This site is dedicated to the memory of Dr. Alan William Smolowe who gave birth to the creation of this database.
Samuel Johnson, aka Doctor Johnson
To embarrass justice by a multiplicity of laws, or to hazard it by confidence in judges, are the opposite rocks on which all civil institutions have been wrecked, and between which legislative wisdom has never yet found an open passage.
When early morn walks forth in sober grey, Then to my black-eyed maid I haste away; When evening sits beneath her dusky bow’r, And gently sighs away the silent hour, The village bell alarms, away I go, And the vale darkens at my pensive woe. To that sweet village, where my black-eyed maid Doth drop a tear beneath the silent shade, I turn my eyes; and pensive as I go Curse my black stars and bless my pleasing woe. Oft when the summer sleeps among the trees, Whisp’ring faint murmurs to the scanty breeze, I walk the village round; if at her side A youth doth walk in stolen joy and pride, I curse my stars in bitter grief and woe, That made my love so high and me so low. O should she e’er prove false, his limbs I’d tear And throw all pity on the burning air; I’d curse bright fortune for my mixèd lot, And then I’d die in peace and be forgot.
Song - My silks and fine array, My smiles and languish'd air, By Love are driven away; And mournful lean Despair Brings me yew to deck my grave: Such end true lovers have. His face is fair as heaven When springing buds unfold: O why to him was 't given, Whose heart is wintry cold? His breast is Love's all-worshipp'd tomb, Where all Love's pilgrims come. Bring me an axe and spade, Bring me a winding-sheet; When I my grave have made, Let winds and tempests beat: Then down I'll lie, as cold as clay: True love doth pass away!
When the voices of children are heard on the green, And laughing is heard on the hill, My heart is at rest within my breast, And everything else is still. ‘Then come home, my children, the sun is gone down, And the dews of night arise; Come, come, leave off play, and let us away Till the morning appears in the skies.’ ‘No, no, let us play, for it is yet day, And we cannot go to sleep; Besides, in the sky the little birds fly, And the hills are all cover’d with sheep.’ ‘Well, well, go and play till the light fades away, And then go home to bed.’ The little ones leapèd and shoutèd and laugh’d And all the hills echoèd.
Age | Doubt | Envy | Eternity | God | Gold | Good | Grave | Grief | Heaven | Hell | Innocence | Joy | Judgment | Knowledge | Light | Little | Passion | Philosophy | Public | Revenge | Right | Soul | Teach | Truth | Woe | Woman | Words | World | Worth | God | Child | Old |
Auguries of Innocence - To see a world in a grain of sand, And a heaven in a wild flower, Hold infinity in the palm of your hand, And eternity in an hour. A robin redbreast in a cage Puts all heaven in a rage. A dove-house fill’d with doves and pigeons Shudders hell thro’ all its regions. A dog starv’d at his master’s gate Predicts the ruin of the state. A horse misused upon the road Calls to heaven for human blood. Each outcry of the hunted hare A fibre from the brain does tear. A skylark wounded in the wing, A cherubim does cease to sing. The game-cock clipt and arm’d for fight Does the rising sun affright. Every wolf’s and lion’s howl Raises from hell a human soul. The wild deer, wand’ring here and there, Keeps the human soul from care. The lamb misus’d breeds public strife, And yet forgives the butcher’s knife. The bat that flits at close of eve Has left the brain that won’t believe. The owl that calls upon the night Speaks the unbeliever’s fright. He who shall hurt the little wren Shall never be belov’d by men. He who the ox to wrath has mov’d Shall never be by woman lov’d. The wanton boy that kills the fly Shall feel the spider’s enmity. He who torments the chafer’s sprite Weaves a bower in endless night. The caterpillar on the leaf Repeats to thee thy mother’s grief. Kill not the moth nor butterfly, For the last judgment draweth nigh. He who shall train the horse to war Shall never pass the polar bar. The beggar’s dog and widow’s cat, Feed them and thou wilt grow fat. The gnat that sings his summer’s song Poison gets from slander’s tongue. The poison of the snake and newt Is the sweat of envy’s foot. The poison of the honey bee Is the artist’s jealousy. The prince’s robes and beggar’s rags Are toadstools on the miser’s bags. A truth that’s told with bad intent Beats all the lies you can invent. It is right it should be so; Man was made for joy and woe; And when this we rightly know, Thro’ the world we safely go. Joy and woe are woven fine, A clothing for the soul divine. Under every grief and pine Runs a joy with silken twine. The babe is more than swaddling bands; Throughout all these human lands Tools were made, and born were hands, Every farmer understands. Every tear from every eye Becomes a babe in eternity; This is caught by females bright, And return’d to its own delight. The bleat, the bark, bellow, and roar, Are waves that beat on heaven’s shore. The babe that weeps the rod beneath Writes revenge in realms of death. The beggar’s rags, fluttering in air, Does to rags the heavens tear. The soldier, arm’d with sword and gun, Palsied strikes the summer’s sun. The poor man’s farthing is worth more Than all the gold on Afric’s shore. One mite wrung from the lab’rer’s hands Shall buy and sell the miser’s lands; Or, if protected from on high, Does that whole nation sell and buy. He who mocks the infant’s faith Shall be mock’d in age and death. He who shall teach the child to doubt The rotting grave shall ne’er get out. He who respects the infant’s faith Triumphs over hell and death. The child’s toys and the old man’s reasons Are the fruits of the two seasons. The questioner, who sits so sly, Shall never know how to reply. He who replies to words of doubt Doth put the light of knowledge out. The strongest poison ever known Came from Caesar’s laurel crown. Nought can deform the human race Like to the armour’s iron brace. When gold and gems adorn the plow, To peaceful arts shall envy bow. A riddle, or the cricket’s cry, Is to doubt a fit reply. The emmet’s inch and eagle’s mile Make lame philosophy to smile. He who doubts from what he sees Will ne’er believe, do what you please. If the sun and moon should doubt, They’d immediately go out. To be in a passion you good may do, But no good if a passion is in you. The whore and gambler, by the state Licensed, build that nation’s fate. The harlot’s cry from street to street Shall weave old England’s winding-sheet. The winner’s shout, the loser’s curse, Dance before dead England’s hearse. Every night and every morn Some to misery are born, Every morn and every night Some are born to sweet delight. Some are born to sweet delight, Some are born to endless night. We are led to believe a lie When we see not thro’ the eye, Which was born in a night to perish in a night, When the soul slept in beams of light. God appears, and God is light, To those poor souls who dwell in night; But does a human form display To those who dwell in realms of day.
