POEMS OF THE POET, AUTHOR, WRITER, (PHILOSOPHER) JOSEPH (JOE) MARCEL DUVERNAY III
COLOR ON CANVAS
HIE PLACES (For the Left)
Author: The author in great Dylans of engagement; his self-proclaimed - by long sustained word and violent mob action - enemy/protagonists, and their enablers: the “anti-discussionist,” morally ambiguous, “move slower!” who backstage personal, but not outspoken revulsions of the inhumanity of their daemon-like fellows ogling strange fruit; draining life shear with Bombs, Banks, Insurances, Home Loans, many bilks rabid; - how was to fend, steered wrong deliberate? - and continuing from-justice and the-equality-of-man seized privilege are solely responsible for this work.
Then participant, as trail thick foliage pulls over itself, as bear; as among remainder, toing and froing, a civilization recounts selves old tale; know, that like a mother,long suffering, any species, we ferry stubborn hope with teething faith our backs, glory your suffrage and…But brisk! We’re well past emissary , and brumal roars ahead.
PERSONAE: Man (Mr. Angular). Comrade. Woman (Lady Rosaline). Sister.
Chorus. Our Philosopher (Philolaus). Wind (Snapdrag). Tommy Doors.
(Overlook a great lawn).
I. DANCING WITH SHADOWS
Chorus: Without ray moods as we sang these phrases. (Addressing an audience).
Disappointment and vile possibility tied gore philosophies.
Ours would, the loss their hate-filled wages
in word and deed, as cross gaunt reveries
angary about tent thicket, swart snort boar fore
entertaining rabid to thwart.
And stood yet mild flat, mid-hours, gravid with herbage,
over there (points) cow after amble to their oaks sat.
The man sung night as he had seen it
but could not un-cloak clad clown.
Unlettered opulence in an uproot,
Woman: wore draggle their sorrow!
Chorus: staging whelp lowage left town.
Man: Some rather more or less radiant spokes of
latent sun to tired surface sped;
long in faded radiance
before plenty of crop again met.
Sister: It was a ball or was it hole, a heaved grace
grant of old its mighty load, content dragrags of prophete,
to land and life, assistance great, orgone consistent souls.
Comrade: Under noble given, there stiff necks lent,
containers naught of Grateful’s scope,
God of mercies even then drops in to compose them hope.
Comrade: Vector well Greek poetic slam then Preakshow
others had too, one form, another; when reduce cry baddest and
wear that m^&f..er like a coat came to survive forced thirst.
Chorus: Imagine! You could not! Being otherworld! Such helpless, as to die if
unsuckled on plop, sprout these poisonous. - We have ever looked around! -
Have nothing’d him! No wrong, less animal urgency. He comes at me!
For this (all point at arms)!
Woman: Having kept same short, stranded (so guard) at tore 99...
Man: Travel with Michael, off on one take-that-back! hunch –
again Jefferson et al – and grow wicket percentage
slung stuck Saul in the bones-shake
Chorus: while monkeying us some monkey do;
whose logical connectives have no receptor sights,
platys of same genus.
Man: ‘Don’t evil all your white boys! ad captandum vulgus!’ ideal father would wed. Though yclept the issue blamed; more haruspex than harum scarum now our pursed arrival non ad captandum vulgus!, under breath breathes here.
Chorus: Imagine. Could not, as he (some look on that old Mars) went long in that! Such helpless, to then not-a care-for, lay-in-waste-everything ill-breathers become! - Sound the Braved Awareness all ought!
Woman: Something like drawing `tis! A one third fakefear, if’t!
stopping evil’s one third across fine globe in every type, salvation is’t.
But bid awful trouble Jerusalem! Thus soldier seduce; sleuth, convex.
Other moist, at gallop their un-crop the winds wear,
pudgy dragoon on parade, some. There’s a jellyfish!
Man & Wind: Tried tare workouts to survive!
Man: Lux shone on that sixty self portrait of Titian;
and George C. Scott on Carson, “Hey I just turned sixty!”
