July 11, 2011

Why's My Bookbag (or e-reader equvialent) So Heavy?

From Fr. Benedict Groeschel:
Poetry is often the best medium to express the highest religious sentiments without becoming maudlin, and we see examples of this with Francis of Assisi, John of the Cross, John Milton, and Thérèse of Lisieux.
From Genesis by R.R. Reno:
We can contemplate creation and see its fittingness for consummation, but no natural theology can formulate an account of the beginning in which and for which God creates. When we say in the eucharistic liturgy "heaven and earth are full of your glory;" we are not giving pious expression to the argument from design. Instead, the Sanctus points to the full role of creation in the future of God's plan.
From The Tragedy of Arthur by Arthur Philips:
If I were you, I think I’d be wondering if I’d still be a writer the morning I become a millionaire. Even Shakespeare retired when he made his bundle. And Dr. Johnson has a great line: “No man but a blockhead ever wrote, except for money.”

One faces these terrible whys, frustrating in their nearness yet total impenetrability, like strippers behind glass.

A Buddhist critic wrote that Shakespeare helped ruin Western civilization by giving such eloquence to resisting change, to analyzing emotions, to the despair over passing time, to exerting one’s will: in short, to enunciating so stirringly the opposite of a Buddhist world-view.

That smug certainty of modern science’s all-seeing eye, that conviction that there is no human ingenuity still to come: this gives me some faith in the falseness of the otherwise disorienting forensics report.

But we all seem to pray at this cult of our own originality. This accounts for our flood of dull memoirs, which tend to be, ironically, quite similar: everyone feels they are unique and the story of themselves will be unique, too.

I denied myself that balm and found it cheap, because if she felt for him (who deserved none of her fine feeling), then her feelings were indiscriminate and therefore worthless.
The Heart of Haiku from Jane Hirschfield:
[Bansho] found in every life and object an equal potential for insight and expansion. A good subject for haiku, he suggested, is a crow picking mud-snails from between a rice paddy’s plants. Seen truly, he taught, there is nothing that does not become a flower, a moon. “But unless things are seen with fresh eyes,” he added, “nothing’s worth writing down.”

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