Where is the face we loved to greet,--From Harper's New Monthly Magazine--
The form that graced the fireside seat,
The gentle smile, the winning way,
That bless'd our life-path day by day?
Where fled those accents, soft and low,
That thrilled our hearts "one year ago?"
I've spent a year blogging, today. Along the way, I've skimmed a lot of magazines and read a lot of books partway through. Some things I put a great deal of thought into, and other things were happy accidents.
Looking at history is looking at other people's memories. Looking at nature is looking at the world around us. The sophist wonders: '...if anyone really "learns lessons" from history, or if we just interpret everything to fit our preconception of the world.' To that I say: if we are controlled by our preconceptions and our preconceptions are false, then let's flood ourselves with facts; nothing weakens a lie like lots of facts, and weakening a lie is the first step to dispelling it.