Weekend Quote: Courage

{hosted by Lemon Tree at Half-Filled Attic}

As before, when grappling with other forces of nature, he could find in himself all sorts of courage except the courage to run away.

- Joseph Conrad, Within the Tides

I was a bit turned off by the depressing, first short story in Within the Tides--that is to say, after finishing it, I haven't yet got any further along in the book.  However, I love the above quote, spoken by the protagonist.  It reminds me of a quote from another author of sea stories:

“I will have no man in my boat," said Starbuck, "who is not afraid of a whale." By this, he seemed to mean, not only that the most reliable and useful courage was that which arises from the fair estimation of the encountered peril, but that an utterly fearless man is a far more dangerous comrade than a coward.

- Herman Melville, Moby-Dick

And how striking Starbuck's quote is!  How unlike Captain Ahab, who is confident he is afraid of nothing, least of all a whale.  Isn't he afraid, though?  Is Ahab, in fact, too cowardly to "run away" from Moby-Dick?

Third literary connection: what about Sherlock Holmes (book or TV)?  Did it take courage, or cowardice, to "run away" after Reichenbach? 

Personally, I think there are times when the smartest thing to do is to distance yourself from a bad situation, one you have no ability to change.  It takes courage to give it up, but more importantly, it takes courage to accept the sting to your pride.  It's not always possible (unfortunately) to be a hero.

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Day 5: A favorite quote

“He was just a word for me. I did not see the man in the name any more than you do. Do you see him? Do you see the story? Do you see anything? It seems to me I am trying to tell you a dream—making a vain attempt, because no relation of a dream can convey the dream–sensation, that commingling of absurdity, surprise, and bewilderment in a tremor of struggling revolt, that notion of being captured by the incredible which is of the very essence of dreams....”

He was silent for a while.

“...No, it is impossible; it is impossible to convey the life–sensation of any given epoch of one’s existence—that which makes its truth, its meaning—its subtle and penetrating essence. It is impossible. We live, as we dream—alone....”

I have been procrastinating on posting about Heart of Darkness at my book review blog.  My problem is knowing where to begin!  It's only 111 pages, but it is possibly the deepest fictional book I've ever read.

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I will extol thee, O Lord; for thou hast lifted me up, and hast not made my foes to rejoice over me.

O Lord my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me. 

Psalm 30:1-2

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Light

The sun shall be no more thy light by day; neither for brightness shall the moon give light unto thee: but the Lord shall be unto thee an everlasting light, and thy God thy glory.

Thy sun shall no more go down; neither shall thy moon withdraw itself: for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended.

Isaiah 60:19-20

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Chesterton and Conrad on Facts

© Daniel J Maxwell

In the last few days, I've been perusing two radically different books: G. K. Chesterton's The Club of Queer Trades (a first-rate audiobook) and Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness (my beloved publicity copy).  The first is a humorous collection of adventures in Victorian London.  The second is a profound, psychological study set in Africa under British imperialism.  Two books could not be more unlike.  But while I was reviewing some of the more outstanding quotes today, it struck me both books have similar things to say...on the subject of facts.

It's a weird coincidence.  I have a habit of reading multiple books at once, but between books of different genre, there is rarely such a complete, simultaneous overlap of message/meaning.  If it doesn't bore you to tears, read the excerpts below and tell me if I'm just seeing things:

   "Facts," murmured Basil, like one mentioning some strange, far-off animals, "how facts obscure the truth. I may be silly—in fact, I'm off my head—but I never could believe in that man—what's his name, in those capital stories?—Sherlock Holmes. Every detail points to something, certainly; but generally to the wrong thing. Facts point in all directions, it seems to me, like the thousands of twigs on a tree. It's only the life of the tree that has unity and goes up—only the green blood that springs, like a fountain, at the stars."

* * *

    "But, after all," I said, "this is very fanciful—perfectly absurd. Look at the mere facts. You have never seen the man before, you—"

    "Oh, the mere facts," he cried out in a kind of despair. "The mere facts! Do you really admit—are you still so sunk in superstitions, so clinging to dim and prehistoric altars, that you believe in facts? Do you not trust an immediate impression?"

