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Welcome to my journal... Vol.4
...just a few things found in books I've read
and places visited and thought were worth remembering...
From Sons and Lovers by D. H. Tom Lawrence
D. H. Lawrence - Biography - #
D. H. Lawrence - Poems - #
D. H. Lawrence - #
The full text and summary reviews
Summary - #
p.xi ch. Introduction by John Gross
"Never trust the artist, trust the tale."
p.xv ch. Introduction by John Gross
"Yet, in the end, you can see why close analysis does not seem particularly appropriate. Lawrence is
a writer who sweps you along. You are caught up in his rhythms, until they seem part of you; his vision,
if it works at all, tends to take over completely. And Sons and Lovers, the book in which he found
himself, is also the best of his books to start with. It has its faults, but there isn't a page that
doesn't pulsate wuth life."
p.8 Part 1 ch. 1
"Sometimes life takes hold of one, carries the body along, accomplishes one's history, and yet is not
real, but leaves oneself as it were slurred over."
p.12 Part 1 ch. 1
"She had told him before she could not dance. She glanced at his humility and smiled. Her smile was very
beautiful. It moved the man so that he forgot everything."
p.146 Part 2 ch. 7
"There was a sense of silence inside the house and out. Miriam seemed as in some dreamy tale, a maiden in
bondage, her spirit dreaming in a land far away and magical. And her discoloured, old blue frock and her
broken boots seemed only like the romantic rags of King Cophetua's beggar-maid."
"She suddenly became aware of his keen blue eyes upon ber, taking her all in. Instantly ber broken boots
and her frayed old frock hurt her. She resented his seeing everything. Even he knew that her stocking was
not pulled up. She went into the scullery, blushing deeply. And afterwards her hands trembled slightly at
her work. She nearly dropped all she handled. When her inside dream was shaken, her body quivered with
trepidation. She resented that he saw so much."
p.154 Part 2 ch. 7
"All the life of Miriam's body was in her eyes, which were usually dark as a dark church, but could flame
with light like a conflagration. Her face scarcely ever altered from its look of brooding. She might have
been one of the women who went with Mary when Jesus was dead. Her body was not flexible and living. She
walked with a swing, rather heavily, her head bowed forward, pondering. She was not clumsy, and yet none
of her movements seemed quite the movement. Often, when wiping the dishes, she would stand in bewilderment
and chagrin because she had pulled in two halves a cup or a tumbler. It was as if, in her fear and
self-mistrust, she put too much strength into the effort. There was no looseness or abandon about her.
Everything was gripped stiff with intensity, and her effort, overcharged, closed in on itself."
p.154 Part 2 ch. 7
"She rarely varied from her swinging, forward, intense walk. Occasionally she ran with Paul down the
fields. Then her eyes blazed naked in a kind of ecstasy that frightened him. But she was physically afraid.
If she were getting over a stile, she gripped his hands in a little hard anguish, and began to lose her
presence of mind. And he could not persuade her to jump from even a small height. Her eyes dilated, became
exposed and palpitating.
"No!" she cried, half laughing in terror -- "no!"
"You shall!" he cried once, and, jerking her forward, he brought her falling from the fence. But her
wild "Ah!" of pain, as if she were losing consciousness, cut him. She landed on her feet safely, and
afterwards had courage in this respect."
p.155 Part 2 ch. 7
"What do you want, then?"
"I want to do something. I want a chance like anybody else. Why should 1, because I'm a girl, be kept
at home and not allowed to be anything? What chance have I?"
"Chance of what?"
"Of knowing anything -- of learning, of doing anything. It's not fair, because I'm a woman."
She seemed very bitter. Paul wondered. In his own home Annie was almost glad to be a girl. She had not
so much responsibility; things were lighter for her. She never wanted to be other than a girl. But
Miriam almost fiercely wished she were a man. And yet she hated men at the same time.
"But it's as well to be a woman as a man," he said, frowning.
"Ha! Is it? Men have everything."
"I should think women ought to be as glad to be women as men are to be men," he answered.
"No!" -- she shook her head -- "no! Everything the men have."
"But what do you want?" he asked.
"I want to learn. Why should it be that I know nothing?"
p.159-161 Part 2 ch. 7
She wanted to show him a certain wild-rose bush she had discovered. She knew it was wonderful. And yet,
till he had seen it, she felt it had not come into her soul. Only he could make it her own, immortal. She
was dissatisfied.
