I am in here.
These past few weeks, when I’ve not been dealing with nausea, I’ve had quite the bit of inner peace going. It has just occurred to me, though, that this inner peace could simply be a result of the rearrangement of my guts. I prefer the more spiritual explanation; I don’t know why — I just … Continue reading Inner something
STANFORD Magazine: May/June 2006 > Features > Donald Knuth
I have just enjoyed the heck out of the season finale of Numb3rs. The words that Charlie and Don’s dad recites at the end really caught me by the ears. I googled the last line, and what I came up with was this poem, which just follows this post, by Siegfried Sassoon. Judd Hirsch recites … Continue reading Numb3rs and poems
HE drowsed and was aware of silence heaped Round him, unshaken as the steadfast walls; Aqueous like floating rays of amber light, Soaring and quivering in the wings of sleep. Silence and safety; and his mortal shore Lipped by the inward, moonless waves of death. Someone was holding water to his mouth. He swallowed, unresisting; … Continue reading The Death-Bed
white pebble 