Archive | art

School of Athens, Raphael

The Invention of the “Middle Ages”

I came across this snippet about the invention of the Middle Ages in today’s reading, one of those things that immediately lit up a dozen different connections in my brain: “Flavio Biondi of Forli (1392-1463), while celebrating Florence and Italy, provided a scheme that would dominate and tyrannize European historical thought for centuries to come. […]

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To Any Reader

To Any Reader by Robert Lewis Stevenson As from the house your mother sees You playing round the garden trees, So you may see, if you will look Through the windows of this book, Another child, far, far away, And in another garden, play. But do not think you can at all, By knocking on […]

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A fairer House than Prose

I dwell in Possibility by Emily Dickinson I dwell in Possibility – A fairer House than Prose – More numerous of Windows – Superior – for Doors – Of Chambers as the Cedars – Impregnable of eye – And for an everlasting Roof The Gambrels of the Sky – Of Visitors – the fairest – […]

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A Living Armoury?

The Dead Crab by Andrew Young A rosy shield upon its back, That not the hardest storm could crack, From whose sharp edge projected out Black pin-point eyes staring about; Beneath, the well-knit cote-armure That gave to its weak belly power; The clustered legs with plated joints That ended in stiletto points; The claws like […]

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Scaffolding by Seamus Heaney Masons, when they start upon a building, Are careful to test out the scaffolding; Make sure that planks won’t slip at busy points, Secure all ladders, tighten bolted joints. And yet all this comes down when the job’s done Showing off walls of sure and solid stone. So if, my dear, […]

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My nosegays are for captives

My nosegays are for captives My nosegays are for captives; Dim, long-expectant eyes, Fingers denied the plucking, Patient till paradise. To such, if they should whisper Of morning and the moor, They bear no other errand, And I, no other prayer. — Emily Dickinson

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To Hear an Oriole Sing

A poem which is currently taped to the cupboard above the toaster oven. Has been for at least six months. I still haven’t managed to memorize it, but I’ve spent some time pondering it, at least. To hear an Oriole sing May be a common thing— Or only a divine. It is not of the […]

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