, also what man is. It will not be man, because it will overstep the limitations and in capacities inherent in man; and it will be man by the realisation of those fundamental aspirations and yearnings that have troubled and consoled the deeper strata the soulin him throughout the varied experiences of his terrestrial life.

01.02 - Natures Own Yoga, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 03, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   Now, with regard to the time that the present stage of evolution is likely to take for its fulfilment, one can presume that since or if the specific urge and stress has manifested and come up to the front, this very fact would show that the problem has become a problem of actuality, and even that it can be dealt with as if it had to be solved now or never. We have said that in man, with man's self-consciousness or the consciousness of the psychic being as the instrument, evolution has attained the capacity of a swift and concentrated process, which is the process of Yoga; the process will become swifter and more concentrated, the more that instrument grows and gathers power and is infused with the divine afflatus. In fact, evolution has been such a process of gradual acceleration in tempo from the very beginning. The earliest stage, for example, the stage of dead Matter, of the play of the mere chemical forces was a very, very long one; it took millions and millions of years to come to the point when the manifestation of life became possible. But the period of elementary life, as manifested in the plant world that followed, although it too lasted a good many millions of years, was much briefer than the preceding periodit ended with the advent of the first animal form. The age of animal life, again, has been very much shorter than that of the plant life before man came upon earth. And man is already more than a million or two years oldit is fully time that a higher order of being should be created out of him.
   The Dhammapada, I. 1

01.02 - Sri Aurobindo - Ahana and Other Poems, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   We do not say that poets have never sung of God and Soul and things transcendent. Poets have always done that. But what I say is this that presentation of spiritual truths, as they are in their own home, in other words, treated philosophically and yet in a supreme poetic manner, has always been a rarity. We have, indeed, in India the Gita and the Upanishads, great philosophical poems, if there were any. But for one thing they are on dizzy heights out of the reach of common man and for another they are idolised more as philosophy than as poetry. Doubtless, our Vaishnava poets sang of God and Love Divine; and Rabindranath, in one sense, a typical modern Vaishnava, did the same. And their songs are masterpieces. But are they not all human, too human, as the mad prophet would say? In them it is the human significance, the human manner that touches and moves us the spiritual significance remains esoteric, is suggested, is a matter of deduction. Sri Aurobindo has dealt with spiritual experiences in a different way. He has not clothed them in human symbols and allegories, in images and figures of the mere earthly and secular life: he presents them in their nakedness, just as they are seen and realised. He has not sought to tone down the rigour of truth with contrivances that easily charm and captivate the common human mind and heart. Nor has he indulged like so many poet philosophers in vague generalisations and colourless or too colourful truisms that do not embody a clear thought or rounded idea, a radiant judgment. Sri Aurobindo has given us in his poetry thoughts that are clear-cut, ideas beautifully chiselledhe is always luminously forceful.
   Take these Vedantic lines that in their limpidity and harmonious flow beat anything found in the fine French poet Lamartine:
  --
   And here, let me point out, the capital difference between the European or rather the Hellenic spirit and the Indian spirit. It is the Indian spirit to take stand upon divinity and thence to embrace and mould what is earthly and human. The Greek spirit took its stand pre-eminently on earth and what belongs to earth. In Europe Dante's was a soul spiritualised more than perhaps any other and yet his is not a Hindu soul. The utmost that he could say after all the experience of the tragedy of mortality was:
   Io no piangeva, sidentro impietrai13
  --
   The Greek sings of the humanity of man, the Indian the divinity of man. It is the Hellenic spirit that has very largely moulded our taste and we have forgotten that an equally poetic world exists in the domain of spiritual life, even in its very severity, as in that of earthly life and its sweetness. And as we are passionate about the earthly life, even so Sri Aurobindo has made a passion of the spiritual life. Poetry after all has a mission; the phrase "Art for Art's sake" may be made to mean anything. Poetry is not merely what is pleasing, not even what is merely touching and moving but what is at the same time, inspiring, invigorating, elevating. Truth is indeed beauty but it is not always the beauty that captivates the eye or the mere aesthetic sense.
   And because our Vedic poets always looked beyond humanity, beyond earth, therefore could they make divine poetry of humanity and what is of earth. Therefore it was that they were pervadingly so grandiose and sublime and puissant. The heroic, the epic was their natural element and they could not but express themselves in the grand manner Sri Aurobindo has the same outlook and it is why we find in him the ring of the old-world manner.

01.03 - Mystic Poetry, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   This is what I was trying to make out as the distinguishing trait of the real spiritual consciousness that seems to be developing in the poetic creation of tomorrow, e.g., it has the same rationality, clarity, concreteness of perception as the scientific spirit has in its own domain and still it is rounded off with a halo of magic and miracle. That is the nature of the logic of the infinite proper to the spiritual consciousness. We can have a Science of the Spirit as well as a Science of Matter. This is the Thought element or what corresponds to it, of which I was speaking, the philosophical factor, that which gives form to the formless or definition to that which is vague, a nearness and familiarity to that which is far and alien. The fullness of the spiritual consciousness means such a thing, the presentation of a divine name and form. And this distinguishes it from the mystic consciousness which is not the supreme solar consciousness but the nearest approach to it. Or, perhaps, the mystic dwells in the domain of the Divine, he may even be suffused with a sense of unity but would not like to acquire the Divine's nature and function. Normally and generally he embodies all the aspiration and yearning moved by intimations and suggestions belonging to the human mentality, the divine urge retaining still the human flavour. We can say also, using a Vedantic terminology, that the mystic consciousness gives us the tatastha lakshana, the nearest approximative attribute of the attri buteless; or otherwise, it is the hiranyagarbha consciousness which englobes the multiple play, the coruscated possibilities of the Reality: while the spiritual proper may be considered as prajghana, the solid mass, the essential lineaments of revelatory knowledge, the typal "wave-particles" of the Reality. In the former there is a play of imagination, even of fancy, a decorative aesthesis, while in the latter it is vision pure and simple. If the spiritual poetry is solar in its nature, we can say, by extending the analogy, that mystic poetry is characteristically lunarMoon representing the delight and the magic that Mind and mental imagination, suffused, no doubt, with a light or a reflection of some light from beyond, is capable of (the Upanishad speaks of the Moon being born of the Mind).
   To sum up and re capitulate. The evolution of the poetic expression in man has ever been an attempt at a return and a progressive approach to the spiritual source of poetic inspiration, which was also the original, though somewhat veiled, source from the very beginning. The movement has followed devious waysstrongly negative at timeseven like man's life and consciousness in general of which it is an organic member; but the ultimate end and drift seems to have been always that ideal and principle even when fallen on evil days and evil tongues. The poet's ideal in the dawn of the world was, as the Vedic Rishi sang, to raise things of beauty in heaven by his poetic power,kavi kavitv divi rpam sajat. Even a Satanic poet, the inaugurator, in a way, of modernism and modernistic consciousness, Charles Baudelaire, thus admonishes his spirit:

01.03 - Rationalism, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   It may be answered that Reason is a faculty which gives us progressive knowledge of the reality, but as a knowing instrument it is perfect, at least it is the only instrument at our disposal; even if it gives a false, incomplete or blurred image of the reality, it has the means and capacity of correcting and completing itself. It offers theories, no doubt; but what are theories? They are simply the gradually increasing adaptation of the knowing subject to the object to be known, the evolving revelation of reality to our perception of it. Reason is the power which carries on that process of adaptation and revelation; we can safely rely upon Reason and trust It to carry on its work with increasing success.
   But in knowledge it is precisely finality that we seek for and no mere progressive, asymptotic, rapprochement ad infinitum. No less than the Practical Reason, the Theoretical Reason also demands a categorical imperative, a clean affirmation or denial. If Reason cannot do that, it must be regarded as inefficient. It is poor consolation to man that Reason is gradually finding out the truth or that it is trying to grapple with the problems of God, Soul and Immortality and will one day pronounce its verdict. Whether we have or have not any other instrument of knowledge is a different question altogether. But in the meanwhile Reason stands condemned by the evidence of its own limitation.

01.03 - Yoga and the Ordinary Life, #The Integral Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  I must say in view of something you seem to have said to your father that it is not the object of the one to be a great man or the object of the other to be a great Yogin. The ideal of human life is to establish over the whole being the control of a clear, strong and rational mind and a right and rational will, to master the emotional, vital and physical being, create a harmony of the whole and develop the capacities whatever they are and fulfil them in life. In the terms of Hindu thought, it is to enthrone the rule of the purified and sattwic buddhi, follow the dharma, fulfilling one's own svadharma and doing the work proper to one's capacities, and satisfy kama and artha under the control of the buddhi and the dharma. The object of the divine life, on the other hand, is to realise one's highest self or to realise
  God and to put the whole being into harmony with the truth of the highest self or the law of the divine nature, to find one's own divine capacities great or small and fulfil them in life as a sacrifice to the highest or as a true instrument of the divine
  Sakti.

01.04 - Motives for Seeking the Divine, #The Integral Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  Divine Force to aid him in keeping his health or recovering it if he does that as part of his sadhana so that his body may be able and fit for the spiritual life and a capable instrument for the
  Divine Work.

01.04 - The Intuition of the Age, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   The worship of man as something essentially and exclusively human necessitates as a corollary, the other doctrine, viz the deification of Reason; and vice versa. Humanism and Scientism go together and the whole spirit and mentality of the age that is passing may be summed up in those two words. So Nietzsche says, "All our modern world is captured in the net of the Alexandrine culture and has, for its ideal, the theoretical man, armed with the most powerful instruments of knowledge, toiling in the service of science and whose prototype and original ancestor is Socrates." Indeed, it may be generally asserted that the nation whose prophet and sage claimed to have brought down Philosophia from heaven to dwell upon earth among men was precisely the nation, endowed with a clear and logical intellect, that was the very embodiment of rationality and reasonableness. As a matter of fact, it would not be far, wrong to say that it is the Hellenic culture which has been moulding humanity for ages; at least, it is this which has been the predominating factor, the vital and dynamic element in man's nature. Greece when it died was reborn in Rome; Rome, in its return, found new life in France; and France means Europe. What Europe has been and still is for the world and humanity one knows only too much. And yet, the Hellenic genius has not been the sole motive power and constituent element; there has been another leaven which worked constantly within, if intermittently without. If Europe represented mind and man and this side of existence, Asia always reflected that which transcends the mind the spirit, the Gods and the Beyonds.
   However, we are concerned more with the immediate past, the mentality that laid its supreme stress upon the human rationality. What that epoch did not understand was that Reason could be overstepped, that there was something higher, something greater than Reason; Reason being the sovereign faculty, it was thought there could be nothing beyond, unless it were draison. The human attribute par excellence is Reason. Exactly so. But the fact is that man is not bound by his humanity and that reason can be transformed and sublimated into other more powerful faculties.
  --
   As a matter of fact, the superman is not, as Nietzsche thinks him to be, the highest embodiment of the biological force of Nature, not even as modified and refined by the aesthetic and aristocratic virtues of which the higher reaches of humanity seem capable. For that is after all humanity only accentuated in certain other fundamentally human modes of existence. It does not carry far enough the process of surmounting. In reality it is not a surmounting but a new channelling. Instead of the ethical and intellectual man, we get the vital and aesthetic man. It may be a change but not a transfiguration.
   And the faculty of Intuition said to be the characteristic of the New Man does not mean all that it should, if we confine ourselves to Bergson's definition of it. Bergson says that Intuition is a sort of sympathy, a community of feeling or sensibility with the urge of the life-reality. The difference between the sympathy of Instinct and the sympathy of Intuition being that while the former is an unconscious or semi-conscious power, the latter is illumined and self-conscious. Now this view emphasises only the feeling-tone of Intuition, the vital sensibility that attends the direct communion with the life movement. But Intuition is not only purified feeling and sensibility, it is also purified vision and knowledge. It unites us not only with the movement of life, but also opens out to our sight the Truths, the fundamental realities behind that movement. Bergson does not, of course, point to any existence behind the continuous flux of life-power the elan vital. He seems to deny any static truth or truths to be seen and seized in any scheme of knowledge. To him the dynamic flow the Heraclitian panta reei is the ultimate reality. It is precisely to this view of things that Bergson owes his conception of Intuition. Since existence is a continuum of Mind-Energy, the only way to know it is to be in harmony or unison with it, to move along its current. The conception of knowledge as a fixing and delimiting of things is necessarily an anomaly in this scheme. But the question is, is matter the only static and separative reality? Is the flux of vital Mind-Energy the ultimate truth?

01.04 - The Poetry in the Making, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   Is the artist the supreme artist, when he is a genius, that is to sayconscious in his creation or is he unconscious? Two quite opposite views have been taken of the problem by the best of intelligences. On the one hand, it is said that genius is genius precisely because it acts unconsciously, and on the other it is asserted with equal emphasis that genius is the capacity of taking infinite pains, which means it is absolutely a self conscious activity.
   We take a third view of the matter and say that genius is neither unconscious or conscious but superconscious. And when one is superconscious, one can be in appearance either conscious or unconscious. Let us at the outset try to explain a little this psychological riddle.
  --
   Not only so, the future development of the poetic consciousness seems inevitably to lead to such a consummation in which the creative and the critical faculties will not be separate but form part of one and indivisible movement. Historically, human consciousness has grown from unconsciousness to consciousness and from consciousness to self-consciousness; man's creative and artistic genius too has moved pari passu in the same direction. The earliest and primitive poets were mostly unconscious, that is to say, they wrote or said things as they came to them spontaneously, without effort, without reflection, they do not seem to know the whence and wherefore and whither of it all, they know only that the wind bloweth as it listeth. That was when man had not yet eaten the fruit of knowledge, was still in the innocence of childhood. But as he grew up and progressed, he became more and more conscious, capable of exerting and exercising a deliberate will and initiating a purposive action, not only in the external practical field but also in the psychological domain. If the earlier group is called "primitives", the later one, that of conscious artists, usually goes by the name of "classicists." Modern creators have gone one step farther in the direction of self-consciousness, a return upon oneself, an inlook of full awareness and a free and alert activity of the critical faculties. An unconscious artist in the sense of the "primitives" is almost an impossible phenomenon in the modern world. All are scientists: an artist cannot but be consciously critical, deliberate, purposive in what he creates and how he creates. Evidently, this has cost something of the old-world spontaneity and supremacy of utterance; but it cannot be helped, we cannot comm and the tide to roll back, Canute-like. The feature has to be accepted and a remedy and new orientation discovered.
   The modern critical self-consciousness in the artist originated with the Romantics. The very essence of Romanticism is curiosity the scientist's pleasure in analysing, observing, experimenting, changing the conditions of our reactions, mental or sentimental or even nervous and physical by way of discovery of new and unforeseen or unexpected modes of "psychoses" or psychological states. Goethe, Wordsworth, Stendhal represented a mentality and initiated a movement which led logically to the age of Hardy, Housman and Bridges and in the end to that of Lawrence and Joyce, Ezra Pound and Eliot and Auden. On the Continent we can consider Flaubert as the last of the classicists married to the very quintessence of Romanticism. A hard, self-regarding, self-critical mentality, a cold scalpel-like gaze that penetrates and upturns the reverse side of things is intimately associated with the poetic genius of Mallarm and constitutes almost the whole of Valry's. The impassioned lines of a very modern poet like Aragon are also characterised by a consummate virtuosity in chiselled artistry, conscious and deliberate and willed at every step and turn.
  --
   Beyond the shapes of empire, the capes of Carbonek, over
   the topless waves of trenched Broceliande, drenched by

01.04 - The Secret Knowledge, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  An immortality cowled in the cape of death,
  The shape of our unborn divinity.
  --
  The Truth-Light capture Nature by surprise,
  A stealth of God compel the heart to bliss
  --
  Held in her leash, bound to her veiled caprice,
  He studies her ways if so he may prevail
  --
  And the vicissitudes of her vast caprice.
  Two seem his goals, yet ever are they one
  --
  An expert captain of a fragile craft,
  A trafficker in small impermanent wares,

01.05 - Rabindranath Tagore: A Great Poet, a Great Man, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   The world being nothing but Spirit made visible is, according to Tagore, fundamentally a thing of beauty. The scars and spots that are on the surface have to be removed and mankind has to repossess and clo the itself with that mantle of beauty. The world is beautiful, because it is the image of the Beautiful, because it harbours, expresses and embodies the Divine who is Beauty supreme. Now by a strange alchemy, a wonderful effect of polarisation, the very spiritual element in Tagore has made him almost a pagan and even a profane. For what are these glories of Nature and the still more exquisite glories that the human body has captured? They are but vibrations and modulations of beauty the delightful names and forms of the supreme Lover and Beloved.
   Socrates is said to have brought down Philosophy from Heaven to live among men upon earth. A similar exploit can be ascribed to Tagore. The Spirit, the bare transcendental Reality contemplated by the orthodox Vedantins, has been brought nearer to our planet, close to human consciousness in Tagore's vision, being clothed in earth and flesh and blood, made vivid with the colours and contours of the physical existence. The Spirit, yes and by all means, but not necessarily asceticism and monasticism. So Tagore boldly declared in those famous lines of his:

01.05 - The Yoga of the King - The Yoga of the Spirits Freedom and Greatness, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
  She too can make an order of her caprice,
  As if her rash superb wagered to outvie
  --
  Jets of the screened subliminal's caprice,
  Tags of the gramarye of Inconscience,

0.10 - Letters to a Young Captain, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  object:0.10 - Letters to a Young captain
  author class:The Mother
  --
  Letters to a Young captain
  To a young captain in the Sri Aurobindo Ashram Department
  of Physical Education. He began writing to the Mother at the
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  The interest of the students is proportionate to the true capacity
  of the teacher.
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  incense-stick. But how is it that I wake up early because
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  worship inferior entities? And the Titans must be the
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  are - by regular, daily exercise. Above all, turn towards the
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  establish a programme that will satisfy everyone and
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  This kind of comment is quite out of place at the moment. One
  --
  Do you feel capable of being an unequalled Prime Minister
  of India? I reply: "Certainly not", and I advise you to keep silent
  --
  (Regarding the captain's estimate of someone)
  Remember that all these individual virtues and faults are only the
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  your capacity as a captain, you did wrong, for the captains
  have a uniform which they should wear when they are acting as
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  long. I have often tried to observe and find out the cause
  --
  boys is atavistic, but it remains to ask You what we captains should do about it. Personally, I think it is better to
  close one's eyes to it, but there are others who prefer to
  --
  points, their advantages and drawbacks. For the captains, the
  main thing is to have tact and sufficient inner perception to
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  (Regarding someone's observations on the captain's
  character)
  --
  (Regarding X, who related her misfortunes to the captain, blaming herself for all her troubles) To console her,
  I told her that blaming oneself was perhaps not always
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  plunged into an unbearable melancholy. What should I
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  a long time, especially since I have been receiving your notebook
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  1964
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  it, you may do so, knowing that it will not help you in any way
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  (Regarding love) How can one direct this human love
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  preparation of the future. The forms of illness vary according to
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  The doctors are always anxious to throw the responsibility
  --
  mental preconception, is capable of knowing what it needs in
  regard to quantity and kind of food - and it is so exceptional
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  with Him so that He may be your enemy"16 (implying that you
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  devoted. I do not think this is true. But then, why are
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Never forget where you are living and the true aim of life.
  --
  loss for human society if persons endowed with an exceptional capacity to serve mankind, such as a gifted
  doctor or barrister, come to stay here in the Ashram
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  make individual efforts to progress, it is because this progress is
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  The experience must come first and the explanation afterwards. That is why Sri Aurobindo has said: Never distrust your
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  of a benevolent God? Would he not also participate in
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  to leave it? If one has to leave the body, there seems to
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Or is this feeling I have only a reflection of my own
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  of hostile forces in revolt against this descent? And what
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  And for both, you must want it with sincerity and persistence.
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  (3) "Not everyone here is meant for yoga" - that
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  the mind responds to the influence of the vital and also reacts violently. Any expression of anger is the sign of a lack of
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  engaged in safeguarding the freedom of man? Is that the
  --
  it, five who are capable of realisation and only one who
  can be transformed." What is the truth?
  --
  (Regarding an invitation to the captain to follow a course
  of practical studies in Calcutta)
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  the captain.
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  in order to attain some perfection, to make progress, for all sorts
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  place of capital importance, doesn't it? This being the
  case, what place does meditation have?
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  Sweet Mother,
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  "For a year of great progress", etc. On what do all these
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  am not making much progress. I am still in the rut of
  --
  the captain.
  No, the psychic decants - that is exactly what happens.
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  of any danger. Was there a possibility of danger on that
  --
  Series Ten - To a Young captain
  a hope. It is not that I don't believe in reincarnation, but
  --
  truth, it is not of capital importance, and it is far more important
  to concentrate on the future, on the consciousness to be acquired

01.10 - Nicholas Berdyaev: God Made Human, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   There is another aspect of personality as viewed by Berdyaev which involves a bias of the more orthodox Christian faith: the Christ is inseparable from the Cross. So he says: "There is no such thing as personality if there is no capacity for suffering. Suffering is inherent in God too, if he is a personality, and not merely an abstract idea. God shares in the sufferings of men. He yearns for responsive love. There are divine as well as human passions and therefore divine or creative personality must always suffer to the end of time. A condition of anguish and distress is inherent in it." The view is logically enforced upon the Christian, it is said, if he is to accept incarnation, God becoming flesh. Flesh cannot but be weak. This very weakness, so human, is and must be specially characteristic of God also, if he is one with man and his lover and saviour.
   Eastern spirituality does not view sorrow and sufferingevilas an integral part of the Divine Consciousness. It is born out of the Divine, no doubt, as nothing can be outside the Divine, but it is a local and temporal formation; it is a disposition consequent upon certain conditions and with the absence or elimination of those conditions, this disposition too disappears. God and the Divine Consciousness can only be purity, light, immortality and delight. The compassion that a Buddha feels for the suffering humanity is not at all a feeling of suffering; pain or any such normal human reaction does not enter into its composition; it is the movement of a transcendent consciousness which is beyond and purified of the normal reactions, yet overarching them and entering into them as a soothing and illumining and vivifying presence. The healer knows and understands the pain and suffering of his patient but is not touched by them; he need not contract the illness of his patient in order to be in sympathy with him. The Divine the Soulcan be in flesh and yet not smirched with its mire; the flesh is not essentially or irrevocably the ooze it is under certain given conditions. The divine physical body is composed of radiant matter and one can speak of it even as of the soul that weapons cannot pierce it nor can fire burn it.

01.12 - Three Degrees of Social Organisation, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 01, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
   What is required is not therefore an external delimitation of frontiers between unit and unit, but an inner outlook of nature and a poise of character. And this can be cultivated and brought into action by learning to live by the sense of duty. Even then, even the sense of duty, we have to admit, is not enough. For if it leads or is capable of leading into an aberration, we must have something else to check and control it, some other higher and more potent principle. Indeed, both the conceptions of Duty and Right belong to the domain of mental ideal, although one is usually more aggressive and militant (Rajasic) and the other tends to be more tolerant and considerate (sattwic): neither can give an absolute certainty of poise, a clear guarantee of perfect harmony.
   Indian wisdom has found this other, a fairer terma tertium quid,the mystic factor, sought for by so many philosophers on so many counts. That is the very well- known, the very familiar termDharma. What is Dharma then? How does it accomplish the miracle which to others seems to have proved an impossibility? Dharma is self-law, that is to say, the law of the Self; it is the rhythm and movement of our inner or inmost being, the spontaneous working out of our truth-conscious nature.

0.11 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  You give everything we need, but my capacity to receive
  is very limited since it takes me a long time to assimilate
  --
  But the capacity to perceive and receive it and the habit of
  distorting it differ with each one.

0.12 - Letters to a Student, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  body to do a little better than my actual capacity. I would
  like to know how I can force it. But, Sweet Mother, is it
  --
  The body is capable of progressing and it can gradually learn
  to do what it could not do before. But its capacity for progress
  is much slower than the vital desire for progress and the mental
  --
  What should our attitude be towards the captains
  and teachers here?

0.13 - Letters to a Student, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  are capable of receiving it and heeding it.
  Blessings.

0.14 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
  Mother, is it possible to develop in oneself the capacity
  to heal?
  --
  to be capable and worthy of serving You as we would. Make us
  conscious of our possibilities, but also of our difficulties so that

0 1956-03-21, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   The age of capitalism and business is drawing to a close.
   But the age of Communism, too, will pass. For Communism as it is preached is not constructive, it is a weapon to combat plutocracy. But when the battle is over and the armies are disbanded for want of employment, then Communism, having no more utility, will be transformed into something else that will express a higher truth.

0 1956-05-02, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   Those who are ready within, who are open and in touch with the higher forces, those who have had a more or less direct personal contact with the Supramental Light and Consciousness, are capable of feeling the difference in the earth atmosphere.
   But for this only like can know like. Only the Supramental Consciousness in an individual can perceive the Supramental acting in the earth atmosphere. Those who, for whatever reason, have developed this perception can see it. But those who are not even remotely conscious of their inner beings, who would be quite at a loss to say what their souls look like, are certainly not ready to perceive the difference in the earth atmosphere. They still have quite a way to go for that. Because, for those whose consciousness is more or less exclusively centered in the outer beingmental, vital and physicalthings need to have an absurd or unexpected appearance to be noticeable. And then they call it a miracle.
  --
   Individually, each ones goal was to make himself ready, to enter into a more or less intimate individual relationship with this Force, so as to help the process; or else, if he could not help, at least be ready to recognize and be open to the Force when it would manifest. Then instead of being an alien element in a world in which your OWN inner capacity remains unmanifest, you suddenly become THAT, you enter directly, fully, into the very atmosphere: the Force is there, all around you, permeating you.
   If you had had a little inner contact, you would have recognized it immediately, dont you think so?

0 1957-07-03, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   The symbolism is quite clear in that all the possibilities are there, all the activities are there, but in disorder and confusion. They are neither coordinated nor centralized nor unified around the central and unique truth and consciousness and will. So this brings us back precisely to this question of a collective yoga and of a collectivity capable of realizing it. What should this collectivity be?
   It is certainly not an arbitrary construction of the type built by men, where everything is put pell-mell, without any order, without reality, and which is held together by only illusory ties. Here, these ties were symbolized by the hotels walls, while actually in ordinary human constructions (if we take a religious community, for example), they are symbolized by the building of a monastery, an identity of clothing, an identity of activities, an identity even of movementor to put it more precisely: everyone wears the same uniform, everyone gets up at the same time, everyone eats the same thing, everyone says his prayers together, etc.; there is an overall identity. But naturally, on the inside there remains the chaos of many disparate consciousnesses, each one following its own mode, for this kind of group identification, which extends right up to an identity of beliefs and dogma, is absolutely illusory.

0 1957-10-18, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   I need a practical method corresponding to my present possibilities and to results of which I am presently capable. I feel that my efforts are dispersed by concentrating sometimes here, sometimes therea feeling of not knowing exactly what to do to break through and get out of all this. Would you point out some particular concentration to which I could adhere, a particular method that I would stick to?
   I am well aware that a supple attitude is recommended in the Yoga, yet for the time being, it seems to me that one well-defined method would help me hold on1this practical aspect would help me. I will do it methodically, obstinately, until it cracks for good.

0 1958-02-03b - The Supramental Ship, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   Between the beings of the supramental world and men, there exists approximately the same gap as between men and animals. Sometime ago, I had the experience of identification with animal life, and it is a fact that animals do not understand us; their consciousness is so constituted that we elude them almost entirely. And yet I have known domestic animalscats and dogs, but especially catswho made an almost yogic effort of consciousness to understand us. But generally, when they watch us living and acting, they dont understand, they dont SEE US as we are and they suffer because of us. We are a constant enigma to them Only a very tiny part of their consciousness is linked to us. And it is the same for us when we try to look at the supramental world. Only when the link of consciousness has been built shall we see itand even then, only that part of our being which has undergone the transformation will be capable of seeing it as it isotherwise the two worlds would remain as separate as the animal world and the human world.
   The experience I had on February 3 proves this. Before, I had had an individual, subjective contact with the supramental world, whereas on February 3, I went strolling there in a concrete wayas concretely as I used to go strolling in Paris in times pastin a world that EXISTS IN ITSELF, beyond all subjectivity.
  --
   As for the people I saw aboard ship, I recognized them all. Some were here in the Ashram, some came from elsewhere, but I knew them as well. I saw everyone, but as I realized that I would not remember everyone when I came back, I decided not to give any names. Besides, it is unnecessary. Three or four faces were very clearly visible, and when I saw them, I understood the feeling that I have had here, on earth, while looking into their eyes: there was such an extraordinary joy On the whole, the people were young; there were very few children, and their ages were around fourteen or fifteen, but certainly not below ten or twelve (I did not stay long enough to see all the details). There were no very old people, with the exception of a few. Most of the people who had gone ashore were of a middle ageagain, except for a few. Several times before this experience, certain individual cases had already been examined at a place where people capable of being supramentalized are examined; I had then had a few surprises which I had noted I even told some people. But those whom I disembarked today I saw very distinctly. They were of a middle age, neither young children nor elderly people, with only a few rare exceptions, and this quite corresponded to what I expected. I decided not to say anything, not to give any names. As I did not stay until the end, it would be impossible for me to draw an exact picture, for it was neither absolutely clear nor complete. I do not want to say things to some and not say them to others.
   What I can say is that the criterion or the judgment was based EXCLUSIVELY on the substance constituting the peoplewhe ther they belonged completely to the supramental world or not, whether they were made of this very special substance. The criterion adopted was neither moral nor psychological. It is likely that their bodily substance was the result of an inner law or an inner movement which, at that time, was not in question. At least it is quite clear that the values are different.
   When I came back, along with the memory of the experience, I knew that the supramental world was permanent, that my presence there is permanent, and that only a missing link is needed to allow the consciousness and the substance to connectand it is this link that is being built. At that time, my impression (an impression which remained rather long, almost the whole day) was of an extreme relativityno, not exactly that, but an impression that the relationship between this world and the other completely changes the criterion by which things are to be evaluated or judged. This criterion had nothing mental about it, and it gave the strange inner feeling that so many things we consider good or bad are not really so. It was very clear that everything depended upon the capacity of things and upon their ability to express the supramental world or be in relationship with it. It was so completely different, at times even so opposite to our ordinary way of looking at things! I recall one little thing that we usually consider bad actually how funny it was to see that it is something excellent! And other things that we consider important were really quite unimportant there! Whether it was like this or like that made no difference. What is very obvious is that our appreciation of what is divine or not divine is incorrect. I even laughed at certain things Our usual feeling about what is anti-divine seems artificial, based upon something untrue, unliving (besides, what we call life here appeared lifeless in comparison with that world); in any event, this feeling should be based upon our relationship between the two worlds and according to whether things make this relationship easier or more difficult. This would thus completely change our evaluation of what brings us nearer to the Divine or what takes us away from Him. With people, too, I saw that what helps them or prevents them from becoming supramental is very different from what our ordinary moral notions imagine. I felt just how ridiculous we are.
   (Then Mother speaks to the children)
  --
   In ordinary life, EVERYTHING is artificial. Depending upon the chance of your birth or circumstances, you have a more or less high position or a more or less comfortable life, not because it is the spontaneous, natural and sincere expression of your way of being and of your inner need, but because the fortuity of lifes circumstances has placed you in contact with these things. An absolutely worthless man may be in a very high position, and a man who might have marvelous capacities of creation and organization may find himself toiling in a quite limited and inferior position, whereas he would be a wholly useful individual if the world were sincere.
   It is this artificiality, this insincerity, this complete lack of truth that appeared so shocking to me that one wonders how, in a world as false as this one, we can arrive at any truthful evaluation of things.

0 1958-02-25, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   The only thing in the world that still appears intolerable to me now is all physical deterioration, physical suffering, the ugliness the powerlessness to express this capacity of beauty inherent in every being. But this, too, will be conquered one day. Here, too the power will come one day to shift the needle a little. Only, one has to climb higher in consciousness: the deeper into matter you want to descend, the higher must you ascend in consciousness.
   It will take time. Sri Aurobindo was surely right when he spoke of a few centuries.

0 1958-06-06 - Supramental Ship, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   Its action will be somewhat similar to what is described in the Last Judgment, which is an entirely symbolic expression of something that makes us discern between what belongs to the world of falsehood which is destined to disappear and what belongs to this same world of ignorance and inertia but is transformable. One will go to one side and the other to the other side. All that is transformable will be permeated more and more with this new substance and this new consciousness to such an extent that it will rise towards it and serve as a link between the two but all that belongs incorrigibly to falsehood and ignorance will disappear. This was also prophesied in the Gita: among what we call the hostile or anti-divine forces, those capable of being transformed will be uplifted and go off towards the new consciousness, whereas all that is irrevocably in darkness or belongs to an evil will shall be destroyed and vanish from the Universe. And a whole part of humanity that has responded to these forces rather too zealously will certainly vanish with them. And this is what was expressed in this concept of the Last Judgment.
   May 1, 1958.

0 1958-07-05, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   Thats it: the capacity to be an ABSOLUTELY receptive passivitylike thatin TOTAL silence and surrender, and at the same time here, there, an IRREDUCIBLE, OMNIPOTENT will with a total power to effectuate, shattering all resistances. Both simultaneously without one inhibiting the other, in the same joy that is the GREAT secret! The harmonization of opposites, in joy and plenitude, ALWAYS, ALWAYS, for all problems: that is the great secret.
   In regard to the Ashram's financial difficulties.

0 1958-07-06, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   You see, the human species is a part of Nature, but as Sri Aurobindo has explained, from the moment mind expressed itself in man, it put him into a relationship with Nature very different from the relationship all the lower species have with her. All the lower species right up to man are completely under the rule of Nature; she makes them do whatever she wants, and they can do nothing without her consent. Whereas man begins to act and to live as an equal; not as an equal in terms of power, but from the standpoint of consciousness (he is beginning to do so since he has the capacity to study and to find out Natures secrets). He is not superior to her, far from it, but he is on an equal footing. And so he has acquiredthis is a fac the has acquired a certain power of independence that he immediately used to put himself under the influence of the hostile forces, which are not terrestrial but extra-terrestrial.
   I am speaking of terrestrial Nature. Through their mental power, men had the choice and the freedom to make pacts with these extraterrestrial vital forces. There is a whole vital world that has nothing to do with the earth, it is entirely independent or prior to earths existence, it is self-existentwell, they have brought that down here! They have made what we see! And such being the case This is what terrestrial Nature told me: It is beyond my control.

0 1958-08-09, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   The gods are faultless, for they live according to their own nature, spontaneously and without constraint; it is their godly way. But if one looks at it from a higher point of view, if one has a higher vision, a vision of the whole, they have fewer qualities than man. In this film, it was proved that through their capacity for love and self-giving, men can have as much power as the gods, and even morewhen they are not egoists, when they can overcome their egoism.
   Certainly man is nearer the Supreme than the gods. Provided he fulfills the necessary conditions, he can be nearerhe isnt so automatically, but he can be, he has the power, the potentiality to be.

0 1958-10-04, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   The difficultyits not even a difficulty, its just a kind of precaution that is taken (automatically, in fact) in order to For example, the volume of Force that was to be expressed in the voice was too great for the speech organ. So I had to be a little attentive that is, there had to be a kind of filtering in the outermost expression, otherwise the voice would have cracked. But this isnt done through the will and reason, its automatic. Yet I feel that the capacity of Matter to contain and express is increasing with phenomenal speed. But its progressive, it cant be done instantly. There have often been people whose outer form broke because the Force was too strong; well, I clearly see that it is being dosed out. After all, this is exclusively the concern of the Supreme Lord, I dont bother about itits not my concern and I dont bother about itHe makes the necessary adjustments. Thus it comes progressively, little by little, so that no fundamental disequilibrium occurs. It gives the impression that ones head is swelling so tremendously it will burst! But then if there is a moment of stillness, it adapts; gradually, it adapts.
   Only, one must be careful to keep the sense of the Unmanifest sufficiently present so that the various things the elements, the cells and all thathave time to adapt. The sense of the Unmanifest, or in other words, to step back into the Unmanifest.6 This is what all those who have had experiences have done; they always believed that there was no possibility of adaptation, so they left their bodies and went off.

0 1958-11-04 - Myths are True and Gods exist - mental formation and occult faculties - exteriorization - work in dreams, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   She is a portrait of the ideal woman according to the Hindu conception, the woman who worships her husb and as a god, which means that she sees the Supreme in her husband. And so this woman was much more powerful than all the gods of the Puranas precisely because she had this psychic capacity for total self-giving; and her faith in the Supremes presence in her husb and gave her a much greater power than that of all the gods.
   The story narrated in the film went like this: Narada, as usual, was having fun. (Narada is a demigod with a divine position that is, he can communicate with man and with the gods as he pleases, and he serves as an intermediary, but then he likes to have fun!) So he was quarrelling with one of the goddesses, I no longer recall which one, and he told her (Ah, yes! The quarrel was with Saraswati.) Saraswati was telling him that knowledge is much greater than love (much greater in that it is much more powerful than love), and he replied to her, You dont know what youre talking about! (Mother laughs) Love is much more powerful than knowledge. So she challenged him, saying, Well then, prove it to me.I shall prove it to you, he replied. And the whole story starts there. He began creating a whole imbroglio on earth just to prove his point.
  --
   All these regions, all these realms are filled with beings who exist separately in their own realms, and if you are awake and conscious on a given plane for example, if while going out of a more material body you awaken on some higher planeyou can have the same relationship with the things and people of that plane as with the things and people of the material world. In other words, there exists an entirely objective relationship that has nothing to do with your own idea of things. Naturally, the resemblance becomes greater and greater as you draw nearer the physical world, the material world, and there is even a moment when one region can act directly upon the other. In any case, in what Sri Aurobindo calls the kingdoms of the overmind, you find a concrete reality entirely independent of your personal experience; whenever you come back to it, you again find the same things, with some differences that may have occurred DURING YOUR ABSENCE. And your relationships with the beings there are identical to those you have with physical beings, except that they are more flexible, more supple and more direct (for example, there is a capacity to change the outer form, the visible form, according to your inner state), but you can make an appointment with someone, come to the meeting and again find the same being, with only certain differences that may have occurred during your absence but it is absolutely concrete, with absolutely concrete results.
   However, you must have at least a little experience of these things to understand them. Otherwise, if you are convinced that all this is just human fancy or mental formations, if you believe that these gods have such and such a form because men have imagined them to be like that, or that they have such and such defects or qualities because men have envisioned it that wayas with all those who say God is created in the image of man and exists only in human thoughtall such people wont understand, it will seem absolutely ridiculous to them, a kind of madness. You must live a little, touch the subject a little to know how concrete it is.
  --
   In Sri Aurobindo's and Mother's terminology, 'psychic' or 'psychic being' means the soul or the portion of the Supreme in man which evolves from life to life until it becomes a fully self-conscious being. The soul is a special capacity or grace of human beings on earth.
   The film on August 5.

0 1958-11-08, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   And so, physically, the body followed. My body has been taught to express the inner experience to a certain extent. In the body there is the body-force or the body-form or the body-spirit (according to the different schools, it bears a different name), and this is what leaves the body last when one dies, usually taking a period of seven days to leave.2 With special training, it can acquire a conscious lifeindependent and consciousto such a degree that not only in a state of trance (in trance, it frequently happens that one can speak and move if one is slightly trained or educated), but even in a cataleptic state it can produce sounds and even make the body move. Thus, through training, the body begins to have somnambulistic capacitiesnot an ordinary somnambulism, but it can live an autonomous life.3 This is what took place, yesterday evening it was like that I had gone out of my body, but my body was participating. And then I was pulled downwards: my hand, which had been on the arm of the chair, slipped down, then the other hand, then my head was almost touching my knees! (The consciousness was elsewhere, I saw it from outsideit was not that I didnt know what I was doing, I saw it from outside.) So I said, In any case, this has to stop somewhere because if it continues, my head (laughing) is going to be on the ground! And I thought, But what is there at the bottom of this hole?
   Scarcely had these words been formulated when there I was, at the bottom of the hole! And it was absolutely as if a tremendous, almighty spring were there, and then (Mother hits the table) vrrrm! I was cast out of the abyss into a vastness. My body immediately sat straight up, head on high, following the movement. If someone had been watching, this is what he would have seen: in a single bound, vrrrm! Straight up, to the maximum, my head on high.
   And I followed all this without objectifying it in the least; I was not aware of what it was nor of what was happening, nor of any explanation at all, nothing: it was like that. I was living it, thats all. The experience was absolutely spontaneous. And after this rather painful descent, phew!there was a kind of super-comfort. I cant explain it otherwise, an ease,4 but an ease to the utmost. A perfect immobility in a sense of eternity but with an extraordinary INTENSITY of movement and life! An inner intensity, unmanifested; it was within, self-contained. And motionless (had there been an outside, it would have been motionless in relation to that) and it was in a life so immeasurable that it can only be expressed metaphorically as infinite. And with an intensity, a POWER, a force and a peace the peace of eternity. A silence, a calm. A POWER capable of of EVERYTHING. Everything.
   And I was not imagining nor objectifying it; I was living it with easewith a great ease. And it lasted until the end of the meditation. When it gradually began fading, I stopped the meditation and left.
  --
   Later, Mother explained: 'I don't mean an autonomous will (it is the being that has gone out which has the power to make the body move), it has only acquired, through training, the capacity to express the will of the being with which it has kept a relationship through this link of the body-spirit which is broken only at death.'
   Original English.

0 1958-11-20, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   What is neededwhat is needed is simply endurance, the capacity to hold on, which means to stay still within. Not to yield to not to yield when you feel within yourself, I cant bear it.
   And it seems to me that its relatively easier than when you have to confront the thing all alone.

0 1958-11-22, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   At that point, sometimes a great courage is needed, sometimes a great endurance is needed, sometimes a true love is enough, sometimes, oh! if only faith were there, one thing, one tiny little thing is enough, and everything can be swept away. I have done it often; there are times when I have failed. But more often than not I have been able to remove it. But then, what is needed is a great, stoical courage or a capacity to endure and to SEE IT THROUGH. The resistance (especially in cases of former suicide), the resistance to the temptation of renewing this stupidity creates a terrible formation. Or else this habit of fleeing when suffering comes: flee, flee, instead of absorbing the difficulty, holding on.
   But just this, a faith in the Grace, or an awareness of the Grace, or the intensity of the call, or else naturally the response the response, the thing that opens, that breaks the response to this marvelous love of the Grace.
   It is difficult without a strong will; and above all, above all the capacity to resist the temptation, which was the fatal temptation throughout all ones livesbecause its power builds up. Each defeat gives it renewed force. But a tiny victory can dissolve it.
   Oh, the most terrible of all is when one does not have the strength, the courage, something indomitable! How many times do they come to tell me, I want to die, I want to flee, I want to die.I say, But die, then, die to yourself! No one is asking you to let your ego survive! Die to yourself since you want to die! Have that courage, the true courage, to die to your egoism.
  --
   The other thing was the tantric initiation. But I wanted the conditions of this initiation to be at least as favorable as those in Rameswaram, by which I mean conducted by someone very capable and as far as possible free from the whole formalistic and external side. A TRUE initiationsomeone who would be capable of pulling down the Power and putting you in conditions rigorous enough for you to be able to hold this Power, to receive it and hold it.
   As soon as you had left, and since I was following you, I saw that nothing of the kind was going to happen, but rather something very superficial which would not be of much use. And when I received your letters and saw that you were in difficulty, I did something. There are places that are favorable for occult experiences. Benares is one of these places, the atmosphere there is filled with vibrations of occult forces, and if one has the slightest capacity, it spontaneously develops there, in the same way that a spiritual aspiration develops very strongly and spontaneously as soon as one lands in India. These are Graces. Graces, because it is the destiny of the country, it has been so throughout its history, and because India has always been turned much more towards the heights and the inner depths than towards the outer world. Now, it is in the process of losing all that and wallowing in the mud, but thats another story it was like that and it is still like that. And in fact, when you returned from Rameswaram with your robes, I saw with much satisfaction that there was still a GREAT dignity and a GREAT sincerity in this endeavor of the Sannyasis towards the higher life and in the self-giving of a certain number of people to realize this higher life. When you returned, it had become a very concrete and a very real thing that immediately commanded respect. Before, I had seen only a copy, an imitation, an hypocrisy, a pretentionnothing that was really lived. But then, I saw that it was true, that it was lived, that it was real and that it was still Indias great heritage. I dont believe it is very prevalent now, but in any case, it is still there, and as I told you, it commands respect. And then, as I felt you in difficulty and as the outer conditions were not only veiling but spoiling the inner, well, on that day I wrote you a short note I no longer recall when it was exactly, but I wrote you just a word or two, which I put in an envelope and sent you I concentrated very strongly upon those few words and sent you something. I didnt note the date, I dont remember when it was, but its likely that it happened as I wished when you were in Benares; and then you had this experience.
   But when you returned the second time, from the Himalayas, you didnt have the same flame as when you returned the first time. And I understood that this kind of difficult karma still clung to you, that it had not been dissolved. I had hoped that your contact with the mountains but in a true solitude (I dont mean that your body had to be all alone, but there should not have been all kinds of outer, superficial things) Anyway, it didnt happen. So it means that the time had not come.

0 1958-11-27 - Intermediaries and Immediacy, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   It remains to be seen if all this has first to be mastered before there is even the possibility of holding the Supramental, of FIXING it in the manifestation. That is the great difference. For example, those with the power to materialize forces or beings lack the capacity to fix them, for these are fluid things which act and are then dissolved. That is the difference with the physical world where it is this condensation of energy that makes things (Mother strikes the arms of her chair) stable. All the things in the extraphysical realms are not stable, they are fluidfluid and consequently uncertain.3
   The disciple's tantric guru.

0 1958-11-28, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   As it is, the physical body is really only a very disfigured shadow of the eternal life of the Self, but this physical body is capable of a progressive development; the physical substance progresses through each individual formation, and one day it will be able to build a bridge between physical life as we know it and the supramental life that is to manifest.
   ***

0 1959-01-31, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   X knows very little about your true work and what Swami has been able to explain to him is rather inadequate, for I do not believe that he himself understands it very well. So I shall have to try to make myself understood quite clearly to X and tell him exactly and simply what it is you need. The word transformation is too abstract. Each mantra has a very specific actionat least I believe soand I must be able to tell X in a concrete way the exact powers or capacities you are now seeking, and the general goal or the particular results required. Then he will find the mantra or mantras that apply.
   My explanations will have to be simple, for X speaks English with difficulty, thus subtleties are out of the question. (I am teaching him a little English while he is teaching me Sanskrit, and we manage to understand each other rather well all the same. He understands more than he can speak.)

0 1959-03-26 - Lord of Death, Lord of Falsehood, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   This Titan has been specially sent to attack this body, but he cant do it directly, so he uses people in my entourage. It is something fated: all those around me, who are close to me, and especially those capable of love, have been attacked by him; a few have succumbed, such as that girl in my entourage who was absorbed by him. He follows me like a shadow, and each time there is the least little opening in someone near me, he is there.
   The power of this Titan comes from an Asura. There are four Asuras. Two have already been converted, and the other two, the Lord of Death and the Lord of Falsehood, made an attempt at conversion by taking on a physical bodythey have been intimately associated with my life. The story of these Asuras would be very interesting to recount The Lord of Death disappeared; he lost his physical body, and I dont know what has become of him.1 As for the other, the Lord of Falsehood, the one who now rules over this earth, he tried hard to be converted, but he found it disgusting!

0 1959-06-03, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   Certainly his political rage is not only understandable but justified. However, when one begins looking at things from the external viewpoint of the manifestation, they are not as simple as that. I cannot speak of all this in detail, but as an example I can tell you that here in Pondicherry, those who are maneuvering (and not without some hope) to oust the Congress are our worst enemies, the enemy of all that is disinterested and spiritual, and if they come to power, they would be capable of anything in their hate.
   For all these world events, I always leave it to the Divine vision and wisdom, and I say to the Supreme: Lord, may Thy Will be done.

0 1959-06-07, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   I have no other details to give you, except that I am not happy. The fact is that these last three years I have been tied down by my penury, otherwise I would be travelling along other roads, far from herewith no greater hope in my heart, but with space before me, at least. I am only here to render you service, but I do not know if I shall be able to repress my need for space much longerit has already been going on too long. This is the undisguised truth. But what can I do?I am tied down. If I truly loved, things would be different, but it seems I love no one, not even myself, and the only love of which I am capable, human love, is forbidden to me. So I can do nothing, not on any plane, and I have no hope in anything. Forgive me, I do not wish to pain you, but neither can I pretend any longer to be happy with my lot.
   Signed: Satprem

0 1959-06-13a, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   X has decided that he wants to speak to you himself about my former existences and about what he has seen for the immediate future. He has therefore asked me to say nothing to you. Perhaps there are also elements he did not want to speak of to me. (X told me that now he feels capable of speaking in English with you.)
   Another thing: we happened to talk of Sri Aurobindo and Lele.1 Concerning Lele, X told me, He was a devotee of the Bhaskaraya School; this is why there is close connection I do not know if this is so, but X seemed to know.

0 1960-01-28, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   Of all forms of ego, you might think that the physical ego is the most difficult to conquer (or rather, the body ego, because the work was already done long ago on the physical ego). It might be thought that the form of the body is a point of concentration, and that without this concentration or hardness, physical life would not be possible. But thats not true. The body is really a wonderful instrument; its capable of widening and of becoming vast in such a way that everything, everything the slightest gesture, the least little taskis done in a wonderful harmony and with a remarkable plasticity. Then all of a sudden, for something quite stupid, a draft, a mere nothing, it forgetsit shrinks back into itself, it gets afraid of disappearing, afraid of not being. And everything has to be started again from scratch. So in the yoga of matter you start realizing how much endurance is needed. I calculated it would take 200 years to say ten crore of my japa. Well, Im ready to struggle 200 years if necessary, but the work will be done.
   Sri Aurobindo had made it clear to me when I was still in France that this yoga in matter is the most difficult of all. For the other yogas, the paths have been well laid, you know where to tread, how to proceed, what to do in such-and-such a case. But for the yoga of matter, nothing has ever been done, never, so at each moment everything has to be invented.

0 1960-04-14, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   Our turn will come in twenty to thirty years. To win, we need an element of surprise. The bourgeoisie should be lulled to sleep. Therefore, we must first launch the most spectacular peace movement that has ever existed, replete with inspiring proposals and extraordinary concessions. The stupid and decadent capitalist countries will cooperate joyfully in their own destruction. They will jump at this new opportunity for friendship. As soon as their guard is down, we shall crush them beneath our closed fist.
   (Quoted in the Revue Militaire d Information, December 1959.)

0 1960-05-16, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   If there is one fundamental necessity, it is humility. To be humble. Not humble as it is normally understood, such as merely saying, I am so small, Im nothing at allno, something else Because the pitfalls are innumerable, and the further you progress in yoga, the more subtle they become, and the more the ego masks itself behind marvelous and saintly appearances. So when somebody says, I no longer want to rely on anything but Him. I want to close my eyes and rest in Him alone, this comfortable Him, which is exactly what you want him to be, is the egoor a formidable Asura, or a Titan (depending on each ones capacity). Theyre all over the earth, the earth is their domain. So the first thing to do is to pocket your egonot preserve it, but get rid of it as soon as possible!
   You can be sure that the God youve created is a God of the ego whenever something within you insists, This is what I feel, this is what I think, this is what I see; its my way, my very ownits my way of being, my way of understanding, my relationship with the Divine, etc.

0 1960-05-28 - death of K - the death process- the subtle physical, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   I know it. I know that this consciousness of the form exists since I have actually gone out of it. Once, long back, I was in a so-called cataleptic state, and after awhile, while still in this state, the body began living again2; that is, it was capable of speaking and even moving (it was Theon who gave me this training). The body managed to get up and move. And yet, everything had gone out of it!
   Once everything had gone out, it naturally became cold, but the body consciousness manages to draw a little energy from the air, from this or that And I spoke in that state. I spoke I spoke very well, and besides, I recounted all I was seeing elsewhere.

0 1960-08-10 - questions from center of Education - reading Sri Aurobindo, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   It is not a question of preparing students to read these or some other works. It is a question of drawing all those who are capable of it out of the usual human routine of thought, feelings, action; of giving those who are here every opportunity to reject the slavery of the human way of thinking and acting; of teaching all those who want to listen that there is another, truer way of living, and that Sri Aurobindo taught us to become and to live the true being and that the purpose of education here is to prepare the children for this life and to make them capable of it.
   As for all the others, all those who want the human way of thinking and living, the world is vast and there is place there for everyone.

0 1960-10-08, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   The SOUND must be captured. There must be one sound at the origin of all language And then, to capture it and project it. To make it vibrate because it doesnt vibrate in the same way here as it does above.
   That would be an interesting work.

0 1960-10-19, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   Its its absolutely superhuman. Theres not one human being capable of doing such a thing. And what what a mastery of his bodyabsolute, absolute!
   And when it came to others he could remove an illness like that (gesture, as if Mother were calmly extracting an illness from the body with her fingertips). That happened to you once, didnt it? You said that I had done this for you but it wasnt me; he was the one who did it He could give you peace in the mind in the same way (Mother brushes her hand across her forehead). You see, his actions were absolutely On others, it had all the characteristics of a total mastery Absolutely superhuman.

0 1960-10-22, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   The experience I havewhat I mean by I is this aggregate here (Mother indicates her body), this particular individualityis that the more quiet and calm it is, the more work it can do and the faster the work can be done. What is most disturbing and time consuming are all these agitated vibrations that fall on me (truly speaking, each person who comes throws them on me). And this is what makes the work difficultit stirs up a whirlwind. And you cant do anything in this whirlwind, its impossible. If you try to do something material, your fingers stumble; if you try to do something intellectual, your thoughts get all entangled and you no longer see clearly. Ive had the experience, for example, of wanting to look up a word in the dictionary while this agitation was in the atmosphere, and everything jumps up and down (yet the lighting is the same and Im using the same magnifying glass), I no longer see a thing, its all jumping! I go page by page, but the word simply doesnt exist in the dictionary! Then I remain quiet, I do this (Mother makes a gesture of bringing down the Peace) and after half a minute I open the dictionary: the very spot, and the word leaps out at me! And I see clearly and distinctly. Consequently I have now the indisputable proof that if you want to do anything properly, you must FIRST be calm but not only be calm yourself; you must either isolate yourself or be capable of imposing a calm on this whirlwind of forces that comes upon you all the time from all around.
   All the teachers are wanting to quit the schoolweary! Which means theyll begin the year with half the teachers gone. They live in constant tension, they dont know how to relax thats really what it is. They dont know how to act without agitation.

0 1960-11-26, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   This interests me, for these things do not at all enter through the mind (he doesnt receive a thing there, hes closed there). So in his letter he says that this thing or that is necessary (he describes it in his own words), and he adds, This is why we must be so grateful to have among us the the great Mother7 (as he puts it), the great Mother who knows these things.Good! I said to myself. (It had to do with something specific concerning the capacity for discrimination in the outside world, the different qualities and different functions of different beings, all of which depends on ones inner construction, as it were.) So I see that even this, even these physical experiences, is received (and yet I hadnt tried, I had never tried to make him receive it); it merely works like this, you see (gesture of a widespread diffusion), and the experience is veryhow should I say?drastic, with a kind of (power of radiation). Imperative.
   Original English.

0 1960-12-17, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   Its a sort of oscillationreally, its so interestingbetween two extremes, one of which is the all-powerfulness and capital or primordial importance of the Physical, and the other its utter unreality.
   And its constantly going back and forth between the two (seesaw motion). And both are equally false, equally true.
   It goes back and forth between the two all the timea kind of curve like an electric arc between them; it goes up, it goes down, it falls and then climbs back up. In a flash comes the clear vision that the universal realization will be achieved along with the perfection of the material, TERRESTRIAL world. (I say terrestrial, for the earth is still something unique; the rest of the universe is differentso this blown up speck of dust becomes of capital importance!) Then, at another moment, eternity for which all the universes are simply the expression of a second, and in which all this is a sort ofnot even an interesting game, but rather a breathing in and out, in and out And at such a moment, all the importance we give to material things seems so fantastically idiotic! And it goes in and out In this state, everything is obvious and indisputable. And in the other state, everything is obvious and indisputable. But between the two there is EVERY combination and every possibility.
   (silence)

0 1960-12-31, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
   No, Im afraid of making you capsize.
   95 pounds.

0 1961-01-12, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   When we enter a certain state of consciousness, we plainly see that we are capable of anything and that ultimately there is no sin not potentially our own. Is this impression correct? And yet certain things make us rebel or disgust us. We always reach some inadmissible point. Why? What is the true, effective attitude when confronted with Evil?
   There is no sin not our own.
   You have this experience when for some reason or other, depending on the case, you come into contact with the universal consciousness not in its limitless essence but on any level of Matter. There is an atomic consciousness, a purely material consciousness and an even more generally prevailing psychological consciousness. When, through interiorization or a sort of withdrawal from the ego you enter into contact with that zone of consciousness we can call psychological terrestrial or human collective (there is a difference: human collective is restricted, while terrestrial includes many animal and even plant vibrations; but in the present case, since the moral notion of guilt, sin and evil belongs exclusively to human consciousness, let us simply say human collective psychological consciousness); when you contact that through identification, you naturally feel or see or know yourself capable of any human movement whatsoever. To some extent, this constitutes a Truth-Consciousness, or at such times the egoistical sense of what does or doesnt belong to you, of what you can or cannot do, disappears; you realize that the fundamental construction of human consciousness makes any human being capable of doing anything. And since you are in a truth-consciousness, you are aware at the same time that to feel judgmental or disgusted or revolted would be an absurdity, for EVERYTHING is potentially there inside you. And should you happen to be penetrated by certain currents of force (which we usually cant follow: we see them come and go but we are generally unaware of their origin and direction), if any one of these currents penetrates you, it can make you do anything.
   If one always remained in this state of consciousness, keeping alive the flame of Agni, the flame of purification and progress, then after some time, not only could one prevent these movements from taking an active form in oneself and becoming expressed physically, but one could act upon the very nature of the movement and transform it. Needless to say, however, that unless one has attained a very high degree of realization it is virtually impossible to keep this state of consciousness for long. Almost immediately one falls back into the egoistic consciousness of the separate self, and all the difficulties return: disgust, the revolt against certain things and the horror they create in us, and so on.
  --
   Consider the case of a woman with many friends, and these friends are very fond of her for her special capacities, her pleasant company, and because they feel they can always learn something from her. Then all of a sudden, through a quirk of circumstances, she finds herself socially ostracizedbecause she may have gone off with another man, or may be living with someone out of wedlockall those social mores with no value in themselves. And all her friends (I dont speak of those who truly love her), all her social friends who welcomed her, who smiled so warmly when passing her on the street, suddenly look the other way and march by without a glance. This has happened right here in the Ashram! I wont give the details, but it has happened several times when something conflicted with accepted social norms: the people who had shown so much affection, so much kindness oh! Sometimes they even said, Shes a lost woman!
   I must say that when this happens here. In the world at large it seems quite normal, but when this happens here it always gives me a bit of a shock, in the sense that I say to myself, So theyre still at that level!

0 1961-01-17, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   51When I hear of a righteous wrath, I wonder at mans capacity for self-deception.
   What do you have to say?
  --
   I would like to ask you a question in turnbecause there are two ways of understanding your question. It can be taken in the same ironic or humorous tone that Sri Aurobindo has used in his aphorism when he wonders at mans capacity for self-deception. That is, you are putting yourself in the place of the self-deceiver and saying, But I am of good faith! I always want the welfare of others the interests of humanity, to serve the Divine (of course!). Then how can I be deceiving myself?
   But actually, there are really two quite different forms of self-deception. One can be very shocked by certain things, not for personal reasons but precisely because of ones goodwill and ardor to serve the Divine, when one sees people misconducting themselves, being egoistical, unfaithful, treacherous. There comes a stage when one has mastered these things and doesnt permit them to manifest IN ONESELF; but to the extent that one is in contact with ordinary consciousness, ordinary viewpoints, ordinary life and thought, their possibility is still there, latent, because they are the inverse of the qualities one is striving for. And this opposition always exists until one has risen above and no longer has either the quality or the defect. As long as one has virtue, one always has its latent opposite. The opposition disappears only when one is beyond virtue and sin.

0 1961-01-24, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Mother frequently addressed Satprem as 'mon petit' or 'petit,' terms of endearment she used for very few other people. We have unfortunately been unable to find English equivalents that capture the nuances of Mother's simple 'petit' and 'mon petit,' and so have decided to leave them in the original French wherever they appear.
   ***

0 1961-02-04, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Someone had wanted to plant pine treesScotch firs, I think and by mistake Norway spruce were sent instead. And it began to snow! It had never snowed there before, as you can imagineit was only a few kilometers from the Sahara and boiling hot: 113 in the shade and 130 in the sun in summer. Well, one night Madame Theon, asleep in her bed, was awakened by a little gnome-like beinga Norwegian gnome with a pointed cap and pointed slippers turned up at the toes! From head to foot he was covered with snow, and it began melting onto the floor of her room, so she glared at him and said:
   What are You doing here? Youre dripping wet! Youre making a mess of my floor!
  --
   Well, I am going on with the work, and what I would recommend to all those with the capacity and possibility to follow me is to remain very calm, dont fret, dont be troubled. And if you feel a little depressed, dont pay any attention to it; live quietly from minute to minute, without worrying about anythingit will pass. It will pass.
   Naturally, the more calm and confident you are, the more quickly it will pass. Thats all.

0 1961-02-11, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Basically, if we were capable of. When I am up in my room, its very easy, very easy: it comes and what is a little more difficult is getting out of that state. There I am, like this (gesture of blissful abandonment), and when I feel its time to go downstairs or I have something to do or someone is coming with lunch or whatever, then its a little difficult; otherwise, I am like that (same gesture). Whats difficult is my contact with the Ashram people. As soon as I go down and simply that, having to fidget on my feet, giving people flowers. And they are so unconsciously egotistical! If I dont go through the usual concentration on each one of them, they wonder, What is it? Whats wrong? Have I done something? And and it turns into a big drama.
   Otherwise, concentration is very good, it doesnt tire mewhen my body is not drained, when it isnt constantly aware that it exists because it hurts here, hurts there, aches here, aches there (pain is what gives it a sense of existing), when the body is able to forget itself, things go well, its nothing. Now the Force passes through me without causing fatigue, while many years ago, too much Force created tension; but its not like that now, not at allon the contrary, the body feels better when a lot of force has passed through it.

0 1961-02-25, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   You can easily make a speech using flowers and I have noticed that this can effectively replace the old Vedic images, for instance, which no longer hold meaning for us, or the ambiguous phraseology of the ancient initiations. Flower language is much better because it contains the Force and is extremely plasticsince its not formulated in words, each one is free to arrange and receive it according to his own capacity. You can make long speeches using flowers!
   I have nothing more to say now, except that the same situation prevails.
  --
   Almost (I say almost because the body hasnt had every experience), but almost all pains can be reduced to something absolutely negligible. (Of course, some pains it hasnt had, but it has had a sufficient number!) Its this anxiety resulting from a semi-mental vibration (the first stirrings of Mind) that complicates everything, everything! For example, take this difficulty I mentioned of climbing the stairs: in the doctors consciousness or anyone elses, pain causes it. According to their ordinary reasoning, pain is what tenses the nerves and muscles so one can no longer walk but this is absolutely FALSE. Pain does not prevent my body from doing anything at all. Pain isnt a factor, or rather its a factor that can be easily dealt with. Its not that: it is Matter; Matter (probably cellular matter, or) losing its capacity to respond to the will, to will-power. But why? I dont know! It depends upon the particular disorganization; but why is it like that? I dont know. Now each time I climb the stairs, I am trying to find the means of infusing Will in such a way that this lack of response doesnt last but I still havent found it. Although theres all this accumulated force and power and will (a tremendous accumulation, I am BATHED in it, the whole body is bathed in it!), yet for some reason it doesnt respond. Here and there, groups of cells fail to respond, and the Force cannot act. So what must be found is.
   (silence)

0 1961-03-25, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Its not that you dont have experiences! You even have access to regions where people very rarely go; you are capable of receiving light, intuitions, revelations but this is probably so normal for you that you dont notice it! I came to meditate with you especially to see what was preventing you from being conscious. And on your right side, I saw a sort of crystallization somewhat as though you were inside a statue.
   It seemed made of transparent alabasterhard, harder than stone. It was the result of an individualization that was my impressionan individualization that has become very hardened. It has tried to become entirely transparent but has no tangible contact with thingsthings enter only through the higher regions, through intellectual perceptions (not intellectual, a sort of mental vision). And I began to bang on it!

0 1961-04-07, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   To finish this reading and assimilate it quietly. I dont feel capable of writing at all, unless I can receive the inspiration.
   But you will receive it!

0 1961-04-18, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   In a certain state of consciousness (I no longer remember what he calls it I think its in the Yoga of Self-Perfection), one is perfectly identified with the Supreme, not in his static but in his dynamic aspect, the state of becoming. In this state, everything is already there from all eternity, even though here it gives us the impression of a becoming. And Sri Aurobindo says that if you are capable of maintaining this state,2 then you know everything: all that has been, all that is and all that will bein an absolutely simultaneous way.
   But you must have a firm head on your shoulders! Reading some of these chapters in Self-Perfection, I thought it would be better if it didnt fall into just anyones hands.
  --
   Satprem had assumed that this state of consciousness was accessible only through a kind of trance or samadhi and that when Mother said one had to be capable of 'maintaining this state,' she meant that one should be capable of bringing it back here, into the waking consciousness. However, Mother rectified: 'It is a state with no "here" or "there". I have had this experience in the waking consciousness and both perceptions (the true and the false) were simultaneous.'
   The Rishis distinguished between the 'straight' (almost in the optical sense: that which allows the ray to pass straight through) and the twisted or crooked consciousness.
  --
   We always reserve a part of ourselves for looking and observing; but if we were capable of including everything, without exception, all the relationships would remain the same I have experienced this.
   Remain the same?

0 1961-04-29, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   There are people here who do the same thing. I know some people who had a statue of Kali in their house (it was their family divinity), and all kinds of calamities befell them, so the last generation became furious and took the idol and threw it into the Ganges. They are not the only onesthere have been several cases like that. And to cap it all, one of them even asked my permission before doing it!
   Creating a god in the image of man gives you the possibility of treating it as you would treat a human enemy.
  --
   No, but this is something else. Those who are capable of personal experiences pass through everything. But not the common herd.
   (silence)

0 1961-05-12, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I have finished my reading of the Veda. I have really tried my best, but I cannot manage to re capture that consciousness; do what I will, it seems childish to me, I dont know why. Or else I am in the presence of a realization so far removed from what we are capable of now but to enter into that we have to go behind the words, which requires a mighty effort.
   If they really had that experience, it is admirable.

0 1961-06-24, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   In Sri Aurobindo's and Mother's terminology, 'psychic' or 'psychic being' means the soul or the portion of the Supreme in man which evolves from life to life until it becomes a fully self-conscious being. The soul is a capacity or grace particular to human beings on earth.
   Experience of July 24, 1959.

0 1961-06-27, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   You know, there comes a time when, really, you can no longer say anything; you feel that whatever you say is, if not absolute rubbish, then the next thing to it, and that in practice its best to keep silent. Thats the difficulty. And in some of these aphorisms you get the feeling that he has suddenly captured something beyondbeyond anything which can be thought. So what to do?
   (silence)
  --
   Oh, the more you try to capture it, the more it slips out of your grasp!
   ***

0 1961-07-15, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   For example, as I was saying at the beginning, the bodys formation has a very minimal, a quite subordinate importance for a saint or a sage. But for this supramental work, the way the body is formed has an almost crucial importance, and not at all in relation to spiritual elements nor even to mental power: these aspects have no importance AT ALL. The capacity to endure, to last is the important thing.
   Well, in that respect, it is absolutely undeniable that my body has an infinitely greater capacity than Sri Aurobindos had.
   That was the basic problembecause the identification of the two [Sri Aurobindo and Mother] was almost childs play, it was nothing: for me to merge into him or him to merge into me was no problem, it wasnt difficult. We had some conversations on precisely this subject, because we saw that (there were many other things, too, but this isnt the time to speak of them) the prevailing conditions were such that I told him I would leave this body and melt into him with no regret or difficulty; I told him this in words, not just in thought. And he also replied to me in words: Your body is indispensable for the Work. Without your body the Work cannot be done. After that, I said no more. It was no longer my concern, and that was the end of it.

0 1961-07-18, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I have always known that cruelty, like sadism, is the need to cut through a thick layer of totally insensitive tamas1 by means of extremely violent sensationan extreme is needed if anything is to be felt through that tamas. I was always told, for example (in Japan it was strongly emphasized to me), that the people of the Far East are very tamasic physically. The Chinese in particular are said to be the remnants of a race that inhabited the moon before it froze over and forced them to seek refuge on earth (this is supposed to account for their round faces and the shape of their eyes!). Anyway (laughing), its a story people tell! But theyre extremely tamasic; their physical sensibility is almost nilappalling things are required to make them feel anything! And since they naturally presume that what applies to them applies to everyone, they are capable of appalling cruelty. Not all of them, of course! But this is their reputation. Have you read Mirbeaus book? (I believe thats his name.) I read it sixty years ago something on Chinese torture.
   Yes, its well-known.

0 1961-08-05, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I remember once (I must have been ten or twelve years old at the time), there was a luncheon at my parents house for a dozen or so people, all decked out in their Sunday bestthey were family but all the same it was a luncheon and there was a certain protocol; in short, one had to behave properly. I was at one end of the table next to a first-cousin of mine who later became director of the Louvre for a while (he had an artistic intelligence, a rather capable young man). So there we were, and I remember I was observing something rather interesting in his atmosphere (mind you, although the faculties were already there, I knew nothing about occult things; if someone had spoken to me of auras and all that. I knew nothing). I was observing a kind of sensation I had felt in his atmosphere and then, just as I was putting the fork into my mouth, I took off! What a scolding I got! I was told that if I didnt know how to behave, I shouldnt come to the table! (Mother goes into peals of laughter)
   It was during this period that I used to go out of my body every night and do the work Ive spoken of in Prayers and Meditations (I only mentioned it in passing).8 Every night at the same hour, when the whole house was very quiet, I would go out of my body and have all kinds of experiences. And then my body gradually became a sleepwalker (that is, the consciousness of the form became more and more conscious, while the link remained very solidly established). I got into the habit of getting up but not like an ordinary sleepwalker: I would get up, open my desk, take out a piece of paper and write poems. Yes, poems I, who had nothing of the poet in me! I would jot things down, then very consciously put everything back into the drawer, lock everything up again very carefully and go back to bed. One night, for some reason or other, I forgot and left it open. My mother came in (in France the windows are covered with heavy curtains and in the morning my mother would come in and violently throw open the curtains, waking me up, brrm!, without any warning; but I was used to it and would already be prepared to wake upotherwise it would have been most unpleasant!). Anyway, my mother came in, calling me with unquestionable authority, and then she found the open desk and the piece of paper: Whats that?! She grabbed it. What have you been up to? I dont know what I replied, but she went to the doctor: My daughter has become a sleepwalker! You have to give her a drug.

0 1961-10-02, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But some people I dont hear at all! I see lips moving, but there is nothing, nothing, not even an ordinary thought! When people are capable of a little clear-thinking, I hear everything. But with others, its like oo-oo-oo. Just recently there was something really comical! I no longer know who it was, but someone came to see me and when he began to talk I understood nothing! All I heard was noise. What to do? This person was asking me questions (he came here for sadhana, mind you, not for external matters; it was a serious visit), and all that came out was oo-oo-oo-oo, nothing else. So I concentrated and put myself in contact with his soul, which was the only thing I could contact. It took some time. I kept silent, and finally so did he, since he saw that I was not replying. Then suddenly it came, so clearly, like drops of water falling from above: ready-made sentences. I began to tell him all sorts of things about what his soul wanted, what he had to do in the world. It was a revelation! Ah! he said, I have been waiting to hear this all my life!
   But it took some time, because first of all he had to stop talking, and then I had to concentrate.

0 1961-11-12, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   So I wonder, after all, if there arent many revelations in your book which MUST NOT be explained; then its left up to each ones capacity to muse over it, to fill in the gaps with his imagination.
   In the end, it would be a very interesting attempt: a stimulant for peoples intuitive capacities, instead of taking them all for donkeys and spoon-feeding them, going yum-yum-yum-yum-yum so that theyll digest it!
   (silence)

0 1961-12-20, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Dear Sir I must begin by telling you that although this text is an excellent essay, it is not, in its present form, a book for the Spiritual Masters series. Let us enumerate the reasons for this. First of all, the general impression is of an ABSTRACT text. I can straight-away imagine your reaction to this and I dread misunderstandings! But putting myself in the readers place, since, once again, it does involve a collection intended for a wide public that we are beginning to know well, I can assure you that this public will not be able to follow page after page of reflections upon what one is bound to call a philosophical and spiritual system. Obviously this impression is caused primarily by the fact that you have begun with twenty-one pages where the reader is assumed to already know of Sri Aurobindos historical existence and the content of the Vedas and the Upanishads, plus I dont know how many other notions of rite, truth, divinity, wisdom, etc., etc. In my view, and the solution is going to appear cruel to you, for you certainly value these twenty-one pages [on the Secret of the Veda], they should purely and simply be deleted, for everything you say there, which is very rich in meaning, can only become clear when one has read what follows. There are many books in which readers can be asked to make the effort entailed in not understanding the beginning until they have read the end: but not books of popular culture. One could envisage an introduction of three or four pages to situate the spiritual climate and cultural world in which Sri Aurobindos thought has taken place, provided, however, that it is sufficiently descriptive, and not a pre-synthesis of everything to be expounded upon in what follows. In a general way you are going to smile, finding me quite Cartesian! But the readership we address is more or less permeated by a widespread Cartesianism, and you can help them, if you like, to reverse their methodology, but on the condition that you make yourself understood right from the start. Generally, you dont make enough use of analysis and, even before analysis, of a description of the realities being analyzed. That is why the sections of pure philosophical analysis seem much too long to us, and, even apart from the abstract character of the chapter on evolution (which should certainly be shorter), one feels at a positive standstill! After having waited patiently, and sometimes impatiently, for some light to be thrown on Sri Aurobindos own experience, one reads with genuine amazement that one can draw on energies from above instead of drawing on them from the material nature around oneself, or from an animal sleep, or that one can modify his sleep and render it conscious master illnesses before they enter the body. All of that in less than a page; and you conclude that the spirit that was the slave of matter becomes again the master of evolution. But how Sri Aurobindo was led to think this, the experiences that permitted him to verify it, those that permit other men to consider the method transmittable, the difficulties, the obstacles, the realizationsdoesnt this constitute the essence of what must be said to make the reader understand? Once again, it is the question of a pedagogy intimately tied in with the spirit of the collection. Let me add as well that I always find it deplorable when a thought is not expressed purely for its own sake, but is accompanied by an aggressive irony towards concepts which the author does not share. This is pointless and harms the ideas being presented, all the more so because they are expressed in contrast with caricatured notions: the allusions you make to such concepts as you think yourself capable of evoking the soul, creation, virtue, sin, salvationwould only hold some interest if the reader could find those very concepts within himself. But, as they are caricatured by your pen, the reader is given the impression of an all too easily obtained contrast between certain ideas admired and others despised. Whereas it would be far more to the point if they corresponded to something real in the religious consciousness of the West. I have too much esteem for you and the spiritual world in which you live to avoid saying this through fear of upsetting you.
   Amen.
  --
   There would inevitably be far too much of the physical person in it, and that isnt interesting. It would only be interesting if the Person, with a capital P, came to express Itself. That would be tremendous.
   I feel that it will be done one daywhen that Person does the writing. But now there is still too much mixture, too much of this (Mother touches her body), this collection of little theres still too much reaction from the small physical personnot in what I might say but in the BRAIN that would have to transcribe it.

0 1961-12-23, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I can see that this whole peculiar period Ive been passing through was a tremendous progress and I didnt know it. I am not at the end yet, but now I understand what it is. And its something of capital importance.
   Yes, I felt you were going through a strange period.
  --
   It was a truly stupendous experience, petty though the object is (she is insignificant, without any great substance or powera very minor incarnation; she does have certain not quite human capacities, but they are so veiled by a tiny human personality that scarcely anyone but I can see them).
   And in the experience there was no difference between my physical and my inner being (actually, its that way more and more for me); even physically, externally, there was a kind of love full of adoration, and so spontaneousnot even any sense of wonder! And there was such a formidable Power in it, formidable from the standpoint of the entire earth. It lasted one hour. After an hour, the experience slowly began to fade (it had to fade for purely practical reasons). But it left me so confident of a radical changenot a total change, for it wasnt permanent but so radical that even outwardly, way down below in me, something was saying, Ah, how will the meditations with X be now? I caught Myself not thinking, not myself: someone thought like that, somewhere way down below. This pulled me out of the experience and I wondered, Thats strange, whos thinking like that? It was one of the personalities4 (in terms of work, its the one that gives each action its proper place), someone way down below, spontaneously feeling: But thats going to change the meditations! What will they be like now? When I returned and began to look at things with the usual discernment, I told myself that perhaps there actually will be a change.
   But truly, EVERYTHING was changed at that moment: something was achieved. It was the perception of Power the Power that comes from Love (what Love is to the Supreme Consciousness, which has nothing to do with what we usually mean by the word love). And it was it was simple! None of those complications resulting from thought, intellect, understandingall that was gone, all gone. A formidable Power! And it made me understand one thing, that the state I had been put in (by the Lord of Yoga, in fact) was for obtaining the particular power that comes through an identity with all material things, a power possessed by certain personsnot always yogis, certain mediums, for instance. I saw it with Madame Theon: she would will a thing to come to her instead of going to the thing herself; instead of going to get her sandals when she wanted them, she made the sandals come to her. She did this through a capacity to radiate her mattershe exercised a will over her matterher central will acted upon matter anywhere, since she WAS THERE. With her, then, I saw this power in a methodical, organized way, not as something accidental or spasmodic (as it is with mediums), but as an organization of Matter. And so I began to understand: With this comes the power to put each thing in its place! provided one is universal enough.
   Well, I have understood. And now I know where I stand.
  --
   And if to this material capacity of identification, of exercising the will, is added that Something which was there during my experience and is truly the expression. I dont know if its the supreme expression, but for the time being its certainly the highest I know of. (Its far superior to pure Knowledge through identity, to knowing the thing because one IS itits infinitely more powerful than that.) its something formidable! It has the power to change everything and how!
   One IS simply Thatone vibration of THAT.

0 1962-01-09, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And so I looked. Is it something particular to this body? I wondered. To everyone who has lived closely with it, my body gives the impression of two things: a very concentrated, very stubborn will, and such endurance! Sri Aurobindo used to tell me he had never dreamed a body could have such endurance. And thats probably why. But I dont want to curtail this ability in any way, because it is a CELLULAR will, and a cellular endurance toowhich is quite intriguing. Its not a central will and central endurance (thats something else altogether)its cellular. Thats why Sri Aurobindo used to tell me this body had been specially prepared and chosen for the Workbecause of its capacity for obstinate endurance and will. But thats no reason to exercise this ability uselessly! So I am making sure it relaxes now; I tell it constantly, Now, now! Just let go! Relax, have some fun, wheres the harm in it? I have to tell it to be quiet, very quiet. And its very surprised to hear that: Ah! Can I live that way? I dont have to hurry? I can live that way?
   So thats why I am resting. Am I better or not? Things are always the same. Were I to start doing what I was doing before, which I KNEW all along was absolutely unreasonable. Its not that I didnt know it; I did know and I wasnt happy about it, because I knew I was doing something I shouldnt. I have no intention of starting again, but if I had said, I am withdrawing for good, it would have been. If you knew how MANY things have gone slack [in the Ashram]! And how many people I am telling off: Well, you wouldnt have done that a week ago! Oh, thats an experience in itselfto see what peoples so-called faithfulness depends on.
  --
   This criterion had nothing mental about it, and it gave the strange inner feeling that so many things we consider good or bad are not really so. It was very clear that everything depended upon the capACITY of things and upon their ABILITY to express the supramental world or be in relationship with it. It was so completely different, at times even so opposite to our ordinary way of looking at things!
   Yes.
  --
   So what I wanted to ask you was: if its not a matter of moral notions, then what capacity or quality DOES help us on the way towards the Supermind? What is this totally different criterion?
   All this is exactly what I have been observing and studying these past few days. I will tell you about it next time.
  --
   Mother frequently addressed Satprem as "mon petit" or "petit," terms of endearment she used for very few other people, which can be approximately rendered as "my little one" or "my child." Since no English phrase can capture the nuances of Mother's simple "petit" and "mon petit," we have decided to leave them in the original French wherever they occur.
   Sri Aurobindo on Himself.

0 1962-01-12, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   (Note from Mother to Satprem concerning his question of January 9, on the capacities required to gain access to the supramental world:)
   capacity for indefinite
   expansion of consciousness

0 1962-01-12 - supramental ship, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And, over and above this, for the realization to be total, there are two other conditions, which arent easy either. Intellectually, theyre not too difficult; in fact, for someone who has practiced yoga, followed a discipline (I am not speaking here of just anyone), theyre relatively easy. Psychologically too, given this equality, theres no great difficulty. But as soon as you come to the material plane the physical plane and then to the body, it isnt easy. These two conditions are first, the power to expand, to widen almost indefinitely, enabling you to widen to the dimensions of the supramental consciousness which is total. The supramental consciousness is the consciousness of the Supreme in his totality. By totality, I mean the Supreme in his aspect of Manifestation. Naturally, from a higher point of view, from the viewpoint of the essence the essence of that which in Manifestation becomes the Supermindwhats necessary is a capacity for total identification with the Supreme, not only in his aspect of Manifestation, but in his static or nirvanic aspect, outside of the Manifestation: Nonbeing. But in addition, one must be capable of identifying with the Supreme in the Becoming. And that implies both these things: an expansion that is nothing less than indefinite, and that should simultaneously be a total plasticity enabling one to follow the Supreme in his Becoming. You dont merely have to be as vast as the universe at one point in time, but indefinitely in the Becoming. These are the two conditions. They must be potentially present.
   Down to the vital, we are still in the realm of things that are more than feasible they are done. But on the material level it results in my misadventures of the other day.2
   But even accepting all these misadventures a priori, things remain difficult because theres a double movement: both a cellular transformation and a capacity for something that could replace expansion with readjustment, a constant intercellular reorganization.3 The way they are now, of course, our bodies are rigid and heavyits unspeakable, actually; if it werent for that we would never grow old. For instance, my vital being is more full of energy, and thus full of youth and power to grow, than when I was twenty. Theres really no comparison. The power is INFINITELY greater yet the body is going to piecesits really something unspeakable. So a way has to be found to bridge this gap between the vital and the material being.
   Not that the problem hasnt been partially solved: hatha yogis have solved it, partiallyprovided you do nothing else (thats the trouble). Yet having the knowledge, we should have the power to do whats necessary without making it our exclusive preoccupation. At any rate, this possibility is certainly not altogether unknown; for the first few months after I retired to my room,4 when I had cut all contact with the outside, it was working very well even extraordinarily so! Lots of disorders in my body were surmounted, and I had many fairly precise indications that if I continued like that long enough I would regain everything that had been lost, and with an even better equilibrium. I mean that the functional equilibrium was far superior. Only when I came back into contact with the world did it all come to a halt and begin to deteriorateall the more so as it was aggravated by this discipline of expansion making me constantlyCONSTANTLYabsorb mountains of difficulties to be resolved. And so.
  --
   The people on that ship had these two capacities: one, the capacity for indefinite expansion of consciousness on all planes, including the material; and two, limitless plasticity in order to follow the movement of the Becoming.
   It was taking place in the subtle physical. The people who had patches on their bodies and had to be sent back were always the ones who lacked the plasticity those two movements required. But the main thing was the movement of expansion; the progressive movement, the movement of following the Becoming, seemed to be a subsequent preoccupation for those who had landed. The preparation on the boat concerned that capacity for expansion.
   Another thing I didnt mention to you when I related the experience was that the ship had no engine. Everything was set in motion through will powerpeople, things (even the clothes people wore were a result of their will). And this gave all things and every persons shape a great suppleness, because there was an awareness of this willwhich is not a mental will but a will of the Self, what could be called a spiritual will or a soul-will (to give the word soul that particular meaning). I have that experience right here when theres an absolute spontaneity in action, I mean when the action for instance, an utterance or a movementis not determined by the mind, and not even (not to mention thought or intellect), not even by the mind that usually sets us in motion. Generally, when we do something, we can perceive in ourselves a will to do it; when you watch yourself, you see this: there is always (it can happen in a flash) the will to do. When you are conscious and watch yourself doing something, you see in yourself the will to do itthis is where the mind intervenes, its normal intervention, the established order in which things happen. But the supramental action is decided by a leap over the mind. The action is direct, with no need to go through the mind. Something enters directly into contact with the vital centers and activates them without going through the mindyet in full consciousness. The consciousness doesnt function in the usual sequence, it functions from the center of spiritual will straight to matter.
  --
   Then that suppleness. It means a capacity for decrystallizing oneself; the whole span of life given over to self-individualization is a period of conscious, willed crystallization, which then has to be undone. To become a conscious, individualized being there has to be a constant, constant, willed crystallization, in everything; and afterwards, again constantly, the opposite movement has to be madewith an even greater will. But at the same time, the consciousness must not lose the benefit of what has been acquired through individualization.
   It is difficult, I must say.

0 1962-01-21, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And it was preceded by a kind of anguish: Will there always be something that, compared with the state to come, seems antidivine? No: after a long preparation, it becomes capable of feeling divine and thus of being divine.
   Looking at things externally, in terms of present material reality, there is still a lot of ground to be covered before the new manifestation becomes an actual fact. What we have now is probably the seed of the thinglike the seed of Indias freedom, which later blossomed.

0 1962-02-13, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   In that former illusion, there were noble actions, generous actions, great, heroic actions, all adding color to life and capable of giving you some interesting hours. Now that too is gone: I see it all as childishness.
   I understand very well that this present state is necessary for getting out of it. For as long as something seems normal, natural, acceptable, theres no es caping it. You have one life on the side and then this [the life in the body], thats the way people with a spiritual life always lived: they had their spiritual life and let this continue on automatically, without attaching any importance to itits very easy.

