So it occurs to me that…

…this entry (spaces removed):

as i slept
by a veranda
open to the sea
on a cool night
just right
to let

the wind
and moonlight
and the stars
blow quietly
past me
as i slept

… is rather a sonnet of sorts if two (acutally quite releveant) lines are added to each verse:

as i slept
just inside
by a veranda
open to the sea
on a cool night
just right
to let

the wind
and moonlight
and the stars
blow quietly
past me
caressing
as i slept

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φίλει ἐμὲ for now | 0over0

The following is in response to this lovely account:

φίλει ἐμὲ for now | 0over0.

(I have reposted it here as per my rule of “write a novel as a comment; then you should probably republish it yourself also!”)

I love this story, sir. Your writing is very clear and beautiful.

By way of full disclosure, I should admit to you that I am an atheist–but… I am not “that” kind of atheist. In fact, one of my best friends has charitably described me as a “full Gospel atheist.” (as has Dear Mrs. Emeron–who most definitely is a woman of deep and abiding faith) He further, and perhaps with even more Christian Charity, draws the distinction between an atheist and an anti-theist. Even further, he insists that most atheists, so-called, are firmly of this second category–in this, he may be correct, I am not sure, for I am hardly a man of the world. Even more further, furtherer… he insists that this anti-theism is a religion in and of itself; in this I believe he is dead on.

Whether or not there is a God would not change the clear fact that we are “wired,” so to speak, for faith. (there is ever-growing scientific evidence for that) And it is my contention, and has been my observation, that when that “hole,” for want of a better term, in our hearts, or minds, if you will, is not filled with that for which it is designed to be filled, all manner of insanity will often ensue. People in such a condition end up believing in all sorts of nonsense–not the least of which is responsible for much human suffering–such as in the former eastern block, to give a ready example.

I therefore often caution people like me–as well as cautioning myself–to take great care regarding any unprovable worldly beliefs into which they may unwittingly fall. Belief is meant for God, not economic or political theories or unrepeatable scientific events.

Therefore, I am happy to pray with and for my Christian friends. I am happy–very thankful–if and when they pray for me. Saying grace at each and every meal helps me to see my fortune for what it is. And of course, He and His Son figure greatly in my published work for any number of reasons, not the least of which is that… well… how can 4000 years of liturgical tradition not colour, in fact completely fill in, all aspects in the whole of our culture–if not all of creation.

I was once a man of deeply held faith. I miss it. And truth be told, I dearly hope I am wrong and my Christian friends are right. I mean this with complete sincerity, and with all the humility I can muster, which I hope I have here conveyed.

Your writing, and your faith, are quite beautiful. Please do keep it up; and, if you have time, please do keep in touch.

via φίλει ἐμὲ for now | 0over0.

Don’t blame Shakespeare: Stuff he never said

Thank you for this lovely piece of much-needed, and light-hearted scholarship. It is most needed.

Shakespeare is Dead

Oh kind Sir! Bravo!!! This shall be my first reblog in a long little while! Again, I say: “Bravo!!!!!!!!!!!11111one!

0over0

The professor was a strange man; indeed, there is little else about him upon which it can be agreed.  We might hesitate to submit that he was strange in any conventional sense—it wasn’t that his voice was too high or his stature too short or anything of the like—no, it was rather something peculiarly unrelated to any identifiable quality of himself. He was strange in a strange sense. Though upon it, it most certainly may not be agreed, this author might be so bold as to assign him the label of pedantic; for he was dreadfully preoccupied with the ‘rules of proper English’ and had an unchecked phobia of sentences that ended in prepositions bordering on the psychotic, which caused him to go to great lengths to avoid such sentences, and in turn, to produce such clausal absurdities as ‘upon which it can be agreed’ and ‘upon it, it…

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