Our philosopher: At least half way there Scott! Of a great year.
A son of Ariston unions belike, in which, ‘What has a man?
Days and nights!’ (eves and morns of Daniel)!
Sister: ‘Then 364½ x 2 = 729, Philolaus.
Man: The number 729 hallowed for men…
Our Philosopher: and more than pleasantry.
729 Months = 60+ years’; but dim pivot to border,
then set men. At least half way there! Again!
Possibilities’ conceived prospect!
Woman: Stretch. These are all that are left; Mothers from
Ios, Wilmecot, Penrith & New Orleans rear, complete phantas –
Beethoven fugues his Boogie-woogie anticipate, you, rest there,
any laurel; away gripe ripe state fear is; glad
e`en Circe’s divertissement as glint for a while, in this back then.
Chorus: But clear!
From the lower trough will! And. ‘We go by feel!’
(Quiet.Slowly, all from the lawn to the Hallretire. Slaps TheThunderer.)
IV. CARPOOL (Time passes;runs Dusk away, pulling her skirts,
taller than you remember; later evening.)
Man: Weir-whistler Wind there was a bobbing true purple sliver
out window; strong girder for spider,
life line, what you and Sun do, just then!
Wind: A handful note for cull? clay catchment, happnant?
File. Save As - For ‘Xtreme poetic try Virgil!?
A tear courser Gentleman’s Agreement?
Man: The out of true in men softs’ yesterways’ wit on troubled mirrors!
- Who Virgiled my family, Head up! With you always was I there!
It’s a huge thing to be simple in the world! “Hail regardant!”
Chorus: To a philosopher too her truth is hurtful.
Philosopher: ¡Mira! Tear where Go went no Stop come by.
Labour’s Lost euphoria, scad enjoyment!
(Walking from one room through another to a window far end).
Sister: Yes! They’ve ‘lorn the slim grass and way mislain Lady Rosaline!
Still, news! Gate forward to Africa not totter ledge bade.
And territory? True who Sabbath man to his heart,
no charade shakes. That it surface there’d be
some sumped sense of pain or ist that… ‘termin it sane
even in dung beetle months men said something kind to the coming year,
…Chorus: These The Days of Their Lives.
Comrade: Ugh oh!
Our Philosopher: ΈΝ ΔΈ ΟΠΙΘΕΝ, ΟΊΌΘΕΝ ΟΎΤΙΔΑΝΌΣ
ΕΓΏ ΒΛΑΣΥΡΏΠΑΝ ΑΎΤΟΣ, ΈΝΕΡΘΕΝ, ΧΘΟΝΏ.’
Author: (Many bemused, find it something like: “In the time to come, man to man cowardly; I, grim-looking, same; below, to ground!”)
Wind: What was that, old Greek?
Chorus: Hand scratch ugh oh’s! this way and Out!
Our Philosopher: Yes! Another stance just would to south build lock
so’s do-up moon overhead was in same isle we were!
Chorus: Said said `spirant.
Man: “Here, onadvance bush mount, ΏΣ ΈΦΆΤ’.”
(Coming in from a side, smiling secretively).
Woman: Where, was a stand of tree that had his heart?
I heard you from in there! Got he, reads the wind in them?
And wondrous bend, deadfall perch just past drain pipe,
had he thanked All for?
Wind: By now Outidanos, Ridgement! I shy not!
Man: Snapdrag! End! Lest found ill-magic’s table bent!
Chorus: Agreed Mr. Angular! - Tiller of what Old Man was -
See Trees are waving thyrsi, so we’re on right track!
Wind: Some have word runners, breed of Thersites! Bigmouth for laughs, at Ilium!
Sister: Add rain ramp reign-meant; save whole animal, sooner must!
Woman: He too sacrament, guy, lie-in!
Comrade: As limb shadow, by you Blower (staring out)! squirrels it up and down a wall, in these our Nine maidens’ smile-chased enallments. (turning back). And like a once, and hoped ever poet, through the pain and hired pestilence - we too ‘would all to Time except’ so many evils dallit; and prate οίόθεν shall we? under old hell’s doused flame; enter new Eden, `mid fewer walls elected.
