Idleness is the parent of psychology.
quote by Friedrich Nietzsche
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"CONSONANTIST PSYCHOLOGY", PERIOD 1938-1939 - Dr. Ștefan Odobleja (1902-1978), publishes in 2 volumes "Consonantist Psychology", 1938 and 1939, at the Publishing House "Maloine", Paris, in French, totaling over 800 of pages), in which he establishes general laws, which he applies both to the sciences of inert nature and to the sciences of the living world, psychology and economic and social phenomena. "Consonantal psychology has revealed the importance of dual, binary and dichotomous mechanisms both in psychology and beyond, in all sciences. He suggested and applied as another essential for the mechanization of thought, along with circularity. Instead of logic based on 3, he proposed and sketched a logic based on 2. " says Dr. Stefan Odobleja. Thus, he came to define the 9 universal laws, among them being the law of reversibility / vicious circle, feedback. The 2 volumes represent the concepts and studies for a new science: Cybernetics.
Marin Vlada in ROINFO Romanian Informatics 2018-2022
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To Count Carlo Pepoli
This wearisome and this distressing sleep
That we call life, O how dost thou support,
My Pepoli? With what hopes feedest thou
Thy heart? Say in what thoughts, and in what deeds,
Agreeable or sad, dost thou invest
The idleness thy ancestors bequeathed
To thee, a dull and heavy heritage?
All life, indeed, in every walk of life,
Is idleness, if we may give that name
To every work achieved, or effort made,
That has no worthy aim in view, or fails
That aim to reach. And if you idle call
The busy crew, that daily we behold,
From tranquil morn unto the dewy eve,
Behind the plough, or tending plants and flocks,
Because they live simply to keep alive,
And life is worthless for itself alone,
The honest truth you speak. His nights and days
The pilot spends in idleness; the toil
And sweat in workshops are but idleness;
The soldier's vigils, perils of the field,
The eager merchant's cares are idle all;
Because true happiness, for which alone
Our mortal nature longs and strives, no man,
Or for himself, or others, e'er acquires
Through toil or sweat, through peril, or through care.
Yet for this fierce desire, which mortals still
From the beginning of the world have felt,
But ever felt in vain, for happiness,
By way of soothing remedy devised,
Nature, in this unhappy life of ours,
Had manifold necessities prepared,
Not without thought or labor satisfied;
So that the days, though ever sad, less dull
Might seem unto the human family;
And this desire, bewildered and confused,
Might have less power to agitate the heart.
So, too, the various families of brutes,
Who have, no less than we, and vainly, too,
Desire for happiness; but they, intent
On that which is essential to their life,
Consume their days more pleasantly, by far,
Nor chide, with us, the dulness of the hours.
But _we_, who unto other hands commit
The furnishing of our immediate wants,
Have a necessity more grave to meet,
For which no other ever can provide,
With ennui laden, and with suffering;
The stern necessity of killing time;
That cruel, obstinate necessity,
[...] Read more
poem by Count Giacomo Leopardi
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Grim Facts
The boy's got problems
The boy's got stress
The boys' a .38 hidden in his desk
The boy's got a chickie
With four months to go
Grim Facts - every parent better know
The girl's a deadly teaser
Wants to do a private show
She's got a hundred thousand fantasies
She wants the band to know
She likes to brush across my Levis
She likes to watch him grow
Grim Facts - every parent better know
Grim Facts - every parent better know
Red lights
Gang fights
Brewing in the heat
Cop cars
Gay bars
On your precious street
That ain't so neat
Sister's on the street now
Looking for some Joe
Only got about an hour
To pay for her new nose
She gets a hundred for her body
A nickel for her soul
These are grim facts - every parent better know
Grim facts - every parent better know
Red lights
Gang fights
Brewing in the heat
Cop cars
Gay bars
On your precious street
That ain't so neat
And I'm feeling itchy
Got a fire down below
I'm a walkin' loaded time bomb
Just about to blow
Tries to slide inside my pockets
But it's strictly SRO
Grim facts - every parent better know
Grim facts - every parent better know
Red lights
Gang fights
Brewing in the heat
Cop cars
Gay bars
On your precious street
[...] Read more
song performed by Alice Cooper
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Reverse Psychology
Chorus/chant:
Reverse psychology
Doesnt work on me
It works my nerves
But I think logically
So dont rehearse what youre gonna say
I like it better the spontaneous way
You got an insecurity? I wont nurse it
I dont buy psyche - so why reverse it?
