Quotes,
Excerpts,
and
Readings
–
Recorded
2003­2009
by
Ryan
McCarl.



For

personal
educational
use
only.



From
"Static
Poems":



Deafness
to
imperatives

is
profundity
in
the
wise
man,

children
and
grandchildren

don't
bother
him,

don't
alarm
him.



To
represent
a
particular
outlook,

to
act,

to
travel
hither
and
yon

are
all
signs
of
a
world

that
doesn't
see
clearly.



‐‐Gottfried
Benn

(in
Poetry,
11/09.)



Adult
authoritarians
tend
to
be
highly
ethnocentric
and
heavy
users
of
the

"consensual
validation
pill"
(Newcomb,
1961).
They
travel
in
tight
circles
of
like‐
minded
people
so
much,
they
often
think
their
views
are
commonly
held
in
society,

that
they
are
the
"Moral
Majority"
or
the
"Silent
Majority."
It
has
been
hard
to
miss

the
evidence
that
certain
kinds
of
religious
training
have
sometimes
helped
produce

their
ethnocentrism
and
authoritarianism.



...(They)
are
scared.
They
see
the
world
as
a
dangerous
place,
as
society
teeters
on

the
brink
of
self‐destruction
from
evil
and
violence.
This
fear
appears
to
instigate

aggression
in
them.
Second,
right‐wing
authoritarians
tend
to
be
highly
self‐
righteous.
They
think
themselves
much
more
moral
and
upstanding
than
others
‐
a

self‐perception
considerably
aided
by
self‐deception,
their
religious
training,
and

some
very
efficient
guilt
evaporators
(such
as
going
to
confession).
This
self‐
righteousness
disinhibits
their
aggressive
impulses,
and
releases
them
to
act
out

their
fear‐induced
hostilities....



Bob
Altemeyer

‐‐"The
Other
'Authoritarian
Personality'"



From
"What's
Bad"



Seeing
a
cold
beer
when
it's
hot
out,

and
not
being
able
to
afford
it.

...

Hearing
the
waves
beat
against
the
shore
on
holiday
at
night,

and
telling
yourself
it's
what
they
always
do.



Very
bad:
being
invited
out,

when
your
own
room
at
home
is
quieter,

the
coffee
is
better,

and
you
don't
have
to
make
small
talk.



And
worst
of
all:

not
to
die
in
summer,

when
the
days
are
long

and
the
earth
yields
easily
to
the
spade.



‐‐Gottfried
Benn

(in
Poetry,
11/09.)



Reading
a
newspaper
is
like
reading
a
novel
whose
author
has
abandoned
any

thought
of
a
coherent
plot.

...

The
Reformation...owed
much
of
its
success
to
print‐capitalism.
Before
the
age
of

print,
Rome
easily
won
every
war
against
heresy
in
Western
Europe
because
it

always
had
better
lines
of
communication
than
its
challengers.
But
when
in
1517

Martin
Luther
nailed
his
theses
to
the
chapel‐door
in
Wittenberg,
they
were
printed

up
in
German
translation,
and
'within
15
days
[had
been]
seen
in
every
part
of
the

country.'
In
the
two
decades
1520‐1540
three
times
as
many
books
were
published

in
German
as
in
the
period
1500‐1520,
an
astonishing
transformation
to
which

Luther
was
absolutely
central.
His
works
represented
no
less
than
one
third
of
all

German‐language
books
sold
between
1518
and
1525.
...'We
have
here
for
the
first

time
a
truly
mass
readership
and
a
popular
literature
within
everybody's
reach.'
In

effect,
Luther
became
the
first
best‐selling
author
so
known.
Or,
to
put
it
another

way,
the
first
writer
who
could
'sell'
his
new
books
on
the
basis
of
his
name.

...

In
pre‐print
Europe,
and,
of
course,
elsewhere
in
the
world,
the
diversity
of
spoken

languages,
those
languages
that
for
those
speakers
were
(and
are)
the
warp
and

woof
of
their
lives,
was
immense;
so
immense,
indeed,
that
had
print‐capitalism

sought
to
exploit
each
potential
oral
vernacular
market,
it
would
have
remained
a

capitalism
of
petty
proportions.
But
these
varied
idiolects
were
capable
of
being

assembled,
within
definite
limits,
into
print‐languages
far
fewer
in
number.
The
very

arbitrariness
of
any
system
of
signs
for
sounds
facilitated
the
assembling
process.

...Nothing
served
to
'assemble'
related
vernaculars
more
than
capitalism,
which,

within
the
limits
imposed
by
grammars
and
syntaxes,
created
mechanically

reproduced
print
languages
capable
of
dissemination
through
the
market.



These
print‐languages
laid
the
bases
for
national
consciousnesses
in
three
distinct

ways.
First
and
foremost,
they
created
unified
fields
of
exchange
and

communication
below
Latin
and
above
the
spoken
vernaculars.
Speakers
of
the
huge

variety
of
Frenches,
Englishes,
or
Spanishes,
who
might
find
it
difficult
or
even

impossible
to
understand
one
another
in
conversation,
became
capable
of

comprehending
one
another
via
print
and
paper.
In
the
process,
they
gradually

became
aware
of
the
hundreds
of
thousands,
even
millions,
of
people
in
their

particular
language‐field,
and
at
the
same
time
that
only
those
hundreds
of

thousands,
or
millions,
so
belonged.
These
fellow‐readers,
to
whom
they
were

connected
through
print,
formed,
in
their
secular,
particular,
visible
invisibility,
the

embryo
of
the
nationally
imagined
community.



Benedict
Anderson

‐‐Imagined
Communities



Readings
from
Solomon's
Judaism:
A
Very
Short
Introduction:



Martin
Buber
and
Emanuel
Levinas
put
their
faith
in
the
God
of
relationships.
Alles

Leben
ist
Begegnung
('all
life
is
encounter'),
declared
Buber,
and
the
important
thing

is
to
get
your
relationship
with
God
and
with
people
right
(I‐Thou,
rather
than
I‐It);

from
that
relationship,
which
is
the
essence
of
Revelation,
ethical
action
flows;
laws

and
rules
are
feeble
attempts
to
capture
revelation,
and
doomed
to
inadequacy.

...

Genesis
1:27
states
clearly
enough:
'So
God
created
humankind
in
his
own
image;
in

the
image
of
God
he
created
him;
male
and
female
he
created
them.'
This
implies

that
in
using
our
concept
of
God
to
model
human
behavior
we
should
not
distinguish

between
male
and
female.

...

Emil
Fackenheim
grounds
his
theology
in
the
actual
resistance
of
Shoah
[Holocaust]

victims
to
whom
no
realistic
hope
remained:
'A
philosophical
Tikkun
['repair',

'restoration']
is
possible
after
the
Holocaust
because
a
philosophical
Tikkun
already

took
place,
however
fragmentarily,
during
the
Holocaust
itself';
the
rebirth
of
Israel,

and
a
new
constructive
dialogue
with
a
self‐critical
Christianity,
are
essential
to
this

process.
Fackenheim
is
also
noted
for
his
statement
that
there
should
be
a
614th

commandment,
surplus
to
the
613
of
tradition
‐
to
survive
as
Jews,
to
remember,

never
to
despair
of
God,
lest
we
hand
Hitler
a
posthumous
victory.

...

Is
there
such
a
thing
as
a
'just
war',
and
if
so,
what
are
the
conditions
of

engagement?
Out
of
this
debate
emerged
the
novel
concept
of
tohar
ha‐nesheq

('purity
of
arms'),
which
demands
inter
alia
that
the
fighting
force
take
special
risks

to
avoid
harm
to
non‐combatants
and
to
minimize
enemy
casualties.

...

Many
Jews,
including
secular
ones,
see
Israel
as
the
fulfilment
of
the
'national'

aspirations
of
the
Jewish
people;
after
thousands
of
years
of
minority
status,
of

being
alienated
from
the
host
societies,
and
in
many
cases
actually
prevented
from

becoming
full
citizens
of
the
lands
in
which
they
lived,
they
feel
that
they
have
at
last

'come
home'
and
are
able
to
control
their
own
destiny
within
the
normal
limitations

of
independent
statehood.
Israel
is
perceived
as
a
secure
haven
for
persecuted
Jews;

had
Israel
existed
during
the
years
of
the
Holocaust,
Jews
would
have
had

somewhere
to
turn
to.
Moreover,
Israel
provides
the
opportunity
to
live
a
fulfilling

Jewish
life
free
from
the
inhibitions
and
restrictions
of
minority
status.

...

Large
numbers
of
men
and
women
have
abandoned
organized
religion,
some

because
they
have
found
it
intellectually
untenable,
more
because
they
have
found
it

emotionally
unsatisfying,
most
because
they
have
found
that
its
demands
inhibit
the

personal
freedom
which
they
regard
as
a
fundamental
human
right.
If
Western

Christianity
has
been
most
strongly
affected,
Western
Judaism
runs
it
a
close
second,

for
both
have
their
home
in
the
lands
which
modernity
and
the
Enlightenment
were

nurtured.

...

The
downside
of
the
emphasis
on
family
values
is
the
danger
of
marginalizing
the

stranger,
the
single,
and
the
unattached.

...

The
'heroes
of
the
spirit,'
Elijah
shows
the
conventional
rabbi
Baroka,
are
not
the

ostentatiously
pious,
not
even
the
learned
and
devout
like
Baroka
himself....
They

may
appear
to
be
quite
ordinary
individuals,
not
even
religious
in
a
conventional

sense,
whose
quiet
deeds
enhance
the
quality
of
life
around
them
‐
the
carers,
the

compassionate,
those
who
use
their
talents
to
ease
the
burden
of
humanity.



Norman
Solomon

‐‐Judaism:
A
Very
Short
Introduction



Readings
from
the
stories
of
John
Cheever:



It
was
after
four
then,
and
I
lay
in
the
dark,
listening
to
the
rain
and
to
the
morning

trains
coming
through.
They
come
from
Buffalo
and
Chicago
and
the
Far
West,

through
Albany
and
down
along
the
river
in
the
early
morning,
and
at
one
time
or

another
I've
traveled
on
most
of
them,
and
I
lay
in
the
dark
thinking
about
the
polar

air
in
the
Pullman
cars
and
the
smell
of
nightclothes
and
the
taste
of
dining‐car

water
and
the
way
it
feels
to
end
a
day
in
Cleveland
or
Chicago
and
begin
another
in

New
York,
particularly
after
you've
been
away
for
a
couple
of
years,
and
particularly

in
the
summer.

...

I
took
the
eight‐ten
train
into
town
in
the
morning
and
returned
on
the
six‐thirty.
I

knew
enough
to
avoid
the
empty
house
in
the
summer
dusk,
and
I
drove
directly

from
the
station
parking
lot
to
a
good
restaurant
called
Orpheo's.



‐‐"The
Cure"



"The
sun
is
in
your
hair."

"What?"

"The
sun
is
in
your
hair.
It's
a
beautiful
color."



‐‐"The
Chaste
Clarissa"



I
felt
that
he
was
a
captive
of
financial
and
sentimental
commitments,
like
every

other
man
I
know,
and
that
he
was
no
more
free
to
fall
in
love
with
a
strange
woman

he
saw
on
a
street
corner
than
he
was
to
take
a
walking
trip
through
French
Guiana

or
to
recommence
his
life
in
Chicago
under
an
assumed
name.

...

"Is
divorce
so
dreadful
and
of
all
the
things
that
hold
a
marriage
together
how
many

of
them
are
good?"
She
sat
down
at
the
table.
"In
Grenoble,"
she
said,
"I
wrote
a
long

paper
on
Charles
Stuart
in
French.
A
professor
at
the
University
of
Chicago
wrote
me

a
letter.
I
couldn't
read
a
French
newspaper
without
a
dictionary
today,
I
don't
have

the
time
to
follow
any
newspaper,
and
I
am
ashamed
of
my
incompetence,
ashamed

of
the
way
I
look.
Oh,
I
guess
I
love
you,
I
do
love
the
children,
but
I
love
myself,
I

love
my
life,
it
has
some
value
and
some
promise
for
me
and
Trencher's
roses
make

me
feel
that
I'm
losing
this,
that
I'm
losing
my
self‐respect."

...

Walking
down
Lexington
Avenue,
we
heard
the
drone
bass
of
a
church
organ
sound

from
the
sky,
and
we
and
the
others
on
the
sidewalk
looked
up
in
piety
and

bewilderment,
like
a
devout
and
stupid
congregation,
and
saw
a
formation
of
heavy

bombers
heading
for
the
sea.
As
it
got
late,
it
got
cold
and
clear
and
still,
and
on
the

stillness
the
waste
from
the
smokestacks
along
the
East
River
seemed
to
articulate,

as
legibly
as
the
Pepsi‐Cola
plane,
whole
words
and
sentences.
Halcyon.
Disaster.

They
were
hard
to
make
out.
It
seemed
the
ebb
of
the
year
‐
an
evil
day
for
gastritis,

sinus,
and
respiratory
disease
‐
and
remembering
other
winters,
the
markings
of
the

light
convinced
me
that
it
was
the
season
of
divorce.

...

I
think
that
the
seriousness
of
the
day
affected
the
children,
and
when
they
returned

to
the
house,
they
were
quiet.
The
seriousness
of
it
kept
coming
to
me
with
the

feeling
that
this
change,
like
a
phenomenon
of
speed,
was
affecting
our
watches
as

well
as
our
hearts.

...

Now
when
I
come
home
in
the
evenings,
Ethel
is
still
sitting
on
the
stool
by
the
sink

cleaning
vegetables.
I
go
with
her
into
the
children's
room.
The
light
there
is
bright.

The
children
have
built
something
out
an
orange
crate,
something
preposterous
and

ascendant,
and
their
sweetness,
their
compulsion
to
build,
the
brightness
of
the
light

are
reflected
perfectly
and
increased
in
Ethel's
face.
Then
she
feeds
them,
bathes

them,
and
sets
the
table,
and
stands
for
a
moment
in
the
middle
of
the
room,
trying

to
make
some
connection
between
the
evening
and
the
day.
Then
it
is
over.
She

lights
the
four
candles,
and
we
sit
down
to
our
supper.



‐‐"The
Season
of
Divorce"



It
is
true
of
even
the
best
of
us
that
if
an
observer
can
catch
us
boarding
a
train
at
a

way
station;
if
he
will
mark
our
faces,
stripped
by
anxiety
of
their
self‐possession;
if

he
will
appraise
our
luggage,
our
clothing,
and
look
out
of
the
window
to
see
who

has
driven
us
to
the
station;
if
he
will
listen
to
the
harsh
or
tender
things
we
say
if

we
are
with
our
families,
or
notice
the
way
we
put
our
suitcase
onto
the
rack,
check

the
position
of
our
wallet,
our
key
ring,
and
wipe
the
sweat
off
the
back
of
our
necks;

if
he
can
judge
sensibly
the
self‐importance,
diffidence,
or
sadness
with
which
we

settle
ourselves,
he
will
be
given
a
broader
view
of
our
lives
than
most
of
us
would

intend.



‐‐"The
Summer
Farmer"

Posted
by
Ryan
McCarl
at
11:50:00
PM
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Labels:
America,
children,
family,
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John
Cheever,
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meaning,
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York
City,
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of
chicago,
work

28
September
2009

Excerpts
from
Jonathan
Glover's
"Humanity"



Jonathan
Glover's
Humanity:
A
Moral
History
of
the
Twentieth
Century
is
one
of
the

best
and
most
important
books
I
have
ever
read.



Excerpts
below:



‐‐‐

An
extimate
for
the
period
from
1900
until
1989
is
that
war
killed
86
million
people.

Eighty‐six
million
is
a
small
proportion
of
all
those
alive
during
the
ninety
years,
and

is
a
small
number
compared
to
those
who
have
died
from
hunger
and
preventable

diseases.
All
the
same,
death
in
twentieth‐century
war
has
been
on
a
scale
which
is

hard
to
grasp.
...If
these
deaths
had
been
spread
evenly
over
the
period,
war
would

have
killed
around
2,500
people
every
day.
That
is
over
100
people
an
hour,
round

the
clock,
for
ninety
years.

...

One
of
this
book's
aims
is
to
replace
the
thin,
mechanical
psychology
of
the

Enlightenment
with
something
more
complex,
something
closer
to
reality.
A

consequence
of
this
is
to
defend
the
Enlightenment
hope
of
a
world
that
is
more

peaceful
and
humane,
the
hope
that
by
understanding
more
about
ourselves
we
can

do
something
to
create
a
world
with
less
misery.
...We
need
to
look
hard
and
clearly

at
some
monsters
inside
us.
But
this
is
part
of
the
project
of
caging
and
taming
them.

...

Our
entanglements
with
people
close
to
us
erode
simple
self‐interest.
Husbands,

wives,
lovers,
parents,
children
and
friends
all
blur
the
boundaries
of
selfish

concern.
Francis
Bacon
rightly
said
that
people
with
children
have
given
hostages
to

fortune.
Inescapably,
other
forms
of
friendship
and
love
hold
us
hostage
too.
The

deeper
levels
of
relationships
are
denied
to
people
who
hold
large
parts
of

themselves
back.
And
to
give
yourself
means
that
part
of
you
belongs
to
the
person

you
care
for.
There
is
a
constant
pull
towards
new
kinds
of
sympathy
and

commitment.
Narrow
self‐interest
is
destabilized.

...

Happiness
depends
on
psychological
integration,
or
wholeness.
We
need
to
be
at

peace
with
ourselves.
Inner
conflict
is
a
threat
to
happiness.
Disharmony
involves

slavery
to
madness,
and
allows
the
beast
in
man
to
gain
control.

...

Claims
to
be
treated
with
respect
are
often
linked
to
standing
within
a
group.
The

claim
of
an
outsider
may
be
minimal.
Sympathy
has
similar
limitations.
The

sympathies
which
really
engage
us
are
often
stubbornly
limited
and
local.
I
may

move
mountains
for
my
child,
but
perhaps
I
will
not
cross
the
street
to
be
a
good

Samaritan
to
a
stranger.
Sympathy
may
hardly
extend
to
those
outside
a
particular

community.
These
limitations
help
to
explain
a
moral
gap
which
is
increasingly

evident.
Many
moralities
are
"internal,"
giving
weight
to
the
interests
of
those
inside

a
community,
but
doing
little
against
the
common
indifference
or
even
hostility

towards
those
outside.
It
is
increasingly
obvious
that
this
moral
gap
is
a
human

disaster.

...

(In
1991),
Amnesty
International
recorded
protests
against
human
rights
abuses
in

over
50
countries,
the
protests
to
thirteen
countries
making
specific
reference
to

torture.
These
are
the
kinds
of
thing
that
many
of
us
have
a
vague
background

awareness
of,
without
there
being
much
publicity
unless
the
perpetrators
are
some

currently
loathed
regime,
or
unless
some
highly
visible
Westerner
is
among
the

victims.
The
reality
is
that
in
many
countries
torture
of
the
most
revolting
cruelty

happens
routinely,
often
under
the
auspices
of
governments
with
good
relations

with
Europe
and
the
United
States,
sometimes
using
equipment
knowingly
supplied

by
Western
companies.
There
is
little
reason
to
think
torture
is
in
retreat.
The

festival
of
cruelty
is
in
full
swing.
What
is
it
about
human
beings
that
makes
such

acts
possible?
Three
factors
seem
central.
There
is
a
love
of
cruelty.
Also,

emotionally
inadequate
people
assert
themselves
by
dominance
and
cruelty.
And

the
moral
resources
which
restrain
cruelty
can
be
neutralized.

...

For
some,
especially
when
the
victims
are
women,
the
pleasure
of
cruelty
is
sexual.

...

Ideas
about
how
to
live
should
be
shaped
partly
by
awareness
of
collective
disasters.

...

Atrocities
are
easier
if
the
human
responsibilities
are
weakened.
Torturers
have
to

suppress
sympathy,
or
"squeamishness"
as
they
come
to
think
of
it.
One
way
is
to

stress
that
victims
do
not
belong.
They
are
usually
assigned
to
some
other,

stigmatized,
group.

...

We
are
a
species
both
brutal
and
sickened
by
brutality.
This
conflict
between
our

cruelty
and
our
aspirations
goes
as
far
as
we
can
see
back
in
human
history.



Jonathan
Glover

­­Humanity:
A
Moral
History
of
the
Twentieth
Century



Readings
from
Frankl's
Man's
Search
for
Meaning:



‐‐‐

Soon
we
had
resumed
the
previous
day's
positions
in
the
ditch.
The
frozen
ground

cracked
under
the
point
of
the
pickaxes,
and
sparks
flew.
The
men
were
silent,
their

brains
numb.
My
mind
still
clung
to
the
image
of
my
wife.
A
thought
crossed
my

mind:
I
didn't
even
know
if
she
were
still
alive.
I
knew
only
one
thing
‐
which
I
have

learned
well
by
now:
Love
goes
very
far
beyond
the
physical
person
of
the
beloved.

It
finds
its
deepest
meaning
in
his
spiritual
being,
his
inner
self.
Whether
or
not
he
is

actually
present,
whether
or
not
he
is
still
alive
at
all,
ceases
somehow
to
be
of

importance.

...

If
there
is
a
meaning
of
life
at
all,
then
there
must
be
a
meaning
in
suffering.

Suffering
is
an
ineradicable
part
of
life,
even
as
fate
and
death.
Without
suffering
and

death
human
life
cannot
be
complete.
The
way
in
which
a
man
accepts
his
fate
and

all
the
suffering
it
entails,
the
way
in
which
he
takes
up
his
cross,
gives
him
ample

opportunity
‐
even
under
the
most
difficult
circumstances
‐
to
add
a
deeper
meaning

to
his
life.

...

What
was
really
needed
was
a
fundamental
change
in
our
attitude
toward
life.
We

had
to
learn
ourselves
and,
furthermore,
we
had
to
teach
the
despairing
men,
that
it

did
not
really
matter
what
we
expected
from
life,
but
rather
what
life
expected
from

us.
We
needed
to
stop
asking
about
the
meaning
of
life,
and
instead
to
think
of

ourselves
as
those
who
were
being
questioned
by
life
‐
daily
and
hourly.
Our
answer

must
consist,
not
in
talk
and
meditation,
but
in
right
action
and
right
conduct.

...

I
remember
two
cases
of
would‐be
suicide,
which
bore
a
striking
similarity
to
each

other.
Both
men
had
talked
of
their
intentions
to
commit
suicide.
Both
used
the

typical
argument
‐
they
had
nothing
more
to
expect
from
life.
In
both
cases
it
was
a

question
of
getting
them
to
realize
that
life
was
still
expecting
something
from
them;

something
in
the
future
was
expected
of
them.
We
found,
in
fact,
that
for
the
one
it

was
his
child
whom
he
adored
and
who
was
waiting
for
him
in
a
foreign
country.
F

or
the
other
it
was
a
thing,
not
a
person.
This
man
was
a
scientist
and
had
written
a

series
of
books
which
still
needed
to
be
finished.
His
work
could
not
be
done
by

anyone
else,
any
more
than
another
person
could
ever
take
the
place
of
the
father
in

his
child's
affections.

...

Not
only
our
experiences,
but
all
we
have
done,
whatever
great
thoughts
we
may

have
had,
and
all
we
have
suffered,
all
this
is
not
lost,
though
it
is
past;
we
have

brought
it
into
being.
Having
been
is
also
a
kind
of
being,
and
perhaps
the
surest

kind.

...

I
asked
the
poor
creatures
who
listened
to
me
attentively
in
the
darkness
of
the
hut

to
face
up
to
the
seriousness
of
our
position.
They
must
not
lose
hope
but
should

keep
their
courage
in
the
certainty
that
the
hopelessness
of
our
struggle
did
not

detract
from
its
dignity
and
its
meaning.
I
said
that
someone
looks
down
on
us
in

different
hours
‐
a
friend,
a
wife,
somebody
alive
or
dead,
or
a
God
‐
and
he
would

not
expect
us
to
disappoint
him.
He
would
hope
to
find
us
suffering
proudly
‐
not

miserably
‐
knowing
how
to
die.

...

When
we
spoke
about
attempts
to
give
a
man
in
camp
mental
courage,
we
said
that

he
had
to
be
shown
something
to
look
forward
to
in
the
future.
He
had
to
be

reminded
that
life
still
waited
for
him,
that
a
human
being
waited
for
his
return.
But

after
liberation?
There
were
some
men
who
found
that
no
one
awaited
them.
Woe
to

him
who
found
that
the
person
whose
memory
alone
had
given
him
courage
in

camp
did
not
exist
any
more!
Woe
to
him
who,
when
the
day
of
his
dreams
finally

came,
found
it
so
different
from
all
he
had
longed
for!
Perhaps
he
boarded
a
trolley,

traveled
out
to
the
home
which
he
had
seen
for
years
in
his
mind,
and
only
in
his

mind,
and
pressed
the
bell,
just
as
he
has
longed
to
do
in
thousands
of
dreams,
only

to
find
that
the
person
who
should
open
the
door
was
not
there,
and
would
never
be

there
again.



Viktor
E.
Frankl

‐‐Man's
Search
for
Meaning



Discovering
the
letters
of
Justice
William
O.
Douglas:



I
was
sorting
through
some
books
in
my
closet
yesterday,
and
I
discovered
a

fantastic
book
which
drew
me
away
from
my
regular
reading:
The
Douglas
Letters:

Selections
from
the
Private
Papers
of
William
O.
Douglas,
edited
by
Melvin
I.

Urkofsky.
William
O.
Douglas
was
a
brilliant,
contrarian
Associate
Justice
on
the

Supreme
Court
as
well
as
a
transformative
environmentalist
and
New
Dealer
who

crusaded
against
rampant
speculation
and
corruption
in
the
financial
industry.
His

writing
is
insightful
and
often
hilarious.
Here
are
a
few
samples:



To
Ramsey
Clark,
4/28/70:



On
my
visit
to
Baghdad,
I
went
to
the
University
with
my
interpreter
to
see
what

books,
if
any,
they
had
on
our
Constitution
or
Bill
of
Rights
or
Jefferson,
Madison,

democracy,
etc.



That
library
was
bare
on
those
subjects.
So
when
I
returned,
I
prepared
what
I
called

the
Douglas
Eight
Foot
Shelf
which
I
thought
should
be
in
every
underdeveloped

nation.
I
thought
then
‐
and
still
think
‐
that
those
ideas
are
more
important
than

military
missions.



To
Max
Radin
(professor
at
Berkeley
Law
School),
5/27/46:



...If
you
are
willing,
I
will
ask
you
to
find
me
a
law
clerk
each
year....I
need
not
only
a

bright
chap,
but
also
a
hard‐working
fellow
with
a
smell
for
facts
as
well
as
for
law.
I

do
not
want
a
hide‐bound,
conservative
fellow.
What
I
want
is
a
Max
Radin
‐
a
fellow

who
can
hold
his
own
in
these
sophisticated
circles
and
who
is
not
going
to
end
up

as
a
stodgy,
hide‐bound
lawyer.
I
want
the
kind
of
fellow
for
whom
this
work
would

be
an
exhilaration,
who
will
be
going
into
teaching
or
into
practice
of
the
law
for
the

purpose
of
promoting
the
public
good.
I
do
not
want
to
fill
the
big
law
offices
of
the

country
with
my
law
clerks....



To
the
Wall
Street
Journal,
10/16/78



To
the
Editors:



Notice
of
my
demise
has
been
emanating
from
several
sources
recently,
not
least
of

which
is
your
Journal.



Please
be
advised
that
I
am
today
joining
the
ranks
of
citizens
known
as

octogenarians
and
I
assure
you
that
I
was
never
in
a
position
to
be
resurrected
in

order
to
achieve
such
standing.



To
Edward
L.R.
Elson,
12/7/77:



...Concerning
my
funeral
arrangements...From
my
hobo
days,
I
knew
the
famous

songwriter
Woody
Guthrie
who
wrote
a
song
called
"This
Land
is
Your
Land,
This

Land
is
My
Land."
It
reflects
not
a
socialist
dream
of
mine,
but
many
of
the
freedoms

that
are
explicit
or
implicit
in
the
Constitution,
such
as
the
right
to
move
from
place

to
place
to
look
for
a
job
or
establish
a
new
home,
and
the
right
to
move
interstate

without
payment
of
a
fee,
as
some
states
within
the
last
thirty
years
have
tried
to

impose.
In
other
words,
it
expresses
the
vagrancy
issue
as
I
have
expressed
it
and
as

it
has
become
in‐grained
in
the
law.
(See
my
opinion
in
Papachristou
et
al
v.
City
of

Jacksonville,
405
U.S.
156
[1972].)



To
Peter
K.
Westen
(Douglas'
law
clerk,
now
a
highly‐respected
professor
at
the

University
of
Michigan
Law
School),
10/1/68:



(After
chewing
him
out
for
various
mistakes):
You
might
think
these
things
over,

because
the
first
case
we
have
to
dispose
of
when
I
get
back
is
the
case
of
P.K.

Westen.



William
O.
Douglas


‐‐Letters



One
way
to
put
the
question
I
want
to
answer
here
is
this:
why
was
it
virtually

impossible
not
to
believe
in
God
in,
say,
1500
in
our
Western
society,
while
in
2000

many
of
us
find
this
not
only
easy,
but
even
inescapable?

...

Important
as
science
is
to
our
present
outlook,
we
mustn't
exaggerate
its
causal
role

here,
and
make
it
the
main
motor
of
the
transformation.
Our
encasing
in
secular

time
is
also
something
we
have
brought
about
in
the
way
we
live
and
order
our

lives.
It
has
been
brought
about
by
the
same
social
and
ideological
changes
which

have
wrought
disenchantment.
In
particular,
the
disciplines
of
our
modern
civilized

order
have
led
us
to
measure
and
organize
time
as
never
before
in
human
history.

Time
has
become
a
precious
resource,
not
to
be
"wasted".
The
result
has
been
the

creation
of
a
tight,
ordered
time
environment.
This
has
enveloped
us,
until
it
comes

to
seem
like
nature.
We
have
constructed
an
environment
in
which
we
live
a

uniform,
univocal
secular
time,
which
we
try
to
measure
and
control
in
order
to
get

things
done.
This
"time
frame"
deserves,
perhaps
more
than
any
other
facet
of

modernity,
Weber's
famous
description
of
a
"stahlhartes
Gehäuse"
(iron
cage).
It

occludes
all
higher
times,
makes
them
even
hard
to
conceive.

...

Augustine
sees
ordinary
time
as
dispersal,
distensio,
losing
the
unity,
being
cut
off

from
our
past
and
out
of
touch
with
our
future.
We
get
lost
in
our
little
parcel
of

time.
But
we
have
an
irrepressible
craving
for
eternity,
and
so
we
strive
to
go

beyond
this.
Unfortunately,
this
all
too
often
takes
the
form
of
our
trying
to
invest

our
little
parcel
with
eternal
significance,
and
therefore
divinising
things,
and

therefore
falling
deeper
into
sin.



Charles
Taylor

­­A
Secular
Age



If
it
is
true
that
man
is
capable
of
everything
horrible,
it
is
also
true
that
the
horrible

always
engenders
counterforces
and
that
in
most
epochs
of
atrocious
occurrences

the
great
vital
forces
of
the
human
soul
reveal
themselves:
love
and
sacrifice,

heroism
in
the
service
of
conviction,
and
the
ceaseless
search
for
possibilities
of
a

purer
existence.

...

To
write
history
is
so
difficult
that
most
historians
are
forced
to
make
concessions
to

the
technique
of
legend.

...

The
Old
Testament,
in
so
far
as
it
is
concerned
with
human
events,
ranges
through

all
three
domains:
legend,
historical
reporting,
and
interpretative
historical

theology.

...

The
Homeric
poems,
then,
though
their
intellectual,
linguistic,
and
above
all

syntactical
culture
appears
to
be
so...highly
developed,
are
yet
comparatively
simple

in
their
picture
of
human
beings;
and
no
less
so
in
relation
to
the
real
life
which
they

describe
in
general.
Delight
in
physical
existence
is
everything
to
them,
and
their

highest
aim
is
to
make
that
delight
perceptible
to
us.
...(The
Homeric
heroes)
wake

every
morning
as
if
it
were
the
first
day
of
their
lives:
their
emotions,
though
strong,

are
simple
and
find
expression
instantly.

...

Far
from
seeking,
like
Homer,
merely
to
make
us
forget
our
own
reality
for
a
few

hours,
(the
Bible)
seeks
to
overcome
our
reality:
we
are
to
fit
our
own
life
into
its

world,
feel
ourselves
to
be
elements
in
its
structure
of
universal
history.
This

becomes
increasingly
difficult
the
further
our
historical
environment
is
removed

from
that
of
the
Biblical
books;
and
if
these
nevertheless
maintain
their
claim
to

absolute
authority,
it
is
inevitable
that
they
themselves
be
adapted
through

interpretative
transformation.

...

It
is
easy
to
separate
the
historical
from
the
legendary
in
general.
Their
structure
is

different.
Even
where
the
legendary
does
not
immediately
betray
itself
by
elements

of
the
miraculous,
by
the
repetition
of
well‐known
standard
motives,
typical

patterns
and
themes,
through
neglect
of
clear
details
of
time
and
place,
and
the
like,

it
is
generally
recognizable
by
its
composition.
It
runs
far
too
smoothly.
All
cross‐
currents,
all
friction,
all
that
is
casual,
secondary
to
the
main
events
and
themes,

everything
unresolved,
truncated,
and
uncertain,
which
confuses
the
clear
progress

of
the
action
and
the
simple
orientation
of
the
actors,
has
disappeared.
The

historical
event
which
we
witness,
or
learn
from
the
testimony
of
those
who

witnessed
it,
runs
much
more
variously,
contradictorily,
and
confusedly....
Legend

arranges
its
material
in
a
simple
and
straightforward
way;
it
detaches
it
from
its

contemporary
historical
context,
so
that
the
latter
will
not
confuse
it;
it
knows
only

clearly
outlined
men
who
act
from
few
and
simple
motives
and
the
continuity
of

whose
feelings
and
actions
remains
uninterrupted.



Erich
Auerbach

­­Mimesis:
The
Representation
of
Reality
in
Western
Literature



Every
departure
from
the
principles
of
the
law's
inner
morality
is
an
affront
to

man's
dignity
as
a
responsible
agent.
To
judge
his
actions
by
unpublished
or

retrospective
laws,
or
to
order
him
to
do
an
act
that
is
impossible,
is
to
convey
to

him
your
indifference
to
his
powers
of
self‐determination.

...

I
believe
that
if
we
were
forced
to
select
the
principle
that
supports
and
infuses
all

human
aspiration
we
would
find
it
in
the
objective
of
maintaining
communication

with
our
fellows.
...How
and
when
we
accomplish
communication
with
one
another

can
expand
or
contract
the
boundaries
of
life
itself.



Lon
L.
Fuller

‐‐The
Morality
of
Law



The
Court's
justification
for
consulting
its
own
notions
rather
than
following
the

original
meaning
of
the
Constitution,
as
I
would,
apparently
is
based
on
the
belief
of

the
majority
of
the
Court
that
for
this
Court
to
be
bound
by
the
original
meaning
of

the
Constitution
is
an
intolerable
and
debilitating
evil;
that
our
Constitution
should

not
be
"shackled
to
the
political
theory
of
a
particular
era,"
and
that
to
save
the

country
from
the
original
Constitution
the
Court
must
have
constant
power
to

renew
it
and
keep
it
abreast
of
this
Court's
more
enlightened
theories
of
what
is
best

for
our
society.



It
seems
to
me
that
this
is
an
attack
not
only
on
the
great
value
of
our
Constitution

itself
but
also
on
the
concept
of
a
written
constitution
which
is
to
survive
through

the
years
as
originally
written
unless
changed
through
the
amendment
process

which
the
Framers
wisely
provided.
Moreover,
when
a
"political
theory"
embodied

in
our
Constitution
becomes
outdated,
it
seems
to
me
that
a
majority
of
the
nine

members
of
this
Court
are
not
only
without
constitutional
power
but
are
far
less

qualified
to
choose
a
new
constitutional
political
theory
than
the
people
of
this

country
proceeding
in
the
manner
provided
by
Article
V.



Justice
Hugo
Black

‐‐Harper
v.
Virginia
State
Board
of
Education
(dissent);
383
U.S.
663
(1966)



No
one
may
be
compelled
against
his
conscience
to
render
war
service
involving
the

use
of
arms.



‐‐Basic
Law
for
the
Federal
Republic
of
Germany,
Article
IV



I
cannot
consider
the
Bill
of
Rights
to
be
an
outworn
18th
Century
'strait
jacket'
as

the
Twining
opinion
did.
Its
provisions
may
be
thought
outdated
abstractions
by

some.
And
it
is
true
that
they
were
designed
to
meet
ancient
evils.
But
they
are
the

same
kind
of
human
evils
that
have
emerged
from
century
to
century
wherever

excessive
power
is
sought
by
the
few
at
the
expense
of
the
many.
In
my
judgment

the
people
of
no
nation
can
lose
their
liberty
so
long
as
a
Bill
of
Rights
like
ours

survives
and
its
basic
purposes
are
conscientiously
interpreted,
enforced
and

respected
so
as
to
afford
continuous
protection
against
old,
as
well
as
new,
devices

and
practices
which
might
thwart
those
purposes.
I
fear
to
see
the
consequences
of

the
Court's
practice
of
substituting
its
own
concepts
of
decency
and
fundamental

justice
for
the
language
of
the
Bill
of
Rights
as
its
point
of
departure
in
interpreting

and
enforcing
that
Bill
of
Rights.



Justice
Hugo
Black

‐‐Adamson
v.
California
(dissent);
332
U.S.
46
(1946)



Quotes
from
Michael
Walzer
and
Harold
Bloom:



At
the
very
center
of
conservative
thought
lies
this
idea:
that
the
present
division
of

wealth
and
power
corresponds
to
some
deeper
reality
of
human
life.
...They
want
to

say
that
whatever
the
division
of
wealth
and
power
is,
it
naturally
is,
and
that
all

efforts
to
change
it,
temporarily
successful
in
proportion
to
their
bloodiness,
must

be
futile
in
the
end.



Michael
Walzer

‐‐"In
Defense
of
Equality"
in
Howe,
ed.,
25
Years
of
Dissent



For
why
do
men
write
poems?
To
rally
everything
that
remains.

...

Shelly
speculated
that
poets
of
all
ages
contributed
to
one
Great
Poem
perpetually
in

progress.

...

In
the
contemporary
poems
that
most
move
me...I
can
recognize
a
strength
that

battles
against
the
death
of
poetry,
yet
also
the
exhaustions
of
being
a
latecomer.

...

Freud
recognized
sublimation
as
the
highest
human
achievement,
a
recognition
that

allies
him
to
both
Plato
and
to
the
entire
moral
traditions
of
both
Judaism
and

Christianity.
Freudian
sublimation
involves
the
yielding‐up
of
more
primordial
for

more
refined
modes
of
pleasure,
which
is
to
exalt
the
second
chance
above
the
first.

...To
equate
emotional
maturation
with
the
discovery
of
acceptable
substitutes
may

be
pragmatic
wisdom,
especially
in
the
realm
of
Eros,
but
this
is
not
the
wisdom
of

the
strong
poets.
The
surrendered
dream
is
not
merely
a
phantasmagoria
of
endless

gratification,
but
is
the
greatest
of
all
human
illusions,
the
vision
of
immortality.

...

Poetic
history,
in
this
book's
argument,
is
held
to
be
indistinguishable
from
poetic

influence,
since
strong
poets
make
that
history
by
misreading
one
another,
so
as
to

clear
imaginative
space
for
themselves.

...

More
than
any
other
purely
secular
author,
Shakespeare
makes
history
more
than

history
makes
Shakespeare.

...

A
good
biography
of
Shakespeare,
like
Russell
Fraser's,
is
preferable
to
any

historicism,
because
at
least
we
are
alone
with
Shakespeare
and
Fraser,
rather
than

being
propagandized
by
an
academic
sect
or
coven.

...

Shakespeare's
energies
so
fuse
rhetoric,
psychology,
and
cosmology
that
we
cannot

distinguish
them
from
one
another
in
his
greatest
plays.



Harold
Bloom

‐‐The
Anxiety
of
Influence



The
past
is
inaccurate,
because
we
cannot
determine
how
it
was
in
fact,
no
matter

how
hard
we
try.
We
must
rely
on
people's
memory,
which
is
treacherous,
because

memory
is
constantly
juggling
and
revising
the
data
of
experience.
...In
telling
about

an
event,
we
ourselves
cannot
avoid
revising
it,
because
our
narrative
simplifies
and

composes
a
whole
out
of
selected
components,
while
omitting
others.
It
suffices
to

compare
our
knowledge
of
facts
with
their
depiction
in
chronicles,
journalistic

accounts,
memoirs,
to
understand
the
need
for
fantasizing
that
is
somehow

inscribed
in
the
language
itself,
and
which
draws
us
into
the
forest
of
fiction.

...

Los
Angeles
horrifies
me.
In
our
imagination
money
is
still
steel
and
the
production

of
factories;
it
is
difficult
to
accustom
oneself
to
the
great
change,
the
complete

reversal,
that
has
granted
a
marginal
human
activity,
entertainment,
its
central

position
as
a
source
of
money
or
power.

...

I
am
moved
by
the
very
fact
of
that
woman's
existence,
of
which
all
that
has

remained
is
this
verse.

...

I
know
my
own
weakness
and
am
inclined
to
consider
myself...as
a
tangle
of
reflexes,

a
drunken
child
in
the
fog.

...

The
essential
characteristic
of
fame
is
its
illusory
nature,
for
what
does
a
famous

name
mean
if
those
who
mention
it
are
not
well‐informed
about
why
it
is
famous?

That,
after
all,
is
the
fate
of
the
majority
of
monuments
in
every
large
city;
they
turn

into
signs
from
which
the
content
has
evaporated.

...

Everything
that
enlarges
man
fortifies
us;
everything
that
depicts
him
as
a

multidimensional
being.



Czeslaw
Milosz

‐‐Milosz's
ABCs



A
whole
hour
now
passed;
gold‐beaten
out
to
ages.

...

What
a
lovely
day
again!
were
it
a
new‐made
world,
and
made
for
a
summer‐house

to
the
angels,
and
this
morning
the
first
of
its
throwing
open
to
them,
a
fairer
day

could
not
dawn
upon
that
world.

...

Ah!
how
they
still
strove
through
that
infinite
blueness
to
seek
out
the
thing
that

might
destroy
them!

...

But
Ahab's
glance
was
averted;
like
a
blighted
fruit
tree
he
shook,
and
cast
his
last,

cindered
apple
to
the
soil.

...

Close!
stand
close
to
me,
Starbuck;
let
me
look
into
a
human
eye;
it
is
better
than
to

gaze
into
sea
or
sky;
better
than
to
gaze
upon
God.

...

What!
how
can
you
see
better
of
a
dark
night
than
anybody
else,
never
mind
how

foolish?

...

Old
man
of
oceans!
of
all
this
fiery
life
of
thine,
what
at
length
will
remain
but
one

little
heap
of
ashes!

...

Let
faith
oust
fact;
let
fancy
oust
memory;
I
look
deep
down
and
do
believe.

...

Would
to
God
these
blessed
calms
would
last.
But
the
mingled,
mingling
threads
of

life
are
woven
by
warp
and
woof:
calms
crossed
by
storms,
a
storm
for
every
calm.

There
is
no
steady
unretracing
progress
in
this
life;
we
do
not
advance
through
fixed

gradations,
and
at
the
last
one
pause:
‐
through
infancy's
unconscious
spell,

boyhood's
thoughtless
faith,
adolescence'
doubt
(the
common
doom),
then

scepticism,
then
disbelief,
resting
at
last
in
manhood's
pondering
repose
of
If.
But

once
gone
through,
we
trace
the
round
again;
and
are
infants,
boys,
and
men,
and
Ifs

eternally.
Where
lies
the
final
harbor,
whence
we
unmoor
no
more?
in
what
rapt

ether
sails
the
world,
of
which
the
weariest
will
never
weary?

...

I
like
a
good
grip;
I
like
to
feel
something
in
this
slippery
world
that
can
hold,
man.

...

Seat
thyself
sultanically
among
the
moons
of
Saturn,
and
take
high
abstracted
man

alone;
and
he
seems
a
wonder,
a
grandeur,
and
a
woe.
But
from
the
same
point,
take

mankind
in
mass,
and
for
the
most
part,
they
seem
a
mob
of
unnecessary
duplicates,

both
contemporary
and
hereditary.
But
most
humble
though
he
was,
and
far
from

furnishing
an
example
of
the
high,
humane
abstraction;
the
Pequod's
carpenter
was

no
duplicate.



Hermann
Melville

­­Moby­Dick



From
Next
Day



Wisdom,
said
William
James,

Is
learning
what
to
overlook.
And
I
am
wise

If
that
is
wisdom.

Yet
somehow,
as
I
buy
All
from
these
shelves

And
the
boy
takes
it
to
my
station
wagon,

What
I've
become

Troubles
me
even
if
I
shut
my
eyes.

...

Imaginings
within
my
imagining,

I
too
have
taken

The
chance
of
life.
Now
the
boy
pats
my
dog

And
we
start
home.
Now
I
am
good.

The
last
mistaken,

Ecstatic,
accidental
bliss,
the
blind



Happiness
that,
bursting,
leaves
upon
the
palm

Some
soap
and
water
‐

It
was
so
long
ago....



‐‐Randall
Jarrell



The
overt
Godlessness
of
our
world
is
a
latent
Godliness.
To
an
eye
keen
for
things

theological,
religion
is
most
present
where
it
is
least
visible.
That
"secularism"

blinds
us
to
the
theological
order
everywhere
implicit
in
the
secular
order
is
the

"central"
player
in
(Mark
C.)
Taylor's
dialectic.
After
God
is
full
of
illuminating

narratives
generated
by
this
hypothesis,
the
central
story
being
how
much

"modernity"
goes
back
to
the
Reformation:
Luther's
assertion
of
subjectivity,
his

rejection
of
tradition
in
favor
of
personal
experience,
his
media‐savvy
insistence
on

the
vernacular
and
use
of
the
printing
press....



John
D.
Caputo

‐‐Review
of
Mark
C.
Taylor's
After
God
in
The
Journal
of
the
American
Academy
of

Religion
77:1



Look
not
too
long
in
the
face
of
the
fire,
O
man!
Never
dream
with
thy
hand
on
the

helm!
Turn
not
thy
back
to
the
compass;
accept
the
first
hint
of
the
hitching
tiller;

believe
not
the
artificial
fire,
when
its
redness
makes
all
things
look
ghastly.
To‐
morrow,
in
the
natural
sun,
the
skies
will
be
bright;
those
who
glared
like
devils
in

the
forking
flames,
the
morn
will
show
in
far
other,
at
least
gentler,
relief;
the

glorious,
golden,
glad
sun,
the
only
true
lamp
‐
all
others
but
liars!



Nevertheless
the
sun
hides
not
Virginia's
Dismal
Swamp,
nor
Rome's
accursed

Campagna,
nor
wide
Sahara,
nor
all
the
millions
of
miles
of
deserts
and
of
griefs

beneath
the
moon.
The
sun
hides
not
the
ocean,
which
is
the
dark
side
of
this
earth,

and
which
is
two
thirds
of
this
earth.
So,
therefore,
that
mortal
man
who
hath
more

of
joy
than
sorrow
in
him,
that
mortal
man
cannot
be
true
‐
not
true,
or

undeveloped.
With
books
the
same.
The
truest
of
all
men
was
the
Man
of
Sorrows,

and
the
truest
of
all
books
is
Solomon's,
and
Ecclesiastes
is
the
fine
hammered
steel

of
woe.
"All
is
vanity."
ALL.

...

There
is
a
wisdom
that
is
woe;
but
there
is
a
woe
that
is
madness.
And
there
is
a

Catskill
eagle
in
some
souls
that
can
alike
dive
down
into
the
blackest
gorges,
and

soar
out
of
them
again
and
become
invisible
in
the
sunny
spaces.
And
even
if
he
for

ever
flies
within
the
gorge,
that
gorge
is
in
the
mountains;
so
that
even
in
his
lowest

swoop
the
mountain
eagle
is
still
higher
than
other
birds
upon
the
plain,
even

though
they
soar.



Herman
Melville

­­Moby­Dick



From
90
North



I
see
at
last
that
all
the
knowledge

I
wrung
from
the
darkness
‐
that
the
darkness
flung
me
‐

Is
worthless
as
ignorance:
nothing
comes
from
nothing,

The
darkness
from
the
darkness.
Pain
comes
from
the
darkness

And
we
call
it
wisdom.
It
is
pain.



‐‐Randall
Jarrell



From
The
Man‐Moth



He
thinks
the
moon
is
a
small
hole
at
the
top
of
the
sky,

proving
the
sky
quite
useless
for
protection.



‐‐Elizabeth
Bishop



From
Mourning
Poem
for
the
Queen
of
Sunday



Oh
who
and
oh
who
will
sing
Jesus
down

to
help
with
struggling
and
doing
without
and
being
colored

all
through
blue
Monday?

Till
way
next
Sunday?



‐‐Robert
Hayden



From
Questions
of
Travel



Should
we
have
stayed
at
home,

wherever
that
may
be?



‐‐Elizabeth
Bishop



From
Maximus,
to
Himself



It
is
undone
business

I
speak
of,
this
morning,

with
the
sea

stretching
out

from
my
feet.



‐‐Charles
Olson



Again:
as
the
profound
calm
which
only
apparently
precedes
and
prophesies
of
the

storm,
is
perhaps
more
awful
than
the
storm
itself;
for,
indeed,
the
calm
is
but
the

wrapper
and
envelope
of
the
storm;
and
contains
it
in
itself,
as
the
seemingly

harmless
rifle
holds
the
fatal
powder,
and
the
ball,
and
the
explosion;
so
the
graceful

repose
of
the
line,
as
it
silently
serpentines
about
the
oarsmen
before
being
brought

into
actual
play
‐
this
is
a
thing
which
carries
more
of
true
terror
than
any
other

aspect
of
this
dangerous
affair.
But
why
say
more?
All
men
live
enveloped
in
whale‐
lines.
All
are
born
with
halters
round
their
necks;
but
it
is
only
when
caught
in
the

swift,
sudden
turn
of
death,
that
mortals
realize
the
silent,
subtle,
ever‐present

perils
of
life.
And
if
you
be
a
philosopher,
though
seated
in
the
whale‐boat,
you

would
not
at
heart
feel
one
whit
more
of
terror,
than
though
seated
before
your

evening
fire
with
a
poker,
and
not
a
harpoon,
by
your
side.

