Here's the game, we take an attributed quotation from a novel we've read and form a story by linking it with others... The story doesn't have to make sense.

First sentence: 'It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been...'

- Flaubert, 'Madame Bovary'.

"You never know when someone is thinking of you with a sponge in their hand."
-~hope~

[This message was edited by Fair_GwenofAir on 08-21-04 at 01:16 AM.]

'It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been...'

- Flaubert, 'Madame Bovary'.

Next:

'...to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact.'

-René Descartes, 'Discourse on the Method'

In full:

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact.


Gosh, that's an odd sentence.

"I disapprove of what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." --Voltaire

May I use lines from a Shakespeare play, rather than that of a novel? If not, by all means delete this post.

Current Full:

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact.

My Addition:

"I have almost forgot the taste of fears;
The time has been, my senses would have cool'd
To hear a night-shriek; and..." - Macbeth

New Full:

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and...

Yes you indeed may, O! Lily Of The Valley...
Fuzzies this one's really cool, now we from FavQ can come over here.

Current Full :

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and...

My Addition:

...as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me.
-- Julia Butterfly Hill, from "The Legacy of Luna"

Full text:

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me.

-

much love, light and laughter,
ananya.

*~Come play with my children feel the peace and Scatter some joy.~*
~*Blowing out someone else's candle doesn't make your's burn any brighter.*~
*** Heck was created for those who refuse to believe in Gosh. ***

My contribution: It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable.
- Edgar Allan Poe, from The Colloquy of Monos and Una
--

So far:

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable.


--------Sanya--------
Stella Splendens
December 22, 1985-March 27, 2003
Rest In Peace
..lost time is gone forever

It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom... [Richard Lim, If You Love Her]

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom...

My Addition: "Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must..." C.S. Lewis, The Four Loves

New Full: It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom. Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must...

Life is real--life is earnest--/ And the grave is not the goal:/ Dust thou art, to dust returnest,/ Was not spoken of the soul. (5-8) Longfellow "A Psalm of Life"

"And if anyone says in a loud voice "Bother, it's Eeyore" I can drop out again."

My bit: Take warning from the misfortunes of others, so that others need not have to take warning from your own.
-- Saadi, Rose Garden 13th century

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom.

Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must. Take warning from the misfortunes of others, so that others need not have to take warning from your own...

-

much love, light and laughter,
ananya.

*~Come play with my children feel the peace and Scatter some joy.~*
~*Blowing out someone else's candle doesn't make your's burn any brighter.*~
*** Heck was created for those who refuse to believe in Gosh. ***

My Addition: "walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by ..." Macbeth.

New Full: It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom.

Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must take warning from the misfortunes of others, so that others need not have to take warning from your own walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by...

Life is real--life is earnest--/ And the grave is not the goal:/ Dust thou art, to dust returnest,/ Was not spoken of the soul. (5-8) Longfellow "A Psalm of Life"

"And if anyone says in a loud voice "Bother, it's Eeyore" I can drop out again."

My addition: One hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation.
-- Sir Walter Scott.

****

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom.

Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must take warning from the misfortunes of others, so that others need not have to take warning from your own walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by one hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation.

-

much love, light and laughter,
ananya.
(aka mumbaichi porgi)

*~Come play with my children feel the peace and Scatter some joy.~*
~*Blowing out someone else's candle doesn't make your's burn any brighter.*~
*** Who put these fingerprints on my imagination? -- Elvis Costello ***

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was an age of wisdom, it was an age of foolishness, it was an epoch of belief, it was an epoch of incredulity, it was a season of Light, it was a season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair . . .
~Charles Dickens "A Tale of Two Cities"~

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom.

Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must take warning from the misfortunes of others, so that others need not have to take warning from your own walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by one hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was an age of wisdom, it was an age of foolishness, it was an epoch of belief, it was an epoch of incredulity, it was a season of Light, it was a season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair . . .

"Do all things with love." Og Mandino

Contribution: Time, it is well known, sometimes flies like a bird, sometimes crawls like a worm; but man is wont to be particularly happy when he does not even notice whether it passes quickly or slowly.
~ Ivan Turgenev "Fathers and Children"

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom.

Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must take warning from the misfortunes of others, so that others need not have to take warning from your own walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by one hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was an age of wisdom, it was an age of foolishness, it was an epoch of belief, it was an epoch of incredulity, it was a season of Light, it was a season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

Time, it is well known, sometimes flies like a bird, sometimes crawls like a worm; but man is wont to be particularly happy when he does not even notice whether it passes quickly or slowly.


