“Do not go gentle into that good night”
—Dylan Thomas
Not gentle, I went mad, as that good night
Enveloped me. What did you hope I’d gain,
My son, by perishing in rage? Less pain?
Bravado in the dying of the light?
You must have known I could not win that fight.
I cursed the darkness; then I cursed again:
A waste of precious breath! I swore in vain!
How senselessly I stormed into that night!
You stirred in me hot wrath against the fate
You thought you saw from your sad height. But No!
How wrong you were! I hurled wild words in brute
And senseless fury—till I learned, too late,
My foolish son, just what it means to go:
How strange to wake immersed in light—and mute!
Give the National Endowment for the Arts Back to the Public
For decades, Americans have become increasingly alienated from the American arts establishment. The main source for their…
Pro-Lifers and the Trump Administration: Wins, Concerns, and the MAHA Opportunity
Anyone with eyes to see and ears to hear knows that the pro-life movements have received some…
Manners, Methods, and Greatness
Browsing Footprints in Time, the memoirs of Winston Churchill’s longtime private secretary, John Colville, I found a…