// Append to margins of this parchment: R. Frost’s – Once By The Pacific. A Couple of lines in Archilochus about Muse to him coming, please, “and bring the universe...” Robinson Jeffers – something on being near the shore; also. S.T.C’s Monody On TheDeath Of Chatterton – from “He hears the widow’s prayer” to ”…makes Oppression feel.” P. Neruda’s I Begin by Invoking Walt Whitman, entire. St John of The Cross’s Spiritual Canticle 3 – “…Seeking my Love/I will head for the mountains and for watersides,/I will not gather flowers,/nor fear wild beasts;/I will go beyond strong men and frontiers. etc., etc. Much of Derek Walcott; Amiri Baraka, William (& Dorothy) Wordsworth. Aristotle to Alexander on the best way through life – in Plutarch… Confucius. Certain portions in imaginative power overflowing of Milton’s Para. Lost. Amos, etc., etc. Suemonsteroidian, oidoid, doey? Where the take is thief, of life you’d lief.
 Motherfucker. Written earliest perhaps, by poet Hipponax against one Bupalus, sculptor, and his mother Arete; 6th century BC.
 Yclept: named. Haruspex: a diviner, basing prediction on the inspection of entrails.
Non ad captandum vulgus: not to captivate, attract, please the common people.
 William Wordsworth poems: To Toussaint L`Ouverture, &September 1, 1802???!,etc.
Recently browsing, upon a boon! The labours of one John Lewis on some Solon Fragments, and wrote to thank him.
The art of the translator is not in enhancement if she/he can.
No! If honest in praise of other writers, to their words only our level, easy un-encumbrances must come, flavored at best by a stretched under(over)standing, if empathetic imagining, that is beyond language.
Chapman, opening one excuse for his Iliad translations, suggests the old saw: a word-for-word translation is a world of dearth many have said it was/is and must be avoided. This sends freshmen fingers to heads. Then reader on! And by the cabbage, in another piece of literary suppliance he argues from the opposite: that if anything in his translation is thought suspect, the critic may go his translation word-for-word and see where, or if in fact he erred. Unless a wave of misunderstanding has off-set, and into the salt am tumble, I think we must be in company with Verace whenever in right minds, and abandon to excess large swaths the rest.
and around it crests a Gyre that rises and stands as cloud.
A portent storm, it comes from un-safe panic.
Sleep, Glaucus, plainly.
(The sea contains depths cold.
Its rotten, fierce waves; its joined cloud.
All around a Gyre; bitter weather,
that to a very great distance lurks, speeding by). = Note taken into the text.
(Note: The Loeb suggestion of the promontory at Tenos (Tinos) which is roughly “25 nautical…” as being perhaps the same as the mythological location of Poseidon or Athene’s rebuff of The Lesser Ajax, and, as well, a place of gyres in the Aegean/Mediterranean Seas or near there the proposed burial places of the washed-up body of Ajax at Myconos or Delos, all three Islands being within the 25 Nautical miles north of Paros mentioned in the Iamboi fr. 59, lead me to venture: Gyrea and gyre (a thing that circles) being one and the same thing and place and a dual play on the word by the poet.)
In these tall it’s heyday ardor; all rough, in the sage, where quail are scratching day-beds and manzanita plumly welcome lark.
Re-generation be the switch in this garden. What creature of earth-stuff poet the raveling? Old, fallen, batten as lay, oak of kindness is no scrub and all the sliding silica does not a rock misjudge. Lost of purpose these ken gird; seed-bounty pinõn op’s stores, elfin saplings endure and pageant death promises detail on folded arms.
But millet concerns like: will these not of their making and they themselves keep? Or how an, “…in all of history!” can be judged by the reference-less will sink with the top layer in a few hundred years. One bolder’d say, Do what intrinsic scolds, go where remiss visit and this heaven love.
Please, if we are not captured and said to be extinct,
let us confess doing that, and not the scene bruise ‘or.
