In this world with starry dome,
Floored with gemlike plains and seas,
Shall I never feel at home,
Never wholly be at ease?
World-Strangeness. Sir William Watson.(1858–1935)
FOTO – POSTCARD FROM LAURIETON NSW EARLY/MID 20th CENTURY.
Now my own suspicion is that the Universe is not only queerer than we suppose, but queerer than we can suppose.
J B S Haldane, Possible Worlds, title essay (1927)
FOTO -KATI B IN PADDINGTON. SASSAFRAS CAFE.
“To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion; to be worthy, not respectable, and wealthy, not, rich; to listen to stars and birds, babes and sages, with open heart; to study hard; to think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions, hurry never; in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common – this is my symphony.” – William Ellery Channing
FOTO – READYS AND BELLS SYDNEY. 1940S
One foot cannot stand on two boats.
FOTO – BRISBANE RIVER AT SOUTHBANK 2007
“The greatest gift is the passion for reading.
It is cheap, it consoles, it distracts, it excites,
it gives you knowledge of the world and experience of a wide kind.
It is a moral illumination.”
FOTO – BRISBANE BOOKSHOP AND CAFE.
“Pigmei gigantum humeris impositi plusquam ipsi gigantes vident”
“Pigmies placed on the shoulders of giants see more than the giants themselves.”
Lucan AD 39-65, The Civil War, Book II, 10
FOTO – BILAMBIL BLUES CLUB 2007.
We have seen you off as far as the yellow-box-tree
Returning I sit for a little while reflecting
On the long white clouds low at the horizon.
The wind sharpens the distant Brindabellas,
In the courtyard the fallen plum-blossom settles.
There will be time enough and time enough later
For crossing the threshold to lamplight and conversation.
FOTO – MAD O’BRIAN’S LEMON BLOSSOM IN BILAMBIL 2009
“Third World Labourer”
“If I am asked where I come from,
“I will answer that I am a labourer,
“that in the empire of greed,
“exploitation hurts the same.”
Luz Acuna Aguayo
“How can you thank a man for giving you what’s already yours? How then can you thank him for giving you only part of what is yours?” MALCOLM X.
gone dingo, gone rogue
FOTO -KNOX PARK TOILETS MURWILLUMBAH 2008
For everything there is a season,
And a time for every matter under heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal;
A time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh;
A time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to throw away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
A time to embrace, And a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to seek, and a time to lose;
A time to keep, and a time to throw away;
A time to tear, and a time to sew;
A time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate,
A time for war, and a time for peace.
FOTO – MT TAMBORINE 2008
Mכε KUN DAUN Mכε, A EE CHIAN Pכε MA.
If yu ebul it pכsin in hed, nכ fred dכti na di yai.
If you can bring yourself to eat a person’s head, you don’t have to be afraid to eat the dirt (the sand) in the eye.
FOTO – LAMP SHINES ON LIZARDS, VW AND KAZOOS IN RED HILL 2007
IF YU DE GO NA HIL Fכ PUL SARA Fכ DεN DεBUL DεN, YU MITכP DεN NA ROD, YU GO GO EGEN? (Mende)
If you are going to the hill to make a sacrifice for the devils there and you meet them on the way, will you still go?
FOTO – UNIVERSITY OF QUEENSLAND 2008
A man hated the way he walked and decided to learn how people in the city of Handan carried themselves. The result was that not only did he fail to learn the new style, but he also forgot his own way of walking. He could only but crawl back to his hometown where he became a laughing stock.
FOTO – QUEENSLAND/ NSW BORDER 2008
Ralph de Bricassart: (the legend of the thorn bird ) There’s a story , a legend, about a bird that sings just once in its life. From the moment it leaves its nest, it searches for a thorn tree… and never rests until it’s found one. And then it sings more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth. And singing, it impales itself on the longest, sharpest thorn. But, as it dies, it rises above its own agony, to outsing the lark and the nightingale. The thorn bird pays its life for just one song, but the whole world stills to listen, and God in his heaven smiles.
by Colleen McCullough
FOTO – FEEDING MAGPIES AT BILAMBIL 2009
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