On a quiet street
Where old ghosts meet
I see her walking now --
Away from me so hurriedly,
My reason must allow.

For I have wooed not as I should
A creature made of clay.
When the angel woos the clay he'll lose
His wings, at the dawn of the day.

TFTD:

Let us pause in our retreat
To reflect on our defeat.

On Raglan Road on an autumn day
I saw her first and knew
That her dark hair would weave a snare
That I might one day rue.

I saw the danger yet I walked
Along the enchanted way.
And I said
"Let grief be a falling leaf
At the dawning of the day."

The joke is that no one ever jokes about pancomputationalism.

What we joke about,
When we joke about pancomputationalism.

What we talk about, when we talk about love.

                                      -- Raymond Carver

TFTD:

Domina, non sum dignus.

From the Greatest of All Novels

-- Ура для Карамазова!

"Hurrah for Karamazov!"

TFTD:

Caught between two utterances of Christ on the cross:

"My God, My God, why hast Thou forsaken Me?"

and

"Into Thy hands I commend My spirit."

(Between despair and acceptance that is.)

"In Russia, in five years everything can change.   In 200 - nothing."

                                                                  -- Svetlana Alexeivich