Crank science and derelict art clap the start
cling to shadow that yelps, jumps
and mouth some nit junk
sunk with the overload ships of accolade.
Let men lean together on their troubles
and let’s see how often
they then dash toward categories.
Great Imagination, Lord of All
who folds gently within,
if something could be written might please You;
would You staff these woven hands?
Minds could wake, souls release weight.
Go the big help, stumble if must.
Life wears rare episodes You showed.
Love us the good angel’s wants, Hallelujah!
Copyright (c) 2002 -2012 Joe Duvernay. All rights reserved.
EYES ON THE WATER
Rows an unused boat on lake of crystal dews and gets thoughts her stare: eyes like clear pools after a rain, that shot meaning; how she vitaled his human.
Going for an anti-beer, he discovers: “Truth, be a heart widened emptied this time for the wife and fishes! I will: nothing to forestall, hers in fancy, flagon entire drained; whole craft put to edge that ever welcomes her!”
Ill-timed; his orbs and the vermiculate sea tell of bonds baffled, how all slipped easily, unnoticed out of hands.
In S. T. Coleridge’s “Biograpaphia Literaria. Ch. II, he profuses on the injustice of the charge of irritability of men of genius. After suggesting that it would be instructive and not “unamusing to analyze the complex feeling with which readers take part against the author, in favor of the critic,” he says something I think applies to the general run of these times.
“A debility and dimness of the imaginative power, and a consequent necessity of reliance on the immediate impressions of the senses, do, we know well, render the mind liable to superstition and fanaticism. Having a deficient portion of internal and proper warmth, minds of this class seek in the crowd circum fana” (lit. near sanctuary – crowd safety) “for a warmth in common, which they do not possess singly. Cold and phlegmatic in their own nature, like damp hay, they heat and inflam by co-acervation; or like bees they become restless and irritable through the increased temperature of collected multitudes.
Hence the German word for fanaticism, (such at least was its original import,) is derived from the swarming of bees, namely, schwaermen, schwaermerey.
The passion being in an inverse proportion to the insight,-- that the more vivid, as this the less distinct--anger is the inevitable consequence.
The absence of all foundation within their own minds for that, which they yet believe both true and indispensable to their safety and happiness, cannot but produce an uneasy state of feeling, an involuntary sense of fear from which nature has no means of rescuing herself but by anger.”
_____ _____ ______________
"You express a desire to know something of myself. Account me " a drop in the ocean seeking another drop," or God-ward, striving to keep so true a sphericity as to receive the due ray from every point of the concave heaven...I have been left very much at my leisure. It were long to tell all my speculations on my profession an my doings thereon; but, possessing my liberty, I am determined to keep it, at the risk of uselessness... One thing I believe, - that Utterance is place enough... Yet the best poem of the Poet is his own mind." - R.W. Emerson letter to Thomas Carlyle Concord, Mass., 20 November, 1834 ________________
A flippant Julien Sorel in Stendhal's “Le Rouge et le Noir” is open-field running to point out the duplicities and faults of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, which men, being men, cannot easily refrain from (neither faults nor complaint) and that he, Rousseau himself, mentions in that statement about paradox in "Emile"; I nevertheless, in what little read and understand of his work (Rousseau’s) I have done, find his thought enlighteningly refreshing, prescient in that way established truths have of them when rediscovered, and worth every mention I might muster. Observe (in translation): From his (1754) study “Discours sur l’Origine et les Fondements de l’Inegalite parma les Hommes”.
“The civil law being thus become the common rule of citizens, the law of nature no longer obtained except between the different societies, where under the name of the law of nations, it was modified by some tacit conventions to render commerce possible, and supply the place of natural compassion, which, losing by degrees all that influence over societies which it originally had over individuals, no longer exists but in some great souls, who consider themselves as citizens of the world, force the imaginary barriers that separate people from people, after the example of the sovereign being from whom we all derive our existence, and include the whole human race in their benevolence.”