- Chesterton

   For a time I would feel I belonged still to a world of straightforward facts; but the feeling would not last long. Something would turn up to scare it away. Once, I remember, we came upon a man-of-war anchored off the coast. There wasn't even a shed there, and she was shelling the bush. It appears the French had one of their wars going on thereabouts. Her ensign dropped limp like a rag; the muzzles of the long six-inch guns stuck out all over the low hull; the greasy, slimy swell swung her up lazily and let her down, swaying her thin masts. In the empty immensity of earth, sky, and water, there she was, incomprehensible, firing into a continent. Pop, would go one of the six-inch guns; a small flame would dart and vanish, a little white smoke would disappear, a tiny projectile would give a feeble screech -- and nothing happened. Nothing could happen. There was a touch of insanity in the proceeding, a sense of lugubrious drollery in the sight; and it was not dissipated by somebody on board assuring me earnestly there was a camp of natives -- he called them enemies! -- hidden out of sight somewhere.

* * *

I believed it in the same way one of you might believe there are inhabitants in the planet Mars. I knew once a Scotch sailmaker who was certain, dead sure, there were people in Mars. If you asked him for some idea how they looked and behaved, he would get shy and mutter something about 'walking on all-fours.' If you as much as smiled, he would -- though a man of sixty -- offer to fight you. I would not have gone so far as to fight for Kurtz, but I went for him near enough to a lie. You know I hate, detest, and can't bear a lie, not because I am straighter than the rest of us, but simply because it appalls me. There is a taint of death, a flavour of mortality in lies -- which is exactly what I hate and detest in the world -- what I want to forget. It makes me miserable and sick, like biting something rotten would do. Temperament, I suppose. Well, I went near enough to it by letting the young fool there believe anything he liked to imagine as to my influence in Europe. I became in an instant as much of a pretence as the rest of the bewitched pilgrims. This simply because I had a notion it somehow would be of help to that Kurtz whom at the time I did not see -- you understand. He was just a word for me. I did not see the man in the name any more than you do. Do you see him? Do you see the story? Do you see anything?

- Conrad

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Exeunt!

Thus the Club would not receive a man simply because he chose to pass his days collecting broken sardine tins, unless he could drive a roaring trade in them. Professor Chick made that quite clear. And when one remembers what Professor Chick's own new trade was, one doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. - The Club of Queer Trades / G. K. Chesterton

I tried my utmost to listen to an audiobook of The Club of Queer Trades, but, as with most books absorbed at bedtime, it lasted about twenty minutes before I started falling hopelessly asleep. Oh well...I'll keep trying.

In other news...my poetry book is finally finished.  Words don't describe (haha, no pun intended) how happy this makes me feel.  It's the kind of happiness that eclipses emotion.  Because I've been ready for it to be finished for so long--the last poem to be finished was begun in August 2011, which feels ridiculously recent even though it isn't.  The book as a whole was started in 2008 or 2009.  It's high time for it to exit the 'work-in-progress' stage... 

Now I've just got to finish up the title, cover, and format details before submitting it to FastPencil.  I'm taking a good deal of time with this, but hey, if I've waited this long, I can wait a little longer to do it right!  Also, I can move on to finishing up my other projects.  And more poetry, of course.

Poetry is so point-blank.  It go straight to the heart of the matter, delves right into the message of the words, no stopping or detours.  I remember meeting a violin teacher who said that the "Tchaikovsky (violin concerto) goes straight to the heart.  But Brahms (violin concerto) takes a detour to your heart."  It's an apt illustration, and I find the same applies to novels and poems.  My biggest failure as a novel-writer (and greatest attribute as a math student?) is an impatience to get to the root of the problem.  Actually, impatience is one of my faults, period...


copyright: Jason Mrachina

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Dickens Tag

From Alexandra at Of Trims and Frills and Furbelows.  This is part of "Dickens Week" that she is hosting at her blog! 


1.       How were you first introduced to Dickens?


I watched some versions of A Christmas Carol as a kid, and a little later I read Great Expectations & Oliver Twist.  I became a real Dickens fan when I read Nicholas Nickleby.  :)


2.       Which is your favorite Dickens novel?

Nicholas Nickleby. 


3.       How many Dickens adaptations have you seen?

At least 16!  :)  My family and I love watching Dickens.  The plot twists, quirky/scary/wonderful characters, British actors and actresses...Dickens movies are the kind of movies you can watch innumerable times.  And there's such a balance of humor and drama that you don't feel sad at the ending (usually).


4.       Which Dickens adaptation is your favorite?  

Hard to choose one...they're most of them equally brilliant.  I guess the ones that particularly stand out to me are Bleak House (2005), A Tale of Two Cities (1989), and Little Dorrit (2008).  Such great characters and character portrayals.  Little Dorrit has fantastic cinematography & sets, too.

