“Yet the thought chilled me as I touched the reins.
Ah! the poor horse, he will not. So remains,
Divided in his love. With mastered tears
I stride toward the parapet. My ears
Catch his low call; and now a song complains.
The bridge is bleeding and the river hears.
Ah! God! I cannot live for pity deep
Of that heart-quelling chant—I could not sleep
Ever again to think of it. I close
My hearing with my fingers. Gently goes
A quivering foot above them as they weep—
I weep, I also, as the river flows.
Slowly the bridge subsides, and I am flung
Deep in the tears and terrors never sung.
I swim with sorrow bursting at my breast.
Yet I am cleansed, and find some little rest.
Still from my agonised unspeaking tongue
Breaks: I must go, go onward to the quest.” [via]
“After a while he took the word again:
‘Go thou then moonwards; on the great salt plain;
So to a pillar. Adamant, alone,
It stands. Around it see them overthrown,
King, earl, and knight. There lie the questing slain,
A thousand years forgotten—bone by bone.
‘No more is spoken—the tradition goes:
‘There learns the seeker what he seeks or knows,’
Thence—none have passed. The desert leagues may keep
Some other secret—some profounder deep
Than this one echoed fear: the desert shows
Its ghastly triumph—silence. There they sleep.
‘There, brave and pure, there, true and strong, they stay
Bleached in the desert, till the solemn day
Of God’s revenge—none knoweth them: they rest
Unburied, unremembered, unconfessed.
What names of strength, of majesty, had they?
What suns are these gone down into the West?” [via]
“Rise, Phantom disanointed, and proclaim
Thine own destruction, and the sleepy death
Of those material essences that flame
A little moment for a little breath,
The love that perisheth!” [via]
“Sleep there, nor know me gone: sleep there
And never wake, although God’s breath
Catch thee at midmost of the prayer
Of sleep—that so dream turns to death!
Pass, be no more! The beckoning dawn
Woos the white ocean: I must go
Wither my soul’s desire is drawn.
Whither? I know not. Even so.” [via]
“Dream on my breast of quiet days,
Kindled of slow absorbing fire!
Sleep, while I ponder on the ways
And secret paths of my desire!
Dream, while my restless brain probes deep
The mysteries of its magic power,
The secret of forgotten sleep,
The birth of knowledge as a flower!” [via]
“Bright spheres of heaven, firefly gleams, fair ghosts
Laugh lightly to the silver globe of night
That glitters on green fields, and on the sea
Ripples break foamless, where the golden coasts
Echo their mellow cadence. Such delight
Is on me I would fain sigh into sleep
Until my love comes forth to dream with me
Of silent words of love and peopled stars
Where we may live and love and never weep
Nor yet be weary. The last ruby bars
Are sunk beneath the sea. The shadows creep
More on me as I quicken with desire
My love is all of gold, my faith is deep
Lit with my heart’s imperishable fire.” [via]
“The need to grow to the limit of our capacities, to become what we potentially are …”
“This is not a proper documentary.”
“‘the abolition of free will by methodical conditioning, the servitude made acceptable by regular doses of chemically induced happiness, the orthodoxies drummed in by nightly courses in sleep-teaching’, advertising, soma, Prozac, music TV, everyone belongs to everyone else”
“Totalitarian regimes of the future won’t be based on terror”
“In the illustrations of Purgatory there is a serene beauty, and one finds his Dante and Virgil climbing among the rough rocks under a cloudy sun, and in their sleep upon the smooth steps towards the summit, a placid, marmoreal, tender, starry rapture.” [via]