Monday, November 25, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Tom Petty

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I keep waking up all by myself,
With a blue jay in my brain.
Flappin' his wings, making me sing,
it was just about to rain.
--
Dreamville

 
Tom Petty

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Gone, lost, scattered to the four winds. It still surprises me
how little now remains, one first person sing., temporarily
declined in human form, just now making such a fuss
about a blue umbrella left yesterday on a bus.

 
Wislawa Szymborska
 

One long-past innocent day, in my prefolly youth, I came upon a statement in an undistinguished textbook on psychiatry that, as when Kant read Hume, woke me forever from my garden-of-eden slumber. "The psychotic does not merely think he sees four blue bivalves with floppy wings wandering up the wall; he does see them. An hallucination is not, strictly speaking, manufactured in the brain; it is received by the brain, like any 'real' sense datum, and the patient act in response to this to-him-very-real perception of reality in as logical a way as we do to our sense data. In any way to suppose he only 'thinks he sees it' is to misunderstand totally the experience of psychosis."

 
Philip Kindred - a.k.a. PKD Dick
 

How at heaven's gates she claps her wings,
The morne not waking til she sings.

 
John Lyly
 

For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.

 
Percy Bysshe Shelley
 

This is an opening gift tht we are making in conjunction with Blue Cross and Blue Shield of half a million dollars.

 
Gloria Estefan
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