Dew was already on the paths. In the old oak-wood a mist was rising, and he hesitated, wondering whether
one whiteness were a strand of fog or only campion-flowers pallid in a cloud. By the time they came to the
pine-trees Miriam was getting very eager and very tense. Her bush might be gone. She might not be able to
find it; and she wanted it so much. Almost passionately she wanted to be with him when be stood before
the flowers. They were going to have a communion together -- something that thrilled her, something holy.
He was walking beside her in silence. They were very near to each other. She trembled, and he listened,
vaguely anxious.
Coming to the edge of the wood, they saw the sky in front, like mother-of-pearl, and the earth growing
dark. Somewhere on the outermost branches of the pine-wood the honeysuckle was streaming scent.
"Where?" he asked.
"Down the middle path," she murmured, quivering.
When they turned the corner of the path she stood still. In the wide walk between the pines, gazing rather
frightened, she could distinguish nothing for some moments; the greying light robbed things of their colour.
Then she saw her bush.
"Ah!" she cried, hastening forward.
It was very still. The tree was tall and straggling. It had thrown its briers over a hawthorn-bush, and
its long streamers trailed thick, right down to the grass, splashing the darkness everywhere with great spilt
stars, pure white. In bosses of ivory and in large splashed stars the roses gleamed on the darkness of
foliage and stems and grass. Paul and Miriam stood close together, silent, and watched. Point after point
the steady roses shone out to them, seeming to kindle something in their souls. The dusk came like smoke
around, and still did not put out the roses.
Paul looked into Miriam's eyes. She was pale and expectant with wonder, her lips were parted, and her dark
eyes lay open to him. His look seemed to travel down into her. Her soul quivered. It was the communion she
wanted. He turned aside, as if pained. He turned to the bush.
"They seem as if they walk like butterflies, and shake themselves," he said.
She looked at her roses. They were white, some incurved and holy, others expanded in an ecstasy. The tree
was dark as a shadow. She lifted her hand impulsively to the flowers; she went forward and touched them in
worship.
"Let us go," he said.
There was a cool scent of ivory roses-a white, virgin scent. Something made him feel anxious and imprisoned.
The two walked in silence.
"Till Sunday," he said quietly, and left her; and she walked home slowly, feeling her soul satisfied with
the holiness of the night. He stumbled down the path. And as soon as he was out of the wood, in the free
open meadow, where he could breathe, he started to run as fast as he could. It was like a delicious delirium
in his veins.
p.161 Part 2 ch. 7
"As he went into the house, flinging down his cap, his mother looked up at the clock. She had been sitting
thinking, because a chill to her eyes prevented her reading. She could feel Paul being drawn away by this
girl. And she did not care for Miriam. "She is one of those who will want to suck a man's soul out till he
has none of his own left," she said to herself; "and he is just such a gaby as to let himself be absorbed.
She will never let him become a man; she never will.""
p.166 Part 2 ch. 7
"Then he left her again and joined the others. Soon they started home. Miriam loitered behind, alone.
She did not fit in with the others; she could very rarely get into human relations with anyone: so her
friend, her companion, her lover, was Nature. She saw the sun declining wanly. In the dusky, cold
hedgerows were some red leaves. She lingered to gather them, tenderly, passionately. The love in her
finger-tips caressed the leaves; the passion in her heart came to a glow upon the leaves."
p.166-167 Part 2 ch. 7
"At last he looked up.
"Why," he exclaimed gratefully, "have you waited for me!"
She saw a deep shadow in his eyes.
"What is it?" she asked.
"The spring broken here;" and he showed her where his umbrella was injured.
Instantly, with some shame, she knew he had not done the damage himself, but that Geoffrey was responsible.
"It is only an old umbrella, isn't it?" she asked.
She wondered why he, who did not usually trouble over trifles, made such a mountain of this molehill.
"But it was William's an' my mother can't help but know," he said quietly, still patiently working at
the umbrella.
The words went through Miriam like a blade. This, then, was the confirmation of her vision of him! She
looked at him. But there was about him a certain reserve, and she dared not comfort him, not even speak
softly to him.
"Come on," he said. "I can't do it;" and they went in silence along the road.
That same evening they were walking along under the trees by Nether Green. He was talking to her
fretfully, seemed to be struggling to convince himself.
