And what about your mind
Your insipid record collection
A forest of things.
Rock and roll ain't no riddle, man ...
Earth lay before me in a spring dreamSuffused with warmth and light,And drunk with joy I wafted through space,Blossoms burst forth from my breast;Love's springtime awakened in me.Now frost shudders through me; in my soul it is night.Be still, my heart, and give it no thought:This now is reality, the rest was delusion.Out of sunshine and flowers I built myselfA bridge through lifePassing over which, laurel-crowned,I devoted myself to the noblest of strivings.Man's gratitude was my finest reward;The crowd laughs aloud now with impudent scorn.Be still, my heart, and give it no thought:This now is reality, the rest was delusion.
Our students’ ignorance is not a failing of the educational system – it is its crowning achievement. Efforts by several generations of philosophers and reformers and public policy experts — whom our students (and most of us) know nothing about — have combined to produce a generation of know-nothings. The pervasive ignorance of our students is not a mere accident or unfortunate but correctible outcome, if only we hire better teachers or tweak the reading lists in high school. It is the consequence of a civilizational commitment to civilizational suicide. The end of history for our students signals the End of History for the West.
Nothing's changed. I know colleagues who tell me they hate reading.
On the wall beside his desk are portraits of some of his other subjects: John Milton, Oscar Wilde (in whose voice he wrote a novel), the Elizabethan occultist John Dee. “You develop an affinity and eventually a sort of companionship, when you get to know them well enough,” he says. “Of course, that’s an illusion. But it’s something which spurs you forward.”He says there is a fleeting quality to these friendly obsessions that puzzles him, though he doesn’t interrogate it too closely. “Most writers, I presume,” he says, “keep a sort of a memory of events and details of people’s lives when they write a biography. But in my case, it just completely vanishes once the book is done.”He wouldn’t be much use in a pub quiz?“It would be embarrassing. The things I wouldn’t be able to remember about Dickens, say [subject of a 1,000-page plus Ackroyd bestseller]. I can now hardly remember who he was married to or the names of any of his children or the order the books came in.”He likens his methods to “a form of intellectual bulimia: you eat a great deal of knowledge. And you sick it up. And then you start again.”
...[T]hey really have to treat their pupils with maximum care because, who knows, in the future, all the pupils of the world could sign to record companies and get their revolting revenge.
ABSTRACTWinston Churchill statement promoting Gin and Tonic as a life saver during British Empire extension hides many truths. As a matter of fact, the modern cocktail is thought to be born in India where it was widely distributed by Royal Navy for its anti-malarial properties. The aim of the present work is to review and unveil the history of Gin and Tonic through the centuries. As a matter of facts, primitive Gin and Tonic protective effects were well understood by physicians far before the advent of the “germ theory” and its fortunate invention is one of the most fascinating approaches in the history of preventive medicine. Indeed, quinine, a compound with protective effects on the replicative cycle of Plasmodium spp was discovered in 18th Century and since 19th it become the main compound of tonic beverages such as Schweppe’s ones. Interestingly, it was administered to British expatriates’ seamen and soldiers in order to prevent febrile paroxysms. Soon after, British military doctors demonstrated that the addition of lime or lemon peels to tonics was effective in preventing scurvy. While, addition of alcoholic beverages and gin contributed to make more enjoyable the bitter and unpleasant taste of this beverages.RESULTSThe spectacular voyage of Gin and Tonic teaches us that a popular recreational drink of our Century was a powerful prophylaxis which certainly helped British colonial expansion.
35 Day Dry-Aged Wagyu Beef Tartare, Pickled Quail Egg, Smoked Aioli, Crispy Shallot, Garlic Crostini
Once there were brook trout in the streams in the mountains. You could see them standing in the amber current where the white edges of their fins wimpled softly in the flow. They smelled of moss in your hand. Polished and muscular and torsional. On their backs were vermiculate patterns that were maps of the world in its becoming. Maps and mazes. Of a thing which could not be put back. Not be made right again. In the deep glens where they lived all things were older than man and they hummed of mystery.Cormac McCarthy, from The Road
He watched them holding themselves with their noses into the current, many trout in deep, fast moving water, slightly distorted as he watched far down through the glassy convex surface of the pool, its surface pushing and swelling smooth against the resistance of the log-driven piles of the bridge. At the bottom of the pool were the big trout. Nick did not see them at first. Then he saw them at the bottom of the pool, big trout looking to hold themselves on the gravel bottom in a varying mist of gravel and sand, raised in spurts by the current.Nick looked down into the pool from the bridge. It was a hot day. A kingfisher flew up the stream. It was a long time since Nick had looked into a stream and seen trout. They were very satisfactory. As the shadow of the kingfisher moved up the stream, a big trout shot upstream in a long angle, only his shadow marking the angle, then lost his shadow as he came through the surface of the water, caught the sun, and then, as he went back into the stream under the surface, his shadow seemed to float down the stream with the current, unresisting, to his post under the bridge where he tightened facing up into the current.Nick's heart tightened as the trout moved. He felt all the old feeling.
When people ask me where I get my ideas, I laugh. How strange—we're so busy looking out, to find ways and means, we forget to look in. The Muse, to belabor the point then, is there, a fantastic storehouse, our complete being. All that is most original lies waiting for us to summon it forth. And yet we know it is not as easy as that. We know how fragile is the pattern woven by our fathers or uncles or friends, who can have their moment destroyed by a wrong word, a slammed door, or a passing fire-wagon. So, too, embarrassment, self-consciousness, remembered criticisms, can stifle the average person so that less and less in his lifetime can he open himself out.Let's say that each of us has fed himself on life, first, and later, on books and magazines. The difference is that one set of events happened to us, and the other was forced feeding.If we are going to diet our subconscious, how prepare the menu?Well, we might start our list like this ...