TERMS STARTING WITH
eleven ::: a. --> Ten and one added; as, eleven men. ::: n. --> The sum of ten and one; eleven units or objects.
A symbol representing eleven units, as 11 or xi.
The eleven men selected to play on one side in a match, as the representatives of a club or a locality; as, the all-England
eleven cognitions. (S. jNāna; T. shes pa; C. zhi 智)
eleventh ::: a. --> Next after the tenth; as, the eleventh chapter.
Constituting one of eleven parts into which a thing is divided; as, the eleventh part of a thing.
Of or pertaining to the interval of the octave and the fourth. ::: n.
ELEVENS
TERMS ANYWHERE
1. eleven material factors (S. rupa; T. gzugs; C. sefa 色法)
3. eleven material factors (S. rupa; T. gzugs; C. shiyi sefa 色法)
3. eleven wholesome mental comcomitants (S. kusala; T. dge ba; C. shan 善)
3. Eleven "form" or "material" (RuPA) dharmas, the eye organ, visual object, etc., and formal thought objects (dharmāyatanika-rupa).
Abhayagiri. A Sri Lankan monastery built at the capital of ANURADHAPURA in first century BCE. The monastery was constructed for the elder MahAtissa by the Sinhala king VAttAGAMAnI ABHAYA in gratitude for the monk's assistance during the king's political exile and his struggle for the throne. According to medieval PAli historical chronicles, MahAtissa was said to have been unrestrained and base in his behavior, which eventually prompted the monks of the MAHAVIHARA to pass an act of banishment (PRAVRAJANĪYAKARMAN, P. pabbAjanīyakamma) against him. MahAtissa thereafter conducted ecclesiastical ceremonies (SAMGHAKARMAN, P. sanghakamma) separately, and the Abhayagiri fraternity eventually seceded from the MahAvihAra as a separate order of Sri Lankan Buddhism. The Abhayagiri flourished during the eleventh century, but, with the abandonment of AnurAdhapura in the thirteenth century, ceased to exist as an active center. The site is today known for the massive Abhayagiri Thupa (STuPA), one of the largest in Sri Lanka, which was rediscovered deep in a forest at the end of the nineteenth century.
AbhayAkaragupta. (T. 'Jigs med 'byung gnas sbas pa) (d. c. 1125). Indian tantric Buddhist master who was born into a brAhmana family in either Orissa or northeast India near Bengal. Sources vary regarding his dates of birth and death, although most agree that he was a contemporary of the PAla king RAmapAla, who began his reign during the final quarter of the eleventh century. AbhayAkaragupta became a Buddhist monk in response to a prophetic vision and trained extensively in the esoteric practices of TANTRA, while nevertheless maintaining his monastic discipline (VINAYA). AbhayAkaragupta was active at the monastic university of VIKRAMAsĪLA in Bihar and became renowned as both a scholar and a teacher. He was a prolific author, composing treatises in numerous fields of Buddhist doctrine, including monastic discipline and philosophy as well as tantric ritual practice and iconography. Many Sanskrit manuscripts of his works have been preserved in India, Nepal, and Tibet, and his writings were influential both in India and among Newari Buddhists in Nepal. Translations of his works into Tibetan were begun under his supervision, and more than two dozen are preserved in the Tibetan canon. To date, AbhayAkaragupta's writings best known in the West are his treatises on tantric iconography, the VajrAvalī and NispannayogAvalī, and his syncretistic ABHIDHARMA treatise MunimatAlaMkAra.
abhicAra. [alt. abhicara] (T. mngon spyod). In Sanskrit, "magic" or "wrathful action"; in ANUTTARAYOGATANTRA, the fourth of the four activities (CATURKARMAN) of the Buddhist tantric adept. AbhicAra is broken down into mArana "killing," mohana "enchanting," stambhana "paralyzing," vidvesana "rendering harm through animosity," uccAtana "removing or driving away," and vasīkarana "subduing." After initiation (ABHIsEKA), adepts who keep their tantric commitments (SAMAYA) properly and reach the requisite yogic level are empowered to use four sorts of enlightened activity, as appropriate: these four types of activities are (1) those that are pacifying (S. sANTICARA); (2) those that increase prosperity, life span, etc. (PAUstIKA), when necessary for the spread of the doctrine; (3) those that subjugate or tame (S. VAsĪKARAnA) the unruly; and finally (4) those that are violent or drastic measures (abhicAra) such as war, when the situation requires it. In the MANJUsRĪNAMASAMGĪTI, CAnakya, Candragupta's minister, is said to have used abhicAra against his enemies, and because of this misuse of tantric power was condemned to suffer the consequences in hell. Throughout the history of Buddhist tantra, the justification of violence by invoking the category of abhicAra has been a contentious issue. PADMASAMBHAVA is said to have tamed the unruly spirits of Tibet, sometimes violently, with his magical powers, and the violent acts that RWA LO TSA BA in the eleventh century countenanced against those who criticized his practices are justified by categorizing them as abhicAra.
Abhidhammatthasangaha. In PAli, "Summary of the Meaning of Abhidharma"; a synoptic manual of PAli ABHIDHARMA written by the Sri Lankan monk ANURUDDHA (d.u.), abbot of the Mulasoma VihAra in Polonnaruwa, sometime between the eighth and twelfth centuries CE, but most probably around the turn of the eleventh century. (Burmese tradition instead dates the text to the first century BCE.) The terse Abhidhammatthasangaha Has been used for centuries as an introductory primer for the study of abhidharma in the monasteries of Sri Lanka and the THERAVADA countries of Southeast Asia; indeed, no other abhidharma text has received more scholarly attention within the tradition, especially in Burma, where this primer has been the object of multiple commentaries and vernacular translations. The Abhidhammatthasangaha includes nine major sections, which provide a systematic overview of PAli Buddhist doctrine. Anuruddha summarizes the exegeses appearing in BUDDHAGHOSA's VISUDDHIMAGGA, though the two works could hardly be more different: where the Visuddhimagga offers an exhaustive exegesis of THERAVADA abhidharma accompanied by a plethora of historical and mythical detail, the Abhidhammatthasangaha is little more than a list of topics, like a bare table of contents. Especially noteworthy in the Abhidhammatthasangaha is its analysis of fifty-two mental concomitants (CETASIKA), in distinction to the forty-six listed in SARVASTIVADA ABHIDHARMA and the ABHIDHARMAKOsABHAsYA. There is one major PAli commentary to the Abhidhammatthasangaha still extant, the PorAnatīkA, which is attributed to Vimalabuddhi (d.u.). The Abhidhammatthasangaha appears in the Pali Text Society's English translation series as Compendium of Philosophy.
AbhidhAnottaratantra. [alt. AvadAnastotratantra] (T. Mngon par brjod pa'i rgyud bla ma). In Sanskrit, "Continuation of the Explanation [of the CAKRASAMVARATANTRA]"; an Indian text describing the invocation of numerous tantric deities together with their seed syllables (BĪJA) and ritual meditations. The work was originally translated into Tibetan and edited by ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNANA and RIN CHEN BZANG PO in the eleventh century.
abhidharmapitaka. (P. abhidhammapitaka; T. chos mngon pa'i sde snod; C. lunzang; J. ronzo; K. nonjang 論藏). The third of the three "baskets" (PItAKA) of the Buddhist canon (TRIPItAKA). The abhidharmapitaka derives from attempts in the early Buddhist community to elucidate the definitive significance of the teachings of the Buddha, as compiled in the SuTRAs. Since the Buddha was well known to have adapted his message to fit the predilections and needs of his audience (cf. UPAYAKAUsALYA), there inevitably appeared inconsistencies in his teachings that needed to be resolved. The attempts to ferret out the definitive meaning of the BUDDHADHARMA through scholastic interpretation and exegesis eventually led to a new body of texts that ultimately were granted canonical status in their own right. These are the texts of the abhidharmapitaka. The earliest of these texts, such as the PAli VIBHAnGA and PUGGALAPANNATTI and the SARVASTIVADA SAMGĪTIPARYAYA and DHARMASKANDHA, are structured as commentaries to specific sutras or portions of sutras. These materials typically organized the teachings around elaborate doctrinal taxonomies, which were used as mnemonic devices or catechisms. Later texts move beyond individual sutras to systematize a wide range of doctrinal material, offering ever more complex analytical categorizations and discursive elaborations of the DHARMA. Ultimately, abhidharma texts emerge as a new genre of Buddhist literature in their own right, employing sophisticated philosophical speculation and sometimes even involving polemical attacks on the positions of rival factions within the SAMGHA. ¶ At least seven schools of Indian Buddhism transmitted their own recensions of abhidharma texts, but only two of these canons are extant in their entirety. The PAli abhidhammapitaka of the THERAVADA school, the only recension that survives in an Indian language, includes seven texts (the order of which often differs): (1) DHAMMASAnGAnI ("Enumeration of Dharmas") examines factors of mentality and materiality (NAMARuPA), arranged according to ethical quality; (2) VIBHAnGA ("Analysis") analyzes the aggregates (SKANDHA), conditioned origination (PRATĪTYASAMUTPADA), and meditative development, each treatment culminating in a catechistic series of inquiries; (3) DHATUKATHA ("Discourse on Elements") categorizes all dharmas in terms of the skandhas and sense-fields (AYATANA); (4) PUGGALAPANNATTI ("Description of Human Types") analyzes different character types in terms of the three afflictions of greed (LOBHA), hatred (DVEsA), and delusion (MOHA) and various related subcategories; (5) KATHAVATTHU ("Points of Controversy") scrutinizes the views of rival schools of mainstream Buddhism and how they differ from the TheravAda; (6) YAMAKA ("Pairs") provides specific denotations of problematic terms through paired comparisons; (7) PAttHANA ("Conditions") treats extensively the full implications of conditioned origination. ¶ The abhidharmapitaka of the SARVASTIVADA school is extant only in Chinese translation, the definitive versions of which were prepared by XUANZANG's translation team in the seventh century. It also includes seven texts: (1) SAMGĪTIPARYAYA[PADAsASTRA] ("Discourse on Pronouncements") attributed to either MAHAKAUstHILA or sARIPUTRA, a commentary on the SaMgītisutra (see SAnGĪTISUTTA), where sAriputra sets out a series of dharma lists (MATṚKA), ordered from ones to elevens, to organize the Buddha's teachings systematically; (2) DHARMASKANDHA[PADAsASTRA] ("Aggregation of Dharmas"), attributed to sAriputra or MAHAMAUDGALYAYANA, discusses Buddhist soteriological practices, as well as the afflictions that hinder spiritual progress, drawn primarily from the AGAMAs; (3) PRAJNAPTIBHAsYA[PADAsASTRA] ("Treatise on Designations"), attributed to MaudgalyAyana, treats Buddhist cosmology (lokaprajNapti), causes (kArana), and action (KARMAN); (4) DHATUKAYA[PADAsASTRA] ("Collection on the Elements"), attributed to either PuRnA or VASUMITRA, discusses the mental concomitants (the meaning of DHATU in this treatise) and sets out specific sets of mental factors that are present in all moments of consciousness (viz., the ten MAHABHuMIKA) or all defiled states of mind (viz., the ten KLEsAMAHABHuMIKA); (5) VIJNANAKAYA[PADAsASTRA] ("Collection on Consciousness"), attributed to Devasarman, seeks to prove the veracity of the eponymous SarvAstivAda position that dharmas exist in all three time periods (TRIKALA) of past, present, and future, and the falsity of notions of the person (PUDGALA); it also provides the first listing of the four types of conditions (PRATYAYA); (6) PRAKARAnA[PADAsASTRA] ("Exposition"), attributed to VASUMITRA, first introduces the categorization of dharmas according to the more developed SarvAstivAda rubric of RuPA, CITTA, CAITTA, CITTAVIPRAYUKTASAMSKARA, and ASAMSKṚTA dharmas; it also adds a new listing of KUsALAMAHABHuMIKA, or factors always associated with wholesome states of mind; (7) JNANAPRASTHANA ("Foundations of Knowledge"), attributed to KATYAYANĪPUTRA, an exhaustive survey of SarvAstivAda dharma theory and the school's exposition of psychological states, which forms the basis of the massive encyclopedia of SarvAstivAda-VaibhAsika abhidharma, the ABHIDHARMAMAHAVIBHAsA. In the traditional organization of the seven canonical books of the SarvAstivAda abhidharmapitaka, the JNANAPRASTHANA is treated as the "body" (sARĪRA), or central treatise of the canon, with its six "feet" (pAda), or ancillary treatises (pAdasAstra), listed in the following order: (1) PrakaranapAda, (2) VijNAnakAya, (3) Dharmaskandha, (4) PrajNaptibhAsya, (5) DhAtukAya, and (6) SaMgītiparyAya. Abhidharma exegetes later turned their attention to these canonical abhidharma materials and subjected them to the kind of rigorous scholarly analysis previously directed to the sutras. These led to the writing of innovative syntheses and synopses of abhidharma doctrine, in such texts as BUDDHAGHOSA's VISUDDHIMAGGA and ANURUDDHA's ABHIDHAMMATTHASAnGAHA, VASUBANDHU's ABHIDHARMAKOsABHAsYA, and SAMGHABHADRA's *NYAYANUSARA. In East Asia, this third "basket" was eventually expanded to include the burgeoning scholastic literature of the MAHAYANA, transforming it from a strictly abhidharmapitaka into a broader "treatise basket" or *sASTRAPItAKA (C. lunzang).
AbhisamayAlaMkArAlokA-vyAkhyA. (T. Mngon rtogs rgyan gyi snang ba rgya cher bshad pa). In Sanskrit, "Illuminating the 'Ornament of Realization,'" by the Indian scholiast HARIBHADRA (c. 750 CE). This long commentary, summarized in his ABHISAMAYALAMKARAVIVṚTI, correlates the 273 verses of MAITREYANATHA's ABHISAMAYALAMKARA with the specific corresponding sections in the AstASAHASRIKAPRAJNAPARAMITA ("Perfection of Wisdom in Eight Thousand Lines"). It was translated into Tibetan by RIN CHEN BZANG PO in the eleventh century and by RNGOG BLO LDAN SHES RAB and subsequently became a central text in the curricula of many Tibetan monasteries. See AstASAHASRIKAPRAJNAPARAMITAVYAKHYABHISAMAYALAMKARALOKA.
ab ::: n. --> The fifth month of the Jewish year according to the ecclesiastical reckoning, the eleventh by the civil computation, coinciding nearly with August.
Abracadabra [possibly from Celtic abra or abar god + cad holy; Blavatsky from an elaboration of the Gnostic Abrasax or Abraxas, a corruption of a Coptic or Egyptian magic formula meaning “hurt me not”] Mystical word used as a charm by the Gnostic school of Basilides. The Gnostic physician Serenus Sammonicus (2nd-3rd century) prescribed it as a remedy for agues and fevers. On amulets the word is often inscribed as a triangle with the point down, beginning with all eleven letters, below which are the first ten, and so on down to the single letter at the point. The power of any charm lies, not in the word itself, but in the hidden science connecting sounds and symbols with the potencies in nature to which they correspond. See also ABLANATHANALBA
AcalanAtha-VidyArAja. (T. Mi g.yo mgon po rig pa'i rgyal po; C. Budong mingwang; J. Fudo myoo; K. Pudong myongwang 不動明王). In Sanskrit, a wrathful DHARMAPALA of the VAJRAYANA pantheon and the chief of the eight VIDYARAJA. As described in the MAHAVAIROCANABHISAMBODHISuTRA, he is the NIRMAnAKAYA of VAIROCANA, a protector of boundaries and vanquisher of obstacles. A late Indian deity, AcalanAtha-VidyArAja possibly originated from the YAKsA form of VAJRAPAnI, with whom he is associated in his form of AcalavajrapAni. Indian forms of the god from the eleventh century show him kneeling on his left leg, holding a sword (khadga). VajrayAna images show him standing with one or three faces and varied numbers of pairs of hands, identified by his raised sword, snare, and ACALASANA. The cult of AcalanAtha-VidyArAja entered China during the first millennium CE, and was brought to Japan by KuKAI in the ninth century, where the wrathful deity (known in Japanese as Fudo myoo) became important for the Shingon school (SHINGONSHu), even being listed by it as one of the thirteen buddhas. In East Asian iconography, AcalanAtha-VidyArAja holds the sword and a snare or lasso (pAsa), with which he binds evil spirits.
Adepts in genuine archaic astrology know the peculiar qualities of the various stars and the influences they shed around them, and therefore likewise on earth and man; the tattered remnants of this knowledge have been handed down to modern astrologers. One branch concerns worship of the genii of the stars, the star-angels or -rishis especially — because of a certain occult mystery — the seven of the Great Bear. All entities, whether worlds or men, have each its own parent-star or mahadhyani-buddha; but this does not refer to the dominant star in merely natal astrology. There is an analogy and intimate connection between the celestial hierarchies of orbs and the hierarchies of human principles, for every star we see is one globe of a chain of six or eleven other star-globes, just as our earth is one globe of a planetary chain. Thus our sun is the visible representative of a solar or stellar chain, of which only the most physicalized, concreted globe is visible to us as our day-star. Every star or sun is the imbodiment of a conscious living being, pursuing its own pathways of destiny, and most intimately bound together not only with its own planetary family but with all the other stars and suns in the galaxy to which it belongs. This fact was the real basis of the wide diffusion of what is popularly called sun worship.
Alchi. The name, possibly of early Dardic origin, of a monastic complex located approximately twenty miles northwest of Leh, in the Ladakh region of the northwestern Indian state of Kashmir. The complex is renowned for its exceptional collection of early Tibetan Buddhist painting and statuary. Local legend ascribes Alchi's foundation to the great eleventh-century translator RIN CHEN BZANG PO. While the monastery's early history is obscure, inscriptions within the complex attribute its foundation to Skal ldan shes rab (Kalden Sherap) and Tshul khrims 'od (Tsultrim Ö), active sometime between the eleventh and twelfth centuries. The complex of Alchi, called the chos 'khor ("dharma enclave"), comprises five main buildings: (1) the 'dus khang ("assembly hall"); (2) the lo tsA ba'i lha khang ("translator's temple"); (3) the 'Jam dpal lha khang ("MaNjusrī temple"); (4) the gsum brtsegs ("three-storied [temple]"); and (5) the lha khang so ma ("new temple"). While the 'dus khang stands as the earliest and largest structure, the gsum brtsegs is perhaps most famous for its three-storied stucco statues of AVALOKITEsVARA, MAITREYA, and MANJUsRĪ, each painted in elaborate detail. The temple also contains extraordinary murals painted by western Tibetan and Kashmiri artisans.
AmarAvatī. (T. 'Chi med ldan). In Sanskrit, "Immortal"; is the modern name for DhAnyakataka or Dharanikota, the site of a monastic community associated with the MAHASAMGHIKA school, located in eastern Andhra Pradesh. The site is best known for its large main STuPA, started at the time of AsOKA (third century BCE), which, by the second century CE, was the largest monument in India. It is thought to have been some 140 feet in diameter and upwards of 100 feet tall, and decorated with bas-reliefs. The stupa is mentioned in numerous accounts, including that by the Chinese pilgrim XUANZANG. AmarAvatī (as DhAnyakataka) reached its historical zenith as the southern capital of the later SAtavAhana [alt. sAtavAhana] dynasty that ended in 227 CE. The last inscription found at the site is dated to the eleventh century, and when first excavated at the end of the eighteenth century by the British, the stupa had long been reduced to a large mound of earth. Over the following centuries, it has been the focus of repeated archaeological excavations that yielded many important finds, making it one of the best researched Buddhist sites of ancient India. The site is important in Tibetan Buddhism because the Buddha is said to have taught the KALACAKRATANTRA at DhAnyakataka. See also NAGARJUNAKOndA.
amoha. (T. gti mug med pa; C. wuchi; J. muchi; K. much'i 無癡). In Sanskrit and PAli, "nondelusion"; one of the eleven wholesome (KUsALA) mental concomitants (CAITTA) according to the YOGACARA school, "nondelusion" is the opposite of "delusion" (MOHA). This mental quality was presumed to be so central to all wholesome activities that it was listed as one of the three wholesome faculties, or roots of virtue (KUsALAMuLA). Nondelusion is interpreted variously as clarity in perception regarding the way things are (yathAbhuta), the temporary suppression or permanent extirpation of ignorance (AVIDYA), the full comprehension of the FOUR NOBLE TRUTHS, or the clear seeing of the three marks of existence (TRILAKsAnA).
anandamaya asura ::: the sadhyadeva (mind raised to the plane of anandamaya ananda) of the asura type, who evolves in the eleventh and twelfth manvantaras of the sixth pratikalpa.
AnguttaranikAya. (S. EkottarAgama; T. Gcig las 'phros pa'i lung; C. Zengyi ahan jing; J. Zoichiagongyo; K. Chŭngil aham kyong 增壹阿含經). In PAli, "Collection of Numerically Arranged Discourses"; the fourth division of the PAli SUTTAPItAKA (S. SuTRAPItAKA). This collection, which may date from as early as the first century BCE, is composed of 2,198 suttas organized into nine nipAtas, or sections. It corresponds in general structure to the EKOTTARAGAMA, extant only in Chinese translation (and of unidentified affiliation), which is much smaller at only 471 sutras. The suttas in the PAli collection are arranged sequentially in numbered lists according to their subject matter, beginning with discussions of singularities, such as nibbAna (NIRVAnA), and progressing up to sets of eleven. Its PAli commentary, the MANORATHAPuRAnĪ, was probably composed during the fifth century CE. The AnguttaranikAya appears in the Pali Text Society's English translation series as The Book of Gradual Sayings.
Anuruddha. (P) The PAli name for one of the ten chief disciples of the Buddha; see ANIRUDDHA. ¶ Anuruddha is also the name of the author of the THERAVADA abhidhamma manual ABHIDHAMMATTHASAnGAHA, as well as the Paramatthavinicchaya and the NAmarupapariccheda. Anuruddha flourished during the eleventh or twelfth century and was the abbot of Mulasoma VihAra. His Abhidhammatthasangaha has for centuries been the most widely used introductory text for the study of ABHIDHAMMA (S. ABHIDHARMA) in monastic colleges throughout the PAli Buddhist world.
aquarius ::: AquariusAquarius, the Water Carrier, is an air sign and the eleventh sign of the Zodiac. Aquarius is ruled by the planet Uranus. Da'ath (meaning 'reason') is considered by Kabbalists to be a 'quasi-emanation' combining the energies of Chokmah and Binah. Da'ath is often referred to as the eleventh Sephirah or the Sphere without a number. See also The Sephiroth.
aquarius ::: n. --> The Water-bearer; the eleventh sign in the zodiac, which the sun enters about the 20th of January; -- so called from the rains which prevail at that season in Italy and the East.
A constellation south of Pegasus.
Aquarius: The Eleventh Sign of the Zodiac. It is ruled by Saturn, the planetary representative of Shaitan, and is of great impor tance in this Aeon because the Age of
Aquarius (The Water Bearer): The eleventh sign of the zodiac. Its symbol () represents a stream of water, symbolizing the servant of humanity who pours out the water of knowledge to quench the thirst of the world. The Sun is in Aquarius annually from January 21 to February 20. Astrologically it is the second thirty-degree arc following the Sun’s passing of the Winter Solstice, occupying a position along the Ecliptic from 300° to 330°. It is the “fixed” quality of the element Air, in which the will is largely motivated by reasoning processes—whether sound or unsound. It is positive, hot, moist, sanguine, rational and obeying. Ruler: Saturn; or by some moderns: Uranus. Exaltation: Mercury. Detriment: Sun. Symbolic interpretation: Waves, or water, or the vibrationary waves of electricity; parallel lines of force.
AsokAvadAna. (T. Ku nA la'i rtogs pa brjod pa; C. Ayu wang zhuan; J. Aiku o den; K. Ayuk wang chon 阿育王傳). In Sanskrit, "The Story of Asoka," a text belonging to the category of "edifying tales" (AVADANA), which narrates the major events in the life of King AsOKA of the Indian Mauryan dynasty. The work focuses primarily on Asoka's conversion to Buddhism, his subsequent support of the DHARMA and monastic community (SAMGHA), his visits to the major sites of the Buddha's life (MAHASTHANA), and his construction of STuPAs. It also records the transmission of the Buddhist teachings by five early teachers: MAHAKAsYAPA, ANANDA, MADHYANTIKA, sAnAKAVASIN, and UPAGUPTA. The AsokAvadAna relates that, in a previous life, Asoka (then a small boy named Jaya) placed a handful of dirt in the Buddha's begging bowl (PATRA). The Buddha predicted that one hundred years after his passage into nirvAna, the child would become a DHARMARAJA and CAKRAVARTIN named Asoka. As emperor, Asoka becomes a devout Buddhist and righteous king, renowned for collecting the relics (sARĪRA) of the Buddha from eight (or in one version, seven of eight) stupas and redistributing them in 84,000 stupas across his realm. Parts of the Sanskrit text have been preserved in the DIVYAVADANA, and the entire work is extant in Chinese. Only the KunAla chapter of the AsokAvadAna was rendered into Tibetan, in the eleventh century, by PadmAkaravarman and RIN CHEN BZANG PO.
AtthakanAgarasutta. (C. Bacheng jing; J. Hachijokyo; K. P'alsong kyong 八城經). In PAli, "Discourse to the Man from Atthaka"; the fifty-second sutta in the MAJJHIMANIKAYA (a separate SARVASTIVADA recension appears as SuTRA no. 217 in the Chinese translation of the MADHYAMAGAMA); preached by the Buddha's attendant ANANDA to the householder Dasaka of Atthaka at BeluvagAmaka near VesAlī (VAIsALĪ). According to the PAli recension, a merchant from the town (nAgara) of Atthaka named Dasaka approaches Ananda and asks him if there was any one thing that could lead to liberation from bondage. Ananda teaches him the eleven doors of the deathless, by means of which it is possible to attain liberation from bondage. These doors are made up of the four meditative absorptions (JHANA; S. DHYANA), the four BRAHMAVIHARA meditations, and the three immaterial meditations of infinite space (AKAsANANTYAYATANA), infinite consciousness (VIJNANANANTYAYATANA), and nothing-whatsoever (AKINCANYAYATANA). Ananda states that by contemplating the conditioned and impermanent nature of these eleven doors to liberation, one can attain arhatship (see ARHAT) in this life or short of that will attain the stage of a nonreturner (ANAGAMIN), who is destined to be reborn in the pure abodes (sUDDHAVASA), whence he will attain arhatship and final liberation.
avadAna. (P. apadAna; T. rtogs par brjod pa; C. apotuona/piyu; J. ahadana or apadana/hiyu; K. ap'adana/piyu 阿波陀那/譬喩). In Sanskrit, "tales" or "narrative"; a term used to denote a type of story found in both Buddhist and non-Buddhist literature. The precise meaning of the word has been the subject of much discussion. In the Indian BrAhmanas and srauta literature, the term denotes either something that is sacrificed or a portion of a sacrifice. The term avadAna was originally thought to mean "something cut off; something selected" and was presumed to derive from the prefix ava- + the Sanskrit root √dA. Feer, who published a French translation of the AVADANAsATAKA in 1891, tentatively translated it as "légende, action héroïque," while noting that the Tibetans, the Chinese, and the Mongols all employed differing translations of the word as well. (The Chinese use a transcription, apotuona, as well as a translation, piyu, meaning "simile." The Tibetan rtogs brjod has been rendered as "judgment" or "moral legend"; literally, it means the presentation or expression of the realizations [of an adept]. The Mongolian equivalent is domok.) Feer's rendering of avadAna is closer to its meaning of "heroic action" in classical Indian works such as the RaghuvaMsa and the KumArasambhava. AvadAnas are listed as the tenth of the twelvefold (DVADAsAnGA) division of the traditional genres of Buddhist literature, as classified by compositional style and content. The total corpus of the genre is quite extensive, ranging from individual avadAnas embedded in VINAYA texts, or separate sutras in the SuTRAPItAKA, to avadAnas that circulated either individually or in avadAna collections. These stories typically illustrate the results of both good and bad KARMAN, i.e., past events that led to present circumstances; in certain cases, however, they also depict present events that lead to a prediction (VYAKARAnA) of high spiritual attainment in the future. AvadAnas are closely related to JATAKAs, or birth stories of the Buddha; indeed, some scholars have considered jAtakas to be a subset of the avadAna genre, and some jAtaka tales are also included in the AVADANAsATAKA, an early avadAna collection. AvadAnas typically exhibit a three-part narrative structure, with a story of the present, followed by a story of past action (karman), which is then connected by identifying the past actor as a prior incarnation of the main character in the narrative present. In contrast to the jAtakas, however, the main character in an avadAna is generally not the Buddha (an exception is Ksemendra's eleventh-century BodhisattvAvadAnakalpalatA) but rather someone who is or becomes his follower. Moreover, some avadAnas are related by narrators other than the Buddha, such as those of the AsOKAVADANA, which are narrated by UPAGUPTA. Although the avadAna genre was once dismissed as "edifying stories" for the masses, the frequent references to monks as listeners and the directives to monks on how to practice that are embedded in these tales make it clear that the primary audience was monastics. Some of the notations appended to the stories in sura's [alt. Aryasura; c. second century CE] JATAKAMALA suggest that such stories were also used secondarily for lay audiences. On the Indian mainland, both mainstream and MAHAYANA monks compiled avadAna collections. Some of the avadAnas from northwestern India have been traced from kernel stories in the MuLASARVASTIVADA VINAYA via other mainstream Buddhist versions. In his French translation of the AvadAnasataka, Feer documented a number of tales from earlier mainstream collections, such as the AvadAnasataka, which were reworked and expanded in later MahAyAna collections, such as the RatnAvadAnamAlA and the KalpadrumAvadAnamAlA, which attests to the durability and popularity of the genre. Generally speaking, the earlier mainstream avadAnas were prose works, while the later MahAyAna collections were composed largely in verse.
Avalokitesvara. (T. Spyan ras gzigs; C. Guanshiyin/Guanyin; J. Kanzeon/Kannon; K. Kwanseŭm/Kwanŭm 觀世音/觀音). In Sanskrit, "Lord who Looks Down [in Empathy]"; the BODHISATTVA of compassion, the most widely worshipped of the MAHAYANA bodhisattvas and one of the earliest to appear in Buddhist literature. According to legend, Avalokitesvara was produced from a beam of light that radiated from the forehead of AMITABHA while that buddha was deep in meditation. For this reason, Buddhist iconography often depicts AmitAbha as embedded in Avalokitesvara's crown. His name dates back to the beginning of the Common Era, when he replaced the Vedic god BRAHMA as the attendant to sAKYAMUNI Buddha, inheriting in turn BrahmA's attribute of the lotus (PADMA). Images of Avalokitesvara as PADMAPAnI LOKEsVARA ("Lord with a Lotus in his Hand"), an early name, are numerous. Avalokitesvara is the interlocutor or main figure in numerous important MahAyAna sutras, including the PRAJNAPARAMITAHṚDAYASuTRA ("Heart Sutra"). His cult was introduced to China in the first century CE, where his name was translated as Guanshiyin ("Perceiver of the Sounds of the World") or GUANYIN ("Perceiver of Sounds"); his cult entered Korea and Japan with the advent of Buddhism in those countries. Avalokitesvara was once worshipped widely in Southeast Asia as well, beginning at the end of the first millennium CE. Although the MahAyAna tradition eventually faded from the region, images of Avalokitesvara remain. Avalokitesvara is also the patron deity of Tibet, where he is said to have taken the form of a monkey and mated with TARA in the form of a local demoness to produce the Tibetan race. Tibetan political and religious leaders have been identified as incarnations of him, such as the seventh-century king SRONG BTSAN SGAM PO (although that attribution was most likely a later addition to the king's legacy) and, notably, the DALAI LAMAs. The PO TA LA Palace, the residence of the Dalai Lamas, in the Tibetan capital of LHA SA is named for Avalokitesvara's abode on Mount POTALAKA in India. In China, Avalokitesvara as Guanyin underwent a transformation in gender into a popular female bodhisattva, although the male iconographic form also persists throughout East Asia. PUTUOSHAN, located off the east coast of China south of Shanghai, is said to be Potalaka. Avalokitesvara is generally depicted in the full raiments of a bodhisattva, often with an image of AmitAbha in his crown. He appears in numerous forms, among them the two-armed PadmapAni who stands and holds a lotus flower; the four-armed seated Avalokitesvara, known either as Caturbhuja Avalokitesvara [CaturbhujAvalokitesvara] or CintAmani Avalokitesvara [CintAmanyavalokitesvara], who holds the wish-fulfilling jewel (CINTAMAnI) with his central hands in ANJALIMUDRA, and a lotus and crystal rosary in his left and right hands, respectively; the eleven-armed, eleven-faced EKADAsAMUKHA; and the thousand-armed and thousand-headed SAHASRABHUJASAHASRANETRAVALOKITEsVARA (q.v. MAHAKARUnIKA). Tradition holds that his head split into multiple skulls when he beheld the suffering of the world. Numerous other forms also exist in which the god has three or more heads, and any number of arms. In his wrathful form as AstabhayatrAnAvalokitesvara (T. Spyan ras gzigs 'jigs pa brgyad skyob), "Avalokitesvara who Protects against the Eight Fears," the bodhisattva stands in ARDHAPARYAnKA ("half cross-legged posture") and has one face and eight hands, each of which holds a symbol of one of the eight fears. This name is also given to eight separate forms of Avalokitesvara that are each dedicated to protecting from one of the eight fears, namely: AgnibhayatrAnAvalokitesvara ("Avalokitesvara Who Protects from Fear of Fire") and so on, replacing fire with Jala (water), SiMha (lion), Hasti (elephant), Danda (cudgel), NAga (snake), dAkinī (witch) [alt. PisAcī]; and Cora (thief). In addition to his common iconographic characteristic, the lotus flower, Avalokitesvara also frequently holds, among other accoutrements, a jeweled rosary (JAPAMALA) given to him by Aksamati (as related in chapter twenty-five of the SADDHARMAPUndARĪKASuTRA), or a vase. In East Asia, Avalokitesvara often appears in a triad: the buddha AmitAbha in the center, flanked to his left and right by his two bodhisattva attendants, Avalokitesvara and MAHASTHAMAPRAPTA, respectively. In Tibet, Avalokitesvara is part of a popular triad with VAJRAPAnI and MANJUsRĪ. As one of the AstAMAHOPAPUTRA, Avalokitesvara also appears with the other bodhisattvas in group representation. The tantric deity AMOGHAPAsA is also a form of Avalokitesvara. The famous mantra of Avalokitesvara, OM MAnI PADME HuM, is widely recited in the MahAyAna traditions and nearly universally in Tibetan Buddhism. In addition to the twenty-fifth chapter of the Saddharmapundarīkasutra, the KARAndAVYuHA is also devoted to him. See also BAIYI GUANYIN; GUANYIN; MIAOSHAN; MAnI BKA' 'BUM.
Av ::: (Heb.) The eleventh month of the Hebrew calendar (which begins with the month of Tishrei); and fifth according to the Jewish calendar (which starts in the month of Nissan). (See also "Tisha B'av").
baguan zhai. (S. astAngasamanvAgataM upavAsaM; P. atthangasamanAgataM uposathaM; T. yan lag brgyad dang ldan pa'i bsnyen gnas; J. hakkansai; K. p'algwan chae 八關齋). In Chinese, "eight-restrictions fast"; also known as bajie ("eight precepts"), bajie zhai ("eight-precepts fast"), bafenzhaijie ("eight-fold fasting precepts"), etc. This fast was held on specific days when the laity was expected to observe a temporary set of more restrictive moral precepts. For one day and night, the laity would leave their homes and keep eight precepts (AstAnGASAMANVAGATAn UPAVASAM; see sĪLA), as if they had entered the SAMGHA, effectively becoming monks or nuns for a day. According to the Chinese Buddhist calendar, the UPOsADHA days reserved for the eight-precepts fast were the eighth, fourteenth, fifteenth, twenty-third, twenty-ninth, and thirtieth of each month. The eight precepts prohibit (1) killing, (2) stealing, (3) engaging in sexual misconduct, (4) lying, (5) consuming intoxicants, (6) resting on a high or luxurious bed, (7) using makeup and perfumes and enjoying music and dance, and (8) eating at improper times. Monasteries sometimes handed out certificates to those laypeople who participated in the precepts ceremony. In Korea, the p'algwan chae (which in Korean is usually called the P'ALGWANHOE, or "eight-restrictions festival") became an important winter festival of thanksgiving held over two full-moon days of the eleventh lunar month; the festival combined indigenous religious practices propitiating the spirits of mountains and rivers with tributes to the memory of fallen warriors. In Tibet, important religious dignitaries customarily give the precepts to both ordained and lay followers before sunrise on days marking important festivals. See also UPAVASA; JINGDU SANMEI JING.
baifa. (S. satadharma; J. hyappo; K. paekpop 百法). In Chinese, the "hundred DHARMAs"; the standard YOGACARA classification of factors, classified in five major categories: (1) Eight dharmas concerning the mind (CITTA)-the five affective consciousnesses associated with the five senses, plus the mental consciousness (MANOVIJNANA), mentality (MANAS), and the "storehouse consciousness" (ALAYAVIJNANA). (2) Fifty-one forces associated with thought (CITTASAMPRAYUKTASAMSKARA), such as "applied thought" (VITARKA), "sustained attention" (VICARA), and "envy" (ĪRsYA); these are the mental concomitants (CAITTA). (3) Eleven "material" (RuPA) dharmas, including the eye organ and visual objects, and formal thought objects (dharmAyatanikarupa). (4) Twenty-four forces dissociated from thought (CITTAVIPRAYUKTASAMSKARA); these are either subconscious or involuntary phenomena, such as "life force" (jīvitendriya) and the "meditative trance wherein no perceptual activities remain" (ASAMJNASAMAPATTI), or abstract notions, such as "possession" (PRAPTI), which are nonetheless classified as real existents. (5) Six "uncompounded" (ASAMSKṚTA) dharmas, such as "space" (AKAsA) and "suchness" (TATHATA), which are taken to be neither contingent on nor susceptible to causal forces, since they are unproduced by conditions and eternally unchanging. For the full roster of the hundred dharmas, see the List of Lists (s.v.).
Barlaam and Josaphat. A Christian saint's tale that contains substantial elements drawn from the life of the Buddha. The story tells the tale of the Christian monk Barlaam's conversion of an Indian prince, Josaphat. (Josaphat is a corrupted transcription of the Sanskrit term BODHISATTVA, referring to GAUTAMA Buddha prior to his enlightenment.) The prince then undertakes the second Christian conversion of India, which, following the initial mission of the apostle Thomas, had reverted to paganism. For their efforts, both Barlaam and Josaphat were eventually listed by the Roman Catholic Church among the roster of saints (their festival day is November 27). There are obvious borrowings from Buddhist materials in the story of Josaphat's life. After the infant Josaphat's birth, for example, astrologers predict he either will become a powerful king or will embrace the Christian religion. To keep his son on the path to royalty, his pagan father has him ensconced in a fabulous palace so that he will not be exposed to Christianity. Josaphat grows dissatisfied with his virtual imprisonment, however, and the king eventually accedes to his son's request to leave the palace, where he comes across a sick man, a blind man, and an old man. He eventually meets the monk Barlaam, who instructs him using parables. Doctrines that exhibit possible parallels between Buddhism and Christianity, such as the emphasis on impermanence and the need to avoid worldly temptations, are a particular focus of Barlaam's teachings, and the account of the way of life followed by Barlaam and his colleagues has certain affinities with that of wandering Indian mendicants (sRAMAnA). By the late nineteenth century, the story of Barlaam and Josaphat was recognized to be a Christianized version of the life of the Buddha. The Greek version of the tale is attributed to "John the Monk," whom the Christian scholastic tradition assumed to be St. John of Damascus (c. 676-749). The tale was, however, first rendered into Greek from Georgian in the eleventh century, perhaps by Euthymius (d. 1028). The Georgian version, called the Balavariani, appears to be based on an Arabic version, KitAb Bilawhar wa BudhAsaf. The source of the Arabic version has not been identified, nor has the precise Buddhist text from which the Buddhist elements were drawn. After the Greek text was translated into Latin, the story was translated into many of the vernaculars of Europe, becoming one of the most popular saint's tales of the Middle Ages.
Bdag med ma. (Dakmema) (fl. c. eleventh century). Chief of the nine wives of the renowned Tibetan translator MAR PA CHOS KYI BLO GROS. Bdag med ma plays a leading role in the life story of Marpa's chief disciple MI LA RAS PA, as his benefactor, confidant, and teacher. Her name, literally "selfless woman," is the Tibetan translation for the Sanskrit goddess NAIRATMYA, consort of the deity HEVAJRA. Marpa's principal chosen deity (YI DAM) was Hevajra, and it is believed that Marpa's family represented the nine deity Hevajra MAndALA (Kye'i rdo rje lha dgu) consisting of Hevajra and NairAtmyA in the center surrounded by eight goddesses.
eleven ::: a. --> Ten and one added; as, eleven men. ::: n. --> The sum of ten and one; eleven units or objects.
A symbol representing eleven units, as 11 or xi.
The eleven men selected to play on one side in a match, as the representatives of a club or a locality; as, the all-England
eleven cognitions. (S. jNāna; T. shes pa; C. zhi 智)
eleventh ::: a. --> Next after the tenth; as, the eleventh chapter.
Constituting one of eleven parts into which a thing is divided; as, the eleventh part of a thing.
Of or pertaining to the interval of the octave and the fourth. ::: n.
