Love Is Not All
By Edna St. Vincent Millay
Love is not all: it is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain;
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
And rise and sink and rise and sink again;
Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath,
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
Even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It may well be that in a difficult hour,
Pinned down by pain and moaning for release,
Or nagged by want past resolution's power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It may well be. I do not think I would.
I love the New York Times. Here, for instance, is an article (not an editorial) on why Ashcroft is scarier than Hussein.
And incidentally may I just mention how much I despise it when people post political rants on mailing lists, then add that no one should respond as they don't want to hear it? I am all for people expressing themselves, but the whole point is to communicate -- if you're not going to listen to other people, shut the fuck up.
Speaking of fuck, here's an article on the growing use of bad language on TV. Quite amusing. I remember when it first became acceptable to say "penis" on television as AIDS awareness grew and Saturday Night Live did a skit with lines like, "Hey! Who's the guy with the penis?"
On finer art: here is Michael Cunningham, author of The Hours, on what it was like seeing what was in some ways a very personal novel get transformed into a film.
I didn't cheat and am rather amused, because I am certainly not...
Jolly good, wot! Anyone for tennis? That'll be ten ponies, guv. You're the epitome of everything that is english. Yey :) Hoist that Union Jack!
How British are you?
this quiz was made by alanna
vertigo66 pointed out this mood-lifter!
Here is where I am spending a lovely afternoon with my family, one of my favorite spots in the world -- the ray tank at the National Aquarium in Baltimore of which we are long-time members: