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Everything without tells the individual that he is nothing; everything within persuades him that he is everything.

quote by Xavier Doudan
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Every Face Tells A Story

Look at the man in the corner, hes sitting all alone
His blankets are made out of cardboard,
His pillows are made out of stone
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
See the man walking on the water, see the light in his eyes
He came into the world with a message to tell,
He came into the world to die
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Youre always telling stories, youre always telling me lies
Youre always telling stories, why?
So think of yourself in the water, seeing your days flashing by
Its too late to see what you wanted to be,
Youve spent all your time, you must die
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Step down
And make it work out right
Im trying to get to you with my warning
Been there
For nearly half the night
Look its nearly four in the morning

song performed by Cliff Richard
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There Is No Such Thing As An Individual

She looked at me
and asked.
'What is your answer? '

I was startled
and caught up short.

Simple question.

But I did not know
what the answer was.

'Who am I'?
I blurted out
vying for time;
I gave her my name
narrowing it to the millions
of Jim Jones in the world.

But am I my name?

She said

What else.?

'I am Hedi's Father
and Lisa's husband'

but before this response rolled away
into silence
I knew it wasn't enough.

So who else?

'I like hockey' I said
and knew even this
fell short.

How do I single out
the Me among millions?

What could I say
without out offering
fingerprints or DNA?

What would you say?

Maybe I should have given her
an address.
Only I live there.

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The one game we all play

The one game we all play

We play games
To show our valour
And mainly to win

We do not mind going for coaching
If we feel we do not have the
Required strength to win

We play games
Either as a team or individual
The attempt is to demonstrate
That we are better talented
Than the team or member
Against whom we play

Nations enthuse people to play games
So that they add pride

Some games are played with
Gadgets and protective accessories

We have spectators to watch
The way we play
We have umpires and referees
Who ensure rules of the games
Are strictly adhered
And it is all a fair play

We play games indoor or outdoor
We play games in daylight
Or under artificial illumination

We score while playing
And the score achieved by a team or individual
In a specific time
Decides the winner

We telecast the games
We comment on the strengths and weaknesses
Of a team or individual

We conduct national and international
Tournaments to declare a team or individual
As champion

Irrespective of skills, race, gender
We all play a game
Which is played mainly to lose

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Every Face Tells A Story

(m. allison/p. sills/d. black)
Theres no need for you to tell me
I can see the way you feel
I just know without you saying
What is a lie and whats real
Every face tells a story
Its hard to hide a lie
Every face tells a story
And yours is saying goodbye
Somethings going on, and I know it
You cant keep it from me
Your smile cannot hide what you feel inside
And I dont like what I see
Every face tells a story
Its hard to hide a lie
Every face tells a story
And yours is saying goodbye
Youre always telling stories
Youre always telling me lies
Youre always telling stories
If you want to leave me, leave me
No good living a lie
You can pretend that were not gonna end
But your eyes are saying goodbye
Every face tells a story
Its hard to hide a lie
Every face tells a story
And yours is saying goodbye
Youre always telling stories
Youre always telling me lies
Youre always telling stories
Tell me, I got a right to know
Pour your little heart out to me, baby
You know, you know I dont want to let go
Every face tells a story
Its hard to hide a lie
Every face tells a story
And yours is saying goodbye

song performed by Olivia Newton-John
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Nature tells me

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my riches for I am not
much richer than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my beauty for I am not
much beautiful than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my kindness for I am not
much kinder than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my generosity for I am not
much generous than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my logicality for I am not
much logical than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my judiciousness for I am not
much judicious than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my poetic mind for I am not
much poetic than her.

