“Haze all clouding up in my mind in the daze of the why it could've never been.”

Last update June 3, 2021. History

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Tori Amos71

American singer 1963

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“Purple haze, all in my brain
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Purple Haze
kiss the sky is often misheard by listeners as kiss this guy (see wikipedia mondegreen). Aware of that, in concerts, Jimi sometimes sang "'Scuse me while I kiss THAT guy".
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Context: Purple haze, all in my brain
Lately things just don't seem the same,
Acting funny, but I don't know why,
'Scuse me while I kiss the sky.

“Possibilities that fail to get realized are, for determinism, pure illusions: they never were possibilities at all. There is nothing inchoate, it says, about this universe of ours, all that was or is or shall be actual having been from eternity virtually there. The cloud of alternatives our minds escort this mass of actuality withal is a cloud of sheer deceptions, to which 'impossibilities' is the only name that rightfully belongs.”

William James (1842–1910) American philosopher, psychologist, and pragmatist

The Dilemma of Determinism in "The Will to Believe" p. 151 http://books.google.com/books?id=Moqh7ktHaJEC&pg=PA151 <br class="br">1890s, The Will to Believe and Other Essays in Popular Philosophy (1897)

“My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I got out of bed at all
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it's not so bad”

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“I have often been downcast, but never in despair; I regard our hiding as a dangerous adventure, romantic and interesting at the same time. In my diary I treat all the privations as amusing. I have made up my mind now to lead a different life from other girls and, later on, different from ordinary housewives. My start has been so very full of interest, and that is the sole reason why I have to laugh at the humorous side of the most dangerous moments.”

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“All the birds have flown up and gone;
A lonely cloud floats leisurely by.
We never tire of looking at each other—
Only the mountain and I.”

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[38] "Alone Looking at the Mountain"
Variant translations:
The birds have vanished down the sky.
Now the last cloud drains away.
We sit together, the mountain and me,
until only the mountain remains.
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Flocks of birds fly high and vanish;
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“Like the rest of them,
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“Story on Story of wonderful hills and streams
Their blue-green haze locked in clouds!
Mists brush my thin cap with moisture
Dew wets my coat of plaited straw
On my feet I wear pilgrim's sandals
My hand holds a stick of old rattan
Though I look down again on the dusty world
What is that land of dreams to me?”

Han-shan Chinese monk and poet

Cold Mountain: 100 Poems by the T'ang Poet Han-shan

“Haze all clouding up in my mind in the daze of the why it could've never been.”

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