Brown : The Last Discovery of America (2003)
Context: Only a few weeks ago, in the year in which I write, Carl T. Rowan died. Hearing the news, I felt the sadness one feels when a writer dies, a writer one claims as one's own — as potent a sense of implication as for the loss of a body one has known. Over the years, I had seen Rowan on TV. He was not, of course he was not, the young man who had been with me by the heater — the photograph on the book jacket, the voice that spoke through my eyes. The muscles of my body must form the words and the chemicals of my comprehension must form the words, the windows, the doors, the Saturdays, the turning pages of another life, a life simultaneous with mine.
It is a kind of possession, reading. Willing the Other to abide in your present. His voice, mixed with sunlight, mixed with Saturday, mixed with my going to bed and then getting up, with the pattern and texture of the blanket, with the envelope from a telephone bill I used as a bookmark. With going to Mass. With going to the toilet. With my mother in the kitchen, with whatever happened that day and the next; with clouds forming over the Central Valley, with the flannel shirt I wore, with what I liked for dinner, with what was playing at the Alhambra Theater. I remember Carl T. Rowan, in other words, as myself, as I was. Perhaps that is what one mourns.
Brown : The Last Discovery of America (2003)
Source: Henry and June: From "A Journal of Love"--The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin
Book II, Ch. 16
Attributed
Ziemkiewicz's essay at Interia Web Portal http://fakty.interia.pl/felietony/ziemkiewicz/news/pilnujcie-jezyka,767555
“And, like some low and mournful spell,
To whisper but one word—farewell!”
A Thought on Parting.
Context: But then to part! to part when Time
Has wreathed his tireless wing with flowers,
And spread the richness of a clime
Of fairy o'er this land of ours;
When glistening leaves and shaded streams
In the soft light of Autumn lay,
And, like the music of our dreams,
The viewless breezes seemed to stray—
'T was bitter then to rend the heart
With the sad thought that we must part;
And, like some low and mournful spell,
To whisper but one word—farewell!
At the Neo-Pagan Starwood Festival (July 1991), recorded on Timothy Leary Live at Starwood (2001) http://www.freetimes.com/story/3493 by the Association for Consciousness Exploration ISBN 1-59157-002-6
“I, of set will, speak words the wise may learn,
To others, nought remember nor discern.”
Source: Oresteia (458 BC), Agamemnon, lines 38–39 (tr. E. D. A. Morshead)
“So far as I can remember there is not one word in the Gospels in praise of intelligence.”
Source: 1930s, Education and the Social Order (1932), p. 110
Context: Owing to the identification of religion with virtue, together with the fact that the most religious men are not the most intelligent, a religious education gives courage to the stupid to resist the authority of educated men, as has happened, for example, where the teaching of evolution has been made illegal. So far as I can remember, there is not one word in the Gospels in praise of intelligence; and in this respect ministers of religion follow gospel authority more closely than in some others.
