Further snippets
Toyo
Death poems
are mere delusion-
death is death.
Aragon, son of Arathorn
It is but a shadow and a thought that you love. I cannot give you what you seek.
Random scribblings
Random snippets from the past few days:
From Jeffrey Archer’s A Prisoner of Birth
But I have discovered with advancing years that few things are entirely black or white, but more often different shades of grey
…
They are both oaks, even if they were planted in different forests. But then, m’lord, we all suffer in our different ways from being prisoners of birth.
From someone:
In the language of the sport that I know best,
I wish you
Clear skies, fair winds and following seas
Poetry snippets:
Is there something you want to tell me
When there’s no one around
To listen to fears laid bare
In the crushing darkness of night
Where candlelight flickers in shadows
Velvety satin on nigh
What is philosophy
Taken from Squashed Philosophy
Glaucon: So what’s philosophy, then?
Socrates: It’s pursuing wisdom. Trying to find the immutable, the perfect, the true form of reality. It’s not like foolish sailors squabbling over who’s to take the helm. It’s not like taming a wild beast. Imagine a cave where prisoners have been held since birth, they’d believe that the shadows they see are reality. The true philosopher is like someone who escapes from that cave and sees real things, when he gets back, no-one believes him.