"...The sayings of the wise are like goads; like fixed pegs are the topics given by one collector. As to more than these, my son, beware. Of the making of books there is no end, and in much study there is weariness for the flesh..." Coheleth or Ecclesiastes in the Greek trans. of the Hebrew (one who convokes an assembly) Chapter 12. Epilogue vs. 11-12 __________________________________________________
"...HOB Curse on these taxes - one succeeds another - Our ministers - panders of a king's will - Drain our wealth away - waste it in revels - And lure, or force away our boys (and girls), who should be The props of our old age! - to fill their armies And feed the crows of France! year follows year, And still we madly prosecute the war; - Draining our wealth - distressing our poor peasants - Slaughtering our youths - and all to crown our chiefs With glory! - I detest the hell-sprung name..." From: Robert Southey's (1774-1843) "Wat Tyler" Act 1 ___________________________________________________
"Meet us under these cypresses, which turn their solemn tops to heaven;
visit us among those espaliers where the citrons and pomegranates bloom
beside us, where the graceful myrtle stretches out its flowers to us;
and then venture to disturb us with your dreary, paltry nets which men
have spun!" - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe 'Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship'
T. Carlyle trans.
"Perhaps your family and friends
Knew a merry flash cracking the gloom
We see in pictures but I prefer
And will keep the darker legend.
For I have seen how
Half a millennium of alien rape
And murder can stamp a smile
On the vacant face of the fool,
The sinister grin of Africa's idiot-kings
Who oversee in obscene palaces of gold
The butchery of their people..." - Chinua Achebe
-------------------------------------------------- "Treat the earth well: it was not given to you by your parents, it was loaned to you by your children. We do not inherit the Earth from our Ancestors, we borrow it from our Children." Ancient Indian Proverb
“....I am poor and naked, but I am the chief of the nation. We do not want riches but we do want to train our children right. Riches would do us no good. We could not take them with us to the other world. We do not want riches. We want peace and love.”
Red Cloud (Makhpiya-luta) , April, 1870 --------------------------------------------------
-------------------------------------------------- DEREK WALCOTT - From : 'The Star-Apple Kingdom', 'The Schooner Flight' "...As I worked, watching the rotting waves come past the bow that scissor the sea like milk, I swear to you all, by my mother's milk, by the stars that shall fly from tonight's furnace, that I loved them, my children, my wife, my home; I loved them as poets love the poetry that kills them, as drowned sailors the sea.
You ever look up from some lonely beach and see a far schooner? Well, when I write this poem, each phrase go be soaked in salt; I go draw and knot every line as tight as ropes in this rigging; in simple speech my common language go be the wind, my pages the sails of the schooner Flight. But let me tell you how this business begin... " ---------------------------------
DU FU tr. David Lunde Chinese text
Meeting Li GuiNian in the South At the home of the Prince of Qi I have often seen you, and in the hall of Cui Jiu, I have heard you sing. Truly these southlands boast unrivalled scenery- to see you once again when the flowers are falling.
___________________________ Chinese text
From: tr. Mike O'connor Dreaming of Li Bai (2)
You say your return is always harrowing; your coming, a hard coming; Rivers, lakes, so many waves; in your boat you fear overturning.
Going out the door, you scratch your white head as if the purpose of your whole life was ruined, The rich and high positioned fill the Capital, while you, alone, are careworn and dejected.
Who says the net of heaven is cast wide? Growing older, you only grow more preyed upon. One thousand autumns, ten thousand years of fame, are nothing after death.
------------------------------------------------------ "Clearheart girth abode alluring. . . Slow accretion year by year advancing mass, tree-home penultimate dream In child-heart bower. Benevolence giant! Sequoia presence. I thought perhaps some glimpse to steal of spirit tutelar within --
Imagined hamadryad, sylvan nymph; intelligence not faun. Took more than thought. I stared and stared Till vexed the glaring nothing! I revealed. Others had described it, persuaded one the charm. . . Why then not I? Imagination? Oh I see. Foolish to be angry. . . just love the tree, instead.
Came then softly the miraculous: Was loving me the tree and was its spirit! Found! Bedraggled Lily of the Roadside: Trumpeter Datura Derelitta. Think on it. Her blossom is so very pure. . .
