Do not mistake me; I am not yet weak enough to yield to fearful imaginings, which are almost as absurd as illusions of hope, and are certainly harder to bear. If I must deceive myself, I should prefer to stay on the side of confidence, for I shall lose no more there and shall suffer less. This approaching end is not necessarily immediate; I still retire each night with hope to see the morning. Within those absolute limits of which I was just now speaking I can defend my position step by step, and even regain a few inches of lost ground. I have nevertheless reached the age where life, for every man, is accepted defeat. To say that my days are numbered signifies nothing; they always were, and are so for us all. But uncertainty as the place, the time, and the manner, which keeps us from distinguishing the goal toward which we continually advance, diminishes for me with the progress of my fatal malady....Already portions of my life are like dismantled rooms of a palace too vast for an impoverished owner to occupy in its entirety.
This book amazed me. Wonderful, imaginative writing that caused me to pause and think on almost every page. This is a book to put on my "read again" list. Written as a letter from a dying Hadrian to his successor, it is filled both with history, sage wisdom, and deep reflections on life. Yourcenar recreates ancient Rome in a novel that accurately recreates a most interesting time in ancient Rome. Beautifully written, almost like an epic poem.
Lola Alvarez Bravo is often over-shadowed by her more famous photographer husband, Luis. This excellent book displays the span of her photographic work and shows her to be a worthy photographic. The text is well written and provides an informative biography. She lived in an exciting time for the arts in Mexico. Her friendship with Frida Khalo is described in the text and many intriguing pictures of Frida are included in this book. For any fan of photography, this is compelling body of work showing a unique vision and documenting a time of creative expression in Mexico.
Waiting for Rain, Music
Amsterdam is on its knees; our shipyards are idle; our manufactories silent; our granaries plundered; The Hague is a stage of prancing marionettes tweaked by Paris; Prussian jackals and Austrian wolves laugh at our borders: and Jesus in heaven, since the bird-shoot at Kamperduin we are left a maritime nation with no navy. The British seized the Cape, Coromandel, and Ceylon without so much as a kiss-my-arse, and that Java itself is their next fattened Christmas goose is plain as day!
The descent of the United States into enforced segregation, into a nation where human beings could be tortured and horribly murdered without trial, is a story profoundly tragic and profoundly American. And the Supreme Court was a central player in the tale.
Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.
Why Belmondo?
It was a strange city, and seemed to have been cast up in the valley one winter's night like some prehistoric creature that was now clawing its way up the mountainside. Everything in the city was old and made of stone, from the streets and fountains to the roofs of the sprawling age-old houses covered with grey slates like gigantic scales. It was hard to believe that under this powerful carapace the tender flesh of life survived and reproduced. 
We decided to write this book to tell the stories of the fascinating connections between chemical structures and historical episodes, to uncover how seemingly unrelated events have depended on similar chemical structures, and to understand the extent to which the development of society had depended on the chemistry of certain compounds. The idea that momentous events may depend on something as small as a molecule- a group of two or more atoms held together in a definite arrangement- offers a novel approach to understanding the growth of human civilization.
A Herbal 
April 