Verse 1:
Games are good for attention (mmm-yeah!)
But in the end they let you down
Hold me back or let me go
But no more middle ground
Boy, youve got to play your cards right
Get on back to the basics of love
We dont need no mindless mind games
A little give and take - push and shove -
A little honesty is what Im in need of!
Chorus/chant
Verse 2:
Dont you know Ive seen it all
Though I seem naive to you
(so now) hit me with anything at all -
Just hit me with the truth - yeah!
You keep thinking one of these days youll
Push my back against the wall (against the wall)
Its too late for tricks of the trade now
I can escape anything at all - oh!
A little push and shove - give and take -
But I wont fall!
Chorus:
Reverse psychology
Doesnt work on me (never did, never will)
It works my nerves
But I think logically
So dont rehearse what youre gonna say
I like it better the spontaneous way
You got an insecurity? I wont nurse it
I dont buy psyche - so why reverse it?
Bridge:
Why wait till something better comes along?
Why not stay steady and strong? (steady and strong)
A silver lining cannot be far away (be far)
Youll get much further if you
Do what you mean and mean what you say
1-2-3-i said.....
Chorus:
Reverse psychology
Doesnt work on me
[...] Read more
song performed by Debbie Gibson
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Re-route for Love
It is said that people
Can't make you mad.
that was not said of granddad's.
Children who are lazy or just plain slow
Add fire to anger as they go.
Love prevails most of the time,
Keeping your anger from crime.
Do this! do that!
over and over...
While the children are getting phat,
From food that they never buy
And if you ask them....they ask why?
Makes a grown person want to cry.
Not doing...and they are not shy,
They rush up and out of bed...
Marching right pass what the parent
Has said.
Both hands out...
When either is filled they want to pout.
Then the parent wants to shout...
But the parent,
Remembering no one can make you mad...
Damn! being a real parent is so sad.
Do this! do that!
While they re-act as if they are a slave,
And all the while sending the parent to his or her grave.
They are only... ask to repeat a smalltask...
But inside they wonder why they are asked.
That is when the real parent stands tall
It is not the anger but the love of it all...
God gave us free will
And we know not to kill...
But to chill.
poem by whisperkwane Lamb
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Tale V
THE PATRON.
A Borough-Bailiff, who to law was train'd,
A wife and sons in decent state maintain'd,
He had his way in life's rough ocean steer'd
And many a rock and coast of danger clear'd;
He saw where others fail'd, and care had he,
Others in him should not such feelings see:
His sons in various busy states were placed,
And all began the sweets of gain to taste,
Save John, the younger, who, of sprightly parts,
Felt not a love for money-making arts:
In childhood feeble, he, for country air,
Had long resided with a rustic pair;
All round whose room were doleful ballads, songs,
Of lovers' sufferings and of ladies' wrongs;
Of peevish ghosts who came at dark midnight,
For breach of promise, guilty men to fright;
Love, marriage, murder, were the themes, with
these,
All that on idle, ardent spirits seize;
Robbers at land and pirates on the main,
Enchanters foil'd, spells broken, giants slain;
Legends of love, with tales of halls and bowers,
Choice of rare songs, and garlands of choice
flowers,
And all the hungry mind without a choice devours.
From village-children kept apart by pride,
With such enjoyments, and without a guide,
Inspired by feelings all such works infused,
John snatch'd a pen, and wrote as he perused:
With the like fancy he could make his knight
Slay half a host, and put the rest to flight;
With the like knowledge he could make him ride
From isle to isle at Parthenissa's side;
And with a heart yet free, no busy brain
Form'd wilder notions of delight and pain,
The raptures smiles create, the anguish of disdain.