BhAvaviveka. (T. Legs ldan 'byed; C. Qingbian; J. Shoben; K. Ch'ongbyon 清辯) (c. 500-570). Also known as BhAviveka and Bhavya, an important Indian master of the MADHYAMAKA school, identified in Tibet as a proponent of SVATANTRIKA MADHYAMAKA and, within that, of SAUTRANTIKA-SVATANTRIKA-MADHYAMAKA. He is best known for two works. The first is the PRAJNAPRADĪPA, his commentary on NAGARJUNA's MuLAMADHYAMAKAKARIKA; this work has an extensive subcommentary by AVALOKITAVRATA. Although important in its own right as one of the major commentaries on the central text of the Madhyamaka school, the work is most often mentioned for its criticism of the commentary of BUDDHAPALITA on the first chapter of NAgArjuna's text, where BhAvaviveka argues that it is insufficient for the Madhyamaka only to state the absurd consequences (PRASAnGA) that follow from the position of the opponent. According to BhAvaviveka, the Madhyamaka must eventually state his own position in the form of what is called an autonomous inference (svatantrAnumAna) or an autonomous syllogism (SVATANTRAPRAYOGA). In his own commentary on the first chapter of NAgArjuna's text, CANDRAKĪRTI came to the defense of BuddhapAlita and criticized BhAvaviveka, stating that it is inappropriate for the Madhyamaka to use autonomous syllogisms. It is on the basis of this exchange that Tibetan exegetes identified two schools within Madhyamaka: the SvAtantrika, which includes BhAvaviveka, and the PrAsangika, which includes BuddhapAlita and Candrakīrti. ¶ The other major work of BhAvaviveka is his MADHYAMAKAHṚDAYA, written in verse, and its prose autocommentary, the TARKAJVALA. The Madhyamakahṛdaya is preserved in both Sanskrit and Tibetan, the TarkajvAlA only in Tibetan. It is a work of eleven chapters, the first three and the last two of which set forth the main points in BhAvaviveka's view of the nature of reality and the Buddhist path, dealing with such topics as BODHICITTA, the knowledge of reality (tattvajNAna), and omniscience (SARVAJNATA). The intervening chapters set forth the positions (and BhAvaviveka's refutations) of various Buddhist and non-Buddhist schools, including the sRAVAKA, YOGACARA, SAMkhya, Vaisesika, VedAnta, and MīmAMsA. These chapters (along with sANTARAKsITA's TATTVASAMGRAHA) are an invaluable source of insight into the relations between Madhyamaka and other contemporary Indian philosophical schools, both Buddhist and non-Buddhist. The chapter on the srAvakas, for example, provides a detailed account of the reasons put forth by the sRAVAKAYANA schools of mainstream Buddhism as to why the MahAyAna sutras are not the word of the Buddha (BUDDHAVACANA). BhAvaviveka's response to these charges, as well as his refutation of YOGACARA in the subsequent chapter, are particularly spirited, arguing that reality (TATHATA) cannot be substantially existent (dravyasat), as those rival schools claim. However, BhAvaviveka made extensive use of both the logic and epistemology of DIGNĂGA, at least at the level of conventional analysis. BhAvaviveka appears to have been the first Madhyamaka author to declare that the negations set forth by the Madhyamaka school are nonaffirming (or simple) negations (PRASAJYAPRATIsEDHA) rather than affirming (or implicative) negations (PARYUDASAPRATIsEDHA). Also attributed to BhAvaviveka is the Karatalaratna ("Jewel in Hand Treatise"; Zhangzhen lun), a work preserved only in the Chinese translation of XUANZANG. BhAvaviveka's MADHYAMAKARTHASAMGRAHA is a brief text in verse. As the title suggests, it provides an outline of the basic topics of MADHYAMAKA philosophy, such as the middle way (S. MADHYAMAPRATIPAD) between the extremes of existence and nonexistence, Madhyamaka reasoning, and the two truths (SATYADVAYA). The MADHYAMAKARATNAPRADĪPA is likely the work of another author of the same name, since it makes reference to such later figures as Candrakīrti and DHARMAKĪRTI.
bhumi. (T. sa; C. di; J. ji; K. chi 地). In Sanskrit, lit. "ground"; deriving from an ABHIDHARMA denotation of bhumi as a way or path (MARGA), the term is used metaphorically to denote a "stage" of training, especially in the career of the BODHISATTVA or, in some contexts, a sRAVAKA. A list of ten stages (DAsABHuMI) is most commonly enumerated, deriving from the DAsABHuMIKASuTRA ("Discourse on the Ten Bhumis"), a sutra that is later subsumed into the massive scriptural compilation, the AVATAMSAKASuTRA. The bodhisattva does not enter the ten bhumis immediately after generating the aspiration for enlightenment (BODHICITTOTPADA); rather, the first bhumi coincides with the attainment of the path of vision (DARsANAMARGA) and the remaining nine to the path of cultivation (BHAVANAMARGA). The ultimate experience of buddhahood is sometimes referred to (as in the LAnKAVATARASuTRA) as an eleventh TATHAGATABHuMI, which the MAHAVYUTPATTI designates as the samantaprabhAbuddhabhumi. The stage of the path prior to entering the path of vision is sometimes referred to as the adhimukticaryAbhumi ("stage of the practice of resolute faith"), a term from the BODHISATTVABHuMI. An alternative list of "ten shared stages" of spiritual progress common to all three vehicles of sRAVAKA, PRATYEKABUDDHA, and bodhisattva is described in the *MAHAPRAJNAPARAMITASuTRA and the DAZHIDU LUN (*MahAprajNApAramitAsAstra). An alternative list of seven bhumis of the bodhisattva path, as found in MAITREYANATHA and ASAnGA's Bodhisattvabhumi, is also widely known in MahAyAna literature. For full treatment of each the bhumi system, see BODHISATTVABHuMI, DAsABHuMI; sRAVAKABHuMI; see also individual entries for each BHuMI.
Bka' brgyud. (Kagyü). In Tibetan, "Oral Lineage" or "Lineage of the Buddha's Word"; one of the four main sects of Tibetan Buddhism. The term bka' brgyud is used by all sects of Tibetan Buddhism in the sense of an oral transmission of teachings from one generation to the next, a transmission that is traced back to India. Serving as the name of a specific sect, the name Bka' brgyud refers to a specific lineage, the MAR PA BKA' BRGYUD, the "Oral Lineage of Mar pa," a lineage of tantric initiations, instructions, and practices brought to Tibet from India by the translator MAR PA CHOS KYI BLO GROS in the eleventh century. Numerous sects and subsects evolved from this lineage, some of which developed a great deal of autonomy and institutional power. In this sense, it is somewhat misleading to describe Bka' brgyud as a single sect; there is, for example, no single head of the sect as in the case of SA SKYA or DGE LUGS. The various sects and subsects, however, do share a common retrospection to the teachings that Mar pa retrieved from India. Thus, rather than refer to Bka' brgyud as one of four sects (chos lugs), in Tibetan the Mar pa Bka' brgyud is counted as one of the eight streams of tantric instruction, the so-called eight great chariot-like lineages of achievement (SGRUB BRGYUD SHING RTA CHEN PO BRGYAD), a group which also includes the RNYING MA, the BKA' GDAMS of ATIsA, and the instructions on "severance" (GCOD) of MA GCIG LAB SGRON. In some Tibetan histories, Mar pa's lineage is called the Dkar brgyud ("White Lineage"), named after the white cotton shawls worn by its yogins in their practice of solitary meditation. The reading Dka' brgyud ("Austerities Lineage") is also found. The lineage from which all the sects and subsects derive look back not only to Mar pa, but to his teacher, and their teachers, traced back to the tantric buddha VAJRADHARA. Vajradhara imparted his instructions to the Indian MAHASIDDHA TILOPA, who in turn transmitted them to the Bengali scholar and yogin NAROPA. It was NAropa (in fact, his disciples) whom Mar pa encountered during his time in India, receiving the famous NA RO CHOS DRUG, or the six doctrines of NAropa. Mar pa returned to Tibet, translated the texts and transmitted these and other teachings (including MAHAMUDRA, the hallmark practice of Bka' brgyud) to a number of disciples, including his most famous student, MI LA RAS PA. These five figures-the buddha Vajradhara, the Indian tantric masters Tilopa and NAropa, and their Tibetan successors Mar pa and Mi la ras pa (both of whom were laymen rather than monks)-form a lineage that is recognized and revered by all forms of Bka' brgyud. One of Mi la ras pa's chief disciples, the physician and monk SGAM PO PA BSOD NAMS RIN CHEN united the tantric instructions he received from Mi la ras pa and presented them in the monastic and exegetical setting that he knew from his studies in the Bka' gdams sect. Sgam po pa, therefore, appears to have been instrumental in transforming an itinerant movement of lay yogins into a sect with a strong monastic element. He established an important monastery in the southern Tibetan region of Dwags po; in acknowledgment of his importance, the subsequent branches of the Bka' brgyud are sometimes collectively known as the DWAGS PO BKA' BRGYUD. The Bka' brgyud later divided into what is known in Tibetan as the "four major and eight minor Bka' brgyud" (BKA' BRGYUD CHE BZHI CHUNG BRGYAD). A number of these subsects no longer survive as independent institutions, although the works of their major figures continue to be studied. Among those that survive, the KARMA BKA' BRGYUD, 'BRI GUNG BKA' BRGYUD, and 'BRUG PA BKA' BRGYUD continue to play an important role in Tibet, the Himalayan region, and in exile.
Bla ma g.yung drung dgon pa. (Lama Yuru). The oldest Buddhist monastery in Ladakh and Zangskar; located 125 kilometers west of Leh, the capital of Ladakh. Bla ma g.yung drung is thought to have been founded between the tenth and eleventh centuries; the site is also believed to be a sacred BON site. According to traditional accounts, when NAROPA came to the area to meditate in the eleventh century, he decided where the monastery would be built. He then magically drained a lake in the valley in order to make way for its construction. It is a 'BRUG PA BKA' BRGYUD monastery, and currently one of the most active monasteries in the region. Bla ma g.yung drung's library is also thought to be one of the oldest in Ladakh. The translator RIN CHEN BZANG PO built many temples at Bla ma g.yung drung.
blo sbyong. (lojong). In Tibetan, "mind training"; a tradition of Tibetan Buddhist practice associated especially with the BKA' GDAMS sect and providing pithy instructions on the cultivation of compassion (KARUnA) and BODHICITTA. The trainings are based primarily on the technique for the equalizing and exchange of self and other, as set forth in the eighth chapter of sANTIDEVA's BODHICARYAVATARA, a poem in ten chapters on the BODHISATTVA path. The practice is to transform the conception of self (ATMAGRAHA), characterized as a self-cherishing attitude (T. rang gces 'dzin) into cherishing others (gzhan gces 'dzin), by contemplating the illusory nature of the self, the faults in self-cherishing, and the benefits that flow from cherishing others. The training seeks to transform difficulties into reasons to reaffirm a commitment to bodhicitta. Dharmaraksita's Blo sbyong mtshon cha'i 'khor lo (sometimes rendered as "Wheel of Sharp Weapons"), translated into Tibetan by ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNANA and 'BROM STON, founders of the Bka' gdam sect, in the eleventh century; Glang ri thang pa's (Langri Thangpa) (1054-1123) BLO SBYONG TSHIG BRGYAD MA ("Eight Verses on Mind Training"); 'CHAD KA BA YE SHES RDO RJE's BLO SBYONG DON BDUN MA (Lojong dondünma) ("Seven Points of Mind Training"), and Hor ston Nam mkha'i dpal bzang's (1373-1447) Blo sbyong nyi ma'i 'od zer ("Mind Training like the Rays of the Sun") are four among a large number of widely studied and practiced blo sbyong texts. The Blo sbyong mtshon cha'i 'khor lo, for example, compares the bodhisattva to a hero who can withstand spears and arrows, and to a peacock that eats poison and becomes even more beautiful; it says difficulties faced in day-to-day life are reasons to strengthen resolve because they are like the spears and arrow of karmic results launched by earlier unsalutary actions. From this perspective, circumstances that are ordinarily upsetting or depressing are transformed into reasons for happiness, by thinking that negative KARMAN has been extinguished. The influence of tantric Buddhism is discernable in the training in blo sbyong texts like the Mtshon cha'i 'khor lo that exhorts practitioners to imagine themselves as the deity YAMANTAKA and mentally launch an attack on the conception of self, imagining it as a battle. The conception of self is taken as the primary reason for the earlier unsalutary actions that caused negative results, and for engaging in present unsalutary deeds that harm others and do nothing to advance the practitioner's own welfare.
BodhgayA. (S. BuddhagayA). Modern Indian place name for the most significant site in the Buddhist world, renowned as the place where sAKYAMUNI Buddha (then, still the BODHISATTVA prince SIDDHARTHA) became a buddha while meditating under the BODHI TREE at the "seat of enlightenment" (BODHIMAndA) or the "diamond seat" (VAJRASANA). The site is especially sacred because, according to tradition, not only did sAkyamuni Buddha attain enlightenment there, but all buddhas of this world system have or will do so, albeit under different species of trees. BodhgayA is situated along the banks of the NAIRANJANA river, near RAJAGṚHA, the ancient capital city of the MAGADHA kingdom. Seven sacred places are said to be located in BodhgayA, each being a site where the Buddha stayed during each of the seven weeks following his enlightenment. These include, in addition to the bodhimanda under the Bodhi tree: the place where the Buddha sat facing the Bodhi tree during the second week, with an unblinking gaze (and hence the site of the animesalocana caitya); the place where the Buddha walked back and forth in meditation (CAnKRAMA) during the third week; the place called the ratnagṛha, where the Buddha meditated during the fourth week, emanating rays of light from his body; the place under the ajapAla tree where the god BRAHMA requested that the Buddha turn the wheel of the dharma (DHARMACAKRAPRAVARTANA) during the fifth week; the lake where the NAGA MUCILINDA used his hood to shelter the Buddha from a storm during the sixth week; and the place under the rAjAyatana tree where the merchants TRAPUsA and BHALLIKA met the Buddha after the seventh week, becoming his first lay disciples. ¶ Located in the territory of MAGADHA (in modern Bihar), the ancient Indian kingdom where the Buddha spent much of his teaching career, BodhgayA is one of the four major pilgrimage sites (MAHASTHANA) sanctioned by the Buddha himself, along with LUMBINĪ in modern-day Nepal, where the Buddha was born; the Deer Park (MṚGADAVA) at SARNATH, where he first taught by "turning the wheel of the dharma" (DHARMACAKRAPRAVARTANA); and KUsINAGARĪ in Uttar Pradesh, where he passed into PARINIRVAnA. According to the AsOKAVADANA, the emperor AsOKA visited BodhgayA with the monk UPAGUPTA and established a STuPA at the site. There is evidence that Asoka erected a pillar and shrine at the site during the third century BCE. A more elaborate structure, called the vajrAsana GANDHAKUtĪ ("perfumed chamber of the diamond seat"), is depicted in a relief at BodhgayA, dating from c. 100 BCE. It shows a two-storied structure supported by pillars, enclosing the Bodhi tree and the vajrAsana, the "diamond seat," where the Buddha sat on the night of his enlightenment. The forerunner of the present temple is described by the Chinese pilgrim XUANZANG. This has led scholars to speculate that the structure was built sometime between the third and sixth centuries CE, with subsequent renovations. Despite various persecutions by non-Buddhist Indian kings, the site continued to receive patronage, especially during the PAla period, from which many of the surrounding monuments date. A monastery, called the BodhimandavihAra, was established there and flourished for several centuries. FAXIAN mentions three monasteries at BodhgayA; Xuanzang found only one, called the MahAbodhisaMghArAma (see MAHABODHI TEMPLE). The temple and its environs fell into neglect after the Muslim invasions that began in the thirteenth century. British photographs from the nineteenth century show the temple in ruins. Restoration of the site was ordered by the British governor-general of Bengal in 1880, with a small eleventh-century replica of the temple serving as a model. There is a tall central tower some 165 feet (fifty meters) in height, with a high arch over the entrance with smaller towers at the four corners. The central tower houses a small temple with an image of the Buddha. The temple is surrounded by stone railings, some dating from 150 BCE, others from the Gupta period (300-600 CE) that preserve important carvings. In 1886, EDWIN ARNOLD visited BodhgayA. He published an account of his visit, which was read by ANAGARIKA DHARMAPALA and others. Arnold described a temple surrounded by hundreds of broken statues scattered in the jungle. The MahAbodhi Temple itself had stood in ruins prior to renovations undertaken by the British in 1880. Also of great concern was the fact that the site had been under saiva control since the eighteenth century, with reports of animal sacrifice taking place in the environs of the temple. DharmapAla visited BodhgayA himself in 1891, and returned to Sri Lanka, where he worked with a group of leading Sinhalese Buddhists to found the MAHABODHI SOCIETY with the aim of restoring BodhgayA as place of Buddhist worship and pilgrimage. The society undertook a series of unsuccessful lawsuits to that end. In 1949, after Indian independence, the BodhgayA Temple Act was passed, which established a committee of four Buddhists and four Hindus to supervise the temple and its grounds. The Government of India asked AnagArika Munindra, a Bengali monk and active member of the MahAbodhi Society, to oversee the restoration of BodhgayA. Since then, numerous Buddhist countries-including Bhutan, China, Japan, Myanmar, Nepal, Sikkim, Sri Lanka, Thailand, Tibet, and Vietnam-have constructed (or restored) their own temples and monasteries in BodhgayA, each reflecting its national architectural style. In 2002, the MahAbodhi Temple was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Bodhi tree. (S. bodhidruma [alt. bodhivṛksa; bodhiyasti; bodhivata]; P. bodhirukkha; T. byang chub shing; C. puti shu; J. bodaiju; K. pori su 菩提樹). The name for the sacred tree under which each buddha achieves enlightenment (BODHI), according to the standard hagiographies; sometimes abbreviated as the "bo tree" in English. The Bodhi tree is one of the elements in all stories of a buddha's enlightenment and each buddha has a specific type of tree associated with him. In the case of the current buddha, GAUTAMA or sAKYAMUNI, the tree under which he sat when he attained enlightenment is a pipal, or fig, tree (Ficus religiosa). The original Bodhi tree was located at the "seat of enlightenment" (BODHIMAndA, VAJRASANA) in BODHGAYA, in northern India, but cuttings from it have throughout history been replanted at Buddhist sites around Asia, and now the world. It is said that the Buddha authorized a seed from the tree to be planted in JETAVANA. Its veneration and protection are a common theme in Buddhist literature, figuring prominently, for example, in the story of AsOKA. The tree was cut, burned, and uprooted by various Hindu kings, including SasAnka of Bengal in the seventh century. It was subsequently replaced by a seedling derived from a cutting that had been taken to Sri Lanka in the third century BCE. The PAli MAHABODHIVAMSA (c. tenth-eleventh century CE) tells the history of the Bodhi tree, the arrival of a cutting from it in Sri Lanka, and the beginnings of the Sinhalese worship of the tree as a Buddhist relic. The large seeds of the Bodhi tree are commonly used to make Buddhist rosaries (JAPAMALA).
Bon. In Tibetan, "reciter"; originally a term for a category of priest in the royal cult of pre-Buddhist Tibet. Traditional Tibetan histories present these priests as opponents of the introduction of Buddhism in Tibet during the seventh and eighth centuries. In the eleventh century, Bon emerged as fully elaborated sect of Tibetan religion, with its own buddha, its own pantheon, and its own path to liberation from rebirth. Bon should not be regarded as the pre-Buddhist religion of Tibet, but rather as the leading non-Buddhist religion of Tibet, which has had a long history of mutual influence and interaction with the Buddhist sects.
Brag dkar rta so. (Drakar Taso). In Tibetan, lit. "White Rock Horse Tooth"; a complex of meditation caves and small temples located close to the Nepalese border in the SKYID GRONG valley of southwestern Tibet. It was one of the primary meditation retreats of the eleventh-century yogin MI LA RAS PA, who was born nearby and later spent many years in the area in strict meditation retreat, especially at the site called Dbu ma rdzong (Uma dzong), "Fortress of the Central [Channel]." In the sixteenth century, a small monastery was founded at Brag dkar rta so by the 'BRUG PA BKA' BRGYUD master LHA BTSUN RIN CHEN RNAM RGYAL, and the location became an important xylographic printing house specializing in the biographies of BKA' BRGYUD masters. The center also became the seat of an important incarnation lineage, the Brag dkar rta so incarnations.
Brin. (Drin) A village and its surrounding region of the Rongshar Valley in southern Tibet, close to the Nepalese border, chiefly associated with the eleventh-century Tibetan YOGIN MI LA RAS PA. According to the yogin's biographies, the region was home to numerous patrons, and many of his favored retreat caves are located here. Also spelled Ding ma brin, or Brin thang.
Bsod nams rtse mo. (Sonam Tsemo) (1142-1182). A renowned scholar of the SA SKYA sect of Tibetan Buddhism, considered one of the five Sa skya forefathers (SA SKYA GONG MA RNAM LNGA). He was born the second son of the great Sa skya founder SA CHEN KUN DGA' SNYING PO. His brother was another of the Sa skya forefathers, Grags pa rgyal mtshan (Drakpa Gyaltsen). He was the uncle of SA SKYA PAndITA. Bsod nams rtse mo was a devoted student of PHYWA PA CHOS KYI SENG GE, studying MADHYAMAKA and PRAMAnA with him over the course of eleven years. Bsod nams rtse mo was famous for his commentarial work on Indian tantra, which he categorized in works such as his Rgyu sde spyi rnam par bzhag pa ("A General Presentation on the Divisions of Tantra").
buddhavarsa. (P. buddhavassa; T. sangs rgyas kyi lo; C. foji; J. butsuki; K. pulgi 佛紀). In Sanskrit, "Buddhist Era." The term used for the Buddhist calendar calculated from the date of the final demise (S. PARINIRVAnA; P. parinibbAna) of the Buddha. There is general agreement among Buddhist traditions that the Buddha died in his eightieth year, but no consensus as to the date of his death and hence no agreement regarding the commencement of the Buddhist era. Dates for the parinirvAna given in texts and inscriptions from across Buddhist Asia range from 2420 BCE to 290 BCE. One of the more commonly used dates is 544/543 BCE, which is the year asserted for the Buddha's death by the THERAVADA tradition of Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia. Use of the TheravAda calendar most likely originated in Sri Lanka, where it is attested in inscriptions dating from as early as the first century BCE. The same calendar appears in Burmese inscriptions beginning in the eleventh century, which coincides with that country's adoption of TheravAda Buddhism as its dominant faith. The earliest known record of its use in India is likewise relatively late, and dates from the thirteenth century in an inscription erected at BODHGAYA. Since at least the fifth century, the TheravAda traditions have asserted that the religion of the Buddha (P. buddhasAsana; see sASANA) would endure for five thousand years. Accordingly, in 1956 the halfway point in the life span of the religion was presumed to have been reached, an event that was celebrated with considerable millenarian overtones throughout the TheravAda world in the Buddha Jayantī ("Celebration of Buddhism"). A historically significant feature of the TheravAda calendar is that it places the coronation of the Mauryan emperor AsOKA 218 years after the parinirvAna of the Buddha. This contrasts with another ancient Buddhist calendar tradition, preserved primarily in Sanskrit sources, which instead places Asoka's coronation one hundred years after the parinirvAna. The two calendars have come to be designated in modern scholarship as the "long chronology" and "short chronology," respectively. According to the long chronology, the Buddha's dates would be 566-486 BCE. According to the short chronology, they would be 448-368 BCE. The precise dating of the Buddha's parinirvAna has been a contested issue among scholars for well over a century, and both the long and the short chronologies, as well as permutations thereof, have had their supporters. At present, there is widespread consensus, based primarily on Greek accounts and Asoka's own inscriptions, that Asoka ascended to the Mauryan throne in c. 265 BCE, or approximately sixty years later than what is reported in the long chronology. Scholars who accept this dating, but who still adhere to the TheravAda claim that the Buddha died 218 years before this event, therefore place the parinirvAna at c. 480 BCE. This is known as the "corrected long chronology" and is the theory upheld by many contemporary scholars of Indian Buddhism. Recently however, a number of historians have argued, based primarily on a reevaluation of evidence found in the DĪPAVAMSA, that the short chronology is the earlier and more accurate calendar, and that the parinirvAna should be moved forward accordingly to between c. 400 and 350 BCE. Many contemporary traditions of East Asian Buddhism now also follow the modern TheravAda system in which the Buddha's parinirvAna is calculated as 544/543 BCE.
CAmadevīvaMsa. In PAli, "History of Queen CAma"; a chronicle in mixed prose and verse written by MahAthera BodhiraMsi at Lamphun (HaripuNjaya) in northern Thailand, sometime between 1460 and 1530 CE. The text recounts the accession of Queen CAma to the throne of Haripunjaya in the seventh century CE and the introduction of THERAVADA Buddhism as the state religion under her patronage. The work begins with an account of the legendary visit by the Buddha to the site of Lamphun, where he prophesied the city's future greatness, and goes on to describe its founding under the direction of various sages. The narrative concludes with accounts of the reigns of kings after Queen CAma, culminating with AdityarAjA who flourished in the eleventh century.
Candrakīrti. (T. Zla ba grags pa) (c. 600-650). An important MADHYAMAKA master and commentator on the works of NAGARJUNA and ARYADEVA, associated especially with what would later be known as the PRASAnGIKA branch of Madhyamaka. Very little is known about his life; according to Tibetan sources, he was from south India and a student of Kamalabuddhi. He may have been a monk of NALANDA. He wrote commentaries on NAgArjuna's YUKTIsAstIKA and suNYATASAPTATI as well as Aryadeva's CATUḤsATAKA. His two most famous and influential works, however, are his PRASANNAPADA ("Clear Words"), which is a commentary on NAgArjuna's MuLAMADHYAMAKAKARIKA, and his MADHYAMAKAVATARA ("Entrance to the Middle Way"). In the first chapter of the PrasannapadA, he defends the approach of BUDDHAPALITA against the criticism of BHAVAVIVEKA in their own commentaries on the MulamadhyamakakArikA. Candrakīrti argues that it is inappropriate for the Madhyamaka to use what is called an autonomous syllogism (SVATANTRAPRAYOGA) in debating with an opponent and that the Madhyamaka should instead use a consequence (PRASAnGA). It is largely based on Candrakīrti's discussion that Tibetan scholars retrospectively identified two subschools of Madhyamaka, the SVATANTRIKA (in which they placed BhAvaviveka) and the PrAsangika (in which they placed BuddhapAlita and Candrakīrti). Candrakīrti's other important work is the MadhyamakAvatAra, written in verse with an autocommentary. It is intended as a general introduction to the MulamadhyamakakArikA, and provides what Candrakīrti regards as the soteriological context for NAgArjuna's work. It sets forth the BODHISATTVA path, under the rubric of the ten bodhisattva stages (BHuMI; DAsABHuMI) and the ten perfections (PARAMITA). By far the longest and most influential chapter of the text is the sixth, dealing with the perfection of wisdom (PRAJNAPARAMITA), where Candrakīrti discusses the two truths (SATYADVAYA), offers a critique of CITTAMATRA, and sets forth the reasoning for proving the selflessness of phenomena (DHARMANAIRATMYA) and the selflessness of the person (PUDGALANAIRATMYA), using his famous sevenfold analysis of a chariot as an example. Candrakīrti seems to have had little influence in the first centuries after his death, perhaps accounting for the fact that his works were not translated into Chinese (until the 1940s). There appears to have been a revival of interest in his works in India, especially in Kashmir, in the eleventh and twelfth centuries, at the time of the later dissemination (PHYI DAR) of Buddhism to Tibet. Over the next few centuries, Candrakīrti's works became increasingly important in Tibet, such that eventually the MadhyamakAvatAra became the locus classicus for the study of Madhyamaka in Tibet, studied and commented upon by scholars of all sects and serving as one of the "five texts" (GZHUNG LNGA) of the DGE LUGS curriculum. ¶ There appear to be later Indian authors who were called, or called themselves, Candrakīrti. These include the authors of the Trisaranasaptati and the MadhyamakAvatAraprajNA, neither of which appears to have been written by the author described above. Of particular importance is yet another Candrakīrti, or CandrakīrtipAda, the author of the Pradīpoddyotana, an influential commentary on the GUHYASAMAJATANTRA. Scholars often refer to this author as Candrakīrti II or "the tantric Candrakīrti."
Caodong zong. (J. Sotoshu; K. Chodong chong 曹洞宗). One of the so-called "five houses and seven schools" (WU JIA QI ZONG) of the mature Chinese CHAN tradition. The school traces its own pedigree back to the sixth patriarch (LIUZU) HUINENG via a lineage that derives from QINGYUAN XINGSI and SHITOU XIQIAN, but its history begins with the two Tang-dynasty Chan masters who lend their names to the school: DONGSHAN LIANGJIE and his disciple CAOSHAN BENJI. The name of this tradition, Caodong, is derived from the first characters of the two patriarchs' names, viz., Caoshan's "Cao" and Dongshan's "Dong." (The disciple's name is said to appear first in the school's name purely for euphonic reasons.) One of the emblematic teachings of the Caodong tradition is that of the "five ranks" (WUWEI), taught by Dongshan and further developed by Caoshan, which was a form of dialectical analysis that sought to present the full panoply of MAHAYANA Buddhist insights in a compressed rubric. During the Song dynasty, the Caodong school also came to be associated with the contemplative practice of "silent illumination" (MOZHAO CHAN), a form of meditation that built upon the normative East Asian notion of the inherency of buddhahood (see TATHAGATAGARBHA) to suggest that, since enlightenment was the mind's natural state, nothing needed to be done in order to attain enlightenment other than letting go of all striving for that state. Authentic Chan practice therefore entailed only maintaining this original purity of the mind by simply sitting silently in meditation. The practice of silent illumination is traditionally attributed to HONGZHI ZHENGJUE (see MOZHAO MING) and ZHENGXIE QINGLIAO, who helped revive the moribund Caodong lineage during the late eleventh and early twelfth centuries and turned it into one of the two major forces in mature Song-dynasty Chan. The silent-illumination technique that they championed was harshly criticized by teachers in the rival LINJI ZONG, most notably Hongzhi's contemporary DAHUI ZONGGAO. In Japan, the ZEN master DoGEN KIGEN is credited with transmitting the Caodong lineage to the Japanese isles in the thirteenth century, where it is known as the SoToSHu (the Japanese pronunciation of Caodong zong); it became one of the three major branches of the Japanese Zen school, along with RINZAISHu and oBAKUSHu. In Korea, just one of the early Nine Mountains schools of SoN (see KUSAN SoNMUN), the Sumisan school, is presumed to trace back to a teacher, Yunju Daoying (d. 902), who was also a disciple of Dongshan Liangjie; the Caodong school had no impact in the subsequent development of Korean Son, where Imje (C. Linji zong) lineages and practices dominated from the thirteenth century onwards.
Carus, Paul. (1852-1919). An early supporter of Buddhism in America and the proponent of the "religion of science": a faith that claimed to be purified of all superstition and irrationality and that, in harmony with science, would bring about solutions to the world's problems. Carus was born in Ilsenberg in Harz, Germany. He immigrated to America in 1884, settling in LaSalle, Illinois, where he assumed the editorship of the Open Court Publishing Company. He attended the World Parliament of Religions in Chicago in 1893 and became friends with several of the Buddhist delegates, including DHARMAPALA and SHAKU SoEN, who were among the first to promote his writing. Later, Shaku Soen's student, DAISETZ TEITARO SUZUKI, would spend eleven years working with and for Carus in LaSalle. In 1894, Carus published The Gospel of Buddha according to Old Records, an anthology of passages from Buddhist texts drawn from contemporary translations in English, French, and German, making particular use of translations from the PAli by THOMAS W. RHYS DAVIDS, as well as translations of the life of the Buddha from Chinese and Tibetan sources. Second only to Edwin Arnold's Light of Asia in intellectual influence at the time, The Gospel was arranged like the Bible, with numbered chapters and verses and a table at the end that listed parallel passages from the New Testament. The Gospel was intended to highlight the many agreements between Buddhism and Christianity, thereby bringing out "that nobler Christianity which aspires to the cosmic religion of universal truth." Carus was free in his manipulation of his sources, writing in the preface that he had rearranged, retranslated, and added emendations and elaborations in order to make them more accessible to a Western audience; for this reason, the translated sources are not always easy to trace back to the original literature. He also makes it clear in the preface that his ultimate goal is to lead his readers to the Religion of Science. He believed that both Buddhism and Christianity, when understood correctly, would point the way to the Religion of Science. Although remembered today for his Gospel, Carus wrote some seventy books and more than a thousand articles. His books include studies of Goethe, Schiller, Kant, and Chinese thought.
Changlu Zongze. (J. Choro Sosaku; K. Changno Chongsaek 長蘆宗賾) (d.u.; fl. c. late eleventh to early twelfth centuries). Chinese CHAN monk of the YUNMEN ZONG. Little is known about his life, but Changlu is said to have been a native of Yongnian in Luozhou, in present-day Henan province. Changlu also seems to have had a close relation to the disciples of Tianyi Yihuai (993-1064), himself a disciple of the Yunmen Chan master XUEDOU CHONGXUAN. Changlu eventually became a student of Tianyi's disciples Fayun Faxiu (1027-1090) and Changlu Yingfu (d.u.), and later inherited the latter's lineage. Changlu Zongze is most famous for his compilation of the influential text on Chan monastic regulations or "rules of purity" (QINGGUI), the CHANYUAN QINGGUI, during his tenure at the Chan monastery Hongji chanyuan in 1103. When a revised edition of the Chanyuan qinggui was published in 1202, the meditation manual ZUOCHAN YI, probably composed by Changlu or his colleagues, was included. Changlu is also remembered as a PURE LAND adept renowned for his rigorous practice of NIANFO, the recitation of the name of the buddha AMITABHA. He later moved to Changlu in present-day Jiangxi province, whence he acquired his toponym. Changlu was later given the title Chan master Cijue (Compassionate Enlightenment).
Chanyue ji. (J. Zengetsu shu; K. Sonwol chip 禪月集). In Chinese, "Collection of the Moon of Meditation"; a popular anthology of poetry by the poet and painter monk CHANYUE GUANXIU (832-912), otherwise known by his sobriquet of Chanyue dashi (Great Master Meditation Moon), whence the collection acquired its name. The Chanyue ji is said to have originally consisted of twenty-five or twenty-six rolls, of which only eleven are extant. A copy was made in 923 and again in 1240. Along with the HANSHAN SHI, the Chanyue ji is often considered one of the most lucid collections of CHAN poetry and is thus favored by many monks within the Chan tradition.
Chenresi (Tibetan) spyan ras gzigs (chen-re-zi, or chen-re-si) [short for spyan ras gzigs dbang phyug (chen-re-zi-wang-chung) from spyan ras penetrating vision (cf Sanskrit avalokita) + gzigs forms (cf Sanskrit rūpa) + dbang phyug lord (cf Sanskrit īśvara)] The Lord who sees forms with his penetrating vision; translation of Sanskrit Avalokitesvara. Exoterically Chenresi is the greatest protector of Asia in general and Tibet in particular, mystically considered to have eleven heads and a thousand arms, each with an eye in the palm of the hand, these arms radiating from his body like a forest of rays: the thousand eyes representing him as on the outlook to discover distress and to succor the troubled. In this form his name is Chantong (he of the thousand eyes) and Jigtengonpo (protector and savior against evil). “Even the exoteric appearance of Dhyani Chenresi is suggestive of the esoteric teaching. He is evidently, like Daksha, the synthesis of all the preceding Races and the progenitor of all the human Races after the Third, the first complete one, and thus is represented as the culmination of the four primeval races in his eleven-faced form. It is a column built in four rows, each series having three faces or heads of different complexions: the three faces for each race being typical of its three fundamental physiological transformations. The first is white (moon-coloured); the second is yellow, the third, red-brown; the fourth, in which are only two faces — the third face being left a blank — (a reference to the untimely end of the Atlanteans) is brown-black. Padmapani (Daksha) is seated on the column, and forms the apex” (SD 2:178).
Chuanxin fayao. (J. Denshinhoyo; K. Chonsim pobyo 傳心法要). In Chinese, "Essential Teachings on the Transmission of the Mind"; by the CHAN master HUANGBO XIYUN, also known as the Huangboshan Duanji chanshi chuanxin fayao. Huangbo's prominent lay disciple Pei Xiu's (787?-860) preface to the text was prepared in 857. Pei Xiu, the powerful Tang-dynasty minister of state, is said to have recorded the lectures delivered by Huangbo at the monasteries of Longxingsi and Kaiyuansi, and edited his notes together as the Chuanxin fayao and WANLING LU. The two texts seem to have circulated together until the eleventh century. The central tenet of the Chuanxin fayao is the teaching of the "one mind" (YIXIN). Since everything, including buddhas and sentient beings, are all considered to be aspects of the one mind, Huangbo's use of this term underscores the fundamental unity of all things. Huangbo also likens this mind to space, a common metaphor for emptiness (suNYATA). Chan practice entails bringing an end to the discriminative process of thought, so that this one mind will be made manifest. Since all beings are inherently endowed with this one mind, which is complete in and of itself, there is no need to develop a series of practices, such as the six PARAMITAs, or to amass stores of merit (PUnYA), in order to perfect that one mind. Simply awakening to that one mind will itself be sufficient to transform an ignorant sentient being into an enlightened buddha.
Chu dbar. (Chubar). A Tibetan name for the region of the Rongshar Valley in southern Tibet close to the Nepalese border, chiefly associated with the eleventh-century Tibetan YOGIN MI LA RAS PA; also spelled Chu 'bar. According to Mi la ras pa's biographies, many of the yogin's favored retreat sites were located in the Chu dbar area, a short distance from the famed enclave of LA PHYI. Foremost among these was 'Bri lce phug (Driche puk), or "Dri's Tongue Cave," which served as the site for his cremation. Many of Mi la ras pa's patrons hailed from Chu dbar and the neighboring village BRIN, both of which later came under the administrative control of 'BRI GUNG BKA' BRGYUD hierarchs. The region is also home to Chu dbar monastery, which was eventually directed by the tenth KARMA PA Chos dbying rdo rje (Choying Dorje, 1604-1674), but was destroyed during the Cultural Revolution. Nearby is Mt. Tseringma (Nepalese: Gaurishanker) which, together with four surrounding peaks, is believed to be the divine residence of the five long-life sister goddesses (TSHE RING MCHED LNGA) who were converted to Buddhism and became disciples of Mi la ras pa.
cintAmani. (T. yid bzhin nor bu; C. ruyi baozhu; J. nyoihoju; K. yoŭi poju 如意寶珠). In Sanskrit, "wish-fulfilling gem"; in Indian mythology a magical jewel possessed by DEVAs and NAGAs that has the power to grant wishes. The term is often as a metaphor for various stages of the path, including the initial aspiration to achieve buddhahood (BODHICITTOTPADA), the rarity of rebirth as a human being with access to the dharma, and the merit arising from the teachings of the Buddha. According to the Ruyi baozhu zhuanlun mimi xianshen chengfo jinlunzhouwang jing (also known simply as the Jinlunzhouwang jing), which describes in great detail the inexhaustible merit of this gem, the cintAmani is rough in shape and is comprised of eleven precious materials, including gold and silver, and has thirty-two pieces of the Buddha's relics (sARĪRA) at its core, which give it its special power. In the DAZHIDU LUN, the gem is said to derive from the brain of the dragon king (nAgarAja), the undersea protector of Buddhism, or, alternatively, to be the main jewel ornamenting the top of his head. The text claims that it has the power to protect its carrier from poison and fire; other texts say that the cintAmani has the capacity to drive away evil, clarify muddy water, etc. This gem is also variously said to come from the head of a great makara fish (as in the RATNAKutASuTRAs) or the heart of a GARUdA bird (as in the GUAN WULIANGSHOU JING). Other texts suggest that while the king of the gods, INDRA, was fighting with the demigods (ASURA), part of his weapon dropped to the world and became this gem. The bodhisattvas AVALOKITEsVARA and KsITIGARBHA are also depicted holding a cintAmani so that they may grant the wishes of all sentient beings.
concrete operational period: In Piaget's stages of cognitive development, a period between ages seven and eleven during which children gain a better understanding of mental operations. Children begin thinking logically about concrete events, but have difficulty understanding abstract or hypothetical concepts.
confederate ::: a. --> United in a league; allied by treaty; engaged in a confederacy; banded together; allied.
Of or pertaining to the government of the eleven Southern States of the United States which (1860-1865) attempted to establish an independent nation styled the Confederate States of America; as, the Confederate congress; Confederate money. ::: n.
Confucius taught that "it is man that can make truth great, and not truth that can make man great." Consequently he emphasized moral perfection, true manhood (jen), moral order (li) the Golden Mean (Chung Yung) and the superior man (chun tzu). To this end, knowledge must be directed, names must be rectified (cheng ming), and social relationships harmonized (wu lun). The whole program involved the investigation of things, the extension of knowledge, sincerity of the will, rectification of the heart, cultivation of the personal life, regulation of family life, national order, and finally, world peace. Mencius (371-289 B.C.) carried this further, holding that we not only should be good, but must be good, as human nature is originally good. True manhood (jen) and righteousness (i) are considered man's mind and path, respectively. Government must be established on the basis of benevolence (jen cheng) as against profit and force. Hsun Tzu (c 335-c 288 B.C.) believing human nature to be evil, stressed moral accumulation and education, especially through the rectification of names, music, and the rule of propriety (li). In the book of Chung Yung (Central Harmony, the Golden Mean, third or fourth century B.C.), the doctrine of central harmony is set forth. Our central self or moral being is conceived to be the great basis of existence and harmony or moral order is the universal law in the world. From then on, the relationship between man and the universe became one of direct correspondence. The idea of macrocosmos-rnicrocosmos relationship largely characterized the Confucianism of medieval China. The most glorious development of Confucianism is found in Neo-Confucianism, from the eleventh century to this day. For a summary of medieval Confucianism and Neo-Confucianism, see Chinese philosophy. -- W.T.C.
Csoma de Kőros, Alexander. (1784-1842). Early European scholar of Tibet and its Buddhist culture. Csoma de Kőros was born in Transylvania, to a family descended from Magyar nobility. He developed an early interest in the origins of his Hungarian ancestry, which led him to dedicate himself to learning more about the history of the Hungarian language. Through his studies in Arabic, he eventually came to the conclusion that Hungarian had developed in the Tarim Basin of modern Xinjiang province in China, and so in 1819 he set out on foot for Yarkand in Turkestan. He crossed the mountains into Ladakh and reached KASHMIR in 1822. There, he spent a year travelling between Srinagar and Leh (the capital of Ladakh) in the hopes of finding a caravan to join in order to make his way to Yarkand. On one of these journeys, Csoma de Kőros met William Moorcroft, a veterinarian working for the British government. Moorcroft suggested that Csoma de Kőros' research might benefit more from traveling to LHA SA to learn about Tibetan language and literature. Although he never reached Lha sa, Csoma de Kőros spent nine years in monasteries in Ladakh and Zanskar learning Tibetan and studying Tibetan Buddhist texts. He devoted much of his research time to mastering Buddhist terminology. In 1830, he left for Calcutta, where he would live for eleven years. In Calcutta, Csoma de Kőros worked for the British East Indian Company through the Asiatic Society cataloguing Tibetan texts that were sent by BRIAN HOUGHTON HODGSON (1800-1894). He also published the first Tibetan grammar and dictionary in English, a translation of a ninth-century catalogue of Buddhist terminology, the MAHAVYUTPATTI, and a number of scholarly articles on the Tibetan canon. He died of malaria in Darjeeling (1842) as he continued his search for the ancestral homeland of the Hungarian people. Although Csoma de Kőros was not a Buddhist, he was declared a BODHISATTVA by Taisho University in Tokyo in 1933 and is often described as the "Father of Tibetology."
Culaniddesa. In PAli, "Shorter Exposition," second part of the Niddesa ("Exposition"), an early commentarial work on the SUTTANIPATA included in the PAli SUTTAPItAKA as the eleventh book of the KHUDDAKANIKAYA; also written as Cullaniddesa. Attributed by tradition to the Buddha's chief disciple, SAriputta (S. sARIPUTRA), the Niddesa is divided into two sections: the MAHANIDDESA ("Longer Exposition"), and Culaniddesa. The MahAniddesa comments on the sixteen suttas (S. SuTRA) of the AttHAKAVAGGA chapter of the SuttanipAta, while the Culaniddesa comments on the sixteen suttas of the ParAyanavagga chapter and on the KhaggavisAnasutta (see KHAdGAVIsAnA). The MahAniddesa and Culaniddesa do not comment on any of the remaining contents of the SuttanipAta, a feature that has suggested to historians that at the time of their composition the Atthakavagga and ParAyanavagga were autonomous anthologies not yet incorporated into the SuttanipAta, and that the KhaggavisAnasutta likewise circulated independently. The exegesis given to the SuttanipAta by the MahA- and Culaniddesa displays the influence of the PAli ABHIDHAMMA (S. ABHIDHARMA) and passages from it are frequently quoted in the VISUDDHIMAGGA. Both parts of the Niddesa are formulaic in structure, a feature that appears to have been designed as a pedagogical aid to facilitate memorization. In Western scholarship, there has long been a debate regarding the dates of these two compositions, with some scholars dating them as early as the third century BCE, others to as late as the second century CE. The MahA- and Culaniddesa are the only commentarial texts besides the SUTTAVIBHAnGA of the VINAYAPItAKA to be included in the Sri Lankan and Thai recensions of the PAli canon. In contrast, the Burmese canon includes two additional early commentaries, the NETTIPAKARAnA and PEtAKOPADESA, as books sixteen and seventeen in its version of the KhuddakanikAya.