But there are many more I like.  Martin Chuzzlewit (1994) gets points for being the creepiest film I've ever seen (well, up there with Sherlock: The Great Game).  The '80s and '90s saw a lot of good Dickens adaptations.  Can't forget Our Mutual Friend. 


5.       Have you seen multiple versions of A Christmas Carol?  Which version is your favorite?

I've seen 5 versions:  Mickey Mouse, Alastair Sim, Disney (Jim Carrey), a local theater production, and a one-man version at the York Castle Museum.  For a filmed version, Alastair Sim's version is by far the most intelligent and well-done, and my favorite live production was the one-man performance--highly abridged but also well-done.

6.       Who is your favorite Dickens hero and (if applicable) who does your favorite portrayal of him?

Well, as I said on Dickensblog, mine are subject to change from day to day...there are just so many great characters.  :)  Some of my favorites:

1. John Jarndyce.  Book version, or played by Denis Lawson (aka Captain "Dreadnought" Foster). 
2. Nicholas Nickleby.  Book version. 
3. Arthur Clennam.  Portrayed by Matthew Macfadyen.
4. Herbert Pocket!

7.       Who is your favorite Dickens heroine and (if applicable) who does your favorite portrayal of her?

Amy Dorrit, played by Claire Foy.  She's a truly admirable character--dedicated to her father, kind to everyone, and faithful to Arthur Clennam even when she thinks she won't see him again.


8.       Who is your favorite Dickens villain and (if applicable) who does your favorite portrayal of them?

Tulkinghorn, played by Charles Dance.  He appears to be so polite and respectable, when in reality he's a ruthless persecutor. 


9.       Have you seen any musical adaptations of any of Dickens’ stories? If so, which is your favorite song from it? 


10.   Do you have a favorite Dickens quote? If so, what is it?

Off the top of my head:

No man of sense who has been generally improved, and has improved himself, can be called quite uneducated as to anything. - Daniel Doyce, Little Dorrit

And this quote is very famous, but I do think it is so true, even today:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

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Logic. . .

copyright: SnaPsi Сталкер
Bridges aren't heights.  I won't walk within two yards of the edge of a cliff, but bridges don't scare me.  Every time I go to B.C., the billboards showing the Capilano Suspension Bridge give me the proverbial chills.  In a good way.  I dearly wish to someday cross a suspension bridge.  That must mean my fears are inconsistent/irrational, or I'm just plain out of my mind.  Hm.

I neglected to finish posting my Canadian Rockies photos, which is a shame because they include the most stupendous gorge I've seen, in or out of the Pacific Northwest.  Maligne Canyon is so profound that, in some places, you stare in vain for sight of the bottom, only to see an abrupt, a very abrupt, absence of light. 


It is hardly easy to fathom what distances can make the bottom of a canyon invisible, and in broad daylight. You can hear the river, always.  You can see it, running through the rocks with many large twists and turns.  Then it's gone.  Did it go too far?  What makes darkness so imposing--the effect or the cause?

I like what my history teacher remarks:  I don't know.  You tell me.  


Like all such remarks, it isn't meant to be answered.

I digress, I suppose?  Well, not really. Bridges rest atop chasms, but I prefer to be on a bridge than anywhere near the edge of said chasm.  Logically, it makes no sense.  I'm afraid of heights, aren't I?  Tall buildings especially.  Well, it makes no sense; at least, not at a glance.

It makes me think of writing.  There's such a fine line between writing three-dimensional characters and soap opera characters.  All I can surmise is that it boils down to this: some unexpected, unusual, "inconsistent" character traits are consistent with a given character.  The rest are simply not.  The trick is to find which ones match the character and to limit yourself to those.  Because a good character is always, always consistent, even if there are seeming inconsistencies within their lives, actions.  You can think of a character as a square with distinct sides and boundaries.  Within the square, the character may be anything.  But they must stay within the boundaries you already established.  [I am talking about a type of character development, not a character arc per se.]

And now I've really gone off-topic. 

