Friday, March 03, 2006
Dreaming of Eurabia
I had a dream that Muslims were blowing up Glouchester Cathedral, and I was on top of Glastonbury Tor listening to a girl recite poetry as everything came to an end.
I DIED for beauty, but was scarce
Adjusted in the tomb,
When one who died for truth was lain
In an adjoining room.
He questioned softly why I failed?
"For beauty," I replied.
"And I for truth,—the two are one;
We brethren are," he said.
And so, as kinsmen met a night,
We talked between the rooms,
Until the moss had reached our lips,
And covered up our names.
Emily Dickinson (1830–86).