Tuesday, February 20, 2018 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Emily Dickinson

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FAME is a fickle food
Upon a shifting plate,
Whose table once a Guest, but not
The second time, is set.
Whose crumbs the crows inspect,
And with ironic caw
Flap past it to the Farmerís corn;
Men eat of it and die.
--
p. 257-258. The Single Hound.

 
Emily Dickinson

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Life is a thin narrowness of taken-for-granted, a plank over a canyon in a fog. There is something under our feet, the taken-for-granted. A table is a table, food is food, we are weóbecause we donít question these things. And science is the enemy because it is the questioner. Faith saves our souls alive by giving us a universe of the taken-for-granted.

 
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