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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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April
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- A Dark Day in Belgium.
- A Whole Load of Nothing.
- It's in the Eyes.
- Rain.
- The Value of Education.
- The Rubaiyat.
- Looking Beyond the Dream.
- Writer's Block.
- Welcome Visitors.
- Annie's Little Joke.
- What?
- Animals the Third-and-a-bit.
- On Giving.
- Proper Poetry.
- Animals the Third.
- Bathory Syndrome.
- Eat Your Heart Out, Lon Chaney Jnr.
- Down Under.
- Divided by a Common Language.
- Animals the Second.
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- The Volcano Got Me.
- Coming to This Theatre Soon.
- Sexualising Society.
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- Defining Acceptability.
- Out of the Mouths of Babes...
- And Another Thing...
- Keeping us Clearly Informed.
- Seven Things.
- I'm a Historical Figure at Last.
- Poorly Volcano, Poorly Me.
- Evenin' All.
- The Parting Glass.
- Consequences.
- Only the Birdsong to Bedeck the Peace.
- The Holy Ground.
- Why Write?
- Posh Job Titles.
- Four Weeks!
- Oh for the Perfect Lawn (and a note to Wizardess e...
- Finding out for Myself.
- Aren't Women Clever?
- The Silence of the Lamb.
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- Is This a Blog?
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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.
10 comments:
Especially I love that building with the red roof and gate.
Well, here we go again (sigh.) I used that in another story. Did I mention the fiction?
Altogether now...
You write fiction, do you? o¿~
I talk to trees as well. How about you?
You do? I do, too, sometimes.
Ah, thanks JJ! Just want to say, I’m surprised you were in Donegal long enough to catch a nice day- we can go years without a glimpse of blue sky (ok, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration).
p.s To answer your query, that would go something like Roisin na Suile (with some fadas sprinkled in).
RTE: I was there for a week, and had at least a little sunshine most days. I think the Goddess must have been smiling on me. And I met a really nice man in Letterkenny (sp) who took time out from his shop to tell me all about music festivals (and even gave me Maire Brennan's home phone number, which I never rang.) And I met another HUGE Irishman at The Scotsman in Donegal Town. He had hands like dinner plates I remember, and told me I was a natural with the Gaelic rhythms! And I got drunk every night, but the landlady never shouted at me (just told me it was 'a good craic over there', like she understood.) And I spent hours sitting on the beach at Fintra without another soul in sight. Same at Doorin Point. And lots of sheep took a friendly interest in me. And a farmer stopped and gave me a lift back to the main road. Yeah, great place. Would love to go back there some time. But I really have to go to Connemara before I die. It's been calling me since I was a child.
p.s.
Would I like fadas? Can you drink them?
Fadas? I'm sure you could on some metephorical level, but in the plain old real world there just the little accents above certain letters. If I wanted to be pedantic I could've gone out of my way to include them, but I'm not (at least not today). I really should've 'cause they can chance the meaning of words. For example, without the fadas my name translates as 'cannabis resin'.
And I'm sure it would be of the very finest quality.
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