David Given Schwarm

But he’d been transformed through surrender. Chapter 7, p. 65

Over the years she’d known lots and lots of people who styled themselves as “truth-tellers,” and the one thing they all had in common was the fact that they were actually less interested in telling you the truth than in hurting you as badly as they possibly could. Chapter 7, p. 66

       Here pause: these graves are all too young as yet       To have outgrown the sorrow which consign’d       Its charge to each; and if the seal is set,       Here, on one fountain of a mourning mind,       Break it not thou! too surely shalt thou find       Thine own well full, if thou returnest home,       Of tears…

       And gray walls moulder round, on which dull Time       Feeds, like slow fire upon a hoary brand;       And one keen pyramid with wedge sublime,       Pavilioning the dust of him who plann’d       This refuge for his memory, doth stand       Like flame transform’d to marble; and beneath,       A field is spread, on which a newer band      …

Journey to the Edge of Reason: The Life of Kurt Gödel by Stephen Budiansky My rating: 3 of 5 stars Interesting biography that mostly demystifies Gödel by placing his live in a deeper historical context and his work in a more specific context. I read it because of the anorexia angle, but enjoyed the math…

       Go thou to Rome—at once the Paradise,       The grave, the city, and the wilderness;       And where its wrecks like shatter’d mountains rise,       And flowering weeds, and fragrant copses dress       The bones of Desolation’s nakedness       Pass, till the spirit of the spot shall lead       Thy footsteps to a slope of green access       Where, like an…

Let me never fall into the vulgar mistake of dreaming that I am persecuted whenever I am contradicted.

       Or go to Rome, which is the sepulchre,       Oh, not of him, but of our joy: ’tis nought       That ages, empires and religions there       Lie buried in the ravage they have wrought;       For such as he can lend—they borrow not       Glory from those who made the world their prey;       And he is gather’d to…

       Who mourns for Adonais? Oh, come forth,       Fond wretch! and know thyself and him aright.       Clasp with thy panting soul the pendulous Earth;       As from a centre, dart thy spirit’s light       Beyond all worlds, until its spacious might       Satiate the void circumference: then shrink       Even to a point within our day and night;       And…