…

But
how?
Genius
in
the
Sperm
Whale?
Has
the
Sperm
Whale
ever
written
a
book,

spoken
a
speech?
No,
his
great
genius
is
declared
in
his
doing
nothing
particular
to

prove
it.
It
is
moreover
declared
in
his
pyramidical
silence.
...If
hereafter
any
highly

cultured,
poetical
nation
shall
lure
back
to
their
birth‐right,
the
merry
May‐day
gods

of
old;
and
livingly
enthrone
them
again
in
the
now
egotistical
sky;
in
the
now

unhaunted
hill;
then
be
sure,
exalted
to
Jove's
high
seat,
the
great
Sperm
Whale
shall

lord
it.

...

It
was
a
terrific,
most
pitiable,
and
maddening
sight.
The
whale
was
now
going
head

out,
and
sending
his
spout
before
him
in
a
continual
tormented
jet;
while
his
one

poor
fin
beat
his
side
in
an
agony
of
fright.
Now
to
this
hand,
now
to
that,
he
yawed

in
his
faltering
flight,
and
still
at
every
billow
that
he
broke,
he
spasmodically
sank
in

the
sea,
or
sideways
rolled
towards
the
sky
his
one
beating
fin.
So
have
I
seen
a
bird

with
clipped
wing,
making
affrighted
broken
circles
in
the
air,
vainly
striving
to

escape
the
piratical
hawks.
But
the
bird
has
a
voice,
and
with
plaintive
cries
will

make
known
her
fear;
but
the
fear
of
this
vast
dumb
brute
of
the
sea,
was
chained
up

and
enchanted
in
him;
he
had
no
voice,
save
that
choking
respiration
through
his

spiracle,
and
this
made
the
sight
of
him
unspeakably
pitiable;
while
still,
in
his

amazing
bulk,
portcullis
jaw,
and
omnipotent
tail,
there
was
enough
to
appal
the

stoutest
man
who
so
pitied.

...

Seems
it
credible
that
by
three
such
thin
threads
the
great
Leviathan
was
suspended

like
the
big
weight
to
an
eight
day
clock.
Suspended?
and
to
what?
To
three
bits
of

board.
Is
this
the
creature
of
whom
it
was
once
so
triumphantly
said
‐
'Canst
thou
fill

his
skin
with
barbed
irons?
or
his
head
with
fish‐spears?
The
sword
of
him
that

layeth
at
him
cannot
hold,
the
spear,
the
dart,
nor
the
habergeon:
he
esteemeth
iron

as
straw;
the
arrow
cannot
make
him
flee;
darts
are
counted
as
stubble;
he
laugheth

at
the
shaking
of
a
spear!'
This
the
creature?
this
he?
Oh!
that
unfulfillments
should

follow
the
prophets.

...

As
strange
misgrown
masses
gather
in
the
knot‐holes
of
the
noblest
oaks
when

prostrate,
so
from
the
points
which
the
whale's
eyes
had
once
occupied,
now

protruded
blind
bulbs,
horribly
pitiable
to
see.
But
pity
there
was
none.
For
all
his

old
age,
and
his
one
arm,
and
his
blind
eyes,
he
must
die
the
death
and
be
murdered,

in
order
to
light
the
gay
bridals
and
other
merry‐makings
of
men,
and
also
to

illuminate
the
solemn
churches
that
preach
unconditional
inoffensiveness
by
all
to

all.

...

For
young
whales,
in
the
highest
health,
and
swelling
with
noble
aspirations,

prematurely
cut
off
in
the
warm
flush
and
May
of
life,
with
all
their
panting
lard

about
them;
even
these
brawny,
buoyant
heroes
do
sometimes
sink.



Hermann
Melville

­­Moby­Dick



Excerpts
from
Czeslaw
Milosz's
Milosz's
ABC's:



I
made
it,
but
I
have
always
tried
to
remember
that
I
owe
it
to
my
lucky
star,
not
to

myself,
and
that
right
next
door
are
entire
neighborhoods
of
unfortunates.
I
will
say

even
more:
the
thought
of
their
grueling
labor
and
unfulfilled
hope,
of
the
gigantic

prison
system
in
which
the
unneeded
are
kept,
taught
me
to
look
skeptically
at

(America's)
decorations
‐
those
well‐kept
houses
amidst
the
suburbs'
greenery.

...

In
our
deepest
convictions,
reaching
into
the
very
depths
of
our
being,
we
deserve
to

live
forever.
We
experience
our
transitoriness
and
mortality
as
an
act
of
violence

perpetrated
against
us.
Only
Paradise
is
authentic;
the
world
is
inauthentic,
and
only

temporary.
That
is
why
the
story
of
the
Fall
speaks
to
us
so
emotionally,
as
if

summoning
an
old
truth
from
our
slumbering
memory.

...

People
go
to
church
because
they
are
divided
beings.
They
wish,
for
a
moment
at

least,
to
find
themselves
in
a
reality
other
than
the
one
that
surrounds
them
and

claims
to
be
the
only
true
reality.
This
daily
reality
is
unyielding,
brutal,
cruel,
and

hard
to
bear.
The
human
"I"
is
soft
in
the
center
and
feels
every
moment
that
its

adaptation
to
the
world
is
doubtful.
...Participating
in
the
Mass
we
once
again
deny
a

world
without
meaning
and
without
mercy;
we
enter
into
a
dimension
where
what

matters
are
goodness,
love,
and
forgiveness.



If
to
participate
in
the
Mass
it
were
necessary
to
have
a
strong
faith
and
a

consciousness
that
we
act
in
life
as
our
religion
requires
us
to,
all
the
churchgoing

faithful
would
deserve
to
be
called
hypocrites
and
Pharisees.
In
truth,
however,

strong
faith
is
a
rare
gift,
and
as
for
acts,
the
liturgy
reminds
us
that
we
are
all

sinners.
Attending
church
is
not,
therefore,
for
the
elect.



The
needs
of
the
individual
determine
church
attendance,
and
knowledge
of
the

catechism
or
even
familiarity
with
the
so‐called
truths
of
the
faith
are
not
the
most

important
matters,
although
they
are
advisable.



Czeslaw
Milosz

‐‐Milosz's
ABC's



We
make
the
coffee
with
river
water,
dipping
a
canful
from
among
the
rocks
and

letting
it
set
for
a
time
until
the
silt
settles
to
the
bottom.
For
entertainment
we
have

the
murmur
of
the
river,
the
drone
of
cicada
and
amphibians,
the
show
of

nighthawks
plunging
through
the
evening
gulping
bugs.
Afterwards
we
sit
by
the

fire
until
the
fire
gives
out,
listening,
smoking,
analyzing
socioeconomic
problems:



"Look
here,
Newcombe,"
I
say,
"do
you
think
it's
fitting
that
you
and
I
should
be
here

in
the
wilds,
risking
our
lives
amidst
untold
hardships,
while
our
wives
nad
loved

ones
lounge
at
their
ease
back
in
Albuquerque,
enjoying
the
multifold
comforts,

benefits
and
luxuries
of
modern
contemporary
twentieth
century
American
urban

civilization?"



"Yes,"
he
says.



Edward
Abbey

­­Desert
Solitaire



The
light
there
was
like
a
blow,
and
the
air
smelled
as
if
many
wonderful
girls
had

just
wandered
across
the
lawn.



John
Cheever

‐‐"The
Common
Day"



I
had
already
put
on
the
football
uniform,
and
the
weight
of
it,
the
heaviness
of
the

pants
and
the
shoulder
guards,
had
worked
a
change
in
me,
as
if
in
putting
on
these

old
clothes
I
had
put
off
the
reasonable
anxieties
and
troubles
of
my
life.
It
felt
as
if

we
had
both
returned
to
the
years
before
our
marriage,
the
years
before
thew
war.

...

Chucky
Ewing
had
got
hold
of
a
balloon
and
was
trying
to
organize
a
scrimmage
line

in
the
middle
of
the
floor.
The
others
were
dancing
a
samba.
And
I
knew
that

Lawrence
was
looking
bleakly
at
the
party
as
he
had
looked
at
the
weather‐beaten

shingles
on
our
house,
as
if
he
saw
here
an
abuse
and
a
distortion
of
time;
as
if
in

wanting
to
be
brides
and
football
players
we
exposed
the
fact
that,
the
lights
of

youth
having
been
put
out
in
us,
we
had
been
unable
to
find
other
lights
to
go
by

and,
destitute
of
faith
and
principle,
had
become
foolish
and
sad.
And
that
he
was

thinking
this
about
so
many
kind
and
happy
and
generous
people
had
me
angry,

made
me
feel
for
him
such
an
unnatural
abhorrence
that
I
was
ashamed,
for
he
is
my

brother
and
a
Pommeroy.



John
Cheever

‐"Goodbye,
My
Brother"



Nick's
heart
tightened
as
the
trout
moved.
He
felt
all
the
old
feeling.

...

His
muscles
ached
and
the
day
was
hot,
but
Nick
felt
happy.
He
had
left
everything

behind,
the
need
for
thinking,
the
need
to
write,
other
needs.
It
was
all
back
of
him.

From
the
time
he
had
gotten
down
off
the
train
and
the
baggage
man
had
thrown
his

pack
out
of
the
open
car
door
things
had
been
different.
Seney
was
burned,
the

country
was
burned
over
and
changed,
but
it
did
not
matter.
It
could
not
all
be

burned.

...

The
road
ran
on,
dipping
occasionally,
but
always
climbing.

...

Inside
the
tent
the
light
came
through
the
brown
canvas.
It
smelled
pleasantly
of

canvas.
Already
there
was
something
mysterious
and
homelike.
Nick
was
happy
as

he
crawled
inside
the
tent.
He
had
not
been
unhappy
all
day.
This
was
different

though.
Now
things
were
done.
There
had
been
this
to
do.
Now
it
was
done.
It
had

been
a
hard
trip.
He
was
very
tired.
That
was
done.
He
had
made
his
camp.
He
was

settled.
Nothing
could
touch
him.
It
was
a
good
place
to
camp.
He
was
there,
in
the

good
place.
He
was
in
his
home
where
he
had
made
it.

...

Nick
laughed.
It
made
a
good
ending
to
the
story.



Ernest
Hemingway

‐‐"Big
Two‐Hearted
River:
Part
I"



The
'heroes
of
the
spirit,'
Elijah
shows
the
conventional
rabbi
Baroka,
are
not
the

ostentatiously
pious,
not
even
the
learned
and
devout
like
Baroka
himself....
They

may
appear
to
be
quite
ordinary
individuals,
not
even
religious
in
a
conventional

sense,
whose
quiet
deeds
enhance
the
quality
of
life
around
them
‐
the
carers,
the

compassionate,
those
who
use
their
talents
to
ease
the
burden
of
humanity.



Norman
Solomon

­­Judaism:
A
Very
Short
Introduction



The
tide
of
darkness
seemed
to
sweep
him
back
to
her,
postponing
from
moment
to

moment
his
entry
into
the
world
of
guilt
and
sorrow.



Flannery
O'Connor

‐‐"Everything
That
Rises
Must
Converge"



But
no
appeal
has
yet
been
made
to
the
vast
American
middle
class,
the
majority

class,
to
detach
itself
from
our
competitive
industrial
insanity.
It
is
indeed
our

industrial
way
of
life
that
lends
sanction
to
militarism
and
colonialism,

Preparedness
and
suppression
of
human
rights.
Our
enemy,
strange
as
it
may
sound

to
American
ears,
is
the
Standard
of
Living.
We
worship
at
the
altar
of
the
White

Rhinoceros,
the
American
kitchen.
Standard
of
Living
is
the
holy
of
holies
in
whose

name
every
other
evil
is
committed.
To
lower
this
standard
or
to
equalize
it
among

the
peoples
of
the
world
is
our
greatest
need.
And
the
first
step
is
to
disassociate

ourselves
from
the
industrial‐scientific
madness
which
rules
our
lives
twenty‐four

hours
a
day.

...

To
remove
ourselves
from
the
world
of
competition
is
of
paramount
importance
to

the
individual
and
to
the
nation.
Competition
is
the
most
terrible
vice
of
modern

society.
Competition
is
the
disease
of
the
West
and
is
the
source
of
our
violence.

Non‐violence
means
non‐competition.
...It
cannot
be
employed
by
governments

because
governments
are
by
definition
committed
to
violence.
Nonviolence
is
not
a

prerogative
of
governments
but
of
men,
even
of
one
man.
One
nonviolent
man,
like

Gandhi
or
Christ,
can
change
history.
Governments
can
only
keep
history
on
the

march.
Ahimsa
can
stop
history.

...

Vinoba
Bhave,
the
greatest
living
disciple
of
Gandhi,
who
travels
throughout
India

asking
for
land
for
the
peasantry
from
the
great
landlords
and
receiving
it,
says:
"I

desire
to
humiliate
neither
the
rich
nor
the
poor..."
This
is
the
opposite
of

communist
expropriation
or
of
capitalist
competition.

...

Instead
of
class
war
and
hatred
as
preached
by
the
communists
or
industrial‐
scientific
competition
as
preached
by
us,
to
survive
we
must
behave
nonviolently

and
in
the
spirit
of
love.



Karl
Shapiro

‐‐"To
Revive
Anarchism"
in
Creative
Glut



Faith
does
not
insulate
us
from
the
challenges
of
life;
rather,
it
intensifies
our
desire

to
help
solve
them....
From
the
resources
of
our
faith
we
wish
to
provide
hope
and

strength
to
all
who
seek
a
world
free
of
the
nuclear
threat.
Hope
sustains
one's

capacity
to
live
with
danger
without
being
overwhelmed
by
it;
hope
is
the
will
to

struggle
against
obstacles
even
when
they
appear
insuperable.
Ultimately
our
hope

rests
in
the
God
who
gave
us
life,
sustains
the
world
by
his
power
and
has
called
us

to
revere
the
lives
of
every
person
and
all
peoples.

...

As
Americans,
citizens
of
the
nation
which
was
first
to
produce
atomic
weapons,

which
has
been
the
only
one
to
use
them
and
which
today
is
one
of
the
handful
of

nations
capable
of
decisively
influencing
the
course
of
the
nuclear
age,
we
have

grave
human,
moral,
and
political
responsibilities
to
see
that
a
"conscious
choice"
is

made
to
save
humanity.



United
States
Catholic
Bishops

‐‐The
Challenge
of
Peace:
God's
Promise
and
Our
Response
­
The
Pastoral
Letter
on

War
and
Peace



The
definition
of
combatancy
and
noncombatancy
follows
from
direct
involvement

in
prosecuting
the
war,
not
from
one's
citizenship
or
one's
personal
preference

among
the
belligerents.
It
is
action
that
matters,
not
attitude.
For
this
reason,
I

regard
the
use
of
the
term
civilian
in
the
Protocols
to
the
Geneva
Conventions
as

misleading:
it
is
not
civilian
status
that
matters,
as
irregular
soldiers
may
technically

be
civilians;
what
matters
is
whether
people
are
engaged
in
combatant
activity
or

not.
The
relevant
moral
term
is
noncombatant,
even
though
the
language
of
the

protocols
uses
civilian,
and
this
usage
has
seeped
into
the
moral
debate
at
times.



James
Turner
Johnson

­­The
War
to
Oust
Saddam
Hussein:
Just
War
and
the
New
Face
of
Conflict



In
the
following
chapters,
I
will
be
making
a
continuing
polemic
against
what
I
call

"subtraction
stories."
Concisely
put,
I
mean
by
this
stories
of
modernity
in
general,

and
secularity
in
particular,
which
explain
them
by
human
beings
having
lost,
or

sloughed
off,
or
liberated
themselves
from
certain
earlier,
confining
horizons,
or

illusions,
or
limitations
of
knowledge.
What
emerges
from
this
process
‐
modernity

or
secularity
‐
is
to
be
understood
in
terms
of
underlying
features
of
human
nature

which
were
there
all
along,
but
had
been
impeded
by
what
is
now
set
aside.
Against

this
kind
of
story,
I
will
steadily
be
arguing
that
Western
modernity,
including
its

secularity,
is
the
fruit
of
new
inventions,
newly
constructed
self‐understandings
and

related
practices,
and
can't
be
explained
in
terms
of
perennial
features
of
human
life.



Charles
Taylor

‐‐A
Secular
Age



"It’s
hard,
then,
not
to
be
cynical
when
some
of
the
people
who
should
have
spoken

out
against
what
was
happening,
but
didn’t,
now
declare
that
we
should
forget
the

whole
era
—
for
the
sake
of
the
country,
of
course.



Sorry,
but
what
we
really
should
do
for
the
sake
of
the
country
is
have
investigations

both
of
torture
and
of
the
march
to
war.
These
investigations
should,
where

appropriate,
be
followed
by
prosecutions
—
not
out
of
vindictiveness,
but
because

this
is
a
nation
of
laws."



‐‐Paul
Krugman,
"Reclaiming
America's
Soul"



I
once
said
that,
after
the
experiences
of
the
last
two
years,
I
could
no
longer
hold
to

any
truth
which
might
oblige
me,
directly
or
indirectly,
to
demand
a
man's
life.


Certain
friends
whom
I
respected
retorted
that
I
was
living
in
Utopia,
that
there
was

no
political
truth
which
could
not
one
day
reduce
us
to
such
an
extremity,
and
that

we
must
therefore
either
run
the
risk
of
this
extremity
or
else
simply
put
up
with

the
world
as
it
is.



They
argued
the
point
most
forcefully.

But
I
think
they
were
able
to
put
such
force

into
it
only
because
they
were
unable
to
really
imagine
other
people's
death.

It
is
a

freak
of
the
times.

We
make
love
by
telephone,
we
work
not
on
matter
but
on

machines,
and
we
kill
and
are
killed
by
proxy.

We
gain
in
cleanliness,
but
lose
in

understanding.



Albert
Camus



‐‐"Neither
Victims
nor
Executioners,"
in
David
P.
Barash,
ed.,
Approaches
to
Peace.



I
would
up
heart,
were
it
not
like
lead.

But
my
whole
clock's
run
down;
my
heart
the

all‐controlling
weight,
I
have
no
key
to
lift
again.

...

I
leave
a
white
and
turbid
wake;
pale
waters,
paler
cheeks,
where'er
I
sail.

The

envious
billows
sidelong
swell
to
whelm
my
track;
let
them;
but
first
I
pass.

...

Already
we
are
boldly
launched
upon
the
deep;
but
soon
we
shall
be
lost
in
its

unshored,
harborless
immensities.



Herman
Melville



‐‐Moby­Dick



Conscientious
Objector



Edna
St.
Vincent
Millay



I
shall
die,
but

that
is
all
that
I
shall
do
for
Death.

I
hear
him
leading
his
horse
out
of
the
stall;

I
hear
the
clatter
on
the
barn‐floor.

He
is
in
haste;
he
has
business
in
Cuba,

business
in
the
Balkans,

many
calls
to
make
this
morning.

But
I
will
not
hold
the
bridle

while
he
cinches
the
girth.

And
he
may
mount
by
himself:

I
will
not
give
him
a
leg
up.



Though
he
flick
my
shoulders
with
his
whip,

I
will
not
tell
him
which
way
the
fox
ran.

With
his
hoof
on
my
breast,
I
will
not
tell
him
where

the
black
boy
hides
in
the
swamp.

I
shall
die,
but
that
is
all
that
I
shall
do
for
Death;

I
am
not
on
his
pay‐roll.



I
will
not
tell
him
the
whereabouts
of
my
friends

nor
of
my
enemies
either.

Though
he
promise
me
much,

I
will
not
map
him
the
route
to
any
man's
door.

Am
I
a
spy
in
the
land
of
the
living,

that
I
should
deliver
men
to
Death?

Brother,
the
password
and
the
plans
of
our
city

are
safe
with
me;
never
through
me

Shall
you
be
overcome.



‐‐‐



Excerpts
from
Melville's
Moby­Dick:



Let
the
most
absent‐minded
of
men
be
plunged
in
his
deepest
reveries
‐
stand
that

man
on
his
legs,
set
his
feet
a‐going,
and
he
will
infallibly
lead
you
to
water,
if
water

there
be
in
all
that
region.

...Yes,
as
every
one
knows,
meditation
and
water
are

wedded
for
ever.

...

What
of
it,
if
some
old
hunks
of
a
sea‐captain
orders
me
to
get
a
broom
and
sweep

down
the
decks?

What
does
that
indignity
amount
to,
weighed,
I
mean,
in
the
scales

of
the
New
Testament?

Do
you
think
the
archangel
Gabriel
thinks
anything
the
less

of
me,
because
I
promptly
and
respectfully
obey
that
old
hunks
in
that
particular

instance?

Who
aint
a
slave?

Tell
me
that.

Well,
then,
however
the
old
sea‐captains

may
order
me
about
‐
however
they
may
thump
and
punch
me
about,
I
have
the

satisfaction
of
knowing
that
it
is
all
right;
that
everybody
else
is
one
way
or
other

served
in
much
the
same
way
‐
either
in
a
physical
or
metaphysical
point
of
view,

that
is;
and
so
the
universal
thump
is
passed
around,
and
all
hands
should
rub
each

other's
shoulder‐blades,
and
be
content.

...

As
for
me,
I
am
tormented
with
an
everlasting
itch
for
things
remote.

I
love
to
sail

forbidden
seas,
and
land
on
barbarous
coasts.

...

Each
silent
worshipper
seemed
purposely
sitting
apart
from
the
other,
as
if
each

silent
grief
were
insular
and
incommunicable.

...

But
Faith,
like
a
jackal,
feeds
among
the
tombs,
and
even
from
those
dead
doubts
she

gathers
her
most
vital
hope.

...

I
began
to
be
sensible
of
strange
feelings.

I
felt
a
melting
in
me.

No
more
my

splintered
heart
and
maddened
hand
were
turned
against
the
wolfish
world.

...

One
most
perilous
and
long
voyage
ended,
only
begins
a
second;
and
a
second

ended,
only
begins
a
third,
and
so
on,
for
ever
and
for
aye.

Such
is
the
endlessness,

yea,
the
intolerableness
of
all
earthly
effort.

...

'Now
then,
thou
not
only
wantest
to
go
a‐whaling,
to
find
out
by
experience
what

whaling
is,
buy
ye
also
want
to
go
in
order
to
see
the
world?

Was
not
that
what
ye

said?

I
thought
so.


Well
then,
just
step
forward
there,
and
take
a
peep
over
the

weather‐bow,
and
then
back
to
me
and
tell
me
what
ye
see
there.'...



Going
forward
and
glancing
over
the
weather
bow,
I
perceived
that
the
ship

swinging
to
her
anchor
with
the
flood‐tide,
was
now
obliquely
pointing
towards
the

open
ocean.

The
prospect
was
unlimited,
but
exceedingly
monotonous
and

forbidding;
not
the
slightest
variety
that
I
could
see.



'Well,
what's
the
report?'
said
Peleg
when
I
came
back;
'what
did
ye
see?'



'Not
much,'
I
replied
‐
'nothing
but
water;
considerable
horizon
though,
and
there's
a

squall
coming
up,
I
think.'



'Well,
what
dost
thou
think
then
of
seeing
the
world?

Do
ye
wish
to
go
round
Cape

Horn
to
see
any
more
of
it,
eh?

Can't
ye
see
the
world
where
you
stand?'



Herman
Melville



‐‐Moby­Dick



Murderous
gunfire
claims
many
more
victims
than
those
who
are
actually
felled
by

the
bullets.
But
all
the
expressions
of
horror
at
the
violence
and
pity
for
the
dead

and
those
who
loved
them
ring
hollow
in
a
society
that
is
neither
mature
nor

civilized
enough
to
do
anything
about
it.



‐‐Bob
Herbert,
New
York
Times,
4/11/09



Excerpts
from
Jim
Harrison's
The
English
Major



I
recently
finished
Jim
Harrison's
latest
novel,
The
English
Major.

Harrison,
a
native

of
my
home
state
of
Michigan,
is
my
favorite
contemporary
author,
and
The
English

Major
is
the
best
"fun
read"
I've
had
in
a
long
time.

In
trademark
Harrison
style,
it
is

both
hilarious
and
poignant,
and
it
contains
some
great
passages.

Excerpts
below.



...

I
tried
to
dismiss
a
pinprick
of
homesickness
beneath
my
breastbone
but
then

thought
that
homesickness
like
marital
love
was
mostly
a
habit.

What
I
missed
was

no
longer
there
or
on
the
verge
of
disappearing.

I
mean
Lola
was
in
dog
heaven
and

the
farm
which
had
been
sold
to
a
stockbroker
and
his
family
from
Chicago
was
to

become
a
horse
operation.

The
barn
and
my
cozy
workshop
would
likely
be

remodeled
into
stables,
the
orchard
uprooted
for
pasture,
and
our
old
home
razed
in

favor
of
what
Viv
said
would
be
"French
provincial"
whatever
that
was.

...

Dad
once
warned
me
about
this
when
I
was
mourning
the
loss
of
a
girlfriend
to
a

quarterback.

I
was
a
lonely
lineman.

I
moped
and
moped,
and
then
when
we
were

cutting
wood
on
an
icy
October
morning
he
told
me
that
self‐pity
was
a
ruinous

emotion.

"Look
at
the
world,
not
up
your
ass,"
he
said.

It
took
me
awhile
to
figure

this
out.

...

She
also
liked
to
say
that
my
dead
father
would
wish
me
to
be
a
"success"
when
my

dad
never
spoke
about
such
things
except
to
say
that
successful
people
never
had

much
time
for
important
things
like
hunting,
fishing,
drinking,
and
wandering

around
in
the
woods.

...

Dad
certainly
wouldn't
own
a
cell
phone
which
only
made
the
wandering
man
a

target
with
the
number
providing
a
guaranteed
bull's‐eye.

...

Up
to
this
point
I
hadn't
questioned
the
rightness
of
my
trip
but
suddenly
I

wondered
if
I
were
truly
suited
for
travel.

Reality
seemed
to
be
crumbling
and
I
was

wise
enough
to
understand
that
reality
stayed
the
same
so
it
was
my
mind
that
was

crumbling.

...

To
my
dad
who
was
a
young
man
during
the
Great
Depression
the
only
truly

hopeless
greivance
was
not
to
have
a
job,
or
not
to
have
"work"
as
he
called
it.

...

I'm
sort
of
neutral
in
terms
of
religion
but
ever
since
I
was
a
kid
I've
thought
moving

water
to
be
the
best
thing
God
made.

...

Everyone
pretty
much
pans
out
in
the
middle
ground
or
less.

In
college
I
thought
I

was
destined
to
go
overseas
but
I
didn't.

We
don't
quite
get
started
except
on
our

livelihood
which
is
probably
the
story
of
mankind.



Jim
Harrison



‐‐The
English
Major



More
excerpts
from
Halldor
Laxness's
Independent
People:



One
has
grown
weary
of
one's
house
before
it
has
finished
building;
strange
that

mankind
should
need
to
live
in
a
house,
instead
of
remaining
content
with
the
house

of
wishes.

...

Come
what
may
and
go
what
may,
a
man
always
has
the
memories
of
his
dogs.
Of

these
at
least
no
one
can
deprive
him,
though
both
the
prosperity
of
world
war
and

the
fulfilment
of
important
people's
ideals
have
proved
to
be
no
more
than
a
cloud

of
dust
that
has
swirled
up
to
obscure
the
lone
worker's
vision.

...

To
be
able
to
look
forward
is
to
live.

...

Human
life
isn't
long
enough
for
a
peasant
to
become
a
man
of
means.

...

He
had
never
asked
for
any
other
joy
than
the
joy
of
knowing
that
the
sheep
were

breeding
with
good
result
in
their
regular
season,
and
of
seeing
them
weather
the

winter
strong
enough
to
struggle
out
of
the
bogs
in
spring.
Perhaps
that
is
the
true

joy.

...

And
yet
he
did
not
find
the
happiness
he
had
dreamed
of,
nor
the
peace
he
had
so

much
desired,
and
she
understood
him,
and
loved
him
for
that
very
reason,
that
he

had
found
neither
happiness
nor
peace.

...

And
to
be
able
to
look
forward
to
the
morrow
in
joyful
expectation
is
good
fortune

indeed.

...

They
groped
involuntarily
for
one
another's
hand,
fearful
that
they
might
be
alone;

what
more
was
it
really
possible
to
do?
Thus
they
stood,
holding
hands
and

shivering
as
the
moon
disappeared
into
a
deeper
and
deeper
gloom;
they
were

wanting
coffee,
they
were
cold.



Halldor
Laxness

‐‐Independent
People
(Sjálfstætt
folk)



Quotes
from
Kohak's
The
Embers
and
the
Stars:



Reflection
and
speculation
remain
no
more
than
cunningly
devised
fables
if
they
are

not
grounded
in
what,
paraphrasing
Calvin
Schrag,
we
could
call
the

prephilosophical
and
prescientific
matrix
of
self‐understanding
and
world‐
comprehension.
Though
philosophy
must
do
much
else
as
well,
it
must,
initially,
see

and,
thereafter,
ground
its
speculation
ever
anew
in
seeing.

...

It
is,
surely,
good
that
there
are
synthetic
medicines
to
ease
the
surplus
of
pain,

telephones
to
break
through
loneliness,
and
electric
lights
to
keep
the
wayfarer
from

stumbling.
There
is,
though,
something
wrong
when
we
use
medicine
to
deaden
our

sensitivity,
when
we
obliterate
solitude
with
electronics
and
blind
ourselves
with

the
very
lights
we
devised
to
help
us
see.
There
is
nothing
wrong
with
our
artifacts;

there
is
something
wrong
with
us:
we
have
lost
sight
of
the
sense,
the
purpose
of
our

production
and
our
products.
Artifacts,
finally,
are
good
only
extrinsically,
as
tools.

They
have
no
intrinsic
sense
of
their
own.

...

My
primary
tool
has
been
the
metaphor,
not
the
argument,
and
the
product
of
my

labors
is
not
a
doctrine
but
an
invitation
to
look
and
see.
With
Husserl,
I
have
sought

not
to
instruct
but
to
point
out,
to
recall
what
we
have
forgotten.

...

Contrary
to
Descartes,
long
before
the
cogito
of
reflection
there
is
the
goodness
and

the
truth
of
the
sumus.
[cogito
=
"I
think,"
as
in
cogito
ergo
sum,
"I
think,
therefore
I

am";
sumus
=
togetherness,
"we
are"]

...

Humans
have
to
dehumanize
their
world
in
their
imagination
in
order
to
be
able
to

exploit
it
ruthlessly
in
their
actions.

...

Our
world
of
artifacts
may
be
no
more
than
the
thinnest
of
layers
covering
the

rhythm
of
living
nature,
but
it
is
that
layer
that
we
confront
in
our
daily
experience.

...

Though
the
theoretical
construct
of
[nature
as]
a
mechanically
ordered
matter
in

motion
may
bear
little
resemblance
to
the
living
nature
of
the
field
and
the
forest

and
so
may
never
have
appeared
convincing
before,
it
is
a
faithful
reflection
of
a

world
of
artifacts
and
as
such
compelling
to
a
humanity
whose
experience
with

nature
is
restricted
to
contact
with
artifacts.

...

The
technical
reason
which
produces
the
machine
cannot
teach
us
its
human
use.

...

The
logic
of...production
and
consumption,
however,
grows
ever
more
elusive.

Through
the
ages
of
humanity's
precarious
survival
on
this
earth,
the
meeting
of

basic
survival
needs
provided
a
ready
justification
for
productive
activity.
Were
we

inclined
so
to
direct
our
energies,
it
might
still
do
so:
there
is
more
than
enough

hunger
and
sheer
dismal
misery
still
with
us.
For
the
most
part,
though,
we
manage

to
ignore
such
need.
The
logic
of
our
production
is
not
that
of
need
but
of
affluence

with
lacks
such
automatic
justification.
If
affluence
is
to
be
justified,
it
cannot
be
by

need
but
by
some
greater
good,
be
it
meeting
the
needs
of
others,
caring
for
the

natural
world,
or
creating
higher
values
of
culture.
...Yet
individually
and
collectively

we
sacrifice
precious
life
and
resources
to
producing
and
paying
for
[items
such
as

ever‐larger
television
sets]
‐
and
we
are
constantly
assured
that
we
must
do
so
to

"stimulate
the
economy."
Production
itself
has
become
the
justification
of
ever
more

absurd
consumption:
we
consume
to
proudce,
produce
to
consume;
all
other

considerations
must
stand
aside.

...

The
heavens
may
still
declare
the
glory
of
God,
but
we
look
up
not
at
the
heavens

but
at
neon
reflected
on
smog;
we
walk
not
on
the
good
earth
but
on
asphalt.
Our

estrangement
from
nature
is
no
longer
conceptual
only:
it
has
acquired
an

experiential
grounding.
Figuratively,
we
are
all
in
the
position
of
the
child
who
has

never
seen,
never
mind
milked,
a
cow,
and
whose
lived
experience
constantly

provides
an
experiential
confirmation
for
the
assumption
that
milk
comes
from
a

supermarket
cooler.

...

If
the
products
of
human
techne
become
philosophically
and
experientially

problematic,
it
is,
I
would
submit,
because
we
come
to
think
of
them
as
autonomous

of
the
purpose
which
led
to
their
production
and
gives
them
meaning.
We
become,

in
effect,
victims
of
a
self‐forgetting,
losing
sight
of
the
moral
sense
which
is
the

justification
of
technology.
Quite
concretely,
the
purpose
of
electric
light
is
to
help

humans
see.
When
it
comes
to
blind
them
to
the
world
around
them,
it
becomes

counterproductive.
The
task
thus
is
not
to
abolish
technology
but
to
see
through
it
to

the
human
meaning
which
justifies
it
and
directs
its
use.



Erazim
Kohak


‐‐The
Embers
and
the
Stars:
A
Philosophical
Inquiry
into
the
Moral
Sense
of
Nature



Excerpts
from
Laxness'
Independent
People:



From
Brad
Leithauser's
introduction
to
Halldor
Laxness'
novel
Independent
People:

"There
are
good
books
and
there
are
great
books
and
there
may
be
a
book
that
is

something
still
more:
it
is
the
book
of
your
life.
...One
looks
differently
on
the
book
of

genius
that,
even
in
a
long
bookworm's
life,
one
might
not
have
stumbled
upon."



Excerpts:



But
higher
than
all
dealers
and
societies
stand
the
dreams
of
the
heart,
especially
in

the
autumn
when
dusk
is
falling
and
the
clouds
of
the
world
are
full
of
marvellous

pictures....Oh,
that
it
may
never
end;
that
it
might
live
on
to
eternity
in
the
restless

splendour
of
its
color.
And
thus
night
after
night
she
sat
watching
the
silent
music
of

the
clouds.

...

This
was
the
first
time
that
her
soul
was
charmed
by
the
power
of
poetry,
which

shows
us
the
lot
of
man
so
truthfully
and
so
sympathetically
and
with
so
much
love

for
that
which
is
good
that
we
ourselves
become
better
persons
and
understand
life

more
fully
than
before,
and
hope
and
trust
that
good
may
always
prevail
in
the
life
of

man.

...

The
varied
life
implicit
in
all
this
noise
affected
the
bewildered
child
with
a
sad

sense
of
her
own
isolation,
her
own
insignificance;
she
stood
outside
the
boundaries

of
life.

...

His
being
had
rested
full
of
adoration
for
the
glory
which
unifies
all
distances
in
such

beauty
and
sorrow
that
one
no
longer
wishes
for
anything
‐
in
inconquerable

adversity,
in
unquenchable
longing,
he
felt
that
life
had
nevertheless
been
worth

living.

...

When
life
is
a
weariness
and
escape
impossible,
it
is
wonderful
to
have
a
friend
who

can
bring
us
peace
with
the
touch
of
a
hand.

...

Presently
the
smell
of
coffee
began
to
fill
the
room.
This
was
morning's
hallowed

moment.
In
such
a
fragrance
the
perversity
of
the
world
is
forgotten
and
the
soul
is

inspired
with
faith
in
the
future;
when
all
was
said
and
done,
it
was
probably
true

that
there
really
were
far‐off
places,
even
foreign
countries.

...

Few
things
are
so
inconstant,
so
unstable,
as
a
loving
heart,
and
yet
it
is
the
only

place
in
the
world
where
one
can
find
sympathy.

...

No
one
will
ever
be
able
to
say
that
Bjartur
of
Summerhouses
ever
got
the
worst
of
it

in
his
world
war
with
the
country's
spectres,
no
matter
how
often
he
might
tumble

over
a
precipice
or
roll
head
over
heels
down
a
gully
‐
"while
there's
a
breath
left
in

my
nostrils,
it
will
never
keep
me
down,
however
hard
it
blows."

...

She
lay
like
this
for
a
long
time,
still
quivering
and
still
with
a
pain
in
her
heart;
no

memories
could
comfort
her
any
longer,
terror
is
stronger
than
the
total
sum
of

anyone's
happiness.
She
tried
to
think
with
hope
of
the
far‐off
dawn,
for
human

beings
always
seek
some
source
of
consolation;
it
is
this
search
for
consolation,
even

when
every
retreat
is
obviously
cut
off,
that
proves
that
one
is
still
alive.

...

But
the
high
heath
had
also
a
value
for
this
man
other
than
the
practical
and
the

economic.
It
was
his
spiritual
mother,
his
church,
his
better
world,
as
the
ocean
must

inevitably
be
to
the
seafarer.
When
he
walked
along
over
the
moors
on
the
clear,

frosty
days
of
late
autumn,
when
he
ran
his
eyes
over
the
desert's
pathless
range

and
felt
the
cold
clean
breeze
of
the
mountains
on
his
face,
then
he
too
would
prove

the
substance
of
patriotic
song.

...

He
gazed
out
the
window
for
a
while,
without
accounting
for
the
trend
of
his

thought,
staring
in
silence
towards
the
mountain.

...

For
you
are
all
of
the
same
high
birth:
God's
children
all
of
you.

...

Take
my
word
for
it,
freedom
is
of
more
account
than
the
height
of
a
roof
beam.

...

Yes,
whatever
a
man
seeks
he
will
find
‐
in
his
dog.



Halldor
Laxness



‐‐Independent
People



Watch
how
the
cloud
sings

All
you
wanted
to
say
or
find.



Yehuda
Amichai

‐‐"Let
the
Coin
Decide"



And
the
migration
of
my
parents

Has
not
subsided
in
me.
My
blood
goes
on
sloshing

Between
my
ribs,
long
after
the
vessel
has
come
to
rest.

And
the
migration
of
my
parents
has
not
subsided
in
me.

Winds
of
long
time
over
stones.
Earth

Forgets
the
steps
of
those
who
trod
her.



Yehuda
Amichai

‐‐"And
the
Migration
of
My
Parents"



Who
will
love
the
things
that
are
naught
and
in
vain?

I,
who
stand
in
the
world
like
water
in
the
rain,

I
love
the
things
that
are
naught
and
in
vain.

...

The
most
wandering
thing
is
a
heart
that
stopped
wandering.



Yehuda
Amichai

‐‐"At
Right
Angles:
Hebrew
Quatrains"



"Has
the
horse
been
spoken
to?"
asked
the
old
man;
and
as
it
had
not
yet
been
done,

he
took
an
ear
in
each
hand
and
whispered
to
it,
according
to
ancient
custom,
for

horses
understood
these
things:
"You
carry
a
coffin
today.
You
carry
a
coffin
today."

...

The
coffin
was
carried
straight
into
the
church
in
compliance
with
the
minister's

request
and
the
bells
were
rung.
Feeble
was
the
sound
they
made,
feeble
their

intrusion
on
frozen
nature's
winter
omnipotence,
their
peal
reminiscent
of
nothing

so
much
as
the
jingle
of
a
child's
toy.
And
the
folk
came
trailing
out
of
the
drifting

snow
and
into
the
church,
timid
in
the
face
of
death,
which
never
seems
so

irrevocable
as
when
bells
of
such
a
kind
tinkle
so
helplessly
in
the
cold,
white
spaces

of
declining
day.



Halldor
Laxness

­­Independent
People



Every
day
of
our
life
together

Ecclesiastes
erases
a
verse
of
his
book.



Yehuda
Amichai

‐‐"Six
Poems
For
Tamar"



Do
I
think
he
would
be
'saved'?
I
fancy
that
whosoever
leads
men
to
virtue
in
this

life
cannot
be
damned
in
the
next.



Moses
Mendelssohn

‐‐"Reply
to
Johann
Kaspar
Lavater,"
1769.



Before
the
invention
of
the
machine,
the
only
wealth
of
a
people
was
constituted
by

the
soil
and
the
flocks.
This
is
what
today
would
be
called
capital.
Evidently
Jesus

accepted
voluntary
poverty
for
the
sake
of
the
kingdom
and
he
ordered
his
disciples

to
practice
the
jubilary
redistribution
of
their
capital:
"all
of
these
things,
it
is
the

Gentiles
of
the
world
who
seek
them.
Your
Father
knows
that
you
need
them.
Seek

rather
the
kingdom
of
God
and
all
these
things
will
be
added
to
you.
Do
not
fear,

little
flock,
because
your
Father
has
chosen
to
give
you
the
kingdom;
sell
all
that
you

have
and
give
it
as
alms"
(Luke
12:30‐33).
No
one
doubts
that
he
said
this.
All
that

has
been
debated
is
whether
this
redistribution
of
capital
was
commanded
by
Jesus

for
all
Christians
at
all
times
and
in
all
places
or
whether
it
was
just
a
"counsel
of

perfection"
directed
to
the
saints.
Traditionally
the
Church
has
chosen
the
second

solution,
the
easy
one.

...

Comparing
one
day
the
generosity
of
the
wealthy,
who
ostentatiously
were

throwing
large
offerings
in
the
temple
treasury,
with
that
of
the
poor
widow,
Jesus

exclaimed,
"This
poor
widow
has
put
in
more
than
all
of
them.
They
put
in
from

their
overflow
but
she
from
her
poverty
has
given
all
that
she
had
to
live!"



In
modern
language
we
can
translate:
"The
quantity
of
money
that
one
gives
is
of

little
importance.
What
is
important
is
what
one
gives.
If
it
only
is
a
part
of
one's

income,
then
this
is
not
yet
righteousness,
goodness,
and
good
faith."



John
Howard
Yoder

‐‐The
Politics
of
Jesus



‐‐Howard
Zinn
on
World
War
II.



In
short,
if
the
entrance
of
the
United
States
into
World
War
II
was
(as
so
many

Americans
believed
at
the
time,
observing
the
Nazi
invasions)
to
defend
the

principle
of
nonintervention
in
the
affairs
of
other
countries,
the
nation's
record
cast

doubt
on
its
ability
to
uphold
that
principle.

....

As
Bruce
Russett
says:
"Throughout
the
1930s
the
United
States
government
had

done
little
to
resist
the
Japanese
advance
on
the
Asian
continent."
But:
"The

Southwest
Pacific
area
was
of
undeniable
economic
importance
to
the
United
States

‐
at
the
time
most
of
America's
tin
and
rubber
came
from
there,
as
did
substantial

qualities
of
other
raw
materials."

...

A
State
Department
memorandum
on
Japanese
expansion,
a
year
before
Pearl

Harbor,
did
not
talk
of
the
independence
of
China
or
the
principle
of
self‐
determination.
It
said:
"...our
general
diplomatic
and
strategic
position
would
be

considerably
weakened
‐
by
our
loss
of
Chinese,
Indian,
and
South
Seas
markets

(and
by
our
loss
of
much
of
the
Japanese
market
for
our
goods,
as
Japan
would

become
more
and
more
self‐sufficient)
as
well
as
by
insurmountable
restrictions

upon
our
access
to
the
rubber,
tin,
jute,
and
other
vital
materials
of
the
Asian
and

Oceanic
regions.

...

The
plight
of
Jews
in
German‐occupied
Europe,
which
many
people
thought
was
at

the
heart
of
the
war
against
the
Axis,
was
not
a
chief
concern
of
Roosevelt.

...

Was
the
war
being
fought
to
establish
that
Hitler
was
wrong
in
his
ideas
of
white

Nordic
supremacy
over
"inferior"
races?
The
United
States'
armed
forces
were

segregated
by
race.

...

In
one
of
its
policies,
the
United
States
came
close
to
direct
duplication
of
Fascism.

This
was
in
its
treatment
of
the
Japanese‐Americans
living
on
the
West
Coast.
After

the
Pearl
Harbor
attack,
anti‐Japanese
hysteria
spread
in
the
government.
One

Congressman
said:
"I'm
for
catching
every
Japanese
in
America,
Alaska,
and
Hawaii

now
and
putting
them
in
concentration
camps....
Damn
them!
Let's
get
rid
of
them!"



Franklin
D.
Roosevelt
did
not
share
this
frenzy,
but
he
calmly
signed
Executive

Order
9066,
in
February
1942,
giving
the
army
the
power,
without
warrants
or

indictments
or
hearings,
to
arrest
every
Japanese‐American
on
the
West
Coast
‐

110,000
men,
women,
and
children
‐
to
take
them
from
their
homes,
transport
them

to
camps
far
into
the
interior,
and
keep
them
there
under
prison
conditions.

...

Hatred
against
the
enemy,
against
the
Japanese
particularly,
became
widespread.

Racism
was
clearly
at
work.
Time
magazine,
reporting
the
battle
of
Iwo
Jima,
said:

"The
ordinary
unreasoning
Jap
is
ignorant.
Perhaps
he
is
human.
Nothing...indicates

it."



So,
there
was
a
mass
base
of
support
for
what
became
the
heaviest
bombardment
of

civilians
ever
undertaken
in
any
war:
the
aerial
attacks
on
German
and
Japanese

cities.

...

Italy
had
bombed
cities
in
the
Ethiopian
war;
Italy
and
germany
had
bombed

civilians
in
the
Spanish
Civil
War;
at
the
start
of
World
War
II
German
planes

dropped
bombs
on
Rotterdam
in
Holland,
Convetry
in
England,
and
elsewhere.

Roosevelt
had
described
these
as
"inhuman
barbarism
that
has
profoundly
shocked

the
conscience
of
humanity."



These
German
bombings
were
very
small
compared
with
the
British
and
American

bombings
of
German
cities.
...The
English
flew
at
night
with
no
pretense
of
aiming
at

"military"
targets;
the
Americans
flew
in
the
daytime
and
pretended
precision,
but

bombing
from
high
altitudes
made
that
impossible.
The
climax
of
this
terror

bormbing
was
the
bombing
of
Dresden
in
early
1945,
in
which
the
tremendous
heat

generated
by
the
bombs
created
a
vacuum
into
which
fire
leaped
swiftly
in
a
great

firestorm
through
the
city.
More
than
100,000
died
in
Dresden.
[ed:
See
Kurt

Vonnegut's
Slaughterhouse
Five]



Howard
Zinn,



‐‐A
People’s
History
of
the
United
States



Quotes
from
Harrison,
Returning
to
Earth:



It
was
good
to
finally
know
that
the
spirit
was
everywhere
rather
than
a
separate

thing.

...

Clare
fed
our
leftover
sandwiches
to
a
stray
mutt,
who
didn't
chew
the
proper
thirty‐
two
times.

...

All
of
my
jobs
had
kept
me
grounded
in
actual
life
whereas
simply
sitting
in
my

room
with
my
studies
tended
to
make
me
unstable.

...

In
New
York
City
the
endless
blocks
of
huge
buildings
say
to
us,
I'm
serious
and

within
me
serious
people
are
doing
serious
things
even
though
five
thousand
people

in
a
building
might
only
be
playing
with
the
market
edge.

...

There's
a
local
euphemism
in
the
U.P.
that
you're
not
lost,
you
just
can't
find
your

vehicle.

...

A
local
politician
rejecting
foreign
languages
in
a
school
budget
had
said,
'If
English

was
good
enough
for
Jesus
Christ
it's
good
enough
for
our
kids.'

...

I
agreed
with
K
on
the
addition
of
what
is
called
a
'space
blanket'
to
the
survival
kits

I
put
together
and
distribute
for
Mexicans
intending
to
migrate
north.
Space

blankets
are
sheets
of
material
used
by
campers
to
protect
them
from
cold
and

dampness
but
I
thought
they
could
also
defend
against
the
summer
heat
of
the

ground,
which
reaches
over
one
hundred
and
fifty
degrees.
..The
packet
was
in
a

Velcro
latched
bag
and
could
be
attached
to
a
waiste
belt
and
weighed
a
little
less

than
five
pounds.
I
distributed
these
free
of
charge
to
workers'
groups
and
through

left‐leaning
Catholic
priests.
I
was
opposed
by
many
on
both
sides
of
the
border
for

political
reasons,
which
didn't
bother
me
except
for
the
legal
expenses
I
incurred

avoiding
prosecution
by
the
United
States.
My
raison
d'etre
was
simple
on
the

surface.
Estimates
of
crossing
deaths
along
the
entire
nineteen‐hundred‐mile
border

with
Mexico
went
as
high
as
two
thousand
a
year.
I
had
learned
to
be
goofy
rather

than
logically
argumentative
with
my
opponents.
I'd
ask,
If
you
could
prevent

twenty
major
airline
disasters
each
year,
wouldn't
you?

...

By
common
consent
we
didn't
talk
about
anything
more
serious
than
the
food
and

music,
which
in
themselves
have
become
more
serious
as
I
get
older.

...

He
needed
Montana
but
he
also
needed
Chicago
for
her
museums,
libraries,
theaters,

bookstores,
and
most
of
all
classical
music,
which
he
preferred
to
hear
live.

...

After
a
passing
glance
I
averted
my
eyes
from
a
photo
of
Carla
and
me
at
the
cabin

and
then
I
fixed
on
it.
Was
I
ever
that
young?

...

There
are
no
damaged
goods
when
everyone
is
damaged
goods.

...

The
best
thing
about
travel,
though,
is
that
it's
difficult
to
be
consumed
by
the
past

against
the
backdrop
of
a
fresh
landscape.

...

'I
was
sorry
to
hear
about
Donald.
There
was
a
man
who
could
put
in
a
day's
work.'
I

shook
his
hand
as
he
offered
this
ultimate
compliment
of
the
north.
His
hand
felt
like

a
semipetrified
baseball
mitt.
'You
might
not
remember
me.
Donny
and
me
played

football
way
back
when,
then
worked
together.
The
name's
Teddy.'
He
bowed,
his

face
reddening,
and
walked
away.



'You
were
the
left
tackle,'
I
called
out
and
he
turned
and
grinned.

...

On
all
levels
the
main
reason
to
live
is
because
you're
already
alive.

...