Rank the stalk; and prickle leaf already claw gone thistle. Thorn-apple Spikings come no surprise. Lethal. Fell. Is witch-wood entered here! Choose carefully your gait." -From: James Joyce 'Striding the Bones of the Coastal Range', an excerpt from 'Growing Pains': The Early Poems by James Joyce, published by Ladan Reserve Press (c) 2003 James Joyce
They characterize their lives, and I fill up with mine. Fill up with what I have, with what I see (or need. I make no distinction. As blind men cannot love too quiet beauty.
These philosophers rein up Their boats. Bring their gifts, weapons to my door. As if that, in itself, was courage, or counting science. The story is a long one. Why I am here like this. Why you should listen, now, so late, and weary at the night. Its heavy rain pushing the grass flat.
It is here somewhere. It grows here. Answers. Questions. Noise stiff as silence... LeRoi Jones (now Amiri Baraka)
We must look after our health, use moderate exercise, take just enough food and drink to recruit, but not to overload, our strength. Nor is it the body alone that must be supported, but the intellect and soul much more."
O sweet spontaneous earth how often have the doting
fingers of prurient philosophers pinched and poked thee
, has the naughty thumb of science prodded thy beauty, how often have religions taken thee upon their scraggy knees squeezing and
buffeting thee that thou mightest conceive gods... e.e.cummings
I cannot spare water or wine, Tobacco-leaf, or poppy, or rose; From the earth-poles to the Line, All between that works or grows, Every thing is kin of mine...
"A baying and clouds! Into bracken they're riding their madness! Like fishermen cast their nets into vapour and will-o'-the-wisp! They sling a rope round the crests and invite us to dance! And wash the horns in the wellspring - so learning the lure-call.
What you chose for your cloak, is it dense, can it harbour the radiance? They creep round the trunks like sleep, as though offering dream. High up they hurl hearts, the mossy globes of dementia: O water-coloured fleece, our one flag on the tower!"
"See, they return; ah, see the tentative Movements, and the slow feet, The trouble in the pace and the uncertain Wavering!
See, they return, one, and by one, With fear, as half-awakened; As if the snow should hesitate And murmur in the wind, and half turn back; These were the "Wing'd-with-Awe," Inviolable.
Gods of the wingèd shoe! With them the silver hounds, sniffing the trace of air!
...Slow on the leash, pallid the leash-men!"
[("The Return") Personae] Copyright (c) 1926, 1935, 1971 Ezra Pound - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - O Little Root of a Dream, Paul Celan Translated by Heather McHugh and Nikolai Popov "0 little root of a dream you hold me here undermined by blood, no longer visible to anyone, property of death.
Curve a face that there may be speech, of earth, of ardor, of things with eyes, even here, where you read me blind..."
Please Look for these books of poetry; `DRAGON CONVERSATION'(Also available in E-Book form from 1st Books Library on the Web at http://www.authorhouse.com). Also first and second Books; `I BEGIN: (Poems, Essay's, Thoughts and Observations)', and `OFFERING' by Joe Duvernay. Available on the Web thru Barnes & Noble.com, Amazon.com Borders.com, Abebooks and more or please ask for them at your local bookstore.
"Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love Doth work like madness in the brain."
"It is a doctrine of war not to assume the enemy will not come, but rather to rely on one's readiness to meet him: not to presume that he will not attack, but rather to make ones's self invincible. Ho Yen-hsi...The 'Strategies of Wu' says:'When the world is at peace, a gentleman keeps his sword by his side.'" 'Be not Reckless, cowardly or quick-tempered' - Comment/question --- Is hope a fool then?
-From: Sun Tzu, 'THE ART OF WAR'
"Heaven could not hold Love, it was so heavy in itself. But when it had eaten its fill of earth, and taken flesh and blood, then it was lighter than a leaf on a linden-tree, more subtle and piercing than the point of a needle. The strongest armour was not proof against it, the tallest ramparts could not keep it out."
