Isolation is the worst possible counselor.
-Miguel De Unamuno,
Civilization is Civilism, 1914
The everlasting universe of things|
Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,
Now dark--now glittering--now reflecting gloom--
Now lending splendour, where from secret springs
The source of human thought its tribute brings
Of waters--with a sound but half its own,
Such as a feeble brook will oft assume,
In the wild woods, among the mountains lone,
Where waterfalls around it leap for ever,
Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river
Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves.
-Percy Bysshe Shelley,
Mont Blanc, 1817
When the sun fades far away,|
in the crimson of the west...
The Evening Song,
An 1877 Cornell Hymn
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