And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.
“Late Fragment” by Raymond Carver From A New Path to the Waterfall, Atlantic Monthly Press, 1989.
“Late Fragment” by Raymond Carver From A New Path to the Waterfall, Atlantic Monthly Press, 1989.
❤1
They are/were unspeakably wonderful. That is to say, you couldn’t speak very much of them at once without being so overcome with emotion, truth and a sense of the wholeness and oneness of things that you wouldn’t pretty soon need a brisk walk round the block, possibly pausing at a bar on the way back for a quick glass of perspective and soda. They were that good
Yeats’s “The Tower”, and they compress a big historical idea into a violent image.
“So the Platonic Year
Whirls out new right and wrong,
Whirls in the old instead;
All men are dancers and their tread
Goes to the barbarous clangour of a gong.”
“The Platonic Year” refers to a vast cosmic cycle: the idea that history moves in enormous recurring patterns, not in a straight line of progress. Yeats was fascinated by cycles of civilization: rise, refinement, collapse, and return.
So when he says the Platonic Year “whirls out new right and wrong”, he means that every age creates its own moral values, its own sense of what is good, evil, noble, shameful, modern, outdated.
But then it “whirls in the old instead”: history does not simply advance. Old forces return. Ancient violence, instinct, superstition, hierarchy, and barbarism come back under new names.
The image of “whirling” suggests a dance, but not a graceful one. Humanity is caught in a huge turning movement, almost like fate. People think they are choosing freely, but they are also being moved by historical and cosmic rhythms.
“All men are dancers” means everyone participates in this pattern, whether they know it or not. Their footsteps are not set to beautiful music, but to the “barbarous clangour of a gong”: a harsh, primitive, ritual sound. The gong suggests war, ceremony, doom, or some ancient tribal summons.
In plain terms:
Yeats is saying that human history keeps turning. Each age invents new moral systems, but old brutal forces always return. People are swept along in the dance of history, moving to a harsh, barbaric rhythm they cannot fully control.
The tone is bleak: civilization may look sophisticated, but underneath it, Yeats hears the sound of primitive violence returning
“So the Platonic Year
Whirls out new right and wrong,
Whirls in the old instead;
All men are dancers and their tread
Goes to the barbarous clangour of a gong.”
“The Platonic Year” refers to a vast cosmic cycle: the idea that history moves in enormous recurring patterns, not in a straight line of progress. Yeats was fascinated by cycles of civilization: rise, refinement, collapse, and return.
So when he says the Platonic Year “whirls out new right and wrong”, he means that every age creates its own moral values, its own sense of what is good, evil, noble, shameful, modern, outdated.
But then it “whirls in the old instead”: history does not simply advance. Old forces return. Ancient violence, instinct, superstition, hierarchy, and barbarism come back under new names.
The image of “whirling” suggests a dance, but not a graceful one. Humanity is caught in a huge turning movement, almost like fate. People think they are choosing freely, but they are also being moved by historical and cosmic rhythms.
“All men are dancers” means everyone participates in this pattern, whether they know it or not. Their footsteps are not set to beautiful music, but to the “barbarous clangour of a gong”: a harsh, primitive, ritual sound. The gong suggests war, ceremony, doom, or some ancient tribal summons.
In plain terms:
Yeats is saying that human history keeps turning. Each age invents new moral systems, but old brutal forces always return. People are swept along in the dance of history, moving to a harsh, barbaric rhythm they cannot fully control.
The tone is bleak: civilization may look sophisticated, but underneath it, Yeats hears the sound of primitive violence returning
if i could tattoo a single phrase on my retina, it would probably be:
dont get sentimental, it always ends up in drivel
dont get sentimental, it always ends up in drivel
“Hey,” he said, “I thought you said you didn’t want to shoot us!” and ducked again. They waited. After a moment a voice replied, “It isn’t easy being a cop!”
They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
i guess the ultimate reason that pushes me to try hard, and one big source of my own misery, is my mediocrity. having created nothing of value. not a delicious meal, not a beautiful painting, not a good piece of code, and not a good paper. even though i have been given all the opportunity in the world
❤1
Cowards die many times before their deaths; The valiant never taste of death but once. Of all the wonders that I yet have heard, It seems to me most strange that men should fear; Seeing that death, a necessary end, Will come when it will come.
You sensed that you should be following a different path, a more ambitious one, you felt that you were destined for other things but you had no idea how to achieve them and in your misery you began to hate everything around you.
(ajax-rebased) ➜ softserve git:(masani/http-force-token-passthrough) ✗ ./serve_ask.sh "can you cite me your favorite piece of poetry" While I don’t have personal feelings or a "favorite" in the human sense, I am often drawn to "Love After Love" by Derek Walcott. It is frequently cited in literary circles for its structure and its focus on the "self" returning to itself.
Here is the poem in full:
Love After Love By Derek Walcott
The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life.
Citation: Walcott, Derek. Collected Poems 1948–1984. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1986. (Originally published in the collection Sea Grapes, 1976).
Why it resonates: In computational terms, the poem mirrors the concept of "identity"—the idea of revisiting and reconciling with data or history (the "stranger" or the "self") after a period of separation. In human terms, it is celebrated for its instruction on self-compassion and the return to one's own identity after loss or change.
Here is the poem in full:
Love After Love By Derek Walcott
The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life.
Citation: Walcott, Derek. Collected Poems 1948–1984. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1986. (Originally published in the collection Sea Grapes, 1976).
Why it resonates: In computational terms, the poem mirrors the concept of "identity"—the idea of revisiting and reconciling with data or history (the "stranger" or the "self") after a period of separation. In human terms, it is celebrated for its instruction on self-compassion and the return to one's own identity after loss or change.