Rembrandt: too much too soon.

It is always a pleasure to visit the Victorian National Art Museum. We stayed there for three hours with the intent of only viewing the 16th century Flemish masters. What is the cliche, all good intentions are paved to Hell? We continued from the 16th century to the 20th century and by that time, my body and mind was about to fall into a heap due to exhaustion.

'I can't see anymore or I'll shut down!"

'My goodness, C, you look so pale, come on, let's go outside.'

Sitting outside with a much needed cup of coffee, next to the man-made water feature, the city air, water and crowd of visiting tourists, after a few minutes, all felt to be back to normal.

'We were in there too long, too much in too short of time.' I said.

'I think I understand what you're saying...' she replied.

'S, we should have remained in the 16th century, but we got greedy and wanted more, and there is a price for greed!"

'I knew I should have stopped with Rembrandt, all his wonderful sketches and those haunting self portraits. Really, when we come back again, we'll stay with the Flemish 16th century and Rembrandt."

She nodded her head, taking a sip of coffee, 'You're right, we didn't rush, but tried to take it all in moving at a pace impossible to do so."

My point is that one does not experience the same 'feelings' when moving through a print shop or surfing on the net, looking at representations of works of Art.

There's an energy that flows from the work that requires a response.

Rembrandt was a prolific collector of all 'things' unusual, from strange rocks to silly drawings from far away places. He would sketch these curiosities and incorporate them into his major projects. The NGV has a collection of these sketches and they're incredible.

When my friend literally carried me out of the gallery from too much engagement, I noticed a group of Asian tourists gathered around a small Picasso - a truly ugly painting - the flashes from their cameras blinking at the speed of light. Is it the beauty of the painting they were so enthusiastic about or the fact that it was an original Picasso? I truly believe it is the artist not the work that inspired so many photographs.

Depicted above is one of my favourite paintings by Rembrandt, "The Head of Christ."

The expression in the eyes tells it all...

As written before in this BLOG, art is about technique, and its undefinable energy that cannot be experienced, except by the original viewer. Art is a visceral experience and one's response to the work.

When at that precise moment in time, one can actually feel the artists' intent and Beauty...that, to my mind, is truly the purpose of Art.

The Green Manifestation in the Sky.

It was in the summer of 1967, walking towards home after visiting a friend, where, looking up in the sky, a deep green object hovered above without the slightest movement, as if stagnate, placed, a "thing" not of this world. The sighting did not frighten me at all, but brought on feelings of exuberance, a strong energy of absolute vigour.

As a young boy at the time, through my innocence, anything was possible.

It continued to remain motionless, this deep, green blob in the sky.

To ensure I was not hallucinating, I looked around the street for someone to corroborate this vision, proof that I wasn't merely "seeing things".

It was that time of the day when the sun is about to disappear, a warm summer dusk.

Looking around, not one person could be seen, all inside at this beautiful time when day turns to night. It's a lovely evening, I thought, where is everybody?

My stare turned upward again, and the green blob continued to remain stagnate for all the world to see.

I began to run as fast as possible towards home. Out of breath, bending over and placing my hands on my knees, finally home, I looked up at the sky and the green blob had left as if it was never there in the first place.

Told mother and sister about the sighting and they nodded their heads as if to say, "You've been seeing things all your life, what's so different now?"

It is now thirty years later, in my Year 10 English class on a hot afternoon without air -conditioning.

On these occassions, students simply do not want to work: friday, last period, hot as heck and re-learning "conjunctions" is out of the question.

"Tell us one of your stories, Mr. M?"

I've been telling this particular English class stories the entire term because it stimulates discussion - true life stories and some concerning the supernatural.

"As I recall, this story was during my time living in Brighton in a haunted house..."

"Has anyone else experienced something out of the ordinary?"

The class was silent, unusual for that time of day. Then, one of my shy students, Rachael, raised her hand.

"Believe it or not, and I don't care if you believe me, but I saw something in the sky that shouldn't have been there...I was around 11 years of age, and in the sky was this dark green "thing", that didn't move; it looked like a big, green blob. I looked around to see if anyone was around to see it too, but no-one...then it disappeared. But I swear I saw it and I'll never forget it!"

A chill went down my spine as I sat on the desk in front of the class. All their eyes turned to me as my expression must have been a little strange.

Then Andrew piped-up, "Have you seen the same thing, Mr. M?"

Reluctantly, I admitted to have had seen something very similar at age eleven, and have never heard about it for thirty years, until Rachael told her story.