"You know," he said, with an effort, "if one person loves, the other does."
"Ah!" she answered. "Like mother said to me when I was little, 'Love begets love.'"
"Yes, something like that, I think it must be."
"I hope so, because, if it were not, love might be a very terrible thing," she said.
"Yes, but it is -- at least with most people," he answered.
And Miriam, thinking he had assured himself, felt strong in herself. She always regarded that sudden
coming upon him in the lane as a revelation. And this conversation remained graven in her mind as one
of the letters of the law.
p.188 Part 2 ch. 8
"There were some crimson berries among the leaves in the bowl. He reached over and pulled out a bunch.
If you put red berries in your hair," he said, "why would you look like some witch or priestess, and
never like a reveller?"
She laughed with a naked, painful sound.
"I don't know," she said.
His vigorous warm hands were playing excitedly with the berries.
"Why can't you laugh?" he said. "You never laugh laughter. You only laugh when something is odd or
incongruous, and then it almost seems to hurt you."
She bowed her head as if he were scolding her.
"I wish you could laugh at me just for one minute -- just for one minute. I feel as if it would set
something free."
"But" -- and she looked up at him with eyes frightened and struggling -- "I do laugh at you -- I do."
"Never! There's always a kind of intensity. When you laugh I could always cry; it seems as if it shows
up your suffering. Oh, you make me knit the brows of my very soul and cogitate."
Slowly she shook her head despairingly.
"I'm sure I don't want to," she said.
"I'm so damned spiritual with you always!" he cried.
She remained silent, thinking, "Then why don't you be otherwise." But he saw her crouching, brooding
figure, and it seemed to tear him in two.
"But, there, it's autumn," he said, "and everybody feels like a disembodied spirit then."
There was still another silence. This peculiar sadness between them thrilled her soul. He seemed so
beautiful with his eyes gone dark, and looking as if they were deep as the deepest well.
"You make me so spiritual!" he lamented. "And I don't want to be spiritual."
She took her finger from her mouth with a little pop, and looked up at him almost challenging. But stiff
her soul was naked in her great dark eyes, and there was the same yearning appeal upon her. If he could
have kissed her in abstract purity he would have done so. But he could not kiss her thus -- and she
seemed to leave no other way. And she yearned to him.
p.192-195 Part 2 ch. 8
"all pages"
p.244 Part 2 ch. 9
"'A son's my son till he takes him a wife,
But my daughter's my daughter the whole of her life.'"
p.259 Part 2 ch. 10
"Ay, well, and I can remember when Thomas Jordan used to ask me for one of my toffies."
"Did he?" laughed Paul. "And did he get it?"
"Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn't -- which was latterly. For he's the sort that takes an and gives
naught, he is -- or used to be."
p.296-297 Part 2 ch. 11
He sat in silence. He was full of a feeling that she had deceived him. She had despised him when he
thought she worshipped him. She had let him say wrong things, and had not contradicted him. She had let
him fight alone. But it stuck in his throat that she had despised him whilst he thought she worshipped him.
She should have told him when she found fault with him. She had not played fair. He hated her. All these
years she had treated him as if he were a hero, and thought of him secretly as an infant, a foolish child.
Then why had she left the foolish child to his folly? His heart was hard against her.
She sat full of bitterness. She had known -- oh, well she had known! All the time he was away from her
she had summed him up, seen his littleness, his meanness, and his folly. Even she had guarded her soul against
him. She was not overthrown, not prostrated, not even much hurt. She had known. Only why, as he sat there,
had he still this strange dominance over her? His very movements fascinated her as if she were hypnotised
by him. Yet he was despicable, false, inconsistent, and mean. Why this bondage for her? Why was it the
movement of his arm stirred her as nothing else in the world could? Why was she fastened to him? Why, even
now, if he looked at her and commanded her, would she have to obey? She would obey him in his trifling
commands. But once he was obeyed, then she had him in her power, she knew, to lead him where she would.
She was sure of herself. Only, this new influence! Ah, he was not a man! He was a baby that cries for the
newest toy. And all the attachment of his soul would not keep him. Very well, he would have to go. But he
would come back when he had tired of his new sensation.
p.350-352 Part 2 ch. 13
She caught him passionately to her, pressed his head down on her breast with her hand. She could not
bear the suffering in his voice. She was afraid in her soul. He might have anything of her -anything;
but she did not want to know. She felt she could not bear it. She wanted him to be soothed upon
her -- soothed. She stood clasping him and caressing him, and he was something unknown to her -- something
almost uncanny. She wanted to soothe him into forgetfulness.
