In the Words of Gabriel Gale

My newest hero, added to my select but large list of literary heroes. He is the poet/artist/detective-ish protagonist of the G.K. Chesterton book 'The Poet and the Lunatics'. I am only just now beginning chapter three, and they are short chapters, too--I'd say I'm about 60 pages into the book--but I am already spellbound and demand that you read it too. Gale's purpose as a character seems mainly to illustrate the point Chesterton made in Orthodoxy (which Linden has already quoted on her blog) that poets are saner than rationalists, because poets seek to get their head into heaven, while logicians try to cram heaven into their head, and therefore are destroyed. I know I will be re-reading this book many times during the 4 weeks I have it from the library. There are so many layers to its brilliance.

But anyway, here is a collection of my favorite Gale quotes from the first two chapters alone. I have trimmed some by taking out descriptions and such between his continuous dialogue, to save room. I might add more as I get further into the book, who knows?

'"Excuse me," he said, "I often [do handstands]. It's all very well to talk about being topsy-turvy. But when the angels hang head downwards, we know they come from above. It's only those that come from below that always have their noses in the air. . . Shall I tell you a secret? The world is upside down. We're all upside down. We're all flies crawling on a ceiling, and it's an everlasting mercy that we don't drop off."' (p. 21)

'"We were talking about St. Peter," he said; "you remember that he was crucified upside down. I've often fancied his humility was rewarded by seeing in death the beautiful vision of his boyhood. He also saw the landscape as it really is: with the stars like flowers, and the clouds like hills, and all men hanging on the mercy of God."' (p. 22)

'"Do you call that practical? You can only forbid him to die. Can you persuade him to live? Believe me, that is where we come in. A man must have his head in the clouds and his wits wool-gathering in fairyland, before he can do anything so practical as that."' (p. 14)

'Gale still lay in the shadow of the thick trees staring up at the birds, as if he had never stirred. Garth called to him by name, but it was only after a silence that Gale spoke. What he said was:

"Were you ever an isosceles triangle?"

"Very seldom," replied Garth with restraint. "May I ask what the devil you are talking about?"

"Only something that I was thinking about," answered the poet, lifting himself up to one elbow. "I wondered whether it would be a cramping sort of thing to be surrounded by straight lines, and whether being in a circle would be any better. Did anybody ever live in a round prison?"' (p. 39)

'"I used to want a hammer to smash things with," continued Gale; "but I've learnt to do something else with a hammer, which is what a hammer is meant for; and every now and then I manage to do it."

"What do you mean by that?" inquired the doctor. 

"I can hit the right nail on the head," answered the poet.' (p. 41)

'"Would it do, I wonder, when one has changed a cheque into gold, to give a man coppers, instead, and explain that they have more of the rich tones of sunset?"' (p. 43)

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