The class was very silent, then burst into animation as it was only a few seconds before the bell to ring, to begin their weekend.

The bell rang and I duly dismissed the class. Rachael stayed behind and asked,

"Did you really see that "thing"?

I merely nodded.

She left the classroom with the biggest smile on her face - at last, some kind of corroboration.

'At least I'm not the only crazy person in the world.'

This green manifestation in the sky has never appeared again.

Tatiana Kalyn "A Girl with a Guitar"

Born in 1969, the young Russian woman, Tatiana Kayn joined The Repin Art Academy in St. Petersburg in 1989 at the age of twenty, to then graduate in 2002; her reputation as a gifted artist was well established before this time.

The Repin Art Academy have produced some extraordinary talent, Kayn is certainly one of them.

The painting depicted above, "The Girl with a Guitar", is a fine example of Tatiana's talent, exemplifying the Academy's school of thought, that is to say, a style of Modern Expressionism with an uncanny style of Realism; in fact the Academy calls itself a school of Realism.

One reason for this, I believe, is that Russian artists were directed to paint only in one style, Neo-Classicism, under the Communist regime, beginning with the ruthless dictator, Joseph Stalin. Any diversion from Classicism would lead the artist to a work camp in Siberia. As a result of this oppression, Russian artists missed out on the ever -moving, ever- changing art world, thus when the Wall finally went down, something new in Art has emerged.


In 1989, Tatiana joined the Academy revealing her deep understanding of colour/contrast and "somehow" imbuing into her work, emotive inspiration, giving the viewer a strong sense of Realism.

In "A Girl with a Guitar", the mix of bright colours of the woman's costume and the fine shape of her hands reveals an artist with classical sesibilities.

For me, the woman's expression is one of sadness, because, perhaps, the song she is playing moves her to this emotion: a shade of deep forlorness.

There is something quite fantastic about this painting that I can't quite put my finger on.

It would be a shame if this piece was now part of a private collection, (as a lot of her painting's are.) because the work demands to be seen in the flesh.

In my humble opinion, this painting will become a classic for future generations.

A beautiful piece.

Anatomy Drawing's of da Vinci

Sometime while at university, we studied the Renaissance.

This was certainly a time of "re-birth" and creativity that astounds all who witness the art, writing, sculpture, philosophy, etc, of the period.

Unfortunately, I cannot remember her name, but the lecturer was a beautiful French woman, her English perfect with that almost mesmerizing accent. She was a natural blond, small and had the most striking blue eyes, however, she was a "Militant Feminist".

What does "Militant Feminist" actually mean and if meeting one, what can one expect?

Perhaps things have changed, but in those day's, a militant feminist hated men in general. On a date, for example, paying for dinner was out of the question, and most times, we'd go Dutch. (50/50.) Opening a door for one of these women, almost created a confrotation, too many times to count, out of sheer habit, I would do so and the response: most often, vehement, to say the least.

My Renaissance lecturer fit the bill to the endth degree.

Once we got to the topic of da Vinci's notebooks and his drawings of anatomy, her face would turn sour and she would become so flustered that I thought she'd have a nervous breakdown in the lecture hall!

If you have the chance or opportunity to see these drawings, you'll find them uncannily accurate and beautiful at the same time.

The drawing above is of a fetus, perhaps in its second or third trimester.

Well, in no uncertain terms, 'Frenchy' went utterly ballistic.

I believed, anyway, that it was Leonardo's practice (though illegal) to hire men to dig up new graves to then perform 'autopsy's" to attain a better understanding of the human body. He'd dissect the body himself and draw in his notebooks what he observed.

Frenchy believed that this particular drawing was performed while the mother was "alive" though unconscious for it to be so accurate. To then be discarded by Leonardo's apprentices secretly and in the dark of night.

Really?

I raised my hand in the huge lecture hall, "How can you know this? It is not written anywhere so it must be your opinion."

Frenchy's face turned red and it was then I knew, most certainly, I was in for one of those 'teacher- make -the -student -look stupid- exchanges";

"How would you know as you are a MAN, and the sound of your accent, makes you twice as stupid!"

(I'm Canadian by the way.)

I remember mumbling something about 'proof', but she ignored me for the rest of the lecture.

Viewing the drawing again, it is uncannily accurate, but da Vinci was not a murderer, even for his Art. However it is a little morbid that he had his apprentices dig up bodies for him to study...the man was simply ahead of his time. Nothing more. So to accuse da Vinci of such an attrocity, reveals the mind of a zeolet, an extremist....for she had no proof.

