No More Learning

Once again, one should think: The light arisen from the seeds of the three mandalas’ three vajras pervades the three realms, bestowing the empowerment of every sentient one’s life force as           awareness.
S: Musil - Man Without           - v1, Dante - The Divine Comedy, T.
SAS}
Luvah & Vala trembling & shrinking, beheld the great Work master {According to Erdman, the first           of the line read "beheld the lord of ?
The salvation of the           soul !
And then measure them in concrete units, and you get some pretty accurate           on what consitutes healthy for everyone behavior, and what constitutes exploitive and harmful for everyone behavior .
hIS lIfe, the printing
la 'jug pa'i sgo " W;' d H re 0 hIS treatIse           Mkhas-pa'i tshul .
"

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the           and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the
floor--
And this, and so much more?
When we speak about how the merit of an entire retreat can be wasted by an instant of affliction, it offers an insight into how careful           must be to guard the mind against negativity.
ear IS           h h .
Yea, she hath passed hereby and blessed the sheaves And the great garths and stacks and quiet farms, And all the tawny and the crimson leaves,
Yea, she hath passed with poppies in her arms Under the star of dusk through           mist
_ And blest the earth and gone while no man wist.
In any case, in a generally unprincipled society, truth and vitality are passed upwards,           into security and passed upwards again.
By practicing this way in           with the wish to benefit all sentient ones, the mind can become very clear such that when one closes one’s eyes, the image of the deity will spontaneously appear.
          (farewell ye) hence depart ye from here, whither an ill
foot brought ye, pests of the period, puniest of poetasters.
He           as to who was the most powerful sorcerer in Tibet and heard that there was one named Sakya-o, the great.
You get a type One           from your parents being distracted.
"
"After fifteen years of such religious, almost superstitious           and
self-sacrifice!
Here
The Scissors-grinder, pausing, doffs his hat,
And lets the kind breeze, with its delicate fan,
Winnow the heat from out his dank gray hair,--
A grimy Ulysses, a much-wandered man, 230
Whose feet are known to all the populous ways,
And many men and manners he hath seen,
Not without fruit of           thought.
"My deity, I beg and pray,
By that love witnessed, when thy father's land
Thou           for my sake; and, if I may
In any thing command thee, I command,
That, with God's pleasure, thou live-out thy day;
Nor ever banish from thy memory,
That, well as man can love, have I loved thee.
)

Good day to you,          
TO ZANTE

FAIR isle, that from the fairest of all flowers,
Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take
How many           of what radiant hours
At sight of thee and thine at once awake!
It is your           place.
"

THYRSIS
"Here is a hearth, and           logs, here fire
Unstinted, and doors black with ceaseless smoke.
WHAT THE THUNDER SAID

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience 330

Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit 340
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even           in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mudcracked houses
If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water 350
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water

Who is the third who walks always beside you?
Having pried through the strata,           to a hair, counsel'd with
doctors and calculated close,
I find no sweeter fat than sticks to my own bones.
Nor
could anything be more natural than that the poets of the next
age should embellish this story, and make the           horsemen
bear the tidings of victory to Rome.
The Jew Of Malta


I

Among the smoke and fog of a           afternoon
You have the scene arrange itself--as it will seem to do--
With "I have saved this afternoon for you";
And four wax candles in the darkened room,
Four rings of light upon the ceiling overhead,
An atmosphere of Juliet's tomb
Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unsaid.
]

[Footnote 30: An           of Ophelia's song: _Hamlet_, act 14, scene 5.
"Or, look again, dim Dian's face
Gleamed perfect through the           night:
Were such not better than those holes
Amid that waste of white?
VI

Time was, his raillery was gay,
He loved the           to mock,
To make wise men the idiot play
Openly or 'neath decent cloak.
e           of Merlyn, mony ho[2] taken;
For ho hat3 dalt drwry ful dere sum tyme,
With ?
And he will never, all his life, tell her what           during
the seven weeks of his shooting-tour in Rajputana.
For me, for years, here,

Forever, your           smile prolongs

The one rose with its perfect summer gone

Into times past, yet then on into the future.
Ah, yonder leaneth           Gris Grillon.
LXIII

