on november
james clerk maxwell lines written under the conviction that it is not wise to read mathematics in november after one's fire is out \\ mary shelley frankenstein \\ maggie stiefvater the scorpio races (via @metamorphesque) \\ anna akhmatova rosary \\ emily dickinson in a letter to elizabeth holland early november 1865 (via @flowerytale) \\ l.m. montgomery anne of green gables
kofi
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Scrolling down poetry titles, this one jumped at me. It made me smile. Partly it's length, partly it being a clear representation of my love of numbers and my late night ponderings. (I have a habit of attempting to interpret life through mathematical equations.)
Lines Written Under the Conviction That it is not Wise to Read Mathematics in November After One’s Fire is Out
After the initial amusement, however, it turned out to be a very deep poem, mirroring my own thoughts. I especially loved the last stanza.
“Oh! that men indeed were wise,
And would raise their purblind eyes
To the opening mysteries
Scattered around them ever.
Truth should spring from sterile ground,
Beauty beam from all around,
Right should then at last be found
Joining what none may sever.”
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