0 1962-02-27, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Some people also have the faculty of predicting things already existing on earth but at a distance, far from physical eyestheyre generally those who have the capacity to expand and extend their consciousness. Their vision is slightly more subtle than physical vision, and depends on an organ subtler than its purely material counterpart (what could be called the life of this organ). So, by projecting their consciousness, and having the will to see, they can clearly see things that already exist but are beyond our ordinary field of vision. Those who have this capacitysincere people who tell what they see, not blufferssee with perfect precision and exactness.
   Ultimately, absolute sincerity is the great deciding factor for those who predict or foresee. Unfortunately, because of peoples curiosity, their insistence and the pressure they exert (which very few can resist), an almost involuntary mechanism of inner imagination comes to add just that small missing element to something not seen with precision or exactness. Thats what causes flaws in prediction. Very few have the courage to say, Ah no, I dont know this, I dont see that, this eludes me. They dont even have the courage to say it to themselves! So then, with a tiny drop of imagination, which acts almost subconsciously, the vision or information gets rounded outit can turn out to be anything at all! Very few people can resist this tendency. I have known many, many psychics, many extraordinarily gifted beings, and only a handful were able to stop just at the point where their knowledge stopped. Or else they embellish. Thats what gives these faculties their slightly dubious quality. One would have to be a great saint, a great sage, and completely free from other peoples influences (I dont speak of those who seek fame: they fall into the most flagrant traps); because even goodwillwanting to satisfy people, please them, help themis enough to distort the vision.
  --
   It can happen in different ways. Quite often I was informed by a small entity or some being or other. Sometimes the aura protected meall sorts of things. My life was rarely limited to the physical body. And this is useful, its good. Necessary alsoit enhances your capacities. Thon told me right from the start: You people deprive yourselves of the most useful kind of senses, EVEN FOR ORDINARY LIFE. If you develop your inner senses (he gave them fabulous names), you can. And its true, absolutely true, we can know infinitely more than we normally do, merely by using our own senses. And not only mentally but vitally and even physically as well.
   But what is the method?

0 1962-05-13, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   (A bit later, regarding the Talk of August 22, 1956, to be published in the next Bulletin, in which Mother says: When you are in a condition to receive it, you receive from the Divine the TOTALITY of the relationship you are capABLE of having; it is neither a share nor a part nor a repetition, but exclusively and uniquely the relationship each one is capable of having with the Divine. Thus, from the psychological point of view, YOU ALONE have this direct relationship with the Divine. Mother then adds, in a voice that seems to come from far, far away:)
   One is all alone with the Supreme.

0 1962-05-15, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   In being THAT, it might be said, Mother thus resolves the famous question of the unified-field theory, the theory to which Einstein devoted the last years of his life in vain, that would describe the movements of both planets and atoms in a single mathematical equation. Mothers body-consciousness is one with the movement of the universe, Mother lives the unified-field theory in her body. In so doing she opens up to us not merely one more physical theory, but the very path to a new species on earth, a species that will physically and materially live on the scale of the universe. The posthuman species might not simply be one with a few organs more or less, but rather one capable of being at every point in the universe. A sort of material ubiquity. It may not be so much a new as an ubiquitous species, a species that embraces everything, from the blade of grass under our feet to the far galaxies. A multifarious, undulating existence. A resume or epitome of evolution, really, which at the end of its course again becomes each point and each species and each movement of its own evolution.
   There was, in fact, a whole group of Ashram people (they might be called the Ashram "intelligentsia") who, influenced by Subhas Bose, were strongly in favor of the Nazis and the Japanese against the British. (It should be recalled that the British were the invaders of India, and thus many people considered Britain's enemies to be automatically India's friends.) It reached the point where Sri Aurobindo had to intervene forcefully and write: "I affirm again to you most strongly that this is the Mother's war.... The victory of one side (the Allies) would keep the path open for the evolutionary forces: the victory of the other side would drag back humanity, degrade it horribly and might lead even, at the worst, to its eventual failure as a race, as others in the past evolution failed and perished.... The Allies at least have stood for human values, though they may often act against their own best ideals (human beings always do that); Hitler stands for diabolical values or for human values exaggerated in the wrong way until they become diabolical.... That does not make the English or Americans nations of spotless angels nor the Germans a wicked and sinful race, but...." (July 29, 1942 and Sept. 3, 1943, Cent. Ed., Vol. XXVI.394 ff.) And on her side also, Mother had to publicly declare: "It has become necessary to state emphatically and clearly that all who by their thoughts and wishes are supporting and calling for the victory of the Nazis are by that very fact collaborating with the Asura against the Divine and helping to bring about the victory of the Asura.... Those, therefore, who wish for the victory of the Nazis and their associates should now understand that it is a wish for the destruction of our work and an act of treachery against Sri Aurobindo." (May 6, 1941, original English.)

0 1962-06-09, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   (In the course of the preceding conversation, Satprem had thought that rather than a subjective change, a change in one's attitude towards things, there should be an objective change, a power capable of changing the very substance of things: their property of hardness, for instance. Here Mother elucidates her previous statement that "if matter were changeable, it would have changed long ago," a statement that, at first glance, seemed to shatter all hope of transformation.)
   There is nothing to change! Only the relations between things change.
  --
   It all practically comes down to a capacity to spread the experience, or to INCLUDE things in the experience (its the same thing). You really have to forget this business of one person and then another, one thing and then another. Even if you cant realize it concretely, at least imagine that there is but ONE thing, excessively complex, and (depending on the case) one experience taking place in one spot, or spreading out like oil on water, or embracing everything. This is all very approximate, but its the only way the thing can be understood. And the sole explanation for contagion is in that Oneness.
   And power is what makes the difference. The greater the power, you might say (these words are all very clumsy), the farther the experience spreads. How great the power is depends on its starting point. If its starting point is the Origin, the power is lets say universal (we wont consider more than one universe for the moment); it is universal. As this Power manifests from plane to plane, it becomes more concrete and limited; on each plane, the field of action becomes more limited. If your power is vital (or pranic, as its called here in India), the field of action is terrestrial, and sometimes limited to just a few individuals, sometimes its a power capable of acting on just one small being. But originally its the SAME power, acting on the SAME substance I cant express it, words are impossible; but I sense very clearly what I mean.
   I can affirm that this notion of subjective and objective still belongs to the world of illusion. The CONTENT of the experience is what may be either microscopic or universal, depending on the specific quality of the power being expressed, or its field of action. The limitation of power can be voluntary and deliberate; it can be a willed, and not an imposed limitation, which means that the Will-Force may come from the Origin but deliberately limit itself, limit its field of action. But it is the same power and the same substance.

0 1962-07-04, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   There has never been too great an attachment to this form. There was never any attachment (even in so-called full Ignorance) to anything but consciousness yes, something set great store by this consciousness, wouldnt let it be destroyed, saying, This is something precious. But the body. Its not even too good an instrument; simply modest, plastic, self-effacing, and molding itself to every necessity. An ability to mold itself to all points of view and to realize every ideal it deemed worthy of realizingthis very suppleness was its one virtue. And extremely modest, never wanting to impose itself on anything or anyone. Fully conscious of its in capacity, but capable of doing anything, of realizing anything. It was consciously formed with this make-up, because thats what was necessary. And nothing is too great or overwhelming, since there isnt the resistance put up by a small personality with the sense of its own smallness. No, none of that mattersCONSCIOUSNESS matters; consciousness vast as the universe, even vaster. And along with consciousness, the capacity to adaptto adapt and mold itself to every necessity.
   Even now, my one feeling about this form is that its too rigid. Those stupendous inner revelations, those great movements of creative consciousness are constantly hampered by this. Its trying, its trying its best, but it is still governed by such appallingly rigid laws! Appalling. How long will it take to overcome this?

0 1962-07-07, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Thats good. From the standpoint of the Work, of what you create, of course its very good, very interesting; it needs to be said, it MUST be said. But is the gentleman who wrote you that letter capable of understanding anything of it? Thats where I put a question mark.
   Well see.

0 1962-07-14, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I can see it takes an EXTRAORDINARY capacity and solidity to bear That without exploding and this capacity is slowly being prepared.
   We mustnt be in a hurry.

0 1962-07-21, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I know very well that Bengal is not really ready. The spiritual flood which has come is for the most part a new form of the old. It is not the real transformation. However this too was needed. Bengal has been awakening in itself the old yogas and exhausting their samskaras [old habitual tendencies], extracting their essence and with it fertilizing the soil. At first it was the time of VedantaAdwaita, Sannyasa, Shankaras Maya and the rest. It is now the turn of Vaishnava DharmaLila, love, the intoxication of emotional experience. All this is very old, unfitted for the new age and will not endure for such excitement has no capacity to last. But the merit of the Vaishnava Bhava [emotional enthusiasm] is that it keeps a connexion between God and the world and gives a meaning to life; but since it is a partial bhava the whole connexion, the full meaning is not there. The tendency to create sects which you have noticed was inevitable. The nature of the mind is to take a part and call it the whole and exclude all other parts. The Siddha [illuminated being] who brings the bhava, although he leans on its partial aspect, yet keeps some knowledge of the integral whole, even though he may not be able to give it form. But his disciples do not get that knowledge precisely because it is not in a form. They are tying up their little bundles, let them. The bundles will open of themselves when God manifests himself fully. These things are the signs of incompleteness and immaturity. I am not disturbed by them. Let the force of spirituality play in the country in whatever way and in as many sects as may be. Afterwards we shall see. This is the infancy or the embryonic condition of the new age. It is a first hint, not even the beginning.
   The peculiarity of this yoga is that until there is siddhi above the foundation does not become perfect. Those who have been following my course had kept many of the old samskaras; some of them have dropped away, but others still remain. There was the samskara of Sannyasa, even the wish to create an Aravinda Math [Sri Aurobindo monastery]. Now the intellect has recognized that Sannyasa is not what is wanted, but the stamp of the old idea has not yet been effaced from the prana [breath, life energy]. And so there was next this talk of remaining in the midst of the world, as a man of worldly activities and yet a man of renunciation. The necessity of renouncing desire has been understood, but the harmony of renunciation of desire with enjoyment of Ananda has not been rightly seized by the mind. And they took up my Yoga because it was very natural to the Bengali temperament, not so much from the side of Knowledge as from the side of Bhakti and Karma [Works]. A little knowledge has come in, but the greater part has es caped; the mist of sentimentalism has not been dissipated, the groove of the sattwic bhava [religious fervor] has not been broken. There is still the ego. I am not in haste, I allow each to develop according to his nature. I do not want to fashion all in the same mould. That which is fundamental will indeed be one in all, but it will express itself in many forms. Everybody grows, forms from within. I do not want to build from outside. The basis is there, the rest will come.
  --
   You may say, what need is there of a Samgha? Let me be free and live in every vessel; let all become one without form and let whatever must be happen in the midst of that vast formlessness. There is a truth there, but only one side of the truth. Our business is not with the formless Spirit alone; we have also to direct the movement of life. And there can be no effective movement of life without form. It is the Formless that has taken form and that assumption of name and form is not a caprice of Maya. Form is there because it is indispensable. We do not want to rule out any activity of the world as beyond our province. Politics, industry, society, poetry, literature, art will all remain, but we must give them a new soul and a new form.
   Why have I left politics? Because the politics of the country is not a genuine thing belonging to India. It is an importation from Europe and an imitation. At one time there was a need of it. We also have done politics of the European kind. If we had not done it, the country would not have risen and we too would not have gained experience and attained full development. There is still some need of it, not so much in Bengal as in the other provinces of India. But the time has come to stop the shadow from extending and to seize on the reality. We must get to the true soul of India and in its image fashion all works.
  --
   In Bengal this weakness has gone to the extreme. The Bengali has a quick intelligence, emotional capacity and intuition. He is foremost in India in all these qualities. All of them are necessary but they do not suffice. If to these there were added depth of thought, calm strength, heroic courage and a capacity for and pleasure in prolonged labor, the Bengali might be a leader not only of India, but of mankind. But he does not want that, he wants to get things done easily, to get knowledge without thinking, the fruits without labor, siddhi by an easy sadhana [discipline]. His stock is the excitement of the emotional mind. But excess of emotion, empty of knowledge, is the very symptom of the malady. In the end it brings about fatigue and inertia. The country has been constantly and gradually going down. The life-power has ebbed away. What has the Bengali come to in his own country? He cannot get enough food to eat or clothes to wear, there is lamentation on all sides, his wealth, his trade and commerce, his lands, his very agriculture have begun to pass into the hands of others. We have abandoned the sadhana of Shakti and Shakti has abandoned us. We do the sadhana of Love, but where Knowledge and Shakti are not, there Love does not remain, there narrowness and littleness come, and in a little and narrow mind there is no place for Love. Where is Love in Bengal? There is more quarreling, jealousy, mutual dislike, misunderstanding and faction there than anywhere else even in India which is so much afflicted by division.
   In the noble heroic age of the Aryan people4 there was not so much shouting and gesticulating, but the endeavor they undertook remained steadfast through many centuries. The Bengalis endeavor lasts only for a day or two.

0 1962-07-25, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Next came the period of learning and developing, but on an ordinary mental levelschool years.1 Curiosity made me want to learn to read. Did I tell you how it happened? When I was around seven, just under seven, my brother, who was eighteen months older, used to bring big pictures home from school with him (you know, pictures for children with captions at the bottom; theyre still used nowadays) and he gave me one of them. Whats written there? I asked. Read it! he said. Dont know how, I replied. Then learn! All right, I told him, show me the letters. He brought me an A-B-C book. I knew it within two days and on the third day I started reading. Thats how I learned. Oh-oh, they used to say, this child is backward! Seven years old and she still cant readdisgraceful! The whole family fretted about it. And then lo and behold, in about a week I knew what should have taken me years to learnit made them think twice!
   Then, school years. I was a very bright student, always for the same reason: I wanted to understand. I wasnt interested in learning things by heart like the others did I wanted to understand them. And what a memory I had, a fantastic memory for sounds and images! I had only to read a poem aloud at night, and the next morning I knew it. And after I had studied or read a book and someone mentioned a passage to me, I would say, Ah, yes thats on page so and so. I would find the page. Nothing had faded, it was all still fresh. But this is the ordinary period of development.

0 1962-08-28, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   You see, the subtle physical seems to DOSE OUT its power and light and capacity of consciousness according to the amount of receptivity in the purely physical vibration. Thats why the effects stretch over a long period of time. Its being done very, very gradually. But its an almost continuous work. Only when theres some bodily activity and the consciousness must turn outwards (not in the same way as before, thats impossible, but still in a way that seems like a continuation of the old consciousness), then, if the work continues at all, its invisible and maybe it doesnt continue. I dont know. But as soon as all activity stops and the body is concentrated or immobileperhaps no more than simply passive that penetration is perceptible: its visible. Visible. And its not like something more subtle penetrating something less subtle without altering it; the essential point is that this penetration actually changes the composition. Its not merely a degree of subtlety, its a change in the internal composition. Ultimately, this action probably has an effect on the atomic level. And thats how the practical possibility of transformation can be accounted for.
   Its an experience I have all the time.

0 1962-08-31, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But the vibration was there, you see, high above and all around the earth, very powerful (it was all around the earth) and very strong, it seemed to be coming from other parts of the universe and trying to enter the earths atmosphere to help it participate in those new combinations. And it all seemed like childishness to me the whole universe seemed to be living in childishness. There was something so tranquil hereso tranquil, so calm and unhurried, not interested in showing anything off, but capable of living in an eternity of quiet effort and progress. It was here, immobile, watching all these things. Finally (the spectacle lasted all evening) when I lay down in bed for the night, I said to the Lord, I dont need diversions, I dont need to see encouraging things I only want to work calmly, quietly, IN You. You, You are the worker; You are here and You alone exist. You are the realizer. Then all grew silent, still, motionlessand the excitement waned.
   So you see, theres excitement in the universe too, if youre not careful! But my impression is that it simply complicates thingsit clouds the issue, you know, it complicates things. Then you have to wait for the bubbles to subside before you can calmly set off again on your way towards the goal.

0 1962-09-08, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   They are more like seeds, capacities destined to develop later in the new race, and the seed has been made to grow and bloom as an example, before the thing happens on a larger scalethey are examples.
   Theres another man whose disciples say has been living for a hundred and fifty-four years; Ill show you his photo (Mother goes to look for the photo). D. goes to see him twice a month, and yesterday or the day before, he said to D., You know, the greatest miracle I know of is having been able to gather more than a thousand people together for a spiritual undertaking! (Mother laughs wholeheartedly) Its funny! One thousand two hundred people is the Ashrams official figure. Having been able to draw together a group of more than one thousand two hundred people for a spiritual undertaking!

0 1962-09-22, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   In the middle of the First World War, Sri Aurobindo noted with prophetic force: The defeat of Germany could not of itself kill the spirit then incarnate in Germany; it may well lead merely to a new incarnation of it, perhaps in some other race or empire, and the whole battle would then have to be fought over again. So long as the old gods are alive, the breaking or depression of the body which they animate is a small matter, for they know well how to transmigrate. Germany overthrew the Napoleonic spirit in France in 1813 and broke the remnants of her European leadership in 1870; the same Germany became the incarnation of that which it had overthrown. The phenomenon is easily capable of renewal on a more formidable scale.2 Today we are finding that the old gods know how to transmigrate. Gandhi himself, seeing all those years of nonviolence culminate in the terrible violence that marked Indias partition in 1947, ruefully observed shortly before his death: The attitude of violence which we have secretly harboured now recoils on us, and makes us fly at each others throats when the question of distribution of power arises. Now that the burden of subjection is lifted, all the forces of evil have come to the surface. For neither nonviolence nor violence touch upon the root of Evil.
   Ahimsa: nonviolence.

0 1962-09-26, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   This region just overlooks the earth and the mind (including the very highest mind). But evolution I mean TERRESTRIAL evolution, with its particular rhythm which is more condensed, more concentrated and, you could say, more focused than universal evolution as a wholethis terrestrial evolution has, with the human species, created a kind of higher intellectuality capable of passing through the overmental region, the region of the gods, and reaching a higher Principle directly.
   But this overmental region, this region of the gods with the power to govern the universe and, PARTIALLY, the earth, does have its own reality. You can come into contact with it and use it; the Vedic forefa thers used it, occultists use it, even Tantrics use it. But theres another path which, distrusting the gods, bypasses them through a kind of intellectual asceticism, as it were, wary of forms, of images, and differing expressions, which rises straight as an arrow, proud and pure, towards the supramental Light. That is a living experience.

0 1962-10-12, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Yes, out of habit it all tries to start up again. But all you need to say is, Look, Lord; see, see how it is. Thats all. Look at this, Lord, look at that, look at this idiot here and its over. Immediately. And the change comes automatically, mon petit, without the slightest effort. Simply simply be sincere, in other words, TRULY want the right thing. One is quite conscious of being powerless, utterly incompetent: more and more, I feel that this amalgam of matter, of cells and all the rest, is just pitiful! Pitiful. I dont know, under certain conditions people may feel powerful, wonderful, luminous, competent but as far as I am concerned, thats because they have no idea what theyre really like! When you really see what youre made of its nothing, really nothing. But its capable of anything, provided provided you let the Lord do it. The trouble is that something always wants to do things on its own. If it werent like that.
   People come, letters arrive, various circumstances and problems arise (its over now, but at the timeeven a year ago that kind of thing was sometimes a problem for me). Well, right away, I (Mother opens her hands in front of her forehead, palms upwards, as though presenting the problem to the Lord): Here, Lord, look at this. All I am good for is (same gesture): I am presenting it to You, Lord. And then I keep still, I just keep still: I wont move unless You move me, I wont speak unless You make me speak. And then you stop thinking about it. You think about it just for a second, long enough to do this (same gesture). It comes in like this, then up it goes (gesture showing a problem coming to Mother from one side and being sent above). And later, you suddenly realize youre speaking or acting or making a decision or writing a letter or and He has done it all.

0 1962-10-24, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   When he comes like this, when he manifests this way, you get the feeling that all the disorderly vibrations of life are being kept at a distanceeverything becomes so peaceful and unconditioned: it depends on nothing, absolutely nothing. A peace coming solid and concrete, capable of existing anywhere at alleven on the Chinese border today.1
   Do you think theres going to be war?

0 1962-10-27, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   No, what you find there are thought formations that are expressed in each persons brain in his own language. There are thought combinations for novels, plays, even philosophical systems. They are combinations of pure thought, not formulated in any language, but they are automatically expressed in each ones brain according to his particular language. It is the domain of pure thought. Thats where you work when you want to work for the whole earth; you dont send out thoughts formulated in words, you send out a pure thought, which then formulates itself in any language in any brain: in all those who are receptive. These formations are at anyones disposalnobody can say, Its MY idea, its MY book. Anyone capable of ascending to that zone can get hold of the formations and transcribe them materially. I once made an experiment of that kind; I wanted to see what would happen, so I made a formation myself and let it go off on its way. And in the same year, two quite different people, who didnt even know each other, one in England and the other in America, got hold of my formation; the one in England wrote a book, while the one in America created a play. And circumstances so arranged themselves that both the book and the play found their way to me.
   Higher up, there is a fourth zone, a zone of colored lights, plays of colored lights. Thats the order: first form, then sound, then ideas, then colored lights. But that zone is already more distant from humanity; it is a zone of forces, a zone which appears as colored lights. No formscolored lights representing forces. And one can combine these forces so that they work in the terrestrial atmosphere and bring about certain events. Its a zone of action, independent of form, sound and thought; it is above all that. A zone of active power and might you can use for a particular purposeif you have the capacity to do so.
   Thats the highest zone.

0 1962-11-17, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I know its the will of that Asura Ive mentioned to you several times, the Lord of Falsehood who was born the Lord of Truth, and who knows that his hour is at hand (at hand relative to that world there) and has declared he will cause as much havoc as he can before disappearing. Quite recently, just before the present conflict broke out, I went to a realm in the vital world which is right above the earth, like a platform (not a mountain top, but a spot where you get an overall view, like the bridge of a ship, for instance, where the captain stands; it was a place like that in the vital world, overlooking all terrestrial life). I went there it was rather dark, very dark in factand that tall being was there (hes quite tall, higher than this roomMo ther looks up at the ceilinghe likes to look tall). Hes very tall and all black. (Thats more or less his natural state; he appears to humans blazing with light, but that doesnt fool someone with inner vision: its an icy light. But some people are fooled and take him for the supreme God. Anyway, thats an aside.) So he was there and I went to himnot to him: I went to that place and found him there. He was gloating and told me to take a look around.
   From there you had a panoramic view of everything. And no sooner did I arrive than a storm broke outa terrible storm. I kept watching, and then I saw in this direction (I dont know whether it was north, south or west, but it was this direction: Mother points to the north), I saw two nearly simultaneous flashes of lightning. The first one (I was looking north, I was quite conscious of facing north) the first one, a terrific bolt, came and fell from the east; and just a moment after, very soon after, another came from the west. The two didnt come together, but they fell on the same spotthey didnt meet but they fell on the same spot. It was pitch dark, the earth and everything was dark, you couldnt see a thing, and suddenly those two flashes of lightning lit up the area where they fell, making a dreadful din, and (my field of vision was confined to that area; all the rest was in darkness, you see) it burst into flames! Everything was set ablaze. In the lightning flashes you could distinguish the tops of monuments, houses, all sorts of things, and then everything burst into flames: a dreadful conflagration.

0 1963-01-12, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And I cant say it isnt importantit is important, in that all those people depend on me. I cant make them overnight capable of receiving fully and clearly, without any external expression, all that I do. I cant ask them to transform themselves by a miracle, Ive got to help them!
   I make myself difficult to approach, I keep at a good distance. As much as I can, I teach them to receive directly, but there remains a minimum. So 1,300 or 1,400 people, not to mention all the others I correspond with that means 2,000 or 3,000 people on average in conscious relationship [with Mother].

0 1963-03-06, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   (Regarding an old Playground Talk of December 4, 1957, in which Mother asked: "Will there be a gradual transition from what we are now to what our inner spirit aspires to become, or will there be a break, will we have to leave our present human form behind until a new form emergesan emergence whose process we cannot foresee, of a new form without any connection to what we are today? Can we expect this body, our means of manifestation on earth until now, to be transformed progressively into something capable of expressing higher life, or will we have to abandon this form altogether in order to take on another one not yet born on earth?" Mother adds:)
   Why not both?

0 1963-03-13, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Its captivating, Savitri!
   I believe its his Messageall the rest is preparation, while Savitri is the Message. Unfortunately, there were two morons here who fancied correcting himwhile he was alive! (A. especially, hes a poet.) Hence all those Letters on Poetry Sri Aurobindo wrote. Ive always refused to read them I find it outrageous. He was forced to explain a whole poetic technique the very idea! Its just the contrary: it comes down from above, and AFTERWARDS you explain. Like a punch in sawdust: inspiration comes down, and afterwards you explain why its all arranged as it is but that just doesnt interest me!
  --
   So you came (you see, its the answer) to manifest (its very good, I like this answer very much), to manifest the bliss above. You understand? He goes beyond all past attempts to unite with the Supreme, because none of them satisfies himhe aspires for something more. So when everything is annulled, he enters a Nothingness, then comes out of it with the capacity to unite with the new Bliss.
   Thats it, its good!

0 1963-03-23, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Nothing spectacular whatsoeverspectacular, you know, thats what people enjoy. Nothing of the sort. For instance, there are two things that give you (and others too) a sense that youre making progress: one is the direct knowledge of whats happening in a given place; the other is the foreknowledge of coming events. Well, ever since the beginning of my Yoga, the two possibilities or capacities have been there, with all the admixture (as Sri Aurobindo says) of the movements of the mind, which befuddles everything. Already around 1910, not only was the capacity there (it would come off and on), but along with it, a discernment which showed me the mixture, and thus left me without any certainty. In this regard, therefore, I cant even say there has been a big change the change is in the proportion, its just a question of proportion: proportion in the certainty, proportion in the accuracy, proportion in the mixture. The mixture keeps decreasing, the certainty keeps increasing but thats all. With, now and then (but that has always happened), now and then, a clear, precise, definite indicationbang! Its a bit more frequent. Thats all. So? Sixty-three years. Sixty-three years of methodical effort, of constant will, of opportunities for the workpeople who want quick results, they make me laugh, you know!
   This body isnt even one that is unprepared. It had capabilities, it was born with certain capabilities and was prepared for all kinds of experiences. There was also the sort of intuitive discernment Sri Aurobindo refers to, it had been there since my earliest childhoodveiled, mixed, no doubt, but present all the same, it was there. Afterwards, it was purified, developed, streng thened, the mixture lessened and the body was somewhat (laughing) to perfect itself it went through quite a great deal of friction of all types. Its certainly more apt today than it was fifty years ago, there isnt a shadow of doubt about it! But you understand, theres nothing to boast about!
   I feel very strongly that things are that way because the Earth is that way.
  --
   Its the same with people who get cured. That I know, to some extent: the Power acts so forcefully that it is almost miraculousat a distance. The Power I am very conscious of the Power. But, I must say, I find it doesnt act here so well as it does far away. On government or national matters, on the terrestrial atmosphere, on great movements, also as inspirations on the level of thought (in certain people, to realize certain things), the Power is very clear. Also to save people or cure themit acts very strongly. But much more at a distance than here! (Although the receptivity has increased since I withdrew because, necessarily, it gave people the urge to find inside something they no longer had outside.) But here, the response is very erratic. And to distinguish between the proportion that comes from faith, sincerity, simplicity, and what comes from the Power Some people I am able to save (naturally, in my view, its because they COULD be saved), this is something that for a very long time I have been able to foresee. But now I dont try to know: it comes like this (gesture like a flash). If, for instance, I am told, So and so has fallen ill, well, immediately I know if he will recover (first if its nothing, some passing trouble), if he will recover, if it will take some time and struggle and difficulties, or if its fatalautomatically. And without trying to know, without even trying: the two things come together.2 This capacity has developed, first because I have more peace, and because, having more peace, things follow a more normal course. But there were two or three little instances where I said to the Lord (gesture of presenting something, palms open upward), I asked Him to do a certain thing, and then (not very often, it doesnt happen to me often; at times it comes as a necessity, a necessity to present the thing with a commentfrom morning to evening and evening to morning I present everything constantly, thats my movement [same gesture of presenting something] but here, there is a comment, as if I were asking, Couldnt this be done?), and then the result: yes, immediately. But I am not the one who presents the thing, you see: its just the way it is, it just happens that way, like everything else.3 So my conclusion is that its part of the Plan, I mean, a certain vibration is necessary, enters [into Mother], intervenes, and No stories to tell, mon petit! Nothing to fill people with enthusiasm or give them trust, nothing.
   Three or four days ago, a very nice man, whom I like a lot, who has been very useful, fell ill. (He has in fact been ill for a long time, and he is struggling; for all sorts of reasons of family, milieu, activities and so on, he isnt taken care of the way he should be, he doesnt take care of his body the way he should.) He had a first attack and I saw him afterwards. But I saw him full of life: his body was full of life and of will to live. So I said, No need to worry. Then after some time, maybe not even a month, another attack, caused not by the same thing but by its consequences. I receive a letter in which I am informed that he has been taken to the hospital. I was surprised, I said, But no! He has in himself the will to live, so why? Why has this happened? The moment I was informed and made the contact, he recovered with fantastic speed! Almost in a few hours. He had been rushed to the hospital, they thought it was most serious, and two days later he was back home. The hospital doctor said, Why, he has received a new life! But thats not correct: I had put him back in contact with his bodys will, which, for some reason or other, he had forgotten. Things like that, yes, theyre very clear, they take place very consciously but anyway, nothing worth talking about!

0 1963-04-06, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Which means the body has got its own difficulties (no aggregate of cells is free from difficulties in the present conditions of life), and I think that its capacity to keep still (to an extent) is its only safeguard but that doesnt reduce the difficulties at all, since the contact doesnt even depend on the physical presence!1 But then what tremendous, prodigious power has to be EMBODIED in the physical cells to withstand all that!
   But there too, a shift is taking place (what I told you once: those abrupt experiences that do not settle in but are first contacts2). After the lesson was drawn from this story, suddenly something arose in the body consciousness which isnt ONE bodys consciousness but a general body consciousnessan aspiration, something so pure, so sweet so sweet something like an entreaty that Truth and Light may at last be manifested here, in this. Not here in this (Mother touches her own body): it was everywhere.

0 1963-04-16, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   There is always a vibration subtler than his vibration of peace, and that one must remain free, without getting enclosed in the other. For example, if something pulls and causes a mental tension in the head, just keep in contact with that peace (oh, he does have a capacity of mental immobility), and let it penetrate you, but without concentrating all your being on it: allow the rest of your activity to unfold as usual in an infinity. Its only the vibrations of the physical mind that you should keep in that stability.
   Its difficult to put it into words. But if you are able to do that, it could do you good, it could be restful.

0 1963-04-20, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   In my case, I found out I had that capacity because it made me prone to faintingnot too often, but off and on it happened. When I was a child and didnt know a thing, I fainted a couple of times; the fainting, as it happened, wasnt unconsciousit was consciousand after a bit of practice (not the practice of fainting!), of occult practice, when I fainted I would see myself. Even before that, I had seen myself but without knowing what it all meant, I couldnt make head or tail of it. But I would see myself. And afterwards, whenever I would faint, the first thing I did was to see my body lying down in a ridiculous position. So I would rush back into it vigorously, and it would be all over.
   Of course, I was probably born with some abilities! (laughter)

0 1963-05-25, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I had been told that even in the College of Cardinals, things were only suggested, and each one was left to understand more or less deeply, according to his capacity. Its quite likely. But who has kept the tradition intact? We cant say.
   Anyway, put like this, it makes sense.

0 1963-06-19, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I suppose people without solid heads become unhinged. Although truly, there is a remarkable Grace, because people are given a dose of experiences exactly according to their capacity. But this morning there was an hour an hour when I was absolutely conscious, absolutely conscious, and conscious of one single thing: the powerlessness the powerlessness to get out of Ignorance. The will to get out of Ignorance and the powerlessness to do so. It gave me a whole hour of tension.
   When I woke up, the tension was such that my head was like a boiling kettle; so immediately, I said, Lord, its Your concern, not mine; its not my business. And naturally, everything calmed down instantly.

0 1963-06-22, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I had a rather amusing experience while walking [during japa]. I was looking at peoples attitude (I mean those who think they lead a spiritual life, who think they have made a surrender), and how they are utterly vexed when things dont happen the way they want! (They dont always admit it, they dont always say it to themselves, but its a fact.) Then all at once, I saw a huge robothuge, magnificent, resplendent, covered with gold and jewelsa huge being but a robot. And all-powerfulall-powerful, capable of doing anything, anything at all; anything you could imagine, he could do it: you had only to press a button and he did it. And it was (laughing) as if the Lord were telling me, See, here is what I am to them!
   I couldnt have recounted the experience just like that, but I made a note of it. He said, See, this is what I am to them. So I wrote it down.
  --
   Its not much, not a large part of the being that would like to know. It happens when the body feels quite bizarre, not at all, AT ALL as it was before, but also not at all as it thinks it should be. A transitional period which is truly unsatisfactory, in the sense that you no longer feel the strength you had, the capacities you had, but you dont feel at all the Power and capacities you expect eitheryou are halfway between, neither like this nor like that. With, now and then, some absolutely bewildering things, things that make you stare wide-eyed, Oh, thats how it is! But at the same time, such tiresome limitations, tiresome.
   That is the part (a completely childish part) which needs a little encouragement: Come on, dont worry, youre on the right track. But thats childish. The only way is to keep quiet and go on without worrying.
   There is somewhere a sort of capacity for acute discernment, which can very easily turn into a censor (its still there; probably it serves a purpose), and thats what demands certainties. The major part of the being says, Its not my concern. I am here because You want me to be here. If You didnt want me to be here, I wouldnt be here. There is nothing like an attachment or a desire. (That went away quite a while ago! But now it has become an almost cellular condition.) And since You keep me here, it means I am doing something here, and if I am doing something here, thats all I need, thats why You keep me here. It comes full circle, of course.
   How long will it last? Thats not my concern. Maybe something would be a bit frightened if it were told the time it will take (we cant say, we cant foresee the reaction). So its best to keep quiet. But theres nothing of interest. Nothing to make interesting literaturenothing, nothing at all absolutely nothing.

0 1963-06-29, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But clay, that was something really newand lovely! Pink. Pink, a warm, golden pink. They were cutting out [of the clay] rooms, stairways, ship decks and funnels, captains cabins. Sri Aurobindo himself is as he was, but more with a harmony of form: very, very broad here (in the chest), broad and solid. And very agile: he comes and goes, sits down, gets up, always with great majesty. His color is a sort of golden bronze, a color like the coagulation of his supramental gold, of his golden supramental being; as if it were very concentrated and coagulated to fashion his appearance; and it doesnt reflect light: it seems as if lit from within (but it doesnt radiate), and it doesnt cast any shadows. But perfectly natural, it doesnt surprise you, the most natural thing in the world: thats the way he is. Ageless; his hair has the same color as his body: he has hair, but you cant say if its hair, its the same color; the eyes too: a golden look. Yet its perfectly natural, nothing surprising. He sits down just as he used to, with his leg as he used to put it [the right leg in front], and at the same time, when he gets up, he is agile: he comes and goes. Then when he went out of the house (he had told me he would have to go, he had an appointment with someone: he had promised to see two people, he had to go), he went out into a big garden, and down to the boatwhich wasnt exactly a boat, it was a flat boatand he had to go to the captains cabin (he had to see the captain about some work), but it was with that boat that he was returning to his room elsewherehe has a room elsewhere. Then after a while I thought, Ill follow him so I can see. So I followed him; as long as I saw him in front of me I followed him. And when I came to the boat, I saw it was entirely built out of pink clay! Some workmen were working thereadmirable workmen. So Sri Aurobindo went down quite naturally, down into the ship under construction, without (I dont think there were any stairs), and I followed him down. Then I saw him enter the captains room; as he had told me he had some work to do, I thought (laughing), I dont want to meddle in others business! Ill go back home (and I did well, I was already late in waking up!), Ill go back home. And I saw one of the workmen leaving (as Sri Aurobindo had come back to the ship, they stopped the work). He was leaving. I called him, but he didnt know my language or any of the languages I know; so I called him in thought and asked him to pull me up, as I was below and there was a sheer wall of slippery clay. Then he smiled and with his head he said, I certainly dont mind helping you, but it isnt necessary! You can climb up all by yourself. And indeed he held out his hand, I took it (I only touched him slightly), and climbed up all by myself without the slightest difficulty I was weightless! I didnt have to pull at his hand, he didnt pull me up. And as soon as I was up, I went back home I woke up and found myself in my bed five minutes later than my usual time.
   But what struck me was the clayit means something very material, doesnt it? And pink! A pink, oh, lovely! A golden pink.

0 1963-07-03, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Not spiritual! Not spiritual: power. Powerwhich means a somewhat higher mental capacity along with a vital realization. Hes a man who, were he not the Pope, would have no scruples. But he happens (laughing) to be obliged at least to appear good!
   I get a sense of hardness.
  --
   When I realized that I knew this man [Paul VI], a thought came to me as if in jest: what if someone showed him my photo (because I know some people who can do it), and if he himself said, But I know this woman! Then I saw that old instinct, that habit not to allow anyone even to say or express opinions contrary to theirs. And I saw the curve the curve we have traveled just the same towards freedom. He would be almost obliged to tolerate me. His predecessors predecessor [Pius XII] forbade the archbishop here to excommunicate people who came to the Ashram. (The archbishop wanted to do that, but he couldnt without the Popes permission, and the Pope answered him, Keep quiet.) The next archbishop renewed the excommunication here from his pulpit, but it didnt go beyond that. So I wondered, What will be the Popes attitude? Because naturally, that kind of individual is quite capable of ordering the excommunication of something he considers and KNOWS to be true thats just what youre seeing in this photo [Satprems sense of repulsion]. Naturally, in them the political spirit overrides everything else.
   Dont record all Ive said. I dont want to have it here, I dont want it kept. Because the time hasnt come for me to meddle in these affairs.

0 1963-07-06, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Begin again in a little baby? (Mother shakes her head negatively) Theres the rub, you see. When Sri Aurobindo left, he said, I will return in a being formed supramentallyentirely conscious, with full capacities.
   On June 29

0 1963-07-10, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But if you have the power within yourself and read the book, you will get the force! (Mother laughs) Whats required is the capacity to feel and make contact.
   Ultimately, what does the guru do? He connects (gesture of junction), he is nothing but a link. Its not his power he gives you (thats what he thinks, but its not true): he is the link. He brings you into contact with the Powera contact you dont have without him. But those who dont need a guru will make contact WITHOUT a guru.
  --
   Thats what I saw when I spoke to you the other day about what I called a bath of the Lord. The atmosphere was full, really chockfull of a Presence (you cant even call it a vibration, its much more than a vibration: its a Presence), but when people enter it, they dont feel anything! Or if they do, they dont even understand, it doesnt correspond to anything in their consciousness. But if I concentrate a particular vibration on their consciousness, I bring them into contact with it. And all of a sudden they feel something, with the impression that its a new thingits nothing new! Whats new is their capacity to perceive the thing.
   In a general way, thats how it works: the Lord is everywhere, His vibration is everywhere, but whats new is the capacity to feel Him or be conscious of Him. From all eternity He has been there, for all eternity He shall be there.
   And the experience I have constantlyconstantlyisnt that I go in search of something thats not there and bring it where it wasnt! When I tell the Lord, Manifest Yourself, I dont mean He hasnt manifested! I mean: Give us the power to feel Your manifestation. We should say: Become manifest. Grant that we may grow conscious of Your Presence.

0 1963-07-17, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Some time ago I made a discovery of that kind: someone asked me if there was any difference between Ananda and Love; I said, No. Then he said to me, But then how is it that some people feel Ananda while others feel Love? I answered him, Yes! Those who feel Ananda are those who like to receive, who have the capacity to receive, and those who feel Love are those who have the capacity to give. But its the same thing: you receive it as Ananda, you give it as Love.
   So, probably, someone more on the receiving side would call that Vibration Anandamaybe thats what people call the joy of life, I dont know. It has absolutely nothing to do with what human beings call joy. Its really the feeling of something full rather than emptylife as people live it, as I see them live it, is something hollow, empty, dry. Hollow. Hard and hollow together. And empty. So when I do that work, as I told you, all thats around me, all the work and everything is yes, it gives an impression of being dry and hollow; while when the other thing is there, you instantly get an impression of full-full-full-fullfull! Overflowing, you know, no more bounds. So full that all, but all bounds are swept away, erased, gone and there remains only That, that Something. Thats why the cells remain held togetherits because of That, for That, by That. For no other reason.

0 1963-07-24, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The importance of the body is obvious; it is because he has developed or been given a body and brain capable of receiving and serving a progressive mental illumination that man has risen above the animal. Equally, it can only be by developing a body or at least a functioning of the physical instrument capable of receiving and serving a still higher illumination that he will rise above himself and realise, not merely in thought and in his internal being but in life, a perfectly divine manhood. Otherwise either the promise of Life is cancelled, its meaning annulled and earthly being can only realise Sachchidananda by abolishing itself, by shedding from it mind, life and body and returning to the pure Infinite, or else man is not the divine instrument, there is a destined limit to the consciously progressive power which distinguishes him from all other terrestrial existences and as he has replaced them in the front of things, so another must eventually replace him and assume his heritage.
   (The Life Divine, XVIII.231)

0 1963-07-31, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But then, as I had worked hard for the elimination, the battle was quite formidablewhen it exceeds a certain measure, the heart has trouble, and then I need to rest. Thats how it happened. But it was so clear, so obvious! And the entire process was SEEN from the beginning, every single step of it, its a marvel! A marvel of consciousness, of measure, of dosage, to allow the purification and transformation to take place without disrupting the balance, so that dissolution does not occur. Its based on the capacity to endure and withstand (naturally, if the body were unable to endure, that work couldnt be done).
   And now the body KNOWS (in the beginning it didnt, it thought it was attacks from the outside, adverse forces; and it can always be explained like that, it was true in a certain way, but it wasnt the true truth, the deepest truth), now the body KNOWS where it all comes from, and its so marvelous! A marvel of wisdom. It puts everything in its place, it makes you REALIZE that all that play of the adverse forces is a way of seeing things (a necessary way at a given time, maybeby necessary, I mean practical), but its still an illusion; illnesses are a necessary way of seeing things to enable you to resist properly, to fight properly, but its still an illusion. And now, the BODY itself knows all thisas long as it was only the mind that knew it, it was a remote notion in the realm of ideas, but now the body itself knows it. And it is full not only of goodwill but also of an infinite gratitudeit always wonders (thats its first movement), Do I have the capacity? And it always gets the same answer, It isnt YOUR capacity. Will I have the strength?It isnt YOUR strength. Even that sense of infirmity disappears in the joy of infinite gratitude the thing is done with such goodness, such insight, such thoughtfulness, such care to maintain, as far as possible, a progressive balance.
   It came with a certitude, an OBVIOUSNESS: this is the process of transformation.

0 1963-08-10, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Its true that the doctor himself said ([laughing], the doctor1 symbolizes Doubt with a capital D) that if you teach your body to bear pain, it grows more and more enduring and doesnt get disrupted so fast thats a concrete result. People who know how not to be thoroughly upset as soon as they have a pain here or there, who are able to bear quietly and keep their balance, it seems that in their case the bodys capacity to bear disorder without breaking down increases. Thats very important. You remember, in a previous Agenda I asked myself the question from a purely practical and physical point of view, and it does seem to be true. Inwardly, I have been told many a timetold and shown with all sorts of little experiences that the body can bear far more than people think, provided they dont add fear or anxiety to the pain; if you can get rid of that mental factor, the body, left to itself, without either fear or fright or anxiety for what will happenwithout anguishcan bear a great deal.
   The second step is that once the body has decided to bear pain (it really takes the decision to do so), instantly the acuteness, the acute sensation in the pain vanishes. I am speaking on an absolutely material level.
  --
   The last one is probably not within everybodys reach (!) but the first three are quite obvious I know it works like that. The only point that bothered me (I told you once) is that it isnt a purely psychological experience and that enduring pain causes wear and tear in the body. But I inquired with the doctor (I casually made him talk), and he told me that if the body is taught very young to bear pain, its capacity to bear increases so much that it can effectively withstand illnesses, which means that the illness doesnt follow its course, it aborts. Thats precious.
   The last experience (which Ive had these last few days), in which apparently there was a hitch (it wasnt really one) was a sort of demonstration. I told you what it was, you remember: its like a purge of all the vibrations that are false vibrations, that arent the pure and simple response to the supreme Influence (all that in the cells still responds to the vibrations of falsehood, either from habit or from the people around or the food takenfifty thousand things). Then, with an aspiration or a decision, almost a prayer for purification coming from the body, something happens which, naturally, upsets the balance; the imbalance in turn brings about a general discomfort. The form discomfort takes is habitually the same: first, pains and all kinds of sensations I need not describe; if that state goes on developing, if it is allowed to assume its full proportions, it results in the past it resulted in a faint. But this time, I followed the process for about two hours from the moment I got up: the struggle between the new balance, the new Influence that was getting established, and the resistance of all the existing elements forced to go away. That created a sort of conflict. The consciousness remained very clear the consciousness of the BODY remained very clear, very quiet, perfectly trusting. So for two hours I was able to follow the process (while going on with all my usual activities, without changing anything), until I felt, or rather was told sufficiently clearly that the Lord wanted my body to be completely immobile for a while so that He might complete His work. But I am not all alone: there are other people here to help me and watch over everything (but I dont say or explain anything to them, those are things I dont talk about I dont say what goes on, I dont say anything), so I sat there wondering, Is it really and truly indispensable? (Mother laughs) Then I felt the Lord exert a little more pressure, which heightened the intensity of the conflict, so that I had all the signs of fainting I understood (!) I stood up, let my body moan a little to make it plain it didnt feel too well (!) and I stretched out. Then I was immobile, and in that immobility, I saw the work that was being donea work that cannot be done if you go on moving about. I saw the work. It took nearly half an hour; in half an hour it was over. Which means there is really there is a fact I cannot doubt, even if all the surrounding thoughts and forces contradict it: I cannot doubt that the consciousness is increasing more and more the consciousness in the body. It is growing more and more precise, luminous, exactQUIETvery peaceful. Yet very conscious of a TREMENDOUS battle against millennial habits. Do you follow?

0 1963-09-04, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Someone disappears, people ask me where he is, whether hes dead or alive. Someone else has worries: he wants to see me. Someone People I dont know at all! A stack of letters! They ask me for success in their business, for good health, for a child (a boy!), a good job. Anyway everything that people are capable of wanting, they write and ask me. Oh, there are also those who ask me to tell their fortune! Many ask me, but I answer them bluntly, I am not a fortuneteller, I dont read tea leaves!
   (Mother scribbles a note)
  --
   And that gives them a very special capacity of consciousness.
   Could this be what gave you that sense of death? But you say it has been there for a long time. While, for me, its recent (it was perhaps ten days ago), my study is recent. It was very interesting. I can still see them now, they were as if located in certain parts of your body.

0 1963-09-25, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Love is a mighty vibration coming straight from the One. And only the very pure and very strong are capable of receiving and manifesting it.
   Then an explanation on what I mean by pure, the very pure and very strong:
  --
   pur et le trs fort est capable de la recevoir
   et de la manifester.

0 1963-10-16, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   You understand, I know those things, I have seen thousands of them! Only, as it happens, for more than half a century I have sensed the difference in a most sharp way. I think I told you already that when I returned here from Japan, there were difficulties: once, I was in danger and I called Sri Aurobindo; he appeared, and the danger went away2he appeared, meaning, he came, something from him came, an EMANATION of him came, living, absolutely concrete. The next day (or rather later the same day), I told him my experience and how I saw him; that worried him (it was an unceasing danger, you see), and he very strongly thought that he should concentrate on me to protect me. And the next day, I saw him but it was an image, a mental formation! I told him, Yes, you came in a mental formation, it wasnt the same thing. Then he told me that this capacity of discernment is an extremely rare thing. But I always had it, even when I was small. Its a sensitiveness in the perception. And indeed I believe that very few people can sense the difference. So with X, my first impression was, My goodness, to do this to me! Well, really, I have some experience of the world, I cant be so easily made to believe that the moon is made of green cheese!
   And yesterday, it was all very peaceful: X was there all the time with nobody in front of him, not pretending anything. But the first time, as he expected some result, he stayed on for ten minutesprobably he was expecting some reaction (I never told him that Sri Aurobindo is with me all the time, that we talk to each other every night). Anyhow, he was probably expecting some enthusiasm on my part (!) There you are.

0 1963-11-20, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Well, I tell myself Im useless! Im not capable. Thats all.
   But thats not true!
  --
   Not that way, not the way we understand compliments. I was looking into the way the Truth has to make use of mental capacities to express itself. (Because youre asked to silence the mind, and when you succeed in doing so, you really do succeed, but but thats not the aim; its only a means, its to change your way of functioning.) So I was looking at the way the mind has to function in the true life (the supramental life, since Sri Aurobindo said he called supramental the manifestation of Truth and Light). Anyway, I was looking. I was conducting a kind of terrestrial survey, wondering, Are there on earth mentalities that are ready to receive and manifestespecially manifest that vibration properly? And I heard the Lord answer me something (I am translating, naturally): But why are you looking so far afield? You have the fitting instrument with you. And it was you. So I thought, Thats fine.
   I didnt voice any doubt on His judgment!
  --
   We are given everythingEVERYTHING. All the difficulties that have to be overcome, all of them (and the more capable we are, that is, the more complex the instrument is, the more numerous the difficulties are), all the difficulties, all the opportunities to overcome them, all the possible experiences, and limited in time and space so they can be innumerable. And it has repercussions and consequences all over the earth (I am not concerned with what goes on in the universe because, for the time being, that isnt my work). But it is certain (because it has been said so and I know it) that what goes on on the earth has repercussions throughout the universe. Sitting there, you live the everyday life with its usual insignificance, its unimportance, its lack of interest and its a WONDERFUL field of experiences, of innumerable experiences, not only innumerable but as varied as can be, from the most subtle to the most material, without leaving your body. Only, you should have RETURNED to it. You cannot have authority over your body without having left it.
   Once the body is no longer you at all, once it is something that has been added and TACKED onto you, once it is that way and you look at it from above (a psychological above), then you can come down into it again as its all-powerful master.

0 1963-11-23, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But were so totally enslaved to very small things the very small things of the body: its needs (or supposed needs). I see all the entreaties that come from everywhere, and it all revolves around the same thing (even those who think theyve understood that the consciousness must be generalnot collective, but terrestrial theyre slaves to the reactions of their body), it all revolves around two things: sleep-food-sleep-food-sleep (Mother draws a circle). Even with those who profess that they have no interest in those things, they still have the power to cause reactions in their consciousness: a sleepless night or poor digestion, or an upset digestive system there you are. It has the power to weigh down on their faith and to take away its capacity of action. Its a kind of attachmentan involuntary and mechanical attachmentto that need for sleep and that need for food. And I dont mean people who love to eat or lazy people who like to sleep I dont even mean that, which is all the way down, thats not it: I mean those who arent interested in food and would really like to replace sleep with something else, something more interesting, even thoseall, all, all of them.
   And even this body, which has been worked on and kneaded for years Its in the subconscient of the body. And so that was the answer, it was said to the body:

0 1963-11-27, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   For some time, I had been encountering in N. a sort of resistance to the Action. Whenever he entered the atmosphere (Mother makes the gesture of banging against a wall), it resisted terribly. And I didnt have any intention other than to make it give way, in other words, I confined myself to the inner action (gesture indicating the Force at work). Then, as it happened, he fell ill. Yesterday, he came as every day, but he wasnt well. So I told him, Listen, go downstairs, shut yourself up in your room, enter Sachchidananda and dont move from it. (He is quite capable of doing it.) In the evening, the doctor came and told me that N. had a very high fever: He is restless. The fever was too high. I thought, The resistance is even stronger than I thought. At night, when I went to bed, I began to concentrate on him to see, and I saw him surrounded by a kind of black crust, which obviously comes from the fact that he isnt used to purifying himself as things come onto him from outside (me too, for example, I would be surrounded by a black cuirass, absolutely coal black, if I didnt do my work of purification all the time, all the time, all the time). So I saw this, and did what was needed. And this morning, the fever had dropped. But the interesting thing is that when he came this morning, he told me this: Last night I had a vision: I suddenly found myself entirely surrounded by coal, a thick crust of coal, and I wanted to get rid of it and get out of it. I looked at my hands, I had nothing in them, so I thought, How can I do it? I have nothing to do it with. And instantly, I saw the crust begin to crumble and crumble and crumble into dust and gone! And this morning, I feel weak and tired, but its over.
   Its a minimum of distortion.

0 1963-12-03, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Then I received a letter from M., the captain, saying that they had felt it was a test, the lila2 of the Lord (he called it the lila of the universal Mother) and asking me if it was true. I was happy and answered him that it was true and that I was happy. And everyone told me, They were wonderful. As if doing that performance in the rain had given rise to a kind of will in them, and they were remarkable: everybody was enthusiastic. So instead of saying to the Lord, Thats not nice, I thanked Him heartily! And I laughed, I thought, There you have it! Its always that way.
   And all the experiences come in that way (Mother makes a round, global gesture). It cant be expressed with words; there are a hundred things that come together like that, and which (gesture of round movements within that round totality), and then there is the sense of a light (which might be like a will, but not a will formulated with words), a light that moves within it all and arranges it all, then produces a resultwhich isnt one small thing, one point or one thing: its a mass of things; and its always moving, always in motion, always in a kind of progression towards a more perfect reorganization. And the sense of individual action, of individual participation, of individual will, seems so IDIOTIC that its absolutely impossible to have it. Even if one tried, one couldnt. Once one LIVES that the whole sense of individual importance in all that seems so STUPID, you know, that its absolutely impossible to think that way or feel that way.

0 1963-12-21, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And besides, thats the almost essential condition for being capable of living another life while remaining here. Its essential, mon petit, as long as one has the taste for life, one is tossed and shaken about. I consider it a GREAT progress.
   Thats very good.
  --
   You know, the fact of no longer having the physical support of Sri Aurobindos presence was a blow that might have been mortal (I prevented it from being mortal by closing a door, because he had asked me to continue and I decided to continue), but it made certain things rather difficult because it became necessary to have a constant perception of what has to be done and a constant effort to change what is into what should be. Probably its a period of work that must be completed now, and he was asking of me the capacity to live in the positive side. The trouble is, the body is itself a kind of contradiction but it was suggested to me that those contradictions of the body arise from the fact that I admit in the consciousness all the contradictions, and that consequently they are there in the body, too. Instead of looking at the body and saying, Oh, this (this limitation, that narrowness) is still here, I should look only at WHAT SHOULD BE, and the body would be forced to follow.
   This seems to be the preparation of the program for next yeara long, long way to go yet. But anyway, there are still a few days left (!)

0 1963-12-31, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And last night, there was the Answer, as it were. This morning, when I got up, I didnt remember clearly, but in the middle of the night I knew it very well. (Its not going from sleep to the waking consciousness: it is coming out of one state to enter another one, and when I came out of that state to enter the so-called normal one, I remembered very well.) I was as if made to live the WAY of turning that Falsehood into Truth, and it was so joyful! So joyful. In the sense that its a vibration similar to joy that is capable of dissolving and overcoming the vibration of Falsehood. That was very important: it isnt effort, it isnt righteousness, or scruple or rigidity, none of that, none of that has any effect on that sadness (it is a sadness) of Falsehoodits something so sad, so helpless, so miserable so miserable. And only a vibration of Joy can change it.
   It was a vibration that flowed like silvery waterit rippled and flowed like silvery water.

0 1964-01-18, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   There should be somewhere upon earth a place that no nation could claim as its own, a place where every human being of goodwill, sincere in his aspiration, could live freely as a citizen of the world, obeying one single authority, that of the supreme Truth; a place of peace, concord, harmony, where all the fighting instincts of man would be used exclusively to conquer the causes of his sufferings and miseries, to surmount his weakness and ignorance, to triumph over his limitations and in capacities; a place where the needs of the spirit and the concern for progress would take precedence over the satisfaction of desires and passions, the search for pleasures and material enjoyment. In this place, children would be able to grow and develop integrally without losing contact with their souls; education would be given not with a view to passing examinations or obtaining certificates and posts, but to enrich ones existing faculties and bring forth new ones. In this place, titles and positions would be replaced by opportunities to serve and organize; everyones bodily needs would be provided for equally, and in the general organization, intellectual, moral and spiritual superiority would be expressed not by increased pleasures and powers in life, but by greater duties and responsibilities. Beauty in all its art formspainting, sculpture, music, literaturewould be accessible to all equally, the ability to share in the joys it brings being limited solely by ones capacities and not by social or financial position. For in this ideal place, money would no longer be the sovereign lord; individual worth would have a far greater importance than that of material wealth and social position. There, work would not be for earning ones living, but the means to express oneself and develop ones capacities and possibilities, while at the same time being of service to the group as a whole, which would in turn provide for everyones subsistence and field of action. In short, it would be a place where human relationships, ordinarily based almost exclusively on competition and strife, would be replaced by relationships of emulation in trying to do ones best, of collaboration and real brotherhood.
   The earth is not ready to realize such an ideal, for humanity does not yet possess either the knowledge necessary to understand and adopt it or the conscious force indispensable for its execution. This is why I call it a dream.

0 1964-02-05, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Some time ago, I was saying to myself, Some people see physical things at a distance, but I have never seen anything of the sort. I have seen things in the subtle physical (very close to the physical, with a very small difference), but that wasnt a physical vision: it was a vision in the subtle physical. Some time ago I said to myself, Thats odd, physically I have no special capacities, I have never observed interesting phenomena! (Mother laughs) But that was in passing. And now this story! But, mon petit, it took me forty-eight hours to be convinced that it wasnt in the book! I havent yet got over it! Because my eyes have the eyes memory, a very precise memory; they were educated by painting and they see things very exactly as they are (well, as they pretend to be materially). You know, I could have sworn that it was in the book. And clearly it isnt. Four people, apart from me, have seen the book, and its not there!
   I found that interesting, its new.

0 1964-02-26, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And I notice that, all around, those nearer to the center of descent are very shaken upvery. I see very few bodies around me capable of bearing it. But then, if thats how it is, necessarily the descent is so filtered and diminished that how much will get through?
   This morning, it hurt a little, but I said, Its nothing, it MUST NOT be that it has come bothers me. Its a sign that the descent is too strong. So if we have to wait another four years1968
  --
   They dont hear whats behind, they dont try to capture that sort of musicthey just see sentences.
   My article gives them a sense of something both very boring and very childishboth at once, so that crowns it all! Because the external form is very simple, of course, without literary pretensions; so it isnt exciting for the brain, not in the least (on the contrary I try to calm it down as much as possible!).

0 1964-03-25, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I dont think we can say anything. I dont feel capable of saying anything, because all that you can say is uninteresting approximations.
   But when you are in that Truth-Consciousness, is it a subjective experience, or does Matter itself really change in its appearance?
  --
   Yesterday again, the experience was quite concrete and powerful: it isnt necessary to move, or to move anything, for this Truth-Consciousness to replace the consciousness of deformation or distortion. In other words, the capacity to live in and be this true Vibrationessential and trueseems to have the power to SUBSTITUTE this Vibration for the vibration of Falsehood and Distortion, to such an extent that For instance, the outcome of Distortion or of the vibration of distortion should naturally have been an accident or catastrophe, but if, within those vibrations, there is a consciousness that has the power to become aware of the Vibration of Truth and therefore manifest the Vibration of Truth, it canit mustcancel the other vibration. Which would be translated, in the external phenomenon, by an intervention that would stop the catastrophe.
   There is a growing feeling that the True is the only way to change the world; that all the other processes of slow transformation are always at a tangent (you draw nearer and nearer but you never arrive), and that the last step must be this the substitution of the true Vibration.

0 1964-04-04, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Its really a regret in my life not to be a musician. Writing is NEVER it. But capturing a note like that one
   Oh, mon petit, yesterday or the day before, I heard something I dont exactly know what it isit isnt music, I mean it isnt the notation of some musical instrument: its the notation of a vibration of I cant say, I didnt understand.2 But in it At first, you feel exactly as if you had entered a madhouse: its completely incoherent, disjointed, and everything is unexpected because there is no logicabsolutely nothing mental. So you go from one sound to another, without any transition, and your first impression is exactly like its madness. But if you listen, now and then theres a sound, which isnt the sound of a musical instrument absolutely wonderful! But it lasts one second. You would like it to continuepfft! gone. And now and then there is a voice, quite like the human voice, you can almost hear words, there seem to be wordswhich made me think that the sound of our voice has its origin elsewhere (below or above, I dont know; where those vibrations come from I cannot say). And after a while, I saw that something in the being [Mothers being] was I cant say interested, it was something that enjoyed it, that didnt exactly have a pleasant sensation, but almost felt a need for the unforeseen, an unforeseen beyond all that we can imagine: disjointed, no logic, no sense, nothing. It SOUNDS like chaos, but all of a sudden I felt it wasnt chaos, it responded to another law. And when it came towards the end, I really wanted it to go on for a long time.

0 1964-07-18, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Thats the method exactly: to broaden your receptivity indefinitely and depend on the forces that circulate constantly in the world, so that only the most physical materiality is dependent on food and sleep. Because even what you eat feeds you differently according to your receptivity, your inner attitude; there is a capacity for extracting the Force from things, which can be gained from a broadening of the receptivity.
   He CAN do that, he can.
  --
   He has quite a considerable vital capacity. But the true solution lies in the psychic development. Besides, thats how doctors cure people, much more than through medicinesmuch more. With some doctors, when the patient comes into contact with them, he feels supported, helped.
   (silence)

0 1964-07-22, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   When I called you Satprem, thats what I meant: you must certainly have the capacity to come into contact with That.
   And That is I dont know if this world (I am not talking of the earth alone, but of the present universe), if this world will be followed by others or if it will itself go on, or if but That, which I am talking about and calling Love, is the Master of this world.

0 1964-08-14, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   One thing is obvious, its that if everything had gone very well, with good results, the need for a higher Help would never have occurred to them; they would have become puffed up with statistics and with satisfaction with their capacities.
   To mark August 15, several groups connected to the Ashram have been meeting in Pondicherry.

0 1964-08-22, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But the effect afterwards was queer, as if all the functionings had lost their (what can I call it?), their captain they no longer knew what to do. And in the head, at first it felt as if it had grown very, very big, and then there were vibrations You know, I often mention those Vibrations of Harmony that try to enter the vibrations of Disorder (its something I often see now, even with my eyes open: they come through, enter, there are formations, all sorts of things), but that was going on in my head. My head was big (!), and inside, there were all those dots of the white light of Harmony, moving about with a great intensity and power, within a dark gray medium. It was interesting. But I was conscious only of that the entire relationship with the body had vanished. And the whole day long I had the feeling of a lack of government in the body, as if everything followed its own impulsion; it was very hard to keep it all together.
   Thats how it wasvery strong. The second day, it was a little less strong; the third day But there is something that has changed and isnt coming back. And that something gives the sense of a distance (its the word aloofness) from the natural body consciousness that makes the body automatically do all it has to do. It is as if that consciousness were now at a distance, had almost lost interest in whats happeningnot lost interest, because its laughing! I dont know why, I feel its laughing, as if it were making fun of me, of this body the poor old thing! (laughing) It has a lot of difficulties, it is made to do some strange things.

0 1964-08-26, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   When you are born again, your mind is more developed, your vital is more developed; well, the physical consciousness will be more capable of doing the work again.
   Provided dust retains consciousness and it doesnt retain consciousness.

0 1964-08-29, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And as always, when there is nothing pleasant to say, its better to keep quiet. One has no right to give ones Knowledge, which stems from a higher Consciousness, to those who arent capable of having it; this is why, in fact, from the beginning I decided never to talk to X: I never tell him anything, I will never tell him anything, because there are things I know and see, and I have no right to reveal them to those who arent capable of seeing and feeling. Far more complications and disorders are created by an excess of words than by silence. So one shouldnt say anything, one should just let things follow their courseone knows, one KNOWS perfectly well, one isnt deceived, one knows whats what, but one does what one has to do, without comments.
   In your case, I had known it from the beginning. From the beginning, I had seen the proportion between what agreed with the truth and what was the product (how should I put it?) of the mental hope you placed on X, but I didnt say anything. I knew that his passage through our life here, that contact of a moment, was necessary for certain things to be realized and I let him enter and exit.

0 1964-09-26, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Obviously, there could be only one solution: to lose the mental consciousness that gives you the perception or sensation that you are telling a lie or a truth; and you can obtain that only when you get to the higher state in which our notion of falsehood and truth disappears. Because when we speak from the ordinary mental consciousness, even when we are convinced that we are telling the whole truth, we are not doing so; and even when we think we are telling a lie, sometimes it isnt one. We do not have the capacity to discern whats true and what isntbecause we live in a false consciousness.
   But there is a state in which, first, you no longer make personal decisions, and then you are like a mirror reflecting the exact NEED, the true (spiritual, that is) need of the patient, for instance, and exactly what he needs to know so that the rest of his life (whatever time he has left to live) brings him the maximum possibilities of progress.
  --
   For a long time, would you believe it, I have been in search of a doctor, a man with full medical knowledge, knowing all that they now know about the human body and the way to cure it, AND capable of having the contact with the higher consciousness. Because through such an instrument, one could do very, very interesting thingsvery interesting.1
   (silence)
  --
   will recover the reading capacity,
   I will recover.

0 1964-10-07, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And then (Mother points to her own body), this seems to be the lesson for these aggregates (bodies, you know, seem to me to be simply aggregates). And as long as there is, behind, a will to keep this together for some reason or other, it stays together, but These last few days (yesterday or the day before), there was this: a sort of completely decentralized consciousness (I am always referring to the physical consciousness, of course, not at all to the higher consciousness), a decentralized consciousness that happened to be here, there, there, in this body, that body (in what people call this person and that person, but that notion doesnt quite exist anymore), and then there was a kind of intervention of a universal consciousness in the cells, as though it were asking these cells what their reason was for wanting to retain this combination (if we may say so) or this aggregate while in fact making them understand or feel the difficulties that come, for example, from the number of years, wear and tear, external difficultiesfrom all the deterioration caused by friction, wear and tear. But they seemed to be perfectly indifferent to that! The response of the cells was interesting enough, in the sense that they seemed to attach importance ONLY TO THE capACITY TO REMAIN IN CONSCIOUS CONTACT WITH THE HIGHER FORCE. It was like an aspiration (not formulated in words, naturally), and like a what in English they call yearning, a longing for that Contact with the divine Force, the Force of Harmony, the Force of Truth and the Force of Love, and [the cells response was] that because of that, they valued the present combination.
   It was an altogether different point of view.

0 1964-10-17, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Now they say that they have instruments capable of measuring the fact that the continents are still moving. They even said, a few years ago, that many parts of Siberia, which used to be so cold that nothing could be done there, were beginning to be cultivated, and that, necessarily, the tropics arent so warm anymore.
   But these things must be coming about very gradually, so its always possible to adapt, people can move to other places.

0 1964-11-12, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And all of a sudden, I saw thats not it at all! When they have the experience, at the time of the experience, it is the thing ITSELF, the perfection ITSELF that has been reached, and they are in a state of perfection; and it is because they COME OUT of it that they feel they have to slowly prepare themselves for the result. I dont know if I am expressing myself clearly, but my notation was like this: perfection is there, always, coexisting with imperfectionperfection and imperfection are coexistent, always, and not only simultaneous, but in the SAME PLACE (Mother presses her two hands together), I dont know how to put itcoexistent. Which means that at any second and in any conditions, you can attain perfection: it isnt something that has to be gained little by little, through successive progress; perfection is THERE, and YOU change states, from the state of imperfection to the state of perfection; and it is the capacity to remain in that state of perfection that grows for some reason or other and gives you the feeling that you must prepare yourself or transform yourself.
   That was very real and very concrete.

0 1964-11-14, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   "When darkness deepens strangling the earth's breast And man's corporeal mind is the only lamp, As a thief's in the night shall be the covert tread Of one who steps unseen into his house. A Voice ill-heard shall speak, the soul obey, A power into mind's inner chamber steal, A charm and sweetness open life's closed doors And beauty conquer the resisting world The truth-light capture Nature by surprise, A stealth of God compel the heart to bliss And earth shall grow unexpectedly divine."
   Savitri, I.IV.55

0 1965-01-12, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   (Regarding an old Playground Talk of March 8, 1951, in which Mother spoke of the being that possessed and guided Hitler: Hitler was in contact with a being whom he considered to be the Supreme: that being would come and give him advice and tell him all that he had to do. Hitler would withdraw into solitude and wait long enough to come into contact with his guide and receive inspirations from him which he would afterwards carry out very faithfully. That being whom Hitler took for the Supreme was quite simply an Asura, the one called in occultism the Lord of Falsehood, and he proclaimed himself to be the Lord of Nations. He had a resplendent appearance and could pull the wool over anyones eyes, except one who truly had occult knowledge and could thus see what was there, behind the appearance. He could have deluded anyone, he was so splendid. He generally appeared to Hitler wearing a breast-plate and a silver helmet (with a sort of flame coming out of his head), and there was around him an atmosphere of dazzling light, so dazzling that Hitler could hardly look at him. He would tell him all that he had to dohe would play with him as with a monkey or a mouse. He had set his mind on making Hitler do all possible kinds of folly until the day when he would come a cropper, which is what happened. But there are many cases like that one, on a smaller scale, naturally. Hitler was a very good medium, he had great mediumistic capacities, but he lacked intelligence and discernment. That being could tell him anything and he would swallow it all. Thats what prodded him on little by little. And that being would do that as a pastime, he didnt take life seriously. For those beings, people are very small things with which they play as a cat plays with a mouse, until the day when they eat them up.)
   I knew that being very well (for other reasons the story would be too long to tell), and once, I knew he was going to visit Hitler I went before he did: I took his appearance, it was very easy. Then I said to Hitler, Go and attack Russia. I dont exactly remember the words or the details, but the fact was that I told him, Go In order to have the supreme victory, go and attack Russia. That was the end of Hitler. He believed it and did ittwo days later, we got the news of the attack.1 And then, the next day, that is, when I came back from Hitler, I met that being and told him, Ive done your job! Naturally enough, he was furious!

0 1965-04-17, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   So the transition: a conscious and willed utilization by a supramentalized consciousness of a body prepared in that way. This body must be brought to the peak of its development and of the utilization of the cells in order to be yes, consciously impregnated with the supreme forces (which is being done here [in Mother] at the moment), and this to the utmost of its capacities. And if the consciousness that inhabits that body, that animates that body, has the required qualities in sufficient amount, it should normally be able to utilize that body to the utmost of its capacity of transformation, with the result that the waste caused by the death of decomposing cells should be reduced to a minimumto what extent? Thats precisely what still belongs to the unknown.
   That would correspond to what Sri Aurobindo called the prolongation of life at will, for an indefinite length of time.

0 1965-04-21, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   What I meant by an improved physical body is that sort of mastery over the body thats being gained nowadays through physical training. I have seen lately magazines showing how it had started: the results in the beginning and todays results; and from the standpoint of the harmony of forms (I am not talking about excesses there are excesses everywhere I am talking about what can be done in the best possible conditions), from the standpoint of the harmony of forms, of strength and a certain sense of beauty, of the development of certain capacities of endurance and skill, of precision in the execution combined with strength, its quite remarkable if you think of how recent physical training is. And its spreading very quickly nowadays, which means that the proportion of the human population that is interested in it and practices it is snowballing. So when I saw all those photos (for me, its especially through pictures that I see), it occurred to me that through those qualities, the cells, the cellular aggregates acquire a plasticity, a receptivity, a force that make the substance more supple for the permeation of the supramental forces.
   Lets take the sense of form, for example (I am giving one example among many others). Evolution is openly moving towards diminishing the difference between the female and the male forms: the ideal thats being created makes female forms more masculine and gives male forms a certain grace and suppleness, with the result that they increasingly resemble what I had seen all the way up, beyond the worlds of the creation, on the threshold, if I can call it that, of the world of form. At the beginning of the century, I had seen, before even knowing of Sri Aurobindos existence and without having ever heard the word supramental or the idea of it or anything, I had seen there, all the way up, on the threshold of the Formless, at the extreme limit, an ideal form that resembled the human form, which was an idealized human form: neither man nor woman. A luminous form, a form of golden light. When I read what Sri Aurobindo wrote, I said, But what I saw was the supramental form! Without having the faintest idea that it might exist. Well, the ideal of form we are now moving towards resembles what I saw. Thats why I said: since there is an evolutionary concentration on this point, on the physical, bodily form, it must mean that Nature is preparing something for that Descent and that embodimentit seems logical to me. Thats what I meant by an improved physical form.
  --
   Basically, once there is a body formed, precisely, by an ideal and an increasing development, a body with sufficient stuff and capacities, sufficient potential, there may very well be a rapid Descent of a supramental form, just as there was one with the human form. Because I know that (I know it from having lived it), I know that when the transitiona very obscure transitionfrom the animal to man (of which they have found fairly convincing traces) was sufficient, when the result was plastic enough, there was a Descent there was a mental descent of the human creation. And they were beings (there was a double descent; it was in fact particular in that it was double, male and female: it wasnt the descent of a single being, it was the descent of two beings), they were beings who lived in Nature an animal life, but with a mental consciousness; but there was no conflict with the general harmony. All the memories are absolutely clear of a spontaneous, animal life, perfectly natural, in Nature. A marvelously beautiful Nature that strangely resembles the nature in Ceylon and tropical countries: water, trees, fruits, flowers. And a life in harmony with animals: there was no sense of fear or difference. It was a very luminous, very harmonious, and very NATURAL life, in Nature.
   And strangely, the story of Paradise would seem to be a mental distortion of what really happened. Of course, it all became ridiculous, and also with a tendency it gives you the feeling that a hostile will or an Asuric being tried to use that to make it the basis for a religion and to keep man under his thumb. But thats another matter.
  --
   Thats how we began, and it began that way because there was a descent of the higher human mental consciousness into the form that existed. The phenomenon may recur in the same way, with the difference that it can be more conscious and willed there may be the intervention of a conscious will. It would, or it could happen through an occult processwell, I dont know, there are all sorts of possibilities, one of which could be the conscious passage of a being who has used the old human body for his development and his yoga, and who would leave that form once it became unnecessary in order to enter a form capable of adapting to the new growth.
   Here, the two possibilities meet.

0 1965-05-29, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   For instance, Ive had the opportunity of studying this: For me, circumstances, characters, all events and all beings move about according to certain laws, if I may say so, which arent rigid, but which I perceive and because of which I can see: This will lead to that, and that will lead there, and this person being like that, such-and-such a thing is going to happen to him, and Its growing increasingly precise. I could, if it were necessary, make predictions based on that. But the relation of cause and effect in that domain is, for me, absolutely obvious and corroborated by facts. While for them, who do not have that vision and that consciousness of the soul, as Sri Aurobindo says, circumstances unfold according to other, superficial laws, which they consider to be the natural consequences of things; quite superficial laws that do not stand up to a deeper analysis, but they dont have the inner capacity, so that doesnt bother them, they find it obvious.
   I mean that this inner knowledge doesnt have the power to convince them, thats an experience I have almost every day. So that when, concerning some event or other, I see, Oh, but its perfectly, perfectly obvious (for me): I saw the Lords Force act there, I saw such-and-such a thing happen, and so, quite naturally, this is what must take place, for me, its as obvious as could be, but I dont tell what I know, because it doesnt correspond to anything in their experience, so to them its raving or pretension. Which means that when you havent had the experience yourself, anothers experience isnt convincing, it cannot convince you.
  --
   And precisely because they have acquired the capacity to explain, they explain for themselves the inner phenomena, so that they remain in their negation of inner phenomena: they say they are like extensions of what they have studied.
   Only, owing to mans very constitution (because there is so to speak no human being who doesnt have at least a reflection or a hint or a beginning of relationship with his subtle, inner being, his soul), owing to that, there is always a flaw in their negation; but they consider it a weaknessand its their only strength!
  --
   It seems that the only method capable of overcoming all resistances is the method of Love; but in fact, the adverse forces have perverted it in such a way that a large quantity of sincere people, of sincere seekers, seem to be armor-plated against this method, because of its distortion. Thats the difficulty. Thats why it takes time. Anyway
   Purohit: priest.

0 1965-06-14, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   (Mother starts reading) To those I am making a distinction: there are people who come here and want to dedicate themselves to divine life, but they come to do work and they will work (they wont do an intensive yoga because not one in fifty is capable of doing it, but they are capable of dedicating their life and of working and doing good work disinterestedly, as a service to the Divine thats very good), but in particular, To those who want to practice the integral yoga, it is strongly advised to abstain from three things. So, the three things ([laughing] you put your fingers in your ears): sexual intercourse (it comes third) and drinking alcohol and [whispering] smoking.
   I must tell you that I was born in a family in which nobody smoked: my father had never smoked and neither had his brothersanyway, no one smoked. So since my early childhood, I hadnt been used to others smoking. Later, when I lived with artists Artists smoke, of course (it seems it gives them inspiration!), but I detested the smell. I didnt say anything because I didnt want to be unpleasant, but I detested it. Then I came hereSri Aurobindo smoked. He smoked deliberately, he smoked in order to say: one can do the yoga while smoking, I say one can smoke and do the yoga, and I smoke. And he smoked. And naturally all the disciples smoked, since Sri Aurobindo smoked. For some time, I even gave them pocket money so they could buy cigars (they smoked cigarsit was ghastly!). Then I came to live in Sri Aurobindos house, we spoke freely, and one day I told him, How awful the smell of smoke is! (laughing) Its disgusting! So he said to me, Oh, you dont like the smell? Oh, no! I said, Not only that, but I had to make a yogic effort to stop it from making me feel sick! The next day, he had stopped. It was over, he never smoked again. That was kind. It wasnt on principle, it was because he didnt want to impose the smell on me. But I had never said anything: it was simply because he asked me just like that, while talking, so I told him. And when he stopped smoking, everyone had to stop toosmoking wasnt allowed anymore, since he didnt smoke anymore.

0 1965-06-26, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   (Sujata shows Mother a sort of cyst that has developed in her neck. This banal incident is the starting point for a capital discovery: the "cellular spinning.")
   Its a tumor. Probably a hair that coiled up and the body covered it in a layer of skin, and then, out of habit, went on building skin around it: one layer, then another layer, then Its an idiotic goodwill. And thats how it is for almost all illnesses.

0 1965-07-10, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I could tell you all sorts of stories, but anyway, stories about doctors arent amusing; there are always ridiculous details. And it comes back: you throw their suggestion out of the window, you dont bother about it, you think its all over, and its gone into the subconscient; and suddenly, one fine day, a tiny little incident, and it comes back, formidable: The doctor said this such and such a doctor said this the Doctor with a capital D said this, or Medical Science said this, and the cells begin to panica frightful hypnotic power.
   No, its an interesting subject (laughing) I seem not to be taking your misfortune seriously (!), but its a very interesting subject, I assure you. To me, it belongs entirely to the world of Disorder, it doesnt have any deep truthit doesnt. So if one lets the power of Truth act, it must give way. I am not saying it gives way willingly, I am not saying it goes away as if by miracle, no, but it MUST give way.

0 1965-07-17, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   If we look at the question from a sufficient height, in order to manifest, this Truth-Power needs a response, you follow, and It doesnt want to have any preference: it matters little whether this point or that point, this or that will manifest It; It goes like this (gesture of a massive, general pressure), It imposes itself on the earth-atmosphere, and whats capable of responding responds. And then, on the point that responds, the Force manifests.
   It isnt the Force that selects the point (I dont know if I am making myself understood): it is a global action, and whats capable of responding responds.
   As for us, we want It, we aspire for It, we even know, and naturally, because we know, we have a sort of conviction that we are cut out to respond. But its not a question of conviction: it has to be a fact.

0 1965-08-07, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I may express it in this way: the capacity to fall silent and to intervene only on the Impulse from above.
   To intervene only when set in motion by the supreme Wisdom, for every action to be done.

0 1965-08-18, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   He [C.] must have something, but I dont feel anything! (Mother makes a gesture as thin as cigarette paper.) Its something without force. But K., too, when she was in America, was quite under his thumb. And she said she had marvelous meditations with him! But I wrote to K., because he gave her advice on her life and on what she should and should not do; so she wrote to ask me, How much am I to believe? I answered, Nothing! He had forbidden her to come to the Ashram; he had told her that it wasnt the place for her, that she was much too grown-up to come here! The Ashram is good for those who have nothing in them, who need to be kept well in hand, while someone with a capacity must live independently.
   Thats how he catches them.

0 1965-09-15a, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   It seems, according to astrologers, that the combination of stars for the month of September is very bad for the earth. Naturally, this is always something to be cautious about, because it depends on peoples intuition, on their capacity to interpret, whether their vision is broad enough and so on, but it seems that all the signs are undeniable and indicate that things are bad (thats vague, of course), catastrophic. I was told this before, they said it in July. Only, I never attach too much importance to their conclusions, because they are always And also, they say some very vague things that contradict each other. Personally, I dont know the first thing about all that, I am not trying to seein fact I NEVER try to see (what came last night came very spontaneously, without my trying to see). The work, of course, is devoid of thought, of verbal expression, and constant; but it has been constant for a long time: the first time was at the beginning of the year, I think, at least six months ago. The second time, I told you I had one night an experience [the pressure of the Supreme] before anything really serious had taken place. Well, the first experience I had, of the consciousness hurling a fantastic power on the earth, which was necessarily going to shake things up, was at least six months before that second experience. And for those six months, it was constant: as soon as I came into contact with the earth consciousness, it was there, and constant, constant. Then came that indication: the pressure of the supreme Lord. And the third step was yesterday evening.
   Well see.

0 1965-09-15b, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   For those who are capable of it, the service to the divine Work is infinitely more important than the service to the country.
   I do not think I have said anything this morning that could contradict this undeniable fact.

0 1965-09-18, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   In Pakistan, there was a firing system of the latest American model, in which they take aim with, I dont know, electrical systems, and they can fire several thousand shots in anyway, its frightening; and shots that reach exactly where they want. Its quite an organization. Theyve become very efficient. It was given to Pakistan by the Americans. And it had to be destroyed. So one of the Indian pilots went and crashed his plane into it. Naturally, the plane crushed everythinghe too was crushed. But the installation was demolished. People here are capable of such things. If they feel what Sri Aurobindo says in this letter I have just given you, that the leader of our march is the Almighty, if they feel that way Thats what made the strength of the Japanese in the past. Thats what makes the strength of people here, once they are convinced. Thats how the Japanese took Port Arthur; there was a sort of ditch around the fortress, as there are in fortified places, and because of that they couldnt get in; well, they let themselves be killed till they were able to walk across on the bodies: the bodies made a bridge by filling up the ditch, and then they walked across.
   People who are conscious that death isnt the end, that death is the beginning of something else, it gives them a strength that these Europeans cannot have.

0 1965-10-16, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I have just thrown a fit of indignation! Because almost without exception, all the people around me, who profess to want nothing but what I want, are apparently completely obedient, but their instinct is just the opposite. When I see someone, for instance, I see how he is, what he is capable of, etc., and when I see its a man we cant count on, THEIR instinct is: Oh, what a wonderful man! And its their INSTINCT, in other words, the spontaneous movement of their being is in constant contradiction with my knowledge.
   So that means I cant say its hypocrisy, but its a purely mental attitude that doesnt correspond to the consciousness of the being. Because for me there is a very sure indication: when I dont say anything to someone (that is, I dont use the intermediary of the mind) but see that his sensation, his feeling, his state of consciousness are in harmony with mine, I know its going well. And when that person tells me, Yes, I want what you want, its true. But when its simply a purely mental, superficial attitude and when because I say, Its like that, outwardly they repeat, Its like that, but inwardly everything seethes because they feel differently

0 1965-10-20, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   You must shake that up, mon petit! You must. In your being you have been and still are somewhere in full Light. I told you it was a sort of close collaboration between the Light which is in Sri Aurobindo and your capacity of expression. One has no right to forget that.
   I dont forget that.

0 1965-11-27, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I saw that, I have seen that so concretely.3 Besides those who are capable of preparing for the supramental transformation and the realization, whose number is necessarily very limited, there should be increasingly developed, in the midst of the ordinary human mass, a higher humanity that had towards the future or promised supramental being the same attitude as animality, for instance, has towards man. What is needed, besides those who work for the transformation and are ready for it, is a higher or intermediate humanity that would have found in itself or in life this harmony with lifethis HUMAN harmony and that would have the same sense of worship, of devotion, of faithful dedication to something that seems to it so superior that it doesnt even attempt to realize it, but which it worships and whose influence and protection it feels the need ofand the need to live in that influence and to have the joy of being under that protection. It was so clear. But not that anguish and agony of wanting something that eludes you becausebecause it isnt yet your destiny to have it, and because the amount of necessary transformation is premature for your existence, and so it creates a disorder and a suffering.
   But I clearly see that when the work is done as I am made to do it, it becomes that way very spontaneously. For instance, one of the very concrete things, which shows the problem clearly: humanity has the sex impulse quite naturally, spontaneously and, I may say, legitimately. This impulse will naturally and spontaneously disappear along with animality (a lot of other things will disappear, such as for instance the need to eat, perhaps also the need to sleep the way we do), but the most conscious impulse in a higher humanity, and which has remained as a source of bliss is a big word, but of joy, of delight, is certainly the sexual activity, which will have absolutely no more reason to exist in the functions of nature when the need to create in that way no longer exists. Therefore the capacity to come into contact with the joy in life will go up one rung or will orient itself differently. But what the spiritual aspirants of old had attempted on principlesexual negationis an absurd thing, because it must exist only in those who have gone beyond that stage and no longer have any animality in them. And it must fall off naturally, effortlessly, without struggle, just like that. Making it a focus of conflict, struggle and effort is ridiculous. To be sure, my experience with the Ashram has absolutely proved that to me, because I have seen all the stages and that all the ideas and prohibitions are absolutely useless, that its only when the consciousness stops being human that it falls off quite naturally. There is a transition there that may be somewhat difficult because transitional beings are always in a precarious balance, but inside oneself there is a sort of flame or need thanks to which the transition isnt painfulits not a painful effort, its something that can be done with a smile. But to want to impose that on those who arent ready for that transition is absurd. I have been much reproached for encouraging certain people to marry; there are lots of these children to whom I say, Get married, get married! I am told, What! You encourage them?its common sense.
   Its common sense. They are human, but let them not pretend they arent.
  --
   Its like telling a dog, Dont think, dont believe at all I am as you imagine, all-powerful and all-knowing. If the dog were told the truth of how we humans are, the poor thing would be quite disappointed! It believes you are the all-powerful being, knowing everything and capable of doing everything. Well, thats the same thing, you dont tell a dog, Youre superstitious.
   (silence)

0 1965-12-10, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Well, mon petit, sit down a minute, stay still, call your friend and tell him, Here. Here is what I wanted to tell you, here is what I should have taught you, here. Now learn it from me (I mean, from you), from my consciousness. Now I am putting you in the Light; now I am putting you in the Knowledge; now learn all that you are capable of learning, and thats all. You will have done the best you could do.
   Its because there is still in your external consciousness a doubt about the invisible reality; its nothing but that, and when that which we can see and touch goes away, its painful.

