InvictusAre you not the master of your own soul? We captains also in the armada of humanity see wisdom from our positions on the deck of life. You do too, surely.
William Ernest Henley, 1875Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Can I tell you what you see, or think? Of course! But what of it? For in the end YOU are the master of that ship.
You know the word "quality" enough to use it grammatically, but that very grammar as used says you are unable to admit what "quality" means if it means not which you wish to see it mean.
Do you see a memory? Is that seeing?
Do you see what can only be imagined? Is that seeing?
What is seeing, how do you see something 3-d?
Is there a cone for purple in the retina?
Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
By William Ernest Henley, 1875
This poem that you posted, is an Atheist’s poem. You knew that, right?
W. E. Henley (1849-1903)
William Ernest Henley was born in Gloucester and was crippled from boyhood with tuberculosis. This necessitated his having a leg amputated in Edinburgh where he began writing his “In Hospital” poems.
He was a friend of Robert Louis Stevenson, with whom he was to write four plays. He held a number of literary posts in Scotland and England during his career as an editor.
His published poetical works include Book of Verses (1888), The Song of the Sword (1892), London Voluntaries (1893), For England’s Sake (1900), and Hawthorn and Lavender (1901).
His best known poem is Invictus, a deathbed affirmation of his atheism.
http://www.englishverse.com/poets/henley_william_ernest
Memory is a term we use for the ability to recollect things, to retrieve data, if you wish. There is no such "entity" per say called Memory. It is a collective term for a specific ability.
Do you see what can only be imagined? Is that seeing?
Yes, because our fancy makes it into something that has physical characteristics. It doesn't mean it exists except as an idea.
Is there a cone for purple in the retina?
What we call purple corresponds to a wavelenght of radiomagnetic radiation, a continuous variation of which is called the spectrum. Human cones can see only a small section of it. The same can be said of hearing.
There is no "wisdom" in "purple". Wisdom is collective term suggesting someone's ability to discern. It's not a "thing" to be seen.