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John Clare -
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Say maiden wilt thou go with me In this strange death of life-to-be To live in death and be the same Without this life or home or name At once to be and not to be
Old April wanes, and her last dewy morn Her death-bed steeps in tears; to hail the May New blooming blossoms neath the sun are born, And all poor April's charms are swept away.
Loud is the summer's busy song
The smallest breeze can find a tongue,
While insects of each tiny size
Grow teasing with their melodies,
Till noon burns with its blistering breath
Around, and day lies still as death.
Pale death, the grand physician, cures all pain;
The dead rest well who lived for joys in vain.
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows,
My friends forsake me like a memory lost:
I am the self-consumer of my woes,
They rise and vanis in oblivious host,
Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost:
And yet I am, and live with shadows tost
Quote of the day
When a scientist is ahead of his times, it is often through misunderstanding of current, rather than intuition of future truth. In science there is never any error so gross that it won't one day, from some perspective, appear prophetic.
July 13, 1793
May 20, 1864
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Predictions that didn't happen
If it's on the Internet it must be true
Remarkable Last Words (or Near-Last Words)
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