If we consider how even today all great political transactions glide upon the stage secretly and stealthily; how they are hidden by unimportant events, and seem small when close at hand; how they only show their far-reaching effect, and leave the soil still quaking, long after they have taken place – what significance can we attach to the Press in its present position, with its daily expenditure of lung-power in order to bawl, to deafen, to excite, to terrify? Is it anything more than an everlasting false alarm, which tries to lead our ears and our wits into a false direction?
Continual Acceleration
“Those who begin slowly and find it hard to become familiar with a subject, sometimes acquire afterwards the quality of continual acceleration – so that in the end no one knows where the current will take them.”
The Mark of a Noble Soul
“A noble soul is not that which is capable of the highest flights, but that which rises little and falls little, living always in a free and bright atmosphere and altitude.”
“Heathcliff, it’s me, Cathy I’ve come home, sprink-oah-hahoahl! Let me in a your ice-cream cone.” I like to imagine she’s just so excited for ice cream as she’s spinning around that field… Song: Wuthering Heights – Kate Bush