All Purls. No Swine.
God gave us memories that we might have roses in December–J.M. Barrie It’s a lovely sentiment, isn’t it? Unfortunately, not all our memories come up roses (pace Ethel Merman): https://youtu.be/s62MrU8mHx4 and our memory gardens inevitably include thorns, thistles, poison ivy, and an abundance of other nasty weeds we encountered at some point in the horticultural… Continue reading Roses in December
When I am an old woman I shall wear purple With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me. And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired And gobble up… Continue reading Quote of the Day: For the “Specially” Enabled, When it Comes to Growing Old
I subscribe (in the sense of paying) to only one news source on the Internet, and that is The Telegraph. It's the only newspaper my family read throughout the latter half of the 20th century (after the servants had ironed it, of course*) I do so because their coverage is (relatively speaking, these days) rational,… Continue reading Quote of the Day: Weed! Weed! (No. Not that kind of weed.)
Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal. Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We… Continue reading Quote of the day–“for us the living”
Regard it as just as desirable to build a chicken house as to build a cathedral--Frank Lloyd Wright. I do like a man who has his priorities straight. Even if I’m not one of them. Frank Lloyd Wright was, while not exactly a Southwest Pennsylvanian, often claimed as one of ours on account of Fallingwater, a… Continue reading From the Chicken House to the Cathedral
My subject is War and the pity of War. The poetry is in the pity"--Wilfred Owen Wilfred Edward Salter Owen, beloved son, accomplished poet, and soldier of The Great War, was born 128 years ago, on March 18, 1893 in Oswestry, a Welsh border town, in the county of Shropshire. Readers of Ellis Peters's Brother… Continue reading ‘Sweet and Fitting,’ or ‘Unworthy’ and ‘Distasteful?’ Wilfred Owen vs William Butler Yeats
Something got me thinking about this quote again the other day, so I thought I'd repost this oldie-but-goodie. Above all, don’t lie to yourself. The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses… Continue reading On Self-Deception
The image of the boy in a tree, sawing determinedly away at the branch he is sitting on, while he's actually sitting on the wrong side of it--on the part of the branch that's going to fall to the ground with him on it when he cuts all the way through--is one that's always amused… Continue reading Step Away–I Got This (Not)
Yes, the pedantic me (or "I" as it should more properly be) knows that in his most famous quatrain, William Ernest Henley spells, and is using the word "strait" as it applies to a narrow body of water, often difficult to navigate and get through in one piece. And certainly, sometimes when you're undertaking a… Continue reading How Straight the Gate!
Oh, it's a long, long while From May to December, And the days grow short When you reach September.... Well, here we are again. Almost at the autumnal equinox (which happens this year on September 22), that time of year when the the Sun hangs directly above the equator and day and night (which have… Continue reading September Song