Nature tells me not to be proud
of my prides for I am not
much prouder than her.

poem by Palas kumar Ray
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Illahi Nama (Book of God)

In the Book of God (Ilahi-nama) 'Attar framed his mystical teachings in various stories that a caliph tells his six sons, who are kings themselves and seek worldly pleasures and power.
The first son is captivated by a virgin princess, and his father tells him the adventures of a beautiful and virtuous woman who attracts several men but miraculously survives their abuse and then forgives them. They acknowledge that carnal desire is necessary to propagate the race but also recognize that passionate love can lead to spiritual love, which can annihilate the soul in the beloved.
Other stories indicate the importance of respecting the lives of other creatures such as ants or dogs. One only thinks oneself better than a dog because of one's dog-like nature.

The second son tells his father that his heart craves magic; but his father warns him against the work of the Devil. A monk tells a shaikh that he has chosen the job of locking up a savage dog inside himself, and he advises the shaikh to lock up anger lest he be changed into a dog. The father suggests that this son ask for something more worthy and tells an anecdote in which Jesus teaches a man the greatest name of God. The man uses it to make bones come alive into a lion, which devours him, leaving his bones. Jesus then says that when a person asks for something unworthy, God does not grant it. Birds and beasts flee from people, because people eat them. God tells Moses to watch his heart when he is alone, to be kind and watch his tongue when he is with people, the road in front when he is walking, and his gullet when he is dining. A saint tells a shaikh that love is never denied to humans, for only the lover knows the true value of the beloved. Another saint warns that unless you pray for protection from negativity (the Devil), you shall not enter the court of God.

The third son of the caliph asks for a cup that could display the whole world. 'Attar concluded a story by saying that Sufism is to rest in patience and forsake all desire for the world, and trust in God means bridling one's tongue and wishing for better things for others than for oneself. This son asks why his father seems to disparage the love of honor and the love of wealth which all seem to possess. The caliph replies that in the crazy prison of the world one can achieve greatness only by devotion. Since one speaks to God through the heart and soul, it is difficult to speak with God of worldly things. The third son asks if he can be allowed to seek power in moderation; but the father still warns that this will place screens between him and God. Each screen created by seeking power will create more screens. One must see both the good and the bad inside and outside oneself to understand how they are connected together. Saints who reach their goal see nothingness in all things, making sugar seem like poison and a rose like thorns. Ayaz advises the conquering sultan Mahmud to leave his self behind since he is better being entirely We. In the last story for his third son, the father says that thousands of arts, mysteries, definitions, commands, prohibitions, orders, and injunctions are founded on the intellect. What cup could be more revealing than this?

The fourth son seeks the water of life, and his father warns him against desire. A wise man considers Alexander the Great the slave of his slave, because the Greek conqueror has submitted to greed and desire, which this wise man controls. If the son cannot have the water of life, he asks for the knowledge that will illuminate his heart. In one story 'Attar concluded that if you are not faithful in love, you are in love only with yourself. The fifth son asks for the ring of Solomon that enables one to communicate with birds and other animals. The Way is summarized as seeing the true road, traveling light, and doing no harm. The father tells this son that he has chosen an earthly kingdom, because he has not heard of the kingdom of the next world. He advises this king that since his sovereignty will not endure not to load the whole world on his shoulders. Why take on the burden of all creation? The caliph suggests that his son practice contentment, which is an eternal kingdom that overshadows even the Sun. When Joseph was thrown into a pit, the angel Gabriel counseled him that it is better to notice a single blemish in yourself than to see a hundred lights of the Unseen.

The sixth son desires to practice alchemy, but his father perceives that he is caught in the snare of greed. Gold is held more tightly by a miser than the rock grips the ore. The son observes that excessive poverty often leads to losing faith, and so he asks God for both the philosopher's stone and for gold; but his father replies that one cannot promote both faith and the world at the same time. In the epilog the poet commented that since he receives his daily bread from the Unseen, he does not have to be the slave of wretched men, and 'Attar concluded this work with the satisfaction that he has perfumed the name of God with his poetry.

poem by Farid ud-Din Attar Abu Hamid bin Abu Bakr Ibrahim
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Empty

Can this be my poem?—this poor fragment
Of bald thought in meanest language dressed!
Can this string of rhymes be my sweet poem?
All its poetry wholly unexpressed!

