The Cape Breton and Central Nova Scotia Railway (reporting mark CBNS) is a 245 miles (394 km) railway operating in Nova Scotia between Sydney and Truro with spurs at Sydney, Point Tupper, Trenton and Stellarton.
The mainline (and related spurs) were formerly owned by Canadian National Railway and were sold to the short line railroad holding company RailTex in October 1993, making CBNS one of Canada's first shortlines to be acquired from a class I railway. On 4 February 2000, RailTex, including CBNS, was purchased by RailAmerica for US$325,000,000.
Read more about Cape Breton And Central Nova Scotia Railway: Route, Interchanges, Future of The Sydney Subdivision, Accidents
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“The Great South Beach of Long Island,... though wild and desolate, as it wants the bold bank,... possesses but half the grandeur of Cape Cod in my eyes, nor is the imagination contented with its southern aspect.”
—Henry David Thoreau (1817–1862)
“Perhaps I am doomed to retrace my steps under the illusion that I am exploring, doomed to try and learn what I should simply recognize, learning a mere fraction of what I have forgotten.”
—André Breton (1896–1966)
“Et in Arcadia ego.
[I too am in Arcadia.]”
—Anonymous, Anonymous.
Tomb inscription, appearing in classical paintings by Guercino and Poussin, among others. The words probably mean that even the most ideal earthly lives are mortal. Arcadia, a mountainous region in the central Peloponnese, Greece, was the rustic abode of Pan, depicted in literature and art as a land of innocence and ease, and was the title of Sir Philip Sidney’s pastoral romance (1590)
“I’m a Nova Scotia bluenose. Since I was a baby, I’ve been watching men look at ships. It’s easy to tell the ones they like. You’re only waiting to get her into deep water, aren’t you—because she’s yours.”
—John Rhodes Sturdy, Canadian screenwriter. Richard Rossen. Joyce Cartwright (Ella Raines)
“Her personality had an architectonic quality; I think of her when I see some of the great London railway termini, especially St. Pancras, with its soot and turrets, and she overshadowed her own daughters, whom she did not understand—my mother, who liked things to be nice; my dotty aunt. But my mother had not the strength to put even some physical distance between them, let alone keep the old monster at emotional arm’s length.”
—Angela Carter (1940–1992)