Clough Williams-Ellis

with Frank Lloyd-Wright

in Portmeirion in 1956

Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it.

~ Terry Pratchett

Do not go  gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Dylan Thomas

The wall on which the prophets wrote Is cracking at the seams.
Upon the instruments of death The sunlight brightly gleams.
When every man is torn apart With nightmares and with dreams,
Will no one lay the laurel wreath When silence drowns the screams.

Confusion will be my epitaph. As I crawl a cracked and broken path
If we make it we can all sit back And laugh.
But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying, Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying.

Between the iron gates of fate, The seeds of time were sown,
And watered by the deeds of those Who know and who are known;
Knowledge is a deadly friend When no one sets the rules.
The fate of all mankind I see Is in the hands of fools.

Confusion will be my epitaph. As I crawl a cracked and broken path
If we make it we can all sit back And laugh.
But I fear tomorrow I'll be crying, Yes I fear tomorrow I'll be crying.

Greg Lake

Let Memories Surround You

Feel no guilt in laughter,
For they know how much you care.
Feel no sorrow in a smile
That they're not here to share.
You cannot grieve forever--
They would not want you to.
They'd hope that you would carry on
The way you always do.
So talk about the good times
And the ways you showed you cared,
The days you spent together,
All the happiness you shared.
Let memories surround you;
A word someone may say
Will suddenly recapture
A time, an hour, a day,
That brings them back as clearly
As though they were still here,
And fills you with the feelings
That they are always near.
For if you keep those moments,
You will never be apart,
And they will live forever....
Locked safe within your heart.

~Author Unknown~
 

There Will Come Soft Rains

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground, And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pools singing at night, And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire, Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one Will care at last when it is done,

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree, If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Sara Teasdale

as featured in Ray Bradbury story of the same name