Such were the fruits of John's poetic toil -
Weeds, but still proofs of vigour in the soil:
He nothing purposed but with vast delight,
Let Fancy loose, and wonder'd at her flight:
His notions of poetic worth were high,
And of his own still-hoarded poetry; -
These to his father's house he bore with pride,
A miser's treasure, in his room to hide;
Till spurr'd by glory, to a reading friend,
He kindly show'd the sonnets he had penn'd:
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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Be a child-parent-adult
To the child, it is a day.
To the parent, it is a night.
To the adult both are inclusive.
The child lives in fantasy.
The parent lives in fallacy.
It is the adult that lives,
Where he is put, in ecstasy.
The child admires things.
The parent criticizes them.
The adult realizes them.
The child appreciates.
The parent deprecates.
The adult rationalizes.
The poet is the child in man.
The priest is the parent in man.
The logician is the adult in man.
Live a child to be youthful.
Live a parent to be awesome.
Live an adult to be credible.
27.01.2000, Kottayam
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Canto II
ARGUMENT
Forsaken Nancy in this Canto,
Brings 'gainst her John a Quo Warranto,
'Cause he had left her in the Lurch,
To rear a Pulpit in the Church :
And under colour of Religion
Courted another pretty Pigeon.
Now you must know that all the Blame
Was laid upon the Baggage Fame ;
Who rais'd between them the sad Squabble,
By forging of this Idle Fable !
Next you shall see in Sluggish Dress,
That Gallant Lady Idleness ;
Who has more Suitors waiting on her,
Than the most virtuous Maid of Honour ;
But here I almost had forgot
To won the Error of our Plot,
The Poet laid his Scene in France,
But I can't tell by what Mischance,
He now and then dares venture over,
And steps as far as Deal or Dover.
Mean while a Hagg, made up of Mouths and Ears,
Who prates both what, and more than what she hears,
The Moderns call her Fame : This crafy Jade
Of Slandring drives and unknown subtle trade ;
For she had got the Faculty to Brew
With dubious, Certain ; and with false, things true ;
And with such Art she her Ingredients mixed,
That where she pleas'd A Calumny she fixed ;
This Baggage once in her mad Moods and Tenses
Had Lombard read, the Master o'th' Sentences ;
Thence she had learn'd to spread a Lie Malicious,
And then to serve a Turn, us'd the Officious ;
When her light business call'd to the Court
Us'd the Jocose, and lewdly ly'd in sport ;
Her trade she practiced first in private Letters,
Bespatter'd there, and vilifi'd her Betters ;
In Coffee-houses then she grew a Prater,
Broke off al Trades, she sets up Observator.
A Justice once clapt her i'th' Stocks and stript her,
Then by a tough-back't Knave feverely Whipt her ;
Not warn'd, the Brazen-face would out be flying
Against the State with her Opprobrious Lying ;
Jockey for Leasing put her to the Horning,
In England she was Pillory'd for Stuborning ;
A thousand pounds for False News she was fined ;
And till she paid the fine to Gaol Confined :
Venturing at last on Scandalum Magnatum,
[...] Read more
poem by Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux from Le Lutrin
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La Chevelure (Her Hair)
Ô toison, moutonnant jusque sur l'encolure!
Ô boucles! Ô parfum chargé de nonchaloir!
Extase! Pour peupler ce soir l'alcôve obscure
Des souvenirs dormant dans cette chevelure,
Je la veux agiter dans l'air comme un mouchoir!
La langoureuse Asie et la brûlante Afrique,
Tout un monde lointain, absent, presque défunt,
Vit dans tes profondeurs, forêt aromatique!
Comme d'autres esprits voguent sur la musique,
Le mien, ô mon amour! nage sur ton parfum.
J'irai là-bas où l'arbre et l'homme, pleins de sève,
Se pâment longuement sous l'ardeur des climats;
Fortes tresses, soyez la houle qui m'enlève!