Does it tell me of the dreams that wandered,
In the silent night-time, through my brain?
Of the woven web of wondrous fancies,
Half of keenest joy and half of pain?

Does it tell me of the awful beauty
That came down to hide this sordid earth?
Does it tell me of the inward crying?—
Of the glory whence it had its birth?

Only as the lamp, all dull and rusted,
Tells me of the flame that is put out,—
Of the shiny hair and happy faces
Lighted, when its radiance streamed about?

Only as this piece of glass, now lying
In the shade beside me, as I sit,
Tells me of the soft hues of the rainbow,
That the morning sunshine gave to it!

Only as this little flask, now smelling
Of the dust and mould with which 'tis lined,
Tells me of the lovely subtle fragrance
Of the perfume that it once enshrined!

Only as a picture, blurred and faded,
Tells me of the bloom of colour there,
When the painter's soul was with his canvas,
And his paint was bright, and fresh, and fair!

Only as the wires and keys—notes broken,
Odd and scattered—tell me of a strain
That once filled my very soul with rapture,
But can never be spelled out again!
Only as a bare brown flower-stalk tells me
Of the delicate blossom that it wore;
Of the humming bees in silken petals,
And the downy butterflies it bore!

Only as a crazy boat, sun-blistered,
Drawn up high and dry upon the sands,
Tells me of the blue and buoyant billows
Bearing breezy sails to foreign lands!

Only as a little dead lark, lying

[...] Read more

poem by Ada Cambridge
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Christmas 2010

Christmas is the time that tells
That God was born a baby boy;
And He was called ‘Emmanuel’
(‘God with us’) , and brought us joy!

Christmas is the time that tells
That love of God was born on earth,
Becoming flesh in virgin’s womb,
Proclaiming the ‘King of Kings’ birth!

Christmas is the time that tells
That Word that was God became man,
And dwelt amongst us for some years,
And suffer in all ways, He can.

Christmas is the time that tells
That peace returned to heart and soul,
And brought back hope to sinners too,
Who aim toward a heavenly goal.

Christmas is the time that tells
That prophecy of birth of Christ
In Scriptures came to be fulfilled,
As angel choirs sang in Highest.

Christmas is the time that tells
That God chose poverty at birth,
To know how tough life on earth is,
And showed how woes can become mirth.

Christmas is the time that tells
That Christ was born to save mankind
From sins of present, future, past,
And peace came back to heart and mind.

Copyright by Dr John Celes 07-12-2010

poem by John Celes
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Visits to St Elizabeths

This is the house of Bedlam.

This is the man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is the time
of the tragic man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a wristwatch
telling the time
of the talkative man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the honored man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is the roadstead all of board
reached by the sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the old, brave man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

These are the years and the walls of the ward,
the winds and clouds of the sea of board
sailed by the sailor
wearing the watch
that tells the time
of the cranky man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
over the creaking sea of board
beyond the sailor
winding his watch
that tells the time
of the cruel man
that lies in the house of Bedlam.

This is a world of books gone flat.
This is a Jew in a newspaper hat
that dances weeping down the ward
over the creaking sea of board
of the batty sailor
that winds his watch

[...] Read more

poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Stranded In A Limousine

paul simon.
he was a mean individual,
he had a heart like a bone,
he was a naturally crazy man,
and better off left alone,
he stopped one nite, at a traffic lite,
and when that lite turned green,
he was a mean individual, stranded in a limousine.
hey, hey, hey,hey,
all the children on the street,
come running out their front doors,
running out their back doors,
flying on their feet,
they said mama oh, papa oh,
see what i have seen,
theres a mean individual,
stranded in a limousine.
then everybody come running,
everybody said, lordy lord,
everybody was gunning,
gonna divvy up the re-ward,
then wah wah wah wah wah wah wah,
a siren,
a flashing lite,
but the mean individual, had vanished in the black of nite.
hey hey hey
they wondered where to begin,
cos he left that neighborhood,
just like a rattlesnake, sheds its skin,
then they searched the roofs, and checked out the groups,
and they photographed the scene,
of the mean individual,
stranded in a limousine.

song performed by Paul Simon
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The Death Of Me

Death sat
contemplating suicide
while speaker after speaker
opined:

The scientist intoned;
'The Cell is immortal
only personalities die;
Death cannot commit suicide! '

The Buddhist decried
all end points
citing endless cycles, renewals.
and reincarnations.

