If the rain spoils our picnic, but saves a farmer's crop, who are we to say it shouldn't rain?
Our dead brothers still live for us and bid us think of life, not death--of life to which in their youth they lent the passion and glory of Spring. As I listen, the great chorus of life and joy begins again, and amid the awful orchestra of seen and unseen powers and destinies of good and evil, our trumpets, sound once more a note of daring, hope, and will.
O it's I that am the captain of a tidy little ship,Of a ship that goes a sailing on the pond;And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and all about;But when I'm a little older, I shall find the secret outHow to send my vessel sailing on beyond.For I mean to grow a little as the dolly at the helm,And the dolly I intend to come alive;And with him beside to help me, it's a-sailing I shall go,It's a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes blowAnd the vessel goes a dive-dive-dive.O it's then you'll see me sailing through the rushes and the reeds,And you'll hear the water singing at the prow;For beside the dolly sailor, I'm to voyage and explore,To land upon the island where no dolly was before,And to fire the penny cannon in the bow.
The girl with dark hair was coming towards them across the field. With what seemed a single movement she tore off her clothes and flung them disdainfully aside. Her body was white and smooth, but it aroused no desire in him, indeed he barely looked at it. What overwhelmed him in that instant was admiration for the gesture with which she had thrown her clothes aside. With its grace and carelessness it seemed to annihilate a whole culture, a whole system of thought, as though Big Brother and the Party and the Thought Police could all be swept into nothingness by a single splendid movement of the arm.