I met a traveller from an antique land,
Who said — Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. … Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed;
And on the pedestal, these words appear:
FORTUNE FAVORS THE BR—
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.

  • @swlabr
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    48 months ago

    *The lone and level microplastic granules stretch far away

    • @swlabr
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      58 months ago

      And yup, most folks read that poem as a caution against big egos and the impermanence of power. We read it differently. To us, the poem says think big, but be humble, lest you end ‘two vast and trunkless legs…in the desert.’

      Omfg. Yes, be humble, but not humble enough to accept the orthodox interpretation of the poem.

      In Australia, we have the “festival of dangerous ideas”, which should be renamed to the “money pit for mediocre to bad ideas”; the most recent (2022) lineup included our guy Peven Stinker.

      I wish there were a festival for people who hate ideas festivals.