And soon the struggle went down in his soul, and he forgot. But then Clara was not there for him,
only a woman, warm, something he loved and almost worshipped, there in the dark. But it was not Clara,
and she submitted to him. The naked hunger and inevitability of his loving her, something strong and
blind and ruthless in its primitiveness, made the hour almost terrible to her. She knew how stark and
alone he was, and she felt it was great that he came to her; and she took him simply because his need
was bigger either than her or him, and her soul was still within her. She did this for him in his need,
even if he left her, for she loved him.
All the while the peewits were screaming in the field. When he came to, he wondered what was near his
eyes, curving and strong with life in the dark, and what voice it was speaking. Then he realised it was
the grass, and the peewit was calling. The warmth was Clara's breathing heaving. He lifted his head,
and looked into her eyes. They were dark and shining and strange, life wild at the source staring into
his life, stranger to him, yet meeting him; and he put his face down on her throat, afraid. What was
she? A strong, strange, wild life, that breathed with his in the darkness through this hour. It was all
so much bigger than themselves that he was hushed. They had met, and included in their meeting the thrust
of the manifold grass stems, the cry of the peewit, the wheel of the stars.
When they stood up they saw other lovers stealing down the opposite hedge. It seemed natural they were
there; the night contained them.
And after such an evening they both were very still, having known the immensity of passion. They felt
small, half-afraid, childish and wondering, like Adam and Eve when they lost their innocence and realised
the magnificence of the power which drove them out of Paradise and across the great night and the great
day of humanity. It was for each of them an initiation and a satisfaction. To know their own nothingness,
to know the tremendous living flood which carried them always, gave them rest within themselves. If so
great a magnificent power could overwhelm them, identify them altogether with itself, so that they knew
they were only grains in the tremendous heave that lifted every grass blade its little height, and every
tree, and living thing, then why fret about themselves? They could let themselves be carried by life, and
they felt a sort of peace each in the other. There was a verification which they had had together. Nothing
could nullify it, nothing could take it away; it was almost their belief in life.
But Clara was not satisfied. Something great was there, she knew; something great enveloped her. But it
did not keep her. In the morning it was not the same. They had known, but she could not keep the moment.
She wanted it again; she wanted something permanent. She had not realised fully. She thought it was he
whom she wanted. He was not safe to her. This that had been between them might never be again; he might
leave her. She had not got him; she was not satisfied. She had been there, but she had not gripped
the -- the something -- she knew not what -- which she was mad to have.
In the morning he had considerable peace, and was happy in himself. It seemed almost as if he had known
the baptism of fire in passion, and it left him at rest. But it was not Clara. It was something that
happened because of her, but it was not her. They were scarcely any nearer each other. It was as if they
had been blind agents of a great force.
When she saw him that day at the factory her heart melted like a drop of fire. It was his body, his brows.
The drop of fire grew more intense in her breast; she must hold him. But he, very quiet, very subdued this
morning, went on giving his instruction. She followed him into the dark, ugly basement, and lifted her
arms to him. He kissed her, and the intensity of passion began to burn him again. Somebody was at the door.
He ran upstairs; she returned to her room, moving as if in a trance.
After that the fire slowly went down. He felt more and more that his experience had been impersonal, and
not Clara. He loved her. There was a big tenderness, as after a strong emotion they had known together;
but it was not she who could keep his soul steady. He had wanted her to be something she could not be.
And she was mad with desire of him. She could not see him without touching him. In the factory, as he
talked to her about Spiral hose, she ran her hand secretly along his side. She followed him out into
the basement for a quick kiss; her eyes, always mute and yearning, full of unrestrained passion, she
kept fixed on his. He was afraid of her, lest she should too flagrantly give herself away before the
other girls. She invariably waited for him at dinner-time for him to embrace her before she went. He
felt as if she were helpless, almost a burden to him, and it irritated him.
"But what do you always want to be kissing and embracing for?" he said. "Surely there's a time for
everything."
She looked up at him, and the hate came into her eyes.
"Do I always want to be kissing you?" she said.