The biologist argued
that the only death that
mattered was the death of species;
'Individual biology matters least.'

'Only the planet matters'
said the environmentalist.

America lofted the individual
graffiting on the Universal wall
'All Death is the Death of the individual.'

The British had no remedy
offering instead a spot of tea
saying Death Down
is better sipped
with chin-up determination.

The pastor said
'Death is but a passage
on to Heaven or Hell
and best to get your life straightened out
before you hear that tolling bell.'

The Fatalist said 'do it, do it.'
It is inevitable'

'Death' said the existentialist
'is other people who
can kill your spirit
even before Death comes-
you arrive already dead
at Deaths Door.

[...] Read more

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Recluse - Book First

HOME AT GRASMERE

ONCE to the verge of yon steep barrier came
A roving school-boy; what the adventurer's age
Hath now escaped his memory--but the hour,
One of a golden summer holiday,
He well remembers, though the year be gone--
Alone and devious from afar he came;
And, with a sudden influx overpowered
At sight of this seclusion, he forgot
His haste, for hasty had his footsteps been
As boyish his pursuits; and sighing said,
'What happy fortune were it here to live!
And, if a thought of dying, if a thought
Of mortal separation, could intrude
With paradise before him, here to die!'
No Prophet was he, had not even a hope,
Scarcely a wish, but one bright pleasing thought,
A fancy in the heart of what might be
The lot of others, never could be his.
The station whence he looked was soft and green,
Not giddy yet aerial, with a depth
Of vale below, a height of hills above.
For rest of body perfect was the spot,
All that luxurious nature could desire;
But stirring to the spirit; who could gaze
And not feel motions there? He thought of clouds
That sail on winds: of breezes that delight
To play on water, or in endless chase
Pursue each other through the yielding plain
Of grass or corn, over and through and through,
In billow after billow, evermore
Disporting--nor unmindful was the boy
Of sunbeams, shadows, butterflies and birds;
Of fluttering sylphs and softly-gliding Fays,
Genii, and winged angels that are Lords
Without restraint of all which they behold.
The illusion strengthening as he gazed, he felt
That such unfettered liberty was his,
Such power and joy; but only for this end,
To flit from field to rock, from rock to field,
From shore to island, and from isle to shore,
From open ground to covert, from a bed
Of meadow-flowers into a tuft of wood;
From high to low, from low to high, yet still
Within the bound of this huge concave; here
Must be his home, this valley be his world.
Since that day forth the Place to him--'to me'
(For I who live to register the truth
Was that same young and happy Being) became

[...] Read more

poem by William Wordsworth
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Dharma and Rules

Rules are evolved
For a common good and a
Social cause for
Harmonious, meaningful
And a collectively progressive living
Of a state or country

Rules and Laws get enacted
By representatives of the elected people
In a democracy
Non adherence to Rules
Is also punishable
Rules implementing agencies
Ensure that these rules are followed
And book those who violate

Dharma, however, is a self evolved
Values to life
And ways of living
This is based on an individual’s experiences
And normally an evolved individual has
A set of Dos and Don’ts
No one else except that individual knows
The extent of adherence or otherwise
Non adherence of self evolved values
Is not punishable
And normally expected to have
No impact on society
Unless otherwise the value driven
Actions are broad-based
And are meant to impact a society