While
we
were
out
on
the
park
bench
a
small
bank
of
clouds
came
across
the
sun

turning
our
mood
somber.
He
said,
'After
all,
the
fact
of
death
is
the
most
brutal

thing
we
humans
are
forced
to
accept,'
but
then
the
sun
came
out
again
and
I
told

him
that
the
day
after
the
burial
Herald
had
said,
'Mother,
it
can't
be
awful
if
it

happens
to
every
living
thing.'



Jim
Harrison

­­Returning
to
Earth



Michael
McConnell
on
multiculturalism
and
educational
choice:



Despite
insistent
demands
by
minority
groups,
principally
Catholics,
but
including

Jews,
Presbyterians,
Baptists,
and
Methodists,
for
equal
funding
for
their
free

schools,
the
common
school
movement
soon
achieved
a
monopoly
of
public
funding.

Many
states
even
adopted
constitutional
provisions
barring
state
funding
of

religious
schools,
and
a
federal
constitutional
amendment
to
that
effect
was

narrowly
defeated
in
Congress.
The
opposition
to
particularistic
private
schools

grew
to
the
extent
that,
in
the
early
twentieth
century,
some
states
passed
laws

forbidding
the
education
of
children
in
languages
other
than
English
and
banning

private
schools
altogether.
These
efforts
were
promptly
overturned
by
the
Supreme

Court,
on
the
ground
that
"[t]he
fundamental
theory
of
liberty
upon
which
all

governments
in
this
union
repose
excludes
any
general
power
of
the
state
to

standardize
its
children
by
forcing
them
to
accept
instruction
from
public
teachers

only."
(Pierce
v.
Society
of
Sisters,
1925)

...

The
leading
elementary
and
secondary
school
textbooks
virtually
neglect
any

mention
of
religious
influences
or
ideas
in
history,
ethics,
or
social
studies.
Thus,
the

"public
values"
inculcated
by
the
public
schools
are
not,
in
fact,
the
values
held
by

the
large
majority
of
the
American
public,
but
the
values
held
by
a
secular
minority.

...

It
is
not
possible,
practically
or
theoretically,
for
public
schools
to
be
"neutral"
with

respect
to
contentious
questions
of
morality,
politics,
and
religion.
The
more
the

school
attempts
to
be
evenhanded,
the
more
it
will
appear
to
endorse
a
position
of

relativism,
or
worse,
cynicism.

...

No
shifts
in
constitutional
doctrine
governing
the
conduct
of
the
public
schools
can

solve
this
problem,
because
it
inheres
in
the
nature
of
things.
The
Supreme
Court

can
alter
the
character
of
public
education,
making
it
more
religious
or
more
secular,

but
it
cannot
make
public
education
genuinely
more
pluralistic.
A
common
school
is

a
common
school.
That
is
its
blessing
and
its
curse.

...

While
fears
of
church‐state
constitutional
problems
are
often
cited
by
opponents
of

educational
choice,
those
fears
are
groundless.
Whatever
may
be
the
flaws
in
the

educational
choice
idea,
it
should
be
debated
on
its
merits
and
not
rejected
on

spurious
constitutional
grounds.
In
fact,
far
from
offending
the
First
Amendment,
an

educational
choice
plan
is
much
more
consistent
with
the
pluralistic
vision
of
the

First
Amendment
than
is
granting
secular
schools
a
monopoly
of
public
funds.

...

The
common
school
movement
now
teaches
our
children,
unintentionally,
to
be

value‐less,
culture‐less,
root‐less,
and
religion‐less.
It
can
no
longer
achieve
its

crowning
purpose
of
providing
a
unifying
moral
culture
in
the
face
of
our
many

differences.



Michael
W.
McConnell

‐‐"Multiculturalism,
Majoritarianism,
and
Educational
Choice:
What
Does
Our

Constitutional
Tradition
Have
to
Say?,"
University
of
Chicago
Legal
Forum
1991.



Readings
on
religious
freedom,
Barack
Obama,
and
education

The
enemies
of
religious
freedom,
advertently
or
not,
live
with
short
horizons
and

an
untutored
notion
of
their
own
self‐interest.

...

One
of
the
surest
limits
on
majorities
is
temporal.
The
fact
that
you
are
in
a
majority

today
‐
of
Muslims,
Republicans,
or
anything
‐
is
far
from
an
assurance
that
the
same

group
will
be
a
majority
tomorrow.

...

No
matter
how
many
times
the
Court
forbids
public
support
of
parochial
schools,

parents
and
church
leaders
will
respond
incredulously
to
the
law's
requirement
that

they
pay
taxes
for
public
schools
while
they
also
pay
tuition
for
private
schools.
No

matter
how
many
private
creches
or
menorahs
can
reside
in
private
places,

including
prominently
visible
places,
proponents
will
insist
on
public
displays,
lit
or

tarnished
by
the
aura
of
government,
while
insisting
this
does
nothing
to
indicate

govermental
endorsement
or
sponsorship.
The
Supreme
Court
can
speak
all
it
likes

against
prayers
sponsored
by
public
authorities;
still,
in
athletic
stadiums
across
the

land
tax‐paid
principals
and
coaches
will
feel
the
contest
can't
be
risked
without
a

pre‐game
huddle
for
an
explicitly
Christian
prayer,
notwithstanding
the
different

religions
or
nonreligion
of
a
few
players
and
people
in
the
stands.



Marvin
E.
Frankel

­­Faith
and
Freedom:
Religious
Liberty
in
America



(Barack
Obama)
is
a
careful
reader
of
daily
newspapers
and
magazines
(titles
from

Foreign
Affairs
to
Maxim
are
stocked
on
his
campaign
plane).
He
takes
his
briefing

books
—
three‐ring
binders
filled
with
political
memorandums
and
policy

discussions
—
to
his
hotel
room
or
home
every
night,
but
aides
say
how
well
he

reads
the
materials
may
depend
on
what
is
on
ESPN.



Jeff
Zeleny
and
Jim
Rutenberg

‐‐"Obama
the
Delegator
Picks
When
to
Take
Reins,"
New
York
Times
6/16/08.



None
of
these
theoretical
arguments
justifies
resting
educational
authority

exclusively
‐
or
even
primarily
‐
in
the
hands
of
parents.
It
is
one
thing
to
recognize

the
right
(and
responsibility)
of
parents
to
educate
their
children
as
members
of
a

family,
quite
another
to
claim
that
this
right
of
familial
education
extends
to
a
right

of
parents
to
insulate
their
children
from
exposure
to
ways
of
life
or
thinking
that

conflict
with
their
own.
...Neither
parents
nor
a
centralized
state
have
a
right
to

exclusive
authority
over
the
education
of
children.

...

All
educable
children
must
be
educated.
...All
citizens
must
be
educated
so
as
to
have

a
chance
to
share
in
self‐consciously
shaping
the
structure
of
their
society.



Amy
Gutmann

­­Democratic
Education



There
are
many
reasons
policymakers
seek
to
impose
detailed
curriculum

mandates.
They
may
fundamentally
distrust
educators:
Much
of
the
current

standards
movement
is
just
the
latest
episdoe
in
a
long,
sorry
history
of
trying
to

create
a
teacher‐proof
curriculum.

...

These
days
almost
anything
can
be
done
to
students
and
to
schools,
no
matter
how

ill‐considered,
as
long
as
it
is
done
in
the
name
of
raising
standards.

...

It's
convenient
for
us
to
assume
that
kids
who
cut
corners
are
just
being
lazy,

because
then
it's
the
kids
who
have
to
be
fixed.
But
perhaps
they're
just
being

rational.
They
have
adapted
to
an
environment
where
results,
not
intellectual

exploration,
are
what
count.

...

Assessment
is
used
less
to
support
learning
than
to
evaluate
and
compare
people.

...(Standardized
testing)
screens
and
sorts
students
for
the
convenience
of
industry

(and
higher
education).

...

What
happens
to
schools
when
they
are
plunged
into
the
marketplace?
To
begin

with,
they
must
shift
much
of
their
time
and
resources
to,
well,
marketing.
(It
is

those
who
sell
themselves
skillfully,
not
those
who
are
especially
good
at
what
they

do,
who
tend
to
succeed
in
a
competitive
market.)
Moreover,
the
pressure
to
make

themselves
look
better
presents
a
temptation
to
screen
out
less
desirable
students,

those
whose
education
takes
more
effort
or
expense.
"The
problem
with
public

schools,"
remarked
author
John
Chubb,
"is
that
they
must
take
whoever
walks
in
the

door."
The
philosophical
core
of
the
privatization
movement
for
which
Chubb

speaks
is
neatly
revealed
in
the
use
of
the
word
problem
in
that
sentence.
[Note:
I

disagree
with
this
statement,
but
it
is
the
among
the
best
anti‐voucher
arguments

I've
seen.]



Alfie
Kohn

‐‐What
Does
it
Mean
to
Be
Well
Educated?




And,
thanking
Mr.
Ramsay
for
it
and
Mrs.
Ramsay
for
it
and
the
hour
and
the
place,

crediting
the
world
with
a
power
which
she
had
not
suspected
‐
that
one
could
walk

away
down
that
long
gallery
not
alone
any
more
but
arm
in
arm
with
somebody
‐

the
strangest
feeling
in
the
world,
and
the
most
exhilarating....

...

Here
she
saddened,
darkened,
and
came
back
to
her
chair,
there
could
be
no

disputing
this:
an
unmarried
woman
(she
lightly
took
her
hand
for
a
moment),
an

unmarried
woman
has
missed
the
best
of
life.
The
house
seemed
full
of
children

sleeping
and
Mrs.
Ramsay
listening;
shaded
lights
and
regular
breathing.

...

How
strangely
he
was
venerable
and
laughable
at
one
and
the
same
time.

...

She
bore
about
with
her,
she
could
not
help
knowing
it,
the
torch
of
her
beauty;
she

carried
it
erect
into
any
room
that
she
entered;
and
after
all,
veil
it
as
she
might,
and

shrink
from
the
monotony
of
bearing
that
it
imposed
on
her,
her
beauty
was

apparent.

...

The
very
stone
one
kicks
with
one's
boot
will
outlast
Shakespeare.
His
own
little

light
would
shine,
not
very
brightly,
for
a
year
or
two,
and
would
then
be
merged
in

some
bigger
light,
and
that
in
a
bigger
still.

...

All
at
once
he
realised
that
it
was
this:
it
was
this:
‐
she
was
the
most
beautiful

person
he
had
ever
seen.
...For
the
first
time
in
his
life
Charles
Tansley
felt
an

extraordinary
pride;
a
man
digging
in
a
drain
stopped
digging
and
looked
at
her,
let

his
arm
fall
down
and
looked
at
her;
for
the
first
time
in
his
life
Charles
Tansley
felt

an
extraordinary
pride;
felt
the
wind
and
the
cyclamen
and
the
violets
for
he
was

walking
with
a
beautiful
woman.
He
had
hold
of
her
bag.



Virginia
Woolf

­­To
the
Lighthouse



The
extra
happiness
provided
by
extra
income
is
greatest
when
you
are
poor,
and

declines
steadily
as
you
get
richer.

...

"Required
income"
varies
strongly
with
the
actual
income
that
an
individual

currently
experiences.
A
dollar
rise
in
experienced
income
causes
a
rise
of
at
least
a

forty
cents
in
"required
income."
So
when
I
earn
an
extra
dollar
this
year,
it
makes

me
happier,
but
next
year
I
shall
measure
my
income
from
a
benchmark
that
is
forty

cents
higher.
In
this
sense
at
least
40%
of
this
year's
gain
is
"wiped
out"
next
year.

...

Differences
in
family
situation
cause
a
huge
difference
in
happiness.
If
someone
is

divorced,
that
person's
happiness
falls
by
5
(percentage)
points.
This
is
more
than

double
the
effect
of
losing
a
third
of
one's
income.
...The
year
of
divorce
is
the
worst.

After
that
year
men
return
on
average
to
their
baseline
level
of
happiness,
but

women
continue
to
suffer.

...

If
our
goals
are
too
low,
we
get
bored.
But
if
they
are
too
high,
we
get
frustrated.
The

secret
is
to
have
goals
that
are
stretching
enough,
but
not
too
stretching.

Unattainable
goals
are
a
well‐known
cause
of
depression.
But
so
too
is
boredom.

...

The
typical
Briton
watches
television
for
three
and
a
half
hours
a
day
‐
roughly

twenty‐five
hours
a
week.
Over
a
lifetime
a
typical
Briton
spends
more
time

watching
television
than
doing
paid
work.
The
figures
are
much
the
same
in
the

United
States.
...
This
viewing
time
has
to
come
from
somewhere,
and
it
mainly

comes
from
social
life.

...

So
how
does
the
content
of
television
affect
our
feelings
about
life,
and
our

behavior?
If
television
simply
mirrored
life
as
it
is,
it
would
be
unlikely
to
have
much

effect.
However,
it
does
not
simply
mirror
life
‐
that
would
be
boring.
Television

focuses
far
more
on
the
extremes.
It
contains
far
more
violence,
sex,
and
chaotic

relationships
than
ordinary
life
does,
and
it
contains
far
more
wealth
and
beauty.

...Chaos
on
the
screen
tends
to
desensitize
‐
to
make
people
more
willing
to
engage

in
violence
themselves
and
in
illicit
sex.
At
the
same
time
wealth
and
beauty
create

discontent
with
what
people
have
‐
an
itch
to
earn
or
steal
more
wealth,
or
to
find
a

more
beautiful
partner.

...

On
one
estimate
an
extra
hour
a
week
watching
television
causes
you
to
spend
an

extra
$4
a
week
‐
on
"keeping
up
with
the
Joneses."
...It
reduces
our
happiness
with

our
possessions.

...

Viewing
may
also
reduce
our
happiness
with
our
bodies,
and
with
our
spouses.
The

psychologist
Douglas
Kenrick
showed
women
a
series
of
female
models.
He

evaluated
their
mood
before
and
after
they
looked
at
the
pictures.
After
seeing
the

models,
the
women's
mood
fell.
So
how
must
women's
moods
be
affected
by

television?
In
three
hours
of
viewing
television
each
day
you
cannot
fail
to
see
a

parade
of
beautiful
women.
What
about
the
effect
on
men?
As
part
of
the
same

series
of
experiments,
pictures
of
models
were
shown
to
a
sample
of
men.
Kenrick

evaluated
their
feelings
about
their
wives
before
and
after
each
presentation.
After

seeing
the
models,
most
men
felt
less
good
about
their
wives.

...

Trustworthiness
is
crucial
in
any
venture,
and
no
long‐term
contract
can
flourish

except
on
the
basis
of
commitment
to
the
common
goal.
This
applies
in
business,
in

friendship
or
in
marriage.
Unfortunately,
the
growth
of
individualism
has

encouraged
a
short‐term
version
of
contractarian
thinking,
where
more
and
more

decisions
are
conducted
on
the
basis
of
a
short‐term
quid
pro
quo.
...



In
this
environment
of
continuous
reoptimization,
it
is
not
surprising
that,
as
we

have
seen,
people
are
less
satisfied
with
their
marriages.
There
is
also
clear
evidence

that
when
spouses
arrange
their
lives
on
the
basis
of
quid
pro
quo,
they
are
less

satisfied
with
the
marriage
than
when
it
is
based
on
the
concept
of
giving.
...The

evidence
also
shows
that
when
one
spouse
does
something
and
the
other
spouse

reciprocates,
the
first
gets
less
satisfaction
than
when
no
direct
reciprocation

occurs.
This
is
because
giving
confers
satisfaction,
and
can
confer
more
satisfaction

than
taking.



Above
all,
we
need
to
know
that
our
partner
has
sufficient
emotional
commitment
to

the
enterprise.
If
so,
we
know
the
partner
will
stick
to
the
relationship,
even
when

short‐term
advantage
would
say
"Out."
...If
both
parties
know
that
the
other
is
really

committed,
each
will
invest
more
and
the
probability
of
success
will
rise.
In
all
walks

of
life,
good
behavior
by
one
person
elicits
good
behavior
by
others.



Richard
Layard

‐‐Happiness:
Lessons
from
a
New
Science



Among
the
many
definitions
of
Communism,
perhaps
one
would
be
the
most
apt:

enemy
of
orchards.
For
the
disappearance
of
villages
and
the
remodeling
of
the

terrain
necessitated
cutting
down
the
orchards
once
surrounding
every
house
and

hut.
The
idea
of
collective
farming
‐
grain
factories
instead
of
little
peasant
lots
‐
was

rational,
but
with
a
vengeance,
and
a
similar
vengeance
lurking
in
practically
every

project
of
the
planned
economy
brought
about
the
downfall
of
the
Soviet
system.



Orchards
under
Communism
had
no
chance,
but
in
all
fairness
let
us
concede
that

they
are
antique
by
their
very
nature.
Only
the
passion
of
a
gardener
can
delight
in

growing
a
great
variety
of
trees,
each
producing
a
small
crop
of
fruit
whose
tastes

pleases
the
gardener
himself
and
a
few
connoisseurs.
Market
laws
favor
a
few

species
that
are
easy
to
preserve
and
correspond
to
basic
standards.

...

Much
was
going
on
inside
me,
and
I
was
stunned
by
the
strength
of
that
current
for

which
no
name
seemed
adequate.
It
was
like
waking
up
from
a
long
dream
and

becoming
again
the
person
whom
I
have
never
ceased
to
be.



Czeslaw
Milosz

‐‐"Happiness"



One
would
like
to
astound
the
world,
to
save
the
world,
but
one
can
do
neither.
We

are
summoned
to
deeds
that
are
of
moment
only
to
our
village.



Czeslaw
Milosz

‐‐"Who
Was
I?"



If
I
am
not
wise,
then
why
must
I
pretend
to
be?
If
I
am
lost,
why
must
I
pretend
to

have
ready
counsel
for
my
contemporaries?
But
perhaps
the
value
of

communication
depends
on
the
acknowledgment
of
one's
own
limits,
which,

mysteriously,
are
also
limits
common
to
many
others;
and
aren't
these
the
same

limits
of
a
hundred
or
a
thousand
years
ago?
And
when
the
air
is
filled
with
the

clamor
of
analysis
and
conclusion,
would
it
be
entirely
useless
to
admit
you
do
not

understand?



I
have
read
many
books,
but
to
place
all
those
volumes
on
top
of
one
another
and

stand
on
them
would
not
add
a
cubit
to
my
stature.
Their
learned
terms
are
of
little

use
when
I
try
to
seize
naked
experience,
which
eludes
all
accepted
ideas.



Czeslaw
Milosz

‐‐"My
Intention"



The
man
who
stakes
his
all
on
this
one
thing
wins
all,
but
he
must
of
course
reckon

with
the
loss
of
everything
else
excluded
by
this
one
thing.



Hans
Urs
von
Balthasar

­­The
Moment
of
Christian
Witness



Why
should
she
give
her
bounty
to
the
dead?

What
is
divinity
if
it
can
come

Only
in
silent
shadows
and
in
dreams?

Shall
she
not
find
in
comforts
of
the
sun,

In
pungent
fruit
and
bright
green
wings,
or
else

In
any
balm
or
beauty
of
the
earth,

Things
to
be
cherished
like
the
thought
of
heaven?

Divinity
must
live
within
herself:

Passions
of
rain,
or
moods
in
falling
snow;

Grievings
in
loneliness,
or
unsubdued

Elations
when
the
forest
blooms;
gusty

Emotions
on
wet
roads
on
autumn
nights;

All
pleasures
and
all
pains,
remembering

The
bough
of
summer
and
the
winter
branch.

These
are
the
measures
destined
for
her
soul.

...

Shall
our
blood
fail?
Or
shall
it
come
to
be

The
blood
of
paradise?
And
shall
the
earth

Seem
all
of
paradise
that
we
shall
know?

The
sky
will
be
much
friendlier
then
than
now,

A
part
of
labor
and
a
part
of
pain,

And
next
in
glory
to
enduring
love,

Not
this
dividing
and
indifferent
blue.



Wallace
Stevens

‐‐From
"Sunday
Morning"



‐‐‐



Wars
that
lose
their
mythic
stature
for
the
public,
such
as
Korea
or
Vietnam,
are

doomed
to
failure,
for
war
is
exposed
for
what
it
is
‐
organized
murder.
But
in

mythic
war
we
imbue
events
with
meanings
they
do
not
have.
...We
demonize
the

enemy
so
that
our
opponent
is
no
longer
human.
We
view
ourselves,
our
people,
as

the
embodiment
of
absolute
goodness.
...In
mythic
war
we
fight
absolutes.
We
must

vanquish
darkness.

...

The
potency
of
myth
is
that
it
allows
us
to
make
sense
of
mayhem
and
violent
death.

It
gives
a
justification
to
what
is
often
nothing
more
than
gross
human
cruelty
and

stupidity.
...Most
national
myths,
at
their
core,
are
racist.
They
are
fed
by
ignorance.

Those
individuals
who
understand
other
cultures,
speak
other
languages,
and
find

richness
in
diversity
are
shunted
aside.

...

The
myth
of
war
is
essential
to
justify
the
horrible
sacrifices
required
in
war,
the

destruction
and
the
death
of
innocents.
...There
is
nothing
redeeming
about
any
war,

including
the
supposed
good
wars
that
we
might
all
agree
had
to
be
fought.
The

Allied
incendiary
bombs
that
spread
fires
through
Dresden
and
Tokyo
left
some

150,000
people
dead.
Talk
not
of
the
good
war
to
those
in
Hiroshima
or
Nagasaki.
It

does
not
mean
the
bombing
of
Dresden
or
the
dropping
of
the
atomic
bombs
was

wrong,
given
the
concept
of
total
war
—
a
concept
that
would
not
be
alien
to
the

victorious
Greeks
in
Troy.
It
means
that
we
are
naïve
to
ignore
these
and
countless

other
events,
to
ennoble
indiscriminate
slaughter
and
industrial
killing
on
so
vast
a

scale.
Modern
war
is
directed
primarily
against
civilians.
Look
at
Kosova,
Bosnia,

Rwanda,
Vietnam,
or
World
War
II.



Chris
Hedges

­­War
is
a
Force
That
Gives
Us
Meaning

‐‐‐



"Biography,
psychology,
sociology,
history,"
(historian
John
Demos)
has
written:

"four
corners
of
one
scholar's
compass,
four
viewpoints
overlooking
a
single
field
of

past
experience."
...Once
you
have
decided
on
such
a
multi‐disciplinary
approach,

where
do
you
stop?
How
wide
do
you
open
your
arms?
...If
you
opt
to
be
eclectic,

there
is
no
limit
to
scholarship,
no
end
to
your
book.
Yet
you
know
you
are
working

closer
to
some
sort
of
truth.



Hilary
Mantel

­­Review
of
John
Demos,
The
Unredeemed
Captive;
quoted
in
Doniger,
The
Implied

Spider:
Politics
&
Theology
in
Myth



He
was
really
a
little
fresh
with
that
girl,
I
was
mortified
there
for
a
moment.
But

then
what
he
said
about
human
dignity,
afterward,
sounded
so
spiffing,
like
formal

oratory.

...

And,
then,
I'm
not
all
that
rash
about
forming
opinions.
I
look
at
people
and
think:
So

that's
how
you
are?
Well,
fine.



Thomas
Mann

­­The
Magic
Mountain



‐‐‐



The
chameleon
quality
of
myth
works
in
opposition
to
the
more
monolithic
and

dogmatic
aspects
of
religion;
where
myth
encourages
a
wide
range
of
beliefs,
dogma

would
narrow
that
range.
Martin
Buber
made
this
point
very
well
indeed:



All
positive
religion
rests
on
an
enormous
simplification
of
the
manifold
and
wildly

engulfing
forces
that
invade
us:
it
is
the
subduing
of
the
fullness
of
existence.
All

myth,
in
contrast,
is
the
expression
of
the
fullness
of
existence,
its
image,
its
sign;
it

drinks
incessantly
from
the
gushing
fountains
of
life.
Hence
religion
fights
myth

where
it
cannot
absorb
and
incorporate
it.
...It
is
strange
and
wonderful
to
observe

how
in
this
battle
religion
ever
again
wins
the
apparent
victory,
myth
ever
again

wins
the
real
one.



...

In
the
dark
of
bigotry,
all
the
people
you
hate
look
alike.

...

The
assumption
that
all
members
of
a
class
are
alike
has
been
used
in
many
cultures

to
demean
the
sexual
or
racial
Other.
After
all,
the
essence
of
prejudice
has
been

defined
as
the
assumption
that
an
unknown
individual
has
all
the
characteristics
of

the
group
to
which
he
or
she
belongs.
"People
like
you,"
or
"They're
all
alike,"
is

always
an
offensive
phrase.
Racism
and
sexism
are
alike
in
their
practice
of
clouding

the
judgment
so
that
the
Other
is
beneath
contempt,
or
at
least
beneath
recognition;

they
dehumanize,
deindividualize,
the
racially
and
sexually
Other.
"All
Japanese
look

alike"
is
the
racist
counterpart
to
the
sexist
"In
the
dark,
all
cats
are
gray."
The
use
of

large
numbers
to
obscure
humanity,
particularly
political
Others,
is
a
well‐known

sexist
trick,
too:
Mozart/Da
Ponte's
Don
Giovanni
boasted,
famously,
that
he
had

seduced
a
thousand
and
three
women
in
Spain.



Wendy
Doniger

‐‐The
Implied
Spider:
Politics
&
Theology
in
Myth
(highly
recommended)



‐‐‐



A
human
being
lives
out
not
only
his
personal
life
as
an
individual,
but
also,

consciously
or
subconsciously,
the
lives
of
his
epoch
and
contemporaries.
...All
sorts

of
personal
goals,
purposes,
hopes,
prospects
may
float
before
the
eyes
of
a
given

individual,
from
which
he
may
then
glean
the
impulse
for
exerting
himself
for
great

deeds;
if
the
impersonal
world
around
him,
however,
if
the
times
themselves,

despite
all
their
hustle
and
bustle,
provide
him
with
neither
hopes
nor
prospects,
if

they
secretly
supply
him
with
evidence
that
things
are
in
fact
hopeless,
without

prospect
or
remedy,
if
the
times
respond
with
hollow
silence
to
every
conscious
or

subconscious
question,
however
it
may
be
posed,
about
the
ultimate,
unequivocal

meaning
of
all
exertions
and
deeds
that
are
more
than
exclusively
personal
‐
then
it

is
almost
inevitable...that
the
situation
will
have
a
crippling
effect,
which,
following

moral
and
spiritual
paths,
may
even
spread
to
that
person's
physical
and
organic

life.

...

Two
days
of
travel
separate
this
young
man
(and
young
he
is,
with
few
firm
roots
in

life)
from
his
everyday
world,
especially
from
what
might
be
called
his
duties,

interests,
worries,
and
prospects
‐
separate
him
far
more
than
he
had
dreamed

possible
as
he
rode
to
the
station
in
a
hansom
cab.
Space,
as
it
rolls
and
tumbles

away
between
him
and
his
native
soil,
proves
to
have
powers
normally
ascribed

only
to
time;
from
hour
to
hour,
space
brings
about
changes
very
like
those
time

produces,
yet
surpassing
them
in
certain
ways.
Space,
like
time,
gives
birth
to

forgetfulness,
but
does
so
by
removing
an
individual
from
all
relationships
and

placing
him
in
a
free
and
pristine
state
‐
indeed,
in
but
a
moment
it
can
turn
a
pedant

and
a
philistine
into
something
like
a
vagabond.
Time,
they
say,
is
water
from
the

river
Lethe,
but
alien
air
is
a
similar
drink;
and
if
its
effects
are
less
profound,
it

works
all
the
more
quickly.



Thomas
Mann

‐‐The
Magic
Mountain



"All
divine
attributes
have
been
taken
over
by
human
hands,"
(Hirato
Renkichi)

wrote.
"Today,
the
engine
of
God
is
the
engine
of
the
city,
and
partakes
in
the

activities
of
humanity's
millions."
Almost
every
sentence
of
this
document
seems
to

anticipate
Paul
Virilio's
1997
equation
of
"new
technologies"
with
the
"three

traditional
characteristics
of
the
Divine:
ubiquity,
instantaneity,
and
immediacy."

Although
Virilio
refers
here
to
a
much
later
technological
revolution,
the
logic
of
his

thinking
echoes
the
poetics
of
Hirato
Renkichi.
...For
Hirato,
the
powers
of
the
divine

had
come
to
reside
in
"the
impulsive
candor
of
the
machine,
in
its
light,
its
heat,
its

ceaseless
rhythms."



Gregory
Golley

‐‐When
Our
Eyes
No
Longer
See:
Realism,
Science,
and
Ecology
in
Japanese
Literary

Modernism



When
a
poet's
mind
is
perfectly
equipped
for
its
work,
it
is
constantly
amalgamating

disparate
experience;
the
ordinary
man's
experience
is
chaotic,
irregular,

fragmentary.
The
latter
falls
in
love,
or
reads
Spinoza,
and
these
two
experiences

have
nothing
to
do
with
each
other,
or
with
the
noise
of
the
typewriter
or
the
smell

of
cooking;
in
the
mind
of
the
poet
these
experiences
are
always
forming
new

wholes.



T.S.
Eliot

‐‐"The
Metaphysical
Poets,"
quoted
in
Golley,
When
Our
Eyes
No
Longer
See

‐‐‐



The
resurrection
of
Jesus
is
the
sign
to
the
world
that
God
indeed
does
reign,
does

give
life
in
death
and
that
the
love
of
God
is
stronger
even
than
death
(Rom.
8:36‐
39).

...

At
the
center
of
the
church's
teaching
on
peace
and
at
the
center
of
all
Catholic
social

teaching,
are
the
transcendence
of
God
and
the
dignity
of
the
human
person.
The

human
person
is
the
clearest
reflection
of
God's
presence
in
the
world;
all
of
the

church's
work
in
pursuit
of
both
justice
and
peace
is
designed
to
protect
and

promote
the
dignity
of
every
person.
For
each
person
not
only
reflects
God,
but
is

the
expression
of
God's
creative
work
and
the
meaning
of
Christ's
redemptive

ministry.
Christians
approach
the
problem
of
war
and
peace
with
fear
and

reverence.
God
is
the
Lord
of
life,
and
so
each
human
life
is
sacred;
modern
warfare

threatens
the
obliteration
of
human
life
on
a
previously
unimaginable
scale.



U.S.
Catholic
Bishops

‐‐“The
Challenge
of
Peace:
God's
Promise
and
Our
Response”
(The
Pastoral
Letter
on

War
and
Peace,
1983)



No,
in
all
these
things
we
are
more
than
conquerors
through
him
who
loved
us.
For
I

am
convinced
that
neither
death
nor
life,
neither
angels
nor
demons,
neither
the

present
nor
the
future,
nor
any
powers,
neither
height
nor
depth,
nor
anything
else

in
all
creation,
will
be
able
to
separate
us
from
the
love
of
God
that
is
in
Christ
Jesus

our
Lord.



Romans
8:37‐39



The
aggressor
is
always
peace‐loving;
he
would
prefer
to
take
over
our
country

unopposed.



‐Carl
Von
Clausewitz,
quoted
in
J.T.
Turner,
"Threats,
Values
and
Defense:
Does
the

Defense
of
Values
by
Force
Remain
a
Moral
Possibility?"



‐‐‐



His
desire
for
a
woman
was
not
of
a
sort
to
make
him
want
this
particular
woman
‐

it
was
something
to
be
taken
care
of
lightly
and
with
no
sense
of
guilt.
This
woman

was
too
clean.

...

The
window
of
the
waiting‐room
was
clear
for
an
instant
as
the
train
started
to

move.
Komako's
face
glowed
forth,
and
as
quickly
disappeared.

...

But
this
love
would
leave
behind
it
nothing
so
definite
as
a
piece
of
Chijimi.
Though

cloth
to
be
worn
is
among
the
most
short‐lived
of
craftworks,
a
good
piece
of

Chijimi,
if
it
has
been
taken
care
of,
can
be
worn
quite
unfaded
a
half‐century
and

more
after
weaving.
As
Shimamura
thought
absently
how
human
intricacies
have

not
even
so
long
a
life,
the
image
of
Komako
as
the
mother
of
another
man's
children

suddenly
floated
into
his
mind.
He
looked
around,
startled.
Possibly
he
was
tired.

...

He
leaned
against
the
brazier,
provided
against
the
coming
of
the
snowy
season,
and

thought
how
unlikely
it
was
that
he
would
come
again
once
he
had
left.

...

Komako
had
come
up
to
him,
he
did
not
know
when.
She
took
his
hand.
He
looked

around
at
her
but
said
nothing.
She
gazed
at
the
fire,
the
pulse
of
the
fire
beating
on

her
intent,
slightly
flushed
face.
Shimamura
felt
a
violent
rising
in
his
chest.

Komako's
hair
was
coming
undone,
and
her
throat
was
bare
and
arched.
His
fingers

trembled
from
the
urge
to
touch
it.
His
hand
was
warm,
but
Komako's
was
still

warmer.
He
did
not
know
why
he
should
feel
that
a
separation
was
forcing
itself

upon
them.



Kawabata
Yasunari

­­Snow
Country



Obviously
he
did
not
much
enjoy
reading
and
discussing
a
typical
month's

production
of
Japanese
literature.
In
a
1935
essay
Kobayashi
expressed
his

annoyance
with
authors
who
complained
that
he
had
not
been
sufficiently
kind
in

his
reviews,
and
asked
sardonically
what
kindness
contemporary
authors
have
ever

shown
their
critics.
The
only
kindness
a
critic
really
wants
from
authors
is
that
they

will
supply
him
with
the
basis
for
writing
decent
criticism;
but
present‐day
authors

do
precisely
the
opposite.



Donald
Keene

­­Dawn
to
the
West:
A
History
of
Japanese
Literature
(Vol.
4)



Quotes
from
Hermann
Hesse's
Beneath
the
Wheel:



Mathematics,
as
far
as
he
was
concerned,
was
a
Sphinx
charged
with
deceitful

puzzles
whose
cold
malicious
gaze
transfixed
her
victims,
and
he
gave
the
monster
a

wide
berth.

...

What
would
many
happy
citizens
and
trustworthy
officials
have
become
but
unruly,

stormy
innovators
and
dreamers
of
useless
dreams,
if
not
for
the
effort
of
their

schools?
In
young
beings
there
is
something
wild,
ungovernable,
uncultured
which

first
has
to
be
tamed.
It
is
like
a
dangerous
flame
that
has
to
be
controlled
or
it
will

destroy.
Natural
man
is
unpredictable,
opaque,
dangerous,
like
a
torrent
cascading

out
of
uncharted
mountains.
At
the
start,
his
soul
is
a
jungle
without
paths
or
order.

And,
like
a
jungle,
it
must
first
be
cleared
and
its
growth
thwarted.
Thus
it
is
the

school's
task
to
subdue
and
control
man
with
force
and
make
him
a
useful
member

of
society,
to
kindle
those
qualities
in
him
whose
development
will
bring
him
to

triumphant
completion.

...

For
he
was
aware
that
in
the
academy
he
would
have
to
be
even
more
ambitious
if

he
wanted
to
outstrip
his
new
fellow
students.
Why
did
he
want
to
surpass
them

actually?
He
didn't
really
know
himself.

...

This
magnificent
monastery,
hidden
behind
hills
and
woods,
has
long
been
reserved

for
the
exclusive
use
of
the
students
of
the
Protestant
Theological
Academy
in
order

that
their
receptive
young
spirits
will
be
surrounded
by
an
atmosphere
of
beauty

and
grace.
Simultaneously
the
young
people
are
removed
from
the
distracting

influence
of
their
towns
and
families
and
are
preserved
from
the
harmful
sight
of

the
active
life.
So
it
is
possible
to
let
them
live
under
the
definite
impression
that

their
life's
goal
consists
exclusively
of
the
study
of
Hebrew
and
Greek
and
sundry

subjects
and
to
turn
the
thirst
of
young
souls
toward
pure
and
ideal
studies
and

enjoyments.

...

If
someone
else
were
to
approach
him
and
vigorously
seek
to
win
his
friendship,
he

would
respond
gladly.
Like
a
wallflower
he
stayed
in
the
background
waiting
for

someone
to
fetch
him,
someone
more
courageous
and
stronger
than
himself
to
tear

him
away
and
force
him
into
happiness.



Hermann
Hesse

­­Beneath
the
Wheel



‐‐‐



What
is
hateful
to
you,
do
not
to
your
fellow
man.
This
is
the
law:
all
the
rest
is

commentary.



‐‐Talmud,
Shabbat
31a.



‐‐‐‐‐

For
even
as
love
crowns
you
so
shall
he
crucify
you.
Even
as
he
is
for
your
growth
so

is
he
for
your
pruning.
Even
as
he
ascends
to
your
height
and
caresses
your

tenderest
branches
that
quiver
in
the
sun,
so
shall
he
descend
to
your
roots
and

shake
them
in
their
clinging
to
the
earth.

...

But
if
in
your
fear
you
would
seek
only
love's
peace
and
love's
pleasure,
then
it
is

better
for
you
that
you
cover
your
nakedness
and
pass
out
of
love's
threshing‐floor,

into
the
seasonless
world
where
you
shall
laugh,
but
not
all
of
your
laughter,
and

weep,
but
not
all
of
your
tears.

...

When
you
love
you
should
not
say,
"God
is
in
my
heart,"
but
rather,
I
am
in
the
heart

of
God."
And
think
not
you
can
direct
the
course
of
love,
for
love,
if
it
finds
you

worthy,
directs
your
course.

...

Sing
and
dance
together
and
be
joyous,
but
let
each
one
of
you
be
alone,
even
as
the

strings
of
a
lute
are
alone
though
they
quiver
with
the
same
music.
Give
your
hearts,

but
not
into
each
other's
keeping.
For
only
the
hand
of
Life
can
contain
your
hearts.



And
stand
together,
yet
not
too
near
together:
For
the
pillars
of
the
temple
stand

apart,
and
the
oak
tree
and
the
cypress
grow
not
in
each
other's
shadow.



Kahlil
Gibran

­­The
Prophet



Freud
argued
that
our
mental
lives
derive
largely
from
biological
drives,
that
the

highest
achievements
and
ideals
of
civilization
are
inseparable
from
instinctual

urges
toward
pleasure,
constancy,
and
the
release
of
excitation
and
energy.
As
each

child
grows
and
enters
first
the
family
then
society,
he
or
she
learns
to
repress
those

instinctual
drives
and
the
conscious
desires
they
instigate
and
to
mold
aggressive

and
sexual
impulses
as
well
as
an
initially
grandiose
sense
of
self
to
the
demands
of

life
with
others.
Repression
is
essential
to
civilization,
the
conversion
of
animal

instinct
into
civil
behavior,
but
such
repression
creates
what
might
be
called
as

second
self,
a
stranger
within,
a
place
where
all
that
cannot
for
one
reason
or

another
be
expressed
or
realized
in
civil
life
takes
up
residence.



‐Julie
Rikvin
and
Michael
Ryan,
Literary
Theory:
An
Anthology



It
is
widely
believed
that
one
of
the
main
barriers
to
world
peace
is
religion,
and

especially
the
major
traditional
religions
with
their
exclusive
claims
to
superiority.

It
may
surprise
you
that
though
I
am
a
Christian
minister
I
agree
with
this.
Religion,

generally
speaking,
tends
to
create
a
slippery
slope
in
the
heart.
Each
religion

informs
its
followers
that
they
have
"the
truth,"
and
this
naturally
leads
them
to
feel

superior
to
those
with
differing
beliefs.
Also,
a
religion
tells
its
followers
that
they

are
saved
and
connected
to
God
by
devotedly
performing
that
truth.
This
moves

them
to
separate
from
those
who
are
less
devoted
and
pure
in
life.
Therefore,
it
is

easy
for
one
religious
group
to
stereotype
and
caricature
other
ones.
Once
this

situation
exists
it
can
easily
spiral
down
into
the
marginalization
of
others
or
even

to
active
oppresion,
abuse,
or
violence
against
them.



Tim
Keller

‐‐The
Reason
for
God:
Belief
in
an
Age
of
Skepticism



[Note:
Along
with
hundreds
of
others
in
the
University
of
Chicago
community,
I

attended
a
lecture
by
Tim
Keller
on
Friday
night.
I
was
very
impressed,
and
I

recommend
checking
out
what
he
has
to
say.
A
lot
of
his
articles
and
audio
files
can

be
found
here,
and
you
can
check
out
his
book
on
Amazon
here.]



They
breached
the
Euphrates,
they
emptied
it
of
water,

its
pebbles
gazed
on
the
Sun
God
in
wonder.

Then
in
the
bed
of
the
Euphrates
the
earth
cracked
dry.



‐‐The
Epic
of
Gilgamesh
(quoted
in
Damrosch,
What
is
World
Literature?)



The
anxiety
of
meaninglessness
is
anxiety
about
the
loss
of
an
ultimate
concern,
of
a

meaning
which
gives
meaning
to
all
meanings.
This
anxiety
is
aroused
by
the
loss
of

a
spiritual
center,
of
an
answer,
however
symbolic
and
indirect,
to
the
quesiton
of

the
meaning
of
existence.

...

A
belief
breaks
down
thorugh
external
events
or
inner
processes:
one
is
cut
off
from

creative
participation
in
a
sphere
of
culture,
one
feels
frustrated
about
something

which
one
had
passionately
affirmed,
one
is
driven
from
devotion
to
one
object
to

another
and
again
on
to
another,
because
the
meaning
of
each
of
them
vanishes
and

the
creative
eros
is
transformed
into
indifference
or
aversion.
Everything
is
tried

and
nothing
satisfies.
The
contents
of
the
tradition,
however
excellent,
however

praised,
however
loved
once,
lose
their
power
to
give
content
today.



Paul
Tillich

­­The
Courage
to
Be



Goethe
comments
that
the
Church
erred
in
closing
the
canon
of
scripture,
as
God's

creative
work
still
continues,
notably
in
the
activity
of
great
spirits
like
Mozart,

Raphael,
and
Shakespeare,
"who
can
draw
their
lesser
contemporaries
higher."

...

For
the
first
time
in
history,
authors
of
highly
successful
works
can
hope
to
have

them
translated
into
twenty
or
thirty
languages
within
a
few
years
of
publication,

and
foreign
countries
may
even
provide
the
primary
readership
for
writers
who

have
small
audiences
at
home
or
who
are
censored
by
their
governments.

...

All
works
cease
to
be
the
exclusive
products
of
their
original
culture
once
they
are

translated;
all
become
works
that
only
"began"
in
their
original
language.

...

Society
melts
away
in
the
vast
echo
chamber
of
(literary
critic
Harold)
Bloom's

mind,
replaced
by
the
warring
voices
of
the
few
great
titans
of
the
literary
universe.

The
fewer
the
better:
...Bloom
continually
narrows
his
authors'
already
narrow

circle.
The
Western
Canon
treats
twenty‐six
writers,
but
what
need
twenty‐six?

"Most
simply,
the
Canon
is
Plato
and
Shakespeare"
(34).
What
need
even
two?
"At

once
no
one
and
everyone,
nothing
and
everything,
Shakespeare
is
the
Western

Canon"
(71).



Yet
even
Bloom
finally
relents.
Having
spent
almost
five
hundred
pages
extolling
the

greatness
of
the
few
greatest
writers
at
the
heart
of
his
version
of
the
Western

canon,
he
closes
with
an
appendix
listing
several
thousand
works
by
more
than

eight
hundred
and
fifty
writers
whom
he
considers
to
be
the
key
figures
in
the

Western
canon
as
a
whole.



David
Damrosch

­­What
is
World
Literature?



How
shall
I
go
in
peace
and
without
sorrow?
Nay,
not
without
a
wound
in
the
spirit

shall
I
leave
this
city.
Long
were
the
days
of
pain
I
have
spent
within
its
walls,
and

long
were
the
nights
of
aloneness;
and
who
can
depart
from
his
pain
and
his

aloneness
without
regret?



Too
many
fragments
of
the
spirit
have
I
scattered
in
these
streets,
and
too
many
are

the
children
of
my
longing
that
walk
naked
among
these
hills,
and
I
cannot
withdraw

from
them
without
a
burden
and
an
ache.



It
is
not
a
garment
I
cast
off
this
day,
but
a
skin
that
I
tear
with
my
own
hands.
Nor
is

it
a
thought
I
leave
behind
me,
but
a
heart
made
sweet
with
hunger
and
with
thirst.



Yet
I
cannot
tarry
longer.
The
sea
that
calls
all
things
unto
her
calls
me,
and
I
must

embark.

For
to
stay,
though
the
hours
burn
in
the
night,
is
to
freeze
and
crystallize
and
be

bound
in
a
mould.



Fain
would
I
take
with
me
all
that
is
here.
But
how
shall
I?
A
voice
cannot
carry
the

tongue
and
the
lips
that
give
it
wings.
Alone
must
it
seek
the
ether.
And
alone
and

without
his
nest
shall
the
eagle
fly
across
the
sun.



Kahlil
Gibran

­­The
Prophet



Sociological
analyses
of
the
present
period
have
pointed
to
the
importance
of

anxiety
as
a
group
phenomenon.
Literature
and
art
have
made
anxiety
a
main
theme

of
their
creations,
in
content
as
well
as
in
style.
The
effect
of
this
has
been
the

awakening
of
at
least
the
educated
groups
to
an
awareness
of
their
own
anxiety,
and

a
permeation
of
the
public
consciousness
by
ideas
and
symbols
of
anxiety.

...

The
first
assertion
about
the
nature
of
anxiety
is
this:
anxiety
is
the
state
in
which
a

being
is
aware
of
its
possible
nonbeing.
...It
is
not
the
realization
of
universal

transitoriness,
not
even
the
experience
of
the
death
of
others,
but
the
impression
of

these
events
on
the
always
latent
awareness
of
our
own
having
to
die
that
produces

anxiety.
Anxiety
is
finitude,
experienced
as
one's
own
finitude.



Paul
Tillich

­­The
Courage
to
Be



I
am
more
and
more
convinced
that
poetry
is
the
universal
possession
of

mankind...the
epoch
of
world
literature
is
at
hand,
and
everyone
must
strive
to

hasten
its
approach.



‐‐Goethe
(quoted
in
Damrosch,
What
is
World
Literature?)



White
Towels



I
have
been
studying
the
difference

between
solitude
and
loneliness,

telling
the
story
of
my
life

to
the
clean
white
towels
taken
warm
from
the
dryer.

I
carry
them
through
the
house

as
though
they
were
my
children

asleep
in
my
arms.



‐‐Richard
Jones



From
Canzone
XII



May
God,
the
Chosen,
by
whom
were
absolved
the
sins
of
the
blind
Longinus,
wish
if

it
please
him,
that
I
and
my
lady
lie
within
one
chamber
where
we
shall
make
a
rich

covenant,
whereon
great
joy
attendeth;
where,
with
laughter
and
caresses,
she
shall

disclose
to
me
her
fair
body,
with
the
glamor
of
the
lamplight
about
it.



‐‐Arnaut
Daniel
(tr.
Ezra
Pound)



Duty
Surviving
Self­Love



Unchanged
within,
to
see
all
changed
without,

Is
a
blank
lot
and
hard
to
bear,
no
doubt.

Yet
why
at
others'
wanings
should'st
thou
fret
?

Then
only
might'st
thou
feel
a
just
regret,

Hadst
thou
withheld
thy
love
or
hid
thy
light

In
selfish
forethought
of
neglect
and
slight.

O
wiselier
then,
from
feeble
yearnings
freed,

While,
and
on
whom,
thou
may'st‐‐shine
on!
nor
heed

Whether
the
object
by
reflected
light

Return
thy
radiance
or
absorb
it
quite
:

And
tho'
thou
notest
from
thy
safe
recess

Old
Friends
burn
dim,
like
lamps
in
noisome
air,

Love
them
for
what
they
are
;
nor
love
them
less,

Because
to
thee
they
are
not
what
they
were.



‐‐Samuel
Taylor
Coleridge



From
Canzone
III



But
when
I
consider
how
she
is
the
summit
of
worth,
much
do
I
love
myself
the

more
for
having
ever
dared
to
desire
her,
for
now
do
I
know
that
my
heart
and
my

wit
will
make
me
to
make
to
their
whim
a
rich
conquest.

...

And
since
she
is
of
such
worth,
do
not
think
that
my
firm
will
can
disperse
itself
or

flow
away
or
divide,
for
by
that
God
who
manifested
himself
in
the
dove,
I
am

neither
mine
nor
hers
if
I
leave
her.



‐‐Arnaut
Daniel
(tr.
Ezra
Pound)



From
"Desert
Places"



They
cannot
scare
me
with
their
empty
spaces

Between
stars
‐
on
stars
where
no
human
race
is.

I
have
it
in
me
so
much
nearer
home

To
scare
myself
with
my
own
desert
places.



‐‐Robert
Frost



One
cannot
remove
anxiety
by
arguing
it
away.

...

The
affirmation
of
one's
essential
being
in
spite
of
desires
and
anxieties
creates
joy.

Lucillus
is
exhorted
by
Seneca
to
make
it
his
business
"to
learn
how
to
feel
joy."
It
is

not
the
joy
of
fulfilled
desires
to
which
he
refers,
for
real
joy
is
a
"severe
matter";
it

is
the
happiness
of
a
soul
which
is
"lifted
above
every
circumstance."
Joy

accompanies
the
self‐affirmation
of
our
essential
being
in
spite
of
the
inhibitions

coming
from
the
accidental
elements
in
us.
Joy
is
the
emotional
expression
of
the

courageous
Yes
to
one's
own
true
being.



Paul
Tillich

­­The
Courage
to
Be



To
the
Harbormaster



I
wanted
to
be
sure
to
reach
you

though
my
ship
was
on
the
way
it
got
caught

in
some
moorings.
I
am
always
tying
up

and
then
deciding
to
depart.
In
storms
and

at
sunset,
with
the
metallic
coils
of
the
tide

around
my
fathomless
arms,
I
am
unable

to
understand
the
forms
of
my
vanity

or
I
am
hard
alee
with
my
Polish
rudder

in
my
hand
and
the
sun
sinking.
To

you
I
offer
my
hull
and
the
tattered
cordage

of
my
will.
The
terrible
channels
where

the
wind
drives
me
against
the
brown
lips

of
the
reeds
are
not
all
behind
me.
Yet

I
trust
the
sanity
of
my
vessel;
and

if
it
sinks
it
may
well
be
in
answer

to
the
reasoning
of
the
eternal
voices,

the
waves
which
have
kept
me
from
reaching
you.