"Always, even if I come to ask you about the work. I don't want anything to do with love when I'm at
work. Work's work -- "
"And what is love?" she asked. "Has it to have special hours?"
"Yes; out of work hours."
"And you'll regulate it according to Mr. Jordan's closing time?"
"Yes; and according to the freedom from business of any sort."
"It is only to exist in spare time?"
"That's all, and not always then -- not the kissing sort of love."
"And that's all you think of it?"
"It's quite enough."
"I'm glad you think so."
And she was cold to him for some time -- she hated him; and while she was cold and contemptuous, he
was uneasy till she had forgiven him again. But when they started afresh they were not any nearer. He
kept her because he never satisfied her.
p.355 Part 2 ch. 13 (MC Note: wonderful description of the shore...very poetic)
"She seemed to move very slowly across the vast sounding shore. As he watched, he lost her. She was
dazzled out of sight by the sunshine. Again he saw her, the merest white speck moving against the white,
muttering sea-edge.
"Look how little she is!" he said to himself. "She's lost like a grain of sand in the beach -- just a
concentrated speck blown along, a tiny white foam-bubble, almost nothing among the morning. Why does she
absorb me?"
The morning was altogether uninterrupted: she was gone in the water. Far and wide the beach, the sandhills
with their blue marram, the shining water, glowed together in immense, unbroken solitude.
p.357 Part 2 ch. 13
"You imagined him something he wasn't. That's just what a woman is. She thinks she knows what's good
for a man, and she's going to see he gets it; and no matter if he's starving, he may sit and whistle
for what he needs, while she's got him, and is giving him what's good for him."
p.414 Part 2 ch. 15
He felt, in leaving her, he was defrauding her of life. But he knew that, in staying, stilling the inner,
desperate man, he was denying his own life. And he did not hope to give life to her by denying his own.
p.415 Part 2 ch. 15
She was going from him now. In her misery she leaned against him as they sat on the car. He was
unresponsive. Where would he go? What would be the end of him? She could not bear it, the vacant feeling
where he should be. He was so foolish, so wasteful, never at peace with himself. And now where would he
go? And what did he care that he wasted her? He had no religion; it was all for the moment's attraction
that he cared, nothing else, nothing deeper. Well, she would wait and see how it turned out with him. When
he had had enough he would give in and come to her.
p.12 Part 2 ch. 1
""
From The Awakening by Kate Chopin
Kate Chopin - Biography - #
Kate Chopin - Biography
Kate Chopin - Biography
Kate Chopin - Biography
Kate Chopin and The Awakening - a Study
The full text and summary reviews
Chopin was the first American novelist to write frankly about women's feelings toward their roles as
wives and mothers. Her masterpiece, The Awakening, published in 1899, aroused a national scandal for
its indecency. This novel is about a woman named Edna Pontellier, a beautiful woman of twenty-eight who
discovers on a summer vacation that she has led a pleasant and pampered life as the sole "property" of her
forty-year-old passionless husband, Leonce. Psychologically and sexually frustrated, Edna rebels in search
of satisfaction and fulfillment. She gradually gives in to her strong sexual desires for other men by
committing adultery. This explicit and realistic novel about the sexual and artistic awakening of a young
woman's search for spiritual and sexual freedom in the repressive society of nineteenth-century America
focuses on the restrictions that social and religious institutions of the late 1800's placed on women. In
the end, Edna abandons her family and eventually commits suicide.
by Courtney McKay
Courtney McKay's informative web page
p.17 ch. VI
The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensious, enfolding the body in its
soft, close embrace.
p.18 ch. VII
Who can tell what metals the gods use in forging the subtle bond which we call sympathy, which we might
as well call love.
p.105-6 ch. XXVI
Neither was it quite clear to Edna herself; but it unfolded itself as she sat for a while in silence.
Instinct had prompted her to put away her husband's bounty in casting off her allegiance. She did not
know how it would be when he returned. There would have to be an understanding, an explanation. Conditions
would some way adjust themselves, she felt; but whatever came, she had resolved never again to belong to
another than herself.
p.152 ch. XXXIX
The water of the Gulf stretched out before her, gleaming with the million lights of the sun. The voice of
the sea is seductive, never ceasing, whispering, clamoring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander in abysses
of solitude. All along the white beach, up and down, there was no living thing in sight.
p.152 ch. XXXIX
"The artist must possess the courageous soul that dares and defies.
