What was my worst fear has materialized. I'm the owner of a dormant blog.
|I used the white board more times in three days than I ever did back in my hostel room in four years|
|Heaven hath no joy as this.|
|A glass of cold milk with ice please|
|Mentha oil extraction requires this crude but highly effective distillation column|
|The place looks a lot like my alma mater|
'I myself, a stranger, in want, and driven
From Europe and Asia, now wander these Libyan shores'
Ah, pitiless Love, to what shifts dost thou drive men's hearts!
'Broidered all over, your hearts are set upon sloth,
You love to join in the dance; your tunics have sleeves,
And your caps are fastened with ribbons. You Phrygian women-
No Phrygian men are you- begone to the heights
Of Dindymus, up there where the twofold mouths of the pipe
Utter music to those who love those familiar strains.
The tambourines and Cybele's boxwood flute,
The notes of the Mother of Ida are calling to you;
Leave fighting to men; abandon to others the sword.'
‘Firstly, a spirit within them nourishes the sky and earth,
the watery plains, the shining orb of the moon,
and Titan’s star, and Mind, flowing through matter,
vivifies the whole mass, and mingles with its vast frame.
From it come the species of man and beast, and winged lives,
and the monsters the sea contains beneath its marbled waves.
The power of those seeds is fiery, and their origin divine,
so long as harmful matter doesn’t impede them
and terrestrial bodies and mortal limbs don’t dull them.
Through those they fear and desire, and grieve and joy,
and enclosed in night and a dark dungeon, can’t see the light.
Why, when life leaves them at the final hour,
still all of the evil, all the plagues of the flesh, alas,
have not completely vanished, and many things, long hardened
deep within, must of necessity be ingrained, in strange ways.
So they are scourged by torments, and pay the price
for former sins: some are hung, stretched out,
to the hollow winds, the taint of wickedness is cleansed
for others in vast gulfs, or burned away with fire:
each spirit suffers its own: then we are sent
through wide Elysium, and we few stay in the joyous fields,
for a length of days, till the cycle of time,
complete, removes the hardened stain, and leaves
pure ethereal thought, and the brightness of natural air.
All these others the god calls in a great crowd to the river Lethe,
after they have turned the wheel for a thousand years,
so that, truly forgetting, they can revisit the vault above,
and begin with a desire to return to the flesh.’