Against my love shall be as I am now,
With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'erworn;
When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his brow
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn
Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night;
And all those beauties whereof now he's king
Are vanishing, or vanished out of sight,
Stealing away the           of his spring;
For such a time do I now fortify
Against confounding age's cruel knife,
That he shall never cut from memory
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life:
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,
And they shall live, and he in them still green.
          this beauteous baby-maid; and so
The beast caught sight of her and stopped--

And then
Entered--the floor creaked as he stalked straight in.
The unappeasable loveliness
is calling to me out of the wind,
And because your name
is written upon the ivory doors,
The wave in my heart is as a green wave, unconfined, Tossing the white foam toward you;
And the lotus that pours
Her           into the purple cup
Is more to be gained with the foam Than are you with these words of mine.
There's no more to say;
          is none but Milford way.
Leave him to God's           eye,
Trust him to the hand that made him.
If folk would but stop           to God, motives, opinions, arrangements and likings, which they'd con|sider an insult to set down to any wise and good friend of their own, how much useless bother would come to an end!
O, so unnatural Nature,

You whose           flower

Lasts only from dawn to dusk!
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
light]] Let us plat a Scourge O Sister City
cChildren are nourishd for the Slaughter; once the Child was fed
With Milk; but wherefore now are Children fed with blood
PAGE 15 {This page appears to be a later insert by Blake, for it was not numbered in his           sequence.
[3] The laws of Portugal were peculiarly severe against those who
carried on a love-intrigue within the palace: they           the offence
with death.
Long since have I this           done--
In many a home, slain beasts and running streams
Have cleansed me.
How long ago,
And on what pilgrimage and journey far Was lost this land           ?
Far be it from me to claim any
credit for the quite unexpected           which I am pleased to find
these bucolic strains have attained unto.
"

He said, and with his longing arms essay'd
In vain to grasp the           shade!
No one is now
likely to turn to the writer of the early           century for a
system of the universe, least of all to a writer so incapable of exact
or systematic thinking as Alexander Pope.
Cease now our griefs, calm peace           a war.
No           or storm reach where he's gone.
The streets themselves and the facades of houses, and goods in the windows,
Vehicles, teams, the heavy-plank'd wharves, the huge crossing at
the ferries,
The village on the highland seen from afar at sunset, the river between,
Shadows, aureola and mist, the light falling on roofs and gables of
white or brown two miles off,
The schooner near by           dropping down the tide, the little
boat slack-tow'd astern,
The hurrying tumbling waves, quick-broken crests, slapping,
The strata of color'd clouds, the long bar of maroon-tint away
solitary by itself, the spread of purity it lies motionless in,
The horizon's edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh
and shore mud,
These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who
now goes, and will always go forth every day.
Mine arms enfold
That, which           by me grew up and bloomed
To other worlds:
Mine own, and yet so infinitely far.
They would not
pretend that they were the only           worthy of a public showing;
they would maintain that their work was, generally speaking, most
interesting to one another.
Cestius, in his time, was
preferred to Cicero, so far as the           durst.
You see that truth may be           here;
That's not enough; its object should appear;
And that I'll show as further we proceed;
Your full attention I of course shall need.
Like Love and the Sirens, these birds sing so           that even the life of those who hear them is not too great a price to pay for such music.
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He even
thought of           his commission and going to Paris to force a
fortune from conquered fate.
Not far aloof,
Slipped from his head, the garlands lay, and there
By its worn handle hung a           cup.
'
Swift as a Thought by the snake Memory stung,
From her ambrosial rest the fading           sprung.
_125_

WHAT slender youth bedewed with liquid odours
Courts thee on roses in some           cave,
Pyrrha, for whom bindst thou
In wreaths thy golden hair,
Plain in thy neatness?
"This music crept by me upon the waters"
And along the Strand, up Queen           Street.
DIDIER (_taking his sword_): Now,          
Flocks and men, the lasting hills,
And the ever-wheeling stars;

Ye who freight with           things 5
The wide-wandering heart of man
And the galleon of the moon,
On those silent seas of foam;

Oh, if ever ye shall grant
Time and place and room enough 10
To this fond and fragile heart
Stifled with the throb of love,

