Final version, from previous post.
Yon rising moon that looks for us again–
How oft hereafter will she wax and wane;
How oft hereafter rising look for us
Through this same Garden–and for one in vain!
And when like her, oh, Saki, you shall pass
Among the guests star-scatter’d on the Grass,
And in your joyous errand reach the spot
Where I made One–turn down an empty Glass!
The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam, trans. Edward FitzGerald.
For David Lewis James, 1941-2012.
“Museums and libraries are heterotopias in which time never ceases to pile up and perch on its own summit… the idea of accumulating everything, the idea of constituting a sort of general archive, the desire to contain all times, all ages, all forms, all tastes in one place, the idea of constituting a place of all times that is itself outside time and protected from its erosion, the project of thus organizing a kind of perpetual and indefinite accumulation of time in a place that will not move – well. in fact, all this belongs to our modernity…”
Michel Foucault 1998
“There was always a minority afraid of something, and a great majority afraid of the dark, afraid of the future, afraid of the past, afraid of the present, afraid of the future, afraid of themselves and shadows of themselves.”
Ray Bradbury, “Fahrenheit 451″.