A Whole Street of Houses, Stirred With A Spoon

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“ And by this time they were come up to the great iron gates in front of the house; and Tom stared through them at the rhododendrons and azaleas, which were all in flower; and then at the house itself, and wondered how many chimneys there were in it, and how long ago it was built, and what was the man’s name that built it, and whether he got much money for his job? These last were very difficult questions to answer. For Harthover had been built at ninety different times, and in nineteen different styles, and looked as if somebody had built a whole street of houses of every imaginable shape, and then stirred them together with a spoon.” —The Water-Babies, by Charles Kingsley. Ch.1 (1863)

"George Gray" by Edgar Lee Masters (1868 - 1950)

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What would you like on your headstone? What would your epitaph be?
I pray mine would not be some trite witticism but something that says, "Yep! Without doubt, that's him." Edgar Lee Masters pondered life and death in his poem, "George Gray."


I have studied many times 
The marble which was chiseled for me-- 
A boat with a furled sail at rest in a harbor. 
In truth it pictures not my destination 
But my life. 
For love was offered me and I shrank from its disillusionment; 
Sorrow knocked at my door, but I was afraid; 
Ambition called to me, but I dreaded the chances. 
Yet all the while I hungered for meaning in my life. 
And now I know that we must lift the sail 
And catch the winds of destiny 
Wherever they drive the boat. 
To put meaning in one’s life may end in madness, 
But life without meaning is the torture 
Of restlessness and vague desire-- 
It is a boat longing for the sea and yet afraid.

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