‐‐Frank
O'Hara



The
sceptical
age
hungers
after
the
definite,
after
something
it
can
pretend
to

believe.

...

You
read,
as
a
child
who
has
listened
to
ghost
stories
goes
into
a
dark
room;
it
is
no

accurate
information
about
historical
things
that
you
seek,
it
is
the
thrill
which
mere

reality
would
never
satisfy.

...

The
history
of
literary
criticism
is
largely
the
history
of
a
vain
struggle
to
find
a

terminology
which
will
define
something.

...

It
is
dawn
at
Jerusalem
while
midnight
hovers
above
the
Pillars
of
Hercules.
All
ages

are
contemporaneous.
The
Middle
Ages
are
in
Russia.
The
future
stirs
already
in
the

minds
of
the
few.
This
is
especially
true
of
literature,
where
the
real
time
is

independent
of
the
apparent,
and
where
many
dead
men
are
our
grandchildren's

contemporaries,
while
many
of
our
contemporaries
have
been
already
gathered
into

Abraham's
bosom,
or
some
more
fitting
receptacle.

...

The
history
of
an
art
is
the
history
of
masterwork,
not
of
failures,
or
mediocrity.
The

ominscient
historian
would
display
the
masterpieces,
their
causes
and
their
inter‐
relation.
The
study
of
literature
is
hero‐worship.

...

Good
art
never
bores
one.
By
that
I
mean
that
it
is
the
business
of
the
artist
to

prevent
ennui;
in
the
literary
art,
to
relieve,
refresh,
revive
the
mind
of
the
reader
‐

at
reasonable
intervals
‐
with
some
form
of
ecstasy,
by
some
splendor
of
thought,

some
presentation
of
sheer
beauty,
some
lightning
turn
of
phrase
‐
laughter
is
no

mean
ecstasy.
Good
art
begins
with
an
escape
from
dullness.



Ezra
Pound

­­The
Spirit
of
Romance



Even
in
mundane
situations,
the
individual
must
act
in
order
to
discover
what
he
is

and
he
must
act
in
order
to
continue
experiencing
aspects
of
himself
which
he

values
and
enjoys.
If
he
thinks
of
himself
as
a
businessman,
a
parent,
an
athlete,
an

intellectual,
he
must
engage
in
behavior
appropriate
to
this
self‐image.
If
he
does

not,
he
must
redefine
himself,
or
he
will
be
left
feeling
anxious
and
needful.
(Here
is

the
reason
for
the
psychological
shock
of
retirement;
the
man
who
has
retired
may

find
that
suddenly
he
can
no
longer
be
that
which
he
most
valued
himself
for
being.)



Past
actions
through
which
he
sought
to
know
and
to
accept
the
self
are
not
capable

of
satisfying
this
need
in
the
present.
Recalling
the
past
can
only
remind
the

individual
of
what
he
used
to
be.
The
erstwhile
football
hero
who
is
still
reliving
the

big
game
fifteen
years
later,
or
the
ex‐campus
queen
who
tries
to
give
meaning
to

her
life
by
clinging
to
her
reign
over
the
prom
of
a
decade
ago,
are
pathetic
figures.

As
the
existentialists
have
pointed
out,
man
must
act
in
order
to
be,
and
what
he

becomes
is
largely
the
summation
of
his
actions.

...

Paradoxical
though
it
may
seem,
it
is
when
the
individual
is
with
others
that
he
is

best
able
to
enjoy
and
expand
many
aspects
of
himself,
to
refine
and
verify
his
self‐
image.

...

Men
hate
in
others
those
things
‐
and
only
those
things
‐
which
they
despise
in

themselves.
It
is
possible
to
disapprove
of
other
people
in
a
rational
and

dispassionate
manner,
but
to
hate
them
is
an
irrational
and
impassioned
act.
The

passion
betrays
the
underlying
self‐contempt.

...

Distance
enables
the
lover
to
see
his
beloved
purely
in
terms
of
the
projections
he

hangs
on
her.

...

The
general
rule
is
that
people
who
enjoy
life
enjoy
marriage.
Some
people
would
be

unhappy
with
any
spouse,
for
they
do
not
allow
themselves
happiness.



Snell
Putney
and
Gail
J.
Putney

­­The
Adjusted
American



That
hatred
springs
more
from
self‐contempt
than
from
a
legitimate
grievance
is

seen
in
the
intimate
connection
between
hatred
and
a
guilty
conscience.



‐Eric
Hoffer



Insanity
in
individuals
is
something
rare
‐
but
in
groups,
parties,
nations,
and

epochs,
it
is
the
rule.



‐Friedrich
Nietzsche



If
our
faith
is
real,
it
must
encroach
upon
our
life.
The
Christian
Confession
in
its

original
Church
form
will
always
be
exposed
to
the
misunderstanding
that
the

Christian
regards
the
Creed
as
a
matter
of
heart
and
conscience,
but
that
here
on

earth
and
in
the
world
other
truths
hold
good.
The
world
lives
in
this

misunderstanding;
it
regards
the
whole
of
Christianity
as
a
friendly
'magic',

connected
with
the
'realm
of
religion',
which
is
respected
and
which
ought
to
be
left

untampered
with;
and
so
we
get
rid
of
the
matter!
But
this
misunderstanding
might

even
have
come
from
within;
a
Christian
might
quite
well
wish
to
have
this
realm
for

himself
and
to
guard
faith
like
a
sensitive
plant.
The
relationship
between
the

Church
and
the
world
has
been
widely
understood
as
a
question
of
a
fixing
of

frontiers,
whereby
each
secured
itself
behind
its
own
frontier,
although
from
time
to

time
it
came
to
a
skirmish.
From
the
Church's
standpoint,
however,
such
a
fixing
of

frontiers
can
never
exhaust
its
task.
By
the
very
nature
of
the
Christian
Church
there

is
only
one
task,
to
make
the
Confession
heard
in
the
sphere
of
the
world
as
well.

...

Let
us
beware
of
remaining
stuck
where
we
are
and
refusing
to
advance
to
meet

worldly
attitudes.
For
instance,
in
Germany
in
1933
there
was
plenty
of
serious,

profound
and
living
Christianity
and
confession....
But
unfortunately
this
faith
and

confession
of
the
German
Church
remained
embedded
in
the
language
of
the

Church,
and
did
not
translate
what
was
being
excellently
said
in
the
language
of
the

Church
into
the
political
attitude
demanded
at
the
time;
in
which
it
would
have

become
clear
that
the
Evangelical
Church
had
to
say
'No'
to
National
Socialism,
'No'

from
its
very
roots.



Karl
Barth

­­Dogmatics
in
Outline



He
who
refuses
to
embrace
a
unique
opportunity
loses
the
prize
as
surely
as
if
he

tried
and
failed.

...

Our
errors
are
surely
not
such
awfully
solemn
things.
In
a
world
where
we
are
so

certain
to
incur
them
in
spite
of
all
our
caution,
a
certain
lightness
of
heart
seems

healthier
than
this
excessive
nervousness
on
their
behalf.

...

Let
us
give
the
name
hypothesis
to
anything
that
may
be
proposed
to
our
belief;
and

just
as
the
electricians
speak
of
live
and
dead
wires,
let
us
speak
of
any
hypothesis
as

either
live
or
dead.
A
live
hypothesis
is
one
which
appears
as
a
real
possibility
to

him
to
whom
it
is
proposed.
If
I
ask
you
to
believe
in
the
Mahdi,
the
notion
makes
no

electric
connection
with
your
nature,
‐
it
refuses
to
scintillate
with
any
credibility
at

all.
As
an
hypothesis
it
is
completely
dead.
To
an
Arab,
however
(even
if
he
be
not

one
of
the
Mahdi's
followers),
the
hypothesis
is
among
the
mind's
possibilities:
it
is

alive.
This
shows
that
deadness
and
liveness
in
an
hypothesis
are
not
intrinsic

properties,
but
relations
to
the
individual
thinker.



William
James

‐‐"The
Will
to
Believe"



The
distance,
and
as
it
were
the
space
around
man,
grows
with
the
strength
of
his

intellectual
vision
and
insight:
his
world
becomes
profounder;
new
stars,
new

enigmas,
and
notions
are
ever
coming
into
view.
Perhaps
everything
on
which
the

intellectual
eye
has
exercised
its
acuteness
and
profundity
has
just
been
an
occasion

for
its
exercise,
something
of
a
game,
something
for
children
and
childish
minds.



Friedrich
Nietzsche

­­Beyond
Good
and
Evil



The
perspective
of
the
'unbeliever'
on
the
traditional
forms
of
belief
has
seldom

been
welcomed
with
any
enthusiasm
inside
the
communities
of
faith,
but
in
spite
of

that
it
has
provided
an
invaluable
service
to
them.
If
one
were
to
write
the
history
of

modern
reform
movements
within
the
several
world
religions,
the
critical
outsider

would
have
to
be
accorded
a
substantial
position
in
such
a
history.



Jaroslav
Pelikan

­­The
World
Treasury
of
Modern
Religious
Thought



Many
of
today’s
churches
have
bought
the
culture’s
lie
that
religion
is
not
about
sex

or
anything
else
of
much
importance.
But,
as
theologian
Sarah
Coakley
has
so

brilliantly
said,
ancient
Christian
reflection
on
desire
shows
that
Freud
is
exactly

wrong:
Talk
about
God
is
not
repressed
talk
about
sexuality;
talk
about
sex
is,
in
fact,

repressed
talk
about
God.
To
paraphrase
C.S.
Lewis,
porn
users
are
not
to
be

rebuked
for
desiring
too
much
but
for
desiring
too
little.



‐‐Jason
Byassee,
"Not
Your
Father's
Pornography"
(First
Things,
January
2008)



It
is
impossible
to
think
‐
seriously
‐
with
words
like
Classicism,
Romanticism,

Humanism,
Realism.
...One
does
not
get
drunk
nor
does
one
quench
one's
thirst
with

bottle
labels.



‐Paul
Valery,
quoted
in
C.
Milosz,
The
History
of
Polish
Poetry



Beauty
is
momentary
in
the
mind
‐

The
fitful
tracing
of
a
portal;

But
in
the
flesh
it
is
immortal.



Wallace
Stevens

‐‐"Peter
Quince
at
the
Clavier"



At
no
moment
during
my
work
did
I
feel
boredom;
indeed,
I
was
playing
more
than

toiling,
and
several
passages
preserve,
I
hope,
a
trace
of
my
smile.



Czeslaw
Milosz

­­The
History
of
Polish
Poetry



Why
should
she
give
her
bounty
to
the
dead?

What
is
divinity
if
it
can
come

Only
in
silent
shadows
and
in
dreams?

Shall
she
not
find
in
comforts
of
the
sun,

In
pungent
fruit
and
bright,
green
wings,
or
else

In
any
balm
or
beauty
of
the
earth,

Things
to
be
cherished
like
the
thought
of
heaven?

...

And,
in
the
isolation
of
the
sky,

At
evening,
casual
flocks
of
pigeons
make

Ambiguous
undulations
as
they
sink,

Downward
to
darkness,
on
extended
wings.



Wallace
Stevens

‐‐"Sunday
Morning"



I
got
away
with
half
my
heart
‐
no
more.

Barely
a
trace
of
my
old
gaiety.

The
crowd
like
market
cattle
bore

Me
along.
The
world
was
loathsome
to
me.



Cyprian
Norwid

‐‐"Nerves"



With
nothing
can
one
approach
a
work
of
art
so
little
as
with
critical
words:
they

always
come
down
to
more
or
less
happy
misunderstandings.

...

This
above
all
‐
ask
yourself
in
the
stillest
hour
of
the
night:
must
I
write?
Delve
into

yourself
for
a
deep
answer.
And
if
this
should
be
affirmative,
if
you
may
meet
this

question
with
a
strong
and
simple
"I
must,"
then
build
your
life
according
to
this

necessity;
your
life
even
into
its
most
indifferent
and
slightest
hour
must
be
a
sign
of

this
urge
and
a
testimony
to
it.

...

Therefore
save
yourself
from
these
general
themes
and
seek
those
which
your
own

everyday
life
offers
you;
describe
your
sorrows
and
desires,
passing
thoughts
and

the
belief
in
some
sort
of
beauty
‐
describe
all
these
with
loving,
quiet,
humble

sincerity,
and
use,
to
express
yourself,
the
things
in
your
environment,
the
images

from
your
dreams,
and
the
objects
of
your
memory.
If
your
daily
life
seems
poor,
do

not
blame
it;
blame
yourself,
tell
yourself
that
you
are
not
poet
enough
to
call
forth

its
riches;
for
to
the
creator
there
is
no
poverty
and
no
poor
indifferent
place.

...

A
work
of
art
is
good
if
it
has
sprung
from
necessity.

...

Live
a
while
in
these
books,
learn
from
them
what
seems
to
you
worth
learning,
but

above
all
love
them.
This
love
will
be
repaid
you
a
thousand
and
a
thousand
times,

and
however
your
life
may
turn,
‐
it
will,
I
am
certain
of
it,
run
through
the
fabric
of

your
growth
as
one
of
the
most
important
threads
among
all
the
threads
of
your

experiences,
disappointments
and
joys.



Rainer
Maria
Rilke

­­Letters
to
a
Young
Poet



Quotes
from
Joyce's
"Ulysses":



Had
Pyrrhus
not
fallen
by
a
beldham's
hand
in
Argos
or
Julius
Caesar
not
been

knifed
to
death?
They
are
not
to
be
thought
away.
Time
has
branded
them
and

fettered
they
are
lodged
in
the
room
of
the
infinite
possibilities
they
have
ousted.

But
can
those
have
been
possible
seeing
that
they
never
were?
Or
was
that
only

possible
which
came
to
pass?
Weave,
weaver
of
the
wind.



...



‐History,
Stephen
said,
is
a
nightmare
from
which
I
am
trying
to
awake.

From
the
playfield
the
boys
raised
a
shout.
A
whirring
whistle:
goal.
What
if
that

nightmare
gave
you
a
back
kick?

‐The
ways
of
the
Creator
are
not
our
ways,
Mr
Deasy
said.
All
history
moves
towards

one
great
goal,
the
manifestation
of
God.

Stephen
jerked
his
thumb
towards
the
window,
saying:

‐That
is
God.

Hooray!
Ay!
Whirrwhee!

‐What?
Mr
Deasy
asked.

‐A
shout
in
the
street,
Stephen
answered,
shrugging
his
shoulders.



...



For
that
are
you
pining,
the
bark
of
their
applause?



...



Across
the
sands
of
all
the
world,
followed
by
the
sun's
flaming
sword,
to
the
west,

trekking
to
evening
lands.



...



Our
souls,
shame‐wounded
by
our
sins,
cling
to
us
yet
more,
a
woman
to
her
lover

clinging,
the
more
the
more.



...



Somewhere
in
the
east:
early
morning:
set
off
at
dawn,
travel
round
in
front
of
the

sun,
steal
a
day's
march
on
him.
Keep
it
up
for
ever
never
grow
a
day
old
technically.



...



‐Thank
you,
sir.
Another
time.

A
speck
of
eager
fire
from
foxeyes
thanked
him.
He
withdrew
his
gaze
after
an

instant.
No:
better
not:
another
time.



...



To
smell
the
gentle
smoke
of
tea,
fume
of
the
pan,
sizzling
butter.
Be
near
her
ample

bedwarmed
flesh.
Yes,
yes.

Quick
warm
sunlight
came
running
from
Berkeley
Road,
swiftly,
in
slim
sandals,

along
the
brightening
footpath.
Runs,
she
runs
to
meet
me,
a
girl
with
gold
hair
on

the
wind.



James
Joyce

­­Ulysses



‐‐



Quotes
from
Jim
Harrison's
True
North:



The
main
feature
of
the
Kingston
Plains
was
the
thousands
of
acres
of
white
pine

stumps,
some
of
them
very
large,
which
had
been
cut
at
waist
or
chest
height

probably
during
the
winter
when
it
was
easier
to
skid
the
trees
out
on
snow‐
covered
trails
which
they
dampened
to
form
ice
so
that
the
draft
horse‐drawn
log

sleighs
could
be
more
easily
pulled.
...I
swiveled
around
until
I
had
completed
a
360‐
degree
view,
suppressing
any
anger
I
felt
over
the
idea
that
they
might
have
left
a

few
trees
for
those
in
the
future
to
look
at.
Maybe
to
try
to
imagine
the
trees
was
like

asking
a
contemporary
Lakota
to
imagine
a
million
buffalo.

...

It
occurred
to
me
that
you
could
explain
everything
away
but
the
behavior

remained.

...

Frankly
I
wanted
to
be
useful
in
this
life
and
that
could
be
defined
only
by
work,
not

good
intentions.

...

I
felt
absurdly
happy
when
I
entered
Michigan
just
north
of
Toledo,
though
I
was

already
lonely
for
Riva.

...

Being
at
the
university
through
the
deaths
of
Robert
Kennedy
and
Martin
Luther

King
Jr.
ending
with
the
more
recent
Kent
State
butchery
had
often
made
academic

studies
seem
problematical
and
remote.
How
upsetting
to
see
your
professor
break

down
in
tears
in
your
Chaucer
class
the
day
after
King
was
murdered.
My
return
to

religion
was
a
defense
against
the
insanity
of
the
time,
a
way
to
avoid
standing
there

simply
screaming
like
the
girl
in
the
famous
Kent
State
photograph.
I
recalled
the

day
when
I
was
a
junior
at
Michigan
State
and
Cynthia
had
called
to
say
that
she
had

heard
our
ex‐paper
boy
had
died
in
Vietnam.
He
was
a
poor
kid
and
never
seemed

dressed
warmly
enough
in
winter
when
below‐zero
winds
blew
in
off
Lake
Superior.

...He
put
a
face
on
an
insane
war.

...

How
soiled
and
tawdry
poor
Jesus
was
compared
to
the
theological
school
where

the
self‐interest
of
the
human
intelligence
smothered
prayer,
and
the
abstractions
in

the
history
of
theology
were
a
virtual
fire
extinguisher
on
the
Gospels.

...

Every
location
has
its
classic
Greek
chorus
muttering,
chattering,
moaning
in
the

background.

...

Fred
says
that
when
he
sees
a
politician
who
has
further
crushed
the
poor
pray
in

public
he
wants
to
pick
up
a
gun.

...

I
was
cold
and
exhausted
and
went
back
to
the
motel
room,
drew
an
easy
chair
up
to

the
window,
then
fell
asleep
staring
at
the
frightening
whiteness
of
the
world.
It
was

clearly
a
blank
canvas
on
which
you
could
paint
your
life
if
you
cared
to.
Just
before

sleep
I
imagined
sitting
at
the
cabin
window
and
painted
the
interior
of
what
would

be
my
cabin,
including
the
front
window
from
which
the
only
visible
thing
was
Lake

Superior
and
the
line
of
the
horizon,
but
there
was
the
nagging
idea
Fred
had

explained
that
as
a
putative
Christian
I
had
to
learn
how
to
function
in
the
world

before
I
earned
the
right
to
retreat.

...

We
were
jittery
when
we
rigged
our
fly
rods
and
flipped
a
coin
for
the
first
cast.

Glenn
won
and
caught
a
two‐pounder
and
then
it
became
apparent
that
the
fish

weren't
gun‐shy
so
we
could
both
cast.
We
caught
a
dozen
before
dark
and
released

all
but
two
which
we
kept
for
a
midnight
snack
and
ate
with
a
six‐pack
of
beer
Glenn

had
stowed
in
the
cold
creek.
The
northern
lights
were
astounding,
whirling
sheets

and
cones
of
rose
and
green
and
bluish
lights
so
strong
they
gave
off
a
tinny
metallic

sound.

...

Naturally
during
the
act
of
love
you're
undisturbed
by
reality,
a
grace
note
I
also

found
in
trout
fishing,
but
then
lovemaking
and
fishing
don't
manage
to
dominate

your
life
like
you
wished
they
could.

...

We
gave
up
our
heavy
talk
and
spent
two
days
rowing.
In
my
own
life
strength
has

come
from
unfolding,
subtracting,
rather
than
adding.

...

Clarence
said
a
striking
thing
about
rowing
that
I've
always
valued,
the
upshot
of

which
was
that
he
liked
rowing
because
you
were
approaching
life
backward.
You

could
clearly
see
the
past,
and
you
glanced
quickly
at
the
future
over
your
shoulder

mostly
so
you
wouldn't
run
into
anything
destructively
immovable.
Too
much
of
the

future
was
predestined
by
the
behavior
of
others
for
you
to
be
in
control.
The
most

you
could
hope
for
is
to
be
ready
and
attentive.



Jim
Harrison

­­True
North



Struggles
to
coerce
uniformity
of
sentiment
in
support
of
some
end
thought

essentially
to
their
time
and
country
have
been
waged
by
many
good,
as
well
as
by

evil,
men.
...Those
who
begin
coercive
elimination
of
dissent
soon
find
themselves

exterminating
dissenters.
Compulsory
unification
of
opinion
achieves
only
the

unanimity
of
the
graveyard.



Justice
Robert
Jackson,
writing
for
the
U.S.
Supreme
Court

­­West
Virginia
State
Board
of
Education
v.
Barnette
(1943)



The
Court
found
that
the
underlying
issue
was
not
any
claimed
conflict
between

liberty
of
conscience
and
the
state's
ability
to
survive
in
time
of
crisis.
The
issue
was

not
weak
versus
strong
government,
but,
rather,
seeing
the
strength
of
America
in

"individual
freedom
of
mind"
rather
than
in
"officially
disciplined
uniformity
for

which
history
indicates
a
disappointing
and
disastrous
end."
Enforced
conformity,

far
from
teaching
the
value
of
liberty,
would
"strangle
the
free
mind
at
its
source
and

teach
youth
to
discount
important
principles
of
our
government
as
mere
platitudes."



Jordan
Lorence
and
Harvey
A.
Silverglate

­­FIRE's
Guide
to
First­Year
Orientation
and
Thought
Reform
on
Campus



As
a
whole,
if
children
got
book
learnin
enough
they'd
jump
off
of
this
country;
they

don't
want
to
plow,
don't
want
no
part
of
no
sort
of
field
work.
That's
the
way
it
runs

here.
The
biggest
majority
runs
off
to
some
place
where
they
can
get
a
public
job.

...

And
I
never
did
forget
none
of
his
treatments
toward
me.
You
forever
remember
the

wrongs
done
to
you
as
long
as
you
live.
But
it's
just
like
forgivin
if
you
just
go
on
in

this
world
and
don't
worry
about
it.

...

So
my
daddy
married
Maggie
Reed
and
him
and
her
was
the
father
and
mother
of

thirteen
children
‐
my
old
daddy
was
a
rooster,
he
was
a
humdinger.

...

My
grandmother
and
other
people
that
I
knowed
grew
up
in
slavery
time,
they

wasn't
satisfied
with
their
feredom.
They
felt
like
motherless
children
‐
they
wasn't

satisfied
but
they
had
to
live
under
the
impression
that
they
were.
Had
to
act
in
a

way
just
as
though
everything
was
all
right.
But
they
would
open
up
every
once
in
a

while
and
talk
about
slavery
time
‐
they
didn't
know
nothin
about
no
freedom
then,

didn't
know
what
it
was
but
they
wanted
it.
And
when
they
got
it
they
knew
that

what
they
got
wasn't
what
they
wanted,
it
wasn't
freedom,
really.
Had
to
do

whatever
the
white
man
directed
em
to
do,
couldn't
voice
their
heart's
desire.
That

was
the
way
of
life
that
I
was
born
and
raised
into.

...

Of
course,
years
ago
I
heard
that
President
Lincoln
freed
the
colored
people;
but
it

didn't
amount
to
a
hill
of
beans.

...

He
was
imprisoned
in
slavery
for
fifteen
years
‐
slavery
were
equal
or
worser
than

prison,
but
both
of
em
bad
and
the
poor
colored
man
knows
more
about
them
two

subjects
than
anybody.

...

And
when
I
got
to
be
a
little
old
boy,
when
I
got
big
enough
to
catch
on
to
what

people
said,
and
even
to
the
words
of
the
old
people,
and
the
Bible,
it
was
instilled
in

me
many
a
time:
the
bottom
rail
will
come
to
the
top
someday.
I
taken
that
to
mean

a
change
in
the
later
years,
durin
of
my
lifetime
maybe.
I
believe,
if
that
day
come,

the
poor
generation
on
earth
will
banish
away
their
toils
and
snares.
But
won't

nobody
do
it
for
them
but
themselves.

...

I
was
big
enough
and
old
enough
to
abominate
what
I
seed.

...

He
wasn't
a
slave
but
he
lived
like
one.
Because
he
had
to
take
what
the
white

people
gived
to
get
along.
That
much
of
slavery
ways
was
still
hangin
on.
According

to
slave
days
you
wasn't
allowed
the
privilege
to
seek
knowledge
without
the
white

man,
master
man,
allowin
you.
And
that
was
the
rule
durin
of
my
daddy's
lifetime

and
through
my
life,
to
be
sure.

...

They
claimed
they
had
a
note
against
him
and
they
took
all
he
had.
In
those
days,
it

was
out
of
the
knowledge
of
the
colored
man
to
understand
that
if
you
gived
a
man
a

note
on
everything
you
had,
exactly
how
you
was
subject
to
the
laws.
Because
the

colored
man
wasn't
educated
in
the
laws
for
his
use;
they
was
a
great,
dark
secret
to

him.



Nate
Shaw

‐‐Theodore
Rosengarten
(ed),
All
God's
Dangers:
The
Life
of
Nate
Shaw



"Do
we
want
to
spend
our
money
on
better
teachers,
better
roads,
and
enhanced

national
security?
Or
do
we
want
to
spend
it
on
more
expensive
watches,
more

elaborate
gas
grills,
and
bigger
mansions?
Tired
slogans
about
government
waste

won't
help
us
make
this
decision
more
intelligently."



Robert
Frank



‐‐Falling
Behind:
How
Rising
Inequality
Harms
the
Middle
Class




‐‐‐



Honest
and
earnest
criticism
from
those
whose
interests
are
most
nearly
touched
‐

criticism
of
writers
by
readers,
of
government
by
those
governed,
of
leaders
by

those
led
‐
this
is
the
soul
of
democracy
and
the
safeguard
of
modern
society.

...

In
fact
the
burden
belongs
to
the
nation,
and
the
hands
of
none
of
us
are
clean
if
we

bend
not
our
energies
to
righting
these
wrongs.

...

The
opposition
to
Negro
education
in
the
South
was
at
first
bitter,
and
showed
itself

in
ashes,
insult,
and
blood;
for
the
South
believed
an
educated
Negro
to
be
a

dangerous
Negro.
And
the
South
was
not
wholly
wrong;
for
education
among
all

kinds
of
men
always
has
had,
and
always
will
have,
an
element
of
danger
and

revolution,
of
dissatisfaction
and
discontent.
Nevertheless,
men
strive
to
know.

...

To
be
a
poor
man
is
hard,
but
to
be
a
poor
race
in
a
land
of
dollars
is
the
very
bottom

of
hardships.



W.E.B.
Du
Bois

­­The
Souls
of
Black
Folk



His
emotion
had
made
him
a
boy
again,
a
child
sitting
quietly
with
folded
arms.

...

'It's
spring,
I'm
walking
into
the
new
season,'
Rolandsen
answered
over
his
shoulder

as
he
went
by.

...

On
the
other
hand,
he
was
not
God,
he
could
not
contain
his
heart
if
it
insisted
on

flying
away
in
the
spring.

...

The
nights
too
were
bright
and
sunny.
It
was
weather
for
dreamers,
for
young

people
to
flit
about
in
restless
excitement.
They
wandered
the
roads
at
night,
singing

and
beating
the
air
with
sallow‐twigs.
And
from
all
the
isles
and
skerries
came
the

sound
of
birds:
guillemots
and
oyster‐catchers
and
gulls
and
eiderducks.
The
seal

thrust
his
dripping
head
up
out
of
the
water
and
looked
around,
then
dived
back

down
again
to
his
own
world.

...

He
went
to
the
sexton's
house
to
look
for
Olga.
Now
that
it
was
spring
Rolandsen

had
to
have
a
sweetheart;
it
was
no
easy
matter
to
hold
his
own
great
heart
in
check.

...

Alas,
Rolandsen
was
ever
hopeful;
it
took
very
little
to
rouse
his
expectations.
But
it

had
to
be
admitted
that
he
was
also
good
at
bearing
disappointments;
he
was
proud

and
resilient
and
his
spirit
was
never
broken.



Knut
Hamsun

­­Dreamers



Some
people
are
always
getting
a
bigger
boat,
but
rarely
sail.

...

All
these
books
boil
down
to
the
same
message:
'Resist
the
urge
to
buy.'
Once
you

learn
how
to
do
it,
it
becomes
second
nature.

...

Most
people
find
that
stuff
does
indeed
expand
to
fill
the
space
provided.
Do
you

want
to
encourage
this
tendency
with
the
stuff
in
your
house?
Extra
space
will
cost

you
in
several
ways:
money
and
times
to
decorate,
clean,
and
maintain;
energy
to

heat
and
cool
all
that
space;
and
outdoor
space
(the
more
you
put
under
roof,
the

less
you'll
have
outside).
There's
also
the
house
law
of
diminishing
returns:
the

difference
between
having
one
bathroom
or
none
is
enormous,
but
between
two
or

three
may
be
negligible.

...

Living
smaller
frees
up...time
and
money
to
pursue
fun.
Having
good
friends
is
a

proven
mood
elevator.

...

Polls
show
that
most
Americans
believe
we
must
earn
about
twice
the
median

income
to
be
solidly
middle
class
‐
that
is,
we
believe
that
what
we
earn,
on
average,

is
just
not
enough.



Shay
Salomon
and
Nigel
Valdez

­­Little
House
on
a
Small
Planet



The
achievements
of
the
past
provide
the
only
means
at
command
for

understanding
the
present.
...The
institutions
and
customs
that
exist
in
the
present

and
that
give
rise
to
present
social
ills
and
dislocations
did
not
arise
overnight.
They

have
a
long
history
behind
them.
Attempt
to
deal
with
them
simply
on
the
basis
of

what
is
obvious
in
the
present
is
bound
to
result
in
adoption
of
superficial
measures

which
in
the
end
will
only
render
existing
problems
more
acute
and
more
difficult
to

solve.

...

Growth
depends
upon
the
presence
of
difficulty
to
be
overcome
by
the
exercise
of

intelligence.



John
Dewey

­­Experience
and
Education



Excerpts
from
a
history
of
the
Great
Depression:



The
Carnegie
Foundation
for
the
Advancement
of
Teaching
had
investigated
college

athletics
earlier
in
the
year
(1929)
and
found
them
to
be
the
same
across
the

country
‐
"sodden
with
commercialism."
Of
112
schools
investigated,
only
28
did
not

offer
improper
subsidies
to
athletes.
But
instead
of
hanging
their
heads
in
shame,

many
colleges
defended
their
athletic
activities.
A
Brown
University
professor

attacked
the
foundation
for
meddling.
...The
Big
Ten's
commissioner
of
athletics

defended
the
practice
of
buying
college
players.

...

One
telephone
operator
in
one
of
the
city's
largest
hotels
wore
a
new
sealskin
coat.

Her
spending
was
typical.
She
was
playing
the
stock
market
on
a
broker's
margin

account,
and
boasted
neither
a
bank
savings
account,
insurance,
nor
a
penny
in
the

world
except
what
she
earned
from
week
to
week.
But
would
she
take
her
profits

and
convert
them
to
bonds,
as
President
Hoover
wanted
her
and
all
Americans
to

do?
She
would
not
even
consider
it,
for
the
gambling
fever
had
her,
as
it
had
a

million
other
Americans.
The
fever
had
her
and
them
in
red‐cheeked,
bright‐eyed

frenzy.

...

For
billions
of
dollars
were
lost
that
day,
including
those
of
the
young
telephone

operator
in
the
New
York
hotel
who
had
invested
everything
she
owned
in
her

sealskin
coat
and
in
a
margin
account
on
the
stock
exchange.
A
hotel
resident,

unable
to
complete
a
telephone
call
that
night,
had
gone
to
the
switchboard
himself,

to
overhear
her
talking
to
her
broker,
her
voice
breaking
and
eyes
bathed
in
tears.

All
the
telephone
operator
had
left
at
the
end
of
this
Black
Thursday
was
her

sealskin
coat
and
her
job.

...

That
night
the
relatives
of
Abraham
Germansky,
a
wealthy
real
estate
man
who
lived

in
Mount
Vernon,
New
York,
put
in
a
frantic
call
to
police
to
help
them
find

Germansky.
He
had
last
been
seen
late
Thursday
on
Wall
Street,
tearing
up
ticker

tape
and
scattering
it
along
the
sidewalk.

...

Hunger
was
not
debatable.



Edwin
P.
Hoyt

‐‐
The
Tempering
Years
(a
history
of
America
between
1929
and
1939)



It
is
clear
that
in
their
play
children
repeat
everything
that
has
made
a
great

impression
on
them
in
real
life,
and
that
in
doing
so
they
abreact
the
strength
of
the

impression
and,
as
one
might
put
it,
make
themselves
master
of
the
situation.
But
on

the
other
hand,
it
is
obvious
that
all
their
play
is
influenced
by
a
wish
that
dominates

them
the
whole
time
‐
the
wish
to
be
grown‐up
and
to
be
able
to
do
what
grown‐up

people
do.
It
can
also
be
observed
that
the
unpleasurable
nature
of
an
experience

does
not
always
unsuit
it
for
play.
If
the
doctor
looks
down
a
child's
throat
or
carries

out
some
small
operation
on
him,
we
may
be
quite
sure
that
these
frightening

experiences
will
be
the
subject
of
the
next
game;
but
we
must
not
in
that
connection

overlook
the
fact
that
their
is
a
yield
of
pleasure
from
another
source.
As
the
child

passes
over
from
the
passivity
of
the
experience
to
the
activity
of
the
game,
he
hands

on
the
disagreeable
experience
to
one
of
his
playmates
and
in
this
way
revenges

himself
on
a
substitute.



Sigmund
Freud

­­Beyond
the
Pleasure
Principle



He
wanders
eastward,
toward
the
sun,
he
comes
to
a
mountain.
A
voice
calls:
are

you
near
a
mountain?
Yes,
he
answers,
I'm
standing
near
a
mountain.
Then
the
voice

says:
That
mountain
you
are
standing
near
is
my
foot;
I
am
lying
bound
in
the

uttermost
part
of
the
earth,
come
set
me
free!



...



Later,
when
he
came
to
think
about
it,
he
acknowledged
that
those
hours
had
had
a

significance
for
him
that
no
one
could
realize,
and
if
it
was
true
‐
as
had
just
been

said
‐
that
at
times
his
writing
sparkled,
then
it
was
his
memories
of
that
time
that

had
kindled
the
spark;
it
was
a
reflection
of
the
happiness
his
two
playmates
had

bestowed
on
him
in
his
childhood.
For
that
reason
they
could
claim
a
large
share
in

his
achievements.



...



But
his
days
varied,
the
good
alternating
with
the
bad,
and
sometimes
he
would
be

working
at
his
best
when
a
thought,
a
pair
of
eyes,
a
word
from
the
past
would
strike

him,
quenching
his
inspiration.
Then
he
would
get
up
and
begin
to
pace
his
room

from
wall
to
wall;
he
had
done
this
so
often,
he
had
worn
a
white
path
across
the

floor,
and
the
path
grew
daily
whiter....



Knut
Hamsun

­­Victoria



And
so
it
turned
out
that
only
a
life
similar
to
the
life
of
those
around
us,
merging

with
it
without
a
ripple,
is
genuine
life,
and
that
an
unshared
happiness
is
not

happiness.



Boris
Pasternak

‐‐Doctor
Zhivago
(quoted
in
Krakauer,
Into
the
Wild)



Because
I
was
alone,
however,
even
the
mundane
seemed
charged
with
meaning.

The
ice
looked
colder
and
more
mysterious,
the
sky
a
cleaner
shade
of
blue.



...



It
is
easy,
when
you
are
young,
to
believe
that
what
you
desire
is
no
less
than
what

you
deserve,
to
assume
that
if
you
want
something
badly
enough,
it
is
your
God‐
given
right
to
have
it.



Jon
Krakauer

­­Into
the
Wild



The
universal
triumph
of
the
secular
state
has
thrown
all
religious
organizations

into
such
a
definitely
secondary,
and
finally
ineffectual,
position
that
religious

pantomime
is
hardly
more
today
than
a
sanctimonious
exercise
for
Sunday
morning,

whereas
business
ethics
and
patriotism
stand
for
the
remainder
of
the
week.
Such
a

monkey‐holiness
is
not
what
the
functioning
world
requires....



...



A
single
song
is
being
inflected
through
all
the
colorations
of
the
human
choir.

General
propaganda
for
one
or
another
of
the
local
solutions
is
superfluous
‐
or

much
rather,
a
menace.
The
way
to
become
human
is
to
learn
to
recognize
the

lineaments
of
God
in
all
of
the
wonderful
modulations
of
the
face
of
man.



Joseph
Campbell

­­The
Hero
With
a
Thousand
Faces



‐‐‐



I
was
in
the
grip
of
a
strange
and
glorious
flow
of
ideas,
the
heavens
opened,
it
was
a

warm
summer
day
for
my
soul,
an
angel
proffered
wine,
I
drank
it
‐
strong
wine,

which
I
drank
from
a
garnet
bowl.



...



Forgive
me
if
I'm
hoping
too
much,
believing
too
much,
it's
so
lovely
to
believe

blindly
for
once.



...



Such
is
the
nature
of
love.
No,
no,
it
is
something
different
again,
like
nothing
else
in

the
world.
It
visits
the
earth
on
a
night
in
spring
when
a
young
man
sees
two
eyes,

two
eyes.
He
gazes,
he
sees.
He
kisses
a
mouth,
and
it
feels
as
though
two
lights
have

met
in
his
heart,
a
sun
that
flashes
at
a
star.
He
falls
in
her
arms,
and
for
him
the

whole
world
becomes
silent
and
invisible.



Love
was
God's
first
word,
the
first
thought
that
sailed
across
his
mind.
He
said,
Let

there
be
light,
and
there
was
love.
And
every
thing
that
he
had
made
was
very
good,

and
nothing
thereof
did
he
wish
unmade
again.
And
love
was
creation's
source,

creation's
ruler;
but
all
love's
ways
are
strewn
with
blossoms
and
blood,
blossoms

and
blood.



...



The
days
came
and
went:
mild,
lovely
days
filled
with
the
bliss
of
solitude
and
with

sweet
memories
from
childhood
‐
a
renewed
call
to
the
earth
and
the
sky,
the
air

and
the
hills.



Knut
Hamsun

‐‐Victoria



So
many
people
live
within
unhappy
circumstances
and
yet
will
not
take
the

initiative
to
change
their
situation
because
they
are
conditioned
to
a
life
of
security,

conformity,
and
conservatism,
all
of
which
may
appear
to
give
one
peace
of
mind,

but
in
reality
nothing
is
more
damaging
to
the
adventurous
spirit
within
a
man
than

a
secure
future.
The
very
basic
core
of
a
man's
living
spirit
is
his
passion
for

adventure.
The
joy
of
life
comes
form
our
encounters
with
new
experiences,
and

hence
there
is
no
greater
joy
than
to
have
an
endlessly
changing
horizon,
for
each

day
to
have
a
new
and
different
sun.



‐‐Chris
McCandless,
quoted
in
Jon
Krakauer,
Into
the
Wild



Civility
dies
with
the
death
of
dialogue.



‐‐John
Courtney
Murray



Understandably
enough,
a
direct
relationship
exists
between
out‐group
hostility
and

in‐group
cooperation.
The
more
intensely
the
enemy
is
loathed
and
feared,
the

greater
the
loyalty
and
cohesion
within
the
group.



..



A
perversion
is
someone
else's
pleasurable
excitement
that
you
disapprove
of.
You

may
disapprove
of
it
for
sound
reasons,
but
you
are
making
a
value
judgment,
not
an

objective
statement.



...



Attachment
to
parents
provides
the
emotional
basis
for
later
adult
attachment
and

loyalty
to
leaders;
while
early
dislike
of
strangers
provides
the
behavioural
and

psychic
paradigm
of
later
adult
hostility
to
"the
enemy."



Anthony
Stevens

­­The
Roots
of
War
and
Terror



People
are
moved
to
wonder
by
mountain
peaks,
by
vast
waves
of
the
sea,
by
broad

waterfalls
on
rivers,
by
the
all‐embracing
extent
of
the
ocean,
by
the
revolutions
of

the
stars.



‐‐St.
Augustine,
Confessions



The
happiest
man
is
he
who
learns
from
nature
the
lesson
of
worship.



‐‐Ralph
Waldo
Emerson,
"Nature"



No
amount
of
word‐making
will
ever
make
a
single
soul
to
know
these

mountains...One
day's
exposure
to
mountains
is
better
than
cartloads
of
books.



‐‐John
Muir



Thousands
of
different
things,
from
fine
holiday
weather
to
world
peace,
can
be

objects
of
human
hope
and
are,
in
fact,
such
objects.
Yet,
once
again,
there
appears

to
be
only
one
single
object
that,
by
being
hoped
for,
renders
a
person
simply
"one

who
hopes."

...

The
aspect
of
Plugge's
findings
that
is
really
worth
thinking
about,
if
also
likely
to

surprise
at
first,
seems
to
me
to
be
his
observation
that
true
hope
does
not
emerge

and
show
its
face
until
the
moment
when
one's
various
'hopes'
are
finally

disappointed,
fall
to
pieces,
and
lose
their
meaning
‐
only
then
can
"fundamental

hope...most
convincingly
be
grasped";
this
is
actually
an
opportunity
offered
by

disappointment
for
the
"purging
of
all
illusory
hope";
"out
of
the
loss
of
ordinary,

everyday
hope
arises
authentic
hope".



"Disappointment"
is
thus
to
be
taken...as
a
"disillusioning"
that
frees
from
illusion

(or
deception).
The
illusion,
the
perhaps
at
first
totally
unavoidable
self‐deception,

consists
in
our
believing
that
the
attainment
of
certain
goods
in
the
objective
world,

including
bodily
health,
constitutes
existential
well‐being
or
is
at
least
necessary
to

it.
...Every
deep
disappointment
of
some
hope
whose
object
was
to
be
found
in
the

worldly
sphere
potentially
harbors
an
opportunity
for
hope
per
se
to
turn,
without

resignation
and
for
the
first
time,
toward
its
true
object....



Josef
Pieper

­­Hope
and
History



In
(slavery)
cases,
time
and
again,
the
judiciary
paraded
its
helplessness
before
the

law;
lamented
harsh
results;
intimated
that
in
a
more
perfect
world,
or
at
the
end
of

days,
a
better
law
would
emerge,
but
almost
uniformly,
marched
to
the
music,

steeled
themselves,
and
hung
Billy
Budd.



Robert
M.
Cover

­­Justice
Accused:
Antislavery
and
the
Judicial
Process



We
cannot
remain
uprooted
from
the
earth
for
too
long
without
losing
our
sense
of

what
it
means
to
be
fully
alive.



Fred
D.
White

­­Essential
Muir:
A
Selection
of
John
Muir's
Best
Writings



The
causes
attributed
to
past
wars
by
historians
are
not
really
causes
at
all,
but

merely
the
triggers
that
set
them
off.

...

If
the
psychodynamic
investigation
of
our
warlike
propensity
has
any
advantage

over
other
approaches,
it
is
that
it
gets
closer
to
the
core
of
the
problem.
It

underlines
the
truth
that
wars
do
not
begin
in
senates,
parliaments,
or
military

headquarters
but
in
the
minds
of
men.
It
demonstrates
that
the
rational
use
of
force

for
political
objectives
and
the
rational
use
of
strategy
to
attain
military
goals
are

based
on
an
irrational
substrate
in
the
human
organism
which
makes
military

behavior
an
available
resource
at
the
disposal
of
governments,
chieftains,
tyrants,

and
warlords.
On
this
foundation
of
unreason
do
our
reasoned
strategies
proceed.



Anthony
Stevens

­­The
Roots
of
War
and
Terror



Despair
is
the
anticipation
of
nonfulfillment.
There
is
also,
of
course,
the
anticipation

of
fulfillment,
but
that
is
equally
at
odds
with
the
reality
of
our
existence
as

wayfarers
(viatores).



The
one
who
hopes,
and
he
alone,
anticipates
nothing;
he
holds
himself
open
for
an

as
yet
unrealized,
future
fulfillment
while
at
the
same
time
remaining
aware
that
he

knows
as
little
about
its
scope
as
about
its
time
of
arrival.



Josef
Pieper

­­Hope
and
History



Quotes
from
Petterson,
"Out
Stealing
Horses":



I
don’t
switch
on
the
ceiling
light
at
once
but
leave
the
room
in
twilight
so
the
yellow

flames
in
the
stove
flicker
brightly
over
the
floor
and
walls.
The
sight
of
them
slows

my
breathing
down
and
makes
me
calm
as
it
must
have
done
for
men
through

thousands
of
years:
let
the
wolves
howl,
here
by
the
fire
it’s
safe.



…



But
each
time
he
came
home
he
had
changed
a
little,
and
I
had
to
concentrate
hard

to
hold
on
to
him.



…



My
father
looked
almost
happy
then,
and
I
could
see
by
the
way
he
looked
at
me
that

I
did,
too.



…



And
she
waves
briefly
and
slams
the
car
door
and
it
starts
to
roll
down
the
slope.
I

go
up
the
steps
and
turn
off
the
yard
light
and
walk
through
the
hall
to
the
kitchen.

Lyra
is
at
my
heels,
but
even
when
she
is
behind
me
the
room
feels
a
bit
empty.
I

look
out
at
the
yard,
but
there
is
nothing
but
my
own
reflection
in
the
dark
glass.



…



He
is
watching
the
news.
I
don’t
know
when
I
last
watched
the
news.
I
did
not
bring

a
television
set
out
here
with
me,
and
I
regret
it
sometimes
when
the
evenings
get

long,
but
my
idea
was
that
living
alone
you
can
soon
get
stuck
to
those
flickering

images
and
to
the
chair
you
will
sit
on
far
into
the
night,
and
then
time
merely

passes
as
you
let
others
do
the
moving.
I
do
not
want
that.
I
will
keep
myself

company.



…



‘Would
you
rather
I
hadn’t
come?’
she
says
again,
insistently.

‘I
don’t
know,’
I
say,
and
that
is
also
true;
I
don’t
know
what
to
think
of
her
coming

out
here,
it
was
not
part
of
my
plan,
and
then
it
strikes
me:
now
she
will
go
away
and

never
come
back.
That
thought
fills
me
with
such
sudden
terror
that
I
quickly
say:

‘No,
that’s
not
true.
Don’t
go.’



…



So
I
get
up.
Six
fifteen.
Lyra
leaves
her
place
beside
the
stove
and
goes
to
the
kitchen

door
to
wait.
She
turns
her
head
and
looks
at
me,
and
there
is
a
trustfulness
in
that

look
I
probably
do
not
deserve.
But
maybe
that
is
not
the
point,
to
deserve
it
or
not,

perhaps
it
just
exists,
that
trust,
disconnected
from
who
you
are
and
what
you
have

done,
and
is
not
to
be
measured
in
any
way.
That’s
a
nice
thought.
Good
dog,
Lyra,
I

think,
good
dog.



Per
Petterson

‐‐Out
Stealing
Horses
(highly
recommended;
check
it
out
here
on
Amazon.com)



‐‐‐

Let
him
live
beneath
the
open
sky

and
dangerously.



‐‐Horace
(quoted
in
Montaigne,
"On
the
education
of
children")



Jon's
mother
was
different
out
here
in
the
meadow
than
at
home
in
their
cramped

house,
and
it
was
so
palpable
I
saw
it
at
once,
and
my
father
obviously
noticed
the

same
thing.
Almost
unwillingly
we
turned
our
heads
and
exchanged
glances
and

recognised
in
each
other's
eyes
what
the
other
had
seen.

...

So
the
feeling
of
pleasure
slips
into
the
feeling
that
time
has
passed,
that
it
is
very

long
ago,
and
the
sudden
feeling
of
being
old.

...

I
can't
recall
when
I
last
felt
so
alive
as
when
I
got
the
car
onto
the
road
again
and

drove
on.
Everything
that
was
me
lay
taut
and
quivering
just
beneath
my
skin.



Per
Petterson

‐‐Out
Stealing
Horses
(tr.
Anne
Born)



You
were
the
wind



I
am
a
boat

without
wind.

You
were
the
wind.

Was
that
the
course
I
was
to
take?

Who
cares
about
the
course

with
such
a
wind!



‐‐Olav
H.
Hauge
(tr.
Robin
Fulton)



Let
the
tutor
make
his
charge
pass
everything
through
a
sieve
and
lodge
nothing
in

his
head
on
mere
authority
and
trust....
Let
this
variety
of
ideas
be
set
before
him;
he

will
choose
if
he
can;
if
not,
he
will
remain
in
doubt.
Only
the
fools
are
certain
and

assured.



‐‐Montaigne,
"On
the
education
of
children"



When
it
comes
to
the
point



Year
in,
year
out,
you've
been
sitting
bent
over
books,

you've
been
gathering
more
knowledge

than
is
needed
for
nine
lives.

When
it
comes
to
the
point,

so
little
is
needed,
and
that
little

the
heart
has
always
known.

In
Egypt,
the
god
of
knowledge

had
a
head
like
an
ape.



‐‐Olav
H.
Hauge
(tr.
Siv
Hennum
and
James
Greene)



The
authority
of
those
who
teach
is
often
an
obstacle
to
those
who
want
to
learn.



‐‐Cicero
(quoted
in
Montaigne,
"On
the
education
of
children")



The
tendency
to
blame
globalization
for
many
vexing
problems
of
modern
life
is
due

in
part
to
nationalistic
and
xenophobic
attitudes
on
the
political
right
and
an

anticapitalist
mentality
on
the
political
left.
Nationalistic
attitudes
have
been

expressed
by
Ross
Perot,
Patrick
Buchanan,
and
American
organized
labor;
the

latter
long
ago
gave
up
the
slogan
“workers
of
the
world
unite”
in
favor
of
their
own

parochial
interests.
The
leftist
criticism
of
capitalism
runs
deep
in
some
peoples
and

countries
and
within
advanced
capitalist
economies,
most
notably
France.
The

antagonism
toward
capitalism
is
directed
at
the
principal
representatives
of
the

capitalist
system
in
the
modern
world:
the
United
States,
large
multinational
firms,

and
such
international
economic
institutions
as
the
International
Monetary
Fund

and
World
Trade
Organization.



