Now shall I walk
or shall I ride?
“Ride,” Pleasure said:
“Walk,” Joy replied.
~ W.H. Davies

Having seen two incredible days, and one more to come up now, I believe it reasonable if I post a few quotes I found pleasant that go with that best past-time in such wonderful weather, walking. Davies is already up there, and his ‘Leisure’ cannot be forgotten either (“When woods we pass…”).

“If you are seeking creative ideas, go out walking. Angels whisper to a man when he goes for a walk.” — Raymond Inmon

I discovered yesterday that one of my modules is pretty shot up, given I’ll be unable to do 40% of it. Doesn’t matter very much though, at least until they won’t care when they look at results next winter. Yet, they somehow manage being awfully silly so I wouldn’t put anything past them.

“My father considered a walk among the mountains as the equivalent of churchgoing.” — Aldous Huxley

“Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.” — Wallace Stevens

“No city should be too large for a man to walk out of in a morning. — Cyril Connolly

I really like these quotes. All of them. Those included that I did not post. I might post them some other day.  You never know what might happen (:P / :D).

Now, a walk!

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature’s peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves.” — John Muir

Royal Roads and Insanity

‘There is no royal road to pomegrenades.’

I find that this paraphrasing of Euclidius is a fitting way to begin this entry. Simply because there isn’t. I theorize that it is impossible to eat more than 24 pomegranates in a day, and likely not more than 18 given you’d want to sleep as well.

That gives a hint of what I’ve been doing — just ate one.

And an onlooker might say I’ve been going insane, bit by bit. Starting from ironing at 4 AM (before sleep), continuing with being extremely happy over the fact that I’m living with a Romanian (amongst others) next year, and placing the Broad in the middle of the Grampians when I walked down to Suffolk.

It is amazing though. Everything is.

I thought of rewatching a masterpiece. Haven’t completely decided on it yet though.

“Blood and Oil”

Today I walked in the dark cold forest. I went to one of the finest places I know here. I regret that it is a cloudy day. The moon could have made it an amazing sight. It was still great, but it could have been better.

It can always be better? Perhaps. Perhaps. And no. There will be something that is the apex of greatness. I do not know when, I do not know what it will be. I do know that it will be magnificent.

I have looked into the eyes of Muammar Qaddafi. If the people succeed against him, he has indeed lost the Mandate of Heaven.


I gave out good advice today. I wish I followed the advice that I so readily share. I know it’s correct, I know it’s the way I should do things. Yet, I find it easier to say so to others than to do it myself. A pity it is that single topic which always fails me.

I have imagined I’ll reread this all again someday. I do not know when. I do know it will be a great read, an interesting read. I hope I’ll be able to listen to all of the music pieces while I read it to make it even better.

Lest we forget…

They went with songs to the battle, they were young.
Straight of limb, true of eyes, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted,
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning,
We will remember them.
— ‘The Ode of Remembrance’, L. Binyon

So I thought that it might be worth to name those names which I know I should not forget. If I know I am not to forget them, why write them down? Because I am afraid that my mind, in its everlasting wish to make itself more important than it is, would like to pretend that others do not deserve what they do.

In the case of the following people, what they deserve is only good.

I have also tried to list the reasons why. The reasons might seem less significant whenever I am to reread this, but the significance was very real for me at some point.

Sander Kolosov — He told me, in a way that I knew those words were truth, "usaldusväärne". It meant so much to me then. Then? Sometime in the summer of 2010, when I paid a long-time debt to him that he had forgotten.

Madeleine Starks — She reminded me of what I had forgotten once more. She made me realize what I had been lacking. Motivation. I knew, I solved the problem. Laziness is to be abhorred. I wish it wasn’t that easy to forget. I hope I remember now.

Triin Vask — For teaching the concept of honesty. For reminding me I had forgotten what honesty should be about.

Hanna-Liisa Vilu — She saved my face. There’s nothing more to it. [I am reminded of the quote by J. Clavell: ‘I dinna ken who you are, but thank you for saving my face.’


So, based on the internet and my probability coursework, I am a reliability engineer. Why? 😛 That’s what my coursework says. Said. Cause I got it done. When I had expected not to.

Motivation is an odd thing. Find it where you least expect it.

But the best things in life… they either don’t ask for motivation, or you’re already motivated for them. And that keeps the engine working. Even though it’s not very reliable.

Memories of Summer

Beautiful weather for the 24th of February. It seems like summer. And Estonia is frozen. It seems fitting. It might even be that any other way would be wrong. I cannot be sure. 

