Loneliness by Katherine Mansfield Now it is Loneliness who comes at nightInstead of Sleep, to sit beside my bed.Like a tired child I lie and wait her tread,I watch her softly blowing out the light.Motionless sitting, neither left or rightShe turns, and weary, weary droops her head.She, too, is old; she, too, has fought the…

Daily dawns another day; I must up, to make my way. Though I dress and drink and eat, Move my fingers and my feet, Learn a little, here and there, Weep and laugh and sweat and swear…

It has been 100 years since Ray Bradbury’s birth (August 22, 1920 – June 5, 2012). The famous author, probably most well-known for his dystopian novel Fahrenheit 451, was, among other things a lover of science and also a science fiction writer.

John Keats: To Autumn Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,  Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;Conspiring with him how to load and bless  With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees,  And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;    To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells  With a sweet kernel;…

Not from the stars do I my judgment pluck,And yet methinks I have astronomy;But not to tell of good or evil luck,Of plagues, of dearths, or seasons‘ quality;