When
I
note
these
criticisms,
I
myself
do
not
intend
to
endorse
such
excesses
of

capitalism
as
rampant
commercialism,
enormous
disparities
in
wealth
and
privilege,

advertising’s
creation
of
“wants,”
or
the
worship
of
wealth
as
the
measure
of
all

things.
Capitalism
is
a
system
based
on
self‐interest
that
is
too
frequently
made

manifest
in
outright
greed.
Despite
capitalism’s
serious
flaws,
the
evils
of
today’s

world
will
not
be
solved
by
attacks
on
globalization.
One
may
say
about
capitalism

what
Winston
Churchill
is
reputed
to
have
said
about
democracy,
that
it
is
the
worst

of
all
social
systems
except
for
all
the
others.



Robert
Gilpin

­­Global
Political
Economy



His
lack
of
all
thought
by
which
to
weigh
the
danger
against
the
attractiveness
of
the

bait,
and
of
all
volition
to
remain
hungry
a
little
while
longer,
is
the
direct
measure

of
his
lowness
in
the
mental
scale.



William
James

­­The
Principles
of
Psychology



But
whether
small
or
great,
and
no
matter
what
the
stage
or
grade
of
life,
the
call
(to

adventure)
rings
up
the
curtain,
always,
on
a
mystery
of
transfiguration
‐
a
rite,
or

moment,
of
spiritual
passage,
which,
when
complete,
amounts
to
a
dying
and
a
birth.

The
familiar
life
horizon
has
been
outgrown;
the
old
concepts,
ideals,
and
emotional

patterns
no
longer
fit;
the
time
for
the
passing
of
a
threshold
is
at
hand.

...

Refusal
of
the
summons
converts
the
adventure
into
its
negative.
Walled
in

boredom,
hard
work,
or
"culture,"
the
subject
loses
the
power
of
significant

affirmative
action
and
becomes
a
victim
to
be
saved.
His
flowering
world
becomes
a

wasteland
of
dry
stones
and
his
life
feels
meaningless....
Whatever
house
he
builds,
it

will
be
a
house
of
death:
a
labyrinth
of
cyclopean
walls
to
hide
from
him
his

Minotaur.
...The
myths
and
folk
tales
of
the
whole
world
make
clear
that
the
refusal

is
essentially
a
refusal
to
give
up
what
one
takes
to
be
one's
own
interest.
The
future

is
regarded
not
in
terms
of
an
unremitting
series
of
deaths
and
births,
but
as
though

one's
present
system
of
ideals,
virtues,
goals,
and
advantages
were
to
be
fixed
and

made
secure.



Joseph
Campbell

­­The
Hero
With
a
Thousand
Faces



Romeo
wants
Juliet
as
the
filings
want
the
magnet;
and
if
no
obstacles
intervene
he

moves
toward
her
by
as
straight
a
line
as
they.
But
Romeo
and
Juliet,
if
a
wall
be

built
between
them,
do
not
remain
idiotically
pressing
their
faces
against
its

opposite
sides
like
the
magnet
and
the
filings
with
the
card.
Romeo
soon
finds
a

circuitous
way,
by
scaling
the
wall
or
otherwise,
of
touching
Juliet's
lips
directly.



William
James

­­The
Principles
of
Psychology



(The
introvert's)
ideal
is
a
lonely
island
where
nothing
moves
except
what
he

permits
to
move.



Carl
Jung

­­Psychological
Types



In
all
ages
the
man
whose
determinations
are
swayed
by
reference
to
the
most

distant
ends
has
been
held
to
possess
the
highest
intelligence.
The
tramp
who
lives

from
hour
to
hour;
the
bohemian
whose
engagements
are
from
day
to
day;
the

bachelor
who
builds
but
for
a
single
life;
the
father
who
acts
for
another
generation;

the
patriot
who
thinks
of
a
whole
community
and
many
generations;
and
finally,
the

philosopher
and
saint
whose
cares
are
for
humanity
and
for
eternity,
‐
these
range

themselves
in
an
unbroken
hierarchy....



William
James

‐‐The
Principles
of
Psychology



I
read,
I
love

I
eat,
I
drink

I
watch
the
world
tilt

I
watch
the
children
think:

there's
so
much
to
it

and
most
of
it
good

that
while
I've
tendons

to
lift
my
head,

like
a
rooster
drinking

I'll
nod
to
God

and
save
despair

for
when
I'm
dead.



William
Meredith

‐‐From
"The
Preponderance"



The
fact
that
an
intellectual
formula
never
has
been
and
never
will
be
devised
which

could
embrace
and
express
the
manifest
possibilities
of
life
must
lead
to
the

inhibition
or
exclusion
of
other
activities
and
ways
of
living
that
are
just
as

important.
...Doubtless
there
are
exceptional
people
who
are
able
to
sacrifice
their

entire
life
to
a
particular
formula,
but
for
most
of
us
such
exclusiveness
is
impossible

in
the
long
run.
Sooner
or
later...the
potentialities
repressed
by
the
intellectual

attitude
will
make
themselves
indirectly
felt
by
disturbing
the
conscious
conduct
of

life.
...
The
first
function
to
be
affected
by
the
conscious
inhibition
is
feeling,
since
it

is
the
most
opposed
to
the
rigid
intellectual
formula
and
is
therefore
repressed
the

most
intensely.
No
function
can
be
entirely
eliminated
‐
it
can
only
be
greatly

distorted.



‐‐Jung,
"General
Descriptions
of
the
Types,"
in
Psychological
Types



From
The
Duino
Elegies
by
Rainer
Maria
Rilke,
tr.
Leishman
&
Spender:



...And
before

A
single
pain
has
got
within
range
of
your
ever‐

galloping
heart,
comes
the
tingling

in
the
soles
of
your
feet,
ahead
of
the
spring
that
it
wells
from,

chasing
into
your
eyes
a
few
physical
tears.

And,
in
spite
of
all,
blindly,

your
smile....



‐‐From
"The
Fifth
Elegy"



Angel:
suppose
there's
a
place
we
know
nothing
about,
and
there,

on
some
indescribable
carpet,
lovers
showed
all
that
here

they're
for
ever
unable
to
manage
‐
their
daring

lofty
figures
of
heart‐flight,

their
towers
of
pleasure,
their
ladders,

long
since,
where
ground
never
was,
just
quiveringly

propped
by
each
other....



‐‐From
"The
Fifth
Elegy"



Pillars,
pylons,
the
Sphinx,
all
the
striving
thrust,

grey,
from
fading
or
foreign
town,
of
the
spire!

Wasn't
all
this
a
miracle?
Angel,
gaze,
for
it's
we
‐

O
mightiness,
tell
them
that
we
were
capable
of
it
‐
my
breath's

too
short
for
this
celebration.
So,
after
all,
we
have
not

failed
to
make
use
of
the
spaces,
these
generous
spaces,
these,

our
spaces.
(How
terribly
big
they
must
be,

when,
with
thousands
of
years
of
our
feeling,
they're
not
over‐crowded.)



‐‐From
"The
Seventh
Elegy"



The
multitude
of
men
and
women
choose
the
less
adventurous
way
of
the

comparatively
unconscious
civic
and
tribal
routines.
But
these
seekers,
too,
are

saved
‐
by
virtue
of
the
inherited
symbolic
aids
of
society,
the
rites
of
passage,
the

grace‐yielding
sacraments,
given
to
manking
of
old
by
the
redeemers
and
handed

down
through
milleniums.
It
is
only
those
who
know
neither
an
inner
call
nor
an

outer
doctrine
whose
plight
truly
is
desperate:
that
is
to
say,
most
of
us
today,
in
this

labyrinth
without
and
within
the
heart.



Joseph
Campbell

­­The
Hero
With
a
Thousand
Faces



Quotes
from
Jung
and
Rilke



Man
is
not
a
machine
that
can
be
remodelled
for
quite
other
purposes
as
occasion

demands,
in
the
hope
that
it
will
go
on
functioning
as
regularly
as
before
but
in
a

quite
different
way.
He
carries
his
whole
history
with
him;
in
his
very
structure
is

written
the
history
of
mankind.



...



This
is
the
extravert's
danger:
he
gets
sucked
into
objects
and
completely
loses

himself
in
them.



C.G.
Jung

‐‐Psychological
Types



From
The
Duino
Elegies
by
Rainer
Maria
Rilke:



Who's
not
sat
tense
before
his
own
heart's
curtain?

Up
it
would
go:
the
scenery
was
parting.



‐‐From
"The
Fourth
Elegy"



Do
you
really
suppose
your
gentle
approach
could
have
so

convulsed
him,
you,
that
wander
like
morning‐breezes?

You
terrified
his
heart,
indeed;
but
more
ancient
terrors

rushed
into
him
in
that
instant
of
shattering
contact.



‐‐
From
"The
Third
Elegy"



I
know
why
you
so
blissfully
touch:
because
the
caress
persists,

because
it
does
not
vanish,
the
place
that
you

so
tenderly
cover;
because
you
perceive
thereupon

pure
duration.
Until
your
embraces
almost

promise
eternity.
Yet,
when
you've
once
withstood

the
startled
first
encounter,
the
window‐longing,

and
that
first
walk,
just
once,
through
the
garden
together:

Lovers,
are
you
the
same?
When
you
lift
yourselves

up
to
each
other's
lips
‐
drink
unto
drink:

oh,
how
strangely
the
drinker
eludes
his
part!



...Were
not
love
and
farewell

so
lightly
laid
upon
shoulders,
they
seemed
to
be
made

of
other
stuff
than
with
us?
Remember
the
hands,

how
they
rest
without
pressure,
though
power
is
there
in
the
torsos.

The
wisdom
of
those
self‐masters
was
this:
we
have
got
so
far;

ours
is
to
touch
one
another
like
this;
the
gods

may
press
more
strongly
upon
us.
But
that
is
the
gods'
affair.



‐‐From
"The
Second
Elegy"



From
Fables
about
Error



What
is
as
wrong
as
the
uninstructed
heart?

Left
to
its
ends,
it
clutches
things
and
creatures

That
can't
be
held,
or
held,
will
slip
their
natures;

It
lives
to
hoard
or
to
protect
a
hoard.

To
school,
to
school!
Teach
the
poor
organ
skill

That
all
its
ignorant,
nervous
will

Does
not
unpage
us
like
old
calendars.

A
life
should
be
all
gathering
and
art.



Let
there
be
academies
of
everything,

That
the
trap
in
the
warm
kitchen
yield
to
guile,

That
grackles
leave
a
fire
single
file

And
swallows
find
their
true
halves
the
first
spring.

The
mind
should
be,
like
art,
a
gathering

Where
the
red
heart
that
fumes
in
the
chest

Saying
kill,
kill,
kill
or
love,
love,
love,

Gentled
of
the
need
to
be
possessed,

Can
study
a
little
the
things
that
it
dreams
of.



‐‐William
Meredith



There
is
a
need
for
urgency,
for
history
does
not
wait.



‐‐Jacques
Delors,
"A
Necessary
Union"
(in
Nelsen
&
Stubb,
eds.,
The
European
Union:

Readings
on
the
Theory
and
Practice
of
European
Integration)



From
Rhenish
Night



My
glass
is
filled
with
a
wine
that
trembles
like
flame.



‐‐Guillaume
Apollinaire
(tr.
William
Meredith)



Original
Aversions



In
all
respects
unready
for
a
fall

They
fell,
our
first
progenitors,
and
these

Two
traumas
still
disturb
us
most
of
all:

High
places
and
our
own
unreadiness.

Towers
or
wells
unfoot
us
in
our
dreams

Repeatedly.
Old‐fashioned
people
still

Believe
that
nothing
saves
them
but
their
screams

And
that
an
unawakened
fall
would
kill.

Anticipation
cannot
really
ease

The
other
trouble;
waiting
for
the
day

When
such
and
such
will
happen
or
will
pass,

It
is
not
hard
to
wish
your
life
away.

Apart
from
angels,
winged
and
prevised,

Nobody
likes
to
fall
or
be
surprised.



From
Starlight



Going
abruptly
into
a
starry
night

It
is
ignorance
we
blink
from,
dark,
unhoused;

There
is
a
gaze
of
animal
delight

Before
the
human
vision.
Then,
aroused

To
nebulous
danger,
we
may
look
for
east
stars,

Orion
and
the
Dipper;
but
they
are
not
ours,



These
learned
fields.
Dark
and
ignorant,

Unable
to
see
what
our
forebears
saw,

We
keep
some
fear
of
random
firmament

Vestigal
in
us.
And
we
think,
Ah,

If
I
had
lived
then,
when
these
stories
were
made
up,
I

Could
have
found
more
likely
pictures
in
haphazard
sky.



From
Sonnet
on
Rare
Animals



I
have
alarmed
on
your
behalf
and
others'

Sauntering
things
galore.

It
is
this
way
with
verse
and
animals

And
love,
that
when
you
point
you
lose
them
all.

Startled
or
on
a
signal,
what
is
rare

Is
off
before
you
have
it
anywhere.



From
Orpheus



The
mind
turns
from
causes
in
such
cases
‐

All
a
man
can
say
is,
it
happened.

Posted
by
Ryan
McCarl
at
2:03:00
AM
ShareThis

Labels:
literature,
love,
poetry,
religion,
William
Meredith

08
November
2007

Great
quotes
from
recent
reading

We
keep
the
wall
between
us
as
we
go.

To
each
the
boulders
that
have
fallen
to
each.



Robert
Frost

‐‐From
"Mending
Wall"



World
peace
cannot
be
safeguarded
without
the
making
of
creative
efforts

proportionate
to
the
dangers
which
threaten
it.



Robert
Schumann

‐‐"The
Schumann
Declaration"



I
asked
her,
urgently,
if
she
could
see
my
face,
and
she
said:
"See
it?"
And,
smiling:

"It's
reflected
in
my
eyes,
isn't
it?"



(じゃ、私の顔が見えるかいと一心に聞くと、見えるかいって、そら、そこに、
写ってるじゃありませんかと、にこりと笑ってみせた。 



Natsume
Soseki

‐‐From
"The
First
Night"



And
home,
where
passion
lived
and
died,

Becomes
a
place
where
she
can
hide,

While
all
the
town
and
harbor
side

Vibrate
with
her
seclusion.



Edwin
Arlington
Robinson

‐‐From
"Eros
Turannos"



Despite
all
of
these
examples
of
colloquialism
and
apparent
simplicity
in
Frost's

poetry,
we
should
not
be
deceived
into
thinking
of
Frost
as
a
rustic
or
a
primitive.

On
the
contrary,
Frost
was
a
sophisticated
writer
who
was
well
versed
in
Latin

poetry
and
who
knew
as
well
as
any
poet
of
his
time
how
to
make
effective
use
of

formal
and
rhetorical
strategies.
From
his
early
career
on,
Frost
prided
himself
on

being
"one
of
the
most
notable
craftsmen
of
my
time,"
as
he
wrote
in
his
1913
letter

to
John
Bartlett.



Christopher
Beach

­­The
Cambridge
Introduction
to
Twentieth­Century
American
Poetry



In
Those
Days



In
those
days
‐
they
were
long
ago
‐

The
snow
was
cold,
the
night
was
black.

I
licked
from
my
cracked
lips

A
snowflake,
as
I
looked
back



Through
branches,
the
last
uneasy
snow.

Your
shadow,
there
in
the
light,
was
still.

In
a
little
the
light
went
out.

I
went
on,
stumbling
‐
till
at
last
the
hill



Hid
the
house.
And,
yawning,

In
bed
in
my
room,
alone,

I
would
look
out:
over
the
quilted

Rooftops,
the
clear
stars
shone.



How
poor
and
miserable
we
were,

How
seldom
together!

And
yet
after
so
long
one
thinks:

In
those
days
everything
was
better.



‐‐Randall
Jarrell



From
Ten­Day
Leave



Oh,
identity
is
a
traveling‐piece
with
some,

But
here
is
what
calls
me,
here
what
I
call
home.



A
Major
Work



Poems
are
hard
to
read

Pictures
are
hard
to
see

Music
is
hard
to
hear

And
people
are
hard
to
love.



But
whether
from
brute
need

Or
divine
energy

At
last
mind
eye
and
ear

And
the
great
sloth
heart
will
move.



From
June:
Dutch
Harbor



It
is
hard
to
keep
your
mind
on
war,
with
all
that
green.



The
Open
Sea



We
say
the
sea
is
lonely;
better
say

Ourselves
are
lonesome
creatures
whom
the
sea

Gives
neither
yes
or
no
for
company.



Oh,
there
are
people,
all
right,
settled
in
the
sea‐

It
is
as
populous
as
Maine
today‐

But
no
one
who
will
give
you
the
time
of
day.



A
man
who
asks
there
of
his
family

Or
a
friend
or
teacher
gets
a
cold
reply

Or
finds
him
dead
against
that
vast
majority.



They
are
speechless.
And
the
famous
noise
of
the
sea,

Which
a
poet
has
beautifully
told
us
in
our
day,

Is
hardly
a
sound
to
speak
comfort
to
the
lonely.



Although
not
yet
a
man
given
to
prayer,
I
pray

For
each
creature
lost
since
the
start
of
the
sea,

And
give
thanks
that
it
was
not
I,
nor
yet
one
close
to
me.



‐From
William
Meredith,
Effort
at
Speech:
New
and
Selected
Poems



From
The
Orient
Express



One
looks
from
the
train

Almost
as
one
looked
as
a
child.
In
the
sunlight

What
I
see
still
seems
to
me
plain,

I
am
safe;
but
at
evening

As
the
lands
darken,
a
questioning

Precariousness
comes
over
everything.



From
Deutsch
Durch
Freud



Have
you
too
sometimes,
by
the
fire,
at
evening,

Wished
that
you
were
‐
whatever
you
once
were?



From
A
Girl
in
a
Library



An
object
among
dreams,
you
sit
here
with
your
shoes
off

And
curl
your
legs
up
under
you;
your
eyes

Close
for
a
moment,
your
face
moves
toward
sleep...

You
are
very
human.

...

One
sees
it,
in
the
glass,
in
one's
own
eyes.

In
rooms
alone,
in
galleries,
in
libraries,

In
tears,
in
searchings
of
the
heart,
in
staggering
joys

We
memorize
once
more
our
old
creation,

Humanity:
with
what
yawns
the
unwilling

Flesh
puts
on
its
spirit,
O
my
sister!



From
Aging



I
wake,
but
before
I
know
it
it
is
done,

The
day,
I
sleep.
And
of
days
like
these
the
years,

A
life
is
made.
I
nod,
consenting
to
my
life.



The
Meteorite



Star,
that
looked
so
long
among
the
stones

And
picked
from
them,
half
iron
and
half
dirt,

One;
and
bent
and
put
it
to
her
lips

And
breathed
upon
it
till
at
last
it
burned

Uncertainly,
among
the
stars
its
sisters
‐

Breathe
on
me
still,
star,
sister.



‐‐‐



And,
certainly,
the
way
to
maturity
in
thinking
is
a
difficult
path.
Much
must
be
left

behind:
early
dreams,
poetic
imaginations,
cherished
legends,
favored
doctrines,

accustomed
laws
and
ritual
traditions.
Some
of
them
must
be
restored
on
a
deeper

level,
some
must
be
given
up.
Despite
this
price,
maturity
can
be
gained
‐
a
manly,

self‐critical,
convincing
faith,
not
produced
by
reasoning,
but
reasonable,
and
at
the

same
time
rooted
in
the
message
of
the
divine
foolishness,
the
ultimate
source
of

wisdom.



...



From
century
to
century
it
has
become
more
and
more
evident
that
knowledge

without
wisdom
produces
external
and
internal
self‐destruction.



...



He
who
has
encountered
the
mystery
of
life
has
reached
the
source
of
wisdom.
In

encountering
it
with
awe
and
longing,
he
experiences
the
infinite
distance
of
his

being
from
that
which
is
the
ground
of
his
being.
He
experiences
the
limits
of
his

being,
his
finitude
in
face
of
the
infinite.
He
learns
that
acceptance
of
one's
limits
is

the
decisive
step
towards
wisdom.
The
fool
rebels
against
the
limits
set
by
his

finitude.
He
wants
to
be
unlimited
in
power
and
knowledge.
He
who
is
wise
accepts

his
finitude.
He
knows
that
he
is
not
God.



Paul
Tillich

­­The
Eternal
Now



The
Man
in
Black



I
was
walking
downtown

when
I
noticed
a
man
in
black,

black
cape
and
black
boots,
coming
toward
me.



His
arms
out
in
front
of
him,

his
fingers
twinkling
with
little
rings,

he
looked
like
a
summer
night
full
of
stars.



It
was
summer.
The
night
was
full
of
stars.

the
tall
buildings
formed
a
hallway
down
which
I
walked.

The
man
in
black
came
toward
me.



The
waxed
tips
of
his
mustache
shone

like
tiny
spears
and
his
teeth
glistened.

I
offered
him
my
hand
which
he
did
not
take.



I
felt
like
a
fool
and
stood
in
his
black
wake,

shaken
and
small,
and
my
tears

swung
back
and
forth
in
the
sultry
air
like
chandeliers.



‐‐Mark
Strand



Quotes
from
Randall
Jarrell
and
Knut
Hamsun:



"I
lie
in
my
own
bed,"

He
whispers,
"dreaming";
and
he
thinks
to
wake.

The
old
mistake.



‐‐From
Randall
Jarrell,
"A
Field
Hospital"



We
read
our
mail
and
counted
up
our
missions‐

In
bombers
named
for
girls,
we
burned

The
cities
we
had
learned
about
in
school‐

Till
our
lives
wore
out;
our
bodies
lay
among

The
people
we
had
killed
and
never
seen.

When
we
lasted
long
enough
they
gave
us
medals;

When
we
died
they
said,
"Our
casualties
were
low."

They
said,
"Here
are
the
maps";
we
burned
the
cities.



‐‐From
Randall
Jarrell,
"Losses"



A
machine‐gun
away

Are
men
with
our
faces.



‐‐From
Randall
Jarrell,
"Jews
at
Haifa"



Here
too,
though
death
is
hushed,
though
joy

Obscures,
like
night,
their
wars,

The
beings
of
this
world
are
swept

By
the
Strife
that
moves
the
stars.



‐‐From
Randall
Jarrell,
"The
Breath
of
Night"



The
letter
shot
through
me
like
a
stream
of
light,
and
I
heard
myself
give
a
little
cry,

a
meaningless
sound
of
joy:
the
letter
was
from
the
editor,
my
piece
was
accepted,

being
set
in
type
immediately!
"A
few
minor
changes...a
couple
of
typographical

errors
corrected...shows
real
ability...will
appear
tomorrow...ten
kroner."



I
laughed
and
cried,
leaped
in
the
air
and
ran
down
the
street,
stopped
and
beat
my

legs,
swore
wholesale
at
no
one
about
nothing.
And
time
went
by.



...



For
a
few
minutes
I
didn't
have
a
single
sad
thought.
I
forgot
my
troubles
and
felt

peaceful
looking
at
the
harbor
that
lay
serene
and
lovely
in
the
dusk.
I
had
the
habit

of
cheering
myself
up
by
reading
through
the
article
I
had
just
written,
which
always

seemed
to
my
afflicted
brain
the
very
best
piece
I
had
done.
I
pulled
my
my

manuscript
out
of
my
pocket,
held
it
up
close
to
my
eyes,
and
read
through
one
page

after
the
other.
Finally
I
grew
tired
and
put
the
papers
in
my
pocket.
Everything
was

still;
the
sea
stretched
away
like
bluish
mother‐of‐pearl,
and
small
birds
flew
silently

past
me,
going
from
one
place
to
another.
A
policeman
walked
up
and
down
a
little

way
off.
Otherwise,
not
a
person
could
be
seen,
and
the
entire
harbor
was
silent.



Knut
Hamsun

­­Hunger



Every
summer
he's
on
the
prarie
harvesting
wheat
and
every
winter
in
the

Wisconsin
forests
chopping
cordwood.
That's
his
life.



A
life
maybe
as
good
as
any
other.



‐‐Knut
Hamsun,
"On
the
Prarie"
(from
Tales
of
Love
and
Loss)



The
theological
dimension
is
needed
both
for
interpreting
and
for
solving
present

day
problems
in
human
society.



‐‐Pope
John
Paul
II,
Centesimus
Annus



The
human
being
is
made
for
love
and
cannot
live
without
love.
When
it
is

manifested
as
the
total
gift
of
two
persons
in
their
complementarities,
love
cannot

be
reduced
to
emotions
or
feelings,
much
less
to
mere
sexual
expression.
In
a
society

that
tends
more
and
more
to
relativize
and
trivialize
the
very
experience
of
love
and

sexuality,
exalting
its
fleeting
aspects
and
obscuring
its
fundamental
values,
it
is

more
urgent
than
ever
to
proclaim
and
bear
witness
that
the
truth
of
conjugal
love

and
sexuality
exist
where
there
is
a
full
and
total
gift
of
persons,
with
the

characteristics
of
unity
and
fidelity.
This
truth,
a
source
of
joy,
hope,
and
life,

remains
impenetrable
and
unattainable
as
long
as
people
close
themselves
off
in

relativism
and
skepticism.



‐‐Pontifical
Council
for
Justice
and
Peace,
Compendium
of
the
Social
Doctrine
of
the

Church



We
lived
through
much
happiness
and
unhappiness,

Separations,
miraculous
rescues.
And
now,
this
ash.

And
the
sea
battering
the
shore
when
I
walk
the
empty
boulevard.

And
the
sea
battering
the
shore.
And
ordinary
sorrow.



‐‐Czeslaw
Milosz,
from
"On
Parting
With
my
Wife,
Janina"



Enemy
images
have
a
long
pedigree,
and
some
states
continue
to
position
each
other

in
such
terms
today.
The
Greeks
represented
the
Persians
as
"barbarians";
the

Crusaders
perceived
the
Turks
as
"infidels";
medieval
Europeans
feared
their
defeat

at
Liegnitz
at
the
hands
of
the
Mongols
heralded
Armageddon;
later
Europeans

treated
the
peoples
of
the
Americas
as
savages;
conservatives
thought
civilization

was
threatened
by
the
French
Revolution;
and,
in
our
own
century,
we
have
the

Armenian
genocide,
the
Holocaust,
the
early
Cold
War,
Northern
Ireland,
Pol
Pot,

Palestinian
and
Israeli
fundamentalists,
the
Bosnian
Civil
War,
Hutus
and
Tutsis
‐
all

based
on
representations
of
the
Other
as
intent
on
destroying
or
enslaving
the
Self.



It
is
important
to
recognize
that
this
concept
implies
nothing
about
whether
enemy

images
are
justified.
Some
enemies
are
"real,"
in
that
the
Other
really
does

existentially
threaten
the
Self,
as
the
Nazis
did
the
Jews,
and
others
are
"chimeras,"

as
the
Jews
were
to
the
Nazis.
...Real
or
imagined,
if
actors
think
enemies
are
real

then
they
are
real
in
their
consequences.



‐‐Alexander
Wendt,
Social
Theory
of
International
Politics



"Our
view
of
war,
then,
must
be
broadened
to
include
both
armed
conflict
and

battles
of
diplomacy,
economic
aid,
and
propaganda.
War
is
war,
whether
it
is
"hot"

or
"cold."
The
struggle
for
power
and
prestige
among
the
nations
goes
on
all
the

time.
Only
the
means
vary,
and
whether
these
be
armed
force
or
diplomatic

pressure
or
other
nonviolent
means
depends
on
the
occasion.



It
follows,
then,
that
peace
is
not
merely
a
negative
thing
‐
the
absence
of
armed

conflict.
What
real,
positive
peace
among
the
nations
would
be
we
may
see
by

considering
the
state
of
affairs
in
local,
state,
and
national
communities.
In
our
civil

society,
peace
and
order,
not
war,
are
the
normal
state
of
things.
The
whole
meaning

and
purpose
of
civil
society
is
peace
and
order.
Civil
government
creates
civil
peace.

Individuals
who
violate
the
law
are
disturbers
of
the
peace
and
are
dealt
with

accordingly.

...

Contrary
to
a
lot
of
loose
talk,
it
is
peace
and
not
war
that
is
proper
to
human
nature.

Cicero
and
many
other
thinkers
rightly
point
out
that
fighting
and
snarling
are
the

way
of
brute
beasts,
while
talking
things
over
and
listening
to
reason
are
the
proper

way
for
men.
Peace
is
required
not
only
for
our
material
survival
but
also
for
a
really

human
existence."



‐‐Mortimer
J.
Adler,
Great
Ideas
from
the
Great
Books



Quotes
from
Mearsheimer's
The
Tragedy
of
Great
Power
Politics:



In
international
politics,
God
helps
those
who
help
themselves.



...



Because
Americans
dislike
realpolitik,
public
discourse
about
foreign
policy
in
the

United
States
is
usually
couched
in
the
language
of
liberalism.
Hence
the

pronouncements
of
the
policy
elites
are
heavily
flavored
with
optimism
and

moralism.
...Behind
closed
doors,
however,
the
elites
who
make
national
security

policy
speak
mostly
the
language
of
power,
not
that
of
principle,
and
the
United

States
acts
in
the
international
system
according
to
the
dictates
of
realist
logic.
In

essence,
a
discernible
gap
separates
public
rhetoric
from
the
actual
conduct
of

American
foreign
policy.



...



For
better
or
worse,
states
are
rarely
willing
to
expend
blood
and
treasure
to
protect

foreign
populations
from
gross
abuses,
including
genocide.
For
instance,
despite

claims
that
American
foreign
policy
is
filled
with
moralism,
Somalia
(1992‐93)
is
the

only
instance
during
the
past
one
hundred
years
in
which
U.S.
soldiers
were
killed
in

action
on
a
humanitarian
mission.
And
in
that
case,
the
loss
of
a
mere
eighteen

soldiers
in
an
infamous
firefight
in
October
1993
so
traumatized
American

policymakers
that
they
immediately
pulled
all
U.S.
troops
out
of
Somalia
and
then

refused
to
intervene
in
Rwanda
in
the
spring
of
1994,
when
ethnic
Hutu
went
on
a

genocidal
rampage
against
their
Tutsi
neighbors.
Stopping
that
genocide
would
have

been
relatively
easy
and
it
would
have
had
virtually
no
effect
on
the
position
of
the

United
States
in
the
balance
of
power.
Yet
nothing
was
done.



...



But
sometimes
the
pursuit
of
non‐security
goals
conflicts
with
balance‐of‐power

logic,
in
which
case
states
usually
act
according
to
the
dictates
of
realism.
For

example,
despite
the
U.S.
commitment
to
spreading
democracy
across
the
globe,
it

helped
overthrow
democratically
elected
governments
and
embraced
a
number
of

authoritarian
regimes
during
the
Cold
War,
when
American
policymakers
felt
that

these
actions
would
help
contain
the
Soviet
Union.



...



It
is
difficult
to
imagine
a
modern
political
leader
openly
asking
the
public
to
fight

and
die
to
improve
the
balance
of
power.
No
European
or
American
leader
did
so

during
their
world
war
or
the
Cold
War.
Most
people
prefer
to
think
of
fights

between
their
own
state
and
rival
states
as
clashes
between
good
and
evil,
where

they
are
on
the
side
of
the
angels
and
their
opponents
are
aligned
with
the
devil.

Thus,
leaders
tend
to
portray
war
as
a
moral
crusade
or
an
ideological
contest,

rather
than
as
a
struggle
for
power.
Realism
is
a
hard
sell.



‐‐John
J.
Mearsheimer,
The
Tragedy
of
Great
Power
Politics



From
Transit



A
woman
I
have
never
seen
before

Steps
from
the
darkness
of
her
town‐house
door

At
just
that
crux
of
time
when
she
is
made

So
beautiful
that
she
or
time
must
fade.



‐Richard
Wilbur



From
Journey
of
the
Year
1694



I
trudged
alone
far
into
Yoshino.
The
mountains
truly
stretch
on
and
on,
and
white

clouds
lie
piled
on
the
peaks.
A
smoky
rain
buried
the
valleys,
here
and
there

interrupted
by
the
huts
of
the
mountain
folk,
very
small.
To
the
west,
the
sound
of
a

tree
being
felled;
to
the
east,
the
echo.
The
voices
of
the
bells
of
many
temples
found

a
response
deep
in
my
heart.

...

Weary
of
sleeping
every
night
in
strange
lodgings,
I
got
up
from
bed
while
it
was
still

dark
and
went
out
onto
the
beach.

...

As
the
days
went
by
in
travel,
untying
my
straw
sandals
at
this
place
and
laying

down
my
walking
stick
at
that,
the
year
drew
to
a
close.



‐Basho
(tr.
Donald
Keene)



From
Mirabeau
Bridge



All
love
goes
by
as
water
to
the
sea

All
love
goes
by

How
slow
life
seems
to
me

How
violent
the
hope
of
love
can
be.



‐Guillaume
Apollinaire
(tr.
Richard
Wilbur)



The
argument
that
small
countries
cannot
compete
in
the
world
of
the
strong
is

nonsense
and
is
contradicted
by
experience.
Tiny
Finland
has
established
itself
as
a

leader
in
wireless
telephony
(Nokia)
and
other
high‐tech
industries.
Israel
is
a
world

leader
in
many
technological
developments.
Ireland
has
reversed
a
century
and
a

half
of
economic
stagnation
by
making
itself
an
attractive
site
for
investment
by

high‐tech
firms.
Among
industrializing
and
less‐developed
countries,
India
has

become
a
major
international
player
in
computer
software.
Taiwan
has
a
flourishing

semiconductor
and
computer
industry,
and
Singapore
and
Hong
Kong
have

outstanding
records
of
economic
success.



However,
if
an
LDC
is
to
join
this
league
of
small
but
very
successful
countries,
it

must
have
an
honest
and
competent
government,
invest
heavily
in
education
at
all

levels,
respect
international
property
rights,
encourage
entrepreneurship,
support
a

diversified
and
excellent
national
program
in
R
&
D,
and
pursue
sound

macroeconomic
policies.
A
nation
that
is
unwilling
to
assume
these
crucial

responsibilities
is
quite
unlikely
to
succeed
in
the
global
economy
and
risks

domination
by
foreign
firms.
Unfortunately,
too
many
less
developed
and

postcommunist
economies
are
at
serious
risk.



Robert
Gilpin

­­Global
Political
Economy



...But
luck
empowered
the
others,

Who
felt
that
they
could
do
it,
and
so
could.



...



Unlucky
nation,
for
what
final
blow

Is
Fortune
keeping
you
alive?
We've
seen

The
seventh
summer
since
the
fall
of
Troy,

And
all
these
years
we
have
been
driven
on

By
land
and
sea,
by
hostile
rocks
and
stars,

To
measure
the
great
water
in
our
quest

For
Italy
‐
an
Italy
that
recedes

While
we
endure
the
roll
of
the
sea‐swell.



...



They
looked
now
toward
the
ships,
uncertainly,

With
animosity,
half
in
unhappy
love

Of
landscapes
there
before
them,
half
still
bound

To
fated
realms
calling
them
onward.



Virgil
(tr.
Fitzgerald)

‐‐Aeneid,
Book
V.



The
question
in
the
1990s
is
whether
a
subtle
change
has
not
been
worked
so
that

growth
and
development
have
become
the
ends,
rather
than
the
means
to
the
ends.

Facing
the
turn
of
the
century,
it
seems
appropriate
to
question
the
imperative
of

growth
and
to
attempt
to
see
what
long‐term
processes
are
at
work.
The
custom
of

certain
North
American
Indian
tribes,
notably
the
Iriquois,
of
considering
the
likely

consequences
of
their
acts
to
seven
generations
into
the
future
is
perhaps
the
sort
of

long‐term
perspective
that
is
commonly
neglected
in
modern
industrial
societies.



Gavan
McCormack

‐‐The
Emptiness
of
Japanese
Affluence



As
we
would
expect,
during
most
wars
consumer
spending
is
deliberately
held
back

by
heavy
taxes
to
make
room
for
swelling
military
expenditure.
During
World
War

II,
for
example,
consumption
was
squeezed
back
by
heavy
taxes
to
barely
more
than

half
of
GDP.
…During
the
Vietnam
War
military
expenses
for
that
conflict
were
not

compensated
by
taxes
to
roll
back
consumption
and
the
excess
demand
for
goods

and
services
ignited
a
subsequent
inflation.



‐‐Robert
Heilbroner
and
Lester
Thurow,
Economics
Explained



From
Six
Years
Later



So
long
had
life
together
been
that
now

The
second
of
January
fell
again

On
Tuesday,
making
her
astonished
brow

Lift
like
a
windshield‐wiper
in
the
rain,

So
that
her
misty
sadness
cleared,
and
showed

A
cloudless
distance
waiting
up
the
road.



Joseph
Brodsky,
tr.
Richard
Wilbur



Can
we
still
believe
at
all?
Or
rather
‐
for
the
question
must
be
posed
in
a
more

radical
fashion
‐
is
it
still
permissible
to
believe?
Have
we
not
a
duty
to
break
with

the
dream
and
face
reality?
The
Christian
of
today
must
ask
himself
this
question:
he

is
not
at
liberty
to
remain
satisfied
with
finding
out
that
by
all
kinds
of
twists
and

turns
an
interpretation
of
Christianity
can
still
be
found
that
no
longer
offends

anybody.
When
some
theologian
explains
that
"the
resurrection
of
the
dead"
simply

means
that
one
must
cheerfully
set
about
the
work
of
the
future
afresh
every
day,

offense
is
certainly
avoided.
But
are
we
then
really
still
being
honest?



‐‐Joseph
Cardinal
Ratzinger
(Pope
Benedict
XVI),
Introduction
to
Christianity



Those
societies
that
adapt
themselves
to
the
requirements
of
economic
growth
and

technological
innovation
in
a
particular
epoch
become
the
economic
leaders
of
that

epoch,
and
societies
that
do
not
or
cannot
adjust
to
such
requirements
fall
behind.



‐‐Robert
Gilpin,
Global
Political
Economy



Can
the
mathematician
who
looks
at
the
world
mathematically
find
anything
else

but
mathematics
in
the
universe?
Should
not
one
rather
ask
him
whether
he
has
not

himself
at
some
time
or
other
looked
at
the
world
in
a
way
that
is
other
than

mathematical?
Whether,
for
example,
he
has
never
seen
an
apple
tree
in
blossom

and
wondered
why
the
process
of
fertilization
by
the
interplay
between
bees
and

trees
is
not
affected
otherwise
than
through
the
roundabout
way
of
the
blossom,

thus
including
the
completely
superfluous
wonder
of
beauty...?

...

Yet
the
man
who
seeks
a
view
of
the
whole
will
have
to
say:
In
the
world
we
find

present,
without
doubt,
objective
mathematics;
but
we
also
find
equally
present
in

the
world
unparalleled
and
unexplained
wonders
of
beauty,
or,
to
be
more
accurate,

there
are
events
that
appear
to
the
apprehending
mind
of
man
in
the
form
of
beauty,

so
that
he
is
bound
to
say
that
the
mathematician
responsible
for
these
events
has

displayed
an
unparalleled
degree
of
creative
imagination.



‐‐Joseph
Cardinal
Ratzinger
(Pope
Benedict
XVI),
Introduction
to
Christianity



From
How
It
Should
Be
in
Heaven



How
it
should
be
in
Heaven
I
know,
for
I
was
there.

By
its
river.
Listening
to
its
birds.

In
its
season:
in
summer,
shortly
after
sunrise.

…

Peace
eternal

Could
have
no
mornings
and
no
evenings,

Such
a
deficiency
speaks
against
it.

And
that’s
too
hard
a
nut
for
a
theologian
to
crack.



‐‐Czeslaw
Milosz



A
business
that
makes
nothing
but
money
is
a
poor
kind
of
business.



‐‐Joel
Kurtzman,
MBA
in
a
Box



There
is
every
reason
to
help
the
poor
man
who
happens
to
be
a
farmer,
not
because

he
is
a
farmer
but
because
he
is
poor.
The
program,
that
is,
should
be
designed
to

help
people
as
people,
not
as
members
of
particular
occupational
groups,
age

groups,
wage‐rate
groups,
labor
organizations,
or
industries.
…
The
arrangement

that
recommends
itself
on
purely
mechanical
grounds
is
a
negative
income
tax….

The
advantages
of
this
arrangement
are
clear.
It
is
directed
specifically
at
the

problem
of
poverty.
It
gives
help
in
the
form
most
useful
to
the
individual,
namely,

cash.
It
is
general
and
could
be
substituted
for
the
host
of
special
measures
now
in

effect.
It
makes
explicit
the
cost
borne
by
society.
Like
any
other
measures
to

alleviate
poverty,
it
reduces
the
incentives
of
those
helped
to
help
themselves,
but
it

does
not
eliminate
that
incentive
entirely,
as
a
system
of
supplementing
incomes
up

to
some
fixed
minimum
would.



‐‐Milton
Friedman,
Capitalism
and
Freedom



And
Yet
The
Books



And
yet
the
books
will
be
there
on
the
shelves,
separate
beings,

That
appeared
once,
still
wet

As
shining
chestnuts
under
a
tree
in
autumn,

And,
touched,
coddled,
began
to
live

In
spite
of
fires
on
the
horizon,
castles
blown
up,

Tribes
on
the
march,
planets
in
motion.

“We
are,”
they
said,
even
as
their
pages

Were
being
torn
out,
or
a
buzzing
flame

Licked
away
their
letters.
So
much
more
durable

Than
we
are,
whose
frail
warmth

Cools
down
with
memory,
disperses,
perishes.

I
imagine
the
earth
when
I
am
no
more:

Nothing
happens,
no
loss,
it’s
still
a
strange
pageant,

Women’s
dresses,
dewy
lilacs,
a
song
in
the
valley.

Yet
the
books
will
be
there
on
the
shelves,
well
born,

Derived
from
people,
but
also
from
radiance,
heights.



‐‐Czeslaw
Milosz



From
Relics
of
the
Past



The
dust
raised
by
the
royal
cavalry
has
long
since
settled.

One
by
one,
poets
and
historians,
the
standard‐bearers
of
culture,

have
gone
silently
to
their
graves.
Of
what
use
is
the
purple

and
fine
linen
now,
the
baubles
that
women
love?



‐‐Akhtarul
Iman,
tr.
R.
Parthsarathy



‐‐‐

What
might
have
been
is
just
thin
air,

A
loss
we
long
ago
outgrew.



‐‐Czeslaw
Milosz,
"In
Salem"



After
Paradise



Don't
run
anymore.
Quiet.
How
softly
it
rains

On
the
roofs
of
the
city.
How
perfect

All
things
are.
Now,
for
the
two
of
you

Waking
up
in
a
royal
bed
by
a
garret
window.

For
a
man
and
a
woman.
For
one
plant
divided

Into
masculine
and
feminine
which
longed
for
each
other.

Yes,
this
is
my
gift
to
you.
Above
ashes

On
a
bitter,
bitter
earth.
Above
the
subterranean

Echo
of
clamorings
and
vows.
So
that
now
at
dawn

You
must
be
attentive:
the
tilt
of
a
head,

A
hand
with
a
comb,
two
faces
in
a
mirror

Are
only
forever
once,
even
if
unremembered,

So
that
you
watch
what
is,
though
it
fades
away,

And
are
grateful
every
moment
for
your
being.

Let
that
little
park
with
greenish
marble
busts

In
the
pearl‐gray
light,
under
a
summer
drizzle,

Remain
as
it
was
when
you
opened
the
gate.

And
the
street
of
tall
peeling
porticoes

Which
this
love
of
yours
suddenly
transformed.



‐‐Czeslaw
Milosz



Quotes
from
Max
Muller,
historian
of
religion



Not
many
years
ago
great
offence
was
given
by
an
eminent
writer
who
remarked

that
the
time
had
come
when
the
history
of
Christianity
should
be
treated
in
a
truly

historical
spirit,
in
the
same
spirit
in
which
we
treat
the
history
of
other
religions,

such
as
Brahmanism,
Buddhism,
or
Mohammedanism.
And
yet
what
can
be
truer?

He
must
be
a
man
of
little
faith,
who
would
fear
to
subject
his
own
religion
to
the

same
critical
tests
to
which
the
historian
subjects
all
other
religions.
We
need
not

surely
crave
a
tender
or
merciful
treatment
for
that
faith
which
we
hold
to
be
the

only
true
one.
We
should
rather
challenge
for
it
the
severest
tests
and
trials,
as
the

sailor
would
for
the
good
ship
to
which
he
entrusts
his
own
life,
and
the
lives
of

those
who
are
most
dear
to
him.



...



The
difficulties
which
trouble
us,
have
troubled
the
hearts
and
minds
of
men
as
far

back
as
we
can
trace
the
beginnings
of
religious
life.



...



(We)
must
aim
at
truth,
trusting
that
even
unpalatable
truths,
like
unpalatable

medicine,
will
reinvigorate
the
system
which
they
enter.
To
those,
no
doubt,
who

value
the
tenets
of
their
religion
as
the
miser
values
his
pearls
and
precious
stones,

thinking
their
value
lessened
if
pearls
and
stones
of
the
same
kind
are
found
in
other

parts
of
the
world,
the
Science
of
Religion
will
bring
many
a
rude
shock;
but
to
the

true
believer,
truth,
wherever
it
appears,
is
welcome,
nor
will
any
doctrine
seem
the

less
true
or
the
less
precious,
because
it
was
seen,
not
only
by
Moses
or
Christ,
but

likewise
by
Buddha
or
Laotse.
...Some
of
the
most
vital
articles
of
faith
are
the

common
property
of
the
whole
of
mankind....



...



There
are
philosophers,
no
doubt,
to
whom
both
Christianity
and
all
other
religions

are
exploded
errors,
things
belonging
to
the
past,
and
to
be
replaced
by
more

positive
knowledge.
To
them
the
study
of
the
religions
of
the
world
could
only
have

a
pathological
interest,
and
their
hearts
could
never
warm
at
the
sparks
of
truth
that

light
up,
like
stars,
the
dark
yet
glorious
night
of
the
ancient
world.
They
tell
us
that

the
world
has
passed
through
the
phases
of
religious
and
metaphysical
errors,
in

order
to
arrive
at
the
safe
haven
of
positive
knowledge
of
facts.
But
if
they
would
but

study
positive
facts,
if
they
would
but
read,
patiently
and
thoughtfully,
the
history
of

the
world,
as
it
is,
not
as
it
might
have
been:
they
would
see
that,
as
in
geology,
so
in

the
history
of
human
thought,
theoretic
uniformity
does
not
exist,
and
that
the
past

is
never
altogether
lost.
The
oldest
formations
of
thought
crop
out
everywhere,
and

if
we
dig
but
deep
enough,
we
shall
find
that
even
the
sandy
desert
in
which
we
are

asked
to
live,
rests
everywhere
on
the
firm
foundation
of
that
primeval,
yet

indestructible
granite
of
the
human
soul,
‐‐
religious
faith.



‐‐Friedrich
Max
Muller,
Chips
from
a
German
Woodshop



Perhaps
there
are
few
people
here
present
who
have
watched
a
sunrise
more
than

once
or
twice
in
their
lives;
few
people
who
have
ever
known
the
true
meaning
of
a

morning
prayer,
or
a
morning
sacrifice.
But
think
of
man
at
the
dawn
of
time...
with

his
mind
yet
lying
fallow,
though
full
of
germs
‐
germs
of
which
I
hold
as
strongly
as

ever
no
trace
has
ever,
no
trace
will
ever,
be
discovered
anywhere
but
in
man;
think

of
the
Sun
awakening
the
eyes
of
man
from
sleep,
and
his
mind
from
slumber!



...



It
is
a
mere
story,
it
might
be
said,
and
why
should
there
be
any
meaning
in
it?
My

answer
is,
because
people
do
not
tell
such
stories
of
their
gods
and
heroes,
unless

there
is
some
sense
in
them.



‐‐Friedrich
Max
Muller,
"On
the
Philosophy
of
Mythology"



Both
selections
from
Strenski,
ed.,
Thinking
About
Religion:
A
Reader



‐‐‐



Economists
of
every
persuasion
are
convinced
that
free
trade
is
superior
to
trade

protection.
In
fact,
they
consider
free
trade
to
be
the
best
policy
for
a
country
even
if

all
other
countries
should
practice
trade
protection,
arguing
that
if
other
countries

resort
to
trade
protection,
the
economy
that
remained
open
would
still
gain
more

from
cheaper
imports
than
it
would
lose
in
denied
export
markets.

...

Underlying
this
liberal
commitment
to
free
trade
is
the
belief
that
the
purpose
of

economic
activity
is
to
benefit
the
consumer
and
maximize
global
wealth.
Free
trade

also
maximizes
consumer
choice,
reduces
prices,
and
facilitates
efficient
use
of
the

world's
scarce
resources.

...

Economists
have
strongly
disputed
the
alleged
benefits
of
trade
protection.
Trade

protection,
they
point
out,
reduces
both
national
and
international
economic

efficiency
by
preventing
countries
from
exporting
those
goods
and
services
in
which

they
have
a
comparative
advantage
and
from
importing
those
goods
and
services
in

which
they
lack
comparative
advantage.
Protection
also
decreases
the
incentive
of

firms
to
innovate
and
thus
climb
the
technological
ladder;
it
also
discourages

shifting
natural
resources
to
their
most
profitable
use.

...

Most
American
economists
have...
attributed
almost
all
of
the
relative
decline
in
the

wages
of
low‐skilled
American
workers
to
technological
changes
within
the

American
economy
itself.
Technological
changes
such
as
the
computer
and

information
economy,
they
have
argued,
significantly
decreased
the
demand
for

low‐skilled
workers
and
greatly
increased
the
demand
for
skilled,
especially
college‐
educated,
workers.
Furthermore,
these
economists
have
noted
that
the
relatively

small
trade
flows
between
the
United
States
and
low‐wage
economies
cannot

possibly
explain
the
roughly
30
percent
difference
in
wages
between

skilled/college‐educated
and
unskilled
workers
in
America.
Instead,
this
decline
in

the
wages
of
low‐skilled
workers
has
been
due
to
such
technological
changes
as

automation,
lean
production
techniques,
and
computerization.

...

It
is
certain
that
trade
protection
is
not
a
wise
solution
to
the
problems
of
stagnant

wages,
income
inequality,
and
job
insecurity.
The
solution
lies
in
job‐training

programs
and
other
programs
to
aid
adjustment
to
rapidly
changing
economic
and

technological
developments.

...