0 1966-01-31, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   All discoveries are always graceswonderful graces. When you discover that you cant do anything, when you discover that you are a fool, when you discover that you have no capacity, when you discover that you are so petty and mean and stupid, well Oh, Lord, I thank You so much, how good You are to show me all this! And then, its over. Because the minute you discover it, you say, Now this is up to You. You will do what has to be done for all this to change. And the best part of it is that it does change! It does change. When you do like this (gesture of offering to the Heights), sincerely: Oh, take it, take it, take it, rid me of it, let me be only You
   Its wonderful.

0 1966-03-04, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I had the perception of this manifestationa pulsatory manifestation, I might saywhich opens out, shrivels up, opens out, shrivels up again and there comes a point when the opening out is such, the fluidity, the plasticity, the capacity for change are such that there is no need anymore to reabsorb in order to shape anew, and there will be a progressive transformation. Thon used to say (I think Ive already told you about it) that this is the seventh universal creation, that there have been six pralayas1 before and this is the seventh creation, but that it will be possible for this one to be transformed without being reabsorbedwhich obviously is perfectly unimportant because, the moment you have the eternal consciousness, whether things go this way or that way doesnt matter in the least. Its for the limited human consciousness that there is a sort of ambition or need for something that doesnt end, because, within, there is what we might call the memory of eternity and that memory of eternity aspires for the manifestation to partake of that eternity. But if the sense of eternity is active and present, you dont lamentyou dont lament if you discard a worn-out garment, do you? (You may be attached, but anyway you dont lament.) Its the same thing: if a universe disappears, it means it has wholly fulfilled its function, it has reached the limit of its possibilities, and another must replace it.
   I followed the curve. When you are very small in your consciousness and development, you feel a great need for the earth not to disappear, for it to be perpetuated (while being transformed as much as one likes, but always with the earth being perpetuated). A little further on, when you are a little more mature, you attach much less importance to it. And when you are in constant communion with the sense of eternity, it becomes a mere question of choice; its not a need anymore, because its something that doesnt affect the active consciousness. A few days ago (I dont remember when, but quite lately), for a whole morning I lived in that Consciousness and I saw that, in the curve of the beings development, that sort of need, a seemingly intimate need, for the prolongation of the earths life the indefinite prolongation of the earths life I saw that that need is objectified, so to say, its not so intimate anymore; its like watching a performance and judging whether it should be like this or like that. Its interesting as a change of standpoint.
  --
   The minute you try to express (Mother makes a gesture of reversal), everything is warped. I was looking at that experience of the relationship between the Consciousness and the Whole: the relationship of the human being with the Whole, of the earth (the earth consciousness) with the Whole, of the consciousness of the manifested universe with the Whole, and of the consciousness ruling over the universeall universeswith the Whole; and this inexplicable phenomenon that each point of consciousness (a point that doesnt take up any space), each point of consciousness is capable of having ALL experiences. Its very hard to express.
   We could say its only limits that make differences: differences of time, differences of space, differences of scale, differences of power. They are only limits. And the minute the consciousness emerges from limits, on any point of the manifestation and whatever the size of that manifestation (yes, the size of that manifestation is absolutely irrelevant), on any point of the manifestation, if you emerge from limits, there is THE Consciousness.
  --
   All this is just words, but thats all we have. One day, perhaps, we will have words and a language capable of saying these things properly; thats possible, but it will still be a translation.
   There is here a level (gesture at breast level) where something plays with words, images, sentences, like that (shimmering, undulating gesture): it makes pretty images; and it has a power to put you in contact with the thing, maybe a greater power (at least as great, but maybe greater) than here (gesture at the top of the forehead), than the metaphysical expression (metaphysical is a way of putting it). Images. That is, poetry. There is in it an almost more direct access to that inexpressible Vibration. I see Sri Aurobindos expression in its poetic form, it has a charm and a simplicitya simplicity and a softness and a penetrating charm that puts you in direct contact much more intimately than all those things of the head.

0 1966-03-26, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Yesterday evening, after I had written that message (I wrote it in the evening, not in comfort but that was the only time I had; the light wasnt good, but anyway I did it), after I had written, I felt a strong pain here, in my temples. Ah, I said, now I know! Now and then, after having listened to lots of people and especially after having written lots of birthday cards, answers to letters there is a sort of strange heaviness in my temples (and Ive never had headaches in my life, thats not like me!), and I say to myself, Whats this new decrepitude?! Then I noticed it wasnt that: its my eyes. Its because I havent yet found the secret of how to use my eyes. As I said just before, at times I see with extraordinary precision: things seem to come towards me to show themselves its so clear that the minutest detail is perceived. Thats one extreme. The other extreme is what I have already told several times: a sort of veil. I know things, they are in my consciousness, but I see just clearly enough not to bump against them or knock them over; everything, everything seems to be behind a veil; only I know where things are, so I find them, or I dont bump against them or break them, but thats not because I see I see a picture behind a veil, as it were. Thats the other extreme. In between the two, there are all sorts of gradations. And I am convinced its to show me that my eyes are still capable of seeing accurately the instrument is still very good, but I dont know how to use it. I dont know how to use it, because previously I used it as everyone uses his eyes, his hands, his feet, out of a sort of habit, more or less consciously I was very proud of my consciousness! ([Laughing] We are always very proud!) Very proud to have such conscious hands; in the past, for instance, I would sometimes say, I want twelve sheets of paper, then I would stop bothering about itmy hand would go and take, and there were twelve of them. That had been happening for a long, a very long time, but it would happen AT CERTAIN TIMES: when I was in the required state, that is, when there wasnt the intrusion of an arbitrary will. So all this is a field of experiment and study in very small details, absolutely insignificant in themselves, but very instructive. And it goes on all the time, twenty-four hours a day, night and day (at night its on other planes), but all this takes place in the physical, a more or less subtle physical.
   This morning, there was a very amusing story. I was rinsing my eyes and mouth; I do it before daybreak, that is, with electric light. And in my bathroom there is an emergency light. Its one of the latest inventions: its connected to the power and as long as there is power, the light remains off and a battery inside gets charged; as soon as the power fails, the light turns on and the battery is discharged to keep the light on. Its very well made, they invented it for hospitals and other places where any power failure must be avoided: as soon as the power goes, the light turns on instantaneously, and when the power returns, it goes off and gets recharged for the next time. They installed it for me in the bathroom. And this morning while I was washing my teeth, poff! the light went off. I continued, naturally, since I had that emergency light. But then, I did a study. The lights in C.s room (and everywhere) were on, it was only here, in this group of rooms. That was an odd phenomenon to begin with. Then I looked, and while I looked I noticed something I hadnt taken note of all these last few days: a will to disorganize all my personal life. And causing power failures is one of the known occult methods (I dont know how its done, in fact, but that man who wrote books and came here a very long time ago, Brunton, said it was one of the tricks known to those who practice occultism: a sudden failure of the lights). There are lots of other such tricks designed to disorganize peoples lives with the idea of frightening them or announcing catastrophes to them (I have always found this very childish). But then, I saw that there was (I think I know where, here, it comes from) a will for disorganization, and I saw the path it followed (winding gesture as if Mother were going back to the source). It had begun last night, in the middle of the night: when I got up around midnight, I saw a will wanting to preoccupy me with thoughts of money! And it was insisting: the thought that everything was going wrong, and so on. I saw that in the middle of the night. I was busy with other things, but I saw that will: formations; and naturally I dealt with them as they deserved. But I saw that it went on, trying to disturb people, to make them uncomprehending, and then to turn the power off, all sorts of silly things. Its not the first time it has happenedits not always the same people because generally, when they have tried and got a good knock in return, they dont try a second time, theyve had enough! But there are others who think they are very clever and want to prove to me (laughing) that they are right and I am wrongbecause ultimately it always comes to that! So I spent half an hour this morning, before they restored the power and I resumed my usual activities, half an hour having huge fun following the thread (same winding gesture going back to the source) wherever there was mischief, and then I very kindly answered.
  --
   So, if for some reason or other there is a disorganization (but I think the reason is one of teaching), one must have the capacity to go like this (Mother brings her two hands down in a gesture that immobilizes everything) and to stop all that instantly. But the capacity has been there for a long time, a long time (it hasnt always been used, but it has been there): the Power. And its the same with EVERYTHING: world events or natural or human upheavals, earthquakes and tidal waves, volcanic eruptions, floods, or else wars, revolutions, people killing each other without even knowing whyas they are doing at the moment: everywhere something pushes them on. Behind this quiver, there is a will for disorder that tries to prevent Harmony from being established. Its there in the individual, in the collectivity, and in Nature. And then, its such a painstaking, persistent teaching, which forgets nothing and is repeated every time something isnt totally understood, and is repeated in greater detail for you to better understand the working: the working in the hands, in the activity, in the Force going through [Mother] like this, in the use of vibrationsand which teaches the great Lesson: learning how to manifest the divine Force.
   Its absolutely wonderful.

0 1966-04-16, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Yes, thats an experience I personally had. There is a time when one is quite capable of loving without response, one is above the need to be loved, but one still has not positively a need, but, at least, a wish that ones love may be felt and be effective.
   Afterwards, it makes one smile.

0 1966-04-27, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Thats why that realization [the Void] isnt the goal, thats exactly why. A conviction that it isnt the goal. Its an absolute necessity, but not the goal. The goal is something the capacity to keep That here.
   When will that come? I dont know.

0 1966-06-02, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   You see, previously, they always felt the Lords support in the power and the force, they felt they existed because of Him, they existed through Him, they existed in Him; they used to feel all that. But to be capable of feeling it, they had to have enduranceabsolute enduranceto endure everything. Now its not that; its not that, there is something that smiles, but smiles so sweetly, so sweetly, and is, oh, extraordinarily amused, behind it all, and its light, light, so lightall the weight of that tension has disappeared.
   And its the result of that awesome flow: a flow that carried the cells along; it wasnt that the cells were immobile and it was flowing through them: they were IN the movement, they were moving with that same velocitya fantastic velocity with a dazzling luminosity and unimaginable speed, felt materially, like that. It was beyond all possibility of ordinary sensation. It lasted for hours.

0 1966-06-25, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   This cottage industry produces things that arent very pretty. So she would like to know if you want her to go and work there or to do something on her own. I feel she has a capacity for handicraft that could be used.
   Pavitra read me her letter. I spontaneously answered him, Oh, this woman is too perfect for me. You know, I can do this, I can do that, I do this so well, I do that so perfectly. There were pages of it, mon petit! So in the end I said, She is too perfect for me.

0 1966-07-27, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Yes, a few days ago the consciousness was under attack. All that is petty, sordid, ugly, oh poor, helpless, all thatit was such an avalanche! This poor body, it cried over its in capacity to express anything superior. And then, the answer was very simpleit was very clear, very strong and the experience came: the only solution the only way out of the difficulty is to BECOME divine Love. And the experience was there at the same time for a few moments (it lasted long enough, maybe more than half an hour). Then you understand that everything you have to go through, all these ordeals, all this suffering, all these miseries, is nothing in comparison with the experience of what will be (and what is). But we are still in capable, meaning that the cells havent the strength yet. They are beginning to have the capacity to be, but not the strength to keep ThatThat cannot stay yet.
   And That has such an extraordinary power to transform what is! All our notions (and this had become visible), our notions of miracle, of marvelous change, all the stories of miracles that have been told, all of it becomes a childs prattleits nothing! Nothing. All that we try to have, all that we aspire to have, all that is childishness.

0 1966-09-21, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   No! I am speaking of the countries collaboration in CREATING something. Its not when Auroville has been completed: its the nations collaboration in creating something but creating something founded on the Truth instead of a rivalry in Falsehoods creation. Its not when Auroville is readywhen Auroville is ready, it will be one town among all other towns and its only its own capacity of truth that will have power, but that remains to be seen.
   No, the point is a combined interest in building something founded on the Truth. They have had a combined interest (combined without any mutual liking, of course) in creating a power of destruction built on Falsehood; well, Auroville means diverting a little of that force (the quantity is minor, but the quality is superior). Its truly a hopeits founded on a hopeof doing something that can be the beginning of a harmony.

0 1966-09-28, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   For a long time lately, that is, for days and days, there has been a very sharp perception, very intense and clear, that the action of the Force outwardly results in what we call suffering because its the only kind of vibration capable of pulling Matter out of inertia.
   Supreme Peace and Calm were distorted and disfigured into inertia and tamas, and precisely because it was the distortion of true Peace and Calm, there was no reason for it to change! A certain vibration of awakeningof reawakeningwas necessary to emerge from that tamas, which was in capable of directly changing from tamas into Peace; something was needed to shake the tamas, and outwardly it resulted in suffering.

0 1966-09-30, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Although St. Paul had remarkable mystic experiences and, certainly, much profound spiritual knowledge (profound rather than wide, I think)I would not swear to it that he is referring1 to the supramentalised body (physical body). Perhaps to the supramental body or to some other luminous body in its own space and substance, which he found sometimes as if enveloping him and abolishing this body of death which he felt the material envelope to be. This verse like many others is capable of several interpretations and might refer to a quite supraphysical experience. The idea of a transformation of the body occurs in different traditions, but I have never been quite sure that it meant the change in this very matter. There was a yogi some time ago in this region who taught it, but he hoped when the change was complete, to disappear in light. The Vaishnavas speak of a divine body which will replace this one when there is the complete siddhi. But, again, is this a divine physical or supraphysical body? At the same time there is no obstacle in the way of supposing that all these ideas, intuitions, experiences point to, if they do not exactly denote, the physical transformation.2
   Sri Aurobindo
  --
   I quite understand a progressive change and that this substance could be made into something capable of renewing itself eternally from within outward. That would be immortality. But it seems to me that between what is now, what we are, and that other mode of life, a lot of stages might be necessary. You see, if for instance you ask these cells, with all the consciousness and experience they now have, Is there something you cannot do?, in their sincerity they will answer, No, what the Lord wills, I can do. Thats their state of consciousness. But the appearance is otherwise. The personal experience is like this: all that I do with the Lords Presence, I do effortlessly, without difficulty, without fatigue, without wear and tear, like that (Mother spreads out her arms in a great, harmonious Rhythm), but its still open to the whole influence from outside and the body is forced to do things that arent directly the expression of the supreme Impulsion, hence the fatigue, the friction. So a supramental body suspended in a world thats not the earth is not the thing!
   No.

0 1966-11-23, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Its the Grace learning its lesson. It learns that It isnt yet as It should be. You understand, there are always two ways of looking at things; we can say, The world isnt ready and look at it with a smile (its a what can we call it? We could call it a selfish way), and the other way, which is to say, I am not capable yet. If I were really capable, all this [illnesses, catastrophes, etc.] wouldnt be necessary, everything would be done in a harmonious rhythm.
   We could very well say, The Divine is learning his lesson. (Laughing) He has everything to learn! When He knows it well, the world will be as it should be, thats all.

0 1966-12-21, #Agenda Vol 07, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I told you: The book MUST be written, but its not necessarily the one that has been written: its the one that must be written! (Mother laughs). To me, you understand, there is a difference. Somewhere there is something that MUST be said, and that something is very useful: I see that the people, for example, who have come to place trust in you because of the book on Sri Aurobindo, will read you with an opening of mind, and if at that time you give them a sort of sensation of the experience, it will help them a lot. Its in that sense I say this book is useful. But for you personally, if youd rather rewrite it completely than correct it, it doesnt matter. Only, for you to be capable of rewriting it without falling back into the old state, you must have a decisive awareness of the difference in condition. Suppose you said, Ill rewrite the book, and once you started writing the same conflict recurred, that would be useless. Something must take place there, in the mind, thats where you must become totally conscious of the vibrations.
   I see fairly clearly all that must be cut out. But theres a lot to cut out!

0 1967-01-14, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Before going to sleep I was in that frame of mind, and during the night there was a series of experiences to show all the different states of consciousness of the different states of being. When I got up in the morning, there was a very keen observation of the difference contri buted by the physical. I saw how that difference could persist in the new physical state once it had shed its false side. And then, for I dont know, certainly two hours, there was a concrete Presence of what I call the Supreme Lord (but we can call it by any name, it doesnt matter: Truth, Consciousness, whatever we like the words dont matter, its something beyond all that). A concrete presence, there, like this (Mother clenches her two fists as if to evoke a palpable solidity), in all the cells, in the whole being. I went on doing all the absolutely trivial and tiny little thingslike bathing, the usual things, eating too, speaking and it stayed there. And it was as if telling me, This is how it will be. A joy, a power, a blossomingextraordinary, to such a point that I wondered how it was that this (body) didnt change. Its because THE STATE DIDNT LAST LONG ENOUGH. It lasted for only about two hours (give or take a little); afterwards, back came the everyday routine, everyone with their problems, etc. (Mother makes the familiar gesture of the truckload being dumped). But I am not accusing anything of having made the state go away: it went away because this (body) isnt yet capable of holding it, thats all. That is to say, at that moment, while it was there, there was an intimation that I had to write a note. Thats what I wanted to tell you. I had to write a note. (Mother breaks off abruptly, then speaks as if words were being dictated to her:)
   Because of the necessities of the transformation, this body may enter a state of trance that will appear cataleptic.
  --
   Because this intimation was very imperative, it was an imperative necessitywhich to me seems to prove that it will happen. Because of the necessities of the transformation That was when the experience was there and I became aware of all that had to change for this body to be capable of holding the thing constantly, for it to be there all the time. So that came. And I wanted to write it down, but didnt have the time, I was already terribly late; then came very clearly from Sri Aurobindo, On Saturday, when Satprem is there.
   I forgot to tell you at first!

0 1967-01-18, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   If a certain balance is kept, that state (of prolonged trance) may be dispensed with, but then the same work which would have been done in a few weeks or a few months (I dont know) will extend over yearsyears and years. So its a question of patiencepatience isnt lacking. But its not only a question of patience; its a question of proportion: there must be a certain balance between the two, between the pressure from outside of the external work (not external, the collective work), and the pressure on the body for its transformation. If wisdom is still there, that is, if the instrument is constantly and infallibly capable of doing exactly what is expected of it (to put it into words: the supreme Lords precise will), then the trance would not be necessary. It would only be if there is a resistance in the execution (out of ignorance).
   Thats how I perceive it.
  --
   It seems to me to be the legacy of primordial habits the habits of Matter. This Matter, of course, comes from total unconsciousness, and throughout the ages and all the ways of being, it returns to total consciousness it goes from one extreme to the other; well, its these habits of static immobility that give this need for trance. It shouldnt be necessary. Only (how can I explain?), logically, as things are, it depends on the balance between the bodys capacity of receptivity and its external activity: its obviously far more receptive when it is immobile, because its energies are occupied with the transformation.
   There is also another thing which could change the course of events: its that the vital is becoming more and more receptive and collaborative. This whole vital zone, which was the zone of revolt and deliberate opposition to the divine transformation, is becoming more and more collaborative, and with its collaboration (because this vital zone is the zone of movement, action, energy put to use), with its conscious collaboration, the methods of transformation may become different (its something I have been studying these last few days). It may change the methods. But thats a whole world to be learned.

0 1967-01-28, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But as soon as you are capable of having the true Ananda, truly, spontaneously, its absolutely repugnant, just like wallowing in mud.
   Only, with this method there will be a good amount of wastage.

0 1967-02-08, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Oh, how interesting it is, if you knew how interesting. Take coughing, for instance (not in the chest, in the throat). So, the first vibration: an irritation that draws your attention in order to make you cough. It has a certain kind of vibration which we may call pointed, but its not violent: its light, annoying. Its the first little vibration. So with that vibration: awakening of the attention in the surrounding consciousness (of the throat cells); then a refusal to accept the cough, a rejection here (in the throat), which at first almost causes nausea (all this is seen through a microscope, you understand, they are very tiny things). The attention is focused. Then, at that point, there are several possible factors, which are sometimes simultaneous and sometimes one drives away the other; one is anxiety: something goes wrong and there is apprehension at whats going to happen; the other is a will that nothing should be disturbed by the irritation; and then all of a sudden, the faith that the Force is capable of restoring order everywhere immediately (none of this is intellectual: its vibrations).
   Then, sometime yesterday morning, something very interesting occurred: a clear perception that the vast majority of the cells (in THIS CASE: Im not talking about the whole body, I am talking about this particular spotthroat, nose, etc.), the vast majority of the cells still have a sort of feelingwhich seems to be the result of innumerable experiences or of habits (its both; not clearly one or the other, but both)that Natures force, that is to say, the nature governing the body, knows what needs to be done better than the divine Power: its used to it, it knows better. Thats how it is. And then, when this new consciousness which is being worked out in the physical being (the mind of the cells) has caught hold of that, oh, it was as if it had caught hold of an extraordinary revelation; it said, Ah, Ive got you, you culprit! You are the one who is preventing the transformation.

0 1967-02-15, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And finally, what was the occult influence of this Judaism on human evolution? The more I think about it, the more the threads of it all appear to me so tied up and entangled together that only a knowledge in overview seems capable of helping to bring out the essential. Well, Mother, I leave it all to you. I hope you will be able to tell me the way in which we here should approach the question and to give me the few major elements on which I will be able to build my exposition.
   November, 1960

0 1967-02-18, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I was surprised, because Y. (the adoptive mother) knows French well, obviously, and she is quite capable of teaching her to write correctly: she hasnt taken the trouble (or didnt want to), I dont know why. But there is a certain force there.
   Oh, yes.
  --
   The nature (of Mother) was rather shy, and as a matter of fact, there wasnt much confidence in the personal capacity (although there was the sense of being able to do anything, if the need arose). Till the age of twenty or twenty-one I spoke very little, and never, never anything like a speech. I wouldnt take part in conversations: I would listen, but speak very little. Then I was put in touch with Abdul Baha (the Bahai), who was then in Paris, and a sort of intimacy grew between us. I used to go to his gatherings because I was interested. And one day (when I was in his room), he said to me, I am sick, I cant speak; go and speak for me. I said, Me! But I dont speak. He replied, You just have to go there, sit quietly and concentrate, and what you have to say will come to you. Go and do it, you will see. Well then (laughing), I did as he said. There were some thirty or forty people. I went and sat in their midst, stayed very still, and then I sat like that, without a thought, nothing, and suddenly I started speaking. I spoke to them for half an hour (I dont even know what I told them), and when it was over everybody was quite pleased. I went to find Abdul Baha, who told me, You spoke admirably. I said, It wasnt me! And from that day (I had got the knack from him, you understand!), I would stay like that, very still, and everything would come. Its especially the sense of the I that must be lost thats the great art in everything, for everything, for everything you do: for painting, for (I did painting, sculpture, architecture even, I did music), for everything, but everything, if you are able to lose the sense of the I, then you open yourself to to the knowledge of the thing (sculpture, painting, etc.). Its not necessarily beings, but the spirit of the thing that uses you.
   Well, I think it should be the same thing with language. One should be tuned in to someone in that way, or through that someone to something still higher: the Origin. And then, very, very passive. But not inertly passive: vibrantly passive, receptive, like that, attentive, letting that come in and be expressed. The result would be there to see. As I said, we are limited by what we know, but that may be because were still too much of a person; if we could be perfectly plastic it might be different: there have been instances of people speaking in a language they didnt know, consequently

0 1967-02-21, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The truth-light capture Nature by surprise,
   A stealth of God compel the heart to bliss

0 1967-03-04, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   One the most important, naturallyis the way we could call spiritual, which is that of the contact with the Consciousness Love-Consciousness-Power, that is; these three aspects: supreme Love-Consciousness-Power. And the contact, the identification: to make all the material cells capable of receiving Him and expressing Himof BEING That.
   Of all the ways, that is the most powerful and the most indispensable.

0 1967-03-07, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   All this has been seen Ive been seeing it for a long time, but just this morning it came back as an illustration of the new knowledge. Extraordinarily concrete (the association) in its effects, changing the capacities and movements of the others consciousness. And consciouslyan absolutely conscious life. And its the same consciousness that was conscious during the phase when there was no body left at all and the presence was visible only in the nocturnal vision.
   There are other cases.

0 1967-03-22, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   It is the maximum use of all possibilities and all impossibilities, all capacities and all in capacities; a maximum use in a maximum power and a maximum Compassion, and then a smile! A smile, a sense of humour, oh! Such a benevolent irony, so full of compassion, so wonderful. And this presumptuous mind, which is an incredible phenomenon indeed: it spends its time judging what it doesnt know and deciding on what it doesnt see!
   (silence)

0 1967-03-29, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I begin to think that it is not good to give this kind of lived knowledge to people who are not capable of having it, of experiencing it.
   For instance, these last few days I have clearly seen that men do not know the reality the concrete realityof the invisible, because if they knew it they would go insane. They have such a fear of these things.

0 1967-04-05, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   It would be interesting to formulate or work out a new method of teaching for the children, taking them very young. Very young, its easy. We need people (oh, we would need remarkable teachers) who have, first of all, sufficient documentation on what is known to be able to answer any question; and at the same time, at least the knowledge, if not the experience (the experience would be better) of the true intuitive intellectual attitude, and (naturally, the capacity would be still preferable) but in any case the knowledge that the true way to know is mental silence: an attentive silence turned towards the truer Consciousness, and the capacity to receive what comes from there. The best would be to have that capacity; in any case, it should be explained that its the true thing, a kind of demonstration, and that it works not only with regard to what must be learned, the whole field of knowledge, but also with regard to the whole field of what must be done: the capacity to receive the exact indication of HOW to do it, and as one progresses, it turns into a very clear perception of what must be done, and the precise indication of WHEN it must be done. At the very least, as soon as the children have the capacity to reflect (it begins at seven, but around fourteen or fifteen its very clear), they should be given some first hints at the age of seven, and a complete explanation at fourteen, of how to do it and that its the sole means of being in contact with the deeper truth of things; that all the rest is a more or less clumsy mental approximation of something you can know directly.
   The conclusion is that the teachers themselves should have at least a sincere beginning of discipline and experience: it is not a question of piling up books and of repeating them like that. Thats not the way to be a teacher the whole earth is like that, let it be like that outside if it makes them happy! As for us, we arent propagandists, we simply want to show what can be done and try to prove that it MUST be done.
  --
   Never scold, always understand, and, if the child is capable, explain. If he isnt capable of understanding an explanation (if you are yourself capable of it), replace the false vibration by a true one. But that thats asking of the teachers a perfection they rarely have.
   But it would be very interesting to draw up a program for the teachers, and the real program for study, starting with the very small onesthey are so plastic and anything leaves such a deep stamp on them! If they were given a few drops of truth when they are very small, they would blossom out quite naturally as their being grows.

0 1967-04-15, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   This is the description (retranslated from the French) of the "cellular level" by Dr. Timothy Leary, psychologist and professor at Harvard University: "Huge aggregates of cells are animated and the consciousness whirls about in strange lands capes for which there exist neither words nor concepts. L.S.D. reveals cellular dialogues imperceptible to the normal state of consciousness, for which we have no appropriate symbolic terms. You become aware of processes you never sensed before. You feel yourself sinking into the soft swamps of your own body's tissues, slowly drifting below dark red aqueducts, floating through endless capillary systems, gently propelled through endless systems of cells, grandfa ther clocks of fibres tirelessly jingling, clinking, tinkling, pumping. This experience is striking when you have it for the first time; it can also be a dreadful, frightening and at the same time marvellous experience..." Then his description of the "pre-cellular level": "Your nervous cells become aware, as Einstein did, that all matter, all structure is nothing but pulsating energy. Your body and the world around you dissolve into a sparkling lattice of white waves. You have penetrated matter's intimate structure and vibrate in harmony with its primeval and cosmic pulse."
   Mother is referring to U Thant, secretary-general of the United Nations. U.N.O., April 10, 1967: "That a fraction of the amounts that are going to be spent in 1967 on arms could finance economic, social, national and world programs to an extent so far unimaginable is a notion within the grasp of the man in the street. Men, if they unite, are now capable of foreseeing and, to a certain point, determining the future of human development. This, however, is possible only if we stop fearing and harassing one another and if together we accept, welcome and prepare the changes that must inevitably take place. If this means a change in human nature, well, it is high time we worked for it; what must surely change is certain political attitudes and habits man has."
   La Suisse, Geneva, April 10, 1967, translated from the French.

0 1967-04-27, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I told you about that experience (which has been growing increasingly concrete and constant) of the Vibration of Harmony (a higher harmony expressing the essential Consciousness in its aspect of love and harmony and, as it draws nearer to the manifestation, of order and organization), and of the nearly constant and general vibration of disorder, disharmony, conflictin reality, Matters resistance to this Action. The two vibrations are like this (Mother slips the fingers of her right hand between those of the left), as if they interpenetrated each other and a simple movement of consciousness sent you to one side or the other, or rather, the aspiration, the will for realization, put you into contact with the Vibration of Harmony, and the SLIGHTEST slackening made you lapse into the other. It has become constant. And then, on the 24th, right from morning there was a constant aspiration, a constant will for the triumph of the Vibration of Harmony. Then I sat down at my table as I always do, about five or ten minutes before it began. And instantly, with a puissancea puissance capable of crushing an elephantthis Vibration of Harmony came down like that, massive to the point that the body lost the sense of its existence altogether: it became That, it was conscious of nothing but That. And the first quarter of an hour literally flashed by in a second. Then, there were three people in the room; one of the three, or maybe all three, felt a malaise (nothing surprising!), and that woke me up: I saw the light (I burn a candle on my table) and I saw the time, but it wasnt me something saw. Then there was a sort of pacifying action on the place, and thengone again. And one second later, the call of the end!1
   Its the first time that has happened to my body. It always used to remain conscious. Sri Aurobindo, too, told me the same thing, that he never, ever, had samadhi in his body. Neither did I: I always, always, always used to remain conscious. While that only the Force remained, there was nothing left but the Force at work: there was a concentration here, a concentration on the whole country, and a concentration on the whole earth. And all that was conscious, like that (vast gesture above the head), at work. But something massive, as powerful as an elephantenough to crush you.

0 1967-05-03, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And I always think of that passage in Savitri in which he says, God shall grow up Grow up in Matter, of course (and you SEE the Divinity grow up in Matter, and Matter being made more and more capable of manifesting the Divinity), and he says, while the wise men talk and sleep.2 Its exactly that. And its charming.
   (silence)

0 1967-05-06, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And the body is conscious enough to be convinced that it has no right to demand the change (I mean a certain change) in the Whole so as to enable its own change. Because, that it knows very well: Then what use am I? If I am like the others, I am useless I MUST have the capacity to emerge into the Light, whatever the people or difficulties around me. It knows that, its under no illusions. But still, there is a little friction.
   (silence)

0 1967-05-17, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   An Italian professor did some research in Mexico. He says: Human cells can generate enough electrical energy to electrocute another human being standing eighteen feet away. Dr. Ruggiero feels that his experiments in human cells may result in the cure of paralysis and he says that an electrical energy screen generated by human cells could be used to stop bullets. Electrical energy could make a human dynamo capable not only of inflicting death, but of literally walking on air. By connecting cables to the human frame, human cells could produce energy and light sufficient to fill the power needs of an average home or small manufacturing unit. In experiments in his Mexico City laboratory, Dr. Ruggiero has produced a current from a goat enough to light up a series of 40 watt bulbs and to activate an electric door bell
   But its been known for a long time that cats, the skin of cats, is full of electricity. It was used in the past to cure rheumatism.

0 1967-05-24, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I know it is the Russian explanation of the recent trend to spirituality and mysticism that it is a phenomenon of capitalist society in its decadence. But to read an economic cause, conscious or unconscious, into all phenomena of mans history is part of the Bolshevik gospel born of the fallacy of Karl Marx. Mans nature is not so simple and one-chorded as all thatit has many lines and each line produces a need of his life. The spiritual or mystic line is one of them and man tries to satisfy it in various ways, by superstitions of all kinds, by ignorant religionism, by spiritism, demonism and what not, in his more enlightened parts by spiritual philosophy, the higher occultism and the rest, at his highest by the union with the All, the Eternal or the Divine. The tendency towards the search of spirituality began in Europe with a recoil from the nineteenth centurys scientific materialism, a dissatisfaction with the pretended all-sufficiency of the reason and the intellect and a feeling out for something deeper. That was a pre-war [of 1914] phenomenon, and began when there was no menace of Communism and the capitalistic world was at its height of insolent success and triumph, and it came rather as a revolt against the materialistic bourgeois life and its ideals, not as an attempt to serve or sanctify it. It has been at once served and opposed by the post-war disillusionmentopposed because the post-war world has fallen back either on cynicism and the life of the senses or on movements like Fascism and Communism; served because with the deeper minds the dissatisfaction with the ideals of the past or the present, with all mental or vital or material solutions of the problem of life has increased and only the spiritual path is left. It is true that the European mind having little light on these things dallies with vital will-o-the-wisps like spiritism or theosophy or falls back upon the old religionism; but the deeper minds of which I speak either pass by them or pass through them in search of a greater Light. I have had contact with many and the above tendencies are very clear. They come from all countries and it was only a minority who hailed from England or America. Russia is differentunlike the others it has lingered in mediaeval religionism and not passed through any period of revoltso when the revolt came it was naturally anti-religious and atheistic. It is only when this phase is exhausted that Russian mysticism can revive and take not a narrow religious but the spiritual direction. It is true that mysticism revers, turned upside down, has made Bolshevism and its endeavour a creed rather than a political theme and a search for the paradisal secret millennium on earth rather than the building of a purely social structure. But for the most part Russia is trying to do on the communistic basis all that nineteenth-century idealism hoped to get atand failedin the midst of or against an industrial competitive environment. Whether it will really succeed any better is for the future to decide for at present it only keeps what it has got by a tension and violent control which is not over.
   Sri Aurobindo

0 1967-06-07, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But the difficulty is to find the someone, because it should be a man who knows Sri Aurobindo thoroughly to begin with, who is capable of receiving his inspirations directly (a very difficult condition), and has at the same time a very strong character with a powera contagious power and a force that can arouse the inert masses. For years I have been looking for that man, without finding him.
   There was a man who would have donenot fully well, not with enough breadth of mind to fully understand Sri Aurobindo, but very straight and stronghe was assassinated in Kashmir.
  --
   It wasnt perfect, it was a stopgap, but anyway he would have done. But now Among the young people whom I dont know? What is needed is power combined with that breadth of mind capable of understanding Sri Aurobindos inspiration and transmitting it; and along with that, vital power. The two things together.
   And its not something for tomorrow: its for right now, thats the problem, because the danger is there.

0 1967-06-14, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The experience was that (laughing) impossible to get back in there! But Thon was there (Thon got such a fright!), and there was at that time the knowledge of the occult (a good deal of knowledge!), the knowledge was there and then the will (Mother makes a gesture of pushing to re-enter the body), and also an inner faith (but I never used to talk about that), and a concentration. And he was capable, he knew. He knew how to pull. And the body hadnt deteriorated, you see, it wasnt damaged, so it wasnt difficult. It was in very good condition, but the thread was cut, which means that what gives life had gone out and could not get back in.
   I came back in as a result of the power and the will, because In fact, simply because I still had something to do on earth.

0 1967-06-24, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The importance of the body is obvious; it is because he has developed or been given a body and brain capable of receiving and serving a progressive mental illumination that man has risen above the animal. Equally, it can only be by developing a body or at least a functioning of the physical instrument capable of receiving and serving a still higher illumination that he will rise above himself and realise, not merely in thought and in his internal being but in life, a perfectly divine manhood. Otherwise either the promise of Life is cancelled, its meaning annulled and earthly being can only realise Sachchidananda by abolishing itself, by shedding from it mind, life and body and returning to the pure Infinite, or else man is not the divine instrument, there is a destined limit to the consciously progressive power which distinguishes him from all other terrestrial existences and as he has replaced them in the front of things, so another must eventually replace him and assume his heritage.
   (The Life Divine, XVIII.231)

0 1967-07-15, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   At the same time, there was a sort of capacity or possibility, a state in which one was able to understand all languages; that is, every language was understood because of its connection with that region (gesture to the heights, at the origin of sounds). There didnt seem to be any difficulty in understanding any language. There was a sort of almost graphic explanation (same sinuous descending line branching out) showing how the sound had been distorted to express this or that or
   Its a whole field of observation thats part of the study of vibrations: how essential vibrations are distorted as they spread out, and produce the different stateson the psychological level, on the level of thought, on the level of action, and also of languages, of expression.
  --
   I have, for instance, an impression (a strong impression) that in the Assyrian age they had a means, they had found a means to record and preserve sound. It must have been destroyed, it disappeared. But its a very strong impression, linked to certain memories and (psychic) impressions like the ones I said: they arent ideas, but [vibrations]. There was a capacity to make the invisible speak, you understand. They had a machine. It must have been destroyed with the rest?
   The oldest memory that exists is the first Chinese attempts. Its in China that a machine to reproduce sound, to preserve and reproduce sound, was first found.

0 1967-07-26, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   For a time I attended a private school: I didnt go to a state school because my mother considered it unfitting for a girl to be in a state school! But I was in a private school, a school of high repute at the time: their teachers were really capable people. The geography teacher, a man of renown, had written books, his books on geography were well-known. He was a fine man. So then, we were doing geography (I enjoyed maps more fully because it all had to be drawn) and one day, the teacher looked at me (he was an intelligent man), he looked at me and asked, Why are towns, the big cities, settled on rivers? I saw the students bewildered look, they were saying to themselves, Lucky the question wasnt put to me! I replied, But its very simple! Its because rivers are a natural means of communication. (Mother laughs) He too was taken aback! Thats how it was, all my studies were like that, I enjoyed myself all the timeenjoyed myself thoroughly, it was great fun!
   The teacher of literature He was an old fellow full of all the most conventional ideas imaginable. What a bore he was, oh! So all the students sat there, their noses to the grindstone. He would give subjects for essaysdo you know The Path of Later On and the Road of Tomorrow? I wrote it when I was twelve, it was my homework on his question! He had given a proverb (now I forget the words) and expected to be told all the sensible things! I told my story, that little story, it was written at the age of twelve. Afterwards he would eye me with misgivings! (Laughing) He expected me to make a scene. Oh, but I was a good girl!

0 1967-07-29, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Afterwards I had to be busy with other things, but its there. And the question was, Why? Why isnt there in this brain the capacity to perceive and transcribe things as he had it?
   And so the conclusion. Ive always heard it said (I dont know if its true) that men think in a certain way and women in another. On an external level, the difference is not visible, but the attitude the mental attitudeis perhaps different. The mental attitude on the Prakriti side is always action, always action; the mental attitude on the Purusha3 side is conception: conception, overall vision, and also observation, as though it observed what the Prakriti had done and saw how it was done. Now I understand that. Thats how it is. Naturally, no man (here on earth) is exclusively masculine and no woman is exclusively feminine, because it has all been mixed together again and again. Similarly, I dont think any one race is absolutely pure: all that is over, its been mingled together (it is another way to re-create Oneness). But there have been TENDENCIES; Its like that note about Israelites and Muslims, its just a manner of speaking; if I were told, This is what you said, I would reply, Yes, I said that, but I can also say something else and many other things! Its a way of selecting certain things and bringing them to the fore with an action in view (its always with an action in view). But for the moment, everything is like that, everywhere mixed and mingled together with a view to general unificationno one nationality is pure and separate from the others, that no longer exists. But to a certain vision, each thing has its essential role, its raison dtre, its place in universal history. Its like that very strong impression that the Chinese are lunar, that when the moon grew cold, some beings managed to come to the earth, and those beings are at the origin of the Chinese nation; but now there only remains a tracea trace which is the memory of that distinctiveness. And its everywhere the same thing: if you look at the individuals of every nation, you find in every nation that everything is there, but with the memory the memory of a specificness which has been its raison dtre in the great terrestrial unfolding.

0 1967-08-02, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The contact with the great Asuras, the first Asuras, is like that: the full consciousness of their formidable power, their marvellous capacities they forget one thing, its that they deserve no credit for it, its not their exclusive property! So they cut the connection and become instruments of disorder and confusion.
   This one, the Lord of Falsehood.
  --
   It is through this whole jumble and chaos that the Truth-Consciousness is at work everywhere, on all the points of the earth at once, in all nations, all individualities, without preferences or distinctions, wherever there is a spark of consciousness capable of receiving and manifesting It.
   (July 29, 1967)

0 1967-08-12, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   No, they werent bandits at all! Thats whats more serious: its not bandits, its students who stopped the trains! And to cap it all, the Chief Minister of Bengal has declared their grievances to be legitimate.
   They may be legitimate, but not their action.

0 1967-08-19, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   You understand, behind this whole earth evolution, there is, more or less consciously (its an unexpressed need rather than a precise consciousness), the need to live the Divineor to put it differently, the need to live divinely. And it is clear that what was expressed as different religions were solutions found individually (found, and perhaps partially lived); and here [in India], there was this solution: in order to really become the Divine again, there should be no more creation. That was the Nirvanic solution. And instinctivelyinstinctivelymankind felt death to be the negation of the Divine. But like all negation, it had the capacity to lead and open the way. The solution of Christianity wasnt completely new, it was the adaptation of an ancient solution: a life in other worldswhich was expressed by that quite childish conception of paradise. But that was a conception for public use: a life in the presence of the Divine, exclusively taken up with the Divine, and so one sang and Touchingly simple. Anyway, they conceived of a world (not a material one) in which a divine life had been realized. In the ancient Indian traditions, there had also been a first hint of already divine worlds, as a sort of reaction to that Nirvanismif we want to be divine, we must stop being, or if the Divine wants to be pure, he must stop manifesting! So they were all somewhat clumsy attempts to find the means, and perhaps at the same time inner preparations, to make people capable of really making contact with the Divine. Then there was that great reaction of the cult of Matter, which has been VERY useful to knead it and make it less unconscious of itself: it has forcibly brought consciousness back into Matter. So perhaps all that has sufficiently prepared the moment of the coming of Total Manifestation (gesture of descent).
   This morning, during the experience, the body felt the whole bliss of the condition, but it was very conscious of its in capacity to manifest and very conscious in such a perfect peace, like this (gesture with the palms of the hands open upward), in which there wasnt even the intensity of the need. It was simply a vision of how things were, how the condition was. And it was something like this: the conditions of the earth are such, the conditions of the substance are such that a local and momentary manifestation, as an example, is not impossible, but the transformation that would make possible the new Manifestation of the supramental being and not just as an isolated case, but with its place and role in earth lifedoes not appear to be immediate. That was the impression.

0 1967-09-13, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Its very simple: when you say to people, Be humble, they immediately think of being humble towards others, and that humility is bad. True humility is humility towards the Divine, that is, the precise, exact, LIVING sense that you are nothing, can do nothing, understand nothing without the Divine, that even if you are an exceptionally intelligent and capable being, that is NOTHING in comparison with the divine Consciousness and one must keep that constantly, because then one constantly has the true attitude of receptivity. A humble receptivity that sets no personal pretension against the Divine.
   ***

0 1967-09-16, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   You know, in olden days you were put through ordeals they were symbolic things, naturally, but you were aware that they were ordeals, so you were on your guard. But now I remember, in the very beginning, when I started working with Sri Aurobindo, he warned me (I had already noticed it long before) that the circumstances of life are at each minute organized in such a way that the one who is destined to do the work is confronted with his own difficulties, which he must conquer, and with the difficulties of the world he works in, which he must conquer too. If he has the necessary humility to see in himself what must be transformed so he can become capable of doing the Work, then all goes well. Naturally, if he is full of pride and vanity and believes the whole fault lies outside and there is none in him, then naturally things go wrong. And the difficulties become more pronounced. And for as long as I did the work, for (how many years?) the thirty years I worked with Sri Aurobindo and he was there, I was like this (gesture hidden behind Sri Aurobindo), so comfortable, you know I was in front, I seemed to be the one doing the work but for my part, I felt completely protected, behind him like this (same gesture); I was very tranquil, not trying to understand or know or anything I was simply attentive to what had to be done, what had to be done. It was rarely necessary to tell him; sometimes I was faced with a difficulty then I would tell him, but he didnt need to answer: it was immediately understoodthirty years like that.
   And when he left, there was a whole part the most material part of the descent of the supramental body down to the mind that visibly came out of his body like that and entered mine, and it was so concrete that I felt the FRICTION of forces passing through the pores of the skin. I remember having said at the time, Well, anyone who has had this experience can, by this experience, bring the proof of afterlife to the world. It was it was as concrete as if it had been material. So naturally, after that it was there in the field of consciousness. But I have seen more and more, more and more, that all that happens, all the people we meet, all that happens to us personally (that is, taking this little body as being the person), all of that is ALWAYS a test: you stand firm or you dont; if you stand firm, you make a progress forward; if you dont, you have to go through it again.

0 1967-10-11, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   All degrees are there, of course. When its refusal or in capacity, then the person HIMSELF flees, saying, Theyre fools, they are trying to do something impossible and unrealizable. (I know many such people, they think they have superior intelligence.) But even to place themselves, its they themselves who do it. She came with the idea of a hierarchy. I said yes, everything is always according to hierarchy, especially all conscious individuals, but there is no arbitrary will that classes them: its the people themselves who spontaneously take their place without knowing it, the place they must have. Its not, I told her, its not a decision, we dont want categories: this category, that category, and so this person will go here, that person will go thereall that I said, is mental constructions, its worthless! The true thing is that NATURALLY, according to his receptivity, his capacity, his inner mission, everyone takes up the post which in the hierarchy he truly and spontaneously occupies, spontaneously without any decision.
   What can be done to facilitate the organization is a sort of plan or general map, so that everyone need not build his position but will find it all ready for him thats all.

0 1967-10-21, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The vision was so clear (not vision: lived, the experience), it was so clear that it contained in itself the purpose of the creation. You could see the work of the consciousness to permeate the inconscient and make it progressively more capable of manifesting the consciousness (gesture like a flower rising out of the earth), with increasing complications, but the complications are the result of the inability of the inconscientof inconscient matterwhich adds one device to another in the hope of reconstructing the supreme Possibility. Then, through all those complications, and as the substance becomes increasingly permeated with consciousness, the need for devices will diminish, and we will be able to return to the higher Simplicity.
   But all that was lived, seenseen, and so clear!

0 1967-11-22, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   These material cells had to gain the capacity to receive and manifest the consciousness; and what permits a radical transformation is that instead of an ascent which is so to speak eternal and indefinite, there is the appearance of a new typea descent from above. The previous descent was a mental one, while this is what Sri Aurobindo calls a supramental descent; the impression is, a descent of the supreme Consciousness infusing itself into something capable of receiving and manifesting it. Then, out of that, once it has been thoroughly kneaded (theres no knowing how much time it will take), a new form will be born, which will be the form Sri Aurobindo called supramentalit will be no matter what, I dont know what those beings will be called.
   What will be their mode of expression? How will they make themselves understood and so on? In man, it developed very slowly. Only, mind has done a lot of kneading and, after all, has made things advance fasten.
  --
   Yes, I understand. I understand. Well, perhaps that is what Sri Aurobindo meant when he said to me, Your body is at present the only one on earth that can do this work. I thought it was a kindness on his part. But its true that it was cut off, I knew it I saw itcut off, the states of being were sent away: Go away, you are not wanted anymore. Then the body had to rebuild a life for itself. And instead of having to go through all those states of being as it did before, through successive awakenings (gesture of ascent from degree to degree, in the way of the yogis of old), right to the top, the topmost beyond the form, now its no longer that at all, the body no longer needs anything of all that, it simply has (gesture of a rising aspiration opening out like a flower). Something within opened and developed, which caused that idiotic mind to become organized and capable of falling silent in an aspiration. And then then there was the direct Contact, without intermediaries the direct contact. That it now has constantly. Constantly, constantly, constantly, the direct contact. And its THE BODY: it doesnt go through all kinds of things and states of being, not at all, its direct.
   But once that has been done (this is something Sri Aurobindo had said), once ONE body has done it, it has the capacity of passing it on to others; and I tell you, there is now (I am not saying in its totality and in detail, probably not), but here and there (scattered gesture to show various points on earth) people suddenly get one experience or another. Some of them (the majority) get frightened, so naturally it goes away that is because they werent prepared enough within (if its not the little routine of every minute, always the same, they get frightened), and once they get frightened its over, it means they will need years of preparation for the experience to recur. But still, some arent; frightened; suddenly, an experience: Ah! something wholly new, wholly unexpected, which they had never thought of.
   Its contagious. That I know. And its the only hope, because if everyone had to go through the same experience again Well, I am ninety nowat the age of ninety people are tired, theyve had enough of life. To do this work one must feel as young as a small child.

0 1967-12-30, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   according to their capacities and means, not a mechanical so much per unit. Thats the point. It must be something living and TRUE, not mechanical. And according to their capacities, that is, one who has material means such as those a factory gives will have to provide in proportion to his productionnot so much per individual or per head.
   This participation may be passive or active.
  --
   So thats understood: there will be no taxes of any kind, but everyone will have to contri bute to the collective welfare through his work, in kind or with money. Those who have nothing other than money will give money. But to tell the truth, the work may be an inner work (but that cant be said, because people arent honest enough). The work may be an occult work, a completely inner work, but of course, for that to be, it must be absolutely sincere and true, and with the capacity: no pretence. But its not necessarily a material work.
   Sections like Industries which participate actively will contri bute part of their income towards the development of the township. Or if they produce something (like foodstuff) useful for the citizens, they will contri bute in kind to the township which is responsible for the feeding of the citizens.
  --
   Its a kind of adaptation of the Communist system, but not in a spirit of levelling: according to everyones capacity, his position (not a psychological or intellectual one), his INNER position.
   In democracies and with the Communists, theres a levelling down: everyone is pulled down to the same level.
  --
   The true part is that every human being has the right (but its not a right ). The organization must be such, must be arranged in such a way, that everyones material needs should be guaranteed, not according to notions of right and equality, but on the basis of the most elementary necessities; then, once that is established, everyone must be free to organize his life, not according to his monetary means, but according to his inner capacities.
   No rules or laws are being framed. Things will get formulated as the underlying Truth of the township emerges and takes shape progressively. We do not anticipate.
   What I mean is that usually (always till now, and more and more so), men establish mental rules according to their conceptions and their ideal, then they apply them (Mother lowers her fist, as if to show the world under the mental grip). And thats absolutely false, arbitrary, unreal, with the result that things revolt, or else waste away and disappear. Its the experience of LIFE ITSELF that must slowly work out rules AS SUPPLE AND VAST as possible, in order that they remain ever progressive. Nothing must be fixed. Thats the immense error of governments: they build a framework and say, Here is what weve established, now we must live under it. So naturally, Life is crushed and prevented from progressing. It is Life itself, developing more and more in a progression towards Light, Knowledge, Power, that must progressively establish rules as general as possible, so as to be extremely supple and capable of changing according to needof changing AS RAPIDLY as habits and needs do.
   (silence)
  --
   Its an extremely interesting experience: how the same actions, the same work, the same observations, the same relationship with the people around (near or far), how they take place in the mind, through intelligence, and how they take place in the consciousness, by experience. And thats what this body is now learningto replace the mental government of intelligence by the spiritual government of the consciousness. And it makes (it looks like nothing, one may not notice it), it makes a tremendous difference, to the point of multiplying the bodys possibilities a hundredfold. When the body is subjected to rules, even if they are broad, even if they are comprehensive, it is a slave to those rules and its possibilities are limited by them. But when its governed by the Spirit and the Consciousness that gives it an incomparable possibility and flexibility! And thats what will give it the capacity to prolong its life, to last longer: its by replacing the mental, intellectual government by the government of the Spirit, of the Consciousness THE Consciousness. Outwardly, it doesnt seem to make much difference, but My experience is like this (because now my body no longer obeys the mind or the intelligence at all, not any moreit doesnt even understand how that can be done), and more and more, and better and better, it follows the direction and impulsion of the Consciousness. But then, it sees, almost at each minute, the tremendous difference that it makes. For instance, time has lost its value (its rigid value): you can do exactly the same thing in very little time or in much time. Necessities have lost their authority: you can adapt yourself this way, adapt yourself that way. All the lawsthose laws that were laws of Naturehave lost all their despotism, we may say: it no longer works that way. All you have to do is always, always be supple, attentive, and responsive (if any such thing can be!) to the influence of the Consciousness the Consciousness in its all-powerfulnessso as to go through all this with extraordinary suppleness.
   That is the discovery being made more and more.

0 1968-01-10, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Its an explanation, the beginning of an explanation. Because there [in the message for February 21], I say, Serve the Truth and you will hasten the coming of Divine Love.2Ah, what does that mean? So here I say, Truth alone can give the world the capacity to receive and so on.
   Now I have to make a decent copy of it (Mother stops and puts the palms of her hands on her eyes as though she was tired).
  --
   I dont mean that only Truth is at work, or that when it works it will work alone; I mean that its presence is indispensable (thats very roughly the nuance). To magnify the meaning, I might say either Truth must work alone to do the thing, or Truth alone is capable But then, it becomes heavy and impossible. And what we want is Truth alone is capable, its not that it works alone.
   (Mother closes her eyes and goes into a contemplation)

0 1968-01-12, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   There may be here some debate on this true sense: some, along with the religions we know, will tell you that the true sense isnt here, but in goodness knows what heaven beyond. Its a point of view, but if this material evolution does not hold its own sense within itself, it means we are in the presence of a sinister farce invented by goodness knows what divine masochist. If God exists, he must be a little less foolish than that, and we are entitled to think that this material evolution has a divine sense and that it is the field of a divine manifestation in Matter. Our spiritual discipline must therefore aim at gaining this divine man or perhaps that other, still unknown being who will emerge from us just as we emerged from hominid infancy. What is the place of the sexual function in this evolution? Until now, the progress of consciousness has made use of the progress of species, which means that sexual reproduction has been the key to the proliferation of species so as to reach the form most fit for the manifestation of consciousness. Since the appearance of man two or three million years ago, Nature hasnt produced new species, as if she had found in man the fittest mode of expression. But evolution cannot remain stagnant, or else it no longer is evolution. So it means that the key of evolution no longer lies in the proliferation of species by means of sexual reproduction, but directly in the very power of consciousness. Before man, consciousness was still too buried in its material support; with man, it has disengaged itself sufficiently to assume its true mastery over material Nature and work out its own mutations by itself. From the standpoint of evolutionary biology, this is the end of sexuality. We have reached the stage at which we can switch from natural evolution through sexual power to spiritual evolution through the power of consciousness. Nature generally does not let organs linger that no longer serve her evolutionary design, so we can foresee that the sexual function will atrophy in those who will be able to channel their energy no longer for reproduction but to develop their consciousness. Quite obviously, not all of us have reached that stage, and for a long time Nature will still need sexual power to pursue her evolution in the midst of the human species, that is to say, to lead the rather brute man we still are to a more conscious man, more capable of grasping the true sense of his evolution, and finally wholly capable of switching from natural to spiritual evolution. The inequality of development in individuals is the obvious reason why we cannot make general rules or hand out infallible prescriptions. To each stage its law. But after however long a time, it is equally obvious that, from the point of view of evolutionary biology, the sexual function comes to its end when it has fulfilled its purpose, that is, when it has succeeded in giving birth to a sufficiently conscious man. So we cannot reasonably base a spiritual discipline of accelerated evolution on a principle that runs counter to evolution. Moreover, anyone who has even barely crossed the difficult line, the point X of the transition from natural to spiritual evolution, cannot but realize that all the pseudo-mystic attempts to prettify the sexual relations between man and woman are shams. I have nothing against sexual relations (God knows!), but trying to coat them with a yogic or mystic phraseology is a deceitful illusion, a self-deception. Therefore, in that sense, there is no key to be recoveredit does not exist.
   There is a key in the relationship between man and woman, but not in their sexual relations. The so-called left-hand Tantrics (of the Vama Marga) are to true Tantrism what Boccaccios tales are to Christianity, or what the sodden Roman Bacchus is to Dionysos of the Greek mysteries. I know Tantrism, to say the least. As for the Cathars, whom I hold in the highest esteem, it would be doing them little honor to believe that they followed a sort of yoga of sexuality. Through my own experience I have often had the feeling of reliving the Cathars experience, and I see plainly that if some of them attempted to mix sexual relations into the true relationship between man and woman, they soon realized their error. It is a dead-end road, or rather its only end is to show you that it leads you nowhere forward. The Cathars were too sincere and conscious men to persist in a burdening experience. For ultimately, and that is the crux of the matter, the sexual experience in its very nature (whether or not there is backward flow or whatever its mode) automatically fastens you again to the old animal vibrations there is nothing you can do about it: however much love you may put into it, the very function is tied to millennia of animality. It is as if you wanted to plunge into a swamp without stirring up any mudit cannot be done, the milieu is like that. And when one knows how much transparency, clarification and inner stillness it takes to slowly rise to a higher consciousness, or to allow a higher light to enter our waters without being instantly darkened, one fails to see how sexual activity can help you attain that still limpidity in which things can start happening??? The union, the oneness of two beings, the true and complete meeting of two beings does not take place at that level or through those means. That is all I can say. But I have seen that in the silent tranquillity of two beings who have the same aspiration, who have overcome the difficult transition, something quite unique slowly takes place, of which one can have no inkling as long as one is still stuck in the struggles of the flesh, to use a preachers language! I think the Cathars experience begins after that transition. After it, the man-woman couple assumes its true meaning, its effectiveness, if I may say so. Sex is only a first mode of meeting, the first device invented by Nature to break the shell of individual egosafterwards, one grows and discovers something else, not through inhibition or repression, but because something different and infinitely richer takes over. Those who are so eager to preserve sex and to mystify it in order to move on to the second stage of evolution are very much like children clinging to their scootersit isnt more serious than that. There is nothing in it to do a yoga with, nothing also to be indignant about or raise ones eyebrows at. So I have nothing to criticize, I am merely observing and putting things in their place. All depends on the stage one has reached. As for those who want to use sex for such and such a sublime or not-so-sublime reason, well, let them have their experience. As Mother told me on the very same subject no later than yesterday, To tell the truth, the Lord makes use of everything. One is always on the way towards something. One is always on the way, through any means, but what is necessary is, as much as possible, to keep ones lucidity and not to deceive oneself.

0 1968-02-03, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But when the body is ready, it will be able to let itself go like that WITHOUT BEING DISSOLVED. And thats the work of preparation. The movement, yes, is to let oneself melt entirely. But the result is the egos abolition, that is to say, an UNKNOWN state, you understand, which we may call physically unrealized, because all those who sought Nirvana did so by giving up their body, whereas our work is to make the body, the material substance, capable of melting; but then, the principle of individualization remains, and all the egos drawbacks disappear. Thats the present attempt. How to keep the form without the egos presence?thats the problem. Well, thats how it takes place, little by little, little by little. Thats why it takes time: each element is taken up again, transformed. Thats the marvel, that is it (for the ordinary consciousness, its a miracle): its keeping the form while entirely losing the ego. For the vital and the mind, its easier to understand (for most people its very difficult, but still for those who are ready, its easy to understand, and then the action can be much more rapid), but HERE, this (Mother points to her body), for it not to be dissolved by this movement of fusion? Well, thats precisely the experience, thats it. And there is a slight movement of patience, a movement of its really the deep essence of compassion: the minimum wastage for the maximum effect. That is, one goes as fast as one can, but delays arise from the need to prepare the various elements.
   Thats precisely the so interesting curve at present unfolding. At times, you feel as if everything, everything is dissolving, getting disorganized; and I have observed closely: at first the physical consciousness wasnt sufficiently enlightened, and when those inner preparations took place, it would feel, Ah, this must be what heralds death; then, little by little, came the knowledge that it wasnt that at all, it was only the inner preparation to be capable, capable of identification. And then, on the contrary, the very clear vision of this plasticity so particular, this suppleness so extraordinary that if it were realized once its realized, it obviously means the abolition of the necessity of death.
   This mornings experience was Everything was an immense ocean of luminous consciousness, and so powerful! Tremendously powerful. And something so sweet at the same time, so compassionate, but causeless there was no cause: just like that. Like Divine Love which is without object, its like that. So this body starts floating in that, lighter and lighter, more and more transparent, and still remains the impression is of bark, but not even all over. Its a strange impression of something that still has contradictions. But not deliberate contradictions, its not that: in capacitiesspots of powerlessness, a lack of receptivity. But little by little, gradually, slowly, that gets cured.
  --
   In my life, I have been given so many, so many experiences, as proof that EVERYTHING is possible. For instance, when I was twenty-two, one night, after an experience I had in the night (I forget the details of it) at the time women wore dresses that exactly touched the ground, just touched it without resting on it (gesture of skimming the ground), and in my experience at night, I had grown tallin the morning, there was one inch between the dress and the ground! Which means that the body had grown one inch WITH THE NIGHTS EXPERIENCE. You see, in the nights experience I had grown tall (I dont remember the details), and in the morning And Ive been given that material verification for many such experiences, so as to be sure, so the body may be convinced without having to repeat the experiences over and over again. So it KNOWS, it knows there is nothing impossible, it knows impossible doesnt mean anything. But it doesnt depend on an individual will, you understand. The Consciousness which rules things is a marvel of wisdom, patience, compassion, endurance. When there is destruction or disorder, it means its absolutely unavoidable, absolutelybecause matters resistance in the individual or in things is so strong that it quite naturally brings about disorder or destruction. But that doesnt form part of the Action, the supreme Action, which is a marvel. The body has understood that; it has understood, it is patient. Only, from time to time (how can I put it?) There are people whom I prevent from dyingseveral people. I dont yet have the consciousness, the conscious power to cure them, but the possibility is there and I maintain it above them. That is to say, its not all-powerful in the sense that a certain receptivity, a certain response, a certain attitude are necessary which arent always there (human natures are very fluctuating, there are ups and downs and more ups and downs, and that makes the work very difficult), but at times, during a down spell, when a being suffers or sags, there is something in the consciousness [of Mother], a compassion (how can I explain that?) Affliction and all those movements are movements of weakness, but that is something at once very strong and very sweet, almost like sorrow, and the whole, entire consciousness in the body rises like a prayer and an aspirationa pure prayer: Why are things still in this pitiful state, why? Why? And it instantly has an effect [in the sick person]. Unfortunately, the effect doesnt last; it doesnt last because certain conditions in others are still necessary. But its wonderful, you know! Its something so wonderful. And it makes one understand the necessity of a presence on this side, a presence capable of feeling, understanding still IN THE OTHER WAY, so the suffering of others may be a reality. And that also is taken into account, that also means time is needed, patience is needed. Now the body knows ittheres no longer any impatience; there is only, now and then, that sort of sorrow, especially when beings are full of aspiration, goodwill, faith, and in spite of it this suffering is still there, clinging. That on one side, and on the other, one thing: there is still a sort of horror and reprobation of acts of cruelty, of THE cruelty; thats And then, there is this awesome Poweryou feel, you can feel that a mere nothing, a simple little movement would, oh, bring about a catastrophe. So you have to keep that still, still, still so what happens may always be the best.
   Now stupidity, imbecility, ignorance, all those things are looked at with a patience which waits for them to grow. But bad will and crueltyespecially viciousness, cruelty, what LOVES to cause suffering thats still difficult, one still has to keep a hold on oneself. In figurative language (not language, but a way of being), its Kali that wants to strike, and I have to tell her, Keep still, keep still. But thats a human transcription. All those gods, all those beings are real, they exist, but its a transcription. True truth is beyond all that.

0 1968-02-10, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The first is (one more English word) a reliance that is, it should lean on the Divine ALONE for support, for the source of its strength, its health, its capacity; it means that all material rules and laws are rejected and must cease to have any importance.
   Thats the bodys experience almost every minute.

0 1968-04-10, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I dont know if its to teach me to find the kind of vibration or power capable of undoing this stranglehold its possible.
   But the conflict is between what we might call opposing proprietors. And the truth is that money belongs to no one. This idea of possession of money is what has perverted everything. Money shouldnt be a possession: its a means of action, which is given to you just like a power, but you have to use it according to what we might call the Donors will, that is, impersonally and with foresight. If you are a good instrument in the spread and use of money, then it comes to you, and it does so in proportion to your capacity of using it in the right way. Thats the true working.
   I see these people [of the jute factory]: no choice needs to be made, the man didnt say spontaneously (or anyway, with feeling), This money is at the disposal of divine forces for the actionnot at all, thats a thousand miles away from his thought. Its I quite simply want to take POSSESSION again of something he claims to own. So thats why (Mother shakes her head) it may be this or that, this way or that wayit hardly makes any difference.
  --
   The first thing, to begin with (this is elementary), is to have no sense of possession Its mine, what does that mean? What does it mean? I cant really understand it now. Why do people want it to be theirs?To be able to use it as they wish, do with it what they wish and handle it according to their own idea. Thats how it is. Otherwise, yes, there are people who love to keep it in a pile somewhere But thats a disease. To be sure of always having money, they heap it up. But if people understood that one must be like a receiver-transmitter set; that the vaster the set (just the contrary of personal), the more impersonal and generous and vast the set is, and the more forces it can contain (forces, that is, to translate materially, banknotes or money). And that power to contain is in proportion to the best capacity of utilization the best, that is, from the standpoint of general progress: the broadest vision, the broadest understanding and the most enlightened, exact, true utilization, not according to the egos falsified needs, but according to the earths general need in its evolution and development. In other words, the broadest vision should have the broadest capacity.
   Behind all false movements, there is a true one: there is a joy in being able to direct, utilize, organize things so as to keep wastage to a minimum while having a maximum of results. (Thats a very interesting vision to have.) And that must be the true side in those who want to amass: a capacity of utilization on a very large scale.
   As this vision grows clearer Its a long, long time, years and years, since the sense of possession went away; thats childishness, its nothingits so silly! Will you tell me what pleasure a man can take in keeping heaps of papers in a box or in his wall! A real pleasure he cant have. The height of pleasure is that of the miser who goes and opens his box to look at it thats not much! Some people love to spend, they love to possess and spend; thats different, they are generous natures, but unregulated, unorganized. But the joy of enabling all TRUE needs, all NECESSITIES to express themselves, thats good. Its like the joy of turning an illness into good health, a falsehood into truth, a suffering into joy, its the same thing: turning an artificial and stupid need, which doesnt correspond to anything natural, into a possibility which becomes something quite naturala need for so much money to do this and that which needs to be done, to set right here, repair there, build here, organize there thats good. And I understand one may enjoy being the transmitting channel for all that and bring money just where its needed. It must be the true movement in people who enjoy (thats when it becomes stupid selfishness) who need to hoard.
  --
   The first thing to be accepted and recognized by all is that the invisible, higher power (higher in the sense that it belongs to a plane of consciousness which, although veiled to most, one can gain, a consciousness one may call as one likes, any name that doesnt matter but which is integral and pure in the sense that its not mendacious, its based on the Truth), that this power is capable of governing material things for everyone in a MUCH TRUER, happier and more beneficial way than any material power. Thats the first point. Once everyone agrees on it
   And its not something you can pretend to have; a being cant pretend to have it: either he has it or he doesnt, because (laughing) if its a pretense, life will use the slightest opportunity to make it obvious! And moreover, it wont give you any material powerhere also, Thon said something in this regard, he said, Those who are all the way up (he was referring to the TRUE hierarchy, the hierarchy based precisely on each ones power of consciousness), one who is all the way up (one or those) necessarily has the least amount of needs; his material needs decrease as his capacity of material vision increases. And its perfectly true. Its automatic and spontaneous; its not the result of an effort: the vaster the consciousness and the more things and realities it embraces, the smaller the material needs becomeautomatically sobecause they lose all their importance and value. Its reduced to a minimal need of material necessities, which will itself change with the progressive development of Matter.
   And thats easily recognizable, of course. Its difficult to feign.

0 1968-05-04, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   They are so attached to their power that they are capable of reverting to their old waysexcommunication, inquisition and the restto prevent things from moving. Thats what I feel. Thats the terrible thing. Whereas the Pope, there was in him an effort to go farther.
   There was, did you say?

0 1968-05-22, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I dont know. De Gaulle5 is open to something more than the purely material force. Is he capable? I dont know. At any rate, he is among the best instruments.
   Its clearly (not in the detail of it, but in the direction of the movement), clearly a will to have done with the past and to open the door to the future.
  --
   For perhaps a long time yet, or at any rate for some time, P.L. must be the intermediary, but a somewhat conscious onenot active. He acts as an intermediary, as a link (gesture as of a bridge between Mother and the Vatican), but he shouldnt He doesnt have the capacity to resist those peoples tremendous power. He should remain very stillvery still, very peacefulhe should let himself live happily, then he will fulfill his function.
   See conversation of April 3, 1968.

0 1968-05-29, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   That is infinitely more difficult than fleeing or closing ones eyes so as not to see but it is the only really effective way, the way of those who are truly strong and pure and capable of manifesting the Truth.
   You can show this letter to those who share your indignation.

0 1968-07-20, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   In one of those parts, the Divine, or the Supreme, is a formless, undefined, vast thing which I do not really know, but aspire to know, and that is what my thought and love turn to when no other part or circumstance interferes. That is what I find in the depths. In it, I find the explanation and raison dtre of all things, and each day allows me, to the extent of my small capacity, to discover a new aspect of it. There are no problems or difficulties there, everything is peaceful and happy.
   In another, more complex part, there is the everyday life and the ordinary personality. There, things are completely different. The central pole of that part has so far been love, but love as I understand it here, that is, not something subtle that rises but something concrete which is lived and exchanged, and which in order to exist needs the presence of the physical being, the living with, otherwise it has no raison dtre, having no base or concrete form. That is probably why you told me I loved love and not individuals. Its very true, because to me, individuals are only an occasion to live love, or what I call love.
  --
   1) Is what I call the Supreme, which I turn to within, a reality to the extent of my small capacity? And is my movement towards that a true thing, or an imagining and a flight from another reality which I refuse to recognize?
   Thats easy!

0 1968-08-07, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   What happened is this: the body suddenly (yes, it came over it one day like that) got a sort of not exactly disgust, but at any rate a dissatisfaction at its way of being and all its movements, all its consciousness and everything, and then (it obviously corresponded to a movementa movement coming over itof transformation), then there was complete decomposition. And very spontaneously, with all the sincerity its capable of, it gave itself to the transformation, saying, Either transformation or decomposition. Like that.
   So things appear to have taken an accelerated turn, and all the old energy which came in fact which came simply from the ego, from the sense of personalitygone. And materially, the result was that the pulse started behaving more than fancifully.

0 1968-08-28, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But those who come to judge theories and practices, those who, with their intelligence, think they are highly superior and capable of distinguishing the true from the false, who imagine they can decide whether a teaching is true and a practice is in accordance with the Supreme Reality, those are tiring and seeing them is useless, to say the least.
   Oh, yes, I do understand! I understand that very well!

0 1968-08-30, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   According to what I see now, it seems to me that the Mind has been the instrument needed to make the transition from unconsciousness to consciousness, that is, to make this Matter capable of receiving consciousness. But it will slowly be either transformed or eliminated.
   The same thing with the Vital. The Vital took a very bad turn, of course; its the Vital that has contained all the adverse forces and all difficulties. Well, its the same thing: it was the first means to pull Matter out of the Inconscient. But once it has done its work we might say (smiling), well do without these two scoundrels!

0 1968-09-07, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I have told you many times, and couldnt repeat it too often, that we are not made of a piece. Within ourselves we have lots of states of being, and each state of being has its own life. All that is gathered together in a single body, as long as you have one, and acts through a single body; thats what gives you the sense of a single person, a single being. But there are many of them, and there are in particular concentrations on different planes: just as you have a physical being, you have a vital being, a mental being, a psychic being, and many others with all possible intermediaries. So when you leave your body, all those beings will scatter. Its only if you are a very advanced yogi and have been capable of unifying your being around the divine center that those beings remain linked together. If you havent been able to unify yourself, then at the time of death, all that will scatter: every being will go back to its own region. With the vital being, for example, your various desires will separate and each of them will go and chase its realization quite independently, because there will no longer be a physical being to hold them together. While if you have united your consciousness to the psychic consciousness, when you die you will remain conscious of your psychic being, and the psychic being will return to the psychic world which is a world of bliss, joy, peace, tranquillity, and growing knowledge. But if you have lived in your vital and all its impulses, each impulse will try to realize itself here and there. For instance, for the miser who was concentrated on his money, when he dies the part of his vital that was concerned with his money will hook on there and will keep watching over the money so no one takes it. People wont see him, but he is there nonetheless, and very unhappy if something happens to his dear money. Now, if you live exclusively in your physical consciousness (which is difficult, because, after all, you have thoughts and feelings), if you live exclusively in your physical, when the physical being disappears, you disappear along with it, its over. There is a spirit of the form: your form has a spirit that lives on for seven days after your death. The doctors have declared you dead, but the spirit of your form is alive, and not only alive but conscious in most cases. It lasts for seven to eight days, and after that, it too dissolves I am not talking about yogis, I am talking about ordinary people. Yogis have no laws, its quite different; for them the world is different. I am talking about ordinary people living an ordinary life; for them its like that. So the conclusion is that if you want to preserve your consciousness, it would be better to center it on a part of your being which is immortal; otherwise it will evaporate like a flame into thin air. And happily so, because if it were otherwise, there might be gods or kinds of superior men who would create hells and heavens as they do in their material imagination, inside which they would shut you up. (Question:) It is said that there is a god of death. Is it true? Yes. As for me, I call him a genius of death. I know him very well. And its an extraordinary organization. You cant imagine how organized it is! I think there are many of those genii of death, hundreds of them. I met at least two of them. One I met in France, the other in Japan, and they were very different. Which leads me to believe that depending on the mental culture, the education, the countries and beliefs, there must be different genii. But there are genii for all manifestations of Nature: there are genii of fire, genii of air, water, rain, wind; and there are genii of death. Any one genius of death is entitled to a certain number of dead every day. Its truly a fantastic organization. Its a sort of alliance between the vital forces and the forces of Nature. If, for example, he decided, Here is the number of people I am entitled to, say four or five, or six, or one or two (it varies from day to day), if he decided so many people would die, hell go straight and set himself up near the person whos going to die. But if you (not the person) happen to be conscious, if you see the genius going to the person but do not want him or her to die, then, if you have a certain occult power, you can tell him, No, I forbid you to take this person. Thats something which happened, not once but several times, in Japan and here. It wasnt the same genius. Which makes me say there must be many of them. If you can tell him, I forbid you to take this person and have the power to send him away, theres nothing he can do but go away; but he wont give up his due and will go elsewhere there will be a death elsewhere. (Question:) Some people, when they are about to die, are aware of it. Why dont they tell the genius to go away? Two things are needed. First, nothing in your being, no part of your being, should wish to die. That doesnt often happen. You always have, somewhere in you, a defeatist: something tired or disgusted, which has had enough, something lazy or which doesnt want to fight and says, Ah, well, let it be over, so much the better. Thats enoughyoure dead. But its a fact: if nothing, absolutely nothing in you consents to die, you will not die. For someone to die, there is always a second, if a hundredth part of a second, when he consents. If there isnt that second of consent, he will not die. But who is certain he doesnt have within himself, somewhere, a tiny bit of a defeatist which just yields and says, Oh well? Hence the need to unify oneself. Whatever the path we may follow, the subject we may study, we always reach the same result. The most important thing for an individual is to unify himself around his divine center; that way he becomes a real individual, master of himself and of his destiny. Otherwise, he is a plaything of the forces, which toss him about like a cork in a stream. He goes where he doesnt want to, is made to do what he doesnt want to, and finally he gets lost in a hole without any way to stop himself doing so. But if you are consciously organized, unified around the divine center, governed and led by it, you are the master of your destiny. Its worth trying. At any rate, I find its better to be the master rather than the slave. The feeling of being pulled by strings and being made to do things you may or may not want to do is a rather unpleasant sensation. Its quite irksome. Well, I dont know, I, for one, found it quite irksome even when I was a small child. When I was five, I began finding it wholly intolerable, and I sought a way for it to be otherwisewithout anyone being able to tell me anything. Because I knew no one capable of helping me, and I didnt have the luck you havesomeone who can tell you, Here is what you must do. There was no one to tell me. I had to find it all by myself. I found it. I began at the age of five. And you, its a long time since you were five?
   Well cut out the end.

0 1968-09-25, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   When I hear of a righteous wrath, I wonder at mans capacity for self-deception.
   Wonderful!
  --
   Yes, when we regard the higher part of our mind as the judge of our action, thats how we can deceive ourselves in good faith. In other words, the mind is in capable of seeing the truth and it judges according to its own limited capacitynot only limited but unconscious of the truth; so then, as far as its concerned, the mind is in good faith, it does the best it can. Its like that.
   Naturally, those who are fully conscious of their psychic cannot possibly deceive themselves, because if they refer their problem to the psychic, they can find the divine answer there. But even for those who are in contact with their psychic, the answer doesnt have the same character as the mental answer, which is precise, categorical, absolute, and imposes itself the psychic answer is more a TENDENCY than an assertion. Its something that can still have different interpretations in the mind.

0 1968-09-28, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   We could say the same thing for the vital: the vital gives an intensity which nothing else seems capable of giving; well, that same intensity exists in the Supramental, but without division. Its an intensity that doesnt separate things.
   Ive had both experiences, but in a very short-lived manner. Those are things that are just now being worked out.

0 1968-10-09, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   So then, tell V. that as for his black bear, I saw it as a brown man, with a brown overcoat and a hat (you know, those pointed caps) which formed the ears!
   But what is it?
  --
   Who wears a "Gandhi cap" and sports a long beard.
   A disciple who died six years earlier, in December 1962. See the story of his death in Agenda 4, January 12, 1963.

0 1968-11-23, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But this notion of the descending Supermind, of a permeating Consciousness, is OUR translation. The experience came as the experience of an eternal fact: not at all something just now taking place. That its all the result of states of consciousness is certain (whether there is something beyond, I do not know, but at any rate I have the positive experience of that). Its movements of consciousness. Why, how? I dont know. But looking at it from the other side, the fact that something belonging to this terrestrial region as it is has become conscious, is what gives the impression that something has taken place. I dont know if I can make myself understood. I mean that this body is just the same as all the rest of the earth, but for some reason or other, it happens to have become conscious in the other way; well, that normally should be expressed in the earth consciousness as a coming, a descent, a beginning. But is it a beginning? What has come? You understand, theres NOTHING but the Lord (I call it the Lord for the convenience of language, because otherwise), theres nothing but the Lord, not anything elsenothing else exists. Everything takes place within Him, consciously. And we are like grains of sand in this Infinity; only, we are the Lord with the capacity of being conscious of the Lords consciousness. Thats exactly it.
   (silence)

0 1968-11-27, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Its beginning to know the exact spot or function that isnt I cant say transformed, because thats quite a high-sounding word, but not in harmony with the others, and causing a disorder. Thats becoming a perception of every moment. When something apparently abnormal takes place, there is the understanding, the awareness of why it occurs and what it must be leading to: how an apparent disorder can lead to a greater perfection. Thats it. Its a tiny little beginning. But it has begun. The body is beginning to be a little conscious. And not only for itself alone, but for all others too, it has begun: seeing, perceiving how the Consciousness (with a capital C) acts in others. And in fact, at times (words lag WAY BEHIND the experience), there no longer is the perception of division: there is the perception of diversity (thats becoming very interesting) the diversity (if it werent for what we might call the latching on of separateness), the diversity that, in the true consciousness, would be perfectly harmonious and would make a whole that would be perfection itself (Mother makes a round gesture).
   Its the latching onwhat happened? What happened?

0 1968-12-04, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I saw Z just before. She was in full revolt, because long ago I had told her something she didnt understand regarding films [shown at the Ashram] (its not exactly that, but anyway), and she slipped into a hole. So she was here (I was holding her hand), and this body felt it was all the same kind of matterthis sort of commonality and identity and it was at once amused and very sweet. And then, there was here, like that, such an awesome Power, mon petit; the body was conscious That could crush a being to a pulp. And It remained like that (gesture of a quiet witness), not acting. The Power, which has the capacity to manifest with the vital power (It dominates the vital and has the capacity to use it), and which can dissolve things in perfect stillness. Its extraordinary.
   But the body isnt mistaken, it knows what it is. It knows what it is. And it knows one thing, that its only when (and because) it can be absolutely peacefulpeaceful like something completely transparent and still that this Power can act. The body knows. It knows the only thing asked of it is that total, transparent stillness.
  --
   And the body has understood that its only now it has the experience because its only now it is sufficiently conscious and surrendered (surrendered in the true sense; I might almost say identified, but thats too high-sounding a word, it doesnt want to use it, it knows its not like that and identification will be something else), but quite simply that its now capable and ready to bear the idea that everything is the Lord, that there is NOTHING but the Lord. Previously, for quite a long time, it still needed to feel that all these movements (gesture forward) lead to the Lord, while all those movements (gesture backward) lead away from the Lord. For a long time, the choice was necessary. And now, now its doing its tapasya to be able to bear this idea but without admitting or accepting movements of degradation and cruelty. That is, with the nascent impression that things are not what they seem to be; that we only see the appearance and they are not what they seem to be.
   But the brain cannot understand. The Mind can speculate on anything, but this is something else, the mind isnt there. The brain, its capacity (Mother remains gazing).
   No later than this morning, the whole morning, there was (what should I call it?) it has the nature of wonderment, but not the joy of wonderment, and it doesnt have the stupidity of bewilderment, its something a state, yes. The body notes the way life is (or at least the way life is for our outer, active consciousness), the way life is, the way it APPEARS to be and its very hard for it not to say, Why, why, why? WHY?.. And then, when it sits looking like that, it becomes sad, sad, so very sad; then it feels thats not the thing. And whats that sadness? It must be it must be the door that leads to something else which it doesnt yet understand.

0 1969-01-04, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But when you are there, on your balcony, it looks very much like a big steamship, as if you are standing there at the captains comm and deck, and steering the ship!
   ***
  --
   With my brother, we lived our whole childhood together, and very close, very close, until he entered Polytechnique5for eighteen yearsand he understood NOTHING. Yet he was an intelligent, capable man: he was a governor, and a rather successful one, in several countries. But he understood NOTHING. He was friends with Jules Romains,6 and Jules Romains told him he had a very great desire to come here, but couldnt. Jules Romains understood better than my brother, there you are!
   Strangely, when he was sixteen, I think, or seventeen Did I tell you what happened to him?

0 1969-02-08, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   This mornings experience was very curious. All of a sudden, it awakened the memory of something that took place in my childhood when I was about eight or ten (which I had completely forgotten). On Sundays (I suppose so, or anyway on holidays), I used to go and play with my first cousins, the children of a brother of my father. I would go and play with them. I remember their house, I can still see it. We would usually spend our time playing scenes or enacting a story in tableaux. And today, it showed me something I had really forgotten. Theres a story of Bluebeard, isnt there? (Bluebeard I forget, I only know what I remembered this morning.) One day, we did a tableau vivant, in several tableaux, with the story of Bluebeard who cut off his wives heads. (To Satprem:) Thats how the story went, isnt it? (Laughter) I only remember this morning, I dont recall the story. Now, we played in a big room, a sort of enclosed verandahin Paris, a big long room. We had stood (our playmates were little boys and girls), we had stood a certain number of girls against the wall: we had stuck them to the wall, with their hair strung above their heads (Mother laughs), and we had put a sheet in front to cover the rest of their bodies the sheet reached down to the floor so that we couldnt see their bodies, only their heads! I am saying that because I saw it this morning, otherwise I didnt remember in the least. I saw this scene, I saw the memory of that room and how it was all arranged. And at the same time there came You see, we found it quite natural, just a story we had read; I remembered my impression at the time: there was no sense of horror! We didnt find it monstrous (laughing), we were having great fun! So the experience came, and it remained for OVER AN HOUR to make me understand very deeply where this memory came from, how it acted and why we were in that state. And all of it not at all from a personal standpoint, not at all: from the general standpoint of the earth and humanity in general. It was exceedingly interesting! And then, at the same time, a vision showing how, with what swift movement, the universal consciousness moves (arrowlike gesture) in a progression towards the Divine the TRUE Divine, I mean, not religions, of coursetowards the TRUE Divine through all that. And with the consciousness of the WHOLEthe whole and nuances (Sade and all that line), from the highest to the lowest. For one hour I saw a whole stage of humanitya stage towards the late 1800s, the second half of the 1800sand how it moved on and progressed (gesture like a great curve). And thats I have no words or capacity to describe it, but its extraordinarily interesting. The vision of the human collectivity on earth, with all its stages, gradations, nuances, and how it all followed a movement (same arrowlike gesture). And this story (story this VISION, rather, because it wasnt a story: I didnt see what we said or anything, only the vision of what we did), this story came as the illustration of a certain state of mind of those times, and how children were given stories of that kind to readwe found it quite natural! (Mother laughs) And those things are so dreadful.
   As soon as I am not busy talking or listening to people or doing a work, it goes on and on: certain samples, as it were, of this bodys life are taken up again, and through those samples, the whole is shown. A wonderful education! Never, never does any human education as its conceived resemble this, because its a vision of the whole, in which everything hangs together; youre shown everything together.
  --
   But the nature of the thing is so special! It has extraordinary precision, and such intensity that the bodys whole attention is turned towards that, but it cant communicate yet. Unless it comes quite naturally with this [superman] consciousness actingacting in others, for some detail or other, for one thing or other (that is to say, people themselves dont know, everyone isnt aware of the whole action, he is aware only according to the development of his consciousness). The consciousness is very clearly active on a large scale, and with results that are quite surprising and look, when seen in isolation, like miracles (small miracles, but they look like miracles). So I have wondered if it was going to make others capable of the same inner work? The hindrance in most people is mental activitytruly, this body is infinitely grateful that it has been liberated from the mental presence so it may be ENTIRELY under the influence of this Consciousness, without this whole accumulated farrago of so-called knowledge people have. Its spontaneous, natural, unsophisticated, very, very simple, and almost childlike in its simplicity. And that [the minds disappearance] is a great advantage. At this speed, things can go very fastone learns a hundred, two hundred things AT THE SAME TIME, you understand, all of it seen at once. This morning, it was particularly intense.
   But if its described as it can be described, with words following each other, it becomes like F.s text on Auroville: flat, artificial, devoid of life.