Tu contiens, mer d'ébène, un éblouissant rêve
De voiles, de rameurs, de flammes et de mâts:
Un port retentissant où mon âme peut boire
À grands flots le parfum, le son et la couleur
Où les vaisseaux, glissant dans l'or et dans la moire
Ouvrent leurs vastes bras pour embrasser la gloire
D'un ciel pur où frémit l'éternelle chaleur.
Je plongerai ma tête amoureuse d'ivresse
Dans ce noir océan où l'autre est enfermé;
Et mon esprit subtil que le roulis caresse
Saura vous retrouver, ô féconde paresse,
Infinis bercements du loisir embaumé!
Cheveux bleus, pavillon de ténèbres tendues
Vous me rendez l'azur du ciel immense et rond;
Sur les bords duvetés de vos mèches tordues
Je m'enivre ardemment des senteurs confondues
De l'huile de coco, du musc et du goudron.
Longtemps! toujours! ma main dans ta crinière lourde
Sèmera le rubis, la perle et le saphir,
Afin qu'à mon désir tu ne sois jamais sourde!
N'es-tu pas l'oasis où je rêve, et la gourde
Où je hume à longs traits le vin du souvenir?
Head of Hair
O fleecy hair, falling in curls to the shoulders!
O black locks! O perfume laden with nonchalance!
Ecstasy! To people the dark alcove tonight
With memories sleeping in that thick head of hair.
I would like to shake it in the air like a scarf!
[...] Read more
poem by Charles Baudelaire
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An Expert In Education Claimed?
An expert in education claimed
children three or four do not lie
“it is impossible for them to lie”
what say you on this parents? ? ?
His wife a teacher claimed? ? ?
originally... children do not lie
husband claimed little children
can only repeat taught phrases?
But this is not what I believe?
I did training in teaching also
a New Zealand postgraduate
course Diploma Of Teaching.
In professional studies “fable
children do not lie” we were not
taught; extensively before first
teaching section we studied child
learning development psychology.
But let us consult the real experts
make sure of all things as trained.
I had to read study develop skills.
Lawrence Kutner Ph.D states in
‘Insights for Parents: Why children Lie’
that “Lying is a skill all children learn.”
“While all children lie, some do it much
more than others.” Lawrence discussed
“the underlying issue of inappropriate
expectations of what a normal five-
year-old could do. But psychologists
say what about lying behaviour in an
even younger child? Is it actually possible?
John M. Grohol, PsyD (Founder & Editor
-in-Chief) of World of Psychology
published “a well-written, in-depth article”
about this very topic. So what did John say?
John’s ‘New York Magazine article “about
why kids lie” is not surprising to any parent.
“So how does it start and do kids just grow
out of it? ” “It starts as early as 2 or 3 – the
more intelligent the child, the earlier (and
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Tale XIII
JESSE AND COLIN.
A Vicar died and left his Daughter poor -
It hurt her not, she was not rich before:
Her humble share of worldly goods she sold,
Paid every debt, and then her fortune told;
And found, with youth and beauty, hope and health,
Two hundred guineas was her worldly wealth;
It then remain'd to choose her path in life,
And first, said Jesse, 'Shall I be a wife? -
Colin is mild and civil, kind and just,
I know his love, his temper I can trust;
But small his farm, it asks perpetual care,
And we must toil as well as trouble share:
True, he was taught in all the gentle arts
That raise the soul and soften human hearts;
And boasts a parent, who deserves to shine
In higher class, and I could wish her mine;
Nor wants he will his station to improve,
A just ambition waked by faithful love;
Still is he poor--and here my Father's Friend
Deigns for his Daughter, as her own, to send:
A worthy lady, who it seems has known
A world of griefs and troubles of her own:
I was an infant when she came a guest
Beneath my father's humble roof to rest;
Her kindred all unfeeling, vast her woes,
Such her complaint, and there she found repose;
Enrich'd by fortune, now she nobly lives,
And nobly, from the bless'd abundance, gives;
The grief, the want, of human life she knows,
And comfort there and here relief bestows:
But are they not dependants?--Foolish pride!
Am I not honour'd by such friend and guide?
Have I a home' (here Jesse dropp'd a tear),
'Or friend beside?'--A faithful friend was near.