Trade,
however,
does
create
losers
as
well
as
winners
in
the
areas
of
both
wages
and

employment.
Economic
sectors
in
which
a
nation
possesses
or
wins
a
comparative

advantage
gain
from
trade,
while
sectors
in
which
a
nation
loses
comparative

advantage
suffer.
As
losers
frequently
feel
the
pain
more
acutely
than
winners
feel

the
gain,
both
ethical
and
political
reasons
make
it
necessary
that
national
policy

assist
or
compensate
workers
and
others
harmed
by
trade
liberalization.
In
any

case,
the
worst
response
a
nation
can
make
to
inevitable
shifts
in
comparative

advantage
is
to
close
itself
off
from
the
stimulus
of
trade
competition.



‐‐Robert
Gilpin,
Global
Political
Economy:
Understanding
the
International
Economic

Order



From
Growth
of
the
Soil



Why
could
not
folk
go
on
living
as
well
or
as
poorly
now
as
before
there
had
been

any
mine
at
all?
Well,
they
could
not,
and
that
was
all
about
it.
They
had
grown

accustomed
to
better
food,
finer
bread,
store‐bought
clothes
and
higher
wages,

general
extravagance
‐
aye,
folk
had
learned
to
reckon
with
money
more,
that
was

the
matter.
And
now
the
money
was
gone
again,
had
slipped
away
like
a
shoal
of

herring
out
to
sea
‐
'twas
dire
distress
for
them
all,
and
what
was
to
be
done?



...



Inger
has
made
her
stormy
voyage,
'tis
true,
has
lived
in
a
city
a
while,
but
now
she

is
home;
the
world
is
wide,
swarming
with
tiny
specks
‐
Inger
has
been
one
of
them.

All
but
nothing
in
all
humanity,
only
one
speck.
Then
comes
the
evening.



...



Nothing
growing
there?
All
things
growing
there;
men
and
beasts
and
fruit
of
the

soil.
Isak
sowing
his
grain.
The
evening
sunlight
falls
on
the
grain
that
flashes
out
in

an
arc
from
his
hand,
and
falls
like
a
dropping
of
gold
to
the
ground.
...
Forest
and

field
look
on.
All
is
majesty
and
power
‐
a
sequence
and
purpose
of
things.



...



A
man
of
the
wild
was
not
put
out
by
the
thought
of
great
things
he
could
not
get;

art,
newspapers,
luxuries,
politics
and
such‐like
were
worth
just
what
folk
were

willing
to
pay
for
them,
no
more.
Growth
of
the
soil
was
something
different,
a
thing

to
be
procured
at
any
cost;
the
only
source,
the
origin
of
all.
A
dull
and
desolate

existence?
Nay,
least
of
all.
A
man
had
everything;
his
powers
above,
his
dreams,
his

loves,
his
wealth
of
superstition.



...



There
you
are,
living
in
touch
with
heaven
and
earth,
one
with
them,
one
with
all

these
wide,
deep‐rooted
things.
No
need
of
a
sword
in
your
hands,
you
go
through

life
bareheaded,
barehanded,
in
the
midst
of
a
great
kindliness.
Look,
Nature's
there,

for
you
and
yours
to
have
and
enjoy.
Man
and
Nature
don't
bombard
each
other,
but

agree;
they
don't
compete,
race
one
against
the
other,
but
go
together.
...
Fjeld
and

forest,
moors
and
meadow,
and
sky
and
stars
‐
oh,
'tis
not
poor
and
sparingly

counted
out,
but
without
measure.
Listen
to
me,
Sivert:
you
be
content!
You've

everything
to
live
on,
everything
to
live
for,
everything
to
believe
in;
being
born
and

bringing
forth,
you
are
the
needful
on
earth.
'Tis
not
all
that
are
so,
but
you
are
so;

needful
on
earth.
'Tis
you
that
maintain
life.
Generation
to
generation,
breeding
ever

anew;
and
when
you
die,
the
new
stock
goes
on.
That's
the
meaning
of
eternal
life.



...



But
when
they
came
down
in
sight
of
the
village,
and
it
was
time
for
Sivert
to
turn

homeward
again,
they
both
behaved
in
somewhat
unmanly
fashion.
Sivert,
for

instance,
was
weak
enough
to
say:
"I
doubt
it'll
be
a
bit
lonely,
maybe,
when
you're

gone."



‐‐Knut
Hamsun,
Growth
of
the
Soil



'Tis
not
so
easy
to
always
be
together
and
always
agree.



‐‐Knut
Hamsun,
Growth
of
the
Soil



Mistakes,
excusable
or
not,
cannot
be
avoided
in
a
system
which
disperses

responsibility
yet
gives
a
few
men
great
power,
and
which
thereby
makes
important

policy
actions
dependent
on
accidents
of
personality.



‐Milton
Friedman,
Capitalism
and
Freedom



Swelling
with
mystery,
full
of
pride;
with
a
little
lift
and
throw
from
the
knee
at

every
step,
so
emphatically
did
he
walk.



‐Knut
Hamsun,
Growth
of
the
Soil



A
liberal
is
fundamentally
fearful
of
concentrated
power.



‐Milton
Friedman,
Capitalism
and
Freedom



And
the
human
souls
beneath,
did
they
not
feel
a
weakness
gliding
through
them

now?
They
went
to
their
work
again,
but
drawing
breath
first;
something
had

spoken
to
them,
something
from
beyond.
Great
marvels
were
about
them
at
all

times;
in
the
winter
were
the
stars;
in
winter
often,
too,
the
northern
lights,
a

firmament
of
wings,
a
conflagration
in
the
mansions
of
God.
Now
and
then,
not

often;
not
commonly,
but
now
and
then,
they
heard
the
thunder.



‐Knut
Hamsun,
Growth
of
the
Soil



Ms.
Rodham
skates
earnestly
on
the
surface
of
life,
raising
more
questions
than

answers.
“Last
week
I
decided
that
even
if
life
is
absurd
why
couldn’t
I
spend
it

absurdly
happy?”
she
wrote
in
November
of
her
junior
year.



‐‐The
New
York
Times,
"In
the
'60s,
a
Future
Candidate
Poured
Her
Heart
Out
in

Letters,"
7‐29‐07




...



Yes,
Eleseus
was
sent
to
town
after
all;
Inger
managed
that.
...Now
and
again
he

asked
for
money,
something
towards
his
expenses.
A
watch
and
chain,
for
instance,

he
must
have,
so
as
not
to
oversleep
himself
in
the
morning
and
be
late
at
the
office;

money
for
a
pipe
and
tobacco
also,
such
as
the
other
young
clerks
in
the
town

always
had.
And
for
something
he
called
pocket‐money,
and
something
he
called

evening
classes,
where
he
learned
drawing
and
gymnastics
and
other
matters

proper
to
his
rank
and
position.
Altogether,
it
was
no
light
matter
to
keep
Eleseus

going
in
a
berth
in
town.



"Pocket
money?"
said
Isak.
"Is
that
money
to
keep
in
your
pocket,
maybe?"



‐‐Knut
Hamsun,
Growth
of
the
Soil



There
was
trouble
in
his
mind,
like
enough,
but
he
bore
it
silently,
and
made
no

scene.
Oh,
there
was
something
great
about
Isak;
as
it
might
be
Israel,
promised
and

ever
deceived,
but
still
believing.



‐‐Knut
Hamsun,
Growth
of
the
Soil



...

Later
in
the
year
Inger
was
sent
for
down
to
the
village,
to
do
dressmaking
for
some

of
the
great
folks
there.
Inger
could
not
go;
she
had
a
household
to
look
after,
and

animals
besides,
all
the
work
of
a
home,
and
she
had
no
servant.



Had
no
what?
Servant!



She
spoke
to
Isak
one
day.
"If
only
I
had
someone
to
help
me,
I
could
put
in
more

time
sewing."



Isak
did
not
understand.
"Help?"



"Yes,
help
in
the
house
‐
a
servant‐girl."



Isak
must
have
been
taken
aback
at
this;
he
laughed
a
little
in
his
iron
beard,
and

took
it
as
a
jest.



‐‐Knut
Hamsun,
Growth
of
the
Soil



Excerpts
from
Hamsun,
Friedman,
&
Lawrence:



An
hour
later,
my
thoughts
are
full
of
joy.
Even
little
things
affect
me:
a
veil
flutters

on
a
hat,
a
lock
of
hair
comes
undone,
two
eyes
close
with
laughter
‐
and
I
am

moved.
Oh,
this
day,
this
day!



...



When
you
came,
there
was
sympathy
in
your
face
and
your
eyes
shone,
you
gave
me

your
hand.
Now
your
eyes
are
indifferent
again.
Am
I
mistaken?



...



Here
are
you,
burning
out
your
life
for
the
sake
of
a
little
schoolgirl,
and
your
nights

are
full
of
desolate
dreams.
And
a
sultry
wind
enwraps
your
head,
a
stale
and
musty

wind.
Whilst
the
sky
trembles
with
a
marvellous
blue,
and
the
mountains
are
calling.



...



A
mile
below
me
I
see
the
sea.
It
is
raining
and
I
am
up
in
the
hills;
an
overhanging

rock
shelters
me
from
the
rain.
I
smoke
my
pipe,
smoke
one
pipe
after
another,
and

every
time
I
light
up
the
tobacco
curls
up
from
the
ash
like
little
glowing
worms.
So

is
it
also
with
the
thoughts
that
teem
in
my
head.
In
front
of
me
on
the
ground
lies
a

bundle
of
dry
twigs,
a
shattered
bird's
nest.
And
as
with
that
nest,
so
it
is
with
my

soul.



‐Knut
Hamsun,
Pan



The
consumer
is
protected
from
coercion
by
the
seller
because
of
the
presence
of

other
sellers
with
whom
he
can
deal.
The
seller
is
protected
from
coercion
by
the

consumer
because
of
other
consumers
to
whom
he
can
sell.
The
employee
is

protected
from
coercion
by
the
employer
because
of
other
employers
for
whom
he

can
work,
and
so
on.
And
the
market
does
this
impersonally
and
without
centralized

authority.



Indeed,
a
major
source
of
objection
to
a
free
economy
is
precisely
that
it
does
this

task
so
well.
It
gives
people
what
they
want
instead
of
what
a
particular
group

thinks
they
ought
to
want.
Underlying
most
arguments
against
the
free
market
is
a

lack
of
belief
in
freedom
itself.



...



In
particular,
we
shall
always
want
to
enter
on
the
liability
side
of
any
proposed

government
intervention,
its
neighborhood
effect
in
threatening
freedom,
and
give

this
effect
considerable
weight.



‐Milton
Friedman,
Capitalism
and
Freedom



From
Pomegranate



For
all
that,
the
setting
suns
are
open.

The
end
cracks
open
with
the
beginning:

Rosy,
tender,
glittering
within
the
fissure.



Do
you
mean
to
tell
me
there
should
be
no
fissure?

No
glittering,
compact
drops
of
dawn?

Do
you
mean
it
is
wrong,
the
gold‐filmed
skin,
integument,
shown
ruptured?



For
my
part,
I
prefer
my
heart
to
be
broken.

It
is
so
lovely,
dawn‐kaleidoscopic
within
the
crack.



­D.H.
Lawrence



He
read
no
books,
but
his
thoughts
were
often
with
God;
it
was
natural,
coming
of

simplicity
and
awe.
The
stars
in
the
sky,
the
wind
in
the
trees,
the
solitude
and
the

wide‐spreading
snow,
the
might
of
earth
and
over
earth
filled
him
many
times
a
day

with
a
deep
earnestness.



Knut
Hamsun

­­Growth
of
the
Soil



From
Dante



He
did
not
return,
even
after
his
death,
to

That
ancient
city
he
was
rooted
in.

Going
away,
he
did
not
pause
for
breath

Nor
look
back.
My
song
is
for
him.



Anna
Akhmatova



From
New
Heaven
and
Earth



And
so
I
cross
into
another
world

shyly
and
in
homage
linger
for
an
invitation

from
this
unknown
that
I
would
trespass
on.



I
am
very
glad,
and
all
alone
in
the
world,

all
alone,
and
very
glad,
in
a
new
world

where
I
am
disembarked
at
last.



...



For
when
it
is
quite,
quite
nothing,
then
it
is
everything.

When
I
am
trodden
quite
out,
quite,
quite
out,

every
vestige
gone,
then
I
am
here

risen,
and
setting
my
foot
on
another
world

risen,
not
born
again,
but
risen,
body
the
same
as
before,

new
beyond
knowledge
of
newness,
alive
beyond
life,

proud
beyond
inkling
or
furthest
conception
of
pride,

living
where
life
was
never
yet
dreamed
of,
nor
hinted
at,

here,
in
the
other
world,
still
terrestrial

myself,
the
same
as
before,
yet
unaccountably
new.



...



Ah
no,
I
cannot
tell
you
what
it
is,
the
new
world.

I
cannot
tell
you
the
mad,
astounded
rapture
of
its
discovery.

I
shall
be
mad
with
delight
before
I
have
done,

and
whosoever
comes
after
will
find
me
in
the
new
world

a
madman
in
rapture.



­­D.H.
Lawrence



And
in
the
night,
he
lay
wanting
her,
and
she
was
willing.
She
did
not
go
away
next

morning;
all
that
day
she
did
not
go,
but
helped
about
the
place;
milked
the
goats,

and
scoured
pots
and
things
with
fine
sand,
and
got
them
clean.
She
did
not
go
away

at
all.
Inger
was
her
name.
And
Isak
was
his
name.
...
She
did
not
run
away.
When
he

had
been
out,
and
came
home
again,
there
was
Inger
at
the
hut;
the
two
were
one,

the
woman
and
the
hut.



...



Ho,
they
were
getting
well‐to‐do,
with
this
hut
of
theirs,
this
farm
of
theirs;
why,

'twas
good
enough
for
anyone.
Aye,
they'd
as
good
as
all
they
could
wish
for
already.

Oh,
that
Inger;
he
loved
her
and
she
loved
him
again;
they
were
frugal
folk;
they

lived
in
primitive
wise,
and
lacked
for
nothing.
"Let's
go
to
sleep!"
And
they
went
to

sleep.
And
wakened
in
the
morning
to
another
day,
with
things
to
look
at,
matters
to

see
to,
once
again;
aye,
toil
and
pleasure,
ups
and
downs,
the
way
of
life.



Knut
Hamsun

‐‐Growth
of
the
Soil



Knut
Hamsun's
"Pan"





I
just
finished
the
best
novel
I've
read
in
a
very
long
time.
I
am
stunned
at
how

beautiful
Knut
Hamsun's
writing
is,
and
cannot
believe
that
he
is
not
a
household

name
in
America.
He
was
a
very
flawed
man
‐
like
Martin
Heidegger,
Carl
Schmitt,

and
too
many
others,
he
abused
his
considerable
intellectual
gifts
in
support
of

Nazism,
and
it
is
understandable
that
this
removed
his
right
to
a
full
place
in
the

Great
Books
pantheon.



All
the
same,
however,
he
is
an
incredible
writer
whose
work
deserves
to
be
a

standard
on
classics
lists.
Pan
was
a
truly
special
read,
and
I
am
going
to
read
as

many
of
his
novels
as
I
can
get
my
hands
on.
Here
are
some
excerpts
to
give
you
a

taste:



...



In
a
big,
white‐washed
house
down
by
the
sea,
I
met
someone
who
for
a
short
while

filled
my
thoughts.
She
is
no
longer
always
in
my
memory,
not
now
‐
no,
I
have
quite

forgotten
her.
But
I
do
recall
the
other
things,
the
cries
of
the
sea
birds,
the
hunting

in
the
forest,
my
nights,
and
all
the
warm
hours
of
the
summer.
It
was
in
any
case
by

sheer
chance
that
I
met
her;
and
had
it
not
been
for
that
chance
she
would
never

have
lain
in
my
thoughts
for
a
single
day.



...



For
it
is
within
ourselves
that
the
sources
of
joy
and
sorrow
lie.



...



There
was
a
boulder
outside
my
hut,
a
big
grey
boulder.
It
always
seemed
by
its

expression
to
be
well‐disposed
towards
me;
it
was
as
if
it
saw
me
as
I
came
past
and

knew
me
again.
I
used
to
like
making
my
way
past
this
boulder
when
I
went
out
in

the
mornings,
and
it
was
as
though
I
left
a
good
friend
there
who
would
be
waiting

when
I
got
back.



...



For
some
days
a
chill
atmosphere
of
unrest
hung
over
the
earth;
rotten
branches

snapped
and
the
crows
collected
in
flocks
and
squawked.
But
it
was
not
for
long,
the

sun
was
near;
one
morning
it
rose
up
behind
the
forest.
A
sweet
pang
strikes

through
me
when
the
sun
comes;
I
throw
my
gun
on
my
shoulder
in
silent
rejoicing.



...



I
followed
every
bend,
taking
my
time;
there
was
no
hurry
and
nobody
was
waiting

for
me
at
home.
Free
as
a
king
I
went
my
way
in
the
peace
of
the
forest,
as
leisurely

as
I
pleased.



...



Everywhere
the
sky
was
open
and
pure.
I
gazed
into
the
clear
sea
and
it
was
as
if
I

lay
face
to
face
with
the
depths
of
the
earth,
and
as
if
my
beating
heart
went
out
to

those
depths
and
was
at
home
there.



Quotes
from
Pascal's
"Thoughts":



Never
does
one
do
evil
so
fully
and
so
gaily
as
when
one
does
it
as
a
matter
of

conscience.



‐‐Pensee
895



What
a
man's
virtue
is
capable
of
is
not
to
be
measured
by
his
exceptional
efforts,

but
by
his
daily
life.



‐‐Pensee
352



He
must
have
movements
of
humiliation,
not
as
a
consequence
of
his
nature,
but
of

penitence;
not
as
a
constant
attitude,
but
to
permit
him
to
rise
to
elevation.
He
must

have
movements
of
elevation,
not
because
of
his
merit,
but
through
grace,
and
after

passing
through
humiliation.



‐‐Pensee
525



Now,
what
advantage
is
there
for
us
in
hearing
a
man
say
that
he
has
shaken
off
the

yoke,
that
he
does
not
believe
there
is
a
God
watching
over
his
actions,
that
he

considers
himself
as
sole
master
of
his
own
conduct,
and
that
he
intends
to
be

accountable
to
no
one
but
himself?
Does
he
think
he
has
inclined
us
in
this
way
to

have
henceforth
much
confidence
in
him,
and
to
expect
from
him
consolation,

counsel,
and
assistance
in
all
the
emergencies
of
life?
Do
such
people
claim
to
have

caused
us
to
rejoice
by
telling
us
that
they
consider
that
our
soul
is
only
a
little
wind

and
smoke,
and
even
by
telling
us
so
in
a
proud
and
smug
tone
of
voice?
Is
that

really
something
to
be
said
gaily?
Is
it
not
on
the
contrary
something
to
be
said

sadly,
as
the
saddest
thing
in
the
world?



‐‐Pensee
194



Faith
declares
indeed
what
the
senses
do
not
say
but
never
the
contrary
of
what

they
perceive.
Faith
is
above,
and
not
against.



‐‐Pensee
265



It
is
being
superstitious
to
put
one's
hope
in
rites;
but
one
is
guilty
of
overweening

pride
in
refusing
to
submit
to
them.



‐‐Pensee
294



Just
examine
whether
a
given
pleasure
is
stable
or
fleeting;
if
it
passes,
it
is
a
river
of

Babylon.



‐‐Pensee
459



It
is
not
from
space
that
I
must
seek
my
dignity,
but
it
is
from
the
ordering
of
my

thought.
The
possession
of
lands
would
give
me
nothing
more.
By
space,
the

universe
envelops
me.
By
thought,
I
envelop
it.



‐‐Pensee
348



They
imagine
that,
if
they
had
obtained
that
post,
they
would
rest
afterwards
with

pleasure;
but
they
do
not
recognize
the
insatiable
nature
of
their
desire.
They

believe
that
they
are
sincerely
seeking
repose,
and
in
reality
they
seek
only

agitation.



‐‐Pensee
139



One
of
the
most
important
‐
and
most
neglected
‐
elements
in
the
beginnings
of
the

interior
life
is
the
ability
to
respond
to
reality,
to
see
the
value
and
beauty
in

ordinary
things,
to
come
alive
to
the
splendor
that
is
all
around
us
in
the
creatures
of

God.
We
do
not
see
these
things
because
we
have
withdrawn
from
them.



‐‐Thomas
Merton,
No
Man
is
an
Island



There's
absolutely
nothing
to
take
the
place
of
a
good
man.



‐‐John
Steinbeck,
Travels
with
Charley



For
asceticism
is
not
merely
a
matter
of
renouncing
television,
cigarettes,
and
gin.

Before
we
can
begin
to
be
ascetics,
we
first
have
to
learn
to
see
life
as
if
it
were

something
more
than
a
hypnotizing
telecast.
And
we
must
be
able
to
taste

something
besides
tobacco
and
alcohol:
we
must
perhaps
be
able
to
taste
these

luxuries
themselves
as
if
they
too
were
good.



‐‐Thomas
Merton,
No
Man
is
an
Island



But
Charley
doesn't
have
our
problems.
He
doesn't
belong
to
a
species
clever

enough
to
split
the
atom
but
not
clever
enough
to
live
in
peace
with
itself.
He
doesn't

even
know
about
race,
nor
is
he
concerned
with
his
sister's
marriage.
It's
quite
the

opposite.
Once
Charley
fell
in
love
with
a
daschund,
a
romance
racially
unsuitable,

physically
ridiculous,
and
mechanically
impossible.
But
all
these
problems
Charley

ignored.
He
loved
deeply
and
tried
dogfully.



‐‐John
Steinbeck,
Travels
with
Charley



For
in
truth,
despite
their
differences,
those
who
treasure
marriage
in
fact
stand
on

common
ground:
whether
religious
or
secular,
they
take
human
life
in
all
its

seriousness,
affirm
its
goodness,
and
commit
themselves
in
hope
to
its
indefinite

renewal
and
perpetuation.



‐‐Leon
and
Amy
Kass,
Wing
to
Wing,
Oar
to
Oar



A
Short
History



Corn
planted
us;
tamed
cattle
made
us
tame.

Thence
hut
and
citadel
and
kingdom
came.



‐‐Richard
Wilbur



Let
us
not
fool
ourselves.
What
we
knew
is
dead,
and
maybe
the
greatest
part
of

what
we
were
is
dead.
What's
out
there
is
perhaps
good,
but
it's
nothing
we
know.



‐‐John
Steinbeck,
Travels
with
Charley



The
place
of
my
origin
had
changed,
and
having
gone
away
I
had
not
changed
with
it.

In
my
memory
it
stood
as
it
once
did
and
its
outward
appearance
confused
and

angered
me.



‐‐John
Steinbeck,
Travels
with
Charley



From
For
C.



After
the
clash
of
elevator
gates

And
the
long
sinking,
she
emerges
where,

A
slight
thing
in
the
morning's
crosstown
glare,

She
looks
up
toward
the
window
where
he
waits,

Then
in
a
fleeting
taxi
joins
the
rest

Of
the
huge
traffic
bound
forever
west.



‐‐Richard
Wilbur



Now,
financial
analysts
in
pin‐striped
suits
do
not
like
being
compared
with
bare‐
assed
apes.



‐‐Burton
Malkiel,
A
Random
Walk
Down
Wall
Street



When
a
stranger
addresses
Charley
in
baby
talk,
Charley
avoids
him.
For
Charley
is

not
a
human;
he's
a
dog,
and
he
likes
it
that
way.
He
feels
that
he
is
a
first‐rate
dog

and
has
no
wish
to
be
a
second‐rate
human.



‐‐John
Steinbeck,
Travels
with
Charley



The
public,
it
seemed,
would
buy
anything.
...The
prize...must
surely
goe
to
the

unknown
soul
who
started
"A
Company
for
carrying
on
an
undertaking
of
great

advantage,
but
nobody
to
know
what
it
is."
The
prospectus
promised
unheard‐of

rewards.
At
nine
o'clock
in
the
morning,
when
the
subscription
books
opened,

crowds
of
people
from
all
walks
of
life
practically
beat
down
the
door
in
an
effort
to

subscribe.
Within
five
hours
1,000
investors
handed
over
their
money
for
shares
in

the
company.
Not
being
greedy
himself,
the
promoter
promptly
closed
up
shop
and

set
off
for
the
Continent.
He
was
never
heard
from
again.



‐‐Burton
Malkiel,
A
Random
Walk
Down
Wall
Street



Living
is
more
than
submission:
it
is
creation.
To
live
is
to
create
one's
own
world
as

a
scene
of
personal
happiness.



‐Thomas
Merton,
"The
Street
is
For
Celebration"



Celebration
is
the
beginning
of
confidence,
therefore
of
power.



‐Thomas
Merton,
"The
Street
is
For
Celebration"



The
next
passage
in
my
journey
is
a
love
affair.
I
am
in
love
with
Montana.
For
other

states
I
have
admiration,
respect,
recognition,
even
some
affection,
but
with

Montana
it
is
love,
and
it's
difficult
to
analyze
love
when
you're
in
it.
...
It
seems
to

me
that
Montana
is
a
great
splash
of
grandeur.
The
scale
is
huge
but
not

overpowering.
The
land
is
rich
with
grass
and
color,
and
the
mountains
are
the
kind

I
would
create
if
mountains
were
ever
put
on
my
agenda.

...

The
calm
of
the
mountains
and
the
rolling
grasslands
had
got
into
the
inhabitants.
It

was
hunting
season
when
I
drove
through
the
state.
The
men
I
talked
to
seemed
to

me
not
moved
to
a
riot
of
seasonal
slaughter
but
simply
to
be
going
out
to
kill
edible

meat.
Again
my
attitude
may
be
informed
by
love,
but
it
seemed
to
me
that
the

towns
were
places
to
live
in
rather
than
nervous
hives.
People
had
time
to
pause
in

their
occupations
to
undertake
the
passing
art
of
neighborliness.



‐John
Steinbeck,
Travels
with
Charley



When
we
live
superficially,
when
we
are
always
outside
ourselves,
never
quite

"with"
ourselves,
always
divided
and
pulled
in
many
directions
by
conflicting
plans

and
projects,
we
find
ourselves
doing
many
things
that
we
do
not
really
want
to
do,

saying
things
we
do
not
really
mean,
needing
things
we
do
not
really
need,

exhausting
ourselves
for
what
we
secretly
realize
to
be
worthless
and
without

meaning
in
our
lives:
"Why
spend
your
money
on
what
is
not
food
and
your

earnings
on
what
never
satisfies?"
(Isaiah
55:2)



‐Thomas
Merton,
"Creative
Silence"



Having
a
companion
fixes
you
in
time
and
that
the
present,
but
when
the
quality
of

aloneness
settles
down,
past,
present,
and
future
all
flow
together.
A
memory,
a

present
event,
and
a
forecast
all
equally
present.



‐John
Steinbeck,
Travels
with
Charley



In
the
long
run,
the
discipline
of
creative
silence
demands
a
certain
kind
of
faith.
For

when
we
come
face
to
face
with
ourselves
in
the
lonely
ground
of
our
own
being,
we

confront
many
questions
about
the
value
of
our
existence,
the
reality
of
our

commitments,
the
authenticity
of
our
everyday
lives.



‐Thomas
Merton,
"Creative
Silence"



What
I
am
saying
is
this:
the
score
is
not
what
matters.
Life
does
not
have
to
be

regarded
as
a
game
in
which
scores
are
kept
and
somebody
wins.
If
you
are
too

intent
on
winning,
you
will
never
enjoy
playing.
If
you
are
too
obsessed
with

success,
you
will
forget
to
live.
If
you
have
learned
only
how
to
be
a
success,
your
life

has
probably
been
wasted.



Thomas
Merton

­­"Love
and
Living"



When
that
time
was
over
and
the
good‐bys
said,
I
had
to
go
through
the
same
lost

loneliness
all
over
again,
and
it
was
no
less
painful
than
at
first.
There
seemed
to
be

no
cure
for
loneliness
save
only
being
alone.



John
Steinbeck

­­
Travels
with
Charley



From
Blackberries
for
Amelia



As
the
far
stars,
of
which
we
now
are
told

That
ever
faster
they
do
bolt
away,

And
that
a
night
may
come
in
which,
some
say,

We
shall
have
only
blackness
to
behold.



I
have
no
time
for
any
change
so
great,

But
I
shall
see
the
August
weather
spur

Berries
to
ripen
where
the
flowers
were
‐

Dark
berries,
savage‐sweet
and
worth
the
wait
‐



And
there
will
come
the
moment
to
be
quick

And
save
some
from
the
birds,
and
I
shall
need

Two
pails,
old
clothes
in
which
to
stain
and
bleed,

And
a
grandchild
to
talk
with
while
we
pick.



‐Richard
Wilbur



I
can
only
imagine
that
the
lonely
man
peoples
his
driving
dreams
with
friends,
that

the
loveless
man
surrounds
himself
with
lovely
loving
women,
and
that
children

climb
through
the
dreaming
of
the
childless
driver.
And
how
about
the
areas
of

regrets?
If
only
I
had
done
so‐and‐so,
or
had
not
said
such‐and‐such
‐
my
God,
the

damn
thing
might
not
have
happened.
Finding
this
potential
in
my
own
mind,
I
can

suspect
it
in
others,
but
I
will
never
know,
for
no
one
ever
tells.
And
this
is
why,
on

my
journey
which
was
designed
for
observation,
I
stayed
as
much
as
possible
on

secondary
roads
where
there
was
much
to
see
and
hear
and
smell,
and
avoided
the

great
wide
traffic
slashes
which
promote
the
self
by
fostering
daydreams.



John
Steinbeck

­­Travels
with
Charley



From
An
Appeal



In
you,
as
in
me,
there
is
a
hidden
certainty

That
soon
you
will
rise,
in
undiminished
light,

And
be
real,
strong,
free
from
what
restrained
you.



From
Notes



He
felt
thankful,
so
he
couldn't
not
believe
in
God.



From
A
Poetic
State



Every
minute
the
spectacle
of
the
world
astonishes
me;
it
is
so
comic
that
I
cannot

understand
how
literature
could
expect
to
cope
with
it.



Sensing
every
minute,
in
my
flesh,
by
my
touch,
I
tame
misfortune
and
do
not
ask

God
to
avert
it,
for
why
should
He
avert
it
from
me
if
He
does
not
avert
it
from

others?

...

I
was
impatient
and
easily
irritated
by
time
lost
on
trifles
among
which
I
ranked

cleaning
and
cooking.
Now,
attentively,
I
cut
onions,
squeeze
lemons,
and
prepare

various
kinds
of
sauces.



From
After
Paradise



So
that
now
at
dawn

You
must
be
attentive:
the
tilt
of
a
head,

A
hand
with
a
comb,
two
faces
in
a
mirror

Are
only
forever
once,
even
if
unremembered,

So
that
you
watch
what
is,
though
it
fades
away,

And
are
grateful
every
moment
for
your
being.



From
From
the
Rising
of
the
Sun



Darkly,
darkly
cities
return.

The
roads
of
a
twenty‐year‐old
are
littered
with
maple
leaves

As
he
walks
along
one
acrid
morning,
looking
through
the
fences
at
gardens

And
courtyards,
where
a
black
dog
barks,
and
someone
chops
wood.



­­Czeslaw
Milosz



A
dog,
particularly
an
exotic
like
Charley,
is
a
bond
between
strangers.
Many

conversations
en
route
began
with
"What
degree
of
a
dog
is
that?"



...



The
dairy
man
had
a
Ph.D.
in
mathematics,
and
he
must
have
had
some
training
in

philosophy.
He
liked
what
he
was
doing
and
he
didn't
want
to
be
somewhere
else
‐

one
of
the
very
few
contented
people
I
met
in
my
whole
journey.



...



Then
a
submarine
slipped
to
the
surface
half
a
mile
away,
and
the
day
lost
part
of
its

brightness.
Farther
away
another
dark
creature
slashed
through
the
water,
and

another;
of
course
they
are
based
in
New
London,
and
this
is
their
home.
And

perhaps
they
are
keeping
the
world's
peace
with
their
venom.
I
wish
I
could
like

submarines,
for
then
I
might
find
them
beautiful,
but
they
are
designed
for

destruction,
and
while
they
may
explore
and
chart
the
sea
bottom,
and
draw
new

trade
lines
under
the
Arctic
ice,
their
main
purpose
is
threat.



...



Who
doesn't
like
to
be
a
center
for
concern?
A
kind
of
second
childhood
falls
on
so

many
men.
They
trade
their
violence
for
the
promise
of
a
small
increase
of
life
span.

In
effect,
the
head
of
the
house
becomes
the
youngest
child.
And
I
have
searched

myself
for
this
possibility
with
a
kind
of
horror.
For
I
have
always
lived
violently,

drunk
hugely,
eaten
too
much
or
not
at
all,
slept
around
the
clock
or
missed
two

nights
of
sleeping,
worked
too
hard
and
too
long
in
glory,
or
slobbed
for
a
time
in

utter
laziness.
I've
lifted,
pulled,
chopped,
climbed,
made
love
with
joy
and
taken
my

hangovers
as
a
consequence,
not
as
a
punishment.
I
did
not
want
to
surrender

fierceness
for
a
small
gain
in
yardage.
My
wife
married
a
man;
I
saw
no
reason
why

she
should
inherit
a
baby.



...



I
saw
in
their
eyes
something
I
was
to
see
over
and
over
in
every
part
of
the
nation
‐

a
burning
desire
to
go,
to
move,
to
get
under
way,
anyplace,
away
from
any
Here.



...



The
word
"Ftt"
usually
means
he
would
like
to
salute
a
bush
or
a
tree.
I
opened
the

cab
door
and
let
him
out,
and
he
went
about
his
ceremony.
He
doesn't
have
to
think

about
it
to
do
it
well.
It
is
my
experience
that
in
some
areas
Charley
is
more

intelligent
than
I
am,
but
in
others
he
is
abysmally
ignorant.
He
can't
read,
can't

drive
a
car,
and
has
no
grasp
of
mathematics.
But
in
his
own
field
of
endeavor,
which

was
now
practicing,
the
slow,
imperial
smelling
over
and
anointing
of
an
area,
he

has
no
peer.
Of
course
his
horizons
are
limited,
but
how
wide
are
mine?



‐John
Steinbeck,
Travels
with
Charley
in
Search
of
America



"Tell
me
one
last
thing,"
said
Harry.
"Is
this
real?
Or
has
this
been
happening
inside

my
head?"

...

"Of
course
it
is
happening
inside
your
head,
Harry,
but
why
on
earth
should
that

mean
that
it
is
not
real?"



‐J.K.
Rowling,
Harry
Potter
and
the
Deathly
Hallows



Secular
nationalism
of
the
sort
Fatah
stood
for
is
coming
to
look
like
the
weak
force

and
radical
Islam
like
the
strong
force.
This
poses
a
huge
danger
to
a
region
already

beset
by
violent
conflicts.
What
is
worse,
Western
policy
is
in
danger
of

strengthening
the
wrong
side
by
making
the
Islamists
look
like
martyrs
and
the

secularists
like
traitors.



‐"Martyrs
or
Traitors,"
The
Economist,
June
21st
2007



This
competition
for
students
would
force
public
schools
to
become
better.
The

system
of
higher
education
in
the
U.S.
is
the
world's
best
mainly
because

competition
between
private
colleges
and
tuition‐charging
public
colleges
has

improved
the
performance
of
both.



‐Gary
Becker,
"School‐Finance
Reform:
Don't
Give
Up
on
Vouchers,"
in
The

Economics
of
Life



But
if
you
will
just
change
your
ways
immediately,
then
everyone
will
have
peace.

Although
this
has
been
going
on
since
time
immemorial,
today
we
could
make
a

special
effort
to
be
good,
and
say
this
is
not
to
be
done!
I'm
sure
you
can
say
so,

brother.
The
other
day
when
the
tenant
wanted
the
rent
reduced,
you
said
it

couldn't
be
done.



‐Lu
Hsun,
"A
Madman's
Diary"



From
The
Passage



What
waiting
in
the
halls,

stamping
on
the
stairs,

all
the
ghosts
are
here
tonight

come
from
everywhere.



Yet
one
or
two,

absent,
make

themselves
felt
by
that,

break
the
heart.



I
Know
a
Man



As
I
sd
to
my

friend,
because
I
am

always
talking,
‐‐John,
I



sd,
which
was
not
his

name,
the
darkness
sur‐

rounds
us,
shall
we
&

why
not,
buy
a
goddam
big
car,



drive,
he
sd,
for

christ’s
sake,
look

out
where
yr
going.



Goodbye



She
stood
at
the
window.
There
was

a
sound,
a
light.

She
stood
at
the
window.
A
face.



Was
it
that
she
was
looking
for,

he
thought.
Was
it
that

she
was
looking
for.
He
said,



turn
from
it,
turn

from
it.
The
pain
is

not
unpainful.
Turn
from
it.



The
act
of
her
anger,
of

the
anger
she
felt
then,

not
turning
to
him.



The
Rain



All
night
the
sound
had

come
back
again,

and
again
falls

this
quiet,
persistent
rain.



What
am
I
to
myself

that
must
be
remembered,

insisted
upon

so
often?
Is
it



that
never
the
ease,

even
the
hardness,

of
rain
falling

will
have
for
me



something
other
than
this,

something
not
so
insistent
‐

am
I
to
be
locked
in
this

final
uneasiness.



Love,
if
you
love
me,

lie
next
to
me.

Be
for
me,
like
rain,

the
getting
out



of
the
tiredness,
the
fatuousness,
the
semi‐

lust
of
intentional
indifference.

Be
wet

with
a
decent
happiness.



‐‐From
Selected
Poems
by
Robert
Creeley



After
all,
I
got
into
teaching
for
the
same
reason,
I
suspect,
that
many
people
did:

because
I
thought
it
was
a
high‐stakes
affair,
a
pursuit
in
which
souls
are
won
and

lost.



...



One
of
the
ways
we've
tried
to
be
attractive
is
by
loosening
up.
We
grade
much
more

genially
than
our
colleagues
in
the
sciences.
In
English
and
history,
we
don't
give

many
D's,
or
C's,
either.
(The
rigors
of
Chem
101
may
create
almost
as
many

humanities
majors
per
year
as
the
splendors
of
Shakespeare.)
A
professor
at

Stanford
explained
that
grades
were
getting
better
because
the
students
were

getting
smarter
every
year.
Anything,
I
suppose,
is
possible.



...



As
I
read
the
reviews,
I
thought
of
a
story
I'd
heard
about
a
Columbia
University

instructor
who
issued
a
two‐part
question
at
the
end
of
his
literature
course.
Part

one:
What
book
in
the
course
did
you
most
dislike?
Part
two:
What
flaws
of
intellect

or
character
does
that
dislike
point
up
in
you?
The
hand
that
framed
those
questions

may
have
been
slightly
heavy.
But
at
least
they
compelled
the
students
to
see

intellectual
work
as
a
confrontation
between
two
people,
reader
and
author,
where

the
stakes
mattered.



‐Mark
Edmundson,
Why
Read?



The
best
businessperson
in
the
world
can't
sell
something
the
world
isn't
ready
to

use.
People
don't
buy
inventions.
They
don't
buy
technology.
They
buy
a
solution
to

a
perceived
problem.
And
if
you
have
the
greatest
solution
in
the
world
and
people

don't
perceive
it
as
the
solution
to
their
problem,
they
are
not
going
to
buy
it.



‐Dean
Kamen,
in
Kurtzman,
ed.,
MBA
in
a
Box



[Lord]
Acton's
learning
and
culture,
like
his
ideas,
were
neither
casually
acquired

nor
casually
expended.
The
languages
he
assimilated
from
his
multilingual,

multinational
family
were
deliberately
refined
by
years
of
careful
study,
and
were

cultivated
as
scholarly
tools
rather
than
as
social
graces.
It
was
this
seriousness
and

dedication
of
purpose
that
characterized
the
whole
of
his
life,
that
made
of
his

library
not
the
cultured
gentleman's
lounge
but
the
crowded
workshop
of
the

professional
historian.



‐Gertrude
Himmelfarb,
Lord
Acton:
A
Study
in
Conscience
and
Politics



For
whom,
he
thought,
that
splendor?
For
me
alone?

Yet
it
will
be
here
long
after
I
perish.



‐Czeslaw
Milosz,
from
"Study
of
Loneliness"



Do
not
neglect
to
show
hospitality
to
strangers,
for
thereby
some
have
entertained

angels
unawares.
Remember
those
who
are
in
prison,
as
though
in
prison
with

them;
and
those
who
are
ill‐treated,
since
you
are
also
in
the
body.



‐Hebrews
13:1‐3



The
behavior
of
individual
consumers
and
producers
in
the
rational
pursuit
of
their

objectives
is
governed
by
the
principle
of
marginal
utility,
or
marginality.
On
the

demand
side
of
the
economy,
according
to
marginal‐utility
analysis,
as
consumers

consume
more
and
more
of
a
good
they
experience
diminishing
utility;
that
is,
while

the
first
ice
cream
sundae
consumed
may
be
devoured
with
great
pleasure,
each

additional
sundae
provides
less
pleasure
(decreasing
utility)
and
the
demand
of
the

individual
for
more
sundaes
decreases.
...
The
one
possible
exception
to
the
principle

of
marginal
utility,
at
least
for
most
individuals,
is
the
desire
for
wealth
itself,
a

desire
that
appears
insatiable.



‐Robert
Gilpin,
Global
Political
Economy



The
sense
of
belonging
that
bound
the
villagers
to
their
village
community
was

reinforced
by
social
and
economic
factors.
Population
movements
among
the
rural

population
were
slight.
Most
families
had
lived
in
their
villages
as
far
back
as

memory
could
stretch,
and
membership
in
the
village
was
a
kind
of
birthright.
This

population
stability
over
generations
created
a
sense
of
local
roots
that
is
now

unimaginable
in
highly
mobile
American
society,
where
people
change
jobs
and

houses
at
the
drop
of
a
hat.



‐Peter
Duus,
The
Rise
of
Modern
Japan



Now
faith
is
the
assurance
of
things
hoped
for,
the
conviction
of
things
not
seen.



‐Hebrews
11:1



day
draws
near

another
one

do
what
you
can.



‐Czeslaw
Milosz,
from
"On
Angels"



Just
because
people
were
diligent
did
not
mean
they
had
to
be
abstemious.

Enjoyment
was
not
to
be
repressed,
a
notion
associated
with
traditional
American

attitudes
toward
work
and
achievement,
but
rather
to
be
put
in
its
proper
place.
The

pursuit
of
pleasure,
sexual
and
otherwise,
was
regarded
as
natural
and
inevitable,
to

be
condemned
only
when
it
threatened
to
put
diligence
and
frugality
behind
it.
Thus

it
was
possible,
as
one
recent
observer
has
noted,
for
the
Japanese
to
be
Protestant

by
day
and
Mediterranean
by
night,
an
enviable
cultural
compromise.



‐Peter
Duus,
The
Rise
of
Modern
Japan



Quotes
from
Willa
Cather's
"My
Antonia"



The
feelings
of
that
night
were
so
near
that
I
could
reach
out
and
touch
them
with

my
hand.
I
had
the
sense
of
coming
home
to
myself,
and
of
having
found
out
what
a

little
circle
man's
experience
is.



...



It
came
over
me,
as
it
had
never
done
before,
the
relation
between
girls
like
those

and
the
poetry
of
Virgil.
If
there
were
no
girls
like
them
in
the
world,
there
would
be

no
poetry.
I
understood
that
clearly,
for
the
first
time.
This
revelation
seemed
to
me

inestimably
precious.
I
clung
to
it
as
if
it
might
suddenly
vanish.



...



She
lent
herself
to
immemorial
human
attitudes
which
we
recognize
by
instinct
as

universal
and
true.
I
had
not
been
mistaken.
She
was
a
battered
woman
now,
not
a

lovely
girl;
but
she
still
had
that
something
which
fires
the
imagination,
could
still

stop
one's
breath
for
a
moment
by
a
look
or
gesture
that
somehow
revealed
the

meaning
in
common
things.
She
had
only
to
stand
in
the
orchard,
to
put
her
hand
on

a
little
crab
tree
and
look
up
at
the
apples,
to
make
you
feel
the
goodness
of
planting

and
tending
and
harvesting
at
last.
All
the
strong
things
of
her
heart
came
out
in
her

body,
that
had
been
so
tireless
in
serving
generous
emotions.



It
was
no
wonder
that
her
sons
stood
tall
and
straight.
She
was
a
rich
mine
of
life,

like
the
founders
of
early
races.



...



"What
are
you
studying?"
She
leaned
her
elbows
on
the
table
and
drew
my
book

toward
her.
I
caught
a
faint
odour
of
violet
sachet.



...



Nothing
happened.
I
did
not
expect
anything
to
happen.
I
was
something
that
lay

under
the
sun
and
felt
it,
like
the
pumpkins,
and
I
did
not
want
to
be
anything
more.

I
was
entirely
happy.
Perhaps
we
feel
like
that
when
we
die
and
become
a
part
of

something
entire,
whether
it
is
sun
and
air,
or
goodness
and
knowledge.
At
any
rate,

that
is
happiness;
to
be
dissolved
into
something
complete
and
great.
When
it
comes

to
one,
it
comes
as
naturally
as
sleep.



...



She
looked
at
me,
her
eyes
fairly
blazing
with
things
she
could
not
say.



...



I
saw
grandmother
look
apprehensively
at
grandfather.
He
was
rather
narrow
in

religious
matters,
and
sometimes
spoke
out
and
hurt
people's
feelings.
There
had

been
nothing
strange
about
the
tree
before,
but
now,
with
some
one
kneeling
before

it
‐
images,
candles...
Grandfather
merely
put
his
finger‐tips
to
his
brow
and
bowed

his
venerable
head,
thus
Protestantizing
the
atmosphere.



...



When
Ambrosch
came
back
from
Mr.
Bushy's,
we
learned
that
he
had
given
Marek's

wages
to
the
priest
at
Black
Hawk,
for
Masses
for
their
father's
soul.
Grandmother

thought
Antonia
needed
shoes
more
than
Mr.
Shimerda
needed
prayers,
but

grandfather
said
tolerantly,
"If
he
can
spare
six
dollars,
pinched
as
he
is,
it
shows
he

believes
what
he
professes."



...



"Ain't
you
got
no
beer
here?"
I
told
him
he'd
have
to
go
to
the
Bohemians
for
beer;

the
Norwegians
didn't
have
none
when
they
threshed.
"My
God!"
he
says,
"so
it's

Norwegians
now,
is
it?
I
thought
this
was
Americy."



...



I
liked
to
watch
a
play
with
Lena;
everything
was
wonderful
to
her,
and
everything

was
true.
It
was
like
going
to
revival
meetings
with
someone
who
was
always
being

converted.
She
handed
her
feelings
over
to
the
actors
with
a
kind
of
fatalistic

resignation.



...



If
I
told
my
schoolmates
that
Lena
Lingard's
grandfather
was
a
clergyman,
and
much

respected
in
Norway,
they
looked
at
me
blankly.
What
did
it
matter?
All
foreigners

were
ignorant
people
who
couldn't
speak
English.



...



Grandfather
didn't
approve
of
dancing,
anyway;
he
would
only
say
that
if
I
wanted

to
dance
I
could
go
to
the
Masonic
Hall,
among
"the
people
we
knew."
It
was
just
my

point
that
I
saw
altogether
too
much
of
the
people
we
knew.



...



There
was
the
depot,
of
course;
I
often
went
down
to
see
the
night
train
come
in,
and

afterward
sat
awhile
with
the
disconsolate
telegrapher
who
was
always
hoping
to

be
transferred
to
Omaha
or
Denver,
"where
there
was
some
life."
He
was
sure
to

bring
out
his
pictures
of
actresses
and
dancers.
He
got
them
with
cigarette
coupons,

and
nearly
smoked
himself
to
death
to
possess
these
desired
forms
and
faces.
For
a

change,
one
could
talk
to
the
station
agent;
but
he
was
another
malcontent;
spent
all

his
spare
time
writing
letters
to
officials
requesting
a
transfer.
He
wanted
to
get

back
to
Wyoming
where
he
could
go
trout‐fishing
on
Sundays.
He
used
to
say
"there

was
nothing
in
life
for
him
but
trout
streams,
ever
since
he'd
lost
his
twins."



...



I
did
not
want
to
find
her
aged
and
broken;
I
really
dreaded
it.
In
the
course
of

twenty
crowded
years
one
parts
with
many
illusions.
I
did
not
wish
to
lose
the
early

ones.
Some
memories
are
realities,
and
are
better
than
anything
that
can
ever

happen
to
one
again.



...



"Sometimes,
I
ventured,
"it
doesn't
occur
to
boys
that
their
mother
was
ever
young

and
pretty."



"Oh,
we
know!"
they
said
again,
warmly.
...



"Well,"
I
said,
"if
you
weren't
nice
to
her,
I
think
I'd
take
a
club
and
go
for
the
whole

lot
of
you.
I
couldn't
stand
it
if
you
boys
were
inconsiderate,
or
thought
of
her
as
if

she
were
just
somebody
who
looked
after
you.
You
see
I
was
very
much
in
love
with

your
mother
once,
and
I
know
there's
nobody
like
her."



...



"Do
you
know,
Antonia,
since
I've
been
away,
I
think
of
you
more
often
than
of

anyone
else
in
this
part
of
the
world.
I'd
have
liked
to
have
you
for
a
sweetheart,
or
a

wife,
or
my
mother
or
my
sister
‐
anything
that
a
woman
can
be
to
a
man.
The
idea

of
you
is
part
of
my
mind;
you
influence
my
likes
and
dislikes,
all
my
tastes,

hundreds
of
times
when
I
don't
realize
it.
You
really
are
a
part
of
me."



Willa
Cather



‐‐My
Antonia



Quotes
from
The
Letter
of
James



Count
it
all
joy,
my
brethren,
when
you
meet
various
trials,
for
you
know
that
the

testing
of
your
faith
produces
steadfastness.
And
let
steadfastness
have
its
full
effect,

that
you
may
be
perfect
and
complete,
lacking
nothing.



‐James
1:2‐4



But
be
doers
of
the
world,
and
not
hearers
only,
deceiving
yourselves.
For
if
any
one

is
a
hearer
of
the
word
and
not
a
doer,
he
is
like
a
man
who
observes
his
natural
face

in
a
mirror:
for
he
observes
himself
and
goes
away
and
at
once
forgets
what
he
was

like.
But
he
who
looks
into
the
perfect
law,
the
law
of
liberty,
and
perseveres,
being

no
hearer
that
forgets
but
a
doer
that
acts,
he
shall
be
blessed
in
his
doing.



