The hour is striking so close above me,
so clear and sharp,
that all my senses ring with it.
I feel it now: there’s a power in me
to grasp and give shape to my world.
I know that nothing has ever been real
without my beholding it.
All becoming has needed me.
My looking ripens things
and they come towards me, to meet and be met.
Lt. Colonel Nathan Sassaman, battalion commander in the Iraqi town of Abu Hishma: “With a heavy dose of fear and violence, and a lot of money for projects, I think we can convince these people that we are here to help them.” Sunday, December 7, 2003 New York Times Dexter Wilkins, “Tough New Tactics by U.S. Tighten Grip on Iraq Towns.” An utterly insane statement which says everything that is wrong about the U.S. approach to dealing with Iraq.
Traquair House Library (created between 1700 and 1740) has a collection of about 3000 books that has remained almost intact since the library was first formed. An unusual arrangement of the library has portraits of philosophers and writers around the ceiling as a device for cataloguing the books. For example, all the books under Pythagoras, are marked on the spines PYTH. Under the name are two numbers. The first number is the shelf number and the second is its position on the shelf.
For money you can have everything it is said. No, that is not true. You can buy food, but not appetite; medicine, but not health; soft beds, but not sleep; knowledge but not intelligence; glitter, but not comfort; fun, but not pleasure; acquaintances, but not friendship; servants, but not faithfulness; grey hair, but not honor; quiet days, but not peace. The shell of all things you can get for money. But not the kernel. That cannot be had for money.
The view is fine from fifty,
Experienced climbers say;
So, overweight and shifty,
I turn to face the way
That led me to this day.
Instead of fields and snowcaps
And flowered lanes that twist,
The track breaks at my toe-caps
And drops away in mist.
The view does not exist.
Where has it gone, the lifetime?
Search me. What’s left is drear.
Unchilded and unwifed, I’m
Able to view that clear:
So final. And so near.