But whilst on the subject of writing, we could talk about paragraphs and one of my greatest pet peeves, the topic sentence.  The overrated topic sentence.  Case in point (emphasis added):

He gained the bridge and returned to the north shore, where he remembered having seen in one of the narrower streets a little obscure shop stocked with cheap wood carvings, its walls lined with extremely dirty cardboard-bound volumes of a small circulating library. They sold stationery there, too. A morose, shabby old man dozed behind the counter. A thin woman in black, with a sickly face, produced the envelope he had asked for without even looking at him. Razumov thought that these people were safe to deal with because they no longer cared for anything in the world. He addressed the envelope on the counter with the German name of a certain person living in Vienna. But Razumov knew that this, his first communication for Councillor Mikulin, would find its way to the Embassy there, be copied in cypher by somebody trustworthy, and sent on to its destination, all safe, along with the diplomatic correspondence. That was the arrangement contrived to cover up the track of the information from all unfaithful eyes, from all indiscretions, from all mishaps and treacheries. It was to make him safe--absolutely safe.

Descriptive or narrative?  I'd say both, and a brilliant paragraph at that.  But some people might tell you to split it into two and get rid of those random sentences that make it magnificent. 

I guess it would be logical, but again, I don't believe logic enters the equation.

Thoughts?

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November already?

Pretty soon it will be Thanksgiving...and then Christmas, before you know it!



I spent yesterday doing mostly nothing...well, we did watch some Star Trek original.  It's the silliest series I've ever seen (with Robin Hood second and Lark Rise third), but I love the concept and some of the episodes are actually quite good.  The characters are pretty good, too (except when they suffer from soap-opera "character development").  One of my favorite parts is whenever they start talking really techy and I don't know what they're talking about but it sounds cool.

Maybe I'm weird, but I always love hearing professionals converse with lots of terminology.  Eye doctors, mathematicians, computer experts, etc...  It just makes me happy to hear people who are smart, know what they're talking about inside-out, and use the English language intelligently. 

Anyway, having got Star Trek on the brain, I've decided to try replicating the uniforms for 11 1/2" dolls (Barbie and Ken doll size).  They won't be exactly the same by any means...  The biggest problem will be trying to make Star Trek badges/pins on that scale. 

In other fascinating news, I also have a persuasive essay to write this week.  I'm resolved to write at least one page of it today, if not the whole thing.  Once I get into it, I can be pretty verbose...it's just getting myself to start writing that's the difficult part.

I'm a terribly slow writer.  I guess I ought to do NaNoWriMo one of these years...probably would be good for me.  I actually have an idea for a novel, as well as an idea for a novel rewrite.  However, I can't see myself writing 1600 words every day.  Besides, even when I do make myself write every day (and I've tried!), it doesn't turn out too good...  Still sounds like a fun event, though--good luck to everyone joining it this year!  :)

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Yet shall not melt

A dreamer may dwell so long among fantasies that the things without him will seem as unreal as those within.

Sometimes, too, the Past comes back, and finds me here, and in her train come faces which were gladsome when I knew them, yet seem not gladsome now.

And when, at noontide, I tread the crowded streets, the influence of this day will still be felt; so that I shall walk among men kindly and as a brother, with affection and sympathy, but yet shall not melt into the indistinguishable mass of humankind.  I shall think my own thoughts and feel my own emotions and possess my individuality unviolated.

In our brief summer I do not think, but only exist in the vague enjoyment of a dream.

all quotes from "Foot-prints on the Sea-shore", Nathaniel Hawthorne

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Hello again!

I've been dreadfully un-blogger-y this month, with my last *real* post being on August 7th!  It doesn't feel so long ago.  But I suppose that's what happens when the pages of your life start turning faster.

The week of the 14th involved not one, but two summery picnics.  And the weather here was sunny for both.  The church picnic was lovely as always, and our family picnic was fun.  We visited with relatives we hadn't seen in months, and I met relatives I didn't know I had.  :)  And of course, there was KFC and the most fantabulous salads & deserts. 

Then the next week, we went on a driving trip to the Canadian Rockies, and just got home yesterday.  It was a great vacation, with dry, sunny weather all week long!  I'll be blogging about it soon, so stay tuned for more pics...

In other news, we are getting four new chickens from my aunt--we're actually going over to pick them up today.  I'm not really an animal person, but it is exciting.  :)  We have three hens already, but they're six years old and approaching retirement.  I just hope the hens aren't mean to the newbies...they're going to be separate at first, but eventually they'll have to learn to get along in the same living space.  Two of the hens are pretty mild-mannered; but the third one has no manners whatever.  In fact, I'm a bit scared of her.  :P

Her name happens to be 'Daisy'.  Ironic, I say.

