Comments on: Quiet after the Storm http://stilgherrian.com/personal/quiet_after_the_storm/ All publication is a political act. All communication is propaganda. All art is pornography. All business is personal. All hail Eris. Vive le poisson rouge sauvages! Fri, 05 Sep 2008 12:10:30 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.6 By: Stilgherrian · Disconnected from Nature http://stilgherrian.com/personal/quiet_after_the_storm/#comment-6643 Stilgherrian · Disconnected from Nature Fri, 15 Jun 2007 06:31:16 +0000 http://stilgherrian.com/notes/quiet_after_the_storm/#comment-6643 [...] weekend we experienced a massive storm and I took a photo of a broken umbrella. Then over the subsequent days I started to notice how the world [...] [...] weekend we experienced a massive storm and I took a photo of a broken umbrella. Then over the subsequent days I started to notice how the world [...]

]]> By: Stilgherrian http://stilgherrian.com/personal/quiet_after_the_storm/#comment-6582 Stilgherrian Mon, 11 Jun 2007 12:15:29 +0000 http://stilgherrian.com/notes/quiet_after_the_storm/#comment-6582 <strong>@Richard:</strong> That's a wonderful quote, thanks! I do like powerful descriptive prose, and I've only experienced Sir Arthur on the screen. @Richard: That’s a wonderful quote, thanks! I do like powerful descriptive prose, and I’ve only experienced Sir Arthur on the screen.

]]> By: Richard http://stilgherrian.com/personal/quiet_after_the_storm/#comment-6557 Richard Sun, 10 Jun 2007 07:16:59 +0000 http://stilgherrian.com/notes/quiet_after_the_storm/#comment-6557 Puts me in mind of this: <blockquote>Outside the wind howled down Baker Street, while the rain beat fiercely against the windows. It was strange there in the very depths of the town, with ten miles of man's handiwork on every side of us, to feel the iron grip of Nature, and to be conscious that to the huge elemental forces all London was no more than the molehills that dot the fields.</blockquote> -- Arthur Conan Doyle, <em>The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez</em>. Puts me in mind of this:

Outside the wind howled down Baker Street, while the rain beat fiercely against the windows. It was strange there in the very depths of the town, with ten miles of man’s handiwork on every side of us, to feel the iron grip of Nature, and to be conscious that to the huge elemental forces all London was no more than the molehills that dot the fields.

– Arthur Conan Doyle, The Adventure of the Golden Pince-Nez.

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