Spring Break: Day 1

In my journal last night I sketched out a plan for the day: exercise, read, write, drink tea, maybe trot down to the courtyard for some reading on the grass if the weather was decent. There's nothing quite like lying sprawled on lush grass with a good book in your hands.

Unfortunately, the weather was fitful today, and I didn't trust it to not rain on my expensive library books, so I didn't go out. And now as I type this, I can hear a torrential downpour swishing down outside, so I suppose I made the right decision! Apart from that, however, the day did go according to plan.

I woke up at the ridiculously late time of 8:30, which was luxury in itself, so the fact that I still had the whole day before me without school was icing on the cake. Had a yogurt for breakfast, then exercised for an hour, showered, combed my hair--yes, I did find my comb again--and performed what other various tasks necessary for getting ready for the day.

Once that was settled, I made myself some tea. I walked to the market on Friday after my dance practice to stock up, so I bought some 'peach black tea', which I hadn't tried before, but which I can now attest is extremely good. And when I saw that a box of sugar cubes was on sale, I couldn't very well say no to that, now could I? I eat sugar cubes like Talat, so the box is currently inside a secure tupperware container on top of my bookshelf to save my teeth.

So I made a huge mug of tea and settled down with one of my many library books, which happened to be 'The House of the Wolfings'. It's very good so far, but it's Morris, so I was expecting high quality. I also read 'The Poison Belt' by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle . . . er, unique in the strangeness of its plot, as far as I know, but a very disappointing follow-up to 'The Lost World', which I think is vastly superior.

And then, of course, more writing! I have set myself a timeline on what to finish when as far as Linden's birthday story goes, so it'll be done by Thursday if the plan works, possibly earlier, depending on how cooperative I can coax my muse into being. And I videoSkyped my family for a little while, which was fun as always. The children grow up so quickly.

I also cleaned a little, did some improv cooking with the very limited ingredients I rooted out of the sadly under-stocked fridge, and watched some Star Trek. When my grandmother came home after work I played a little Legend of Zelda on the Wii (Iron boots are brilliant!) and then retreated to my room once more to write a little and read a little before falling asleep.

All in all, not a bad day, and surprisingly more productive than I had imagined it would be. Can't wait until the morrow, I'm really excited about writing what comes next in Linden's story . . .

The Song of Shadows

And thus the poet captures what I feel to be the very essence of good storytelling. A good fantasy book or good myth or good poem always conjures up this image in my mind, sometimes fully realized, sometimes only as a ghost or a whisper. Trust the magnificent de la Mare to capture the image in poetry, however!

The Song of Shadows

by Sir Walter de la Mare

"Sweep thy faint strings, Musician,
With thy long lean hand;
Downward the starry tapers burn,
Sinks soft the waning sand;
The old hound whimpers couched in sleep,
The embers smoulder low;
Across the walls the shadows
Come, and go.

Sweep softly thy strings, Musician,
The minutes mount to hours;
Frost on the windless casement weaves
A labyrinth of flowers;
Ghosts linger in the darkening air,
Hearken at the open door;
Music hath called them, dreaming,
Home once more."

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)

Pic

Happy Saint Patrick's Day

If you're not wearing green, consider yourself pinched. 

Of course, I should let you know that my dance teacher's Irish father, who was one of the most prominent Irish dancers in the world, always insisted that good ol' Patrick wore blue, not green, and so therefore you should be wearing blue too. I've got all my bases covered; a silver Celtic comb holding up my hair, my Claddagh ring on my finger, green Celtic knotwork shirt, green shoes, blue jeans, and green leprechaun socks :D

But seeing as this day is not just about colors, but about St. Patrick himself, I thought I'd post "The Shield of Saint Patrick" today in celebration. Later I will be celebrating with good Irish food and dance and . . . erm, a microeconomics midterm, but why not start the day by celebrating the man himself and what he stood for?

The Shield of Saint Patrick

'I bind unto myself today the strong name of the trinity,

by invocation of the same, the Three in One, the One in Three.

'I bind this day to me forever by power of faith Christ's incarnation,

His baptism in the Jordan river, his death on the cross for my salvation;

His bursting from the spiced tomb, his riding up the heavenly way,

His coming at the day of doom I bind unto myself today.

'I bind unto myself today the power of God to hold and lead,

His eye to watch, his might to stay, his ear to hearken to my need,

The wisdom of my God to teach, his hand to guide, his shield to ward,

The Word of God to give me speech, his heavenly host to be my guard.

'Christ be with me, Christ within me,

Christ behind me, Christ before me,

Christ beside me, Christ to win me;

Christ to comfort and restore me;

Christ beneath me, Christ above me,

Christ in quiet, Christ in danger,

Christ in hearts of all that love me,

Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.