- From, 'PIERS THE PLOUGHMAN', by William Langland
"It is called clouded when petals dust its surface - that stream that becomes a mirror for plum blossoms year after departing year."
-From: PLUM MIRROR from TWO POEMS ON PLUM TREES' by Lady Ise
Oh! may I curse my blackness that makes me feel hungry When the land is full of gold and diamond When the land is green Like the frog blanket May I wait then
-From: 'MAY I WAIT' by Simion R. Nkanunu
"What of seasons, when for ages All the sky my lake engages: What of years ill or good, When the sap mounts in the wood; What of years or ill, When the Danube rolls on still. Only man is always changing, O'er the world forever ranging; We each do our place retain, As we were, so we remain; Oceans, rivers, mountains high And the stars that light the sky, Saturn with its whirling rings, And the forest with its springs."
-From 'RETURN' by Mihai Eminescu
Crossing the Lonely Sea. Delving in the Book of Change, I rose through hardship great, And desperately fought the foe for four long years; Like willow catkin, the war-torn land looks desolate, I sink or swim as duckweed in the rain appears. For perils on Perilous Beach, I heaved and sighed, On Lonely Sea now, I feel dreary and lonely; Since olden days, which man has lived and not died? I'll leave a loyalist name in history!
-(tr. Xu YuanZhong) - Wen TianZiang
From O Sensei - "Soft controls hard Hard cuts soft If pulled, push If pushed, turn."
"Here learn ye Mountains more unjust, Which to abrupter greatness thrust, That do with your hook-shoulder'd height The earth deform and Heaven fright. For whose excrescence ill design'd, Nature must a new Center find, Learn here those humble steps to tread, Which to secure Glory lead.
See what a soft access and wide Lyes open to its grassy side; Nor with the rugged path deterrs The feet of breathless Travelers. See then how courteous it ascends, And all the way it rises bends: Nor for it self the height does gain, But only strives to raise the Plain. - From: 'Upon the Hill and Grove at Bill-borow. To The Lord Fairfax.' by Andrew Marvell
1A:1 Mencius went to King Hui of Lang. The King said: "My good man, since you haven't thought one thousand li too far to come and see me, may I presume that you have something with which I can profit my kingdom?" Mencius said:"Why must you speak of profit? What I have for you is jen (the human mind, humanity, doing, intending, being good, etc.) and Righteousness, and that's all. If you always say `how can I profit my kingdom?' your top officers will ask, `how can we profit our clans?' The shih (influencers) and the common people will ask: `how can we profit ourselves?' Superiors and inferiors will struggle against each other for profit, and the country will be in chaos." "In a kingdom of ten thousand chariots, the murderer of the sovereign is usually from a clan of one thousand chariots. In a thousand-chariot kingdom, the murderer of the sovereign is usually from a clan of one hundred chariots. Now, to have a thousand in ten thousand, or one hundred in a thousand is not really all that much. But if you put Righteousness last and profit first, no one will be satisfied unless they can grab something."
Mencius said: "The Superior Man concentrates on the cultivation of his own character. The common error of people is that they forget about their own garden and try to cultivate the other man's garden. They expect much from others and little from themselves."
Mencius said: "When someone told Tzu Lu about one of his faults, he was happy. When Yu heard words of goodness, he would bow in respect. The great Shun surpassed even these men. He regarded the goodness of others to be the same as his. He let go of his arbitrariness and followed others,happily learning from them in order to develop his goodness. From the time when he was a farmer, a potter and a fisherman, up until he became Emperor, he never stopped learning from others. " To learn from others to develop one's goodness is also to develop goodness together with others. Therefore, for the Superior Man, there is nothing greater than to develop goodness together with others."
"A thing of beauty is a joy forever; 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..."
