“There is but one solution to the intricate riddle of life; to improve ourselves, and contribute to the happiness of others.” Half a century before Walt Whitman considered what makes life worth living when a paralytic stroke boughed him to the ground of being, Mary Shelley (August 30, 1797–February 1, 1851) placed that question at the beating heart of The... Continue Reading →
Crossing Brooklyn Ferry…
Flood-tide below me! I see you face to face!Clouds of the west — sun there half an hour high — I see you also face to face. Crowds of men and women attired in the usual costumes, how curious you are to me!On the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross, returning home, are more... Continue Reading →