Our unsuspecting selves

Happy Bastille Day, stormers of the gates!

Wordsworth says it again: both pacificists and activists ("the meek and the lofty"), with our human mix of selfish and noble goals, dreaming and then suddenly working to birth a thing of beauty, "The budding rose above the rose full blown."  

Not in Utopia, subterranean fields,

Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where!

But in the very world, which is the world
Of all of us....

Poem of the day, The French Revolution as It Appeared to Enthusiasts at Its Commencement. 

(With a nod to a detractor incisively describing Mr. Wordsworth's passionate abstraction and fluffy idealism. Apparently Mr. W doesn't always say it again - but he does today, for me.)

And then, guillotines and a different appearance.

But always, cheese. And coffee.