“The Hunters In the Snow,” oil painting on wood by Pieter Bruegel
This work of Pieter Bruegel is a favorite of many people, but most know of his paintings only because of this one, “Hunters in the Snow,” a scene appearing on many Christmas cards. His paintings are beautiful because of his compositions make one of the opposites, based on Eli Siegel’s principle of aesthetic realism: “All beauty is a making one of opposites, and the making of one of the opposites is what we are going after inourselves.”
This song is a train song It’s a song about a train Not the Atchison and Topeka Not the Chattanooga Choo-Choo Nor the one that leaves at midnight For the state of Alabam’ This song is a train song Where the engineer is Uncle Sam
Here comes the Freedom Train! You better hurry down Just like a Paul Revere It’s comin’ into your hometown
Inside the Freedom Train You will find a precious freight Those words of liberty The documents that made us great
You can shout your anger from a steeple You can shoot the system full of holes You can always question “We the People” You can get your answer at the polls
That’s how it’s always been And how it will remain As long as all of us Keep riding on the Freedom Train
Riding’ all across this country Playing music for the people With the fellows in the band We’re singin’ of the liberty And freedom through the land
You can write the President a letter You can even tell him to his face If you think that you can do it better Get the votes and you can take his place
If you hate the laws that you’re obeying You can shout your anger to the crowd We may disagree with what you’re saying But we’ll fight to let you say it loud
That’s how it’s always been And how it must remain As long as all of us Keep riding on the Freedom Train
Who are you you who share my very existence with your expectations sometimes calling them traditions placing more value on the worth of your expectations. unwilling to understand neither the what nor the why of my very being.
Who am I I who share your very existence with my expectations sometimes calling them logical placing more value on the worth of my expectations unwilling to understand neither the what nor the why of your very being.
Who are we we who share their very existence with our expectations sometimes calling them unconditional placing more value on the worth of our expectations unwilling to understand neither the what nor the why of their very being.
Who are they they who share our very existence with their expectations sometimes calling them laws placing more value on the worth of their expectations unwilling to understand neither the what nor the why of our very being.
Who are we we who share a universal existence with our expectations sometimes calling them just placing more value on the worth of all expectations unwilling to understand neither the what nor the why of a universal being.
“Have you ever been on a shrimp boat?” – Bubba “No, but I’ve been on a real big boat.” – Forrest Gump
“Anyway, like I was sayin’, shrimp is the fruit of the sea. You can barbecue it, boil it, broil it, bake it, saute it. There’s shrimp-kabobs, shrimp creole, shrimp gumbo. Pan fried, deep fried, stir-fried. There’s pineapple shrimp, lemon shrimp, coconut shrimp, pepper shrimp, shrimp soup, shrimp stew, shrimp salad, shrimp and potatoes, shrimp burger, shrimp sandwich. That, that’s about it.”
Truth never dies. The ages come and go. The mountains wear away, the stars retire. Destruction lays earth’s mighty cities low; And empires, states and dynasties expire; But caught and handed onward by the wise, Truth never dies.
Though unreceived and scoffed at through the years, Though made the butt of ridicule and jest, Though held aloft for mockery and jeers, Denied by those of transient power possessed, Insulted by the insolence of lies, Truth never dies.
It answers not. It does not take offense, But with a mighty silence bides its time. As some great cliff that braves the elements And lifts through all the storms its head sublime, It ever stands, uplifted by the wise, And never dies.
As rests the Sphinx amid Egyptian sands; As looms on high the snowy peak and crest; As firm and patient as Gibraltar stands, So truth, unwearied, waits the era blest When men shall turn to it with great surprise. Truth never dies.
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