CulasīhanAdasutta. (C. Shizihou jing; J. Shishikukyo; K. Sajahu kyong 師子吼經). In PAli, "Shorter Discourse on the Lion's Roar"; eleventh sutta in the MAJJHIMANIKAYA (a SARVASTIVADA recension appears as the 103rd sutra in the Chinese translation of the MADHYAMAGAMA; a separate recension of unidentified affiliation appears, without title, in the Chinese translation of the EKOTTARAGAMA), preached by the Buddha to a group of monks in the JETAVANA grove in the city of SAvatthi (S. sRAVASTĪ). The Buddha explains how only in his teachings can one attain any of the four degrees of sanctity (see ARYAPUDGALA): stream-enterer, once-returner, nonreturner, and perfected ARHAT; all other teachings lack these. Also, only in his teachings are found a rejection of all notions of a perduring self (P. atta; S. ATMAN).
Cyc "artificial intelligence" A large {knowledge-based system}. Cyc is a very large, multi-contextual {knowledge base} and {inference engine}, the development of which started at the {Microelectronics and Computer Technology Corporation} (MCC) in Austin, Texas during the early 1980s. Over the past eleven years the members of the Cyc team, lead by {Doug Lenat}, have added to the knowledge base a huge amount of fundamental human knowledge: {facts}, rules of thumb, and {heuristics} for reasoning about the objects and events of modern everyday life. Cyc is an attempt to do symbolic {AI} on a massive scale. It is not based on numerical methods such as statistical probabilities, nor is it based on {neural networks} or {fuzzy logic}. All of the knowledge in Cyc is represented {declaratively} in the form of logical {assertions}. Cyc presently contains approximately 400,000 significant assertions, which include simple statements of fact, rules about what conclusions to draw if certain statements of fact are satisfied, and rules about how to reason with certain types of facts and rules. The {inference engine} derives new conclusions using {deductive reasoning}. To date, Cyc has made possible ground-breaking pilot applications in the areas of {heterogeneous} database browsing and integration, {captioned image retrieval}, and {natural language processing}. In January of 1995, a new independent company named Cycorp was created to continue the Cyc project. Cycorp is still in Austin, Texas. The president of Cycorp is {Doug Lenat}. The development of Cyc has been supported by several organisations, including {Apple}, {Bellcore}, {DEC}, {DoD}, {Interval}, {Kodak}, and {Microsoft}. {(http://cyc.com/)}. {Unofficial FAQ (http://robotwisdom.com/ai/cycfaq.html)}. (1999-09-07)
Cyc ::: (artificial intelligence) A large knowledge-based system.Cyc is a very large, multi-contextual knowledge base and inference engine, the development of which started at the Microelectronics and Computer Technology Corporation (MCC) in Austin, Texas during the early 1980s.Over the past eleven years the members of the Cyc team, lead by Doug Lenat, have added to the knowledge base a huge amount of fundamental human knowledge: facts, rules of thumb, and heuristics for reasoning about the objects and events of modern everyday life.Cyc is an attempt to do symbolic AI on a massive scale. It is not based on numerical methods such as statistical probabilities, nor is it based on neural satisfied, and rules about how to reason with certain types of facts and rules. The inference engine derives new conclusions using deductive reasoning.To date, Cyc has made possible ground-breaking pilot applications in the areas of heterogeneous database browsing and integration, captioned image retrieval, and natural language processing.In January of 1995, a new independent company named Cycorp was created to continue the Cyc project. Cycorp is still in Austin, Texas. The president of Cycorp is Doug Lenat.The development of Cyc has been supported by several organisations, including Apple, Bellcore, DEC, DoD, Interval, Kodak, and Microsoft. . . (1999-09-07)
daath">Da'ath
Da'ath ::: Translated as "Knowledge" in Hebrew. The "hidden" eleventh Sephirah of the Kabbalah. It is described as "hidden" because it is not so much a true Sephirah as it is a function of the state change that occurs between certain, more-or-less, stable stages of conscious experience. It is representative of the convergent-emergent singularity through which consciousness flips between the individual stages of the Four Worlds and especially through which it flips between a dualistic lens and the lens of the Non-Dual. In Kabbalistic terminology, this latter process is representative of the Da'ath between Atzilut and Briah and the state change from Briatic consciousness to Atzilutic consciousness is referred to as Crossing the Abyss.
Daianji. (大安寺). In Japanese, "Great Peace Monastery"; one of the seven great monasteries of the ancient Japanese capital of Nara (NANTO SHICHIDAIJI). Daianji was founded in the Asuka area and, according to internal monastery records, was originally the Kudara no odera (Great Paekche Monastery) that was founded by Emperor Jomei in 639. When this monastery burned down in 642, Empress Kogyoku had it rebuilt and renamed it Daianji. If this identification with Kudara no odera is correct, Daianji has the distinction of being the first monastery in Japan founded by the court. The monastery moved to Nara in 716, following the relocation of the capital there in 710. The Koguryo monk Tohyon (J. Togen, fl. c. seventh century) lived at Daianji during the seventh century, where he wrote the Nihon segi, an early historical chronicle, which is no longer extant. Daianji was also the residence of the Indian monk BODHISENA (704-760), who lived and taught there until the end of his life. Bodhisena performed the "opening the eyes" (C. KAIYAN; J. KAIGEN; NETRAPRATIstHAPANA) ceremony for the 752 dedication of the great buddha image of Vairocana (NARA DAIBUTSU; Birushana Nyorai) at ToDAIJI, another of the great Nara monasteries. Daianji was also home to the Korean monk SIMSANG (J. Shinjo, d. 742) from the Silla kingdom, who was instrumental in introducing the teachings of the Kegon (C. HUAYAN; K. Hwaom) school of Buddhism to Japan. Since the time of another famous resident, KuKAI (774-835), Daianji has been associated with the SHINGONSHu of Japanese Buddhism. Daianji was at times quite grand, with two seven-story pagodas and many other buildings on its campus. After a fire destroyed much of the monastery in the 1200s, rebuilding was slow and the renovated structures were damaged once again by an earthquake in 1449. Daianji's fireproof treasury holds nine wooden images from the eighth century, including three different representations of the BODHISATTVA AVALOKITEsVARA, including both his representations as AMOGHAPAsA (J. Fuku Kenjaku) and his thousand-armed manifestation (SAHASRABHUJASAHASRANETRAVALOKITEsVARA), as well as two of the four heavenly kings (S. CATURMAHARAJAKAYIKA; J. shitenno). The monastery also retains two famous images that are brought out for display for one month each year: in March, HAYAGRĪVA, and in October, the eleven-headed Avalokitesvara (Juichimen Kannon).
Dao'an. (J. Doan; K. Toan 道安) (312-385). In Chinese, "Peace of the Way"; monk-exegete and pioneer of Buddhism during the Eastern Jin dynasty. A native of Fuliu in present-day Hebei province, at the age of eleven he became a student of the famous Kuchean monk and thaumaturge FOTUDENG. Fleeing from the invasions of the so-called northern barbarians, Dao'an and his teacher relocated frequently, with Dao'an finally settling down in the prosperous city of Xiangyang in Hubei province, where he taught for fifteen years. Learning of Dao'an's great reputation, the Former Qin ruler Fu Jian (338-385) amassed an army and captured Xiangyang. After the fall of Xiangyang, Fu Jian invited Dao'an to the capital of Chang'an and honored him as his personal teacher. Dao'an later urged Fu Jian to invite the eminent Central Asian monk KUMARAJĪVA to China. In order to determine the authenticity and provenance of the various scriptural translations then being made in China, Dao'an compiled an influential catalogue of scriptures known as the ZONGLI ZHONGJING MULU, which was partially preserved in the CHU SANZANG JIJI. He also composed various prefaces and commentaries, and his exegetical technique of dividing a scripture into three sections (SANFEN KEJING)-"preface" (xufen), "text proper" (zhengzongfen), and "dissemination section" (liutongfen)-is still widely used even today in East Asian scriptural exegesis. In Dao'an's day, the Indian VINAYA recensions had not yet been translated into Chinese, so Dao'an took it upon himself to codify an early set of indigenous monastic regulations known as the Sengni guifan fofa xianzhang (no longer extant) as a guide for Chinese monastic practice. Also traced to Dao'an is the custom of monks and nuns abandoning their secular surnames for the surname SHI (a transcription of the Buddha's clan name sAKYA; J. Shaku; K. Sok; V. Thích), as a mark of their religious ties to the Buddha's lineage. Among his many disciples, LUSHAN HUIYUAN is most famous.
Dar ma mdo sde. (Darma Dode, eleventh century). Chief son of the renowned Tibetan translator MAR PA CHOS KYI BLO GROS. According to Mar pa's traditional biographies, he originally intended to make Dar ma mdo sde the principal heir to his most important teachings, especially the practice of transferring consciousness into-and thereby reanimating-a corpse (GRONG 'JUG). The son, however, died as a youth in an equestrian accident. As he was about to die, Mar pa gave him the instructions, and Dar ma mdo sde transferred his consciousness into the corpse of a nearby pigeon, who then flew to India, where he again transferred his consciousness into the corpse of a young brAhmana child. The revived brAhmana grew up to become a tantric adept named TI PHU PA ("Pigeon Man") and became an important link in the transmission of the nine aural lineage cycles of the formless dAkinīs (LUS MED MKHA' 'GRO SNYAN RGYUD CHOS SKOR DGU) for the BKA' BRGYUD sect of Tibetan Buddhism. According to some traditions, the translator RWA LO TSA BA RDO RJE GRAGS PA used black magic to cause Dar ma mdo sde's fatal accident.
dasabhumi. (T. sa bcu; C. shidi; J. juji; K. sipchi 十地). In Sanskrit, lit., "ten grounds," "ten stages"; the ten highest reaches of the bodhisattva path (MARGA) leading to buddhahood. The most systematic and methodical presentation of the ten BHuMIs appears in the DAsABHuMIKASuTRA ("Ten Bhumis Sutra"), where each of the ten stages is correlated with seminal doctrines of mainstream Buddhism-such as the four means of conversion (SAMGRAHAVASTU) on the first four bhumis, the FOUR NOBLE TRUTHS (CATVARY ARYASATYANI) on the fifth bhumi, and the chain of dependent origination (PRATĪTYASAMUTPADA) on the sixth bhumi, etc.-as well as with mastery of one of a list of ten perfections (PARAMITA) completed in the course of training as a bodhisattva. The list of the ten bhumis of the Dasabhumikasutra, which becomes standard in most MahAyAna traditions, is as follows: (1) PRAMUDITA (joyful) corresponds to the path of vision (DARsANAMARGA) and the bodhisattva's first direct realization of emptiness (suNYATA). The bodhisattva masters on this bhumi the perfection of giving (DANAPARAMITA), learning to give away those things most precious to him, including his wealth, his wife and family, and even his body (see DEHADANA); (2) VIMALA (immaculate, stainless) marks the inception of the path of cultivation (BHAVANAMARGA), where the bodhisattva develops all the superlative traits of character incumbent on a buddha through mastering the perfection of morality (sĪLAPARAMITA); (3) PRABHAKARĪ (luminous, splendrous), where the bodhisattva masters all the various types of meditative experiences, such as DHYANA, SAMAPATTI, and the BRAHMAVIHARA; despite the emphasis on meditation in this bhumi, it comes to be identified instead with the perfection of patience (KsANTIPARAMITA), ostensibly because the bodhisattva is willing to endure any and all suffering in order to master his practices; (4) ARCIsMATĪ (radiance, effulgence), where the flaming radiance of the thirty-seven factors pertaining to enlightenment (BODHIPAKsIKADHARMA) becomes so intense that it incinerates obstructions (AVARAnA) and afflictions (KLEsA), giving the bodhisattva inexhaustible energy in his quest for enlightenment and thus mastering the perfection of vigor or energy (VĪRYAPARAMITA); (5) SUDURJAYA (invincibility, hard-to-conquer), where the bodhisattva comprehends the various permutations of truth (SATYA), including the four noble truths, the two truths (SATYADVAYA) of provisional (NEYARTHA) and absolute (NĪTARTHA), and masters the perfection of meditative absorption (DHYANAPARAMITA); (6) ABHIMUKHĪ (immediacy, face-to-face), where, as the name implies, the bodhisattva stands at the intersection between SAMSARA and NIRVAnA, turning away from the compounded dharmas of saMsAra and turning to face the profound wisdom of the buddhas, thus placing him "face-to-face" with both the compounded (SAMSKṚTA) and uncompounded (ASAMSKṚTA) realms; this bhumi is correlated with mastery of the perfection of wisdom (PRAJNAPARAMITA); (7) DuRAnGAMA (far-reaching, transcendent), which marks the bodhisattva's freedom from the four perverted views (VIPARYASA) and his mastery of the perfection of expedients (UPAYAPARAMITA), which he uses to help infinite numbers of sentient beings; (8) ACALA (immovable, steadfast), which is marked by the bodhisattva's acquiescence or receptivity to the nonproduction of dharmas (ANUTPATTIKADHARMAKsANTI); because he is now able to project transformation bodies (NIRMAnAKAYA) anywhere in the universe to help sentient beings, this bhumi is correlated with mastery of the perfection of aspiration or resolve (PRAnIDHANAPARAMITA); (9) SADHUMATĪ (eminence, auspicious intellect), where the bodhisattva acquires the four analytical knowledges (PRATISAMVID), removing any remaining delusions regarding the use of the supernatural knowledges or powers (ABHIJNA), and giving the bodhisattva complete autonomy in manipulating all dharmas through the perfection of power (BALAPARAMITA); and (10) DHARMAMEGHA (cloud of dharma), the final bhumi, where the bodhisattva becomes autonomous in interacting with all material and mental factors, and gains all-pervasive knowledge that is like a cloud producing a rain of dharma that nurtures the entire world; this stage is also described as being pervaded by meditative absorption (DHYANA) and mastery of the use of codes (DHARAnĪ), just as the sky is filled by clouds; here the bodhisattva achieves the perfection of knowledge (JNANAPARAMITA). As the bodhisattva ascends through the ten bhumis, he acquires extraordinary powers, which CANDRAKĪRTI describes in the eleventh chapter of his MADHYAMAKAVATARA. On the first bhumi, the bodhisattva can, in a single instant (1) see one hundred buddhas, (2) be blessed by one hundred buddhas and understand their blessings, (3) live for one hundred eons, (4) see the past and future in those one hundred eons, (5) enter into and rise from one hundred SAMADHIs, (6) vibrate one hundred worlds, (7) illuminate one hundred worlds, (8) bring one hundred beings to spiritual maturity using emanations, (9) go to one hundred BUDDHAKsETRA, (10), open one hundred doors of the doctrine (DHARMAPARYAYA), (11) display one hundred versions of his body, and (12) surround each of those bodies with one hundred bodhisattvas. The number one hundred increases exponentially as the bodhisattva proceeds; on the second bhumi it becomes one thousand, on the third one hundred thousand, and so on; on the tenth, it is a number equal to the particles of an inexpressible number of buddhaksetra. As the bodhisattva moves from stage to stage, he is reborn as the king of greater and greater realms, ascending through the Buddhist cosmos. Thus, on the first bhumi he is born as king of JAMBUDVĪPA, on the second of the four continents, on the third as the king of TRAYATRIMsA, and so on, such that on the tenth he is born as the lord of AKANIstHA. ¶ According to the rather more elaborate account in chapter eleven of the CHENG WEISHI LUN (*VijNaptimAtratAsiddhi), each of the ten bhumis is correlated with the attainment of one of the ten types of suchness (TATHATA); these are accomplished by discarding one of the ten kinds of obstructions (Avarana) by mastering one of the ten perfections (pAramitA). The suchnesses achieved on each of the ten bhumis are, respectively: (1) universal suchness (sarvatragatathatA; C. bianxing zhenru), (2) supreme suchness (paramatathatA; C. zuisheng zhenru), (3) ubiquitous, or "supreme outflow" suchness (paramanisyandatathatA; C. shengliu zhenru), (4) unappropriated suchness (aparigrahatathatA; C. wusheshou zhenru), (5) undifferentiated suchness (abhinnajAtīyatathatA; C. wubie zhenru), (6) the suchness that is devoid of maculations and contaminants (asaMklistAvyavadAtatathatA; C. wuranjing zhenru), (7) the suchness of the undifferentiated dharma (abhinnatathatA; C. fawubie zhenru), (8) the suchness that neither increases nor decreases (anupacayApacayatathatA; C. buzengjian), (9) the suchness that serves as the support of the mastery of wisdom (jNAnavasitAsaMnisrayatathatA; C. zhizizai suoyi zhenru), and (10) the suchness that serves as the support for mastery over actions (kriyAdivasitAsaMnisrayatathatA; C. yezizai dengsuoyi). These ten suchnessses are obtained by discarding, respectively: (1) the obstruction of the common illusions of the unenlightened (pṛthagjanatvAvarana; C. yishengxing zhang), (2) the obstruction of the deluded (mithyApratipattyAvarana; C. xiexing zhang), (3) the obstruction of dullness (dhandhatvAvarana; C. andun zhang), (4) the obstruction of the manifestation of subtle afflictions (suksmaklesasamudAcArAvarana; C. xihuo xianxing zhang), (5) the obstruction of the lesser HĪNAYANA ideal of parinirvAna (hīnayAnaparinirvAnAvarana; C. xiasheng niepan zhang), (6) the obstruction of the manifestation of coarse characteristics (sthulanimittasamudAcArAvarana; C. cuxiang xianxing zhang), (7) the obstruction of the manifestation of subtle characteristics (suksmanimittasamudAcArAvarana; C. xixiang xianxing zhang), (8) the obstruction of the continuance of activity even in the immaterial realm that is free from characteristics (nirnimittAbhisaMskArAvarana; C. wuxiang jiaxing zhang), (9) the obstruction of not desiring to act on behalf of others' salvation (parahitacaryAkAmanAvarana; C. buyuxing zhang), and (10) the obstruction of not yet acquiring mastery over all things (fa weizizai zhang). These ten obstructions are overcome by practicing, respectively: (1) the perfection of giving (dAnapAramitA), (2) the perfection of morality (sīlapAramitA), (3) the perfection of forbearance (ksAntipAramitA), (4) the perfection of energetic effort (vīryapAramitA), (5) the perfection of meditation (dhyAnapAramitA), (6) the perfection of wisdom (prajNApAramitA), (7) the perfection of expedient means (upAyapAramitA), (8) the perfection of the vow (to attain enlightenment) (pranidhAnapAramitA), (9) the perfection of power (balapAramitA), and (10) the perfection of knowledge (jNAnapAramitA). ¶ The eighth, ninth, and tenth bhumis are sometimes called "pure bhumis," because, according to some commentators, upon reaching the eighth bhumi, the bodhisattva has abandoned all of the afflictive obstructions (KLEsAVARAnA) and is thus liberated from any further rebirth. It appears that there were originally only seven bhumis, as is found in the BODHISATTVABHuMI, where the seven bhumis overlap with an elaborate system of thirteen abidings or stations (vihAra), some of the names of which (such as pramuditA) appear also in the standard bhumi schema of the Dasabhumikasutra. Similarly, though a listing of ten bhumis appears in the MAHAVASTU, a text associated with the LOKOTTARAVADA subsect of the MAHASAMGHIKA school, only seven are actually discussed there, and the names given to the stages are completely different from those found in the later Dasabhumikasutra; the stages there are also a retrospective account of how past buddhas have achieved enlightenment, rather than a prescription for future practice. ¶ The dasabhumi schema is sometimes correlated with other systems of classifying the bodhisattva path. In the five levels of the YogAcAra school's outline of the bodhisattva path (PANCAMARGA; C. wuwei), the first bhumi (pramuditA) is presumed to be equivalent to the level of proficiency (*prativedhAvasthA; C. tongdawei), the third of the five levels; while the second bhumi onward corresponds to the level of cultivation (C. xiuxiwei), the fourth of the five levels. The first bhumi is also correlated with the path of vision (DARsANAMARGA), while the second and higher bhumis correlate with the path of cultivation (BHAVANAMARGA). In terms of the doctrine of the five acquiescences (C. ren; S. ksAnti) listed in the RENWANG JING, the first through the third bhumis are equivalent to the second acquiescence, the acquiescence of belief (C. xinren; J. shinnin; K. sinin); the fourth through the sixth stages to the third, the acquiescence of obedience (C. shunren; J. junnin; K. sunin); the seventh through the ninth stages to the fourth, the acquiescence to the nonproduction of dharmas (anutpattikadharmaksAnti; C. wushengren; J. mushonin; K. musaengin); the tenth stage to the fifth and final acquiescence, to extinction (jimieren; J. jakumetsunin; K. chongmyorin). FAZANG's HUAYANJING TANXUAN JI ("Notes Plumbing the Profundities of the AVATAMSAKASuTRA") classifies the ten bhumis in terms of practice by correlating the first bhumi to the practice of faith (sRADDHA), the second bhumi to the practice of morality (sĪLA), the third bhumi to the practice of concentration (SAMADHI), and the fourth bhumi and higher to the practice of wisdom (PRAJNA). In the same text, Fazang also classifies the bhumis in terms of vehicle (YANA) by correlating the first through third bhumis with the vehicle of humans and gods (rentiansheng), the fourth through the seventh stage to the three vehicles (TRIYANA), and the eighth through tenth bhumis to the one vehicle (EKAYANA). ¶ Besides the list of the dasabhumi outlined in the Dasabhumikasutra, the MAHAPRAJNAPARAMITASuTRA and the DAZHIDU LUN (*MahAprajNApAramitAsAstra) list a set of ten bhumis, called the "bhumis in common" (gongdi), which are shared between all the three vehicles of sRAVAKAs, PRATYEKABUDDHAs, and bodhisattvas. These are the bhumis of: (1) dry wisdom (suklavidarsanAbhumi; C. ganhuidi), which corresponds to the level of three worthies (sanxianwei, viz., ten abidings, ten practices, ten transferences) in the srAvaka vehicle and the initial arousal of the thought of enlightenment (prathamacittotpAda) in the bodhisattva vehicle; (2) lineage (gotrabhumi; C. xingdi, zhongxingdi), which corresponds to the stage of the "aids to penetration" (NIRVEDHABHAGĪYA) in the srAvaka vehicle, and the final stage of the ten transferences in the fifty-two bodhisattva stages; (3) eight acquiescences (astamakabhumi; C. barendi), the causal incipiency of stream-enterer (SROTAAPANNA) in the case of the srAvaka vehicle and the acquiescence to the nonproduction of dharmas (anutpattikadharmaksAnti) in the bodhisattva path (usually corresponding to the first or the seventh through ninth bhumis of the bodhisattva path); (4) vision (darsanabhumi; C. jiandi), corresponding to the fruition or fulfillment (PHALA) level of the stream-enterer in the srAvaka vehicle and the stage of nonretrogression (AVAIVARTIKA), in the bodhisattva path (usually corresponding to the completion of the first or the eighth bhumi); (5) diminishment (tanubhumi; C. baodi), corresponding to the fulfillment level (phala) of stream-enterer or the causal incipiency of the once-returner (sakṛdAgAmin) in the srAvaka vehicle, or to the stage following nonretrogression before the attainment of buddhahood in the bodhisattva path; (6) freedom from desire (vītarAgabhumi; C. liyudi), equivalent to the fulfillment level of the nonreturner in the srAvaka vehicle, or to the stage where a bodhisattva attains the five supernatural powers (ABHIJNA); (7) complete discrimination (kṛtAvibhumi), equivalent to the fulfillment level of the ARHAT in the srAvaka vehicle, or to the stage of buddhahood (buddhabhumi) in the bodhisattva path (buddhabhumi) here refers not to the fruition of buddhahood but merely to the state in which a bodhisattva has the ability to exhibit the eighteen qualities distinctive to the buddhas (AVEnIKA[BUDDHA]DHARMA); (8) pratyekabuddha (pratyekabuddhabhumi); (9) bodhisattva (bodhisattvabhumi), the whole bodhisattva career prior to the fruition of buddhahood; (10) buddhahood (buddhabhumi), the stage of the fruition of buddhahood, when the buddha is completely equipped with all the buddhadharmas, such as omniscience (SARVAKARAJNATĀ). As is obvious in this schema, despite being called the bhumis "common" to all three vehicles, the shared stages continue only up to the seventh stage; the eighth through tenth stages are exclusive to the bodhisattva vehicle. This anomaly suggests that the last three bhumis of the bodhisattvayāna were added to an earlier srāvakayāna seven-bhumi scheme. ¶ The presentation of the bhumis in the PRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀ commentarial tradition following the ABHISAMAYĀLAMKĀRA uses the names found in the Dasabhumikasutra for the bhumis and understands them all as bodhisattva levels; it introduces the names of the ten bhumis found in the Dazhidu lun as levels that bodhisattvas have to pass beyond (S. atikrama) on the tenth bodhisattva level, which it calls the buddhabhumi. This tenth bodhisattva level is not the level of an actual buddha, but the level on which a bodhisattva has to transcend attachment (abhinivesa) to not only the levels reached by the four sets of noble persons (ĀRYAPUDGALA) but to the bodhisattvabhumis as well. See also BHuMI.
For further explanation see: Eleven Holy Names of G-d.
For further explanation see: Eleven Holy Names of God
decillion ::: n. --> According to the English notation, a million involved to the tenth power, or a unit with sixty ciphers annexed; according to the French and American notation, a thousand involved to the eleventh power, or a unit with thirty-three ciphers annexed. [See the Note under Numeration.]
Devadatta. (T. Lhas sbyin; C. Tipodaduo; J. Daibadatta; K. Chebadalta 提婆達多). Sanskrit and Pāli proper name for a cousin and rival of the Buddha; he comes to be viewed within the tradition as the embodiment of evil for trying to kill the Buddha and split the SAMGHA (SAMGHABHEDA). Devadatta is said to have been the brother of ĀNANDA, who would later become the Buddha's attendant. According to Pāli sources, when Gotama (GAUTAMA) Buddha returned to Kapalivatthu (KAPILAVASTU) after his enlightenment to preach to his native clan, the Sākiyans (sĀKYA), Devadatta along with ĀNANDA, Bhagu, Kimbila, BHADDIYA-KĀlIGODHĀPUTTA, Anuruddha (ANIRUDDHA), and UPĀLI were converted and took ordination as monks. Devadatta quickly attained mundane supranormal powers (iddhi; S. ṚDDHI) through his practice of meditation, although he never attained any degree of enlightenment. For a period of time, Devadatta was revered in the order. Sāriputta (sĀRIPUTRA) is depicted as praising him, and the Buddha lists him among eleven chief elders. Devadatta, however, always seems to have been of evil disposition and jealous of Gotama; in the final years of the Buddha's ministry, he sought to increase his influence and even usurp leadership of the saMgha. He used his supranormal powers to win over the patronage of Prince Ajātasattu (AJĀTAsATRU), who built for him a monastery at Gayāsīsa (Gayāsīrsa). Emboldened by this success, he approached the Buddha with the suggestion that the Buddha retire and pass the leadership of the saMgha to him, whereupon the Buddha severely rebuked him. It was then that Devadatta conceived a plan to kill the Buddha even while he incited Ajātasattu to murder his father BIMBISĀRA, king of MAGADHA, who was the Buddha's chief patron. At Devadatta's behest, Ajātasattu dispatched sixteen archers to shoot the Buddha along a road, but the Buddha, using his supranormal powers, instead converted the archers. Later, Devadatta hurled a boulder down the slope of Mt. Gijjhakuta (GṚDHRAKutAPARVATA) at the Buddha, which grazed his toe and caused it to bleed. Finally, Devadatta caused the bull elephant NĀLĀGIRI, crazed with toddy, to charge at the Buddha, but the Buddha tamed the elephant with the power of his loving-kindness (P. mettā; S. MAITRĪ). Unsuccessful in his attempts to kill the Buddha, Devadatta then decided to establish a separate order. He approached the Buddha and recommended that five austere practices (DHUTAnGA) be made mandatory for all members of the saMgha: forest dwelling, subsistence only on alms food collected by begging, use of rag robes only, dwelling at the foot of a tree, and vegetarianism. When the Buddha rejected his recommendation, Devadatta gathered around him five hundred newly ordained monks from Vesāli (VAIsĀLĪ) and, performing the fortnightly uposatha (UPOsADHA) ceremony separately at Gayāsīsa, formally seceded from the Buddha's saMgha. When the five hundred Vesāli monks were won back to the fold by Sāriputta (sĀRIPUTRA) and Moggallāna (MAHĀMAUDGALYĀYANA), Devadatta grew sick with rage, coughing up blood, and never recovered. It is said that toward the end of his life, Devadatta felt remorse and decided to journey to see the Buddha to ask him for his forgiveness. However, spilling the blood of a Buddha and causing schism in the saMgha are two of the five "acts that brings immediate retribution" (P. ānantariyakamma; S. ĀNANTARYAKARMAN), viz., rebirth in hell. In addition, Devadatta is said to have beaten to death the nun UTPALAVARnĀ when she rebuked him for attempting to assassinate the Buddha. She was an arhat, and killing an arhat is another of the "acts that bring immediate retribution." When Devadatta was on his way to visit the Buddha (according to some accounts, to repent; according to other accounts, to attempt to kill him one last time by scratching him with poisoned fingernails), the earth opened up and Devadatta fell into AVĪCI hell, where he will remain for one hundred thousand eons. His last utterance was that he had no other refuge than the Buddha, an act that, at the end of his torment in hell, will cause him to be reborn as the paccekabuddha (PRATYEKABUDDHA) Atthissara. In many JĀTAKA stories, the villain or chief antagonist of the BODHISATTVA is often identified as a previous rebirth of Devadatta. In the "Devadatta Chapter" of the SADDHARMAPUndARĪKASuTRA ("Lotus Sutra"), the Buddha remarks that in a previous life, he had studied with the sage Asita, who was in fact Devadatta, and that Devadatta would eventually become a buddha himself. This statement was used in the Japanese NICHIREN school as proof that even the most evil of persons (see ICCHANTIKA; SAMUCCHINAKUsALAMuLA) still have the capacity to achieve enlightenment. In their accounts of India, both FAXIAN and XUANZANG note the presence of followers of Devadatta who adhered to the austere practices he had recommended to the Buddha.
dharmameghā. (T. chos kyi sprin; C. fayun di; J. hounji; K. pobun chi 法雲地). In Sanskrit, "cloud of dharma," the tenth and final "ground" or stage (BHuMI) of the BODHISATTVA path, just prior to the attainment of buddhahood. On the dharmameghā bhumi, the bodhisattva is at the point of attaining the dharma-body (DHARMAKĀYA) that is as vast as the sky, becomes autonomous in interacting with all material and mental factors, and gains all-pervasive knowledge, which causes the excellent dharma to fall like rain from a cloud, nurturing the entire world and increasing the harvest of virtue for sentient beings. This stage is also described as being pervaded by meditative absorption (DHYĀNA) and mastery of the use of DHĀRAnĪ, just as the sky is filled with clouds. According to the CHENG WEISHI LUN (*VijNaptimātratāsiddhisāstra; chap. 11), each of the ten stages of the bodhisattva path leads to the attainment of one of the ten types of suchness (TATHATĀ); these are accomplished by discarding one of the ten kinds of obstructions (ĀVARAnA) through practicing one of the ten perfections (PĀRAMITĀ). In the case of the dharmameghā bhumi, the obstruction of not yet acquiring mastery over all dharmas (fa wei zizai zhang) is removed through the perfection of knowledge (JNĀNAPĀRAMITĀ), leading to the suchness that serves as the support for mastery over action (ye zizai deng suoyi zhenru; *kriyādivasitāsaMnisrayatathatā) and the ability of the bodhisattva to ripen the minds of sentient beings. The tenth stage thus removes any remaining delusions regarding the use of the supernatural knowledges or powers (ABHIJNĀ) or the subtle mysteries, giving the bodhisattva complete autonomy in manipulating all dharmas. As the culminating stage of the "path of cultivation" (BHĀVANĀMĀRGA), the dharmameghā bhumi still contains the last and most subtle remnants of the cognitive obstructions (JNEYĀVARAnA). These obstructions will be completely eradicated through the adamantine-like concentration (VAJROPAMASAMĀDHI), which marks the transition to the "ultimate path" (NIstHĀMĀRGA), or "path where no further training is necessary" (AsAIKsAMĀRGA), i.e., an eleventh stage of the buddhas (TATHĀGATABHuMI) that is sometimes also known as the "universally luminous" (samantaprabhā).
Dpal yul. (Payul). The Tibetan short name of a monastery in Khams (now part of the Chinese province of Sichuan). The name is an abbreviation of Dpal yul rnam rgyal byang chub chos gling, one of the four main RNYING MA monasteries in eastern Tibet, the others being KAḤ THOG, RDZOGS CHEN, and ZHE CHEN; founded in 1665 by Kun bzang shes rab (1636-1699). The monastery specializes in the GTER MA (treasure text) teachings of KARMA CHAGS MED; members of the monastery follow a set course of preliminary practices and engage in a three-year retreat. The monastery, destroyed during the Chinese Cultural Revolution (1966-76), has been rebuilt and currently houses about three hundred monks. The eleventh khri 'dzin (throne-holder) Thub bstan legs bshad chos kyi sgra dbyangs, Penor Rin po che (1932-2009), established a new monastery called Rnam grol gling with great success near Bylakuppe in South India; at present it is the largest Rnying ma institution outside Tibet, with perhaps as many as five thousand monks and nuns. The present throne-holder is the fifth Karma sku chen (b. 1970).
Dunhuang. (J. Tonko; K. Tonhwang 敦煌). A northwest Chinese garrison town on the edge of the Taklamakan desert in Central Asia, first established in the Han dynasty and an important stop along the ancient SILK ROAD; still seen written also as Tun-huang, followed the older Wade-Giles transcription. Today an oasis town in China's Gansu province, Dunhuang is often used to refer to the nearby complex of approximately five hunded Buddhist caves, including the MOGAO KU (Peerless Caves) to the southeast of town and the QIANFO DONG (Caves of the Thousand Buddhas) about twenty miles to the west. Excavations to build the caves at the Mogao site began in the late-fourth century CE and continued into the mid-fourteenth century CE. Of the more than one thousand caves that were hewn from the cliff face, roughly half were decorated. Along with the cave sites of LONGMEN and YUNGANG further east and BEZEKLIK and KIZIL to the west, the Mogao grottoes contain some of the most spectacular examples of ancient Buddhist sculpture and wall painting to be found anywhere in the world. Legend has it that in 366 CE a wandering monk named Yuezun had a vision of a thousand golden buddhas at a site along some cliffs bordering a creek and excavated the first cave in the cliffs for his meditation practice. Soon afterward, additional caves were excavated and the first monasteries established to serve the needs of the monks and merchants traveling to and from China along the Silk Road. The caves were largely abandoned in the fourteenth century. In the early twentieth century, Wang Yuanlu (1849-1931), self-appointed guardian of the Dunhuang caves, discovered a large cache of ancient manuscripts and paintings in Cave 17, a side chamber of the larger Cave 16. As rumors of these manuscripts reached Europe, explorer-scholars such as SIR MARC AUREL STEIN and PAUL PELLIOT set out across Central Asia to obtain samples of ancient texts and artwork buried in the ruins of the Taklamakan desert. Inside were hundreds of paintings on silk and tens of thousands of manuscripts dating from the fifth to roughly the eleventh centuries CE, forming what has been described as the world's earliest and largest paper archive. The texts were written in more than a dozen languages, including Chinese, Tibetan, Sanskrit, Sogdian, Uighur, Khotanese, Tangut, and TOCHARIAN and consisted of paper scrolls, wooden tablets, and one of the world's earliest printed books (868 CE), a copy of the VAJRACCHEDIKĀPRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀSuTRA ("Diamond Sutra"). In the seventh-century, a Tibetan garrison was based at Dunhuang, and materials discovered in the library cave also include some of the earliest documents in the Tibetan language. This hidden library cave was apparently sealed in the eleventh century. As a result of the competition between European, American, and Japanese institutions to acquire documents from Dunhuang, the material was dispersed among collections world-wide, making access to all the manuscripts difficult. Many items have still not been properly catalogued or conserved and there are scholarly disputes over what quantity of the materials are modern forgeries. In 1944 the Dunhuang Academy was established to document and study the site and in 1980 the site was opened to the public. In 1987 the Dunhuang caves were listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site and today are being preserved through the efforts of both Chinese and international groups.
duodecimal notation: The visual representation of a base 12 positional number system (called the duodecimal system) where two additional digits are used to represent ten and eleven - usually A abd B respectively.
Dvāravatī. Name given to the Mon civilization that flourished in the region of present-day Thailand from roughly the sixth through the eleventh centuries, occupying chiefly the Menam valley and extending northward to Lamphun. Little is known of the political organization of Dvāravatī, that is, whether it was an empire that had one or more capitals, or whether it was instead a collection of autonomous city-states. The geographic distribution of urban sites suggests an economy based on control of trade routes, particularly across the Three Pagodas Pass into Burma, northward up the Chaophraya River toward Chiangmai, and eastward into Cambodia. The chief Dvāravatī centers of the Menam valley were U Thong, Lopburi, Khu Bua, and Nakhon Pathom. In the north near Lamphun was the kingdom of HaripuNjaya, which, according to the Thai chronicles, was founded in the seventh century by sages and governed by a heroic Mon queen named Cāma (cf. CĀMADEVĪVAMSA). Common at all of the sites are inscriptions written in Mon, with a smaller number in Sanskrit and Pāli. The sites are typically fortified with moats and earthen walls and display extensive Buddhist remains, which include ruins of monasteries, temples, and pagodas and stone and bronze sculpture and statuary. Much of Dvāravatī art shows strong Indian influence reminiscent of the Amaravatī and Gupta styles, while in later centuries a distinctive Khmer influence becomes evident. The overall religious culture of the Dvāravatī civilization appears to have been mixed, with evidence of multiple forms of Buddhism, Brahmanism, and indigenous cults receiving patronage. By the mid-eleventh century, the cities occupying the eastern portion of the Dvāravatī cultural zone were absorbed by the expanding Khmer empire of Angkor, while in the west they fell to the newly emergent Burmese empire of Pagan. HaripuNjaya alone retained a degree of autonomy until the thirteenth century, when it was conquered by the northern Thai kingdom of Lānnā (Lan Na).
Eison. [alt. Eizon] (叡尊) (1201-1290). In Japanese, "Lord of Sagacity"; founder of Shingon Risshu, a Kamakura-period school that combined the esoteric teachings of the SHINGONSHu with VINAYA disciplinary observance. After beginning his career as a monk at the age of eleven, he initially studied Shingon teachings at DAIGOJI in Kyoto and in 1224 moved to KoYASAN, the mountain center of esoteric teachings and practices. In 1235, while studying vinaya at SAIDAIJI, Eison came to realize the centrality of the PRĀTIMOKsA precepts to a monastic vocation; however, since the custom of full monastic ordination (J. gusokukai) had died out in Japan long before, he was unable to be properly ordained. Eison decided that his only recourse was to take the precepts in a self-administrated ceremony (J. jisei jukai) before an image of the Buddha. Eison and three other monks conducted such a self-ordination at ToDAIJI in 1236, after which he traveled around the country, ordaining monks and lecturing on the Buddhist precepts, before eventually returning to Saidaiji to stay. That monastery is now regarded as the center of the Shingon Risshu school. Eison is also known for his extensive charitable activities and his attempts to disseminate the recitation of the MANTRA of light (J. komyo shingon) among the laity. When the Mongols invaded Japan in 1274 and 1281, Eison performed esoteric rituals on behalf of the court to ward off the invasions. Among Eison's works are the Bonmokyo koshakuki bugyo monju, a sub-commentary to the Pommanggyong kojokki, the Korean YOGĀCĀRA monk T'AEHYoN's (d.u.) commentary on the FANWANG JING; and the Kanjingaku shoki, his autobiography, compiled at the age of eighty-six. Eison was given the posthumous name Kosho Bosatsu (Promoting Orthodoxy BODHISATTVA).
Ekādasamukhāvalokitesvara. (T. Spyan ras gzigs bcu gcig zhal; C. Shiyimian Guanyin; J. Juichimen Kannon; K. Sibilmyon Kwanŭm 十一面觀音). In Sanskrit, "Eleven-Headed AVALOKITEsVARA," one of the most common iconographic forms of the BODHISATTVA of compassion. While theories abound about why he has eleven heads, it is likely that the ten small bodhisattva heads topped by a buddha head represent the ten stages (DAsABHuMI) of the bodhisattva path, along with the final attainment of buddhahood. The facial expressions of these heads range from kind to ferocious and were meant to symbolize the bodhisattva's various abilities to destroy illusions and help all sentient beings attain liberation. According to legend, Avalokitesvara was so exhausted and desperate after trying to save innumerable beings that his skull shattered. AMITĀBHA came to help him and formed new heads from the pieces, which he then arranged on AVALOKITEsVARA's head like a crown, finally putting an image of his own head at the very top. While this eleven-headed form is frequently found in later Buddhist art in Tibet, Nepal, and East Asia, an image from the Indian cave site of KĀNHERI is the only extant artistic evidence that this iconographic form is originally of Indian provenance.
Ekadasi: Eleventh day of the Hindu lunar fortnight.
ELEVENS
endecagon ::: n. --> A plane figure of eleven sides and angles.
endecagynous ::: a. --> Having eleven pistils; as, an endecagynous flower.
endecaphyllous ::: a. --> Composed of eleven leaflets; -- said of a leaf.
enleven ::: n. --> Eleven.
En no Ozunu. (役小角) (b. 634). Also known as En no Gyoja (lit. "En the Ascetic"), a semi-legendary figure associated with SHUGENDo (lit. the "Way of Cultivating Supernatural Power") who is known for his shamanic abilities and mountain austerities. Practitioners of Shugendo, Japan's tradition of mountain asceticism, regard him as their founder and view him as the archetypal ascetic. The earliest accounts of En no Ozunu appear in the Shoku Nihongi (797) and the Nihon Ryoiki (810-824). He subsequently became the subject of numerous medieval texts, although many of the details of his life are sketchy. Allegedly born in Chihara in present-day Nara prefecture, he spent three decades of practice in KATSURAGISAN, where legend holds that he worked to convert malicious spirits. In 699, he was exiled to Izu (in present-day Shizuoka prefecture) by Emperor Monmu because of accusations made by his disciple, Karakuni no Muraji Hirotari that he was practicing sorcery. Shugendo considers En no Ozunu to be a manifestation of Hoki Bosatsu (DHARMODGATA), whose sphere of practice in the Katsuragi mountains includes KONGoSAN (see also KŬMGANGSAN), the traditional residence of this BODHISATTVA. In 1799, in conjunction with the alleged eleven hundredth anniversary of En no Ozunu's death, Emperor Kokaku bestowed on him the title Jinben Daibosatsu (Great Bodhisattva Mysterious Change).
er chu san hui. (J. nisho san'e; K. i ch'o sam hoe 二處三會). In Chinese, "the two locations and three assemblies," the sites where the Buddha is presumed to have preached the SADDHARMAPUndARĪKASuTRA; a TIANTAI term. The two locations are Vulture Peak (GṚDHRAKutAPARVATA) and the heavenly realm (DEVALOKA). According to the account in the Saddharmapundarīkasutra, the Buddha preached, first, chapters one through the middle of the eleventh chapter on Vulture Peak; continuing on to, second, the end of the twenty-second chapter in the heavens; and, finally, third, the twenty-third chapter to the end of the sutra back at Vulture Peak.
fanan. (J. honan; K. pomnan 法難). In Chinese, "calamities that befall the dharma," referring to political persecutions of Buddhism, or other forms of systematic harassment of the religion and its adherents. Examples of such persecutions abound throughout Buddhist history. In India, e.g., there were Indian rulers who were hostile to Buddhism, such as King Pusyamitra (c. end of the second century BCE) and those of the Sena dynasty (c. eleventh to twelfth centuries), as well as Muslim generals and rulers who sacked Buddhist centers and forced the conversion of the local populace. In East Asia, China saw the systematic persecution by four emperors with Daoist affinities, as well as the infamous Huichang persecution (HUICHANG FANAN). More recent periods saw Japan's suppression of Buddhism during the Meiji period (beginning in 1868; cf. SHINBUTSU BUNRI) and the Korean Choson dynasty's five centuries of persecution of Buddhism, which extended into the late nineteenth century. Related Chinese terms are feifo ("abolition of Buddhism"), miefo ("annihilation of Buddhism"), pofo ("destruction of Buddhism"), huifa ("damage to Buddhism"), and mie-Shi ("annihilation of [the teachings of] sĀKYAMUNI").