To my knowledge and still practiced in most medical schools, that it is required of a med student to dissect a human body and draw what they see, so as to remember...

Leonardo da Vinci was an extreme genius, but extremists' in ideology are simply dangerous.

"Missing" 288 Belford Drive, Denver Colorado, circa 1970.

My old neighbourhood during the change of the season from autumn to winter.

So many years ago, recalling riding my bike through the fog, closing my eyes, to then stop abruptly, because it was too quiet, too still.

As ten year old boys' do, alone in the dark and fog, paticularly when there is no one around can be very scary.

On the curb next to my bike I sat quietly, listening to the sounds of, well,

nothing, total silence

The fog turned to a thick soup, there on the curb, seeing two feet in front of you was an impossible task.

The thunder and lightning began their diatribe.

I was lost in a cloud.

Panic set in as my orientation was lost...right or left?

It began to rain, then rain harder as the raindrops hurt my face, so rather than sit there like a scared rabbit, I rode in a direction that I hope would led me to home.

The rain was unrelenting.

Riding a bike in the rain and the dark is interesting if not dangerous.

In the distance I saw multi-coloured lights, thus headed in that direction.

Skidded to a stop in front of the house, (though never seeing this house before) decided to knock on the door and get some directions.

The door was surrounded with lights, like it was Christmas, and easy to see through the rain and fog.

I rang the door bell and waited, wet, cold and shivering.

The door finally opened and there stood a strange old lady. Her hair pure white, swept back in a bun. She looked like a gypsy, too many earings and braclets, too much make-up and her dressing gown one would associate with Bohemians. (Of the Eastern variety.)

"You are lost!' she said.

"Come in you poor little boy and I will call your mother."

Walking into her house, detected the scent of violets and sandlewood incence...candles sat on every shelf, all lit, burning bright, though the best memory is the warmth of the room...I felt safe.

"Sit here little one." and she wrapped a blanket around me.

"What is your name phone number, so I can call your Mother to come for you?"

I gave her my name and phone number, where upon she disappeared in another room.

While she was away, an old cat sat on top of an old, overly stuffed chair, yawned, stretched and meowed at me. The old cat sauntered over and merely sat and continued to stare into my eyes.

"Go way!" I said.

The old woman then entered the room again with a surprised expression.

"I spoke with your mother...how long have you been away from home?"

Strange question, I thought.

"No more than a couple of hours."

She laughed and suddenly turned serious.

"According to your mother, you have been missing for three days and the police have been looking for you, too."

"Crap, I just got lost in the fog and then found this place!"

Then she asked, "Do you know where you are?"

"Yea, Northglenn, where I live..."

She smiled and said,

"Well little one, you are in South Denver, fifty miles from where you live."

"That can't be right, I've been riding for only a few hours..."

A few hours later my dad arrived and thanked the old woman...

He placed my bike in his trunk, and did not say a word the whole trip home;

nor did I.

At that stage the rain had stopped and the evening's last glimmer of light appeared.

Once home, strangely, mom did not yell or anything, but put me in the shower, fed me chops and duly sent me to bed.

Over all these years, nothing has been mentioned about this incident again...

Though even today, upon reflection, this experience continues to be disturbing.

Confrontation with the Unknown.

Living in Southern California during the Regan administration, although the "gas crisis" was well and truly over, we continued to cue for hours at gas stations to fill our tanks - 1983 was a strange year.

Married a 'child bride', she 19 and I the ripe old age of 25. Looking back can describe this relationship like a "Mills and Boon" novel -young- what more can be said?

In 1983, my job required me to travel to London for a month of training. We had just recently moved into a new apatment complex, clean, minimalist and exactly to our liking. We moved our secondhand furniture in and it truly felt like home.


My month in London was productive and had a great time leaving my 'child bride' back in LA., to keep the home fires burning.

Upon my return something had changed. Cathy had lost alot of weight that she could not afford to lose. The apartment smelled musty like it hadn't been dusted and there was also a terrible smell like amonia, that seemed to permeate the place.

Cathy was glad to see me but her childhood cat of 17 years had just died. Possibly the reason for the weight loss, maybe.

During the next two weeks she would hold me in bed like her life depended on my presence...needy, maybe but strange, too.

Life between us seemed now to get back to normal: Cathy had gained a little weight and the smells had disappeared.