Values are attached to practices
Evolved in the thought processes entertained
By an individual
Thus Dharma or values
Are thought driven
Thoughts, in turn, are based on
Emotion, experience and intelligence
Values, policies are as simple as
The very thoughts themselves

Thoughts are often worldly
And they use a scale
To measure a performance, success
And similar others
As applicable at that point of time
Thoughts are time-bound
And thus have the potential
To keep changing with time

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Demon voice

he tells me to fight not to walk away
he tells me to scream not to talk rational
he tells me to hate not to forgive
he tells me destroy not to create
he tells me to give in
he tells me to kill

he knows i'm getting weaker
he knows it's almost his time
he knows he will be free
he knows he will have fun
he knows it will be a bloody ride to the end
he knows the end is death and so do i

poem by Paddy Jansen
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Drive

Smack, crack, bushwhacked.
Tie another one to the racks, baby.
Hey kids, rock and roll.
Nobody tells you where to go, baby.
What if I ride? what if you walk?
What if you rock around the clock?
Tick-tock. tick-tock.
What if you did? what if you walk?
What if you tried to get off, baby?
Hey, kids, where are you?
Nobody tells you what to do, baby.
Hey kids, shake a leg.
Maybe youre crazy in the head, baby.
Maybe you did. maybe you walked.
Maybe you rocked around the clock.
Tick-tock. tick-tock.
Maybe I ride. maybe you walk.
Maybe I drive to get off, baby.
Hey kids, shake a leg.
Maybe youre crazy in the head, baby.
Ollie, ollie.
Ollie ollie ollie.
Ollie ollie in come free, baby.
Hey, kids, where are you?
Nobody tells you what to do, baby.
Smack, crack. shack-a-lack.
Tie another one to your back, baby.
Hey kids, rock and roll.
Nobody tells you where to go, baby.
Maybe you did. maybe you walk.
Maybe you rock around the clock
Tick-tock. tick-tock.
Maybe I ride. maybe you walk.
Maybe I drive to get off, baby.
Hey kids, where are you?
Nobody tells you what to do, baby.
Hey kids, rock and roll.
Nobody tells you where to go, baby, baby, baby.

song performed by REM
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Yellow Girl

She tells her boat to stand by,
She tells her car to stand by,
She tells her plane to stand by,
But nobody knows she's a stand by for life.
Stand by for life, stand by for life,
Somebody up there is giving her a run around.
She tells her men to stand by,
She tells her friends to stand by,
She tells her world to stand by,
But nobody knows she's a stand by for life.
Stand by for life, stand by for life,
Somebody up there is giving her a run around.
Yellow girl, yellow girl, when will you learn?
Your life is sharp as knife,
But remember it cuts both ways.
Stand by for death, stand by for death,
Somebody down there is giving her a run around.
Yellow girl, yellow girl, when will you learn?
Your life is sharp as knife,
But remember it cuts both ways.
Ev'ry day's a sunday for yellow girl...

song performed by Yoko Ono
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Yellow Girl (Stand By For Life)

She tells her boat to stand by,
She tells her car to stand by,
She tells her plane to stand by,
But nobody knows shes a stand by for life.
Stand by for life, stand by for life,
Somebody up there is giving her a run around.
She tells her men to stand by,
She tells her friends to stand by,
She tells her world to stand by,
But nobody knows shes a stand by for life.
Stand by for life, stand by for life,
Somebody up there is giving her a run around.
Yellow girl, yellow girl, when will you learn?
Your life is sharp as knife,
But remember it cuts both ways.
Stand by for death, stand by for death,
Somebody down there is giving her a run around.
Yellow girl, yellow girl, when will you learn?
Your life is sharp as knife,
But remember it cuts both ways.
Evry days a sunday for yellow girl...

song performed by Yoko Ono
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Half a Man

'I wash me 'ands uv 'im,' I tells 'em straight.
'You women can do wot yeh dash well like.
I leave this 'arf a man to 'is own fate;
I've done me bit, an' now I'm gone on strike.
Do wot yeh please; but don't arsk 'elp from me;
'E's give me nerves; so now I'll let 'im be.'

