Grief
Grief is strange, it comes at you from all angles.
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To thine own self be true
‘To thine own self be true’ Polonius, Act 1 Scene 3, Hamlet
On listening to Shostakovich Symphony No.11 (The Year 1905).
The Winter Palace sleeps in a cold blue dawn of stillness. Oh that it could sleep forever like this, frozen in time. Hard is the soil. Still is the air Gentle the sky And when the morning breaks that it should stay undisturbed. Oh morning do not come and bring your horror. But morning broke…
Man is a God …
Man is a god in ruins who has forgotten his own divinity.
All our yesterdays
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, To the last syllable of recorded time; And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage,And then is…
All That Is Solid Melts Into Air.
“There is a mode of vital experience — experience of space and time, of the self and others, of life’s possibilities and perils — that is shared by men and women all over the world today. I will call this body of experience “modernity.” To be modern is to find ourselves in an environment that…