--------Sanya--------
Stella Splendens
December 22, 1985-March 27, 2003
Rest In Peace
..lost time is gone forever

"At about this time, though, a hitherto unsuccessful fortune-teller living on the other side of the block chanced to glance into her scrying bowl, gave a small scream and, within the hour, had sold her jewellery, various magical accoutrements, most of her clothes and almost all her other possessions that could not be conveniently carried on the fastest horse she could buy. Later on..." [The Color of Magic, by Terry Pratchett]

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom.

Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must take warning from the misfortunes of others, so that others need not have to take warning from your own walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by one hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was an age of wisdom, it was an age of foolishness, it was an epoch of belief, it was an epoch of incredulity, it was a season of Light, it was a season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

Time, it is well known, sometimes flies like a bird, sometimes crawls like a worm; but man is wont to be particularly happy when he does not even notice whether it passes quickly or slowly.

At about this time, though, a hitherto unsuccessful fortune-teller living on the other side of the block chanced to glance into her scrying bowl, gave a small scream and, within the hour, had sold her jewellery, various magical accoutrements, most of her clothes and almost all her other possessions that could not be conveniently carried on the fastest horse she could buy. Later on...

Zero slid his spine down along the wall and crouched in a ball on the floor, slipping the fingers of his left hand under the door and holding tightly. He was mute.
-- Susan Schwartz Senstad, from Music for the Third Ear

****

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom.

Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must take warning from the misfortunes of others, so that others need not have to take warning from your own walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by one hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was an age of wisdom, it was an age of foolishness, it was an epoch of belief, it was an epoch of incredulity, it was a season of Light, it was a season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

Time, it is well known, sometimes flies like a bird, sometimes crawls like a worm; but man is wont to be particularly happy when he does not even notice whether it passes quickly or slowly.

At about this time, though, a hitherto unsuccessful fortune-teller living on the other side of the block chanced to glance into her scrying bowl, gave a small scream and, within the hour, had sold her jewellery, various magical accoutrements, most of her clothes and almost all her other possessions that could not be conveniently carried on the fastest horse she could buy. Later on Zero slid his spine down along the wall and crouched in a ball on the floor, slipping the fingers of his left hand under the door and holding tightly. He was mute.


-

much love, light and laughter,
ananya.
(aka mumbaichi porgi)

*~Come play with my children feel the peace and Scatter some joy.~*
~*Blowing out someone else's candle doesn't make your's burn any brighter.*~
*** Who put these fingerprints on my imagination? -- Elvis Costello ***

Contribution:"In the doorway of his room a sudden blackness flowed around him like a divided river. When he came to himself.."
- F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise
----

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom.

Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must take warning from the misfortunes of others, so that others need not have to take warning from your own walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by one hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was an age of wisdom, it was an age of foolishness, it was an epoch of belief, it was an epoch of incredulity, it was a season of Light, it was a season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

Time, it is well known, sometimes flies like a bird, sometimes crawls like a worm; but man is wont to be particularly happy when he does not even notice whether it passes quickly or slowly.

At about this time, though, a hitherto unsuccessful fortune-teller living on the other side of the block chanced to glance into her scrying bowl, gave a small scream and, within the hour, had sold her jewellery, various magical accoutrements, most of her clothes and almost all her other possessions that could not be conveniently carried on the fastest horse she could buy. Later on Zero slid his spine down along the wall and crouched in a ball on the floor, slipping the fingers of his left hand under the door and holding tightly. He was mute. In the doorway of his room a sudden blackness flowed around him like a divided river. When he came to himself..


--------Sanya--------
Stella Splendens
December 22, 1985-March 27, 2003
Rest In Peace
..lost time is gone forever

My addition:

"He patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me - which it did. I put it away, as well as I could.."

- Charles Dickens, David Copperfield



Current full:

"It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom.

Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must take warning from the misfortunes of others, so that others need not have to take warning from your own walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by one hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was an age of wisdom, it was an age of foolishness, it was an epoch of belief, it was an epoch of incredulity, it was a season of Light, it was a season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

Time, it is well known, sometimes flies like a bird, sometimes crawls like a worm; but man is wont to be particularly happy when he does not even notice whether it passes quickly or slowly.