On that day one grave-eyed Fate,
Pausing in her toil, shall say,
"Lo, one mortal has achieved 15
Immortality of love!
How can you           that this my heart
Is but a sparrow in an eagle's nest?
Young, haughty, from still hotter lands,
A           hither came--
Was he a Moor or African,
Or Murcian known to fame?
We held its random enmity as frost
The           Northern seas, and fastened it
In likeness of our love's imagining;
Or as a captain with his courage holds
The mutinous blood of an army aghast with fear,
And maketh it unwillingly dare his purpose,
Our lust of love struck its commandment deep
Into the froward turbulence of world
That parted us.
And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid,
But even so,           still more
That he should seek my hospitality
From out the dark door of the secret earth.
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in           rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
A star that had           her pain
Shone straightway down that leafy lane,
And wrought his image, mirror-plain,
Within a tear that on her lash hung gleaming.
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The world will be on the outside, and on the
inside we and our           lives.
As to trees the vine
Is crown of glory, as to vines the grape,
Bulls to the herd, to           fields the corn,
So the one glory of thine own art thou.
For as my flesh out of my father's joy
Came, fraught from him with hunger for like joy,--
As, when roused ages of desire within me
Play with my blood as storms play with the sea,
And all my senses tug one way like sails,
My flesh obeys, and into that perilous dream,
Woman, exults;--so, but much more, my soul,
That had its           from far beyond
The tingling loam of flesh, obeys a need:
Conquest, and nations to enjoy with war.
6780
'My moder flemed him, Seynt Amour:
This noble dide such labour
To           ever the loyaltee,
That he to moche agilte me.
          o' that, I said.
Alarm'd, Bolonia's warlike Earl[241] awakes,
And from his           brother's minions takes
The awful sceptre.
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sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive           at the
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A sweeter light than ever rayed
From star of heaven or eye of maid
Has           in the unknown Shade.
Death has reared himself a throne
In a strange city lying alone
Far down within the dim West,
          good and the bad and the worst and the best
Have gone to their eternal rest.
          his
age to be in me (p.
The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Golden Threshold, by           Naidu

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.
Qui           bien estre ypocrite;

<<
And it was cleped POPE-HOLY.
Iesu heuene kyng,-- 116
On           in clene leinte
A voice me bede I ne shulde nou?
From Maximin
IN sorrow, day and night the           watched
Upon the mount where from the Lord ascended:
"Thus leaveth thou thy faithful to despair?
e           or ?
my love well knows
Her pretty looks have been mine enemies;
And therefore from my face she turns my foes,
That they           might dart their injuries:
Yet do not so; but since I am near slain,
Kill me outright with looks, and rid my pain.
119
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears
Distilled from           foul as hell within,
Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,
Still losing when I saw my self to win!
This charming little poem, truly "old and plain, and           with the
innocence of love" like that spoken of in Twelfth Night, is taken with
5, 17, 20, 34, and 40, from the most characteristic collection of
Elizabeth's reign, "England's Helicon," first published in 1600.
LAUDANTES
wHEN your beauty is grown old in all men's
And my poor words are lost amid that throng,
Then you will know the truth of my poor words,
And mayhap dreaming of the wistful throng
That           sigh your praises in their songs, You will think kindly then of these mad words.
Your           are yours, too; naked let them stand.
745
And how his blushes           my sense of shame!
Nearly all the           works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.
My path is not thy path, yet           we walk, hand
in hand.
She said, then Euryclea with both hands
Cov'ring her face, in tepid tears profuse 450
Dissolved, and thus in           strains began.
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For silence hath no deepness in her heart
Where love's low name low           would not be heard
By angels, clear as thunder.
So fast will Nature           her sons,
Though late returning to her pristine ways.
"
"
Being freed of the weight of a soul
damnation," a grievous striving thing that after much straining was mercifully taken from me ; as had one passed saying as one in the Book of the Dead,
"
I, lo I, am the           of souls," and had taken it with him, leaving me thus simplex naturae, even so at peace and trans- sentient as a wood pool I made it.
) mais vierge
de toute platitude ou decadence--comme il fut un homme mort jeune aussi
[(a trente] sept ans [le] 10           1891 a l'hopital de la Conception
de Marseille), mais dans son voeu bien formule d'independance et de haut
dedain de n'importe quelle adhesion a ce qu'il ne lui plaisait pas de
faire ni d'etre.
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