June 2011

I feared them like I also feared the Guards
as wielders of some undomestic power,
afraid that, if I didn’t make out well,
I’d end up in a tent beside the road,
unable to get warm: that, when I’d gone,
all I’d leave behind would be a patch
of grey, wet ash where the green sycamore
had offered little light or sweetness. (more…)


I like to wash,
the dust of this world
In the droplets of dew.

Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a star, and dwelt apart:
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
Pure as the naked heavens, majestic, free,
So didst thou travel on life’s common way,
In cheerful godliness; and yet thy heart
The lowliest duties on herself did lay

Give me a home
that isn’t mine,
where I can slip in and out of rooms
without a trace, (more…)

Tide players surf the currents

The red flags they hold up never get wet.

* Pan Lang was a poet of the Northern Song Dynasty (AD 960-1127)

To travel hopefully is a better thing than to arrive.

During the war, Satie could be found in the bar on the rue d’Amsterdam . One evening he was determined to buy a ticket for England but finding the atmosphere of this bar so British, smelling of fish and strong beer, that he reckoned that he’d achieved his aim and went back home.

Rene Lanser was a Belgian journalist who went in search of Satie whenever he made the trip to Paris from Antwerp.

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