Then it happend.

It was the spring of 1983, a warm night but comfortable.

A hard day at work, we fell asleep without any problems.

I remember distinctly the digital cloak reading 3:00 am, to find my wife and I pushing something heavy from our chests...looking at the end of the bed was this orb of fire.

Perhaps a metre in length and width, it pulsated heat and feelings almost beyond description.

It felt as if my mind was being infiltrated by an unknown force, images of my wife's dead cat being hung and tortured.

We held each other in pure fear, watching this ball of fire move vertically then horizonatally to finally, after a few miniutes, move slowly to 'its left and gently move through the wall.

Needless to say, sleep was impossible, thus we made tea and compared notes.

Interestingly, during the experience, we 'saw' the same images of her (dead) poor cat being hung and tortured.

This entity has never returned.

In 2000, I returned to California to see friends and family. Cathy had just re-married a good guy and all was right with the world. But then I mentioned the experience to Cathy in front of her new husband: she turned a shade of white and green, looked me straight in the eyes and said,

"Never mention that experience again, ok?"

I never have until now.

One of the great lines in Hamlet:

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than dreamt up in your philosophy."

Shakespeare

"Hamlet, Act 1 scene 5.

This is one of those experiences I never ever forget...

And life goes on.

Leonardo da Vinci Continues to Reveal His Secrets

The above da Vinci drawing is titled, "The Virgin and Child with St. Anne and St. John the Baptist." (16th century)

The drawing is now placed in the National Gallery of London.

This drawing has always been a point of contention between art scholars and historians.

Why?

To understand the argument, we must first place the drawing in its historical (literary) context.

St. Anne is the mother of the Virgin Mary and Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist. Elizabeth was Mary's cousin thus the connection between the Son of God and the Great prophet.

In the scene depicted, we see St. Anne and the Virgin Mary looking as if one person, seemingly one body.

Mary is on the left and St. Anne on the right with the baby, John the Baptist.

St. Anne is pointing her finger upward towards the heavens, the first of many similar images in da Vinci's work. The baby St. John is seeing something as he looks in the Lord's direction.

It is a curious gaze, as John appeares to be adoring the Son, yet is there more he's seeing?

According to the Mirror of Sacred Scriptures website: guidelines for the placement of mirrors which reveal hidden faces, symbols, and subjects in drawings and paintings during the Renaissance period, as some paintings are rife with symbolism. When placing a mirror towards the sight-line of John the Baptist, reveals an image of extraordinary power and somewhat terrifying. (See below)

Some critics and historians believe the 'man' is wearing a Papal Tiara, which Popes and Cardinals have worn in the late past and continue to wear in prersent time. Other's simply brush this phenomenon off as pure lunacy. However, the image is real and quite distinctive.

Eventually this drawing, a practice session for the genius, became "The Virgin Child with St. Anne." where the Lord reaches for a lamb, and His cousin (John the Baptist) removed from the scene.

This original image was rejected thus the Master re- painted the subject matter to suit the will of his patron.

One is astounded at the amount of symbolism in Renaissance art.

One can sit for hours viewing a print of this time period and spot little gnomes, angels etc, hidden in the bushes or on top of the buildings.

The question we must ask is why "The Virgin and Child and John the Baptist" was rejected for a little less interesting "The Virgin Child with St. Anne" ?

I would venture to say, theological politics had much to do with it.

A wonderful image rife with symbolism.

Hidden Image that the Baby John the Baptist Sees...

Review of John Pilger's "Freedom Next Time"

This text was a difficult if not an extremely painful read. Man's inhumanity to man expressed in this book truly goes beyond the pale. We have entered an Orwellian stage in our history, where world dominance is justified as paving the way for democracy, maintaining our `freedom' through combating `terror', where the true victims are the innocent, the silent oppressed, euphemised as `collateral damage'.

John Pilger has been chronicling crimes against humanity for over 35 years, his first most ground breaking story being the Indonesian invasion of East Timor, which was given the green light by President Ford and Henry Kissinger, and supplied weapons by the British. Thousands of innocents were slaughtered, including two Australian television news crews as they were attempting to report this illegal action to the world and paid the ultimate price. The oppression in East Timor continues today. In Freedom Next Time, Pilger examines five examples of crimes against humanity and the effects of economic globalization, where the elites are getting richer and the poor slowly vanishing from the radar screens, categorized as "non-persons".