Fangshan shijing. (房山石經). In Chinese, "Lithic Scriptures of Fangshan," the world's largest collection of scriptures written on stone, located in the Fangshan district about forty miles southwest Beijing. The blocks are now stored on Shijingshan (Stone Scriptures Hill) in nine separate caves, among them the Leiyindong (Sound of Thunder Cave), near the monastery of YUNJUSI (Cloud Dwelling Monastery). The carving of the lithic scriptures was initiated during the Daye era (604-617) by the monk Jingwan (d. 639) with the support of Empress Xiao (?-630) and her brother Xiao Yu (574-647). Among the scriptures carved during Jingwan's lifetime were the SADDHARMAPUndARĪKASuTRA ("Lotus Sutra"), the MAHĀPARINIRVĀnASuTRA ("Nirvāna Sutra"), and the AVATAMSAKASuTRA ("Flower Garland Sutra"). The project continued up through the Tianqi era (1621-1627) of the Ming dynasty. The collection now includes 1,122 Buddhist scriptures carved on 14,278 lithographs, or stone slabs. The Fangshan canon is a product of the Chinese belief that Buddhism had entered the "dharma-ending age" (MOFA; see SADDHARMAVIPRALOPA): by carving the Buddhist canon on stone, this project was thus one way of helping to ensure that the Buddhist scriptures would survive the inevitable demise of the religion. Most of the scriptures in the Fangshan canon represent textual lineages that derive from recensions that circulated during the Tang and Khitan Liao dynasties. The monk Xuanfa (fl. c. 726-755) initiated a project to carve the entire canon after being presented with a copy of the handwritten Kaiyuan manuscript canon (see KAIYUAN SHIJIAO LU) by the Tang princess Jinxian (689-732). During the rule of the Khitan Liao emperors Shengzong (r. 983-1031), Xingzong (r. 1032-1054), and Daozong (r. 1055-1100), the new Qidan canon was carved on xylographs (viz., woodblocks), with the lithic carving of the same texts carried out in tandem at Yunjusi for several decades. By the late eleventh century, all nine caves had been filled to capacity. Consequently, in 1117, a pit was excavated in the southwestern section of Yunjusi to bury a new set of carvings initiated by the monk Tongli (1049-1098); these texts were mostly commentarial and exegetical writings, rather than sutra translations. By the time of the Jin dynasty (1115-1234), most of the mainstream Mahāyāna canonical scriptures had been carved. In the twelfth century, during the Song dynasty, the growing popularity of tantric materials and the ĀGAMAs prompted a supplementary carving project to add them to the Fangshan canon. However, the Fangshan Shijing does not exclusively contain Buddhist texts. In the third year of the Xuande era (1428) of the Ming dynasty, many Daoist scriptures were carved with an intent similar to that of the Buddhists: to ensure that these texts were transmitted to posterity. The Buddhist Association of China made rubbings of a substantial part of the extant lithographs in 1956. For modern historians, these rubbings offer a rich tapestry of information for studying the textual history of the Buddhist canon and the social history and culture of Buddhism in northern China. See also DAZANGJING.
Feilaifeng. (J. Hiraiho; K. Piraebong 飛来峰). In Chinese, "Flying-In Peak," site of Buddhist rock carvings and grottoes, located in front of LINGYINSI in Hangzhou, Zhejiang province. Feilaifeng houses the most important sculptural works of Tibetan Buddhism found in Han Chinese territory. The name of the peak was inspired by a legend, according to which Vulture Peak (GṚDHRAKutAPARVATA) flew to this location from India. There are more than three hundred carved images still in existence at the site, with eleven from the Five Dynasties period, more than two hundred from the Song dynasty, and around one hundred from the Yuan. The Song-dynasty images were mostly carved during the Xianping era (998-1003) under Emperor Zhenzong. Many of these figures are ARHATs (C. LUOHAN), but some works illustrate special themes, such as XUANZANG's pilgrimage to India or MAITREYA's "Hemp Sack" (BUDAI) form. The gilded, colorfully painted Yuan images are delicately carved and constitute a significant development in the history of Chinese sculpture. Nearly half of these images depict esoteric themes, with buddhas, bodhisattvas, female deities, and dharma protectors (DHARMAPĀLA). The image enshrined in Niche 25 is VAJRADHARA. Also found here are images of MANJUsRĪ, AVALOKITEsVARA, and VAJRASATTVA. The female deity SITĀTAPATLĀ is depicted in Niche 22; she was highly venerated by the Yuan rulers because she was believed to be able to destroy armies and overcome disasters.
Feiyin Tongrong. (J. Hiin Tsuyo; K. Piŭn T'ongyong 費隱通容) (1593-1661). Chinese CHAN master in the LINJI ZONG, who lived at the end of the Ming dynasty. Feiyin was a native of Min Prefecture in present-day Fujian province. After losing his father at age six and his mother at eleven, Feiyin entered the monastery two years later and became the student of a certain Huishan (d.u.) of Sanbaosi. Feiyin subsequently studied under the renowned Chan masters ZHANRAN YUANDENG, Wuming Huijing, and Wuyi Yuanlai. In 1622, he departed Jiangxi province for Mt. Tiantai, where he continued his studies under MIYUN YUANWU. Feiyin eventually became Miyun's disciple and inherited his lineage. In 1633, Feiyin served as abbot of Wanfusi on Mt. Huangbo. He subsequently resided at such monasteries as Tianningsi and WANSHOUSI in Zhejiang province. His disciple YINYUAN LONGQI edited Feiyin's teachings together in the Feiyin chanshi yulu. Feiyin himself composed several texts including the Chan primer ZUTING QIANCHUI LU and the Chan history Wudeng yantong.
Glang 'khor. (Langkor). A site in central Tibet associated principally with the eleventh-century Indian adept PHA DAM PA SANGS RGYAS. The small temple of Glang 'khor, located in a village of the same name near the town of Ding ri, marks the location where Pha dam pa sangs rgyas disseminated his teachings on pacification (ZHI BYED) and severance (GCOD), primarily to his foremost Tibetan disciple MA GCIG LAB SGRON.
Globe ::: Every one of the physical globes that we see scattered over the fields of space is accompanied by six -really eleven -- invisible and superior globes, forming what in theosophy is called a chain. This is thecase with every sun or star, with every planet, and with every moon of every planet. It is likewise thecase with the nebulae and the comets: all are septiform entities in manifestation; all have a sevenfold -indeed twelvefold -- constitution, even as man has, who is a copy in the little of what the universe is inthe great. The seven manifested globes for purposes of convenience are enumerated as A, B, C, D, E, F,and G; but reference is sometimes made more mystically to the globes from "A to Z," here hinting at butnot specifying all the twelve globes of the chain.The life-waves circle around these globes in seven great cycles which are called rounds. Each life-wavefirst enters globe A, runs through its life cycle there, and then passes on to globe B. Finishing its cycle onglobe B, it passes on to globe C, and then to globe D, the lowest of the manifested seven. In our ownplanetary chain, globe D is our earth. Three globes precede it on the downward arc, and three globesfollow it on the ascending arc of evolution -- referring here to the manifested seven.The passing through or traversing of any one of these seven globes by the life-wave is a globe round; andduring any one globe round on a globe, seven root-races are born, attain their efflorescence, and thenpass away. (See also Round)
Gtsang smyon Heruka. (Tsangnyon Heruka) (1452-1507). Tibetan iconoclast, best known as Gtsang smyon, the "madman of Gtsang"; revered especially for his literary works, including the biography of eleventh-century master MI LA RAS PA. Gtsang smyon Heruka began his career as a monk, receiving Buddhist ordination at the age of seven. He studied various systems of tantra and meditation under his chief guru, the Bka' brgyud master Shes rab 'byams pa, and later under several Sa skya teachers. Discouraged by the limitations of life as a monk and scholar, he adopted the life of a wandering YOGIN, engaging in the unusual behavior for which he earned the appellation smyon pa, "madman." His actions have been interpreted as part of a fifteenth-century reaction and reform movement against the growing wealth and power of elite incarnation lineages and religious institutions of his day. He and other "mad yogins" affiliated with the Bka' brgyud sect, such as 'BRUG BA KUN LEGS, and the lesser known Dbu smyon Kun dga' bzang po (1458-1532), sought to reemphasize the importance of meditation and retreat over strict adherence to monastic discipline or intellectual study-a tradition reaching back to the renowned Bka' brgyud founder, Mi la ras pa. Gtsang smyon Heruka himself spent many years visiting the meditation caves and retreat sites associated with Mi la ras pa. He also attempted to preserve important Bka' brgyud instruction lineages that were in danger of being lost, and toward the end of his life compiled an enormous thirteen-volume synthesis of the aural instructions (snyan brgyud) stemming from three of Mi la ras pa's principal disciples, RAS CHUNG PA RDO RJE GRAGS, SGAM PO PA BSOD NAMS RIN CHEN, and Ngan rdzongs rdo rje rgyal po (late eleventh century). He visited Nepal on several occasions, directing the renovation of SVAYAMBHu STuPA, one of the Kathmandu Valley's principal Buddhist pilgrimage centers. He is perhaps best remembered as the author of the widely read MI LA RAS PA'I RNAM THAR ("Life of Milarepa") and MI LA RAS PA'I MGUR 'BUM ("Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa"), as well as a biography of Milarepa's guru MARPA CHOS KYI BLO GROS.
Guhyagarbhatantra. (T. Gsang ba'i snying po'i rgyud). In Sanskrit, the "Secret Essence Tantra," a central text of the RNYING MA sect of Tibetan Buddhism and the RDZOGS CHEN tradition. The tantra is regarded as an expression of the enlightened intention of the primordial DHARMAKĀYA, the buddha SAMANTABHADRA. It is a work of Indic origin, appearing around mid-eighth century, probably after the GUHYASAMĀJATANTRA. It is unclear whether the text was called Guhyagarbha at the time of its composition or whether that title was added later. In DUNHUANG documents, it is usually referred to as the Māyājālatantra. By the time of a late tenth-century manuscript, it is called the Guhyagarbhatantra. The later Tibetan tradition identifies the Guhyagarbha as the root tantra of the MAHĀYOGA class, as well as the main tantra of the MĀYĀJĀLA cycle of tantras, a group of eighteen mahāyoga tantras. The Guhyagarbha was particularly influential in late eighth- and early ninth-century Tibet, when it was a principal inspiration for the early rdzogs chen movement. Its Māyājāla MAndALA of one hundred deities (forty-two peaceful and fifty-eight wrathful) was widely employed. In the PHYI DAR period, the tantra was condemned by a number of GSAR MA figures (especially the eleventh-century translator 'Gos khug pa lhas btsas) as an apocryphal Tibetan creation, probably because of its importance in the Rnying ma sect and in the still-developing rdzogs chen tradition. However, a Sanskrit copy of the tantra was discovered at BSAM YAS and verified by sĀKYAsRĪBHADRA. In the thirteenth century, Lcom ldan rig ral ordered a new translation on the basis of the manuscript. Major commentators include Rong zom chos bzang (eleventh century) and KLONG CHEN RAB 'BYAMS, and eventually, two schools of interpretations formed, the Rong klong lugs and the Zur lugs. The tantra exists in three distinct versions: in twenty-two, forty-six, and eighty-two chapters. The shorter version is considered the root tantra and is the subject of most commentary.
Guhyasamājatantra. (T. Gsang ba 'dus pa'i rgyud; C. Yiqie rulai jingang sanye zuishang mimi dajiaowang jing; J. Issainyorai kongosangosaijohimitsu daikyoogyo; K. Ilch'e yorae kŭmgang samop ch'oesang pimil taegyowang kyong 一切如來金剛三業最上秘密大教王經). In Sanskrit, "Secret Assembly Tantra"; referred to in Tibet as the "king of tantras" (rgyud kyi rgyal po), it is among the most important of what later come to be called ANUTTARAYOGATANTRAs, or highest yoga tantras. It is also classified as a "father tantra" (PITṚTANTRA). The text was likely composed sometime between about 750 and 850 CE. It consists of eighteen chapters, the last of which is a supplement, referred to as the uttaratantra. The Guhyasamāja is one of the earliest tantras to present overtly antinomian practices, notably of a sexual nature, as well as the practices of ingesting impure substances. The text begins with a surprising rendition of the opening line of a Buddhist sutra (see EVAM MAYĀ sRUTAM), when it states, "Thus have I heard. At one time the Bhagavān was residing in the vaginas of the women who are the vajra essence of the body, speech, and mind of all the tathāgatas." Such passages led to the development of sophisticated hermeneutical systems for interpreting the tantras to discover their hidden meaning. Important Indian commentaries on this tantra include the PANCAKRAMA attributed to NĀGĀRJUNA, the Caryāmelāpakapradīpa attributed to ĀRYADEVA, and the Pradīpoddyotana attributed to CANDRAKĪRTI. In the MAndALA associated with the Ārya tradition of commentary (deriving from Nāgārjuna) there are thirty-two deities. The central deity of the mandala is Guhyasamāja, a manifestation of AKsOBHYA, surrounded by VAIROCANA in the east, RATNASAMBHAVA (or Ratnaketu) in the south, AMITĀBHA in the west, and AMOGHASIDDHI in the north, each in sexual union with a consort. The central deity is blue in color, with three faces and six arms. Seated in the posture of sexual union, he embraces his consort Sparsavajra. In addition, there are the ten "fierce kings" (krodharāja), eight bodhisattvas, and four goddesses. Like other tantras of its class, the SĀDHANAs of the Guhyasamāja set forth the practice of the stage of generation (UTPATTIKRAMA) and the stage of completion (NIsPANNAKRAMA), with its attendant sexual yogas, toward the achievement of an illusory body (MĀYĀKĀYA). The text was translated into Chinese by Dānapāla around 1002, but was not particularly influential in East Asian Buddhism, where its explicit sexual language offended more prudish Confucian sensibilities. It was translated into Tibetan in the eleventh century by RIN CHEN BZANG PO and sraddhākaravarman. In Tibet, the tantra was highly influential, ranking in importance with the HEVAJRATANTRA, CAKRASAMVARATANTRA, and KĀLACAKRATANTRA.
Gyi jo lo tsā ba Zla ba'i 'od zer. (Gyijo lotsāwa Dawe Öser) (c. eleventh century). A Tibetan translator renowned as the first scholar to render the KĀLACAKRATANTRA into Tibetan. The year in which this project was completed, 1027, marks the beginning of the modern Tibetan calendar. Gyi jo lo tsā ba composed translations of many other tantric works still preserved in both the BKA' 'GYUR and BSTAN 'GYUR sections of the Tibetan Buddhist canon.
Hachiman. (八幡). In Japanese, "God of Eight Banners," a popular SHINTo deity (KAMI), who is also considered a "great BODHISATTVA"; also known as Hachiman jin. Although his origins are unclear, Hachiman can at least be traced back to his role as the tutelary deity of the Usa clan in Kyushu during the eighth century. Hachiman responded to an oracle in 749, vouchsafing the successful construction of the Great Buddha (DAIBUTSU) image at ToDAIJI and quickly rose in popularity in both Kyushu and the Nara capital. In 859, the Buddhist monk Gyokyo established the Iwashimizu Hachiman Shrine near the capital of Kyoto that was dedicated to the deity. Hachiman's oracles continued to play decisive roles in Nara politics, leading to a worship cult devoted to him. The Hachiman cult expanded throughout the Heian period (794-1185), and in 809, he was designated a "great bodhisattva" (daibosatsu) by drawing on the concept of HONJI SUIJAKU (buddhas or bodhisattvas appearing in the world as gods). Hachiman also came to be considered a manifestation of the semi-legendary ancient sovereign ojin and was likewise seen as guardian of the monarch. From the eleventh century, the Minamoto warrior clan also linked itself with Hachiman. Through this patronage, Hachiman became increasingly associated with warfare. During the Meiji persecution of Buddhism in 1868, which separated the gods from the buddhas and bodhisattvas (SHINBUTSU BUNRI), Hachiman was divorced from his Buddhist identity and recast as a purely Shinto deity. Currently, there are approximately 25,000 Hachiman shrines across Japan.
Haedong kosŭng chon. (海東高僧傳). In Korean, "Lives of Eminent Korean Monks," putatively compiled in 1215 by the monk Kakhun (d.u.), abbot of the monastery of Yongt'ongsa, and the only such indigenous biographical collection of its kind (see GAOSENG ZHUAN) extant in Korea. A copy of the Haedong kosŭng chon was ostensibly discovered by the monk Hoegwang Sason (1862-1933; also known as Yi Hoegwang) amid a pile of old documents housed at a "certain" monastery in North Kyongsang province. A critical edition of this copy was published by Ch'oe Namson (1809-1957) in the magazine Pulgyo ("Buddhism") in 1927; the original document has never been seen again. The published recension of the Haedong kosŭng chon contains only the first two chapters, on yut'ong, or propagators of the religion. The first chapter is largely concerned with the history of the transmission of Buddhism from India to China and Korea. This roll contains the biographies of eight Korean monks and briefly mentions three others. The second roll contains the biographies of ten eminent Silla monks who made pilgrimages to India and China (e.g., WoN'GWANG and ANHAM) and also mentions the activities of eleven other figures; large portions of this roll are derived from the Chinese hagiographical anthology XU GAOSENG ZHUAN. There is also considerable overlap between the Haedong kosŭng chon and Iryon's (1206-1289) supposedly contemporaneous Buddhist history SAMGUK YUSA ("Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms"). These several overlaps in material, as well as issues involving the provenance of the manuscript discovered by Yi Hoegwang, raise concerns about the authenticity of the Haedong kosŭng chon that have yet to be resolved.
Hanshan Deqing. (J. Kanzan Tokusei; K. Kamsan Tokch'ong 憨山德清) (1546-1623). In Chinese, "Crazy Mountain, Virtuous Clarity"; Ming-dynasty Chinese CHAN master of the LINJI ZONG; also known as Chengyin. Hanshan was a native of Quanjiao in Jinling (present-day Nanjing in Jiangsu province). He entered the monastery at age eleven and was ordained at the age of eighteen. Hanshan then studied under the monks Yungu Fahui (d.u.) and Fangguang (d.u.) of Mt. Funiu and later retired to WUTAISHAN. In 1581, Hanshan organized an "unrestricted assembly" (WUZHE DAHUI) led by five hundred worthies (DADE) on Mt. Wutai. In 1587, Hanshan received the patronage of the empress dowager, who constructed on his behalf the monastery Haiyinsi in Qingzhou (present-day Shandong province) and granted the monastery a copy of the Buddhist canon. Hanshan, however, lost favor with Emperor Shenzong (r. 1572-1620) and was sent to prison in Leizhou (present-day Guangdong province). In 1597, Hanshan reestablished himself on CAOXISHAN, where he devoted most of his time to restoring the meditation hall, conferring precepts, lecturing on scriptures, and restructuring the monastic regulations. In 1616, he established the Chan monastery of Fayunsi on LUSHAN's Wuru Peak. In 1622, Hanshan returned to Mt. Caoxi and passed away the next year. Hanshan was particularly famous for his cultivation of Chan questioning meditation (KANHUA CHAN) and recollection of the Buddha's name (NIANFO). Along with YUNQI ZHUHONG (1535-1615), DAGUAN ZHENKE (a.k.a. Zibo) (1542-1603), and OUYI ZHIXU (1599-1655), Hanshan was known as one of the four great monks of the Ming dynasty. Hanshan was later given the posthumous title Chan master Hongjue (Universal Enlightenment). His teachings are recorded in the Hanshan dashi mengyou quanji.
hendecagon ::: n. --> A plane figure of eleven sides and eleven angles.
hendecane ::: n. --> A hydrocarbon, C11H24, of the paraffin series; -- so called because it has eleven atoms of carbon in each molecule. Called also endecane, undecane.
hendecasyllabic ::: a. --> Pertaining to a line of eleven syllables.
hendecasyllable ::: n. --> A metrical line of eleven syllables.
Hevajratantra/HevajradākinījālasaMvaratantra. (T. Kye rdo rje'i rgyud; C. Dabei kongzhi jingang dajiao wang yigui jing; J. Daihi kuchi kongo daikyoo gikikyo; K. Taebi kongji kŭmgang taegyo wang ŭigwe kyong 大悲空智金剛大教王儀軌經). An important Indian Buddhist TANTRA, classified as an ANUTTARAYOGATANTRA, and within that group, a YOGINĪTANTRA and a mother tantra (MĀTṚTANTRA). Likely composed in the eighth century, the work consists of seven hundred fifty stanzas written in a mixture of Sanskrit and APABHRAMsA; it is traditionally said to be a summary of a larger work in five hundred thousand stanzas, now lost. The tantra is presumed to derive from the SIDDHA movement of north India, and the central deity, HEVAJRA, is depicted as a naked siddha. Like most tantras, the text is particularly concerned with ritual, especially those that result in the attainment of worldly (LAUKIKA) powers. It famously recommends the use of "intentional language" or "coded language" (SANDHYĀBHĀsĀ) for tantric practitioners. The widespread ANUTTARAYOGA system of the channels (NĀdĪ), winds (PRĀnA), and drops (BINDU), and the various levels of bliss achieved through the practice of sexual yoga is particularly associated with the Hevajratantra. It sets forth the so-called four joys, the greatest of which is the "innate" or "natural" (SAHAJA) joy. A Chinese translation of the Hevajratantra was made in 1055 by Dharmapāla, but neither the text nor its central deity gained particular popularity in East Asian Buddhism. The text was much more important in Tibet. The tantra was rendered into Tibetan by the Sa skya translator 'BROG MI SHĀKYA YE SHES in the early eleventh century and popularized by MAR PA, whose Indian master NĀROPA wrote a well-known commentary to the text. The scriptures associated with the Hevajratantra were the basis for the Indian adept VIRuPA's LAM 'BRAS ("path and result") systematization of tantric doctrine. This practice is central in the SA SKYA tradition of Tibetan Buddhism. The SaMputatantra is regarded as an explanatory tantra of the Hevajra. There are a number of important commentaries to this tantra written in the Indian tradition and dozens composed in Tibet.
Hevajra. (T. Kye rdo rje; C. Jingangwang; J. Kongoo; K. Kŭmgangwang 金剛王). An important Indian tantric deity in the ANUTTARAYOGA class of tantras, who is the central figure in the HEVAJRATANTRA MAndALA. The cult of Hevajra developed in India at least by the eighth century, the date generally given for that TANTRA. A number of Indian images from the eleventh century have been identified as HERUKA Hevajra, although the identification is uncertain. The tantric deity Hevajra is most commonly depicted as dark blue in color and naked. One of his most common forms is the Kapāladhārin ("Skull Bearing") Hevajra, with four legs, eight faces with three eyes each, and sixteen hands, each of which holds a skull cup. Each face has three bloodshot eyes, four fangs, and a protruding tongue. The skulls in his right hands hold various animals and the skulls in his left hand hold various deities. He is often depicted in sexual union with his consort is Nairātmyā ("Selflessness"), who holds a curved knife and skull cup, the couple surrounded by a retinue of eight yoginīs. There are eight famous forms of Hevajra: four called the body (KĀYA), speech (vāc), mind (CITTA), and heart (hṛdaya) Hevajras, as described in the Hevajratantra (the Kapāladhārin Hevajra corresponds to the heart Hevajra); and the body, speech, mind, and heart Hevajras, as described in the SaMputatantra. His name literally means "Hey, Vajra."
hilary term ::: --> Formerly, one of the four terms of the courts of common law in England, beginning on the eleventh of January and ending on the thirty-first of the same month, in each year; -- so called from the festival of St. Hilary, January 13th.
Honcho kosoden. (本朝高僧伝). In Japanese, "Biographies of Eminent Clerics of Japan"; a late Japanese biographic collection, written by the RINZAISHu ZEN monk Mangen Shiban (1626-1710) in 1702, in a total of seventy-five rolls. The Honcho kosoden includes the biographies of 1,662 Japanese priests affiliated with a variety of Buddhist sects (except, prominently, the JoDO SHINSHu and NICHIRENSHu) from the sixth century onward. Unlike Shiban's 1678 ENPo DENToROKU, which contains over one thousand biographies of only Zen clerics and lay practitioners, the Honcho kosoden also discusses clerics from other schools of Japanese Buddhism. The biographies are divided into ten general categories: founders, exegetes, meditators, thaumaturges, VINAYA specialists, propagators, ascetics, pilgrims, scriptural reciters, and others. As the most comprehensive and voluminous Japanese collection of biographies of eminent clerics, the text is an indispensable work for research into the lineage histories of many of the most important schools of Japanese Buddhism. In 1867, the SHINGONSHu monk Hosokawa Dokai (1816-1876) compiled a supplement to this collection, titled the Zoku Nippon kosoden ("Supplement to the Eminent Clerics of Japan"), which including biographies of over two hundred clerics of the premodern period, in a total of eleven rolls.
hongaku. (本覺). In Japanese, "original enlightenment." The notion that enlightenment was a quality inherent in the minds of all sentient beings (SATTVA) initially developed in East Asia largely due to the influence of such presumptive APOCRYPHA as the DASHENG QIXIN LUN. The Dasheng qixin lun posited a distinction between the potentiality to become a buddha that was inherent in the minds of every sentient being, as expressed by the term "original enlightenment" (C. BENJUE; pronounced hongaku in Japanese); and the soteriological process through which that potential for enlightenment had to be put into practice, which it called "actualized enlightenment" (C. SHIJUE; J. shikaku). This distinction is akin to the notion that a person may in reality be enlightened (original enlightenment), but still needs to learn through a course of religious training how to act on that enlightenment (actualized enlightenment). This scheme was further developed in numerous treatises and commentaries written by Chinese exegetes in the DI LUN ZONG, HUAYAN ZONG, and TIANTAI ZONG. ¶ In medieval Japan, this imported soteriological interpretation of "original enlightenment" was reinterpreted into an ontological affirmation of things just as they are. Enlightenment was thence viewed not as a soteriological experience, but instead as something made manifest in the lived reality of everyday life. Hongaku thought also had wider cultural influences, and was used, for example, to justify conceptually incipient doctrines of the identity between the buddhas and bodhisattvas of Buddhism and the indigenous deities (KAMI) of Japan (see HONJI SUIGAKU; SHINBUTSU SHuGo). Distinctively Japanese treatments of original enlightenment thought begin in the mid-eleventh century, especially through oral transmissions (kuden) within the medieval TENDAISHu tradition. These interpretations were subsequently written down on short slips of paper (KIRIGAMI) that were gradually assembled into more extensive treatments. These interpretations ultimately came to be attributed by tradition to the great Tendai masters of old, such as SAICHo (767-822), but connections to these earlier teachers are dubious at best and the exact dates and attributions of these materials are unclear. During the late Heian and Kamakura periods, hongaku thought bifurcated into two major lineages, the Eshin and Danna (both of which subsequently divided into numerous subbranches). This bifurcation was largely a split between followers of the two major disciples of the Tendai monk RYoGEN: GENSHIN (942-1017) of Eshin'in in YOKAWA (the famous author of the oJo YoSHu); and Kakuun (953-1007) of Danna'in in the Eastern pagoda complex at ENRYAKUJI on HIEIZAN. The Tendai tradition claims that these two strands of interpretation derive from Saicho, who learned these different approaches while studying Tiantai thought in China under Daosui (J. Dosui/Dozui; d.u.) and Xingman (J. Gyoman; d.u.), and subsequently transmitted them to his successors in Japan; the distinctions between these two positions are, however, far from certain. Other indigenous Japanese schools of Buddhism that developed later during the Kamakura period, such as the JoDOSHu and JoDO SHINSHu, seem to have harbored more of a critical attitude toward the notion of original enlightenment. One of the common charges leveled against hongaku thought was that it fostered a radical antinomianism, which denied the need for either religious practice or ethical restraint. In the contemporary period, the notion of original enlightenment has been strongly criticized by advocates of "Critical Buddhism" (HIHAN BUKKYo) as an infiltration into Buddhism of Brahmanical notions of a perduring self (ĀTMAN); in addition, by valorizing the reality of the mundane world just as it is, hongaku thought was said to be an exploitative doctrine that had been used in Japan to justify societal inequality and political despotism. For broader East Asian perspectives on "original enlightenment," see BENJUE.
hrī. (P. hiri; T. ngo tsha shes pa; C. can; J. zan; K. ch'am 慚). In Sanskrit, "decency," "shame," or "conscience," one of the fundamental mental concomitants (CAITTA) presumed to accompany all wholesome actions (KUsALA) and therefore listed as the fifth of the ten "omnipresent wholesome factors" (kusala-MAHĀBHuMIKA) in the SARVĀSTIVĀDA ABHIDHARMA and the second of eleven wholesome mental concomitants in the hundreddharma list (see BAIFA) of the YOGĀCĀRA school. It is also one of the twenty-five wholesome mental factors in the Pāli abhidhamma. "Decency" is often seen in compound with the term "modesty" or "fear" of wrongdoing (APATRĀPYA), where hrī refers to the pangs of moral conscience that one feels at the prospect of engaging in an immoral act, whereas apatrāpya refers to the fear of being blamed by others for engaging in such acts. This dual sense of "shame and blame" was thought to be foundational to progress in morality (sĪLA).
Huaisu. (J. Kaiso; K. Hoeso 懷素) (634-707). Chinese VINAYA master of the Tang dynasty. Huaisu was ordained at the age of eleven by XUANZANG, under whom he studied various SuTRAs and sĀSTRAs. After receiving his precepts, Huaisu studied the Sifen lü xingshi chao with its author, the renowned vinaya master DAOXUAN. Huaisu also studied Fali's Sifen lü shu under one of his major disciples. After studying the SIFEN LÜ ("Four-Part Vinaya") of the DHARMAGUPTAKA school with these teachers, Huaisu decided to rectify what he considered flaws in earlier studies of the vinaya and composed the Sifen lü kaizong ji, in twenty rolls. Huaisu's text soon came to known as the "new commentary" (xinshu), and he and his followers came to be called the East Pagoda vinaya school (DONGTA LÜ ZONG) in distinction to Daoxuan's NANSHAN LÜ ZONG (Mt. Nan vinaya school) and Fali's XIANGBU LÜ ZONG (Xiang Region vinaya school). Huaisu also authored commentaries on the ABHIDHARMAKOsABHĀsYA, the Dharmaguptaka BHIKsU precepts and their ecclesiastical procedures (karmavācanā), and various other texts.
Huanglong Huinan. (J. oryo/oryu Enan; K. Hwangnyong Hyenam 龍慧南) (1002-1069). Song-dynasty Chan monk who is regarded as the founder of the HUANGLONG PAI collateral lineage of the LINJI ZONG. He ordained as a monk at the age of eleven, eventually becoming a disciple of Shishuang Chuyuan (986-1039), a sixth-generation successor in the Linji school. He spent much of his life teaching at Mt. Huanglong in Xiushui county of Jiangxi province, whence he acquired his toponym. Huanglong was famous for employing three crucial questions to challenge his students and encourage their cultivation; these are known as "Huanglong's Three Checkpoints" (Huanglong sanguan): What conditioned your birth (viz., why were you born)? Why are my hands like the Buddha's? Why are my feet like a donkey's? His Huanglong lineage lasted for about one hundred fifty years, before being reabsorbed into the rival YANGQI PAI.
hydrogen ::: n. --> A gaseous element, colorless, tasteless, and odorless, the lightest known substance, being fourteen and a half times lighter than air (hence its use in filling balloons), and over eleven thousand times lighter than water. It is very abundant, being an ingredient of water and of many other substances, especially those of animal or vegetable origin. It may by produced in many ways, but is chiefly obtained by the action of acids (as sulphuric) on metals, as zinc, iron, etc. It is very inflammable, and is an ingredient of coal gas and
IBM 701 ::: (computer) (Defense Calculator) The first of the IBM 700 series of computers.The IBM 701 was annouced internally on 1952-04-29 as the most advanced, most flexible high-speed computer in the world. Known as the Defense Calculator 1953-04-07 as the IBM 701 Electronic Data Processing Machines (plural because it consisted of eleven connected units).The 701 was the first IBM large-scale electronic computer manufactured in quantity and their first commercial scientific computer. It was the first IBM on paper to installation. It was key to IBM's transition from punched card machines to electronic computers.It consisted of four magnetic tape drives, a magnetic drum memory unit, a cathode-ray tube storage unit, an L-shaped arithmetic and control unit with an read 12,500 digits a second from tape, print 180 letters or numbers a second and output 400 digits a second from punched-cards.The IBM 701 ran the following languages and systems: BACAIC, BAP, DOUGLAS, DUAL-607, FLOP, GEPURS, JCS-13, KOMPILER, LT-2, PACT I, QUEASY, QUICK, SEESAW, SHACO, SO 2, Speedcoding, SPEEDEX. .(2005-06-20)
IBM 701 "computer" ("Defense Calculator") The first of the {IBM 700 series} of computers. The IBM 701 was annouced internally on 1952-04-29 as "the most advanced, most flexible high-speed computer in the world". Known as the Defense Calculator while in development at {IBM Poughkeepsie Laboratory}, it went public on 1953-04-07 as the "IBM 701 Electronic Data Processing Machines" (plural because it consisted of eleven connected units). The 701 was the first IBM large-scale electronic computer manufactured in quantity and their first commercial {scientific computer}. It was the first IBM machine in which programs were stored in an internal, addressable, electronic memory. It was developed and produced in less than two years from "first pencil on paper" to installation. It was key to IBM's transition from {punched card} machines to electronic computers. It consisted of four {magnetic tape drives}, a {magnetic drum} memory unit, a {cathode-ray tube storage unit}, an L-shaped {arithmetic and control unit} with an operator's panel, a {punched card {reader}, a printer, a card punch and three power units. It performed more than 16,000 additions or subtractions per second, read 12,500 digits a second from tape, print 180 letters or numbers a second and output 400 digits a second from punched-cards. The IBM 701 ran the following languages and systems: {BACAIC}, {BAP}, {DOUGLAS}, {DUAL-607}, {FLOP}, {GEPURS}, {JCS-13}, {KOMPILER}, {LT-2}, {PACT I}, {QUEASY}, {QUICK}, {SEESAW}, {SHACO}, {SO 2}, {Speedcoding}, {SPEEDEX}. {IBM History (http://www-03.ibm.com/ibm/history/exhibits/701/701_intro.html)}. (2005-06-20)
In 1111, at the age of twenty, he received the throne of Sa skya monastery from Ba ri lo tsā ba and became the institution's third abbot, a position he held for the remainder of his life. Beginning in 1120, Sa chen received the seminal Sa skya instructions on lam 'bras from Zhang ston chos 'bar (Shangton Chobar, 1053?-1135?), a YOGIN who initially claimed not to know anything about the topic. However, he eventually provided instruction to Sa chen for eight years, after which he instructed him not to teach lam 'bras for the next eighteen years. Sa chen then spent those eighteen years in retreat, practicing these instructions. During this time, he had a vision of the Indian adept VIRuPA, founder of the lam 'bras lineage, who bestowed on him the lam 'bras teachings in their entirety. After completing his retreat, Sa chen put Virupa's instructions on lam 'bras, known as the RDO RJE TSHIG RKANG ("Vajra Verses"), into writing for the first time, eventually composing eleven commentaries on them. Later, Sa chen was poisoned and went into a coma. When he regained consciousness, he had suffered complete memory loss. He thus went to his former teachers to receive instructions again. However, there was no one to provide the lam 'bras teachings and Zhang ston chos 'bar had passed away. Sa chen went into retreat, during which Zhang ston chos 'bar appeared to him and repeated his previous teachings. Among Sa chen's four sons, two became prominent Sa skya leaders: BSOD NAMS RTSE MO and Grags pa rgyal mtshan (Drakpa Gyaltsen, 1147-1216). Another of his sons, Dpal che 'od po (Palche Öpo, 1150-1204), was the father of SA SKYA PAndITA KUN DGA' RGYAL MTSHAN, who would become one of Tibet's most influential religious figures. Kun dga' snying po and the most illustrious of his offspring over the next two generations (Grags pa rgyal mtshan, Bsod nams rtse mo, Kun dga' snying po, and 'PHAGS PA) are known as SA SKYA GONG MA LNGA (the five Sakya hierarchs) and as such have iconic status in Sa skya ritual.
In theosophy the spots are due to the diastolic and systolic movements of the sun — which is the heart as well as the brain of the solar system — in its rhythmic pulsations, by which the life forces of the system are circulated in a period roughly ranging from ten to twelve years, and usually given as being eleven years — the sunspot cycle of astronomy. “Thus, there is a regular circulation of the vital fluid throughout our system, of which the Sun is the heart — the same as the circulation of the blood in the human body — during the manvantaric solar period, or life; the Sun contracting as rhythmically at every return of it, as the human heart does. Only, instead of performing the round in a second or so, it takes the solar blood ten of its years, and a whole year to pass through its auricles and ventricles before it washes the lungs and passes thence to the great veins and arteries of the system.
jarāmarana. (T. rga shi; C. laosi; J. roshi; K. nosa 老死). In Sanskrit and Pāli, "aging and death"; the twelfth and final link in the chain of conditioned origination (PRATĪTYASAMUTPĀDA), preceded by JĀTI, the eleventh link. In some formulations of the twelve links of the chain, old age and death are presumed to occur in the last of a sequence of three lifetimes, with the first two links in the chain, ignorance and predispositions, assigned to the previous lifetime; consciousness, name and form, sense fields, contact, sensation, thirst, grasping, and existence to the current lifetime, leading to future birth, old age, and death in the immediately following lifetime. ¶ In some compounds, jarāmarana does not mean only "old age and death," but is used as an abbreviation for the whole panoply of human existence, viz., "birth, old age, sickness, and death"; this accounts for its alternate translation as "birth and death" (shengsi) in Chinese. This usage of the term is found in two different types of jarāmarana that are distinguished in the literature: (1) determinative birth-and-death (PARICCHEDAJARĀMARAnA), referring to the physical existence of ordinary sentient beings, whose bodies are restricted in their longevity, appearance, and size; and (2) transfigurational birth-and-death (PARInĀMIKAJARĀMARAnA), referring to the mind-made bodies (MANOMAYAKĀYA) of ARHATs, PRATYEKABUDDHAs, and great BODHISATTVAs, who are able to change their appearance and life span at will.
jāti. (T. skye ba; C. sheng; J. sho; K. saeng 生). In Sanskrit and Pāli, "birth," "origination." Birth is one of the varieties of the suffering (DUḤKHA) that is inherent in the conditioned realm of existence and the eleventh of the twelve links in the chain of dependent origination (PRATĪTYASAMUTPĀDA). The future buddha is said to have left the life of the householder in search of a state beyond birth, aging, sickness, and death. In the SARVĀSTIVĀDA ABHIDHARMA system, origination is treated as a "conditioned force dissociated from thought" (CITTAVIPRAYUKTASAMSKĀRA), which functions as one of the four conditioned characteristics (SAMSKṚTALAKsAnA) that is associated with all conditioned objects. Because the ontology of the Sarvāstivāda school, as its name implies, postulated that "everything exists" in all three time periods (TRIKĀLA) of past, present, and future, there had to be some mechanism to account for the apparent change that conditioned objects underwent through time. Therefore, along with the other three characteristics of continuance (STHITI), senescence (JARĀ), and desinence (ANITYATĀ; viz., death), origination was posited as a "conditioned force dissociated from thought," which prepares an object to be produced and thus pulls that object out of the future and into the present. The very definition of conditioned objects is that they are subject to these conditioned characteristics, including this process of production, and this is what ultimately distinguishes them from the unconditioned (ASAMSKṚTA), viz., NIRVĀnA. In less technical contexts, beginning with the Buddha's first sermon (see DHAMMACAKKAPPAVATTANASUTTA), jāti appears in various lists of the sufferings of SAMSĀRA, with a variety of texts describing at length the pain experienced in the womb and during birth.
Jingtu zhuan. (J. Jododen; K. Chongt'o chon 淨土傳). In Chinese, "biographies of PURE LAND [practitioners]," also called "biographies of those who have gone to rebirth in the pure land" (wangsheng Jingtu zhuan); several such compilations are extant. Most of these anthologies were made by selecting examples from the various biographies of eminent monks (GAOSENG ZHUAN) of persons who were reported, first, to have shown "auspicious signs" (ruixiang) at the time of their deaths and, second, were noted for their exceptional devotion to pure land practice. Visions of AMITĀBHA and his entourage, an inexplicable radiance filling the site, heavenly fragrances, and prescience and/or predictions of one's imminent death and rebirth into the pure land were taken to be such "auspicious signs" and are common themes in the hagiographical accounts recorded in these anthologies. One of the earliest extant examples of the genre is the Jingtu zhuan compiled in the eleventh century by Jiezhu (985-1077), but many other anthologies were compiled in later centuries and were widely circulated. The stories they contain became popular testimonials to the efficacy and verity of pure land practice. These pure land anthologies are notable for their inclusive nature, and they collect biographies not only of eminent monks, but also of nuns, laypeople, and even persons of ill repute and low social status.
Jo nang. A sect of Tibetan Buddhism that flourished between the thirteenth and seventeenth centuries, seated primarily at the monastery of JO NANG PHUN TSHOGS GLING, northwest of Shigatse. The lineage of masters affiliated with the Jo nang, traditionally said to begin with the eleventh-century yogin-scholar Yu mo Mi bskyod rdo rje (Yumo Mikyo Dorje), includes such highly acclaimed luminaries as DOL PO PA SHES RAB RGYAL MTSHAN and TĀRANĀTHA. Jo nang scholars are often noted for their interest in the KĀLACAKRATANTRA and the controversial doctrine of GZHAN STONG, or "extrinsic emptiness," developed and promulgated by Dol po pa. This theory, and its attendant interpretation of TATHĀGATAGARBHA, was later adopted, reformulated, and actively transmitted by numerous other masters, especially those of the BKA' BRGYUD and RNYING MA sects. Others, especially SA SKYA and later DGE LUGS adherents, presumed that these doctrines were incorrect and even heretical. In 1650, under the aegis of the fifth DALAI LAMA, the monastery of Jo nang was forcibly converted to the Dge lugs sect, its books locked under state seal. The Jo nang tradition survived, however, secretly in small pockets throughout central and western Tibet, and at 'DZAM THANG monastery in A mdo in eastern Tibet, where it has been practiced openly up to the present day. The name is also used to designate the principal central Tibetan monastery affiliated with the Jo nang tradition, Phun tshogs gling; see JO NANG PHUN TSHOGS GLING.