Now Colin came, at length resolved to lay
His heart before her, and to urge her stay:
True, his own plough the gentle Colin drove,
An humble farmer with aspiring love;
Who, urged by passion, never dared till now,
Thus urged by fears, his trembling hopes avow:
Her father's glebe he managed; every year
The grateful Vicar held the youth more dear;
He saw indeed the prize in Colin's view,
And wish'd his Jesse with a man so true:
Timid as true, he urged with anxious air
His tender hope, and made the trembling prayer,
When Jesse saw, nor could with coldness see,
Such fond respect, such tried sincerity;
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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The Four Seasons : Summer
From brightening fields of ether fair disclosed,
Child of the Sun, refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth, and felt through Nature's depth:
He comes attended by the sultry Hours,
And ever fanning breezes, on his way;
While, from his ardent look, the turning Spring
Averts her blushful face; and earth, and skies,
All-smiling, to his hot dominion leaves.
Hence, let me haste into the mid-wood shade,
Where scarce a sunbeam wanders through the gloom;
And on the dark-green grass, beside the brink
Of haunted stream, that by the roots of oak
Rolls o'er the rocky channel, lie at large,
And sing the glories of the circling year.
Come, Inspiration! from thy hermit-seat,
By mortal seldom found: may Fancy dare,
From thy fix'd serious eye, and raptured glance
Shot on surrounding Heaven, to steal one look
Creative of the Poet, every power
Exalting to an ecstasy of soul.
And thou, my youthful Muse's early friend,
In whom the human graces all unite:
Pure light of mind, and tenderness of heart;
Genius, and wisdom; the gay social sense,
By decency chastised; goodness and wit,
In seldom-meeting harmony combined;
Unblemish'd honour, and an active zeal
For Britain's glory, liberty, and Man:
O Dodington! attend my rural song,
Stoop to my theme, inspirit every line,
And teach me to deserve thy just applause.
With what an awful world-revolving power
Were first the unwieldy planets launch'd along
The illimitable void! thus to remain,
Amid the flux of many thousand years,
That oft has swept the toiling race of men,
And all their labour'd monuments away,
Firm, unremitting, matchless, in their course;
To the kind-temper'd change of night and day,
And of the seasons ever stealing round,
Minutely faithful: such the All-perfect hand!
That poised, impels, and rules the steady whole.
When now no more the alternate Twins are fired,
And Cancer reddens with the solar blaze,
Short is the doubtful empire of the night;
And soon, observant of approaching day,
The meek'd-eyed Morn appears, mother of dews,
At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east:
Till far o'er ether spreads the widening glow;
And, from before the lustre of her face,
[...] Read more
poem by James Thomson
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The Child Of The Islands - Winter
I.
ERE the Night cometh! On how many graves
Rests, at this hour, their first cold winter's snow!
Wild o'er the earth the sleety tempest raves;
Silent, our Lost Ones slumber on below;
Never to share again the genial glow
Of Christmas gladness round the circled hearth;
Never returning festivals to know,
Or holidays that mark some loved one's birth,
Or children's joyous songs, and loud delighted mirth.
II.
The frozen tombs are sheeted with one pall,--
One shroud for every churchyard, crisp and bright,--
One foldless mantle, softly covering all
With its unwrinkled width of spotless white.
There, through the grey dim day and starlit night,
It rests, on rich and poor, and young and old,--
Veiling dear eyes,--whose warm homne-cheering light
Our pining hearts can never more behold,--
With an unlifting veil,--that falleth blank and cold.
III.
The Spring shall melt that snow,--but kindly eyes
Return not with the Sun's returning powers,--
Nor to the clay-cold cheek, that buried lies,
The living blooms that flush perennial flowers,--
Nor, with the song-birds, vocal in the bowers,
The sweet familiar tones! In silence drear
We pass our days,--and oft in midnight hours
Call madly on their names who cannot hear,--
Names graven on the tombs of the departed year!
IV.
There lies the tender Mother, in whose heart
So many claimed an interest and a share!
