Sunday, November 1, 2026. It's Sol's day . . . spending It behind clouds. GreenCountry forecasts indicate easy Souteasterlies and low 70's in TulseyTown's afternoon,
Love Is Who We Are. – Fr. Richard Rohr, Meditations, The Center for Action and Contemplation.
Today is All Saint's Day.
And it's Dia de los Muertos, The Day of the Dead.
Learning to die each day. – Sister Dang Nghiem, in Tricycle, September 2016.
Author and short-story writer Stephen Crane was born on this day in 1871 Newark, N.J.
Yesterday was the birthdate for the poet John Keats, born in 1795 London. He died at the young age of 25 and published only a few poems in three small volumes, but they are considered among the finest in the English language.
Ode On a Grecian Urn
. . .
Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone
. . .
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty”—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.
– John Keats, “Ode On A Grecian Urn.” This poem is in the public domain. Listen and read the complete poem at The Poetry Foundation.