Blasts from the past were like the rooms one entered and re-entered in dreams: they would not stay nailed down. When you returned to them, they had changed - they suddenly had more space or a tilt or a door that had not been there before. New people were milling around, the floors undulated, and the sun shone newly, strangely in the windows, or through the now blasted-open ceiling, or else it shone not at all, as if having fled the sky.
Multiple studies, including from the Justice Department, have shown that the guns used in homicides, including the killing of police officers, overwhelmingly tend to be small-caliber handguns. Moreover, gun ownership has increased over the past 20 years — the same period in which both the violent crime rate and the killing of police officers have been in decline.
I take things very seriously, and I give myself time to come down and to ramp up, and it's an inside spiritual journey for me. I feel like acting is a way of feeling your personality, and it's really special. Special to have this kind of effect on people. You can only have that effect if you're really outside of yourself. You can't look at yourself and do what I do at the same time. I have done it that way in the past, but it doesn't really work. I can only soar within the parameters of time, and I use music analogies.
You know it already that each one of us is the effect of the infinite past; the child is ushered into the world not as something flashing from the hands of nature, as poets delight so much to depict, but he has the burden of an infinite past; for good or evil he comes to work out his own past deeds
The line is "So we beat on, boats against the current, born back ceaselessly into the past. " We've interpreted it as the meaning of us [when we] went against the current, against the grain and did what felt natural to us. . . regardless of what we thought we were supposed to be doing. We threw all of that out the window. We existed how we wanted to.
I laughed, loud enough that Delia looked up at me. She made motions for me to come over, but I pretended to be looking past her into the food tent. "Hurry. Pretend you're pointing something out so I can pretend not to see her. " Luke put a hand on my shoulder and pointed with the other towards the sky. "Look, the moon. " "That was the best you could come up with?" I demanded.
Memory is therefore, neither Perception nor Conception, but a state or affection of one of these, conditioned by lapse of time. As already observed, there is no such thing as memory of the present while present, for the present is object only of perception, and the future, of expectation, but the object of memory is the past. All memory, therefore, implies a time elapsed; consequently only those animals which perceive time remember, and the organ whereby they perceive time is also that whereby they remember.
I've noticed that there can be a visceral reaction to strong statements about poetry, as if anyone who has an opinion and expresses it is shutting people down. It's funny to see that expressed, and then to go back and read poetic statements by the great poets of the past: they are full of a passionate conviction! It is clearly possible to express strong feelings about poetry while also defending the absolute right of myriad approaches.