In chapter 1, Stealing a Nation, Pilger describes the unlawful deportation of an entire people, the island of Diego Garcia, part of the Chagos archipelago, which constitutes the Saloman Islands and Edgemont Island, situated exactly between Africa and Asia. A secret deal between the British and American governments, the British sold Diego Garcia to the Americans to make way for a military base. Over two thousand Chagossian's were deported to Mauritius, dropped off with barely the cloths on their backs, currently living in abject poverty without compensation from the British government despite being British citizens. What is startling is the massive cover-up by the government and the silence of most journalists over three decades, allowing (them) to get away with it.

In chapter 2, The Last Taboo, chronicles the Israeli occupation of Palestine. Pilger devotes a lot of space to this subject, giving a well-rounded assessment of the `conflict', revealing terrorism on both sides of the equation. One point that should be stressed is that Israel is the leading country in denying and transgressing against numerous UN resolutions. One resolution being the right of the Palestinians to return to their homelands. Between 1948 and 2000, Israel has defied the UN and the International community 135 times, never seen before in UN history.

The effect of economic globalism in India is examined showing the widening gap between rich and poor that continues at an alarming rate.

Pilger also analysis South Africa since the end of Apartheid; having been banned from entering the country for thirty years, returns to discover that economically not much has changed, and those that committed unspeakable atrocities, have essentially gotten away with it. Again, a few are benefiting economically while the majority remain in poverty, dieing like flies from starvation and disease.

The last chapter, Liberating Afghanistan, is an appalling situation of lies, death and destruction. To say the least, Afghanistan is a convoluted mess. According to Pilger, the Afghanis' felt safer under the Taliban regime than the numerous warlords that are currently creating havoc across the country. The unreported innocent deaths from American bombing (10,000) are a terrible travesty beyond words. However, the true purpose of the "forgotten war", which has been reported by many others, including Bob Woodward of the Washington Post and author Gore Vidal, is the `oil and gas junta' as the oil lobby in Washington is now called, building a pipeline through to the oil and gas rich Caspian sea. This was the true purpose and the prize has been won. This is an example of incestuous collusion between corporations and government. Who is part of this deal? - a consortium of Enron, Amoco, British Petroleum, Chevron, Exxon and Mobil. Dick Cheney, former Chairman of Halliburton, James Baker, former secretary of State under Bush senior and Condoleezza Rice, once vice-president of Chevron Oil. Does anyone smell a rat?

This a hard book to read as man's inhumanity to man, the appalling lies and silence from the mainstream media, and the amount of innocent deaths around the globe for the betterment of the few, is hard to take. Pilger has never held back with the truth, despite numerous death threats over his career, banned from countries and standing up to those that perpetrate these crimes against humanity. As a reader of Pilger for some years now, this is his best book to date.

Highly recommended.

Note: This Review was first published on Amazon.com

June 26, 2006

Craig Middleton

"Summer Night" & Representation vs. Original Works of Art.

This painting is titled, "Summer Night" by the young Russian artist, Andrey Selenin. (1973-)

Selenin is a student of the Repin School in St. Petersburg, the Academy calling their particular style "Realism".

Certain paintings whether viewed as a print or in digital form on the net, reaches out and creates an effect for the observer.

"Summer Night" reached out from my computer screen and held me spellbound for only a matter of seconds, but the image in the minds eye contiues...

I remember having a discussion years ago with a friend concerning "hypereality", "representation" and the "original" of a particular work. The question was whether the artists true (creative) energy can impact on the viewer in a mere copy like a digital representation?

I concluded that if the painting is beautiful or outstanding in some way, a digital representation would be just as powerful as seeing the original.

Well, I've changed my mind since that discussion, and have to admit, original works has a "deeper" impact on the viewer than a copy. Why?

Art, for me, is mainly a visceral experience. To rationally explain why an original Picasso hung on a wall in a museum in Madrid named after the artist, for example, "The Guitarist" bowls me over yet a digital representation merely gets the heart pounding...there is a difference; maybe a matter of degrees of heart-felt response...who knows?

I believe "knowing" that you're seeing the "original", the brain sets the heart-up... 'this is the real thing' and the viewer responds appropriately.

The above piece by Selenin, no matter a digital representation, impacts aesthetically and viscerally, making the mind waunder to cool summer evening's... and a certain calmness as the crickets play their songs.

That center point of the lighted window amongst the natural light of dusk is absolutely wonderful.

Some of us must be content to see only copies of copies and digital representations of great art.

However, as my old friend argued years ago, the original does and has the greatest impact on the viewer.