From The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemingway
Ernest Hemingway Biography
Characters:
Jake Barnes, an American newspaper correspondent.
Lady Brett Ashley, a war widow and one of the "lost generation"
Robert Cohn, a young writer
Michael Campbell (Mike), Brett's fiancé
Bill Gorton, Jake's friend
Pedro Romero, a Spanish bullfighter
In The Sun Also Rises, 1926, Hemingway uses sparse but colorful description, skillful character
portraits and realistic dialogue to portray life among a group of American expatriates on the Left
Bank of Paris in the time following the end of World War. Action in the novel takes place in Paris
and in Pamplona, Spain, during the 1920's.
Drinks: Pernod on pg 23, Poule on pg 24, Fundador on pg 186 ("...smooth amontillado brandy.")
p.34 ch. 3
"She was sitting up now. My arm was around her and she was leaning back against me, and we were quite calm.
She was looking into my eyes with that way she has of looking that made you wonder whether she really saw out
of her own eyes. They would look on and on after everyone else's eyes in the world would have stopped looking.
She looked as though there were nothing on earth she would not look at like that, and really she was afraid of
so many things."
p.42 ch. 4
"It is awful easy to be hard-boiled about everything in the daytime, but at night it is another thing."
p.51 ch. 6
"I misjudged you....You're not a moron. You're only a case of arrested development."
p.152 ch. 14
"I thought I had paid for everything. Not like the woman pays and pays and pays. No idea of retribution
or punishment. Just exchange of values. You gave something up and got something else. Or you worked for
something. You paid some way for everything that was any good."
p.152 ch. 14
"Enjoying living was learning to get your money's worth and knowing when you had it."
p.152 ch. 14
"That was morality; things that made you disgusted afterward. No, that must be immorality. That was a
large statement. What a lot of bilge I could come up with at night."
p.171 ch. 15
(MC Note: These section talks of the skill and ability to work with the bull that a good
bull-fighters possesses.)
p.246 ch. 19
"Me, with my hair long. I'd look so like hell."
(MC Note: This phrase sounds like the way of speaking today - not 1926.)
p.249 ch. 19
"You'll lose it if you talk about it."
From The Traveler's Gift by Andy Andrews
Bio Andy Andrews - Biography
Introduction
David Ponder was a successful executive with the typical business world goals. But after loosing his
job and what appeared to him his whole "life" he embarked on a devine adventure to meet and gleam Seven
Decisions for Success (aka seven words of wisdom) from 7 people who have had great influence on the world.
The decisions will creat success in any life no matter how hopeless the situation may seem to be.
What are the "decisions" presented to Mr Ponder and who provides the wisdon? Here they are:
1. "The buck stops here." Harry S. Truman ~ Take responsibility for your situation...stop blaming others,
life, etc.
2. "I will seek Wisdon." King Soloman ~ Seek council from the wise.
3. "I am a person of action." Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain ~ Be bold and make the decisions.
4. "I have a decided heart." Capitán Cristóbal Colón ~ Christopher Columbus ~ Have faith and
courage...never give up.
5. "Today I will choose to be happy." Anne Frank ~ Happiness is a choice. Make it.
6. "I will greet this day with a forgiving spirit." Abraham Lincoln ~ Forgive, even when it is not asked for.
7. "I will persist without exception." Gabriel, the Archangel ~ Never give up or stop trying.
p.42 ch. 4
Jehovah moves mountains to create the opportunity of his choosing. Its up to you to be ready to move
yourself.
p.46 ch. 4
Only a fool refuses the council of wise men. There is safty in council. Sensible instruction is a
life-giving fountain that will help you escape all manner of deadly traps. Find a wise man, a person who
has accomplished what you wish for in your own life and listen closely to his words.
p.54 ch. 5
Colonel Joshua Lawrence Chamberlain...teacher.
p.69 ch. 5
Many people move out of the way for a person on the run; others are caught up in his wake.
p.70 ch. 5
Successful people make their decisions quickly and change their mides slowly. Failures make their
decisions slowly and change their minds quickly.
p.81 ch. 6
"My friend," Columbus said with a smile, "if you worry about what other people think of you, then you will
have more confidence in their opinion than you have in your own. Poor is the man whose future depends on the
opinions and permissions of others. Remember, if you are afraid of criticism, you will die doing nothing!"
p.88 ch. 6
My hopes, my passions, my vision for hte future are my very existence. A person without a dream never had
a dream come true.
p.101 ch. 7
David laughed. "What about you?" he asked. What do you complain about?"