Joseph (Hebrew) Yōsēf [from yāsaf to increase, enlarge] In the Old Testament (Genesis 37-50), the eleventh son of Jacob, first by his favorite wife Rachel; known for his coat of many colors, he was sold into slavery by his jealous brothers, and later was instrumental in the Jews settling in Egypt. Joseph “was an Initiate, otherwise he would not have married Aseneth, the daughter of Petephre (’Potiphar’ — ‘he who belongs to Phre,’ the Sun-God), priest of Heliopolis and governor of On” (BCW 14:357). His second dream that “the sun and the moon and the eleven stars made obeisance” to Joseph (Genesis 37:9-10) may be a reference to the zodiac, the eleven “stars” or zodiacal constellations bowing to the twelfth because that one was “his star.” The twelve sons of Jacob are also a reference to the twelve signs of the zodiac, Joseph corresponding to Sagittarius (SD 1:649).
junold ::: a. --> See Gimmal. K () the eleventh letter of the English alphabet, is nonvocal consonant. The form and sound of the letter K are from the Latin, which used the letter but little except in the early period of the language. It came into the Latin from the Greek, which received it from a Phoenician source, the ultimate origin probably being Egyptian. Etymologically K is most nearly related to c, g, h (which see).
Kaf, Kaph, Ghaf (Persian) Kāf, Kaph, Ghāf, Kaofa (Avestan) Kaofā, Kafor (Pahlavi) Mountain; in Persian tradition the sacred mythological mountain, comparable in many respects to the Hindu Mount Meru; regarded as the abode of the gods and the place whither heroes travel in order to reach the sacred land beyond these mountains. Hushenk, the hero, rode there on his twelve-legged horse, while Tahmurath went on his winged steed. It is the abode of Simorgh or Angha, the legendary bird of knowledge. In the “Aghre-Sorkh” (Red Intellect) of 12th century mystic philosopher Sohrevardi, Ghaf is referred to as the abode of intellect, surrounding the world with eleven peaks that only initiates can pass through. He says that the Night-Lightener Jewel (Gohar-e-Shab Afrooz) can be found in Mount Ghaf. This jewel receives its brilliance from the tree of Touba which is on Mount Ghaf.
Kailāsa. The Sanskrit name for one of the most important sacred mountains in Asia, generally referred to in English as Kailash or Mount Kailash. It is 21,778 ft. high and is located in southwestern Tibet, not far from the current borders of India and Nepal. Lake Manasarovar is located eighteen miles to the southeast; these two sites have long been places of pilgrimage for Buddhists, Hindus, Jains, and followers of Tibetan BON, some of whom have regarded the striking dome-shaped peak as Mount SUMERU. The mountain is particularly important in Tibetan Buddhism, where it is called Gangs dkar Ti se ("White Snow Mountain Ti se") or simply Gangs rin po che ("Precious Snow Mountain"). Pilgrims from across the Tibetan Buddhist world visit Mount Kailāsa, especially in the Year of the Horse, which occurs once every twelve years in the Tibetan calendrical cycle. Within that year, it is considered auspicious to visit the mountain at the time that marks the Buddha's birth, enlightenment, and passage into PARINIRVĀnA (generally falling in May or June, depending on the lunar calendar). The primary form of practice is the thirty-two mile clockwise circumambulation of the mountain, often completed in a single day, with specific rituals and practices performed along the route. It is said that one circumambulation purifies the negative KARMAN of one lifetime, ten circumambulations purify the negative KARMAN accumulated over the course of a KALPA, and one hundred circumambulations ensure enlightenment. The mountain came to take on numerous tantric associations beginning in the eleventh century. According to a popular story, the yogin MI LA RAS PA won control of the mountain for the Buddhists by defeating a rival Bon priest, Na ro bon chung, in a contest of miracles. The mountain later became an important meditation site for the followers of Mi la ras pa, principally members of the 'BRUG PA BKA' BRGYUD and 'BRI GUNG BKA' BRGYUD sects. Both sĀKYAMUNI Buddha and PADMASAMBHAVA are said to have visited Kailāsa. One of the most important associations of Mount Kailāsa is with the CAKRASAMVARATANTRA, which names twenty-four sacred lands (PĪtHA) as potent locations for tantric practice. The CakrasaMvara literature recounts how long ago these twenty-four lands came under the control of Mahesvara (siva) in the form of Rudra Bhairava. The buddha VAJRADHARA, in the wrathful form of a HERUKA deity, subdued BHAIRAVA, transforming each of the twenty-four sites into a MAndALA of the deity CakrasaMvara and his retinue. In Tibetan literature, Mount Kailāsa came to be identified with one of the twenty-four sites, the one called Himavat or Himālaya ("The Snowy," or "The Snow Mountain"); this was one of several important transpositions of sacred locations in India onto Tibetan sites. The BKA' BRGYUD sect grouped the peak together with two other important mountain pilgrimage sites in southern Tibet, LA PHYI and TSA RI, identified respectively as CakrasaMvara's body, speech, and mind. These claims drew criticism from some Tibetan quarters, such as the renowned scholar SA SKYA PAnDITA, who argued that the sites associated with CakrasaMvara were located not in Tibet but in India. Such criticism has not prevented Mount Kailāsa from remaining one of the most important pilgrimage places in the Tibetan cultural domain.
Kaiyuan Shijiao lu. (J. Kaigen Shakkyoroku; K. Kaewon Sokkyo nok 開元釋教録). In Chinese, "Record of sĀKYAMUNI's Teachings, Compiled during the Kaiyuan Era"; a comprehensive catalogue (JINGLU) of Buddhist texts compiled by the monk Zhisheng (658-740) in 730. The catalogue began as Zhisheng's own private record of Buddhist scriptures but was adopted soon afterward by the Tang imperial court as an official catalogue of the Chinese Buddhist canon (DAZANGJING) and entered into the canon as well. Zhisheng divided his catalogue into two major sections, a chronological register (rolls one through ten) and a topical register (rolls eleven through twenty). The chronological register contains a list of translated scriptures, organized according to translator's name and the period during which the text was translated. Because this register provides alternative titles of texts, numbers of volumes and rolls, names of translators, and a list of alternate translations, it is an invaluable tool for studying the production and circulation of Buddhist texts in medieval China. The topical register contains "lists of canonical texts" (ruzang lu), which subsequently became the standard rosters from which East Asian Buddhism constructed its canon. This roster also includes 406 titles of texts classified as APOCRYPHA, that is, scriptures listed as either of "doubtful authenticity" (YIJING) or explicitly "spurious" (weijing), which Zhisheng determined were probably of indigenous Chinese origin and therefore not authentic translations of the Buddha's words (BUDDHAVACANA). The renown of the catalogue is due to the great strides Zhisheng made toward eliminating discrepancies between the chronological and topical rosters, inconsistencies that had marred previous catalogues. The content and structure of all later catalogues is derived from Zhisheng's work, making the Kaiyuan Shijiao lu the most important of all the Buddhist scriptural catalogues compiled in East Asia.
Kalu Rinpoche. (1905-1989). An important modern meditation master and teacher of Tibetan Buddhism. Recognized as an incarnation (SPRUL SKU) of the KARMA BKA' BRGYUD master 'JAM MGON KONG SPRUL, Kalu Rinpoche was ordained at the age of thirteen by the eleventh SI TU RINPOCHE. Kalu Rinpoche began serious meditation study at an early age, undertaking his first three-year retreat at the age of sixteen. He also received the transmission of the teachings of the SHANGS PA sect of Bka' brgyud. He later served as the meditation teacher at DPAL SPUNGS monastery. Following the Chinese invasion, Kalu Rinpoche left Tibet in 1962 and first stayed at a small monastery outside of Darjeeling, India. He later settled in Sonada, West Bengal, where he built a three-year retreat center, teaching there before traveling internationally for ten years (1971-1981). In 1971, he traveled to France and the United States, at the request of the DALAI LAMA and the KARMA PA, in order to educate Westerners in Buddhism. During those ten years, Kalu Rinpoche founded many meditation and dharma centers in Canada, the United States, and Europe, with his main meditation school in Vancouver, Canada. Kalu Rinpoche led his first three-year retreat for Western students of Tibetan Buddhism in France in 1976. His full name is Kar ma rang 'byung kun khyab phrin las.
Kānheri. The most extensive Buddhist monastic cave site in India, located six miles southeast of Borivili, a suburb of present-day Mumbai (Bombay), in the modern Indian state of Maharashtra. The name derives from the Sanskrit Kṛsnagiri, or "Black Mountain," probably because of the dark basalt from which many of the caves were excavated. Over 304 caves were excavated in the hills of the site between the first and tenth centuries CE. During the fifth and sixth centuries, older caves were modified and refurbished, while new caves were added, presumably initiated under the patronage of the Traikutakas (388-456 CE). While many of the new caves are architecturally rather plain, a number of important images were produced. The most extraordinary images are found in caves 90 and 41. The walls of cave 90 are abundantly, but haphazardly, carved with a myriad of images, suggesting that this hall was not intended for congregational purposes but rather as a place where believers could fund carvings as a way of making merit (PUnYA). On the left side wall of cave 90 is an especially complex iconographic arrangement. It shows VAIROCANA Buddha in the center, making the gesture of turning the wheel of the dharma (DHARMACAKRAMUDRĀ) and seated in the so-called European pose (PRALAMBAPĀDĀSANA); accompanying Vairocana are four smaller images at the four corners of the composition. Together, these comprise the five buddhas (PANCATATHĀGATA or PANCAJINA). At each side of the composition is a vertical row of four buddhas, who together represent the eight buddhas of the past. By the sixth century, female images had emerged as a common part of Buddhist iconographic conceptions in South Asia, and Kānheri is no exception. Flanking the central Buddha in this same arrangement is a pair of BODHISATTVAs, each accompanied by a female consort. Depicted next to the stalk upon which rests the central Buddha's lotus pedestal are several subordinate figures: INDRA and BRAHMĀ, with female consorts, as well as male and female NĀGA. Kānheri was also a crucial site for both transoceanic and overland trade and pilgrimage networks, which probably accounts for the presence of images of AVALOKITEsVARA, a bodhisattva who could be called upon by seafarers and merchants who were in distress. Avalokitesvara's image in cave 90 shows him in the center, flanked by his attendants, and surrounded by scenes of the eight dangers, including shipwreck. In the bottom right-hand corner, seafarers are depicted praying to him. In cave 41, the unusual form of an Eleven-Headed Avalokitesvara (EKĀDAsAMUKHĀVALOKITEsVARA), which is dated to the late fifth or early sixth century, indicates advanced and esoteric Buddhist practices at Kānheri. While frequently found in later Buddhist art in Tibet, Nepal, and East Asia, this image is the only extant artistic evidence that this iconographic type is of Indian provenance. A sixteenth-century Portuguese traveler reported that the Kānheri caves were the palace built by Prince Josaphat's father to shield him from knowledge of the sufferings of the world. (cf. BARLAAM AND JOSAPHAT). See also AJAntĀ.
Kasher, Kashrut ::: See kosher. ::: Kaupering ::: Complex of eleven sub-camps of the Dachau concentration camp existing from June 1944 to end of April 1945. .
Kevattasutta. (C. Jiangu jing; J. Kengokyo; K. Kyon'go kyong 堅固經). In Pāli, "Sermon to Kevatta" [alt. Kevaddhasuttanta]; eleventh sutta of the DĪGHANIKĀYA (a separate DHARMAGUPTAKA recension appears as the twenty-fourth sutra in the Chinese translation of the DĪRGHĀGAMA), preached by the Buddha to the householder Kevatta [alt. Kevaddha] in the Pāvārika mango grove at NĀLANDĀ. According to the Pāli account, Kevatta approached the Buddha and asked him to order a monk disciple to perform a miracle in order to inspire faith among the Buddha's followers dwelling in Nālandā. The Buddha responded that there are three kinds of wonder, the wonder of supranormal powers (iddhipātihāriya), the wonder of manifestation (ādesanāpātihāriya), and the wonder of education (anusāsanīpātihāriya). The wonder of supranormal powers is composed of the ability to make multiple bodies of oneself, to become invisible, to pass through solid objects, to penetrate the earth, to walk on water, to fly through the sky, to touch the sun and moon, and to reach the highest heaven of BRAHMĀ. The wonder of manifestation is the ability to read the thoughts and feelings of others. The Buddha declared all these wonders to be trivial and disparages their display as vulgar. Far superior to these, he says, is the wonder of education, which leads to awakening to the teaching and entering the Buddhist order, training in the restraint of action and speech, observance of minor points of morality, guarding the senses, mindfulness, contentment with little, freedom from the five hindrances, joy and peace of mind, the four meditative absorptions, insight (Nānadassana; JNĀNADARsANA) into the conditioned nature and impermanence of body and mind, knowledge of the FOUR NOBLE TRUTHS (catvāry āryasatyāni), and the destruction of the contaminants (āsavakkhaya; S. ĀSRAVAKsAYA).
khakkhara. (T. 'khar bsil; C. xizhang; J. shakujo; K. sokchang 錫杖). In Sanskrit, a "mendicant's staff" that monks carried during their itinerant wandering; written variously as khakharaka, khankharaka, etc. The staff was one on a list of eighteen requisites (NIsRAYA) of a monk, along with robes, alms bowl, etc. The mendicant carried the staff during his wanderings to scare away wild animals and to ward off any small animals in his path. It could also serve as a means of letting his presence be known to the laity when begging for alms (PIndAPĀTA). This is because the staff was topped by a round metal cap usually made of brass, while the staff itself was made of wood or iron. As the onomatopoeic Sanskrit word suggests, the metal cap has small rings dangling from it that made a jingling sound when shaken. This cap was often decorated with symbols of the teachings and virtues of the Buddha, such as a CINTĀMAnI, a dragon (NĀGA), a five-wheeled STuPA (C. wulunta; J. gorinta; K. oryunt'ap 五輪塔), or a buddha triad. Depending on the number of rings that hung symmetrically from each side of the metal cap, the staff could also be referred to as a four-, six-, or twelve-ring staff. KsITIGARBHA statues are often depicted holding such a staff; it is also one of the attributes of eleven-headed AVALOKITEsVARA (EKĀDAsAMUKHĀVALOKITEsVARA).
Khyung po rnal 'byor Tshul khrims mgon po. (Kyungpo Naljor Tsultrim Gonpo) (c. tenth-eleventh centuries) A Tibetan scholar and adept considered the founder of the SHANGS PA BKA' BRGYUD sect of Tibetan Buddhism. Although his traditional biographies are somewhat ambiguous, it is known that he traveled to India and studied under several MAHĀSIDDHA including MAITRĪPA and two female masters, Sukha and NIGUMA. From the latter, who was said to have been the wife or sister of the Indian scholar NĀROPA, Khyung pa rnal 'byor received a collection of instructions known as the six doctrines of NIGUMA (Ni gu chos drug). These ranked with the better known doctrines of NĀROPA (NA RO CHOS DRUG) and became the seminal teachings of the Shangs pa bka' brgyud. Khyung po rnal 'byor returned to Tibet and, according to traditional accounts, founded 108 religious establishments in the region of Shangs, from which the Shangs pa bka' brgyud takes its name. Khyung po rnal 'byor established his main seat at Zhang zhong monastery (also called Zhang zhang and Zhong zhong) and attracted a great number of disciples from all parts of Tibet. Although the Shangs pa bka' brgyud never developed a strong centralized institution, the transmission of Khyung po rnal 'byor's distinctive teachings spread in many directions, eventually finding their way into nearly every sect of Tibetan Buddhism.
Kiyomizudera. (清水寺). In Japanese, "Pure Water Monastery"; an important monastery of the Japanese HoSSo school of YOGĀCĀRA Buddhism, located in the Higashiyama (Eastern Mountains) District of Kyoto. The monastery claims to have been founded in 778 by a monk named Enchin and the general Sakanoue no Tamuramaro, who stopped on the site for a drink from a waterfall fed by a natural spring, where he met the monk. Together, they contracted to create a magnificent image of an eleven-faced and forty-armed Kannon (AVALOKITEsVARA), which was enshrined in 798 in a temporary hall that was given the name Kiyomizudera. The monastery became a state shrine in 810 and a focus of state-protection Buddhism (see HUGUO FOJIAO) in Japan. The current buildings date from the latest reconstruction of the monastery in 1633. The monastery is perhaps best known for its long veranda that juts over the hillside in front of the main shrine hall; there is a folk tradition dating back to the Edo period that anyone who survives a plunge off the veranda is granted whatever one wishes. The monastery was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1994.
Konjaku monogatarishu. (今昔物語集). In Japanese, "Tales of Times Now Past"; a collection of Buddhist tales compiled by the Japanese monk Minamoto no Takakuni (1004-1077). The Konjaku monogatarishu is claimed to have originally been composed in thirty-one rolls, but rolls eight, eighteen, and twenty-one are not extant. Rolls one through five are Buddhist tales from India, six through ten from China, and eleven through twenty from Japan. The Konjaku monogatarishu contains stories about the life of the Buddha and the events that occurred after his PARINIRVĀnA, the transmission of Buddhism to China, the merits that accrue from worshipping the three jewels (RATNATRAYA), and moralistic tales of filial piety and karmic retribution. The tales of Japan provide a narrative of the transmission of Buddhism and the various Chinese schools to Japan, SHoTOKU TAISHI's support of Buddhism, the establishment of Buddhist monasteries, the merit of constructing Buddhist images and studying SuTRAS, and the lives of eminent Japanese monks. Fascicles twenty-two to thirty-one deal with worldly tales about the Fujiwara clan, arts, battles, and ghosts.
Kumano. (熊野). In Japanese, lit. "Ursine Wilderness"; a mountainous region in Wakayama prefecture on the Kii Peninsula; Kumano is an important site in the history and development of SHUGENDo, a syncretistic tradition of mountain asceticism in Japan. Artifacts from the seventh century provide the earliest traces of Kumano's sacred roots, although worship there likely predated this time. Throughout the medieval period, the area developed ties with the powerful institutions of Japanese Tendai (TIANTAI), SHINGON, the Hosso monastery KoFUKUJI, and the imperial family, with additional influences from PURE LAND Buddhism. By the eleventh century, its three major religious sites, collectively known as Kumano Sanzan (the three mountains of Kumano), were well established as centers of practice: the Hongu Shrine, home to Amida (AMITĀBHA); the Shingu Shrine, home to Yakushi (BHAIsAJYAGURU); and Nachi Falls and its shrine, the residence of the thousand-armed BODHISATTVA Kannon (AVALOKITEsVARA; see SĀHASRABHUJASĀHASRANETRĀVALOKITEsVARA). Following the principle of HONJI SUIJAKU (buddhas or bodhisattvas appearing in the world as spirits), Buddhist deities were readily adopted into the local community of gods (KAMI). Hence, Amida took the form of the god Ketsumiko no kami, Yakushi manifested as Hayatama no kami, and Kannon appeared as Fusubi no kami. Kumano developed close ties with the aristocratic elite in Kyoto from the tenth through the twelfth centuries. After the ex-Emperor Uda's pilgrimage to Kumano in 907, a long line of monarchs, often retired, made one or multiple journeys to the sacred destination. In the early twelfth century, ex-Emperor Shirakawa granted Shogoin-a Japanese Tendai (TIANTAI) monastery in Kyoto-to the monk Zoyo, whose appointment included responsibility for overseeing Kumano. Later in the Tokugawa Period (1600-1868), it was Shogoin that regulated Tendai-affiliated Shugen centers around the country, consequently making a large impact on their doctrine and practice. The nearby Yoshino mountains of Kinbu and omine, where Shugendo's semilegendary founder EN NO OZUNU regularly practiced, share much history with Kumano. A text known as the Shozan Engi (1180?) describes Kumano as the garbhadhātu (J. TAIZoKAI, or "womb realm") MAndALA and the northern Yoshino mountains as the vajradhātu (J. KONGoKAI, or "diamond realm") mandala. These two geographic mandalas, now superimposed over the physical landscape, became the basis of the well-known Yoshino-Kumano pilgrimage route, which is still followed today. As the prestige and patronage of the court began to wane in the late twelfth century, revenue from visitors to the area became an important source of income for the local economy. In the following centuries, increasing numbers of pilgrims, including aristocrats, warriors, and ordinary people, undertook the journey, accompanying Kumano Shugen guides (sendatsu).
Kumbha (Sanskrit) Kumbha Watering pot; the eleventh zodiacal sign, Aquarius. “When represented by numbers, the word is equivalent to 14. It can be easily perceived then that the division in question is intended to represent the ‘Chaturdasa Bhuvanam,’ or the 14 lokas spoken of in Sanskrit writings” (Subba Row, Theos 3:44).
Kyongju. (慶州). Ancient capital of the Korean Silla dynasty and location of hundreds of important Buddhist archeological sites-for example, South Mountain (NAMSAN) in central modern Kyongju. Among the many monasteries in Kyongju, HWANGNYONGSA (Yellow Dragon monastery) was one of the most renowned. It was built during the reign of King Chinhung (r. 540-576), and its campus had seven rectangular courtyards, each with three buildings and one pagoda, covering an area of around eighteen acres; in 645, a 262 ft. high nine-story pagoda was added. Hwangnyongsa was destroyed during the Mongol invasion in 1238 and was never rebuilt. PULGUKSA (Buddha Land monastery) was built in 535 during the reign of the Silla King Pophŭng (r. 514-540). The main courtyard is dedicated to the buddha sĀKYAMUNI and includes on either end the highly decorative Pagoda of Many Treasures (Tabot'ap), resembling the form of a reliquary (sARĪRA) shrine and symbolizing the buddha PRABHuTARATNA, and the Pagoda of sākyamuni (Sokkat'ap). During a 1966 renovation of the Sokka t'ap, the world's oldest printed document was discovered sealed inside the stupa: the MUGUJoNGGWANG TAEDARANI KYoNG (S. Rasmivimalavisuddhaprabhādhāranī; "Great DHĀRAnĪ Scripture of Immaculate Radiance"). The terminus ad quem for the printing of the Dhāranī is 751 CE, when the text was sealed inside the Sokkat'ap, but it may have been printed even earlier. Four kilometers up T'oham Mountain to the east of Pulguksa is its affiliated SoKKURAM grotto temple, which was built in the late eighth century. In contrast to the cave temples of ancient India and China, the rotunda of Sokkuram was assembled with granite. The central image is a stone buddha (probably of sākyamuni) seated cross-legged on a lotus throne, surrounded by BODHISATTVAs, ARHATs, and Indian divinities carved in relief on the surrounding circular wall. A miniature marble pagoda, which is believed to have stood in front of the eleven-faced Avalokitesvara, disappeared in the early years of the Japanese occupation of the Korean peninsula in the early twentieth century.
Kyunyo. (均如) (923-973). Korean monk, exegete, poet, and thaumaturge during the Koryo dynasty, also known as Wont'ong. According to legend, Kyunyo is said to have been so ugly that his parents briefly abandoned him at a young age. His parents died shortly thereafter, and Kyunyo sought refuge at the monastery of Puhŭngsa in 937. Kyunyo later continued his studies under the monk Ǔisun (d.u.) at the powerful monastery of Yongt'ongsa near the Koryo-dynasty capital of Kaesong. There, Kyunyo seems to have gained the support of King Kwangjong (r. 950-975), who summoned him to preach at the palace in 954. Kyunyo's successful performance of miracles for the king won him the title of great worthy (taedok) and wealth for his clan. Kyunyo became famous as an exegete of the AVATAMSAKASuTRA. His approach to this scripture was purportedly catalyzed by the deep split between the exegetical traditions associated with the Korean exegete WoNHYO (617-686) and the Chinese-Sogdian exegete FAZANG (643-712). Kyunyo sought to bridge these two traditions of Hwaom (C. HUAYAN) exegesis in his numerous writings, which came to serve as the orthodox doctrinal standpoint for the clerical examinations (SŬNGKWA) in the Koryo-period KYO school, held at the royal monastery of WANGNYUNSA. In 963, Kyunyo was appointed the abbot of the new monastery of Kwibopsa, which the king established near the capital. Kyunyo's life and some examples of his poetry are recorded in the Kyunyo chon; the collection includes eleven "native songs," or hyangga, one of the largest surviving corpora of Silla-period vernacular poems, which used Sinographs to transcribe Korean. His Buddhist writings include the Sok Hwaom kyobun'gi wont'ong ch'o, Sok Hwaom chigwijang, Sipkujang wont'ong ki, and others.
Lam rim chen mo. In Tibetan, "Great Treatise on the Stages of the Path"; the abbreviated title for one of the best-known works on Buddhist thought and practice in Tibet, composed by the Tibetan luminary TSONG KHA PA BLO BZANG GRAGS PA in 1402 at the central Tibetan monastery of RWA SGRENG. A lengthy treatise belonging to the LAM RIM, or stages of the path, genre of Tibetan Buddhist literature, the LAM RIN CHEN MO takes its inspiration from numerous earlier writings, most notably the BODHIPATHAPRADĪPA ("Lamp for the Path to Enlightenment") by the eleventh-century Bengali master ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNĀNA. It is the most extensive treatment of three principal stages that Tsong kha pa composed. The others include (1) the LAM RIM CHUNG BA ("Short Treatise on the Stages of the Path"), also called the Lam rim 'bring ba ("Intermediate Treatise on the States of the Path") and (2) the LAM RIM BSDUS DON ("Concise Meaning of the Stages of the Path"), occasionally also referred to as the Lam rim chung ngu ("Brief Stages of the Path"). The latter text, which records Tsong kha pa's own realization of the path in verse form, is also referred to as the Lam rim nyams mgur ma ("Song of Experience of the Stages of the Path"). The LAM RIM CHEN MO is a highly detailed and often technical treatise presenting a comprehensive and synthetic overview of the path to buddhahood. It draws, often at length, upon a wide range of scriptural sources including the SuTRA and sĀSTRA literature of both the HĪNAYĀNA and MAHĀYĀNA; Tsong kha pa treats tantric practice in a separate work. The text is organized under the rubric of the three levels of spiritual predilection, personified as "the three individuals" (skyes bu gsum): the beings of small capacity, who engage in religious practice in order to gain a favorable rebirth in their next lifetime; the beings of intermediate capacity, who seek liberation from rebirth for themselves as an ARHAT; and the beings of great capacity, who seek to liberate all beings in the universe from suffering and thus follow the bodhisattva path to buddhahood. Tsong kha pa's text does not lay out all the practices of these three types of persons but rather those practices essential to the bodhisattva path that are held in common by persons of small and intermediate capacity, such as the practice of refuge (sARAnA) and contemplation of the uncertainty of the time of death. The text includes extended discussions of topics such as relying on a spiritual master, the development of BODHICITTA, and the six perfections (PĀRAMITĀ). The last section of the text, sometimes regarded as a separate work, deals at length with the nature of serenity (sAMATHA) and insight (VIPAsYANĀ); Tsong kha pa's discussion of insight here represents one of his most important expositions of emptiness (suNYATĀ). Primarily devoted to exoteric Mahāyāna doctrine, the text concludes with a brief reference to VAJRAYĀNA and the practice of tantra, a subject discussed at length by Tsong kha pa in a separate work, the SNGAGS RIM CHEN MO ("Stages of the Path of Mantra"). The Lam rim chen mo's full title is Skyes bu gsum gyi rnyams su blang ba'i rim pa thams cad tshang bar ston pa'i byang chub lam gyi rim pa.
La phyi. (Lapchi). Also La phyi gangs (Lapchi Gang) and 'Brog la phyi gangs kyi ra ba (Drok Lapchi Gangkyi Rawa). A preeminent sacred region in southern Tibet on the Nepalese border, considered by some Tibetan sources, especially those of the BKA' BRGYUD sect, to be one of the three most important Buddhist pilgrimage sites in Tibet, together with Mt. KAILĀSA and TSA RI. The central mountain of the region is considered the MAndALA of CAKRASAMVARA and VAJRAYOGINĪ, and the region is specifically identified as GODĀVARĪ, one of the twenty-four sacred sites (tīrtha; see PĪtHA) according to the CAKRASAMVARATANTRA. According to Tibetan tradition, the region was first made suitable for spiritual practice, through the taming of its local demons, by the eleventh-century yogin MI LA RAS PA, who established La phyi as one of his main centers for meditation practice. Central among the complex of retreat caves is Bdud 'dul phug (Dudulphuk), the Demon Vanquishing Cave.
levy ::: n. --> A name formerly given in Pennsylvania, Maryland, and Virginia to the Spanish real of one eighth of a dollar (or 12/ cents), valued at eleven pence when the dollar was rated at 7s. 6d.
The act of levying or collecting by authority; as, the levy of troops, taxes, etc.
That which is levied, as an army, force, tribute, etc.
The taking or seizure of property on executions to satisfy judgments, or on warrants for the collection of taxes; a collecting by
lion ::: n. --> A large carnivorous feline mammal (Felis leo), found in Southern Asia and in most parts of Africa, distinct varieties occurring in the different countries. The adult male, in most varieties, has a thick mane of long shaggy hair that adds to his apparent size, which is less than that of the largest tigers. The length, however, is sometimes eleven feet to the base of the tail. The color is a tawny yellow or yellowish brown; the mane is darker, and the terminal tuft of the tail is black. In one variety, called the maneless lion, the male has only a
Liu Chengzhi. (劉程之) (354-410). Chinese lay Buddhist known for his specialization in PURE LAND practice; his cognomen was Liu Yimin. Liu lived in the period between the Eastern Jin and Liu-Song dynasties. He lost his father at a very young age and is said to have waited on his mother with utmost filial piety. An accomplished scholar and civil servant, he eventually resigned his government post to live in solitude in the valleys and forests. Learning about the practice of reciting the Buddha's name (NIANFO) that was then occurring in the community of LUSHAN HUIYUAN (334-416) at DONGLINSI on LUSHAN, Liu Chengzhi moved there, eventually staying for eleven years, concentrating on the practice of reciting the Buddha's name. Eventually, he was able to achieve the samādhi of recitation (NIANFO sanmei), which provoked many spiritual responses. One day, for example, AMITĀBHA appeared before Liu, suffusing Liu with radiant light from his golden body. He subsequently dreamed about the water named Eight Kinds of Merit in the pond of the seven jewels in Amitābha's pure land. Hearing a voice telling him, "You may drink the water," he ingested only a small amount, after which he felt the cool refreshment spread throughout his chest and smelled unusual fragrance emanating from his entire body. The next day, he told Huiyuan that the time had come for him to be reborn in the western pure land and, soon afterwards, he passed away in serenity. PENG SHAOSHENG (1740-1796), in his JUSHI ZHUAN ("Biographies of [Eminent] Laymen"), lists Liu Chengzhi as one of the three great lay masters (SANGONG) of Chinese Buddhism, along with LI TONGXUAN (635-730) and PANG YUN (740-803), praising Liu for his mastery of pure land (JINGTU) practice.
Lo chen sprul sku. (Lochen tulku). A Tibetan title for the lineage of incarnations of the famed eleventh-century translator RIN CHEN BZANG PO, the main line of incarnate lamas at BKRA SHIS LHUN PO monastery after that of the PAn CHEN LAMA. The appellation is short for lo tsā ba chen po, "great translator" (see LO TSĀ BA).
Madhyamāgama. (P. Majjhimanikāya; T. Dbu ma'i lung; C. Zhong ahan jing; J. Chuagongyo; K. Chung aham kyong 中阿含觀). In Sanskrit, the "Medium [Length] Scriptures"; the division of the Sanskrit SuTRAPItAKA corresponding closely to, but also substantially larger, than the MAJJHIMANIKĀYA of the Pāli canon. The Madhyamāgama collection is no longer extant in an Indic language but is preserved in its entirety in a Chinese translation made by Gautama SaMghadeva between 397 and 398; a few fragments of a Sanskrit recension have been discovered (such as at TURFAN), and there are Tibetan translations of some individual sutras from the collection. The extant Sanskrit fragments are ascribed to the SARVĀSTIVĀDA school; since these fragments correspond closely to the Chinese renderings, it is generally accepted that the Chinese translation of the Madhyamāgama represents the Sarvāstivāda school's recension of this collection. The Madhyamāgama contains 222 sutras, eighty of which correspond to suttas in the Pāli AnGUTTARANIKĀYA, eleven to suttas in the SAMYUTTANIKĀYA, and twelve to suttas in the DĪGHANIKĀYA. Of the Pāli Majjhimanikāya's 152 suttas, ninety-eight have corresponding recensions in the Madhyamāgama. See also ĀGAMA.
Madhyamakahṛdaya. (T. Dbu ma'i snying po). In Sanskrit, "Essence of the Middle Way"; the major work of the sixth-century Indian MADHYAMAKA (and, from the Tibetan perspective, SVĀTANTRIKA) master BHĀVAVIVEKA (also referred to as Bhavya and Bhāviveka). The text is written in verse, accompanied by the author's extensive prose commentary, entitled the TARKAJVĀLĀ. The Madhyamakahṛdaya is preserved in both Sanskrit and Tibetan, the TARKAJVĀLĀ only in Tibetan. The work is in eleven chapters, the first three and the last two of which set forth the main points in Bhāvaviveka's view of the nature of reality and the Buddhist path, dealing with such topics as BODHICITTA, the knowledge of reality (tattvajNāna), and omniscience (SARVAJNĀTĀ). The intervening chapters set forth the positions (and Bhāvaviveka's refutations) of various Buddhist and non-Buddhist schools, including the sRĀVAKA, YOGĀCĀRA, SāMkhya, Vaisesika, Vedānta, and MīmāMsā. These chapters (along with sĀNTARAKsITA's TATTVASAMGRAHA) are a valuable source of insight into the relations between Madhyamaka and the other Indian philosophical schools of the day. The chapter on the srāvakas, for example, provides a detailed account of the reasons put forth by the mainstream Buddhist schools as to why the Mahāyāna SuTRAs are not the word of the Buddha. Bhāvaviveka's response to these charges, as well as his refutation of Yogācāra in the subsequent chapter, are particularly spirited.
Mahābodhi Temple. (T. Byang chub chen po; C. Daputisi; J. Daibodaiji; K. Taeborisa 大菩提寺). The "Temple of the Great Awakening"; proper name used to refer to the great STuPA at BODHGAYĀ, marking the place of the Buddha's enlightenment, and hence the most important place of pilgrimage (see MAHĀSTHĀNA) in the Buddhist world. The Emperor AsOKA erected a pillar and shrine at the site in the third century BCE. A more elaborate structure, called the VAJRĀSANA GANDHAKUtĪ ("perfumed chamber of the diamond seat"), is depicted in a relief at Bodhgayā, dating from c. 100 BCE. It shows a two-storied structure supported by pillars, enclosing the BODHI TREE and the vajrāsana, the "diamond seat," where the Buddha sat on the night of his enlightenment. The forerunner of the present structure is described by the Chinese pilgrim XUANZANG. This has led scholars to speculate that the temple was built between the third and sixth centuries CE, with subsequent renovations. Despite various persecutions by Hindu kings, the site continued to receive patronage, especially during the Pāla period, from which many of the surrounding monuments date. The monastery fell into neglect after the Muslim invasions that began in the thirteenth century. British photographs from the nineteenth century show the monastery in ruins. Restoration of the site was ordered by the British governor-general of Bengal in 1880, with a small eleventh-century replica of the monastery serving as a model. There is a tall central tower some 165 feet (fifty meters) in height, with a high arch over the entrance with smaller towers at the four corners. The central tower houses a small shrine with an image of the Buddha. The structure is surrounded by stone railings, some dating from 150 BCE, others from the Gupta period (300-600 CE), which preserve important carvings. The area came under the control of a saiva mahant in the eighteenth century. In the late nineteenth century, the Sinhalese Buddhist activist Anagārika Dharmapāla (see DHARMAPĀLA, ANAGĀRIKA), was part of a group that founded the MAHĀBODHI SOCIETY and began an unsuccessful legal campaign to have control of the site returned to Buddhists. In 1949, after Indian independence, the Bodhgayā Temple Act was passed, which is established a joint committee of four Buddhists and four Hindus to oversee the monastery and its grounds.
MahābodhivaMsa. In Pāli, the "History of the Great Bodhi [Tree]"; a prose chronicle recounting the history of the BODHI TREE. It was composed in Sri Lanka by the monk Upatissa in the tenth or eleventh century CE. The work begins with an account of the buddha Dīpankara (S. DĪPAMKARA), the lives of the bodhisatta (BODHISATTVA) under previous buddhas, the life of Gotama (S. GAUTAMA) Buddha, his enlightenment under the Bodhi tree, his parinibbāna (PARINIRVĀnA) and the distribution of his relics, and the three Buddhist councils in India. It then tells of MAHINDA's mission to Sri Lanka, the conversion of the island to Buddhism, the arrival of SAnGHAMITTĀ with a branch of the Bodhi tree, and the commencement of pujā in honor of the tree.
Mahākāla. (T. Nag po chen po; C. Daheitian; J. Daikokuten; K. Taehŭkch'on 大黑天). In Sanskrit, the "Great Black One"; one of the most important wrathful deities of tantric Buddhism. He is a DHARMAPĀLA or "protector of the dharma," of the LOKOTTARA or "supramundane" variety; that is, one regarded as the manifestation of a buddha or bodhisattva. He is said to be the wrathful manifestation of AVALOKITEsVARA, the bodhisattva of compassion. In the form of Avalokitesvara with a thousand arms and eleven heads (see SĀHASRABHUJASĀHASRANETRĀVALOKITEsVARA), the top head is that of Mahākāla. He has many aspects, including two-, four-, and six-armed forms, and appears in several colors, the most famous being black and white. He wears a crown of five skulls, symbolizing the transmutation of the five afflictions (KLEsA) into the five wisdoms (PANCAJNĀNA) of a buddha. One of his most popular forms in Tibet is as PaNjaranātha or "Protector of the Pavilion." In this form, which derives from the VajrapaNjaratantra, he is the protector of the HEVAJRATANTRA cycle. Here is depicted as a dwarf-like figure, holding a wooden staff across his arms. In Japan, where he is known as Daikokuten, Mahākāla is a less frightening figure and is one of the "seven gods of good fortune" (SHICHIFUKUJIN), extolled as a god of wealth and a god of the household.
Mahāniddesa. In Pāli, "Longer Exposition," first part of the Niddesa ("Exposition"), an early commentarial work on the SUTTANIPĀTA included in the Pāli SUTTAPItAKA as the eleventh book of the KHUDDAKANIKĀYA. The Niddesa is attributed by tradition to the Buddha's chief disciple, Sāriputta (S. sĀRIPUTRA), and is divided into two sections: the Mahāniddesa and the CulANIDDESA ("Shorter Exposition"). The Mahāniddesa comments on the sixteen suttas (S. SuTRA) of the AttHAKAVAGGA chapter of the Suttanipāta; the Culaniddesa comments on the sixteen suttas of the Parāyanavagga chapter and on the Khaggavisānasutta (see KHAdGAVIsĀnA). The Mahāniddesa and Culaniddesa do not comment on any of the remaining contents of the Suttanipāta, a feature that has suggested to historians that at the time of their composition the Atthakavagga and Parāyanavagga were autonomous anthologies not yet incorporated into the Suttanipāta, and that the Khaggavisānasutta likewise circulated independently. The exegesis of the Suttanipāta by the Mahā- and Culaniddesa displays the influence of the Pāli ABHIDHAMMA (S. ABHIDHARMA) and passages from it are frequently quoted in the VISUDDHIMAGGA. Both parts of the Niddesa are formulaic in structure, a feature that appears to have been designed as a pedagogical aid to facilitate memorization. In Western scholarship, there has long been a debate regarding their dates of composition, with some scholars dating them as early as the third century BCE, others to as late as the second century CE. The Mahā- and Culaniddesa are the only commentarial texts besides the SUTTAVIBHAnGA of the VINAYAPItAKA to be included in the Sri Lankan and Thai recensions of the Pāli canon. In contrast, the Burmese canon includes two additional early commentaries, the NETTIPAKARAnA and PEtAKOPADESA, as books sixteen and seventeen in its recension of the Khuddakanikāya.
Mahāsthāmaprāpta. (T. Mthu chen thob; C. Dashizhi; J. Daiseishi; K. Taeseji 大勢至). In Sanskrit, "He who has Attained Great Power"; a BODHISATTVA best known as one of the two attendants (along with the far more popular AVALOKITEsVARA) of the buddha AMITĀBHA in his buddha-field (BUDDHAKsETRA) of SUKHĀVATĪ. Mahāsthāmaprāpta is said to represent Amitābha's wisdom, while Avalokitesvara represents his compassion. According to the GUAN WULIANGSHOU JING, the light of wisdom emanating from Mahāsthāmaprāpta illuminates all sentient beings, enabling them to leave behind the three unfortunate destinies (APĀYA; DURGATI) and attain unexcelled power; thus, Mahāsthāmaprāpta is considered the bodhisattva of power or strength. There is also a method of contemplation of the bodhisattva, which is the eleventh of the sixteen contemplations described in the Guan jing. An adept who contemplates Mahāsthāmaprāpta comes to reside in the lands of all the buddhas, being relieved from innumerable eons of continued birth-and-death. In the suRAMGAMASuTRA, the bodhisattva advocates the practice of BUDDHĀNUSMṚTI. Mahāsthāmaprāpta also appears in the SADDHARMAPUndARĪKASuTRA ("Lotus Sutra") as one of the bodhisattvas who assembled on Vulture Peak (GṚDHRAKutAPARVATA) to hear the teachings of the buddha sĀKYAMUNI. Iconographically, the bodhisattva is rarely depicted alone; he almost always appears in a triad together with Amitābha and Avalokitesvara. Mahāsthāmaprāpta can often be recognized by a small jar on his jeweled crown, which is believed to contain pure water to cleanse sentient beings' afflictions (KLEsA). He is also often described as holding a lotus flower in his hand or joining his palms together in ANJALI. Mahāsthāmaprāpta is one of the twenty-five bodhisattvas who protects those who recite Amitābha's name and welcomes them on their deathbed to the Buddha's PURE LAND. Serving as one of the thirteen bodhisattvas of the Japanese SHINGONSHu of esoteric Buddhism, Mahāsthāmaprāpta is believed to preside over the special ceremony marking the first year anniversary of one's death. He is also depicted in the Cloister of the Lotus Division (Rengebu-in) in the TAIZoKAI MAndALA.
