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Reflection.

Time was, a sober Englishman would knock
His servants up, and rise by five o’clock,
Instruct his family in every rule,
And send his wife to church, his son to school.
To worship like his fathers, was his care;
To teach their frugal virtues to his heir;
To prove, that luxury could never hold;
And place, on good security, his gold.
Now times are changed, and one poetic itch
Has seized the court and city, poor and rich:

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/2428/2428-h/2428-h.htm

When I sat down at my computer today to recap I looked at Facebook and realised that discussions disappear very quickly they recede into mists of ones ´´Wall´´and I wondered if it was a sort of metaphor for a lack of Reflection, an obstacle to re capping assessing ones bearings and taking time to Smell The Roses, or perhaps the Sewer.

I looked at a page of quotes on reflection and was struck by this one from Alexander Pope
´´Remembrance and reflection how allied. What thin partitions divides sense from thought´´.

Consequently I will be studying Popes Essay on Man Today.
In the introduction to the linked edition it says this which also struck me as very wise cousel.

”The reader of Pope, as of every author, is advised to begin by letting him say what he has to say, in his own manner to an open mind that seeks only to receive the impressions which the writer wishes to convey. First let the mind and spirit of the writer come into free, full contact with the mind and spirit of the reader, whose attitude at the first reading should be simply receptive. Such reading is the condition precedent to all true judgment of a writer’s work. All criticism that is not so grounded spreads as fog over a poet’s page. Read, reader, for yourself, without once pausing to remember what you have been told to think´´.
Henry Morley.

Another striking quote from my reading, I started at about 6 am it is now 9.07am was this.

´´Authors, like coins, grow dear as they grow old; it is the rust we value, not the gold”

Which lead me to this lovely poem by Mary Le Mer, its called the White Widow.
If Pope doesn’t float your boat this may well get your day off to a reflective start.
http://deepinherwaves.blogspot.se/2012/01/authors-like-coins-grow-dear-as-they.html

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