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Amazed at sightless whirring of their wheels,

Confounded with the recklessness and strife, Distract with fears of what may next ensue, Some break rude exit from the house of life, And plunge into a silence out of view– Whence not a cry, no wafture once reveals What door they have broke open with the knife. GM

Et tu?

When I was young I wrote a lot of little poems, mostly about the beauty and necessity of Wonder; which was a genuine feeling with me, as it is still. The power of seeing plain things and landscapes in a kind of sunlight of surprise; the power of jumping at the sight of a bird

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“It is simply no good trying to keep any thrill:

that is the very worst thing you can do. Let the thrill go—let it die away—go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow—and you will find you are living in a world of new thrills all the time. But if you decide to make thrills your regular diet

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Dietrich Bonhoeffer Letters and Papers from Prison:

Nothing we despise in the other man is entirely absent from ourselves. We must learn to regard people less in the light of what they do or omit to do, and more in the light of what they suffer. Quality is the greatest enemy of any kind of mass-leveling. Socially it means the renunciation of

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… just finished a new song “someshine”

I wanted to post a video to go along with it, which I am shooting – the spinning plates however threaten to fall!… also just finished making a snare drum out of a maple log from a neighbors tree… I wanted to post some video of that too since it will be fun to show

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The Claim of War: Render unto Ceasar

The war will fail to absorb our whole attention because it is a finite object and, therefore, intrinsically unfitted to support the whole attention of human soul. In order to avoid misunderstanding I must here make a few distinctions. I believe our cause to be, as human causes go, very righteous, and I therefore believe

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I clasp thy feet, O father of the living!

Thou wilt not let my fluttering hopes be more, Or lovelier, or greater, than thy giving! Surely thy ships will bring to my poor shore, Of gold and peacocks such a shining store As will laugh all the dreams to holy scorn, Of love and sorrow that were ever born. GM

Even thou canst give me neither thought nor thing,

Were it the priceless pearl hid in the land, Which if I fix thereon a greedy gaze, Becomes not poisen that doth burn and cling; Their own bad look my foolish eyes doth daze, They see the gift, see not the giving hand— From the living root the apple dead I wring. GM