I am reminded of the summers when I read outside at "home". There is no photograph of that… yet, the image is clear in my mind.

Hmmh. I say, a photograph… I hear, しゃしん…

A Passing Moment

 It is an amazing feeling to sit in my room, looking outside at the drizzling rain while listening to good music and reading about the exploits of men of steel and the cowardice of those who were afraid to do their duty. Svanstrom’s ‘A Short History of Sweden’ is the book I’m handling at this current moment in the hopes of finding reference to a very obscure military manouver. It is most interesting.

Why should I bother with Probability? Or RSF coursework? Indeed, if I can deal with topics that are interesting and fun to read about then ArcGIS proves to be no good alternative… at least on this moment.

It is worth mentioning that the rain stopped for the exact time that it was supposed to be dry. Odd. Now I hear it again, falling slowly against the roof and windows.

And I’ll continue my reading…

The Kindle (and its Possibilities)

 So, recently I’ve been trying to make an informed decision about the Amazon Kindle 3. It’s been tough, but I think I’ve managed to make one.

However, with searching for information about it I also managed to come upon a rather decent amount of self-publishers (including a man named JA Konrath who has a very interesting blog, which I recommend!) that are making a decent profit out of their avantures on the Kindle. So, I’ve been taking a look at that side as well (KDP: Kindle Digital Publishing, for anyone interested) for both myself (future) and possible AE functions. Which incidentally means I went and checked what’s happening on AE.

Significant? Only if the idea turns out to be a good one. 😉


Thoughts Reimagined

 What is this life… 

.. And this would likely make the day … if I continued with William Henry Davies. ‘Leisure’ is, after all, an excellent piece of poetry. However, what I wished to say today is not in reference to ‘Leisure’ (With the possible exception of purposefully misquoting him and saying "What is this life if, full of care, We have no time…") for what seems to be lacking lately is time. Nothing else, but time. And I’m not speaking mainly of myself — I am speaking of everyone and no one, and this tells me that something is wrong. I actually made a (very short) note before writing this and that reads as:

"A life of interest.
A vain person. To make
friends is nearly not as easy
as keeping them."

[Original spacing preserved for excellence.]

I’m sure that many will draw their own conclusions from the previous (indeed, an experience that more people should follow — thinking, after all, is a most useful experience!) but those are likely to miss what I meant to say.

So, what did I intend to say?

I think I’ve managed one thing I wished to accomplish, though it was by no means on the top of my to-do list. What I feel most strongly is that I’m growing more distant from Estonia with every passing moment. (That should be no surprise to anyone). What indeed I hoped would not happen was that I have not found much reason to keep going back there. I know of one upcoming trip, and I suspect another… but to spend a summer there, again? Even though summers in Norwich are likely to lack what I except (a warm sea) then it will most likely be a more interesting and enriching experience (especially if I’ll be able to do more than be in Norwich). As I see it now, I’d expect a visit back "home" in June and then August, or it might be possible indeed that I’ll have to accommodate the two important summer-time birthdays which would mean July (in which case August would be outright foolish). Oh well, I’ll see how it turns out. Whatever happens, it will be interesting. 😉

What I did not however expect was that the idea of Estonia (and what it has stood for) would be so clear in my mind. A discussion on the pros-cons of our policies (not directly, but indirectly at least) of the last twenty years was an example of that. No matter what they did wrong, I am slightly offended by the thoughts that they could have done it better. As it stands, the few names which allowed for the creation of such a state as it is today are still strong and powerful — I wouldn’t want it any other way. And, having grown up in it, I can see the beauty of such a system, as it is. Wanting it in any other way is… [!!]

And, I’ve finally kindled the thought of reading A.T. Mahan in his original [pun intended]. That should be fun… and somewhat more original than the usual book I read.

‘The Songs of Distant Earth’, A.C. Clarke

[Disclaimer: This post has been lifted from its original version here with some minor edits.]

“To the legions of listeners, the concert was a reminder of things they had never known-things that belonged to Earth alone. The slow beat of mighty bells, climbing like invisible smoke from old cathedral spires; the chant of patient boatmen, in tongues now lost forever, rowing home against the tide in the last light of day; the songs of armies marching into battles that Time had robbed of all their pain and evil; the merged murmur of ten million voices as man’s greatest cities awoke to meet the dawn; the cold dance of the aurora over endless seas of ice; the roar of mighty engines climbing upward on the highway to the stars. All these the listeners heard in the music that came out of the night-the songs of distant Earth, carried across the light-years . . . ”
— sir Arthur C. Clarke, “The Songs of Distant Earth”

Oh the emotions that Clarke’s words convey!