"Apart from the question of what rights are in themselves, or how human beings come to have them or to own them or to lose them, it may be asked: Why should philosophers have a special claim to the right to express themselves? Why they rather than artists or historians or scientists or ordinary men? Freedom of speech - or of expression by means other than words - may be an absolute end, needing no justification in terms of any other purpose, and worth fighting for, some would add dying for, for its own sake, independently of its value in making people happy or wise or strong. That is what I should wish to say myself. But this is a point of view which has seldom held the field in human affairs; more frequently there has been a tendency to believe in some single ideal - social or political or religious - to which everything was to be sacrificed, and among the first the freedom for individual self-expression, because it was, quite rightly, seen to constitute a grave danger to the kind of social conformity which uncritical service to a single ideal in the end requires." From:Philosophy And Government Repression, Studies in Ideas and Their History, THE SENSE OF REALITY, Isaiah Berlin (The supposed English Empire appologist)
"Come then to prayers And kneel upon the stone, For we have tried All courages on these despairs, And are required lastly to give up pride. And the last difficult pride in being humble." Phillip Larkin
"It was geography which was the cause - political geography. It was nothing else. Nations did not need to have the same kind of leader, any more than the puffins and the quillemonts did. They could keep their own civilizations, like the Esquimaux and Hottentots, if they would give each other freedom of trade and free passage and access to the world. Countries would have to become counties - but counties which could keep their own culture and local laws. The imaginary lines on the earth's surface only needed to be unimagined." From T.H.White's 'The Once And Future King'
"Some truths there are so near and obvious to the mind that a man need only open his eyes to see them. Such I take this important one to be, viz., that all the choir of heaven and furniture of earth, in a word all those bodies which compose the mighty frame of the world, have not any subsistence without a mind; that their being is to be perceived or known; that consequently so long as they are not actually perceived by me, or do not exist in my mind or that of any created spirit, they must either have no existence at all, or else subsist in the mind of some Eternal Spirit:" George Berkeley (1685-1753)
"My aspens dear, whose airy cages quelled, Quelled or quenched in leaves the leaping sun, All felled, felled are all felled; Of a fresh & following folded rank Not spared, not one That dandled a sandalled Shadow that swam or sank On meadow & river & wind-wandering weed-winding bank. O if we but knew what we do When we delve or hue -- Hack & rack the growing green! Since country is so tender To touch, her being so slender, That, like this sleek & seeing ball But a prick will make no eye at all, Where we, even where we mean To mend her we end her, When we hew and delve: Aftercomers cannot guess the beauty been." From 'BINSEY POPLARS felled /(18)79' by Gerard Manley Hopkins
"The words "ecology,""economics," and "ecumenism" all have their root in the Creek word `oikos', meaning house or home. Ecology, topmost in the hierarcy of the life sciences, has indeed to do with the economy of the great house of nature, of which it seeks to reveal the structure in space and time and especially the interactions of animals and plants with themselves and each other. Its content is enormous, for ecology enjoys the entire empirical content of the sciences below it in the hierarcy as well as, of course, the concepts contextually peculiar to itself." - From `Aristotle to Zoos' by P.B. and J.S. Medawar
The last lines of John Webster's play, 'The Duchess Of Malfi'---
"As soon as the sun shines, it ever melts, Both form and matter. I have ever thought Nature doth nothing so great for great men (and women), As when she's pleased to make them lords of truth: Integrity of life is fame's best friend, Which nobly, beyond death, shall crown the end.
An excerpt from a poem attributed to the Welsh bard Aneurin:
"To Cattraeth's vale, in glimering row, Twice two hundred warriors go: Every warrior's manly neck Chains of regal honor deck, Wreathed in many a golden link; From the golden cup they drink Nectar that the bees produce, Or the grape's exalted juice. Flushed with mirth and hope they burn, But none to Cattreath's vale return, Save Aeron brave, and Conan strong, Bursting through the bloody throng, And I, the meanest of them all, That live to weep, and sing their fall." _____________________________________________________
"Love by ambition of definition suffers partition And cannot go From yes to no, For no is not love: no is no, The shutting of a door, The tightening jaw, A willful sorrow; And saying yes Turns love into success, Views from the rail Of land and happiness; Assured of all, The sofas creak, And were this all, love were But cheek to cheek And dear to dear." - W. H. Auden, from "Too Dear, Too Vague"