Maitreya. (P. Metteya; T. Byams pa; C. Mile; J. Miroku; K. Mirŭk 彌勒). In Sanskrit, "The Benevolent One"; the name of the next buddha, who now abides in TUsITA heaven as a BODHISATTVA, awaiting the proper time for him to take his final rebirth. Buddhists believed that their religion, like all conditioned things, was inevitably impermanent and would eventually vanish from the earth (cf. SADDHARMAVIPRALOPA; MOFA). According to one such calculation, the teachings of the current buddha sĀKYAMUNI would flourish for five hundred years after his death, after which would follow a one-thousand-year period of decline and a three-thousand-year period in which the dharma would be completely forgotten. At the conclusion of this long disappearance, Maitreya would then take his final birth in India (JAMBUDVĪPA) in order to reestablish the Buddhist dispensation anew. According to later calculations, Maitreya will not take rebirth for some time, far longer than the 4,500 years mentioned earlier. He will do so only after the human life span has decreased to ten years and then increased to eighty thousand years. (Stalwart scholiasts have calculated that his rebirth will occur 5.67 billion years after the death of sākyamuni.) Initially a minor figure in early Indian Buddhism, Maitreya (whose name derives from the Indic MAITRĪ, meaning "loving-kindness" or "benevolence") evolved during the early centuries of the Common Era into one of the most popular figures in Buddhism across Asia in both the mainstream and MAHĀYĀNA traditions. He is also known as AJITA, although there are indications that, at some point in history, the two were understood to be different deities. As the first bodhisattva to become a figure of worship, his imagery and cult set standards for the development of later bodhisattvas who became objects of cultic worship, such as AVALOKITEsVARA and MANJUsRĪ. Worship of Maitreya began early in Indian Buddhism and became especially popular in Central and East Asia during the fifth and sixth centuries. Such worship takes several forms, with disciples praying to either meet him when he is reborn on earth or in tusita heaven so that they may then take rebirth with him when he becomes a buddha, a destiny promised in the SADDHARMAPUndARĪKASuTRA ("Lotus Sutra") to those who recite his name. Maitreya is also said to appear on earth, such as in a scene in the Chinese pilgrim XUANZANG's account of his seventh-century travels to India: attacked by pirates as he sailed on the Ganges River, Xuanzang prayed to and was rescued by the bodhisattva. Maitreya also famously appeared to the great Indian commentator ASAnGA in the form of a wounded dog as a means of teaching him the importance of compassion. Devotees across the Buddhist world also attempt to extend their life span in order to be alive when Maitreya comes, or to be reborn at the time of his presence in the world, a worldly paradise that will be known as ketumati. His earliest iconography depicts him standing or sitting, holding a vase (KUndIKĀ), symbolizing his imminent birth into the brāhmana caste, and displaying the ABHAYAMUDRĀ, both features that remain common attributes of his images. In addition, he frequently has a small STuPA in his headdress, believed to represent a prophecy regarding his descent to earth to receive the robes of his predecessor from MAHĀKĀsYAPA. Maitreya is also commonly depicted as a buddha, often shown sitting in "European pose" (BHADRĀSANA; see also MAITREYĀSANA), displaying the DHARMACAKRAMUDRĀ. He is said to sit in a chair in "pensive" posture in order to be able to quickly stand and descend to earth at the appropriate time. Once he is reborn, Maitreya will replicate the deeds of sākyamuni, with certain variations. For example, he will live the life of a householder for eight thousand years, but having seen the four sights (CATURNIMITTA) and renounced the world, he will practice asceticism for only one week before achieving buddhahood. As the Buddha, he will first travel to Mount KUKKUtAPĀDA near BODHGAYĀ where the great ARHAT Mahākāsyapa has been entombed in a state of deep SAMĀDHI, awaiting the advent of Maitreya. Mahākāsyapa has kept the robes of sākyamuni, which the previous buddha had entrusted to him to pass on to his successor. Upon his arrival, the mountain will break open, and Mahākāsyapa will come forth from a stupa and give Maitreya his robes. When Maitreya accepts the robes, it will only cover two fingers of his hands, causing people to comment at how diminutive the past buddha must have been. ¶ The cult of Maitreya entered East Asia with the initial propagation of Buddhism and reached widespread popularity starting in the fourth century CE, a result of the popularity of the Saddharmapundarīkasutra and several other early translations of Maitreya scriptures made in the fourth and fifth centuries. The Saddharmapundarīkasutra describes Maitreya's present abode in the tusita heaven, while other sutras discuss his future rebirth on earth and his present residence in heaven. Three important texts belonging to the latter category were translated into Chinese, starting in the fifth century, with two differing emphases: (1) the Guan Mile pusa shangsheng doushuo tian jing promised sentient beings the prospect of rebirth in tusita heaven together with Maitreya; and (2) the Guan Mile pusa xiasheng jing and (3) the Foshuo Mile da chengfo jing emphasized the rebirth of Maitreya in this world, where he will attain buddhahood under the Dragon Flower Tree (Nāgapuspa) and save numerous sentient beings. These three texts constituted the three principal scriptures of the Maitreya cult in East Asia. In China, Maitreya worship became popular from at least the fourth century: DAO'AN (312-385) and his followers were among the first to propagate the cult of Maitreya and the prospect of rebirth in tusita heaven. With the growing popularity of Maitreya, millenarian movements associated with his cult periodically developed in East Asia, which had both devotional and political dimensions. For example, when the Empress WU ZETIAN usurped the Tang-dynasty throne in 690, her followers attempted to justify the coup by referring to her as Maitreya being reborn on earth. In Korea, Maitreya worship was already popular by the sixth century. The Paekche king Mu (r. 600-641) identified his realm as the world in which Maitreya would be reborn. In Silla, the hwarang, an elite group of male youths, was often identified with Maitreya and such eminent Silla monks as WoNHYO (617-686), WoNCH'ŬK (613-696), and Kyonghŭng (fl. seventh century) composed commentaries on the Maitreya scriptures. Paekche monks transmitted Maitreya worship to Japan in the sixth century, where it became especially popular in the late eighth century. The worship of Maitreya in Japan regained popularity around the eleventh century, but gradually was replaced by devotions to AMITĀBHA and KsITIGARBHA. The worship of Maitreya has continued to exist to the present day in both Korea and Japan. The Maitreya cult was influential in the twentieth century, for example, in the establishment of the Korean new religions of Chŭngsan kyo and Yonghwa kyo. Maitreya also merged in China and Japan with a popular indigenous figure, BUDAI (d. 916)-a monk known for his fat belly-whence he acquired his now popular East Asian form of the "laughing Buddha." This Chinese holy man is said to have been an incarnation of the bodhisattva Maitreya (J. Miroku Bosatsu) and is included among the Japanese indigenous pantheon known as the "seven gods of good fortune"(SHICHIFUKUJIN). Hotei represents contentment and happiness and is often depicted holding a large cloth bag (Hotei literally means "hemp sack"). From this bag, which never empties, he feeds the poor and needy. In some places, he has also become the patron saint of restaurants and bars, since those who drink and eat well are said to be influenced by Hotei. Today, nearly all Chinese Buddhist monasteries (and many restaurants as well) will have an image of this Maitreya at the front entrance; folk belief has it that by rubbing his belly one can establish the potential for wealth.
Majjhimanikāya. (S. MADHYAMĀGAMA). In Pāli, "Collection of Middle [Length] Discourses"; the second of the five divisions of the Pāli SUTTAPItAKA, the others being the DĪGHANIKĀYA, SAMYUTTANIKĀYA, AnGUTTARANIKĀYA, and KHUDDAKANIKĀYA. The Majjhimanikāya contains 152 suttas (S. SuTRA) divided into three major parts, with fifty suttas in each of the first two parts and fifty-two in the third. Each one of these parts is further subdivided into five sections (vagga). The suttas are not arranged in any particular order, although suttas with broadly related themes (e.g., the six sense faculties, or INDRIYA), similar styles (e.g., suttas that contain a shorter, and often verse, summary of doctrine followed by longer expositions) or target audiences (e.g., discourses to householders, monks, religious wanderers, or brāhmanas) are sometimes grouped together in the same section. The enlightenment cycle of Gotama (S. GAUTAMA) Buddha finds some of its earliest expressions in several suttas in this nikāya. For example, the ARIYAPARIYESANĀSUTTA does not include the famous story of the prince's chariot rides but says instead, "Later, while still young, a black-haired young man endowed with the blessing of youth, in the prime of life, though my mother and father wished otherwise and wept with tearful faces, I shaved off my hair and beard, put on the yellow robe, and went forth from the home life into homelessness." There is sometimes overlap between nikāyas; for example, the SATIPAttHĀNASUTTA of the Majjhimanikāya appears as the first section of the Mahāsatipatthānasutta of the Dīghanikāya. Not all of the suttas are spoken by the Buddha; for example, ĀNANDA delivers the Gopakamoggallānasutta after the Buddha's passage into PARINIRVĀnA. The Sanskrit counterpart of the Majjhimanikāya is the MADHYAMĀGAMA, which is the SARVĀSTIVĀDA school's recension of this collection. In the Chinese translation, ninety-eight of the Madhyamāgama's 222 sutras correspond to suttas found in the Majjhimanikāya, eighty appear in the Anguttaranikāya, twelve to the Dīghanikāya, and eleven to the SaMyuttanikāya.
man ngag sde. (me ngak de). In Tibetan, "instruction class"; comprising the third of three main divisions of RDZOGS CHEN doctrine according to the RNYING MA sect of Tibetan Buddhism. The other two are SEMS SDE (mental class) and KLONG SDE (spatial class). The man ngag sde teachings, regarded as the highest of the three, have constituted the core of Rnying ma practice since the eleventh century. It is said that sems sde teaches the clarity/awareness side of enlightenment, klong sde teaches the spatial side of enlightenment, and man ngag sde combines the two. A wide range of practices are included in the man ngag sde, concerned above all with the presentation by the teacher of a "pure awareness" (RIG PA) that is free from dualistic conceptions, and the recognition and maintenance of that state by the student; the instructions on the BAR DO emerged from these texts. The most famous practices of man ngag sde are "cutting through" (KHREGS CHOD) and "leaping over" (THOD RGAL). The man ngag sde has a number of subcategories, the most famous of which is the SNYING THIG. The root tantras of the man ngag sde are said to be the seventeen tantras.
martinmas ::: n. --> The feast of St. Martin, the eleventh of November; -- often called martlemans.
Menzan Zuiho. (面山瑞方) (1683-1769). Japanese reformer of the SoToSHu of ZEN during the Tokugawa period (1600-1867), who is largely responsible for establishing DoGEN KIGEN (1200-1253) as the font of orthodoxy for the Soto school and, during the modern and contemporary periods, as an innovative religious thinker. Born in Higo province in the Kumamoto region, Menzan studied with MANZAN DoHAKU (1636-1715) and later Sonno Soeki (1649-1705). At a thousand-day retreat Menzan led following Sonno's death, Menzan read texts by Dogen that had been neglected for centuries and subsequently used them as the scriptural authority from which he forged an entirely new vision of the Sotoshu; he then deployed this revisioning of Dogen to justify a reformation of long-held practices within the school. Menzan was a prolific author, with over a hundred works attributed to him, sixty-five of which have been published in modern Soto school collections; these works include everything from detailed philological commentaries to extended discussions of monastic rules and regulations. He remains best known for his Shobogenzo shotenroku, an eleven-roll encyclopedic commentary to Dogen's magnum opus, the SHoBoGENZo.
mezzo-soprano: a female singer with a range usually extending from the A below middle C to the F an eleventh above middle C. Mezzo-sopranos generally have a darker vocal tone than sopranos, and their vocal range is between that of a soprano and that of an contralto.
Miaoshan. (J. Myozen; K. Myoson 妙善). In Chinese, "Sublime Wholesomeness"; a legendary Chinese princess who is said to have been an incarnation of the BODHISATTVA GUANYIN (S. AVALOKITEsVARA). According to legend, Princess Miaoshan was the youngest of three daughters born to King Zhuangyan. As in the legend of Prince SIDDHĀRTHA, Miaoshan refused to fulfill the social expectations of her father and instead endured great privations in order to pursue her Buddhist practice. In frustration, Miaoshan's father banished her to a convent, where the nuns were ordered to break the princess's religious resolve. The nuns were ultimately unsuccessful, however, and in anger, the king ordered the convent set ablaze. Miaoshan escaped to the mountain of Xiangshan, where she pursued a reclusive life. After several years, her father contracted jaundice, which, according to his doctors' diagnosis, was caused by his disrespect toward the three jewels (RATNATRAYA). The only thing that could cure him would be a tonic made from the eyes and ears of a person who was completely free from anger. As fate would have it, the only person who fulfilled this requirement turned out to be his own daughter. When Miaoshan heard of her father's dilemma, she willingly donated her eyes and ears for the tonic; and upon learning of their daughter's selfless generosity and filiality, Miaoshan's father and mother both repented and became devoted lay Buddhists. Miaoshan then apotheosized into the goddess Guanyin, specifically her manifestation as the "thousand-armed and thousand-eyed Guanyin" (SĀHASRABHUJASĀHASRANETRĀVALOKITEsVARA). Later redactions of the legend include Miaoshan's visit to hell, where she was said to have relieved the suffering of the hell denizens. The earliest reference to the Miaoshan legend appears in stele fragments that date from the early eleventh century, discovered at a site near Hangzhou. Other written sources include the Xiangshan baojuan ("Precious Scroll of Xiangshan Mountain"), which was revealed to a monk and then transmitted and disseminated by a minor civil servant. With the advent of the Princess Miaoshan legend, the Upper Tianzhu monastery, already recognized as early as the tenth century as a Guanyin worship site, became a major pilgrimage center. The earliest complete rendition of the Miaoshan legend dates from the early Song dynasty (c. twelve century). Thereafter, several renditions of the legend were produced up through the Qing dynasty.
Miidera. (三井寺). A famous monastery in otsu, Japan, which is currently the headquarters (honzan) of the Jimon branch of the TENDAISHu. In 858, the monk ENCHIN restored the dilapidated monastery of Onjoji, which was originally constructed by retired Emperor Kobun's (r. 671-672) children as their clan temple in 686. Onjoji, which was renamed Miidera, thus became a subtemple of the powerful monastery of ENRYAKUJI on the nearby HIEIZAN. In 993, after a long period of conflict between the disciples of ENNIN and Enchin over the issue of succession, Enchin's followers moved to Miidera and eventually formed a separate branch of Tendai. For the next six hundred years, the monks of Miidera continued to contend for authority with the monks at Enryakuji, which came to be known as the Sanmon branch of the Tendaishu. Miidera suffered from a series of great fires from the eleventh to the fourteenth century, and further destruction was done to the monastery by the forces of Toyotomi Hideyoshi (1536-1598) in 1561. The golden hall (kondo) was rebuilt several decades later in 1598, and restoration efforts continued for several decades. Miidera is famous for its numerous treasures now designated important cultural properties.
Mi la'i mgur 'bum. (Mile Gurbum). In Tibetan, "The Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa", containing the collected spiritual songs and versified instructions of the eleventh-century Tibetan yogin MI LA RAS PA. Together with their brief narrative framing tales, the songs in this collection document the later period of Mi la ras pa's career, his life as a wandering hermit, his solitary meditation, subjugation of demons, and training of disciples. The work catalogues his songs of realization: expressions of his experiences as an awakened master, his reflections on the nature of the mind and reality, and his instructions for practicing the Buddhist path. The songs are composed in a vernacular idiom, abandoning the highly ornamental formal structure of classical poetry in favor of a simple and direct style. They are much loved in Tibet for their clarity, playfulness, and poetic beauty, and continue to be taught, memorized, and recited within most sects of Tibetan Buddhism. Episodes from the Mi la'i mgur 'bum have become standard themes for traditional Tibetan Buddhist plastic arts and have been adapted into theatrical dance performances (CHAMS). The number 100,000 is not literal, but rather a metaphor for the work's comprehensiveness; it is likely that many of the songs were first recorded by Mi la ras pa's own close disciples, perhaps while the YOGIN was still alive. The most famous version of this collection was edited and arranged by GTSANG SMYON HERUKA during the final decades of the fifteenth century, together with an equally famous edition of the MI LA RAS PA'I RNAM THAR ("The Life of Milarepa").
Mi la ras pa'i rnam thar. (Milarepe Namtar). In Tibetan, "Life of Milarepa"; an account of the celebrated eleventh-century Tibetan yogin MI LA RAS PA. While numerous early Tibetan versions of the life story exist, including several that may date from his lifetime, the best-known account was composed in 1488 by GTSANG SMYON HERUKA, the so-called mad YOGIN of Tsang, based upon numerous earlier works. Its narrative focuses on Mi la ras pa's early wrongdoings, his subsequent training and meditation, and eventual death. It is a companion to the MI LA'I MGUR 'BUM ("The Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa"), also arranged and printed by Gtsang smyon Heruka, which records Milarepa's later teaching career through a compilation of his religious instruction and songs of realization. Gtsang smyon Heruka's version of the Mi la ras pa'i rnam thar is known and read throughout the Tibetan Buddhist cultural world and is widely accepted as a great literary achievement by Tibetans and Western scholars alike. The account of Milarepa's life profoundly affected the development of sacred biography in Tibet, a prominent genre in Tibetan Buddhist culture, and has influenced the way in which Tibet's Buddhism and culture have been understood in the West.
moha. (T. gti mug; C. chi; J. chi; K. ch'i 癡). In Sanskrit and Pāli, "delusion," "confusion," "benightedness," "foolishness"; as a synonym of "ignorance" (AVIDYĀ), moha denotes a fundamental confusion concerning the true character of the conception of a person (PUDGALA) and the phenomenal world and is thus an affliction (KLEsA) and cause of future suffering. Moha appears frequently in the sutra literature as one of the "three poisons" (TRIVIsA) or three unwholesome faculties (AKUsALAMuLA): viz., the klesas of greed or sensuality (RĀGA or LOBHA), hatred or aversion (DVEsA), and delusion (moha). Moha is also one of the forty-six mental concomitants (CAITTA) according to the SARVĀSTIVĀDA-VAIBHĀsIKA school of ABHIDHARMA and is listed as the first of six "fundamental afflictions" or "defiled factors of wide extent" (klesa-MAHĀBHuMIKA) that are associated with all defiled thoughts, together with heedlessness (PRAMĀDA), lassitude (KAUSĪDYA), lack of faith (ĀsRADDHYA), sloth (STYĀNA), and restlessness (AUDDHATYA). It also is listed as one of the fourteen unwholesome (akusala) mental states (CETASIKA) in the Pāli abhidhamma. Delusion is the opposite of nondelusion (AMOHA), one of the eleven wholesome factors (KUsALADHARMA) in the YOGĀCĀRA list of one hundred dharmas (BAIFA).
mohr ::: n. --> A West African gazelle (Gazella mohr), having horns on which are eleven or twelve very prominent rings. It is one of the species which produce bezoar.
Nālandā. (T. Na len dra; C. Nalantuosi; J. Narandaji; K. Narandasa 那爛陀寺). A great monastic university, located a few miles north of RĀJAGṚHA, in what is today the Indian state of Bihar. It was the most famous of the Buddhist monastic universities of India. During the Buddha's time, Nālandā was a flourishing town that he often visited on his peregrinations. It was also frequented by MAHĀVĪRA, the leader of the JAINA mendicants. According to XUANZANG (whose account is confirmed by a seal discovered at the site), the monastery at Nālandā was founded by King sakrāditya of MAGADHA, who is sometimes identified as the fifth-century ruler Kumāragupta I (r. 415-455). It flourished between the sixth and twelfth centuries CE under Gupta and Pāla patronage. According to Tibetan histories, many of the greatest MAHĀYĀNA scholars, including ASAnGA, VASUBANDHU, DHARMAKĪRTI, DHARMAPĀLA, sĪLABHADRA, and sĀNTIDEVA, lived and taught at Nālandā. Several MADHYAMAKA scholars, including CANDRAKĪRTI, are also said to have taught there. At its height, Nālandā was a large and impressive complex of monasteries that had as many as ten thousand students and fifteen hundred teachers in residence. During the reign of Harsa, it was supported by a hundred neighboring villages, each with two hundred households providing rice, butter, and milk to sustain the community of monastic scholars and students. The library, which included a nine-story structure, is said to have contained hundreds of thousands of manuscripts. The university had an extensive curriculum, with instruction offered in the VAIBHĀsIKA school of SARVĀSTIVĀDA ABHIDHARMA, SAUTRĀNTIKA, YOGĀCARA, and MADHYAMAKA, the Vedas and Hindu philosophical schools, as well as mathematics, grammar, logic, and medicine. Nālandā attracted students from across Asia, including the Chinese pilgrims YIJING and Xuanzang, who provided detailed reports of their visits. Both monks were impressed by the strict monastic discipline that was observed at Nālandā, with Xuanzang reporting that no monk had been expelled for a violation of the VINAYA in seven hundred years. In the eleventh century, NĀROPA held a senior teaching position at Nālandā, until he left in search of his teacher TILOPA. In 1192, Nālandā was sacked by Turkic troops under the command of Bakhtiyar Khilji, who may have mistaken it for a fortress; the library was burned, with the thousands of manuscripts smoldering for months. The monastery had been largely abandoned by the time of a Tibetan pilgrim's visit in 1235 CE, although it seems to have survived in some form until around 1400. Archaeological excavations began at Nālandā in the early twentieth century and have continued since, unearthing monasteries and monastic cells, as well as significant works of art in stone, bronze, and stucco.
Nan zong. (J. Nanshu; K. Nam chong 南宗). In Chinese, "Southern School," an appellation used widely throughout the Tang dynasty, largely due to the efforts of HEZE SHENHUI (684-758) and his lineage, to describe what they claimed to be the orthodox lineage of the CHAN ZONG; in distinction to the collateral lineage of the "Northern School" (BEI ZONG) of SHENXIU (606-706) and his successors. Heze Shenhui toured various provinces and constructed ordination platforms, where he began to preach that HUINENG (638-713), whom he claimed as his teacher, was the true sixth patriarch (LIUZU) of the Chan school. In 732, during an "unrestricted assembly" (WUZHE DAHUI) held at the monastery of Dayunsi in Huatai, Shenhui engaged a monk by the name of Chongyuan (d.u.) and publicly criticized what he called the "Northern School" of Shenxiu's disciples PUJI (651-739), YIFU (661-736), and XIANGMO ZANG (d.u.) as being merely a collateral branch of BODHIDHARMA's lineage, which advocated an inferior gradualistic teaching. Shenhui argued that his teacher Huineng had received the orthodox transmission of Bodhidharma's lineage and the "sudden teaching" (DUNJIAO), which was the unique soteriological doctrine of Bodhidharma and his Chan school. Shenhui launched a vociferous attack on the Northern School, whose influence and esteem in both religious and political circles were unrivaled at the time. He condemned Shenxiu's so-called "Northern School" for having wrongly usurped the mantle of the Chan patriarchy from Huineng's "Southern School." Shenhui also (mis)characterized the teaching of the "Northern School" as promoting a "gradual" approach to enlightenment (JIANWU), which ostensibly stood in stark contrast to Huineng's and thus Shenhui's own "sudden awakening" (DUNWU) teachings. As a result of Shenhui's polemical attacks on Shenxiu and his disciples, subsequent Chan historians, such as GUIFENG ZONGMI (780-841), came to refer reflexively to a gradualist "Northern School" that was to be rigidly distinguished from a subitist "Southern School." Modern scholarship has demonstrated that, in large measure, the centrality of the "Southern School" to early Chan history is a retrospective creation. The Chan patriarchal lineage going back to Chan's putative founder, Bodhidharma, was still inchoate in the eighth century; indeed, contemporary genealogical histories, such as the LIDAI FABAO JI, CHUAN FABAO JI, LENGQIE SHIZI JI, and BAOLIN ZHUAN, demonstrate how fluid and fragile the notion of the Chan lineage remained at this early period. Because the lineages that eventually came to be recognized within the later tradition were not yet cast in stone, it was therefore possible for Shenhui to advocate that a semilegendary, and relatively unknown figure, Huineng, rather than the leading Chan figures of his time, was the orthodox successor of the fifth patriarch HONGREN and the real sixth patriarch (liuzu). While this characterization is now known to be misleading, subsequent histories of the Chan tradition more or less adopted Shenhui's vision of early Chan history. The influential LIUZU TAN JING played an important role in this process of distinguishing a supposedly inferior, gradualist Northern School from a superior, subitist Southern School. By the eleventh century, with the composition of the mature Chan genealogical histories, such as the CHODANG CHIP (C. ZUTANG JI) and JINGDE CHUANDENG LU, this orthodox lineage was solidified within the tradition and became mainstream. In these later "transmission of the lamplight" records (CHUANDENG LU), the "Southern School" was now unquestioned as the orthodox successor in Bodhidharma's lineage, a position it retained throughout the subsequent history of the Chan tradition. Despite Shenhui's virulent attacks against the "Northern School," we now know that Shenxiu and his disciples were much more central to the early Chan school, and played much more important roles in Chan's early growth and development, than the mature tradition realized.
Nā ro chos drug. (Naro chodruk). The Tibetan name for a series of tantric practices, often translated into English as "the six yogas (or dharmas) of Nāropa," which are attributed to the eleventh-century Indian adept NĀROPA. These practices spread widely throughout Tibet, where they were transmitted among various Tibetan Buddhist traditions, including those of the SA SKYA and DGE LUGS. However, the Nā ro chos drug became a fundamental component in the meditation training of BKA' BRGYUD practitioners and continue to be practiced especially in the context of the traditional three-year retreat. Nāropa received several streams of tantric instruction from his GURU, the Indian SIDDHA TILOPA, including the BKA' BABS BZHI (four transmissions). According to tradition, he later codified these instructions and transmitted them to his Tibetan disciple MAR PA CHOS KYI BLO GROS, although Nāropa had died before Mar pa's first journey to India. However, Mar pa received these teachings from Nāropa's disciples and taught them in Tibet as the Nā ro chos drug. There are several slight variations in their presentation, but the most common enumeration of the Nā ro chos drug are (1) GTUM MO (tummo), literally "fierce woman," referring to the inner heat produced as an effect of manipulating the body's subtle energies; (2) sgyu lus (gyulu), "illusory body" (see MĀYĀDEHA), in which the meditator realizes the illusory nature of ordinary experiences; (3) rmi lam (milam), "dreams," referring to the practice of developing conscious awareness during dream states; (4) 'od gsal (osel), "clear light" (see PRABHĀSVARA), referring to the luminous aspect of mind and its recognition; (5) BAR DO, "intermediate state," referring to the practice of mental control during the disorienting period between death in one lifetime and rebirth into another; (6) 'PHO BA (powa), "transference," which is the practice of ejecting the consciousness out of the body at the moment of death to take rebirth in a pure realm. The first four are generally believed to facilitate liberation in the present life, the last two at the time of death.
nat. In Burmese, a generic term for a "spirit" or "god." Burmese (Myanmar) lore posits the existence of numerous species of nats, of both indigenous and Indian origin. Nats can range in temperament from benign to malevolent, including those who are potentially helpful but dangerous if offended. The most generally benevolent species of nats are the divinities (DEVA) of the Indian pantheon. This group includes such gods as Thakya Min (sAKRA) and Byama (BRAHMĀ). Nats of Indian origin are typically looked upon as servants of the Buddhist religion, which is how they are depicted in Burmese Pāli literature. Indigenous nats in the form of nature spirits are thought to occupy trees, hills, streams, and other natural sites, and may cause harm if disturbed. The guardian spirits of villages and of the home are also classified as nats. Certain nats guard medicinal herbs and certain minerals, and, when properly handled, aid alchemists in their search for elixirs and potions. One species of nat, the oktazaung, are ghosts who have been forced to act as guardians of pagoda treasures. These unhappy spirits are thought to be extremely dangerous and to bring calamity upon those who attempt to rob pagodas or encroach upon pagoda lands. The best-known group of nats is the "thirty-seven nats" of the Burmese national pantheon. For centuries, they have been the focus of a royal cult of spirit propitiation; the worship of national nats is attested as early as the eleventh century CE at PAGAN (Bagan). At the head of the pantheon is Thakya Min, but the remaining are all spirits of deceased humans who died untimely or violent deaths, mostly at the hands of Burmese monarchs. The number thirty-seven has remained fixed over the centuries, although many of the members of the pantheon have been periodically replaced. One of the nats who has maintained his position is Mahagiri Min, lord of the nat pantheon, occupying a position just beneath Thakya Min. Mahagiri dwells atop Mount Poppa and is also worshipped as the household nat in most Burmese homes. An annual nat festival of national importance is held in August at the village of Taungbyon near Mandalay. The festival is held in honor of Shwepyingyi and Shwepyinnge, two Muslim brothers who became nats as a consequence of being executed by King Kyanzittha of Pagan (r. 1084-1112) who feared their supernormal strength.
Nevi&
nibble "data" /nib'l/ (US "nybble", by analogy with "bite" -" "byte") Half a {byte}. Since a byte is nearly always eight {bits}, a nibble is nearly always four bits (and can therefore be represented by one {hex} digit). Other size nibbles have existed, for example the {BBC Microcomputer} disk file system used eleven bit sector numbers which were described as one byte (eight bits) and a nibble (three bits). Compare {crumb}, {tayste}, {dynner}; see also {bit}, {nickle}, {deckle}. The spelling "nybble" is uncommon in {Commonwealth Hackish} as British orthography suggests the pronunciation /ni:'bl/. (1997-12-03)
nibble ::: (data) /nib'l/ (US nybble, by analogy with bite -> byte) Half a byte. Since a byte is nearly always eight bits, a nibble is nearly always four bits (and can therefore be represented by one hex digit).Other size nibbles have existed, for example the BBC Microcomputer disk file system used eleven bit sector numbers which were described as one byte (eight bits) and a nibble (three bits).Compare crumb, tayste, dynner; see also bit, nickle, deckle.The spelling nybble is uncommon in Commonwealth Hackish as British orthography suggests the pronunciation /ni:'bl/. (1997-12-03)
Niddesa. In Pāli, "Exposition"; the eleventh book of the KHUDDAKANIKĀYA of the Pāli SUTTAPItAKA. It is a commentarial work on portions of the SUTTANIPĀTA and is divided into two parts, the CulANIDDESA ("Lesser Exposition") and the MAHĀNIDDESA ("Longer Exposition"). The former comments on the Khaggavisānasutta (cf. S. KHAdGAVIsĀnA) and Parāyanavagga, while the latter comments on the AttHAKAVAGGA. The book is among the earliest examples of the commentarial genre of Buddhist literature-so early, in fact, that it was included within the suttapitaka itself. See CulANIDDESA; MAHĀNIDDESA.
Niguma. (T. Ni gu ma). An Indian tantric YOGINĪ of the eleventh century, said to be either the wife or the sister of NĀROPA. Her teachings are renowned as the "six doctrines (or yogas) of Niguma" (Ni gu chos drug). They are inner heat (GTUM MO), illusory body (sgyu lus; MĀYĀDEHA), dream yoga (rmi lam), clear light ('od gsal; PRABHĀSVARA), transference of consciousness ('PHO BA), and intermediate state (BAR DO), nominally the same as the more famous NĀ RO CHOS DRUG ("six yogas of Nāropa"), but with different emphases. She is said to have transmitted these teachings to her Tibetan disciple KHYUNG PO RNAL 'BYOR, who returned to Tibet to found the Shangs pa branch of the BKA' BRGYUD.
Nispannayogāvalī. (T. Rdzogs pa'i rnal 'byor gyi 'phreng ba). In Sanskrit, "Garland of Perfect Yoga," a compendium of tantric SĀDHANAs (with descriptions of MAndALAs and deities) by the eleventh-century Indian master ABHAYĀKARAGUPTA.
november ::: n. --> The eleventh month of the year, containing thirty days.
Oahspe: “A new Bible in the Words of Jehovih and His Angel Ambassadors. A Sacred History of the Dominions of the Higher and Lower Heavens on the Earth for the past Twenty-four Thousand Years.” A book published originally by the Essenes of Kosmon, a Fraternity of Faithists, and currently by Wing Anderson (Kosmon Industries, Los Angeles, Calif.) The preface to the eleventh American edition (copyright 1953 by E. Wing Anderson) states that OAHSPE (pronounced O as in clock, AH as in father, SPE as in Speak) means sky, earth and spirit and is the title of a new bible given to the world in the year 1881; it goes on to say that the book was written down, under spiritual guidance, by Dr. John B. Newbrough, who was gifted with astonishing extrasensory perception and was actively engaged in psychic research. The preface goes on to say that “OAHSPE purports to have been written at the command of God, who states that He is not the Creator but is simply chief executive officer . . . of our planet earth. He explains who the Creator is and also makes clear the difference between Lord, Lord God, God and the Creator. This strange book informs us that the world entered a new era in the year 1848, how the new era is different from those which preceded it and what changes will come to humanity within the next few years.... OAHSPE is made up of thirty-six books covering the history of the planet, the history of the human race, the history of every major religion, past and present, an analysis of today and a prophecy of tomorrow.”
Padmasambhava. (T. Padma 'byung gnas) (fl. eighth century). Indian Buddhist master and tantric adept widely revered in Tibet under the appellation Guru rin po che, "Precious Guru"; considered to be the "second buddha" by members of the RNYING MA sect of Tibetan Buddhism, who view him as a founder of their tradition. In Tibetan, he is also known as Padma 'byung gnas (Pemajungne), "the Lotus Born," which translates his Sanskrit name. It is difficult to assess the many legends surrounding his life and deeds, although the scholarly consensus is that he was a historical figure and did visit Tibet. The earliest reference to him is in the SBA BZHED (a work that purports to be from the eighth century, but is likely later), where he is mentioned as a water diviner and magician, suggesting that he may have been an expert in irrigation, which would have required the ability to subdue local spirits. Two texts in the Tibetan canon are attributed to him. The first is the Man ngag lta ba'i phreng ba, which is a commentary on the thirteenth chapter of the GUHYAGARBHATANTRA. The second is a commentary on the Upāyapāsapadmamālā, a MAHĀYOGA TANTRA. Regardless of his historical status and the duration of his stay in Tibet, the figure of Padmasambhava has played a key role in the narrative of Buddhism's arrival in Tibet, its establishment in Tibet, and its subsequent transmission to later generations. He is also venerated throughout the Himalayan regions of India, Bhutan, and Nepal and by the Newar Buddhists of the Kathmandu Valley. According to many of his traditional biographies, Padmasambhava was miraculously born in the center of a lotus blossom (PADMA) on Lake Danakosa in the land of OddIYĀNA, a region some scholars associate with the Swat Valley of modern Pakistan. Discovered and raised by King Indrabodhi, he abandoned his royal life to pursue various forms of Buddhist study and practice, culminating in his training as a tantric adept. He journeyed throughout the Himalayan regions of India and Nepal, meeting his first consort MANDĀRAVĀ at Mtsho padma in Himachal Pradesh, and later remaining in prolonged retreat in various locations around the Kathmandu Valley including MĀRATIKA, YANG LE SHOD and the ASURA CAVE. His reputation as an exorcist led to his invitation, at the behest of the Indian scholar sĀNTARAKsITA, to travel to Tibet in order to assist with the construction of BSAM YAS monastery. According to traditional accounts, Padmasambhava subdued and converted the indigenous deities inimical to the spread of Buddhism and, together with sāntaraksita and the Tibetan king KHRI SRONG LDE BTSAN, established the first Buddhist lineage and monastic center of Tibet. He remained in Tibet as a court priest, and, together with his Tibetan consort YE SHES MTSHO RGYAL, recorded and then concealed numerous teachings as hidden treasure texts (GTER MA), to be revealed by a later succession of masters spiritually linked to Padmasambhava. The Rnying ma sect preserves the corpus of instructions stemming from the master in two classes of materials: those revealed after his passing as treasure texts and those belonging to an unbroken oral tradition (BKA' MA). It is believed that Padmasambhava departed Tibet for his paradise known as the Glorious Copper-Colored Mountain (ZANGS MDOG DPAL RI), where he continues to reside. From the time of the later dissemination of the doctrine (PHYI DAR) in the eleventh century onwards, numerous biographies of the Indian master have been revealed as treasure texts, including the PADMA BKA' THANG YIG, BKA' THANG GSER 'PHRENG, and the BKA' THANG ZANGS GLING MA. Padmasambhava is the focus of many kinds of ritual activities, including the widely recited "Seven Line Prayer to Padmasambhava" (Tshig 'dun gsol 'debs). The tenth day of each lunar month is dedicated to Padmasambhava, a time when many monasteries, especially those in Bhutan, perform religious dances reverencing the Indian master in his eight manifestations. In iconography, Padmasambhava is depicted in eight forms, known as the guru mtshan brgyad, who represent his eight great deeds. They are Padma rgyal po, Nyi ma 'od zer, Blo ldan mchog sred, Padmasambhava, Shākya seng ge, Padmakara (also known as Sororuhavajra, T. Mtsho skyes rdo rje), Seng ge sgra sgrogs, and RDO RJE GRO LOD.
Pagan. (Bagan). Capital of the first Burmese (Myanmar) empire (1044-c. 1287), located near the confluence of the Irrawaddy (Ayeyarwady) and Chindwin rivers in the middle of Burma's dry zone. The center of a classic hydraulic civilization, Pagan supported a large population of peasant farmers, specialized laborers, and religious and political elites through maintenance of elaborate irrigation works in nearby Kyaukse. Also known as Arimaddanapura, or "Crusher of Enemies," Pagan began as a cluster of nineteen villages that coalesced into a fortified city-state by the ninth century. Pagan rose in importance in the vacuum left by the collapse of the Pyu kingdom of srīksetra, which succumbed to military pressure from Nanchao in 832 CE. Invigorated by the cultural and technological advancements brought by Pyu refugees, Pagan emerged as an empire in the eleventh century under the military leadership of King ANAWRAHTA (r. 1044-1077), who united Burma for the first time. His domain extended from the borders of Nanchao in the north to the maritime regions of Bassein, Thaton, and the Tenasserim peninsula in the south. Later chronicles credit Anawrahta with adopting THERAVĀDA Buddhism as the official religion of his empire, a religion he acquired as war booty from his conquest of the Mon kingdom of Thaton. While details of the account are doubtful, Pagan became a stronghold of the Pāli Buddhist tradition, whence it spread to other parts of Southeast Asia. Anawrahta began an extensive program of temple building that lasted till the Mongol invasion of 1287. Pagan's royalty and aristocracy built thousands of pagodas, temples, monasteries, and libraries within the environs of the city, of which 2,217 monuments survive, scattered across an area of approximately forty square miles. Like the Pyu kingdom before it, Pagan received cultural influences from South India, Bengal, and Sri Lanka, all of which are reflected in varying degrees in the city's architecture and plastic arts. Beginning in the twelfth century, Pagan extended patronage to the reformed Sinhalese Theravāda Buddhism imported from Sri Lanka, which flourished alongside the native "unreformed" Burmese Theravāda tradition until the end of the empire. Under later dynasties, reformed Theravāda Buddhism became the dominant religion of Burma, Thailand, Laos, and Cambodia. Theravāda scholarship flourished at Pagan. Major works of the period include the Pāli grammars Saddanīti, Suttaniddesa and Nyāsa, and treatises on ABHIDHAMMA such as Sankhepavannanā, Nāmācāradīpanī, Mātikatthadīpanī, Visuddhimaggaganthi and Abhidhammatthasangahatīkā.
P'algwanhoe. (八關會). In Korean, "Eight-Restrictions Festival," a Korean variant of the pan-Buddhistic BAGUAN ZHAI (eight-restrictions feast). The Korean form is a large winter festival of thanksgiving held over two days during full-moon day of the eleventh month, and has little to do with the baguan zhai's origins in the Buddhist UPOsADHA observance. The Korean version of this festival was sponsored by the royal court and would begin with the king and his ministers exchanging formal greetings, followed by a series of plays that depicted legends of the Silla dynasty. The festival also propitiated some of the important heavenly deities and autochthonous spirits of the mountains and rivers. Spirits of deceased heroes of the state were also commemorated, a practice that seems to stem from the origins of this festival in an earlier Silla ritual to appease the spirits of fallen warriors. This festival therefore combined various aspects of indigenous Korean cultural practice with an imported Buddhist ritual targeting the laity.
Panchanga (Sanskrit) Pañcāṅga [from pañca five + aṅga division] Five parts, portions, or bodies; an almanac, calendar, the five divisions of such an almanac consisting of solar days; lunar days; nakshatras (the heavenly bodies); yogas (conjunctions); karanas — certain astrological divisions of the day, commonly reckoned as eleven in number, hence, calculations. One of the best known of the Hindu almanacs is the Tirukkanda Panchanga.
Paramārthastava. (T. Don dam par bstod pa). In Sanskrit, "Praise of the Ultimate One"; one of the four hymns (CATUḤSTAVA) of NĀGĀRJUNA, along with the LOKĀTĪTASTAVA, ACINTYASTAVA, and NIRAUPAMYASTAVA. All four hymns are preserved in Sanskrit and are cited by Indian commentators, leaving little doubt about their authorship. There is somewhat greater doubt in the case of this text, however, since the Indian commentators, such as ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNĀNA, are from a later period. However, it is very similar in style and content to the Niraupamyastava, which is cited by BHĀVAVIVEKA and other early commentators. The Paramārthastava is a brief work in eleven stanzas. It is a hymn of praise to the Buddha from the perspective of the ultimate, acknowledging the dilemma of using worldly conventions to praise the Buddha, who transcends linguistic expression and comparison; the Buddha is described as being without intrinsic nature (NIḤSVABHĀVA), duality, color, measure, or location. Thus, Nāgārjuna writes, "Thus praised, and praised again, what, indeed, has been praised? All dharmas are empty; who has been praised, and by whom has he been praised?"
Phra Pathom Chedi. In Thai, lit. "Noble First Shrine," said to be the tallest Buddhist CAITYA (P. cetī) in the world at over 394 feet (120 meters); located in the Thai town of Nakhon Pathom. The original stupa, located in the region where the first Buddhist missionaries taught in Thailand, may date from the fourth century CE. The stupa was rebuilt in the Khmer style in the eleventh century and eventually fell into ruins. These ruins were visited by Prince Mongkut (the future RĀMA IV) during his years as a monk. After Mongkut ascended the throne, he ordered that a new stupa be constructed at the site, which was completed in 1870 after seventeen years of construction.
phyi dar. (chi dar). In Tibetan, "later dissemination." Tibetan historians have traditionally divided the dissemination of Buddhist teachings in Tibet into two periods. The "earlier dissemination" (SNGA DAR) began in the seventh century with the conversion of king SRONG BTSAN SGAM PO to Buddhism and continued with the arrival of the Indian masters sĀNTARAKsITA and PADMASAMBHAVA and the founding of the first monastery at BSAM YAS during the reign of king KHRI SRONG LDE BTSAN. This period ended in 842 with the assassination of king GLANG DAR MA and the fall of the Tibetan monarchy. There ensued a "dark period" of almost two centuries, during which recorded contact between Indian and Tibetan Buddhists declined. The "later dissemination" commenced in earnest in the eleventh century. It is marked by patronage of Buddhism by king YE SHES 'OD in western Tibet and especially the work of the noted translator RIN CHEN BZANG PO, who made three trips to India to study and to retrieve Buddhist texts, as well as the work of RNGOG LEGS PA'I SHES RAB. The noted Bengali monk ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNĀNA arrived in Tibet in 1042. The "later dissemination" was a period of extensive translation of Indian texts; these new (GSAR MA) translations of tantras became central to the so-called "new" sects of Tibetan Buddhism: BKA' GDAMS, SA SKYA, BKA' BRGYUD, and later DGE LUGS, with the RNYING MA ("ancient") sect basing itself on "old" translations from the earlier dissemination. Of particular importance during this later dissemination was the resurgence of monastic ordination, especially that of the MuLASARVĀSTIVĀDA VINAYA. New artistic styles were also introduced from neighboring regions during this period.
Pitāputrasamāgamasutra. (T. Yab dang sras mjal ba'i mdo; C. Pusa jianshi jing/Fuzi heji jing; J. Bosatsu kenjitsukyo/Fushi gojukyo; K. Posal kyonsil kyong/Puja hapchip kyong 菩薩見實經/父子合集經). In Sanskrit, "Sutra on the Meeting of Father and Son," a MAHĀYĀNA scripture found in the RATNAKutASuTRA, often cited in MADHYAMAKA texts, especially for its expositions of emptiness (suNYATĀ) and the two truths (SATYADVAYA). It is quoted in such famous works as NĀGĀRJUNA's SuTRASAMUCCAYA and sĀNTIDEVA's sIKsĀSAMUCCAYA. The Pitāputrasamāgamasutra was translated into Chinese by Rajendrayasas in 568 as the Pusa jianshi jing and was included in the massive Dabaoji jing (Ratnakutasutra) compilation. It was subsequently retranslated in the eleventh century by Richeng and others as the Fuzi heji jing.
