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Kinsey was trying to study sex scientifically, get rid of the overlay of culture and religion.

quote by Bill Condon
Added by Lucian Velea
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You may have heard the world is made up of atoms and molecules, but it's really made up of stories. When you sit with an individual that's been here, you can give quantitative data a qualitative overlay.

quote by William Turner
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Truth?

What is truth he asked himself
Is it just an honest answer?
And so much would seem to depend
On sincerity
The truth will set you free
He had heard it said
So what does that mean?
To know the truth I must see clearly
He mused
Without an overlay of misconception
So what is truth he asked himself
If the truth would set me free
Then I have not found it
Or is that a lie?

poem by David Taylor
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Having Been Happy.

Having been happy in touching metallic skies
Or fingering the moon for its dusty overlay
Having been happy in moving orbs and the shores
Or spreading the sunshine to the burrowed moles.

Watching a lonely planet amid reluctant universe
Communications with eyelids in retinues of mankind
Having been happy in sweeping the volcanic dust
From a cold planet cast under the Brahma’s curse.

Having been happy in holding that repose
Which contained hidden geometry of the universe
Having been happy in consoling the suppressed cries
Of the shoring waves under the moonlit skies.

poem by Durlabh Singh
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Just a Song – Just a Word

I am just a song
That belongs to you
A sweet melody
Lingering though
Its eternal affair
Drips from the clouds
In the autumn air
Over you

I am just a line
In the harmony of time
A flowering shade
Its tinctured grade
That love has made
On summer leaves
In moments eves

You and I
Could long for long
Be a song in our song

[...] Read more

poem by Peter S. Quinn
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Ignorance

Alas, no clear account can I relate
(as one who knows too well, that sorry state):
for after all, to know one’s ignorance
would be a wisdom cosmic in its stance;

and so, wise men have brought their focussed minds
to plumb its nature, to aid human kind:
does it describe that ‘nescience’ which stays
as innocent as babe, of error’s ways?

Or do we sense instinctively, all truth,
but overlay it with acquired untruth?
And if so, is the fault, (dear Brutus) , ours?
or is it universal as the stars?

‘Innocence’ as plea, Hindus refuse:
we’re Brahman, that knows all – so, no excuse!

poem by Michael Shepherd
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Rubaiyat of Sunset

Flamingo pink from cerulean skies
steals scene as softness on horizon lies,
as orange, ochre, overlay tints spray
rich scarlet add both to renew, surprise.

Adieu to hustle bustle, busy day,
farewell to competition's fruitless fray,
world waits in wonder, peace, with silver moon
suspended canvas caravanserai.

Selene scoffs at brazen show and soon
from zenith fallen hazy afternoon
links in and through reposing atmosphere
preparing for night's starry fingered rune.

As fitful flares begin to disappear,
birdsong falls silent, stealthy shadows near,
what may tomorrow bring, what changes ring
dreams may disclose beyond deep sleep's frontier.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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When I Retire

I plan to move to Mexico, to make
A little home among the natives,
Not far from the beach. I plan
To use the little money Uncle Sam
Will send to me to buy my rice
And beans and chicken, gesturing
To stolid venders in the public
Market, as my Spanish isn't very
Good. I'm sick of English, and of
This: a nation bellowing its
Greatness as it, as I, age and fade,
A hulking pauper, terrified of
Shadows, growing fond of showing
Cruelty to those, within, without,
It calls its enemies. I plan to doze
By crashing waves, to cleanse myself
Of this affliction: being an American,
And I don't see a senorita, or a worn
Senora, seeing any point in seeing me.
I'll plod each day from home to beach,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence Beck
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Cooper's Hill (excerpts)

...
My eye, descending from the hill, surveys
Where Thames amongst the wanton valleys strays;
Thames, the most lov'd of all the Ocean's sons
By his old sire, to his embraces runs,
Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea,
Like mortal life to meet eternity.
Though with those streams he no resemblance hold
Whose foam is amber, and their gravel gold,
His genuine and less guilty wealth t' explore,
Search not his bottom, but survey his shore,
O'er which he kindly spreads his spacious wing,
And hatches plenty for th' ensuing spring;
Nor then destroys it with too fond a stay,
Like mothers which their infants overlay;
Nor, with a sudden and impetuous wave,
Like profuse kings, resumes the wealth he gave.
No unexpected inundations spoil
The mower's hopes, nor mock the ploughman's toil,
But godlike his unwearied bounty flows,

[...] Read more

poem by Sir John Denham
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Two Travellers in the Place Vendome

Reign of Louis Philippe

A great tall column spearing at the sky
With a little man on top. Goodness! Tell me why?
He looks a silly thing enough to stand up there so high.

What a strange fellow, like a soldier in a play,
Tight-fitting coat with the tails cut away,
High-crowned hat which the brims overlay.

Two-horned hat makes an outline like a bow.
Must have a sword, I can see the light glow
Between a dark line and his leg. Vertigo

I get gazing up at him, a pygmy flashed with sun.
A weathercock or scarecrow or both things in one?
As bright as a jewelled crown hung above a throne.

Say, what is the use of him if he doesn't turn?
Just put up to glitter there, like a torch to burn,

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
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