"I do not complain," Anne said. Papa says complaining is an activity just as jumping rope or listening
to the radio is an activity. One may choose to turn on the radio, and one may choose to not turn on the
radio. One may chosoe to complain, and one may choose not to complain. I choose not to complain.
p.106 ch. 7
...afraid... "Sometimes," she said. "But most often, I choose not to be. Papa says, "Fear is a
poor chisel with which to carve out tomorrow."
Anne turned to David. "I will have a tomorrow, Mr. Ponder. Margot and Mrs. Petronella, they make fun of me.
They call me Pollyanna. They say that I live in a dream worls, that I do not face reality. This is not true.
I know that the war is horrible. I understand that we are in terrible danger here. I do not deny the reality
of our situation. I deny the finality of it. This, too. shall pass."
p.107 ch. 7
Anne paused again. "I must go eat," she said. "You will be gone when I return?"
"Yes."
"Then remember me," Anne said smiling. "I will remember you. But most of all, both of use must remember
that life itself is a privilege, but to live life to the fullest - well, that is a choice!"
p.128 ch. 8
"One of my cabinet members made it known to anyone who would listen that a vast majority of the public
stood against me and my intention to sign the Emancipation Proclamation. My platform, however, is that
while public opinion mighe sway back and forth, right and wrong do not."
"If we familiarize ourselves with the chains of bondage, we prepare our own limbs to ware them. The spirit
of our government and our institutions must be to elevate people, and I am opposed to whatever degrades them.
I am of the opinion that right makes might. Therefore, I signed the document and now we will enforce its
effectiveness.
p.131 ch. 8
"... Have you been so angry or upset with someone that all you could think of was that person and the
horrible way you'd been treated?... "
"Yes." David nodded. "I have."
Lincoln relaxedback in his chair and uncrossed his legs. "Well, so have I. I owe business failures, marital
strife, and defeats inseveral political races to those very feelings. But I also owe a great deal of the
success I enjoy to the discovery of this simple secret."
"What secret?" David asked.
"The secret of forgiveness." Lincoln responded. "It is a secret that is hidden in plain sight. It
costs nothing and is worth millions. It is available to everyone and used by few. If you harness the power
of fortiveness, you will be revered, sought after, and wealthy, nd not coincidentally, you will also be
forgives by others!" Daved looked puzzled. "Just who is it I an supposed for forgive?"
"Everyone."
"But what if they don't ask for forgiveness?"
Lincoln raised his dark eyebrows and smiles. "Most will not! Amazingly, many of these dastardly people who
dare to occupy our minds with anrey thoughts are actually wandering about in life without the knowledge of
our feelings or any conviction that they have done anything wrong!"
David frowned. "I'm sure that's all true, but I still don't understand how you can forgive someone who
doesn't ask for forgiveness!"
"You know," Lincoln began, "for many years, I thought forgiveness was akin to a knighthood - something
I bestowed upon some poor wretch who groveled at my feet and begged my blessings. But as I matured and
observed successful people, I gained a new perspective on forgiveness."
"I cannot recall a single book, incliding the Holy Bible , that says in order for you to forgive
someone, he or she has to ask for it. Think about this concept! Where is the rule writted that before I
forgive people, they have to deserve it? Where is it written that ot be forgives by me, you must have
wronged me no more than three times? Or seven? Or severteen?
"The unkistakable truth about forgiveness is that it is not a reward that must be earned; forgiveness is a
gift to be given. When I give forgiveness, I free my own spirit to release the anger and hatred harbored in
my heart. By granting forgiveness, I free my spirirt to pursue my future happy and unencumbered by the
anchors of the past. And forgiveness, when granted to others, becomes a gift to myself."
p.136 ch. 8
...twenty thousand people rose to their feet and cheered...Abraham Lincoln spoke the words that would bring
healing to a broken nation.
"Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth upon this continent a new nation, conceived in
liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.
"Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether the nation - or any nation so conceived and
dedicated - can long endure. We are met on a battlefield of that war. We are met to dedicated a portion of
it as the final resting place of those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is
altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.