Planetary Chain ::: Every kosmic body or globe, be it sun or planet, nebula or comet, atom or electron, is a composite entityformed of or comprised of inner and invisible energies and substances and of an outer, to us, and oftenvisible, to us, physical vehicle or body. These elements all together number seven (or twelve), being whatis called in theosophy the seven principles or elements of every self-contained entity; in other words, ofevery individual life-center.Thus every one of the physical globes that we see scattered over the fields of space is accompanied bysix invisible and superior globes, forming what in theosophy is called a chain. This is the case with everysun or star, with every planet, and with every moon of every planet. It is likewise the case with thenebulae and the comets as above stated: all are septiform entities, all have a sevenfold constitution, evenas man has, who is a copy in the little of what the universe is in the great, there being for us one life inthat universe, one natural system of "laws" in that universe. Every entity in the universe is an inseparablepart of it; therefore what is in the whole is in every part, because the part cannot contain anything that thewhole does not contain, the part cannot be greater than the whole.Our own earth-chain is composed of seven (or twelve) globes, of which only one, our earth, is visible onthis our earth plane to our physical sense apparatus, because that apparatus is builded or rather evolved tocognize this earth plane and none other. But the populations of all the seven (or twelve) globes of thisearth-chain pass in succession, and following each other, from globe to globe, thus gaining experience ofenergy and matter and consciousness on all the various planes and spheres that this chain comprises.The other six (or eleven) globes of our earth-chain are invisible to our physical sense, of course; and,limiting our explanation only to the manifest seven globes of the complete chain of twelve globes, the sixglobes other and higher than the earth exist two by two, on three planes of the solar system superior toour physical plane where our earth-globe is -- this our earth. These three superior planes or worlds areeach one superior to the world or plane immediately beneath or inferior to it.Our earth-globe is the fourth and lowest of all the manifest seven globes of our earth-chain. Three globesprecede it on the descending or shadowy arc, and three globes follow it on the ascending or luminous arcof evolution. The Secret Doctrine by H. P. Blavatsky and the more recent work, Fundamentals of the Esoteric Philosophy (1932), contain most suggestive material for the student interested in this phase ofthe esoteric philosophy. (See also Ascending Arc)
ponsa. (C. bensi; J. honji 本寺). In Korean, lit. "foundational monastery"; the major district or parish monasteries of the CHOGYE CHONG of Korean Buddhism; also referred to as ponsan, or "foundational mountain [monastery]." The institution of ponsa was started by the Korean state as one means of exerting state control over the Buddhist ecclesiastical community. When the Choson king T'aejong (r. 1400-1418) in 1407 combined the preexisting eleven Buddhist schools into seven, a ponsa was designated for each school, all of them located in the vicinity of the Choson capital of Hanyang (Seoul). King Sejong (r. 1418-1450) reduced the number of schools again in 1424 to the two schools of Doctrine (KYO) and Meditation (SoN) (SoN KYO YANGJONG) and designated HŬNGCH'oNSA and HŬNGDoKSA as the ponsa of the Kyo and Son schools, respectively. The institution of ponsa was discontinued during the reign of the Choson king Myongjong (r. 1545-1567) because of the abolition of the two schools of Kyo and Son. The institution was revived in 1911 during the Japanese colonial period (1910-1945), when the "Monastery Act" (Sach'allyong) of the Japanese government-general divided the colony into thirty districts, with a ponsa heading each of them. One more was added in 1924, creating a total of thirty-one ponsa. After Korea was liberated in 1945, the South Korean Buddhist community established an independent Chogye order, which organized the monasteries of the peninsula into twenty-four districts, each headed by a ponsa. Each district monastery loosely presides over several affiliated "branch monasteries" (MALSA), each located in the geographical vicinity of its ponsa. The twenty-five ponsa of the contemporary Chogye order are (1) CHOGYESA, (2) YONGJUSA, (3) SINHŬNGSA, (4) WoLCH'oNGSA, (5) PoPCHUSA, (6) MAGOKSA, (7) SUDoKSA, (8) CHIKCHISA, (9) TONGHWASA, (10) ŬNHAESA, (11) PULGUKSA, (12) HAEINSA, (13) SSANGGYESA, (14) PoMoSA, (15) T'ONGDOSA, (16) KOUNSA, (17) KŬMSANSA, (18) PAEGYANGSA, (19) HWAoMSA, [(20) SoNAMSA (control ceded to the rival T'AEGO CHONG)], (21) SONGGWANGSA, (22) TAEHŬNGSA, (23) KWANŬMSA, (24) SoNUNSA, and (25) PONGSoNSA.
Popchusa. (法住寺). In Korean, "Monastery Where the Dharma Abides"; the fifth district monastery (PONSA) of the contemporary CHOGYE CHONG of Korean Buddhism, located at the base of Songni (Leaving Behind the Mundane) Mountain in North Ch'ungch'ong province. Popchusa was founded in 553, during the reign of the Silla King Chinhŭng (r. 540-576), by the monk Ŭisin (d.u.) who, according to legend, returned from the "western regions" (viz. Central Asia and India) with scriptures and resided at the monastery; hence the monastery's name. In 1101, during the Koryo dynasty, ŬICH'oN (1055-1101) held an assembly to recite the RENWANG JING ("Scripture for Humane Kings") here for the protection of the state (see HUGUO FOJIAO), which is said to have been attended by thirty thousand monks. On entering the monastery, to the back and left of the front gate there are two granite pillars that date from the eleventh century, which were used to support the hanging paintings (KWAEBUL) that were unfurled on such important ceremonial occasions as the Buddha's birthday. A pavilion on the right houses a huge iron pot dated to 720 CE, which was purportedly once used to prepare meals for monks and pilgrims; off to the side is a water tank made of stone that would have held about 2,200 gallons (ten cubic meters) of water. There is also a lotus-shaped basin dating from the eighth century and a lion-supported stone lantern sponsored by the Silla monarch Songdok (r. 702-737) in 720. The main shrine hall (TAEUNG CHoN) houses images of VAIROCANA, sĀKYAMUNI, and Rocana buddhas. Behind these three statues are three paintings of the same buddhas, accompanied by BODHISATTVAs, a young ĀNANDA, and the elderly MAHĀKĀsYAPA. In the paintings sākyamuni and Rocana are surrounded by rainbows and Vairocana by a white halo. Popchusa is especially renowned for its five-story high wooden pagoda, which dates from the foundation of the monastery in 553; it may have been the model for the similar pagoda at HoRYuJI in Nara, Japan. The current pagoda was reconstructed in 1624 and is the oldest extant wooden pagoda in Korea. The pagoda is painted with pictures of the eight stereotypical episodes in the life of the Buddha (see BAXIANG). Inside are four images of sākyamuni: the east-facing statue is in the gesture of fearlessness (ABHAYAMUDRĀ); the west, in the teaching pose (DHARMACAKRAMUDRĀ); the south, in the touching-the-earth gesture (BHuMISPARsAMUDRĀ); and the north, in a reclining buddha posture, a rare Korean depiction of the Buddha's PARINIRVĀnA. Around the four buddha images sit 340 smaller white buddhas, representing the myriad buddhas of other world systems. The ceiling inside is three stories high, and the beams, walls, and ceiling are painted with various images, including bodhisattvas and lotus flowers. Outside the pagoda is Popchusa's most striking image, the thirty-three-meter (108-foot), 160-ton bronze statue of the bodhisattva MAITREYA. The original image is said to have been constructed by the Silla VINAYA master CHINP'YO (fl. eighth century), but was removed by the Taewon'gun in 1872 and melted down to be used in the reconstruction of Kyongbok Palace in Seoul. A replacement image was begun in 1939 but was never completed; another temporary statue was crafted from cement and installed in 1964. The current bronze image was finally erected in 1989. Near the base is a statue of a woman with a bowl of food, representing the laywoman SUJĀTĀ, who offered GAUTAMA a meal of milk porridge before his enlightenment.
Po ta la. The most famous building in Tibet and one of the great achievements of Tibetan architecture. Located in the Tibetan capital of LHA SA, it served as the winter residence of the DALAI LAMAs and seat of the Tibetan government from the seventeenth century until the fourteenth Dalai Lama's flight into exile in 1959. It takes its name from Mount POTALAKA, the abode of AVALOKITEsVARA, the bodhisattva of compassion, of whom the three Tibetan dharma kings (chos rgyal) and the Dalai Lamas are said to be human incarnations. The full name of the Potala is "Palace of Potala Peak" (Rtse po ta la'i pho brang), and it is commonly referred to by Tibetans simply as the Red Palace (Pho brang dmar po), because the edifice is located on Mar po ri (Red Hill) on the northwestern edge of Lha sa and because of the red palace at the summit of the white structure. In the early seventh century, the Tibetan king SRONG BTSAN SGAM PO is said to have meditated in a cave located on the hill; the cave is preserved within the present structure. The earliest structure to have been constructed there was an elevenstoried palace that he had built in 637 when he moved his capital to Lha sa. In 1645, three years after his installation as temporal ruler of Tibet, the fifth Dalai Lama NGAG DBANG BLO BZANG RGYA MTSHO began renovations of what remained of this original structure, with the new structure serving as his own residence, as well as the site of his government (known as the DGA' LDAN PHO BRANG), which he moved from the DGE LUGS PA monastery of 'BRAS SPUNGS, located some five miles outside the city. The exterior of the White Palace (Pho brang dkar po), which includes the apartments of the Dalai Lama, was completed in 1648 and the Dalai Lama took up residence in 1649. The portion of the Po ta la known as the Red Palace was added by the regent SANGS RGYAS RGYA MTSHO in honor of the fifth Dalai Lama after his death in 1682. Fearing that the project would cease if news of his death became known, Sangs rgyas rgya mtsho was able successfully to conceal the Dalai Lama's death for some twelve years (making use of a double who physically resembled the Dalai Lama to meet foreign dignitaries) until construction could be completed in 1694. The current structure is thirteen stories (approximately 384 feet) tall and is said to have over a thousand rooms, including the private apartments of the Dalai Lama, reception and assembly halls, temples, chapels containing the stupas of the fifth and seventh through thirteenth Dalai Lamas, the Rnam rgyal monastery that performed state rituals, and government offices. From the time of the eighth Dalai Lama, the Po ta la served as the winter residence for the Dalai Lamas, who moved each summer to the smaller NOR BU GLING KHA. The first Europeans to see the Po ta la were likely the Jesuit missionaries Albert Dorville and Johannes Grueber, who visited Lha sa in 1661 and made sketches of the palace, which was still under construction at the time. During the Tibetan uprising against the People's Liberation Army in March 1959, the Po ta la was shelled by Chinese artillery. It is said to have survived the Chinese Cultural Revolution through the intervention of the Chinese prime minister Zhou Enlai, although many of its texts and works of art were looted or destroyed. In old Lha sa, the Po ta la stood outside the central city, with the small village of Zhol located at its foot. This was the site of a prison, a printing house, and residences of some of the lovers of the sixth Dalai Lama. In modern Lha sa, the Po ta la is now encompassed by the city, and much of Zhol has been destroyed. The Po ta la still forms the northern boundary of the large circumambulation route around Lha sa, called the gling bskor (ling khor). Since the Chinese opened Tibet to foreign access in the 1980s, the Po ta la has been visited by millions of Tibetan pilgrims and foreign tourists. The stress of tourist traffic has required frequent restoration projects. In 1994, the Po ta la was designated a UNESCO World Heritage site. See also PUTUOSHAN.
Prabhutaratna. (T. Mthu ldan rin chen; C. Duobao rulai; J. Taho nyorai; K. Tabo yorae 多寶如來). In Sanskrit, "Abounding in Jewels"; the name of a buddha who appears in chapter eleven of the SADDHARMAPUndARĪKASuTRA, the influential "Lotus Sutra." In this chapter, the audience is surprised to see a magnificent jeweled STuPA emerge from the earth and float in space. The Buddha explains that it is the stupa of the buddha Prabhutaratna, who resides in a buddha-field (BUDDHAKsETRA) named ratnavisuddha, or "bejeweled purity." Prabhutaratna appears because, as a BODHISATTVA, he made a vow that he would appear in his bejeweled stupa whenever the Saddharmapundarīkasutra was taught by any TATHĀGATA, in any world system. At the invitation of Prabhutaratna, sĀKYAMUNI Buddha enters the jeweled stupa, and the two buddhas sit side by side. The audience also rises into the sky so that they can see the two buddhas. Although Prabhutaratna never became an object of cultic worship, the image of the two buddhas sitting together was a frequent subject of Buddhist sculpture as early as the fifth century.
PrajNāpāramitāpindārtha. (T. Shes rab kyi pha rol tu phyin pa don bsdus pa). In Sanskrit, "Summary of the Perfection of Wisdom," a commentary on the AstASĀHASRIKĀPRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀ attributed to DIGNĀGA; also known as the PrajNāpāramitāpindārthasaMgraha and the PrajNāpāramitāsaMgrahakārikā. It is a short work in fifty-eight lines, which summarize the perfection of wisdom under thirty-two headings, including the ten misconceptions (VIKALPA) and their antidotes, as well as the sixteen types of emptiness (suNYATĀ). The opening stanza of the text is widely quoted: "The perfection of wisdom is nondual wisdom; it is the TATHĀGATA. That term [is used] for texts and paths because they have that goal." The work provides a YOGĀCĀRA perspective on the PRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀ, presenting a more systematic outline of doctrines than is typically found in the diffuse prajNāpāramitā literature. Doctrinally, the work is closely related to the MADHYĀNTAVIBHĀGA. It appears to have been widely known; HARIBHADRA quotes from it five times in his ABHISAMAYĀLAMKĀRĀLOKĀ. The text was translated into Chinese in 980 and into Tibetan in the eleventh century. There is a commentary on the text, entitled PrajNāpāramitāpindārthasaMgrahavivarana, by Triratnadāsa, a student of VASUBANDHU.
PrajNaptibhāsya[pādasāstra]. [alt. PrajNaptisāstra] (T. Gdags pa'i gtsug lag bstan bcos; C. Shishe lun; J. Sesetsuron; K. Sisol non 施設論). In Sanskrit, "Treatise on Designations," one of the earliest books of the SARVĀSTIVĀDA ABHIDHARMAPItAKA; it is traditionally listed as the fourth of the six ancillary texts, or "feet" (pāda), of the JNĀNAPRASTHĀNA, which is the central treatise or body (sarīra) of the Sarvāstivāda abhidharma canon. The PrajNaptibhāsya derives from the earliest stratum of Sarvāstivāda abhidharma literature, along with the DHARMASKANDHA and the SAMGĪTIPARYĀYA. YAsOMITRA and BU STON attribute authorship of the PrajNaptibhāsya to MAHĀMAUDGALYĀYANA. Unlike the rest of the canonical abhidharma texts of the Sarvāstivāda school, there is not a complete translation of this text in Chinese; the entire text survives only in a Tibetan translation ascribed to PrajNāsena. Portions of the second section of the text are, however, extant in a late Chinese translation by Dharmaraksa et al. made during the eleventh century. The Tibetan text is in three parts: (1) lokaprajNapti, which deals with the cosmogonic speculations similar to such mainstream Buddhist texts as the AGGANNASUTTA; (2) kāranaprajNapti, which deals with the causes governing the various stereotypical episodes in a bodhisattva's career (see BAXIANG), from entering the womb for his final birth to entering PARINIRVĀnA; and (3) karmaprajNapti, a general discourse on the theory of moral cause and effect (KARMAN).
Pulguksa. (佛國寺). In Korean, "Buddha Land Monastery," located outside KYoNGJU, the ancient capital of the Silla dynasty, on the slopes of T'oham Mountain; this Silla royal monastery is the eleventh district monastery (PONSA) of the contemporary CHOGYE CHONG of Korean Buddhism and administers over sixty subsidiary monasteries and hermitages. According to the SAMGUK YUSA ("Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms"), Pulguksa was constructed in 751 by Kim Taesong (700-774), chief minister of King Kyongdok (r. 742-765), and completed in 774; it may have been constructed on the site of a smaller temple that dated from c. 528, during the reign of the Silla King Pophŭng (r. 514-539). Although it was a large complex, Pulguksa was not as influential within the Silla Buddhist tradition as other Kyongju monasteries, such as HWANGNYONGSA and PUNHWANGSA. The monastery has since been renovated numerous times, one of the largest projects occurring at the beginning of the seventeenth century, after the monastery was burned during the Japanese Hideyoshi invasions of 1592-1598. Pulguksa's temple complex is built on a series of artificial terraces that were constructed out of giant stone blocks and is entered via two pairs of stone "bridges" cum staircases, which are Korean national treasures in their own right and frequently photographed. The main level of the monastery centers on two courtyards: one anchored by the TAEUNG CHoN, or the main shrine hall, which houses a statue of sĀKYAMUNI Buddha, the other by the kŭngnak chon, or hall of ultimate bliss (SUKHĀVATĪ), which houses an eighth-century bronze statue of the buddha AMITĀBHA. The taeung chon courtyard is graced with two stone pagodas, the Sokka t'ap (sākyamuni STuPA) and the Tabo t'ap (Prabhutaratna stupa), which are so famous that the second of them is depicted on the Korean ten-won coin. The juxtaposition of the two stupas derives from the climax of the SADDHARMAPUndARĪKASuTRA ("Lotus Sutra"), where the buddha PRABHuTARATNA (Many Treasures) invites sākyamuni to sit beside him inside his bejeweled stupa, thus validating the teachings sākyamuni delivered in the scripture. The Sokka t'ap represents sākyamuni's solitary quest for enlightenment; it is three stories tall and is notable for its bare simplicity. This stupa is in marked contrast to its ornate twin, the Tabo t'ap, or Pagoda of the buddha Prabhutaratna, which is modeled after a reliquary and has elaborate staircases, parapets, and stone lions (one of which was removed to the British Museum). During a 1966 renovation of the Sokka t'ap, the world's oldest printed document was discovered sealed inside the stupa: the MUGUJoNGGWANG TAEDARANI KYoNG (S. Rasmivimalavisuddhaprabhādhāranī; "Great DHĀRAnĪ of Immaculate Radiance"). The terminus ad quem for the printing of the Dhāranī is 751 CE, when the text was sealed inside the Sokka t'ap, but it may have been printed even earlier. Other important buildings include the Piro chon (VAIROCANA Hall) that enshrines an eighth-century bronze statue of its eponymous buddha, which is presumed to be the oldest bronze image in Korea; the Musol chon (The Wordless Hall), a lecture hall located directly behind the taeung chon, which was built around 670; and the Kwanŭm chon (AVALOKITEsVARA hall), built at the highest point of the complex. Two and a half miles (4 kms) up T'oham Mountain to the east of Pulguksa is its affiliated SoKKURAM grotto temple. Pulguksa and Sokkuram were jointly listed in 1995 as a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
P'yonyang on'gi. (鞭羊彦機) (1581-1644). Korean SoN master and renowned painter during the Choson period. on'gi entered the SAMGHA at the age of eleven and subsequently became a student of the Son master CH'oNGHo HYUJoNG. He taught at various monasteries and hermitages, including Ch'ondoksa, Taesongsa on Mt. Kuryong, and Ch'onsuam on Mt. Myohyang. He died at sixty-three, leaving behind some thirty disciples, the largest group among Hyujong's four direct lineages. His writings can be found in the P'yonyangdang chip.
Rāhula. (T. Sgra gcan 'dzin; C. Luohouluo; J. Ragora; K. Rahura 羅睺羅). In Sanskrit and Pāli, "Fetter"; proper name of the ARHAT who was the Buddha's only child, born on the day his father renounced the world. According to the Pāli account, as soon as Prince SIDDHARTHA learned of the birth of his son, he immediately chose to become a mendicant, for he saw his son as a "fetter" binding him ever more tightly to the household life. In a famous scene, the prince looks at his sleeping wife and infant son before departing from the palace to seek enlightenment. He wishes to hold his son one last time but fears that he will awaken his wife and lose his resolve. In the MuLASARVĀSTIVĀDA VINAYA version of the story, Rāhula was conceived on the night of his father's departure from the palace and remained in gestation for a full six years, being born on the night that his father achieved buddhahood. After his enlightenment, when the Buddha accepted an invitation to visit his father's palace, Rāhula's mother (RĀHULAMĀTĀ) YAsODHARĀ sent her son to her former husband to ask for his inheritance, whereupon the Buddha ordered sĀRIPUTRA to ordain the boy. Rāhula thus became the first novice (sRĀMAnERA) to enter the order. Knowing Yasodharā's grief at the loss of her son, the Buddha's father, King sUDDHODANA, requested that in the future no child should be ordained without the consent of his parents; the Buddha accepted his request and a question about parental consent was incorporated into the ordination procedure. Rāhula is described as dutiful and always in search of instruction. In one sermon to the young boy, the Buddha warns him never to lie, even in jest. Rāhula often accompanied the Buddha or sāriputra on their alms rounds (PIndAPĀTA). The meditation topic the Buddha assigned to Rāhula was intended to counter the novice's strong carnal nature. When his mind was ready, the Buddha taught him the Cula-Rāhulovādasutta, at the end of which Rāhula attained arhatship. Rāhula was meticulous in his observation of the monastic regulations, and the Buddha declared him foremost among his disciples in his eagerness for training. According to Chinese sources, Rāhula was also renowned for his patience. One day in sRĀVASTĪ, he was harshly beaten and was bleeding badly from a head wound, but he bore his injury with composure and equanimity, which led the Buddha to praise him. Rāhula was also foremost in "practicing with discretion" (C. mixing diyi), meaning that he applied himself at all times in religious practice but without making a display of it. Rāhula passed away before both sāriputra and the Buddha during a sojourn in TRĀYASTRIMsA heaven. In previous lives, Rāhula had many times been the son of the bodhisattva. He was called "lucky Rāhula" by his friends and Rāhula himself acknowledged his good fortune both for being the Buddha's son and for attaining arhatship. In the MAHĀYĀNA, Rāhula appears in a number of sutras, such as the SADDHARMAPUndARĪKASuTRA, where his father predicts that he will become a buddha. Rāhula is also traditionally listed as eleventh of the sixteen ARHAT elders (sOdAsASTHAVIRA), who were charged by the Buddha with protecting his dispensation until the advent of the next buddha, MAITREYA. He is said to reside in Biliyangqu zhou (a Sanskrit transcription that supposedly means "land of chestnuts and grains") with 1,100 disciples. In CHANYUE GUANXIU's standard Chinese depiction, Rāhula is portrayed sitting on a rock in wide-eyed meditation, with his right finger held above his chest, pointing outward, and his left hand resting on his left knee.
Rang 'byung rig pa'i rdo rje. (Rangjung Rikpe Dorje) (1924-1981). A renowned and influential Tibetan Buddhist master, recognized as the sixteenth Karma pa, principal leader of the KARMA BKA' BRGYUD sect of Tibetan Buddhism. He was born in 1924 in the SDE DGE area of Khams, eastern Tibet, to an aristocratic family, and was recognized as the incarnation of the fifteenth Karma pa by the eleventh TAI SI TU. At the age of eight, the Karma pa was enthroned by the Tai Si tu at DPAL SPUNGS monastery in Khams. Soon after, he went to MTSHUR PHU monastery in central Tibet, where he undertook his studies. In his early years, he received many important Bka' brgyud, SA SKYA, and RNYING MA teachings from eminent masters of the time. In his teenage years, the Karma pa divided his time between Mtshur phu and Dpal spungs monasteries, settling at Mtshur phu at the age of eighteen for several years of retreat. In 1947, the Karma pa took his first long pilgrimage and visited the holy sites of India, Nepal, and Sikkim. In 1954, he accompanied the fourteenth DALAI LAMA to Beijing in attempts to find a peaceful agreement between the nations of China and Tibet. The next year, the Karma pa returned to Khams, where he sought to mediate conflicts between Tibetan militias and the Chinese military, which was beginning to establish a presence in Tibet. By the spring of 1959, the Karma pa decided that it would be better for the preservation of his tradition's religious heritage to leave his homeland and move into exile. After informing the Dalai Lama of his decision, the Karma pa left for Bhutan with an entourage of one hundred fifty laypeople, incarnate lamas (SPRUL SKU), and monks. He soon moved to Rumtek (Rum theg) monastery in Sikkim, which had been founded previously by the ninth Karma pa DBANG PHYUG RDO RJE. By 1966, the sixteenth Karma pa and his followers had restored Rumtek and formed a new seat in exile for the Karma Bka' brgyud sect. Rang 'byung rig pa'i rdo rje was renowned for his erudition in Buddhist philosophy as well as his mastery of meditation and his ability to work miracles. Beginning in 1974, the sixteenth Karma pa undertook numerous journeys to Europe and North America, where he founded several important Karma bka' brgyud study and meditation centers. During this time, he traveled widely, attracting a great number of Western disciples. In 1981, the sixteenth Karma pa passed away in a hospital near Chicago. His attending physician attested to the fact that the Karma pa's body remained warm for three days after being pronounced dead. Rang 'byung rig pa'i rdo rje was succeeded by the seventeenth Karma pa, O rgyan 'phrin las rdo rje (Orgyan Tinle Dorje).
Ras chung pa Rdo rje grags. (Rechungpa Dorje Drak) (1083/4-1161). A close disciple of the Tibetan sage MI LA RAS PA and an early master of the BKA' BRGYUD sect of Tibetan Buddhism. He was born in the southwest Tibetan region of Gung thang and, while herding cattle at the age of eleven, met Mi la ras pa, who was meditating in a nearby cave. Much to the consternation of his family, Ras chung pa left his home to follow the YOGIN, subsequently spending many years serving and training under his GURU. As one of Milarepa's youngest disciples, he earned the name Ras chung pa, lit. "little cotton-clad one." He was later dispatched to India in order to retrieve several transmissions of the LUS MED MKHA' 'GRO SNYAN RGYUD CHOS SKOR DGU ("nine aural lineage cycles of the formless dĀKINĪs"); Mi la ras pa's teacher MAR PA CHOS KYI BLO GROS had only received five of these nine cycles during his own studies in India. Ras chung pa acquired these teachings from the brāhmana-adept TI PHU PA in India and, returning to Tibet, spent many years in solitary meditation. He eventually taught numerous disciples of his own. Although Ras chung pa was not a central part of the Bka' brgyud sect's institutional development, a role played by Mi la ras pa's other well-known disciple SGAM PO PA BSOD NAMS RIN CHEN, he figures prominently in the MI LA'I MGUR 'BUM ("Hundred Thousand Songs of Milarepa"), the collected verse instructions of Mi la ras pa. He also transmitted an important tradition of tantric instructions that were redacted as the RAS CHUNG SNYAN BRGYUD (Aural Lineage of Ras chung). These teachings gained some importance over the next several centuries and were later revived during the fifteenth century by GTSANG SMYON HERUKA at a religious center founded at one of Ras chung pa's principal meditation caves, RAS CHUNG PHUG.
Ratnākarasānti. (T. Shān ti pa/Rin chen 'byung gnas zhi ba) (c. late-tenth to early-eleventh century). Sanskrit proper name of an Indian scholar philosophically affiliated with the YOGĀCĀRA school, who resided and later taught at the monastic university of VIKRAMAsĪLA in the northern region of ancient MAGADHA (modern Bengal). At Vikramasīla, he studied under RATNAKĪRTI and JITĀRI and eventually become a prolific scholar of enormous breadth, who wrote significant works on logic, MADHYAMAKA and PRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀ, Yogācāra, and TANTRA. Ratnākarasānti composed at least thirteen works in Sanskrit. His writings on tantra are particularly noteworthy for their attempt to present a systematic view of tantric philosophy and practice from the perspective of Buddhist scholasticism. His works on logic include the Antarvyāptisamarthana, on "pervasion" or "concomitance" (VYĀPTI). He wrote commentaries on the eight-thousand- and twenty-five-thousand-line PRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀ SuTRAs (entitled Sārottamā and suddhamati, respectively). His tantric works included commentaries on both the HEVAJRATANTRA and GUHYASAMĀJATANTRA, as well as a work on the three vehicles, the Triyānavyavasthāna. During his tenure as a teacher at Vikramasīla, he held the position of eastern gatekeeper. He was a teacher of ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNĀNA, and he offered instruction to Tibetan students, including the translator 'BROG MI SHĀKYA YE SHES, who transmitted the LAM 'BRAS (path and result) teachings to the 'Khon family, who founded the SA SKYA sect. Ratnākarasānti's fame was so widespread that he was even invited by the Sinhalese king to travel to Sri Lanka and preach. In Tibetan sources, a Shānti pa (a common Tibetan abbreviation of the name Ratnākarasānti) is reported to have been a student of the renowned tantric adept and scholar NĀROPA (1016-1100), and is listed as one of the eighty-four masters (SIDDHAs) in the CATURAsĪTISIDDHAPRAVṚTTI ("History of the Eighty-Four Siddhas").
Ratnakīrti. (T. Dkon mchog grags pa). Eleventh-century YOGĀCĀRA logician and student of JNānasrīmitra at VIKRAMAsĪLA monastery. He is the author of ten extant treatises on logic, including the Apohasiddhi, or "Proof of Exclusion." The work deals with the topic of APOHA, the theory that words refer to concepts rather than to objects in the world and that these concepts are the exclusion of their opposite, i.e., that one's idea of a table, for example, is not that of a specific table but rather a generic image of everything that is "non-nontable," i.e., not not a table. Buddhist logicians considered the question of the negative and positive aspects of the meaning of words as well as their sequence; Ratnakīrti argued that they are simultaneous. The Ratnakīrtikalā, a commentary to the ABHISAMAYĀLAMKĀRA, is attributed to Ratnakīrti, but its author may be a different scholar of the same name.
rdzogs chen. (dzokchen). A Tibetan philosophical and meditative tradition, usually rendered in English as "great perfection" or "great completion." Developed and maintained chiefly within the RNYING MA sect, rdzogs chen has also been embraced to varying degrees by other Tibetan Buddhist sects. The non-Buddhist Tibetan BON religion also upholds a rdzogs chen tradition. According to legend, the primordial buddha SAMANTABHADRA (T. Kun tu bzang po) taught rdzogs chen to the buddha VAJRASATTVA, who transmitted it to the first human lineage holder, DGA' RAB RDO RJE. From him, rdzogs chen was passed to MANJUsRĪMITRA and thence to sRĪSIMHA, and the Tibetan translator Ba gor VAIROCANA, who had been sent to India by the eighth-century Tibetan King KHRI SRONG LDE BTSAN. In addition to Vairocana, the semimythical figures of VIMALAMITRA and PADMASAMBHAVA are considered to be foundational teachers of rdzogs chen in Tibet. Historically, rdzogs chen appears to have been a Tibetan innovation, drawing on multiple influences, including both non-Buddhist native Tibetan beliefs and Chinese and Indian Buddhist teachings. The term was likely taken from the GUHYAGARBHATANTRA. In the creation and completion stages of tantric practice, one first generates a visualization of a deity and its MAndALA and next dissolves these into oneself, merging oneself with the deity. In the Guhyagarbha and certain other tantras, this is followed with a stage known as rdzogs chen, in which one rests in the unelaborated natural state of one's own innately luminous and pure mind. In the Rnying ma sect's nine-vehicle (T. THEG PA DGU) doxography of the Buddhist teachings, these three stages constitute the final three vehicles: the MAHĀYOGA, ANUYOGA, and ATIYOGA, or rdzogs chen. The rdzogs chen literature is traditionally divided into three categories, which roughly trace the historical development of the doctrine and practices: the mind class (SEMS SDE), space class (KLONG SDE), and instruction class (MAN NGAG SDE). These are collected in a group of texts called the RNYING MA'I RGYUD 'BUM ("treasury of Rnying ma tantras"). The mind class is comprised largely of texts attributed to Vairocana, including the so-called eighteen tantras and the KUN BYED RGYAL PO. They set forth a doctrine of primordial purity (ka dag) of mind (sems nyid), which is the basis of all things (kun gzhi). In the natural state, the mind, often referred to as BODHICITTA, is spontaneously aware of itself (rang rig), but through mental discursiveness (rtog pa) it creates delusion ('khrul ba) and thus gives rise to SAMSĀRA. Early rdzogs chen ostensibly rejected all forms of practice, asserting that striving for liberation would simply create more delusion. One is admonished to simply recognize the nature of one's own mind, which is naturally empty (stong pa), luminous ('od gsal ba), and pure. As tantra continued to grow in popularity in Tibet, and new techniques and doctrines were imported from India, a competing strand within rdzogs chen increasingly emphasized meditative practice. The texts of the space class (klong sde) reflect some of this, but it is in the instruction class (man ngag sde), dating from the eleventh to fourteenth centuries, that rdzogs chen fully assimilated tantra. The main texts of this class are the so-called seventeen tantras and the two "seminal heart" collections, the BI MA SNYING THIG ("Seminal Heart of Vimalamitra") and the MKHA' 'GRO SNYING THIG ("Seminal Heart of the dĀKINĪ"). The seventeen tantras and the "Seminal Heart of Vimalamitra" are said to have been taught by Vimalamitra and concealed as "treasure" (GTER MA), to be discovered at a later time. The "Seminal Heart of the dākinī" is said to have been taught by Padmasambhava and concealed as treasure by his consort, YE SHES MTSHO RGYAL. In the fourteenth century, the great scholar KLONG CHEN RAB 'BYAMS PA DRI MED 'OD ZER systematized the multitude of received rdzogs chen literature in his famous MDZOD BDUN ("seven treasuries") and the NGAL GSO SKOR GSUM ("Trilogy on Rest"), largely creating the rdzogs chen teachings as they are known today. With the man ngag sde, the rdzogs chen proponents made full use of the Tibetan innovation of treasure, a means by which later tantric developments were assimilated to the tradition without sacrificing its claim to eighth-century origins. The semilegendary figure of Padmasambhava was increasingly relied upon for this purpose, gradually eclipsing Vairocana and Vimalamitra as the main rdzogs chen founder. In subsequent centuries there have been extensive additions to the rdzogs chen literature, largely by means of the treasure genre, including the KLONG CHEN SNYING THIG of 'JIGS MED GLING PA and the Bar chad kun gsal of MCHOG GYUR GLING PA to name only two. Outside of the Rnying ma sect, the authenticity of these texts is frequently disputed, although there continue to be many adherents to rdzogs chen from other Tibetan Buddhist lineages. Rdzogs chen practitioners are commonly initiated into the teachings with "pointing-out instructions" (sems khrid/ngos sprod) in which a lama introduces the student to the nature of his or her mind. Two main practices known as KHREGS CHOD (breakthrough), in which one cultivates the experience of innate awareness (RIG PA), and THOD RGAL (leap over), elaborate visualizations of external light imagery, preserve the tension between the early admonition against practice and the appropriation of complex tantric techniques and doctrines. Extensive practices engaging the subtle body of psychic channels, winds, and drops (rtsa rlung thig le) further reflect the later tantric developments in rdzogs chen. ¶ RDZOGS CHEN is also used as the short name for one of the largest and most active Tibetan monasteries, belonging to the Rnying ma sect of Tibetan Buddhism, located in the eastern Tibetan region of Khams; the monastery's full name is Rus dam bsam gtan o rgyan chos gling (Rudam Samten Orgyan Choling). It is a major center for both academic study and meditation retreat according to Rnying ma doctrine. At its peak, the monastery housed over one thousand monks and sustained more than two hundred branches throughout central and eastern Tibet. The institution was founded in 1684-1685 by the first RDZOGS CHEN INCARNATION Padma rig 'dzin (Pema Rikdzin) with the support of the fifth DALAI LAMA NGAG DBANG BLO BZANG RGYA MTSHO. Important meditation hermitages in the area include those of MDO MKHYEN RTSE YE SHE RDO RJE and MI PHAM 'JAM DBYANGS RNAM RGYAL RGYA MTSHO. DPAL SPRUL RIN PO CHE passed many years in retreat there, during which time he composed his great exposition of the preliminary practices of Tibetan Buddhism entitled the KUN BZANG BLA MA'I ZHAL LUNG ("Words of My Perfect Teacher").
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Rngog Legs pa'i shes rab. (Ngog Lekpe Sherap) (fl. eleventh century). Tibetan scholar and translator venerated as an important founder of the BKA' GDAMS sect of Tibetan Buddhism. The exact year of his year of birth is unclear, although it is known that he was born in the western Tibetan region of GU GE. According to Tibetan histories, he was one of twenty-one young scholars sent to India by the region's king, YE SHES 'OD, to study Sanskrit, Buddhist philosophy, and TANTRA. He returned to Tibet and became an important disciple of the Bengali master ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNĀNA. He also studied under and collaborated with the famed translator RIN CHEN BZANG PO. Together with Atisa and 'BROM STON RGYAL BA'I 'BYUNG GNAS, Ngog Legs pa'i shes rab is considered an important Bka' gdams forefather. In 1073, he laid the foundations for an early monastic center for Buddhist learning, GSANG PHU NE'U THOG, south of LHA SA. He is also known as Rngog lo tsā ba (Ngog, the translator) and Rngog lo chung (Ngog, the junior translator) in distinction to Rin chen Bzang po, the great translator (lo chen).
Rnying ma'i rgyud 'bum. (Nyingme Gyübum). A compendium of the tantras and tantric exegetical literature of the RNYING MA sect of Tibetan Buddhism; considered apocryphal by the redactors of the Tibetan Buddhist canon (BKA' 'GYUR), the collection thus represents an alternative or supplementary Rnying ma canon of tantric scriptures. Numerous editions are extant, including the SDE DGE edition (twenty-six volumes), the Gting kye (twenty-six volumes), the Skyi rong (thirty-seven volumes), the Tsham brag (forty-six volumes), and the Vairo rgyud 'bum (eight volumes). All but the last divide the tantras into the standard Rnying ma doxographical categories of MAHĀYOGA, ANUYOGA, and ATIYOGA, although within those categories differences emerge (the Vairo rgyud 'bum, for example, includes only atiyoga). Further editions include those recently discovered in Kathmandu and the so-called Waddell edition, a close relative to the Gting kye. All but the Sde dge are manuscripts. Catalogues of Buddhist texts were made as far back as the eighth century, but the roots of the Rnying ma'i rgyud 'bum go back to the second propagation of Buddhism in Tibet (roughly the eleventh to thirteenth centuries). In opposition to the new translation sects (GSAR MA) that developed around newly imported tantras, adherents of the earlier translations coalesced into the Rnying ma, or "ancients," sect. There is evidence that 'Gro mgon Nam mkha' 'phel, the son of one of the earliest proponents of the Rnying ma sect, NYANG RAL NYI MA 'OD ZER, arranged a collection of early tantras in eighty-two volumes, which is no longer extant. The Vairo rgyud 'bum also may date as far back as the twelfth century, although its origins are unclear. When BU STON RIN CHEN GRUB edited the Tibetan Buddhist canon in the fourteenth century, he excluded the tantras found in the Rnying ma'i rgyud 'bum on the basis that he could find no Indic originals with which to authenticate them. Bu ston's position has been shown by Tibetan and Western scholars to have been partisan and inconsistent, and several tantras he excluded, such as the VAJRAKĪLAYA tantras, are accepted by other sects. Some excluded tantras do in fact appear to be early combinations of Indic and Tibetan material, while others, especially later revelatory scriptures (GTER MA) are entirely of Tibetan composition. An early version of the Rnying ma'i rgyud 'bum that may have influenced later editions was that of RATNA GLING PA, no longer extant. The Tshams brag appears to have been commissioned by Tsham brag bla ma Ngag dbang 'brug pa (1682-1748) and was based on a still earlier Bhutanese version. GTER BDAG GLING PA's edition later became the basis for that of 'JIGS MED GLING PA, in twenty-five volumes, which was produced in 1772, and is known as the Padma 'od gling edition. This in turn was the basis for the Sde dge block-print edition, carved between 1794 and 1798 and overseen by Dge rtse pan chen 'Gyur med mchog grub (1761-1829) of KAḤ THOG monastery.
Rudras ::: the fierce, impetuous ones; [a group of Gods, in the Veda sometimes identified with the Maruts, later eleven (or thirty-three) minor deities led by Rudra (Siva)].
rudras. ::: vedic deities of destruction for renewal, the chief of which is Shiva; associated with the ten vital energies &
Rwa sgreng. (Reting). A principal monastery of the BKA' GDAMS sect in central Tibet, located in the region of 'Phan po north of LHA SA. The monastery was established in 1056 by 'BROM STON RGYAL BA'I 'BYUNG GNAS, foremost disciple of the Bengali master ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNĀNA. The institution was greatly expanded under the direction of 'Brom ston pa's successors Rnal 'byor pa chen po and Po to ba (b. 1031), although it was sacked by Mongol invaders in 1240. In 1397, the eminent scholar TSONG KHA PA visited Rwa sgreng and experienced a vision of Atisa, prompting him to compose his celebrated work LAM RIM CHEN MO there. The monastery subsequently became an important DGE LUGS institution. The monastery was severely damaged during the Chinese Cultural Revolution, but has since been partially rebuilt. From the time of the seventh DALAI LAMA, the abbots of Rwa sgreng became eligible to serve as regents during the interegnum between the Dalai Lama's death and his reincarnation's majority. The Rwa sgreng lamas served as regent two times: between the reigns of the eleventh and twelfth Dalai Lamas and between that of the thirteenth and fourteenth.
