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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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December
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- The Nature of New Years Eve.
- Stretching the Reader's Breath.
- Not a Fan.
- Considering the Post-Hobbit Phase.
- Judging The Shire Illuminations.
- The Community Intelligence Game.
- Being Weird and Pesky.
- The Power of Galadriel.
- Anticipating a Tough Read.
- Mad Women and Imaginative Professors.
- Town and Country Climate.
- But Still Planning...
- Awareness in Absentia.
- Where Fatigue Might Lead.
- An Oddly Dark Ditty.
- An Unlikely Suggestion.
- Not Strictly Correct.
- Bad Mouth Bear.
- Epilogue.
- Sullen Shire and the Lady Jane.
- Rainy Season.
- Typos and Stuff.
- A Further Muse on Miss Eyre.
- An Idle Speculation.
- A Nasty Post.
- Dog Stars.
- Explaining Miss Jane Eyre.
- A Problem of Credibility.
- A Few Christmas Day Notes.
- The Magic of the Unfamiliar.
- A Christmas Eve Ramble.
- Singing Frogs and the Prospect of Dalliance.
- The Snowman on Trial.
- Sentiment and Small Things.
- Letting Go.
- Apocalypse: Rapture by Numbers.
- The Value of Wind-Down Time.
- The Fog and Three Ladies.
- Defining Christianity.
- Brief Nothings.
- Next Misinterpretation.
- Understanding Scrooge.
- Admitting Pecuniary Interest.
- Jane's Principles and Other Bits.
- The Count in Ashbourne.
- The Shire in the Desert.
- The Missing Apostrophe.
- Christmas Viewing.
- Ending on a Preposition.
- Replacement Wheels.
- 'Well, Sir?'
- Decorating the Magic.
- A Christmas Question.
- Counting to Ten.
- Christmas Crap.
- Milking Tragedy.
- Looking for the Grail.
- America's Sadness.
- A Few Trivial Questions.
- A Little Retrospective.
- Being Prompted by Mr Campbell.
- Night Walking and the New Drink.
- Being Intrigued.
- Regions of Reality.
- Emerging Briefly, Maybe.
- Balancing the Reaction.
- Being No Messiah.
- A Little Scented Fraud.
- Forget Herding Sheep...
- Books A-Waiting.
- In Praise of Charlotte.
- A Matter of Perception Again.
- A Right Royal Outrage.
- Lights on an Island.
- Ashbourne 5/12
- Learning the Language.
- The End.
- An Early Christmas Post.
- Oh, Joy.
- Today's Drac.
- A Walking Nightmare.
- The Walk, the Water, and a Worm.
- God and Tedium.
- Erasing the Record.
- Progression, Actually.
- Approaching Yule.
- Soggy Brave Sausages and the Hands of God.
- Ladies of the Moment and Children of the Night.
- Time and Recollection.
- Time and the Priestess.
- The Chinese Way.
- Tonight's Drac Post.
- Cars and Christmas Trees.
- Professional Incompetence.
- Mumbles.
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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.
5 comments:
Cognoscitne Jesus atque Latinam?
Dammit, that should be cognovitne. That's what I get for trying to do Latin at 7 in the morning.
I never noticed...
I'm honoured that you should even think about me at 7 in the morning, but I do wonder whether you should bring your multitude of talents under control. You might explode before you're 25, or worse still, marry an academic.
You see, Mad, I didn't do Latin. People from my side of the tracks don't. I'm going to hazard a guess that your phrase means something like 'Maybe Jesus knew Latin,' and risk the embarrassment of making my ignorance transparent. I did think of that, but then the post disappeared.
It might mean that, or it might not. I was really never taught how to translate English into Latin, only the other way around. And I can't speak it, either, which means I can't have awesome conversations with Bede.
You're doing the dippy thing again, Madeline. It's what softens your brilliance and makes you quite charming.
Try Old English. I gather it isn't too difficult to learn.
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