And yet again, having faced the destruction of my original post, I’ll try to rewrite what I had so beautifully already put down. It is not the same though — it is never the same. Perhaps that is yet another illustration of Clarke’s point getting across (not that I hadn’t known before, but the setting was so different).

So, I finished rereading ‘The Songs of Distant Earth’. It is a great book, one of the finest I’ve ever read. In its philosophical aspects it rivals Henryk Sienkiewicz’s  ‘Quo Vadis’ (rivals, not surpasses — they touch upon completely different questions). ‘The Songs of Distant Earth’ has this sadness of irrevocable loss — a feeling that can not be described through words (“songs”, after all) and yet which can be understood.

The thought of having the one place called home destroyed by one of nature’s ‘miracles’ is somewhat frightening… and uplifting at the same time. The novae and supernovae are something no person can likely witness with their own eyes. They certainly would be worth the effort — limitless destruction, by what can be considered a source of (nearly) infinite power (for our present requirements).

The mention of Atlantis in the book brought up a question — the search for perfection. Can it ever end? Should it ever end?

If you saw Earth destroyed by the one thing that gave it life… What would you do?

Oh, and here a review of this book by the NY Times. Worth reading.

[Silent Note: This is a far different entry than what I wrote the first time round. Also, I changed the music from Amethystium’s ‘Lost’ to ‘Innocence’ since it seemed more fitting.]

For a proper ending though, the continuation of the quote with which I began:

“For the concluding item, the producers had selected the last great work in the symphonic tradition. Written in the years when Thalassa had lost touch with Earth – it was totally new to the audience. Yet its oceanic theme made it peculiarly appropriate to this occasion – and its impact upon the listeners was everything the long-dead composer could have wished.

“. . . When I wrote the ‘Lamentation for Atlantis’, almost thirty years ago, I had no specific images in mind; I was concerned only with emotional reactions, not explicit scenes; I wanted the music to convey a sense of mystery, of sadness-of overwhelming loss. I was not trying to paint a sound-portrait of ruined cities full of fish. But now something strange happens whenever I hear the Lento lugubre – as I am doing in my mind at this very moment.
“It begins at Bar 136, when the series of chords descending to the organ’s lowest register first meets the soprano’s wordless aria, rising higher and higher out of the depths . . . You know, of course, that I based that theme on the songs of the great whales, those mighty minstrels of the sea with whom we made peace too late, too late . . . I wrote it for Olga Kondrashin, and no one else could ever sing those passages without electronic backing. . .
“When the vocal line begins, it’s as if I’m seeing something that really exists. I’m standing in a great city square almost as large as St. Marks or St. Peters. All around are half-ruined buildings, like Greek temples, and overturned statues draped with seaweeds, green fronds waving slowly back and forth. Everything is partly covered by a thick layer of silt.
“The square seems empty at first; then I notice something – disturbing. Don’t ask me why it’s always a surprise, why I’m always seeing it for the first time. . .
“There’s a low mound in the center of the square with a pattern of lines radiating from it. I wonder if they are ruined walls, partly buried in the silt. But the arrangement makes no sense; and then I see that the mound is pulsing.”
And a moment later I notice two huge, unblinking eyes staring out at me.
“That’s all; nothing happens. Nothing has happened here for six thousand years, since that night when the land barrier gave way and the sea poured in through the Pillars of Hercules.
“The Lento is my favorite movement, but I couldn’t end the symphony in such a mood of tragedy and despair. Hence the Finale, ‘Resurgence.’
“I know, of course, that Plato’s Atlantis never really existed. And for that very reason, it can never die. It will always be an ideal-a dream of perfection-a goal to inspire men for all ages to come. So that’s why the symphony ends with a triumphant march into the future.
“I know that the popular interpretation of the march is a New Atlantis emerging from the waves. That’s rather too literal; to me the finale depicts the conquest of space. Once I’d found it and pinned it down, it took me months to get rid of that closing theme. Those damned fifteen notes were hammering away in my brain night and day. . .
“Now, the Lamentation exists quite apart from me; it has taken on a life of its own. Even when Earth is gone, it will be speeding out toward the Andromeda Galaxy, driven by fifty thousand megawatts from the Deep Space transmitter in Tsiolkovski Crater.
“Someday, centuries or millennia hence, it will be captured – and understood.”
Spoken Memoirs – Sergei Di Pietro (3411-3509) “

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