W.B. Yeats book The Tower
V, st. 2 <br class="br">The Tower (1928), Nineteen Hundred And Nineteen http://poetry.poetryx.com/poems/1547/
February Chapter The Peverel Papers - A yearbook of the countryside ed Julian Shuckburgh Century Hutchinson 1986
The Peverel Papers
W.B. Yeats book The Tower
V, st. 2 <br class="br">The Tower (1928), Nineteen Hundred And Nineteen http://poetry.poetryx.com/poems/1547/
“Oprah's quitting in 2011. Now we know why the Mayans ended their calendar in 2012”
Craig Ferguson (1962) Scottish-born American television host, stand-up comedian, writer, actor, director, author, producer and voice a…
“Beauty's of a fading nature
Has a season and is gone!”
Robert Burns (1759–1796) Scottish poet and lyricist
Will Ye Go and Marry Katie? (1764)
Pope Francis (1936) 266th Pope of the Catholic Church
2010s, 2013, Interview in La Repubblica
Context: Proselytism is solemn nonsense, it makes no sense. We need to get to know each other, listen to each other and improve our knowledge of the world around us. Sometimes after a meeting I want to arrange another one because new ideas are born and I discover new needs. This is important: to get to know people, listen, expand the circle of ideas. The world is crisscrossed by roads that come closer together and move apart, but the important thing is that they lead towards the Good.
“I notice that Autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature.”
Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900) German philosopher, poet, composer, cultural critic, and classical philologist
Robert Chambers (publisher, born 1802) (1802–1871) Scottish publisher and writer
Source: Testimony: its Posture in the Scientific World (1859), p. 9
Rainer Maria Rilke (1875–1926) Austrian poet and writer
Source: Rilke's Book of Hours: Love Poems to God
“The good rain knows its season.”
Du Fu (712–770) Chinese poet of the Tang Dynasty
Source: Kim Cheng Boey, Between Stations: Essays (2009), p. 102
Context: Spring Night, Delighting in Rain (A translation by Burton Watson)
The good rain knows when to fall,
stirring new growth the moment spring arrives.
Wind-borne, it steals softly into the night,
nourishing, enriching, delicate, and soundless.
Country paths black as the clouds above them;
on a river boat a lone torch flares.
Come dawn we'll see a landscape moist and pink,
blossoms heavy over the City of Brocade.