If
any
one
thinks
he
is
religious,
and
does
not
bridle
his
tongue
but
deceives
his

heart,
this
man's
religion
is
vain.
Religion
that
is
pure
and
undefiled
before
God
and

the
Father
is
this:
to
visit
orphans
and
widows
in
their
affliction,
and
to
keep
oneself

unstained
from
the
world.



‐James
1:22‐27



What
does
it
profit,
my
brethren,
if
a
man
says
he
has
faith
but
has
not
works?
Can

his
faith
save
him?
If
a
brother
or
sister
is
ill‐clad
and
in
lack
of
daily
food,
and
one
of

you
says
to
them,
'Go
in
peace,
be
warmed
and
filled,'
without
giving
them
the
things

needed
for
the
body,
what
does
it
profit?
So
faith
by
itself,
if
it
has
no
works,
is
dead.



‐James
2:14‐17



Come
now,
you
who
say,
'Today
or
tomorrow
we
will
go
into
such
and
such
a
town

and
spend
a
year
there
and
trade
and
get
gain';
whereas
you
do
not
know
about

tomorrow.
What
is
your
life?
For
you
are
a
mist
that
appears
for
a
little
time
and

then
vanishes.
Instead
you
ought
to
say,
'If
the
Lord
wills,
we
shall
live
and
we
shall

do
this
or
that.'
As
it
is,
you
boast
in
your
arrogance.
All
such
boasting
is
evil.

Whoever
knows
what
is
right
to
do
and
fails
to
do
it,
for
him
it
is
sin.



‐James
4:13‐17



Poems
&
fragments
by
Anna
Akhmatova:



‐‐‐

O
there
are
words
that
should
not
be
repeated,

And
he
who
speaks
them
‐
is
a
spendthrift.

Inexhaustible
is
the
sky's
blue
spindrift

Alone,
and
the
mercy
of
the
Redeemer.



...



Now
mirrors
learn

Not
to
expect
smiles.



...



Bays
broke
the
low
shore,

Boats
ran
out
to
sea,

And
I'd
dry
my
salty
hair

On
a
flat
rock
a
mile
from
land.

Swam
to
me
the
green
fish,

Flew
to
me
the
white
seagull,

I
was
gay,
and
bold,
and
wicked,

And
never
knew
I
was
happy.



...



It
goes
on
without
end
‐
the
day,
heavy
and
amber!

How
impossible
is
grief,
how
vain
the
waiting!

And
with
a
silver
voice,
again
the
deer

Speaks
in
the
deer‐park
of
the
Northern
Lights.

And
I
believe
that
there
is
cool
snow,

And
a
blue
font
for
those
whose
hands
are
empty,

And
a
small
sledge
is
being
wildly
ridden,

Under
the
ancient
chimes
of
distant
bells.



...



Under
an
empty
dwelling's
frozen
roof,

Dead
days.
Here
no
living
comes.

I
read
the
Acts
of
the
Apostles

And
the
Psalms.



But
the
stars
are
blue,
the
hoar‐frost
downy,

And
each
morning
more
wonderful,

And
in
the
Bible
a
red
maple
leaf

Marks
the
pages
of
the
Song
of
Songs.



…



You
will
hear
thunder
and
remember
me,

And
think:
she
wanted
storms.
The
rim

Of
the
sky
will
be
the
colour
of
hard
crimson,

And
your
heart,
as
it
was
then,
will
be
on
fire.



That
day
in
Moscow,
it
will
all
come
true,

When,
for
the
last
time,
I
take
my
leave,

And
hasten
to
the
heights
I
have
longed
for,

Leaving
my
shadow
still
to
be
with
you.



...



Black
and
enduring
separation

I
share
equally
with
you.

Why
weep?
Give
me
your
hand,

Promise
me
you
will
come
again.

You
and
I
are
like
high

Mountains
and
we
can't
move
closer.

Just
send
me
word

At
midnight
sometime
through
the
stars.



...



Everything
is
looted,
spoiled,
despoiled,

Death
flickering
his
black
wing,

Anguish,
hunger
‐
then
why
this

Lightness
overlaying
everything?



By
day,
cherry‐scent
from
an
unknown

Wood
near
the
town.
July

holding
new
constellations,
deep

At
night
in
the
transparent
sky
‐



Nearer
to
filthy
ruined
houses

Flies
the
miraculous...

Nobody
has
ever
known
it,

This,
always
so
dear
to
us.



...



I
won't
beg
for
your
love:
it's
laid

Safely
to
rest,
let
the
earth
settle...

Don't
expect
my
jealous
letters

Pouring
in
to
plague
your
bride.

But
let
me,
nevertheless,
advise
you:

Give
her
my
poems
to
read
in
bed,

Give
her
my
portraits
to
keep
‐
it's
wise
to

Be
kind
like
that
when
newly‐wed.

For
it's
more
needful
to
such
geese

To
know
that
they
have
won
completely

Than
to
have
converse
light
and
sweet
or

Honeymoons
of
remembered
bliss...

When
you
have
spent
your
kopeck's
worth

Of
happiness
with
your
new
friend,

And
like
a
taste
that
sates
the
mouth

Your
soul
has
recognized
the
end
‐

Don't
come
crawling
like
a
whelp

Into
my
bed
of
loneliness.

I
don't
know
you.
Nor
could
I
help.

I'm
not
yet
cured
of
happiness.



...



I
know
the
gods
changed
people
into
things,

Leaving
their
consciousness
alive
and
free.

To
keep
alive
the
wonder
of
suffering,

You
have
been
metamorphosed
into
me.



­­Anna
Akhmatova



Overland
to
the
Islands



Let's
go
‐
much
as
that
dog
goes,

intently
haphazard.
The

Mexican
light
on
a
day
that

'smells
like
autumn
in
Connecticut'

makes
iris
ripples
on
his

black
gleaming
fur
‐
and
that
too

is
as
one
would
desire
‐
a
radiance

consorting
with
the
dance.



Under
his
feet

rocks
and
mud,
his
imagination,
sniffing,

engaged
in
its
perceptions
‐
dancing

edgeways,
there's
nothing

the
dog
disdains
on
his
way,

nevertheless
he

keeps
moving,
changing

pace
and
approach
but

not
direction
‐
'every
step
an
arrival'.



­Denise
Levertov



From
The
Undead



To
prey
on
life
forever
and
not
possess
it,

As
rock‐hollows,
tide
after
tide,

Glassily
strand
the
sea.



­Richard
Wilbur



From
Katherine's
Dream



Where
are
you?
You
were
with
me
and
are
gone.

All
the
forgiven
couples
hurry
on

To
dinner
and
their
nights,
and
none
will
stop.

I
run
about
in
circles
till
I
drop

Against
a
padlocked
bulkhead
in
a
yard

Where
faces
redden
and
the
snow
is
hard.



­Robert
Lowell



For
Sale



Poor
sheepish
plaything,

organized
with
prodigal
animosity,

lived
in
just
a
year
‐

my
Father's
cottage
at
Beverly
Farms

was
on
the
market
the
month
he
died.

Empty,
open,
intimate,

its
town‐house
furniture

had
on
a
tiptoe
air

of
waiting
for
the
mover

on
the
heels
of
the
undertaker.



Ready,
afraid

of
living
alone
till
eighty,

Mother
mooned
in
a
window,

as
if
she
had
stayed
on
a
train

one
stop
past
her
destination.



­Robert
Lowell



Strokes



The
left
side
of
her
world
is
gone
‐

the
rest
sustained
by
memory

and
a
realization:
There
are
still
the
children.



Going
down
our
porch
steps
her
pastor

calls
back:
'We
are
proud
of
her
recovery,

and
there
is
a
chiropractor
up
in
Galesburg...'



The
birthdays
of
the
old
require
such
candles.



­William
Stafford



Willa
Cather,
"O
Pioneers!"



Even
as
a
boy
he
used
to
feel,
when
he
saw
her
coming
with
her
free
step,
her

upright
head
and
calm
shoulders,
that
she
looked
as
if
she
had
walked
straight
out
of

the
morning
itself.



...



"I'd
rather
have
had
your
freedom
than
my
land."



Carl
shook
his
head
mournfully.
"Freedom
so
often
means
that
one
isn't
needed

anywhere.
Here
you
are
an
individual,
you
have
a
background
of
your
own,
you

would
be
missed.
But
off
there
in
the
cities
there
are
thousands
of
rolling
stones
like

me.
We
are
all
alike;
we
have
no
ties,
we
know
nobody,
we
own
nothing.
When
one

of
us
dies,
they
scarcely
know
where
to
bury
him.
Our
landlady
and
the
delicatessen

man
are
our
mourners,
and
we
leave
nothing
behind
us
but
a
frock‐coat
and
a
fiddle,

or
an
easel,
or
a
typewriter,
or
whatever
tool
we
got
our
living
by.
All
we
have
ever

managed
to
do
is
pay
our
rent,
the
exorbitant
rent
that
one
has
to
pay
for
a
few

square
feet
of
space
near
the
heart
of
things.
We
have
no
house,
no
place,
no
people

of
our
own.
We
live
in
the
streets,
in
the
parks,
in
the
theaters.
We
sit
in
restaurants

and
concert
halls
and
look
about
at
the
hundreds
of
our
own
kind
and
shudder."



...



"Isn't
it
queer:
there
are
only
two
or
three
human
stories,
and
they
go
on
repeating

themselves
as
if
they
had
never
happened
before;
like
the
larks
in
this
country,
that

have
been
singing
the
same
five
notes
over
for
thousands
of
years."



...



"You
know
that
my
spells
come
from
God,
and
that
I
would
not
harm
any
living

creature.
You
believe
that
every
one
should
God
in
the
way
revealed
to
him.
But
that

is
not
the
way
of
this
country.
The
way
here
is
for
all
to
do
alike.
I
am
despised

because
I
do
not
wear
shoes,
because
I
do
not
cut
my
hair,
and
because
I
have

visions."



...



That
is
all
among
the
dim
things
of
childhood
and
has
been
forgotten
in
the
brighter

pattern
life
weaves
to‐day,
in
the
bright
facts
of
being
captain
of
the
track
team,
and

holding
the
interstate
record
for
the
high
jump,
in
the
all‐suffusing
brightness
of

being
twenty‐one.
Yet
sometimes,
in
the
pauses
of
his
work,
the
young
man
frowned

and
looked
at
the
ground
with
an
intentness
which
suggested
that
even
twenty‐one

might
have
its
problems.



...



"It's
by
understanding
me,
and
the
boys,
and
mother,
that
you've
helped
me.
I
expect

that
is
the
only
way
one
person
ever
really
can
help
another.
I
think
you
are
about

the
only
one
that
ever
helped
me.
Somehow
it
will
take
more
courage
to
bear
your

going
than
everything
that
has
gone
before."



...



Alexandra
often
said
that
if
her
mother
were
cast
upon
a
desert
island,
she
would

thank
God
for
her
deliverance,
make
a
garden,
and
find
something
to
preserve.



...



"My
God,
girl,
what
a
head
of
hair!"
he
exclaimed,
quite
innocently
and
foolishly.
She

stabbed
him
with
a
glance
of
Amazonian
fierceness
and
drew
in
her
lower
lip
‐
most

unnecessary
severity.
It
gave
the
little
clothing
drummer
such
a
start
that
he
actually

let
his
cigar
fall
to
the
sidewalk
and
went
off
weakly
in
the
teeth
of
the
wind
to
the

saloon.
His
hand
was
still
unsteady
when
he
took
his
glass
from
the
bartender.
His

feeble
flirtatious
instincts
had
been
crushed
before,
but
never
so
mercilessly.
He
felt

cheap
and
ill‐used,
as
if
some
one
had
taken
advantage
of
him.
When
a
drummer
had

been
knocking
about
in
little
drab
towns
and
crawling
across
the
wintry
country
in

dirty
smoking‐cars,
was
he
to
be
blamed
if,
when
he
chanced
upon
a
fine
human

creature,
he
suddenly
wished
himself
more
of
a
man?



...



"I've
found
it
sometimes
pays
to
mend
other
people's
fences."



...



"You
wanna
be
a
priest,
maybe?
Not‐a
for
me!"
Amedee
swaggered.
"I
bring
many

good
Catholics
into
this
world,
I
hope,
and
that's
a
way
I
help
the
Church."



...



"I
want
to
take
a
year
off
and
look
around.
It's
awfully
easy
to
rush
into
a
profession

you
don't
really
like,
and
awfully
hard
to
get
out
of
it."



...



"What
good
comes
of
offering
people
things
they
don't
need?"
Alexandra
asked

sadly.
"I
don't
need
money.
But
I
have
needed
you
for
a
great
many
years.
I
wonder

why
I
have
been
permitted
to
prosper,
if
it
is
only
to
take
my
friends
away
from
me."



...



They
were
not
the
sort
of
letters
that
a
young
man
writes
to
his
sister.
They
were

both
more
personal
and
more
painstaking....
He
told
about
bull‐fights
and
cock‐
fights,
churches
and
fiestas,
the
flower‐markets
and
the
fountains,
the
music
and

dancing,
the
people
of
all
nations
he
met
in
the
Italian
restaurants
on
San
Francisco

Street.
In
short,
they
were
the
kind
of
letters
a
young
man
writes
to
a
woman
when

he
wishes
himself
and
his
life
to
seem
interesting
to
her,
when
he
wishes
to
enlist

her
imagination
in
his
behalf.



...



"If
I
were
big
and
free
like
you,
I
wouldn't
let
anything
make
me
unhappy.
As
old

Napoleon
Brunot
said
at
the
fair,
I
wouldn't
go
lovering
after
no
woman.
I'd
take
the

first
train
and
go
off
and
have
all
the
fun
there
is."



"I
tried
that,
but
it
didn't
do
any
good.
Everything
reminded
me.
The
nicer
the
place

was,
the
more
I
wanted
you."



‐Willa
Cather,
O
Pioneers!



It
was
a
highly
respectable
street,
where
all
the
houses
were
exactly
alike,
and

where
business
men
of
moderate
means
begot
and
reared
large
families
of
children,

all
of
whom
went
to
Sunday
School
and
learned
the
shorter
catechism,
and
were

exactly
alike
as
their
homes,
and
of
a
piece
with
the
monotony
in
which
they
lived.

Paul
never
went
up
Cordelia
Street
without
a
shudder
of
loathing.

...

He
lay
still
and
closed
his
eyes
and
let
the
tide
of
realities
wash
over
him.



‐Willa
Cather,
from
"Paul's
Case"



O
passionately
at
peace
when
will
that
tide
draw
shoreward?

Truly
the
spouting
fountains
of
light,
Antares,
Arcturus,

Tire
of
their
flow,
they
sing
one
song
but
they
think
silence.

The
striding
winter
giant
Orion
shines,
and
dreams
darkness.

And
life,
the
flicker
of
men
and
moths
and
the
wolf
on
the
hill,

Though
furious
for
continuance,
passionately
feeding,
passionately

Remaking
itself
upon
its
mates,
remembers
deep
inward

The
calm
mother,
the
quietness
of
the
womb
and
the
egg,

The
primal
and
the
latter
silences:
dear
Night
it
is
memory

Prophesies,
prophecy
that
remembers,
the
charm
of
the
dark.



And
I
and
my
people,
we
are
willing
to
love
the
four‐score
years

Heartily;
but
as
a
sailor
loves
the
sea,
when
the
helm
is
for
harbor.



‐Robinson
Jeffers,
from
"Night"



He
was
still
trembling
when
he
reached
the
street,
but
a
walk
down
the
Rue

Bonaparte
to
the
quais
set
him
up,
and
as
he
crossed
the
Seine,
fresh
and
new
by
the

quai
lamps,
he
felt
exultant.



‐F.
Scott
Fitzgerald,
from
"Babylon
Revisited"



Again
he
is
alone
and
again
there
is
silence
for
him....
The
misery
which
has
been
for

a
brief
space
eased
comes
back
again
and
tears
his
heart
more
cruelly
than
ever.

With
a
look
of
anxiety
and
suffering
Iona's
eyes
stray
restlessly
among
the
crowds

moving
to
and
fro
on
both
sides
of
the
street:
can
he
not
find
among
those
thousands

someone
who
will
listen
to
him?



‐Anton
Chekhov,
from
"Misery"



‐‐Oh,
never
a
doubt
but,
somewhere,
I
shall
wake,

And
give
what's
left
of
love
again,
and
make

New
friends,
now
strangers....
But
the
best
I've
known,

Stays
here,
and
changes,
breaks,
grows
old,
is
blown

About
the
winds
of
the
world,
and
fades
from
brains

Of
living
men,
and
dies.
Nothing
remains.



‐Robert
Brooke,
from
"The
Great
Lover"



Meeting
and
Passing



As
I
went
down
the
hill
along
the
wall

There
was
a
gate
I
had
leaned
at
for
the
view

And
had
just
turned
from
when
I
first
saw
you

As
you
came
up
the
hill.
We
met.
But
all

We
did
that
day
was
mingle
great
and
small

Footprints
in
summer
dust
as
if
we
drew

The
figure
of
our
being
less
than
two

But
more
than
one
as
yet.
Your
parasol



Pointed
the
decimal
off
with
one
deep
thrust.

And
all
the
time
we
talked
you
seemed
to
see

Something
down
there
to
smile
at
in
the
dust.

(Oh,
it
was
without
prejudice
to
me!)

Afterward
I
went
past
what
you
had
passed

Before
we
met
and
you
what
I
had
passed.



Robert
Frost



When
You
Are
Old



When
you
are
old
and
grey
and
full
of
sleep,

And
nodding
by
the
fire,
take
down
this
book,

And
slowly
read,
and
dream
of
the
soft
look

Your
eyes
had
once,
and
of
their
shadows
deep;



How
many
loved
your
moments
of
glad
grace,

And
loved
your
beauty
with
love
false
or
true,

But
one
man
loved
the
pilgrim
soul
in
you,

And
loved
the
sorrows
of
your
changing
face;



And
bending
down
beside
the
glowing
bars,

Murmur,
a
little
sadly,
how
Love
fled

And
paced
upon
the
mountains
overhead

And
hid
his
face
amid
a
crowd
of
stars.



­William
Butler
Yeats



From
Thou
Art
Indeed
Just,
Lord



Mine,
O
thou
lord
of
life,
send
my
roots
rain.



­Gerald
Manley
Hopkins



Into
My
Heart



Into
my
heart
an
air
that
kills

From
yon
far
country
blows:

What
are
those
blue
remembered
hills,

What
spires,
what
farms
are
those?



That
is
the
land
of
lost
content,

I
see
it
shining
plain,

The
happy
highways
where
I
went

And
cannot
come
again.



­A.E.
Housman



From
Channel
Firing



The
world
is
as
it
used
to
be:

All
nations
striving
strong
to
make

Red
war
yet
redder.



­Thomas
Hardy



From
No
Worst,
There
is
None



Comforter,
where,
where
is
your
comforting?



Gerald
Manley
Hopkins



From
God's
Grandeur



The
world
is
charged
with
the
grandeur
of
God.
...

And
though
the
last
lights
off
the
black
West
went

Oh,
morning,
at
the
brown
brink
eastward,
springs
‐

Because
the
Holy
Ghost
over
the
bent

World
broods
with
warm
breast
and
with
ah!
bright
wings.



Excerpts
from
Emerson's
"Nature":



If
the
stars
should
appear
one
night
in
a
thousand
years,
how
would
men
believe

and
adore,
and
preserve
for
many
generations
the
remembrance
of
the
city
of
God

which
had
been
shown!
But
every
night
come
out
these
envoys
of
beauty,
and
light

the
universe
with
their
admonishing
smile.



…



Broad
moon
shall
be
my
England
of
the
senses
and
the
understanding;
the
night

shall
be
my
Germany
of
mystic
philosophy
and
dreams.



…



What
is
a
farm
but
a
mute
gospel?



…



In
a
higher
manner,
the
poet
communicates
the
same
pleasure.
By
a
few
strokes,
he

delineates,
as
on
air,
the
mountain,
the
camp,
the
city,
the
hero,
the
maiden,
not

different
from
what
we
know
them,
but
only
lifted
from
the
ground
and
afloat
before

the
eye.
He
unfixes
the
land
and
the
sea,
makes
them
revolve
around
the
axis
of
his

primary
thought,
and
disposes
them
anew.

…



The
aspect
of
nature
is
devout.
Like
the
figure
of
Jesus,
she
stands
with
bended
head,

and
hands
folded
upon
the
breast.
The
happiest
man
is
he
who
learns
from
nature

the
lesson
of
worship.



…



From
Shakespeare’s
“Tempest,”
excerpted
in
Emerson’s
Nature:



The
charm
dissolves
apace,

And,
as
the
morning
steals
upon
the
night,

Melting
the
darkness,
so
their
rising
senses

Begin
to
chase
the
ignorant
fumes
that
mantle

Their
clearer
reason.



Their
understanding

Begins
to
swell:
and
the
approaching
tide

Will
shortly
fill
the
reasonable
shores

That
now
lie
foul
and
muddy.



…



We
are
associated
in
adolescent
and
adult
life
with
some
friends
who,
like
skies
and

waters,
are
coextensive
with
our
idea;
who,
answering
each
to
a
certain
affection
of

the
soul,
satisfy
our
desire
on
that
side;
whom
we
lack
power
to
put
at
such
focal

distance
from
us,
that
we
can
mend
or
even
analyze
them.
We
cannot
choose
but

love
them.



…



Therefore
is
nature
ever
the
ally
of
Religion:
lends
all
her
pomp
and
riches
to
the

religious
sentiment.
Prophet
and
priest,
David,
Isaiah,
Jesus,
have
drawn
deeply

from
this
source.
This
ethical
character
so
penetrates
the
bone
and
marrow
of

nature,
as
to
seem
the
end
for
which
it
was
made.



…



The
poet,
the
orator,
bred
in
the
woods,
whose
senses
have
been
nourished
by
their

fair
and
appeasing
changes,
year
after
year,
without
design
and
without
heed,
shall

not
lose
their
lesson
altogether,
in
the
roar
of
cities
or
the
broil
of
politics.



…



The
tradesman,
the
attorney
comes
out
of
the
din
and
craft
of
the
street,
and
sees

the
sky
and
the
woods,
and
is
a
man
again.
In
their
eternal
calm,
he
finds
himself.

The
health
of
the
eye
seems
to
demand
a
horizon.
We
are
never
tired,
so
long
as
we

can
see
far
enough.



…



I
see
the
spectacle
of
morning
from
the
hill‐top
over
against
my
house,
from

daybreak
to
sunrise,
with
emotions
which
an
angel
might
share.
The
long
slender

bars
of
cloud
float
like
fishes
in
the
sea
of
crimson
light.
From
the
earth
as
a
shore,
I

look
out
into
that
silent
sea.



…



A
man
is
fed,
not
that
he
may
be
fed,
but
that
he
may
work.



…



The
foregoing
generations
beheld
God
and
nature
face
to
face;
we,
through
their

eyes.
Why
should
not
we
also
enjoy
an
original
relation
to
the
universe?
Why
should

not
we
have
a
poetry
and
philosophy
of
insight
and
not
of
tradition,
and
a
religion
by

revelation
to
us,
and
not
the
history
of
theirs?



…



Miller
owns
this
field,
Locke
that,
and
Manning
the
woodland
beyond.
But
none
of

them
owns
the
landscape.
There
is
a
property
in
the
horizon
which
no
man
has
but

he
whose
eye
can
integrate
all
the
parts,
that
is,
the
poet.
This
is
the
best
part
of

these
men’s
farms,
yet
to
this
their
warranty‐deeds
give
no
title.



…



In
the
presence
of
nature,
a
wild
delight
runs
through
the
man,
in
spite
of
real

sorrows.
Nature
says,
he
is
my
creature,
and
maugre
all
his
impertinent
griefs,
he

shall
be
glad
with
me.
Not
the
sun
or
the
summer
alone,
but
every
hour
and
season

yields
its
tribute
of
delight;
for
every
hour
and
change
corresponds
to
and

authorizes
a
different
state
of
the
mind,
from
breathless
noon
to
grimmest
midnight.



From
The
Self­Unseeing



Childlike,
I
danced
in
a
dream;

Blessings
emblazoned
that
day;

Everything
glowed
with
a
gleam;

Yet
we
were
looking
away!



The
Man
He
Killed



"Had
he
and
I
but
met

By
some
old
ancient
inn,

We
should
have
set
us
down
to
wet

Right
many
a
nipperkin!



"But
ranged
as
infantry,

And
staring
face
to
face,

I
shot
at
him
as
he
at
me,

And
killed
him
in
his
place.



"I
shot
him
dead
because‐

Because
he
was
my
foe,

Just
so:
my
foe
of
course
he
was;

That's
clear
enough;
although



"He
thought
he'd
'list,
perhaps,

Off‐hand
like‐‐just
as
I;

Was
out
of
work,
had
sold
his
traps‐

No
other
reason
why.



"Yes;
quaint
and
curious
war
is!

You
shoot
a
fellow
down

You'd
treat
if
met
where
any
bar
is,

Or
help
to
half‐a‐crown."



From
She,
to
Him
II



Perhaps,
long
hence,
when
I
have
passed
away,

Some
other's
feature,
accent,
thought
like
mine,

Will
carry
you
back
to
what
I
used
to
say,

And
bring
some
memory
of
your
love's
decline.



At
a
Hasty
Wedding



If
hours
be
years
the
twain
are
blest,

For
now
they
solace
sweet
desire

By
bonds
of
every
bond
the
best,

If
hours
be
years.
The
twain
are
blest

Do
eastern
stars
slope
never
west,

Nor
pallid
ashes
follow
fire:

If
hours
be
years
the
twain
are
blest,

For
now
they
solace
swift
desire.



From
After
the
Last
Breath



Blankly
we
gaze.
We
are
free
to
go
or
stay;

Our
morrow's
anxious
plans
have
missed
their
aim;

Whether
we
leave
to‐night
or
wait
till
day

Counts
as
the
same.



From
One
Ralph
Blossom
Soliloquizes



These
trumpets
here
in
Heaven
are
dumb
to
me

With
you
away.
Dear,
come,
O
come
to
me!





From
Bonhoeffer,
Letters
and
Papers
from
Prison:



And
though
the
world
outside
be
mad,

Christian
or
unchristian,

Yet
the
world,
the
beautiful
world

Is
utterly
indestructible.



All
I
need
to
bring
that
home
to
me
is
a
few
autumn
flowers,
the
view
from
my
cell

window,
and
half
an
hour's
exercise
in
the
courtyard.
But
in
the
last
resort,
the

world,
for
me
at
any
rate,
consists
of
those
few
we
would
like
to
see,
and
whose

company
we
long
to
share.
...And
if
I
could
also
hear
a
good
sermon
on
Sundays
‐
I

often
here
fragments
of
the
chorales
carried
up
here
on
the
breeze
‐
it
would
be

better
still.

...

As
we
were
all
lying
on
the
floor
[during
an
air
raid]
yesterday,
someone
muttered

"O
God,
O
God"
‐
he
is
normally
a
frivolous
sort
of
chap
‐
but
I
couldn't
bring
myself

to
offer
him
any
Christian
encouragement
or
comfort.
All
I
did
was
to
glance
at
my

watch
and
say:
"It
won't
last
any
more
than
ten
minutes
now."
There
was
nothing

premeditated
about
it;
it
came
quite
automatically,
though
perhaps
I
had
a
feeling

that
it
was
wrong
to
force
religion
down
his
throat
just
then.
Incidentally,
Jesus

himself
did
not
try
to
convert
the
two
thieves
on
the
cross;
he
waited
until
one
of

them
turned
to
him.

...

As
compared
with
marriage
and
the
ties
of
kindred,
friendship
has
no
generally

recognized
rights,
and
is
therefore
wholly
dependent
on
its
own
inherent
quality.

...

The
idea
that
we
could
have
avoided
many
of
life's
difficulties
if
we
had
taken
things

more
quietly
is
one
that
cannot
be
taken
seriously
for
a
moment.
As
I
look
back
on

your
past
I
am
sure
that
everything
has
turned
out
for
the
best,
and
so
we
have

every
reason
to
hope
that
what
is
happening
at
the
present
can
only
be
for
the
best

too.
To
renounce
a
full
life
and
all
its
joys
in
order
to
escape
pain
is
neither
Christian

nor
human....

...

Nothing
can
make
up
for
the
absence
of
someone
whom
we
love,
and
it
would
be

wrong
to
try
to
find
a
substitute;
we
must
simply
hold
out
and
see
it
through.
That

sounds
very
hard
at
first,
but
at
the
same
time
it
is
a
great
consolation,
for
the
gap,

as
long
as
it
remains
unfilled,
preserves
the
bonds
between
us.
It
is
nonsense
to
say

that
God
fills
the
gap;
God
does
not
fill
it,
but
on
the
contrary,
God
keeps
it
empty

and
so
helps
us
keep
alive
our
former
communion
with
each
other,
even
at
the
cost

of
pain.



The
dearer
and
richer
our
memories,
the
more
difficult
the
separation.
But
gratitude

changes
the
pangs
of
memory
into
a
tranquil
joy.
The
beauties
of
the
past
are
borne,

not
as
a
thorn
in
the
flesh,
but
as
a
precious
gift
in
themselves.
We
must
take
care

not
to
wallow
in
our
memories
or
to
hand
ourselves
over
to
them,
just
as
we
do
not

gaze
all
the
time
at
a
valuable
present,
but
only
at
special
times,
and
apart
from

these
keep
it
simply
as
a
hidden
treasure
that
is
ours
for
certain.
In
this
way
the
past

gives
us
lasting
joy
and
strength.

...

Another
point,
I
am
sure
it
is
best
not
to
talk
to
strangers
about
our
feelings;
that

only
makes
matters
worse,
though
we
should
always
be
ready
to
listen
to
the

troubles
of
others.
Above
all,
we
must
never
give
way
to
self‐pity.

...

...We
ought
to
love
God
in
our
lives
and
in
all
the
blessings
he
sends
us.
We
should

trust
him
in
our
lives,
so
that
when
our
time
comes,
but
not
before,
we
may
go
to

him
in
love
and
trust
and
joy.
But,
speaking
frankly,
to
long
for
the
transcendent

when
you
are
in
your
wife's
arms
is,
to
put
it
mildly,
a
lack
of
taste,
and
it
is
certainly

not
what
God
expects
of
us.
We
ought
to
find
God
and
love
him
in
the
blessings
he

sends
us.
If
he
pleases
to
grant
us
some
overwhelming
earthly
bliss,
we
ought
not
to

try
and
be
more
religious
than
God
himself.
...Once
a
man
has
found
God
in
his

earthly
bliss
and
has
thanked
him
for
it,
there
will
be
plenty
of
opportunities
for
him

to
remind
himself
that
these
earthly
pleasures
are
only
transitory,
and
that
it
is
good

for
him
to
accustom
himself
to
the
idea
of
eternity,
and
there
will
be
many
hours
in

which
he
can
say
with
all
sincerity,
"I
would
that
I
were
home."
But
everything
in
its

season,
and
the
important
thing
is
to
keep
step
with
God,
and
not
get
a
step
or
two
in

front
of
him....
It
is
arrogance
to
want
to
have
everything
at
once
‐
matrimonial
bliss,

and
the
cross,
and
the
heavenly
Jerusalem.

...

In
a
word,
live
together
in
the
forgiveness
of
your
sins,
for
without
it
no
human

fellowship,
least
of
all
a
marriage,
can
survive.
Don't
insist
on
your
rights,
don't

blame
each
other,
don't
judge
or
condemn
each
other,
don't
find
fault
with
each

other,
but
take
one
another
as
you
are,
and
forgive
each
other
every
day
from
the

bottom
of
your
hearts.

...

I
have
just
read
this
in
Jean
Paul:
"The
only
joys
which
can
stand
the
fires
of

adversity
are
the
joys
of
home."
...I
wish
you
a
happy
day
from
the
bottom
of
my

heart,
and
shall
be
with
you
in
spirit.
May
your
thoughts
about
me
be
confined
to

happy
memories
of
the
past
and
hopes
for
the
future.



Dietrich
Bonhoeffer



‐‐Letters
and
Papers
from
Prison



‐‐‐



We
had
our
internal
enemies
too,
and
we
exercised
vigilance.
San
Jose
had
a
spy

scare,
and
Salinas
was
not
likely
to
be
left
behind
‐
not
the
way
Salinas
was
growing.



For
about
twenty
years
Mr.
Fenchel
had
done
hand
tailoring
in
Salinas.
He
was
short

and
round
and
he
had
an
accent
that
made
you
laugh.
All
day
he
sat
cross‐legged
on

his
table
in
the
little
shop
on
Alisal
Street,
and
in
the
evening
he
walked
home
to
his

small
white
house
far
out
on
Central
Avenue.
He
was
forever
painting
his
house
and

the
white
picket
fence
in
front
of
it.
Nobody
had
given
his
accent
a
thought
until
the

war
came
along,
but
suddenly
we
knew.
It
was
German.
We
had
our
own
personal

German.
It
didn’t
do
him
any
good
to
bankrupt
himself
buying
war
bonds.
That
was

too
easy
a
way
to
cover
up.



The
Home
Guard
wouldn’t
take
him
in.
They
didn’t
want
a
spy
knowing
their
secret

plans
for
defending
Salinas.
And
who
wanted
to
wear
a
suit
made
by
an
enemy?
Mr.

Fenchel
sat
all
day
on
his
table
and
sewed
and
ripped
on
the
same
piece
of
cloth

over
and
over.



We
used
every
cruelty
we
could
think
of
on
Mr.
Fenchel.
He
was
our
German.
He

passed
our
house
every
day,
and
there
had
been
a
time
when
he
spoke
to
every
man

and
woman
and
child
and
dog,
and
everyone
had
answered.
Now
no
one
spoke
to

him,
and
I
can
see
now
in
my
mind
his
tubby
loneliness
and
his
face
full
of
hurt

pride.



My
little
sister
and
I
did
our
part
with
Mr.
Fenchel,
and
it
is
one
of
those
memories
of

shame
that
still
makes
me
break
into
a
sweat
and
tighten
up
around
the
throat.
We

were
standing
in
our
front
yard
on
the
lawn
one
evening
and
we
saw
him
coming

with
little
fat
steps.
His
black
Homburg
was
brushed
and
squarely
set
on
his
head.
I

don’t
remember
that
we
discussed
our
plan
but
we
must
have,
to
have
carried
it
out

so
well.



As
he
came
near,
my
sister
and
I
moved
slowly
across
the
street
side
by
side.
Mr.

Fenchel
looked
up
and
saw
us
moving
toward
him.
We
stopped
in
the
gutter
as
he

came
by.



He
broke
into
a
smile
and
said,
“Gut
efning,
Chon.
Gut
efning,
Mary.”



We
stood
stiffly
side
by
side
and
we
said
in
unison,
“Hoch
der
Kaiser!”



I
can
see
his
face
now,
his
startled
innocent
blue
eyes.
He
tried
to
say
something
and

then
he
ban
to
cry.
Didn’t
even
try
to
pretend
he
wasn’t.
He
just
stood
there
sobbing.

And
do
you
know?
‐
Mary
and
I
turned
around
and
walked
stiffly
across
the
street

and
into
our
front
yard.
We
felt
horrible.
I
still
do
when
I
think
of
it.



We
were
too
young
to
do
a
good
job
on
Mr.
Fenchel.
That
took
strong
men
‐
about

thirty
of
them.
One
Saturday
night
they
collected
in
a
bar
and
marched
in
a
column

of
fours
out
Central
Avenue,
saying,
“Hup!
Hup!”
in
unison.
They
tore
down
Mr.

Fenchel’s
white
picket
fence
and
burned
the
front
of
his
house.
No
Kaiser‐loving
son

of
a
bitch
was
going
to
get
away
with
it
with
us.
And
then
Salinas
could
hold
up
its

head
with
San
Jose.



Of
course
that
made
Watsonville
get
busy.
They
tarred
and
feathered
a
Pole
they

thought
was
a
German.
He
had
an
accent.



…



It
wasn’t
all
bad
or
cheap
or
hysterical.
There
was
heroism
too.
Some
men
who

could
have
avoided
the
army
enlisted,
and
others
objected
to
the
war
on
moral
or

religious
grounds
and
took
the
walk
up
Golgotha
which
normally
comes
with
that.

There
were
people
who
gave
everything
they
had
to
the
war
because
it
was
the
last

war
and
by
winning
it
we
would
remove
war
like
a
thorn
from
the
flesh
of
the
world

and
there
wouldn’t
be
any
more
such
horrible
nonsense.



There
is
no
dignity
in
death
in
battle.
Mostly
that
is
a
splashing
about
of
human
meat

and
fluid,
and
the
result
is
filthy,
but
there
is
a
great
and
almost
sweet
dignity
in
the

sorrow,
the
helpless,
the
hopeless
sorrow
that
comes
down
over
a
family
with
the

telegram.
Nothing
to
say,
nothing
to
do,
and
only
one
hope
‐
I
hope
he
didn’t
suffer
‐

and
what
a
forlorn
and
last‐choice
hope
that
is.

...



And
Samuel
could
remember
hearing
of
a
cousin
of
his
mother's
in
Ireland,
a
knight

and
rich
and
handsome,
and
anyway
shot
himself
on
a
silken
couch,
sitting
beside

the
most
beautiful
woman
in
the
world
who
loved
him.
"There's
a
capacity
for

appetite,"
Samuel
said,
"that
a
whole
heaven
and
earth
of
cake
can't
satisfy."

...

A
kind
of
light
spread
out
from
her.
And
everything
changed
color.
And
the
world

opened
out.
And
a
day
was
good
to
awaken
to.
And
there
were
no
limits
to
anything.

And
the
people
of
the
world
were
good
and
handsome.
And
I
was
not
afraid
any

more.

...

You
can
start
reading
if
you
want
and
it
will
raise
up
your
lid
a
little.

...

"I
don't
want
advice."

"Nobody
does.
It's
a
giver's
present.
Go
through
the
motions,
Adam."

"What
motions?"

"Act
out
being
alive,
like
a
play.
And
after
a
while,
a
long
while,
it
will
be
true."

...

And
finally
comes
culture,
which
is
entertainment,
relaxation,
transport
out
of
the

pain
of
living.
And
culture
can
be
on
any
level,
and
is.



The
church
and
the
whorehouse
arrived
in
the
Far
West
simultaneously.
And
each

would
have
been
horrified
to
think
it
was
a
different
facet
of
the
same
thing.
But

surely
they
were
both
intended
to
accomplish
the
same
thing:
the
singing,
the

devotion,
the
poetry
of
churches
took
a
man
out
of
his
bleakness
for
a
time,
and
so

did
the
brothels.
...
Indeed,
if
after
hearing
the
ecstatic
shrieks
of
climactic

conversion
against
the
thumping
beat
of
the
melodeon
you
had
stood
under
the

window
of
a
whorehouse
and
listened
to
low
decorous
voices,
you
would
have
been

likely
to
confuse
the
identities
of
the
two
ministries.

...

Samuel
wrote
to
Joe,
saying,
"I
would
have
been
disappointed
if
you
had
not
become

an
atheist,
and
I
read
pleasantly
that
you
have,
in
your
age
and
wisdom,
accepted

agnosticism
the
way
you'd
take
a
cookie
on
a
full
stomach.
But
I
would
ask
you
with

all
my
understanding
heart
not
to
try
to
convert
your
mother.
Your
last
letter
only

made
her
think
you
are
not
well.
Your
mother
does
not
believe
there
are
many
ills

uncurable
by
good
strong
soup.
She
puts
your
brave
attack
on
the
structure
of
our

civilization
down
to
a
stomach
ache.
It
worries
her.
Her
faith
is
a
mountain,
and
you,

my
son,
haven't
even
got
a
shovel
yet."

...

No
story
has
power,
nor
will
it
last,
unless
we
feel
in
ourselves
that
it
is
true
and
true

of
us.

...

Lee
said,
"Remember,
Mr.
Hamilton,
I
told
you
I
was
trying
to
translate
some
old

Chinese
poetry
into
English?
...Doing
it,
I
found
some
of
the
old
things
as
fresh
and

clear
as
this
morning.
And
I
wondered
why.
And,
of
course,
people
are
only

interested
in
themselves.
If
a
story
is
not
about
the
hearer
he
will
not
listen.
And
I

here
make
a
rule
‐
a
great
and
lasting
story
is
about
everyone
or
it
will
not
last.
The

strange
and
foreign
is
not
interesting
‐
only
the
deeply
personal
and
familiar."

...

"Why
didn't
you
want
the
boys
to
learn
Chinese,
Adam?"



Adam
thought
for
a
moment.
"It
seems
a
time
for
honesty,"
he
said
at
last.
"I
guess
it

was
plain
jealousy.
I
gave
it
another
name,
but
maybe
I
didn't
want
them
to
be
able

so
easily
to
go
way
from
me
in
a
direction
I
couldn't
follow."



"That's
reasonable
enough
and
almost
too
human,"
said
Samuel.

...

"Well,
it
seemed
to
me
that
the
man
who
could
conceive
this
great
story
[Genesis
4]

would
know
exactly
what
he
wanted
to
say
and
there
would
be
no
confusion
in
his

statement."



"You
say
'the
man.'
Do
you
then
not
think
this
is
a
divine
book
written
by
the
inky

finger
of
God?"



"I
think
the
mind
that
could
think
this
story
was
a
curiously
divine
mind.
We
have

had
a
few
such
minds
in
China
too."

...

"Any
writing
which
has
influenced
the
thinking
and
the
lives
of
innumerable
people

is
important.
Now,
there
are
many
millions
in
their
sects
and
churches
who
feel
the

order,
'Do
thou,'
and
throw
their
weight
into
obedience.
And
there
are
millions
more

who
feel
predestination
in
'Thou
shalt.'
Nothing
they
may
do
can
interfere
with
what

will
be.
But
'Thou
mayest'!
Why,
that
makes
a
man
great,
that
gives
him
stature
with

the
gods,
for
in
his
weakness
and
his
filth
and
his
murder
of
his
brother
he
still
has

the
great
choice.
He
can
choose
his
course
and
fight
it
through
and
win."
Lee's
voice

was
a
chant
of
triumph.



Adam
said,
"Do
you
believe
that,
Lee?"



"Yes,
I
do.
It
is
easy
out
of
laziness,
out
of
weakness,
to
throw
oneself
into
the
lap
of

deity,
saying,
'I
couldn't
help
it;
the
way
was
set.'
But
think
of
the
glory
of
the
choice!

That
makes
a
man
a
man.
A
cat
has
no
choice,
a
bee
must
make
honey.
There's
no

godliness
there.
...
Confucius
tells
men
how
they
shold
live
to
have
good
and

successful
lives.
But
this
‐
this
is
a
ladder
to
climb
to
the
stars."
Lee's
eyes
shone.

"You
can
never
lose
that.
It
cuts
the
feet
from
under
weakness
and
cowardliness
and

laziness."

…

And
it
never
failed
that
during
the
dry
years
the
people
forgot
about
the
rich
years,

and
during
the
wet
years
they
lost
all
memory
of
the
dry
years.
It
was
always
that

way.

...

To
Adam
who
was
an
instrument,
who
saw
not
the
future
farms
but
only
the
torn

bellies
of
fine
humans,
it
was
revolting
and
useless.
When
he
fired
his
carbine
to

miss
he
was
committing
treason
against
his
unit,
and
he
didn't
care.
The
emotion
of

nonviolence
was
building
in
him
until
it
became
a
prejudice
like
any
other
thought‐
stultifying
prejudice.
To
inflict
any
hurt
on
anything
for
any
purpose
became

inimical
to
him.

...

A
thing
so
triumphantly
illogical,
so
beautifully
senseless
as
an
army
can't
allow
a

question
to
weaken
it.

...

It
is
possible
that
his
virtue
lived
on
a
lack
of
energy.

...

He
lived
in
a
world
shining
and
fresh
and
as
uninspected
as
Eden
on
the
sixth
day.

His
mind
plunged
like
a
colt
in
a
happy
pasture,
and
when
later
the
world
put
up

fences
he
plunged
against
the
wire,
and
when
the
final
stockade
surrounded
him,
he

plunged
right
through
it
and
out.
And
as
he
was
capable
of
great
joy,
so
did
he

harbor
huge
sorrow,
so
that
when
his
dog
died
the
world
ended.

...

Charles
developed
a
restlessness
that
got
him
out
at
dawn.
He
worked
the
farm

mightily
because
he
was
lonely.

...

Adam
felt
that
he
was
sleepwalking.
It
is
a
hard
thing
to
leave
any
deeply
routined

life,
even
if
you
hate
it.
In
the
morning
he
awakened
on
a
split
second
and
lay

waiting
for
reveille.
His
calves
missed
the
hug
of
leggings
and
his
throat
felt
naked

without
its
tight
collar.

...

Adam
walked
through
the
dark
town,
increasing
his
speed
as
though
his
loneliness

sniffed
along
behind
him.

...

Adam
said,
'Let
me
tell
you.
The
proofs
that
God
does
not
exist
are
very
strong,
but

in
lots
of
people
they
are
not
as
strong
as
the
feeling
that
He
does.'

...

If
the
Germans
had
known
Olive
and
had
been
sensible
they
would
have
gone
out
of

their
way
not
to
anger
her.
But
they
didn't
know
or
they
were
stupid.
When
they

killed
Martin
Hopps
they
lost
the
war
because
that
made
my
mother
mad
and
she

took
out
after
them.
She
had
liked
Martin
Hopps.
He
had
never
hurt
anyone.
When

they
killed
him
Olive
declared
war
on
the
German
empire.

...

The
Catholic
church,
first
on
the
scene
and
deeply
dug
in,
sat
in
comfortable

tradition
while
the
missions
were
gradually
abandoned
and
their
roofs
fell
in
and

pigeons
roosted
on
the
stripped
altars.

...

Louis
said
half
derisively
and
half
with
admiration,
'He's
always
thinking
about
how

to
change
things.
He's
never
satisfied
with
the
way
they
are.'

...

'My
dear,'
he
said,
'can't
you
see?
You
must
not
destroy
life.
That's
the
one
thing
that

gets
me
crazy.
God
knows
I
lose
patients
because
I
don't
know
enough.
But
I
try
‐
I

always
try.
And
then
I
see
a
deliberate
killing.'
He
talked
rapidly
on.
He
dreaded
the

sick
silence
between
his
sentences.
...
'Have
you
met
Mrs.
Laurel?
She's
wasting
and

crying
for
a
baby.
Everything
she
has
or
can
get
she
would
give
to
have
a
baby,
and

you
‐
you
try
to
stab
yours
with
a
knitting
needle.'

...

Perhaps
Adam
did
not
see
Cathy
at
all,
so
lighted
was
she
by
his
eyes.
Burned
in
his

mind
was
an
image
of
beauty
and
tenderness,
a
sweet
and
holy
girl,
precious
beyond

thinking,
clean
and
loving,
and
that
image
was
Cathy
to
her
husband,
and
nothing

Cathy
did
or
said
could
warp
Adam's
Cathy.

...

A
man's
mind
vagued
up
a
little,
for
how
can
you
remember
the
feel
of
pleasure
or

pain
or
choking
emotion?
You
can
remember
only
that
you
had
them.
...
Oh,

strawberries
don't
taste
as
they
used
to
and
the
thighs
of
women
have
lost
their

clutch!

...

Our
species
is
the
only
creative
species,
and
it
has
only
one
creative
instrument,
the

individual
mind
and
spirit
of
a
man.
Nothing
good
was
ever
created
by
two
men.

There
are
no
good
collaborations,
whether
in
music,
in
art,
in
poetry,
in

mathematics,
in
philosophy.
Once
the
miracle
of
creation
has
taken
place,
the
group

can
build
and
extend
it,
but
the
group
never
invents
anything.
The
preciousness
lies

in
the
lonely
mind
of
a
man.
...
And
this
I
believe:
that
the
free,
exploring
mind
of
the

individual
is
the
most
valuable
thing
in
the
world.
And
this
I
would
fight
for:
the

freedom
of
the
mind
to
take
any
direction
it
wishes,
undirected.
And
this
I
must
fight

against:
any
idea,
religion,
or
government
which
limits
or
destroys
the
individual.





You
see,
there’s
a
responsibility
in
being
a
person.
It’s
more
than
just
taking
up

space
where
air
would
be.



…





He
looked
up
at
the
sky.
“Lord,
how
the
day
passes!
It’s
like
a
life
‐
so
quickly
when

we
don’t
watch
it
and
so
slowly
when
we
do.
No,”
he
said,
“I’m
having
enjoyment.

And
I
made
a
promise
to
myself
that
I
would
not
consider
enjoyment
a
sin.
I
take
a

pleasure
in
inquiring
into
things.
I’ve
never
been
content
to
pass
a
stone
without

looking
under
it.
And
it
is
a
black
disappointment
to
me
that
I
can
never
see
the
far

side
of
the
moon.”



…



“But
there’s
all
that
fallow
land,
and
here
beside
me
is
all
that
fallow
man.
It
seems
a

waste.
And
I
have
a
bad
feeling
about
waste
because
I
could
never
afford
it.
Is
it
a

good
thing
to
let
life
lie
fallow?”



“What
else
could
I
do?”



“You
could
try
again.”



…



“I
can’t
tell
you
how
to
live
your
life,”
Samuel
said,
“although
I
do
be
telling
you
how

to
live
it.
I
know
that
it
might
be
better
for
you
to
come
out
from
under
your
might‐
have‐beens,
into
the
winds
of
the
world.
And
while
I
tell
you,
I
am
myself
sifting
my

memories,
the
way
men
pan
the
dirt
under
a
barroom
floor
for
the
bits
of
gold
dust

that
fall
between
the
cracks.
It’s
small
mining
‐
small
mining.
You’re
too
young
a
man

to
be
panning
memories,
Adam.
You
should
be
getting
yourself
some
new
ones,
so

that
the
mining
will
be
richer
when
you
come
to
age.”



…



“I
love
that
dust
heap,”
Samuel
said.
“I
love
it
the
way
a
bitch
loves
her
runty
pup.
I

love
every
flint,
the
plow‐breaking
outcroppings,
the
thin
and
barren
topsoil,
the

waterless
heart
of
her.
Somewhere
in
my
dust
heap
there’s
a
richness.”



….



“I’m
free,
she’s
gone,”
he
chanted
aloud.



…



Virtue
and
vice
were
warp
and
woof
of
our
first
consciousness,
and
they
will
be
the

fabric
of
our
last,
and
this
despite
any
changes
we
may
impose
on
field
and
river
and

mountain,
on
economy
and
manners.