Doreen an' ole Mar Flood 'as got a scheme.
They've been conspirin' for a week or more
About this Digger Smith, an' now they dream
They've got 'is fucher waitin' in cold store
To 'and 'im out, an' fix 'im up for life.
But they've got Buckley's, as I tells me wife.

I've seen them whisperin' up in our room.
Now they wants me to join in the debate;
But 'Nix,' I tells 'em. 'I ain't in the boom,
An' Digger Smith ain't risin' to me bait;
'E's fur too fly a fish for me to catch,
An' two designin' women ain't 'is match.'

I puts me foot down firm, an' tells 'em, No!
Their silly plan's a thing I wouldn't touch.
An' then me wife, for 'arf an hour or so,
Talks to me confident, of nothin' much;
Then, 'fore I know it, I am all red 'ot
Into the scheme, an' leader uv the plot.

'Twas Mar Flood starts it. She got 'old uv 'im --
You know the way they 'ave with poor, weak men --
She drops a tear or two concernin' Jim;
Tells 'im wot women 'ave to bear; an' then
She got 'im talkin', like a woman can.
'E never would 'ave squeaked to any man.

She leads 'im on -- It's crook the way they scheme --
To talk about this girl 'e's let be'ind.
Not that she's pryin'! Why, she wouldn't dream! --
But speakin' uv it might jist ease 'is mind.
Then, 'fore 'e knows, 'e's told, to 'is surprise,
Name an' address -- an' colour uv 'er eyes!

An' then she's off 'ere plottin' with Doreen --
Bustin' a confidence, I tells 'em, flat.
But all me roustin' leaves 'em both serene:
Women don't see a little thing like that.
An' I ain't cooled off yet before they've got
Me workin' for 'em in this crooked plot.

Nex' day Mar Flood she takes 'er Sunday dress

[...] Read more

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Humanism and individualism

Humanism and individualism are inter related
Both are weighed and truly equated
It has found precious terms with individual
It can not be termed as casual

It leaves enough of fragrance
Once developed at once
How many ills are cured?
Above and all humanity is secured

So long the human has heart, the humanity will survive
All good steps will be taken and peace will be revived
Many individuals may be celebrated for individualism
Still there will be clear victory for humanism

We are like different seasons of the nature
Some good they intend to deliver for sure
All good for our survival and future growth
It is beneficial not for single side but for both

So the God has provided room for change
That comes in stages with emergence of age
As the spring bring some surprises in the environment
Individual too excel in personal life with noble movement

Many may be benefited from such awakening call
The poverty, pain sufferings may have down fall
Some good will be done to the welfare of people
This will enhance the individualism making him stable

The charity begins at home and must start at once
It must be realized and felt by all in everybody’s presence
When it is promoting cause at wider level
The individual has to deliver it to maximum and excel

No imposition of will work for satisfactory solution
Some one has to take lead and work with resolution
It is part of social drive to reap the harvest
No efforts will be let loose to deliver the best

The world as whole has suffered from the cruelty at hands
Friends have turned into foes and foes into friends
It is changing phase and brings disastrous results as whole
The individual has always come to the fore or show and stole

The evil forces have always remained active
They were dominant in some parts and very reactive
They will not allow rise of social awareness
They would want domination and prefer backwardness

[...] Read more

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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The Interpretation of Nature and

I.

MAN, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.


II.

Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.

III.

Human knowledge and human power meet in one; for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed; and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.

IV.

Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.

V.

The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician; but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavour and scanty success.

VI.

It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.

VII.

The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known; not in the number of axioms.

VIII.

Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented; not methods of invention or directions for new works.

IX.

The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this -- that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.

X.

The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding; so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.

XI.

As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.

XII.

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

XIII.

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poem by Sir Francis Bacon
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