[3407] in Central_America
New quotes for Thu May 30
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (Initializer.SysDaemon)
Thu May 30 01:25:30 1991
Date: Thu, 30 May 91 01:24:57 EDT
From: root@charon.MIT.EDU (Initializer.SysDaemon)
To: ca-mtg@bloom-beacon.mit.edu
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acook (Andrew R Cook):
{From system: This user's .plan file is not world readable}
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amgreene (Andrew Marc Greene):
The scripts were rejected; expect the unexepected.
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cecily (Leanne C Clarke):
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock
---T.S. Eliot
Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherised upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question . . .
Oh, do not ask, 'What is it?'
Let us go and make our visit.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-
panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-
panes
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.
And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet that faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.
And indeed there will be time
To wonder, 'Do I dare?' and, 'Do I dare?'
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair---
[They will say: 'How his hair is growing thin!']
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin---
[They will say: 'But how his arms and legs are thin!']
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
For I have known them all already, known them all---
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?
And I have known the eyes already, known them all---
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?
And I have known them all already, known them all---
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
[But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!]
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?
. . . . .
Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows?...
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floor of silent seas.
. . . . .
And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head [grown slightly bald]
brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet---and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and
snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say: 'I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all'---
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: 'That is not what I meant at all.
That is not it, at all.'
And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled
streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that
trail along the floor---
And this, and so much more?---
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns
on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
'That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all.'
. . . . .
No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous---
Almost, at times, the Fool.
I grow old . . . I grow old . . .
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the
beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing back the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
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colin (Colin A Wolden):
Bruce Scruggs is my hero!!!
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dhbernst (David H Bernstein):
Last login:
Wed May 29 20:28:28 EDT 1991
Teaching: 1.973 -- Geographic Information Systems for Transportation
Planners and Engineers
M,W 4:30 - 6:00 Room 1-242
Research: Congestion Reduction Policies
Transportation and Land-Use Interactions
Visualization and Data Management in Transportation
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eichin (Mark W. Eichin):
There's a place in my heart for you...
you do what you want to do...
There's a place in my heart for you...
This time, I'm watching you...
Yes, "Union"
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higgy (James Higginbotham):
Summer schedule:
I'll be away from 20-28 June, and then again from 5 July until
12 August, in Brazil. e-mail will be forwarded to Brazil, and I expect
to be able to reply from there also. Regular mail can also be sent to
me at:
James HIGGINBOTHAM
Instituto de Estudos da Linguagem
Centro de Logica, Epistemologia e Historia da Cienca
University of Campinas (UNICAMP)
CLE/Unicamp C.P. 6133
13081 Campinas SP
BRAZIL
--Jim
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jcb (Jeff Bigler):
Take interest, I implore you, in those sacred dwellings one designates
by the expressive term "laboratories". Demand that they be multiplied,
that they be adorned. These are the temples of the future--temples of
well-being and happiness. There it is that humanity grows greater,
stronger, better.
-- Louis Pasteur
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jdmarko (Jim Davenport):
Mail last read on May 29 11:49.
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jtkohl (John T Kohl):
Four down, one to go (cities, that is).
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lnp (Lisa N Paradis):
In the future:
6/3 I'm OUTTA HERE!!! MIT gives me my walking papers
6/4 The movers will come to move me to Virginia
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Words-n-stuff for the day:
If anyone out there is looking for something to do, I have to
get some spackling and painting done in my room...
(my room missed renovations last year because it was "fridge room"...
that was done because I didn't want to rip all the shelves, etc out of
my room for the summer. Now I have to do the work.... sigh...)
I have HOW MUCH to do before I leave here??!!??
(at least none of it is schoolwork)
Talking Pinhead Blues:
Oh, I LOST my ``HELLO KITTY'' DOLL and I get BAD reception on
channel TWENTY-SIX!!
Th'HOSTESS FACTORY is closin' down and I just heard ZASU PITTS
has been DEAD for YEARS.. (sniff)
My PLATFORM SHOE collection was CHEWED up by th'dog, ALEXANDER
HAIG won't let me take a SHOWER 'til Easter.. (snurf)
So I went to the kitchen, but WALNUT PANELING whup me
upside mah HAID!! (on no, no, no.. Heh, heh)
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stfricke (Stanley T Fricke):
{From system: This user's .plan file is not world readable}
--- End of Central America ---
