Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Of mountains idly awaited.

Text is a one way mirror. One can't be heard by the character to whom you condescend. The mistakes are engraved in the opening, and the lessons' fame cannot heed our warnings. The record is deterministic, so far as we can determine, the scenes set in stone for the positivists to verify that such and such was just so. Each day new reasons to validate this unbroken record of instantiation, extending back to ... as far as we know.

Yesterday, December 7th 2011, I scried in dim light through a faith so great than man could still believe that we are, in overlapping generations of genocide help'd to freedom by butchery.

Thus they their doubtful consultations dark
Ended rejoycing in their matchless Chief:

As when from mountain tops the dusky clouds
Ascending, while the North wind sleeps, O'respread
Heav'ns chearful face, the lowring Element
Scowls ore the dark'nd lantskip Snow, or showre;

If chance the radiant Sun with farewell sweet
Extend his ev'ning beam, the fields revive,
The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds
Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings.
O shame to men! Devil with Devil damn'd
Firm concord holds, men onely disagree
Of Creatures rational, though under hope
Of heavenly Grace; and God proclaiming peace,
Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife
Among themselves, and levie cruel warres,
Wasting the Earth, each other to destroy:
As if (which might induce us to accord)
Man had not hellish foes anow besides,
That day and night for his destruction wait."