Sublime

John Donne poem: “No man is an island, entire of itself...any man’s death diminishes me because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls. It tolls for thee.”

We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time.

Aiya Eärendil Elenion Ancalima! he cried, and knew not what he had spoken; for it seemed that another voice spoke through his, clear, untroubled by the foul air of the pit.

Éomer rode there, the white horsetail on his helm floating in his speed, and the front of the first éored roared like a breaker foaming to the shore, but Théoden could not be overtaken. Fey he seemed, or the battle-fury of his fathers ran like new fire in his veins, and he was borne up on Snowmane like a god of old, even as Oromë the Great in the b

As in all sweetest music, a tinge of sadness was in every note.

trapped in ponderous thoughts in his head.

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.4

there's many a one just comes down this lane to knock me up.

So Bill was going as the beast of burden, yet he was the only member of the Company that did not seem depressed.