0 1969-02-15, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The cells themselves were saying their effort to be transformed, and there was a Calm. (How can I explain this?) The body was saying its aspiration and will to prepare itself, and, not asking but striving to be what it should be; all that always with this question (its not the body that asks it, its the environment, those around the world, as if the world were asking the question): Will it continue, or will it have to dissolve? The body is like this (gesture of abandon, hands open upward), it says, What You will, Lord. But then, it knows the question is decided, and One doesnt want to tell itit accepts. It doesnt lose patience, it accepts, it says, Very well, it will be as You will. But That which knows and That which doesnt answer is something that cant be expressed. It is yes, I think the only word that can describe the sensation it gives is an Absolutean Absolute. Absolute. Thats the sensation: of being in the presence of the Absolute. The Absolute: absolute Knowledge, absolute Will, absolute Power Nothing, nothing can resist. And then this Absolute (theres this sensation, concrete) is so merciful! But if we compare it with all that we regard as goodness, mercy ugh! thats nothing at all. Its THE Mercy with the absolute power and its not Wisdom, not Knowledge, its It has nothing to do with our process. And That is everywhere, its everywhere. Its the bodys experience. And to That it has given itself entirely, totally, without asking anythinganything. A single aspiration (same gesture, hands open upward), To be capable of being That, what That wills, of serving Thatnot even serving, of BEING That.
   But that state, which lasted for several hours never had this body, in the ninety-one years its been on earth, felt such happiness: freedom, absolute power, and no limits (gesture here and there and everywhere), no limits, no impossibilities, nothing. It was all other bodies were itself. There was no difference, it was only a play of the consciousness (gesture like a great Rhythm) moving about.

0 1969-03-12, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But this Consciousness which has manifested since the beginning of the year, its VERY active; it has spread about and is very active. You remember, I always used to say (the body used to say, that is) that it was very difficult without someone capable of helping it, and this Consciousness has fulfilled that function, it serves as a mentorit teaches the body loads of things. Really interesting. Things that the mind didnt know, it teaches the body That way, the body is becoming a little clever!
   (silence)
  --
   Did I tell you the miracle that took place? You havent heard about it? In Auroville were going to build a big factory to mill wheat, but something huge (its to mill wheat for the whole of India!), huge. Machines are coming I dont know from where, huge too. And they chose to land them at Pondicherry because going from Pondicherry to Auroville is easier than from Madras to Auroville. Only, when the ship came and they saw the number and the size of crates, they got terribly scaredit wasnt possible. Here its a woman, P., who owns the landing barges, and she refused. I had her told that I needed her help and she had to do it (because she had claimed she wanted to serve me, so I took advantage of it!). I told her, I need your help, do it. She was obliged to do it. For two days, everything went well, but they had kept the biggest crate for the enda six-ton crate, huge and no one knew how to do it. They would have needed enormous cranes like the ones they have in Madras, but they dont have them here: they only had two puny cranes, which together didnt even WEIGH six tons! (Mother laughs) And those cranes were supposed to lift the crate from the ship and put it on the barge. There was no other way, only that way. So they tied the crate to the two cranes and started lifting and the two cranes went like this (gesture of tipping over). There were people belowpeople looking after the trans shipmentand everyone, including the ships captain, everyone stood there, terrified. Thats it, they thought, were done for, its catastrophe. The two cranes went like this (same gesture) and all of a sudden, they straightened up. No one ever knew how. They straightened up, carried the crate, and it was over.
   It was so obviously a miracle the captain stood almost terrorstricken, everyone. And then, those crates were intended for someone here, M. (of Aurofood), to whom I had given a blessings packet the day before the landing, and he had it on him. So he went to see the captain and told him (showing the small packet), See this, its what straightened up the cranes.
   A very simple man.
  --
   The captain met L. and told him, Couldnt I have one of those (Mother laughs) little packets! So L. came to see me. I gave packetsfour packets for him and his men.
   Its the first time. L. told me, I have seen hundreds of miracles, but this one was so obvious, and of such considerable dimensions (Mother laughs) that no one could deny it!
  --
   One morning, with this Consciousness I had that experience of power (the true power): how, when it goes through a perfectly static, still, peaceful consciousness, theres no distortion; and how, going through it, it awakens in the individual a sense of power and the collaboration of the individual will. If it is (I saw the two things at the same time), if its a yogic consciousness with the calm and IMPERSONALITY (that is, without any desire and any preference), then its STILL MORE POWERFUL, because its directed towards a precise spot instead of working in a general wayits directed towards a precise spot, and the action is multiplied. But if, in the consciousness through which the force is to act, there is the LEAST desire, the LEAST preference, or the least recoil everything is spoilt. Everything is spoilt: it goes like this (gesture of trepidation), and its over. I saw that, with examples to back it up; not narrated examples, theres nothing mental: everything shownshown with vibrations. And thats really interesting. It means that in the superman consciousness, with the full impersonalization (that is, no preference, no desire, no refusal, nothingyou are like this [gesture of an immobile Witness]), there will be the capacity to direct the Power for it to act on a PRECISE POINT, and then it will be multiplied in Matter. A multiplication of power, that is, an intensification of power in Matter.
   That explains (its the body which is learning all that, its really very happy), that very clearly explains to the body why there have been individuals and their purpose in the whole but those individuals must lose all that was necessary to form them; they must go beyond that and become divine again. Then then the result will be extraordinary.

0 1969-03-15, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   This Consciousness has a fantastic imagination! It makes me see all kinds of fantastic possibilities regarding what will happen in the future. Like, for instance, for a woman, instead of dying, to be born again in her own child. Things would be different from what they are now, there would be a capacity to form the child, not with a material complement, but with a spiritual complement (spiritual is a manner of speaking: the complement of an invisible force), and instead of dying and entering another body, one would oneself be able to form, with the most developed cells of ones body, the being in which one will live again. Quite an idea, isnt it!
   It came very early this morning (its always at that time), and with all the details, and an extraordinary INTENSITY of life! You see, in the body certain cells are developing as much as they can, growing increasingly conscious, and instead of disintegrating when the whole becomes inadequate to express the fullness of life, its INWARDLY that all those cells would gather to form a new body with a matter superior to ordinary matter.

0 1969-03-19, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But it was it was really amusing! And the objections of age, possibility, capacity, no longer existed. If this intermediary method is considered useful (I mean, practical), the possibility is there; this Consciousness was showing the body that the possibility is there. Foroh, for hours and hoursit insisted, it didnt want to go! It insisted until the body had completely understood. And there is no need of a material intervention: it can be done (thats known, there have been fully recognized cases), the physical intervention wasnt necessary, it was replaced by an intervention in the subtle physical, which was sufficient. All that in every detail, with every explanation and everything. Then, when it was thoroughly done, it was over, the chapter was closed. But it was really unexpected, I had never thought of such a thing! And the way it was presented! It was so concrete and so simpleso simple, so concrete and all objections were resolved.
   So the body said, Very well, we shall see. (Mother laughs) Well see.

0 1969-03-26, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   All the work should be done under the Mothers sole authority. All must be arranged according to her free decision. She must be free to use the capacities of each separately or together according to what is best for the work and best for the worker.
   None should regard or treat another member of the Ashram as his subordinate. If he is in charge, he should regard the others as his associates and helpers in the work, and he should not try to dominate or impose on them his own ideas and personal fancies, but only see to the execution of the will of the Mother. None should regard himself as a subordinate, even if he has to carry out instructions given through another or to execute under supervision the work he has to do.

0 1969-04-02, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The two states are like this (Mother puts one hand tightly against the other). As for this body itself, it constantly has the experience of an almost miraculous state, but there still remains (is it the memory or habit, or really a mixture?), there still remains the capacity to suffer physically, materially. So it means a lot remains to be done.
   There is (for me, everything is now a question of vibrations), there is a certain vibration, which I find it hard to describe because there are no words, but which has to do, as I said, with compassion (I dont know what to call it, but its very, very intense, those perceptions are very intense), and when it comes, it really has extraordinary power, but it doesnt seem to have the possibility (Mother suddenly tips over two fingers) of an abrupt change. In some cases, people have been completely quite relieved, but not cured.

0 1969-04-16, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   It seems he met Y and was captivated by her ideas (!) R. was alarmed. So I told him, It doesnt matter! Thats why Ive encouraged him to go to Bombay, so he would free himself from that [i.e., from YJ. He was constantly talking about Equals One, Equals One1 Mentally, theyre defenseless.
   Yes, there are many like that, who are captivated by nothing.
   Yes.

0 1969-04-19, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   (After a silence) Theres a man First, theres our good S.H.5 here, but theres another man at Shantiniketan; I saw him, I know him, and he always said it was Sri Aurobindos thought that could save China. But he came here because he wasnt a Communist and they filched all his goodshe gave them; when he was informed, he wrote [to the Chinese government] and told them, I give them to you; you took them, but I give them to you. That was very good, very clever. So naturally, he is respected. But I dont think he can do much. But his own opinion is that its only Sri Aurobindos thought that can save China. China is extremely intellectual; if the Chinese intelligence were captured by Sri Aurobindos thought, it would be That seems to be the sole, the only hope.
   But Formosa [Taiwan], which is nothing, is wholly with us.

0 1969-04-30, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   At any rate, it was one more decisive turning point in this bodys development. It once again felt that all it knew, all it thought it knew, all that was rubbish, as they say in English, and that unless you are in this absolutely luminous and tranquil and allcontaining Consciousness [you cannot understand]. Containing still gives the impression of a limit; its not all-containing, its vaster than anything existing. This Consciousness is vaster than the manifested world; theres almost a sort of sensation that theres a vaster Consciousness: the manifested world takes up a certain place in this Consciousness (how can I explain?), its not the WHOLE Consciousness. (Thats probably the bodys difficulty in being completely receptive, yet its for IT to understand.) And that seems to be the attitude to be kept. Is it an attitude?Its a way of being. A way of being. First, there are no limits (but thats an old experience the body has had for a long time), no limits: theres a sort of capacity to identify with things; but thats a consequence, as it were, of the impelling Will (this central Will, if I may say so, which impels to action). And the body is like that (outspread gesture). Its become so acute, this impression of The two things (two absolutely contradictory things) have become so intense: one is an absolute in capacity to understand anything about anything, the realization that the thing anyhow eludes understanding; and at the same time, the experience that the limits of power are progressively lessening, fading, receding. This Power it has become fantastic! Fantastic, this Power.
   At the same time, it showed (oh, its constantly, constantly teaching something), it showed how with people who still have the sense of ego, when they receive a little bit of this Power (that is, when this Power uses them), that causes a sort of panic, and it showed why: the ego becomes tremendous. And that was to show, to make the body clearly understand the necessity of its present state: it has almost no more sense of its existence, as little as possible; that mostly comes back with things that still grate quite materially. But if, at such times, the body can, or has the time to, or knows how to go into this state of then the difficulty vanishes as if by miracle, in a trice. There was even something to show how, this way (Mother presses her two index fingers together, then slightly lowers the index finger of her right hand), there is sufferingthis way, theres suffering and when its like that (Mother raises slightly the index finger of her left hand), it no longer exists. (Mother does the same gesture again): This way, suffering; that way, it no longer exists. So the body may know exactly in which position suffering no longer exists.
  --
   Also, theres a kind of demonstration from the general point of view. Man gives a great importance to life and death-for him theres a great difference, death is a rather capital event (!). And I am shown to what extent the disequilibrium which, in circumstances, results in what people call death (which is death only quite apparently), how the two things, so to speak, are constantly there: this all-containing Harmony which is the very essence of Life, and this division (its a sort of division, yes, of fragmentation), this fragmentation, this APPARENT, UNREAL division, which has an ARTIFICIAL existence, and which is the cause of deathhow the two are interwoven in such a way that you can go from one to the other at any time and on any occasion. And its not at all as people think, that there needs to be something seriousits not that, it can happen with the most futile thing! Its simply being here or being there (with the edge of her hand, Mother very slightly tilts to one side and to the other), and thats all. So you are here (slight tilt to the left) and remain here: its over; you are here, and then you are there (gesture in between the two), you are here one second, then you are there: it makes for a life with sufferings and troublesall kinds of things. And being there (slight tilt to the right) is perpetual Life, absolute Power and you cant even call it peace, its something immutable. And at the same time, everything is there: this state and that state are both there. And man makes a more or less clumsy mixture of the two things.
   But a few seconds of the true state in its purity and theres an awesome power. Only its still far, far away.

0 1969-05-03, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And then, death Just yesterday (yesterday afternoon), I had an example. An accident took place, have you heard about it?1 Theyre really wondering how it happened. As for me, I INSTANTLY saw that there was in the girl a psychic will (which she wasnt conscious of: she only felt an unease), but there was a psychic will to die (why? I dont know, I havent yet seen why). That was clear. And how everything was arranged to favor that, its almost miraculous (you dont talk about it because people will say youre going mad if you call such a misfortune miraculous). But habitually, all those who go into the swimming pool have to put their name down when they go out (thats the rule). Yesterday, the man who kept the register had asked to go to Madras at 6, so he wasnt there and no ones name was noted down, and so they didnt know Things like that. She went to see the groups captain and told her, I am tired, I dont feel well, I want to go; the captain said, Yes, yes, you can go. (Of course, it was foolish not to check that she had left; the captain was busy and just thought, All right, shes leaving.) The girl was then at the shallow end of the poolimpossible to get drowned there, unless you do it quite deliberately (they found her at the other end). But the pool was full of peoplenobody saw anything. You see, everything was arranged just to force her to die.2 Every precaution is in place, and not one worked. And as soon as they told me the news of the accident, as soon as I was told, I immediately looked, and I saw, in the place of her psychic, a peaceful will, like this (Mother stretches out her two arms in an immutable gesture). They were working hard: they worked for hours; first they took all the water out (they know how to do that), they drained the body of the water, then started workingtractions and all that to try to make her brea the againthey worked for hours (they were ready to work the whole night), they did all they could. And the psychic was like this (same gesture), that is, immutable, determined. But she didnt know [that she was going to die]: it came through her vital to reach her, and she felt quite ill at ease, she said, Oh, I want to go out. So they told her, Yes, thats right, you should go. And because she had said that, naturally no one was worried when they didnt see her (no one had put their names down, so they couldnt check); its only when they found her clothes She had been under water for over an hour.
   This Consciousness was so conscious of the movement in everyone, of every reaction, it was extraordinary! And its this Consciousness that saw this, that showed me this: a psychic like this (same immutable gesture), like an irrevocable decision. And for this Consciousness, you understand, its like someone who decides to move to a new house, or to a new room, or even to change clothes. Why do you make so much, so much fuss about that?
  --
   Last year, you remember, there was a boy who drowned at Gingee:3 that was with P. [the groups captain]; and this little one, it was with B., Rs sister [also a captain]. So I looked: outwardly, they are vitally very strong and very egocentric, which would be the external, material reason that allows the accident to take place that is, no intuition of others needs or state: no contact, theyre like this (gesture closed in on oneself), but with an inner solidity on which, the psychic was leaning, for both of them [the two captains].
   The other one too [the boy who drowned in the pond] wanted to go, but in his case it was very interesting: I saw Sri Aurobindo come and fetch him under water, and Sri Aurobindo said, He will be born in the family (he came back in a child), he will come back in the first child to be born in the family. And this girl, I dont know yet what will happen, but her psychic being WANTED to go (for some reason or other).4
  --
   So then, for instance, these two I mentioned [P. and his sister, the two captains], from a human standpoint, you would say theyre really insensitiveits because theyre insensitive and too egocentric that the accident took place. In other words, a reproach. In this light, Oh, these are good instruments, one can lean on them5 (solid gesture), they wont sag, theyre strong enough for one to lean on them. And all that is shown to the body, which is really beginning (laughing) to know things no body had ever learned beforeever. And to see life quite differently It feels (laughing) you know, it feels stupid, that is, consciously its in one way, and then out of atavism, out of construction, its tied down in the other way. So it feels very silly, very silly. But the Consciousness held it (with yesterdays event), it HELD it in its Consciousness like that, present, until it had really understood everything in detail, and once it had really understood, poff! the thing was gone, finished. So it understands that when something is held like that, it means theres something to understand, it has a lesson to learn, and when the lesson has been learned, when it has understood, seen clearlyonce it has seen clearly and its all simple and very clear thats it, poff! its gone, finished (gesture showing the Consciousness letting go of the body), as though the thing were quite taken away That was taking place at night, while I am not disturbed (the night hours are the only ones when I am not disturbed every minute; I can carry on with my work untroubled), and then I saw. And that night was so peaceful, but with such peace! Its ten rungs above the ordinary material peace, completely You know, the peace of a psychic will so powerful (Mother stretches her arms in a sovereign gesture), so tranquil that all our emotions, our reactions, all that absolutely looks like childishness. But the body understands very well (since this Consciousness came it has begun to understand lots of things), it understands that all that [emotions, reactions] was a necessary path to prepare receptive instruments.
   Its really interesting.
  --
   The vast majority of humanity is unconscious (what I call unconscious, that is, without contact with the Consciousness, not CONSCIOUSLY in contact with Consciousness), the vast majority; but for one who is capable of being above circumstances with a clear and precise vision of the why and the how its wonderful.
   There.

0 1969-05-17, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Its a question of intensity of faith, or of the power to bear that faith gives. All depends on the capacity to go through the necessary experiences.
   In any case, all the old notions, all the old ways of understanding things, all that is quite over, its past.

0 1969-05-24, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   So then, for their theory to be credible, they say (laughing) that its all an error. And they dont see the stupidity of their theory: that the Supreme Lord should have been capable of an error and then should have repented and withdrawn from it!
   These people, all these people, the more convinced they are, the more you feel they are shut up in blinkers.

0 1969-06-25, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Sri Aurobindo is neither a materialist nor a spiritualist. He admits both, but wants a matter transformed, divinized by the spirit, capable of expressing the truth instead of constantly denying it.
   Thats all.
  --
   (Mother laughs) I see him every day for a minute or two. He asked me, Is it possible to have a new birth every day? I said, Its possible if one is capable of it!
   So well see his reaction (Mother seems very amused).
  --
   But you know, this little S.U. (Ive never said this; I forget when it wasyears ago, she was big as a boot), when your famous Sannyasin3 came here, he wanted to do a worship to the Mother,4 and he did one thing which isnt regarded as very charitable (that individual had a certain capacity): he put into this child an emanation of a higher spirit (which he thought was an emanation of the Mother), he carried out the ceremony, and afterwards (it was infinitely too powerful for the child), he came to me and told me, Ill send her to you for you to take out the emanation, we cant keep that!
   So he sent me the child.

0 1969-06-28, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   It tells us that we were born so many million years agoa molecule, a gene, a quivering bit of plasma and we have produced a dinosaur, a crab, an ape. Had our eyes stopped halfway along the road, we could have said with good reason (!) that the Baboon was the summit of the creation and nothing better could be done, except perhaps to improve our simian capacities and create a United Kingdom of Apes. And we may be committing the same error today in our jungle of concrete. We have invented enormous means at the service of microscopic consciousnesses, splendid devices at the service of mediocrity, and still more devices to be cured of the Device. But is man truly the goal of all these millions of years of striving?The secondary school for all and the washing machine?
   The Great Sense, the True Sense, tells us that man is not the end. It is not the triumph of man that we want, not an improved version of the intelligent dwarfit is another man on the earth, another race in our midst.
  --
   ONE, with a capital O, when its written, its fine, but when its heard
   Dieu [God, in French] is a terrible word. God is an even more terrible word (!) And in Italian, what is it going to become!

0 1969-07-19, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I have become a little too public for my taste. Yesterday, the whole morning I saw people from the government here. The [Pondicherry] governor comes very often: he comes, sits down, removes his Gandhi cap, then settles there in front of me, and stays for at least five minutes like that [absorbing energies] like a sponge.
   (silence)

0 1969-07-26, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But this body knows very well that it isnt endowed with exceptional capacities. It doesnt delude itself. All it has is a faith ardent, constant, intense, oh! A faith nothing can shake. But thats all.
   It has never had a desire or ambition to work miraclesits not interested in that. It has seen many miraculous things, but it has always felt it was the Supreme Lord who was doing all that (which it finds quite natural, by the way). But imaginings when they come it drives them back, it says, No, that doesnt interest me. Things people find marvelous, all of that doesnt interest it. it wouldnt be surprised to see Sri Aurobindo walk in one daynot in the least; but it doesnt have it feels no urge to do it, you understand! It feels no need to astound peoplenone at all.

0 1969-07-30, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   "All that is the most vital and important for you will appear to be abstractions and speculations." A friend of Satprem's in the same publishing house gave him this explanation: "Were you writing about Vietnam, the Black problem, LSD, the Third World or Marcuse, we would a priori be interested, even if we disagreed with you. But capital letters frighten us. Social peace is a topic; Peace isn't."
   Gallimard, who will not reply.

0 1969-08-20, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I think those people are quite capable. of casting a spell.
   Yes, but you being here, it shouldnt have the power to touch him.

0 1969-08-23, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   You know that the [presidential] elections have taken place, and that there were three candidates. Among the three, one1 had seemed to me the most apt to give India her true place among the nations of the earth I was immediately told that it was phantasmagoric and quite impossible. I didnt insist. They told me, Here are the three candidates (I told you last time), so I had only one solution, only one way, that was to concentrateconcentrate with an aspiration and ask for the best to happen for the country. Thats the message I sent to Delhi; I said to them, I have received the assurance that what would happen would be the best for the country (in the present conditions). Thus there was one man of worth and no chance; another man, very old,2 and a third man,3 upright and capable, with some qualities, but a little behind the times, that is to say, clinging to the past, and quite appalled by the decisions Indira had made.4 So officially, he was against her way of governing. That man sent me his photos, asking for my blessings; I wrote, Blessings on one of the photos,5 gave it to L. and told him (you know that he left for Delhi), While you are there, if you see the possibility, meet that man and give him the photo, saying, Here, Mother sends you her blessings, but she warns you that she stands behind Indiras way of acting. I dont know what happened, but on the day of the election I was like that, with No active thought, simply, The best for the country, the best for the country and its the old one who made it!6 Not only did he make it, he also sent me a telegram to thank me! So you understand, it precisely shows where things stand. Thats how it is.
   Actively, outwardly, I would never have been able to say, Choose this man. I only said, The best for the country. I dont know why or how, because because, mon petit, our human consciousness is SO SMALL! Even when we identify with the general Consciousness, we feel so small, so microscopic in comparison with the true, all-containing Consciousness. We cant contain all! Even, even when we identify with this Consciousness, we become like this (gesture showing emptiness at the forehead level), absolutely silent and still, with only a luminous Vibration, IMMENSE, you know, infinite, and an infinite power, too, but (same gesture to the forehead) no translation of any sort, nothing like a thought. So then, if we want to intervene between That and circumstances, we are OBLIGED to make mistakes, we cant do otherwise! So the only way is to stay like this (still gesture, turned upward). Thats why I am like this, silent. You told me, I dont understand your way of acting in Auroville: its nothing but that. Its because our thought limits, opposeseven, even the vastest consciousness, you understand, is only a TERRESTRIAL consciousness, a terrestrial consciousness, and its very small. Very small. And very small especially from the point of view of consequences, of the sequence of circumstances (Mother draws a curve), of how this will bring about thatwe dont see. So one must be like this (gesture turned upward), and simply let this Consciousness act. And there was the result: it is the third man who made it. I found it quite amusing. Quite amusing. I thought, There you are!

0 1969-08-27, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Yes yesto see if we were capable of doing the work!
   (silence)

0 1969-08-30, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   So it gives physical education a deep raison dtre: people capable of stopping fires, saving drowning people and so on. There neednt be many: if there were five hundred of them, it would be enough for the entire town, in little groups going about like that.
   Dr. S. also has some ideas to replace jails (because we dont have jails, and we cant dump all the dishonest people into the rest of India! That wouldnt be nice). Prisons and old peoples homes would have to be replaced with something. Its being studied, something has been found. Its going to be interesting!

0 1969-09-13, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Id need a practical piece of information, I dont know if you can give it to me. Either way, theres only one thing (whether he stays in there or comes out of it), either way he can do useful worknot in the same manner, but he can do useful work. As for me, I want him to choose the way in which he is saferyou know, I dont trust those people in the least, I know theyre capable of ANYTHING. So either way, they can do as much mischief as they likeperhaps he knows which way he will be safer, by staying on or getting out? I dont know Staying on may be a protection, it may prevent them from doing certain things; getting out may make him less detestable to them, that is to say, they may expel him and leave him alone.
   But he says, If I am expelled and get out, I lose all power, I cant do anything anymore. And that was precisely the object of his vision: its by staying there that he can bring-light. Thats his problem. If I get out, I cant do anything anymore. And he told me that all those priests who got out to try and make the Church progress have been expelled by the Church and no longer have any power.

0 1969-09-20, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Human beings have the sense of their limitation, and they are under the impression that in order to grow, to increase, even to live on, they need to take from outside, because they live in the consciousness of their personal limitation. So, for them, what they give leaves a hole which they must fill by receiving something. Naturally, that is wrong. And in truth, if, instead of being shut up within the narrow limits of their little person, they were able to broaden their consciousness to the point of not only identifying with others within their narrow limits, but also to break out of those limits, to go beyond, spread out everywhere, unite with the one Consciousness and become all things, then, at that point, the narrow limits would vanish but not before. As long as you have a sense of narrow limits you want to take, because you are afraid to lose. You spend, and you want to get back. Thats why, my child! Because if you were spread out in all things, if all the vibrations that come in or go out expressed the need to merge in everything, to broaden, to grow, not remaining in our limits but breaking out of them, eventually identifying with the whole, you would have nothing to lose anymore, because you would have everything. Only, you dont know, so you cannot do it. You try to take, to accumulate and accumulate, but its impossible, you cannot accumulate: you must identify. And you want to get back the little you have: you give out a good thought, and expect some gratefulness; you give out a little of your affection, and expect to be given some. Because you do not have the capacity to be the good thought in everything, do not have the capacity to be the affection, the tenderness in everything. You feel like that, all cut off and limited, and you are afraid of losing everything, afraid of losing what you have because you would be diminished. While if you are capable of identifying, you no longer need to draw to yourself. The more you spread out, the more you have. The more you identify, the more you become. And then, instead of taking, you give. And the more you give, the more you grow.
   What year was it?

0 1969-09-24, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Yes. Then the woman died the day after giving birth, and the child is now seventeen, I think. He told me, Thats how it is: there is NO power, it doesnt existthere is That, the Harmony; everyone has the capacity to call this Harmony, and It acts. And It acts in a second, instantly. But then, he told me, Here is my question (as far as I can express what he said). Basically, he is aware of quite an extraordinary Powerthough I should say I didnt feel a shadow of ego in this man, theres no trace of ego. He read my book, but that didnt teach him things, it only confirmed some experiences. This man spoke to me for more than three hours, and apart from you and Sri Aurobindo, I have heard no one speak like him. It was a sage who spoke, a living experience that sprang forth, there wasnt one thing he said you wouldnt subscribe to: those great Forces of Harmony that must be embodied on earth, brought down on earth It was really a sage who spoke, and those were your words, Sri Aurobindos words.
   Thats what A. told me; the first day when he received him, he told me, I thought I was listening to you or to Sri Aurobindo!

0 1969-09-27, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Its not a limitation, even the pettiest work isnt a limitation! Its only a means of expression; but it doesnt limit the possibility, that is to say, if one is capable of doing a general Work, it goes on CONSTANTLY, without a material occupation. I mean that the real Work is done like this (radiating gesture), in silence.
   (A.R.:) Thank you.

0 1969-10-11, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But the interesting thing (its obvious, but) for those capable of rising to that Consciousness, its an interesting experience to have: as soon as you go beyond the region of even the highest human consciousness, once you are above, all spirit of revenge and punishment ABSOLUTELY disappearsabsolutely Its impossible to feel it. Its it seems to be a false way of reacting: instead of healing, you perpetuate the vibration, only changing its direction.
   But up above, its absolutely imperative: it doesnt exist, its impossible.

0 1969-10-18, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   If the time has come for that, its very good thats why I dont want to intervene. But I dont know, I dont know if the time has come for that. There are moments when the body is thoroughly convincedmoments when it seems impossible that the time might not have come but at other moments, it gets completely veiled. And that comes from the fact that despite everything, the awareness of the mixture is becoming very clear. Which means that the realization is partial; its partial, fragmentary. And for a very simple reason (theres no arguing): its because somehow or other, the appearance will have to change. This body has capacities thats visibleit has capacities which many other bodies dont have, but its still uncertain, not established, not complete. So in this transitional period, there will certainly be one who will get through to the other side, that is, who will reach realization there has to be a realization at some point, you see. Well, it must be In any case, with A.R., the attitude is good, so theres nothing to say. But as he isnt developed mentally, thats where a mixture of influences remains3thats where. Its not in the body, its in the mind. And I dont want to replace that mixture with a (Mother gestures to show an authority imposing itself). All that I can do is to give the necessary atmosphere, and thats that.
   I got a letter from N.S.4 in which she said she was almost desperate to have missed the appointment I had given her with A.R. But I am not sure [that it wasnt just as well]. She says that instead of the time she had been told, she arrived an hour later because she had been somewhere (I forget where), had got completely drenched, and had to change her clothes; she sent word to A.R. requesting him to wait, but when she arrived, he had left. So she doesnt know whether L. didnt get her message, or didnt convey it. And she writes me that at the first opportunity she would like to come and see him. I had her told that for the moment he had withdrawn, but that as soon as he resumed his activity, I would let her know. But I didnt tell A.R., because
  --
   You know, the impression is of being on the very edge of understanding. But its not at all a mental understanding, not at all (weve had that one, but its nothing; its nothing, its zero). Its a LIVED understanding. And that the mind cant haveit cant. The impression is that only the bodyreceptive, open, at any rate partially transformedis capable of having the understanding; the understanding of the creation of what we call the creation: why and how, the two things. And its not at all something thought, not something felt: its something lived, and thats the only way to know Its lived. Its a consciousness.
   You know, when that understanding comesit comes, and it does like this (gesture like a luminous swelling), it comes like that, then it fades away, then it comes back, and then again it fades away; but when it comes its so evident, so simple that you wonder how you could manage not to know it!
  --
   It doesnt ask any questions, but now and then, its conscious of its state of mediocrity, and so, quite naturally, it wonders how it happens to have been chosen to do this work? And it clearly appears to be a sort of goodwill arising from its sense of insignificance. The least sense of capacity and worth takes away all endurance. But it doesnt have that at all, so that enables it to go on.
   Did I tell you the story of that child who came here? That child came, holding this (Mother points to a small yellow bird on her table); he thought it was a swan: its a goose, of course, but he thought it was a swan, and he gave it to me very nicely, saying, Its You. I saw in his thought that he was convinced it was a swan, that is to say, the soul. But then, I saw with my own eyes that it was a goose (Mother laughs), and I said, Yes, its true! (Laughter) and that was precisely Oh, Im keeping it, its precisely thata goose (Mother laughs).

0 1969-10-25, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   He told me he was acquiring such a force that he could face any obstacle, and will thus be capable of asserting in front of people the power of the divine force. I first want to become absolutely sure that I can manifest this force at any time and against any obstacle. Then I will show people, in a crowd of a thousand people, through a practical demonstration, by calling ten or fifteen sick people among them and curing them with this force. Then they will perforce be convinced that there is indeed a Force that can do anything. But for that, I must be ready. For eighty percent of the people will be against me, and to convince them I must be really strong, well armed and sure! Once I am ready, no one will be able to stop me. All governments and religions will collapse. I will write to the Pope, asking him what they are preaching now. What did Christ tell us in the Gospels! He told his apostles to go and heal the sick and drive demons away. What are the priests and the Catholics doing today?
   I asked him, Are you sure that is your mission?
  --
   It must be that. There are innumerable layers of consciousness. The development (the universal development) has progressively enabled us to become conscious of each layer; the more developed one is, the more one perceives the differences between layers. And its only when one is conscious of ALL the layers of consciousness and when they form nothing but a unity (but a unity conscious of its multiplicity), its only then that whats in the deepest depths the Supreme Consciousness can manifest fully. And in bodies, there are still layers that arent fully conscious; there are still layers that remain as a residue of all that preceded: the mineral, the vegetable, the animal, all that. So the whole fully conscious part of the cells is fully illumined, but Besides, one just has to see (Mother shows the skin of her hands, visibly untransformed). It has become EXTREMELY sensitive, the slightest shock causes a It has become extremely sensitive. It appears not to have the same density but the appearance is exactly the same. Those who have an inner vision see something [another form of Mother], but thats only because they have the capacity of inner vision. So thats it [i.e., the residue]. You understand, in the consciousness of the cells, there is the consciousness which is internal to the cells, so to speak, and which is fully, fully conscious, but theres something that remains like this (Mother gestures to show a crust-like covering the residue). So then, that work a man like A.R. hasnt done, you see: its a sort of hazy general consciousness. He himself is conscious of something stronger than his body, and which uses his body, it seems to me. In the world, its very useful and can give birth to all sorts of things. But he isnt ready for the transformation, you understandhimself, his body. He has a sort of inner certitude that it CAN be, but I dont know unless the Lord wants it to take place that way; that would be amusingreally, I would find it very amusing!
   Because he speaks of a work of transformation of the cells.

0 1969-11-12, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   If we arent capable, then everything has to be done all over again!
   (silence)

0 1969-11-15, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Sri Aurobindo is in no way bound by the present worlds institutions or current ideas whether in political, social or economic field; it is not necessary for him either to approve or disapprove of them. He does not regard either capitalism or orthodox socialism as the right solution for the worlds future; nor can he admit that the admission of private enterprise by itself makes the society capitalistic, a socialistic economy can very well admit some amount of controlled or subordinated private enterprise as an aid to its own working or a partial convenience without ceasing to be socialistic. Sri Aurobindo has his own views as to how far Congress economy is intended to be truly socialistic or whether that is only a cover, but he does not care to express his views on that point at present.
   April 15, 1949

0 1969-11-19, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But one can very well conceive that for a consciousness vast enough and rapid enough, if I may say so, capable of seeing not just a bit of the trajectory but the whole trajectory at the same time
   Yes, yes.

0 1969-11-29, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I know that every time I saw him It was a strange thing: I saw him three times, and every time the parts of the body that werent yet sufficiently (how should I put it?) permeated with Force, and which therefore were capable of going awry, with him those parts always did go awry. I would see him, and they would start going like this (grating gesture). So it would take me a few hours of concentration to have them keep quiet; I had managed to have everything keep quiet until the gradual transformation, but there, it was beginning to do silly things, to want to express itself. So I said no.
   All three times.

0 1969-12-03, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   How to express that? What I lived was that there was NOTHING but this Consciousness; now its not a memory, it has stayed onit has stayed on, but its veiled, so it expresses itself THROUGH the usual consciousness which is there (gesture above the head). The usual consciousness is there. And this Consciousness really has an interesting effect on the body, because in this body, with the elements that were there, it has built a vital and a mind. Now Ive found that the body feels as it used to feel before, that is to say in full possession of its faculty But the mind and vital are no longer independent in the sense that they do as they likethey are under the complete control of the Consciousness. Then the body still has spots of timidity, but its beginning to re capture the state it was in before . Its a very slow and long work, but I dont know how long it will take, but once it reaches a certain perfection, the body will once again be capable of many things it had lost because of that [the departure of the mind and vital]. It wasnt a physical deterioration, thats what deprived it, and its beginning to slowly, slowly come back.
   Well see.

0 1969-12-10, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   (Laughing) It always says to itself, Were really poor devils! Thats its actual impression I We who are so proud of being human and conscious and capable of being something else than a thinking animal were still all the way down in comparison with with what has to be conquerednot even the first step of the ascent.
   We think were doing well, we give ourselves a little pat of encouragement! Thats really the impression: were poor devils! (Mother laughs)

0 1969-12-24, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   We can often use the word That, with a capital T.
   (Mother nods her head)

0 1969-12-31, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And no other windows, you understand. All the rest in a sort of half-light, and then this light like That would be fine, it can be very fine. Id like someone who could feel that. I dont know at all whether R. is capable of feeling that, but Paolo is.
   If it were well realized, it would be very interesting for people. It would be a concretization of something. Theyll start saying its a religion of the sun! (laughing) Oh, you know, Im used to hearing all, ALL possible nonsense!
  --
   R.s idea and the idea of the people around him is to have industries capable of collecting money for Auroville, so
   Theyre wrong, theyre wrong!
  --
   Yes, certainly! And he would have the capacity to convince people, I think.
   (silence)

0 1970-01-01, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The consciousness of that new race is already at work on the earth to enlighten all those who are capable of receiving and listening to it.

0 1970-01-03, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But a shape like a tower, but (thats why I wanted to have a sketch to show) twelve regular facets, and then we need a wall thats not straight, a wall slightly like this (gesture of a slight slope), I dont know if thats possible. And inside, twelve columns. So well have to find a way to capture sunlight, so that at any time of the year sunlight can get in. We need someone who knows his job well.
   As for the outside I didnt see the outside; I didnt see it at all, I only saw the inside.
  --
   Thats what I have learned, in fact: the bankruptcy of religions was because they were divided they wanted you to follow one religion to the exclusion of all others. And all human knowledge has gone bankrupt because it was exclusive. And man has gone bankrupt because he was exclusive. What the New Consciousness wants (it insists on this) is: no more divisions. To be capable of understanding the extreme spiritual, the extreme material, and to find to find the meeting point where it becomes a true force. And its trying to teach that to the body too, through the most radical means.
   The trouble ([laughing] I say trouble!) is that in people it expresses itself as disorders. People close to me for the work fall ill. One of them is at the nursing home, the other is in difficulty. And depending on their receptivity, I must find a way to make them understand that they shouldnt worry, that its not an illness, but the bodys resistance. The body [Mothers body] has learned that at its own expense!Its constantly like that: if you are in the true position, everything is fineprovided you dont observe yourself, dont keep observing, Oh, the body is like this, or like that, it feels this way or As soon as you pay attention to it, as soon as the consciousness is turned to it, something goes wrong. It goes wrong. One has to be like this (gesture turned upward). And then, there is something that KNOWS all the same, something that knows, but without observing (I dont know how to explain). And you can see that as soon as the consciousness of the cells takes the true attitude, the thing that manifested as a disorder no longer manifests as such: the nature of the manifestation changeshow?
  --
   Similarly, that sort of thing (Sri Aurobindo too calls it perception), that perception which replaces vision and all the rest is very strong at night. Its hard to say. You have an impression of it when you wake up, but not the capacity; the full capacity is not there.
   (silence)

0 1970-01-10, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   It was to you that Baron [Pondicherrys last French governor] said he wanted to be buried in my woolen blankets! (laughter) Yes, it seems he was cold. S. looks after him, and she wrote me that he would wake up shivering; she asked me, Could you send him a blanket or two? It seems there was in the meditation hall one of those big wooden trunks full of magnificent woolen blankets! So I sent him two. I only said, Provided he doesnt carry them away with him because hes quite capable of taking them! (laughter) Then he told F. he was, oh, so happy: Ill ask to be buried in these blankets! (laughter)
   ***

0 1970-02-21, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Yesterday, it was really like a test to see if the body would bear up, if it was capable of going out of itselfit has behaved very well (especially during the night, that was good).
   Its so All words are very small.

0 1970-02-28, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The body isnt told anything positivelyclearly, I mean preciselynei ther that the transformation is possible nor that its impossible. So its like that, it sees what a tremendous work this is, what difference there is between what it is and what it ought to be, and at the same time, without knowing whether it will be capable of doing the work or not. Whats expected of it? It is told whats expected of it from one minute to the next; that its told very clearly, so it does it, and so at times it can let itself go (Mother stretches her arms in the Great Rhythm), and then things are fine, but But there is life and all the necessities of life, and each thing is a problem.
   (silence)

0 1970-03-07, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I would need (because I myself cant take an active part, its not possible), I would need a very energetic man, very, VERY open to the Consciousness, and at the same time VERY calm, capable of resisting this currenta kind of current of storm.
   But anyway, things are moving, you understand, they feel as if everything is aroused, theyre no longer asleep and half inert, and thats

0 1970-03-14, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Which means that the material conditions, which were elaborated by the mind, FIXED by it (Mother clenches her fist tight), and which appeared so ines capable, to such a point that those who had a living experience of the higher worlds thought one had to flee this world, abandon this material world if one really wanted to live in the Truth (thats the cause of all those theories and beliefs), now things are no longer like that. Now things are no longer like that. The physical is capABLE of receiving the higher Light, the Truth, the true Consciousness, and of man-i-fest-ing it.
   Its not easy, it calls for endurance and will, but a day will come when it will be quite natural. Its only just the open door thats all, now we have to go on.

0 1970-03-25, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   You see, there is this fact that existence itself needs to depend on something material, which naturally brings back every time an old recurring difficulty. That question of food All that is under observation at the moment (a very minute observation, which I might almost call scientific), and, well, the cells are conscious of the divine Force and of the power that Force gives, but they are also conscious that in order to last as they are, even in a state of transformation, they still need this complement of something coming from outsidewith that, every time you swallow a new difficulty. All that I said on the [change of] functioning is increasingly proven, but there is this thing [food] that remains, and that means stomach and blood and all the rest With that, can we conceive (I dont know), can we conceive something that works in this way yet without deteriorating? Something capable of constant progression? (One can last only if the progression is constant.) Is this capable of progress? For the moment, its like this (gesture hanging in balance).
   All that was automatic has almost disappearedwhich has caused a great reduction from the standpoint of capacities; its replaced by a consciousness with a certain power, which didnt exist previously: thats an improvement. But all things considered, well, if I take the ordinary stand, I can no longer do what I used to do when I was twenty, quite obviously. Perhaps I know a hundred thousand times more than I knew, but This body, the body itself knows: it feels, its capable of knowing all that it didnt know then. But from a purely material standpoint (Mother shakes her head, pointing to her bodys in capacity). Could it come back? I dont know. Theres a question mark there. I dont know. And it could last only if the capacities came back; as Sri Aurobindo very wisely put it, who would want to go on in a body that keeps losing all its capacities?3 You know, sight isnt clear anymore, you dont hear clearly anymore, cant speak clearly anymorev anyway you cant walk freely, you can no longer carry a weightall kinds of things.
   Would this, as it is, THIS (Mother pinches the skin of her hands), would it be capable of being transformed by the Force? Can it be done?Well know when its done and not before!
   As for me, I find it quite possible.
   Obviously, logically you are right, because the healing capacity is there; so if one has the healing capacity, there is the capacity to remedy wear and tear. Obviously.
   But all possibilities are there! Its only the question of Matter having to adapt to the infiltration of another force.

0 1970-03-28, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   It understands very, very wellvery well that all have the same right to existence and must Everything is hardly capable of expressing That which must be expressed.
   It was the body, not the mindstrangely, it has a sense of reality that isnt mental or vital or emotive or anything of the sort. Its something else. Very, very concrete.

0 1970-04-01, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Did I tell you the vision I had here? Ive had many, but there is one It was after the War was declared: between the time when the War (the first War) was declared and my departure. There was a rather long period: the War was declared in August [1914] and I left next February. Well, between the two, one day while in meditation, I saw Kali enter through the doorKali of the vital, naked, with a garl and of headsshe danced into the room. And she told me (she stayed like that, a little distance away), she told me I dont remember the exact words, but: Paris is captured or Paris is about to be captured or Paris is destroyed something of the sort, anyway the Germans were advancing on Paris. And then, I saw the Mother the Mother, that is to say how does he call her? Maha
   Mahashakti.
   Huge! You see, Kali had a human size, but she was huge, up to the ceiling. She came in behind Kali and stood there, and she said, NOsimply, just like that (in a quiet categorical tone). So I (laughing) In those days, there was no radio, we would get the news by wire; so we got the news that the Germans were advancing on Paris, and at the same moment (that is, the day I had my vision), at the corresponding moment, without reason they were struck with panic, they turned back and went away. It was just the same moment. They were advancing on Paris; so Kali came in, saying, Paris is captured. And then She came (Mother brings her hand down sovereignly): NO. Like that. It really was remarkable, because I was simply sitting there, looking. And it happened in front of me.
   I told Sri Aurobindo about it, he didnt say anything. It was he who would get the news. And later on, in the afternoon, he told me, Heres the news. It seems they were suddenly seized with panic; they thought, It cant bethere was no one to oppose them, the way was open, all clear, they didnt encounter anyone or anything, so they said to themselves, Its a trap. And (laughing) they ran away. They turned around and left. That was really interesting.

0 1970-04-22, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   But it depends a lot I mean, it STILL dependson peoples receptivity And these last few days, Ive had the impression, or something like a perception, an impression of an AWESOME Power! The Power that would seem capable of bringing a dead man back to life, you know. An awesome Power that uses this [the body] without conscious identification, but quite, quite naturally, without as if there were no resistance. Its a natural state, and its neither this nor that nor that, its its EVERYTHING (gesture showing an immense movement) which which acts according to circumstances.
   Usually I dont say anything (its the first time Ive said that), because there is still a sort of memory of what was [in the past], something remaining conscious that if those things are said quite simply as they are, then the impression people would get I dont know. The body doesnt care, but something is watchful I see that something as a person (whom I dont know, besides) watching over my body and over circumstances, and stopping me from doing certain things so there may be no catastrophes.

0 1970-04-29, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   "I used to hate and avoid pain and resent its infliction; but now I find that had I not so suffered, I would not now possess, trained and perfected, this infinitely and multitudinously sensible capacity of delight in my mind, heart and body. God justifies himself in the end even when He has masked Himself as a bully and a tyrant."
   Mother commented it thus:
  --
   "Suffering makes us capable of the full force of the Master of Delight; it makes us capable also to bear the other play of the Master of Power. Pain is the key that opens the gates of strength; it is the high-road that leads to the city of beatitude."
   ***

0 1970-05-02, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   I put Truth with a capital T. (Mother laughs) Because, to tell the truth, thats not the word. It is: We want THE DIVINE. But then they instantly start arguing! So its better to put Truth.
   A few months later (October 21), Mother gave Satprem this note written to a French disciple, which seems to fit well with the story she has just recounted: "I am told that you intend to distribute a reproduction of the portrait you did of me. It would be better not to introduce in this gathering anything personal that might suggest the atmosphere of a nascent religion."

0 1970-05-09, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   You know, ordinary sightgone; ordinary hearinggone; capacity to work (Mother makes a gesture of writing)gone. And it can ONLY come back in the true way, when But Ive had the proof that EVERYTHING can come back WONDERFULLY. The question is
   I have understood, the body has understoodit has understood, it has had the experience. What will come next? Well see.
  --
   Thats the thing, you understand, thats the thing, and the body is capable. Yesterday when I read that aphorism, I said to Sri Aurobindo, But you said that the body, too, would change; here [in the aphorism] its the image that one sheds when one goes back towards the Truth, but you said the true Truth is that things would change HERE.I challenged [him], yes! And I had that answer. Two what we might call two dreams, but I dont dream anymore. Those were two activities of the subtle physical (laughing), extraordinary!
   But whom did you kill?
  --
   Now I know what this new consciousness is, and I say so positively (I mean its the body that speaks, and it knows it positivelyyesterday it was asking). So its attitude is like this: Now I know, and its for You to decide whether whether I am capable of having it, or if its only to show me. Well see.
   One thing must change materially, that is this bodys consciousness. Something must change (can it change? I dont know), something must change in the constitutioncan it be done? I dont know.

0 1970-05-23, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The country seems to be falling apart, so there [in Delhi] they asked me what should be done. I told them that this Centenary [of Sri Aurobindo, in 1972] has come ON PURPOSE. Its certainly something thats coming now because the ONLY salvation for the country, the ONLY thing that can unify it, is for it to adopt Sri Aurobindos ideal for the countryhe had a plan, he very clearly saw how the country should be organized, he said it to me. Its there, if one reads his books seriously, one can see it. So I said that things should be so organized that THROUGHOUT India there should be study groups, libraries, lectures, anything whatever, so the whole country should know Sri Aurobindos thought and will. And the Centenary is an excellent opportunity. They asked me, Whats the way out of this chaos? On my advice, Indira has been trying to surround herself with people of value. (She had me told that she had forgotten questions of party and wants to surround herself with capable people.) The difficulty is to find upright people. So they need to be educated they dont even have a NOTION of how they can be! So I said, This Centenary should be organized right now, at once, like something covering the whole country on the occasion of the Centenary. And in what Sri Aurobindo wrote, they will find all they need to organize the country, and much better, I tell them, infinitely better than what I may say, because he knew the country infinitely better than I do, and the mental formation and everything.
   People need occasions to do things. But this seems to have been wonderfully prepared ON PURPOSE.

0 1970-06-13, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Its like a capacity of directing (gesture of concentrating the Force through a channel), and something that has the power to sweep away resistances.
   Thats why they didnt let him go with the Pope, they would have done something together.3

0 1970-06-27, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Theres really nothing there (Mother touches her head), it doesnt go through there, theres nothing there. Its something something without a precise form, which has an INNUMERABLE experience at the same time, with a capacity of expression that has remained as it is, that is to say, in capable.
   (silence)

0 1970-07-04, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   The conception of the Divine as an external omnipotent Power who has created the world and governs it like an absolute and arbitrary monarch the Christian or Semitic conceptionhas never been mine; it contradicts too much my seeing and experience during thirty years of sadhana. It is against this conception that the atheistic objection is aimed,for atheism in Europe has been a shallow and rather childish reaction against a shallow and childish exoteric religionism and its popular inadequate and crudely dogmatic notions. But when I speak of the Divine Will, I mean something different,something that has descended here into an evolutionary world of Ignorance, standing at the back of things, pressing on the Darkness with its Light, leading things presently towards the best possible in the conditions of a world of Ignorance and leading it eventually towards a descent of a greater power of the Divine, which will be not an omnipotence held back and conditioned by the law of the world as it is, but in full action and therefore bringing the reign of light, peace, harmony, joy, love, beauty and Ananda, for these are the Divine Nature. The Divine Grace is there ready to act at every moment, but it manifests as one grows out of the Law of Ignorance into the Law of Light, and it is meant, not as an arbitrary caprice, however miraculous often its intervention, but as a help in that growth and a Light that leads and eventually delivers. If we take the facts of the world as they are and the facts of spiritual experience as a whole, neither of which can be denied or neglected, then I do not see what other Divine there can be. This Divine may lead us often through darkness, because the darkness is there in us and around us, but it is to the Light he is leading and not to anything else.
   Letters on Yoga, 22.174

0 1970-07-25, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   And you see how things are arranged: I didnt do it deliberately, I found this notebook again only when I was capable of understanding. At that time. God knows what answer I would have written! It came just when I was capable of replying. Its marvelous!
   Yes, all that is really microscopically precise.

0 1970-09-02, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   You know, the little body the little body is like a point, but its impression is of being the expression of an AWESOME power, and its like this: no capacity, no expression, nothing and rather rather miserable. And yet its like a condensationcondensationlike the condensation of an AWESOME power! At times, it even has difficulty bearing it, you understand.
   All experiences are as if multiplied a hundred times. Only, it has difficulty learning.

0 1970-09-12, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   Yes I hope I am capablethis body. You see, thats there, that doubt.
   But if you have reached this pointif you have reached this point, Mother, it means the time has come, otherwise you wouldnt be there. If you are in this condition, it just means the time has come.

0 1970-10-14, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   If, for any reason, this body becomes unusable, the universal Mother will again start manifesting in hundreds of individualities according to their capacity and receptivity, each one being a partial manifestation of the Universal Consciousness.
   Thats important.

0 1971-01-16, #Agenda Vol 12, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
   As for the transformation, I dont know. What I had explained about the replacement of the consciousness (the transfer) went on methodically, methodically, absolutely methodically and continuously, but with some apparent impairment, or at least the capacities of my body were greatly diminished for a certain time. But there is a curious phenomenon concerning sight and hearing: from time to time theyre clear, as clear as can be, and at other times theyre completely blurred. And it has very, very clearly another originano ther origin of influence. But I think it will take months before I can understand it. In any case, the general consciousness (gesture above her head), what could be called the universal consciousness (or at least terrestrial), hasnt budged for one minutenot one single minute. It has stayed there all the time. Only, youre a complete imbecile; you know how it is when you cant do anything: youre helpless, you cant even go from your chair to the bed, you cant do anythingone leg isnt there. Even now I cant walk unaided, I need someone to hold me up.
   But it will come back, Mother.
  --
   I tried every possible remedy: changing pain into pleasure, suppressing the capacity to feel, thinking about something else. I tried all the tricksnot a single one worked. There is something in the physical world as it is which is not (how can I put it?) which still is not open to the Divine Vibration. And that something is what causes absolutely all the trouble. The Divine Consciousness is not perceived. And so there are lots of imaginary things (but very real to the sensation) that exist, while that, the only thing thats true, is not perceived. But its better now. Its better.
   Its really interesting. I think something has been achieved from a general standpoint (Mother makes a grinding gesture); it wasnt just the difficulty of one body or one person: I think something was achieved in terms of preparing Matter to receive in the right way, correctlyits as if it had been received incorrectly before, and it has learned to receive in the true way.

WORDNET



--- Overview of noun cap

The noun cap has 9 senses (first 4 from tagged texts)
                      
1. (10) cap ::: (a tight-fitting headdress)
2. (2) cap ::: (a top (as for a bottle))
3. (1) detonator, detonating device, cap ::: (a mechanical or electrical explosive device or a small amount of explosive; can be used to initiate the reaction of a disrupting explosive)
4. (1) cap ::: (something serving as a cover or protection)
5. cap, pileus ::: (a fruiting structure resembling an umbrella or a cone that forms the top of a stalked fleshy fungus such as a mushroom)
6. hood, cap ::: (a protective covering that is part of a plant)
7. ceiling, roof, cap ::: (an upper limit on what is allowed; "he put a ceiling on the number of women who worked for him"; "there was a roof on salaries"; "they established a cap for prices")
8. crown, crownwork, jacket, jacket crown, cap ::: ((dentistry) dental appliance consisting of an artificial crown for a broken or decayed tooth; "tomorrow my dentist will fit me for a crown")
9. capital, chapiter, cap ::: (the upper part of a column that supports the entablature)

--- Overview of verb cap

The verb cap has 2 senses (first 1 from tagged texts)
                      
1. (3) cap, crest ::: (lie at the top of; "Snow capped the mountains")
2. cap ::: (restrict the number or amount of; "We had to cap the number of people we can accept into our club")


--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun cap

9 senses of cap                            

Sense 1
cap
   => headdress, headgear
     => clothing, article of clothing, vesture, wear, wearable, habiliment
       => covering
         => artifact, artefact
           => whole, unit
             => object, physical object
               => physical entity
                 => entity
       => consumer goods
         => commodity, trade good, good
           => artifact, artefact
             => whole, unit
               => object, physical object
                 => physical entity
                   => entity

Sense 2
cap
   => top, cover
     => covering
       => artifact, artefact
         => whole, unit
           => object, physical object
             => physical entity
               => entity

Sense 3
detonator, detonating device, cap
   => explosive device
     => device
       => instrumentality, instrumentation
         => artifact, artefact
           => whole, unit
             => object, physical object
               => physical entity
                 => entity

Sense 4
cap
   => protective covering, protective cover, protection
     => covering
       => artifact, artefact
         => whole, unit
           => object, physical object
             => physical entity
               => entity

Sense 5
cap, pileus
   => plant part, plant structure
     => natural object
       => whole, unit
         => object, physical object
           => physical entity
             => entity

Sense 6
hood, cap
   => covering, natural covering, cover
     => natural object
       => whole, unit
         => object, physical object
           => physical entity
             => entity

Sense 7
ceiling, roof, cap
   => control
     => economic policy
       => policy
         => argumentation, logical argument, argument, line of reasoning, line
           => reasoning, logical thinking, abstract thought
             => thinking, thought, thought process, cerebration, intellection, mentation
               => higher cognitive process
                 => process, cognitive process, mental process, operation, cognitive operation
                   => cognition, knowledge, noesis
                     => psychological feature
                       => abstraction, abstract entity
                         => entity

Sense 8
crown, crownwork, jacket, jacket crown, cap
   => dental appliance
     => device
       => instrumentality, instrumentation
         => artifact, artefact
           => whole, unit
             => object, physical object
               => physical entity
                 => entity

Sense 9
capital, chapiter, cap
   => top
     => region, part
       => location
         => object, physical object
           => physical entity
             => entity


--- Hyponyms of noun cap

5 of 9 senses of cap                          

Sense 1
cap
   => balaclava, balaclava helmet
   => Balmoral, bluebonnet
   => baseball cap, jockey cap, golf cap
   => bathing cap, swimming cap
   => beret
   => biggin
   => biretta, berretta, birretta
   => calpac, calpack, kalpac
   => cloth cap, flat cap
   => cockscomb, coxcomb
   => coonskin cap, coonskin
   => fez, tarboosh
   => garrison cap, overseas cap
   => Glengarry
   => kalansuwa
   => kepi, peaked cap, service cap, yachting cap
   => liberty cap
   => mobcap
   => mortarboard
   => nightcap
   => pinner
   => sailor cap
   => shower cap
   => ski cap, stocking cap, toboggan cap
   => skullcap
   => tam, tam-o'-shanter, tammy
   => watch cap
   => wishing cap

Sense 2
cap
   => bottlecap
   => nipple
   => radiator cap

Sense 3
detonator, detonating device, cap
   => blasting cap
   => percussion cap

Sense 4
cap
   => distributor cap
   => ferrule, collet
   => hubcap
   => lens cap, lens cover
   => thimble

Sense 7
ceiling, roof, cap
   => glass ceiling


--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun cap

9 senses of cap                            

Sense 1
cap
   => headdress, headgear

Sense 2
cap
   => top, cover

Sense 3
detonator, detonating device, cap
   => explosive device

Sense 4
cap
   => protective covering, protective cover, protection

Sense 5
cap, pileus
   => plant part, plant structure

Sense 6
hood, cap
   => covering, natural covering, cover

Sense 7
ceiling, roof, cap
   => control

Sense 8
crown, crownwork, jacket, jacket crown, cap
   => dental appliance

Sense 9
capital, chapiter, cap
   => top




--- Coordinate Terms (sisters) of noun cap

9 senses of cap                            

Sense 1
cap
  -> headdress, headgear
   => cap
   => hat, chapeau, lid
   => helmet
   => hood
   => jewelled headdress, jeweled headdress
   => kaffiyeh
   => miter, mitre
   => topknot
   => turban
   => wimple

Sense 2
cap
  -> top, cover
   => cap
   => lid
   => manhole cover
   => screwtop

Sense 3
detonator, detonating device, cap
  -> explosive device
   => bomb
   => detonator, detonating device, cap
   => fuel-air explosive, FAE
   => improvised explosive device, I.E.D., IED
   => mine
   => petard
   => seal bomb
   => shoe bomb
   => torpedo
   => torpedo

Sense 4
cap
  -> protective covering, protective cover, protection
   => armor, armour
   => bell jar, bell glass
   => binder, ring-binder
   => binding, book binding, cover, back
   => blind, screen
   => bracer, armguard
   => cap
   => cloche
   => coaster
   => cold frame
   => crystal, watch crystal, watch glass
   => dust cover
   => faceplate
   => facing, cladding
   => fallboard, fall-board
   => finger plate, escutcheon, scutcheon
   => heat shield
   => hood, bonnet, cowl, cowling
   => housing
   => lining, liner
   => mask
   => mulch
   => roof
   => roof
   => screen
   => shade
   => sheath
   => sheathing, overlay, overlayer
   => shelter
   => shield
   => splashboard, splasher, dashboard
   => splasher
   => testudo
   => thumbstall
   => toecap
   => washboard, splashboard

Sense 5
cap, pileus
  -> plant part, plant structure
   => stub
   => button
   => thallus
   => cap, pileus
   => calyptra
   => volva
   => domatium
   => pycnidium
   => stipule
   => tepal
   => gynostegium
   => chalaza
   => nucellus
   => germ tube
   => pollen tube
   => mentum
   => corona
   => lip
   => mycelium
   => plant organ
   => aril
   => duct
   => veil, velum
   => annulus, skirt
   => plant tissue
   => tendril
   => stump, tree stump
   => prophyll
   => stock
   => receptacle
   => kernel, meat
   => lobe
   => ligule

Sense 6
hood, cap
  -> covering, natural covering, cover
   => scale
   => shell
   => test
   => body covering
   => sheath, case
   => integument
   => blanket, mantle
   => crust, incrustation, encrustation
   => envelope
   => hood, cap
   => indumentum, indument
   => roof
   => shell
   => shell, eggshell
   => skim
   => slough
   => snowcap
   => vesture
   => peridium
   => pericarp, seed vessel
   => perianth, chlamys, floral envelope, perigone, perigonium
   => theca, sac
   => indusium
   => bark

Sense 7
ceiling, roof, cap
  -> control
   => price control
   => ceiling, roof, cap
   => floor, base

Sense 8
crown, crownwork, jacket, jacket crown, cap
  -> dental appliance
   => bite plate, biteplate
   => brace, braces, orthodontic braces
   => crown, crownwork, jacket, jacket crown, cap
   => denture, dental plate, plate
   => filling
   => retainer

Sense 9
capital, chapiter, cap
  -> top
   => capital, chapiter, cap
   => masthead
   => crown
   => head
   => crown, treetop




--- Grep of noun cap
baseball cap
bathing cap
bishop's cap
blackcap
blasting cap
blue skullcap
bottlecap
cap
cap opener
cap screw
capability
capableness
capaciousness
capacitance
capacitance unit
capacitor
capacitor microphone
capacity
capacity measure
capacity unit
caparison
cape
cape aloe
cape ann
cape breton island
cape buffalo
cape canaveral
cape cod
cape cod bay
cape cod canal
cape colony
cape dagga
cape fear
cape fear river
cape flattery
cape forget-me-not
cape froward
cape girardeau
cape gooseberry
cape hatteras
cape horn
cape hunting dog
cape hyacinth
cape jasmine
cape jessamine
cape kafferboom
cape kennedy
cape lobster
cape marigold
cape may
cape may warbler
cape of good hope
cape of good hope province
cape passero
cape periwinkle
cape primrose
cape province
cape sable
cape town
cape trafalgar
cape tulip
cape verde
cape verde escudo
cape verde islands
cape verde monetary unit
cape yellowwood
cape york
cape york peninsula
capek
capelan
capelin
capeline bandage
capella
caper
caper family
caper sauce
caper spurge
caper tree
capercaillie
capercailzie
capet
capetian
capetian dynasty
capeweed
capful
capibara
capillarity
capillary
capillary action
capillary artery
capillary bed
capillary fracture
capillary tube
capillary tubing
capillary vein
capillary vessel
capital
capital account
capital cost
capital expenditure
capital gain
capital gains tax
capital letter
capital levy
capital loss
capital of afghanistan
capital of alabama
capital of alaska
capital of antigua and barbuda
capital of argentina
capital of arizona
capital of arkansas
capital of armenia
capital of australia
capital of austria
capital of azerbaijan
capital of bahrain
capital of bangladesh
capital of barbados
capital of belarus
capital of belgium
capital of benin
capital of bolivia
capital of botswana
capital of brazil
capital of burundi
capital of california
capital of cameroon
capital of canada
capital of cape verde
capital of central africa
capital of chad
capital of chile
capital of colombia
capital of colorado
capital of connecticut
capital of costa rica
capital of cuba
capital of cyprus
capital of delaware
capital of djibouti
capital of ecuador
capital of egypt
capital of estonia
capital of ethiopia
capital of finland
capital of florida
capital of france
capital of gabon
capital of gambia
capital of georgia
capital of ghana
capital of greece
capital of grenada
capital of guatemala
capital of guinea
capital of guinea-bissau
capital of hawaii
capital of hungary
capital of iceland
capital of idaho
capital of illinois
capital of india
capital of indiana
capital of indonesia
capital of iowa
capital of iran
capital of iraq
capital of ireland
capital of israel
capital of italy
capital of jamaica
capital of japan
capital of jordan
capital of kansas
capital of kazakhstan
capital of kentucky
capital of kenya
capital of kuwait
capital of kyrgyzstan
capital of laos
capital of latvia
capital of lebanon
capital of lesotho
capital of liberia
capital of libya
capital of liechtenstein
capital of lithuania
capital of louisiana
capital of luxembourg
capital of madagascar
capital of maine
capital of malawi
capital of malaysia
capital of malta
capital of maryland
capital of massachusetts
capital of mexico
capital of michigan
capital of minnesota
capital of mississippi
capital of missouri
capital of moldova
capital of mongolia
capital of montana
capital of morocco
capital of mozambique
capital of nebraska
capital of nepal
capital of nevada
capital of new hampshire
capital of new jersey
capital of new mexico
capital of new york
capital of new zealand
capital of nicaragua
capital of niger
capital of nigeria
capital of north carolina
capital of north dakota
capital of north korea
capital of northern ireland
capital of norway
capital of ohio
capital of oklahoma
capital of oman
capital of oregon
capital of pakistan
capital of panama
capital of papua new guinea
capital of paraguay
capital of pennsylvania
capital of peru
capital of poland
capital of portugal
capital of qatar
capital of red china
capital of rhode island
capital of romania
capital of rwanda
capital of san marino
capital of saudi arabia
capital of senegal
capital of serbia and montenegro
capital of seychelles
capital of sierra leone
capital of singapore
capital of slovakia
capital of somalia
capital of south africa
capital of south carolina
capital of south dakota
capital of south korea
capital of spain
capital of sri lanka
capital of sudan
capital of suriname
capital of swaziland
capital of sweden
capital of switzerland
capital of syria
capital of taiwan
capital of tajikistan
capital of tanzania
capital of tennessee
capital of texas
capital of thailand
capital of the bahamas
capital of the dominican republic
capital of the netherlands
capital of the philippines
capital of the russian federation
capital of the ukraine
capital of the united kingdom
capital of the united states
capital of tibet
capital of togo
capital of trinidad and tobago
capital of tunisia
capital of turkey
capital of turkmenistan
capital of uganda
capital of uruguay
capital of utah
capital of uzbek
capital of vanuatu
capital of venezuela
capital of vermont
capital of vietnam
capital of virginia
capital of washington
capital of west virginia
capital of western samoa
capital of wisconsin
capital of wyoming
capital of zambia
capital of zimbabwe
capital offense
capital punishment
capital ship
capital stock
capitalisation
capitalism
capitalist
capitalist economy
capitalization
capitate
capitate bone
capitation
capitol
capitol building
capitol hill
capitol reef national park
capitonidae
capitulation
capitulum
capiz
caplin
capo
capon
capone
caporetto
capote
capoten
cappadocia
capparidaceae
capparis
capparis arborea
capparis cynophallophora
capparis flexuosa
capparis mitchellii
capparis spinosa
capped macaque
cappelletti
cappuccino
cappuccino coffee
capra
capra aegagrus
capra falconeri
capra hircus
capra ibex
caprella
capreolus
capreolus capreolus
capri
capric acid
capriccio
caprice
capriciousness
capricorn
capricorn the goat
capricornis
capricornus
caprifig
caprifoliaceae
caprimulgid
caprimulgidae
caprimulgiform bird
caprimulgiformes
caprimulgus
caprimulgus carolinensis
caprimulgus europaeus
caprimulgus vociferus
caprine animal
capriole
caproic acid
caproidae
capromyidae
capros
capros aper
caprylic acid
capsaicin
capsella
capsella bursa-pastoris
capsicum
capsicum annuum cerasiforme
capsicum annuum conoides
capsicum annuum grossum
capsicum annuum longum
capsicum baccatum
capsicum frutescens
capsicum frutescens baccatum
capsicum pepper plant
capsid
capsidae
capsizing
capstan
capstone
capsula glomeruli
capsule
captain
captain's chair
captain bligh
captain bob
captain cook
captain hicks
captain horatio hornblower
captain james cook
captain john smith
captain kidd
captaincy
captainship
caption
captivation
captive
captive finance company
captivity
captopril
captor
capture
capturer
capuchin
capulin
capulin tree
caput
capybara
cervical cap
cloth cap
conic waxycap
coonskin cap
cradle cap
death cap
distributor cap
dunce's cap
dunce cap
false deathcap
five-point bishop's cap
flat cap
fool's cap
foolscap
garrison cap
golf cap
handicap
hubcap
ice cap
icecap
inky-cap mushroom
inky cap
jockey cap
kneecap
large cap
lens cap
liberty cap
mad-dog skullcap
madcap
milkcap
mobcap
nightcap
overseas cap
peaked cap
percussion cap
radiator cap
recap
redcap
root cap
sailor cap
service cap
shaggy cap
shower cap
ski cap
skullcap
skycap
small cap
snowcap
stocking cap
swimming cap
thinking cap
toboggan cap
toecap
turk's-cap
turk's cap-lily
watch cap
waxycap
whitecap
wilson's blackcap
wishing cap
yachting cap



