Pink Sauce

No one dead who loved you  Would wish your future years dismembered  Against the rocks of their departure.  They would not sentence you to the guilt of betrayal  For any moment they weren’t uppermost in your mind  Nor would they wish you whittled down like a stick  To pick the stony teeth in the open mouth of abject misery,  Daily, until you are nothing left.  No one dead who loved you  Would want your still-breathing carcass  To be lost in the wilderness  That spans the two worlds of the living and the dead,  Where you are neither dead nor living.  They would not applaud your misery,  But would weep to watch their loss  Made pointless by the waste of you.  The dead become a part of us; our skin, our bones, our thinking;  Their existence is continuous in us  And the best we do in everything  As we move on from the moment of their passing.  Step back from the graveside where nothing flower...

Knowing that despite the staggering seven million copies printed, not everyone would have been able to see it, French blogger Antoine Léaument has kindly shared the editorial published by Charlie Hebdo in its issue following the terror attacks last week. With a similar aim of getting as many people as possible to read the piece, I have produced a rough and ready English translation of said editorial that you can read below. I attended two of the gatherings that took place in London (on 07th and 11th January) to show solidarity with the victims. My pictures of the events are here and here . You can make a donation to Charlie Hebdo here . Will there still be "yes, buts"? Charlie Hebdo Editorial, No. 1178 of January 14, 2015 For the past week, Charlie, an atheist newspaper, has performed more miracles than all the saints and prophets combined. What we are most proud of is that you have in your hands the paper we have always made in the company of those who have a...

I don't know much about poetry but there are a few poems I like. this is one of them Jabberwocky 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe. "Beware the Jabberwock, my son! The jaws that bite, the claws that catch! Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun The frumious Bandersnatch!" He took his vorpal sword in hand: Long time the manxome foe he sought-- So rested he by the Tumtum tree, And stood awhile in thought. And as in uffish thought he stood, The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame, Came whiffling through the tulgey wood, And burbled as it came! One, two! One, two! and through and through The vorpal blade went snicker-snack! He left it dead, and with its head He went galumphing back. "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Come to my arms, my beamish boy! O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!" He chortled in his joy. 'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; A...

I don't know much about poetry but there are a few poems I like. this is one of them Demain, dès l'aube, à l'heure où blanchit la campagne, Je partirai. Vois-tu, je sais que tu m'attends. J'irai par la forêt, j'irai par la montagne. Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps. Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées, Sans rien voir au dehors, sans entendre aucun bruit, Seul, inconnu, le dos courbé, les mains croisées, Triste, et le jour pour moi sera comme la nuit. Je ne regarderai ni l'or du soir qui tombe, Ni les voiles au loin descendant vers Harfleur, Et quand j'arriverai, je mettrai sur ta tombe Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur. by Victor Hugo, Les Contemplations , 1856

This is a poem I studied at school when I was in my mid to late teens. I love the music of it. Gather ye rosebuds while ye may, Old Time is still a-flying: And this same flower that smiles to-day To-morrow will be dying. The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun, The higher he's a-getting, The sooner will his race be run, And nearer he's to setting. That age is best which is the first, When youth and blood are warmer; But being spent, the worse, and worst Times still succeed the former. Then be not coy, but use your time, And while ye may, go marry: For having lost but once your prime, You may for ever tarry. by Robert Herrick, Hesperides , 1648

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good. -W.H. Auden (1907-1973)

"Everyone of average education considers it inadmissible, ill bred, and inhumane to infringe the peace, comfort, and yet more the health of others for his own pleasure. But out of a thousand smokers not one will shrink from producing unwholesome smoke in a room where the air is breathed by non-smoking women and children." Leo Tolstoy, "Why do Men Stupefy Themselves?", 1890 as an introduction to a book by his medical brother in law, Dr S P Alexeyev, Drunkenness

"At night, when the pendulum of love swings between always and never [...]" ("Nachts, wenn das Pendal der Liebe schwingt / zwischen Immer und Nie") Paul Celan , Gesammelte Werke 1:57

"It’s not the way I was raised and it’s not the way that I am,” the governor said in a telephone interview. “But at the same time I have a responsibility to uphold the Constitution. That’s my job, and you can’t allow discrimination to stand when it’s raised to your level." John Baldacci, Governor of the State of Maine, on his decision not to veto the bill allowing same-sex marriage passed by the State Legislature. From this article in the New York Times

"standing absolutely motionless at a slight angle to the universe" E M Forster (describing C P Cavafy). "The poetry of C P Cavafy". Pharos and Pharillion . Hogarth Press. 1923

I heard this last night on radio 4, read by Andrew Marr. It amused me. It was like keeping a puppy in your underpants A secret puppy you weren’t allowed to show to anyone Not even your best friend or your worst enemy You wanted to pat him, stroke him, cuddle him All the time you weren’t supposed to touch him. He only slept for five minutes at a time Then he’d suddenly perk up his head In the middle of school medical inspection And always on bus rides. So you had to climb down from the upper deck All bent double to smuggle the puppy off the bus Without the buxon conductress spotting Your wicked and ticketless stowaway. Jumping up, wet-nosed, eagerly wagging- He only stopped being a nuisance When you were alone together Pretending to be doing your homework But really gazing at each other Through hot and laxy daydreams. Of those beautiful schoolgirls on the bus With kittens bouncing in their sweaters. By Adrian Mitchell

[...] a lover exists only in fragments, a dozen or so if the romance is new, a thousand if we've married him, and out of those fragments our heart constructs an entire person. What we each create, since whatever is missing is filled in by our imagination, is the person we wish him to be. The less we know him, of course, the more we love him. And that's why we always remember that first rapturous night when he was a stranger, and why this rapture returns only when he is dead. Andrew Sean Greer , The Story of a Marriage , Faber, p64

"History says, Don't hope on this side of the grave. But then, once in a lifetime the longed for tidal wave of justice can rise up, and hope and history rhyme." Seamus Heaney, " Doubletake ", The Cure at Troy

"If we go back to the beginning we shall find that ignorance and fear created the gods; that fancy, enthusiasm, or deceit adorned or disfigured them; that weakness worships them; that credulity preserves them, and that custom, respect and tyranny support them." Baron D’Holbach , Système de la nature , 1770

"We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another." Jonathan Swift

”The greatest tragedy in mankind’s entire history may be the hijacking of morality by religion.” Arthur C. Clarke

"Moral Indignation permits envy or hate to be acted out under the guise of virtue." A quote I have just found here . I have been reading "Geisha"'s blog for a couple of months now and although our experiences are probably as different from each other as they can possibly be, I love her stuff...