When Man has arrived at a certain ripeness in intellect any one grand and spiritual passage serves him as a starting-post towards all ‘the two-and-thirty Palaces.’ How happy is such a voyage of concentration, what delicious diligent Indolence! …Nor will this sparing touch of noble Books be any irreverence to their Writers – for perhaps the honors paid by Man to Man are trifles in comparison to the Benefit done by great works to the ‘spirit and pulse of good’ by their mere passive existence. Memory should not be called Knowledge – Many have original minds who do not think it – they are led away by Custom. Now it appears to me that almost any Man may like the spider spin from his own inwards his own airy Citadel – the points of leaves and twigs on thich the spider begins her work are few, and she fills the air with a beautiful ciruitin
Living life in all its fierceness,
Birth and death and joy and pain
We struggle on our unknown journey,
Sometimes lost and found again.
We are indeed like lambs to slaughter
Death will be our final goal.
But while we live,let us live bravely.
Let us not destroy our souls.
Climbing in the hills and moorlands
In the heather, children play.
The sun half blinds me with its light
Yet still I see the given way.
I received a call to climb.
These hills are my essential home.
My vocation is to dwell here
While in the silence,mind may roam.
Noise in cities is destructive.
Though nature's fierce,it's also true.
Struggling on life's craggy slopes
I offer up my words to you.