Comments by Socrates

  • Or is it only the breeze, in it listlessness

    Traveling across the wet mead to me here,

    You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness,

    Heard no more again far or near?

    The Voice by Thomas Hardy

    February 24, 2013

  • Every town-gate and village taxing-house had its band of citizen-patriots, with their national muskets in a most explosive state of readiness, who stopped all comers and goers, cross-questioned them, inspected their papers, looked for their names in lists of their own, turned them back, or sent them on, or stopped them and laid them in hold, as their capricious judgment or fancy deemed best for the dawning Republic One and Indivisible, of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, or Death.

    Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

    February 24, 2013

  • “Knotted at her throat she wore a lilac scarf that even in the achromatic sunshine cast its color up to her face and down around her moving feet in a lilac shadow.”


    February 24, 2013