I'd love to see "Summer Night" in the original...outstanding.

Rich and Beautiful

This wonderful painting is entitled "Little Street" by the young Russian, Anna Vinogadova, (1975-) continuing to study at the Repin Institute in St. Petersburg.

After viewng this particular school's major artists', there is a style emerging that is quite fantastic.

Anna is only a student, but has captured that splash of colour and "aliveness" so similar to the "Repin" genre - not quite Impressionism, not quite anything, however the painting throws the viewer into the moment.

What astounds me about this painting is, again, that dream-like flow of pure energy, yet the Realism is evident because the painting evokes a visceral response...as if inviting you to enter its world.

This 'Little Street' could be anywhere around the Mediterranean: South Europe, North Africa or perhaps, Rome...

"Little Street" simply and with grace, politely asks:: "Walk with me...?"

One of my favourites from this Russian School.

Anna Vinogradova.

Extraordinary... with a Life of its Own...

My last BLOG discussed the work of the Russian painter, Andrian Bersenev (1963- ) and how his certain "style" resembles the Impressionists', but has something more to offer, something "new" and exciting.

Last night I could not exactly put my finger on it, though came very close.

There is an "aliveness" in his work, a freshness of course, though as said before, the feeling one receives when gazing at his work, is as if you are in present time with the painter, seeing through his eyes at the model or Still Life in front of you.

Although "Impressionistic" in style, which I have always refered to as looking through an unfocused lens of a camera, in Bersenev's work, the "style" is similar, but the "spirit and energy" of his paintings are dramatic, whimsical...Real.

To quote a tired old cliche, "The painter's paintings take on a life of their own - the energy remains, and startles viewers' because it is a work of genius.

An artists' creation can indeed take on a life of it own.

Representation of the world is a curious enterprise, a scribes job is to record, a photographers job is to capture a scene in all its reality, and the painter, the true artist does the same, the difference from mediocre and pure genius, is the beauty and energy of the work itself.

As said before, Impressionism has always left me somewhat cold, however this Russian has ignited thoughts and feelings of what ART is really all about.

This painting is titled "Natasha": her expression is alluring.

Art can and does have a life of its own...I'm sure of it.

"Modern Impressionism?"

This spectacular painting is by the Russian artist, Andrian Bersenev (1963 -) is simply entiled "Nu".

Bersenev completed his post graduate studies and currently is a teacher at the I.E. Repin's Institute in Russia.

What style does the painting represent? - Post Impressionism, Neo Impressionism, Modern Impressionism, Realism/Impressionism or is the painting in a catagory on its own?

Certainly the use of bright and rich colour and the effect of looking through an unfocused lens, lends itself to all these catagories. However, for me, there's something "new" in this work - something magical as if we truly are viewing this beautiful model through Bersenev's eyes - it pulsates realism though paradoxically, in a dream-like fashion.

There is a feeling of "freshness" in the work though the painting "appears" to be emulating Impressionism, but a soft voice in my mind whispers its not...

When coming across this painting I was, in no uncertain terms, startled! As the cliche goes, the painting felt to reach out and grab me by the neck and pull my body and spirit into its world.

If you have the time or opportunity, search for this Russian's work, and every painting, though very different in subject matter, has that same effect...

Never a great fan of "Impressionism", however this work is astounding.

Quotes from the Wise and the Cynical

"Religion"

"Say nothing of my religion. It is known to God and myself alone. Its evidence before the world is to be sought in my life: if it has been honest and dutiful to society the religion which has regulated it cannot be a bad one."

Thomas Jefferson

"When I do good, I feel good; when I do bad, I feel bad, and that is my religion."

Abraham Lincoln

"Whatever God's dream about man may be, it seems certain it cannot come true unless man cooperates."

Stella Terrill Mann

"Reality"

"Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one."

Albert Einstein

"I've wrestled with reality for 35 years, Doctor, and I'm happy to state I finally won out over it."

Mary Chase, Jimmy Stewart in "Harvey", 1950.

"Philosophy"

"Philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language.'

Ludwig Wittgenstein

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

William Shakespeare, "Hamlet", Act 1 scene 5

"You can know the name of a bird in all the languages of the world, but when you're finished, you'll know absolutely nothing whatever about the bird... So let's look at the bird and see what it's doing -- that's what counts. I learned very early the difference between knowing the name of something and knowing something."

Richard Feynman
US educator & physicist (1918 - 1988)