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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.

Saturday, May 12, 2012

Linkee-poo is reveling in the freedom

Justine Larbalestier on writers reading books by their writer friends.

"Whenever I write something, someone inevitably tells me about some story I’ve not read that sounds an awful lot like the story I’m writing (the story I thought was unique)." This was actually the first major lesson I learned (the hard way) about writing professionally.

Open call for steampunk anthology paying pro rates

Literary devices made literal. (Pointed to by Dan)

How does your state stack up in science literacy based on percentage of students who pass national science test? (Pointed to by John)

New record set for information teleportation. Ansible, here we come. (Pointed to by John, I think)

Jay Lake gives voice to my thoughts regarding the Romney bully-gate.

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