QUESTION #4: How do you make decisions on questions of morality?
“The Road Not Taken”
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear,
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I marked the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
— Robert Frost
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.
— William Ernest Henley
“Choose the Right”
Choose the right when a choice is placed before you.
In the right the Holy Spirit guides;
And its light is forever shining o’er you,
When in the right your heart confides.
Choose the right! Choose the right!
Let wisdom mark the way before.
In its light, choose the right!
And God will bless you evermore.
Choose the right! Let no spirit of digression
Overcome you in the evil hour.
There’s the right and the wrong to ev’ry question;
Be safe thru inspiration’s pow’r.
Choose the right! There is peace in righteous doing.
Choose the right! There’s safety for the soul.
Choose the right in all labors you’re pursuing;
Let God and heaven be your goal.
— Joseph L. Townsend
by Nellie McKay
Sometimes I feel like I shouldn’t apologize so much
That it’s jive it’s a crutch
I just used when I’m judged
Bein’ fudged by a face I can’t erase and can’t see
Cuz I misplaced a dossier or Monty Python CD
Or somethin’ stupid like that
But jesus is that so bad
To make my ego go splat
Like a tire goin’ flat
Or fat on a big mac
I’m bein’ attacked Tit for tat
You effin’ bureaucrats
You can just apologize back
But I don’t know when it comes and it goes
All the highs and the lows
In this motionless
Ieeieei and I die fadin’ straight away
Ieeieei and I cry every waking day
I don’t know what else to say
I’m sorry for the mess The stupid way I’m dressed
I guess I failed my test
Oh don’t you know I’m sorry for my views
I musta been confused
And yet you know that really I’m sorry for you
Well now I don’t mean to offend, much
Just comprehend When you’re female and you’re fenced in and
Phen-phened to no end
And no zen guide to men will help you fend off the brethren
And then the pen appears
And better than the oxygen network
Or the sword or the spear or the fork
Or the bored pork-fed horde
It’s a mooring post
The whore you’ll miss the most when you’re away
When you’re in Snowshoe PA
Doin’ some play from
That deals with AIDS and race and gays and
Relationships and ballet
And then you’re like “hey yay what’d you say?
I can just sing my troubles away?”
But then you’re a duck ’cause you gotta make a buck
And the whole world sucks
And you’re like a lame duck
That’s lyin’ dyin’ tryin’ to sell out
But there’s no one buyin’ and there’s all this doubt
And you can preen and dream and scream and shot
But your life’s affliction is the fiction of Faust
I’m sorry for the time
The stupid way I rhyme
I knew I shoulda chose a life of crime
I’m sorry for my blues
I know it’s all old news
And yet you know that really I’m sorry for you
I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry
I also mirror this apology This idealogy of sorry
In part of the liberal theology that’s leading us to hari-kari
It’s like a mythology, almost Like a malingering ghost
As we slowly decompose Writing in the grave of the polls
Cryin’ for Senator Wellstone and then proceeding to moan
At our own supposed sabotage of the elections at home
“Oh somebody phone home!
The American people have spoken!”
Now is that certain?
Maybe those nice Midwestern folks were just jokin’
In any case there’s no use in dopin’ chokin’ mopin’ and sobbin’
Come on you disheartenin’ dobbins
Sayin’ sorry is my problem
So to conclude I’m a little of a prude
So it’s difficult for me to have to allude
To all this rude crude verbal baggage
But I manage cuz I’m a savage inside
I may listen to Enya’s greatest hits
And try to control my hissy fits with pride
Won’t get my hair dyed
But oh the onus of lyin’ all the time
I don’t wanna say, “diiiie motherf***er!”
But I wouldn’t mind if you did
Sometimes even the nice girl’s ego has to override the id
And so before I flip my lid my crib
And get myself out of this bind
You can hear what’s on my lips but you don’t know
What’s in my mind
I’m sorry for you I’m sorry for you