At about this time, though, a hitherto unsuccessful fortune-teller living on the other side of the block chanced to glance into her scrying bowl, gave a small scream and, within the hour, had sold her jewellery, various magical accoutrements, most of her clothes and almost all her other possessions that could not be conveniently carried on the fastest horse she could buy. Later on Zero slid his spine down along the wall and crouched in a ball on the floor, slipping the fingers of his left hand under the door and holding tightly. He was mute. In the doorway of his room a sudden blackness flowed around him like a divided river. When he came to himself he patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me - which it did. I put it away, as well as I could.."

How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's culture but within oneself? If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox. One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light.
-- Barry Lopez, from "Arctic Dreams"

****

"It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom.

Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must take warning from the misfortunes of others, so that others need not have to take warning from your own walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by one hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was an age of wisdom, it was an age of foolishness, it was an epoch of belief, it was an epoch of incredulity, it was a season of Light, it was a season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

Time, it is well known, sometimes flies like a bird, sometimes crawls like a worm; but man is wont to be particularly happy when he does not even notice whether it passes quickly or slowly.

At about this time, though, a hitherto unsuccessful fortune-teller living on the other side of the block chanced to glance into her scrying bowl, gave a small scream and, within the hour, had sold her jewellery, various magical accoutrements, most of her clothes and almost all her other possessions that could not be conveniently carried on the fastest horse she could buy. Later on Zero slid his spine down along the wall and crouched in a ball on the floor, slipping the fingers of his left hand under the door and holding tightly. He was mute. In the doorway of his room a sudden blackness flowed around him like a divided river. When he came to himself he patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me - which it did. I put it away, as well as I could."

How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's culture but within oneself? If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox. One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light...

-

much love, light and laughter,
ananya.

*~Come play with my children feel the peace and Scatter some joy.~*
~*Blowing out someone else's candle doesn't make your's burn any brighter.*~
*** Satyameva Jayate aamuche bridvaakya aahe. ***

"Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner!"
- Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

New full:

It was the fourth time that she had slept in a strange place, the first had been to obey the laws and customs of my country, adhering constantly to the religion in which by God's grace I had been instructed since my childhood, and in all other things directing my conduct by opinions the most moderate in nature, and the farthest removed from excess in all those which are commonly received and acted on by the most judicious of those with whom I might come into contact. I have almost forgot the taste of fears; the time has been, my senses would have cool'd to hear a night-shriek; and as I started to picture the trees in the storm, the answer began to dawn on me. It oppressed my limbs with the oppression of some dull weight, and was palpable. It is easy to give in to gloom, if not despair. But gloom feeds on gloom.

Love anything and your heart will wrung and possible broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it in tack you must take warning from the misfortunes of others, so that others need not have to take warning from your own walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets and then is heard no more. It is a tale told by one hour of life, crowded to the full with glorious action, and filled with noble risks, is worth whole years of those mean observances of paltry decorum, in which men steal through existence, like sluggish waters through a marsh, without either honor or observation. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was an age of wisdom, it was an age of foolishness, it was an epoch of belief, it was an epoch of incredulity, it was a season of Light, it was a season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.

Time, it is well known, sometimes flies like a bird, sometimes crawls like a worm; but man is wont to be particularly happy when he does not even notice whether it passes quickly or slowly.

At about this time, though, a hitherto unsuccessful fortune-teller living on the other side of the block chanced to glance into her scrying bowl, gave a small scream and, within the hour, had sold her jewellery, various magical accoutrements, most of her clothes and almost all her other possessions that could not be conveniently carried on the fastest horse she could buy. Later on Zero slid his spine down along the wall and crouched in a ball on the floor, slipping the fingers of his left hand under the door and holding tightly. He was mute. In the doorway of his room a sudden blackness flowed around him like a divided river. When he came to himself he patted me on the head; but somehow, I didn't like him or his deep voice, and I was jealous that his hand should touch my mother's in touching me - which it did. I put it away, as well as I could."

How is one to live a moral and compassionate existence when one is fully aware of the blood, the horror inherent in life, when one finds darkness not only in one's culture but within oneself? If there is a stage at which an individual life becomes truly adult, it must be when one grasps the irony in its unfolding and accepts responsibility for a life lived in the midst of such paradox. One must live in the middle of contradiction, because if all contradiction were eliminated at once life would collapse. There are simply no answers to some of the great pressing questions. You continue to live them out, making your life a worthy expression of leaning into the light... Oh! But he was a tight-fisted hand at the grindstone, Scrooge! a squeezing, wrenching, grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous old sinner!

"Why was I born with such contemporaries?" - Oscar Wilde