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981 books
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2,573 voters
Anthony
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“Trolls do not build.”
―
―
“This I tell you: decay is inherent in all conditioned things. Work out your own salvation, with diligence.”
―
―
“T IME'S a circumference
Whereof the segment of our station seems
A long straight line from nothing into naught.
Therefore we say " progress, " " infinity " —
Dull words whose object
Hangs in the air of error and delights
Our boyish minds ahunt for butterflies.
For aspiration studies not the sky
But looks for stars; the victories of faith
Are soldiered none the less with certainties,
And all the multitudinous armies decked
With banners blown ahead and flute before
March not to the desert or th' Elysian fields,
But in the track of some discovery,
The grip and cognizance of something true,
Which won resolves a better distribution
Between the dreaming mind and real truth.
I cannot understand you.
'T is because
You lean over my meaning's edge and feel
A dizziness of the things I have not said.”
―
Whereof the segment of our station seems
A long straight line from nothing into naught.
Therefore we say " progress, " " infinity " —
Dull words whose object
Hangs in the air of error and delights
Our boyish minds ahunt for butterflies.
For aspiration studies not the sky
But looks for stars; the victories of faith
Are soldiered none the less with certainties,
And all the multitudinous armies decked
With banners blown ahead and flute before
March not to the desert or th' Elysian fields,
But in the track of some discovery,
The grip and cognizance of something true,
Which won resolves a better distribution
Between the dreaming mind and real truth.
I cannot understand you.
'T is because
You lean over my meaning's edge and feel
A dizziness of the things I have not said.”
―
“. . . and long have I wandered by roads forgotten, seeking the house of Elrond, of which many had heard, but few knew where it lay.”
― The Fellowship of the Ring
― The Fellowship of the Ring
“Now burst above the city's cold twilight
The piercing whistles and the tower-clocks:
For day is done. Along the frozen docks
The workmen set their ragged shirts aright.
Thro' factory doors a stream of dingy light
Follows the scrimmage as it quickly flocks
To hut and home among the snow's gray blocks. --
I love you, human labourers. Good-night!
Good-night to all the blackened arms that ache!
Good-night to every sick and sweated brow,
To the poor girl that strength and love forsake,
To the poor boy who can no more! I vow
The victim soon shall shudder at the stake
And fall in blood: we bring him even now.”
―
The piercing whistles and the tower-clocks:
For day is done. Along the frozen docks
The workmen set their ragged shirts aright.
Thro' factory doors a stream of dingy light
Follows the scrimmage as it quickly flocks
To hut and home among the snow's gray blocks. --
I love you, human labourers. Good-night!
Good-night to all the blackened arms that ache!
Good-night to every sick and sweated brow,
To the poor girl that strength and love forsake,
To the poor boy who can no more! I vow
The victim soon shall shudder at the stake
And fall in blood: we bring him even now.”
―
Anthony’s 2025 Year in Books
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