Passing passages

But to every mind there openeth, A way, and way, and away, A high soul climbs the highway, And the low soul gropes the low, And in between on the misty flats, The rest drift to and fro. But to every man there openeth, A high way and a low, And every mind decideth, The way his soul shall go. One ship sails East, And another West, By the self-same winds that blow, 'Tis the set of the sails And not the gales, That tells the way we go. Like the winds of the sea Are the waves of time, As we journey along through life, 'Tis the set of the soul, That determines the goal, And not the calm or the strife. John Oxenham, The way

I remember when Sandy sent me this tape I listened to it and said, ‘gee this is a little on the corny side.’ So I sat down and I tried to think, what this song is about. And I guess there was a time when people felt that music provided us with a greater sense of unity, a greater sense of vision and purpose than it does today. And my generation, was a generation that was going to change the world, somehow we were gong to make it a little less lonely, a little less hungry, a little more just place. But it seems that when, when that promise slipped through our hands, we didn’t replace it with nothing but lost faith. Now we live in times that are pretty shattered, I’ve got my music, you’ve got yours, the guy up the street he’s got his, and you could kind of sit back and say, not cynically but truthfully that maybe, that maybe all men are not brothers, and maybe we won’t know who or what we are to each other. But I think Harry instinctively knew that it was going to take a lot more than jus

About eighteen months or two years after the events which terminate this story, when search was made in that cavern for the body of Olivier le Daim, who had been hanged two days previously, and to whom Charles VIII. had granted the favor of being buried in Saint Laurent, in better company, they found among all those hideous carcasses two skeletons, one of which held the other in its embrace. One of these skeletons, which was that of a woman, still had a few strips of a garment which had once been white, and around her neck was to be seen a string of adrézarach beads with a little silk bag ornamented with green glass, which was open and empty. These objects were of so little value that the executioner had probably not cared for them. The other, which held this one in a close embrace, was the skeleton of a man. It was noticed that his spinal column was crooked, his head seated on his shoulder blades, and that one leg was shorter than the other. Moreover, there was no fracture of the v

How much of my ungracious condition of mind may have been my own fault, how much Miss Havisham’s, how much my sisters, is now of no moment to me or anyone. The change was made in me; the thing was done. Well or ill done, excusably or inexcusably, it was done. Charles Dickens, Great Expectations

The five peaks of Kanchenjunga turned golden with the kind of luminous light that made you feel, if briefly, that truth was apparent. All you needed to do was to reach out and pluck it. Kiran Desai, The Inheritance of Loss.

But she smiled, he saw, only out of politeness, and he felt a flash of jealousy as do friends when they lose another to love, especially those who have understood that friendship is enough, steadier, healthier, easier on the heart. Something that always added and never took away. Kiran Desai, The Inheritance of Loss.

Could fulfillment be felt as deeply as loss? Romantically she decided that love must surely reside in the gap between desire and fulfillment, in the lack, not the contentment. Love was the ache, the anticipation, the retreat, everything around it but the emotion itself. Kiran Desai, The Inheritance of Loss.

...Jake was a sunny child. Those were the words Arthur's mother used to describe him. Everyone loved him - she said that too. 'It's because he's so cheerful,' she said. 'So interested in everything and everyone.' Arthur studied his own reflection in the square of mirror in the bathroom. His big plain face and mud-coloured hair. Sunny wasn't the word that sprang to mind. What would the right word be? Not cloudy...Overcast? Dull? That was it. Dull. He even felt dull. The other side of the bridge, Mary Lawson

More Slience. The problem with deceiving Pete was that they had known each other for too long. A friend who has known you since you were four years old really knows you, whereas your parents only think they do. The other side of the bridge, Mary Lawson