A certain brother went to Abba Moses in Scete and asked him to speak a word.
The elder said to him, “Go and sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.”
—Sayings of the Desert Fathers and Mothers
The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with weary feet,
Until it joins some larger way,
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.
'That sounds like a bit of old Bilbo's rhyming,' said Pippin. 'Or is it one of your imitations? It does not sound altogether encouraging.'
'I don't know,' said Frodo. 'It came to me then, as if I was making it up; but I may have heard it long ago. Certainly it reminds me very much of Bilbo in the last years, before he went away. He used often to say there was only one Road; that it was like a great river: its springs were at every doorstep, and every path was its tributary. "It's a dangerous business, Frodo, going out of your door," he used to say. "You step into the Road, and if you don't keep your feet, there is no knowing where you might be swept off to."
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
We are warmed by the fire, not by the smoke of the fire. We are carried over the sea by a ship, not by the wake of a ship. So too, what we are is to be sought in the invisible depths of our own being, not in our outward reflection in our own acts. We must find our real selves not in the froth stirred up by the impact of our being upon the beings around us, but in our own soul which is the principle of all our acts.
― Thomas Merton, No Man Is an Island
There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed on that plot of ground which is given to him to till.
― Ralph Waldo Emerson, "Self-Reliance"
"...[T]he poor of the district had chosen by a sort of affectionate instinct, from among the bishop's names, the one that meant the most to them, and so they always called him Monseigneur Bienvenu. We shall follow their example and shall call him thus; besides, this pleased him. "I like this name," said he; "the Bienvenu counterbalances the Monseigneur."
― Victor Hugo, Les Misérables
This page is sort of a catch-all for the things that don't quite fit anywhere else, kind of like that "miscellaneous stuff" drawer in your kitchen. Some of it is definitely just junk. Some of it is incredibly precious. Hopefully, this blog―with its song stories and random ramblings and who knows what else―will contain more of the latter. Peace.
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