All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.

Into this Universe, and Why not knowing 

Nor Whence, like Water willy-nilly flowing; 

And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, 

I know not Whither, willy-nilly blowing. 

Then to the lip of this poor earthen Urn 
I lean'd, the Secret of my Life to learn: 
And Lip to Lip it murmur'd--"While you live 
Drink!--for, once dead, you never shall return." 

Ah, my Belov'ed fill the Cup that clears 

To-day Past Regrets and Future Fears: 

To-morrow!--Why, To-morrow I may be 

Myself with Yesterday's Sev'n Thousand Years. 

For some we loved, the loveliest and the best 

That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest, 

Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before, 

And one by one crept silently to rest. 

And we, that now make merry in the Room 

They left, and Summer dresses in new bloom 

Ourselves must we beneath the Couch of Earth 

Descend--ourselves to make a Couch--for whom? 

Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend, 

Before we too into the Dust descend; 

Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie 

Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and--sans End! 

Star Trek Beauty #8

Star Trek Beauty #7

Star Trek Beauty #6

Howard Roark would not approve

... Nor can those works which remind us of the poverty and meanness of our nature, be considered as of equal rank with what excites ideas of grandeur, or raises and dignifies humanity; or, in the words of a late poet, which makes the beholder learn to venerate himself as man.

... The internal fabric of our mind, as well as the external form of our bodies, being nearly uniform, it seems then to follow, of course, that as the imagination is incapable of producing anything originally of itself, and can only vary and combine these ideas with which it is furnished by means of the senses, there will be, of course, an agreement in the imaginations as in the senses of men.  There being this agreement, it follows that in all cases, in our lightest amusements as well as in our most serious actions and engagements of life, we must regulate our affections of every kind by that of others.  The well-disciplined mind acknowledges this authority, and submits its own opinion to the public voice.

... He therefore who is acquainted with the works which have pleased different ages and different countries, and has formed his opinion on them, has more materials and more means of knowing what is analogous to the mind of man than he who is conversant only with the works of his own age or country.  What has pleased, and continues to please, is likely to please again: hence are derived the rules of art, and on this immovable foundation they must ever stand.

Something Is Out There