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Wikipedia - Aboriginal Legal Service (NSW/ACT) -- Organisation providing legal services to Indigenous people in New South Wales and the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Abraham Capadose -- Dutch physician and writer
Wikipedia - Abraham Lincoln Capital Airport -- Airport serving Springfield, Illinois, USA
Wikipedia - Abraham van der Weijden -- Dutch ship's captain
Wikipedia - Abram Kean -- Canadian ship captain and politician
Wikipedia - Abrotanella scapigera -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Abu Dhabi -- Federal capital of the United Arab Emirates
Wikipedia - Abuja -- Capital of Nigeria
Wikipedia - Acanthocalyx -- genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Acapiata dilatata -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - A Capital Federal -- Operetta directed by Artur Azevedo
Wikipedia - Acappella (group)
Wikipedia - Acappella Vocal Band -- American vocal group
Wikipedia - A cappella -- Group or solo singing without instrumental sound
Wikipedia - Acaprazine -- Chemical compound
Wikipedia - A Caprice of Pompadour -- 1931 film
Wikipedia - ACAPS -- A Norwegian non-profit, non-governmental project
Wikipedia - A Captain's Courage -- 1926 film
Wikipedia - Acapulco District -- district in Puntarenas canton, Puntarenas province, Costa Rica
Wikipedia - Acapulco (film) -- 1952 film by Emilio Fernandez
Wikipedia - Acapulco Gold -- Cannabis
Wikipedia - Acapulco Shore -- Mexican television series
Wikipedia - Acapulco
Wikipedia - Accel (company) -- Venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Acceptance angle (solar concentrator) -- Maximum angle at which incoming sunlight can be captured by a solar concentrator
Wikipedia - Accra -- Capital of Ghana
Wikipedia - Ace Attorney -- Series of adventure games by Capcom
Wikipedia - Aconcagua mummy -- Incan capacocha mummy of a seven-year-old boy, dated to around 1500 AD
Wikipedia - Acromioclavicular joint -- Shoulder junction between the scapula and the clavicle
Wikipedia - Acromion -- Bony process on the scapula (shoulder blade)
Wikipedia - Action of March 1677 -- Battle of Tobago (3 March 1677) between a Dutch fleet and a French force attempting to recapture Tobago
Wikipedia - Actis Capital -- British investment firm focused on the private equity
Wikipedia - Actua Corporation -- Defunct venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Adam Kuby -- American sculptor, visual artist and landscape designer
Wikipedia - Adamstown, Pitcairn Islands -- Capital and only settlement of the Pitcairn Islands
Wikipedia - Adderley Street -- Major street in CBD of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Addo Elephant National Park Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area in the Eastern Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Addo Elephant National Park -- A diverse wildlife conservation park near Port Elizabeth in the Eastern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Adelaide -- Capital of South Australia
Wikipedia - Aden -- Port city and temporary capital of Yemen
Wikipedia - Adetomyrma caputleae -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Adhesive capsulitis of the shoulder -- Painful disease restricting movement
Wikipedia - Adisadel College -- Anglican boysM-bM-^@M-^Y boarding school in Cape Coast, Ghana
Wikipedia - Adolf Des Coudres -- German landscape painter
Wikipedia - Adoration of the Magi (Cesare da Sesto) -- Painting by Cesare da Sesto in the National Museum of Capodimonte, Naples
Wikipedia - Adoration of the Shepherds (Santafede) -- Painting by Fabrizio Santafede in the National Museum of Capodimonte, Naples
Wikipedia - Adriaan van Kervel -- Governor of the Cape Colony
Wikipedia - Adriano Baracchini Caputi -- Italian painter
Wikipedia - Adriano Capuzzo -- Italian equestrian
Wikipedia - Adscape
Wikipedia - Adscita capitalis -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Advanced capitalism
Wikipedia - Advanced Crew Escape Suit -- full pressure suit
Wikipedia - Adventure Capitalists -- US television program
Wikipedia - AdVenture Capitalist -- Incremental video game
Wikipedia - Adventures of Captain America
Wikipedia - AdysM-CM-"ngela Moniz -- Cape Verdean Olympic judoka
Wikipedia - Aedes scapularis -- Species of insect
Wikipedia - Aelia Capitolina -- Former Roman colony
Wikipedia - AerCap -- Aircraft leasing company
Wikipedia - Aeronautics -- Science involved with the study, design, and manufacturing of airflight-capable machines
Wikipedia - A.F. Cappelli Block -- Historic building
Wikipedia - Affairs of Cappy Ricks -- 1937 film by Ralph Staub
Wikipedia - African Party for the Independence of Cape Verde -- Political party in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - African Party for the Independence of Guinea and Cape Verde -- Political party in Guinea-Bissau
Wikipedia - African Theatre (Cape Town) -- Building that was a theatre in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Aftermath of the 2021 storming of the United States Capitol
Wikipedia - Agartala -- City and state capital in Tripura, India
Wikipedia - Agency (philosophy) -- Capacity of an actor to act in a given environment
Wikipedia - Age of criminal responsibility -- Maximum age at which a child is incapable of committing criminal offences
Wikipedia - Aglossa caprealis -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Agonopterix capreolella -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - A Grande Vitoria -- 2014 film directed by Stefano Capuzzi
Wikipedia - Agrionympha capensis -- Moth species in family Micropterigidae
Wikipedia - A Guide to the Old Buildings of the Cape -- Book by Hans Fransen
Wikipedia - Aguinaldo Fonseca -- Cape Verdean poet
Wikipedia - Agulhas Bank Complex Marine Protected Area -- An offshore marine conservation area south of Cape Agulhas in South Africa
Wikipedia - Agulhas Front Marine Protected Area -- A offshore marine conservation area off the Eastern Cape in South Africa's EEZ
Wikipedia - Agulhas Muds Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area offshore of the Western Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Agulhas National Park -- National park on the coastal plain between Gansbaai and Struisbaai in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - A Hole in the Head -- 1959 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Aji panca -- Variety of Capsicum chinenseM-BM- grown in Peru
Wikipedia - Akcapinar, Devrekani -- Village in Turkey
Wikipedia - Akcapinar, Gonen -- Village in Turkey
Wikipedia - Akilla's Escape
Wikipedia - Alabama State Capitol -- State capitol building of the U.S. state of Alabama
Wikipedia - Alan E. Salzman -- American venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Al-Askar -- First capital of Egypt under Muslim rule, in Old Cairo
Wikipedia - Alba Iulia -- City and county capital in Alba County, Romania
Wikipedia - Albany Felt Company Complex -- Former industrial site on north edge of New York state capital city
Wikipedia - Albany, New York -- State capital city in New York, United States
Wikipedia - Albert Bierstadt -- 19th-century German-American landscape painter
Wikipedia - Albert Capellani -- French film director
Wikipedia - Albert Capraro -- American fashion designer
Wikipedia - Albert Falco -- French scuba diver, chief diver and captain of the Calypso
Wikipedia - Albert Goodwin (artist) -- British landscape artist
Wikipedia - Alberto Capilla -- Mexican diver
Wikipedia - Alberto Capitta -- Italian writer
Wikipedia - Alberto Capozzi -- Italian actor
Wikipedia - Alberto Selva -- Captain Regent of San Marino (2008)
Wikipedia - Albert Wilson (botanist) -- American botanist, landscape architect, author, teacher, and lecturer
Wikipedia - Al Capone (film) -- 1959 film
Wikipedia - Al Capone -- American gangster and businessman
Wikipedia - Al Cappuccino -- Hong Kong television series
Wikipedia - Alcapurria -- Fritter dish from Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Alden Global Capital -- American hedge fund
Wikipedia - Alderney Race -- Strait between Alderney and Cap de la Hague
Wikipedia - Aldo Capitini
Wikipedia - Alessandro Capone -- Italian film director
Wikipedia - Alessandro Mancini -- Captain Regent of San Marino (2007, 2020)
Wikipedia - Alexander Allan (ship owner) -- Scottish sea captain (1780 - 1854)
Wikipedia - Alexander Cappelli -- Australian musician/actor
Wikipedia - Alexander Kellock Brown -- Scottish landscape painter (1849-1922)
Wikipedia - Alexander Michelis -- German landscape painter
Wikipedia - Alexander Sinton Secondary School -- school in Athlone, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Alexander Wilson (Canadian writer) -- American teacher and landscape designer
Wikipedia - Alexandra Dam -- Dam on Table Mountain, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Alexandra Hospital (Cape Town) -- mental health care hospital in Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Alex Cameron (artist) -- Canadian abstract landscape painter
Wikipedia - Alexios Strategopoulos -- Nicaean general who recaptured Constantinople
Wikipedia - Alfred Wetzler -- Auschwitz escapee, reported on ongoing Holocaust
Wikipedia - Algernon Capell, 2nd Earl of Essex -- English nobleman, soldier, and courtier
Wikipedia - Algiers -- Capital of Algeria
Wikipedia - Alhambra Theatre (Cape Town) -- Former theatre and cinema in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Alice Capitani -- Italian gymnast
Wikipedia - Alice or the Last Escapade
Wikipedia - Aligudarz -- Capital city of Aligudarz County, Lorestan, Iran
Wikipedia - Alkalawa -- Town, formal Capital of Gobir State
Wikipedia - Alkalinity -- The capacity of water to resist changes in pH that would make the water more acidic
Wikipedia - Allan Edson -- Canadian landscape painter
Wikipedia - All Caps (song) -- Single by Madvillain
Wikipedia - All caps -- Text with all capital letters
Wikipedia - Allioux Lake -- Lake in Capitale-Nationale, Quebec, Canada
Wikipedia - Allium brachyscapum -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Allium breviscapum -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Allium capitellatum -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Allium cappadocicum -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Allium caput-medusae -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - All-Night Vigil (Rachmaninoff) -- 1915 a cappella choral composition by Sergei Rachmaninoff
Wikipedia - All-time Whitecaps FC 2 roster -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - Ally Capellino -- Independent British designer brand
Wikipedia - Alofi -- Capital of Niue
Wikipedia - Alpha1 Capricorni -- Star in the constellation Capricornus
Wikipedia - Alpha2 Capricorni -- Star in the constellation Capricornus
Wikipedia - Alpha Capricorni -- Optical double star in the constellation Capricorn
Wikipedia - Alpine Landscape -- Painting by Paul Bril
Wikipedia - Alternating caps -- Form of text notation
Wikipedia - Altriciality -- Species in which the young are minimally-capable of independent movement soon after hatching or birth
Wikipedia - Alucita capensis -- Species of many-plumed moth in genus Alucita
Wikipedia - Alveolar capillary dysplasia -- Rare lung disease, present at birth and treatable by lung transplants
Wikipedia - Alvise Loredan -- 15th-century Venetian nobleman and captain
Wikipedia - Amanda Cappelletti -- American politician
Wikipedia - AmaNdlambe -- Xhosa tribe in Eastern Cape, South Africa; named after prince Ndlambe
Wikipedia - Amara (subtitling) -- Captioning website
Wikipedia - Amaravati -- Legislative Capital of Andhra Pradesh
Wikipedia - Amathole Offshore Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area in the Eastern Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Ambrosius Capello
Wikipedia - American Capitalism -- 1952 book by John Kenneth Galbraith
Wikipedia - American Capital -- U.S. financial services firm
Wikipedia - American Craftsman -- American domestic architectural, interior design, landscape design, applied arts, and decorative arts style and lifestyle
Wikipedia - Amersham A Cappella -- Choir
Wikipedia - Amir Ansari -- Co-founder:venture capital firm Prodea Systems Inc
Wikipedia - Amitermes hastatus -- Species of termite endemic to Fynbos in the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Amman -- Capital of Jordan
Wikipedia - Amo - Capitolo I -- 2013 studio album by Renato Zero
Wikipedia - Amplitempora captiocula -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Amsterdam -- Capital and largest city of the Netherlands
Wikipedia - Amundsen Sea -- An arm of the Southern Ocean off Marie Byrd Land in western Antarctica between Cape Flying Fish to the east and Cape Dart on Siple Island to the west
Wikipedia - Analog sampled filter -- electronic filter using switched capacitors
Wikipedia - Anand-Gandhinagar Capital MEMU -- Train in India
Wikipedia - Anarchapulco -- Annual voluntaryist festival in Acapulco, Mexico
Wikipedia - Anarchism and anarcho-capitalism
Wikipedia - Anarchism and capitalism
Wikipedia - Anarcho-capitalism and minarchism
Wikipedia - Anarcho-capitalism -- Political philosophy and economic theory of stateless capitalism
Wikipedia - Anarcho-capitalist
Wikipedia - Anarcho-communism -- A theory of anarchism which advocates the abolition of capitalism, private property and wage labor
Wikipedia - Ancient Cappadocian language -- Unclassified extinct language or group of languages
Wikipedia - Andorra la Vella -- Capital of Andorra
Wikipedia - Andrea Brunsendorf -- gardener, horticulturalist and landscaper
Wikipedia - Andreas Capellanus -- French author
Wikipedia - Andre Capron -- French immunologist and parasitologist
Wikipedia - Andres Caparros Garcia -- Mayor of Ponce, Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Andreu Capdevila i Puig -- Spanish trade unionist (1894-1987)
Wikipedia - Andrew and Sharon Turner -- Owners of Norfolk Capital Limited
Wikipedia - Andrew Barr -- Australian politician; Chief Minister of the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Andrew Capobianco -- American diver
Wikipedia - Andrew Leachman -- New Zealand research ship captain and New Zealand Antarctic Medal recipient
Wikipedia - Andries Stockenstrom (judge) -- South African lawyer in the Cape Colony
Wikipedia - An Evening River Landscape with a Ferry -- Painting by Jan van Goyen
Wikipedia - Angela Cappetta -- American photographer
Wikipedia - Angela Danadjieva -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Angel investor -- Affluent individual who provides capital for a business start-up, usually in exchange for convertible debt or ownership equity
Wikipedia - Angkor -- capital city of the Khmer Empire
Wikipedia - Anglican Diocese of Cape Town -- Diocese of the Anglican Church of Southern Africa
Wikipedia - Anglo-Persian capture of Ormuz -- Combined 1622 Anglo-Persian expedition that captured the Portuguese garrison at Hormuz Island
Wikipedia - Anglo-Saxon capitalism
Wikipedia - Anhel Cape -- Guinea-Bissauan athlete
Wikipedia - Animal Demography Unit -- Research unit of the University of Cape Town
Wikipedia - Anisoptera scaphula -- Species of tree
Wikipedia - Anita Berrizbeitia -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Anita Caprioli -- Italian theatre and film actress
Wikipedia - Ankara -- Capital of Turkey
Wikipedia - Anna Cappellini -- Italian ice dancer
Wikipedia - Anna Maria Weems -- American woman known for escaping slavery
Wikipedia - Anne Glover (venture capitalist) -- CEO and co-founder of Amadeus Capital Partners
Wikipedia - Annette Hoyt Flanders -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Anonychomyrma longicapitata -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Ansible -- Fictional machine capable of instantaneous or superluminal communication
Wikipedia - ANSI escape codes
Wikipedia - ANSI escape code -- Method using in-band signaling to control the formatting, color, and other output options on video text terminals
Wikipedia - Antananarivo -- Capital of Madagascar
Wikipedia - Antanas Rimvydas Caplinskas -- Lithuanian historian
Wikipedia - Antarctic ice sheet -- Polar ice cap
Wikipedia - Anthony Burns -- American escaped slave
Wikipedia - Anti-capitalism
Wikipedia - Anticapitalist Left (Italy) -- Italian political party
Wikipedia - Anti-capitalist reform
Wikipedia - Anti-capitalist
Wikipedia - Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia
Wikipedia - Antonio Capuano (actor) -- Argentine actor
Wikipedia - Antonio Capuano (director) -- Italian film director
Wikipedia - Antonio Capua -- Italian politician
Wikipedia - Antonio Capuzzi -- Italian violinist and composer
Wikipedia - Antonis Oikonomou -- Greek naval captain
Wikipedia - AN/TPQ-53 Quick Reaction Capability Radar -- Ground radar system
Wikipedia - Ape in a Cape: An Alphabet of Odd Animals -- 1953 Caldecott picture book
Wikipedia - Apia -- Capital of Samoa
Wikipedia - A Plea for Captain John Brown -- Book by Henry David Thoreau
Wikipedia - Apotheosis of Democracy -- Artwork by Paul Wayland Bartlett on the US Capitol
Wikipedia - Applications of capacitors -- Uses Of Capacitors In Daily Life.
Wikipedia - April Waters -- American landscape painter
Wikipedia - A Prince of the Captivity -- 1933 novel by John Buchan
Wikipedia - AQR Capital -- Global investment management firm
Wikipedia - A Quiet Weekend in Capri -- Computer adventure game
Wikipedia - Aquila Capital -- Independent investment management company
Wikipedia - Arable land -- Land capable of being ploughed and used to grow crops
Wikipedia - Arbitrage -- Capitalisation of risk-free opportunities in financial markets
Wikipedia - Arcapita -- holding and real estate company
Wikipedia - Archbishop of Capua
Wikipedia - Archelaus of Cappadocia -- a Roman client prince and the last king of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Archimede -- French Navy bathyscaphe
Wikipedia - Architect of the Capitol -- Person and federal agency that maintains the United States Capitol Complex
Wikipedia - Ardencaple Castle -- Former castle near Helensburgh
Wikipedia - Ardencaple Park -- Former stadium in Argyll and Bute, Scotland
Wikipedia - Arderne Gardens -- A public park and arboretum in Claremont, Cape Town
Wikipedia - Ardu Vocal Ensemble -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - Area code 502 -- Area code that serves north central Kentucky, primarily Louisville, its suburbs, and the state capital, Frankfort
Wikipedia - Arequipa -- Region capital in Peru
Wikipedia - Aretaeus of Cappadocia -- Ancient Greek physician
Wikipedia - Ariamnes -- 4th-century BC satrap of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Ariarathes III of Cappadocia -- 3rd-century BC king of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Ariarathes II of Cappadocia -- 3rd-century BC king of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Ariarathes I of Cappadocia -- 4th-century BC king of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Ariarathes IV of Cappadocia -- 3rd and 2nd-century BC king of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Ariarathes VIII of Cappadocia -- 2nd and 1st-century BC king of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Ariarathes V of Cappadocia -- 2nd-century BC king of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Arlington Capital Partners -- Private equity firm focusing on leveraged buyout and recapitalization investments in middle market companies.
Wikipedia - Arterial road -- High-capacity urban road
Wikipedia - Arthur Capell, 1st Earl of Essex -- English noble
Wikipedia - Arthur Caplan
Wikipedia - Arthur Capper/Carrollsburg -- Former public housing project in Washington, D.C., United States
Wikipedia - Arthur Gorges -- English sea captain, poet, translator and courtier (c.1569-1625)
Wikipedia - Artillery Memorial, Cape Town -- Memorial to the gunners who fought for South Africa during World War I
Wikipedia - Arton Capital -- Financial and citizenship consultancy firm
Wikipedia - Artscape (organisation) -- Swedish not-for-profit organisation
Wikipedia - Artscape Theatre Centre -- Performing arts centre in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Arturo Macapagal -- Filipino sport shooter
Wikipedia - Asante Capital -- British private equity placement and advisory firm
Wikipedia - ASCAP Latin Heritage Award -- Music award
Wikipedia - Ashaiman -- Town & District Capital in Greater Accra Region, Ghana
Wikipedia - Ashgabat -- Capital of Turkmenistan
Wikipedia - Ashok Captain -- Indian herpetologist
Wikipedia - Asian brown flycatcher -- Species of bird of the genus Muscicapidae
Wikipedia - Asmara -- Capital of Eritrea
Wikipedia - Aspasia Point -- Cape in South Georgia and the South Sandwich Islands
Wikipedia - Aspen Capital -- Merchant bank in Portland, Oregon
Wikipedia - Assembly of Captive European Nations -- Coalition of representatives from nations in Central and Eastern Europe under Soviet domination (1954-1972)
Wikipedia - Assumption of the Virgin (Cerasi Chapel) -- Painting by Annibale Carracci (Santa Maria del Popolo, Cappella Cerasi)
Wikipedia - Assured Income for the Severely Handicapped -- a social welfare program for adult Albertans with severe disabilities
Wikipedia - Assyrian captivity
Wikipedia - Asterius of Cappadocia -- Early christian theologian
Wikipedia - Asuncion -- |Capital and chief port of Paraguay
Wikipedia - ASW Handicap Chase -- Discontinued steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - AT91CAP7
Wikipedia - AT91CAP9
Wikipedia - ATF gunwalking scandal -- US operation to capture weapons' smugglers
Wikipedia - Athens -- Capital of Greece
Wikipedia - Athlone, Cape Town -- A suburb of Cape Town on the Cape Flats
Wikipedia - Athlone Stadium -- Stadium in Athlone on the Cape Flats in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia
Wikipedia - Aticaprant
Wikipedia - Atlantic-Pacific Capital -- American financial services firm
Wikipedia - Atlantic Seaboard District Municipality -- Region of the City of Cape Town
Wikipedia - Atlantis Sand Fynbos -- Vegetation type from north of Cape Town, in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Atlantis, Western Cape -- Suburb of Cape Towm, in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Atmospheric escape -- Loss of planetary atmospheric gases to outer space
Wikipedia - Atomic chess -- chess variant where pieces "explode" upon capture, also removing surrounding pieces
Wikipedia - Atta capiguara -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Attainder -- Penalty of loss of life, property and titles following a serious capital crime
Wikipedia - Atterbury House -- Office skyscraper in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Attilio Bescape -- Italian weightlifter
Wikipedia - Aubrey Baartman -- South African politician from the Northern Cape
Wikipedia - Augrabies Falls National Park -- National park in the Northern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Augusta, Maine -- Capital of Maine, United States
Wikipedia - August Capital
Wikipedia - Aulus Manlius Capitolinus -- Roman consul
Wikipedia - Aulus Manlius Vulso Capitolinus -- Roman Republican consular tribune
Wikipedia - Aurelius Capital Management -- American hedge fund
Wikipedia - Austin, Texas -- Capital of Texas, United States
Wikipedia - Australian Capital Territory Legislative Assembly -- Unicameral legislature of the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Australian Capital Territory (Self-Government) Act 1988 -- Act of the Parliament of Australia that established the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Australian National University -- National research university in Canberra, Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Authoritarian capitalism -- Economic system in which a market economy exists alongside an authoritarian government
Wikipedia - Automatic identification and data capture
Wikipedia - Automatic image captioning
Wikipedia - Autonomy -- Capacity for independence, control, discretion or political self-governance
Wikipedia - Autorail a grande capacite -- Category of multiple unit train designed by Bombardier
Wikipedia - Autoreduction -- anti-capitalist form of protest
Wikipedia - Avalon, New Jersey -- Borough in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Avalon School District -- School district in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Avarua -- Capital of the Cook Islands
Wikipedia - Avature -- American Human Capital Management software company
Wikipedia - Azcapotzalco
Wikipedia - Azilal -- Provincial capital of Azilal, Morocco
Wikipedia - Babi Yar -- Ravine in the Ukrainian capital Kyiv
Wikipedia - Babylonian captivity -- Period in Jewish history, during which a number of people from the ancient Kingdom of Judah were captives in Babylon
Wikipedia - Backstage Capitol Theatre -- Theatre in Delhi, Ontario
Wikipedia - Badaber uprising -- Armed rebellion by captured and imprisoned Soviet and Afghan security forces against Pakistani- and American-backed Afghan mujahideen forces
Wikipedia - Baggy green -- Distinctive cap style worn by the Australian cricket team
Wikipedia - Baghdad -- Capital of Iraq
Wikipedia - Bahir Dar -- Capital of Amhara Region, Ethiopia
Wikipedia - Bain Capital -- American investment firm
Wikipedia - Baku -- Capital of Azerbaijan
Wikipedia - Balderton Capital -- British venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Bamako -- Capital of Mali
Wikipedia - Bana (singer) -- Cape Verdean musician
Wikipedia - Banc Capel -- A guyot, or flat-topped underwater volcano, in the Coral Sea
Wikipedia - Banco InteratlM-CM-"ntico -- Commercial bank in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Bandar Seri Begawan -- Capital of Brunei
Wikipedia - Bandwidth cap
Wikipedia - Bandwidth management -- Process of measuring and controlling the communications on a network link, to avoid filling the link to capacity or overfilling the link
Wikipedia - Bangalore -- Capital of Karnataka, India
Wikipedia - Bangui -- Capital of Central African Republic
Wikipedia - Banjul -- Capital of Gambia
Wikipedia - Bantry Bay, Cape Town -- A suburb of Cape Town on the coastal slopes of Lion's Head
Wikipedia - Barbara Baer Capitman -- American author and preservationist
Wikipedia - Barbara Stauffacher Solomon -- American landscape architect and graphic designer
Wikipedia - Barbara van den Broek -- Australian architect and landscape architect
Wikipedia - Barbershop quartet -- A cappella close harmony singing group
Wikipedia - Barlavento Islands -- Island group of the Cape Verde archipelago
Wikipedia - Barranquilla -- Capital district of Atlantico Department in Colombia
Wikipedia - Barrios of Montevideo -- City of Montevideo, capital of Uruguay, is divided into 62 barrios
Wikipedia - Bartolomea Capitanio
Wikipedia - Bartolomeo Ignazio Capello -- Italian painter
Wikipedia - Bartonella capreoli -- Species of pathogenic bacterium
Wikipedia - Barungguan -- An Aboriginal Australian people of Cape York Peninsula, Northern Queensland
Wikipedia - Basili de Rubi -- Catalan Capuchin friar
Wikipedia - Basseterre -- Capital of Saint Kitts and Nevis
Wikipedia - Bastion Promenade -- a promenade in the Castle Quarter in the 1st District of Budapest, capital of Hungary
Wikipedia - Batavia, Dutch East Indies -- Capital of the Dutch East Indies
Wikipedia - Bathurst, Eastern Cape -- Village in Eastern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Bathyscaphe Trieste II
Wikipedia - Bathyscaphe Trieste
Wikipedia - Bathyscaphe -- Free-diving self-propelled deep-sea submersible
Wikipedia - Battery balancing -- Techniques that maximize the capacity of a battery pack with multiple cells to make all of the capacity available for use and increase each cell's longevity.
Wikipedia - Battlecruiser -- Large capital warship
Wikipedia - Battle of Alcatraz -- unsuccessful escape attempt from Alcatraz Federal Penitentiary in 1946
Wikipedia - Battle of Blaauwberg -- Battle fought near Cape Town in 1806
Wikipedia - Battle of Cape Celidonia -- Naval battle between the Ottoman Empire and the Habsburgs
Wikipedia - Battle of Cape Ecnomus -- Naval battle of the First Punic War; one of the largest naval battles ever
Wikipedia - Battle of Cape Esperance -- Battle in the Pacific theatre of World War II
Wikipedia - Battle of Cape Gloucester -- WWII battle in the Pacific Theater
Wikipedia - Battle of Cape Machichaco -- Naval battle of the Spanish Civil War
Wikipedia - Battle of Cape Orlando -- Battle that took place on 4 July 1299 at St Marco di Val Demone, north-western Sicily, Italy
Wikipedia - Battle of Cape Spartivento -- Naval battle during the Battle of the Mediterranean
Wikipedia - Battle of Cape St. Vincent (1641) -- Military battle
Wikipedia - Battle of Cape St. Vincent (1780) -- 1780 naval battle between Great Britain and Spain
Wikipedia - Battle of Edessa -- 260 battle at which Shapur I of Persia defeats and captures the entire Roman army, including Augustus Valerian
Wikipedia - Battle off Cape Gata -- Naval battle
Wikipedia - Battle of Nineveh (612 BCE) -- Battle at the capital of the Neo-Assyrian Empire
Wikipedia - Battle of Palo Hincado -- First major battle of the Spanish reconquest of Santo Domingo of the Spanish colonial Captaincy General of Santo Domingo
Wikipedia - Baviaanskloof Mega Reserve -- Protected area in the Eastern Cape Province, South Africa.
Wikipedia - Baxter Theatre Centre -- Performing arts centre in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Bayeux Tapestry tituli -- Captions embroidered on Bayeux Tapestry
Wikipedia - BCAP29 -- Protein-coding gene in humans
Wikipedia - Beaches of Cape Town -- List of beaches in the Cape Town metropolitan region
Wikipedia - Beanie (seamed cap) -- Small round skullcaps, often colorful
Wikipedia - Bea Orpen -- Irish landscape and portrait painter and teacher
Wikipedia - Bearing capacity -- Capacity of soil to support loads
Wikipedia - Beatrix Farrand -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Beatriz Capotosto -- Argentine hurdler
Wikipedia - Beauport Lake -- Lake in Capitale-Nationale, Quebec, Canada
Wikipedia - Becaplermin
Wikipedia - Before You Go (Lewis Capaldi song) -- 2019 single by Lewis Capaldi
Wikipedia - Beijing Capital International Airport -- International airport serving Beijing
Wikipedia - Beijing dialect -- Dialect of Beijing Mandarin spoken in the capital of the PRC
Wikipedia - Beijing -- Capital of the People's Republic of China
Wikipedia - Belfast -- Capital and chief port of Northern Ireland
Wikipedia - Belgrade -- Capital of Serbia
Wikipedia - Belhar Secondary School -- High school in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Belhar -- A suburb of the City of Cape Town, South Africa, on the Cape Flats
Wikipedia - Bella Voce (group) -- A cappella choir
Wikipedia - Bellingshausen Sea -- A part of the Southern Ocean along the west side of the Antarctic Peninsula, west of Alexander Island, east of Cape Flying Fish on Thurston Island
Wikipedia - Bellman's lost in a forest problem -- What is the best path for a lost hiker to follow to escape from a forest of known shape?
Wikipedia - Bells of Capistrano -- 1942 film
Wikipedia - Bellville railway station -- Railway station in the town of Bellville, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Bellville Velodrome -- Multi-purpose indoor velodrome in Bellville, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Bellville, Western Cape -- A suburb of the City of Cape Town, in South Africa.
Wikipedia - Belmond Mount Nelson Hotel -- Luxury hotel at the centre of Cape Town in a garden estate
Wikipedia - Belmopan -- Capital of Belize
Wikipedia - Be My Escape -- 2004 single by Relient K
Wikipedia - Ben Ali Handicap -- Horserace in Lexington, KY (1917-1932)
Wikipedia - Benben -- Pyramid capstone
Wikipedia - Benchmark (venture capital firm) -- Venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Benguela Muds Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area off the Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Benjamin Merrill -- Rowan County, NC militia captain and Regulator
Wikipedia - Beret -- Flat-topped, visorless cap
Wikipedia - Berge equilibrium -- Solution concept capturing altruism in game theory
Wikipedia - Bergvliet High School -- Public high school in Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Bergvliet Primary School -- Co-educational primary school in Bergvliet, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Bergvliet -- A southern suburb of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Berlin -- Capital and largest city of Germany
Wikipedia - BerM-DM-#i -- Neighbourhood of Riga, the capital of Latvia
Wikipedia - Bernard Capes -- English author
Wikipedia - Bernard Caprasse -- Belgian politician
Wikipedia - Bernardino Fergioni -- Dutch landscape painter and engraver ( c. 1629 - 1682)
Wikipedia - Bernardo Caprotti -- Italian businessman
Wikipedia - Bernie Krause -- American musician, author, soundscape recordist and bio-acoustician (*1938)
Wikipedia - Besouro Manganga -- Capoeirista from Bahia
Wikipedia - Betfair Exchange Trophy Handicap Hurdle -- Hurdle horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Betfair Stayers' Handicap Hurdle -- Hurdle horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Betty's Bay Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area in the Western Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Betty's Bay -- Small resort town in the Overberg district in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Betway Handicap Chase (Kempton Park) -- Steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Betway Handicap Chase -- Steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - BGH Capital -- Australian private equity company
Wikipedia - Bhopal -- Metropolis and state capital in Madhya Pradesh, India
Wikipedia - Big Joe 1 -- Uncrewed boilerplate Mercury program capsule
Wikipedia - Big Society Capital -- UK social investment organisation
Wikipedia - Bill Curtis -- Software engineer and development of the Capability Maturity Model
Wikipedia - Bill Hare -- Pioneering a cappella audio engineer
Wikipedia - Biodiversity of Cape Town -- Diversity of the natural environment of Cape Town
Wikipedia - Bio-energy with carbon capture and storage -- Removing carbon dioxide from the atmosphere by growing plants, and then putting it permanently underground
Wikipedia - Bioswale -- Landscape elements designed to remove debris and pollution out of surface runoff water
Wikipedia - Biretta -- Square cap with three or four peaks or horns
Wikipedia - Bishkek -- Capital of Kyrgyzstan
Wikipedia - Bishop Lavis -- A suburb of Cape Town on the Cape Flats
Wikipedia - Bishopscourt, Cape Town -- A residential Southern Suburb of Cape Town
Wikipedia - Bissau -- Capital of Guinea-Bissau
Wikipedia - Blaauwberg Conservation Area -- Nature reserve in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Black Awakening in Capitalist America -- Social sciences book by Robert L. Allen
Wikipedia - Black beret -- Military cap, worn by armored forces and other units
Wikipedia - Black-billed capercaillie -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Black Capes -- 1947 film by Armando de Miranda
Wikipedia - Black Cap Mountain -- Mountain in Maine, United States of America
Wikipedia - Black-capped chickadees
Wikipedia - Black-capped chickadee -- Species of small, non-migratory, North American songbird
Wikipedia - Black-capped donacobius -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Black-capped marmot -- Species of rodent
Wikipedia - Black-capped tinamou -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Black hole -- Compact astrophysical object with gravity so strong nothing can escape
Wikipedia - Black Point (South Georgia) -- Cape in South Georgia and the South Sandwich Islands
Wikipedia - Black River (Cape Town) -- River in Western Cape province, South Africa
Wikipedia - Blaine Capatch -- American stand-up comedian and writer
Wikipedia - Blastema -- Mass of cells capable of enacting growth and regeneration
Wikipedia - Bleeding -- Loss of blood escaping from the circulatory system
Wikipedia - Blood-air barrier -- Membrane separating alveolar air from blood in lung capillaries
Wikipedia - Blood-brain barrier -- Semipermeable capillary border that allows selective passage of blood constituents into the brain
Wikipedia - Blood-thymus barrier -- A barrier formed by the continuous blood capillaries in the thymic cortex
Wikipedia - Bloubergstrand -- A seaside suburb of Cape Town on Table Bay, South Africa
Wikipedia - Bluecap (bushranger) -- Australian bushranger
Wikipedia - Blue-capped cordon-bleu -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Blue-capped fruit dove -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Blue-capped puffleg -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Bluecap
Wikipedia - Blue carbon -- The carbon captured by the world's coastal ocean ecosystems
Wikipedia - Blue Cloud Ventures -- American venture capital fund
Wikipedia - Blue Glacier to Cape Chocolate Important Bird Area -- Important Bird Area in Antarctica
Wikipedia - Blue Line (Capital Metro)
Wikipedia - Blue Scapular of the Immaculate Conception -- Roman Catholic devotional garment
Wikipedia - Boa Vista, Cape Verde -- Cape Verde island
Wikipedia - Bobby Capo -- Puerto Rican singer and composer
Wikipedia - Body capacitance
Wikipedia - Boeing Capital -- Aircraft leasing company
Wikipedia - Boeing Starliner -- Reusable crew capsule
Wikipedia - Boise, Idaho -- State capital city in Idaho, United States
Wikipedia - Bo-Kaap -- Residential area of Cape Town on the slopes of Signal Hill
Wikipedia - Boland Granite Fynbos -- Vegetation type endemic to the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Boletoscapter -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Bolus Herbarium -- South African herbarium in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Bonkei -- Japanese three-dimensional landscape art
Wikipedia - Bontebok National Park -- National park near Swellendam in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Bonteheuwel -- A former Coloured township in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Bontoc, Mountain Province -- Municipality of the Philippines and capital of the Mountain Province
Wikipedia - Boosmansbos Wilderness Area -- Wilderness area in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Border, Eastern Cape -- Region of Eastern Cape province in South Africa
Wikipedia - Borissos -- Town of ancient Cappadocia, inhabited in Byzantine times
Wikipedia - Born coordinates -- Coordinates to capture characteristics of rotating frames of reference
Wikipedia - BOS 400 -- Recent wreck and dive site at Duiker Point on the Cape Peninsula west coast
Wikipedia - Bosanquet equation -- Modified differential Lucas-Washburn equation for a liquid flowing in a capillary tube
Wikipedia - Bosman Family Vineyards -- Wine estate in Wellington, Western Cape
Wikipedia - Bosmansdam High School -- Public English & Afrikaans medium co-educational high school in Bothasig, Cape Town
Wikipedia - Bothasig -- A suburban area of the Northern Suburbs of Cape Town
Wikipedia - Bothriomyrmex decapitans -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Botvinnik versus Capablanca
Wikipedia - Boulders Beach -- Beach in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Bounce with Me -- 2000 single by Bow Wow and Xscape
Wikipedia - Bourgeois nationalism -- Nationalism of the ruling class under capitalism.
Wikipedia - Brabejum -- Monotypic genus of trees in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Brackenfell -- Town in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Bracken Nature Reserve -- Protected land in Brackenfell in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Braeburn Capital
Wikipedia - Braess's paradox -- paradox related to increasing roadway capacity
Wikipedia - Brainware -- American software company that marketed Automatic identification and data capture
Wikipedia - Brasilia -- Capital of Brazil
Wikipedia - Bratislava Castle -- Main castle of Bratislava, the capital of Slovakia
Wikipedia - Bratislava -- Capital city of Slovakia
Wikipedia - Brava, Cape Verde -- Island of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Brazzaville -- Capital of the Republic of the Congo
Wikipedia - Breaking wheel -- Torture device used for capital punishment
Wikipedia - Breakwater Lodge -- Building in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Breath of Fire -- Role-playing video game series developed by Capcom
Wikipedia - Breede River Valley -- River valley region in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Brian Capron -- British actor
Wikipedia - Brian Young (Royal Navy officer) -- Royal Naval captain
Wikipedia - Bricha -- Underground organized effort that helped Jewish Holocaust survivors illegally escape post-World War II Europe to the British Mandate for Palestine
Wikipedia - Bridgetown -- Capital of Barbados
Wikipedia - BrightView -- American landscaping company
Wikipedia - British Cape Colony
Wikipedia - BrM-CM-;le Lake (Lac-Jacques-Cartier) -- Lake in Capitale-Nationale, Quebec, Canada
Wikipedia - Broadway Bill -- 1934 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Brooklyn, Cape Town -- A suburb of Cape Town
Wikipedia - Brothers in Harmony -- A cappella choir
Wikipedia - Brown Advisory & Merriebelle Stable Plate Handicap Chase -- Steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Brown-capped pygmy woodpecker -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Browns Bank Complex Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area south of the Western Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Brown-water navy -- Naval force capable of operating in rivers and littoral waters
Wikipedia - Bruce Rickard -- Australian architect and landscape designer
Wikipedia - Bryan Caplan -- American behavioral economist and author
Wikipedia - Bryn Mawr Mainliners -- A cappella choir
Wikipedia - Bucculatrix diacapna -- Species of moth in genus Bucculatrix
Wikipedia - Bucharest -- Capital of Romania
Wikipedia - Buchenavia capitata -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Budapest -- Capital of Hungary
Wikipedia - Buddleja subcapitata -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Buenos Aires -- Capital and largest city of Argentina
Wikipedia - Buenos dias, Acapulco -- 1964 film
Wikipedia - Buffalo River (Eastern Cape) -- River in South Africa
Wikipedia - Bulbophyllum capilligerum -- Species of orchid
Wikipedia - Bulbophyllum capillipes -- Species of orchid
Wikipedia - Bulbophyllum capitatum -- Species of orchid
Wikipedia - Bulbophyllum capituliflorum -- Species of orchid
Wikipedia - Bulbophyllum capuronii -- Species of orchid
Wikipedia - Bulbophyllum caputgnomonis -- Species of orchid
Wikipedia - Bulldog Drummond Escapes -- 1937 film by James P. Hogan
Wikipedia - Burford Capital -- Finance and professional services company
Wikipedia - Business model -- Rationale of how an organization creates, delivers, and captures value in economic, social, cultural or other contexts
Wikipedia - Bust of Sojourner Truth (U.S. Capitol) -- Public artwork in the Capitol Visitors Center in Washington, DC
Wikipedia - Butler Handicap -- American Thoroughbred horse race
Wikipedia - Buxton Pavilion Gardens -- Historic landscaped park in Buxton, Derbyshire, England
Wikipedia - Bypass capacitor
Wikipedia - BYU Vocal Point -- Male collegiate a cappella group
Wikipedia - Cabinet of Cape Verde -- Cabinet of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Cabo Verde nha cretcheu -- 2007 Franco-Cape Verdean film
Wikipedia - CAC Small -- French small-cap stock market index, part of the CAC All-Tradable composite index.
Wikipedia - Cadamosto Seamount -- A seamount in the North Atlantic Ocean southwest off the island of Brava, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Cafe Caprice -- Beach bar and restaurant in Camps Bay, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cairo -- Capital of Egypt
Wikipedia - California State Capitol -- State capitol building in Sacramento, California
Wikipedia - Calma (song) -- 2018 single by Puerto Rican singer Pedro Capo
Wikipedia - Caloptilia aeneocapitella -- Species of insect
Wikipedia - Caloptilia leucapennella -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Camauro -- Cap worn by the pope of the Roman Catholic Church
Wikipedia - Cambridge CAP computer
Wikipedia - Cambridgeshire Handicap -- Flat horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Camdeboo National Park -- National park at Graaff-Reinet in the Eastern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Camel (in rhythmic landscape with trees) -- Painting by Paul Klee
Wikipedia - Camille (1915 film) -- 1915 film by Albert Capellani
Wikipedia - Camps Bay High School -- High School in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Camps Bay -- Suburb of Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Canadarm -- A robotic arm using for maneuver and capture mission payloads on the Space Shuttle
Wikipedia - Canadian Caper -- Rescue of US diplomats from Iran, 1980
Wikipedia - Canaletto -- Italian painter of landscapes (1697-1768)
Wikipedia - Candid photography -- Photograph captured without creating a posed appearance
Wikipedia - Candy cap -- Species of fungus
Wikipedia - Cango Caves -- Limestone cave system near Oudtshoorn, in the Western Cape Province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Cannabis in Cape Verde -- Use of Cannabis in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Cannibal Capers -- 1930 film
Wikipedia - Cantabrian capercaillie -- Subspecies of bird
Wikipedia - Canterbury cap
Wikipedia - Canyon Blaster (Great Escape) -- Steel roller coaster
Wikipedia - Canyon Capital Advisors
Wikipedia - Cap21 -- Green political party in France
Wikipedia - Capabatus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Capability approach
Wikipedia - Capability-based addressing
Wikipedia - Capability-based operating system
Wikipedia - Capability-based security -- Computer safety concept
Wikipedia - Capability Brown -- English landscape architect
Wikipedia - Capability management
Wikipedia - Capability Maturity Model Integration
Wikipedia - Capability maturity model integration
Wikipedia - Capability Maturity Model
Wikipedia - Capablanca Chess
Wikipedia - Capablanca chess -- Chess variant invented by Jose Raul Capablanca
Wikipedia - Capablanca Random Chess
Wikipedia - Capablanca random chess -- Chess variant
Wikipedia - Capacitance Electronic Disc -- Analog video disc playback system
Wikipedia - Capacitance switch
Wikipedia - Capacitance -- Ability of a body to store an electrical charge
Wikipedia - Capacitated minimum spanning tree -- Spanning tree type
Wikipedia - Capacite 11 personnes -- 2004 Canadian short film
Wikipedia - Capacitive
Wikipedia - Capacitor discharge sintering -- A fast electric current assisted sintering process
Wikipedia - Capacitor types
Wikipedia - Capacitor -- Passive two-terminal electronic component that stores electrical energy in an electric field
Wikipedia - Capacity building -- Process by which individuals and organizations obtain, improve, and retain the skills and knowledge needed to do their jobs competently
Wikipedia - Capacity management
Wikipedia - Capacity planning
Wikipedia - Capacity to be alone
Wikipedia - Capacity utilization
Wikipedia - Capaez, Adjuntas, Puerto Rico -- Barrio in Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Capaez, Hatillo, Puerto Rico -- Barrio of Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Capaez -- Disambiguation page providing links to topics that could be referred to by the same search term
Wikipedia - Capalonga, Camarines Norte
Wikipedia - Capanema River -- River in Brazil
Wikipedia - Capannelle Racecourse -- Horse racing venue in Rome
Wikipedia - Capannori
Wikipedia - Capao Grande River -- River in Brazil
Wikipedia - Capao Redondo (Sao Paulo Metro) -- Sao Paulo Metro station
Wikipedia - Caparison Guitars -- Hand made guitar manufacturer
Wikipedia - Caparison -- Cloth covering laid over a horse or other animal for protection and decoratio
Wikipedia - Caparmena adlbaueri -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Caparra Archaeological Site -- Archaeological site in Guaynabo municipality, Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Capas, Tarlac
Wikipedia - Capas
Wikipedia - Cap-aux-Meules, Quebec -- Canadian village in Quebec islands
Wikipedia - Capa -- Barrio of Moca, Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Capazoo
Wikipedia - Cap binding complex -- Formation on 5' ends of mRNAs
Wikipedia - Cap Blanc Nez
Wikipedia - Cap Blanc rock shelter -- Cave with prehistoric art in France
Wikipedia - Cap Canaille (film) -- 1983 film
Wikipedia - Capcom Arcade Stadium -- 2021 video game
Wikipedia - Capcom Five -- Five Capcom video games for GameCube
Wikipedia - CAP computer
Wikipedia - Capcom's Gold Medal Challenge '92 -- 1992 video game
Wikipedia - Capcom vs. SNK 2 -- Video game
Wikipedia - Capcom vs. SNK: Millennium Fight 2000 -- 2000 video game
Wikipedia - Capcom -- Japanese developer and publisher of video games
Wikipedia - Cap Corse -- A 40 kilometre (25 mile) long peninsula located at the northern tip of Corsica
Wikipedia - Cap-d'Ail -- Commune in Provence-Alpes-Cote d'Azur, France
Wikipedia - Cap d'Antifer Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in Seine-Maritime, France
Wikipedia - Cap d'Artrutx Lighthouse -- Lighthouse on Menorca, Spain
Wikipedia - Capdenac-Gare -- Commune in Occitanie, France
Wikipedia - Capdrot -- Commune in Nouvelle-Aquitaine, France
Wikipedia - Cape Adare -- peninsula of East Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Agulhas -- Headland in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Air -- Airline of the United States
Wikipedia - Cape Arkona Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, Germany
Wikipedia - Cape Aston -- Peninsula on eastern Baffin Island, Canada
Wikipedia - Cape Baily Light -- Lighthouse in New South Wales, Australia
Wikipedia - Cape Barren goose -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Cape Batterbee -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Bedford Mission -- Christian mission in Queensland, Australia
Wikipedia - Cape Bienvenue -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Blanche -- Headland in South Australia
Wikipedia - Cape Bojador -- Place in Western Sahara
Wikipedia - Cape Borda Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in South Australia
Wikipedia - Cape Bowles -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Breton Eagles -- Ice hockey team
Wikipedia - Cape Breton Island -- Island in Nova Scotia
Wikipedia - Cape Breton Regional Municipality, Nova Scotia
Wikipedia - Cape Brett Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in New Zealand
Wikipedia - Cape Burney, Western Australia
Wikipedia - Cape Byron Light -- Lighthouse in New South Wales, Australia
Wikipedia - Cape-Cairo railway
Wikipedia - Cape Campbell Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in New Zealand
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Launch Complex 13 -- Former launch complex at Cape Canaveral; replaced with Landing Zone 1
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Launch Complex 19 -- Project Gemini launch facility
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Launch Complex 26 -- Deactivated rocket launch site at Cape Canaveral Air Force Station, Florida, United States
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Launch Complex 29 -- Test site for submarine launched ballistic missiles
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Launch Complex 31 -- Cape Canaveral Air Force Station launch site
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Launch Complex 36 -- Launch complex at Cape Canaveral Space Force Station in Brevard County, Florida
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Launch Complex 45 -- Florida launch complex
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Launch Complex 47 -- Sounding rocket launch complex at Cape Canaveral, Florida
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Launch Complex 5 -- Former launch site at Cape Canaveral Air Force Station, Florida
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Space Force Station -- US Space Force station near Cocoa Beach, Florida, United States
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Space Launch Complex 20 -- One of several launce pads at Cape Canaveral, Florida
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Space Launch Complex 37 -- Space vehicle launch complex on Cape Canaveral, Florida
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Space Launch Complex 40
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Space Launch Complex 41 -- American space launch site at Cape Canaveral Space Force Station in Florida, USA
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral Space Launch Complex 46 -- Florida state government-operated space vehicle launch complex at Cape Canaveral
Wikipedia - Cape Canaveral
Wikipedia - Cape Canyon Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area off the Western Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Chidley -- Cape on the Labrador Peninsula, Canada
Wikipedia - Cape Chocolate -- Cape on the coast of Victoria Land, Antarctica
Wikipedia - Capecitabine
Wikipedia - Cape Classics -- Wine Importer
Wikipedia - Cape Coast Castle -- Fortification
Wikipedia - Cape Cobras -- Cricket team representing the Western Province, Boland, and South Western Districts
Wikipedia - Cape Cod Bay -- A large bay of the Atlantic Ocean adjacent to the U.S. state of Massachusetts
Wikipedia - Cape Cod Cat -- Sailboat class
Wikipedia - Cape Codder (cocktail) -- Cocktail consisting of vodka and cranberry juice
Wikipedia - Cape Cod Frosty -- Sailboat class
Wikipedia - Cape Cod Mall -- shopping mall in Hyannis, Massachusetts
Wikipedia - Cape Cod, Massachusetts
Wikipedia - Cape Cod Mercury 15 -- Sailboat class
Wikipedia - Cape Cod National Seashore -- Protected area on Cape Cod, Massachusetts
Wikipedia - Cape Cod Times -- Newspaper in Hyannis, Massachusetts
Wikipedia - Cape Cod -- Cape in the northeastern United States
Wikipedia - Cape Colbeck -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Colony -- Dutch and British colony in Southern Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Coloureds
Wikipedia - Cape Comorin
Wikipedia - Cape Constantine -- Headland of Alaska, US
Wikipedia - Cape Coral Bridge -- Bridge in Florida, United States of America
Wikipedia - Cape Coral, Florida
Wikipedia - Cape Croisilles -- Cape in Papua New Guinea
Wikipedia - Cape Crozier -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Darnley (Mac. Robertson Land) -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Davidson -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Denison -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Dezhnev -- Easternmost point of the Asian continent
Wikipedia - Cape Disappointment Light -- Lighthouse in Washington, United States
Wikipedia - Cape Disappointment State Park -- State park in Washington state, US
Wikipedia - Cape Disappointment (Washington) -- Headland in Washington, United States
Wikipedia - Cape Doctor -- South-easterly wind in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Don Light -- Lighthouse in Northern Territory, Australia
Wikipedia - Cape Dory 22 -- Sailboat class
Wikipedia - Cape Dory 330 -- Sailboat class
Wikipedia - Cape Dory 33 -- Sailboat class
Wikipedia - Cape Dutch architecture -- A traditional Afrikaner architectural style found mostly in the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape dwarf chameleon -- Species of reptile
Wikipedia - Cape Egmont Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in New Zealand
Wikipedia - Cape EngaM-CM-1o Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in the Philippines
Wikipedia - Cape Errera -- Headland in antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Espichel Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in Portugal
Wikipedia - Cape Fear (1962 film) -- 1962 film
Wikipedia - Cape Fear (1991 film) -- 1991 psychological thriller film directed by Martin Scorsese
Wikipedia - Cape Fear (headland) -- Landform on the coast of North Carolina
Wikipedia - Cape Fear River -- Stream in North Carolina, USA
Wikipedia - Cape Flats Dune Strandveld -- Endangered vegetation type endemic to the coastal areas around Cape Town
Wikipedia - Cape Flats English
Wikipedia - Cape Flats Line -- Commuter rail line in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Flats Sand Fynbos -- Vegetation type endemic to the City of Cape Town
Wikipedia - Cape Flats -- Area of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Floristic Region -- Smallest of the six recognised floral kingdoms of the world
Wikipedia - CapeFLYER
Wikipedia - Cape Fold Belt -- A late Paleozoic fold and thrust belt in southwestern South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Fold Mountains -- A series of parallel ranges along the south-western and southern coastlines of South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Forlorn -- 1931 film
Wikipedia - Cape Fourcroy Light -- Lighthouse in Northern Territory, Australia
Wikipedia - Cape gannet -- Species of diving seabird
Wikipedia - Cape Garry -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape gauge
Wikipedia - Cape (geography) -- A large headland extending into a body of water, usually the sea
Wikipedia - Cape Gloucester Airport -- Airport in Papua New Guinea
Wikipedia - Cape gray mongoose -- Species of mongoose from southern Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Gray -- Peninsula in Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Greig -- Headlands of Alaska, US
Wikipedia - Cape ground squirrel -- Species of mammal
Wikipedia - Cape Hatteras Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in North Carolina, United States
Wikipedia - Cape Higuer Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in Gipuzkoa, Basque Country, Spain
Wikipedia - Cape Hooker (South Shetland Islands) -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Horn Current -- A cold water current that flows west-to-east around Cape Horn
Wikipedia - Cape Horn -- Headland of the Tierra del Fuego archipelago located in Chile
Wikipedia - Cape Hotham Light -- Lighthouse in Northern Territory, Australia
Wikipedia - Cape Hunter -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape jazz -- Genre of jazz that is performed in the very southern part of Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Juby -- Cape in southern Morocco
Wikipedia - Cape Jules -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Capek's Tales -- 1947 film
Wikipedia - Capela Hill -- hill in Romania
Wikipedia - Capel Brunker -- British equestrian
Wikipedia - Cape Leeuwin -- The most south-westerly mainland point of the Australian continent
Wikipedia - Cape Libraries Automated Materials Sharing
Wikipedia - Capelio -- Genus of flowering plants in the daisy family Asteraceae
Wikipedia - Capel Island -- Small island in County Cork, Ireland
Wikipedia - Capellades District -- district in Alvarado canton, Cartago province, Costa Rica
Wikipedia - Capella (notation program)
Wikipedia - Capella Space -- American Aerospace Company
Wikipedia - Capella Stakes -- Horse race
Wikipedia - Capella (star)
Wikipedia - Capella University -- American online university
Wikipedia - Capella -- Star in the constellation Auriga
Wikipedia - Capell Bedell -- British politician
Wikipedia - Capelli's identity -- An analogue of the formula det(AB) equals det(A) det(B) for matrices with noncommuting entries
Wikipedia - Cape lobster -- Species of crustacean
Wikipedia - Cape Lookout (South Shetland Islands) -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Lowland Freshwater Wetland -- Vegetation type endemic to the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Capel Pownall -- British archer
Wikipedia - Capelsebrug metro station -- Metro station in Rotterdam, Netherlands
Wikipedia - Capel Township, Sioux County, Iowa -- Township in Iowa, USA
Wikipedia - Cape Mackintosh -- Ice-covered cape in Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Main -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Malays
Wikipedia - Cape Mangkalihat -- Peninsula on Borneo
Wikipedia - Cape Matapan -- Cape in Greece
Wikipedia - Cape May County, New Jersey -- County in New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Cape May County Technical High School -- Vocational high school in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Cape May, New Jersey -- City in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Cape May Point, New Jersey -- Borough in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Cape May Seashore Lines -- Short line railroad in southern New Jersery, U.S.
Wikipedia - Cape May warbler -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Cape Melville Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in the Philippines
Wikipedia - Cape Mendocino Light -- Lighthouse in California, United States
Wikipedia - Cape Mentelle Vineyards -- Western Australian winery
Wikipedia - Cape Meredith -- Human settlement in the United Kingdom
Wikipedia - Cape Monthly Magazine -- News journal in the Cape Colony.
Wikipedia - Cape Moreton -- Point in Australia
Wikipedia - CapeNature -- Organisation responsible for managing wilderness areas and public nature reserves in Western Cape Province, South Africa
Wikipedia - Capendu -- Commune in Occitanie, France
Wikipedia - Cape North Vodka -- Brand of Swedish vodka
Wikipedia - Cape of Good Hope -- Headland of Cape Peninsula, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape of Rodon -- Rocky cape in Albania
Wikipedia - Cape Palliser Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in New Zealand
Wikipedia - Cape Party -- Political party in South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Peninsula University of Technology -- University in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Peninsula Urban Police -- Police force in Cape Town (1652-1913)
Wikipedia - Cape Peninsula -- Rocky peninsula in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Perpetua -- A forested headland projecting into the Pacific Ocean on the central Oregon Coast in Lincoln County
Wikipedia - Cape-Pigeon Rocks -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Point -- Headland in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Prince of Wales
Wikipedia - Cape Provinces -- Biogeographical area of South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Qualified Franchise
Wikipedia - Cape Race LORAN-C transmitter -- Canadian radio transmitter
Wikipedia - Cape Race -- Cape in Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada
Wikipedia - Cape Range clawless gecko -- Species of gecko
Wikipedia - Caper Clowns -- Danish indie pop band
Wikipedia - Cape Recife -- Point in South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Region whiptail -- Species of reptile
Wikipedia - Cape Reinga Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in New Zealand
Wikipedia - Cape Reinga / Te Rerenga Wairua -- Cape at northwesternmost tip of the North Island of New Zealand
Wikipedia - Capernaum (film) -- 2018 film
Wikipedia - Capernaum
Wikipedia - Capernwray Dive Centre -- Flooded quarry in Lancashire, England, used as a recreational dive site
Wikipedia - Cape Robertson -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Roget -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Romain National Wildlife Refuge -- Wildlife refuge located in South Carolina, United States
Wikipedia - Caperonotus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Capers Jones
Wikipedia - Caperton v. A.T. Massey Coal Co. -- 2009 United States Supreme Court case
Wikipedia - Caper -- Species of plant with edible flower buds and fruits
Wikipedia - Cape Sable -- southenrmost mainland of Florida and contiguous US
Wikipedia - Cape San Blas -- Cape on the panhandle of Florida, US
Wikipedia - Cape San Juan Light -- Lighthouse in Fajardo, Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Cape Santiago Lighthouse, Philippines -- Historic lighthouse in the Philippines
Wikipedia - Cape Sata -- Cape in KyM-EM-+shM-EM-+ island, Japan
Wikipedia - Cape Schuchert Formation -- Geologic formation in Greenland
Wikipedia - Capeserod
Wikipedia - Cape shoveler -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Capesize -- Class of dry cargo ships too large to transit the Panama or Suez Canals
Wikipedia - Cape spurfowl -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Capestrano
Wikipedia - Cape Svyatoy Nos (Laptev Sea) -- Headland in the Laptev Sea
Wikipedia - CapeTalk -- South African radio station
Wikipedia - Cape Taputapu -- Cape in American Samoa
Wikipedia - Capeta -- Manga
Wikipedia - Cape teal -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Cap Eternite -- Mountain in Quebec, Canada
Wikipedia - Cape Thorvaldsen -- Peninsula in Kujalleq, Greenland
Wikipedia - Capetian dynasty -- House of France, descendants of Hugh Capet in the male line
Wikipedia - Capetian House of Anjou
Wikipedia - Capetillo (Pueblo) -- Subbarrio of Pueblo in San Juan, Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Cape to Cairo Road -- Road in Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Tormentine, New Brunswick -- village in New Brunswick Canada
Wikipedia - Cape Town Civic Centre -- Headquarters of the City of Cape Town minucipality in South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town Cycle Tour -- Annual cycle race hosted in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town Ecology Group
Wikipedia - Cape Town French School -- French international school in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town High School -- English medium secondary school in central Cape Town
Wikipedia - Cape Town International Airport -- Airport in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town International Convention Centre -- Convention centre in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town International Jazz Festival -- Annual music festival held in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town Marathon -- A City Marathon in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town Opera -- Professional opera company in Cape Town, South Africa.
Wikipedia - Cape Town Partnership -- Cape Town-based collaborative public-private partnership organisation
Wikipedia - Cape Town peace march
Wikipedia - Cape Town Philharmonia Choir -- South African choir based in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town Philharmonic Orchestra -- Orchestra based in Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town Pride -- Annual LGBT event in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town Railway & Dock 0-4-0T -- First locomotive in South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town Stadium -- Stadium in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town Stevedoring Workers Union
Wikipedia - Cape Town water crisis -- Period of severe water shortage in the Western Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Town -- Legislative capital of South Africa
Wikipedia - Capetoxotus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Cape Verdean Americans -- Americans of Cape Verdean birth or descent
Wikipedia - Cape Verdean Creole -- Portuguese-based creole language spoken in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Cape Verdean escudo -- Currency of the Republic of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Cape Verdean Portuguese -- Dialect
Wikipedia - Cape Verde-Guinea-Bissau relations -- Diplomatic relations between two African nations
Wikipedia - Cape Verde-India relations -- Diplomatic relations between the Republic of India and the Republic of Cabo Verde
Wikipedia - Cape Verde (Mars) -- A promontory and extremity on the rim of Victoria Crater in the planet Mars
Wikipedia - Cape Verde-Portugal relations -- Diplomatic relations between Portugal and Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Cape Verde swift -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Cape Verde Time -- Time zone
Wikipedia - Cape Verde -- Country off the coast of Senegal
Wikipedia - Cape Wadworth -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Wallace -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Washington -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape Weber Formation -- Geologic formation in Greenland
Wikipedia - Cape Whitson -- Headland of Antarctica
Wikipedia - Cape -- Sleeveless outer garment of varying lengths, sometimes attached to a coat
Wikipedia - Cape Winelands Airfield -- Airport in South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Winelands Biosphere Reserve -- Protected area in the Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Cape Winelands Shale Fynbos -- Vegetation type endemic to the Boland of the Western Cape, South Africa.
Wikipedia - CAPEX (cooperative) -- Kerala organization promoting cashew industry
Wikipedia - Cape York Peninsula -- Peninsula in Far North Queensland, Australia
Wikipedia - Cap Ferrat -- Cape in Alpes-Maritimes, France
Wikipedia - Capgras delusion -- Psychiatric disorder involving belief that a close individual has been replaced by an identical imposter
Wikipedia - Cap Gris-Nez -- Cape in northern France
Wikipedia - Capheaton Hall
Wikipedia - Capheaton Treasure -- Roman hoard
Wikipedia - CAPICOM
Wikipedia - Capilano Mall (Edmonton) -- Shopping mall in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada
Wikipedia - Capilano Suspension Bridge -- Suspension bridge in Capilano, British Columbia
Wikipedia - Capilla, Badajoz
Wikipedia - Capilla de la Caridad del Hospital Maciel, Montevideo -- Church
Wikipedia - Capilla del Cristo de la Alameda (Algeciras) -- Church building in Cadiz Province, Spain
Wikipedia - Capilla del Cristo -- Historic chapel in Old San Juan, Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Capillariasis -- Disease caused by nematodes of the genus Capillaria
Wikipedia - Capillary action -- Ability of a liquid to flow in narrow spaces
Wikipedia - Capillary electrophoresis -- Method of separating chemical or biological samples
Wikipedia - Capillary fringe -- The subsurface layer in which groundwater seeps up from a water table by capillary action
Wikipedia - Capillary number -- Ratio of viscous drag forces to surface tension in fluids
Wikipedia - Capillary wave -- Wave on the surface of a fluid, dominated by surface tension
Wikipedia - Capillary -- Smallest type of blood vessel
Wikipedia - Capillicornis -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Capirotada -- Mexican bread pudding made for Lent
Wikipedia - Capistrano (disambiguation)
Wikipedia - Capistrano Francisco Heim -- Brazilian bishop
Wikipedia - Capistrano (software)
Wikipedia - Capistrello massacre -- A mass killing made by Nazists and Fascists in Italy
Wikipedia - Capital accumulation
Wikipedia - Capital Airlines Flight 300 -- 1958 aviation accident
Wikipedia - Capital & Counties Properties -- London-based quoted REIT
Wikipedia - Capital and Coast District Health Board -- District health board in Wellington, New Zealand
Wikipedia - Capital and Ideology -- 2019 book by Thomas Piketty
Wikipedia - CapitaLand -- Singaporean real estate organisation
Wikipedia - Capital asset
Wikipedia - Capital Athletic Conference
Wikipedia - Capital Bank Plaza -- Building in North Carolina, United States
Wikipedia - Capital Beltway (Harrisburg) -- Highway in Pennsylvania
Wikipedia - Capital Beltway -- Highway in Washington, D.C. metropolitan areas of Maryland and Virginia
Wikipedia - Capital Bra discography -- Artist discography
Wikipedia - Capital Bra -- German rapper
Wikipedia - Capital Brighton -- English radio station
Wikipedia - Capital budgeting
Wikipedia - Capital Cascade Greenway -- A park in Tallahassee, Florida
Wikipedia - Capital Center South Tower -- High-rise office building in Indianapolis, Indiana, United States
Wikipedia - Capital Centre (Landover, Maryland) -- Demolished arena in Landover, Maryland
Wikipedia - Capital Cities/ABC Inc. -- predecessor to Walt Disney Television
Wikipedia - Capital City Pride -- Annual LGBT event in Olympia, Washington
Wikipedia - Capital City Records -- Canadian online record label
Wikipedia - Capital City Red -- Bus service in Cardiff
Wikipedia - Capital City Stadium -- Stadium in Columbia, South Carolina, USA
Wikipedia - Capital City Symphony -- Community orchestra based in Washington, D.C.
Wikipedia - Capital City (TV series) -- British television series
Wikipedia - Capital city -- Primary governing city of a top-level (country) or first-level subdivision (country, state, province, etc) political entity
Wikipedia - Capital controversy
Wikipedia - Capital crime
Wikipedia - Capital C -- 2014 film
Wikipedia - Capital Cymru -- Welsh-language radio station
Wikipedia - Capital Dance -- British dance music radio station
Wikipedia - Capital District Islanders -- Ice hockey team
Wikipedia - Capital District, New York
Wikipedia - Capital Dock -- Office in the Dublin Docklands, Ireland
Wikipedia - Capital D (rapper) -- American underground rapper and lawyer
Wikipedia - Capital (economics) -- Already-produced durable goods that are used in production of goods or services
Wikipedia - Capital equipment
Wikipedia - Capital expenditures
Wikipedia - Capital Express (India) -- Train in India
Wikipedia - Capital (film) -- 2012 film by Costa-Gavras
Wikipedia - Capital First Ltd. -- Indian financial institution
Wikipedia - Capital flight
Wikipedia - Capital flows
Wikipedia - Capital gains tax in the United Kingdom -- UK tax on the gains on capital assets by British individuals
Wikipedia - Capital Gate -- Skyscraper in Abu Dhabi
Wikipedia - Capital Gazette shooting -- Mass shooting in Annapolis, Maryland, United States
Wikipedia - Capital Gold -- Radio network in London, UK
Wikipedia - Capital goods
Wikipedia - Capital good -- capital goods are tangible property that is used in the production of goods or services.
Wikipedia - Capital Governorate, Bahrain -- Governorate of Bahrain
Wikipedia - Capital Governorate (Kuwait) -- Governorate of Kuwait
Wikipedia - CapitalG
Wikipedia - Capital G -- Nine Inch Nails song
Wikipedia - Capital Index -- International financial brokerage service offering online trading in contracts for difference and spread betting
Wikipedia - Capital in the Twenty-First Century -- 2013 book by French economist Thomas Piketty
Wikipedia - Capitalism: A Love Story -- 2009 documentary film by Michael Moore
Wikipedia - Capitalism and Islam
Wikipedia - Capitalism and Schizophrenia -- Book serie by Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari
Wikipedia - Capitalism II -- 2001 business simulation video game
Wikipedia - Capitalism: The Unknown Ideal -- 1966 book by Ayn Rand
Wikipedia - Capitalism (video game) -- Video game
Wikipedia - Capitalism -- Economic system based on private ownership
Wikipedia - Capitalist (horse) -- Australian Thoroughbred racehorse
Wikipedia - Capitalist mode of production (Marxist theory)
Wikipedia - Capitalist Party of South Africa -- Political party in South Africa
Wikipedia - Capitalist Realism -- book by Mark Fisher
Wikipedia - Capitalist realism -- German term for commodity-based art, from Pop Art in the 1950s and 1960s to the commodity art of the 1980s and 1990s
Wikipedia - Capitalist society
Wikipedia - Capitalist state
Wikipedia - Capitalist
Wikipedia - Capitalization in English -- Use of a capital letter at the head of a word
Wikipedia - Capitalization of Internet -- Varying conventions on capitalizing word
Wikipedia - Capitalization-weighted index -- Stock market index whose components are weighted by total market value
Wikipedia - Capitalization
Wikipedia - Capital Jury Project
Wikipedia - Capital Letters (song) -- 2018 single by Hailee Steinfeld and BloodPop
Wikipedia - Capital letter
Wikipedia - Capital Life -- British digital radio station
Wikipedia - Capital London
Wikipedia - Capital Markets Authority of Uganda -- Ugandan government body responsible for financial regulation
Wikipedia - Capital markets index -- Investment tool
Wikipedia - Capital markets
Wikipedia - Capital market
Wikipedia - Capital (Marx)
Wikipedia - Capital MetroRail -- Commuter rail in Texas
Wikipedia - Capital MetroRapid -- Bus rapid transit service in Austin, Texas
Wikipedia - Capital Midlands -- UK regional radio station
Wikipedia - Capital News -- Television series
Wikipedia - Capital North West and Wales -- British regional radio station
Wikipedia - Capital offense
Wikipedia - Capital of Sri Lanka -- The current capital of Sri Lanka is Sri jayawardenepura kotte
Wikipedia - Capital of the Netherlands -- References to The Hague in the Constitution of the Netherlands
Wikipedia - Capital One Arena -- Multi-purpose arena in Washington, D.C.
Wikipedia - Capital One -- Bank holding company headquartered in McLean, Virginia
Wikipedia - Capital Pathway -- Recreational pathway
Wikipedia - Capital (political)
Wikipedia - Capital Power Corporation -- Canadian power generation
Wikipedia - Capital Pride (Ottawa) -- Annual LGBT event in Ottawa, Ontario
Wikipedia - Capital Pride (Washington, D.C.) -- Annual LGBT event in Washington, D.C.
Wikipedia - Capital punishment by the United States federal government -- Imposed for certain types of crimes
Wikipedia - Capital Punishment (film) -- 1925 film
Wikipedia - Capital punishment for drug trafficking
Wikipedia - Capital punishment for homosexuality
Wikipedia - Capital punishment for juveniles in the United States -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Alabama -- Legal penalty
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Brunei
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in California -- Overview of capital punishment in the U.S. state of California
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Canada -- Overview of capital punishment in Canada
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in China -- Overview about capital punishment
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Connecticut -- Overview of capital punishment in Connecticut
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Delaware -- Declared unconstitutional in 2016
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in France -- Overview of capital punishment in France
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Illinois -- Abolished in 2011
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Japan -- Overview of capital punishment in Japan
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Judaism -- Jewish laws on capital punishment
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Kentucky -- Overview of capital punishment in Kentucky
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Lebanon -- Legal penalty in Lebanon, though it has not been used since 2004
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Maine -- Abolished in 1887
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Maryland -- Abolished in 2013
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Massachusetts -- Abolished in 1984
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Michigan -- Abolished in 1846
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in New Hampshire -- Abolished in 2019
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in New Jersey -- Abolished in 2007
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in New Mexico -- Abolished in 2009
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in New York (state) -- Abolished in 2004
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in New Zealand -- Overview of capital punishment in New Zealand
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in North Dakota -- Abolished in 1973
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Ohio -- Overview of capital punishment in the U.S. state of Ohio
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Oklahoma -- Overview of capital punishment in Oklahoma
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Pakistan
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Pennsylvania -- Overview of capital punishment in the U.S. state of Pennsylvania
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Portugal
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Puerto Rico -- Abolished in 1929
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Rhode Island -- Abolished in 1852
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Romania -- Early punishments in Romania
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Switzerland
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Tennessee -- Overview of capital punishment in the U.S. state of Tennessee
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Texas -- Overview of capital punishment in the U.S. state of Texas
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in the District of Columbia -- Abolished in 1981
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in the Philippines -- Overview of capital punishment in the Philippines
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in the United States -- Abolished or a Legal penalty in some parts of the United States
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Vermont -- Struck down in 1972
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Washington (state) -- Abolished in 2018
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in West Virginia -- Abolished in 1965
Wikipedia - Capital punishment in Wisconsin -- Abolished in 1853
Wikipedia - Capital punishment -- Death penalty as punishment for a crime
Wikipedia - Capital Radio 604 -- Defunct South African radio station
Wikipedia - Capital (radio network) -- UK radio network
Wikipedia - Capital Region (Iceland) -- Region of Iceland
Wikipedia - Capital Region International Airport -- Airport near Lansing, Michigan
Wikipedia - Capital Region of Denmark -- Region of Denmark
Wikipedia - Capital region -- Region or district surrounding the capital city of a country or another administrative division
Wikipedia - Capital Requirements Regulation 2013 -- EU banking law
Wikipedia - Capital Research Center -- American conservative nonprofit organization based in Washington, D.C.
Wikipedia - Capital Shoppers -- Ugandan supermarket chain
Wikipedia - Capital South Coast -- English radio station
Wikipedia - Capital Springs State Recreation Area -- Wisconsin state park
Wikipedia - Capital T discography -- discography of Capital T
Wikipedia - Capital Territory Police -- Police force in Islamabad Capital Territory, Pakistan
Wikipedia - Capital Towers (Moscow) -- Residential skyscrapers in Moscow
Wikipedia - Capital TV (Belarus) -- National television network in Belarus
Wikipedia - Capital TV -- British rolling-music television
Wikipedia - Capital T
Wikipedia - Capital University Law School -- Private law school in Columbus, OH, US
Wikipedia - Capital University -- university in Ohio, USA
Wikipedia - Capital Xtra Reloaded -- British radio station
Wikipedia - Capital Xtra -- British radio station
Wikipedia - Capitanejo, Juana Diaz, Puerto Rico -- Barrio of Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Capitanejo, Ponce, Puerto Rico -- Barrio of Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Capitanian -- Seventh stage of the Permian
Wikipedia - Capitan Petchyindee Academy -- Thai Muay Thai fighter
Wikipedia - Capita Property and Infrastructure -- UK multidisciplinary consultancy firm
Wikipedia - Capite censi -- The lowest class of citizens of ancient Rome
Wikipedia - Capitella capitata -- Species of annelid
Wikipedia - Capitella -- Genus of annelids
Wikipedia - Capitellidae -- Family of annelids
Wikipedia - Capitijubatus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Capitocrassus castaneus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Capitola, California
Wikipedia - Capitol Airport -- Airport in Brookfield, Wisconsin, USA
Wikipedia - Capitol Air -- Mid-20th century North American airline
Wikipedia - Capitol Arts Center -- Theater and gallery in Bowling Green, Kentucky
Wikipedia - Capitol Broadcasting Center -- Philippine Broadcasting Center
Wikipedia - Capitol Broadcasting Company -- American media company
Wikipedia - Capitol Center for the Arts -- Performing arts center and former movie theater in Concord, New Hampshire, United States
Wikipedia - Capitol College
Wikipedia - Capitol Corridor -- Amtrak rail route in California
Wikipedia - Capitol Critters -- American animated sitcom
Wikipedia - Capitole de Toulouse -- Center of municipal administration of Toulouse, France
Wikipedia - Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone -- Self-proclaimed autonomous neighborhood in Seattle
Wikipedia - Capitol Hill Block Party -- Seattle music event
Wikipedia - Capitol Hill, Burnaby -- Hill in British Columbia, Canada
Wikipedia - Capitol Hill Library -- Library in Portland Oregon
Wikipedia - Capitol Hill massacre
Wikipedia - Capitol Hill Occupied Protest
Wikipedia - Capitol Hill's mystery soda machine -- Soda machine in Seattle
Wikipedia - Capitol Hill station -- Light rail station in Seattle, Washington
Wikipedia - Capitol Hill (video game) -- 1993 video game
Wikipedia - Capitol Hill
Wikipedia - Capitolias -- Ancient city east of the Jordan River, identified with the modern village of Beit Ras
Wikipedia - Capitoline Games -- Ancient Roman games
Wikipedia - Capitoline Hill -- One of the seven hills of Rome, Italy
Wikipedia - Capitoline Museums
Wikipedia - Capitoline Triad
Wikipedia - Capitolio station -- Caracas metro station
Wikipedia - Capitol K -- Brirish musician
Wikipedia - Capitol Loop -- State highway in Lansing, Ingham County, Michigan, United States
Wikipedia - Capitol Mall -- Major street in Sacramento, California
Wikipedia - Capitol Medical Center Colleges -- Philippine medical school
Wikipedia - Capitol of Puerto Rico -- Government building in San Juan, Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Capitol Peak (Colorado) -- 14,137-foot mountain in Colorado, United States
Wikipedia - Capitol Peak -- peak name
Wikipedia - Capitol Records -- American record label
Wikipedia - Capitol Reef National Park -- National park in Utah, United States
Wikipedia - Capitol Square -- Public square in Columbus, Ohio
Wikipedia - Capitol Technology University
Wikipedia - Capitol Theatre, Aberdeen -- Former cinema and concert venue on Union Street in Aberdeen, Scotland
Wikipedia - Capitol Theatre (New York City) -- Former movie theater at 1645 Broadway, just north of Times Square in Manhattan, New York City, United States
Wikipedia - Capitol Theatre (Rome, New York) -- Theater in Rome, New York
Wikipedia - Capitol University -- Private university in Philippines
Wikipedia - Capitol Wrestling Corporation -- American professional wrestling promotion
Wikipedia - Capitonym -- Word that changes meaning when capitalized
Wikipedia - Capitophorus -- Genus of insects
Wikipedia - Capitulary of Ver -- 9th century Frankish administrative instrument
Wikipedia - Capitulation of Diksmuide -- 1695 siege of Diksmuide in the Nine Years' War
Wikipedia - Capitulation of Saldanha Bay -- Surrender in 1796 to the British Royal Navy of a Dutch expeditionary force sent to recapture the Dutch Cape Colony
Wikipedia - Capitulation of Stettin -- Surrender during the War of the Fourth Coalition
Wikipedia - Capitulations of Santa Fe -- Signed document between Christopher Columbus and the rulers of Spain
Wikipedia - Capitulum of the humerus -- Structure of humerus
Wikipedia - Capivara River (Parana) -- River in Parana, Brazil
Wikipedia - Capivari River (Parana) -- River in Parana, Brazil
Wikipedia - Capiz Provincial Board -- Legislative body of the province of Capiz, Philippines
Wikipedia - Capizucchi family
Wikipedia - Capiz
Wikipedia - Cap (KSI song) -- 2020 song by KSI featuring Offset
Wikipedia - Caplacizumab -- Chemical compound
Wikipedia - Capmaari -- 2019 film
Wikipedia - Capmatinib
Wikipedia - Cap'n Crunch -- American breakfast cereal made by the Quaker Oats Company
Wikipedia - Cap'n Jazz -- American emo band
Wikipedia - Capnocytophaga canimorsus -- Bacteria
Wikipedia - Capnodiales -- Order of fungi
Wikipedia - Capnograph
Wikipedia - Capnography -- Monitoring of the concentration of carbon dioxide in respiratory gases
Wikipedia - Capnomancy
Wikipedia - Capnometer
Wikipedia - Capocannoniere -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - Capo dei capi -- Phrase used to indicate extremely powerful Mafia boss
Wikipedia - Capo dell'Arma Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in Italy
Wikipedia - Capo di Bove -- ancient Roman thermal baths on the Appian Way outside Rome
Wikipedia - Capo d'Orlando
Wikipedia - Capoeira -- Afro-Brazilian martial art that combines elements of dance kicks and music
Wikipedia - Capoeta pestai -- Species of freshwaster fish
Wikipedia - Capo Ferro Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in Italy
Wikipedia - Cap of maintenance -- Ceremonial cap of crimson velvet lined with ermine
Wikipedia - Capoid race -- Outdated grouping of human beings
Wikipedia - Capoid
Wikipedia - Capolago congress -- 1891 anarchist meeting
Wikipedia - Caponata -- Sicilian eggplant dish
Wikipedia - Capon Chapel -- Historic United Methodist church in West Virginia, U.S.
Wikipedia - Capone (1975 film) -- 1975 film
Wikipedia - Capone (2020 film) -- Film directed by Josh Trank
Wikipedia - Capones Island Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in the Philippines
Wikipedia - Caponier -- Type ofM-BM- fortification structure
Wikipedia - Caponiidae -- Family of spiders
Wikipedia - Capon Lake Whipple Truss Bridge -- bridge in West Virginia
Wikipedia - Caporegime -- Rank in the Mafia
Wikipedia - Capo Santa Maria di Leuca Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in Italy
Wikipedia - Capoulet-et-Junac -- Commune in Occitanie, France
Wikipedia - Capo -- Common tool for players of guitars and other stringed instruments
Wikipedia - Cappadocian calendar
Wikipedia - Cappadocian Fathers -- Group of early of Christian chaplains
Wikipedia - Cappadocian Greeks -- Ethnic group in Greece
Wikipedia - Cappadocian Greek
Wikipedia - Cappadocian
Wikipedia - Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Cappamore GAA -- Gaelic games club in County Limerick, Ireland
Wikipedia - Capparaceae -- Family of caper flowering plants
Wikipedia - Capparales -- Order of plants
Wikipedia - Capparidastrum -- Genus of Capparaceae plants
Wikipedia - Capparis sprucei -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Cappelen Damm -- Norwegian publisher
Wikipedia - Cappella della Beata Vergine di Lourdes -- Roman Catholic chapel in Cortina d'Ampezzo's Grava di Sotto neighborhood
Wikipedia - Cappella Giulia
Wikipedia - Cappella Palatina -- Royal chapel in Palermo, Sicily
Wikipedia - Cappella Romana
Wikipedia - Cappella San Donato, Venafro -- Roman Catholic church in Venafro, Italy
Wikipedia - Cappelle medicee
Wikipedia - Cappercleuch -- Village in Scottish Borders, Scotland, UK
Wikipedia - Capperia agadirensis -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia bonneaui -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia britanniodactylus -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia browni -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia celeusi -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia evansi -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia fletcheri -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia fusca -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia hellenica -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia irkutica -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia jozana -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia loranus -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia maratonica -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia marginellus -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia meyi -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia ningoris -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia polonica -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia raptor -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia salanga -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia taurica -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia trichodactyla -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia washbourni -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Capperia -- Plume moth genus
Wikipedia - Capperia zelleri -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Cappon, Alberta -- Settlement in Alberta, Canada.
Wikipedia - Cappoquin House -- Mansion in County Waterford, Ireland
Wikipedia - Cappoquin
Wikipedia - Cappuccino (application development framework)
Wikipedia - Cappuccino (software)
Wikipedia - Cappuccino -- Drink made with espresso coffee and steamed milk
Wikipedia - Cappy Ricks Returns -- 1935 film by Mack V. Wright
Wikipedia - Cappy Ricks -- 1921 film
Wikipedia - Cap Radio (Morocco) -- Radio station in Tangier, Morocco
Wikipedia - CapRadio -- Public radio service in Sacramento, California
Wikipedia - Capra e fagioli -- Typical dish of the hinterland of Imperia, Liguria
Wikipedia - Capra (genus)
Wikipedia - Capra Grigia -- Swiss breed of domestic goat
Wikipedia - Caprasius of Agen
Wikipedia - Capreol
Wikipedia - Caprese Michelangelo -- village in Tuscany, Italy
Wikipedia - Capri 25 -- Sailboat class
Wikipedia - Capric acid -- Saturated fatty acid
Wikipedia - Caprica -- 2010 science fiction TV-series
Wikipedia - Capriccio (1938 film) -- 1938 film
Wikipedia - Capriccio (Rex Whistler) -- Mural at Plas Newydd, Anglesey
Wikipedia - Caprice (1913 film) -- 1913 film
Wikipedia - Caprice Benedetti -- American actress
Wikipedia - Caprice Italian Style -- 1967 film
Wikipedia - Caprice of the Mountains -- 1916 film by John G. Adolfi
Wikipedia - Caprice (restaurant) -- Restaurant in Hong Kong
Wikipedia - Capricious Summer -- 1968 film
Wikipedia - Capricorn (astrology) -- Tenth astrological sign in the present zodiac
Wikipedia - Capricorn FM -- Radio station in Limpopo, South Africa
Wikipedia - Capricornio River -- River in Brazil
Wikipedia - Capricorn One -- 1978 thriller film by Peter Hyams
Wikipedia - Capricorn Plate -- Proposed minor tectonic plate under the Indian Ocean
Wikipedia - Capricorn Ridge Wind Farm -- Wind farm in Texas, USA
Wikipedia - Capricornus -- Zodiac constellation in the southern celestial hemisphere
Wikipedia - Capri Cyclone -- Sailboat class
Wikipedia - Capri Everitt -- Canadian singer and children's activist
Wikipedia - Capri Holdings -- Fashion company
Wikipedia - Caprimulgiformes -- Order of birds
Wikipedia - Caprimulginae -- Subfamily of birds
Wikipedia - Caprimulgus -- Genus of birds
Wikipedia - Caprina Fahey -- English suffragette
Wikipedia - Caprinia -- Genus of moths
Wikipedia - Caprino Alendy -- Surinamese politician
Wikipedia - Caprino cheese -- Italian cheese
Wikipedia - Capriola
Wikipedia - Caprioli Adoration -- c. 1495 marble relief by Gasparo Cairano
Wikipedia - Capriolo
Wikipedia - Capri pants -- Calf-length trousers
Wikipedia - Capri-Revolution -- 2018 film
Wikipedia - Capri Theatre -- Heritage-listed cinema in Goodwood, Adelaide, South Australia
Wikipedia - Caprivi Liberation Army -- Namibian rebel and separatist group
Wikipedia - Capri Village -- Suburb of Cape Town , South Africa
Wikipedia - Caprivi treason trial -- Trial in Namibia
Wikipedia - Capri
Wikipedia - Caprock Canyons State Park and Trailway -- Long-distance hiking trail in the United States
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.103 -- Italian 1920s bomber aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.105 -- 1930s Italian aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.10 -- 1910s Italian experimental aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.11 -- 1910s Italian experimental aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.120 -- 1930s Italian aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.127 -- 1930s Italian aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.12 -- 1910s Italian experimental aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.131 -- 1930s Italian prototype aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.134 -- 1930s Italian reconnaissance aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.13 -- 1910s Italian experimental aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.146 -- 1930s Italian aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.16 -- 1910s Italian aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.225 -- 1930s Italian aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.22 -- 1910s Italian aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.25 -- 1910s Italian aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.309 -- Italian reconnaissance and military transport aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.3 (1916) -- Italian heavy bomber of World War I and the postwar era
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.355 -- Italian WWII dive bomber
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.356 -- Italian WWII reconnaissance aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.4 -- Italian heavy bomber of World War I
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.5 (1917) -- Italian heavy bomber of World War I
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.53 -- Italian WWI Italian bomber
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.602 -- 1930s Italian aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.603 -- 1940s Italian training aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.67 -- Italian 1920s bomber aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.72 -- Italian 1920s bomber aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.79 -- 1920s Italian bomber aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.7 -- 1910s proposed Italian aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.87 -- 1920s Italian flying boat
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.8 -- 1910s Italian aircraft
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.91 -- 1930s proposed Italian flying boat
Wikipedia - Caproni Ca.9 -- Single-engine monoplane designed and built by Caproni in the early 1910s
Wikipedia - Caproni-Reggiane Ca.8000 -- Italian seaplane airliner proposal
Wikipedia - Caproni -- defunct Italian aircraft manufacturer
Wikipedia - CapROS
Wikipedia - Caprotti valve gear
Wikipedia - Cap-Rouge, Nova Scotia -- Ghost town
Wikipedia - Capsaicin -- Pungent chemical compound in chili peppers
Wikipedia - Capsa (see)
Wikipedia - Capsa (software) -- Packet analyzer software
Wikipedia - Capsaspora -- Single-celled eukaryote genus
Wikipedia - Capsazepine
Wikipedia - Capsella grandiflora -- species of plant in the family Brassicaceae
Wikipedia - Capsella (plant) -- genus of flowering plants in the mustard family Brassicaceae
Wikipedia - Capsian culture
Wikipedia - Capsicum annuum -- Species of flowering plant in the nightshade family Solanaceae
Wikipedia - Capsicum baccatum -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Capsicum pubescens -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Capsicum (Unix)
Wikipedia - Capsicum
Wikipedia - Capsize (band) -- American hardcore punk band
Wikipedia - Cap Sizun
Wikipedia - Caps lock
Wikipedia - Caps Lock -- Computer key
Wikipedia - Cap (sport) -- Term for a player's appearance in a game at international level
Wikipedia - Capstan equation -- Relates the hold-force to the load-force if a flexible line is wound around a cylinder
Wikipedia - Capstone course
Wikipedia - Capstone (cryptography) -- US government standardization project
Wikipedia - Capstone Software
Wikipedia - CAPSTONE (spacecraft) -- A NASA satellite to test the Lunar Gateway orbit
Wikipedia - Capsula algae -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Capsular-polysaccharide-transporting ATPase -- Enzyme
Wikipedia - Capsula sparganii -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Capsula -- Spanish band
Wikipedia - Capsule (fruit)
Wikipedia - Capsule hotel -- Japanese hotels with small bed-sized rooms
Wikipedia - Capsule neural network
Wikipedia - Capsule (pharmacy) -- relatively stable shell containing medicine
Wikipedia - Capsule wardrobe -- collection of clothing items that do not go out of fashion
Wikipedia - Captain (2019 film) -- Nepalese sports drama film directed by Diwakar Bhattarai
Wikipedia - Captain 3-D
Wikipedia - Captain Abhimanyu -- Indian politician
Wikipedia - Captain Ahab -- Fictional character from the novel Moby-Dick
Wikipedia - Captain Alatriste -- Novel by Arturo Perez-Reverte
Wikipedia - Captain Alvarez -- 1920 silent film
Wikipedia - Captain America (1979 film)
Wikipedia - Captain America (1990 film)
Wikipedia - Captain America and Nick Fury: Blood Truce
Wikipedia - Captain America and Nick Fury: The Otherworld War
Wikipedia - Captain America and the Avengers
Wikipedia - Captain America and The Avengers -- 1991 video game
Wikipedia - Captain America and the Falcon
Wikipedia - Captain America: Civil War (soundtrack)
Wikipedia - Captain America: Civil War -- 2016 superhero film produced by Marvel Studios
Wikipedia - Captain America (comic book)
Wikipedia - Captain America II: Death Too Soon
Wikipedia - Captain America in other media
Wikipedia - Captain America in: The Doom Tube of Dr. Megalomann -- 1987 video game
Wikipedia - Captain America: Reborn
Wikipedia - Captain America (serial)
Wikipedia - Captain America's shield
Wikipedia - Captain America: Super Soldier
Wikipedia - Captain America: The Captain
Wikipedia - Captain America: The First Avenger (soundtrack)
Wikipedia - Captain America: The First Avenger -- 2011 American superhero film
Wikipedia - Captain America: The Winter Soldier (soundtrack)
Wikipedia - Captain America: The Winter Soldier -- 2014 superhero film produced by Marvel Studios
Wikipedia - Captain America (Ultimate Marvel character)
Wikipedia - Captain America (vol. 5)
Wikipedia - Captain America: White -- Comic book series
Wikipedia - Captain America -- Fictional superhero appearing in American comic books published by Marvel Comics
Wikipedia - Captain America (William Burnside)
Wikipedia - Captain & Tennille -- American pop rock duo
Wikipedia - Captain Apache -- 1971 film by Alexander Singer
Wikipedia - Captain Apollo -- Fictional character in the Battlestar Galactica franchise
Wikipedia - Captain Applejack -- 1931 film
Wikipedia - Captain (armed forces) -- Army and air force officer rank (OF-2)
Wikipedia - Captain Arturo Prat Base
Wikipedia - Captain Atlas -- Fictional character
Wikipedia - Captain Atom -- DC Comics character
Wikipedia - Captain Barbell (2011 TV series) -- 2011 Philippine television series
Wikipedia - Captain Barbell (TV series) -- Philippine television series
Wikipedia - Captain (BARM)
Wikipedia - Captain Battle -- Fictional superhero from the Golden Age of Comics
Wikipedia - Captain Bay-Bay -- 1953 film
Wikipedia - Captain Beefheart
Wikipedia - Captain Blood (1924 film) -- 1924 film
Wikipedia - Captain Blood (1935 film) -- 1935 film by Michael Curtiz
Wikipedia - Captain Blood (1960 film) -- 1960 film
Wikipedia - Captain Boomerang -- Supervillain appearing in DC Comics publications and related media
Wikipedia - Captain Boom -- Filipino comic book character
Wikipedia - Captain Britain
Wikipedia - Captain (British Army and Royal Marines) -- Rank of the British Army and Royal Marines
Wikipedia - Captain Calamity (film) -- 1936 film by John Reinhardt
Wikipedia - Captain Canuck -- Canadian comic book superhero
Wikipedia - Captain Careless -- 1928 film
Wikipedia - Captain Carey, U.S.A. -- 1950 film by Mitchell Leisen
Wikipedia - Captain Carrot and His Amazing Zoo Crew! -- Comic book series
Wikipedia - Captain Caution -- 1940 film
Wikipedia - Captaincies of the Spanish Empire -- Military and administrative divisions in colonial Spanish America and the Spanish Philippines
Wikipedia - Captain-class frigate -- Designation given to 78 frigates of the Royal Navy
Wikipedia - Captain Clegg (film) -- 1962 film
Wikipedia - Captain Cold -- Fictional DC comics supervillain
Wikipedia - Captain Cook, Hawaii -- Census-designated place in Hawaii, United States
Wikipedia - Captain Corelli's Mandolin (film) -- 2001 film by John Madden
Wikipedia - Captain Courtesy -- 1915 American silent film by Phillips Smalley
Wikipedia - Captain Craddock -- 1931 film
Wikipedia - Captaincy General of Cuba -- Spanish 1607-1898 possession in the Caribbean
Wikipedia - Captaincy General of Puerto Rico -- Spanish 1580-1898 possession in the Caribbean
Wikipedia - Captaincy General of Santo Domingo -- Spanish 1493-1821 possession in the Caribbean
Wikipedia - Captaincy General of the Philippines
Wikipedia - Captaincy of the Malindi coast -- Captaincy in the Portuguese Period in East Africa
Wikipedia - Captain Disillusion -- Latvian filmmaker
Wikipedia - Captain D's -- U.S.-based restaurant chain
Wikipedia - Captain EO -- 1986 short film by Francis Ford Coppola
Wikipedia - Captain Falcon (film) -- 1958 film
Wikipedia - Captain Falcon -- Videogame character
Wikipedia - Captain Fantastic (film) -- 2016 film by Matt Ross
Wikipedia - Captain Flint -- Fictional pirate in Stevenson's Treasure Island
Wikipedia - Captain Fly-by-Night -- 1922 film by William K. Howard
Wikipedia - Captain Fortune Show -- Australian television series
Wikipedia - Captain Fracassa's Journey -- 1990 film
Wikipedia - Captain Fracasse (1929 film) -- 1929 film
Wikipedia - Captain Fury -- 1939 film
Wikipedia - Captain Future (magazine) -- US pulp science fiction magazine
Wikipedia - Captain Gallagher -- Irish outlaw
Wikipedia - Captain Gatso -- English activist
Wikipedia - Captain General of the Church
Wikipedia - Captain General Royal Marines -- Ceremonial head of the Royal Marines
Wikipedia - Captain general -- Military grade
Wikipedia - Captain Gumbo -- Dutch zydeco and Cajun music band
Wikipedia - Captain Harlock and the Queen of a Thousand Years -- Space pirate anime television series
Wikipedia - Captain Harlock: Dimensional Voyage -- Manga series about space pirate Captain Harlock
Wikipedia - Captain Harlock -- Captain Harlock character
Wikipedia - Captain Hook (song) -- 2020 single by Megan Thee Stallion
Wikipedia - Captain Hook -- Fictional pirate
Wikipedia - Captain House -- Indian television series
Wikipedia - Captain Hurricane -- 1935 film by John S. Robertson
Wikipedia - Captain Jack (Captain Jack song) -- Song by Captain Jack
Wikipedia - Captain Jack (group) -- German Eurodance group
Wikipedia - Captain Jack Harkness (Torchwood episode) -- Episode of science fiction television series (S1 E12)
Wikipedia - Captain James A. Baker
Wikipedia - Captain January (1924 film) -- 1924 film by Edward F. Cline
Wikipedia - Captain January (1936 film) -- 1936 film by David Butler
Wikipedia - Captain Joe Byrd Cemetery -- Prison cemetery in Huntsville, Texas, USA
Wikipedia - Captain John L. Chapin High School -- High school in El Paso, Texas
Wikipedia - Captain John Smith and Pocahontas -- 1953 film by Lew Landers
Wikipedia - Captain Khan (film) -- 2018 film by Wajed Ali Sumon
Wikipedia - Captain Kidd, Jr. -- 1919 film directed by William Desmond Taylor
Wikipedia - Captain Kidd (pub) -- Pub in Wapping, East London
Wikipedia - Captain Kidd's Kids -- 1919 film
Wikipedia - Captain Kirk Douglas -- American guitarist and singer
Wikipedia - Captain (land and air)
Wikipedia - Captain Lash -- 1929 film
Wikipedia - Captain lieutenant
Wikipedia - Captain Macklin -- 1915 film
Wikipedia - Captain Mainwaring -- Fictional character from the sitcom Dad's Army
Wikipedia - Captain Marshall Field Expeditions -- Archaeological expeditions
Wikipedia - Captain Marvel (DC Comics) -- Superhero
Wikipedia - Captain Marvel (film) -- 2019 superhero film produced by Marvel Studios
Wikipedia - Captain Marvel Jr. -- Fictional character
Wikipedia - Captain Marvel (Marvel Comics) -- Name of several superheroes appearing in Marvel Comics publications and related media
Wikipedia - Captain Marvel (Mar-Vell) -- Superhero appearing in Marvel Comics publications and related media
Wikipedia - Captain Marvel (M. F. Enterprises) -- Short-lived superhero published by M. F. Enterprises
Wikipedia - Captain Midnight broadcast signal intrusion
Wikipedia - Captain Midnight (serial) -- 1942 film by James W. Horne
Wikipedia - Captain Midnight -- Superhero
Wikipedia - Captain Moonlite -- Australian bushranger
Wikipedia - Captain Morgan -- Brand of rum
Wikipedia - CaptainMo -- Chinese professional CS:GO player
Wikipedia - Captain Nagarjun -- 1986 film by V. B. Rajendra Prasad
Wikipedia - Captain Nemo -- Character created by Jules Verne
Wikipedia - Captain Novolin -- 1992 educational platform video game
Wikipedia - Captain N: The Game Master -- American-Canadian joint-venture animated television series
Wikipedia - Captain of His Soul -- 1918 film directed by Gilbert P. Hamilton
Wikipedia - Captain of industry
Wikipedia - Captain of the Guard (film) -- 1930 film
Wikipedia - Captain Oi! Records -- English record label
Wikipedia - Captain Phoebus
Wikipedia - Captain Pipe -- An 18th-century chief of the Algonquian-speaking Lenape (Delaware)
Wikipedia - Captain Planet and the Planeteers -- American animated television series
Wikipedia - Captain Prabhakaran -- 1991 film by R.K. Selvamani
Wikipedia - Captain Price -- Fictional character in the Call of Duty series
Wikipedia - Captain Rascasse -- 1927 film
Wikipedia - Captain Ron -- 1992 film by Thom Eberhardt
Wikipedia - Captain (Royal Navy) -- Senior officer rank of the Royal Navy
Wikipedia - Captain Salvation (film) -- 1927 film by John S. Robertson
Wikipedia - Captain Savage and his Leatherneck Raiders -- World War II comic book
Wikipedia - Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons -- 1960s British television series
Wikipedia - Captains Courageous (1937 film) -- 1937 film by Victor Fleming
Wikipedia - Captains of the Clouds -- 1942 film by Michael Curtiz
Wikipedia - Captains of the Sands -- novel by the Brazilian writer Jorge Amado, set in Salvador da Bahia
Wikipedia - Captain's Orders -- 1937 film
Wikipedia - Captain Stirling Hotel -- Hotel in Australia
Wikipedia - Captain Swagger -- 1928 film
Wikipedia - Captain Tempesta -- Adventure novel
Wikipedia - Captain Thunderbolt -- Australian bushranger (1835-1870)
Wikipedia - Captain Thunder (film) -- 1930 film
Wikipedia - Captain Tilly Park -- Public park in Queens, New York
Wikipedia - Captain Toad: Treasure Tracker -- 2014 action puzzle video game published by Nintendo
Wikipedia - Captain Triumph
Wikipedia - Captain Tsubasa -- Japanese manga and anime series
Wikipedia - Captain TV -- Indian Tamil-language television channel
Wikipedia - Captain Underpants and the Invasion of the Incredibly Naughty Cafeteria Ladies from Outer Space (and the Subsequent Assault of the Equally-Evil Lunchroom Zombie Nerds) {{DISPLAYTITLE:''Captain Underpants and the Invasion of the Incredibly Naughty Cafeteria Ladies from Outer Space (and the Subsequent Assault of the Equally-Evil Lunchroom Zombie Nerds)'' -- Captain Underpants and the Invasion of the Incredibly Naughty Cafeteria Ladies from Outer Space (and the Subsequent Assault of the Equally-Evil Lunchroom Zombie Nerds) {{DISPLAYTITLE:''Captain Underpants and the Invasion of the Incredibly Naughty Cafeteria Ladies from Outer Space (and the Subsequent Assault of the Equally-Evil Lunchroom Zombie Nerds)''
Wikipedia - Captain Underpants: The First Epic Movie -- 2017 film by David Soren
Wikipedia - Captain (United States O-3) -- Military rank of the United States
Wikipedia - Captain (United States O-6) -- Rank in the United States uniformed services, O-6
Wikipedia - Captain Valedor -- 2006 short film by Kent Sanderson
Wikipedia - Captain Victory and the Galactic Rangers
Wikipedia - Captain Ward and the Rainbow -- Traditional song
Wikipedia - Captain Wedderburn's Courtship -- Traditional song
Wikipedia - Captain -- Title given to a commander
Wikipedia - Captain William Bowie -- American colonist
Wikipedia - Captain Wronski -- 1954 film
Wikipedia - Captative verb
Wikipedia - Capt. Charles C. Henderson House -- historic house in Arkadelphia, Arkansas, USA
Wikipedia - Capt. Charles Leonard House -- historic house in Agawam, Massachusetts, USA
Wikipedia - Capt. Charles Schreiner Mansion -- historic mansion in Kerrville, Texas, USA
Wikipedia - Captcha
Wikipedia - CAPTCHA -- Computer test to discriminate human users from spambots
Wikipedia - CAP theorem -- Need to sacrifice consistency or availability in the presence of network partitions
Wikipedia - Cap Timm Field
Wikipedia - Captina Island -- Island in the Ohio River in West Virginia, US
Wikipedia - Captioning
Wikipedia - Captive (1986 film) -- 1986 film by Paul Mayersberg
Wikipedia - Captive (2012 film) -- 2012 film
Wikipedia - Captive bolt pistol -- Device used for stunning animals before slaughter
Wikipedia - Captive bolt
Wikipedia - Captive elephants -- Elephants kept in a confining area
Wikipedia - Captive Flock -- 1962 film
Wikipedia - Captive Hearts, Captive Minds -- 1994 anti-cult book
Wikipedia - Captive Heart (song) -- 1995 song performed by Selena
Wikipedia - Captive Market (short story)
Wikipedia - Captive NTFS
Wikipedia - Captive odorant -- Odorant used to protect perfumes from imitation
Wikipedia - Captive of the Desert -- 1990 film
Wikipedia - Captive portal
Wikipedia - Captive Souls -- 1913 film
Wikipedia - Captive Soul -- 1952 film
Wikipedia - Captive State -- American science fiction crime thriller film by Rupert Wyatt
Wikipedia - Captives
Wikipedia - Captivity (animal) -- Animal being held by humans
Wikipedia - Captivity narrative -- Genre of accounts by survivors
Wikipedia - Captivity of Mangalorean Catholics at Seringapatam -- Imprisonment of Mangalorean Catholics in southwest India (1784-1799)
Wikipedia - Captivi
Wikipedia - Captodiame
Wikipedia - Cap Tourmente National Wildlife Area -- National Wildlife Area in Quebec, Canada
Wikipedia - Capture & Release -- 2005 album by Khanate
Wikipedia - Capture (band) -- Metalcore band
Wikipedia - Capture (chess)
Wikipedia - Captured by Grace -- 2015 American documentary
Wikipedia - Captured! -- 1933 film by Roy Del Ruth
Wikipedia - Capture of Baghdad (1624) -- Event during the war between Shah Abbas I and Sultan Murad IV
Wikipedia - Capture of Berwick (1296) -- Battle of the First War of Scottish Independence
Wikipedia - Capture of Carthage (439) -- Vandal capture of a Roman North African city
Wikipedia - Capture of Ceylon Medal -- East India Company medal for 1795 invasion of Ceylon
Wikipedia - Capture of Combles -- A battle during the First World War
Wikipedia - Capture of Fort Ticonderoga -- Battle during the American Revolutionary War on May 10, 1775
Wikipedia - Capture of Fort William and Mary -- Battle during the American Revolutionary War on December 14, 1774
Wikipedia - Capture of Klisura Pass -- January 1941 battle in Albania
Wikipedia - Capture of La Boisselle -- A battle during the First World War
Wikipedia - Capture of La Croyable -- Single-ship action between the French First Republic and the United States as part of the Quasi-War; American victory
Wikipedia - Capture of LesbM-EM-^Sufs -- A battle during the First World War
Wikipedia - Capture of Montserrat -- 1782 French naval expedition against the British during the American Revolutionary War
Wikipedia - Capture of Rome -- Final event of Italian unification
Wikipedia - Capture of Roxburgh (1460) -- Siege during Anglo-Scottish Wars
Wikipedia - Capture of Saumur -- Military investment during the Huguenot rebellions
Wikipedia - Capture of Sedalia -- battle of the American Civil War
Wikipedia - Capture of Tabriz -- Battle in 1603 between the Ottoman Turks and the Safavid army of Shah Abbas I
Wikipedia - Capture of the sloop Anne -- 1825 sea battle
Wikipedia - Capture of USS Chesapeake -- Naval battle between an American ship and a British ship
Wikipedia - Capture of Valdivia -- 1820 battle in the Chilean War of Independence
Wikipedia - Capture of Wakefield -- Engagement of the First English Civil War
Wikipedia - Capture of Wytschaete -- Part of the Battle of Messines in World War I
Wikipedia - Capture the flag -- Traditional outdoor sport
Wikipedia - Capturing Bad Bill -- 1915 film
Wikipedia - Capturing the Friedmans -- 2003 film by Andrew Jarecki
Wikipedia - Capua vulgana -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Capua
Wikipedia - Capuche
Wikipedia - Capuchin friar
Wikipedia - Capuchin monkey
Wikipedia - Capuchin Order
Wikipedia - Capuchinos station -- Caracas metro station
Wikipedia - Capuchin Poor Clares
Wikipedia - Capuchin Sisters of Mother Rubatto
Wikipedia - Capucine Anav -- French actress
Wikipedia - Capucine -- French model and actress
Wikipedia - Capulina Speedy Gonzalez -- 1970 film
Wikipedia - Capulin Volcano National Monument -- U.S. National Monument in New Mexico
Wikipedia - Capul Island Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in the Philippines
Wikipedia - Capuns -- Stuffed chard leaves from Swiss cuisine
Wikipedia - Caputia -- Genus of Asteraceae plants
Wikipedia - Caput medusae -- Appearance of distended and engorged superficial epigastric veins
Wikipedia - Caput Mundi -- Latin expression
Wikipedia - Capybara -- Species of giant rodent in the cavy family
Wikipedia - Capys
Wikipedia - Cara Capuano -- American sports anchor for ESPNU
Wikipedia - Carbon capture and storage -- Process of capturing and storing waste carbon dioxide from point sources
Wikipedia - Carbon capture and utilization
Wikipedia - Carbon capture
Wikipedia - Carbon sequestration -- Capture and long-term storage of atmospheric carbon dioxide
Wikipedia - Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card -- Manga series
Wikipedia - Cardcaptor Sakura Movie 2: The Sealed Card -- 2000 film by Morio Asaka
Wikipedia - Cardcaptor Sakura: The Movie -- 1999 animated feature film directed by Morio Asaka
Wikipedia - Cardcaptor Sakura -- Japanese manga and media franchise
Wikipedia - Cardiff -- Capital of Wales
Wikipedia - Cargo to Capetown -- 1950 film by Earl McEvoy
Wikipedia - Caridoid escape reaction -- Innate escape mechanism by crustaceans
Wikipedia - Carl Arp -- German landscape painter
Wikipedia - Carl Capotorto -- American actor
Wikipedia - Carl Conjola -- German landscape painter
Wikipedia - Carl Francis Pilat -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Carlo Caputo -- Italian priest
Wikipedia - Carnival Against Capital
Wikipedia - Carnival Capers -- 1932 film
Wikipedia - Carnivores: Cityscape -- 2002 video game
Wikipedia - Carob -- carob tree or shrub with edible pods, also used in landscaping
Wikipedia - Carola Rackete -- German ship captain and human-rights activist
Wikipedia - Carol R. Johnson -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Carrying capacity -- The maximum population size of the species that the environment can support indefinitely
Wikipedia - Casa Malaparte -- House in Capri, Italy
Wikipedia - Cascais Marina -- Marina with capacity for 650 boats in Cascais, Portugal
Wikipedia - Casco de Leiro -- Bronze Age ritual hemispherical cap
Wikipedia - Case Closed: Captured in Her Eyes
Wikipedia - Caspar David Friedrich -- German Romantic landscape painter (1774-1840)
Wikipedia - Casquette -- Peaked cotton cap worn by racing cyclists
Wikipedia - Cassien de Nantes -- Capuchin priest, missionary and martyr
Wikipedia - Castle of Good Hope -- 17th-century bastion fort in Cape Town, South African
Wikipedia - Castries -- Capital of Saint Lucia
Wikipedia - Category:1 crosscap number knots and links
Wikipedia - Category:21st century in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Category:21st century in Santiago, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Category:American anti-capitalists
Wikipedia - Category:American venture capitalists
Wikipedia - Category:Anti-capitalism
Wikipedia - Category:Archbishops of Capua
Wikipedia - Category:Automatic identification and data capture
Wikipedia - Category:Capability systems
Wikipedia - Category:Capetian House of Anjou
Wikipedia - Category:Capitalism
Wikipedia - Category:Capital Region of Denmark stubs
Wikipedia - Category:Cappadocian Greeks
Wikipedia - Category:Captain America
Wikipedia - Category:Capuchin martyrs
Wikipedia - Category:Capuchin saints
Wikipedia - Category:Capuchins
Wikipedia - Category:Christian martyrs executed by decapitation
Wikipedia - Category:Deaths by decapitation
Wikipedia - Category:Discoveries by SCAP
Wikipedia - Category:English landscape and garden designers
Wikipedia - Category:French anti-capitalists
Wikipedia - Category:German anti-capitalists
Wikipedia - Category:German landscape painters
Wikipedia - Category:House of Capet
Wikipedia - Category:Indian venture capitalists
Wikipedia - Category:Jews who emigrated to escape Nazism
Wikipedia - Category:Marvel vs. Capcom fighters
Wikipedia - Category:Netscape people
Wikipedia - Category:Netscape
Wikipedia - Category:Pages using infobox country or infobox former country with the flag caption or type parameters
Wikipedia - Category:Pages using infobox country or infobox former country with the symbol caption or type parameters
Wikipedia - Category:People captured by pirates
Wikipedia - Category:People executed by Korea by decapitation
Wikipedia - Category:People executed by the Qing dynasty by decapitation
Wikipedia - Category:People executed by Tudor England by decapitation
Wikipedia - Category:People executed by Vietnam by decapitation
Wikipedia - Category:People from Capitola, California
Wikipedia - Category:People from the Metropolitan City of Rome Capital
Wikipedia - Category:People who emigrated to escape Nazism
Wikipedia - Category:Spanish escapees
Wikipedia - Category:University of Cape Town alumni
Wikipedia - Category:Venture capital
Wikipedia - Category:Writers of captivity narratives
Wikipedia - Catherine FitzGerald -- Irish landscape designer
Wikipedia - Catholic Church and capital punishment
Wikipedia - Catholic Church in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Catoptria captiva -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Cavendish Square (shopping centre) -- Shopping centre in Claremont, Cape Town
Wikipedia - CCGS Cape Fox -- Canadian Coast Guard motor lifeboat
Wikipedia - CCGS Cape Norman -- Canadian Coast Guard motor lifeboat
Wikipedia - CEA-708 -- Standard for closed captioning for ATSC digital television
Wikipedia - Cecil John Rhodes Statue -- Monument in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cecil Maguire -- Irish landscape and figure painter
Wikipedia - Celticecis capsularis -- Species of fly
Wikipedia - Centenary Novices' Handicap Chase -- Steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Central Library Cape Town -- Public library in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Central Line (Cape Town) -- Commuter rail service in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Centranthus ruber -- Species of flowering plant in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Centranthus -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Centre for the Book -- Centre in Cape Town to promote literacy, reading, and publishing
Wikipedia - Cephalaria alpina -- Species of flowering plant in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Cephalaria leucantha -- Species of flowering plant in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Ceprano Man -- A prehistoric human skull cap from Italy.
Wikipedia - Ceracap Inai (dance) -- Malay traditional dance
Wikipedia - Ceratitis capitata -- Species of insect
Wikipedia - Ceratocapnos claviculata -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Cerberus Capital Management -- U.S. investment management company
Wikipedia - Cercaphus (Heliadae) -- Greek mythological figure
Wikipedia - Cervical cap -- Form of barrier contraception
Wikipedia - Cesarewitch Handicap -- Flat horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Cesaria Evora -- Cape Verdean musician
Wikipedia - CFIM-FM -- Radio station in Cap-aux-Meules, Quebec
Wikipedia - Chamath Palihapitiya -- Sri Lankan-born Canadian-American billionaire businessman and CEO of Social Capital
Wikipedia - Chandigarh -- Union territory and capital city of Punjab and Haryana states in northern India
Wikipedia - Chang'an -- Ancient capital and city of China
Wikipedia - Channel capacity
Wikipedia - Channeled Scablands -- Landscape in eastern Washington, USA scoured by cataclysmic floods during the Pleistocene epoch
Wikipedia - Channichthys panticapaei -- Species of fish
Wikipedia - Chapman's Peak -- Mountain on the Cape Peninsula, South Africa
Wikipedia - Chapter 6 (band) -- A cappella vocal ensemble
Wikipedia - Charles A. Platt -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Charles Capper -- American historian
Wikipedia - Charles Harold Davis -- American landscape painter
Wikipedia - Charles III's Departure for Spain, Seen from the Land -- Painting by Antonio Joli in the National Museum of Capodimonte, Naples
Wikipedia - Charles III's Departure for Spain, Seen from the Sea -- Painting by Antonio Joli in the National Museum of Capodimonte, Naples
Wikipedia - Charles IV of France -- Last King of France who was directly a member of the House of Capet
Wikipedia - Charles Linn -- Finnish-American banker and seacaptain
Wikipedia - Charles N. Lowrie -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Charlotte Amalie, U.S. Virgin Islands -- Capital of the U.S. Virgin Islands
Wikipedia - Charterhouse Capital Partners -- British private equity investment firm
Wikipedia - Chavonnes Battery -- Historical fortification protecting Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Cheonan Hyundai Capital Skywalkers -- South Korean professional volleyball team
Wikipedia - Chesias capriata -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Chess handicap
Wikipedia - Chetta Chevalier -- Critical node in Monsignor Hugh O'Flaherty's "Rome Escape Line" network operating in the Vatican during World War Two
Wikipedia - Chevrolet Series AA Capitol -- Car model
Wikipedia - Chicago a cappella -- Organization
Wikipedia - Chi Capricorni -- Star in the constellation Capricornus
Wikipedia - Chisinau -- Capital of Moldova
Wikipedia - Chorus of the Chesapeake -- American men's a cappella chorus from Maryland
Wikipedia - Chris Caple -- Archaeologist
Wikipedia - Chris Faust -- American landscape photographer
Wikipedia - Chris Hani Secondary School -- English-medium high school in Kheyelitsha, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Chris Lightcap -- American double bassist, bass guitarist and composer
Wikipedia - Christiana Riot -- 1851 armed resistance by free Blacks and escaped slaves
Wikipedia - Christianity in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Christine A. Merdon -- American civil engineer who was the Acting Architect of the Capitol
Wikipedia - Christine Dalnoky -- French landscape architect and educator
Wikipedia - Christopher Daniel Gay -- American escapee
Wikipedia - Christopher Jones (Mayflower Captain)
Wikipedia - Christopher Jones (Mayflower captain) -- English sailor and master of the ''Mayflower'' (1570-1622)
Wikipedia - Christopher P. Lynch -- American Venture Capitalist and entrepreneur
Wikipedia - Chromosome conformation capture
Wikipedia - Chroogomphus -- Genus of fungi commonly known as pine-spikes or spike-caps
Wikipedia - Chuck Caputo -- American politician
Wikipedia - Chullo -- Knitted cap with ear flaps from the Andes
Wikipedia - Church Square (Cape Town) -- Square in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Chur -- Capital of Grisons/Graubunden, Switzerland
Wikipedia - CICAP
Wikipedia - Cilacap railway station -- railway station in Indonesia
Wikipedia - Cimarron people (Panama) -- Enslaved Africans who had escaped
Wikipedia - Cinderella Acappella -- Australian music group
Wikipedia - Cine Capri -- Former movie theater in Phoenix, Arizona, United States
Wikipedia - Circus Capers -- 1930 animated film
Wikipedia - Circus Caper -- 1989 video game
Wikipedia - Citadel of Cascais -- fortifications built at Cascais, Portugal between 15th and 17th centuries to defend entrance to the River Tagus in order to protect Portuguese capital of Lisbon
Wikipedia - City and Suburban Handicap -- Flat horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - City Bowl -- Region of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - City of Brussels -- Capital of Belgium
Wikipedia - Cityscape (2019 film) -- 2019 film
Wikipedia - Civilian Planning and Conduct Capability -- Organisation within the European Union
Wikipedia - CJBU-FM -- Radio station at Cape Breton University in Sydney, Nova Scotia
Wikipedia - Claire Andrade-Watkins -- Cape Verdean-American historian, academic and filmmaker
Wikipedia - Claremont High School (Cape Town) -- Public high school in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Claremont railway station (Cape Town) -- Metrorail station on the Southern Line,
Wikipedia - Claridade -- Cape Verdean literary reviews
Wikipedia - Clarium Capital
Wikipedia - Clark Handicap -- Grade I Thoroughbred horse race
Wikipedia - Clasico Capitalino -- Mexican soccer rivalry between Club America and Club Universidad Nacional
Wikipedia - Classical capacity
Wikipedia - Claudia Capitolina -- 1st century princess of Commagene
Wikipedia - Claudio Capelli -- Swiss artistic gymnast
Wikipedia - Claudio Capeo -- French singer and musician
Wikipedia - Claudio Capone -- Italian voice actor
Wikipedia - Clavicle -- Plain bone of short length that serves as a strut between the scapula and the sternum
Wikipedia - Clearbanc -- Canadian venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Clermont Huger Lee -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Clive Lloyd -- Former West Indies Captain
Wikipedia - Clocapramine
Wikipedia - Closed captioning -- Process of displaying interpretive texts to screens
Wikipedia - Clyde Blowers Capital -- Scottish investment company
Wikipedia - Coat of arms of Cape Town -- Traditional symbol of the municipality of Cape Town
Wikipedia - Coat of arms of the Australian Capital Territory -- Heraldic visual design for the territory containing the Australian capital city of Canberra
Wikipedia - Code page 310 -- Set of APL symbols invoked with the EBCDIC "Graphic Escape" (single shift) control code
Wikipedia - Coercion, Capital, and European States, AD 990-1992 -- Book by Charles Tilly
Wikipedia - Cognitive capacities
Wikipedia - Coif -- Historical headgear, a close-fitting cap
Wikipedia - Colette Capdevielle -- French politician
Wikipedia - Colette Capriles -- Venezuelan political scientist
Wikipedia - College Capers -- 1931 animated film
Wikipedia - College Notre-Dame (Haiti) -- Private Catholic school in Cap-HaM-CM-/tien, Haiti
Wikipedia - Coller Capital -- British investor firm in the private equity secondary market
Wikipedia - Colony Capital -- American private equity real estate firm
Wikipedia - Color photography -- Photography that uses media capable of representing colors
Wikipedia - Columbus, Ohio -- Capital city of Ohio, United States of America
Wikipedia - Commando Drift Nature Reserve -- Nature reserve in Eastern Cape Province, South Africa
Wikipedia - Commercial property -- Buildings or land intended to generate a profit, either from capital gain or rental income
Wikipedia - Communaute de communes de la Terre des Deux Caps -- Federation of municipalities in France
Wikipedia - Community capitalism
Wikipedia - Community House (Salt River, Cape Town) -- Historic site of living heritage
Wikipedia - Community wealth building -- Socialist community plan to broaden capitol ownership
Wikipedia - Company's Garden -- Park and heritage site in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Competitive capitalism
Wikipedia - Complexo Desportivo Adega -- Sports stadium on Santiago Island, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Comprehensive Capital Analysis and Review
Wikipedia - Compression ratio -- The ratio of the volume of a combustion chamber from its largest capacity to its smallest capacity
Wikipedia - Computer capacity measurements
Wikipedia - Computer chess -- Computer hardware and software capable of playing chess
Wikipedia - Conakry -- Capital and chief port of Guinea
Wikipedia - Concord Monitor -- Daily newspaper in capital city of New Hampshire, US
Wikipedia - Concord, New Hampshire -- capital of New Hampshire
Wikipedia - Confederate artworks in the United States Capitol -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Confederate War Memorial (Cape Girardeau, Missouri) -- memorial to Confederate soldiers in Cape Girardeau, Missouri
Wikipedia - Congress Hall -- Museum and former capitol building in Philadelphia, USA
Wikipedia - Conospermum capitatum -- Species of Australian shrub in the family Proteaceae
Wikipedia - Conospermum scaposum -- Species of Australian shrub in the family Proteaceae
Wikipedia - Consistent life ethic -- Ideology opposing abortion, capital punishment, assisted suicide, euthanasia, and some or all wars
Wikipedia - Constant capital
Wikipedia - Constantiaberg -- Mountain on the Cape Peninsula, South Africa
Wikipedia - Constantinople -- Capital city of the Eastern Roman or Byzantine Empire, the Latin and the Ottoman Empire
Wikipedia - Consumer capitalism
Wikipedia - Contemporary A Cappella Society -- Charitable organization
Wikipedia - Controlled buoyant lift -- A technique used by scuba divers to raise an incapacitated diver to the surface
Wikipedia - Conus capitanellus -- Species of sea snail
Wikipedia - Conus capitaneus -- Species of sea snail
Wikipedia - Conus capreolus -- Species of sea snail
Wikipedia - Conus gratacapii -- Species of sea snail
Wikipedia - Cooling capacity -- Measure of a cooling system's ability to remove heat
Wikipedia - Coornhoop -- Historic 17th century farmhouse in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Copenhagen -- Capital city of Denmark
Wikipedia - Coracoid process -- A small hook-like structure on the lateral edge of the superior anterior portion of the scapula
Wikipedia - Coree (district) -- District of the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Corina Caprioriu -- Romanian judoka
Wikipedia - Corporate capitalism -- Capitalism dominated by large corporations
Wikipedia - Corporate venture capital
Wikipedia - Cortinarius caperatus -- Species of fungus
Wikipedia - COSAT -- Western Cape high school
Wikipedia - Costa Concordia disaster -- Disaster in which a cruise ship capsized and sank on 13 January 2012
Wikipedia - Cost of capital -- Cost of a company's funds
Wikipedia - Cotter River (district) -- District of the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Cotter River -- river in the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Council of Capharthutha
