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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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2010
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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.
- Animals the First.
- The Volcano Got Me.
- Coming to This Theatre Soon.
- Sexualising Society.
- Invasion of the Volcano's Breath.
- 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.
- A Soft Touch.
- Imperfection.
- The Trailer...
- Pointless TV.
- On God and Parental Responsibility.
- The Tao of Dogs.
- Is This a Blog?
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April
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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.
2 comments:
I love the rain! I love the smell especially, and the dreary atmosphere but happy mood it puts me in :)
Brits are inveterate complainers about the rain. Even after a long dry spell, they moan as soon as it rains. I suppose it's because we tend to get rather a lot, but I ask them 'Where do you think the water in your tap comes from?' Gardeners have more of a sense of balance. It rained during a school trip I went on to the Yorkshire Dales. I sat out in the evening to smell the earth and look at the misty landscape. The others stayed in the games room. I had a reputation for being weird even back then. Didn't seem so weird to me, but I suppose that's the point. Being weird or 'mad' is often nothing more than looking beyond the conditioning. Thanks for visiting, Lucy. You're always welcome.
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