Poem: To March

Dear March, come in!
How glad I am!
I looked for you before.
Put down your hat —
You must have walked —
How out of breath you are!
Dear March, how are you?
And the rest?
Did you leave Nature well?
Oh, March, come right upstairs with me,
I have so much to tell!

I got your letter, and the birds';
The maples never knew
That you were coming, — I declare,
How red their faces grew!
But, March, forgive me —
And all those hills
You left for me to hue;
There was no purple suitable,
You took it all with you.

Who knocks? That April!
Lock the door!
I will not be pursued!
He stayed away a year, to call
When I am occupied.
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come,
That blame is just as dear as praise
And praise as mere as blame. 

            Emily Dickinson

 

 

 

 

Wanna see a magic trick?

The human mind is like a kid who got a magic kit for Christmas: it only knows like four tricks. What looks like an infinite list of biases and heuristics is in fact just the same few sleights of hand done over and over again. Uncovering those tricks has been psychology’s greatest achievement. . .

Adam Mastroianni, Experimental History blog

Go here to read the entire post.

The simple truth

Truth is a hard master,
    and costly to serve,
        but it simplifies all problems.

                 Edith Pargeter, Brother Cadfael's Penance

 

 

 

 

Who's in charge here?

The world is disgracefully managed,
    one hardly knows to whom to complain.

                Ronald Firbank, Vainglory

 

 

 

 

The art of storytelling

I remember what’s important, and I make up the rest.
        That’s what storytelling is all about.

                    Nikki Giovanni, Going to Mars: The Nikki Giovanni Project

 

 

 

Just the facts

Facts do not cease to exist because they are ignored.

        Aldous Huxley, Complete Essays, Vol. II: 1926-1929

 

 

 

 

 

The fruits of fear

Why do you want a theory at all, and why do you postulate any belief?
This constant assertion of belief is an indication of fear –
fear of everyday life, fear of sorrow,
fear of death and of the utter meaninglessness of life.
Seeing all this you invent a theory
and the more cunning and erudite the theory the more weight it has.
And after two thousand or ten thousand years of propaganda,
that theory invariably and foolishly becomes ‘the truth’.

        Krishnamurti, The Second Krishnamurti Reader