Wikipedia - Country Captain -- Curried chicken and rice dish in the Southern United States
Wikipedia - County Handicap Hurdle -- Hurdle horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Covert channel -- Computer security attack that creates a capability to transfer information between processes that are not supposed to be allowed to communicate
Wikipedia - COVID-19 pandemic in Cape Verde -- Ongoing COVID-19 viral pandemic in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Crab fisheries -- Fisheries which capture or farm crabs
Wikipedia - Craft Ventures -- venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Crawford, Cape Town -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Crawford railway station (Cape Town) -- Metrorail station on the Cape Flats Line
Wikipedia - Crematogaster capensis -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Crematogaster captiosa -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Crepis capillaris -- Species of flowering plant in the daisy family Asteraceae
Wikipedia - Crisis Escape No. 1 -- South Korean television series
Wikipedia - Cristiana Capotondi -- Italian actress
Wikipedia - Cristina Caprioli -- Swedish choreographer
Wikipedia - Criticism of capitalism
Wikipedia - Crony capitalism
Wikipedia - Cross-cap
Wikipedia - Cross-cultural capital
Wikipedia - Cross "For the Capture of Praga" -- 18th c. military decoration awarded by the Russian Empire during the KoM-EM-^[ciuszko Uprising
Wikipedia - Crossroads, Western Cape -- Suburb of Cape Town in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Crucifixion -- Method of capital punishment in which the victim is tied or nailed to a large wooden beam and left to hang until eventual death
Wikipedia - Cryptoscaphus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Crystal English Sacca -- American venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Crystal the Monkey -- Capuchin monkey actor
Wikipedia - Ctesiphon -- Capital of the Iranian empire in the Parthian and Sasanian eras in present Iraq
Wikipedia - Cuartero -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Cultural capital
Wikipedia - Cultural landscape -- Landscape, which is permanently embossed by humans
Wikipedia - Culture of capitalism
Wikipedia - Curtis Scaparrotti -- US Army general
Wikipedia - CVC Capital Partners -- British private equity and investment advisory firm
Wikipedia - Cyberspace Capabilities Center -- US Air Force organization
Wikipedia - Cylinder (firearms) -- The cylindrical, rotating part of a revolver containing multiple chambers, each of which is capable of holding a single cartridge.
Wikipedia - Cynthia McKinney-Capitol Hill police incident -- 2006 dispute between a member of congress and Capitol police
Wikipedia - Cyrus's edict -- Part of the biblical narrative about the return from Babylonian captivity
Wikipedia - Cytoscape
Wikipedia - Dabo River Caprice -- Orchestra piece composed by He Xuntian
Wikipedia - Da Capo Press -- American publishing company
Wikipedia - Da capo -- Musical term meaning "from the beginning"
Wikipedia - DACAPO -- Quantum mechanical molecular dynamics computer code
Wikipedia - Dactylicapnos -- A genus of climbing flowering plants in the poppy family Papaveraceae
Wikipedia - Da Gama Park -- Suburb of the City of Cape Toen, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Dairine Vanston -- Irish landscape artist
Wikipedia - Dakar -- Capital of Senegal
Wikipedia - Dakota Dunes Casino -- Casino in Whitecap, Saskatchewan, Canada
Wikipedia - Damascus -- Capital of Syria
Wikipedia - Damaso Ruano -- Spanish geometric landscape artist, painter and academic
Wikipedia - Dangerous Capabilities -- Book by David Callahan
Wikipedia - Daniele Capezzone -- Italian journalist and ex politician
Wikipedia - Danielle Ammaccapane -- American golfer
Wikipedia - Daniel Zacapa -- American actor
Wikipedia - Dan Plato -- Mayor of Cape Town
Wikipedia - Dante Cappelli -- Italian actor
Wikipedia - Dao, Capiz -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Darul Islam Islamic High School -- Islamic high school in Athlone, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Darwin, Northern Territory -- Capital of the Northern Territory, Australia
Wikipedia - Daryl Dragon -- American musician, songwriter; member of musical duo Captain & Tennille
Wikipedia - Data cap -- Restriction imposed on the transfer of data
Wikipedia - David Cox (artist) -- English landscape painter, 1783-1859
Wikipedia - Davide Caparini -- Italian politician and entrepreneur
Wikipedia - David Salzman {{cleanup|reason= bare URLs, considerable non-reliable sources, short choppy poorly cited sections, [[MOS:JOBTITLE]], [[WP:MSH]], [[MOS:ALLCAPS]], [[WP:CITATIONOVERKILL]], etc.|date=January 2021 -- David Salzman {{cleanup|reason= bare URLs, considerable non-reliable sources, short choppy poorly cited sections, [[MOS:JOBTITLE]], [[WP:MSH]], [[MOS:ALLCAPS]], [[WP:CITATIONOVERKILL]], etc.|date=January 2021
Wikipedia - David Smith (Australian Capital Territory politician) -- Australian Capital Territory politician
Wikipedia - Davies White -- Landscape architects
Wikipedia - Davis Submerged Escape Apparatus -- Early submarine escape oxygen rebreather also used for shallow water diving.
Wikipedia - Dayron Capetillo -- Cuban hurdler
Wikipedia - Death in the Making -- 1938 book by Robert Capa and Gerda Taro
Wikipedia - Debora Caprioglio -- Italian actress
Wikipedia - Deborah Capozzi -- American sailor
Wikipedia - Deborah M. Capaldi -- Developmental psychologist
Wikipedia - Decapitated (band) -- Polish death metal band
Wikipedia - Decapitation strike -- military strategy
Wikipedia - Decapitation -- Total separation of the head from the body
Wikipedia - Decapod anatomy -- The entire structure of a decapod crustacean
Wikipedia - Decapoda -- Order of crustaceans
Wikipedia - Decapolis
Wikipedia - Decapping complex -- Eukaryotic protein complex that removes the 5' cap on mRNA
Wikipedia - De Hel Nature Area -- Nature reserve on the lower eastern slopes of Table Mountain, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - De Hoop Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area on the south coast of the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - De Hoop Nature Reserve -- Nature reserve in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Dejan Capo -- Serbian politician
Wikipedia - Deke Sharon -- American leader in contemporary a cappella
Wikipedia - Delhi Capitals in 2019 -- Twenty20 franchise cricket team based in Delhi, India
Wikipedia - Delhi -- Megacity and union territory of India, containing the national capital
Wikipedia - DeLorean time machine -- fictional automobile capable of time travel
Wikipedia - Delta Capricorni -- Binary star in the constellation Capricornus
Wikipedia - Democide -- Intentional killing of an unarmed or disarmed person by government agents acting in their authoritative capacity
Wikipedia - Democratic and Independent Cape Verdean Union -- Political party in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Democratic capitalism
Wikipedia - Denis Capel-Dunn -- British lawyer and intelligence officer
Wikipedia - Dennis Township, New Jersey -- Township in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Depressaria lacticapitella -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Deputy Mayor of Cape Town -- Deputy head of the local government of City of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Detective Conan: Crossroad in the Ancient Capital
Wikipedia - Deukhuri -- Capital of Lumbini Province
Wikipedia - De Villiers Dam -- Dam on Table Mountain, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Devil's Peak (Cape Town) -- Mountain peak in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Devil's Peak Estate -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Devotional scapular
Wikipedia - De Waal Park -- Urban park in Oranjezicht, Cape Town
Wikipedia - De Waterkant -- Part of Gape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - De Zuid-Afrikaan -- A Newspaper in the Cape Colony published 1830-1930
Wikipedia - Dhaka -- Capital of Bangladesh
Wikipedia - Dhamakapella -- Asian a cappella group
Wikipedia - Diana Balmori -- American landscape designer
Wikipedia - Diane Pearson (landscape architect) -- New Zealand landscape architecture academic
Wikipedia - Dick Van Dyke and The Vantastix -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - Didrik Cappelen -- Norwegian jurist and politician
Wikipedia - Diervilla -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Digital camera -- Camera that captures photographs or video in digital format
Wikipedia - Digital cinematography -- Digital image capture for film
Wikipedia - Dihydrocapsaicin
Wikipedia - Dili -- Capital and chief port of East Timor
Wikipedia - Dillegrout -- Medieval capon potage
Wikipedia - Dimercaprol
Wikipedia - Diosdado Macapagal Arroyo -- Filipino politician
Wikipedia - Diplodus capensis -- Blacktail seabream, a fish in the family Sparidae
Wikipedia - Dipsacus -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Direct air capture -- Method of carbon capture from carbon dioxide in air
Wikipedia - Director-General of the Provincial Government of the Western Cape -- Senior non-political official
Wikipedia - Dirigisme -- Economic policy of strong state control over a capitalist economy
Wikipedia - Dirk Dalens III -- Dutch landscape painter
Wikipedia - Disa Park -- Controversial development in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Discovery Capital Management -- American hedge fund
Wikipedia - Disney's Aladdin (Capcom video game) -- 1993 SNES video game
Wikipedia - Dispur -- Suburb and state capital of Assam, India
Wikipedia - Dissipated Eight -- A capella group
Wikipedia - District Six -- Former inner-city residential area in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Diver rescue -- Rescue of a distressed or incapacitated diver
Wikipedia - Diversification (finance) -- The process of allocating capital in a way that reduces the exposure to any one particular asset or risk
Wikipedia - DiviM-EM-! BoM-EM-^Yek of Miletinek -- Captain of the Hussites
Wikipedia - Division of Australian Capital Territory -- Former Australian federal electoral division
Wikipedia - Division of Capricornia -- Australian federal electoral division
Wikipedia - Division of Fraser (Australian Capital Territory) -- Former Australian federal electoral division
Wikipedia - Djibouti (city) -- city and capital of Djibouti
Wikipedia - Dodecaphonic
Wikipedia - Dodecaphony
Wikipedia - Dodoma -- Capital of Tanzania
Wikipedia - Doha -- Capital of Qatar
Wikipedia - Dolce Gusto -- Espresso machine/coffee capsule system
Wikipedia - Dolichoderus rugocapitus -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Domenico Capranica
Wikipedia - Domenico Caprioli -- Italian painter
Wikipedia - Dominic Capone -- American actor
Wikipedia - Donald Eric Capps
Wikipedia - Donn Handicap -- Former American Thoroughbred horse race
Wikipedia - Don Valentine -- American venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Dorothy Dietrich -- American stage magician and escapologist
Wikipedia - Dorsal scapular vein -- Blood vessel
Wikipedia - Dorymyrmex breviscapis -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Dory Rips -- Extreme tidal agitation of waters in the Bay of Fundy off the headland of Cape d'Or in Nova Scotia, Canada.
Wikipedia - Do That to Me One More Time -- 1979 single by Captain & Tennille
Wikipedia - Double electron capture -- Mode of radioactive decay
Wikipedia - Douglas, Isle of Man -- Capital of the Isle of Man
Wikipedia - Douglas Leone -- American billionaire venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Douglas MacArthur's escape from the Philippines -- World War II escape
Wikipedia - Downing Vaux -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Downtown station (Capital MetroRail) -- Capital MetroRail station in Austin, Texas, US
Wikipedia - Draft:Ben Prendergast -- Australian actor, voice artist, and performance capture (mocap) artist
Wikipedia - Draft:Escapology. -- UK-based retail and e-commerce company
Wikipedia - Draft:Four Seasons Total Landscaping -- American Commercial Landscaping Company
Wikipedia - Draft:IAS Capt Samar -- iAS, Pilot, Rapper
Wikipedia - Draft:John Michael Bauer -- Former LASD Captain, 2020 [[Kootenai County]] Sheriff nominee
Wikipedia - Draft:List of most popular Captain Toad: Treasure Tracker characters -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Draft:Mass killings under capitalist regimes -- Capitalist killings of civilians
Wikipedia - Draft:MyCaptain -- India-based education technology company
Wikipedia - Draft:Network Capital -- American financial technology company
Wikipedia - Draft:Oui Capital -- U.S. Venture Caputal
Wikipedia - Draper Esprit -- Venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Draper Fisher Jurvetson -- American venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Dreamscape (1984 film) -- 1984 film
Wikipedia - Dreamscape (chat)
Wikipedia - Dreamscape Entertainment -- Philippine television production company
Wikipedia - Dreamscape Immersive -- US entertainment company
Wikipedia - Dresden -- Capital city of Saxony, Germany
Wikipedia - DRI Capital -- American fund manager
Wikipedia - Duane Capizzi -- American writer and television producer
Wikipedia - Dublin -- Capital and largest city of Ireland
Wikipedia - Duke Street Capital -- British private equity firm focused on leveraged buyout and growth capital investments
Wikipedia - Dulcie Foo Fat -- British-born Canadian landscape painter
Wikipedia - Dulong-Petit law -- Empirical thermodynamic law that the molar heat capacities of many solids is approximately the same constant at high temperatures
Wikipedia - Dumalag -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Dumarao -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Dumitru Captari -- Romanian weightlifter
Wikipedia - Duncan Capps -- British army officer
Wikipedia - Dunce cap
Wikipedia - Dune Landscape with Travelers and Cattle -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Dunoon, Cape Town -- Suburb of Cape Town, , South Africa
Wikipedia - Dur-Sharrukin -- Assyrian capital in the time of Sargon II
Wikipedia - Dutch Cape Colony
Wikipedia - Duynefontein -- Proposed site for second nuclear power station in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Dvin (ancient city) -- Ancient capital of early medieval Armenia.
Wikipedia - Dwesa-Cwebe Marine Protected Area -- A coastal marine conservation area in the Eastern Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Dwesa Nature Reserve -- Nature reserve in the Eastern Cape Province, South Africa
Wikipedia - Dyseriocrania griseocapitella -- Moth species in family Eriocraniidae
Wikipedia - Dyson tree -- Hypothetical genetically-engineered plant capable of growing inside a comet
Wikipedia - Dyteutus -- 1st-century AD Galatian priest and ruler of Comana in Cappadocia
Wikipedia - East Asian model of capitalism
Wikipedia - East Cape Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in New Zealand
Wikipedia - East Caprivi -- Former bantustan in South-West Africa (now Namibia)
Wikipedia - Eastern Cape Parks -- Governmental organisation responsible for maintaining wilderness areas and public nature reserves in Eastern Cape Province, South Africa
Wikipedia - Eastern Cape
Wikipedia - East German balloon escape -- Flight from East Germany by eight people, 1979
Wikipedia - East Greenland Current -- Current from Fram Strait to Cape Farewell off the eastern coat of Greenland
Wikipedia - East London Coast Nature Reserve -- Protected area in Eastern Cape Province, South Africa
Wikipedia - East London, Eastern Cape
Wikipedia - Ebor Handicap -- Flat horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Ecliptopera capitata -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Eco-capitalism
Wikipedia - Ecological collapse -- A situation where an ecosystem suffers a drastic, possibly permanent, reduction in carrying capacity for all organisms
Wikipedia - Ecological resilience -- Capacity of ecosystems to resist and recover from change
Wikipedia - Economic liberalism -- Capitalism that prioritizes individuals as consumers over collective institutions or NGOs
Wikipedia - Economy of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Economy of Cardiff -- Overview of the economy of the capital city of Wales
Wikipedia - Economy of the Australian Capital Territory -- Overview of the economy of the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Ecotope -- The smallest ecologically distinct landscape features in a landscape mapping and classification system
Wikipedia - Edinburgh -- Capital of Scotland
Wikipedia - Edmund Hollander -- American landscape architect (b. 1954)
Wikipedia - Edmund von Worndle -- Austrian landscape painter
Wikipedia - Eduardo Capetillo -- Mexican actor and singer
Wikipedia - Eduardo di Capua -- Italian singer-songwriter 1865-1917
Wikipedia - Education for All Handicapped Children Act -- USA law granting equal access to education for children with disabilities
Wikipedia - Education in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Education in Paris -- Education in the capital of France
Wikipedia - Edward Capehart O'Kelley -- American outlaw
Wikipedia - Edward Capell -- 18th-century English Shakespearian critic
Wikipedia - Edward Capel -- English soldier and sportsman
Wikipedia - Edward Coverley Kennedy -- Royal Navy captain
Wikipedia - Edward Smith (sea captain) -- Captain of the RMS Titanic
Wikipedia - Edward Stott -- English artist known for rural landscape painting (1855-1918)
Wikipedia - Edward Thomas Daniell -- English landscape painter and etcher
Wikipedia - Edwin Taylor Pollock -- US Navy Captain, Territorial Governor
Wikipedia - Eerste River, Western Cape -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Eerste River -- River in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Eersterivier Secondary School -- Adrikaans-medium hgh school in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Effectiveness -- Capability of producing the desired result
Wikipedia - Egyptian Building (Cape Town) -- Site of University of Cape Town's Michaelis School of Fine Art
Wikipedia - EIA-608 -- Analog television closed captioning standard
Wikipedia - Eight Beat Measure -- Collegiate a cappella group
Wikipedia - Eileen Burbidge -- American venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Ejection seat -- Emergency aircraft escape system
Wikipedia - Elachista albicapilla -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Elasto-capillarity -- Physical phenomenon
Wikipedia - El Capitan (OPM song) -- 2000 song by Californian-based band OPM
Wikipedia - El Capitan Perez -- 1946 film
Wikipedia - El Capitan Reservoir -- Reservoir in San Diego County, California
Wikipedia - El Capitan (Texas) -- Mountain in the US state of Texas
Wikipedia - El Capitolio -- Former seat of the Congress of Cuba
Wikipedia - El Capricho (Madrid Metro) -- Madrid Metro station
Wikipedia - Electrocapillarity -- Physical phenomenon
Wikipedia - Electrochemical cell -- Device capable of either generating electrical energy from chemical reactions or using electrical energy to cause chemical reactions
Wikipedia - Electro-diesel locomotive -- Railway locomotive capable of running either under electrical or diesel power
Wikipedia - Electrolytic capacitor
Wikipedia - Electron capture -- Process in which a proton-rich nuclide absorbs an inner atomic electron
Wikipedia - Electronic data capture
Wikipedia - Electronic specific heat -- Heat capacity of an electron gas
Wikipedia - Electroshock weapon -- Incapacitating weapon
Wikipedia - Elena Gatti Caporaso -- Italian politician
Wikipedia - Elgin, Western Cape -- Region in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Eli Capilouto -- American academic and dentist
Wikipedia - Elisabeth Moreno -- French-Cape Verdean businesswoman
Wikipedia - Elisa Bravo -- 19th-century female rumoured to have been captured by indigenous Mapuche
Wikipedia - Elizabeth Cappuccino -- American actress
Wikipedia - Elizabeth Lawrence (author) -- American writer and landscape architect
Wikipedia - Eli Zelkha -- American entrepreneur, venture capitalist and professor
Wikipedia - Ellerslie Girls' High School -- Girls' public high school in Sea Point, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Elliott Broidy -- American venture capitalist and Republican fundraiser
Wikipedia - Ellison Capers -- Confederate Army general
Wikipedia - Elpidius the Cappadocian -- Abbot and saint
Wikipedia - Elsieskraal River -- River in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Elyane Boal -- Cape Verdean rhythmic gymnast
Wikipedia - Embolism -- Disease of arteries, arterioles and capillaries
Wikipedia - Embrace, extend, and extinguish -- Anti-competitive Microsoft business strategy extending open standards with proprietary capabilities
Wikipedia - Emerson Romero -- Cuban American silent film actor and film captioning pioneer
Wikipedia - Emilia Iris Nuyado Ancapichun -- Chilean politician
Wikipedia - Emilio S. Liwanag -- Philippine Navy Captain - Legion of Merit recipient
Wikipedia - Emit Ecaps -- Studio album by Spacetime Continuum
Wikipedia - Emma (1828 ship) -- Barge which capsized during its launch in 1828.
Wikipedia - Emma Appleton (landscape architect) -- Australian landscape architect and urban designer
Wikipedia - Emmanuel Caparas -- Filipino lawyer
Wikipedia - Emotional intelligence -- Capability to understand one's emotions and use it to guide thinking and behavior
Wikipedia - Empathy -- The capacity to understand or feel what another person is experiencing
Wikipedia - Empirica Capital -- Former American hedge fund
Wikipedia - Encapsulated PostScript -- graphics file format
Wikipedia - Encapsulation (computer programming)
Wikipedia - Encapsulation (computer science)
Wikipedia - Encapsulation (networking) -- Method of designing modular communication protocols in which separate functions are abstracted from their underlying structures
Wikipedia - Encapsulation (object-oriented programming)
Wikipedia - English capitalisation
Wikipedia - Ennio Capasa -- Italian fashion designer
Wikipedia - Ensemble Planeta -- Japanese a cappella group
Wikipedia - Entanglement-assisted classical capacity
Wikipedia - E-on Vue -- 3D landscape generation software from e-on software
Wikipedia - E. O. Schwagerl -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Epstein-Barr virus viral-capsid antigen -- Viral protein
Wikipedia - Equestrian Portrait of Charles of Bourbon -- Painting by Francesco Liani in the National Museum of Capodimonte, Naples
Wikipedia - Equestrian Portrait of Maria Amalia of Saxony -- Painting by Francesco Liani in the National Museum of Capodimonte, Naples
Wikipedia - Eraninella longiscapus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Erbil -- Capital of the Kurdistan Region
Wikipedia - Erfurt -- Capital of Thuringia, Germany
Wikipedia - Erica Park -- Multi-use stadium, in Belhar, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Eric Weinstein -- American venture capital director
Wikipedia - Eric X. Li -- Chinese venture capitalist and political scientist (born 1968)
Wikipedia - Erik Dhont -- Belgian landscape architect
Wikipedia - Eriocapitella hupehensis -- Species of flowering plant in the buttercup family Ranunculaceae
Wikipedia - Eriocapitella rupicola -- Species of flowering plant in buttercup family
Wikipedia - Eriocapitella vitifolia -- Species of flowering plant in the family Ranunculaceae
Wikipedia - Ernesto Capocci -- Italian astronomer
Wikipedia - Eros Capecchi -- Italian road bicycle racer
Wikipedia - Esaias van de Velde -- Dutch landscape painter
Wikipedia - Escapade (1932 film) -- 1932 film
Wikipedia - Escapade (1935 film) -- 1935 film by Robert Zigler Leonard
Wikipedia - Escapade (1936 film) -- 1936 film
Wikipedia - Escapade (1955 film) -- 1955 film by Philip Leacock
Wikipedia - Escapade (song) -- 1990 single by Janet Jackson
Wikipedia - Escape (1928 film) -- 1928 film
Wikipedia - Escape (1930 film) -- 1930 film
Wikipedia - Escape (1940 film) -- 1940 film by Mervyn LeRoy
Wikipedia - Escape (1948 film) -- 1948 British-American film by Joseph L. Mankiewicz
Wikipedia - Escape analysis
Wikipedia - Escape and evasion map -- Maps made for soldiers caught behind enemy lines
Wikipedia - Escape at Dannemora -- 2018 television miniseries
Wikipedia - Escape by Night (1937 film) -- 1937 film by Hamilton MacFadden
Wikipedia - Escape character -- Character that invokes an alternative interpretation on subsequent characters in a character sequence
Wikipedia - Escape crew capsule -- Aircraft crew escape system
Wikipedia - Escape Dynamics -- Technology Company
Wikipedia - Escape (Enrique Iglesias song) -- 2002 single by Enrique Iglesias
Wikipedia - Escape Fire: The Fight to Rescue American Healthcare -- 2012 documentary film
Wikipedia - Escape from Affluenza
Wikipedia - Escape from Alcatraz (book) -- 1963 non-fiction book
Wikipedia - Escape from Alcatraz (film) -- 1979 film by Don Siegel
Wikipedia - Escape from Crime -- 1942 film
Wikipedia - Escape from Devil's Island -- 1935 American film directed by Albert S. Rogell
Wikipedia - Escape from Freedom
Wikipedia - Escape from Furnace -- Books series by Alexander Gordon Smith
Wikipedia - Escape from Genopolis -- Book by Tess Berry-Hart
Wikipedia - Escape from Hell (1928 film) -- 1928 film
Wikipedia - Escape from Hong Kong -- 1942 American comedy film
Wikipedia - Escape from Monsta Island! -- album by Monsta Island Czars
Wikipedia - Escape from New York -- 1981 film by John Carpenter
Wikipedia - Escape from Paradise City -- Video game
Wikipedia - Escape from Planet Earth -- 2013 film by Cal Brunker
Wikipedia - Escape from Pompeii -- Amusement park ride
Wikipedia - Escape from Pretoria -- Prison escape film, March 2020 release
Wikipedia - Escape from Raven Castle -- 1984 book by J. J. Fortune
Wikipedia - Escape from Suburbia
Wikipedia - Escape from the 'Liberty' Cinema -- 1990 film
Wikipedia - Escape from the Planet of the Apes -- 1971 science fiction film from the Planet of the Apes franchise directed by Don Taylor
Wikipedia - Escape from the Shadow Garden - Live 2014 -- album by Magnum
Wikipedia - Escape from Tomorrow -- 2013 horror film made at Disney parks without permission
Wikipedia - Escape from Woomera -- 2004 video game
Wikipedia - Escape in the Dark -- 1939 film
Wikipedia - Escape in the Fog -- 1945 film by Budd Boetticher (as Oscar Boetticher Jr.)
Wikipedia - Escape key
Wikipedia - Escapement -- Mechanism for regulating the speed of clocks
Wikipedia - Escape (Misia song) -- 2000 song by Misia
Wikipedia - Escape of Charles II -- Flight of Charles II from England in 1651
Wikipedia - Escape of the Artful Dodger -- Television series
Wikipedia - Escape Plan 2: Hades -- 2018 film by Steven C. Miller
Wikipedia - Escape Plan (film series) -- Action-thriller film series starring Sylvester Stallone
Wikipedia - Escape Plan (film) -- 2013 action thriller film directed by Mikael HM-CM-%fstrom
Wikipedia - Escape Plan: The Extractors -- Film directed by John Herzfeld
Wikipedia - Escape (play) -- 1926 play by John Galsworthy
Wikipedia - Escape Pod (podcast) -- Science fiction podcast
Wikipedia - Escape pod -- Capsule or craft used to evacuate base or vehicle in case of emergency
Wikipedia - Escape (Programming)
Wikipedia - Escape (Ram-Zet album) -- 2002 album by Ram-Zet
Wikipedia - Escape Room 2 -- Upcoming American psychological horror film
Wikipedia - Escape Room (film) -- 2019 American psychological horror film
Wikipedia - Escape Routes (TV series) -- American reality television series
Wikipedia - Escape sequences in C
Wikipedia - Escape sequences
Wikipedia - Escape sequence
Wikipedia - Escape set -- Self contained breathing apparatus providing gas to escape from a hazardous environment
Wikipedia - Escape Song / Mountain of Regret -- single by Graham Coxon
Wikipedia - Escape Theme Park -- Former amusement park in Singapore
Wikipedia - Escape the Night -- American murder-mystery reality web series
Wikipedia - Escape (The PiM-CM-1a Colada Song) -- 1979 song by Rupert Holmes
Wikipedia - Escape the room
Wikipedia - Escape to Asylum -- 1982 album
Wikipedia - Escape to Burma -- 1955 film by Allan Dwan
Wikipedia - Escape to Paradise -- 1939 film by Erle C. Kenton
Wikipedia - Escape to Plastic Beach Tour -- 2010 concert tour by Gorillaz
Wikipedia - Escape to the Foreign Legion -- 1929 film
Wikipedia - Escape to Victory -- 1981 film
Wikipedia - Escape to Witch Mountain (1975 film) -- 1975 film by John Hough
Wikipedia - Escape trunk -- Ambient pressure escape system for submarines
Wikipedia - Escape Velocity Nova -- 2002 video game
Wikipedia - Escape Velocity (novel) -- Doctor Who novel by Colin Brake
Wikipedia - Escape Velocity (video game)
Wikipedia - Escape velocity -- Concept in celestial mechanics
Wikipedia - E-scape
Wikipedia - Escape! -- Science fiction short story by American writer Isaac Asimov
Wikipedia - Escapex -- Mobile app developer
Wikipedia - Escaping Polygamy -- Lifetime Documentary TV Series
Wikipedia - Escaping (song) -- 1989 single by Margaret Urlich
Wikipedia - Escapism -- Mental diversion from unpleasant or boring aspects of life
Wikipedia - Escapist (magazine)
Wikipedia - Escapology
Wikipedia - Eskimo Rescue -- Righting a capsized kayak with the aid of another kayak
Wikipedia - ESR meter -- Tool for measuring equivalent series resistance of capacitors
Wikipedia - Estadio 5 de Julho -- Sports stadium in Sao Filipe Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio Aquiles de Oliveira -- Sports stadium in Cape Verde, Africa
Wikipedia - Estadio da Calheta -- Sports stadium in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio da Varzea -- Sports stadium in Praia, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio de Cumbem -- Sports stadium in Santiago, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio de Mangue -- Sports stadium in Tarrafal, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio Francisco Jose Rodrigues -- Sports stadium on Fogo, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio George Capwell -- Multi-purpose stadium in Guayaquil, Ecuador
Wikipedia - Estadio Joao de Deus Lopes da Silva -- Sports stadium in Sao Nicolau, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio Joao Serra -- Sports stadium in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio Marcelo Leitao -- Sports stadium in Sal Island, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio Monte Pelado -- Sports stadium in Cova Figueira, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio Municipal 20 de Janeiro -- Sports stadium in Maio, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio Municipal 25 de Julho -- Sports stadium on Santiago Island, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio Municipal Aderito Sena -- Sports stadium in Mindelo, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio Municipal Arsenio Ramos -- Stadium in Boa Vista, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio Municipal do Porto Novo -- Sports stadium in Porto Novo, Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Estadio Orlando Rodrigues -- Sports stadium in Tarrafal de Sao Nicolau, Cape Verde a
Wikipedia - Eta Capricorni -- Binary star in the constellation Capricornus
Wikipedia - Etang de Montady -- drained wetland and agricultural landscape in France
Wikipedia - EtherType -- field in Ethernet frames indicating which protocol is encapsulated in the payload
Wikipedia - Ethos Capital -- private equity investment firm
Wikipedia - Ettercap (software)
Wikipedia - ETX Capital -- British financial company
Wikipedia - Eucalyptus capitanea -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Eucapperia bullifera -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Eucapperia -- Plume moth genus
Wikipedia - Euphorbia caput-medusae -- Species of flowering plant in the spurge family Euphorbiaceae
Wikipedia - Eupithecia capitata -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Eupithecia scaphiata -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Eurasian blackcap -- Bird in the Old World warbler family from Eurasia and Africa
Wikipedia - European Breeders' Fund Novices' Handicap Hurdle Final -- Hurdle horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - European Capital of Culture -- cities recognized by the European Union as culturally significant for Europe
Wikipedia - European Free Handicap -- Flat horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - European Green Capital Award -- Award for a European city based on its environmental record
Wikipedia - Euryscaphus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Euscaphurus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Eustathius of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Event horizon -- A region in spacetime from which nothing can escape
Wikipedia - Evolutionary capacitance -- Hypothetical mechanism to activate and deactivate phenotypic effect of accumulated genetic variation
Wikipedia - Evolutionary landscape -- A metaphor used to visualize the processes of evolution
Wikipedia - Evolvability -- capacity of a system for adaptive evolution
Wikipedia - Excellion Capital -- British corporate finance advisory and investment firm
Wikipedia - Extreme clipper -- Clipper ship designed to sacrifice cargo capacity for speed
Wikipedia - Ezana Stone -- Stele in Aksum, the capital of the ancient Kingdom of Aksum, in present-day Ethiopia
Wikipedia - Fabio Capelleto -- 16th-century Roman Catholic bishop
Wikipedia - Fabrizio Capucci -- Italian former actor and producer
Wikipedia - Facial recognition system -- Technology capable of matching a face from an image against a database of faces
Wikipedia - Factor of safety -- Factor by which an engineered system's capacity is higher than the expected load to ensure safety in case of error or uncertainty
Wikipedia - Fairbairn College -- Public, co-educational high school in Goodwood, Cape Town
Wikipedia - Fairlawne Handicap Chase -- Steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Fallen Son: The Death of Captain America
Wikipedia - Fall Handicap -- Former American horse race
Wikipedia - Fall of Constantinople -- 1453 capture of the capital of the Byzantine Empire
Wikipedia - Fall of Phnom Penh -- Fall of Cambodian capital
Wikipedia - Fall of Saigon -- Capture of SaigonM-BM- by the PeopleM-bM-^@M-^Ys Army of Vietnam and the National Liberation Front of South Vietnam
Wikipedia - False Bay -- Large bay of the Atlantic Ocean at Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - False Dawn: The Delusions of Global Capitalism -- Book by John N. Gray
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Wikipedia - Federal Capital Territory (Nigeria)
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Wikipedia - Fell -- High and barren landscape feature
Wikipedia - FENOX Venture Capital -- American venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Ferraiolo -- Cape of Catholic priests
Wikipedia - Ferruccio Vitale -- Italian-born American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Fertility -- Natural capability to produce offspring
Wikipedia - Festival Trophy Handicap Chase -- Steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Fez -- Cone-shaped cap with a flat crown, of North African origin
Wikipedia - Fictitious capital -- Marxist Doctrine
Wikipedia - Ficus capreifolia -- Species of fig
Wikipedia - Fighter-bomber -- Aircraft tasked primarily with ground attack while retaining some air combat capability
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Wikipedia - Finance capitalism
Wikipedia - Financial capital -- economic resources used by entrepreneurs and businesses to buy what they need to make their products or provide their services
Wikipedia - Fine Music Radio -- Classical music and jazz radio station in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Fingerprint scanner -- Electronic device used to capture a digital image of the fingerprint pattern
Wikipedia - FinnCap -- British investment bank
Wikipedia - Fire Escape Collapse -- Pulitzer Prize-winning photograph
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Wikipedia - Flag of Cape Town -- Flag used by the City of Cape Town municipality
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Wikipedia - Flag of the Australian Capital Territory -- Official flag adopted by the Legislative Assembly for the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Flag of Washington, D.C. -- Flag of the U.S. capital located in the District of Columbia
Wikipedia - Fleet Street (album) -- The first entirely original collegiate a cappella album.
Wikipedia - Fleur du Cap Theatre Awards -- Annual South African theatre awards
Wikipedia - Flocke -- A female polar bear born in captivity at the Nuremberg Zoo in Germany
Wikipedia - Florence Fuller -- South African-born Australian portrait and landscape painter (1867 - 1946)
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Wikipedia - Florentin-la-Capelle -- Commune in Occitanie, France
Wikipedia - Florida Current -- A thermal ocean current that flows from the Straits of Florida around the Florida Peninsula and along the southeastern coast of the United States before joining the Gulf Stream near Cape Hatteras
Wikipedia - Flying Handicap -- Former American thoroughbred horse race
Wikipedia - FMBCapital Holdings Plc -- Mauritian financial services company
Wikipedia - FNRS-2 -- The first bathyscaphe
Wikipedia - FNRS-3 -- Bathyscaphe of the French Navy
Wikipedia - Fogo, Cape Verde -- Island of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Folding bridge -- Moveable bridge capable of folding to allow passage of watercraft
Wikipedia - Folding wing -- Aircraft wing capable of being folded for storage
Wikipedia - Fonds de solidarite FTQ -- Quebec-based development capital organization
Wikipedia - Fonteius Capito (consul 67) -- 1st century Roman senator, consul and governor
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Wikipedia - Foreshore, Cape Town -- Part of central Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
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Wikipedia - For the Love of Mike -- 1927 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Fortifications of the Cape Peninsula -- List of historical military structures built to defend the region
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Wikipedia - Four Seasons Total Landscaping press conference -- 2020 press conference by Rudy Giuliani
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Wikipedia - Francesca Cappelletti -- Italian art history professor
Wikipedia - Francesco Capelli -- Italian painter
Wikipedia - Francesco de Caprusacci -- 1xth-century Roman Catholic bishop
Wikipedia - Francesco Schettino -- Italian sea captain
Wikipedia - Francis Capra -- American actor
Wikipedia - Francis Chouler -- South African actor from Cape Town
Wikipedia - Francisco de Artiga -- Spanish landscape and historical painter
Wikipedia - Francisco Parra Capo -- Mayor of Ponce, Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Francis Ferdinand de Capillas
Wikipedia - Franco Capuana -- Italian conductor
Wikipedia - Frank Abagnale -- American security consultant, former confidence trickster, check forger, impostor, and escape artist
Wikipedia - Frank Cappuccino -- American boxing referee
Wikipedia - Frank Capra Jr. -- American film producer
Wikipedia - Frank Capra -- Italian-born American film director
Wikipedia - Frank Caprio (judge) -- American municipal judge
Wikipedia - Frank Capsouras -- American weightlifter
Wikipedia - Frank Dekkers -- Dutch painter of landscapes
Wikipedia - Frank T. Caprio -- American politician
Wikipedia - FrantiM-EM-!ek Capek (sport shooter) -- Czech shooter
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Wikipedia - Freada Kapor Klein -- Venture capitalist, social policy researcher and philanthropist
Wikipedia - Frederic Edwin Church -- American landscape painter
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Wikipedia - Frederick W. Watts -- English landscape painter
Wikipedia - Frederiksberg -- part of the Capital Region of Denmark
Wikipedia - Fred Wilson (financier) -- American venture capitalist and blogger
Wikipedia - Fred Winter Juvenile Novices' Handicap Hurdle -- Hurdle horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Freedom of religion in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Free-market capitalism
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Wikipedia - Freetown -- Capital and chief port of Sierra Leone
Wikipedia - Freeways (video game) -- 2017 simulation video game by Captain Games
Wikipedia - French brig Inconstant (1811) -- Ship used by Napoleon to escape from Elba
Wikipedia - Frenchmans Cap -- Mountain in Western Tasmania, located in Wilderness World Heritage area
Wikipedia - French ship Experiment (1779) -- 50-gun ship of the line of the Royal Navy, captured and recommissioned in the French Navy
Wikipedia - Frieda Rapoport Caplan -- American
Wikipedia - Fritjof Capra
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Wikipedia - Fruits Clipper -- album by Capsule
Wikipedia - Fumaria capreolata -- Species of flowering plants in the poppy family Papaveraceae
Wikipedia - Funafuti -- Capital of Tuvalu
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Wikipedia - Funsi -- District Capital in Upper West Region, Ghana
Wikipedia - Fustat -- First capital of Egypt under Muslim rule, in Old Cairo
Wikipedia - Fyuse -- Spatial photography app for capturing and sharing interactive 3D images
Wikipedia - Gaborone -- Capital of Botswana
Wikipedia - Gabriel Da Parma -- 14th c. pirate captain in the Adriatic sea
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Wikipedia - Gaisano Capital -- Shopping mall in the Philippines
Wikipedia - Gaius Ateius Capito (jurist) -- Roman jurist in the time of emperors Augustus and Tiberius
Wikipedia - Gaius Fonteius Capito (consul 59) -- 1st century AD Roman senator and consul
Wikipedia - Gaius Fonteius Capito (consul AD 12) -- Roman senator during the Principate and consul with Germanicus
Wikipedia - Gandhi cap -- White coloured sidecap, pointed in front and back and having a wide band, worn in India
Wikipedia - Gangster Capitalism -- American podcast
Wikipedia - Gangtok -- Capital of Sikkim, India
Wikipedia - Garden Route Botanical Garden -- Botanical Garden in George, Western Cape
Wikipedia - Garden Route National Park -- Coastal national park in the Garden Route region of the Western Cape and Eastern Cape provinces in South Africa
Wikipedia - Gardenscapes: New Acres -- Mobile game
Wikipedia - Gardens, Cape Town -- Inner-city suburb of Cape Town in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Gardens Shul -- Jewish religious building in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Gari Cappelli -- Croatian politician
Wikipedia - Gascoyne Marine Park -- Australian marine park west of the Cape Range Peninsula, Western Australia
Wikipedia - Gaskells Handicap Hurdle -- Hurdle horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Gaur, Nepal -- Capital of Nepal
Wikipedia - Gayle Jennings-O'Byrne -- American venture capitalist
Wikipedia - GE Capital Aviation Services -- Aviation financing and leasing company
Wikipedia - GE Capital -- Corporate division
Wikipedia - Geissoloma -- Monotypic genus of flowering plants native to the Cape Province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Gemini SC-2 -- First reusable space capsule
Wikipedia - Genadendal Residence -- Official Cape Town residence of the President of South Africa
Wikipedia - Generative systems -- Technologies with the overall capacity to produce unprompted change driven by large, varied, and uncoordinated audiences
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Wikipedia - Gene Vincent and the Blue Caps -- album by Gene Vincent
Wikipedia - Genstar Capital -- Private equity firm
Wikipedia - Genypterus capensis -- Species of fish from the South African coast
Wikipedia - Geobacter uraniireducens -- Species of bacterium capable of reducing uranium
Wikipedia - Geoff Capes -- British shot putter and strongman
Wikipedia - Geographic information system -- System to capture, manage and present geographic data
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Wikipedia - Geology of the Australian Capital Territory -- Overview of the geology of the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - George Augustus Stewart Cape -- British army personnel
Wikipedia - George Capron House -- House in Massachusetts, U.S.A
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Wikipedia - George Edmund Butler -- Landscape and portrait painter (1872-1936)
Wikipedia - George Frost (landscape painter) -- English artist based in Suffolk
Wikipedia - George Inness -- 19th-century American landscape painter
Wikipedia - George Latimer (escaped slave) -- American escaped slave
Wikipedia - Georgengarten -- Landscape garden in the borough of Herrenhausen of the German city Hannover
Wikipedia - George of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - George of Hungary -- Ottoman escapee slave
Wikipedia - George Pechell Mends -- Captain in the Royal Navy, and prolific sketcher
Wikipedia - George Town, Cayman Islands -- Capital of the Cayman Islands
Wikipedia - Georgetown, Guyana -- Capital of Guyana
Wikipedia - Geoscaptus -- Genus of beetles
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Wikipedia - Germania (city) -- World capital city planned by Adolf Hitler
Wikipedia - Germano Almeida -- Cape Verdean writer and lawyer
Wikipedia - Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly (album) -- album by Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly
Wikipedia - Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly (EP) -- extended play by Get Cape. Wear Cape. Fly
Wikipedia - Ghana National College -- Boarding school in Cape Coast, Ghana
Wikipedia - Ghislain-Joseph Henry -- Belgian architect and landscape architect
Wikipedia - Gian Carlo Capicchioni -- Sammarinese politician
Wikipedia - Gilbert Knapp -- 19th century American pioneer and ship captain, founder of Racine, Wisconsin
Wikipedia - Gillis Rombouts -- Dutch Golden Age landscape painter
Wikipedia - Gillis Smak Gregoor -- Dutch landscape painter
Wikipedia - Gil Semedo -- Cape Verdean artist
Wikipedia - Gimnodesportivo Vava Duarte -- Sports stadium in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Giorgio Capitani -- Italian film director
Wikipedia - Giorgio Caproni -- Italian poet
Wikipedia - Giovanni Battista Capano -- 18th-century Roman Catholic bishop
Wikipedia - Giovanni Battista Caprara
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Wikipedia - Giovanni Capreolo
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Wikipedia - Giovanni da Capistrano
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Wikipedia - Giuseppe Capolupo -- American musician
Wikipedia - Giuseppe Capponi -- Italian opera singer 1832-89
Wikipedia - Giuseppe De Capitani D'Arzago -- Italian politician
Wikipedia - Glaciokarst -- A karst landscape that was glaciated during the cold periods of the Pleistocene
Wikipedia - Glen Beach -- Beach on the west coast of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Glencairn, Cape Town -- Seaside suburb of Cape Town in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Glengarry -- Traditional Scots cap, worn by Highland regiments
Wikipedia - Glenn Theakston -- Magistrate of the Australian Capital Territory, Australia
Wikipedia - Global capitalism
Wikipedia - Glooscap -- Legendary figure of the Wabanaki peoples in the United States and Canada
Wikipedia - Gloria Macapagal Arroyo -- The 14th President of the Philippines from 2001 to 2010
Wikipedia - Glyptoscapus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Gnaeus Vergilius Capito -- Governor of Roman Egypt from AD 48 to 52
Wikipedia - GNU Readline -- Software library that provides line-editing and history capabilities for interactive programs with a command-line interface
Wikipedia - Goat -- Domesticated mammal (Capra aegagrus hircus)
Wikipedia - Go handicaps
Wikipedia - Golden Acre (Cape Town) -- Commercial centre in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Golden Arrow Bus Services -- Public transport bus service operator for Cape Town, South Africa,
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Wikipedia - Gold Line (Capital Metro)
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Wikipedia - Golra Sharif -- Town in Islamabad Capital Territory, Pakistan
Wikipedia - Good Hope Centre -- Exhibition hall and conference centre in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Good Hope Jet -- The northward-running shelf edge frontal jet of the Southern Benguela Current off the Cape Peninsula of South Africa's west coast
Wikipedia - Google Nest Wifi -- A mesh-capable wireless router developed by Google
Wikipedia - Gordion -- Capital city of ancient Phrygia
Wikipedia - Gordon's Bay -- Harbour suburb of Cape Town in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Gotham City Gauntlet: Escape from Arkham Asylum -- Steel roller coaster
Wikipedia - Goukamma Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area the Western Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Government Bangla College -- A public college in the capital city of Dhaka in Bangladesh
Wikipedia - Government of the Australian Capital Territory -- territory government of the Australian Capital Territory, Australia
Wikipedia - Government of the Eastern Cape -- Provincial government of the Eastern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Government of the Northern Cape -- Government of the Northern Cape Province
Wikipedia - Graaff Electric Lighting Works -- Decomissioned historical power plant in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Grace Tabor -- American landscape architect and author
Wikipedia - Grammonota capitata -- Species of spider
Wikipedia - Grand Cape Mount County -- County of Liberia
Wikipedia - Grand Master of Memory -- Title awarded to individuals capable of specific memory feats
Wikipedia - Grand Parade (Cape Town) -- Public square in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Grandpa's Great Escape -- 2015 children's book written by David Walliams and illustrated by Tony Ross
Wikipedia - Graphite Capital -- British private equity firm
Wikipedia - Gray Matters Capital -- Microfinance organization
Wikipedia - Graz -- Capital city of Styria, Austria
Wikipedia - Great capes -- The three major capes of the traditional clipper route
Wikipedia - Great Dismal Swamp maroons -- people who escaped slavery in Virginia
Wikipedia - Greater Addo Elephant National Park -- Megapark in the Eastern Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Greater (flamingo) -- Oldest known flamingo, died in captivity in Adelaide Zoo
Wikipedia - Great Escape (South Korean TV series) -- Korean television program
Wikipedia - Great Fish River Nature Reserve -- Nature reserve in Eastern Cape Province, South Africa
Wikipedia - Great Metropolitan Handicap -- Flat horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Great scapular notch -- A notch which serves to connect the supraspinous fossa and infraspinous fossa
Wikipedia - Great Trek -- Boer migrations away from British control in the eastern Cape Colony (1836-1852)
Wikipedia - Greenbriar Capital Corp -- American renewable energy company
Wikipedia - Green Cape Lighthouse -- Lighthouse in New South Wales, Australia
Wikipedia - Greenfield land -- Agricultural, landscaped, or natural land
Wikipedia - Greenlight Capital -- American hedge fund
Wikipedia - Green Line (Capital Metro)
Wikipedia - Greenmarket Square -- Historical square in old Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - GreenPal -- Peer-to-peer landscaping and freelancing network company headquartered in Nashville, Tennessee
Wikipedia - Green Point Common -- Park in Green Point, Cape Town, in South Africa
Wikipedia - Green Point Lighthouse, Cape Town -- Lighthouse in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Green Point Stadium -- Former sports stadium in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Green Scapular
Wikipedia - Greenstone Building -- Main office of Canadian federal government in Yellowknife, capital of the Northwest Territories
Wikipedia - Greenway (landscape) -- Long piece of land, where vegetation and slow travel are encouraged
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Wikipedia - Greg Isenberg -- Canadian Internet entrepreneur and venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Gregory of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Grevillea capitellata -- Species of plant in the family Proteaceae endemic to New South Wales
Wikipedia - Grevillea diminuta -- Species of shrub in the family Proteaceae native to New South Wales and the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Grevillea scapigera -- Species of shrub in the family Proteaceae endemic to Western Australia
Wikipedia - Grey-capped cuckoo -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Grey-capped pygmy woodpecker -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Grey-capped social weaver -- species of bird
Wikipedia - Grimthorpe Handicap Chase -- Steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Groote Schuur Hospital -- Teaching hospital in Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Groote Schuur -- Historical estate in Cape Town, now a museum
Wikipedia - Grotto Landscape with a Hermitage -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Group captain -- Senior commissioned rank which originated in the Royal Air Force
Wikipedia - Group of Seven (artists) -- Group of Canadian landscape painters
Wikipedia - Grovepoint Capital -- British private equity firm
Wikipedia - Grove Primary School (South Africa) -- school from pre-primary to Grade 7 in Claremont, Cape Town
Wikipedia - GSO Capital Partners -- American hedge fund
Wikipedia - Guatemala City -- Capital of Guatemala
Wikipedia - Gugulethu -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Guided bus -- Bus that is capable of running in a guideway or upon rail tracks
Wikipedia - Guido Caprino -- Italian film, television, and theater actor
Wikipedia - Guillermo Capobianco Ribera -- Bolivian lawyer, writer and politician, ex Minister of Interior..
Wikipedia - Gulf of Guinea -- The northeasternmost part of the tropical Atlantic Ocean from Cape Lopez in Gabon, north and west to Cape Palmas in Liberia
Wikipedia - Gustav Ammann -- Swiss landscape architect
Wikipedia - GV (company) -- Venture capital unit of Alphabet Inc.
Wikipedia - H/2 Capital Partners -- American hedge fund
Wikipedia - Habanero -- Strain of chili (Capsicum)
Wikipedia - Hadena capsincola -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Ha-ha -- Type of wall; recessed landscape design element
Wikipedia - Hahn William Capps
Wikipedia - Hamilton, Bermuda -- Capital of Bermuda
Wikipedia - Handicap (chess)
Wikipedia - Handicap (golf) -- Numerical measure of a golfer's potential playing ability
Wikipedia - Handicap principle
Wikipedia - Handicap (shogi)
Wikipedia - Hangberg -- Neighbourhood of Hout Bay in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Hangklip Sand Fynbos -- Vegetation type endemic to the southern coastal portion of the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Hannibal Hamlin (Tefft) -- Bronze sculpture depicting the American attorney and politician of the same name by Charles Tefft, installed at the US Capitol's National Statuary Hall, in Washington, DC
Wikipedia - Hanoi -- Capital of Vietnam
Wikipedia - Hanover Park, Cape Town -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Hanover -- Capital of Lower Saxony, Germany
Wikipedia - Hans-Hermann Hoppe -- German-born American anarcho-capitalist philosopher
Wikipedia - Hantam National Botanical Garden -- Botanical Garden just outside Nieuwoudtville in the Northern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Harare -- Capital of Zimbabwe
Wikipedia - Hardscape -- Hard landscape materials in the built environment structures
Wikipedia - Hardy Caprio -- British singer, songwriter, record producer from South London
Wikipedia - Hargeisa -- capital of Somaliland
Wikipedia - Harlock Saga -- 1990s' manga series starring Captain Harlock
Wikipedia - Harold & Kumar Escape from Guantanamo Bay -- 2008 US stoner comedy film by Jon Hurwitz & Hayden Schlossberg
Wikipedia - Harold Cressy High School -- Public school in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Harold G. Fowler -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Harold Porter National Botanical Garden -- Conservation area at Betty's Bay in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Harrison Point -- Cape in South Georgia and the South Sandwich Islands
Wikipedia - Harry Houdini -- American illusionist, escapologist, and stunt performer
Wikipedia - Harry J. Capehart -- American lawyer, politician, and businessperson
Wikipedia - Harry Potter and the Escape from Gringotts -- Roller coaster at Universal Studios Florida
Wikipedia - Hartford, Connecticut -- Capital of Connecticut
Wikipedia - Hartleyvale Stadium -- Field hockey stadium in Observatory, Cape Town, South Africa
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Wikipedia - Havana -- Capital of Cuba
Wikipedia - Hawaii State Capitol
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Wikipedia - HD 202206 -- Star in the constellation Capricornus
Wikipedia - HDMS FriderichsvM-CM-&rn -- Danish frigate captured by the Royal Navy
Wikipedia - Head (vessel) -- End cap on a cylindrically shaped pressure vessel
Wikipedia - Health Capsules -- Syndicated comic strip
Wikipedia - Heat capacities of the elements (data page)
Wikipedia - Heat capacity
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Wikipedia - Heavy-lift launch vehicle -- Launch vehicle capable of lifting between 20,000 to 50,000 kg into low Earth orbit
Wikipedia - Heavy machine gun -- Machine gun capable of relatively heavy sustained fire
Wikipedia - Hecatera cappa -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Heian Palace -- The original imperial palace of Heian-kyM-EM-^M, the capital of Japan
Wikipedia - Heideveld -- Suburb of Athlone, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Heinz Schnabel and Harry Wappler escape attempt -- Escape attempt by two WWII prisoners of war
Wikipedia - Helderberg Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area in the Western Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Helderberg Mountain -- Part of the Hottentots-Holland mountain range in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Helderberg Nature Reserve -- Nature reserve in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Helena, Montana -- State capital city in Montana, United States
Wikipedia - Helen Mabel Trevor -- Northern Irish landscape and genre painter
Wikipedia - Helen Sauls-August -- Speaker of the Eastern Cape Provincial Legislature
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Wikipedia - Henrietta Phipps -- British landscape gardener
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Wikipedia - Henry Capell (died 1558) -- English politician
Wikipedia - Henry Capell (MP for Hertfordshire) -- 16th-century English politician
Wikipedia - Henry D. Fitch -- Sea captain and trader
Wikipedia - Henry Every -- English captain and pirate
Wikipedia - Henry John Boddington -- English landscape painter
Wikipedia - Henry Ninham -- English landscape artist, engraver, and heraldic painter
Wikipedia - Henry Powell (governor) -- English settler, captain, and planter
Wikipedia - Henry Timberlake (merchant adventurer) -- English ship captain and merchant adventurer
Wikipedia - Henry William Burgess -- English landscape painter
Wikipedia - Henry Wright (planner) -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Heptacodium -- Monotypic genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Here Is Germany -- 1945 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Her Escape (film) -- 1914 film
Wikipedia - Heritage Western Cape -- Provincial heritage resources authority of South Africa
Wikipedia - Herman Cappelen -- Norwegian philosopher
Wikipedia - Herman Lehmann -- White captive, adopted son of Quanah Parker
Wikipedia - Hermann, Furst von Puckler-Muskau -- German nobleman, landscape artist and travel writer (1785-1871)
Wikipedia - Hermann Pleuer -- German Impressionist and landscape artist
Wikipedia - Hermenegildo Capelo -- Portuguese Naval officer and explorer
Wikipedia - Hernandez-Capron Trail -- Long-distance hiking trail in the United States
Wikipedia - Heroscape
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Wikipedia - Hex River Mountains -- Mountain range in the Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Hezi Shai -- Israeli soldier, captive in the 1982 Lebanon War
Wikipedia - H.I.G. Capital -- US private equity and alternative assets investment firm
Wikipedia - Higgovale, Cape Town -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
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Wikipedia - High-capacity magazine ban -- a law that restricts magazine capacity in firearms
Wikipedia - High Capacity Metro Trains -- Electric trains in use in Melbourne, Australia
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Wikipedia - Hilarion Capucci
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Wikipedia - Hippopedon capito -- Species of grasshopper
Wikipedia - His Captive Woman -- 1929 film
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Wikipedia - History of capitalism -- Review of the economic system of capitalism.
Wikipedia - History of capitalist theory
Wikipedia - History of Columbus, Ohio -- History of the capital of Ohio, United States
Wikipedia - History of Dhaka -- History of the capital city of Bangladesh
Wikipedia - History of private equity and venture capital
Wikipedia - History of the Australian Capital Territory -- History of the Australian region
Wikipedia - History of the Cape Colony from 1806 to 1870 -- History of the first European colony in South Africa (1806-1870)
Wikipedia - History of the Cape Colony from 1870 to 1899 -- History of the first European colony in South Africa (1870-1899)
Wikipedia - History of the Jews in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Hluleka Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area in the Eastern Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Hluleka Nature Reserve -- Nature reserve in Eastern Cape Province, South Africa
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Wikipedia - HMS Caprice -- Destroyer of the Royal Navy, U.K.
Wikipedia - HMS Halsted (K556) -- Captain-class frigate
Wikipedia - HMS Mandarin (1810) -- Dutch gun-brig captured by the British Royal Navy
Wikipedia - Holographic principle -- Physics inside a bounded region is fully captured by physics at the boundary of the region
Wikipedia - Home Free (group) -- American a cappella group
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Wikipedia - Homodihydrocapsaicin
Wikipedia - Honeysuckle -- genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Honolulu -- State capital city in Hawaii, United States
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Wikipedia - Hospital Bend -- A major freeway junction in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Hotel de la Capitainerie des Chasses -- Historic Monument in Villejuif, France
Wikipedia - Hottentots Holland Mountains -- Mountain range in the Western Cape, South Africa.
Wikipedia - House of Capet -- Rulers of the Kingdom of France from 987 to 1328
Wikipedia - Hout Bay -- seaside suburb of Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Hovercraft -- Vehicle capable of movement within ground effect at speed or stationary over all surfaces
Wikipedia - How Long, Not Long -- MLK'S speech at the Alabama State Capitol after the Selma to Montgomery marches
Wikipedia - Huang Ding -- Chinese landscape painter and poet
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Wikipedia - Huey Long (Keck) -- Bronze sculpture of Huey Long by Charles Keck, installed in the United States Capitol, in Washington, DC
Wikipedia - Hugh Capet
Wikipedia - Hugh the Great -- Duke of the Franks, Count of Paris and ancestor of the Capetian dynasty
Wikipedia - Human Capital (2019 film) -- 2019 film directed by Marc Meyers
Wikipedia - Human capital flight -- Emigration of highly skilled or well-educated individuals
Wikipedia - Human Capital Index -- Human Capital Index
Wikipedia - Human capital -- Economics concept involving knowledge, skills, and training
Wikipedia - Human intelligence -- Intellectual capacity of humans
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Wikipedia - Human overpopulation -- Condition where human numbers exceed the short or long-term carrying capacity of the environment
Wikipedia - Humphry Repton -- British landscape designer
Wikipedia - Hundred Days -- Period from Napoleon's escape from Elba to the second restoration of King Louis XVIII
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Wikipedia - Hypocapnia -- A state of reduced carbon dioxide in the blood
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Wikipedia - Ilheu Branco -- Island of Cape Verde
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Wikipedia - Ilheu Derrubado -- Uninhabited islet in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Ilheu de Santa Maria -- Uninhabited island in Cape Verde
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Wikipedia - Immune tolerance -- State of unresponsiveness of the immune system to substances or tissue that have the capacity to elicit an immune response
Wikipedia - I'm on My Way (Captain & Tennille song) -- 1978 song by Captain & Tennille
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Wikipedia - Imperialism, the Highest Stage of Capitalism -- Book by Vladimir Lenin
Wikipedia - Incapacitation (penology) -- One of the functions of punishment
Wikipedia - Incapacity Benefit -- A welfare benefit in the United Kingdom
Wikipedia - Incapsula -- American cloud-based application delivery platform
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Wikipedia - Independent Party of the Community of the Cap-Vert Peninsula -- Political party in Senegal
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Wikipedia - Indianapolis -- State capital and Consolidated City County in the United States
Wikipedia - Indiana Statehouse -- State capitol building of the U.S. state of Indiana
Wikipedia - Indigo-capped hummingbird -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Indrapura (Champa) -- Cham capital
Wikipedia - Industrial society -- Society driven by the use of technology to enable mass production, supporting a large population with a high capacity for division of labour
Wikipedia - Information capacity of the universe
Wikipedia - Infraglenoid tubercle -- Part of the scapula from which the long head of the triceps brachii originates
Wikipedia - Ingram Capper -- British sports shooter
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Wikipedia - Innsbruck -- Capital city of Tyrol, Austria
Wikipedia - In-Q-Tel -- American defense industry venture capital firm
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Wikipedia - Inscape (Copland) -- 1967 musical composition for orchestra by Aaron Copland
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Wikipedia - Intercapperia -- Monotypic genus of plume moths
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Wikipedia - Internet Initiatives Development Fund -- Russian venture capital fund
Wikipedia - Intervention AUV -- Type of autonomous underwater vehicle capable of autonomous interventions
Wikipedia - Invasion of the Cape Colony -- British military expedition in 1795 against the Dutch Cape Colony at the Cape of Good Hope
Wikipedia - Inverted relief -- Landscape features that have reversed their elevation relative to other features
Wikipedia - Investment Capital Ukraine -- Financial company in Kiev
Wikipedia - Investor -- Person who allocates capital with the expectation of a financial return
Wikipedia - Ionic order -- Order of classical architecture characterized by the use of volutes in the capital and a base moulding on the columns
Wikipedia - Iota Capricorni -- Star in the constellation Capricornus
Wikipedia - I piaceri dello scapolo -- 1960 film
Wikipedia - Iracema (1917 film) -- 1917 film directed by Vittorio Capellaro
Wikipedia - Iridomyrmex cappoinclinus -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Iris bicapitata -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Iris Capital -- French venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Irish Grand National -- Irish National Hunt steeplechase handicap horse race held at Fairyhouse racecourse annually
Wikipedia - Irma Capece Minutolo -- Italian former opera singer
Wikipedia - Irving Place Capital -- American private equity firm
Wikipedia - Irving Wiltsie -- US Navy Captain, Recipient of the Navy Cross
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Wikipedia - Isango Ensemble -- Cape Town based theatre company
Wikipedia - Iseut de Capio -- Trobairitz
Wikipedia - ISIL beheading incidents -- Decapitation by Islamic State of Iraq and the Levant
Wikipedia - Islamabad Capital Territory -- Federal territory of Pakistan
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Wikipedia - Island Row -- album by Capitol K
Wikipedia - Isle of Escape -- 1930 film
Wikipedia - Issa, Ghana -- District Capital in Upper West Region, Ghana
Wikipedia - ISSpresso -- ISSpresso is the first capsule espresso coffee machine for use in space and not only on the ground, produced for the International Space Station by Argotec and Lavazza in a public-private partnership with the Italian Space Agency (ASI)
Wikipedia - Istvan Capusta -- Romanian sprint canoeist
Wikipedia - Iteomyia capreae -- Species of fly
Wikipedia - Itha Oru Snehagatha -- 1997 film by Captain Raju
Wikipedia - It Happened One Night -- 1934 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - It's a Wonderful Life -- 1946 film directed by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Ivan Shishkin -- Russian landscape painter
Wikipedia - Ivisan -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Ivor Caplin -- British Labour Party politician
Wikipedia - Iziko South African Museum -- A South African national museum in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Jabberwocks -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - Jack Sheppard -- English thief and prison escapee
Wikipedia - Jacob B. Warlow -- American police captain
Wikipedia - Jacob George Strutt -- British landscape painter and engraver
Wikipedia - Jacob Koninck -- Dutch landscape painter
Wikipedia - Jacob Thompson (painter) -- English landscape painter
Wikipedia - Jacobus Capitein -- Afro-Dutch missionary
Wikipedia - Jacob van Ruisdael -- Dutch landscape painter and engraver ( c. 1629 - 1682)
Wikipedia - Jacques-Cartier River -- River of Capitale-Nationale (Quebec, Canada)
Wikipedia - Jakarta -- Capital of Indonesia
Wikipedia - Jalzicaphaenops -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - James Anderson (sea captain) -- British captain of the SS Great Eastern
Wikipedia - James Cappleman -- American politician
Wikipedia - James Giles (painter) -- Scottish painter and landscape architect
Wikipedia - James Gordon Partridge Bisset -- British merchant navy captain
Wikipedia - James Killick -- British sea captain
Wikipedia - Jamestown, Saint Helena -- Capital and chief port of Saint Helena
Wikipedia - James Vincenzo Capone -- American sharpshooter and prohibition agent
Wikipedia - Jamindan -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Jane Street Capital -- Proprietary trading firm
Wikipedia - Japanese Lantern Monument -- Memorial in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Japanese Surrendered Personnel -- Designation for captive Japanese soldiers after World War II
Wikipedia - Javier Perez-Capdevila
Wikipedia - J. D. Vance -- American author and venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot -- 19th-century French landscape painter and printmaker
Wikipedia - Jean-Baptiste Capefigue -- French historian
Wikipedia - Jean-Baptiste Capronnier
Wikipedia - Jean Capelle (politician) -- French politician
Wikipedia - Jean-Francois-Marie de Surville -- 18th-century French explorer and merchant captain
Wikipedia - Jean-Lin Lacapelle -- French politician
Wikipedia - Jeanne Cappe -- Belgian journalist and author
Wikipedia - Jennie Caputo -- American gymnast
Wikipedia - Jennings Handicap top three finishers -- List of horse race results
Wikipedia - Jenny Lee (venture capitalist) -- Singaporean venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Jenny (orangutan) -- Orangutan kept in captivity in London Zoo during the 1830s
Wikipedia - Jerry Capeci -- American journalist and author
Wikipedia - Jerry Colonna (financier) -- American venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Jessica Capshaw -- American actress
Wikipedia - J.H. Whitney & Company -- American venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Jil Caplan -- French singer and songwriter
Wikipedia - Jim Breyer -- American venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Jim Capaldi -- English musician and songwriter
Wikipedia - Jim Caple -- American sportswriter
Wikipedia - Jim Henson (escaped slave) -- Former slave
Wikipedia - Joachim Haspinger -- Capuchin priest and Tyrolean Rebellion leader
Wikipedia - Joan Capri -- Catalan actor and humorist
Wikipedia - Joan Jameson -- Irish artist, known for her still life, figure and landscape painting
Wikipedia - Joao Baptista Ferreira Medina -- Cape Verdean politician
Wikipedia - Joao Capiberibe -- Brazilian politician
Wikipedia - Joao Felix Capucho -- Portuguese sailor
Wikipedia - Joao Grande -- Brazilian capoeira practitioner
Wikipedia - Joao Lopes Filho -- Cape Verdean anthropologist, historian, university professor, novelist, and investigator
Wikipedia - Joaquim Vayreda -- Spanish landscape painter
Wikipedia - Joaquin Capilla -- Mexican diver
Wikipedia - Joe Cappelletti -- American voice actor
Wikipedia - Joellyn Duesberry -- American landscape painter
Wikipedia - Joe Slovo Park -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Joey Cape -- American singer, songwriter and producer
Wikipedia - Johannes Capreolus
Wikipedia - Johannes Joseph Destree -- Belgian landscape artist
Wikipedia - John Appleton Brown -- American landscape painter
Wikipedia - John Babbacombe Lee -- British murderer who escaped execution
Wikipedia - John Bird (artist) -- Welsh landscape artist
Wikipedia - John Butts -- Irish landscape painter (1728-1764)
Wikipedia - John Caparulo -- American stand-up comedian
Wikipedia - John Capgrave
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Wikipedia - John Caplyn (died c. 1569) -- English politician
Wikipedia - John Caplyn (died c. 1603) -- English politician
Wikipedia - John Capodice -- American character actor
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Wikipedia - John Cushnie -- British landscape designer, author, journalist, and broadcaster
Wikipedia - John Davies (photographer) -- British landscape photographer
Wikipedia - John D. Caputo bibliography -- Wikipedia bibliography
Wikipedia - John D. Caputo -- American philosopher
Wikipedia - John Gully (artist) -- New Zealand landscape painter
Wikipedia - John H. Ebersole -- American pioneer in submarine medicine and radiation oncology, Captain US Navy
Wikipedia - John H. Sterrett -- Texas ship captain and investor
Wikipedia - John O'Farrell (venture capitalist) -- Irish venture capitalist
Wikipedia - John of Capistrano -- patron saint of military chaplains
Wikipedia - John of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - John Parker (captain) -- American colonial farmer, smith and soldier
Wikipedia - John Slade (merchant) -- Canadian sea captain, shipowner, and merchant
Wikipedia - John Walton Capstick -- Bursar of Trinity College, Cambridge
Wikipedia - John Wesley Wright -- Irish-born Royal Navy commander, and army captain
Wikipedia - Jolo, Sulu -- Capital of Sulu province, Philippines
Wikipedia - Jonathan Capehart -- American journalist and television personality
Wikipedia - Jonathan Cape
Wikipedia - Jonathan Goodwin (escapologist) -- Escapologist from Wales, UK
Wikipedia - Jonathan M. Wainwright (general) -- American WWII army general captured by Japanese
Wikipedia - Jonkershoek Nature Reserve -- Nature reserve in the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Jordan, Guimaras -- Municipality of the Philippines and capital of the province of Guimaras
Wikipedia - Jordan II of Capua
Wikipedia - Jordan I of Capua
Wikipedia - Josef Capek -- Czech painter and writer
Wikipedia - Joseph Capriati -- Italian electronic music producer and DJ
Wikipedia - Joseph Capus -- French politician
Wikipedia - Joseph Hawley (captain) -- Town clerk of Stratford, Connecticut
Wikipedia - Joseph LaBarge -- US steamboat captain
Wikipedia - Joseph Throckmorton -- American steamship captain
Wikipedia - Jose Raul Capablanca -- Cuban chess player, former World chess champion
Wikipedia - Josh Beames -- Australian landscape photographer
Wikipedia - Josh Capon -- American chef and television personality
Wikipedia - Jost Capito -- German Motorsport manager
Wikipedia - J. Russell Capps -- American politician
Wikipedia - Juan Ortiz (captive) -- Spaniard held captive in Florida
Wikipedia - Juba -- Capital of South Sudan
Wikipedia - Julian Rix -- American landscape artist
Wikipedia - Julie Bargmann -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Julio Capote -- Cuban actor
Wikipedia - Julio Silvao Tavares -- Cape Verdean filmmaker
Wikipedia - June 1962 Alcatraz escape attempt -- Attempt by John and Clarence Angelin, Allen West, and Frank Morris to escape Alcatraz
Wikipedia - June Caprice -- American actress
Wikipedia - Jupiter Capital Private Limited -- Companies based in Bangalore, India
Wikipedia - Juxtacapillary receptors
Wikipedia - KalaimanokahoM-JM-;owaha -- High chief of Hawai'i during Captain James Cook's visit
Wikipedia - Kaleidescape -- High-fidelity movie content source for home cinema
Wikipedia - Kalk Bay -- Fishing village on the coast of False Bay, and a suburb of Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Kampala -- Capital of Uganda
Wikipedia - Karen M'Closkey -- landscape architect and associate professor
Wikipedia - Karin Stahre-Janson -- Swedish cruise ship captain
Wikipedia - Karl Bremer Hospital -- Hospital in Bellville, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Karl Friedrich Lessing -- German historical and landscape painter (1808-1880)
Wikipedia - Karoo National Park -- A wildlife reserve in the Great Karoo area of the Western Cape, South Africa near Beaufort West
Wikipedia - Kaspar Capparoni -- Italian actor
Wikipedia - Kate Bingham -- British venture capital manager
Wikipedia - Kate Capshaw -- American actress
Wikipedia - Kate McCue -- American cruise ship captain (born 1978)
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Wikipedia - Kathmandu -- Capital of Nepal
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Wikipedia - Kathryn P. Hire -- NASA astronaut and Captain in the U.S. Navy Reserve
Wikipedia - Katsina -- Capital of Katsina State, Nigeria
Wikipedia - Kauniainen -- town in the Capital Region of Greater Helsinki, Finland
Wikipedia - Kayak roll -- Method for righting a capsized kayak
Wikipedia - Kazan -- Capital of Tatarstan, Russia
Wikipedia - KBSI -- Fox affiliate in Cape Girardeau, Missouri
Wikipedia - Keith Caple -- Australian weightlifter
Wikipedia - Kenilworth Racecourse Conservation Area -- Nature reserve in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Kentani -- Place in Eastern Cape
Wikipedia - Kentucky Handicap -- 1926 film by Harry Joe Brown
Wikipedia - Kenwyn, Cape Town -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Kepi -- Flat circular cap with a visor
Wikipedia - Keurboom Park -- Park in Rondebosch, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Kevin Keene -- Fictional character in the "Captain N" TV series
Wikipedia - KeyBanc Capital Markets
Wikipedia - KFVS-TV -- CBS affiliate in Cape Girardeau, Missouri
Wikipedia - Khartoum -- Capital of Sudan
Wikipedia - Khayelitsha -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Kiel -- German city, capital of Schleswig-Holstein
Wikipedia - Kigali -- Capital of Rwanda
Wikipedia - Killarney Motor Racing Complex -- Motor racing complex in Milnerton Rural, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Killing of captives by ISIL
Wikipedia - Kimberley, Northern Cape -- Place in Northern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Kimberly Hampton -- United States Army Captain
Wikipedia - Kingdom of Cappadocia
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Wikipedia - King-in-Council -- Constitutional monarch in an executive capacity
Wikipedia - Kingston, Jamaica -- Capital and chief port of Jamaica
Wikipedia - Kingstown -- Capital and chief port of Saint Vincent and the Grenadines
Wikipedia - Kinshasa -- Capital of the Democratic Republic of the Congo
Wikipedia - Kippah -- Skullcap traditionally worn by Jewish men to cover the head
Wikipedia - Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden -- Botanical garden at the foot of Table Mountain in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Klapa Fa LinM-DM-^Qo -- A cappella singing group
Wikipedia - Kleiner Perkins -- American venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Kloof Nek Road -- Road from Cape Town city centre area to Camps Bay
Wikipedia - KMHM -- Radio station in Lewisville-Cape Girardeau, Missouri
Wikipedia - KMWB -- Radio station in Captain Cook, Hawaii
Wikipedia - Knautia arvensis -- Species of flowering plant in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Knautia -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Kneecap (band) -- Irish hip hop group
Wikipedia - Kneecapping -- Form of malicious wounding or torture to the knee, usually by gunshot
Wikipedia - Knee -- Region around the kneecap
Wikipedia - Knit cap -- Headwear
Wikipedia - Knowledge worker -- Worker whose main capital is knowledge
Wikipedia - Know Your Enemy: Japan -- 1945 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Knut (polar bear) -- A polar bear born in captivity at the Berlin Zoological Garden
Wikipedia - Kocapinar, Gonen -- Village in Turkey
Wikipedia - Kofia (hat) -- Brimless cylindrical cap with a flat crown
Wikipedia - Kogelbeen Cave -- Cave in Northern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Kogelberg Nature Reserve -- Protected area in the Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Kogelberg Sandstone Fynbos -- Vegetation type endemic to the far south of the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Kolkata -- Formerly Calcutta, capital city of West Bengal, India
Wikipedia - Kommetjie -- Seaside suburb of Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Krupp armour -- A type of steel armour used in the construction of capital ships
Wikipedia - Kuala Lumpur -- Capital of Malaysia
Wikipedia - Kuching -- City and state capital in Sarawak, Malaysia
Wikipedia - Kulhudhuffushi -- capital of Haa Dhaalu Atoll, Maldives
Wikipedia - KUOP -- CapRadio public radio station in Stockton, California
Wikipedia - Kurloff cell -- Cells found in the blood and organs of guinea pigs and capybara
Wikipedia - Kuwait City -- Capital of Kuwait
Wikipedia - KwaZulu-Cape coastal forest mosaic -- Subtropical moist broadleaf forest ecoregion of South Africa
Wikipedia - KWKZ -- Radio station in Cape Girardeau, Missouri
Wikipedia - KXJZ -- CapRadio public radio station in Sacramento, California
Wikipedia - Kyiv -- Capital of Ukraine
Wikipedia - La Belle captive -- 1983 film
Wikipedia - Labia Theatre -- Cinema in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - La Boheme (1916 film) -- 1916 film by Albert Capellani
Wikipedia - Labour and Solidarity Party -- Political party in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Lac a la Chute -- Lake in Capitale-Nationale, Quebec, Canada
Wikipedia - La Capelle-Balaguier -- Commune in Occitanie, France
Wikipedia - Lacapelle-Barres -- Commune in Auvergne-Rhone-Alpes, France
Wikipedia - La Capelle-Bleys -- Commune in Occitanie, France
Wikipedia - La Capelle-Bonance -- Commune in Occitanie, France
Wikipedia - Lacapelle-del-Fraisse -- Commune in Auvergne-Rhone-Alpes, France
Wikipedia - La Capelle-et-Masmolene -- Commune in Occitanie, France
Wikipedia - Lacapelle-Viescamp -- Commune in Auvergne-Rhone-Alpes, France
Wikipedia - Lac des Roches -- Lake in Capitale-Nationale, Quebec, Canada
Wikipedia - Lac la Retenue -- Lake in Capitale-Nationale, Quebec, Canada
Wikipedia - Lac Sainte-Anne du Nord -- Lake in Capitale-Nationale, Quebec, Canada
Wikipedia - Lady Capulet (horse) -- American Thoroughbred racehorse
Wikipedia - Lady for a Day -- 1933 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Lady Madcap -- Edwardian musical comedy composed by Paul Rubens
Wikipedia - Ladysmith Black Mambazo -- South African male a capella ensemble
Wikipedia - Lafayette Park Historic District -- Neighborhood in central Albany, New York, where state capitol, city hall and county courthouse are located
Wikipedia - La festival de Capisterre -- Annual festival in Capisterre, St. Kitts
Wikipedia - Lahore -- Capital of Punjab, Pakistan
Wikipedia - Laissez-faire capitalism
Wikipedia - Lama Lama people -- Aboriginal Australian people of the eastern Cape York Peninsula in northern Queensland
Wikipedia - Lampronia capitella -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Landing Zones 1 and 2 -- SpaceX's landing facility at Cape Canaveral Air Force Station
Wikipedia - Landscape After the Battle -- 1970 film
Wikipedia - Landscape archaeology -- Archaeological sub-discipline
Wikipedia - Landscape architecture
Wikipedia - Landscape architect
Wikipedia - Landscape assessment
Wikipedia - Landscape design
Wikipedia - Landscape ecology -- The science of relationships between ecological processes in the environment and particular ecosystems
Wikipedia - Landscape Express -- CAD software application
Wikipedia - Landscape genetics -- Combination of population genetics and landscape ecology
Wikipedia - Landscape history -- Study of the way in which humanity has changed the physical appearance of the environment
Wikipedia - Landscape (Jan Brueghel the Elder and de Momper) -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Landscape limnology -- The spatially explicit study of lakes, streams, and wetlands as they interact with freshwater, terrestrial, and human landscapes to determine the effects of pattern on ecosystem processes across temporal and spatial scales
Wikipedia - Landscape maintenance
Wikipedia - Landscape Near Figueras -- Painting by Salvador Dali
Wikipedia - Landscape painting -- Depiction of landscapes in art
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Wikipedia - Landscape photography
Wikipedia - Landscape planning
Wikipedia - Landscape-scale conservation -- Holistic approach to landscape management
Wikipedia - Landscape (software) -- Systems management tool developed by Canonical
Wikipedia - Landscape Suicide -- 1987 crime and drama film by James Benning
Wikipedia - Landscape
Wikipedia - Landscape with a Church at Twilight -- Painting by Vincent van Gogh
Wikipedia - Landscape with a Mountain Pass -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Landscape with Animals -- painting by Philip James de Loutherbourg
Wikipedia - Landscape with a Pig and a Horse -- 1903 painting by Paul Gauguin
Wikipedia - Landscape with Ascanius Shooting the Stag of Sylvia
Wikipedia - Landscape with a View of the Sea at Sunset -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Landscape with a Windmill -- painting by Jacob van Ruisdael
Wikipedia - Landscape with Dunes -- Painting by Vincent van Gogh
Wikipedia - Landscape with Grotto and a Rider -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Landscape with Grotto -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Landscape with Pollard Willows -- Painting by Vincent van Gogh
Wikipedia - Landscape with Sea and Mountains -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Landscape with Skaters -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Landscape with Sky -- Painting by Henri-Edmond Cross (Henri-Edmond Delacroix)
Wikipedia - Landscape with Snow -- Painting by Vincent van Gogh
Wikipedia - Landscape with St Paula of Rome Embarking at Ostia -- 1639-1640 painting by Claude Lorrain
Wikipedia - Landscape with the Burial of St Serapia -- 1639-1640 painting by Claude Lorrain
Wikipedia - Landscape with the Fall of Icarus (de Momper) -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Landscape with the Flight into Egypt (Bruegel) -- Painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder
Wikipedia - Landscape with the Flight into Egypt (Carracci) -- Painting by Annibale Carracci
Wikipedia - Landscape with the Flight into Egypt (Patinir) -- Painting by Joachim Patinir
Wikipedia - Landscape with the Temptation of Christ -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Landscape with the Temptation of St Anthony (Savery) -- Painting by Roelandt Savery
Wikipedia - Landscape with Three Figures -- Painting by Nicolas Poussin
Wikipedia - Landscape with Tobias and Raphael -- 1639-40 painting by Claude Lorrain
Wikipedia - Landscape with Tobias and the Angel (Rosa) -- Painting by Salvator Rosa
Wikipedia - Landscape with Trees -- Painting by Vincent van Gogh
Wikipedia - Landscape with Venus and Adonis -- Painting by Paul Bril
Wikipedia - Landscaping
Wikipedia - Langebaan Lagoon Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area in the Langebaan lagoon in the Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Langholm Capital -- British private equity firm
Wikipedia - Language -- Capacity to communicate using signs, such as words or gestures
Wikipedia - Lansdowne, Cape Town -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Lansing, Michigan -- Capital city of Michigan
Wikipedia - La Paz -- Capital of Bolivia
Wikipedia - Lapland Granulite Belt -- Zone of granulite rock in the Cap of the North in Norway, Finland and Murmansk Oblast in Russia
Wikipedia - Large-group capacitation
Wikipedia - Large Mountain Landscape -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - La Scapigliata -- Painting by Leonardo Da Vinci
Wikipedia - Last use of capital punishment in Spain -- Executions carried out in 1975 in Spain
Wikipedia - Late capitalism
Wikipedia - Latin Empire -- Feudal Crusader state (1204-1261) founded by the leaders of the Fourth Crusade on lands captured from the Byzantine Empire
Wikipedia - Launch capsule -- naval weapon device
Wikipedia - Laura Deming -- Venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Laurent Capelluto -- Belgian actor
Wikipedia - Lausanne -- Capital city of the canton of Vaud, Switzerland
Wikipedia - Lazard Capital Markets -- American full-service broker dealer
Wikipedia - Lazare Bruandet -- French landscape painter
Wikipedia - L Catterton -- Venture capital and private equity firm
Wikipedia - LCR meter -- Electronic test equipment that measures inductance, capacitance, and resistance
Wikipedia - Leak -- Method of fluid escaping containment
Wikipedia - Le cap perdu -- 1931 film
Wikipedia - Le Caprice -- Restaurant in Mayfair, London
Wikipedia - Lecithocera capnaula -- Species of moth in the genus Lecithocera
Wikipedia - Lee Fixel -- American venture capitalist and investor
Wikipedia - Leeuwenhof -- Official residence of the Premier of the Western Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Leiningerland -- An historic landscape in the Palatinate region in the German federal state of Rhineland-Palatinate
Wikipedia - Leonardo Capotosti -- Italian hurdler
Wikipedia - Leonardo DiCaprio -- American actor and producer
Wikipedia - Leo von Caprivi
Wikipedia - Lepisiota capensis -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Leptomyrmex dolichoscapus -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Les Charbonniers de l'enfer -- Canadian a cappella folk music group
Wikipedia - Les collines d'Anacapri -- 1909 musical composition by Claude Debussy
Wikipedia - Les Escapades -- German chamber music ensemble
Wikipedia - Leucadendron coniferum -- The dune conebush is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucadendron microcephalum -- Species of shrub in the family Proteaceae, endemic to the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucadendron salignum -- The common sunshine conebush is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Cape provinces of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum arenarium -- Species of srub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum bolusii -- The GordenM-bM-^@M-^Ys Bay pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum calligerum -- The arid pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Northern and Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum catherinae -- The Catherine-wheel pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum conocarpodendron -- The tree pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum cordatum -- The heart-leaf pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum cordifolium -- The ornamental pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum formosum -- The silverleaf-wheel pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum gracile -- The Hermanus pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum grandiflorum -- The greyleaf fountain-pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum gueinzii -- The kloof fountain-pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum hamatum -- The Ruitersbos pincushion is a prostrate shrublet in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum harpagonatum -- The McGregor pincushion is a prostrate shrublet in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum heterophyllum -- The trident pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum innovans -- The Pondoland pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Eastern Cape and Kwazulu-Natal in South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum lineare -- The needle-leaf pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum muirii -- The Albertinia pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum mundii -- The Langeberg pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum oleifolium -- The flame pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum parile -- The Malmesbury pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum patersonii -- The silveredge pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum praecox -- The Mossel Bay pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum praemorsum -- The Nardouw fountain-pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum prostratum -- The yellow-trailing pincushion is a trailing shrublet in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum reflexum -- The rocket pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum saxatile -- The Karoo pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum secundifolium -- The stalked pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum tomentosum -- The Saldanha pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum tottum -- The elegant pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum truncatulum -- The oval-leaf pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum vestitum -- Species of shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum winteri -- The Riversdale pincushion is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leucospermum wittebergense -- Species of shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Leuven -- Capital of Flemish Brabant province, Belgium
Wikipedia - Lewis Capaldi -- Scottish singer-songwriter
Wikipedia - Leycesteria -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - LGBT rights in Cape Verde -- Rights of LGBT people in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Libby Prison escape -- Richmond, Virginia Prison Escape
Wikipedia - Liberal capitalism
Wikipedia - Libertarian capitalism
Wikipedia - Libertarian perspectives on capital punishment
Wikipedia - Liberty Cap half cent -- First half cents produced by the United States Mint
Wikipedia - Liberty pole -- Tall wooden pole surmounted by a Phrygian cap
Wikipedia - Libor Capalini -- Czech modern pentathlete
Wikipedia - Libreville -- Capital of Gabon
Wikipedia - Liesbeek River -- River in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Li'l Abner -- 1934-1977 American comic strip by Al Capp
Wikipedia - Lilian Davidson -- Irish landscape and portrait artist, teacher and writer
Wikipedia - Lilongwe -- Capital of Malawi
Wikipedia - Lima -- Capital of Peru
Wikipedia - Lincoln Sea -- A part of the Arctic Ocean from Cape Columbia, Canada, in the west to Cape Morris Jesup, Greenland, in the east
Wikipedia - Linden, Guyana -- Town and regional capital in Upper Demerara-Berbice, Guyana
Wikipedia - Lindsay Hassett with the Australian cricket team in England in 1948 -- Contributions of Australian vice-captain
Wikipedia - Line 3 Scarborough -- Medium-capacity rail line in Toronto, Canada
Wikipedia - Link aggregation -- Using multiple network connections in parallel to increase capacity and reliability
Wikipedia - Linnaea amabilis -- Species of flowering plant in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Linnaea chinensis -- species of plant in the family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Linnaea floribunda -- species of plant in the family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Linnda R. Caporael -- Professor
Wikipedia - Linz -- Capital city of Upper Austria, Austria
Wikipedia - Lion Capital LLP -- British private equity firm
Wikipedia - Lions Gate Chorus -- A cappella chorus
Wikipedia - Lion's Head (Cape Town) -- A mountain in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Lisbon -- Capital of Portugal
Wikipedia - List of Afghanistan national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of AFL Women's premiership captains and coaches -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of African countries by GDP (PPP) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of African stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of airlines of Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of airports in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of airports in the Cape Town area -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of airports with triple takeoff/landing capability -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ajax Cape Town F.C. players -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Allied airmen from the Great Escape -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of alumni of collegiate a cappella groups -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of alumni of the University of Cape Town -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of anti-capitalist and communist parties with national parliamentary representation -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Antrim senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of artificial objects escaping from the Solar System
Wikipedia - List of Asian countries by GDP (PPP) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Asian stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Australia national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Australia national netball team captains -- Australia netball captains
Wikipedia - List of Australia national rugby union team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Australia national soccer team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Australian capital cities -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Australian rugby union stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Bangladesh national cricket captains -- wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of banks in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Bermuda cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Big Bash League captains -- Cricket captain list
Wikipedia - List of birds of Azibo Reservoir Protected Landscape -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of birds of Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Boavista FC (Cape Verde) players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of bordering countries with greatest relative differences in GDP (PPP) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Boston Red Sox captains -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Brisbane Bears captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Brisbane Lions captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of British whalers captured in the Pacific by the vessels of Captain David Porter, USN (1813) -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Canada national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Canada national ice hockey team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of capacitor manufacturers -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Capcom games -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cape Air destinations -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cape Canaveral and Merritt Island launch sites -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of capes of Turkey -- list of capes in Turkey
Wikipedia - List of Cape Verdean records in athletics -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cape Verdean records in swimming -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cape Verdeans -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cape Wrath characters -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of capital cities by elevation -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of capital ships of minor navies -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of capital ships of Sweden -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of capitals in Japan -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of capitals in Malaysia -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of capitals in the United States -- List of capital cities in the United States of America
Wikipedia - List of capitals of India -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of capitals outside the territories they serve -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Capital University people -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Capnia species -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Caponiidae species -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Caprimulgiformes by population -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Capsicum cultivars -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Capsicum diseases -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Capstone Software games -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Captain America enemies
Wikipedia - List of Captain America titles -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Captain Barbell episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of captain-generals of Portuguese Ceylon -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of captain-majors of Portuguese Ceylon -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Captain N: The Game Master episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Captain Planet episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Captains of Deal Castle -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of captains of Portuguese Ceylon -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of captains regent of San Marino -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Captain Tsubasa episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of captive-bred meat animals -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cardcaptor Sakura chapters -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cardcaptor Sakura characters -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cardcaptor Sakura episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cardiff City F.C. captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Carlow senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ceratocapsus species -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Champions League Twenty20 captains -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of chief ministers of Delhi -- Head of government of the National Capital Territory of Delhi, India
Wikipedia - List of Chief Ministers of the Australian Capital Territory by time in office -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Chinese prefecture-level cities by GDP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of cities by GDP (PPP) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Clare senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of closed stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Club Brugge KV captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of colleges and universities in New York's Capital District -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of collegiate a cappella groups in the United States -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of colonial governors of Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of companies of Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cork intermediate hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cork minor hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cork senior camogie team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cork senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Cork under-20 hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of corporations by market capitalization
Wikipedia - List of countries and dependencies and their capitals in native languages -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by alcohol consumption per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by beer consumption per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by carbon dioxide emissions per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by cigarette consumption per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by energy consumption per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by exports per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by financial assets per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by GDP (nominal) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by GDP (PPP) per capita growth rate -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by GDP (PPP) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by GNI (nominal) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by GNI (PPP) per capita -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by government budget per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by greenhouse gas emissions per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by household final consumption expenditure per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by military expenditure per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by milk consumption per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by Nobel laureates per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by past and projected GDP (nominal) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by past and projected GDP (PPP) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by real population density based on food growing capacity -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by tea consumption per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by total health expenditure per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries by vehicles per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of countries with multiple capitals -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of county routes in Cape May County, New Jersey -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of covered stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Creative Capital Grant recipients -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of creditor nations by net international investment position per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of cricket grounds by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of crossings of the Cape Cod Canal -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of current AHL captains -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of current SHL captains and alternate captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Da Capo episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Da Capo II episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of debtor nations by net international investment position per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of decapod crustaceans of Dominica -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of defunct airlines of Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Delhi Capitals cricketers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Delhi Capitals records -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of demonstrations at the University of Cape Town -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Derbyshire County Cricket Club captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of diplomatic missions in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of diplomatic missions of Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Dublin senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Durham cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of East Africa cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of England cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of English rugby league stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of English rugby union stadiums by capacity -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Essex cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of European stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Farscape characters -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Farscape episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of federal subjects of Russia by GDP per capita -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of fictional astronauts (beyond near-future capabilities) -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of first-level administrative country subdivisions by nominal GDP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of flag bearers for Cape Verde at the Olympics -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of forests of the Eastern Cape -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of forests of the Western Cape -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of former national capitals -- Capital cities
Wikipedia - List of French regions and overseas departments by GRP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Galway senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of German states by GRP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gerry Anderson's New Captain Scarlet episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Glamorgan cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gloucestershire cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gold Coast Suns captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Gossip Girl: Acapulco episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Greater Western Sydney Giants captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Hampshire cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of helicopter prison escapes -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of heritage sites in the Bo-Kaap of Cape Town -- Sites recognized by the South African Heritage Resources Agency.
Wikipedia - List of heritage sites near Cape Town -- Sites recognised ny SAHRA
Wikipedia - List of historical capitals of Vietnam
Wikipedia - List of historic places in the Capital Regional District -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Hong Kong cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of horse racing venues by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of hospitals by capacity -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of hospitals in the Australian Capital Territory -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of ice hockey arenas by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of incarnations of Captain America
Wikipedia - List of India national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Indian cities by GDP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Indian field hockey captains in Olympics -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Indian states and union territories by GDP per capita -- Indian states and union territories by NSDP (Net state domestic product) per capita
Wikipedia - List of indoor arenas by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of international rugby league caps for Darren Lockyer -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of international rugby union caps for Brian O'Driscoll -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of international trips made by Zuzana Caputova -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ireland cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Italian regions by GRP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Japanese prefectures by GDP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Kent County Cricket Club captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Kenya national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Kerry senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Kilkenny minor hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Kilkenny senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Lancashire County Cricket Club captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of landscape architects -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of landscape gardens -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Landscape Parks of Poland
Wikipedia - List of Laois senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Leicestershire cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Lepidoptera of Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of lighthouses in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Limerick senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of living legitimate male Capetians -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of mammals of Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of marine animals of the Cape Peninsula and False Bay -- Regional biodiversity species list
Wikipedia - List of Massachusetts locations by per capita income -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of merchant navy capacity by country -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of methods of capital punishment -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Mexican states by GDP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Michigan locations by per capita income -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Middlesex cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ministers of Finance of Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ministers of the Federal Capital Territory (Nigeria) -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of mire landscapes in Switzerland -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of motor racing venues by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of mountain passes of the Eastern Cape -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of mountain passes of the Northern Cape -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of mountain passes of the Western Cape -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of mountains in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of museums in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of museums in the Australian Capital Territory -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Namibia national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of national capital city name etymologies -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of national capitals by area -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of national capitals by population -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of national capitals in East, South, and Southeast Asia -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of national capitals serving as administrative divisions -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of national capitals -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of nature reserves in Cape Town -- List of links to Wikipedia articles in the topic
Wikipedia - List of Nepal national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Netherlands national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of New York Yankees captains -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of New Zealand national cricket captains -- wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of North American countries by GDP (nominal) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of North American countries by GDP (PPP) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of North American stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Northamptonshire cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Oceanian stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of OECD countries by GDP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of OECD regions by GDP (PPP) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Offaly senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Organisation of Islamic Cooperation member states by GDP per capita (PPP) -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Pakistan national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Pakistan Super League captains -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Pennsylvania counties by per capita income -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of people from Cape Breton -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of places named after Captain James Cook -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Podgorica neighbourhoods and suburbs -- Neighbourhoods and suburbs in Podgorica, capital of Montenegro
Wikipedia - List of Polish voivodeships by GRP per capita
Wikipedia - List of political parties in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of PopCap games -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of ports in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of postal codes in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of presidents of Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of prime ministers of Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Princes of Capua -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of prisoner-of-war escapes
Wikipedia - List of prison escapes
Wikipedia - List of professional a cappella groups -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of public corporations by market capitalization
Wikipedia - List of Puerto Rico locations by per capita income -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of purpose-built capitals of country subdivisions -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of purpose-built national capitals -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of regions by past GDP (PPP) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of regions of the United Kingdom by GRP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Rhode Island locations by per capita income -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of road routes in the Australian Capital Territory -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Roman governors of Cappadocia -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of rugby league stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of rugby union stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of rugby union test caps leaders -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of rulers of Cappadocia -- the Achaemenid satraps and Hellenistic kings of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - List of Saudi cities by GDP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Scaphytopius species -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Scaptomyza species -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of SC East Bengal captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of schools in the Australian Capital Territory -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Scotland national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of sea captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of seaweeds of the Cape Peninsula and False Bay -- Regional biodiversity species list
Wikipedia - List of secondary schools in the Western Cape -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Senators from the Australian Capital Territory -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Shia mosques in National Capital Region (India) -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of ships captured in the 18th century -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of ships captured in the 19th century -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of SNK vs. Capcom characters -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Somerset cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of South Africa national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of South Africa national rugby union team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of South African provinces by gross domestic product per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of South American countries by GDP (nominal) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of South American countries by GDP (PPP) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of South American stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of sovereign states in Europe by budget revenues per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of sovereign states in Europe by GDP (nominal) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of sovereign states in Europe by GDP (PPP) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of sovereign states in Europe by GNI (nominal) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of sovereign states in Europe by GNI (PPP) per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of sports events in Cape Town -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of sports venues by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Sri Lanka national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of stadiums in Ireland by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of stadiums in the Nordic countries by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of stadiums in the United Kingdom by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of stadiums in Wales by capacity -- wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Stanford University a cappella groups -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of stars in Capricornus -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of state and territorial capitols in the United States -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of state and union territory capitals in India -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Surrey cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Sussex cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Tasmania cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of the current and former capitals of the subdivisions of China -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of The Epic Tales of Captain Underpants episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of The Irresponsible Captain Tylor episodes -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Tipperary senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Tipperary under-20 hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of track and field stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of train stations on Cape Cod -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of TT Pro League players with international caps -- wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of twin towns and sister cities in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Ukrainian subdivisions by GDP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of universities in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of university a cappella groups in the United Kingdom -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of U.S. metropolitan areas by GDP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of U.S. stadiums by capacity -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of U.S. states and territories by GDP per capita -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of U.S. states by vehicles per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Vancouver Whitecaps FC players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Vancouver Whitecaps Women players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of venture capital firms -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of VFL/AFL premiership captains and coaches -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Wales national rugby union team captains -- wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Washington Capitals award winners -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Washington Capitals broadcasters -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Washington Capitals draft picks -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Washington Capitals general managers -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Washington Capitals head coaches -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Washington Capitals players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Washington Capitals records -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Washington Capitals seasons -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Washington Capitols players -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Waterford senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of West Coast Eagles captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Western Australia cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Western Bulldogs captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of West Indies cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Westmeath senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Wexford senior hurling team captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Worcestershire cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Yorkshire cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - List of Zimbabwe national cricket captains -- Wikimedia list article
Wikipedia - Lists of a cappella groups -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Lists of capitals -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Lists of countries by GDP per capita -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Little Caprice -- Czech pornographic actress
Wikipedia - Little Joe 5A -- Uncrewed test launch of a Mercury capsule
Wikipedia - Little River (Cape Fear River tributary) -- Stream in North Carolina, USA
Wikipedia - Lizzy Caplan -- American actress
Wikipedia - Llandudno, Western Cape -- Seaside town in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Lochholz -- Landscape conservation area in Munich, Germany
Wikipedia - Loco in Acapulco -- 1988 song by the Four Tops
Wikipedia - Loden cape -- Austrian overcoat of dense woollen fabric
Wikipedia - LOGCAP -- Contingency program administered by the US Army
Wikipedia - Logical clock -- Mechanism for capturing chronological and causal relationships
Wikipedia - Lois Capps -- American politician
Wikipedia - Lombardic capitals -- Type of decorative capital letter
Wikipedia - LomM-CM-) -- Capital and chief port of Togo
Wikipedia - London -- Capital of the United Kingdom
Wikipedia - Lone Pine Capital -- American hedge fund
Wikipedia - Longevity escape velocity -- Hypothetical situation in which life expectancy is extended longer than the time that is passing
Wikipedia - Lontong cap go meh -- Indonesian rice dish
Wikipedia - Lootsberg Pass -- Mountain pass in Eastern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Loris Capirossi -- Italian motorcycle racer
Wikipedia - Loris Francesco Capovilla
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Wikipedia - Los Capos Junior -- Professional wrestling group
Wikipedia - Los Capos -- Professional wrestling stable
Wikipedia - Los Caprichos
Wikipedia - Los caprichos -- Series of 80 prints by Francisco Goya
Wikipedia - Lost Horizon (1937 film) -- 1937 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Lost River (Cacapon River tributary) -- River in Hardy County, West Virginia, US
Wikipedia - Louis Capdevielle -- French painter
Wikipedia - Louis Raymond (horticulturalist) -- American landscape and garden designer (born 1954)
Wikipedia - Lourensford Alluvium Fynbos -- Vegetation type that is endemic to Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Lower Cape May Regional High School -- High school in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Lower Silvermine River Wetlands -- A nature reserve on the Cape Peninsula, in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Lower Township, New Jersey -- Township in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Loxopholis caparensis -- Species of lizard
Wikipedia - Luanda -- Capital of Angola
Wikipedia - Lucapina elisae -- Species of mollusc
Wikipedia - Lucapina philippiana -- Species of sea snail
Wikipedia - Lucha Capital -- Lucha Libre AAA Worldwide professional wrestling Facebook Watch program
Wikipedia - Lucia Caporaso -- Italian mathematician & academic
Wikipedia - Lucius Manlius Capitolinus -- Roman Republican consul
Wikipedia - Lucknow -- Metropolis and state capital in Uttar Pradesh, India
Wikipedia - Lucky Dime Caper -- 1991 platform video game
Wikipedia - Luigi Caponaro -- Italian healer
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Wikipedia - Luisa Capetillo -- Puerto Rican labor organizer
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Wikipedia - Luis Santaliz Capestany -- Puerto Rican politician
Wikipedia - Lukas Achtschelling -- Flemish landscape painter
Wikipedia - Lunar escape systems -- Series of proposed emergency spacecraft for the Apollo Program
Wikipedia - Lunascape -- Web browser
Wikipedia - Luneburg Heath -- Landscape, area of heath, geest and woodland in Lower Saxony, Germany
Wikipedia - Lusaka -- Capital of Zambia
Wikipedia - Luxembourg City -- Capital of Luxembourg
Wikipedia - Luxury Escapes -- One of the worldM-bM-^@M-^Ys fastest-growing travel websites
Wikipedia - Lwandle -- Suburb of the City of Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Lycapsus -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Lydia Cappolicchio -- Swedish journalist and hostess
Wikipedia - Lynden Miller -- American landscape designer (born 1938)
Wikipedia - Lynn Rippelmeyer -- first woman 747 captain
Wikipedia - Lyracappul -- Mountain within the Galtee Mountains, County Limerick, Ireland
Wikipedia - M3 (Cape Town) -- Expressway in Cape Town, South Africa, between the City Bowl to the Southern Suburbs
Wikipedia - Maasin -- Capital city of Southern Leyte province, Philippines
Wikipedia - Ma-ayon -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Mabel Capper -- British suffragette
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Wikipedia - MacApp
Wikipedia - Macassar Dunes Conservation Area -- Coastal nature reserve in Macassar, jCape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Macassar, Western Cape -- Suburb of the City of Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Maccio Capatonda -- Italian comedian, actor and filmmaker
Wikipedia - Mach 37 -- American venture capital organization assisting startups
Wikipedia - Machine-readable medium -- Medium capable of storing data in a format readable by a mechanical device
Wikipedia - Madagascar: Escape 2 Africa -- 2008 American computer-animated comedy film
Wikipedia - Madame Dares an Escapade -- 1927 film
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Wikipedia - Madison Capitols -- Junior ice hockey team
Wikipedia - Magdeburg -- Capital of Saxony-Anhalt, Germany
Wikipedia - Magnetar Capital -- American hedge fund
Wikipedia - Magnet Theatre -- Independent physical theatre company based in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mahikeng -- Capital city of the North-West Province, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mainz -- Capital of Rhineland-Palatinate, Germany
Wikipedia - Maio, Cape Verde -- Island of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Majuro -- Capital of the Marshall Islands
Wikipedia - Malabo -- Capital of Equatorial Guinea
Wikipedia - Malgas Island Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area on the west coast in the Western Cape province in South Africa
Wikipedia - MalM-CM-) -- Capital of the Maldives
Wikipedia - Malpais (landform) -- A rough and barren landscape of relict and largely uneroded lava fields
Wikipedia - Mambusao -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Mamre Nature Garden -- Nature reserve in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mamre, Western Cape -- Rural suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Managua -- Capital and largest city of Nicaragua
Wikipedia - Manama -- Capital of Bahrain
Wikipedia - Mancala -- Type of count-and-capture game
Wikipedia - Manchester capitalism
Wikipedia - Mandarin Handicap Chase -- Steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Manenberg -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Manila -- Capital and chief port of the Philippines
Wikipedia - Man in a Landscape (poetry collection) -- 1960 poetry collection by Colin Thiele
Wikipedia - Mannenberg -- Cape jazz song by South African musician Abdullah Ibrahim
Wikipedia - Manon Capelle -- Belgian actress
