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O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

The Nine Billion Names of Arthur C. Clarke

Sir Arthur has taken a meeting with the big publisher in the sky.

At one time I owned all of the books he had authored by himself. My final literature paper in college, for my Creative Writing Minor, was on the works of A.C. Specifically it was on the images of God and religion in his writings.

Sir Arthur had an interesting life. From his work a on radar during WWII to his "retirement" on Ceylon writing and consulting, to his knighting in the late 90s, he inspired generations of young scientists and writers.

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