…



It
seems
to
me
that
if
you
or
I
must
choose
between
two
courses
of
thought
or

action,
we
should
remember
our
dying
and
try
so
to
live
that
our
death
brings
no

pleasure
to
the
world.



…



The
nation
and
the
Salinas
Valley
changed
its
songs.
At
first
we
sang
of
how
we

would
knock
the
hell
out
of
Helgoland
and
hang
the
Kaiser
and
march
over
there

and
clean
up
the
mess
them
damn
foreigners
had
made.
And
then
suddenly
we
sang,

“In
the
war’s
red
curse
stands
the
Red
Cross
nurse.
She’s
the
rose
of
No
Man’s
Land,”

and
we
sang,
“Hello,
central,
give
me
heaven,
‘cause
my
Daddy’s
there”….
I
guess
we

were
like
a
tough
but
inexperienced
little
boy
who
gets
punched
in
the
nose
in
the

first
flurry
and
it
hurts
and
we
wished
it
was
over.
[As
today,
in
Iraq.]



…



She
went
back
to
work.
“Do
you
think
it’s
funny
to
be
so
serious
when
I’m
not
even

out
of
high
school?”
she
asked.



“I
don’t
see
how
it
could
be
any
other
way,”
said
Lee.
“Laughter
comes
later,
like

wisdom
teeth,
and
laughter
at
yourself
comes
last
of
all
in
a
mad
race
with
death,

and
sometimes
it
isn’t
in
time.”



John
Steinbeck



‐‐East
of
Eden



To
You



Stranger,
if
you
passing
meet
me
and
desire
to
speak
to
me,

why
should
you
not
speak
to
me?

And
why
should
I
not
speak
to
you?



Walt
Whitman



From
Non
Sum
Qualis
Eram
Bonae
Sub
Regno
Cynarae

[The
days
when
Cynara
was
queen
will
not
return
for
me
‐‐Catullus]



I
cried
for
madder
music
and
for
stronger
wine,

But
when
the
feast
is
finished
and
the
lamps
expire,

Then
falls
thy
shadow,
Cynara!
the
night
is
thine.



Ernest
Dowson



From
The
Hound
of
Heaven



Across
the
margent
of
the
world
I
fled,

And
troubled
the
gold
gateways
of
the
stars,

Smiting
for
shelter
on
their
clangèd
bars.



Francis
Thompson



From
You
Who
Never
Arrived



You,
Beloved,
who
are
all

the
gardens
I
have
ever
gazed
at,

longing.
An
open
window

in
a
country
house‐,
and
you
almost

stepped
out,
pensive,
to
meet
me.

Streets
that
I
chanced
upon,‐

you
had
just
walked
down
them
and
vanished.

And
sometimes,
in
a
shop,
the
mirrors

were
still
dizzy
with
your
presence
and,
startled,

gave
back
my
too‐sudden
image.
Who
knows?

perhaps
the
same
bird
echoed
through
both
of
us

yesterday,
seperate,
in
the
evening...



Rainer
Maria
Rilke
(translated
by
Stephen
Mitchell)



From
Thus
Piteously
Love
Closed



Ah,
what
a
dusty
answer
gets
the
soul

When
hot
for
certainties
in
this
our
life!



George
Meredith



After
Great
Pain
a
Formal
Feeling
Comes



After
great
pain,
a
formal
feeling
comes‐‐

The
nerves
sit
ceremonious,
like
tombs;

The
stiff
Heart
questions‐‐
was
it
He
that
bore?

And
yesterday‐‐
or
centuries
before?



The
feet
mechanical

Go
round
a
wooden
way

Of
Ground
or
Air
or
Ought,
regardless
grown,

A
quartz
contentment
like
a
stone.



This
is
the
hour
of
lead

Remembered
if
outlived,

As
freezing
persons
recollect
the
snow‐‐

First
chill,
then
stupor,
then
the
letting
go.



Emily
Dickinson



Invictus



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
punishment
the
scroll

I
am
the
Master
of
my
fate

I
am
the
Captain
of
my
soul.



William
Earnest
Henley



(Most
of
the
poems
on
the
page
above
are
from
Oscar
Williams,
ed.,
A
Pocket
Book
of

Modern
Verse.)



‐‐‐



The
virtue
of
fortitude
protects
a
person
from
loving
his
life
in
such
a
way
that
he

loses
it.

...

The
basic
attitude
of
conformity
to
being,
of
impartiality,
and
of
objectivity,
which
is

expressed
in
the
classical
teaching
on
prudence,
was
summarized
in
the
Middle
Ages

in
the
marvelously
simple
sentence,
"A
man
is
wise
when
all
things
taste
to
him
as

they
really
are."

...

The
man
who
does
good
follows
the
lines
of
an
architectural
plan
that
has
not
been

devised
by
himself
or
even
totally
understood
by
himself
in
all
its
components.
This

plan
is
revealed
to
him
moment
by
moment
only
through
a
narrow
cleft
and
a
tiny

gap;
in
his
transient
condition,
he
never
perceives
the
specific
plan
for
himself
in
its

global
and
definitive
form.
Concerning
conscience,
which
to
an
extent
is
prudence

itself,
Paul
Claudel
says
that
it
is
the
"forbearing
lamp
that
characterizes
for
us
not

the
future
but
the
immediate."

...

Thus,
the
world
reveals
itself
to
the
silent
listener
and
only
to
him;
the
more
silently

he
listens,
the
more
purely
is
he
able
to
perceive
reality.

...

One
of
the
most
central
concepts
from
the
moral
philosophy
of
the
High
Middle
Ages

is
that
of
acedia,
which
we,
very
ambiguously,
are
accustomed
to
translate
as

"laziness."
Acedia,
however,
means
this:
that
man
denies
his
effective
assent
to
his

true
essence,
that
he
closes
himself
off
to
the
demand
that
arises
from
his
own

dignity,
that
he
is
not
inclined
to
claim
for
himself
the
grandeur
that
is
imposed
on

him
with
his
essence's
God‐given
nobility
of
being.

...

The
"concupiscence
of
the
eyes"
reaches
its
utmost
destructive
and
extirpative

power
at
the
point
where
it
has
constructed
for
itself
a
world
in
its
own
image
and

likeness,
where
it
has
surrounded
itself
with
the
restlessness
of
a
ceaseless
film
of

meaningless
objects
for
show
and
with
a
literally
deafening
noise
of
nothing
more

than
impressions
and
sensations
that
roar
in
an
uninterrupted
chase
around
every

window
of
the
senses.
Behind
their
papery
facade
of
ostentation
lies
absolute

nothingness,
a
"world"
of
at
most
one‐day
constructs
that
often
become
insipid
after

just
one‐quarter
of
an
hour
and
are
thrown
out
like
a
newspaper
that
has
been
read

or
a
magazine
that
has
been
paged
through;
a
world
which,
before
the
revealing

gaze
of
a
sound
spirit
uninfected
by
its
contagion,
shows
itself
to
be
like
a

metropolitan
entertainment
district
in
the
harsh
clarity
of
a
winter
morning:
barren,

bleak,
and
ghostly
to
the
point
of
pushing
one
to
despair.



Josef
Pieper



‐A
Brief
Reader
on
the
Virtues
of
the
Human
Heart



Great
Counting
Crows
lyrics



From
Round
Here



Step
out
the
front
door
like
a
ghost

Into
the
fog
where
no
one
notices

The
contrast
of
white
on
white.

And
in
between
the
moon
and
you

The
angels
get
a
better
view

Of
the
crumbling
difference
between
wrong
and
right.

I
walk
in
the
air
between
the
rain

Through
myself
and
back
again

Where?
I
don't
know.



From
Mr.
Jones



Believe
in
me,
help
me
believe
in
anything

cause
I
want
to
be
someone
who
believes.

Mr.
Jones
and
me
tell
each
other
fairy
tales

and
we
stare
at
the
beautiful
women:

"She's
looking
at
you.
Ah,
no,
no,
she's
looking
at
me."



From
Daylight
Fading



Waiting
for
the
moon
to
come
and
light
me
up
inside,

And
I
am
waiting
for
the
telephone
to
tell
me
I'm
alive.

...

Moonlight
creeping
around
the
corners
of
our
lawn

When
we
see
the
early
signs
that
daylight's
fading

We
leave
just
before
it's
gone.



From
Goodnight
Elisabeth



We
couldn't
all
be
cowboys,
so
some
of
us
are
clowns

Some
of
us
are
dancers
on
the
midway,

We
roam
from
town
to
town.

I
hope
that
everybody
can
find
a
little
flame.

Me,
I
say
my
prayers,
then
I
just
light
myself
on
fire

And
walk
out
on
the
wire
once
again.



From
A
Long
December
(my
favorite
song
of
all
time)



A
long
December
and
there's
reason
to
believe

Maybe
this
year
will
be
better
than
the
last.

I
can't
remember
the
last
thing
that
you
said
as
you
were
leaving,

Now
the
days
go
by
so
fast.



And
it's
one
more
day
up
in
the
canyons

And
it's
one
more
night
in
Hollywood

If
you
think
that
I
could
be
forgiven...
I
wish
you
would.



The
smell
of
hospitals
in
winter

And
the
feeling
that
it's
all
a
lot
of
oysters,
but
no
pearls

And
all
at
once
you
look
across
a
crowded
room

To
see
the
way
that
light
attaches
to
a
girl.

...

Drove
up
to
Hillside
Manor
sometime
after
two
a.m.

And
talked
a
little
while
about
the
year.

I
guess
the
winter
makes
you
laugh
a
little
slower,

Makes
you
talk
a
little
lower

About
the
things
you
could
not
show
her.

...

I
can't
remember
all
the
times
I
tried
to
tell
myself

To
hold
on
to
these
moments
as
they
pass.

....

It's
been
so
long
since
I've
seen
the
ocean...
I
guess
I
should.



Walkaways



Gotta
rush
away
she
said

I've
been
to
Boston
before

Anyway,
this
change
I've
been
feeling

Doesn't
make
the
rain
fall

No
big
differences
these
days

Just
the
same
old
walkaways

Someday
I'm
going
to
stay,
but
not
today.



From
Mrs.
Potter's
Lullaby



Well
there's
a
piece
of
Maria
in
every
song
that
I
sing

And
the
price
of
a
memory
is
the
memory
of
the
sorrow
it
brings.



Poems
and
Excerpts
from
Czeslaw
Milosz:



From
In
Milan



I
could
compose,
right
now,
a
song

On
the
taste
of
peaches,
on
September
in
Europe.

No
one
can
accuse
me
of
being
without
joy

Or
of
not
noticing
girls
who
pass
by.



From
A
Treatise
on
Poetry



When
they
put
a
rope
around
my
neck,

When
they
choke
off
my
breath
with
a
rope,

I'll
turn
around
once,
and
what
will
I
be?



When
they
give
me
an
injection
of
phenol,

When
I
walk
half
a
step
with
phenol
in
my
veins,

What
wisdom
of
the
prophets
will
enlighten
me?



When
they
tear
us
from
this
one
embrace,

When
they
destroy
forever
the
shaft
of
tender
light,

What
heaven
will
see
us
reunited?



From
Ode



There
is
no
doubt
that
many
perished,
infamously,

Because,
like
an
illiterate
discovering
chemistry,

They
suddenly
discovered
relativity
and
time.

...

For
contemplation
fades
without
resistance.

For
its
own
sake,
it
should
be
forbidden.

And
we,
certainly,
were
happier
than
those

Who
drank
sadness
from
the
books
of
Schopenhauer,

While
they
listened
from
their
garrets
to
the
din

Of
music
from
the
tavern
down
below.

...

If
we,
though
our
thoughts
were
merely
historical,

Will
not
receive
the
laurel
of
long
fame,

So
what,
after
all?
Some
are
given
monuments

And
mausoleums,
yet
in
a
soft
May
rain,

Covered
by
a
single
overcoat,
a
boy
and
girl

Rush
by,
entirely
indifferent
to
that
perfection.

And
some
word
of
us
may
remain
in
any
case,

Some
remembrance
of
our
half‐opened
lips:

They
did
not
have
time
to
say
what
they
wanted.

...

Nothing
but
ocean
which
boils
and
repeats:

In
vain,
in
vain.
Nothingness
is
so
strong

We
try
to
master
it
by
thinking
of
the
bones

Of
pirates,
the
silky
eyebrows
of
governors

On
which
the
crabs
feast.
And
our
hands
grip

Harder
at
the
cool
metal
of
the
railing.

Look
for
help
in
the
smell
of
paint
and
soap.

The
ship's
body,
creaking,
carries
the
freight

Of
our
foolishness,
vagueness,
and
hidden
faith,

The
dirt
of
our
subjectivity,
and
the
homeless

White
faces
of
the
ones
who
were
killed
in
combat.



From
Bobo's
Metamorphosis



I
liked
him
as
he
did
not
look
for
an
ideal
object.

When
he
heard:
"Only
the
object
which
does
not
exist

Is
perfect
and
pure,"
he
blushed
and
turned
away.



In
every
pocket
he
carried
pencils,
pads
of
paper

Together
with
crumbs
of
bread,
the
accidents
of
life.

...

They
reproached
him
with
marrying
one
woman
and
living
with
another.

Have
no
time
‐
he
answered
‐
for
nonsense,
a
divorce
and
so
on.

A
man
gets
up,
a
few
strokes
of
a
brush
and
then
already
it's
evening.



From
Child
of
Europe



Learn
to
predict
a
fire
with
unerring
precision.

Then
burn
the
house
down
to
fulfill
the
prediction.



From
Love



Love
means
to
learn
to
look
at
yourself

The
way
one
looks
at
distant
things

For
you
are
only
one
thing
among
many.

And
whoever
sees
that
way
heals
his
heart,

Without
knowing
it,
from
various
ills—

A
bird
and
a
tree
say
to
him:
Friend.



From
Notebook



I
loved
God
with
all
my
strength
on
the
sandy
roads
that
wound
through
forests.



From
Classmate



Why
her
precisely,
I
don't
understand.

I'm
not
sure
I'd
recognize
her
on
a
busy
street.



If
there
is
no
God



If
there
is
no
God,

Not
everything
is
permitted
to
man.

He
is
still
his
brother's
keeper

And
he
is
not
permitted
to
sadden
his
brother

By
saying
there
is
no
God.



From
What
I
learned
from
Jeanne
Hersch



That
quite
independently
of
the
fate
of
religious
denominations
we
should
preserve

a
"philosophical
faith,"
i.e.,
a
belief
in
transcendence
as
a
measure
of
humanity.

...

That
in
our
lives
we
should
not
succumb
to
despair
because
of
our
errors
and
our

sins,
for
the
past
is
never
closed
down
and
receives
the
meaning
we
give
it
by
our

subsequent
acts.

...

That
we
should
be
aware
that
our
being
is
enclosed
within
the
circle
of
its

perceptions,
but
not
reduce
reality
to
dreams
and
the
phantoms
of
the
mind.

...

That
the
proper
attitude
toward
being
is
respect
and
that
we
must,
therefore,
avoid

the
company
of
people
who
debase
being
with
their
sarcasm,
and
praise

nothingness.



From
Orpheus
and
Eurydice
(Milosz's
last
published
poem)



For
his
defense
he
had
a
nine‐stringed
lyre.

He
carried
in
it
the
music
of
the
earth,
against
the
abyss

That
buries
all
of
sound
in
silence.

He
submitted
to
the
music,
yielded

To
the
dictation
of
a
song,
listening
with
rapt
attention,

Became,
like
his
lyre,
its
instrument.

...

He
sang
the
brightness
of
morning
and
green
rivers,

He
sang
of
smoking
water
in
the
rose‐colored
daybreaks,

Of
colors:
cinnabar,
carmine,
burnt
sienna,
blue,

Of
the
delight
of
swimming
in
the
sea
under
marble
cliffs,

Of
feasting
on
a
terrace
above
the
tumult
of
a
fishing
port,

Of
the
tastes
of
wine,
olive
oil,
almonds,
mustard,
salt.

Of
the
flight
of
the
swallow,
the
falcon,

Of
a
dignified
flock
of
pelicans
above
a
bay,

Of
the
scene
of
an
armful
of
lilacs
in
summer
rain,

Of
his
having
composed
his
words
always
against
death

And
of
having
made
no
rhyme
in
praise
of
nothingness.

...

Unable
to
weep,
he
wept
at
the
loss

Of
the
human
hope
for
the
resurrection
of
the
dead.

He
was,
now,
like
every
other
mortal.

His
lyre
was
silent
and
in
his
dream
he
was
defenceless.

He
knew
he
must
have
faith
and
he
could
not
have
faith.



Musée
des
Beaux
Arts



About
suffering
they
were
never
wrong,

The
Old
Masters:
how
well
they
understood

Its
human
position;
how
it
takes
place

While
someone
else
is
eating
or
opening
a
window
or
just
walking
dully
along;

How
when
the
aged
are
reverently,
passionately
waiting

For
the
miraculous
birth,
there
always
must
be

Children
who
did
not
specially
want
it
to
happen,
skating

On
a
pond
at
the
edge
of
the
wood:

They
never
forgot

That
even
the
dreadful
martyrdom
must
run
its
course

Anyhow
in
a
corner,
some
untidy
spot

Where
the
dogs
go
on
with
their
doggy
life
and
the
torturer's
horse

Scratches
its
innocent
behind
on
a
tree.

In
Brueghel's
Icarus,
for
instance:
how
everything
turns
away

Quite
leisurely
from
the
disaster;
the
ploughman
may

Have
heard
the
splash,
the
forsaken
cry,

But
for
him
it
was
not
an
important
failure;
the
sun
shone

As
it
had
to
on
the
white
legs
disappearing
into
the
green

Water;
and
the
expensive
delicate
ship
that
must
have
seen

Something
amazing,
a
boy
falling
out
of
the
sky,

Had
somewhere
to
get
to
and
sailed
calmly
on.



From
Lay
your
sleeping
head,
my
love



Lay
your
sleeping
head,
my
love,

Human
on
my
faithless
arm;

...

Certainly,
fidelity

On
the
stroke
of
midnight
pass

Like
vibrations
of
a
bell,

And
fashionable
madmen
raise

Their
pedantic
boring
cry:

Every
farthing
of
the
cost,

All
the
dreaded
cards
foretell,

Shall
be
paid,
but
from
this
night

Not
a
whisper,
not
a
thought,

Not
a
kiss
nor
look
be
lost.



From
September
1,
1939



Faces
along
the
bar

Cling
to
their
average
day:

The
lights
must
never
go
out,

The
music
must
always
play,

All
the
conventions
conspire

To
make
this
fort
assume

The
furniture
of
home;

Lest
we
should
see
where
we
are,

Lost
in
a
haunted
wood,

Children
afraid
of
the
night

Who
have
never
been
happy
or
good.

...

May
I,
composed
like
them

Of
Eros
and
of
dust,

Beleaguered
by
the
same

Negation
and
despair,

Show
an
affirming
flame.



From
Bynum
and
Grummon,
Policy
Choices:
Framing
the
Debate
for
Michigan's

Future:



“Where
a
business
strategy
is
focused
on
just
being
a
low
cost
producer,
investment

in
training
is
likely
to
be
constrained.
In
contrast,
where
a
business
strategy
is

focused
on
being
a
high
value‐added
producer,
investment
in
human
resources
will

be
viewed
as
essential
to
business
success.”



‐Cutcher‐Gershenfeld
&
Ford,
"Worker
Training
in
Michigan"



“No
great
nation
allows
its
cities
to
deteriorate.
Our
competitor
nations
in
the
rest
of

the
advanced
industrialized
world
recognize
the
importance
of
cities
to
their

economic
prosperity.
They
do
not
allow
their
roads,
bridges,
subways,
and
other

infrastructure
to
crumble.
They
do
not
permit
the
level
of
sheer
destitution
–

homelessness,
hunger,
poverty
and
slums
–
found
in
America’s
cities.
They
invest

much
more
in
their
urban
schools,
workers,
and
families.”



‐Fmr.
Boston
Mayor
Ray
Flynn,
quoted
in
LaMore,
“The
Future
of
Distressed

Communities
in
Michigan”



“In
other
words,
most
blacks
in
Michigan
are
isolated
in
economic
areas
of
no

growth
in
central
cities,
while
the
economic
opportunities
are
expanding
in

predominately
white
suburban
areas.
Furthermore,
employers
are
more
likely
to

hire
job
seekers
whose
physical
and
cultural
attributes,
i.e.
race
and
background,
are

similar
to
their
own
and/or
their
present
employees.
Employers
are
also
more
likely

to
hire
employees
who
attended
schools
and
live
in
neighborhoods
similar
to
those

of
their
present
employees.
These
constrained
opportunities
make
it
more
probable

that
blacks
will
be
the
least
likely
group
to
be
hired.
Thus,
discrimination
and

segregation
in
housing,
schools,
and
employment
systematically
create
and

perpetuate
social
and
economic
inequality
between
blacks
and
whites.
Such

inequality
is
intensified
by
uneven
economic
investment
and
structural
changes
in

the
state’s
economy.”



‐Darden,
"The
State
of
Black
Michigan"



Deer



Sad
creature,
neck
stretched
out;

Dignified
always,
you
say
nothing
at
all.

With
your
crown
so
fragrant,

Yours
was
too
noble
a
clan.



As
you
stare
into
the
depths

And
think
of
lost
legends,

In
overwhelming
sadness,
you
turn
your
neck

And
look
toward
mountains
far
away.



No
Ch’onmyong



Silent,
but…



I
may
be
silent,
but

I’m
thinking.

I
may
not
talk,
but

Don’t
mistake
me
for
a
wall.



Tsuboi
Shigeji



Through
the
train
window,

Far
away
to
the
north,

The
hills
above
my
home

Come
slowly
into
sight,

And
I
straighten
my
collar.



Ishikawa
Takuboku



Today,
my
friends

All
seemed
to
be

More
a
success
than
I.

So
I
brought
flowers

And
took
them
to

My
wife,
to
make
her
happy.



Ishikawa
Takuboku



Star



How
far
far
away

one
star
looks,
when
I’m
lying
on
my
back.



At
the
same
time
how
near,
as
if
linked

by
a
golden
thread
to
the
corner
of
my
squinting
eye,



and
in
the
night,
when
I
gently
wake,

how
tightly
I
press
against
the
window‐pane,
peeping
out.



Abruptly,
as
if
sprouting,

as
if
waiting
to
be
called,
as
if
welcoming,



suddenly,
a
lonely
flame
flares
within
my
soul

in
regrets
that
gust
like
the
wind.



I
rise
in
my
white
night‐clothes

and
clasp
my
hands
to
my
heart.



Chong
Chi­yong



Sorrow
of
Parting



In
the
ear
of
an
anchor,
a
gull
croaks.

Suddenly,
without
a
word,
the
anchor
glides
down.

Startled,
the
seagull
takes
off.

In
a
moment,
the
anchor
turns
pale
in
the
water,
sinking.

And
what
the
seagull
feels
becomes
a
wild,
sad
scream

Lost
in
the
wind.



Maruyama
Kaoru



Night
song
of
a
traveler



Cold
rain
swirls
savagely,

The
lantern
in
my
head
hardly

Pierces
the
gloom
at
my
feet,

Walking
through
endless
night.



Why
should
I
be
walking?

I
have
put
them
aside
–
engulfing

Bed,
warm
talk,
light.
But

Why
should
I
be
walking?



When
dawn
comes,
before
I
sleep,

Where
should
I
get
to?
And,
once
there,

What
should
I
do?



Wet
through
to
the
skin
–

But,
wet,
I
recall

Only
good
memories.



Shall
I
go
home?

Or
shall
I
go
down

That
street
of
red
lights?

No.
Into
the
darkness.



Tachihara
Michizo



From
To
think
of
time



Walt
Whitman



To
think
how
eager
we
are
in
building
our
houses,

To
think
others
shall
be
just
as
eager
and
we
quite
indifferent.



From
Whoever
you
are
holding
me
now
in
hand



Walt
Whitman



Carry
me
when
you
go
forth
over
land
or
sea;

For
thus
merely
touching
you
is
enough,
is
best,

And
thus
touching
you
would
I
silently
sleep
and
be
carried
eternally.



Quotes
from
Peter
Singer,
One
World:
The
Ethics
of
Globalization:



“The
value
of
the
life
of
an
innocent
human
being
does
not
vary
according
to

nationality.”



"Democracy,
in
the
sense
of
the
rule
of
the
majority,
does
not
provide
a
guarantee

that
human
rights
will
be
respected.
But
a
democratic
process
requires
that
the

policies
of
the
government
be
publicly
defended
and
justified.
They
cannot
simply

be
implemented
from
above…
if
genocide
has
to
be
defended
on
primetime

television,
it
will
become
rare
indeed.”



“Economics
raises
questions
of
value,
and
economists
tend
to
be
too
focused
on

markets
to
give
sufficient
importance
to
values
that
are
not
dealt
with
well
by
the

market.”





From
Does
spring
come
to
stolen
fields?



Yi
Sanghwa



This
land
is
no
longer
our
own.

Does
spring
come
just
the
same

to
the
stolen
fields?



When
that
day
comes

Sim
Hun



When
that
day
comes

Mount
Samgak
will
rise
and
dance,

the
waters
of
Han
will
rise
up.



If
that
day
comes
before
I
perish,

I
will
soar
like
a
crow
at
night

and
pound
the
Chongno
bell
with
my
head.

The
bones
of
my
skull

will
scatter,
but
I
shall
die
in
joy.



When
that
day
comes
at
last

I'll
roll
and
leap
and
shout
on
the
boulevard

and
if
joy
still
stifles
within
my
breast

I'll
take
a
knife



and
skin
my
body
and
make

a
magical
drum
and
march
with
it

in
the
vanguard.
O
procession!

Let
me
once
hear
that
thundering
shout,

my
eyes
can
close
then.



Translated
by
Peter
H.
Lee
in
Modern
Korean
Literature:
An
Anthology



From
Escapist
–
Never



Robert
Frost



His
life
is
a
pursuit
of
a
pursuit
forever.

It
is
the
future
that
creates
his
present.

All
is
an
interminable
chain
of
longing.



To
Marguerite
­
Continued



Matthew
Arnold



Yes!
in
the
sea
of
life
enisled,

With
echoing
straits
between
us
thrown,

Dotting
the
shoreless
watery
wild,

We
mortal
millions
live
alone.

The
islands
feel
the
enclasping
flow,

And
then
their
endless
bounds
they
know.



But
when
the
moon
their
hollows
lights,

And
they
are
swept
by
balms
of
spring,

And
in
their
glens,
on
starry
nights,

The
nightingales
divinely
sing;

And
lovely
notes,
from
shore
to
shore,

Across
the
sounds
and
channels
pour
‐



O!
then
a
longing
like
despair

Is
to
their
farthest
caverns
sent;

For
surely
once,
they
feel,
we
were

Parts
of
a
single
continent!

Now
round
us
spreads
the
watery
plain—

O
might
our
marges
meet
again!



Who
order'd
that
their
longing's
fire

Should
be,
as
soon
as
kindled,
cooled?

Who
renders
vain
their
deep
desire?—

A
God,
a
God
their
severance
ruled!

And
bade
betwixt
their
shores
to
be

The
unplumbed,
salt,
estranging
sea.



From
Exiled



Edna
St.
Vincent
Millay



Always
I
climbed
the
wave
at
morning,

Shook
the
sand
from
my
shoes
at
night,

That
now
am
caught
beneath
great
buildings,

Stricken
with
noise,
confused
with
light.

...

I
should
be
happy,
that
am
happy

Never
at
all
since
I
came
here.

I
am
too
long
away
from
water.

I
have
a
need
of
water
near.



Song
of
the
Master
and
Boatswain



W.H.
Auden



At
Dirty
Dick’s
and
Sloppy
Joe’s

We
drank
our
liquor
straight,

Some
went
upstairs
with
Margery,

And
some,
alas,
with
Kate;

And
two
by
two
like
cat
and
mouse,

The
homeless
played
at
keeping
house.



There
Wealthy
Meg,
the
Sailor’s
Friend,

And
Marion,
cow‐eyed,

Opened
their
arms
to
me,
but
I

Refused
to
step
inside;

I
was
not
looking
for
a
cage

In
which
to
mope
in
my
old
age.



The
nightingales
are
sobbing
in

The
orchards
of
our
mothers,

And
hearts
that
we
broke
long
ago

Have
long
been
breaking
others;

Tears
are
round,
the
sea
is
deep:

Roll
them
overboard
and
sleep.



Window



Carl
Sandburg



Night
from
a
railroad
car
window

Is
a
great,
dark,
soft
thing

Broken
across
with
slashes
of
light.



‐‐‐



These
weak
walls

Of
the
world
fall

And
heaven,
in
floods,
comes
pouring
in:



Sink
from
your
shallows,
soul,
into
eternity,

And
slake
your
wonder
at
that
deep‐lake
spring.

We
touch
the
rays
we
cannot
see,

We
feel
the
light
that
seems
to
sing.



‐From
Thomas
Merton,
"After
the
Night
Office
‐
Gethsemani
Abbey"



‐‐‐



We
have
become
more
humble
than
the
rocks,

More
wakeful
than
the
patient
hills.



‐From
Thomas
Merton,
"Advent"



‐‐‐



No
one
can
hear
the
loud
voice
of
the
city

Because
of
the
tremendous
silence

Of
this
slow‐moving
river,
quiet
as
space.



‐From

Thomas
Merton,
"The
Ohio
River
‐
Louisville"



‐‐‐



But
look:
the
valleys
shine
with
promises



‐From
Thomas
Merton,
"The
Trappist
Cemetery
‐
Gethsemani"



‐‐‐



Aubade
­
The
City



Thomas
Merton



Now
that
the
clouds
have
come
like
cattle

To
the
cold
waters
of
the
city's
river,

All
the
windows
turn
their
scandalized
expression

Toward
the
tide's
tin
dazzle,



And
question,
with
their
weak‐eyed
stare,

The
riotous
sun.



From
several
places
at
a
time

Cries
of
defiance,

As
delicate
as
frost,
as
sharp
as
glass,

Rise
from
the
porcelain
buildings

And
break
in
the
blue
sky.



Then,
falling
swiftly
from
the
air,

The
fragments
of
this
fragile
indignation

Ring
on
the
echoing
streets

No
louder
than
a
shower
of
pins.



But
suddenly
the
bridges'
choiring
cables

Jangle
gently
in
the
wind

And
play
like
quiet
piano‐strings.



All
down
the
faces
of
the
buildings

Windows
begin
to
close

Like
figures
in
a
long
division.



Those
whose
eyes
all
night
have
simulated
sleep,

Suddenly
stare,
from
where
they
lie,
like
wolves,

Tied
in
the
tangle
of
the
bedding,



And
listen
for
the
waking
blood

To
flood
the
apprehensive
silence
of
their
flesh.

They
fear
the
heart
that
now
lies
quenched
may
quicken,

And
start
to
romp
against
the
rib,

Soft
and
insistent
as
a
secret
bell.



They
also
fear
the
light
will
grow

Into
the
windows
of
their
hiding
places,
like
a
tree

Of
tropical
flowers

And
put
them,
one
by
one,
to
flight.



Then
life
will
have
to
begin.

Pieces
of
paper,
lying
in
the
streets,

Will
start
up,
in
the
twisting
wind,

And
fly
like
idiot
birds
before
the
faces
of
the
crowds.

And
in
the
roaring
buildings

Elevator
doors
will
have
begun

To
clash
like
sabres.



‐‐



Love,
too,
is
a
man's
affair.
We
feared
parting
at
meeting,
warned
against
it,
but

parting
came
unawares
and
the
startled
heart
bursts
with
new
sorrow.



Han
Yongun


‐‐From
"The
Silence
of
Love”
in
Lee,
Modern
Korean
Literature:
An
Anthology




I
am
a
ferryboat,

You
are
a
traveler.


 

You
tread
on
me
with
muddy
feet,

I
embrace
you
and
cross
the
water.

When
I
embrace
you,
I
can
cross
deeps,
shallow,
or
rapids.



When
you
don't
come,
I
wait
from
night
to
day,
exposed
to
the
wind,
wet
with
snow

and
rain.



Once
across
the
water,
you
never
look
back
at
me.

Yet
I
know
you
will
come
sooner
or
later.

Waiting
for
you,
I
grow
older
day
after
day.



I
am
a
ferryboat,

You
are
a
traveler.



Han
Yongun



‐‐“The
Ferryboat
and
the
Traveler”
in
Lee,
Modern
Korean
Literature:
An
Anthology




Again
last
night,

at
a
country
inn

grackles
screeched
at
dawn.



Today

how
many
miles

again
lead
where?



Away
to
the
mountains,

to
the
plains?

With
no
place
that
calls
me

I
go
nowhere.



Don't
talk
of
my
home,

Chongju
Kwaksan,

for
the
train
and
the
boat
go
there.



Hear
me,
wild
geese
in
the
sky:

I
stand
at
the
center
of
the
crossroads.

Again
and
again
the
paths
branch,

but
no
way
is
mine.



Kim
Sowol



‐‐“The
Road”
in
Lee,
Modern
Korean
Literature:
An
Anthology




When
you
leave,

weary
of
me,

without
a
word
I
shall
gently
let
you
go.



From
Mount
Yak

in
Yongbyon,

I
shall
gather
armfuls
of
azaleas

and
scatter
them
on
your
way.



Step
by
step

on
the
flowers
placed
before
you

tread
lightly,
softly
as
you
go.



When
you
leave,

weary
of
me,

though
I
die,
I'll
not
let
one
tear
fall.



Kim
Sowol



‐‐“Azaleas”
in
Lee,
Modern
Korean
Literature:
An
Anthology




"Look!
Will
you
look
at
the
sky,
pig!
Good,
that's
enough.
What
is
there
so

extraordinary
about
it?
Qua
sky.
It
is
pale
and
luminous
like
any
sky
at
this
hour
of

the
day.
In
these
latitudes.
When
the
weather
is
fine.
An
hour
ago
roughly
after

having
poured
forth
even
since
say
ten
o'clock
in
the
morning
tirelessly
torrents
of

red
and
white
light
it
begins
to
lose
its
effulgence,
to
grow
pale
pale,
ever
a
little

paler,
a
little
paler
until
pppfff!
finished!
it
comes
to
rest.
But
‐
but
behind
this
veil
of

gentleness
and
peace
night
is
charging
and
will
burst
upon
us
(snaps
his
fingers)

pop!
like
that!
just
when
we
least
expect
it.
That's
how
it
is
on
this
bitch
of
an
earth."



"But
you
can't
go
barefoot!"
"Christ
did."
"Christ!
What
has
Christ
got
to
do
with
it?

You're
not
going
to
compare
yourself
to
Christ!"
"All
my
life
I've
compared
myself
to

him."
"But
where
he
lived
it
was
warm,
it
was
dry!"
"Yes.
And
they
crucified
quick."

…

"Say,
I
am
happy."
"I
am
happy."
"So
am
I."
"So
am
I."
"We
are
happy."
"We
are

happy."
(Silence).
"What
do
we
do
now,
now
that
we
are
happy?"

…

"The
best
thing
would
be
to
kill
me,
like
the
other."
"What
other?
What
other?"
"Like

billions
of
others."
"To
every
man
his
little
cross.
Till
he
dies.
And
is
forgotten."
"In

the
meantime
let
us
try
and
converse
calmly,
since
we
are
incapable
of
keeping

silent."
"You're
right,
we're
inexhaustible."
"It's
so
we
won't
think."

…

"All
the
dead
voices."
"They
make
a
noise
like
wings."
"Like
leaves."
"Like
sand."

"Like
leaves."
"They
all
speak
at
once."
"Each
one
to
itself."
"Rather
they
whisper."

"They
rustle."
"They
murmur."
"They
rustle."
"What
do
they
say?"
"They
talk
about

their
lives."
"To
have
lived
is
not
enough
for
them."
"They
have
to
talk
about
it."

…

"Let
us
not
waste
our
time
in
idle
discourse!
Let
us
do
something,
while
we
have
the

chance!
It
is
not
every
day
that
we
are
needed.
Not
indeed
that
we
personally
are

needed.
Others
would
meet
the
case
equally
well,
if
not
better.
To
all
mankind
they

were
addressed,
those
cries
for
help
still
ringing
in
our
ears!
But
at
this
place,
at
this

moment
of
time,
all
mankind
is
us,
whether
we
like
it
or
not.
Let
us
make
the
most
of

it,
before
it
is
too
late!
Let
us
represent
worthily
for
once
the
foul
brood
to
which
a

cruel
fate
consigned
us!"

…

"All
I
know
is
that
the
hours
are
long,
under
these
conditions,
and
constrain
us
to

beguile
them
with
proceedings
which
‐
how
shall
I
say
‐
which
may
at
first
sight

seem
reasonable,
until
they
become
a
habit."

…

"They
give
birth
astride
of
a
grave,
the
light
gleams
an
instant,
then
it's
night
once

more."

…

"Was
I
sleeping,
while
the
others
suffered?
Am
I
sleeping
now?
To‐morrow,
when
I

wake,
or
think
I
do,
what
shall
I
say
of
today?"
...
"At
me
too
someone
is
looking,
of

me
too
someone
is
saying,
He
is
sleeping,
he
knows
nothing,
let
him
sleep
on."



Samuel
Beckett



‐‐Waiting
for
Godot



Some
commitments
are
to
purposes
which
involve
much
sacrifice
and
very
great

depth
of
involvement.
A
commitment
to
a
war...
is
typically
one
that
is
very
hard
to

reverse,
even
if
conditions
have
changed
from
the
time
when
the
thing
started.
Even

if
experience
has
shown
the
unexpectedly
undesirable
consequences
of
a

commitment,
the
past
may
continue
to
rule
the
present.



Kenneth
Arrow

‐‐The
Limits
of
Organization
(quoted
in
Yang,
Calamity
and
Reform
in
China)



I
have
come
to
the
conclusion
that
one
useless
man
is
called
a
disgrace,
that
two
are

called
a
law
firm,
and
that
three
or
more
become
a
Congress.



‐John
Adams



On
the
twelfth
of
June,
1812,
the
forces
of
Western
Europe
crossed
the
Russian

frontier
and
war
began,
that
is,
an
event
took
place
opposed
to
human
reason
and
to

human
nature.
Millions
of
men
perpetrated
against
one
another
such
innumerable

crimes,
frauds,
treacheries,
thefts,
forgeries,
issues
of
false
money,
burglaries,

incendiarisms,
and
murders
as
in
whole
centuries
are
not
recorded
in
the
annals
of

all
the
law
courts
of
the
world,
but
which
those
who
committed
them
did
not
at
the

time
regard
as
being
crimes.

…

Even
in
the
best,
most
friendly
and
simplest
relations
of
life,
praise
and

commendation
are
essential,
just
as
grease
is
necessary
to
wheels
that
they
may
run

smoothly.



Leo
Tolstoy

‐‐War
and
Peace



There
is
not
such
a
cradle
of
democracy
upon
the
earth
as
the
Free
Public
Library,

this
republic
of
letters,
where
neither
rank,
office,
nor
wealth
receives
the
slightest

consideration.



‐Andrew
Carnegie



If
the
property‐owner
chose
to
enlarge
his
property
instead
of
using
it
up
in
leading

a
political
life,
it
was
as
though
he
willingly
sacrificed
his
freedom
and
became

voluntarily
what
the
slave
was
against
his
own
will,
a
servant
of
necessity.

...

Poverty
forces
the
free
man
to
act
like
a
slave.

...

The
full
development
of
the
life
of
hearth
and
family
into
an
inner
and
private
space

we
owe
to
the
extraordinary
political
sense
of
the
Roman
people
who,
unlike
the

Greeks,
never
sacrificed
the
private
to
the
public,
but
on
the
contrary
understood

that
these
two
realms
could
exist
only
in
the
form
of
coexistence.



Hannah
Arendt

­­The
Human
Condition



There
are
long
visioned
minds
and
short
visioned.
I've
never
been
able
to
see
things

that
are
close
to
me.
For
instance,
I
am
much
more
aware
of
the
Parthenon
than
of

my
own
house
over
there.

...

At
first
she
nagged
him
a
great
deal
about
his
laziness
and
his
sloppiness
of
dress,

but
he
soon
developed
a
faculty
for
never
listening
to
her.
It
would
be
impolite,
he

considered,
to
notice
her
when
she
was
not
being
a
lady.
It
would
be
like
staring
at
a

cripple.



John
Steinbeck

­­Junius
Maltby



Like
gentle
rain
passing
through
the
windows
of
the
eyes,
beauty
prompts
the
soul

to
sprout
wings
again,
to
soar
to
the
dwelling
of
the
gods,
from
where
the
soul

originated.

...

For
beauty,
specifically
physical
beauty,
if
man
approaches
it
receptively,
can
affect

and
strike
him
more
than
any
other
"value,"
can
push
him
outside
the
realm
of
his

familiar
and
controlled
environment,
outside
his
"neatly
explained
world"....

....

At
this
point
something
important
comes
into
view:
the
difference
between
desire

and
love.
He
who
desires
knows
clearly
what
he
wants;
at
heart
he
is
calculating,

entirely
self‐possessed.
Yet
desire
is
not
the
same
as
love;
the
one
being
loved
is,
in
a

strict
sense,
not
the
one
who
is
being
desired
but
the
one
for
whom
something
is

desired.



Josef
Pieper

­­Divine
Madness:
Plato's
Case
Against
Secular
Humanism



You
brought
things
faraway
to
our
backyard
where
they
don't
belong,
where
they

just
tell
you,
'No,
you'll
never
travel,
Lena
Auffmann,
Paris
you'll
never
see!
Rome

you'll
never
visit.'



Ray
Bradbury



‐‐Dandelion
Wine



(The
Protestant
Reformation
compelled)
Rome
to
become
once
more
the
expression

of
a
world‐wide
spiritual
power,
to
raise
itself
from
the
soulless
debasement
in

which
it
lay,
and
to
place
itself
at
the
head
of
all
the
enemies
of
this
reformation.
The

institution
thus
developed...in
the
face
of
the
defection
of
half
Europe,
was
a
new,

regenerated
heirarchy,
which
avoided
all
the
great
and
dangerous
scandals
of

former
times,
particularly
nepotism,
with
its
attempts
at
territorial
aggrandizement,

and
which,
in
alliance
with
the
Catholic
princes,
and
impelled
by
a
new‐born

spiritual
force,
found
its
chief
work
in
the
recovery
of
what
had
been
lost.
It
only

existed
and
is
only
intelligible
in
opposition
to
the
seceders.
In
this
sense
it
can
be

said
with
perfect
truth
that
the
moral
salvation
of
the
Papacy
was
due
to
its
mortal

enemies.



Jacob
Burckhardt

­­The
Civilization
of
the
Renaissance
in
Italy



No
relegating
of
our
hopes
to
a
Beyond
can
give
us
rest,
for
it
is
the
Beyond
itself

standing
outside
and
knocking
on
the
closed
doors
of
the
here‐and‐now
that
is
the

chief
cause
of
our
unrest.

....

We
affirm
the
thesis
of
romanticism
that
the
kingdom
of
God
has
not
yet
begun,
as

well
as
the
thesis
of
humanism
that
even
fallen
man
is
the
bearer
of
the
divine
spark.

We
affirm
life.

....

It
is
not
ours
to
be
onlookers;
it
is
ours
to
take
our
appointed
place
in
the
world's

march.
We
are
forced
to
it
by
the
consciousness
of
solid
responsibility
laid
upon
our

souls
for
the
degenerate
world;
we
are
forced
to
it
by
the
thought
of
the
Creator
who

is
and
remains
the
Creator
even
of
our
fallen
world.
However
true
it
may
be
that

everything
we
do
within
the
limits
of
mere
particular
things
and
events
is
only
play

in
relation
to
what
really
should
be
done,
it
is
none
the
less
significant
play
if
it
is

rightly
engaged
in.

....

To
invent
means
to
find,
and
in
the
streets
and
market
places
of
Athens
of
the

Peloponnesian
War,
which
was
no
civitas
Dei
(City
of
God)
‐
in
the
physician's,
the

architect's,
and
the
helmsman's
knowledge
of
the
meaning
and
aim
of
their

professions,
however
isolated
and
fragmentary
their
knowledge
was
‐
Socrates

found
a
direct
indication
of
the
meaning
and
aim
of
life.
His
findings
astonished
him.

And
his
astonishment
was
genuine
worship
of
God
the
Creator.

….

Ought
we,
taking
our
stand
against
the
world,
against
unchristian
views
of
life,
and

against
the
unreligious
masses,
to
have
been
flinging
out
accusations
which
we
had

not
first
applied
in
their
full
weight
to
our
own
selves
‐
and
applied
so
forcefully
as

to
have
squeezed
out
of
us
what
breath
we
had
for
condemning
others?

....

Let
us
not
contrast
ourselves
too
quickly
with
those
to
whom
the
cross
is
a

stumbling‐block
and
a
foolishness,
for
as
a
matter
of
fact
we
all
belong
with
them.

‐‐‐

"The
voice
of
him
that
crieth
in
the
wilderness,
Prepare
ye
the
way
of
the
Lord,
make

straight
in
the
desert
a
highway
for
our
God.
Every
valley
shall
be
exalted,
and
every

mountain
and
hill
shall
be
made
low;
and
the
crooked
shall
be
made
straight,
and

the
rough
places
plain;
and
the
glory
of
the
Lord
shall
be
revealed!"
This
is
the
voice

of
our
conscience,
telling
us
of
the
righteousness
of
God.
And
since
conscience
is
the

perfect
interpreter
of
life,
what
it
tells
us
is
no
question,
no
riddle,
no
problem,
but
a

fact
‐
the
deepest,
innermost,
surest
fact
of
life:
God
is
righteous.
Our
only
question

is
what
attitude
toward
the
fact
we
ought
to
take.



We
shall
hardly
approach
the
fact
with
our
critical
reason.
The
reason
sees
the
small

and
the
larger
but
not
the
large.
It
sees
the
preliminary
but
not
the
final,
the
derived

but
not
the
original,
the
complex
but
not
the
simple.
It
sees
what
is
human
but
not

what
is
divine.



Karl
Barth

­­The
Word
of
God
and
the
Word
of
Man



There
is
no
reason
why
in
a
society
which
has
reached
the
general
level
of
wealth

which
ours
has
attained
(security
against
severe
physical
privation)
should
not
be

guaranteed
to
all
without
endangering
general
freedom...
there
can
be
no
doubt
that

some
minimum
of
food,
shelter,
and
clothing,
sufficient
to
preserve
health
and
the

capacity
to
work,
can
be
assured
to
everybody.



F.A.
Hayek

­­The
Road
to
Serfdom



The
liberal
story
began
with
a
different
fear
about
America.
If
cold‐war

conservatives
worried
that
Americans
no
longer
saw
their
own
virtue,
cold‐war

liberals
worried
that
Americans
saw
only
their
virtue.
The
A.D.A.'s
most
important

intellectual...
was
the
tall,
German‐American
theologian
Reinhold
Niebuhr.
Niebuhr

was
a
dedicated
opponent
of
communism,
but
he
was
concerned
that
in
pursuing
a

just
cause,
Americans
would
lose
sight
of
their
own
capacity
for
injustice.
"We
must

take,
and
must
continue
to
take,
morally
hazardous
actions
to
preserve
our

civilization,"
he
wrote.
"We
must
exercise
our
power.
But
we
ought
neither
to

believe
that
a
nation
is
capable
of
perfect
disinterestedness
in
its
exercise
nor

become
complacent
about
particular
degrees
of
interest
and
passion
which
corrupt

the
justice
by
which
the
exercise
of
power
is
legitimized."
Americans,
Niebuhr

argued,
should
not
emulate
the
absolute
self‐confidence
of
their
enemies.
They

should
not
pretend
that
a
country
that
countenanced
McCarthyism
and
segregation

was
morally
pure.
Rather,
they
should
cultivate
enough
self‐doubt
to
ensure
that

unlike
the
Communists',
their
idealism
never
degenerated
into
fanaticism.
Open‐
mindedness,
he
argued,
is
not
"a
virtue
of
people
who
don't
believe
anything.
It
is
a

virtue
of
people
who
know.
.
.that
their
beliefs
are
not
absolutely
true."



Peter
Beinhart

‐‐“The
Rehabilitation
of
the
Cold‐War
Liberal”



Each
major
faith
tradition
is
a
radical,
life‐embracing
commitment.
It
is
a
whole
way

of
life
which
is
not
just
about
beliefs
or
truth
claims.
...The
religions
can
then
be
seen

as
traditions
of
worship
whose
task,
as
Nicholas
Lash
has
described
it,
is
to
wean

people
away
from
inadequate
ultimates,
gods
or
idols,
which
dominate,
consume,

and
distort
their
lives,
and
to
reorient
and
energize
their
desires
through

engagement
with
their
traditions'
members,
institutions,
practices,
and
beliefs.

‐‐‐

There
have
been
devastating
consequences
when
religious
communities
have
had

negative
attitudes
to
study,
scholarship,
and
intelligent
faith,
or
have
failed
to
face

intelligently
major
questions,
discoveries,
or
developments.

‐‐

(Atheistic
materialism)
is
an
extreme
because
it
treats
Christian
theology
from
the

outside,
coming
to
it
with
a
mind
already
made
up
and
simply
using
it
within
its
own

framework
where
it
fits.
Yet
it
represents
a
very
common
attitude
toward
Christian

(or
other)
theology
in
our
culture:
assuming
it
is
outdated,
untrue,
immoral,
or

imaginatively
restrictive,
approving
of
it
when
it
fits
one's
own
framework,
but
not

having
any
serious
dialogue
with
theology
or
allowing
it
any
practical
influence.

Often
it
is
simply
ignorant
of
the
best
in
theology,
and
is
working
with
caricatures
of

Christianity;
but,
even
when
it
is
well‐informed,
it
frequently
displays
what
the

previous
chapter
called
the
'superiority
complex'
of
much
modernity.



David
F.
Ford

­­Theology:
A
Very
Short
Introduction



He
is
not
the
god
of
a
place
but
the
God
of
men:
the
God
of
Abraham,
Isaac,
and

Jacob.
He
is
therefore
not
bound
to
one
spot
but
is
present
and
powerful
wherever

man
is.
In
this
fashion
one
arrives
at
a
completely
different
way
of
thinking
about

God.
God
is
seen
on
the
plane
of
I
and
You,
not
on
the
plane
of
the
spatial.
...He
is
not

anywhere
in
particular;
he
is
to
be
found
at
any
place
where
man
is
and
where
man

lets
himself
be
found
by
him.



Joseph
Cardinal
Ratzinger

‐‐Introduction
to
Christianity