Wikipedia - Manuel dos Reis Machado -- Brazilian capoeira master
Wikipedia - Manuel F. Alsina Capo -- Urologist
Wikipedia - Manuka, Australian Capital Territory -- Neighbourhood of Canberra, Australia
Wikipedia - Maputo -- Capital and chief port of Mozambique
Wikipedia - Marcelle Capy -- French writer and pacifist
Wikipedia - Marcellus Jerome Clarke -- Confederate captain and guerilla fighter
Wikipedia - Marcellus of Capua
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Wikipedia - Marco Antonio Caponi -- Argentine actor
Wikipedia - Marco Cappai -- Italian equestrian
Wikipedia - Marco Cappato -- Italian politician
Wikipedia - Marcos Caplan -- Argentine actor
Wikipedia - Marcus Island Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area in the Western Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Marcus Manlius Capitolinus Vulso -- Roman consul
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Wikipedia - Marcus Ostorius Scapula (consul 59) -- 1st century Roman soldier, senator and consul
Wikipedia - Margherita Sparapani Gentili Boccapadule -- Roman noble, salon holder, and traveler
Wikipedia - Marginal product of capital -- Additional production per extra unit of capital
Wikipedia - Maria Andrade (scientist) -- Cape Verde food scientist (born 1958)
Wikipedia - Maria Andrade -- Cape Verdean taekwondo athlete
Wikipedia - Maria Aubock -- Austrian landscape architect
Wikipedia - Maria Capovilla -- Ecuadorian supercentenarian
Wikipedia - Maria Mercedes Capa Estrada -- Spanish goalball player
Wikipedia - Maria Teresa HincapiM-CM-) -- Colombian performance artist (1956-2008)
Wikipedia - Mariehamn -- Capital of the M-CM-^Eland Islands
Wikipedia - Mariella Mularoni -- Captain Regent of San Marino (October 2019-present)
Wikipedia - Marikit -- 2020 song by Juan Craoile and Kyle Caplis
Wikipedia - Mariner's cap -- Cap with a soft dark blue or white crown and a stiff dark visor, often decorated with braid
Wikipedia - Mariner's Wharf -- Building in the harbour of Hout Bay, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mario Capanna -- Italian politician and writer
Wikipedia - Mario Capecchi -- Molecular geneticist and Nobel laureate
Wikipedia - Mario Capio -- Italian sailor
Wikipedia - Mario Is Missing! -- 1993 educational video game published by The Software Toolworks and Mindscape
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Wikipedia - Mario's Early Years! -- 1993-94 educational video games published by Software Toolworks and Mindscape
Wikipedia - Mario's Game Gallery -- 1995 video game compilation published by Interplay Productions, Mindscape, and Stepping Stone
Wikipedia - Marius Rohne -- Norwegian landscape architect
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Wikipedia - Mark Andrew Capes -- British diplomat
Wikipedia - Market capitalism
Wikipedia - Market capitalization -- Total value of a public company's outstanding shares
Wikipedia - Market cap
Wikipedia - Mark Stevens (venture capitalist) -- American venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Maroons -- African refugees who escaped from slavery in the Americas, and their descendants
Wikipedia - Marshall Capital -- Single decker bus bodywork
Wikipedia - Marshall Tuck -- American venture capital investor, educator, and politician
Wikipedia - Marshy Landscape -- Painting by Vincent van Gogh
Wikipedia - Marta Capurso -- Italian short-track speed skater
Wikipedia - Martha's Vineyard -- Island south of Cape Cod, Massachusetts, U.S.
Wikipedia - Martian polar ice caps -- Polar water ice deposits on Mars
Wikipedia - Martianus Capella
Wikipedia - Martin Daly (captain) -- Captain of the Indies Trader during its surf exploration trips
Wikipedia - Martin Pipe Conditional Jockeys' Handicap Hurdle -- Hurdle horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Martin Scorsese and Leonardo DiCaprio -- Collaborations
Wikipedia - Marvel vs. Capcom 2: New Age of Heroes -- 2000 video game
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Wikipedia - Mary Alment -- Irish landscape and portrait artist
Wikipedia - Mary Bristow -- Landscape architect
Wikipedia - Mary Caponegro -- American experimental fiction writer
Wikipedia - Maryland-National Capital Park and Planning Commission -- Agency in Maryland to manage a system of parks within Montgomery and Prince George's Counties
Wikipedia - Mary Ma -- Chinese businesswoman and capital investor
Wikipedia - Mary Reynolds (landscape designer) -- Irish gardener, landscape architect and environmentalist
Wikipedia - Masiphumelele High School -- High school in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Masiphumelele -- Suburb of Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Maso Capital -- Hong Kong-based hedge fund
Wikipedia - Massachusetts Handicap -- Former flat horse race
Wikipedia - Massively multiplayer online game -- Multiplayer video game which is capable of supporting large numbers of players simultaneously
Wikipedia - Mateo A. T. Caparas -- Filipino lawyer
Wikipedia - Materdomini (Caposele)
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Wikipedia - Matrioshka brain -- hypothetical megastructure of immense computational capacity
Wikipedia - Matteo Capranica -- Italian composer
Wikipedia - Matthew Jensen (artist) -- American conceptual landscape artist and photographer
Wikipedia - Maurice Capovila -- Brazilian film director
Wikipedia - Maurice FitzGerald, 9th Duke of Leinster -- Irish nobleman and landscape designer
Wikipedia - Maurice O'Connell (Hunting Cap) -- Irish landowner and smuggler
Wikipedia - Max Schmidt -- German landscape painter
Wikipedia - Maykop -- capital city of the Republic of Adygea , Russia
Wikipedia - Maynardville Open-Air Theatre -- Outdoor theatre in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mayor of Cape Town -- Head of the local government of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mayor of Managua -- Elected executive of capital of Nicaragua
Wikipedia - McCord Centre for Landscape -- research centre
Wikipedia - McLennan Handicap -- Discontinued horse race
Wikipedia - M-CM-^Angel Cappelletti -- Argentine philosopher
Wikipedia - M-CM-^Arheimar -- A legendary capital of the Goths
Wikipedia - Meadowridge Common -- Reserve in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Meadowridge Library -- Public library in the suburb of Meadowridge, in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mecca -- Saudi Arabian city and capital of the Makkah province
Wikipedia - Medal for capture of Rodrigues, Isle of Bourbon and Isle of France -- East India Company medal for capture of French Indian Ocean islands, 1809-10
Wikipedia - Media development -- Process of building capacity for media
Wikipedia - Media in New York's Capital District
Wikipedia - Medi-Caps University -- Indian engineering and management institute
Wikipedia - Medium-altitude long-endurance unmanned aerial vehicle -- Unpiloted aircraft classification capable of up to 9000 m altitude and 200+ km range
Wikipedia - Medium-capacity rail system -- Rail transport system with moderate capacity
Wikipedia - Medium-lift launch vehicle -- Launch vehicles capable of lifting between 2,000 to 20,000&nbsp;kg into low Earth Orbit
Wikipedia - Medscape -- Web resource for healthcare professionals
Wikipedia - Meet John Doe -- 1941 American comedy drama film directed by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Megachile capitata -- Species of leafcutter bee (Megachile)
Wikipedia - Megachile captionis -- Species of leafcutter bee (Megachile)
Wikipedia - Mega Man 10 -- 2010 action-platform video game published by Capcom
Wikipedia - Mega Man (1987 video game) -- 1987 action-platform video game published by Capcom
Wikipedia - Mega Man (1990 video game) -- 1990 action-platform video game published by Hi Tech Expressions and Capcom
Wikipedia - Mega Man 2: The Power Fighters -- 1996 fighting arcade game published by Capcom
Wikipedia - Mega Man 2 -- 1988 action-platform video game published by Capcom
Wikipedia - Mega Man 3 -- 1990 action-platform video game published by Capcom and Nintendo
Wikipedia - Mega Man 4 -- 1991 action-platform video game published by Capcom and Nintendo
Wikipedia - Mega Man 5 -- 1992 action-platform video game published by Capcom and Nintendo
Wikipedia - Mega Man 8 -- 1996 action-platform video game published by Capcom and Infogrames
Wikipedia - Mega Man 9 -- 2008 action-platform video game published by Capcom
Wikipedia - Mega Man & Bass -- 1998 action-platform video game published by Capcom
Wikipedia - Mega Man II (Game Boy) -- 1991 action-platform video game published by Capcom and Nintendo
Wikipedia - Mega Man X (character) -- Fictional character in Capcom's Mega Man X series
Wikipedia - Megan Wraight -- New Zealand landscape architect
Wikipedia - Melanoplus scapularis -- Species of grasshopper
Wikipedia - Mel Broughton -- British landscape gardener
Wikipedia - Melkbosstrand -- Seaside suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Melvin Capital -- Investment management firm
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory Advisory Council -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory House of Assembly, 1979-1982 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory House of Assembly, 1982-1986 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory Legislative Assembly, 1975-1979 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory Legislative Assembly, 1989-1991 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory Legislative Assembly, 1992-1995 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory Legislative Assembly, 1995-1998 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory Legislative Assembly, 1998-2001 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory Legislative Assembly, 2001-2004 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory Legislative Assembly, 2004-2008 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory Legislative Assembly, 2008-2012 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory Legislative Assembly, 2012-2016 -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Members of the Australian Capital Territory Legislative Assembly, 2016-2020 -- Wikipedia list article
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Wikipedia - M-EM- ibenik cap -- Regional variant of a traditional red cap used in the Balkans that was developed in M-EM- ibenik, Croatia
Wikipedia - Memorial Pillar (Valivade) -- Memorial Pillar memory of over 5000 Polish refugees who escaped to India during World War II
Wikipedia - Memphis, Egypt -- Ancient capital of Inebu-hedj, Egypt
Wikipedia - Swiebodzin -- Town and capital of Swiebodzin County, Lubusz Voivodeship, Poland
Wikipedia - Menagerie -- Form of keeping common and exotic animals in captivity that preceded the modern zoological garden
Wikipedia - Mendocino Fracture Zone -- A fracture zone and transform boundary off the coast of Cape Mendocino in far northern California
Wikipedia - Merchant capitalism
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Wikipedia - Meritocracy -- Political system in which capital is assigned on the basis of expertise
Wikipedia - Mermaid of Naples -- 1956 film by Luigi Capuano
Wikipedia - Merseyrail Handicap Hurdle -- Hurdle horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Messenger RNA decapping -- Removal of the 5' cap structure on mRNA
Wikipedia - Messor capitatus -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Metlife Centre -- Skyscraper in the City Bowl area of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Metro Nashville Chorus -- Woman's a cappella chorus
Wikipedia - Metropolitan Routes in Cape Town -- Major inntra-city road routes
Wikipedia - Metro Vocal Group -- American a cappella group
Wikipedia - Mexico City -- Capital of Mexico
Wikipedia - Mezobromelia capituligera -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Mfantsipim School -- All-boys boarding secondary school in Cape Coast, Ghana
Wikipedia - MICappella -- Singaporean a cappella group
Wikipedia - Michael Capobianco -- American science fiction writer
Wikipedia - Michael Capponi -- American businessman
Wikipedia - Michael Capps (politician) -- American politician
Wikipedia - Michael Caputo -- Republican political strategist and lobbyist
Wikipedia - Michael Capuzzo -- American journalist and author
Wikipedia - Michael Van Valkenburgh -- American landscape architect (born 1951)
Wikipedia - Michigan State Capitol -- The building that houses the legislative branch of the government of the U.S. state of Michigan
Wikipedia - Mickey Mousecapade -- 1987 video game
Wikipedia - Microcapnolymma -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Micro-Cap
Wikipedia - Microdrive -- Type of hard drive intended to provide a higher-capacity alternative to memory cards
Wikipedia - Micro-encapsulation
Wikipedia - Micropterix aureocapilla -- Moth species in family Micropterigidae
Wikipedia - Middleton Formation -- Late middle Permian geological formation in the Eastern Cape
Wikipedia - Middle Township High School -- High school in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Middle Township, New Jersey -- Township in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Middle Township Public Schools -- School district in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Mien Ruys -- Dutch landscape and garden architect
Wikipedia - Mike Capel
Wikipedia - Mike Capuano -- American politician
Wikipedia - MiliM-DM-^M Capek -- Czech-American philosopher
Wikipedia - Military capability
Wikipedia - Milk caps (game) -- Game
Wikipedia - Mill Branch (Cacapon River tributary) -- US stream in West Virginia
Wikipedia - Millhouse Capital -- Roman Abramovich asset-management company
Wikipedia - Milnerton Racecourse Nature Reserve -- Lowland conservation area in the City of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Milnerton Racecourse -- Training course and stabling at Milnerton, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Milnerton -- seaside suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mimetes argenteus -- Endemic shrub from the Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Mimetes capitulatus -- The conical pagoda is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Mimetes chrysanthus -- The golden pagoda is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Mimetes cucullatus -- The common pagoda is an endemic shrub in the family Proteaceae from South Africa's Western Cape province
Wikipedia - Mimetes hirtus -- Species of plant from the family Proteaceae endemic to the southwest Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mimetes hottentoticus -- The matchstick pagoda is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Mimetes splendidus -- The splended pagoda is a shrub in the family Proteaceae from Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Mimoscapeuseboides -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Mina Caputo -- American singer
Wikipedia - Minden Land -- Cultural landscape in East Westphalia
Wikipedia - Mino Caprio -- Italian actor and voice actor
Wikipedia - Mino (straw cape) -- A traditional Japanese garment, a raincoat made out of straw
Wikipedia - Minsk -- Capital of Belarus
Wikipedia - Minton-Capehart Federal Building -- Federal building in Indianapolis, IN, USA
Wikipedia - Mi querido capitan -- 1950 film by Gilberto Martinez Solares
Wikipedia - Mireille Capitaine -- French mathematician
Wikipedia - Mirko Dolcini -- Captain Regent of San Marino
Wikipedia - Missile Row -- Nickname given to the U.S. Space Force and NASA launch complexes at Cape Canaveral Space Force Station
Wikipedia - Mission Basilica San Juan Capistrano -- Catholic parish in San Juan Capistrano, California
Wikipedia - Mission San Juan Capistrano (Texas)
Wikipedia - Mission San Juan Capistrano -- 18th-century Spanish mission in San Juan Capistrano, California
Wikipedia - Mississippi State Capitol -- Government building in Jackson, Mississippi, USA
Wikipedia - Mitchells Plain -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mitek Systems -- Software company specializing in digital identity verification and mobile capture
Wikipedia - Mixed capitalism
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Wikipedia - Mobcap -- Type of headwear
Wikipedia - Modernize Sao Vicente Movement -- Political party in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Modern Rome - Campo Vaccino -- Landscape painting by J. M. W. Turner
Wikipedia - Mode volume -- Number of bound modes that an optical fiber is capable of supporting
Wikipedia - Mogadishu -- Capital of Somalia
Wikipedia - Mokala National Park -- A reserve in the Plooysburg area south-west of Kimberley in the Northern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Molar heat capacity -- Intensive quantity, heat capacity per amount of substance
Wikipedia - Molteno Dam -- Historic dam in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Momsen lung -- Rebreather system for escaping sunken submarines
Wikipedia - Mondale High School -- Public high school in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Monkey Puzzle (band) -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - Monmouth cap
Wikipedia - Monomakh's Cap -- Relic of the Russian tsars and Grand Dukes
Wikipedia - Monopis crocicapitella -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Monopoly Capital
Wikipedia - Monrovia -- Capital and chief port of Liberia
Wikipedia - Montagues and Capulets
Wikipedia - Montana State Capitol -- State capitol located in Helena, MT
Wikipedia - Montebello Design Centre -- Non-profit art space in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Monte Capezzone -- Mountain in Italy
Wikipedia - Monte Capio -- Mountain in Italy
Wikipedia - Montevideo -- Capital and chief port of Uruguay
Wikipedia - Montpelier, Vermont -- Capital of Vermont, United States
Wikipedia - Moore Capito -- American politician
Wikipedia - Moore's law -- Observation on the growth of integrated circuit capacity
Wikipedia - Morale -- Capacity of a group's members to maintain belief in an institution or goal
Wikipedia - More and More (Captain Hollywood Project song) -- 1992 single by Captain Hollywood Project
Wikipedia - Morina -- genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Morisonia -- Genus of Capparaceae plants
Wikipedia - Mortimer Caplin -- IRS Commissioner and tax attorney
Wikipedia - MOS capacitor
Wikipedia - MOS:CAPS
Wikipedia - Moscow -- Capital of Russia
Wikipedia - Mossel Bay -- town in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mosteiros, Cape Verde (municipality) -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Mother City SkyDiving - Cape Town -- Sports skydiving drop zone
Wikipedia - Motion capture -- Process of recording the movement of objects or people
Wikipedia - Mountain Landscape (de Momper, Kunsthistorisches) -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Mountain Landscape with Campers and a Broken Tree -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Mountain Landscape with Castle -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Mountain Landscape with Pilgrims in a Grotto Chapel -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Mountain Landscape with Rainbow
Wikipedia - Mountainous Landscape with a Bridge and Four Horsemen -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Mountainous Landscape with a Torrent -- Painting by Jacob van Ruisdael
Wikipedia - Mountainous Landscape with Figures and a Donkey -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Mountainous Landscape with Saint Jerome -- Painting by Paul Bril
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Wikipedia - Mountain View Academy -- Private high school in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mountain Zebra National Park -- A national park in the Eastern Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Mount Capanne -- Mountain in Italy
Wikipedia - Mount Clear (district) -- District of the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Mount Sicapoo -- Mountain in the Philippines
Wikipedia - Move It Up -- 1994 single by Cappella
Wikipedia - Movement for Democracy (Cape Verde) -- Political party in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Move on Baby -- 1994 single by Cappella
Wikipedia - M. Paul Friedberg -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Mpofu Nature Reserve -- Nature reserve in the Amatole district of the Eastern Cape Province, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mr. Smith Goes to Washington -- 1939 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - MSD Capital -- American private investment firm
Wikipedia - MS Herald of Free Enterprise -- Car ferry that capsized at Zeebrugge in March 1987
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Wikipedia - MTA Capital Construction and Development Company -- Projects subsidiary of New York City's MTA
Wikipedia - Muizenberg -- Coastal suburb of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - MultiLevel Recording -- Proposed technology to increase the capacity of optical discs
Wikipedia - Munich -- Capital and most populous city of Bavaria, Germany
Wikipedia - Murat Aktihanoglu -- American venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Muscat -- Capital of Oman
Wikipedia - Muscicapida -- Clade of birds
Wikipedia - Musei Capitolini
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Wikipedia - MusM-EM-^M Soseki -- Japanese Zen-Buddhist teacher and landscape architect
Wikipedia - Mustecap, Balya -- Village in Turkey
Wikipedia - Mutual Building -- Building in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Mutual railway station -- Metrorail commuter rail station located between the suburbs of Maitland and Pinelands in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - MV Captain Keith Tibbetts
Wikipedia - MV Captayannis -- Greek freighter shipwrecked in the Firth of Clyde, Scotland
Wikipedia - M. Watt Espy -- American researcher on capital punishment
Wikipedia - MyCiTi bus stations -- Stations for the MyCiTi bus lines in greater Cape Town
Wikipedia - My Darling Slave -- 1973 film by Giorgio Capitani
Wikipedia - MyOcean -- A series of projects granted by the European Commission to set up a pan-European capacity for ocean monitoring and forecasting
Wikipedia - Myrmecia nigriscapa -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Mzoli's -- butchery and restaurant in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Nadine Capellmann -- German equestrian
Wikipedia - Nagpur -- Winter capital of Maharashtra, India
Wikipedia - Nairobi -- Capital of Kenya
Wikipedia - Naked Capitalism -- American financial news and analysis blog
Wikipedia - Nalchik -- capital of Kabardino-Balkaria in the Russian North Caucasus
Wikipedia - Namaqua Fossil Forest Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area off the northwest cost of the Northern Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Namaqua National Park Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area in Namaqualand in the Northern Cape, in South Africa
Wikipedia - Namaqua National Park -- A South African national park in Namaqualand in the Northern Cape
Wikipedia - Nanocapsule -- Nanoscale shell made from polymer
Wikipedia - Nantucket -- Island and consolidated town-county south of Cape Cod, Massachusetts, United States
Wikipedia - Naomi Cappuccino -- American biologist
Wikipedia - Napomuceno's Will (film) -- 1997 Cape Verdean drama film by Francisco Manso
Wikipedia - Nardostachys -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Nasal consonant -- Consonant pronounced by letting air escape through the nose but not through the mouth
Wikipedia - Naspers Centre -- Skyscraper in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Nassau, Bahamas -- Capital of the Bahamas
Wikipedia - Natalee Caple -- Canadian author of novels and poetry
Wikipedia - Natali Vineyards -- Winery in Cape May County, New Jersey
Wikipedia - Natasha J. Caplen -- British-American geneticist
Wikipedia - National Archives of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - National Association of Landscape Professionals
Wikipedia - National Capital Area Council -- Local Boy Scout council
Wikipedia - National Capital FreeNet -- Canadian non-profit internet service provider
Wikipedia - National capitalism
Wikipedia - National Capital Region (Canada) -- Metropolitan area in Canada composed of the cities of Ottawa and Gatineau and neighbouring communities
Wikipedia - National Capital Region Institute of Medical Sciences -- Medical college in Uttar Pradesh, India
Wikipedia - National Library of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - National Statuary Hall Collection -- Collection of statues in the US Capitol of notable individuals from each state
Wikipedia - Nation's Capital Swim Club -- American swim club
Wikipedia - Natural Capital Center -- Building in Portland, Oregon
Wikipedia - Natural Capitalism
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Wikipedia - Natural landscaping
Wikipedia - Naval Base Simon's Town -- Naval base in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Navigability -- Capacity of a body of water to allow the passage of vessels at a given time
Wikipedia - Naypyidaw -- Capital of Myanmar
Wikipedia - N'Djamena -- Capital of Chad
Wikipedia - Nebuchadnezzar (The Matrix) -- Fictional hovership captained by Morpheus in the Matrix trilogy
Wikipedia - Negative Capability
Wikipedia - Negative capability
Wikipedia - Nekhen -- Religious and political capital of Upper Egypt in Ancient Egypt
Wikipedia - Nellie B. Allen -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Nelly O'Brien -- Irish miniaturist, landscape artist, and Gaelic League activist
Wikipedia - Nemo (arcade game) -- Fantasy arcade game released by Capcom in 1990
Wikipedia - Neo-capitalism
Wikipedia - Neocussonia capuroniana -- Species of flowering plant
Wikipedia - Neoscaphus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - NetCaptor
Wikipedia - Net register tonnage -- Unit of volume for the cargo capacity of a ship; 100 cubic feet (2.83 mM-BM-3)
Wikipedia - Netscape 5
Wikipedia - Netscape 6
Wikipedia - Netscape 7
Wikipedia - Netscape Application Server
Wikipedia - Netscape Browser
Wikipedia - Netscape Communications Corporation
Wikipedia - Netscape Communications
Wikipedia - Netscape Communicator
Wikipedia - Netscape Composer
Wikipedia - Netscape Corporation
Wikipedia - Netscape Enterprise Server
Wikipedia - Netscape Mail > Newsgroups
Wikipedia - Netscape Messenger 9
Wikipedia - Netscape Navigator 2
Wikipedia - Netscape Navigator 9 -- Last version of the classic web browser, essentially rebranded Firefox
Wikipedia - Netscape Navigator -- Web browser
Wikipedia - Netscape Portable Runtime
Wikipedia - Netscape Public License
Wikipedia - Netscape Server Application Programming Interface
Wikipedia - Netscape (web browser)
Wikipedia - Netscape -- American computer services company
Wikipedia - Network Virtualization using Generic Routing Encapsulation
Wikipedia - Neutron capture therapy of cancer -- Nonsurgical therapeutic modality for treating locally invasive malignant tumors
Wikipedia - New Anticapitalist Party
Wikipedia - New Capitalist Party -- Political party in Canada
Wikipedia - New Delhi Municipal Council -- Municipal corporation in National Capital Territory of India, India
Wikipedia - New Delhi -- Capital of India
Wikipedia - New Enterprise Associates -- American Venture Capital firm
Wikipedia - New Era Cap Company -- American ballcap and sports apparel company
Wikipedia - New Hampshire State House -- State capitol building in Concord, New Hampshire
Wikipedia - New Jersey Route 147 -- State highway in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - New Jersey State House -- State capitol building in Trenton, New Jersey
Wikipedia - New Mexico State Capitol -- State capitol building in Santa Fe, New Mexico
Wikipedia - Newrene Klaaste -- Speaker of the Northern Cape Provincial Legislature
Wikipedia - New South Wales Rugby League -- Governing body of rugby league in New South Wales and the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - New World barbet -- Near passerine birds from the family Capitonidae of the order Piciformes
Wikipedia - New York State Capitol -- Seat of the New York State government in Albany, New York
Wikipedia - Ngerulmud -- Capital city of Palau
Wikipedia - Niamey -- Capital of Niger
Wikipedia - Nicht verdient -- 2020 single by Capital Bra and Loredana
Wikipedia - Nicolaas Johannes Roosenboom -- Dutch landscape artist
Wikipedia - Nicolaas Piemont -- Dutch Golden Age landscape painter
Wikipedia - Nicole Capitaine -- French astronomer
Wikipedia - Nicosia -- Capital of Cyprus and Northern Cyprus (de facto)
Wikipedia - Nigel Caple -- British artist and lecturer
Wikipedia - Nikolai Bodisko -- Russian counter admiral who captured Gotland during the Finnish War
Wikipedia - Nikolay Dubovskoy -- Russian landscape painter
Wikipedia - Nilton Capixaba -- Brazilian politician
Wikipedia - Nineveh -- Ancient Assyrian city, capital of the Neo-Assyrian Empire
Wikipedia - Ninian Niven -- Scottish horticulturist and landscape gardener
Wikipedia - Nisa, Turkmenistan -- Ancient capital of the Parthian Empire
Wikipedia - NNK Rugby Stadium -- Multi-use stadium, in Parow, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Noah Cappe -- Canadian actor and television host
Wikipedia - Nobel Square -- Public square in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - NoCap -- American rapper from Alabama
Wikipedia - Noida Metro -- Rapid transit system serving Noida and Greater Noida in the National Capital Region of India
Wikipedia - Nominal capacity
Wikipedia - Nomzamo -- Suburb of Cape Town in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - None Shall Escape -- 1944 film by AndrM-CM-) de Toth
Wikipedia - Noon Gun -- Historic time signal in Cape Town, South Africa since 1806
Wikipedia - Nordic capitalism
Wikipedia - Nordic Landscape with a Castle on a Hill -- Painting by Allaert van Everdingen
Wikipedia - Nordihydrocapsaicin -- Chemical compound
Wikipedia - Normocapnia -- Normal arterial carbon dioxide levels
Wikipedia - North Cape oil spill -- 1996 oil spill in the United States
Wikipedia - North Captiva Island -- Island in the United States of America
Wikipedia - North Carolina State House -- former capitol in Raleigh, North Carolina; destroyed by fire in 1831
Wikipedia - Northern Cape Department of Agriculture, Land Reform and Rural Development -- Department of Agriculture, Land Reform and Rural Development of the Northern Cape
Wikipedia - Northern Cape Department of Co-operative Governance, Human Settlements and Traditional Affairs -- Northern Cape Department of Co-operative Governance, Human Settlements and Traditional Affairs
Wikipedia - Northern Cape Department of Economic Development and Tourism -- Northern Cape Department of Economic Development and Tourism
Wikipedia - Northern Cape Department of Education -- Education Department of the Northern Cape Province
Wikipedia - Northern Cape Department of Environment and Nature Conservation -- Northern Cape Department of Environment and Nature Conservation
Wikipedia - Northern Cape Department of Health -- Health Department of the Northern Cape
Wikipedia - Northern Cape Department of Roads and Public Works -- Department of Roads and Public Works of the Northern Cape Province
Wikipedia - Northern Cape Department of Social Development -- Northern Cape Department of Social Development
Wikipedia - Northern Cape Department of Sport, Arts and Culture -- Northern Cape Department of Sport, Arts and Culture
Wikipedia - Northern Cape Provincial Treasury -- Northern Cape Provincial Treasury department
Wikipedia - Northern Line (Cape Town) -- Commuter rail service in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Northern Region, Eastern Cape -- Region
Wikipedia - North Street Capital, LP -- American hedge fund
Wikipedia - North West Cape gehyra -- Species of gecko
Wikipedia - Northwestern Undertones -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - North Wildwood, New Jersey -- City in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - North Wildwood School District -- School district in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Noscapine
Wikipedia - No Self-Government Party -- Defunct single-issue political party in the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Nota (group) -- A cappella group of six male vocalists from San Juan, Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Not All Heroes Wear Capes -- 2018 studio album by Metro Boomin
Wikipedia - Noteworthy (vocal group) -- Nine-member, all-female a cappella group.
Wikipedia - No to capitulation! -- 2019 protests in Ukraine
Wikipedia - Not Too Sharp -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - Nouakchott -- Capital of Mauritania
Wikipedia - NoumM-CM-)a -- Capital of New Caledonia
Wikipedia - November Handicap -- Flat horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Nuclear cap-binding protein complex -- RNA-binding protein
Wikipedia - Nuclear microreactor -- A very small nuclear reactor of 1-20 MW capacity
Wikipedia - Nuclear-powered icebreaker -- Ship type capable of navigating through waters covered with ice
Wikipedia - Nuclear weapons testing -- Experiments carried out to determine the effectiveness, yield, and explosive capability of nuclear weapons
Wikipedia - NukuM-JM-;alofa -- Capital of Tonga
Wikipedia - Nur-Sultan -- Capital of Kazakhstan
Wikipedia - Nurul Islam Mosque -- Building in the Bo-Kaap of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Nuuk -- Capital of Greenland
Wikipedia - Nuussuaq (district) -- District of Nuuk, the capital of Greenland
Wikipedia - Nyanga, Western Cape -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Oahu -- Third-largest of the Hawaiian Islands and site of the state capital Honolulu
Wikipedia - Oak Hill Capital Partners -- American private equity firm
Wikipedia - Oaktree Capital Management -- American global asset management firm
Wikipedia - Oberto Pallavicino -- Italian field captain under Frederick II, Holy Roman Emperor
Wikipedia - Object-capability model
Wikipedia - Oblisco Capitale -- Skyscraper
Wikipedia - Ocaperidone
Wikipedia - O Captain! My Captain! -- Poem by Walt Whitman on the death of Abraham Lincoln
Wikipedia - Ocean City High School -- Place in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Ocean City, New Jersey -- City in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Ocean Handicap -- Defunct American Thoroughbred horse race
Wikipedia - Ochsenheimeria capella -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Octappella -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - Odense City Museums -- Department of Odense Municapility
Wikipedia - Oedera capensis -- A shrublet in the daisy family from South Africa
Wikipedia - Off-Broadway -- Any professional venue in NYC with a seating capacity between 100 and 499
Wikipedia - Off-road vehicle -- Automotive vehicle capable of driving across difficult terrain beyond sealed roads
Wikipedia - O.F.M. Cap.
Wikipedia - O Garimpeiro (film) -- 1920 film directed by Vittorio Capellaro
Wikipedia - Oh, Boy! (1919 film) -- 1919 film by Albert Capellani
Wikipedia - Ohio Statehouse -- State capitol building of Ohio, U.S.
Wikipedia - Oil sands tailings ponds (Canada) -- are engineered dam and dyke systems used to capture oil sand tailings.
Wikipedia - Oklahoma City -- Capital of Oklahoma
Wikipedia - Olavo Correia -- Cape Verdean politician
Wikipedia - Old Age Handicap -- 1928 film
Wikipedia - Old Royal Capital Cetinje -- Municipality of Montenegro
Wikipedia - Old School RuneScape -- Massively multiplayer online role-playing game by Jagex
Wikipedia - Old State House (Little Rock, Arkansas) -- Oldest surviving state capitol building west of the Mississippi River
Wikipedia - Olga Capri -- Italian actress
Wikipedia - Olicula -- A short hooded cape
Wikipedia - Oliver Cromwell's head -- Decapitated head of English revolutionary leader Oliver Cromwell
Wikipedia - Olmsted Brothers -- Landscape design firm
Wikipedia - Olympia, Washington -- City in and state capital of Washington, United States
Wikipedia - Omar Sheriff Captan -- Ghanaian actor
Wikipedia - Omega Capricorni -- Star in the constellation Capricornus
Wikipedia - Omniscience -- Capacity to know everything
Wikipedia - Omnium Handicap -- Former American horse race
Wikipedia - On the Babylonian Captivity of the Church -- 16th century theological treatise by Martin Luther
Wikipedia - Ontogeny recapitulates phylogeny
Wikipedia - Operating reserve -- Short-term reserve of electricity generating capacity
Wikipedia - Operation Rajiv -- 1987 Indian Army operation to capture a strategic mountain peak from Pakistan Army forces
Wikipedia - Operation Shmenti Capelli -- 2011 film
Wikipedia - Operation Yellowbird -- Operation to help Chinese dissidents escape the country via Hong Kong
Wikipedia - Operation Zipper -- British plan to capture either Port Swettenham
Wikipedia - Opposition to capitalism
Wikipedia - Opsies capra -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Opus Capital
Wikipedia - Oracle bone -- Pieces of ox scapula or turtle plastron used for pyromancy in Shang China
Wikipedia - Orange County Men's Central Jail escape -- jailbreak
Wikipedia - Orange Line (Capital Metro)
Wikipedia - Orange Shelf Edge Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area off the Northern Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Orania, Northern Cape -- Afrikaner town in the Northern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Oranjestad, Aruba -- Capital of Aruba
Wikipedia - Oranjezicht -- Suburb od Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Orchestre national du Capitole de Toulouse -- French orchestra based in Toulouse, France
Wikipedia - Order of Friars Minor Capuchin
Wikipedia - Orders of magnitude (specific heat capacity)
Wikipedia - Oregon State Capitol -- The building housing the state legislature and the offices of the governor, secretary of state, and treasurer of the U.S. state of Oregon
Wikipedia - Orestes of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Organic composition of capital
Wikipedia - Organisms at high altitude -- Organisms capable of living at high altitudes
Wikipedia - Organizational capital
Wikipedia - Organ of St. Ludgeri in Norden -- Historic organ in Cappel, Germany
Wikipedia - Organ of St. Peter and Paul in Cappel -- Historic organ in Cappel, Germany
Wikipedia - Oscar Mabuyane -- Premier of the Eastern Cape
Wikipedia - OS X El Capitan -- Twelfth major release of macOS
Wikipedia - Otello Capitani -- Italian gymnast
Wikipedia - Ottery, Cape Town -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Ouagadougou -- Capital of Burkina Faso
Wikipedia - Ou Kaapse Weg -- Mountain pass in the Cape Peninsula between the Southern Suburbs and Fish Hoek Valley
Wikipedia - Our Lady of the Cape
Wikipedia - Our Mr. Sun -- 1956 television film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Outer Ring Road, Trivandrum -- Ring road expressway around capital city of Trivandrum, Kerala
Wikipedia - Outline of Cape Town -- List of links to articles about Cape Town on Wikipedia
Wikipedia - Out of the Fog (1919 film) -- 1919 film by Albert Capellani
Wikipedia - Overaccumulation -- A cause of the crisis of capital accumulation and labor devaluation in a capitalist economy
Wikipedia - Overberg -- Region of the Western Cape in South Africa, east of Cape Town
Wikipedia - Overboard (a cappella) -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - Overconsumption -- resource use exceeds carrying capacity
Wikipedia - Overpopulation -- When a population of a species exceeds the carrying capacity of its ecological niche
Wikipedia - Oversampled binary image sensor -- Image sensor with non-linear response capabilities reminiscent of traditional photographic film
Wikipedia - Overshoot (population) -- When a population temporarily exceeds the carrying capacity
Wikipedia - Overtone (musical group) -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - Overtraining -- Exercising to a load which exceeds recovery capacity
Wikipedia - Oviston Nature Reserve -- Protected area in the Eastern Cape Province, South Africa
Wikipedia - Oxalis pes-caprae -- Species of flowering plant in the wood sorrel family
Wikipedia - Oxygen radical absorbance capacity -- Obsolete method of characterizing antioxidants
Wikipedia - Packet capture appliance
Wikipedia - Paddys River (district) -- District of the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Pakistani captives in Guantanamo
Wikipedia - Palaemon capensis -- Species of crustacean
Wikipedia - Palamon Capital Partners -- British private equity firm
Wikipedia - Pale-capped pigeon -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Palm Beach Handicap -- American Grade III Thoroughbred horse race
Wikipedia - Palmiet Pumped Storage Scheme -- Pumped storage hydroelectric plant in the Western Cape
Wikipedia - Paludamentum -- Cloak or cape used in Republican and Imperial Rome
Wikipedia - Panama City -- Capital of Panama
Wikipedia - Panay, Capiz -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Pandulf IV of Capua
Wikipedia - Pandulf V of Capua
Wikipedia - Panitan -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Panni Kutty -- 2019 Tamil-language Comedy caper
Wikipedia - Panticapaeum -- Ancient Greek city in Crimea
Wikipedia - Paola Capriolo -- Italian novelist and translator
Wikipedia - Paola Mangiacapra -- American watercolorist
Wikipedia - Paolo Capizucchi -- 16th-century Roman Catholic bishop
Wikipedia - Paolo Coccapani -- 1xth-century Roman Catholic bishop
Wikipedia - Papeete -- Capital of French Polynesia
Wikipedia - Papillon (1973 film) -- 1973 prison escape film by Franklin J. Schaffner
Wikipedia - Papillon (book) -- 1969 prison escape memoir by Henri Charriere
Wikipedia - Paracapperia anatolicus -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Paracapperia esuriens -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Paracapperia -- Plume moth genus
Wikipedia - Paradise Island -- A resort island in the Bahamas' capital city of Nassau
Wikipedia - Paramaribo -- Capital of Suriname
Wikipedia - Paranomus abrotanifolius -- Species of plant from the Western Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Paranomus -- Genus of plants in the protea family endemic to the Cape Floristic Region of South Africa
Wikipedia - Parascientific Escape: Cruise in the Distant Seas -- Video game
Wikipedia - Parasitic capacitance
Wikipedia - Paraswammerdamia albicapitella -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Parel Vallei -- Suburb of Somerset West in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Par force hunting landscape in North Zealand -- World Heritage site in Denmark
Wikipedia - Paris, Capital of the 19th Century -- Essay by Walter Benjamin
Wikipedia - Paris -- Capital of France
Wikipedia - Parklands, Western Cape -- Suburb od Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Parkway -- Landscaped thoroughfare
Wikipedia - Parow Park -- Sports venue in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Par (score) -- Pre-determined number of strokes that a scratch (or 0 handicap) golfer should require to complete a hole or round
Wikipedia - Partial capo -- Musical device to fret only certain strings
Wikipedia - Partners Capital -- Financial services company specializing as Outside Investment Manager
Wikipedia - Pasqualino Cammarata, Frigate Captain -- 1974 film
Wikipedia - Passenger load factor -- Capacity utilization of public transport
Wikipedia - Passengers per hour per direction -- Measure of capacity of a transportation network
Wikipedia - Pat Caplan -- British anthropologist and academic
Wikipedia - Pat Caputo -- American sportswriter and broadcaster
Wikipedia - Patna -- Capital and largest city of Bihar, India
Wikipedia - Patrick Goold -- South African soldier, merchant and member of the Parliament of the Cape of Good Hope (1814-1886)
Wikipedia - Patrick James McGinnis -- American venture capitalist and author
Wikipedia - Patrinia -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Paula Caplan
Wikipedia - Paul Bangay -- Australian landscape designer
Wikipedia - Paul Capellani -- French actor
Wikipedia - Paul, Cape Verde -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Paul Caplin -- British entrepreneur and musician
Wikipedia - Paul Capon -- British author
Wikipedia - Paul Capsis -- Australian singer and actor
Wikipedia - Paul Graham (programmer) -- English programmer, venture capitalist, and essayist
Wikipedia - Paulo Dias de Novais -- 1st Captain-Governor of Portuguese Angola
Wikipedia - Payload -- Carrying capacity of a vehicle
Wikipedia - Peaked cap -- Form of uniform headgear with a short visor, crown, band, and insignia
Wikipedia - Pedernales, Dominican Republic -- capital of Pedernales Province, Dominican Republic
Wikipedia - Pedro Capo -- Puerto Rican musician, singer and actor
Wikipedia - Pedro Juan Capo -- Mayor of Ponce, Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Peerage of Ireland -- Titles of nobility created by the English monarchs in their capacity as Lord or King of Ireland, or later by monarchs of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland
Wikipedia - Peerdsbos -- Natural landscape in Belgium
Wikipedia - Pelargonium capitatum -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Pella -- Capital of the ancient kingdom of Macedon
Wikipedia - Pellegrina -- Elbow-length cape of Catholic priests
Wikipedia - Peninsula Expressway (Cape Town) -- Proposed road in South Africa
Wikipedia - Peninsula Granite Fynbos -- Vegetation type endemic to the city of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Peninsula Sandstone Fynbos -- Vegetation type endemic to the Cape Peninsula in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Peninsula Shale Renosterveld -- Vegetation type that is endemic to the slopes of Signal Hill and Devil's Peak in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Penn Masala -- American a cappella group
Wikipedia - Pennsylvania Capitol Police -- State capital law enforcement agency
Wikipedia - Pennsylvania State Capitol -- The seat of government for the U.S. state of Pennsylvania
Wikipedia - Pentatonix -- American a cappella group
Wikipedia - Pepe Soho -- Mexican landscape and nature photographer
Wikipedia - Pequot Capital Management -- Former American hedge fund
Wikipedia - Per Bak Jensen -- Danish landscape photographer
Wikipedia - Per capita income -- Average income of an economy
Wikipedia - Percussion cap -- A gunlock mechanism that uses a small metallic cap or cup, usually of copper or brass, containing a shock-sensitive explosive compound that is struck by a hammer to initiate the ignition process of a caplock firearm
Wikipedia - Pericyte -- Contractile cells that wrap around the endothelial cells of capillaries and venules throughout the body
Wikipedia - Periodizations of capitalism
Wikipedia - Permanent cell -- Terminally differentiated cell incapable of regeneration
Wikipedia - Persepolis -- Ceremonial capital of the Achaemenid Empire
Wikipedia - Perseverance Tavern -- Public house in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Persicaria capitata -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Personal Capital -- American financial services company
Wikipedia - Person -- Being that has certain capacities or attributes such as reason, morality, consciousness or self-consciousness
Wikipedia - Perspectives on capitalism by school of thought
Wikipedia - Perspectives on capitalism
Wikipedia - Perspectives on the abduction phenomenon -- Views on claims that aliens capture people
Wikipedia - Petascale computing -- Computer systems capable of one petaFLOPS
Wikipedia - Peter B. Best -- (1939-2015) English marine biologist and whale researcher in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Peter Capak -- Physicist
Wikipedia - Peter Capaldi -- Scottish actor and filmmaker
Wikipedia - Peter Capano -- Massachusetts politician
Wikipedia - Peter Capell -- German actor
Wikipedia - Peter Capes -- Australian cricketer and businessman
Wikipedia - Peter of Capitolias
Wikipedia - Peter of Capua -- 13th century Italian theologian, scholastic philosopher, cardinal and papal legate
Wikipedia - Peter Stanton -- Australian landscape ecologist and biogeographer
Wikipedia - Petit lac Batiscan -- Lake in Capitale-Nationale, Canada
Wikipedia - Petre Capusta -- Romanian sprint canoer
Wikipedia - Phenomenology (archaeology) -- In archaeology, use of sensory experiences to view and interpret an archaeological site or cultural landscape
Wikipedia - Phi Capricorni -- Star in the constellation Capricornus
Wikipedia - Philanthrocapitalism -- Way of doing philanthropy, mirroring the way that business is done in the for-profit world
Wikipedia - Phil Harris (fisherman) -- American nautical captain
Wikipedia - Philippe Capdenat -- French composer and academic teacher
Wikipedia - Philippi Stadium -- Soccer stadium in Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Philippi, Western Cape -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Philip Zuchman -- American landscape painter
Wikipedia - Philoscaphus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Phnom Penh -- Capital of Cambodia
Wikipedia - Phoebe Donovan -- Irish flower, landscape and portrait artist
Wikipedia - Phoenix, Arizona -- State capital city of Arizona, United States
Wikipedia - Phoenix Wright: Ace Attorney -- 2001 visual novel adventure video game by Capcom
Wikipedia - Photedes captiuncula -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Phrygian cap -- Soft conical cap with the top pulled forward
Wikipedia - Phu XuM-CM-"n -- Historic capital in Vietnam
Wikipedia - Phygelius capensis -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Physical capital
Wikipedia - Pia Klemp -- German biologist, ship captain and human rights activist
Wikipedia - Pickled pepper -- A Capsicum pepper preserved by pickling
Wikipedia - Pidyon Shvuyim -- Religious duty in Judaism to bring about the release of a fellow Jew captured by slave dealers or robbers, or imprisoned unjustly by the authorities
Wikipedia - Pier Paolo Capponi -- Italian actor and screenwriter
Wikipedia - Pierre Capdeville
Wikipedia - Pierre-Francois Violette -- French naval captain
Wikipedia - Pierrepont Handicap -- American thoroughbred horse race
Wikipedia - Pieta (Annibale Carracci) -- Painting by Annibale Carracci in the National Museum of Capodimonte, Naples
Wikipedia - Piezophile -- Organisms capable of living under high hydrostatic pressures
Wikipedia - Pilar, Capiz -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Pileus (hat) -- Conical or half-egg-shaped cap, often of felt, worn in Ancient Greece and Rome and by ecclesiastics
Wikipedia - Pinelands railway station -- Metrorail station on the Cape Flats Line and the Central Line
Wikipedia - Pink capitalism -- Capitalist appropriation and assimilation of sexual diversity
Wikipedia - Pink Loerie Mardi Gras and Arts Festival -- Annual LGBTQ Pride carnival event and parade in Knysna, township, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Pinnacle West Capital -- Utility holding company in Arizona, US
Wikipedia - Piper capense -- Species of pepper plant
Wikipedia - Pi-Ramesses -- Capital of the ancient Egyptian 19th dynasty
Wikipedia - Pitchcapping -- Form of torture
Wikipedia - Plain-capped starthroat -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Planescape Campaign Setting
Wikipedia - Planescape: Torment -- 1999 role-playing video game
Wikipedia - Planescape
Wikipedia - Plankton -- Organisms that are in the water column and are incapable of swimming against a current
Wikipedia - Planteur At Chapel Stud Handicap Chase -- Steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Plasma recombination -- Process by which positive ions of a plasma capture a free (energetic) electron and combine with electrons or negative ions to form new neutral atoms (gas); exothermic reaction, meaning heat releasing
Wikipedia - Plectritis ciliosa -- Species of flowering plant in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Plectritis congesta -- Species of flowering plant in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Plectritis macrocera -- Species of flowering plant in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Plectritis -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Plectroscapoides multituberculatus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Plectroscapus bimaculatus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Pleurotomella capricornea -- Species of sea snail
Wikipedia - PM-CM-5lva -- Capital of PM-CM-5lva County, Estonia
Wikipedia - Pocketful of Miracles -- 1961 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Podgorica Capital City -- Municipality of Montenegro
Wikipedia - Podgorica -- Capital of Montenegro
Wikipedia - Polar desert -- Regions of the Earth under an ice cap with very low rainfall and no vegetation; type EF under the Koppen classification
Wikipedia - Polar ice cap -- High-latitude region of an astronomical body with major parts covered in ice
Wikipedia - Police misconduct -- Inappropriate conduct or illegal actions by police in official capacity
Wikipedia - Police power (United States constitutional law) -- Capacity of the states to regulate behavior and enforce order
Wikipedia - Politics of the Eastern Cape -- Politics of the Eastern Cape
Wikipedia - Pollsmoor Prison -- Facility in Cape Town, South Africa
Polytunnel - A polytunnel (also known as a polyhouse, hoop greenhouse or hoophouse, grow tunnel or high tunnel) is a tunnel typically made from steel and covered in polyethylene, usually semi-circular, square or elongated in shape. The interior heats up because incoming solar radiation from the sun warms plants, soil, and other things inside the building faster than heat can escape the structure. Air warmed by the heat from hot interior surfaces is retained in the building by the roof and wall.
Wikipedia - Polyrhachis rupicapra -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Polysemy -- Capacity for a sign to have multiple related meanings
Wikipedia - Poncho -- Cape- or blanket-like outer garment
Wikipedia - Pondoland Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area in the Eastern Cape province of South Africa
Wikipedia - Pontevedra, Capiz -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - PopCap Games -- American video game developer
Wikipedia - Pope John Paul I: The Smile of God -- 2006 Italian miniseries directed by Giorgio Capitani
Wikipedia - Portal:Capitalism
Wikipedia - Portal - No Escape -- 2011 film by Dan Trachtenberg
Wikipedia - Port Elizabeth Corals Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area off the Eastern Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Portland Handicap -- Flat horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Portland Timbers-Vancouver Whitecaps rivalry -- American soccer rivalry
Wikipedia - Port Louis -- Capital of Mauritius
Wikipedia - Port Moresby -- Capital of Papua New Guinea
Wikipedia - Port of Cape Town -- The seaport of the city of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Port of Spain -- Capital of Trinidad and Tobago
Wikipedia - Porto Novo, Cape Verde (municipality) -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Porto-Novo -- Capital of Benin
Wikipedia - Portrait of Bishop Antonius Triest and His Brother Eugene, a Capuchin -- Painting by David Teniers the Younger
Wikipedia - Portside Tower -- High rise building in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Port Vila -- Capital of Vanuatu
Wikipedia - Positive pressure personnel suit -- Totally encapsulating, industrial protection garments worn within special biocontainment or maximum containment laboratory facilities
Wikipedia - Postage stamps and postal history of the Cape of Good Hope -- None
Wikipedia - Post-capitalism
Wikipedia - Post-capitalist
Wikipedia - Post Captain (novel) -- 1972 novel by Patrick O'Brian
Wikipedia - Post-captain -- Obsolete rank of captain in the Royal Navy
Wikipedia - Postmodernism, or, the Cultural Logic of Late Capitalism
Wikipedia - Potsdam -- Capital of Brandenburg, Germany
Wikipedia - Power semiconductor device -- Semiconductor device capable of handling large amounts of electricity
Wikipedia - Prague -- Capital of the Czech Republic
Wikipedia - Praia, Cape Verde (municipality) -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Praia -- Capital of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Preflexes -- Latent capacities in the musculoskeletal system
Wikipedia - Prelude Handicap Hurdle -- Hurdle horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Prelude to War -- 1942 film by Frank Capra, Anatole Litvak
Wikipedia - President Roxas, Capiz -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Pretoria -- Administrative capital of South Africa
Wikipedia - Pride of Baltimore Chorus -- A cappella chorus
Wikipedia - Primeiro Comando da Capital -- Brazilian criminal organization
Wikipedia - Primitive accumulation of capital
Wikipedia - Primula capitata -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Prince regent -- Prince who rules in place of a monarch due to incapacity or absence
Wikipedia - Princeton Footnotes -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - Princeton Katzenjammers -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - Principality of Capua
Wikipedia - Prisoner-of-war camp -- Site for the containment of combatants captured by their enemy in time of war
Wikipedia - Prison escape -- Act of one or more inmates leaving prison through unofficial or illegal ways
Wikipedia - Pristimantis caprifer -- Species of amphibian
Wikipedia - Pristina -- capital of Kosovo
Wikipedia - Privately held company -- Business company owned either by non-governmental organizations or by a relatively small number of shareholders or company members, and the company's capital stock is offered, owned and traded or exchanged privately
Wikipedia - Procapperia amira -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Procapperia ankaraica -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Procapperia hackeri -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Procapperia kuldschaensis -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Procapperia linariae -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Procapperia maculatus -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Procapperia orientalis -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Procapperia pelecyntes -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Procapperia tadzhica -- Species of plume moth
Wikipedia - Procapperia -- Plume moth genus
Wikipedia - Process capability
Wikipedia - Progressive capitalism
Wikipedia - Progressive Party (Cape Colony)
Wikipedia - Progress M-12M -- Resupply mission or crew escape test
Wikipedia - Project Timescape
Wikipedia - Promalactis serpenticapitata -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Proposed new capital of Egypt
Wikipedia - Proteuxoa capularis -- species of moth
Wikipedia - Protoparachronistis policapitis -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Providence, Rhode Island -- Capital of Rhode Island
Wikipedia - Przedborz Landscape Park -- Place in Poland
Wikipedia - Pseudomonas caricapapayae -- Species of bacterium
Wikipedia - Psychrophile -- Organism capable of growing and reproducing in the cold
Wikipedia - Pterocapoeta maroccana -- Species of fish
Wikipedia - Pterocephalus -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Public holidays in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Publius Ostorius Scapula -- 1st century Roman statesman, general and governor of Roman Britain
Wikipedia - Publius Sestius Capitolinus Vaticanus -- Roman politician
Wikipedia - Puerto Rico Capitals -- Former women's soccer team based in Ponce, Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - Pungeleria capreolaria -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Purple-capped fruit dove -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Pust (group) -- Norwegian a cappella group
Wikipedia - Puycapel -- Commune in Auvergne-Rhone-Alpes, France
Wikipedia - Pyongyang -- Capital of North Korea
Wikipedia - Pyramid of Capitalist System -- Cartoon critique against capitalism
Wikipedia - Pyrogenic carbon capture and storage -- Proposed climate change mitigation technology
Wikipedia - Quadriceps tendon rupture -- Tear of the tendon that runs from the quadriceps muscle to the top of the knee cap
Wikipedia - Quantum capacity
Wikipedia - Queenie H. C. Captain -- Indian social worker
Wikipedia - Queen's Park High School (Cape Town) -- High School in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Quelccaya Ice Cap -- Glacier in Peru
Wikipedia - Quick Escape -- 2020 single by Pearl Jam
Wikipedia - Quick-firing gun -- Artillery class capable of a high rate of fire for its given caliber
Wikipedia - Quiet area -- Landscape planning concept
Wikipedia - Quilcapuncu District -- District in San Antonio de Putina Province, Peru
Wikipedia - Quintus Lutatius Catulus Capitolinus -- Senator of the Roman Republic
Wikipedia - Quintus Veranius (governor of Cappadocia) -- Roman governor of Cappadocia in 18 AD
Wikipedia - Raapenberg Bird Sanctuary -- Protected area in Cape Town, on the Liesbeek river
Wikipedia - Rabat -- Capital of Morocco
Wikipedia - Race to Escape -- American television series
Wikipedia - Racial democracy -- Term used by some to describe race relations in Brazil, implying that Brazil has escaped racism and racial discrimination; first advanced by Brazilian sociologist Gilberto Freyre
Wikipedia - Radicals for Capitalism: A Freewheeling History of the Modern American Libertarian Movement
Wikipedia - Radicals for Capitalism -- Book by Brian Doherty
Wikipedia - Radio Barlavento -- Former radio station in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Radio Clube do Mindelo -- Former radio station in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Radio Helderberg -- Community radio station in the Helderberg area of the Western Cape, South Africa.
Wikipedia - Radio Orania -- Community radio station based in the Northern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Radiopostaja Capljina -- Bosnian radio station
Wikipedia - Radio Print Handicapped Network -- Australian radio reading services network
Wikipedia - Raffaele Cappelli -- Italian politician and diplomat
Wikipedia - Ragged Ass Road (street) -- Unpaved street in Yellowknife, capital of Canada's Northwest Territories
Wikipedia - Raj Bhavan, Nagpur -- Second residence of the Governor of Maharashtra, It is located in the Second Capital city of Nagpur, Maharashtra
Wikipedia - Rally cap
Wikipedia - Ralph Caplan -- American designer
Wikipedia - Ralph D. Cornell -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Randomized benchmarking -- Method for assessing quantum computer hardware capabilities
Wikipedia - Ranwel Caputto -- Argentine Nobel Prize winning chemist
Wikipedia - Rapid transit -- High-capacity public transport generally used in urban areas
Wikipedia - Rastacap -- Hat
Wikipedia - Ravi Venkatesan -- Indian business executive and venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Raw capitalism
Wikipedia - Raymond of Capua
Wikipedia - Raymundo Capetillo -- Mexican actor
Wikipedia - Raymund of Capua
Wikipedia - RC circuit -- Electric circuit composed of resistors and capacitors
Wikipedia - Reading Capital -- 1965 book by Louis Althusser
Wikipedia - Reason -- Capacity for consciously making sense of things
Wikipedia - Recapitalization -- Reorganization of a company's capital structure
Wikipedia - Recapitulation (music)
Wikipedia - Recapitulation theory of atonement
Wikipedia - Recapitulation theory
Wikipedia - Recap (software) -- US federal court crowdsourcing software
Wikipedia - ReCAPTCHA -- CAPTCHA implementation owned by Google
Wikipedia - Recaptured Love -- 1930 film
Wikipedia - Red-capped coua -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Red-capped parrot -- Species of bird endemic to Western Australia
Wikipedia - Red-capped plover -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Red-capped tamarin -- Species of mammal
Wikipedia - Red Cap (TV series) -- British military TV drama
Wikipedia - Redcap -- Goblin found in folklore
Wikipedia - Red Cotton Night-Cap Country
Wikipedia - Red Moon (2001 film) -- 2001 film by Antonio Capuano
Wikipedia - Red Rum Handicap Chase -- Steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Reentry capsule -- Part of a space capsule
Wikipedia - Reflectance -- Capacity of an object to reflect light
Wikipedia - Reginald Capell, 9th Earl of Essex -- British Peer
Wikipedia - Regio I Porta Capena -- Historical region of Rome
Wikipedia - Regulatory capitalism
Wikipedia - Remo Capitani -- Italian actor
Wikipedia - Rendezvous Creek (district) -- District of the Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - RenM-CM-)e MM-CM-)ndez Capote -- Cuban author and activist
Wikipedia - Renosterveld -- A vegetation type and plant community of the Cape Floristic Region
Wikipedia - Rentier capitalism
Wikipedia - Renwick Brook Park -- Urban park in Glace Bay, Cape Breton Regional Municipality, Nova Scotia, Canada
Wikipedia - Resident Evil 2 (2019 video game) -- Survival horror game by Capcom
Wikipedia - Reto Capadrutt -- Swiss bobsledder
Wikipedia - Return on capital
Wikipedia - Reykjavik -- Capital of Iceland
Wikipedia - Reyland Capellan -- Filipino artistic gymnast
Wikipedia - Rhine capitalism
Wikipedia - Rhinoscapha -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Rhodes Must Fall -- Anti-apartheid protest movement regarding statues at the University of Cape Town in South Africa
Wikipedia - Ribeira Brava, Cape Verde (municipality) -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Ribeira Grande, Cape Verde (municipality) -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Ribeira Grande de Santiago, Cape Verde -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Ricardo Caputo -- Argentine American serial killer
Wikipedia - Richard Caples -- American politician
Wikipedia - Richard Capstick -- English rugby union backrow
Wikipedia - Richard de Capella
Wikipedia - Richard FitzPatrick, 1st Baron Gowran -- Irish-born British naval captain
Wikipedia - Richard H. Kimball -- American venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Richard I of Capua
Wikipedia - Richard M. Capobianco
Wikipedia - Richard Phillips (merchant mariner) -- Former captain of the MV Maersk Alabama
Wikipedia - Richard Rundle Burges -- British naval captain
Wikipedia - Ride Captain Ride -- 1970 single by Blues Image
Wikipedia - Rietvlei Wetland Reserve -- Nature reserve in Table View, Western Cape, South Africa.
Wikipedia - Riga -- Capital of Latvia
Wikipedia - Right-libertarianism -- Type of libertarianism supporting capitalist property rights and private natural resources
Wikipedia - Riot City: Protest and Rebellion in the Capital -- Book by Clive Bloom
Wikipedia - Risk Capital Partners -- British private equity firm
Wikipedia - Rispin Mansion -- Historic mansion in Capitola, California
Wikipedia - RIT Capital Partners -- British investment firm run by the Rothschild family
Wikipedia - River gravel -- Type of rock used for roads and landscaping
Wikipedia - River Landscape (Carracci) -- Painting series by Annibale Carracci
Wikipedia - River Landscape (Salomon van Ruysdael) -- Painting by Salomon van Ruysdael
Wikipedia - RLC circuit -- Resistor Inductor Capacitor Circuit
Wikipedia - Road Town -- Capital of the British Virgin Islands
Wikipedia - Roamer Handicap -- American thoroughbred horse race, Queens, New York
Wikipedia - Robben Island Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area around and offshore of Robben Island in Table Bay in the Western Cape province in South Africa
Wikipedia - Robben Island -- Island in Table Bay, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Robert A. Swanson -- American venture capitalist
Wikipedia - Robert Capa -- American photographer
Wikipedia - Robert Cole Caples -- American artist
Wikipedia - Robert Duggan (venture capitalist) -- American businessman and prominent Scientologist
Wikipedia - Robert Elliott Burns -- American chain gang escapee
Wikipedia - Robert Farrar Capon -- American food writer and priest
Wikipedia - Robert Gray (sea captain) -- American merchant sea captain
Wikipedia - Robert II of Capua
Wikipedia - Robert I of Capua
Wikipedia - Roberto Capucci -- Italian fashion designer
Wikipedia - Robert Prince (captain) -- United States Army officer
Wikipedia - Robot -- A machine capable of carrying out a complex series of actions automatically.
Wikipedia - Roccaporena
Wikipedia - Rockapella -- American a cappella musical group
Wikipedia - Rockman Battle & Fighters -- 2000 fighting video game published by Capcom
Wikipedia - Rock of Eternity -- Fictional location in Captain Marvel / Shazam! comic books
Wikipedia - Rocky Landscape with a Waterfall -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Roger Capan -- American speed skater
Wikipedia - Roger Capellani -- French film director and screenwriter
Wikipedia - Roger Cook (landscaper) -- American garden and landscape contractor and television personality
Wikipedia - Roggeveld Mountains -- Mountain range in Northern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Rokopella capulus -- Species of monoplacophoran
Wikipedia - Rollout photography -- Photographic technique for capturing objects
Wikipedia - Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Acapulco
Wikipedia - Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Cape Coast -- Archdiocese
Wikipedia - Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Capiz
Wikipedia - Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Capua
Wikipedia - Roman Catholic Diocese of Springfield-Cape Girardeau
Wikipedia - Roman Catholicism in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Roman square capitals -- Ancient Romance style of writing.
Wikipedia - Rondebosch Boys' High School -- Public school for boys in Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Rondebosch Common -- Conservation area in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Rondebosch East -- Residential suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Rondebosch Library -- Public library in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Rondebosch Park -- A park in Rondebosch, Cape Town, in South Africa
Wikipedia - Rondevlei Nature Reserve -- Protected wetlands in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Ropicapomecyna -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Roquebrune-Cap-Martin -- Commune in Provence-Alpes-Cote d'Azur, France
Wikipedia - Roque Ponce -- Spanish landscape painter
Wikipedia - Rosaria Capacchione -- Italian politician and journalist
Wikipedia - Roseau -- Capital of Dominica
Wikipedia - Rosebank railway station -- Metrorail station on the Southern Line in Rosebank, Cape Town
Wikipedia - Rose Greely -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Rosemary Capa -- South African politician
Wikipedia - Rose Standish Nichols -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Rosita Capuyon -- Filipino actress-model
Wikipedia - RouchM-CM-)-Capelli theorem -- Existence of solutions for a system of linear equations in terms of matrix ranks
Wikipedia - Rowland Meyrick Handicap Chase -- Steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Royal Challengers Bangalore in 2010 -- Royal challengers Bangalore, IPL team under the captainship of Virat kohli.
Wikipedia - Roy Gardner (bank robber) -- American prison escapee
Wikipedia - RUCAPS
Wikipedia - Rudolf Vrba -- Slovak-Jewish Auschwitz escapee, Canadian biochemist
Wikipedia - Rufous-capped thornbill -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Ruggero Cappuccio -- Italian playwright
Wikipedia - RuneScape -- Massively multiplayer online role-playing game
Wikipedia - R.U.R. -- 1921 Czech play by Karel Capek which introduced the word "robot"
Wikipedia - Rust en Vreugd -- Building in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Rustic capitals -- Majuscule Latin book hand with prominent serifs
Wikipedia - Ruth Sacks Caplin -- American screenwriter and fashion designer (1920-2014)
Wikipedia - Saban Capital Group -- Entertainment investment firm
Wikipedia - Sacred Heart High School (New Jersey) -- Defunct Catholic high school in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Safe and Sound (Capital Cities song) -- 2011 single by Capital Cities
Wikipedia - Sailor cap -- Hat with a gored crown and stitched brim, worn by enlisted Naval personnel
Wikipedia - Saint Helier -- Capital of Jersey
Wikipedia - Saint-Jean-Cap-Ferrat -- Commune in Provence-Alpes-Cote d'Azur, France
Wikipedia - Saint-Jean-d'Alcapies -- Commune in Occitanie, France
Wikipedia - Saint-Julien-de-Gras-Capou -- Commune in Occitanie, France
Wikipedia - Saint Paul, Minnesota -- Capital of Minnesota, United States
Wikipedia - Saint Peter Port -- capital of Guernsey, UK
Wikipedia - Saint-Sauveur (electoral district) -- Former provincial electoral district in the Capitale-Nationale region of Quebec, Canada
Wikipedia - Sakura Kinomoto -- Fictional character from Cardcaptor Sakura
Wikipedia - Salary cap
Wikipedia - Sal, Cape Verde -- Island in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Salix capusii -- Salix capusii common name
Wikipedia - Sally Capp -- Australian politician
Wikipedia - Salt River railway station -- Metrorail railway station in Salt River, Cape Town
Wikipedia - Salt River (Western Cape) -- River in Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Salvador, Bahia -- capital city of Bahia state, Brazil
Wikipedia - Sam Altman -- American venture-capitalist in Silicon Valley
Wikipedia - Samuel Parsons -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Samuel P. Capen -- American educational administrator (1878-1956)
Wikipedia - Samuel Rayner -- English landscape artist
Wikipedia - Sanaa -- Capital of Yemen
Wikipedia - Sand Hill Road -- Road in Silicon Valley, California; home to venture capital firms
Wikipedia - Sandy Bay, Cape Town -- Beach in Cape Town
Wikipedia - San Juan, Puerto Rico -- Capital and most populous municipality of Puerto Rico
Wikipedia - San Silvestre in Capite
Wikipedia - Santa Catarina, Cape Verde -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Santa Catarina do Fogo, Cape Verde -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Santa Cruz, Cape Verde -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Santa Luzia, Cape Verde -- Island of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Santiago, Cape Verde -- Largest island of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Santo Antao, Cape Verde -- Westernmost and largest of the Barlavento islands of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Sao Domingos, Cape Verde (municipality) -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Sao Filipe, Cape Verde (municipality) -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Sao JosM-CM-) Paquete Africa -- Portuguese slave ship wrecked off Cape Town in 1794
Wikipedia - Sao Lourenco dos M-CM-^Srgaos, Cape Verde -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Sao Miguel, Cape Verde -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Sao Nicolau, Cape Verde -- Island of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Sao Salvador do Mundo, Cape Verde -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Sao TomM-CM-) -- Capital of Sao TomM-CM-) and Principe
Wikipedia - Sao Vicente, Cape Verde -- Island in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Sapian -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Sarah Cole -- American landscape painter from the 19th Century
Wikipedia - Sarai (city) -- capital of the Golden Horde
Wikipedia - Saratoga Handicap -- Defunct American thoroughbred horse race
Wikipedia - Sardinia Bay Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area in the Eastern Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - SAS Wingfield -- South African Navy base in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Savane Lake (Lac-Pikauba) -- Lake in Capitale-Nationale, Quebec, Canada
Wikipedia - Saving Capitalism -- 2017 documentary film
Wikipedia - Scabiosa -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Scapa Flow (film) -- 1930 film
Wikipedia - Scapa Flow -- Body of water in the Orkney Islands, Scotland
Wikipedia - Scapanopygus -- Genus of beetle
Wikipedia - Scapastathes -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scape (botany)
Wikipedia - Scapegoating -- Practice of singling out any party for unmerited negative treatment or blame
Wikipedia - Scapegoats
Wikipedia - Scapegoat tree
Wikipedia - Scapegoat
Wikipedia - Scapeuseboides -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scaphidiinae -- Subfamily of beetles
Wikipedia - Scaphidium -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scaphinotus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scaphinus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scaphism -- Alleged ancient Persian form of execution
Wikipedia - Scaphites -- Genus of mollusks (fossil)
Wikipedia - Scaphium (beetle) -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scaphocephaly -- Cephalic disorder involving premature fusion of the sagittal suture
Wikipedia - Scaphoid fracture -- Fracture of the scaphoid bone in the wrist
Wikipedia - Scaphydra -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scaplen's Court -- Museum and listed building in Poole, Dorset, England
Wikipedia - Scapochariesthes nigroapicipennis -- genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scaposerixia -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scaposodus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scapozygocera -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scapozygoceropsis albertisi -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scaptelytra -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scapterus -- Genus of beetles
Wikipedia - Scaptesyle dictyota -- Species of insect
Wikipedia - Scapular of Help of the Sick
Wikipedia - Scapular of Our Lady of Mount Carmel -- Roman Catholic devotional garment
Wikipedia - Scapular of Our Lady of Ransom -- Roman Catholic devotional garment
Wikipedia - Scapular of Saint Benedict -- Christian devotional garment
Wikipedia - Scapular of the Holy Face -- Roman Catholic devotional garment
Wikipedia - Scapular of the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary -- Catholic devotional object
Wikipedia - Scapular of the Sacred Heart -- Catholic devotional object
Wikipedia - Scapular of the Seven Sorrows of Mary -- Roman Catholic devotional garment
Wikipedia - Scapular
Wikipedia - Scapula -- Bone that connects the humerus (upper arm bone) with the clavicle (collar bone)
Wikipedia - Scapulimancy
Wikipedia - Scarborough, Western Cape -- Seaside suburb in Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Schefflera capitata -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Schefflera capitulispicata -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Schefflera decaphylla -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Scherzo capriccioso (DvoM-EM-^Yak) -- Orchestral work by Antonin DvoM-EM-^Yak
Wikipedia - Schmid peoplemover -- An elevator capable of horizontal movement
Wikipedia - Schotsche Kloof, Cape Town -- Schotsche Kloof, Cape Town
Wikipedia - Sciencescape
Wikipedia - Scincella capitanea -- Species of Skink found in Nepal
Wikipedia - Scipione Cappella -- Italian painter
Wikipedia - Scopula atricapilla -- Species of geometer moth in subfamily Sterrhinae
Wikipedia - Scopula capnosterna -- Species of geometer moth in subfamily Sterrhinae
Wikipedia - Scott Cappos -- Canadian shot putter
Wikipedia - Scott Hartley -- American venture capitalist and author
Wikipedia - Scott Kelly (astronaut) -- American engineer, retired astronaut, and retired U.S. Navy captain
Wikipedia - Scowle -- Landscape features which range from amorphous shallow pits to irregular labyrinthine hollows up to several metres deep
Wikipedia - Scrum cap -- Occasionally worn headgear in rugby
Wikipedia - Sculptor Capital Management -- American investment management firm
Wikipedia - Scuttling of the German fleet at Scapa Flow -- Destruction of interned warships, 21 June 1919
Wikipedia - Scythris anaecapitella -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Sea captain -- Commander of a ship or other sea-going vessel
Wikipedia - Sea Isle City, New Jersey -- City in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Seal of the District of Columbia -- Official government emblem of the U.S. capital, Washington D.C.
Wikipedia - Sea Pole-class bathyscaphe -- A class of bathyscaphe of the People's Republic of China
Wikipedia - Searchlight Capital -- British private equity firm
Wikipedia - Seating capacity -- Number of people who can be seated in a specific space
Wikipedia - Sebastian Cappelen -- Danish professional golfer
Wikipedia - Second Battle of Cape Finisterre (1747) -- Naval battle which took place on 25 October 1747
Wikipedia - Second Battle of Guam -- WWII battle by US forces to recapture Guam from the Empire of Japan
Wikipedia - Seleucia -- Capital of the Seleucid Empire
Wikipedia - Self-awareness -- Capacity for introspection and individuation as a subject
Wikipedia - Self-driving car -- Vehicle that is capable of moving safely with little or no human input
Wikipedia - Self handicapping
Wikipedia - Self-handicapping -- Cognitive strategy by which people avoid effort in the hopes of keeping potential failure from hurting self-esteem
Wikipedia - Self-managed social centres in the United Kingdom -- Self-organised anti-capitalist communal spaces in the UK
Wikipedia - Self-propelled anti-aircraft weapon -- Mobile vehicle with a dedicated anti-aircraft capability
Wikipedia - Self-replicating machine -- a type of autonomous robot that is capable of reproducing itself autonomously using raw materials found in the environment
Wikipedia - Sense -- Physiological capacity of organisms that provides data for perception
Wikipedia - Seoul Capital Area -- Metropolitan area in South Korea
Wikipedia - Seoul Metropolitan Subway -- A rail system in the Seoul National Capital Area of South Korea, including rapid transit, commuter rail, light metro and automated people mover (APM) components
Wikipedia - Seoul -- Capital of South Korea
Wikipedia - Sequoia Capital -- U.S. venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Serena Capponcelli -- Italian athlete
Wikipedia - Sergius of Cappadocia
Wikipedia - Sericomyrmex zacapanus -- Species of ant
Wikipedia - Series A round -- First significant round of venture capital financing
Wikipedia - Serpens -- Constellation, straddling the celestial equator, consisting of two non-connected parts (Serpens Caput and Serpens Cauda)
Wikipedia - Serra da Capivara National Park -- National park of Brazil
Wikipedia - Serruria fasciflora -- The common pin spiderhead is a shrublet in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Serruria nivenii -- Species of shrub from the Western Cape of South Africa
Wikipedia - Sexual capital -- Social value from sexual attractiveness
Wikipedia - Shahal M. Khan -- American venture capitalist and executive
Wikipedia - Shakespeare by the Lakes -- Summer Shakespeare festival in Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Shako -- Tall, cylindrical military cap with a visor
Wikipedia - Shannon capacity
Wikipedia - Shannon Nichol -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Shan shui -- Art genre to draw landscapes
Wikipedia - Sheila Fell -- 20th century English landscape painter
Wikipedia - Shelley Moore Capito -- United States Senator from West Virginia
Wikipedia - Shelterin -- Protein complex serving as a telomere cap
Wikipedia - Shervin Pishevar -- Iranian-American entrepreneur, venture capitalist, super angel investor, and philanthropist
Wikipedia - Shillong -- City and state capital of Meghalaya, India
Wikipedia - Shimla -- Capital city of the state of Himachal Pradesh in India
Wikipedia - Shot logging -- Process of capturing metadata in a film or video shoot
Wikipedia - Shrimp -- Decapod crustaceans
Wikipedia - Side cap -- Foldable military cap
Wikipedia - Sidon Eyalet revolt (1834) -- Galilee-based rebels captured Safad and Tiberias in eastern Galilee and the Hauran
Wikipedia - Siege of Algeciras (1342-44) -- Castilian siege of the Marinid Empire capital
Wikipedia - Siege of Baghdad (1258) -- Hulagu's investment, capture, and sacking of Abbasid Baghdad in 1258
Wikipedia - Siege of Berwick (1333) -- 1333 capture of Berwick town from the Scottish by the English
Wikipedia - Siege of Capua (1098)
Wikipedia - Siege of Paris (845) -- The first siege of the Vikings to the capital of the kingdom of the West Franks
Wikipedia - Siege of Trichinopoly (1741) -- 1741 siege and capture of Trichinopoly by the Maratha Empire
Wikipedia - Siege of Trichinopoly (1743) -- 1743 siege and capture of Trichinopoly by Nizam of Hyderabad
Wikipedia - Siege of Vienna -- Attempt by the Ottoman Empire to capture the city of Vienna, Austria
Wikipedia - Siegfried Lederer's escape from Auschwitz -- 1944 prisoner escape from Auschwitz concentration camp
Wikipedia - Sierra Capri -- American actress
Wikipedia - Sighnaq -- Capital of Uzbek and Kazakh khanates
Wikipedia - Sigma, Capiz -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Sigma Capricorni -- Star in the constellation Capricornus
Wikipedia - Signal Hill (Cape Town) -- Hill in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Silaka Nature Reserve -- Nature reserve in Eastern Cape Province, South Africa, near Port St Johns
Wikipedia - Silene capensis
Wikipedia - Silt density index -- Measure for the fouling capacity of water in reverse osmosis system
Wikipedia - Silver-capped fruit dove -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Silver Trophy Handicap Hurdle -- Hurdle horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Simona Caparrini -- Italian actress
Wikipedia - Simon Acland -- British venture capitalist and author
Wikipedia - Simon's Town -- A seaside town in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Sindhi cap -- A cap from Sindh province.
Wikipedia - Sinenjongo High School -- Public high school in Joe Slovo Park, Milnerton, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Sin Escape Con Correas -- 2014 International Wrestling Revolution Group event
Wikipedia - Sing: Ultimate A Cappella -- British TV programme
Wikipedia - Siquijor, Siquijor -- Municipality of the Philippines and capital of the province of Siquijor
Wikipedia - Sir Lowry's Pass Village -- Suburb of Cape Town in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Sisters of Charity of Saints Bartolomea Capitanio and Vincenza Gerosa (SCCG)
Wikipedia - Sitio do Picapau Amarelo (fictional farm) -- Primary setting for the series of children's novels, Sitio do Picapau Amarelo
Wikipedia - Six Significant Landscapes -- Poem by Wallace Stevens
Wikipedia - Skill (labor) -- Measure of the amount of worker's expertise, specialization, wages, and supervisory capacity
Wikipedia - Skopje -- Capital of North Macedonia
Wikipedia - SkyBridge Capital -- American investment firm
Wikipedia - Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow -- 2004 dieselpunk film by Kerry Conran
Wikipedia - Skyline Blues -- High school a cappella
Wikipedia - Small caps
Wikipedia - Small-lift launch vehicle -- Launch vehicle capable of lifting up to 2,000&nbsp;kg (4,400 lb) into low Earth orbit
Wikipedia - SMS Dresden (1917) -- German light cruiser scuttled in Scapa Flow
Wikipedia - SMS Kronprinz -- First World War German battleship scuttled in Scapa Flow
Wikipedia - SMS Markgraf -- German battleship scuttled in Scapa Flow
Wikipedia - Snake Plissken -- Fictional character from the films Escape from New York and Escape from L.A.
Wikipedia - SNK vs. Capcom: Card Fighters Clash -- Digital collectible card game based on video games by Capcom and SNK
Wikipedia - Snowcap -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Social capitalism
Wikipedia - Social Capital (venture capital) -- Venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Social capital -- Concept
Wikipedia - Social Democratic Party (Cape Verde) -- Political party in Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Social intelligence -- Capacity to know oneself and to know others
Wikipedia - Socialism for the rich and capitalism for the poor -- political-economic argument
Wikipedia - Socialist critique of capitalism
Wikipedia - Social venture capital
Wikipedia - Sofia -- Capital of Bulgaria
Wikipedia - Sofie Cappelen -- Norwegian-born actress
Wikipedia - SoftBank Capital -- American venture capital company
Wikipedia - Sokoto -- |Capital city of Sokoto State
Wikipedia - Solanum pseudocapsicum -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Solanus Casey -- American Capuchin friar and priest
Wikipedia - Solidscape
Wikipedia - Solubility -- Capacity of a substance to dissolve in a solvent in a homogeneous way
Wikipedia - Someone You Loved -- 2018 single by Lewis Capaldi
Wikipedia - Somerset Hospital (Cape Town) -- Hospital in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Somerset Mall (South Africa) -- Shopping mall in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Somerset West -- Town in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Sonic weapon -- A weapon that uses soundwaves to discomfort, capacitate or kill opponents.
Wikipedia - Sooty-capped hermit -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Sorocephalus -- Genus of plants endemic to the Cape Floristic Region of South Africa
Wikipedia - SOSV -- Venture capital firm
Wikipedia - Sotavento Islands -- Island group of the Cape Verde archipelago
Wikipedia - So This Is Love? (film) -- 1928 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Soundscape
Wikipedia - Sounion -- Greek cape at the southernmost tip of the Attic peninsula
Wikipedia - South African Children's Home -- Building in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - South African College of Music -- Department of the Faculty of Humanities at the University of Cape Town
Wikipedia - South African College -- Former educational institution in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - South African International Exhibition -- World's fair held in Cape Town, Cape Colony, in 1877
Wikipedia - South African Party (Cape Colony)
Wikipedia - Southeast Missourian -- Newspaper in Cape Girardeau, Missouri
Wikipedia - Southern Line (Cape Town) -- Metrorail railway line in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - South Peninsula, Cape Town -- Administrative region of the City of Cape Town
Wikipedia - Southwest Indian Seamounts Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area south of Stilbaai in the Western Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Space capsule -- Type of spacecraft
Wikipedia - Space Pirate Captain Harlock -- Space pirate manga and anime series
Wikipedia - Space Pirate Captain Herlock: The Endless Odyssey -- 2002 original video animation
Wikipedia - Spaceplane -- Spacecraft capable of aerodynamic flight in atmosphere
Wikipedia - Space Theatre (Cape Town) -- Theatre in South Africa
Wikipedia - Space trade -- Hypotethical exchange of capital, goods and services between planets and natural satellites
Wikipedia - SpaceX Dragon -- Reusable cargo spacecraft/space capsule
Wikipedia - Spartel -- A submerged former island in the Strait of Gibraltar near Cape Spartel and the Spartel Sill
Wikipedia - Spatalla -- Genus of plants in the family Proteaceae endemic to the Cape Floristic Region of South Africa
Wikipedia - Specific heat capacity -- Heat required to increase temperature of a given unit of mass of a substance
Wikipedia - Spectra Cyber Security Solutions Trophy Handicap Chase -- Steeplechase horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Spes Bona High School -- School in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Spherical cap -- Section of a sphere
Wikipedia - Spine of scapula -- Bony plate on the scapula
Wikipedia - Spring Handicap -- 1937 film
Wikipedia - Square academic cap -- Type of cap used in academic dress
Wikipedia - Sri Jayawardenepura Kotte -- Capital of Sri Lanka
Wikipedia - Srinagar Highway -- Road in Islamabad Capital Territory, Pakistan
Wikipedia - SS Cap Arcona -- German ocean liner
Wikipedia - SS Yongala -- Australian registered passenger ship that sank off Cape Bowling Green, Queensland, Australia
Wikipedia - Stanford Counterpoint -- The first all-female a cappella group on the West Coast of the United States
Wikipedia - Stanford Fleet Street Singers -- Collegiate comedy a cappella group from Stanford, California, U.S.
Wikipedia - Stanford Harmonics -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - Star China Media -- Chinese media company; subsidiary of China Media Capital
Wikipedia - State capacity
Wikipedia - State Capitalism
Wikipedia - State capitalism
Wikipedia - State capitalists
Wikipedia - State monopoly capitalism
Wikipedia - State-sponsored capitalism
Wikipedia - Statue of Captain James Cook, The Mall -- Statue in The Mall, London, England
Wikipedia - Statue of Edward Douglass White -- Bronze sculpture depicting the American politician and jurist of the same name by Arthur C. Morgan, installed in the United States Capitol Visitor Center, in Washington, D.C
Wikipedia - Statue of George Grey -- Statue of Sir George Grey in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Statue of James Paul Clarke -- Marble sculpture in the US Capitol
Wikipedia - Statue of Jan Hendrik Hofmeyr -- Sculpture of the South African journalist and politician in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Statue of Junipero Serra (U.S. Capitol) -- Bronze sculpture depicting the Roman Catholic Spanish priest Junipero Serra
Wikipedia - Statue of Maria van Riebeeck -- Statue in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Statue of Nelson Mandela, Cape Town City Hall -- Statue in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Statue of Robert E. Lee (U.S. Capitol) -- Sculpture by Edward Valentine
Wikipedia - Statue of William King -- Marble sculpture depicting Maine's first governor of the same name by Franklin Simmons, installed in the US Capitol, in Washington, DC
Wikipedia - St. Augustine's College (Cape Coast) -- Public secondary/high school in Cape Coast, Ghana
Wikipedia - Stauros -- Greek word for a stake or cross and was an implement of capital punishment
Wikipedia - Steenbras Dam -- Dam near Gordon's Bay, Western Cape
Wikipedia - Stefano Bucchia -- Albanian sea captain and general
Wikipedia - Steinke hood -- Submarine escape breathing apperatus
Wikipedia - Stepanakert -- Capital of Nagorno-Karabakh
Wikipedia - Steve Capps -- American computer programmer
Wikipedia - Steven Caple Jr. -- American film director, producer, and screenwriter
Wikipedia - St. George's Grammar School (Cape Town) -- Private school in Mowbray, South Africa
Wikipedia - St. George's, Grenada -- Capital of Grenada
Wikipedia - Stigmella atricapitella -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Stigmella ruficapitella -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - Stilbaai Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area in the Western Cape in South Africa
Wikipedia - Stinger -- Sharp organ found in various animals capable of injecting venom
Wikipedia - Stirling Square Capital Partners -- British private equity firm
Wikipedia - Stitch's Great Escape! -- 2004 to 2018 theater-in-the-round attraction at Magic Kingdom in Walt Disney World
Wikipedia - St James, Cape Town -- Seaside suburb of Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - St. John Capistran
Wikipedia - St. John's, Antigua and Barbuda -- Capital of Antigua and Barbuda
Wikipedia - St. John's, Newfoundland and Labrador -- Capital of Newfoundland and Labrador, Canada
Wikipedia - Stockholm -- Capital of Sweden
Wikipedia - Stock split -- increasing the number of shares in a company, without dilution or change in total capitalization
Wikipedia - Stolen Women: Captured Hearts -- 1997 film by Jerry London
Wikipedia - Stone Harbor, New Jersey -- Borough in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Stone Harbor School District -- School district in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Stonehenge in its landscape -- Archaeological report on Stonehenge
Wikipedia - Stonehenge Landscape -- Estate owned by the National Trust of England
Wikipedia - Stopping power -- Ability of a firearm or other weapon to cause enough ballistic trauma to a target to immediately incapacitate the target
Wikipedia - Story of the Warrior and the Captive
Wikipedia - STOVL -- Aircraft takeoff and landing class capable of taking off from a short runway and landing vertically without a runway
Wikipedia - Strandfontein, Cape Town -- Seaside suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Strandfontein Library -- Public library in Strandfontein, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Strand Street -- One of the main streets in the central business district of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Strand, Western Cape -- Seaside town in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Strathnairn Homestead, Australian Capital Territory -- Historic building in Strathnairn, Australia
Wikipedia - Stratonice of Cappadocia -- Princess of the Seleucid Empire
Wikipedia - Street Fighter Collection -- Fighting video game compilation by Capcom
Wikipedia - Street Fighter X Mega Man -- 2012 crossover action-platform video game published by Capcom
Wikipedia - Strictly Sinatra -- 2001 film by Peter Capaldi
Wikipedia - String theory landscape
Wikipedia - Stripe-capped sparrow -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Stucky (fandom) -- Depictions of a relationship between Captain America and the Winter Soldier
Wikipedia - Submarine Escape and Rescue system (Royal Swedish Navy)
Wikipedia - Submarine Escape Immersion Equipment -- Whole-body exposure suit that allows submariners to escape from a sunken submarine
Wikipedia - Submarine Escape Training Facility (Australia) -- Shore facility of the Royal Australian Navy
Wikipedia - Submarine escape training facility -- A facility used for training submariners in methods of escape from a sunken submarine
Wikipedia - Submarine-launched ballistic missile -- Ballistic missile capable of being launched from submerged submarines
Wikipedia - Sub-Mesozoic hilly peneplains -- A landscape in Scandinavia of undulating hills and joint valleys
Wikipedia - Subtitle (captioning)
Wikipedia - Succisa pratensis -- species of flowering plant in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Succisa -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Succisella andreae-molinae -- Species of flowering plant in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Succisella -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Sucre -- Legal capital of Bolivia
Wikipedia - Sukhoy Nos -- Cape on Severny, Novaya Zemlya, Russia
Wikipedia - Sulejw Landscape Park
Wikipedia - Summer capital -- Location used as administrative capital during the hot summer
Wikipedia - Summer Handicap Hurdle -- Hurdle horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Summer Landscape with Harvesters -- Painting by Joos de Momper
Wikipedia - Summertime Blues -- Original song written and composed by Eddie Cochran and Jerry Capehart
Wikipedia - Sunay Erdem -- Turkish landscape architect
Wikipedia - Sun Capital Partners (UK) -- British private equity firm
Wikipedia - Sunda Trench -- An oceanic trench in the Indian Ocean near Sumatra where the Australian-Capricorn plates subduct under a part of the Eurasian Plate.
Wikipedia - Super Adventure Rockman -- 1998 interactive movie video game published by Capcom
Wikipedia - Supercapacitor
Wikipedia - Supercapitalism (modern)
Wikipedia - Super heavy-lift launch vehicle -- Launch vehicle capable of lifting more than 50 tonnes of payload into low earth orbit
Wikipedia - Superscape -- Video game developer
Wikipedia - Supraglenoid tubercle -- Region of the scapula from which the long head of the biceps brachii muscle originates
Wikipedia - Suprascapular notch -- Groove in the superior border of the scapula, for the suprascapular nerve to pass through
Wikipedia - Surveillance capitalism -- Economic system in which data from one's time online is collected and sold by corporations
Wikipedia - Susan Child -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Sustainable landscape architecture
Wikipedia - Suva -- Capital of Fiji
Wikipedia - Suzie Cappetta -- American pop musician and songwriter
Wikipedia - S.v. -- Capital of Fiji
Wikipedia - Swartland Alluvium Fynbos -- Vegetation type endemic to the high plains and mountains in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Swartland Shale Renosterveld -- Vegetation type endemic to the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Sweet Escape (Alesso song) -- 2015 song by Alesso
Wikipedia - Swim cap -- Tight fitting cap worn while swimming or bathing
Wikipedia - Swinton Handicap Hurdle -- Hurdle horse race in Britain
Wikipedia - Swiss cheese features -- Enigmatic surface features on Mars southern ice cap
Wikipedia - Swiss Red Cross Commission escape -- 1941 WW2 escape from Spangenberg castle
Wikipedia - Switched capacitor
Wikipedia - Sydney -- Capital of New South Wales and most populous city in Australia
Wikipedia - Sylvain Cappell -- American mathematician
Wikipedia - Sylvia Crowe -- British landscape architect and garden designer
Wikipedia - Sylvia Wishart -- Scottish landscape artist
Wikipedia - Sylvio Capanema -- Brazilian jurist
Wikipedia - Symmetrocapulidae -- Extinct family of snails
Wikipedia - Symmetry breaking of escaping ants
Wikipedia - Symphoricarpos -- Genus of flowering plants in the honeysuckle family Caprifoliaceae
Wikipedia - Synthetic-aperture radar -- Form of radar used to create images of landscapes
Wikipedia - Szczecin -- Capital city of West Pomerania, Poland
Wikipedia - Table Bay -- Bay at the north of the Cape Peninsula in South Africa
Wikipedia - Table Mountain Aerial Cableway -- Cable car to the top of Table Mountain in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Table Mountain Fire (2009) -- A large fire in and around the Table Mountain National Park in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Table Mountain National Park Marine Protected Area -- A marine conservation area around the Cape Peninsula in South Africa
Wikipedia - Table Mountain National Park -- A national park on tha Cape Peninsula in the vicinity of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Table Mountain Sandstone -- A group of rock formations within the Cape Supergroup sequence of rocks
Wikipedia - Table Mountain -- A flat-topped mountain overlooking the city of Cape Town
Wikipedia - Table of specific heat capacities -- For some substances and engineering materials, includes volumetric and molar values
Wikipedia - Table View High School -- High school in Table View, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Table View -- Suburb of Cape Town, in Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Tahlonteeskee, Oklahoma -- First capital city of the early western Cherokee Nation
Wikipedia - Taivani -- Restaurant and casino complex in the Albanian capital Tirana
Wikipedia - Taiwan Capitalization Weighted Stock Index -- Taiwanese stock market index
Wikipedia - Take Me Away (Cappella song) -- 1992 song by Cappella
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Wikipedia - Tallinn -- Capital of Estonia
Wikipedia - Tamboerskloof -- Suburb of Cape Town, in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Tambour -- Part of an architectural column capital
Wikipedia - Tam o' shanter (cap) -- Scottish bonnet made with a tight-fitting headband and a very wide circular crown, usually with a pompom in the center
Wikipedia - Tamridaea capsulifera -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Tanjung Layar -- Cape at the west of Java, at the entrance to the Sunda Strait
Wikipedia - Tankwa Karoo National Park -- A conservation area west of Sutherland in the Western and Northern Cape
Wikipedia - Tapaz -- Municipality of the Philippines in the province of Capiz
Wikipedia - Taqiyah (cap) -- A short rounded skullcap worn by some Muslims
Wikipedia - Tarrafal, Cape Verde (municipality) -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Tarrafal de Sao Nicolau (municipality) -- Municipality of Cape Verde
Wikipedia - Tarzan Escapes -- 1936 film by William A. Wellman, George B. Seitz, John Farrow, Richard Thorpe
Wikipedia - Tashkent -- Capital and largest city of Uzbekistan
Wikipedia - Task loading -- The relationship between operator capacity and the accumulated activities that must be done
Wikipedia - Tatsunoko vs. Capcom: Ultimate All-Stars -- 2008 video game
Wikipedia - Tau Capricorni -- Bayer designation
Wikipedia - Taxation in Israel -- income tax, capital gains tax, value-added tax and land appreciation tax in the country of Israel
Wikipedia - Taxation in the United States -- Taxes are imposed in the United States at each of levels; taxes on income, payroll, property, sales, capital gains, dividends, imports, estates and gifts, as well as various fees
Wikipedia - Tbilisi -- Capital of Georgia
Wikipedia - TDR Capital -- British private equity firm headquartered in London
Wikipedia - Teatro Capitolio -- Cinema-Theatre in Lisbon, Portugal
Wikipedia - Techapella -- Showcase of a capella music hosted by members of tech companies in Silicon Valley
Wikipedia - Technocapitalism
Wikipedia - Tegucigalpa -- Capital of Honduras
Wikipedia - Tehran -- Capital and largest city of Iran
Wikipedia - Telephone numbers in Cape Verde -- Wikipedia list article
Wikipedia - Tell Me the Way -- 1995 song by Cappella
Wikipedia - Template talk:Aspects of capitalism
Wikipedia - Template talk:CapitalDK-stub
Wikipedia - Template talk:Capitalism sidebar
Wikipedia - Template talk:Cappadocian Fathers
Wikipedia - Template talk:Captain America
Wikipedia - Template talk:Direct Capetians
Wikipedia - Template talk:Netscape
Wikipedia - Template talk:Object-capability security
Wikipedia - Temple of Jupiter (Capitoline Hill)
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Wikipedia - Teodorico Caporaso -- Italian racewalker
Wikipedia - Teredo tunneling -- Transition technology that gives full IPv6 connectivity for IPv6-capable hosts that are on the IPv4 Internet but have no native connection to an IPv6 network
Wikipedia - Teresa Gali-Izard -- Spanish landscape architect, agronomist and educator
Wikipedia - Termcap
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Wikipedia - Testosterone isocaproate
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Wikipedia - Tetrapolitan Confession -- Early Protestant confession of faith drawn up by Martin Bucer and Wolfgang Capito
Wikipedia - Texas Seven -- Group of American escaped convicts
Wikipedia - Text comics -- Oldest form of comics, where the stories are told in captions below the images
Wikipedia - That Certain Thing -- 1928 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Thaumaturgy -- Capability of a magician or a saint to work magic or miracles
Wikipedia - The Accumulation of Capital
Wikipedia - The Adventurer of Tortuga -- 1965 film by Luigi Capuano
Wikipedia - The Adventures of Captain Hansen -- 1917 film
Wikipedia - The Adventures of Captain Hasswell -- 1925 film
Wikipedia - The Adventures of Captain Kentucky -- 1979-1982 American comic strip
Wikipedia - The Age of Capital: 1848-1875 -- 1975 history book by Eric Hobsbawm
Wikipedia - The Age of Surveillance Capitalism -- Book published in 2019
Wikipedia - The Alley Cats (doo-wop group) -- American doo-wop group singing in a cappella
Wikipedia - The Alleycats (University of St Andrews) -- A Cappella group
Wikipedia - The Amazing Spider-Man and Captain America in Dr. Doom's Revenge!
Wikipedia - The Apache Kid's Escape -- 1930 film
Wikipedia - The Beauty of Silence -- 2000 song performed by Airscape
Wikipedia - The Blonde Captive -- 1931 film
Wikipedia - The Bobs -- A cappella vocal group
Wikipedia - The Boulevard at the Capital Centre -- Defunct open-air shopping center in Prince George's County, Maryland
Wikipedia - The Bride of the Incapacitated -- 1919 film
Wikipedia - The Brothers Bloom -- 2008 American caper comedy film by Rian Johnson
Wikipedia - The Brown Derbies -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Burren -- Glaciated karst landscape region in northwest County Clare, Ireland
Wikipedia - The Buzztones -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Cape (1996 TV series) -- American television series
Wikipedia - The Cape Canaveral Monsters -- 1960 film
Wikipedia - The Cape Town Affair -- 1967 spy film directed by Robert D. Webb
Wikipedia - The Capitalist Manifesto -- 1958 book by Louis O. Kelso and Mortimer J. Adler
Wikipedia - The Capital Times -- Newspaper published in Madison, Wisconsin, U.S.
Wikipedia - The Capital -- Newspaper in Annapolis, Maryland
Wikipedia - The Caprices -- Short story collection by Sabina Murray
Wikipedia - The Capris (Philadelphia group) -- American 1950s doo-wop group
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Wikipedia - The Captain (2017 film) -- 2017 film
Wikipedia - The Captain (2019 film) -- 2019 Chinese film
Wikipedia - The Captain and His Hero -- 1955 film
Wikipedia - The Captain from Cologne -- 1956 film
Wikipedia - The Captain from Kopenick (1926 film) -- 1926 film
Wikipedia - The Captain from Kopenick (1931 film) -- 1931 film
Wikipedia - The Captain from Kopenick (1956 film) -- 1956 West German comedy drama directed by Helmut KM-CM-$utner
Wikipedia - The Captain from Loyola
Wikipedia - The captain goes down with the ship -- Maritime tradition
Wikipedia - The Captain Hates the Sea -- 1934 film by Lewis Milestone
Wikipedia - The Captain Is a Lady -- 1940 film directed by Robert B. Sinclair
Wikipedia - The Captain of Venice -- 1951 film
Wikipedia - The Captain (play)
Wikipedia - The Captain's Captain -- 1919 film by Tom Terriss
Wikipedia - The Captain's Daughter (1947 film) -- 1947 film
Wikipedia - The Captain's Daughter (1958 film) -- 1958 film
Wikipedia - The Captain's Kid -- 1936 film by Nick Grinde
Wikipedia - The Captain's Table -- 1959 film
Wikipedia - The Captivating Star of Happiness -- 1975 film
Wikipedia - The Captive (1915 film) -- 1915 film
Wikipedia - The Captive City (1962 film) -- 1962 film
Wikipedia - The Captive Mind -- Polish non-fiction
Wikipedia - The Captives (film) -- 2004 film
Wikipedia - The Captive Virgins -- A 1977 film directed by Mario O'Hara and Romy Suzara
Wikipedia - The Capture (film) -- 1950 film by John Sturges
Wikipedia - The Capture of Captain America
Wikipedia - The Capture of the Hessians at Trenton, December 26, 1776 -- painting by John Trumbull
Wikipedia - The Capture (TV series) -- TV Series
Wikipedia - The Case Against Education -- 2018 book by Bryan Caplan
Wikipedia - Thechikottukavu Ramachandran -- A captive elephant
Wikipedia - The Colgate Thirteen -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Common Law (1916 film) -- 1916 film by Albert Capellani
Wikipedia - The Cosmic Landscape -- Book by Leonard Susskind
Wikipedia - The Dartmouth Aires -- A cappella group at Dartmouth College
Wikipedia - The Death of Captain America -- Comic-book story arc published by Marvel Comics
Wikipedia - The Death of Julius Caesar (Camuccini) -- Painting by Vincenzo Camuccini in the National Museum of Capodimonte, Naples
Wikipedia - The Development of Capitalism in Russia -- Book by Vladimir Lenin
Wikipedia - The Dillinger Escape Plan -- American metalcore band
Wikipedia - The Dixie Handicap -- 1924 film by Reginald Barker
Wikipedia - The Donovan Affair -- 1929 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - The Duke and Duchess of Urbino -- 4-part large, free standing marriage portrait dyptich set in scupted frame, with two landscape paintings on the back, by Piero della Francesca
Wikipedia - The Duke's Men of Yale -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Dutchman's Cap (Lithuania) -- Hill on the Lithuanian seaside.
Wikipedia - Thee Legacy -- South african acappella group
Wikipedia - The Escape (1914 film) -- 1914 film
Wikipedia - The Escape (1926 film) -- 1926 film
Wikipedia - The Escape (1928 film) -- 1928 film
Wikipedia - The Escape (1939 film) -- 1939 film by Ricardo Cortez
Wikipedia - The Escape (1944 film) -- 1944 film
Wikipedia - The Escape (2017 film) -- 2017 film
Wikipedia - The Escape Artist (novel) -- 2018 novel by Brad Meltzer
Wikipedia - The Escape Club -- English pop rock band
Wikipedia - The Escaped -- 1964 film
Wikipedia - The Escape in the Silent -- 1966 film
Wikipedia - The Escape to Nice -- 1932 film
Wikipedia - The Escapist (magazine) -- American video game magazine
Wikipedia - The Escapists 2 -- 2017 strategy role-playing video game
Wikipedia - The Escapists -- Strategy video game
Wikipedia - The Exploration of Africa: From Cairo to the Cape -- 1991 book by Anne Hugon
Wikipedia - The Foolish Virgin (1916 film) -- 1916 film by Albert Capellani
Wikipedia - The Fortunes of Captain Blood -- 1936 British historical adventure novel
Wikipedia - The Fortune Teller (1920 film) -- 1920 film by Albert Capellani
Wikipedia - The Gentlemen of the College -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Girl from Capri -- 1924 film
Wikipedia - The Girl from Chickasaw County: The Complete Capitol Masters -- 2018 box set compilation album by Bobbie Gentry
Wikipedia - The Grand Escapade -- 1946 film
Wikipedia - The GrooveBarbers -- American a cappella group
Wikipedia - The Handicap of Love -- 1921 film
Wikipedia - The Hangovers (Cornell University) -- A cappella ensemble
Wikipedia - The Harvard Krokodiloes -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Hidden Connections -- 2002 book by Fritjof Capra
Wikipedia - The House of Mirth (1918 film) -- 1918 film by Albert Capellani
Wikipedia - The Hussar Captain -- 1940 film
Wikipedia - The Hyannis Sound -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Independent Armchair Theatre -- A live music venue in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - The Irresponsible Captain Tylor -- 1993 anime series
Wikipedia - The Kwartet -- American a cappella group
Wikipedia - The Lady Escapes -- 1937 film by Eugene Forde
Wikipedia - The Landscape Channel -- British TV channel
Wikipedia - The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap -- 2004 action-adventure video game published by Nintendo
Wikipedia - The Little Escapade -- 1931 film
Wikipedia - The Love Captive -- 1934 film by Max Marcin
Wikipedia - The Love of Captain Brando -- 1974 film
Wikipedia - The Mad Capsule Markets -- Japanese Band (1985-2006)
Wikipedia - The Magical Number Seven, Plus or Minus Two -- 1956 psychology paper by George Miller on working memory capacity
Wikipedia - The Magic Band -- Captain Beefheart's backing band
Wikipedia - The Making of the English Landscape -- Book about history of England's landscapes by William George Hoskins
Wikipedia - The Man in the Black Cape -- 1986 film
Wikipedia - The Means of Escape -- 2000 short story collection by Penelope Fitzgerald
Wikipedia - The Mediterranean Caper -- 1973 action-adventure novel by Clive Cussler
Wikipedia - The Mindscape of Alan Moore
Wikipedia - The Moral Landscape -- 2010 book by Sam Harris
Wikipedia - The Murder Capital -- Irish rock band
Wikipedia - The Murder of Captain Fryatt -- 1917 film by John Gavin
Wikipedia - The Mystery of Al Capone's Vaults -- Television special
Wikipedia - The Myth of the Rational Voter -- 2007 book by Bryan Caplan
Wikipedia - Theophilus Riesinger -- German-American Capuchin friar and priest
Wikipedia - The Other Guys (University of St Andrews) -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Oxford Belles -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Persuasions -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Pitchforks of Duke University -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Protestant Ethic and the Spirit of Capitalism -- 1905 book by Max Weber
Wikipedia - The Rainbow Landscape (1632-1635) -- painting by Peter Paul Rubens
Wikipedia - The Red Lantern -- 1919 film by Albert Capellani
Wikipedia - Theresa Caputo -- American television personality and medium
Wikipedia - There's No Sympathy for the Dead -- extended play by Escape the Fate
Wikipedia - Theria rupicapraria -- Species of moth
Wikipedia - The Santa Clause 3: The Escape Clause -- 2006 film by Michael Lembeck
Wikipedia - The Scapegoat (1912 film) -- 1912 film by Otis B. Thayer
Wikipedia - The Scapegoat (Du Maurier novel) -- 1957 novel by Daphne du Maurier
Wikipedia - The Shamrock Handicap -- 1926 film
Wikipedia - The Shaved Woman of Chartres -- 1944 photograph by Robert Capa
Wikipedia - The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism
Wikipedia - The Sleep of Reason Produces Monsters -- Aquatint by Francisco de Goya from the series Los Caprichos
Wikipedia - The Spanish Cape Mystery (film) -- 1935 film by Lewis D. Collins
Wikipedia - The Spirit of Democratic Capitalism
Wikipedia - The Strange Case of Captain Ramper -- 1927 film
Wikipedia - The Strong Man -- 1926 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - The Sweet Escape (song) -- 2006 single by Gwen Stefani
Wikipedia - Theta Capricorni -- Star in the constellation Capricornus
Wikipedia - The Theory of Capitalist Development -- 1942 book by Paul Sweezy
Wikipedia - The Tritones -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Trojan Men -- a cappella musical group
Wikipedia - The Turning Point (book) -- 1982 book by Fritjof Capra
Wikipedia - The Virginia Belles -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Virgo, the Taurus and the Capricorn -- 1977 film by Luciano Martino
Wikipedia - The Virtuous Model -- 1919 film by Albert Capellani
Wikipedia - The Vision of Saint Eustace (Carracci) -- Painting by Annibale Carracci in the National Museum of Capodimonte, Naples
Wikipedia - The Yale Alley Cats -- A cappella group
Wikipedia - The Young Diana -- 1922 film by Albert Capellani
Wikipedia - The Younger Generation -- 1929 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Thimphu -- Capital of Bhutan
Wikipedia - Thiohalocapsa marina -- Genus of bacteria
Wikipedia - Thiohalocapsa -- Genus of bacteria
Wikipedia - ThM-CM-)M-CM-"tre du Capitole -- Opera house in Toulouse, France
Wikipedia - Thomas Baines Nature Reserve -- Nature reserve in Eastern Cape, South Africa, near Grahamstown
Wikipedia - Thomas Chalmers Vint -- American landscape architect
Wikipedia - Thomas Gainsborough -- 18th-century English portrait and landscape painter
Wikipedia - Thomas Hill (painter) -- English-born American landscape painter
Wikipedia - Thomas James (sea captain) -- Welsh sea captain and explorer
Wikipedia - Thomas John Capel -- Roman Catholic priest
Wikipedia - Thomas Lorraine Hunt -- Canadian-American landscape painter
Wikipedia - Thomas Mogford (painter) -- English landscape painter
Wikipedia - Thomas Symonds -- British naval captain
Wikipedia - Thompson Capper -- British Army general
Wikipedia - Thrashing (computer science) -- Computer constantly exchanging data between memory and storage leaving little capacity for productive processing
Wikipedia - Tichborne case -- Legal case that captivated Victorian England in the 1860s and 1870s
Wikipedia - Tiger Sarll -- English Army Captain
Wikipedia - Tilikum (killer whale) -- Bull orca who lived in captivity at SeaWorld Orlando, Florida
Wikipedia - Tillie Lewis -- American captain of industry
Wikipedia - Tim Caple -- British television sports commentator
Wikipedia - Time capsule -- Cache of goods or data secured for some time to be opened at a date in the future
Wikipedia - Timeline of Addis Ababa -- Chronology of Addis Ababa, the capital of Ethiopia
Wikipedia - Timeline of Cape Town -- Chronological listing of notable events
Wikipedia - Timescape Books -- Defunct American specialty publishing imprint
Wikipedia - Timescape -- 1980 novel by Gregory Benford
Wikipedia - Tina Struthers -- Canadian textile artist from Capetown, South Africa
Wikipedia - Tirana -- capital of Albania
Wikipedia - Titus Quinctius Capitolinus Barbatus (consul 421 BC) -- 5th century BC Roman Republican consul
Wikipedia - Titus Quinctius Capitolinus Barbatus -- Consul of the Roman Republic
Wikipedia - Tobias Capwell -- American historian
Wikipedia - Tocumwal houses -- Heritage-listed houses in O'Connor, Australian Capital Territory
Wikipedia - Tokai Arboretum -- Silviculture experimental station in Cape Town, South Africa
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Wikipedia - Tokyo -- Capital of Japan
Wikipedia - Tommaso Caputo -- Italian prelate of the Catholic Church
Wikipedia - Tonic Sol-fa (a cappella group) -- A cappella quartet
Wikipedia - Tonnage -- Measure of the cargo-carrying volumetric capacity of a ship
Wikipedia - Top cap
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Wikipedia - To the Capital (novel) -- novel by the Portuguese writer JosM-CM-) Maria de Eca de Queiros
Wikipedia - Tot Nut van het Algemeen -- Dutch-medium school in Cape Town from 1804 to 1870
Wikipedia - Touch-move rule -- Chess rule requiring a player to move or capture a piece deliberately touched
Wikipedia - Toulouse 1 University Capitole
Wikipedia - Tourism Radio -- Travel technology company based in Cape Town, South Africa
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Wikipedia - Tramp, Tramp, Tramp -- 1926 film by Frank Capra
Wikipedia - Trams in Cape Town -- Part of former public transport system
Wikipedia - Transfer of the Portuguese court to Brazil -- Escape of the Braganza royal family and its court of nearly 15,000 people from Lisbon on November 29, 1807
Wikipedia - Transfiguration of Christ (Bellini) -- 15th-century painting by Giovanni Bellini in the Capodimonte Gallery
Wikipedia - Transnational capitalist class -- Social stratum in neo-Gramscian analysis of international political economy
Wikipedia - Transport in Paris -- Overview of transport in the capital city of France
Wikipedia - Treaty Tree -- Historical landmark in Cape Town
Wikipedia - Triangle House -- Skyscraper in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Trieste (bathyscaphe) -- Deep sea scientific submersible
Wikipedia - Trieste II (Bathyscaphe) -- US Navy's second bathyscaphe
Wikipedia - Trinitones -- Trinity College Dublin a cappella group
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Wikipedia - Tripoli -- Capital and chief port of Libya
Wikipedia - TrM-aM-:M-'n QuM-CM-= Cap -- Vietnamese poet
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Wikipedia - Truman Capote -- American author
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Wikipedia - Tubeteika -- Russian word for many varieties of traditional Central Asian caps
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Wikipedia - Tunis -- Capital of Tunisia
Wikipedia - Tutu (Camilo and Pedro Capo song) -- 2019 single by Camilo and Pedro Capo
Wikipedia - Twelve Apostles (mountains) -- Mountain range on the Cape Peninsula, South Africa
Wikipedia - Twink Caplan -- American actress
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Wikipedia - Tygerberg Nature Reserve -- Nature reserve in Cape Town, South Africa
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Wikipedia - Uncial script -- Capital letter-only writing system in Greek and Latin
Wikipedia - Under Capricorn -- 1949 film by Alfred Hitchcock
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Wikipedia - UNESCO Global Geoparks -- UN-designated outstanding geological sites and landscapes
Wikipedia - Unibet Handicap Chase -- Steeplechase horse race in Great Britain
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Wikipedia - United Andhra Pradesh (1956-2014) -- A former state in India with Hyderabad as its capital
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Wikipedia - Vema Seamount -- A seamount in the South Atlantic east of Cape Town
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Wikipedia - Vettore Cappello -- Politician and admiral of the Republic of Venice
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Wikipedia - Vexatorella obtusata -- A species of shrub in the family Proteaceae from the Western Cape, South Africa
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Wikipedia - Victoria, British Columbia -- Provincial capital city in British Columbia, Canada
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Wikipedia - Vineyard Sound -- The stretch of the Atlantic Ocean which separates the Elizabeth Islands and the southwestern part of Cape Cod from the island of Martha's Vineyard
Wikipedia - Vinicio Capossela -- Italian singer-songwriter
Wikipedia - Violet-capped hummingbird -- Species of bird
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Wikipedia - Viral tegument -- Cluster of proteins that lines the space between the envelope and nucleocapsid of all herpesviruses
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Wikipedia - Wallacedene -- Informal settlement in Western Cape, South Africa
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Wikipedia - Water polo cap -- Headgear used in water polo and a number of underwater sports
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Wikipedia - Westerford High School -- Public boarding school in Cape Town, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Western Cape 2012 Farm Workers' strike
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Wikipedia - Western Cape Department of Economic Development and Tourism -- Department of Economic Development and Tourism of the Government of the Western Cape
Wikipedia - Western Cape Division of the High Court of South Africa -- Western Cape Division of the High Court of South Africa
Wikipedia - Western Cape Division -- Superior court of law in the Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Western capercaillie -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - Western Cape Water Supply System -- Water supply system in the Western Cape region of South Africa
Wikipedia - Western Cape
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Wikipedia - Westminster Chorus -- American men's a cappella chorus based in California
Wikipedia - West Vancouver-Capilano -- Canadian provincial electoral district
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Wikipedia - WFTX-TV -- Fox affiliate in Cape Coral, Florida
Wikipedia - WGBZ -- Radio station in Cape May, New Jersey
Wikipedia - White-capped bunting -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - White-capped fruit dove -- Species of bird
Wikipedia - White-faced robin -- Species of songbird native to Cape York (Australia) and New Guinea
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Wikipedia - Who Killed Captain Alex? -- 2010 action-comedy film directed by Isaac Nabwana
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Wikipedia - Wikipedia:WikiProject Capitalism -- Wikimedia subject-area collaboration
Wikipedia - Wild Coast Region, Eastern Cape -- Section of the coast of the Eastern Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Wilderness National Park -- National park around the seaside town of Wilderness, Western Cape, South Africa
Wikipedia - Wildflower Preserve (Florida) -- Nature preserve on Cape Haze, Florida, US
Wikipedia - Wildwood Catholic Academy -- Catholic high school in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Wildwood Crest, New Jersey -- Borough in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Wildwood High School -- High school in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Wildwood, New Jersey -- City in Cape May County, New Jersey, United States
Wikipedia - Wilhelm Schirmer -- German landscape painter
Wikipedia - Willemstad -- Former capital of the Netherlands Antillies
Wikipedia - William Capel -- 16th-century English politician
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Wikipedia - William Sidney "Cap" Light -- American lawman
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Wikipedia - Wily & Right no RockBoard: That's Paradise -- 1993 business simulation video game published by Capcom
Wikipedia - Windhoek -- Capital of Namibia
Wikipedia - Windsor High School (Cape Town) -- High school in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Wingfield Aerodrome -- Airfield in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Winslow Homer -- American landscape painter
Wikipedia - Winter Hexagon -- Evening sky asterism with vertices at Rigel, Aldebaran, Capella, Pollux, Procyon, and Sirius
Wikipedia - Winter Landscape with Ice skaters and Bird trap -- Painting by Pieter Bruegel the Elder
Wikipedia - Wits Centre for Diversity Studies -- Department of the University of Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Witzands Aquifer Conservation Area -- Protected natural area in Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - WKIB -- Radio station in Anna, Illinois, serving Cape Girardeau, Missouri
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Wikipedia - Wladyslaw Malecki -- Polish landscape painter
Wikipedia - Wolfgat Nature Reserve -- Coastal nature reserve in Mitchells Plain, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Women in venture capital
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Wikipedia - Woodes Rogers -- British sea captain and governor of the Bahamas
Wikipedia - Woodhead Dam -- Dam on Table Mountain, Western Cape, South Africa
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Wikipedia - Woodstock railway station (Cape Town) -- Metrorail train station in Capetown
Wikipedia - Working capital
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Wikipedia - World of Birds Wildlife Sanctuary and Monkey Park -- Wildlife sanctuary in Hout Bay, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - World revolution -- Marxist concept of overthrowing capitalism in all countries
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Wikipedia - Wuqu-BatzM-JM-< -- Ruler of Iximche, capital of the Late Postclassic Kaqchikel Maya kingdom
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Wikipedia - Wynberg Park -- A park in Wynberg, Cape Town, South Africa
Wikipedia - Xavier Capdevila Romero -- Andorran ski mountaineer
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Wikipedia - XHACD-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHAGE-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHAGR-FM -- Radio Formula station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHAGS-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHBB-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHCI-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHEVP-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHKJ-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHKOK-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHLH-FM -- Radio station in Acaponeta, Nayarit
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Wikipedia - XHNQ-FM (Guerrero) -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHNS-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHNU-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHPA-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHPO-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHSCAP-FM -- Community radio station in Miahuatlan, Oaxaca, Mexico
Wikipedia - XHSE-FM -- Radio station in Acapulco, Guerrero
Wikipedia - XHZI-FM -- Radio station in Zacapu, Michoacan
Wikipedia - XHZU-FM -- Radio station in Zacapu, Michoacan
Wikipedia - Xiangning Zhang -- Chinese information technology entrepreneur, angel investor, and venture capitalist
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Wikipedia - Xylosma capillipes -- Species of plant
Wikipedia - Yahoo! Time Capsule -- Digital time capsule with contributions about life in 2006
Wikipedia - Yamoussoukro -- Capital of Ivory Coast
Wikipedia - YaoundM-CM-) -- Capital of Cameroon
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Wikipedia - Yerevan -- Capital of Armenia
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Wikipedia - Yorkshire captaincy affair of 1927 -- Disagreement within Yorkshire County Cricket Club, UK
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Wikipedia - Zagreb -- Capital of Croatia
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Frederick Law Olmsted ::: Born: April 26, 1822; Died: August 28, 1903; Occupation: Landscape architect;
Henrique Capriles Radonski ::: Born: July 11, 1972; Occupation: Venezuelan Politician;
Charles Jencks ::: Born: June 21, 1939; Occupation: Landscape architect;
Fritjof Capra ::: Born: February 1, 1939; Occupation: Physicist;
Jose Raul Capablanca ::: Born: November 19, 1888; Died: March 8, 1942; Occupation: Chess Player;
Caspar David Friedrich ::: Born: September 5, 1774; Died: May 7, 1840; Occupation: Landscaper;
Kate Capshaw ::: Born: November 3, 1953; Occupation: Film actress;
Robert Capa ::: Born: October 22, 1913; Died: May 25, 1954; Occupation: Photographer;
Jim Capaldi ::: Born: August 2, 1944; Died: January 28, 2005; Occupation: Musician;
Karel Capek ::: Born: January 9, 1890; Died: December 25, 1938; Occupation: Writer;
Lizzy Caplan ::: Born: June 30, 1982; Occupation: Actress;
Robert Farrar Capon ::: Born: 1925; Died: September 5, 2013; Occupation: Author;
Al Capone ::: Born: January 17, 1899; Died: January 25, 1947; Occupation: Gangster;
Truman Capote ::: Born: September 30, 1924; Died: August 25, 1984; Occupation: Author;
Lois Capps ::: Born: January 10, 1938; Occupation: U.S. Representative;
Frank Capra ::: Born: May 18, 1897; Died: September 3, 1991; Occupation: Film director;
Lawrence Halprin ::: Born: July 1, 1916; Died: October 25, 2009; Occupation: Landscape architect;
Cornell Capa ::: Born: April 10, 1918; Died: May 23, 2008; Occupation: Photographer;
Capital STEEZ ::: Born: July 7, 1993; Died: December 24, 2012; Occupation: Musical Artist;
Cappadonna ::: Born: September 18, 1969; Occupation: Rapper;
Charles Capps ::: Born: 1934; Died: February 23, 2014; Occupation: Author;
Michael Moritz ::: Born: September 12, 1954; Occupation: Venture capitalist;
Helen Zille ::: Born: March 9, 1951; Occupation: Mayor of Cape Town;
Alfred Capus ::: Born: November 25, 1858; Died: November 1, 1922; Occupation: Journalist;
Scott Capurro ::: Born: December 10, 1962; Occupation: Comedian;
Leonardo DiCaprio ::: Born: November 11, 1974; Occupation: Actor;
Jessica Capshaw ::: Born: August 9, 1976; Occupation: Actress;
Bryan Caplan ::: Born: April 8, 1971; Occupation: Economist;

