14 6 / 2013
"Of such great powers or beings there may be conceivably a survival… a survival of a hugely remote period when… consciousness was manifested, perhaps, in shapes and forms long since withdrawn before the tide of advancing humanity… forms of which poetry and legend alone have caught a flying memory and called them gods, monsters, mythical beings of all sorts and kinds…"
14 6 / 2013
"Moral reforms and deteriorations are moved by large forces, and they are mostly caused by reactions from the habits of a preceding period. Backwards and forwards swings the great pendulum, and its alterations are not determined by a few distinguished folk clinging to the end of it."
14 6 / 2013
"By nature, men are nearly alike;
by practice, they get to be wide apart."
14 6 / 2013
"We all make choices, but in the end our choices make us."
Andrew Ryan in BioShock, written by Ken Levine. Epigraph from All Your Base Are Belong to Us: How Fifty Years of Videogames Conquered Pop Culture by Harold Goldberg
14 6 / 2013
"When trouble looms, the fool turns his back, while the wise man faces it down."
14 6 / 2013
"Mechanic: Somebody set up us the bomb.
Operator: Main screen turn on.
CATS: All your base are belong to us.
CATS: You have no chance to survive make your time."
14 6 / 2013
"You are likely to be eaten by a grue.
If this predicament seems particularly cruel,
consider whose fault it could be:
not a torch or a match in your inventory.
Does it descend from there, adventure to nightmare?
Did I battle a snake? Was the treasure intact?
Or did the TRS-80 in my brain get hacked?"
“It Is Pitch Dark” by MC Frontalot. Epigraph from All Your Base Are Belong to Us: How Fifty Years of Videogames Conquered Pop Culture by Harold Goldberg
14 6 / 2013
"Any man’s death diminishes me, because I am involved with mankind."
14 6 / 2013
"Out beyond ideas of
wrongdoing and rightdoing,
there is a field.
I will meet you there."
14 6 / 2013
The universe is not made of atoms;
it’s made of <tiny> stories. ~Muriel Rukeyser & wirrow.
Epigraph from The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories by Joseph Gordon-Levitt
30 5 / 2013
"Don’t walk behind me; I may not lead.
Don’t walk in front of me; I may not follow.
Just walk beside me and be my friend."
29 5 / 2013
"
Sovay, Sovay all on a day
She dressed herself in man’s array
With a brace of pistols all by her side
To meet her true love, to meet her true love, away she’d rideAs she was riding over the plain
She met her true love and bid him stand
“Stand and deliver, young sir,” she said
“And if you do not, and if you do not, I’ll shoot you dead”He delivered up his golden store
And still she craved for one thing more
“That diamond ring, that I see you wear
Oh hand it over, oh hand it over, and your life I’ll spare”Sovay head
From that diamond ring I would not part
For it’s a token from my sweetheart
Shoot and be damned, you rogue” said he
“And you’ll be hanged, you’ll be hanged then for murdering me”Next morning in the garden green
Young Sophie and her true love were seen
He spied his watch hanging from her clothes
Which made him blush lads, which made him blush lads like any rose“Why do you blush you silly thing
I thought to have that diamond ring
T’was I who robbed you all on the plain
So here’s your gold, love, so here’s your gold and your watch and chainI only did it for to know
"
If you would be a man or no
If you had given me that ring she said
I’d have pulled the trigger, pulled the trigger and shot you dead”
14 5 / 2013
"But not yet have we solved the incantation of this whiteness, and learned why it appeals with such power to the soul; and more strange and far more portentous—why, as we have seen, it is at once the most meaning symbol of spiritual things, nay, the very veil of the Christian’s Deity; and yet should be as it is, the intensifying agent in things the most appalling to mankind."
14 5 / 2013
"Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you
With your fresh thoughts care for, can you?
Ah! as the heart grows older
It will come to such sights colder
By and by, nor spare a sigh
Though worlds of wanwood leafmeal lie;
And yet you will weep and know why.
Now no matter, child, the name:
Sorrow’s springs are the same.
Nor mouth had, no nor mind, expressed
What héart héard of, ghóst guéssed:
t is the blight man was born for,
It is Margaret you mourn for."
