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Ben Jonson

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It is not growing like a tree
In bulk, doth make man better be;
Or standing long an oak, three hundred year,
To fall a log, dry, bald and sere:
A lily of a day,
Is fairer far, in May,
Although it fall, and die that night;
It was the plant and flower of light.
In small proportions we just beauties see,
And in short measures life may perfect be.
--
LXX, To the Immortal Memory of Sir Lucius Cary and Sir Henry Morison, lines 65-74.

 
Ben Jonson

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Dreams and visions were important to Julian, and he experienced them at decisive moments of his life. He was more rather than less typical of ancient men in his predisposition to such psychic phenomena and in his credulity. While in Gaul and still at the rank of Ceasar, Julian wrote in a letter that he had had a prophetic dream in which he saw a very tall tree bending over to the ground from its own weight and height, and beside the small shoot in flower growing out of the roots of the great tree. He feared for the safety of the young plant and when he drew nearer he saw the great tree falling to the ground. The small tree was still standing; its roots remained in the earth, and an unknown person advised the dreamer not to fear for its safety. "God knows what this means," wrote Julian.

 
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The greatness of an estate, in bulk and territory, doth fall under measure; and the greatness of finances and revenue, doth fall under computation. The population may appear by musters; and the number and greatness of cities and towns by cards and maps. But yet there is not any thing amongst civil affairs more subject to error, than the right valuation and true judgment concerning the power and forces of an estate.

 
Francis Bacon
 

When the night-wind bewaileth the fall of the year,
And sweeps from the forest the leaves that are sere;
I wake from my slumber and list to the roar
And it saith to my spirit, "No more, never more!"

 
Epes Sargent
 

What do we plant when we plant a tree?
A thousand things that we daily see,
We plant the spire that out-towers the crag,
We plant the staff for our country's flag;
We plant the shade from the hot sun free,
We plant all these when we plant the tree.

 
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A screaming comes across the sky. It has happened before, but there is nothing to compare it to now.
It is too late. The Evacuation still proceeds, but it's all theatre. There are no lights inside the cars. No light anywhere. Above him lift girders old as an iron queen, and glass somewhere far above that would let the light of day through. But it's night. He's afraid of the way the glass will fall soon it will be a spectacle: the fall of a crystal palace. But coming down in total blackout, without one glint of light, only great invisible crashing.

 
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