'I bind unto myself the name, the strong name of the Trinity,

By invocation of the same, the Three in One, and One in Three,

Of whom all nature hath creation, eternal Father, Spirit, Word;

Praise to the God of my salvation, salvation is of Christ the Lord!'

Quotation T-Shirt Challenge, Woot!

Every book-lover should make one of these. It's so much fun.

So is that my challenge to you for April? Um . . . why yes, I believe it is ^_^

This was a summer project I set for myself the summer before I left for college--and yes, I did mean to post pics and stuff sooner, but one thing drives out another, so to speak *wink*. I bought this t-shirt at Jo-Ann's for about 3 dollars, and a pack of fabric pens for about the same. Those are the only supplies needed, apart from a whole lotta booklovin'.

Trouble is, I'm now sort of out of room . . . so I need to get me another shirt. I did joke about getting some white jeans and writing on those to make a complete outfit, but I think that idea will remain just a joke. Unless I decide to be a library for Halloween. Which, you know, might happen.

Below is a (nearly--I have since added a couple more, I think) complete list of all the quotes that I currently sport around campus. Enjoy!

“Learning!” Eilonwy declared. “I’ve been up to my ears in learning. It doesn’t show, so it’s hard to believe that it’s there.”

-The High King, Lloyd Alexander

And thus it came to pass that the Silmarils found their long homes: One in the airs of heaven, and one in the fires of the heart of the world, and one in the deep waters.

-The Silmarillion, JRR Tolkien

“What if man is not really a scoundrel, man in general, I mean, the whole race of mankind—then all the rest is prejudice, simply artificial terrors and there are no barriers and all is as it should be.”

-Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoevsky

“He might tell me how my story ends,” he murmured.

Meggie looked at him in astonishment. “You mean you don’t know?”

Dustfinger smiled . . .

“What’s so unusual about that, princess?” He asked quietly. “Do you know how your story ends?”

-Inkheart, Cornelia Funke

“Let me dream yet awhile.”

-The Worm Ouroboros, ER Eddison

Never again would he glitter and glide

and show himself off in midnight air,

exulting in his riches: he fell to earth

through the battle-strength in Beowulf’s arm.

-Beowulf

“Dear me, what would this barren vocabulary get out of the mightiest spectacle—the burning of Rome in Nero’s time, for instance? . . . ‘Town burned down; no insurance; boy brast a window; fireman brake his neck!’ Why, that ain’t a picture!”

-A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court

“Oh, Ahab, Ahab, lo, thy work.”

-Moby Dick, Herman Melville

“Pieces of eight! Pieces of eight!”

-Treasure Island, Robert Louis Stevenson

“Cursed demon! You have met your end! The Shivering Fire awaits you! I shall spread your vile essence across this hall like . . . um, like margarine, a very thick layer of it . . .”

-Ptolemy’s Gate, Jonathon Stroud

“Tell them I came, and no one answered,

That I kept my word,” he said.

-The Listeners, Walter de la Mare

“I wouldn’t care about my spirits,” said Bluebell, “if my legs weren’t so tired. Slugs are lucky to not have legs. I think I’ll be a slug.”

-Watership Down, Richard Adams

“You have no longer a master, Caleb,” said Ravenswood, endeavoring to extricate himself; “why, old man, would you cling to a falling tower?”

-The Bride of Lammermoor, Sir Walter Scott

Better late than never.

-Ab Urbe Condita, Livy

“Do you know I don’t know how one can walk by a tree and not be happy at the sight of it?”

-The Idiot, Fyodor Dostoevsky

“Dear old world,” she murmured, “you are very lovely, and I am glad to be alive in you.”

-Anne of Green Gables, LM Montgomery

Sherwood in the twilight,

Is Robin Hood awake?

-A Song of Sherwood, Alfred Noyes

“Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark.”

-The Tale of Despereaux, Kate DiCamillo

Curufin, Celegorm the fair,

Damrod and Diriel were there,

and Cranthir dark, and Maidros tall

(whom after torment would befall),

and Maglor the mighty who like the sea

with deep voice sings yet mournfully.

-The Lay of Leithian, JRR Tolkien

If Sydney Carton every shone anywhere, he certainly never shone in the house of Dr. Manette.

-A Tale of Two Cities, Charles Dickens

“We live in an age that reads too much to be wise, and that thinks too much to be beautiful.”

-The Picture of Dorian Gray, Oscar Wilde

“Let’s have different color rabbits, George.”

