If we don’t call things what they are, then we are surely lost.
Me
A commonplace book: an old-fashioned literary diary for recording interesting items from reading you've done. I use mine to record snippets from reading, conversation and life in general. (The early 2003 entries are from a period some years ago -- before the blog age -- when I tried an online commonplace book as a straight web page.)
Soon, oh soon the light
Ours to shape for all time, ours the right
The sun will lead us
Our reason to be here
Yes, The Gates of Delirium, (Part Three, "Soon")
Thinkest thou that now, for the first time in an evil age, Wisdom hath been assailed by peril?…. The host of the wicked is many in number, yet is it contemptible, since it is under no leadership, but is hurried hither and thither at the blind driving of mad error.
Boethius, On the Consolation of Philosophy
For Time, though in Eternitie, appli'd to motion, measures all things durable by present, past, and future.
John Milton, Paradise Lost
In the end is it not futile to try and follow the course of a quarrel between husband and wife? Such a conversation is sure to meander more than any other. It draws in tributary arguments and grievances from years before – all quite incomprehensible to any but the two people they concern most nearly. Neither party is ever proved right or wrong in such a case, or, if they are, what does it signify?
Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell