"He did his work,—he did it nobly and well; and yet I sorrow that here he worked alone, with so little human sympathy. His name to-day, in this broad land, means little, and comes to fifty million ears laden with no incense of memory or emulation. And herein lies the tragedy of the age: not that men are poor,—all men know something of poverty; not that men are wicked,—who is good? not that men are ignorant,—what is Truth? Nay, but that men know so little of men."
- W.E.B. DuBois
"Of Alexander Crummell," The Souls of Black Folk
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Hard to keep up with time passing in the blogsphere. I don't have nearly enough time to keep up with such and such or so and so, much to my discredit. Nonetheless, in an effort to keep some kind of writing practice—one that fits my overly hectic lifestyle these days—I have started yet another blog, going strong for over a week now: Bob Marcacci's Scifaiku. It's really Hay(na)ku, but who's counting? Check it out if you're bored and looking for a better side of me.