The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks;
The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep
Moans round with its many voices. Come, my friends,
'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
Turning 60 (in 2006)
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*This is the first of my birthday posts, back in 2006, just a few years
after I started blogging (since blogs didn't exist before.) It begins a
series ...
2 days ago
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