Margaret’s Song

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  There was a king in Thule,  True even to the grave;  To whom his dying mistress  A golden beaker gave.  At every feast he drained it,  Naught was to him so dear,  And often as he drained it,  Gush’d from his eyes the tear.  When death came, unrepining  His cities o’er he told;  All to his heir resigning,  Except his cup of gold.  With many a knightly vassal  At a royal feast sat he,  In yon proud hall ancestral,  In his castle o’er the sea.  Up stood the jovial monarch,  And quaff’d his last life’s glow,  Then hurled the hallow’d goblet  Into the flood below.  He saw it splashing, drinking,  And plunging in the sea;  His eyes meanwhile were sinking,  And never again drank he. “Margaret’s Song” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832) in “Faust. Part I.”

Take Back Your Faith From the American Dream

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I don't know what book or books you are reading right now and at this point, I really don't care.  Put it down.  Put them all down and pick this one up, open it, read it.  I triple-dog-dare you (that's right, I'm skipping the "triple dare," and am going straight for the throat)!


Buy it.
Borrow it.
Don't steal it (stealing is sin). 
Check it out from the library (and if they don't have it, get it by Inter-library loan). 
Buy a case, give them away. 
Wish-list it. 
Trade for it. 
Have someone read it to you. 
Read it over someone's shoulder (ask, first.  Have some couth).
Read it out loud in Sunday School.
Get it in large print.
Get it in Braille.
Get someone to translate it for you.

It will wreck your life.

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