Author: Henry David Thoreau (219.136.75.---)
Date: 12-01-05 22:50
<P>The former post was removed as it was off topic. We will be migrating to registration-only forums at <a href=http://jollyrogerwest.com>jollyrogerwest.com Great Books forums</a> and <a href=http://booksliterature.com>booksliterature.com Great Books forums</a>. These are Great Books sites, and we prefer posts such as:<P> If you aren't in over your head, how do you know how tall you are?
T. S. Eliot<pre>
Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,
The dear respose for limbs with travel tir'd;
But then begins a journey in my head
To work my mind, when body's work's expired:
For then my thoughts--from far where I abide--
Intend a zealous pilgrimage to thee,
And keep my drooping eyelids open wide,
Looking on darkness which the blind do see:
Save that my soul's imaginary sight
Presents thy shadow to my sightless view,
Which, like a jewel (hung in ghastly night,
Makes black night beauteous, and her old face new.
Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,
For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.
Our high respect for a well read person is praise enough for literature.
T. S. Eliot<pre>
The expense of spirit in a waste of shame
Is lust in action: and till action, lust
Is perjur'd, murderous, bloody, full of blame,
Savage, extreme, rude, cruel, not to trust;
Enjoy'd no sooner but despised straight;
Past reason hunted; and no sooner had,
Past reason hated, as a swallow'd bait,
On purpose laid to make the taker mad:
Mad in pursuit and in possession so;
Had, having, and in quest, to have extreme;
A bliss in proof,-- and prov'd, a very woe;
Before, a joy propos'd; behind a dream.
All this the world well knows; yet none knows well
To shun the heaven that leads men to this hell.