'Tis mute, the word they went to hear on high Dodona mountain When winds were in the oakenshaws and all the cauldrons tolled, And mute’s the midland naval-stone beside the singing fountain, And echoes list to silence no where gods told lies of old.
I took my question to the shrine that has not ceased from speaking, The heart within, that tells the truth and tels it twice as plain; And from the cave of oracles I heard the priestess shrieking That she and I should surely die and never live again.
Oh priestess, what you cry is clear, and sound good sense I think it; But let the screaming echoes rest, and froth your mouth no more. 'Tis true there's better boose than brine, but he that drowns must drink it; And oh, my lass, the news is news that men have heard before.
The king with half the East at heel is marched from lands of morning; Their fighters drink the rivers up, their shafts benight the air, And he that stands will die for nought, and home there’s no returning. The Spartans on their sea-wet rock sat down and combed their hair.
“I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to it’s lowest terms… and if it proved to be mean, why then to get the whole and genuine meanness of it, and publish its meanness to the world; or if it were sublime, to know it by experience, and be able to give a true account of it in my next excursion.”—Henry David Thoreau in Walden (via brianacoonan)
"Nor is there a beyond filled with brightness for the victim of mortal fate to look to. Orcus is unpitying; Mercury’s flock is of sable hue, and Proserpina’s hue is of the dusk. Black Care clings to poor souls even beyond the grave, dull and persistent, the only substantial feature of the insubstnatial world of shades. Sappho still sighs there for love of her maidens, the plectrum of Alcaeus sounds accompaniment only to songs of earthly hardships on land and sea, Prompetheus and Tantalus find no surcease from the pangs of tortue, the Danaids and Sisyphus are never at rest."
Humankind, rash to suffer all things, Rushes to sin forbidden; The daring Prometheus bore fire With mischievous craft to these peoples. After the fire’s theft from the gods’ house Decay and a new kind of Calamities swept over the lands, And slow fate first quickened the Approach of remote death. Daedalus tried the vacuous air With wings not given to man; Hercules overcame the Acherontan labor. Nothing has been insurmountable to mortals; Foolish, we seek the sky itself, and nor Do we endure through our age to Lay aside our fiery barbs for Jove.
I’m trying to earn money to travel during Spring Semester. In an attempt to do so, I’ve made a bunch of super awesome pieces of jewelry which I’m selling on my Etsy! Please give them a look. Like anything? Help me out and buy it! Have any ideas of something you might want me to make? Shoot me a message and ask!