It struck me while sitting in the bath that the following
conversation is mildly thought provoking:
‘Do you want to be my lover?’
‘No. I want you to be mine.’
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...until death do re-unite or the Priestess return to Avalon.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
The moving finger writes and, having writ, moves on. Nor all your piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all your tears wash out a word of it.
There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man. True nobility lies in being superior to your former self .
This character appears in one of my short stories, and also in the novel. He's sadder than he looks, poor thing.
About Me
- JJ
- Ashbourne, Derbyshire, United Kingdom
- I've never had money because I've never been driven by money. I received little formal education beyond the age of sixteen, which isn't such a bad thing since you get a different angle on life that way. Learning what you want and need to learn often reveals things that the system's road keeps hidden.
BOOKS
Anyone interested in viewing the availablity of my novel Odyssey or novella The Gift Horse can do so here.
To Be Retained...
...until death do re-unite or the Priestess return to Avalon.
Khalil Gibran on Children.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
OMAR KAYYAM ON REGRET.
The moving finger writes and, having writ, moves on. Nor all your piety nor wit shall lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all your tears wash out a word of it.
Herman Hess on Nobility
There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man. True nobility lies in being superior to your former self .
Free Fiction
I have another blog called A Handful of Stories on which I've posted some of my short fiction. Most of it has been published by a variety of independent small press publishers, so somebody other than me must have thought it worth reading.
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- A Little Review of 2011.
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- After Night Falls.
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- Coining a New Phrase.
- The Law Being Furtive.
- Thinking It's April.
- The Glamour Question.
- A Dubious Phrase.
- Breaking Down.
- Three Animal Bits.
- Epilogue to the Teddy Bear.
- Nostalgia (and Other Bits)
- The Language Problem.
- Balancing Considerations.
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- Covert Surveillance and Gluttony.
- In at the Shallow End.
- A Personal Message to the Remotest Person.
- Not Debunking Christmas.
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- Two Little Updates.
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- Best Christmas Song Ever.
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- Bye, Everybody.
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- Now.
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- Can't Get Started.
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- A Little Muse on the Power of Will.
- Being the Poor Minstrel.
- Better than Voices in the Head.
- A Pain in the Pocket.
- Posting for Posting's Sake.
- Ringing Out the Old.
- Strange Taste.
- The Ramble Resumed.
- Stunned.
- Letting off Steam.
- Dog Mind etc.
- More My Style.
- Getting a Life.
- Surviving Sensitivity.
- Watching the Earth Move.
- True Horror.
- Lamentable Limitations.
- The Modern Reliance.
- Another View on an Old Subject.
- Not Much of a Nightmare.
- Two Loosely Related Jottings.
- A Little Fantasy.
- Note from a Chilly Britain.
- More Bed Time Notes.
- Home Alone at Christmas.
- Attempting Some Christmas Spirit.
- Weird Google.
- The Bird Buddies.
- A Woman's Place.
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- Another Old Ghost.
- Major Brickbat, Minor Bouquet.
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Pictures.
All the permanent pictures and some of the posted ones on this blog are my copyright. Most of them, however, are placed with a picture library which holds the licensing rights. I don't, therefore, have the legal right to grant permission to use them.
An Inhabitant of the Hungry Ghost Realm
This character appears in one of my short stories, and also in the novel. He's sadder than he looks, poor thing.
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When everything that is illusion is removed, all that remains is consciousness.
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