Dorcas Gustine · 1195 days ago
I was not beloved of the villagers,
But all because I spoke my mind,
And met those who transgressed against me
With plain remonstrance, hiding or nurturing
Nor secret griefs nor grudges.
That act of the Spartan boy is gretly praised,
Who hid the wolf under his cloak,
Letting it devour him, uncomplainingly.
It is braver, I think, to snatch the wolf forth
And fight him openly, even in the street,
Amid dust and howls of pain.
The tongue may be an unruly member – But silence poisons the soul.
Berate me who will – I am content.
- Edgar Lee Masters “Spoon River Anthology”
— Irene Toma
Say something! [1]
There s always something in between... · 1677 days ago
There s always something in between that makes us hesitate.
There s always something in between that forces us to stop.
We are prisoners of our own conscience, but we will not try to lose our tracks.
— Kristian Sinclair
Four seconds · 1838 days ago
On my way to a friend I needed to cross a street with heavy traffic. As I was told back in my early school days, I go down the road, looking for traffic lights, which I found just a few hundred metres ahead.
As I approach them I notice that somebody just pressed the button, approximately four seconds before I would have done it. I guess it was pressed by a couple waiting on the other side of the road.
I start to think: As they pushed the button four seconds earlier, the traffic lights will turn green four seconds earlier. I will be able to cross the street four seconds earlier. I will arrive at my friend’s place four seconds in advance. My life is four seconds ahead.
When finally crossing the street I smile at the cople to express my gratitude. Maybe they will understand. Maybe they won’t. But I don’t really care.
I gained four seconds!
Unfortunately the Bus I need to take is just in time. The driver didn’t know about those four seconds.
I lost them again.
— Kristian Sinclair
This is new. · 1874 days ago
An attempt to do something. An attempt to do something new. Or an attempt to show something that has always been there. Something that is in between.
I try to speak out something, but either way I twist and turn, I will not find the right words. Every single letter is a lie, grinning at me as if it would say “You knew it all before”. But I did not. I tried my best to explain. It’s the words that spin the meaning.
You are in time. You get into a train. You get where you wanted, there you are.
You are late. You miss the train. A thousand missed chances. A thousand new ones.
Just three seconds between the present and the past. Less than a millimetre between here and there. It could have been different: We will never understand, but what if we still try to comprehend?
— Kristian Sinclair
Say something. [2]