Particular Moments

More Stars than There are

Month: September, 2015


Still Cherry Red & Void of Sorrow

                               All the same—crimson and void of sorrow

Amor Fati

Feel Less

“You are trying not

To look so Young

And Miserable.”

Before & After

Catch a few more Breaths

Catch a few more Breaths

A relief---it's never truly. Pitch. Black

A relief—it’s never truly. Pitch. Black

In Steady Defiance


“Though much is taken, much abides; and though

We are not now that strength which in old days

Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are,

One equal temper of heroic hearts,

Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will

To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.”


—excerpt from Ulysses,

Lord Alfred Tennyson.


Rescue at Dusk: Part 2



Rescue at Dusk: Part 1




Cheap Tea and Wearing Company

Cheap Tea and Wearing Company

Iron Lady

“In the end, more than freedom, they wanted security. They wanted a comfortable life, and they lost it all—security, comfort, and freedom. When the Athenians finally wanted not to give to society but for society to give to them, when the freedom they wished for most was freedom from responsibility, then Athens ceased to be free and was never free again.”


“They are casting their problem on society. And, you know, there is no such thing as society. There are individual men and women, and there are families. And no government can do anything except through people, and people must look to themselves first…People have got the entitlements too much in mind, without the obligations. There’s no such thing as entitlement, unless someone has first met an obligation.”


Your Own Reality

When I heard the learn’d astronomer,
When the proofs, the figures, were ranged in columns before me,
When I was shown the charts and diagrams, to add, divide, and measure them,
When I sitting heard the astronomer where he lectured with much applause in the lecture-room,
How soon unaccountable I became tired and sick,
Till rising and gliding out I wander’d off by myself,
In the mystical moist night-air, and from time to time,
Look’d up in perfect silence at the stars.

—Walt Whitman.