“Sure we will,” George said sleepily. “Red and blue and green rabbits, Lennie. Millions of ‘em.”

-Of Mice and Men, John Steinbeck

Trust dreams.

Trust your heart, and

Trust your story.

-Instructions, Neil Gaiman

When the apple is ripe and falls—why does it fall? Is it because . . . its stalk is withered . . . because the wind shakes it, or because the boy standing under the tree wants to eat it?

-War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy

The mind is its own place, and in itself

Can make a heav’n of hell, a hell of heav’n.

-Paradise Lost, John Milton

“And I write novels!” chimed in the other cop. “Though I haven’t had any published yet, so I better warn you, I’m in a meeeean mood!”

-The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams

“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost, here goes—I mean Amen,” said Ransom.

-Perelandra, CS Lewis

“Now,” said Cei, “it is for you to pay me my story.”

-The Mabinogion

“I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul!”

-Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte

“Lacho calad! Drego morn!”

-The Children of Hurin, JRR Tolkien

Marius was done for. He loved a woman.

-Les Miserables, Victor Hugo

Roland is fierce and

Oliver is wise

And both for valor

May bear away the prize.

-The Song of Roland

From these most holy waters, born anew

I came, like trees by change of calendars 

Renewed with new-sprung foliage through and through,

Pure and prepared to leap up to the stars.

-Purgatorio, Dante

All children, except one, grow up.

-Peter Pan, JM Barrie

“My day has been too long.”

-The Last of the Mohicans, James Fenimore Cooper

Oh hark! Oh hear! How thin and clear,

And thinner, clearer, farther going!

O sweet and far from cliff and scar

The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!

-The Splendor Falls, Alfred Lord Tennyson

“Nothing wrong with me,” said Puddleglum. “Not a frog. Nothing frog with me. I’m a respectabiggle.”

-The Silver Chair, CS Lewis

Of arms I sing, and the hero, destiny’s exile . . .

-The Aeneid, Virgil

The fate of this man or that was less than a drop, although it was a sparkling one, in the great blue motion of the sunlit sea.

-The Once and Future King, TH White

“I am the king of Olaf-land, and there’s nothing you and your sheep can do about it.”

-The End, Lemony Snicket

Anything in any way beautiful derives its beauty from itself and asks nothing beyond itself. Praise is no part of it, for nothing is made worse or better by praise . . .

-Meditations, Marcus Aurelius

“Namarie! Nai hiruvalye Valimar. 

Nai elye hiruva. Namarie!”

-The Fellowship of the Ring, JRR Tolkien

She left the web, she left the room,

She made three paces through the room,
She saw the water-lily bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look’d down to Camelot.

-The Lady of Shalott, Alfred Lord Tennyson

“Er, aha ha. Hello mateys, I was flying my cloud, you see . . .”

-Mossflower, Brian Jacques

If there be any truth to poets’ prophecies, I shall live to all eternity, immortalized by fame.

-Metamorphoses, Ovid

“Leave him build his flutter-mills. The day’ll come, he’ll not even care to.”

-The Yearling, Marjorie Kinnon Rawlings

“You are a knave.”

-Oedipus Rex, Sophocles

I bow not yet before Iron Crown,

Nor cast my own small golden scepter down.

-Mythopoeia, JRR Tolkien

“I’m dying of boredom,” Howl said pathetically. “Or maybe just dying.”

-Howl’s Moving Castle, Diana Wynne Jones

“Schmendrick,”—for the wizard had just stooped through the doorway—“how many rs in ‘miracle’?”

“Two,” he answered wearily. “It has the same root as ‘mirror’.”

-The Last Unicorn, Peter S Beagle

Cassandra: O Father!

O my brothers! All your brightness dead!

I go. Now in the land of the defeated I

Will mourn my end and Agamemnon’s. I have lived.

-Agamemnon, Aeschyllus

“I followed you.”

“I saw no one.”

“That is what you may expect to see when I follow you.”

-His Last Bow; The Adventure of the Devil’s Foot, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Sing, O goddess, the ruinous wrath of Achilles . . .

-The Iliad, Homer

The trumpet of a prophecy! O Wind,

If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?

-Ode to the West Wind, Percy Bysshe Shelley

Two men only have a right to answer the question asked in Ecclesiastes 6,000 years ago, ‘That which is far off and exceedingly deep, who can find it out?’ These two men are Captain Nemo and I.

-20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, Jules Verne

How vain are all the hopes of humankind!

How sweet their promises of quiet seem,

And yet they end in shadows, smoke and dream.

-Don Quixote, Cervantes

Ah, she thought wisely, I am dreaming again . . .

-The Hero and the Crown, Robin McKinley