Fabio Capello ::: Born: June 18, 1946; Occupation: Football team manager;
John Doerr ::: Born: June 29, 1951; Occupation: Venture capitalist;
Peter Capaldi ::: Born: April 14, 1958; Occupation: Actor;
John D. Caputo ::: Born: October 26, 1940; Occupation: Philosopher;
Diosdado Macapagal ::: Born: September 28, 1910; Died: April 21, 1997; Occupation: Former President of the Philippines;
Gloria Macapagal Arroyo ::: Born: April 5, 1947; Died: July 2, 2016; Occupation: Former President of the Philippines;
Jonathan Capehart ::: Born: July 2, 1967; Occupation: Journalist;
Adam Cappa ::: Born: October 29, 1985; Occupation: Singer-songwriter;
John Caples ::: Born: May 1, 1900; Died: June 10, 1990; Occupation: Author;
William Kent ::: Born: 1685; Died: April 12, 1748; Occupation: Landscape architect;
Roberto Burle Marx ::: Born: August 4, 1909; Died: June 4, 1994; Occupation: Landscape architect;
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1346108.Ocean_Capewell
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14050233.Matthew_Z_Capps
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1407177.Giorgio_Caproni
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14168977.Laura_L_Capella
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1425669.Luigi_Capuana
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14535216.Marie_France_Cappadona
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14554042.Juan_Fernando_Hincapi_
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14554533.Instarecap
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15041455.Ally_Capraro
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15064602.Gavin_Capener
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15153868.Carla_Capretto
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/152190.Bill_Capodagli
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15243652.Rosella_Cappella_Zielinski
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15270906.Loriana_Cappello
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15320401.Captain_Yellowjersey
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15377329.Heather_Rexon_Capewell
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15492001.Giuseppe_Caputo
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15509.Philip_Caputo
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/155293.Peter_Cappelli
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15611572.Sal_Capriano
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/156160.Lucia_Capacchione
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15756897.Pablo_Capra
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/15865323.D_F_Capps
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16235715.Mary_Caperton_Morton
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16296742.Danielle_Capalino
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16304490.Francesca_Cappelli
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/163424.Timothy_T_Capps
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16377685.Silvia_Capursi
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16427612.Capela_Ferreira
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16483718.Imani_Capri
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16541943.Danielle_Capalino_Msph
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16559242.Christie_Capps
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1658341.Nigel_A_Caplan
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/166639.Greg_Capullo
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/1686323.Fl_vio_Capuleto
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16980420.Captivating_History
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16984038.Joe_Capley_Alfano
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16984039.Frank_Capley_Alfano
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16993444.Capp
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16996762.Capri_Jalota
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17015295.Julie_Capulet
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/170837.Mart_n_Caparr_s
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17092556.Hannah_Capin
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/171269.Doug_Capra
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17505132.Maria_Cristina_Capanni
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17523657.Alan_Capes
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17593777.Julie_Caplin
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17709450.Captain_Lee
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17726554.Angelo_Capparella
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17733816.Capitan_Artiglio
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17734718.Jess_Capelle
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17847.Charles_Capps
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17913.John_D_Caputo
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/17934935.Sean_Scapellato
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18020825.Melissa_Capriglione
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18044472.Cap_Daniels
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18256429.Maria_Capelle_Frantz
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18493141.Bianca_Barsotti_Cassina_Capitanio
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18685099.Trevor_Capiro
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18842671.Alice_Cappagli
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/18969.Alyssa_Satin_Capucilli
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/19779890.Sara_Caporilli
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2092240.The_Captain
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/235716.Lester_J_Cappon
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/236374.Esther_Lightcap_Meek
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/246909.Capcom
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/311840.John_Capecci
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/333005.Laurie_Caple
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3405090.James_C_Capretta
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3949696.Teresa_B_Capuzzo
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4173936.Yoav_Di_Capua
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/431149.Truman_Capote
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/444256.David_Capuzzi
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4465903.Florence_Caplow
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/448931.Natalee_Caple
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/450623.Deborah_Caplan
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4593553.Cap_Saucier
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/46710.Jerry_Capeci
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/46798.John_Caples
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/471815.Suzy_Capozzi
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/479064.Walter_H_Capps
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/479.Phil_Capone
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/48353.Mary_Caponegro
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/497408.Bernard_Capes
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5070259.Diane_Capri
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5222418.Ricardo_Capponi
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5280619.Brianna_Caplan_Sayres
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/55202.Robert_Capa
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/55524.Frank_Capra
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5658990.Caputi
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https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/57782.Andreas_Capellanus
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5806251.Ashley_Capes
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5818972.Bar_M_stecapl_o_lu
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/603514.Michelangelo_Capua
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6186883.Chris_Capps
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6351852.Fernanda_Capobianco
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/64201.Anne_Capeci
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6448634.Richard_Capwell
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6553133.Paula_Cappa
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/656822.Annette_Capps
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6685.Fritjof_Capra
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6863139.Amy_Rose_Capetta
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6928523.Theresa_Caputo
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7010156.Caylin_Capra_Thomas
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7099580.David_F_Capps
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7139047.NeNe_Capri
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7233661.Joseph_Scapellato
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/752662.Alex_Capus
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7543439.Paola_Capo_Garcia
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7832788.Porpentine_Charity_Heartscape
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/78951.Al_Capp
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8055284.Franco_Caprioli
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8424186.Matthew_Capala
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/8441332.Roser_Capdevilla
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/859184.David_B_Capes
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/888616.Garrett_Caples
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/91124.Robert_Farrar_Capon
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/912215.Ronald_Caplan
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/929279.Paola_Capriolo
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9521440.Ruth_I_Cape
https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/9883666.Juan_Pablo_Go_i_Capurro
Goodreads author - Caprice_Crane
Goodreads author - Anthony_Capella
Goodreads author - Tim_Capehart
Goodreads author - Michael_Capuzzo
Goodreads author - Ocean_Capewell
Goodreads author - Loriana_Cappello
Goodreads author - Philip_Caputo
Goodreads author - Lucia_Capacchione
Goodreads author - D_F_Capps
Goodreads author - Greg_Capullo
Goodreads author - Charles_Capps
Goodreads author - Esther_Lightcap_Meek
Goodreads author - Carla_Capshaw
Goodreads author - Cap_n_Fatty_Goodlander
Goodreads author - Alberto_Capatti
Goodreads author - Bryan_Caplan
Goodreads author - Ashley_Capps
Goodreads author - Truman_Capote
Goodreads author - Natalee_Caple
Goodreads author - Walter_H_Capps
Goodreads author - Diane_Capri
Goodreads author - Robert_Capa
Goodreads author - Frank_Capra
Goodreads author - Ashley_Capes
Goodreads author - Fritjof_Capra
Goodreads author - Amy_Rose_Capetta
Goodreads author - Theresa_Caputo
Goodreads author - David_F_Capps
Goodreads author - Raymond_Decapite
Goodreads author - Alex_Capus
Goodreads author - Robert_Farrar_Capon
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https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/List_of_capital_crimes_in_the_Torah#Miscellaneous
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https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Ministry_of_Jesus#Capernaum_as_prophecy
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Monastery_of_New_Kalenic_(Canberra,_Australian_Capital_Territory)
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https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Psilocybe_zapotecorum#Cap
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Scapular
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Silene_capensis
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Special:Contributions/Watch_Captain_Edgareon,_The
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Talk:Cappadocians
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Talk:Captain_Moroni
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Talk:List_of_capital_crimes_in_the_Torah
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Talk:Silene_capensis
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/Torma#Captured_Torma
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/User:Capt_Rosal
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/User:Watch_Captain_Edgareon,_The
https://religion.wikia.org/wiki/User:Wordscape/temp3
https://sfhomeless.wikia.org/wiki/San_Francisco_Department_of_Human_Services_-_Cash_Assistance_Program_for_Immigrants_(CAPI)
https://wikiapiary.com/wiki/Extension:ReCaptchaNoCaptcha
http://uncapaedia.wikia.com/wiki/
auromere - liminality-or-negative-capability-required-in-yoga
auromere - on-suicide-euthanasia-and-capital-punishment
auromere - dharana-shakti-the-capacity-to-sustain-spiritual-experiences
auromere - synthesis-of-yoga
auromere - physical-culture
Integral World - Human Capacities in the Integral Age, essay by Don Beck
Integral World - Integral Anti-Capitalism, Edward Berge
Integral World -
Integral World -
Integral World - Ken Wilber's Distortions of Buddhism and Dzogchen, Elias Capriles
Integral World - Leading Edge Cognitive Capacities, Tom Christensen
Integral World - Capitalism and Integral Alterity, Joe Corbett
Integral World - Transforming Capitalist Desire with Integral Marxism, Joe Corbett
Integral World - MEMEnomics; An Evolutionary Journey through Western Capitalism, Said Dawlabani
Integral World - The Evolutionary Scientists, Glimpses into the Life and Work of Great Thinkers in Evolutionary Biology, Ernest Walter Mayr, Captoria Frizell
Integral World - The Study of Consciousness, Glimpses into the Life and Work of Great Thinkers in Neuroscience and Philosophy, Daniel Dennett, Captoria Frizell
Integral World - A Brief History of Integral World, Part II, Carving a Niche in the Integral Landscape, Frank Visser
Integral World - Is Xi Jinping The Captain Planet, The World Has Been Waiting For? , Knut K. Wimberger
Capitalism: How Growth Became the Enemy of Prosperity
The Last Gasp of Late-Stage Capitalism: An Integral Look at the Republican Tax Plan
Soulscapes
Spiritual Bypassing: When “Enlightenment” Becomes Escapism
Who Ate Captain Cook? Integral Historiography in a Postmodern Age
selforum - capillary dynamolysis
selforum - aesthetics and innate capabilities of
selforum - always our captain holds rudder well he
selforum - generosity reciprocity capacity
selforum - humans are capable of high levels of
dedroidify.blogspot - mindscape-of-alan-moore
dedroidify.blogspot - decapitated-heads-888-and-serpent-of
dedroidify.blogspot - noam-chomsky-capitalist-crisis-one
dedroidify.blogspot - terence-mckenna-capitalism-vs-democracy
dedroidify.blogspot - elbow-my-sad-captains
https://circumsolatious.blogspot.com/2015/03/escapist-spiritual-traditions-buddha.html
wiki.auroville - A_Captive_of_Her_Love_(book)
wiki.auroville - Humanscapes
wiki.auroville - Landscaping_through_landshaping
wiki.auroville - Maha-landscaping
wiki.auroville - Xeriscape_township
Dharmapedia - Captivity_of_Kodavas_at_Seringapatam
Dharmapedia - Captivity_of_Mangalorean_Catholics_at_Seringapatam
Dharmapedia - Captivity_of_Nairs_at_Seringapatam
Dharmapedia - Fritjof_Capra
Psychology Wiki - Category:Animal_escape_behavior
Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy - capability-approach
Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy - decision-capacity
Occultopedia - cape_horn
Occultopedia - capnomancy
Occultopedia - caput_mortuum
Occultopedia - scapulamancy
Occultopedia - scapulimancy
Occultopedia - scapulomancy
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places -- Garden - Inf. Art Gallery - Inf. Building - Inf. Library - Labyrinth - Library - School - Temple - Tower - Tower of MEM
powers -- Aspiration - Beauty - Concentration - Effort - Faith - Force - Grace - inspiration - Presence - Purity - Sincerity - surrender
difficulties -- cowardice - depres. - distract. - distress - dryness - evil - fear - forget - habits - impulse - incapacity - irritation - lost - mistakes - obscur. - problem - resist - sadness - self-deception - shame - sin - suffering
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