School starts about three weeks from now.  I always study like crazy; but this year, I'm also quite resolved on Order and Method [to quote a certain detective].  Neatness, methodical study, and more confidence.  And, in order to further this goal, I have a list of things to-do in the meantime:

• Clean my desk.  Once I do that, I'll actually have space in my room for writing; and I mean to work on my stories every day, if time permits.


• Clean out & organise my files and folders, on my laptop.  


• Sort through my shoes, and hem coat sleeves.  I love having a variety of jackets (more than shoes or tops), and my mom found several amazing ones for me this summer!  Two of them do need a little hemming, but it's no big deal.


• Lastly, do some pencil sketches, while I still have free time...

We'll see how this whole 'order and method' thing works out, in the light of a ton of homework.  *sigh* 

Oh, another thing I did was solve a math puzzle correctly!  The puzzle is called "Petty Cash", and it's from a book of such puzzles called A Tangled Tale, by Lewis Carroll.  You can read "Petty Cash" here.  I have a whole new respect for Carroll.  The book is much more about logic than math--the math, in fact, is the easy part.  The logic is incredibly complex.  "Petty Cash" is, to me, the easiest of them all, since it involves minimal use of logic.  Altogether, the fact that I figured it out is more due to my reviewing Algebra rules/techniques, than any real talent of my own.  :P  Additionally (no pun intended), I found the answer a bit differently than Carroll, but I think the procedure is similar and equally valid.  If more convoluted...

I love the ending quote:

   “You can do Arithmetic, I trust?” her aunt said, a little anxiously, as Clara turned from one tablet to another, vainly trying to collect her thoughts. Her mind was a blank, and all human expression was rapidly fading out of her face.
   A gloomy silence ensued.

I can relate.

Speaking of Carroll, I'm reading Sylvie and Bruno.  It's part fairytale, part nonsense-fantasy, and part romance.  I really like it so far.  It gives you a better perspective of the author than the Alice books do.  I think that, rather than writing pure nonsense, Carroll simply used nonsense and fantasy as another way to illustrate [or study] logic and the real world.  I do think artists with highly analytical minds will often bury their ideas behind fantasy or vague prose, because,

1. Fantasy is an effective, flexible outlet for expressing complex ideas; and 


2. Analytical people themselves are so used to "hunting for hidden truths", that it seems natural to them to write enigmatically. 

But I digress, dreadfully.  I have a sewing project to post about as well, but I'll save that for another day.  ;)

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What he said...part II

The actual experience of even the most ordinary life is full of events that never explain themselves, either as regards their origin or their tendency.

It is a great mistake to try to put our best thoughts into human language.

...they looked like fragments of the world, broken adrift and based on nothingness...

It is the special excellence of pictured glass, that the light, which falls merely on the outside of other pictures, is here interfused throughout the work.

She had lost--and she trembled lest it should have departed forever--the faculty of appreciating those great works of art, which heretofore had made so large a portion of her happiness.

...he sometimes discovered that they looked fanciful only because so absolutely true.

She chose the better and loftier and more unselfish part, laying her individual hopes, her fame, her prospects of enduring remembrance, at the feet of those great departed ones whom she so loved and venerated; and therefore the world was richer for this feeble girl.

Every crime destroys more Edens than our own.

- The Marble Faun, Nathaniel Hawthorne

I want to be understood.

He yawned frequently.  He drank large quantities of tea, he walked about aimlessly, and when he sat down he did not budge for a long time.  He spent some time drumming on the window with his finger-tips quietly.  In his listless wanderings round about the table he caught sight of his own face in the looking-glass and that arrested him.  The eyes which returned his stare were the most unhappy eyes he had ever seen.  

...to live without fear, was also happiness.

I produced, even upon myself, the effect of a dumb helpless ghost, of an anxious immaterial thing that could only hover about without the power to protect or guide by as much as a whisper.

- Under Western Eyes, Conrad

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What he said...part I

I sat down by the wayside of life, like a man under enchantment, and a shrubbery sprang up around me, and the bushes grew to be saplings, and the saplings became trees, until no exit appeared possible through the entangling depths of my obscurity. 

Allow your fancy pretty free license, and omit no heightening touches because they did not chance to happen before your eyes.  If they did not happen, they at least ought, which is all that concerns you.

The fact is, I have a natural abhorrence of pen and ink, and nothing short of absolute necessity ever drives me to them.

- Nathaniel Hawthorne

The side of the ship made an opaque belt of shadow on the darkling glassy shimmer of the sea.

