I have a lot of stuff to do... many emails to answer, for one... but first, some short links! Here's a property Mel Gibson just sold, and I must say he's got good taste in houses. I really like that old English half-timbered look, and with Gothic arches too!
Second, just read the bizarre opening sentence of this article.
Finally, I must post a poem I came across in an old book. The poem was written around 1910 by a student at Eton, the very posh boarding school in England for boys age 13-18 that was founded six centuries ago by King Henry VI and has produced many famous leaders and writers. The main thing to remember is that the writer of this profound poem was high school age. He addressed it to one of his teachers.
I, who have made you songs in terza rima,
I, who have droned you dirges for a cat,
Aye, and could sing lamenting for a lemur,
(Well may you wonder what I'm aiming at),
I, who have dabbled in the dreams of Dante,
I, who have gibbered of the Golden Age,
I, though my brain be fatuous and scanty,
Though I be not a prophet or a sage,
I, who of old (the nominative pendent
Is just a joke-- there is no verb at all)
Like some bright planet in the sky resplendent,
Clad in a cloud, empurpled in a pall--
I, who at last have altered my intention,
And like the rain upon the drooping herb,
Gentle geranium or gaudy gentian,
Send you the crowning mercy of a verb,
I, who am I, and no one shall deny it,
I, who am I, and who shall say me nay?--
Yes, on the house-tops and the hills I cry it,
I have forgotten what I meant to say.