I'm glad it's Friday - it's been a busy week. It was the penultimate week of classes, so there were loose ends to tie-up. My three thesis students defended (and passed). I had planning meetings regarding the next year or two of my teaching and scholarship, and also talked about Hume to the oldest continuous bookclub in the Valley.
Not bad, but I didn't blog! I have a weekend of grading, but can expect to make some posts.
As GrrlScientists notes, it is National Poetry Month, so I might as well share one of my favorite poems.
An Irish Airman Forsees His Death
W.B. Yeats, 1919.I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate,
Those that I guard I do not love;
My county is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan's poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public men, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.
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A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
It's all about flying, who cares if there's a war going on and you have to shoot down a few people or you get shot down. You get a free plane and gas and you get to go flying.