Passing stranger!
you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me, as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you…
From Walt Whitman’s To a Stranger (1860)
Passing stranger!
you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me, as of a dream,)
I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you…
From Walt Whitman’s To a Stranger (1860)
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Razed the garden, profaned the chalices and the altars…
…by horse the Huns broke into the Monastic library and they tore the incomprehensible books and they vituperated them and they burnt them…
…fearing their symbols and characters might be concealing secret blasphemies against their God…
…who was an iron scimitar.
From Jorge Luis Borges’ The Theologians (1947)
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‘I come here to your beautiful country -’ Mr Raj saw through the window bare branches, coil after coil of dirty clouds, washing on neighbour lines, forlorn pecking birds, a distant brace of gasometers.
‘- your beautiful country, I say,’ he said defiantly.
‘…So far I have had mixed career. Fights and insults, complete lack of sexual sustenance – most necessary to men in prime of life – and inability to find accommodation commensurate with social position and academic attainments…’
From Anthony Burgess’ The Right to an Answer (1960)
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