Humbly and piously she did her part
In every task of love and household care:
And mournfully, with sad abstracted air,
The Father-Widower, on his Christmas Eve,
Strokes down his youngest child's long silken hair,
And, as the gathering sobs his bosom heave,
Goes from that orphaned group, unseen to weep and grieve.
V.
Feeling his loneliness the more this day
Because SHE kept it with such gentle joy,
Scarce can he brook to see his children play,
Remembering how her love it did employ
[...] Read more
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Any psychology of sign systems will be part of social psychology - that is to say, will be exclusively social; it will involve the same psychology as is applicable in the case of languages.
quote by Ferdinand de Saussure
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Fallen In Love
He has fallen in love
With the idea
Of you in his life
I wish I knew
How does psychology work? ....... Persian khushi
Oh it is very simple
Stay out of trouble
Think of beautiful moments
The peace around with its movements
Venture into moon light
Just see left and right
If some one observes you
Then think about it and see through
When someone appears from behind?
Show no hesitation and try to find
Never think who he can be?
Anybody may think well when feels free
So it is your outer show
That sets thing to rolls or go
You are offered flower
With some comments to offer
It is an open invitation
To build sound and good relation
There is no psychology behind
It is natural thing to find
Pray almighty to take you out
From uncertainty to surety and think about
What can be next move around?
How to adjust scene when again he is found?
Smile on face may do wonder
No words may be needed to offer
Mere reflection in eyes will perform miracle
Now he will be in fix and struggle
It is easy to face mighty king
It is too easy to face the lion in ring
But too difficult to face the beautiful queen
As it might turn the whole of the scene
I don't think it might be different psychology all over
Men and women need comfortable life with honor
What is most needed is the assurance and promises!
Life may move on then with harmony and peace
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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CYBERNETICS WAS BORN IN ROMANIA (1938-1939) - Today it is known that, 10 years before the book of the American mathematician Norbert Wiener (1894-1964) “Cybernetics: Or Control and Communication in the Animal and the Machine”, the Romanian Dr Ștefan Odobleja (1902-1978) - military doctor (post-mortem member of the Romanian Academy, 1990), publishes in 2 volumes "Consonantist Psychology", 1938-1939, at the "Maloine" Publishing House, Paris, in French (totaling over 800 pages), in which he establishes general laws, which he applies to both the sciences of inert nature and the sciences of the living world, psychology and economic and social phenomena. Dr. Ştefan Odobleja makes a description of the psychological functions using a general scheme of a cybernetic system, where the sense organs, which receive information from the environment, represent the inputs (INPUT), and the muscles are considered the outputs (OUTPUT). He takes "steps across the boundaries of psychology" moving from man to other complex systems (communities, social organizations, etc.), inventing a new science: Cybernetics.
Marin Vlada in ROINFO Romanian Informatics 2018-2022
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“CYBERNETCS AND CONSONANTAL PSYCHOLOGY”, YEAR 1975 - Scientific communication at The Third International Congress of Cybernetics and Systems, Bucharest, Romania, August 25-29, 1975 (ASE Bucharest). The paper appeared in Proceedings of Congres (editors J. Rose-UJ and C Bilciu-Romania), Vol. II, section 5 (Communications, Education and Informatics), SPRINGER-VERLAG Berlin, Heidelberg, New York. The author presents the connection between the basic concepts of cybernetics and the ideas presented in detail in the volume "Consonantal Psychology", Paris, 1938-1939. Consonantal psychology views the brain as a thinking machine; it proceeds to the analysis of thinking in a mechanical, modern way and separates distinctly the two primordial categories (psychological and dynamic question). Thus, Dr. Ștefan Odobleja can be considered a forerunner of Artificial Intelligence.