Never seek to tell thy love, Love that never told can be; For the gentle wind does move Silently, invisibly. I told my love, I told my love, I told her all my heart; Trembling, cold, in ghastly fears, Ah! she doth depart. Soon as she was gone from me, A traveller came by, Silently, invisibly: He took her with a sigh.
Defer not till to-morrow to be wise, to-morrow's Sun to thee may never rise; or should to-morrow chance to cheer thy sight with her enlivening and unlook'd for light, how grateful will appear her dawning rays! As favors unexpected doubly please.
Whittaker Chambers, born Jay Vivian Chambers, aka Jay David Whittaker Chambers
External freedom is only an aspect of interior freedom. Political freedom, as the Western world has known it, is only a political reading of the Bible. Religion and freedom are indivisible. Without freedom the soul dies. Without the soul there is no justification for freedom.… Hence every sincere break with Communism is a religious experience.
W. Brugh Joy, fully William Brugh Joy
The other facet that I am particularly interested in at this staging, is the shift from the old priest/priestess model, which is the individual who, for whatever reason, has found the pathway in, and then returns and, essentially, guides a gathering of people and spends the rest of his or her life doing that – where the individuals are not really brought into the ability to guide, they’re really the recipient of a divine image. And that’s essentially what has been played out for thousands of years. I feel what is, transpiring at this point is what this work is all based in. Which is that individuals are being brought into the ability to tap the resource individually and will be endowed, endowed individually so that when we come together it’s no longer the process of the have and have-nots. It now is a gathering of individuals who know how to find the inner center and when they come to join with others, they’re ready to share those resources in…in a wonderful sense of human camaraderie and, and enjoyment of gathering rather than the idea of taking an inspiration from an inspired one. And there is the process of the mystery training, which a lot of this work is, which is preparing you for such a possibility. So although I am using an old model (which is the teaching model) my intent is to bring you to the bridge from which you will self-discover. You will come to a unique experience of the divine mystery. And when we gather, one is awed by the range in which the mystery reveals itself – very creative and very I find…inspiring. And I believe this is the difference between the Piscean Age and the Aquarian Age that we’re embarking on. Ah…wonderful form prior to, which is One serving the Many. In the next phase the Many serve the One. Which is the Many serve the One inside.
Death | Important | Innocence | Love | Need | Order | Sacrifice |
Vladimir Nabokov, fully Vladimir Vladimirovich Nabokov
Unless a film of flesh envelops us, we die. Man exists only insofar as he is separated from his surroundings. The cranium is a space-traveler's helmet. Stay inside or you perish. Death is divestment, death is communion.
Circumstances | Innocence | Risk |
If you give way, you will instantly have to meet some greater demand, as having been frightened into obedience in the first instance; while a firm refusal will make them clearly understand that they must treat you more as equals.
Hope | Humanity | Innocence | Men | Power | Revenge | Salvation | Vengeance |
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold, Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost; It yearns me not if me my garments wear; Such outward things dwell not in my desires: But if it be a sin to covet honor, I am the most offending soul alive. The Life of King Henry the Fifth (King Henry at IV, iii)
SILVIUS: How many actions most ridiculous/Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantasy? CORIN: Into a thousand that I have forgotten. SILVIUS: O, thou didst then ne'er love so heartily! If thou remember'st not the slightest folly that ever love did make thee run into, thou hast not loved: or if thou hast not sat as I do now, wearying thy hearer in thy mistress' praise, thou hast not loved.
In love as in speculation there is much filth; in love also, people think only of their own gratification; yet without love there would be no life, and the world would come to an end.
Despair | Destroy | Effort | Good | Honor | Innocence | Life | Life | Man | Men | Office | Order | People | Public | Society | War | Society |