Isolation is the worst possible counselor.
-Miguel De Unamuno,
Civilization is Civilism, 1914
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Secret Springs
The everlasting universe of things Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves, Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom-- Now lending splendour, where from secret springs The source of human thought its tribute brings Of waters--with a sound but half its own, Such as a feeble brook will oft assume, In the wild woods, among the mountains lone, Where waterfalls around it leap for ever, Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves. -Percy Bysshe Shelley, Mont Blanc, 1817 |
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Fading West
When the sun fades far away, in the crimson of the west... The Evening Song, An 1877 Cornell Hymn |