But in a larger sense we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hollow this ground. The brave men,
living and read, who struggled here, have consecrate it far beyond our power to add or detract. The world will
little note not long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the
living, rather to be dedicated here to the unfinished work that they have thus far carried on. It is rather for
us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us - that from these honored dead we take increased
devotion to the cause for which they have here gave the last full measure of devotion - that we here highly
resolve that the dead shall not have died in vain, that the nation shall, under God, have a birth of freedom
and that the government of the people, by the people, and for the people, shall not perish form the earth."
p.138-9 ch. 8
Many are the times I have seethed in anger at a word or deed thrown into my life by an unthinking or
uncaring person. I have wasted valuable hours imagining revenge or confrontation. Now I see the truth
revealed about this psychological rock inside my shoe. The rage I nurture is often one-sided, for the
offender seldom gives thought of the offense.
I will not and forevermore silently offer my forgiveness even to those who do not see that they need it.
By the act of forgiving, I am no longer consumed my unproductuve thoughts. I give up my bitterness. I am
content in my soul and effective again with my fellowman.
p.139 ch. 8
Knowing that slavery in any form is wrong. I also know that the person who lives a life according to the
opinion of others is a slave. I am not a slave.
p.149 ch. 9
Gabriel's eyebrows rose. "A simple question actually. Do you consider yourself a man of faith? Does faith
guide your everyday actions and emotions? All men are driven by faith or fear - one or the other - for both
are the same. Faith or fear is the expectation of an event that hasn't come to pass or the belief in something
that cannot be seen or touched. A man of fear lives always on the edge of insanity. A man of faith lives in
perpetual reward."
p.150 ch. 9
"...it is a fact that great leaders - great achievers - are rarely realistic by other people's standards.
Somehow, these successful people, often considered strange, pick their way through life ignoring or not hearing
negative expectations and emotions. Consequently, they accomplish one grat think after another, never having
heard what cannot be done. That is percisely why one should never tell a young person that something cannot
be done. God may have been waiting for centuries for someone ignorant enough of the impossoble to do that
very thing!"
p.161-2 ch. 9
"It amuses me that you think your civilization so advanced. There once existed a culture on earth so highly
evolved as to make you look like dull children. ... Your civilization is just now arriving at the point of
recognizing the scant clues still left ot their existance."
"What clues?"
Gabriel paused for a moment, then said, "The engineering of the Cuencan temples, still standing in what you
call South America, used stones that are rectangle in shape and weigh more than one hundred tons each. The
builders of Balbek in Lebanon laid cornerstones as tall as your five-story buildings. They weigh more than
six hundred tons apiece."
"In both places, and many more I might add, the andesite blocks were quarried and set together so perfectly
that grout was never considered necessary. Just to vut stone to thesame specirications, your engineers today
require diamond-tipped, laser-guided quarry saws. And still, they can't duplicate the dimensions."
"Do you remember the Abu Simbel statues in Egypt? They are one hundred tewnty feet high, one hundred forty
feet wide and weigh thirty-three tons. When an international task force of your civilizations finest engineers
was assembled to save them before completion of the Aswan High Dam, the decided the only possible way to move
the statues was to cut them into small sections and reassemble them on higher ground. Yet the original
builders quarried the rock from a cource miles away and moved it in one piece."
"Their knowledge of astronomy also far exceeded your current levels. Thet knewthat the celestial dome is
fixed - that your sun, moon and planets rotate. They knew the exact circumference of the earth ahd chartered
it into systems of measure around the world. Your mathematicians and engineers have now seen this in surviving
buildings in South America and Europe because they incorporated the figures into their architecture. And these
equations were calculated perfectly. You were able to obtain these exact mathematical values only after
Sputnik circuled the earth in 1957."
"Truth needs no evidence, of course." Gabriel smiled. "But since you were curious, that hsould give
you something to consider."
MC Note: Other interesting places...
The Ring o' Brodgar, Stenness, Orkney Islands ~ off the northern tip of Scotland
Stonehenge, Wiltshire, Britian
Mayan civilization and their 5000 year calendar
Megalithic Passage Tombs of Newgrange, Knowth, Dowth, Fourknocks, Loughcrew and Tara
Crop circles - common in Britian
Rapa Nui (stone statues) on Easter Island
Easter Island page at SacredSites.com
Bermuda Triangle
Nostradamus at Sacred-Text.com
Resource sources
Mysterious Places web page
Mysterious Places Links
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