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 Why is my verse so barren of new pride,

So far from variation or quick change?

Why with the time do I not glance aside

To new-found methods, and to compounds strange?

Why write I still all one, ever the same,

And keep invention in a noted weed,

That every word doth almost tell my name,

Showing their birth, and where they did proceed?

O! know sweet love I always write of you,

And you and love are still my argument;

So all my best is dressing old words new,

Spending again what is already spent:

   For as the sun is daily new and old,

   So is my love still telling what is told.

                       - Shakespeare   





       My lifelong interests are
represented here -
literature, philosophy,
meditation and Buddhism,
wilderness camping and
hiking above timberline,
German writers like
Rilke,Mann, Wittgenstein,
photography and storytelling.

 



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Please email,
    vitovictorx@gmail.com

      Come back soon!
 
Family
 

            The road goes ever
         on and on
            Down from the door
         where it began.
            Now far ahead
         the road has gone
            And I must follow if I can
            Pursuing it with eager feet
            Until it joins
         some larger way
            Where many paths
         and errands meet.
            And whither then?
         I cannot say.

                                -  J.R.R. Tolkien

 
Half-Dome