Necessity, they say, is mother of invention, but fear, too, is not barren of ingenious suggestions.

My polite insistence must have had something menacing in it, because he gave in suddenly.

- The Secret Sharer, Conrad

I took his face to pieces in my mind, like a watch, and examined it in detail.  I could not say much against any of his features separately; I could say even less against them when they were put together.

- "Hunted Down", Dickens

But, as it sometimes chanceth, from the might
Of joy in minds that can no farther go,
As high as we have mounted in delight
In our dejection do we sink as low

The Crags repeat the Raven's croak,
In symphony austere

Whither is fled the visionary gleam?
Where is it now, the glory and the dream?

With admiration I behold
Thy gladness unsubdued and bold;
Thy looks, thy gestures, all present
The picture of a life well-spent

Oft do I sit by thee at ease,
And weave a web of similies

- Wordworth

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Perspective

You don’t really suppose, do you, that all your adventures and escapes were managed by mere luck, just for your sole benefit?  You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you; but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world after all!

{Gandalf - The Hobbit - Tolkien}

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Greatness

This perhaps is enough for me to say on this particular occasion about these, my parting words, about this, my last mood in my great passion for the sea. I call it great because it was great to me.  Others may call it a foolish infatuation. Those words have been applied to every love story. But whatever it may be the fact remains that it was something too great for words.

{Joseph Conrad, The Mirror of the Sea}

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At the moment,

   "I was waiting for you," said Gregory. "Might I have a moment's conversation?"   "Certainly. About what?" asked Syme in a sort of weak wonder.
   Gregory struck out with his stick at the lamp-post, and then at the tree. "About this and this," he cried; "about order and anarchy. There is your precious order, that lean, iron lamp, ugly and barren; and there is anarchy, rich, living, reproducing itself—there is anarchy, splendid in green and gold."
   "All the same," replied Syme patiently, "just at present you only see the tree by the light of the lamp. I wonder when you would ever see the lamp by the light of the tree."

- The Man Who Was Thursday, G. K. Chesterton

Chesterton's amazing.  He fits more wit and humor into a page than most authors (myself included) can fit into five.  Oh, and Gabriel Syme is the coolest character I've met in a while.  In fact, this whole book is one of the coolest, action-packed reads ever (which is saying a lot).


Spring break is almost here, and I'm very glad.  Have been debating on what to do with a week off.  Here's the current agenda:

1. Tidy up my room.  An understatement.  :P
2. Sew.  Sew something...new spring/summer clothes, if I'm feeling practical.
3. If I'm not feeling practical, then I will draw, play piano, and work on some website designs.
4. If, on the other hand, I am feeling particularly sensible, I will pick up my notebooks and write like crazy the whole week.  I have a million ideas floating around in my head and on paper.  Prioritizing is almost painful.

If none of the above occur, it is most likely due to the side effects of too much math.  Or too many fun books to read.  


- Marian

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Jane

I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself. I will keep the law given by God; sanctioned by man. I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad--as I am now. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth? They have a worth--so I have always believed; and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane--quite insane: with my veins running fire, and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs. Preconceived opinions, foregone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by: there I plant my foot.

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Trust

Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.

In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths.   Proverbs 3:5-6 (KJV)

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Quote of the day, #2

Some people we see under no remarkable circumstances, but whom, for some reason or other, we never forget.  - Dana, Two Years Before the Mast

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courage

   "'I will have no man in my boat,' said Starbuck, 'who is not afraid of a whale.' By this, he seemed to mean, not only that the most reliable and useful courage was that which arises from the fair estimation of the encountered peril, but that an utterly fearless man is a far more dangerous comrade than a coward.
   "'Aye, aye,' said Stubb, the second mate, 'Starbuck, there, is as careful a man as you'll find anywhere in this fishery.' But we shall ere long see what that word "careful" precisely means when used by a man like Stubb, or almost any other whale hunter.
   Starbuck was no crusader after perils; in him courage was not a sentiment; but a thing simply useful to him, and always at hand upon all mortally practical occasions. Besides, he thought, perhaps, that in this business of whaling, courage was one of the great staple outfits of the ship, like her beef and her bread, and not to be foolishly wasted. Wherefore he had no fancy for lowering for whales after sun-down; nor for persisting in fighting a fish that too much persisted in fighting him. For, thought Starbuck, I am here in this critical ocean to kill whales for my living, and not to be killed by them for theirs; and that hundreds of men had been so killed Starbuck well knew."

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