r78358 / Yaroslav is on Nostr

"efbe81ed7991a7185b15afeba9ea10cd021ec0c0da134a818d76a6fcebc53060d5429c3cef8f47b3bfe1cbdecf7926d97fa6b891b9851515324d3d8984a7bb79"

Last Notes

2024-09-11 23:07:03 GMT

"From a recent century I set down at random the following names: Haydn, Mozart, Beethoven, Goethe, Schubert, Mendelssohn, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Keats, Shelley. From a Greek century, a comparable list of names: Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Aristophanes, Socrates, Plato, Isocrates, Gorgias, Protagoras, Xenophon. The age at death of the first list is, respectively: 77, 35, 57, 83, 31, 38, 80, 62, 26, 30; of the second, 71, 91, 78, at least 60,70, 87,98,95(?), about 70,76. Shelley, of course, was drowned; but Aeschylus and Euripides (apparently) both met with accidental deaths, Socrates was executed and Protagoras died in a shipwreck; the three tragic poets were active, and still at the height of their genius, when they died (which no one would say of Wordsworth), and death interrupted Plato in the task of writing The Laws. If anyone interested in the topic will look through the quite entertaining Lives of the Philosophers, by Diogenes Laertius, he will be astonished at the general picture of longevity. Some of the dates are obviously legendary; no one will believe that Empedocles really lived to be 150; but he is hardly a historical figure anyhow. There is no reason at all to doubt the accuracy of most of the figures stated. It is quite clear that Greece was favourable not only to long life, but also to sustained energy. By the side of Sophocles, composing his magnificent Oedipus Coloneus at the age of 90, we can set the figure of Agesilaus, King of Sparta, campaigning hard in the field, not merely directing battles, at the age of 80. Vigorous old age seems to have been commoner in Greece than in any modern country, at least until recent times."
— H. D. F. Kitto, The Greeks

2023-08-08 15:29:41 GMT

👌🤌
https://cdn.nostr.build/i/ac8866dfa32d94930979d23417dd39350cfcf020a5c76662386ae85ed5dd5692.jpg

2023-07-03 13:43:39 GMT

«Saliendo afuera en busca de agua para mi amo, presencié el acto de arriar la bandera, que aún flotaba en la cangreja, uno de los pocos restos de arboladura que con el tronco de mesana quedaban en pie. Aquel lienzo glorioso, ya agujereado por mil partes, señal de nuestra honra, que congregaba bajo sus pliegues a todos los combatientes, descendió del mástil para no izarse más. La idea de un orgullo abatido, de un ánimo esforzado que sucumbe ante fuerzas superiores, no puede encontrar imagen más perfecta para representarse a los ojos humanos que la de aquel oriflama que se abate y desaparece como un sol que se pone. El de aquella tarde tristísima, tocando al término de su carrera en el momento de nuestra rendición, iluminó nuestra bandera con su último rayo. El fuego cesó y los ingleses penetraron en el barco vencido.»

2023-07-03 04:31:23 GMT

Olá

2023-07-03 04:30:49 GMT

Ao contrário do Twitter, essa tecnologia está funcionando