Human rights groups wary after president asks Congress to establish special court or board to authorise legal drone action
― Steve Martin, An Object of Beauty
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again…
Out of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me,
Whispering, I love you, before long I die,
I have travel’d a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you,
For I could not die till I once look’d on you,
For I fear’d I might afterward lose you.
(Now we have met, we have look’d, we are safe;
Return in peace to the ocean, my love;
I too am part of that ocean, my love—we are not so much separated;
Behold the great rondure—the cohesion of all, how perfect!
But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us,
As for an hour carrying us diverse—yet cannot carry us diverse forever;
Be not impatient—a little space—know you, I salute the air, the ocean and the land,
Every day, at sundown, for your dear sake, my love.)
|—||Walt Whitman, Out of the Rolling Ocean, the Crowd (via myimaginarybrooklyn)|
|—||Lao Tzu (via moreofamore)|
Give me a thing that says nothing.
The wind, for instance,
A wisdom that comes from ten thousand miles to the west.
The trees, for instance, stenographers
Of every sentence it isn’t able to utter.
The grass that assembles them all
in its green pages.
The dirt that substracts each word, syllable after syllable,
Into its dark book, and keeps them there
In ignorance, a blessed ignorance we’ll come to know,
A radiant cloud at our mouths,
breath like no other.
—Charles Wright, from “26” in Littlefoot: A Poem (Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2007)
Thich Nhat Hanh