Almost every year about this time when the temperature starts dipping into the “man is it cold” state of things I am reminded of this book, Our Own Sung Fireside, Images of the New England Home 1760-1860 by Jane C. Nylander Continue reading →
For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach. — J.R.R. Tolkien, The Return of the King. Continue reading →
I copied this out a few years ago, but I’ve been thinking of it on and off the past few days so that must mean it bears repeating. All the best to you, friends and gentle readers! Letter To A … Continue reading →
I must not fear. • Fear is the mind-killer. • Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. • I will face my fear. • I will permit it to pass over me and through me. • And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. • Where the fear has gone there will be nothing….only I will remain. Liturgy of Fear — Frank Herbert Continue reading →
X. Under the thigh of Geraint were swift racers, •
Long-legged, with wheat for their corn, •
Ruddy ones, with the assault of spotted eagles.
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The drops of rain make a hole in the stone, not by violence, but by oft falling.