Marin Vlada in ROINFO Romanian Informatics 2018-2022
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“CYBERNETCS AND CONSONANTAL PSYCHOLOGY”, YEAR 1975 - Scientific communication at The Third International Congress of Cybernetics and Systems, Bucharest, Romania, August 25-29, 1975 (ASE Bucharest). The paper appeared in Proceedings of Congres (editors J. Rose-UJ and C Bilciu-Romania), Vol. II, section 5 (Communications, Education and Informatics), SPRINGER-VERLAG Berlin, Heidelberg, New York. The author presents the connection between the basic concepts of cybernetics and the ideas presented in detail in the volume "Consonantal Psychology", Paris, 1938-1939. Consonantal psychology views the brain as a thinking machine; it proceeds to the analysis of thinking in a mechanical, modern way and separates distinctly the two primordial categories (psychological and dynamic question). Thus, Dr. Ștefan Odobleja can be considered a forerunner of Artificial Intelligence.
Marin Vlada in ROINFO Romanian Informatics 2018-2022
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Canto the Fourteenth
I
If from great nature's or our own abyss
Of thought we could but snatch a certainty,
Perhaps mankind might find the path they miss --
But then 't would spoil much good philosophy.
One system eats another up, and this
Much as old Saturn ate his progeny;
For when his pious consort gave him stones
In lieu of sons, of these he made no bones.
II
But System doth reverse the Titan's breakfast,
And eats her parents, albeit the digestion
Is difficult. Pray tell me, can you make fast,
After due search, your faith to any question?
Look back o'er ages, ere unto the stake fast
You bind yourself, and call some mode the best one.
Nothing more true than not to trust your senses;
And yet what are your other evidences?
III
For me, I know nought; nothing I deny,
Admit, reject, contemn; and what know you,
Except perhaps that you were born to die?
And both may after all turn out untrue.
An age may come, Font of Eternity,
When nothing shall be either old or new.
Death, so call'd, is a thing which makes men weep,
And yet a third of life is pass'd in sleep.
IV
A sleep without dreams, after a rough day
Of toil, is what we covet most; and yet
How clay shrinks back from more quiescent clay!
The very Suicide that pays his debt
At once without instalments (an old way
Of paying debts, which creditors regret)
Lets out impatiently his rushing breath,
Less from disgust of life than dread of death.
V
'T is round him, near him, here, there, every where;
And there's a courage which grows out of fear,
Perhaps of all most desperate, which will dare
The worst to know it -- when the mountains rear
Their peaks beneath your human foot, and there
You look down o'er the precipice, and drear
The gulf of rock yawns -- you can't gaze a minute
Without an awful wish to plunge within it.
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poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Don Juan: Canto The Fourteenth
If from great nature's or our own abyss
Of thought we could but snatch a certainty,
Perhaps mankind might find the path they miss--
But then 'twould spoil much good philosophy.
One system eats another up, and this
Much as old Saturn ate his progeny;
For when his pious consort gave him stones
In lieu of sons, of these he made no bones.
But System doth reverse the Titan's breakfast,
And eats her parents, albeit the digestion
Is difficult. Pray tell me, can you make fast,
After due search, your faith to any question?
Look back o'er ages, ere unto the stake fast
You bind yourself, and call some mode the best one.
Nothing more true than not to trust your senses;
And yet what are your other evidences?
For me, I know nought; nothing I deny,
Admit, reject, contemn; and what know you,
Except perhaps that you were born to die?
And both may after all turn out untrue.
An age may come, Font of Eternity,
When nothing shall be either old or new.
Death, so call'd, is a thing which makes men weep,
And yet a third of life is pass'd in sleep.
A sleep without dreams, after a rough day
Of toil, is what we covet most; and yet
How clay shrinks back from more quiescent clay!
The very Suicide that pays his debt
At once without instalments (an old way
Of paying debts, which creditors regret)
Lets out impatiently his rushing breath,
Less from disgust of life than dread of death.
'Tis round him, near him, here, there, every where;
And there's a courage which grows out of fear,
Perhaps of all most desperate, which will dare
The worst to know it:--when the mountains rear
Their peaks beneath your human foot, and there
You look down o'er the precipice, and drear
The gulf of rock yawns,--you can't gaze a minute
Without an awful wish to plunge within it.
'Tis true, you don't - but, pale and struck with terror,
Retire: but look into your past impression!
And you will find, though shuddering at the mirror
Of your own thoughts, in all their self--confession,
The lurking bias, be it truth or error,
[...] Read more