from Percy Bysshe Shelley's
"Mont Blanc: Lines Written in the Vale of Chamouni"
The everlasting universe of things
Flows through the mind, and rolls its rapid waves,
Now dark—now glittering—now reflecting gloom—
Now lending splendour, where from secret springs
The source of human thought its tribute brings
Of waters—with a sound but half its own,
Such as a feeble brook will oft assume,
In the wild woods, among the mountains lone,
Where waterfalls around it leap for ever,
Where woods and winds contend, and a vast river
Over its rocks ceaselessly bursts and raves.
Today, I needed a dam to direct the flow.
My friend Diane, a fiber artist (blog) who sometimes lives next door, is in town briefly, during which she asked that I help her with her nemesis: the computer.
We spent a couple of hours this afternoon on Blogger, and despite my having to remind her to stay focused on one task at a time, I think she feels much more comfortable with the program. The proof, as they say, is in the pudding . . . or perhaps I should say the electrical impulses of connectivity. Let's check her blog every now and then and see how she's doing.
Note: still to go are other computing lessons on her agenda.