Sa chen Kun dga' snying po. (Sachen Kunga Nyingpo) (1092-1158). A great scholar and adept of the SA SKYA sect of Tibetan Buddhism, renowned especially for his writings on the tantric system of LAM 'BRAS, or "path and result." He is usually referred to simply as Sa chen, or "Great Master of Sa skya." Born the son of DKON MCHOG RGYAL PO, another important Sa skya master and first throne-holder of Sa skya monastery, he was a child prodigy. He first trained under the Sa skya hierarch Ba ri lo tsā ba Rin chen grags pa (Bari Lotsāwa Rinchen Drakpa, 1040-1111), from whom he received numerous transmissions of both SuTRA and TANTRA. At the age of eleven he began a meditation retreat in which he had a visionary encounter with the bodhisattva MANJUsRĪ. The bodhisattva spoke to him four lines that subsequently became a fundamental Sa skya teaching called the zhen pa bzhi bral ("parting from the four attachments"):
Saddhammasangaha. In Pāli, "Chronicle of the True Dharma," an ecclesiastical and literary history of THERAVĀDA Buddhism, written by Dhammakitti Mahāsāmī at the Thai capital AYUTHAYA during the reign of PARAMARĀJĀ I (1370-1388 CE); it is the earliest Buddhist chronicle composed in Southeast Asia. The author was inspired to write the history after his return from Sri Lanka, where he had participated in an ongoing purification and revival of Buddhism on the island. The work relies heavily on the DĪPAVAMSA, MAHĀVAMSA, and VINAYA commentary, SAMANTAPĀSĀDIKĀ, as well as on the historical introduction to the twelfth-century MAHĀPARĀKRAMABĀHU-KATIKĀVATA of PARĀKRAMABĀHU I. The work is divided into eleven chapters and concludes with an account of the benefits of listening to the preaching of the dharma. The Saddhammasangaha was translated into English in 1941 by B. C. Law under the title, A Manual of Buddhist Historical Traditions.
sāgaramudrāsamādhi. (T. rgya mtsho'i phyag rgya ting nge 'dzin; C. haiyin sanmei; J. kaiin zanmai; K. haein sammae 海印三昧). In Sanskrit, "ocean-seal samādhi," or "oceanic reflection samādhi," a concentration (SAMĀDHI) often treated as emblematic of the HUAYAN ZONG's most profound vision of reality. "Ocean seal" is a metaphor for the pure and still mind that is able to reflect all phenomena while remaining perpetually unaffected by them, just as the calm surface of the ocean is said to be able to reflect all the phenomena in the universe. The AVATAMSAKASuTRA includes the sāgaramudrāsamādhi among several other types of samādhi that it mentions. In the "SAMANTABHADRA Bodhisattva Chapter" (Puxian pusa pin), the first of the ten samādhis taught by this bodhisattva is the sāgaramudrāsamādhi; through its power, a buddha is enabled to perform all types of works to rescue sentient beings, such as manifesting himself as a buddha and using numerous skillful means (UPĀYA) in order to guide them. The "Ten Bhumis Chapter" (Shidi pin) mentions sāgaramudrāsamādhi as one of a list of eleven samādhis that occur to bodhisattvas who reach the tenth stage (BHuMI) on the path. The "Manifestation of the Tathāgata Chapter" (Rulai chuxian pin) says that sāgaramudrāsamādhi is so named because it is like the ocean that reflects the images of all sentient beings. In the Huayan scholastic tradition, sāgaramudrāsamādhi is raised to pride of place within its doctrinal system. Sāgaramudrāsamādhi is considered to be the generic samādhi (zongding) that the Buddha enters prior to beginning the elucidation of the various assemblies recounted in the AvataMsakasutra itself; the seven subsequent samādhis that the Buddha enters as he preaches the teaching of the AvataMsakasutra at each of the eight assemblies (hui) (there is no samādhi prior to the second assembly) are regarded instead as specific types of samādhis (bieding). ZHIYAN (602-668), the second Huayan patriarch, associated sāgaramudrāsamādhi with the teaching of one vehicle (EKAYĀNA) in his KONGMU ZHANG, where he says that the common and distinctive teachings of the one vehicle (yisheng tongbie) are revealed through the "ocean-seal" samādhi, while the teachings of the three vehicles (TRIYĀNA) are revealed through the subsequently obtained wisdom (C. houde zhi; S. PṚstHALABDHAJNĀNA). FAZANG (643-712), the third Huayan patriarch, following his teacher Zhiyan's view, declares at the beginning of his HUAYAN WUJIAO ZHANG that his work was written to reveal the teaching of the one vehicle that the Buddha attained through the "ocean-seal" samādhi. It is Fazang who formalized the place of the sāgaramudrāsamādhi in the Huayan doctrinal system. In his XIU HUAYAN AOZHI WANGJIN HUANYUAN GUAN, Fazang noted that the "ocean-seal" samādhi and the Huayan samādhi (C. Huayan sanmei), both mentioned among the ten samādhis in the Xianshou pusa pin of the AvataMsakasutra, correspond to the "two functions" (er YONG): respectively, to the "function of the eternal abiding of all things reflected on the ocean" (haiyin senluo changzhu yong) and the "function of the autonomy of the perfect luminosity of the DHARMADHĀTU" (fajie yuanming zizai yong). Both of these types of functions were subordinated to the highest category of the "one essence" (yi TI), viz., the "essence of the pure and perfect luminosity of the self-nature" (zixing qingjing yuanming ti). The first type of function, which was associated with the sāgaramudrāsamādhi, was the perfect reflection of all things in the pure mind; like the unsullied ocean that reflected all phenomena, it also was freed from any type of delusion or falsity. For Fazang, "ocean seal" (haiyin) was interpreted to mean the "original enlightenment of true thusness" (ZHENRU BENJUE) by correlating this function with the "ocean of the thusness of the dharma nature" (faxing zhenru hai) as mentioned in the DASHENG QIXIN LUN ("Awakening of Faith According to the Mahāyāna"). In Fazang's Huayan youxin fajie ji, the "ocean-seal" samādhi was classified as a cause and the Huayan samādhi as a fruition. Elsewhere, in his HUAYAN JING TANXUAN JI, Fazang additionally differentiates the ocean-seal samādhi itself into two phases of cause and fruition: the stage of the cause is attained by the bodhisattva SAMANTABHADRA at the tenth of the ten stages of faith, while the fruition stage corresponds to the samādhi of a tathāgata. In addition to its importance in the AvataMsakasutra and the Huayan school, there are several other sutras that also mention the sāgaramudrāsamādhi. For example, the MAHĀPRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀSuTRA says that the sāgaramudrāsamādhi incorporates all other samādhis. The RATNAKutASuTRA states that one should abide in sāgaramudrāsamādhi in order to obtain complete, perfect enlightenment (ANUTTARASAMYAKSAMBODHI). Finally, the MAHĀSAMNIPĀTASuTRA says that one can see all sentient beings' mental functions and gain the knowledge of all teaching devices (DHARMAPARYĀYA) through the sāgaramudrāsamādhi.
Sāhasrabhujasāhasranetrāvalokitesvara. [alt. Sahasrabhujasahasranetrāvalokitesvara] (T. Spyan ras gzigs phyag stong spyan stong; C. Qianshou Qianyan Guanyin; J. Senju Sengen Kannon; K. Ch'onsu Ch'onan Kwanŭm 千手千眼觀音). In Sanskrit, "Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed AVALOKITEsVARA"; one of the manifestations of the bodhisattva of compassion, Avalokitesvara (C. GUANYIN). The iconographical representations of this manifestation are usually depicted in abbreviated form with forty arms, each of which has an eye on its palm, indicating its ability compassionately to see and offer assistance to suffering sentient beings. Every arm also holds a different instrument, such as an axe, a sword, a bow, an arrow, a staff, a bell, or blue, white, and purple lotuses, each symbolizing one of the bodhisattva's various skills in saving sentient beings. The forty arms and eyes work on behalf of the sentient beings in the twenty-five realms of existence, giving the bodhisattva a total of a thousand arms and eyes. The images also typically are depicted with eleven or twenty-seven heads, although images with five hundred heads are also found. The origin of this manifestation is uncertain; the prototype may be such Indian deities as Visnu, INDRA, and siva, who are also sometimes depicted with multiple hands and eyes. Since no image of this form of the BODHISATTVA has been discovered in India proper, some scholars suggest that the form may have originated in Kashmir (See KASHMIR-GANDHĀRA) and thence spread north into Central and East Asia; this scenario is problematic, however, because the earliest such image found at DUNHUANG, the furthest Chinese outpost along the SILK ROAD, dates to 836, about two hundred years later than the first such image painted in China, which is said to have been made for the Tang emperor by an Indian monk sometime between 618 and 626. The Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Guanyin became popular in China through translations of the QIANSHOU JING ("Thousand Hands Sutra"; Nīlakanthakasutra) made between the mid-seventh and early-eighth centuries. Due to the great popularity of Bhagavaddharma's (fl. c. seventh century) early translation, which was rendered between 650 and 658, the Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Avalokitesvara became identified specifically with Avalokitesvara's manifestation as Great Compassion (C. Dabei; S. MAHĀKARUnIKA), although the epithet is used also to refer to Avalokitesvara more generally. The Guanyin cult was popular in Chang'an and Sichuan during the Tang period and became widespread throughout China by the Song period; this bodhisattva was subsequently worshipped widely in Korea, Japan, and Tibet, as well. The ritual of repentance offered to the bodhisattva was created by the TIANTAI monk ZHILI (960-1028); the ritual is still widely performed in Taiwan and China. By the twelfth century, the Thousand-Armed and Thousand-Eyed Guanyin also came to be identified with the legendary princess MIAOSHAN, who was so filial that she offered her own eyes to save her father's life. In Tibet, this form of Avalokitesvara is called Sāhasrabhuja-ekādasamukha Avalokitesvara (Spyan ras gzigs phyag stong zhal bcu gcig), with one thousand arms (often depicted in a fan formation) and eleven heads. According to a well-known story, the bodhisattva of compassion had vowed that if he ever gave up his commitment to suffering sentient beings and sought instead his own welfare, his head would break into ten pieces and his body into a thousand. In a moment of despair at the myriad sufferings of the world, his head and body exploded. The buddha AMITĀBHA put his body back together, crafting one thousand arms and ten heads, placing a duplicate of his own head at the top. This form of Avalokitesvara is therefore known as, "one thousand arms and eleven heads" (phyag stong zhal bcu gcig).
Saicho. (最澄) (767-822). In Japanese, "Most Pure"; the monk traditionally recognized as the founder of the TENDAISHu in Japan; also known as Dengyo Daishi (Great Master Transmission of the Teachings). Although the exact dates and place of Saicho's birth remain a matter of debate, he is said to have been born to an immigrant Chinese family in omi province east of HIEIZAN in 767. At age eleven, Saicho entered the local Kokubunji and studied under the monk Gyohyo (722-797), a disciple of the émigré Chinese monk Daoxuan (702-766). In 785, Saicho received the full monastic precepts at the monastery of ToDAIJI in Nara, after which he began a solitary retreat in a hermitage on Mt. Hiei. In 788, he built a permanent temple on the summit of Mt. Hiei. After Emperor Kanmu (r. 781-806) moved the capital to Kyoto in 794, the political significance of the Mt. Hiei community and thus Saicho seem to have attracted the attention of the emperor. In 797, Saicho was appointed a court priest (naigubu), and in 802 he was invited to the monastery of Takaosanji to participate in a lecture retreat, where he discussed the writings of the eminent Chinese monk TIANTAI ZHIYI on the SADDHARMAPUndARĪKASuTRA. Saicho and his disciple GISHIN received permission to travel to China in order to acquire Tiantai texts. In 804, they went to the monastery or Guoqingsi on Mt. Tiantai and studied under Daosui (d.u.) and Xingman (d.u.), disciples of the eminent Chinese Tiantai monk JINGQI ZHANRAN. Later, they are also known to have received BODHISATTVA precepts (bosatsukai) from Daosui at Longxingsi. He is also said to have received tantric initiation into the KONGoKAI and TAIZoKAI (RYoBU) MAndALAs from Shunxiao (d.u.). After nine and a half months in China, Saicho returned to Japan the next year with numerous texts, which he catalogued in his Esshuroku. Emperor Kanmu, who had been ill, asked Saicho to perform the esoteric rituals that he had brought back from China as a therapeutic measure. Saicho received permission to establish the Tendai sect and successfully petitioned for two Tendai monks to be ordained each year, one for doctrinal study and one to perform esoteric rituals. After the death of Kanmu in 806, little is known of Saicho's activities. In 810, he delivered a series of lectures at Mt. Hiei on the Saddharmapundarīkasutra, the SUVARnAPRABHĀSOTTAMASuTRA, and the RENWANG JING ("Scripture for Humane Kings"). In 812, Saicho also constructed a meditation hall known as the Hokkezanmaido. Later, Saicho is also said to have received kongokai initiation from KuKAI at the latter's temple Takaosanji, but their relations soured after a close disciple of Saicho's left Saicho for Kukai. Their already tenuous relationship was sundered completely when Saicho requested a tantric initiation from Kukai, who replied that Saicho would need to study for three years with Kukai first. Saicho then engaged the eminent Hossoshu (FAXIANG ZONG) monk Tokuitsu (d.u.) in a prolonged debate concerning the buddha-nature (see BUDDHADHĀTU, FOXING) and Tendai doctrines, such as original enlightenment (see HONGAKU). In response to Tokuitsu's treatises Busshosho and Chuhengikyo, Saicho composed his Shogonjikkyo, Hokke kowaku, and Shugo kokkaisho. Also at this time, Saicho began a prolonged campaign to have an independent MAHĀYĀNA ordination platform established at Mt. Hiei. He argued that the bodhisattva precepts as set forth in the FANWANG JING, traditionally seen as complementary to monastic ordination, should instead replace them. He argued that the Japanese were spiritually mature and therefore could dispense entirely with the HĪNAYĀNA monastic precepts and only take the Mahāyāna bodhisattva precepts. His petitions were repeatedly denied, but permission to establish the Mahāyāna ordination platform at Mt. Hiei was granted a week after his death. Before his death Saicho also composed the Hokke shuku and appointed Gishin as his successor.
Saidaiji. (西大寺). In Japanese, "Great Monastery to the West"; one of the seven major monasteries in the ancient Japanese capital of Nara (J. NANTO SHICHIDAIJI); the headquarters of the True Word Precepts (SHINGON-Ritsu) school in Japan. As its name implies, Saidaiji is located in the western part of Nara and was first constructed in 765 in accordance with a decree from SHoTOKU TAISHI (572-622). The monastery originally had two main halls, one dedicated to the buddha BHAIsAJYAGURU and the other to the bodhisattva MAITREYA. After conflagrations in 846 and 860, the monastery began to decline, but revived when Eison (Kosho bosatsu; 1201-1290) moved there in 1235 and made it the center of his movement to restore the VINAYA. After another major fire in 1502, the Tokugawa Shogunate supported a rebuilding project. The monastery enshrines four bronze statues of the four heavenly kings (CATURMAHĀRĀJA), dating to the Nara (710-794) period. The main hall is dominated by a statue of sĀKYAMUNI said to have been carved cooperatively by eleven sculptors in 1249. To its right is a statue of MANJUsRĪ riding a lion, to its left, a statue of Maitreya dating from 1322.
Samskara is intimately connected with causative action and its consequences, i.e., with karma. It is the creative mind continually weaving together new ideas and new notions in action which develops the propensities and impulses to consequent reactions or effects. As a metaphysical term Samskara is defined variously: as illusion, as notion, or as a species of discrimination. As the eleventh Nidana, it is action on the plane of illusion with the essential significance as the causative impulses which impel to action on the plane of illusion.
saMvara. (P. saMvara; T. sdom pa; C. lüyi/sanbaluo; J. ritsugi/sanbara; K. yurŭi/samballa 律儀/三跋羅). In Sanskrit, "restraint," referring generally to the restraint from unwholesome (AKUsALA) actions (KARMAN) that is engendered by observance of the monastic disciplinary code (PRĀTIMOKsA), the BODHISATTVA precepts, and tantric vows. In the VAIBHĀsIKA school of SARVĀSTIVĀDA ABHIDHARMA, three specific types of restraint (SAMVARA) against unwholesomeness (akusala) are mentioned, which are all associated with "unmanifest material force" or "hidden imprints" (AVIJNAPTIRuPA): (1) the restraint proffered to a monk or nun when he or she accepts the disciplinary rules of the order (PRĀTIMOKsASAMVARA); (2) the restraint that is engendered by mental absorption (dhyānajasaMvara); and (3) the restraint that derives from being free from the contaminants (anāsravasaMvara). The restraint inherent in the disciplinary code (prātimoksasaMvara) creates a special kind of protective force field that helps to dissuade monks and nuns from unwholesome activity, even when they are not consciously aware they are following the precepts or even when they are asleep. This specific type of restraint is what makes a person a monk, since just wearing robes or following an ascetic way of life would not in themselves be sufficient to instill in him the protective power offered by the prātimoksa. The restraint engendered by DHYĀNA (dhyānajasaMvara) refers to the fact that absorption in meditation was thought to confer on the monk protective power against physical harm: the literature abounds with stories of monks who discover tiger tracks all around them after withdrawing from dhyāna, thus suggesting that dhyāna itself was a force that provided a protective shield against accident or injury. Finally, anāsravasaMvara is the restraint that precludes someone who has achieved the extinction of the contaminants (ĀSRAVA)-that is, enlightenment-from committing any action (karman) that would produce a karmic result (VIPĀKA), thus ensuring that their remaining actions in this life do not lead to any additional rebirths. ¶ In MAHĀYĀNA materials, such as the BODHISATTVABHuMI, the first of three types of morality that together codify the moral training of a bodhisattva is called saMvarasīla ("restraining morality"); under this heading is included the different sets of rules for BHIKsU, BHIKsUnĪ and so on in the prātimoksa, taken as a whole; two further codifications of rules called the morality of collecting wholesome factors (kusalasaMgrāhakasīla), and the morality that acts for the welfare of beings (sattvārthakriyāsīla; see ARTHAKRIYĀ); together, these three constitute the definitive and exhaustive explanation of bodhisattva morality, known as TRISAMVARA, the "three restraints" or "triple code." The original meaning of saMvara as "restraint" remains central in the Bodhisattvabhumi's account, but the text expands the scope of morality (sIKsĀPADA) widely, incorporating all altruistic acts under the rubric of skillful means employed for the sake of others, in essence formulating a code for bodhisattvas who are committed to acting like buddhas. In Indian and Tibetan tantra, the meaning of trisaMvara undergoes yet further expansion. Each of the five buddha KULA (in one list AKsOBHYA, VAIROCANA, RATNASAMBHAVA, AMITĀBHA, and AMOGHASIDDHI) has a vowed morality, called SAMAYA. This tantric code is the third of the three codes, the other two being the prātimoksa codes and the Bodhisattvabhumi's code for bodhisattvas. These three, then, are called the prātimoksasaMvara, the bodhisattvasaMvara, and the guhyamantrasaMvara ("secret mantra vows") (see SDOM GSUM RAB DBYE). ¶ In tantric literature, saMvara also has the sense of "union," a meaning that is conveyed in the proper name of (CAKRA)SAMVARA (see also HERUKA), a principal deity of the VAJRAYĀNA ANUTTARAYOGATANTRA tradition. A god named SaMvara appears in the Ṛg Veda as an enemy of the gods who hoarded the precious soma (the divine nectar) and kept it from INDRA, who eventually destroyed SaMvara's mountain fortress. The myth suggests the possibility that SaMvara or CakrasaMvara began his existence as a pre-Vedic Indian deity preserved in Buddhist tantra in a subordinated position. With his adoption into the Buddhist pantheon, SaMvara (likely the Buddhist version of siva) himself vanquishes the Vedic god-he is commonly depicted trampling BHAIRAVA (siva) and/or his consort. Alternate Indian names for him include sambara and Paramasukha CakrasaMvara. The Tibetan Bde mchog, or "supreme bliss," is a translation of paramasukha. Tantric cycles connected to SaMvara were introduced to Tibet by the translator MAR PA in the eleventh century CE. He is said to reside at the mountain of TSHA RI in Rdza yul, southern Tibet, as well as in the Bde mchog pho brang on Mount KAILĀSA, where the nearby Lake Manasarovar is sacred to him. His consort is VAJRAVĀRĀHĪ.
SaMyuktābhidharmahṛdaya. (C. Za apitan xin lun; J. Zoabidon shinron; K. Chap abidam sim non 雜阿毘曇心論). In Sanskrit, "Heart of Abhidharma with Miscellaneous Additions"; the last of a series of expository treatises that summarized the SARVĀSTIVĀDA ABHIDHARMA as it was prevailing in BACTRIA and GANDHĀRA. The treatise was based on Dharmasresthin's ABHIDHARMAHṚDAYA and includes material adapted from the ABHIDHARMAMAHĀVIBHĀsĀ. The text is available only in a Chinese translation made by SAMGHAVARMAN in the Liu Song capital of Jiankang in 434 CE; it is divided into eleven rolls, which correspond to separate chapters, on such topics as the elements (DHĀTU), conditioned factors (SAMSKĀRA), KARMAN, etc. This treatise was composed during the early fourth century CE by the Sarvāstivāda ĀBHIDHARMIKA DHARMATRĀTA II (d.u.). The text was probably composed during a third major stage in the development of Sarvāstivāda abhidharma literature, following the JNĀNAPRASTHĀNA and its six traditional ancillary treatises, or "feet" (pādasāstra), and then the major Vibhāsā exegeses; this stage eventually culminated in the composition of VASUBANDHU's celebrated ABHIDHARMAKOsABHĀsYA. This Dharmatrāta is often designated in the scholarly literature as Dharmatrāta II, to distinguish him from the Dārstāntika Dharmatrāta I, who was one of the four great ābhidharmikas whom XUANZANG says participated in the fourth Buddhist council (SAMGĪTI; see COUNCIL, FOURTH) convened by the KUSHAN king KANIsKA (r. c. 127-151 CE). Dharmatrāta II also composed the PaNcavastuvibhāsā (C. Wushi piposha lun; "Exposition of the Fivefold Classification"), a commentary on the first chapter of Vasumitra's PRAKARAnAPĀDA, one of the seven major texts of the Sarvāstivāda ABHIDHARMAPItAKA, which was translated by Xuanzang in 663; it involves a discussion of the mature Sarvāstivāda school's fivefold classification system for dharmas: materiality (RuPA), mentality (CITTA), mental concomitants (CAITTA), forces dissociated from thought (CITTAVIPRAYUKTASAMSKĀRA), and the unconditioned (ASAMSKṚTA).
Sanghamittā. (S. SaMghamitrā; C. Sengqiemiduo; J. Sogyamitta; K. Sŭnggamilta 僧伽蜜多). In Pāli, "Friend of the Community," proper name of the nun (BHIKsUnĪ) who was the daughter of the Indian king Asoka (S. AsOKA) and sister of MAHINDA (S. Mahendra). According to some accounts, Mahinda and Sanghamittā were twins; others claim, instead, that Mahinda was one or two years her senior. According to Pāli sources, Sanghamittā was born in Ujjeni (S. Ujjayinī) and married to Aggibrahmā (S. Agnibrahmā), with whom she had a son named Sumana. The most detailed account of her life comes to us in the MAHĀVAMSA (c. fifth century CE). There, she is said to have been ordained when she was eighteen years old. When Mahinda went to Sri Lanka and converted King DEVĀNAMPRIYATISSA, the king's daughter Anulā asked to be ordained. Mahinda replied that monks cannot ordain women, but that his sister was a nun and that she should be invited to come from India. Sanghamittā traveled to the island kingdom, bringing along with her eleven other nuns in order to establish her ordination lineage in that new region, as well as a branch from the BODHI TREE. The MahāvaMsa tells us that during her voyage to Sri Lanka, nineteen NĀGAs threatened to use their magic to steal the bodhi tree, but Sanghamittā defended it by taking the form of a GARUdA (the natural enemy of the nāgas). Tradition holds that the bodhi tree she brought took root in ANURĀDHAPURA and it remains to this day an object of worship. Neither Mahinda nor Sanghamittā returned to India. Upon her death, her body was cremated and her remains were enshrined in a STuPA in Cittasālā, near the site of the bodhi tree.
Sanjusangendo. (三十三間堂). In Japanese, "Hall of Thirty-Three Bays"; a Buddhist temple in Kyoto, Japan, also known as "Hall of the Lotus King" (J. Rengeoin); it is part of the Myohoin (Sublime Dharma Hall), a temple affiliated with the Japanese TENDAISHu. The number thirty-three refers to the belief that the BODHISATTVA Kannon (S. AVALOKITEsVARA) saves humanity by transforming himself into thirty-three different figures. Taira no Kiyomori (1118-1181) completed the temple at the command of former emperor Goshirakawa (1127-1192) in 1164. After a fire destroyed the temple hall in 1249, the reconstruction of the building was completed in 1266 by former emperor Gosaga (1220-1272). The principal image of the temple is the "Eleven-Headed and Thousand-Armed Kannon" (see S. EKĀDAsAMUKHĀVALOKITEsVARA and SĀHASRABHUJASĀHASRANETRĀVALOKITEsVARA). This deity was made of Japanese cypress in the yosegi zukuri style (viz., using several blocks of wood) by the artist Tankei (1173-1256) during the Kamakura period. It has eleven faces on its head and twenty-one pairs of arms that symbolize his one thousand arms. On both sides of the central seated statue are one thousand more standing images of the same type of Kannon, in five rows, each about five feet five inches in height, each said to be different from the other. Along with these statues, the school of Unkei (1151-1223) and Tankei also made twenty-eight statues of guardian deities. Additionally, flanking the right and left side of this arrangement are the statues of the Wind God (J. Fujin) and the Thunder God (J. Raijin), respectively.
sebat ::: n. --> The eleventh month of the ancient Hebrew year, approximately corresponding with February.
sems sde. (sem de). In Tibetan, literally "mind class," one of the three divisions of RDZOGS CHEN, together with KLONG SDE, or "expanse class," and the MAN NGAG SDE, or "instruction class." It appears that the three classes were created simultaneously rather than sequentially, probably dating to the PHYI DAR, or later period of the dissemination of Buddhism in Tibet, that began in the eleventh century. It is possible that the classification scheme was invented by members of the Zur clan, who were involved in codifying the RNYING MA texts that were circulating at that time. Within the threefold division, the texts classified do not necessarily share a single set of characteristics. However, it can be said that the works in the sems sde are often earlier than those in the other two classes. The root tantra of the sems sde is the KUN BYED RGYAL PO, where a number of short early-period rdzogs chen texts were gathered into a single new tantra. The sems sde works tend toward simple, evocative statements that deny the need for any practice or moral concerns.
sengtang. (J. sodo; K. sŭngdang 僧堂). In Chinese, the "SAMGHA hall," or "monks' hall"; also known as the yuntang (lit. cloud hall; J. undo) or xuanfochang (site for selecting buddhas). The saMgha hall was the center of monastic practice in the Chinese CHAN school. The hall, often large enough to hold hundreds of monks, was traditionally built on the west side of a Chan monastery. The foundation of the saMgha hall is traditionally attributed to the Chan master BAIZHANG QINGGUI (749-814). According to Baizhang's CHANMEN GUISHI, Chan monks were obligated throughout the day and night to eat, sleep, and meditate in the saMgha hall. There, they would sit according to seniority on a long platform. A similar description of the saMgha hall is also found in the CHANYUAN QINGGUI of CHANGLU ZONGZE (d.u.; fl. c. late-eleventh to early-twelfth century). During the Song dynasty, the saMgha hall became incorporated into the monastic plans of all large public monasteries (SHIFANG CHA) in China, regardless of sectarian affiliation. The saMgha hall was introduced into Japan by the SoToSHu master DoGEN KIGEN (1200-1253), who built the first sodo in 1236 at the monastery of Koshoji; for this reason, the sodo is most closely associated with the Soto tradition. Dogen also wrote detailed instructions in his BENDoHo ("Techniques for Pursuing the Way," 1246) on how to practice in the sodo. Stemming from a practice initiated by DAO'AN, an image of the ARHAT PIndOLA was usually placed in the middle of the saMgha hall. Sometimes an image of MANJUsRĪ, ĀJNĀTAKAUndINYA, or MAHĀKĀsYAPA was installed in lieu of Pindola. The Soto Zen tradition, for instance, often places a statue of MaNjusrī in the guise of a monk in its saMgha halls. The Japanese RINZAISHu chose to call their main monks' hall a zendo (meditation hall) rather than a saMgha hall. Unlike the Soto sodo, which was used for eating, sleeping, and meditating, the Rinzai zendo was reserved solely for meditation (J. ZAZEN). Japanese oBAKUSHu, following Ming dynasty (1368-1644) Chinese customs, also called their main hall a zendo. In Korea, the term sŭngdang is no longer used and the main meditation hall is typically known as a sonbang (lit. meditation room). See also PRAHĀnAsĀLĀ.
Sephiroth ::: Also Sephirot and sometimes described as spheres. The singular form is Sephirah (also Sephira and Sefirah). The ten (sometimes eleven if Da'ath is included) states of conscious experience that are used to describe the roadmap of reality that is the Kabbalah. The various levels of these spheres and their interactions with the others seek to encompass all of the detailed and exotic permutations of consciousness and movements of the Universe.
Sgam po pa Bsod nams rin chen. (Gampopa Sonam Rinchen) (1079-1153). A principal disciple of the Tibetan YOGIN MI LA RAS PA and leading figure in the early formation of the BKA' BRGYUD sect of Tibetan Buddhism. At an early age, Sgam po pa trained as a physician but renounced his career and received monastic ordination at the age of twenty-five following the death of his wife and child. He is often known as Dwags po lha rje (Dakpo Lhaje), "the physician from Dakpo," because of his vocation. Sgam po pa initially trained in the BKA' GDAMS tradition under the master Snyug rum pa Brtson 'grus rgyal mtshan (Nyukrumpa Tsondru Gyaltsen, b. eleventh century) as well as Po to ba Rin chen gsal. At the age of thirty-one, he heard three beggars discussing Mi la ras pa and experienced a strong feeling of faith. He asked permission of his Bka' gdams teachers to study with him, which they granted under the condition that he not renounce his monk's precepts. When he met Mi la ras pa in 1109, Sgam po pa offered him gold and tea, which he refused. Mi la ras pa offered him a skullcup full of wine, which Sgam po pa initially declined but then drank, even though it was a violation of his monk's vows. He received a number of teachings from Mi la ras pa, first concerning VAJARVĀRĀHĪ, and later the transmission of MAHĀMUDRĀ instructions and the "six yogas of Nāropa" (NĀ RO CHOS DRUG), stemming from the Indian MAHĀSIDDHAs TILOPA and NĀROPA. Later, Sgam po pa developed his own system of exposition, fusing elements of his Bka' gdams pa training with the perspectives and practices of mahāmudrā. This has been called the "confluence of the two streams of Bka' gdams pa and mahāmudrā" (bka' phyag chu bo gnyis 'dres). Unlike Mi la ras pa, he kept the practices of mahāmudrā and sexual yoga separate, teaching the latter only to select disciples. Sgam po pa remained a monk, founding his monastic seat at DWAGS LHA SGAM PO in southern Tibet and composing numerous works on Buddhist doctrine and practice. His work entitled THAR PA RIN PO CHE'I RGYAN ("Jewel Ornament of Liberation"), remains a seminal Bka' rgyud textbook. He also promulgated the controversial system of mahāmudrā instructions known as the DKAR PO CHIG THUB, or "self-sufficient white [remedy]." The lineage of Bka' brgyud masters and teachings following Sgam po pa came to be known collectively as the DWAGS PO BKA' BRGYUD. The division of the lineage into numerous subsects called the BKA' BRGYUD CHE BZHI CHUNG BRGYAD or "four major and eight minor Bka' brgyud subsects" stem from the disciples of Sgam po pa and his nephew Dwags po Sgom tshul (Dakpo Gomtsul, 1116-1169). Sgam po pa's principal disciples included the first KARMA PA DUS GSUM MKHYEN PA and PHAG MO GRU PA RDO RJE RGYAL PO.
Sgrol ma lha khang. (Drolma Lhakhang). In Tibetan, "Tārā Temple," a temple in the central Tibetan region of Snye thang (Nyetang) where the Bengali scholar ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNĀNA lived for much of his time in Tibet, where he made his principal seat, and later died. The primary image is a statue of TĀRĀ (T. Sgrol ma), the female bodhisattva of compassion who served as Atisa's personal protector, after which the temple takes its name. Constructed in the mid-eleventh century, it was spared major damage during the Chinese Cultural Revolution due to the intervention of officials from the Indian state of Bengal, which was ruled at the time by the Communist Left Front. Consequently, the temple still houses Atisa's relics and original artwork of great value and beauty.
Shanjia Shanwai. (J. Sange Sangai; K. San'ga Sanoe 山家山外). In Chinese, "On-Mountain, Off-Mountain"; two factions in a debate that engulfed the TIANTAI ZONG during the eleventh century over issues of the school's orthodoxy and orthopraxy. The Shanjia (On-Mountain) faction was led by the monk SIMING ZHILI (960-1028) and his disciples; they pejoratively referred to their opponents within the Tiantai school, such as Ciguang Wu'en (912-988), Yuanqing (d. 997), Qingzhao (963-1017), Zhiyuan (976-1022) and their disciples, as Shanwai (Off-Mountain), for drawing on non-Tiantai elements in their exegeses. The debate began over an issue of textual authenticity, but soon came to cover almost all major facets of Tiantai doctrine and practice. The On-Mountain faction criticized their rivals for attempting to interpret Tiantai doctrine using concepts borrowed from texts such as the DASHENG QIXIN LUN, which had not previously been an integral text in Tiantai exegesis, and from rival exegetical traditions, such as the HUAYAN ZONG. These Shanwai monks argued that the doctrine of the "TRICHILIOCOSM in an single instant of thought" (YINIAN SANQIAN) should be understood in the Huayan framework of the suchness that is in accord with conditions (zhenru suiyuan): in this understanding, an instant of thought is identified with the true mind that in its essence is pure, unchanging, and inherently enlightened; subsequently, by remaining in accord with conditions, that suchness in turn produces the trichiliocosm in all its diversity. From this perspective, they argued that the true mind should be the focus of contemplative practice in Tiantai. Shanjia masters feared such interpretations were a threat to the autonomy of the Tiantai tradition and sought to remove these Huayan elements so that the orthodox teachings of Tiantai would be preserved. Zhili, the major proponent of the Shanjia faction, argued that the Shanwai concept of suchness involved the principle of separation (bieli), since it excluded the afflicted and the ignorant, and only encompassed the pure and the enlightened. According to Zhili, suchness does not produce the trichiliocosm only when it is in accord with conditions, as the Huayan-influenced Shanwai exegetes asserted, because suchness is in fact identical to the trichiliocosm; therefore the instant of thought that encompasses all the trichiliocosm, including both its pure and impure aspects, should be the true focus of contemplative practice in Tiantai. Zhili's disciple Renyue (992-1064) and his fourth-generation successor Congyi (1042-1091) were subsequently branded the "Later Off-Mountain Faction," because they accepted some of the Shanwai arguments and openly rejected parts of Zhili's argument. Nevertheless, the Shanjia faction eventually prevailed, overshadowing their Shanwai rivals and institutionalizing Zhili's interpretations as the authentic teachings of the Tiantai tradition. Two Tiantai genealogical histories from the Southern Song dynasty, the Shimen zhengtong ("Orthodox Transmission of Buddhism") and the FOZU TONGJI ("Chronicle of the Buddhas and Patriarchs"), list Zhili as the last patriarch in the dharma transmission going back to the Buddha, thus legitimating the orthodoxy of the Shanjia faction from that point forward.
Shevat :::Shevat is the eleventh of the twelve months of the Jewish calendar.
Shichifukujin. (七福神). In Japanese, "Seven Gods of Good Fortune"; an assembly of seven deities dating from at least the fifteenth century, which gained popularity in Japan's folk religious setting and are still well known today. Those who have faith in the group are said to gain happiness and good fortune in their lives. Before their grouping, each of the individual gods existed independently and historically shared little in common. Of the seven, Ebisu is the only god with an identity linked to the Japanese islands. Daikokuten (C. Dahei tian; S. MAHĀKĀLA), Bishamonten (C. Pishamen tian; S. VAIsRAVAnA), and Benzaiten (C. Biancai tian; S. SARASVATĪ) originated in India, and Hotei (C. BUDAI, d. 917), Jurojin (C. Shoulaoren), and Fukurokuju (C. Fulushou) come from the Chinese Buddho-Daoist traditions. Their grouping into seven gods of good fortune likely occurred in the Japanese Kansai region, with the commerce-affiliated Daikoku and Ebisu gaining initial popularity among merchants. Early mention of them appears in a reference from 1420, when they were said to have been escorted in procession through Fushimi, a southern ward of Kyoto, in imitation of a daimyo procession. ¶ Ebisu (a.k.a. Kotoshiro-nushi-no-mikoto, the abandoned child of Izanami and Izanagi) is the god of fishermen and the sea, commerce, good fortune, and labor. Among its etymological roots, the term "ebisu" traces back to the Ainu ethnic group of Hokkaido, connecting them to fishermen who came from abroad. Ebisu is often depicted with a fishing rod in one hand and either a large red sea bream (J. tai) or a folding fan in the other. Since the inception of the Shichifukujin, he is often paired with Daikokuten as either son or brother. ¶ Daikokuten, or "Great Black Spirit," comes originally from India (where is he is called Mahākāla); among the Shichifukujin, he is known as the god of wealth, agriculture, and commerce. Typically portrayed as standing on two bales of rice, Daikokuten carries a sack of treasure over his shoulder and a magic mallet in one hand. He is also considered to be a deity of the kitchen and is sometimes found in monasteries and private kitchens. Prior to the Tokugawa period, he was called Sanmen Daikokuten (Three-Headed Daikokuten), a wrathful protector of the three jewels (RATNATRAYA). ¶ Bishamonten, also originally from India (where he is called Vaisravana), is traditionally the patron deity of the state and warriors. He is often depicted holding a lance in one hand and a small pagoda in the palm of his other hand with which he rewards those he deems worthy. Through these associations, he came to represent wealth and fortune. His traditional residence is Mt. SUMERU, where he protects the Buddha's dais and listens to the dharma. ¶ Benzaiten ([alt. Myoonten]; C. Miaoyin tian) is the Indian goddess Sarasvatī. She is traditionally considered to be a goddess of music, poetry, and learning but among the Shichifukujin, she also represents good fortune. She takes two forms: one playing a lute in both hands, the other with eight arms. ¶ Hotei is the Japanese name of Budai (d. 916), a Chinese thaumaturge who is said to have been an incarnation of the BODHISATTVA MAITREYA (J. Miroku bosatsu). The only historical figure among the Shichifukujin, Hotei represents contentment and happiness. Famous for his fat belly and broad smile, Hotei is often depicted holding a large cloth bag (Hotei literally means "hemp sack"). From this bag, which never empties, he feeds the poor and needy. In some places, he has also become the patron saint of restaurants and bars, since those who drink and eat well are said to be influenced by Hotei. ¶ Jurojin and Fukurokuju, often associated with one another and said to share the same body, originated within the Chinese Daoist tradition. Jurojin (lit. "Gaffer Long Life"), the deity of longevity within the Shichifukujin, is possibly a historical figure from the late eleventh through twelfth century. Depicted as an old man with a long, white beard, he is often accompanied by a crane or white stag. Fukurokuju (lit. "Wealth, Happiness, and Longevity") has an elongated forehead, a long, white beard and usually a staff in one hand; he is likely based on a mythical Daoist hermit from the Song period. ¶ This set of seven gods is most commonly worshipped in Japan. There are, however, other versions. Especially noteworthy is a listing found in the 1697 Nihon Shichifukujinden ("The Exposition on the Japanese Seven Gods of Good Fortune"), according to which Fukurokuju and Jurojin are treated as a single god named Nankyoku rojin and a new god, Kichijoten (C. Jixiang tian; S. srīmahādevī), the goddess of happiness or auspiciousness, is added to the group.
Shin Arahan. An eleventh-century Mon monk credited with bringing THERAVĀDA Buddhism to Burma (Myanmar). According to legend, Shin Arahan (in Pāli, Dhammadassi) was the reincarnation of a NAT, born to a brāhmana virgin wife in the Thaton region in the south of Burma. He attained the state of ARHAT shortly after his ordination. He learned that the dharma was being practiced impurely in the "western regions" (viz., PAGAN [Bagan]) and proceeded there. In Pagan, monks called ari had polluted the dharma, proclaiming that murder was permissible if the proper spells (MANTRA) are recited. They also required that all virgins have intercourse with them before marriage. The newly ordained king ANAWRAHTA (Anuruddha, r. 1044-1077) recognized that these monks were corrupt but was unable to remove them from the order. When Shin Arahan arrived in Pagan, he was discovered by a hunter who had never seen a monk before. Mistaking him for a spirit, he took him to the king. Shin Arahan preached a sermon that impressed the king, who asked him where the Buddha was, how much of the dharma remained, and if there were other disciples of the Buddha. Shin Arahan recounted the history of the Buddha and his relics and described the Pāli canon and the monastic order. The king then adopted Theravāda as the practice of his kingdom and defrocked the ari monks. He asked the Mon king to send a copy of the tipitaka (S. TRIPItAKA) and some relics of the Buddha. When the Mon king refused, Anawrahta invaded Thaton in 1057, taking the Mon king and his family captive. He also took monks and skilled craftsmen, as well as Pāli scriptures, back with him to Pagan.
shuilu hui. (J. suirikue; K. suryuk hoe 水陸會). In Chinese, "water and land assembly," a Buddhist ritual intended for universal salvation, although it was also sometimes directed only to deceased next of kin; the ceremony was also performed for a variety of this-worldly purposes, such as state protection (see HUGUO FOJIAO) and rain-making. The name "water and land" derives from its intent to save living creatures who inhabit the most painful domains of SAMSĀRA, whether in water or on land. The ceremony, which typically took seven days to complete, was held at two different sites, the inner altar and the outer altar. The main performance was held at the inner altar, which was divided into an upper hall and a lower hall. The enlightened beings-buddhas, BODHISATTVAs, ARHATs, and guardian deities of the three jewels (RATNATRAYA)-were invited and feted with offerings at the upper hall; the unenlightened beings, specifically beings subject to the six rebirth destinies (GATI), were invited and feted at the lower hall. Once summoned to the lower hall at the inner altar, the unenlightened assembly was divested of its afflictions (KLEsA), asked to pay homage to the enlightened assembly, and received offerings of both food and the dharma, which sent them on their way to the PURE LAND. According to the earliest extant records of the ceremony, none of which predate the Song period, the shuilu hui was first performed in 505 by the monk BAOZHI (418-514) at the behest of Emperor Wu (r. 502-549) of the Liang dynasty, with the VINAYA master and scriptural cataloguer SENGYOU (445-518) serving as chief celebrant. The same Song-period sources claim that the ceremony was revived by a monk during the Xianheng era (670-674), after its sudden disappearance following the collapse of the Liang dynasty. It was not until the tenth century, however, that there is independent confirmation in non-Buddhist sources of actual performances of the ceremony and it was not until the eleventh century that it seems to have achieved widespread popularity. According to the monk Zunshi (964-1032), the larger monasteries in the southeast of China maintained separate halls, called either shuilu tang or shuilu yuan, which were devoted entirely to the performance of the ceremony. In the Southern Song period, many of the largest monasteries throughout the realm had a "water and land hall" on their grounds. In Korea, the suryuk hoe was first performed in 971 and became popular during the early Choson dynasty, with the royal family being its main supporter. There are several Chinese and Korean manuals that provide directions for performing the ritual, including the Shuilu yiwen ("Ritual Text for the Water and Land Ceremony") in three rolls, written by a Song-dynasty layman in 1071. The canonical locus classicus for the practice is the story of Jalavāhana in the SUVARnAPRABHĀSOTTAMASuTRA.
sloka. (P. siloka; T. tshigs bcad; C. ji/song; J. ge/ju; K. ke/song 偈/頌). In Sanskrit, "stanza," referring to a unit of metrical verse in traditional Sanskrit literature. Although the exact form of the verse may vary, the most common form of sLOKA is composed of four "feet" (pāda), each foot consisting of eight syllables, for a total of thirty-two; this form is called the anustubh. Other forms include the tristubh, which has four feet of eleven syllables each, and the gāyatrī, which has three feet of eight syllables each. The form is widely used in Buddhist and non-Buddhist Indian literature, which is often composed in a mixture of prose and verse. The term is implied in the titles of the PRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀ SuTRAs: e.g., in the AstASĀHASRIKĀPRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀ, which is often translated as "The Perfection of Wisdom in Eight Thousand Lines," where lines refers to slokas.
Smin grol gling. (Mindroling). Largest monastery of the RNYING MA sect of Tibetan Buddhism in central Tibet; established in 1670 by GTER BDAG GLING PA, the brother of LO CHEN DHARMA SHRI, and a close associate and supporter of the fifth DALAI LAMA. It was founded on the site of an earlier structure built in the early eleventh century by Klu mes Shes rab tshul khrims (Lume Sherap Tsultrim, b. c. tenth century). Smin grol gling flourished as the center of the Southern Treasure tradition (LHO GTER), which originated with the teachings and revelations of Gter bdag gling pa. The monastic compound was severely damaged by the Dzungar army in the early eighteenth century and again during the Chinese Cultural Revolution, although it has since undergone significant restoration. The abbots of Smin grol gling became known as the Smin gling khri can (Throne Holder of Mindroling), a line of important masters descending in a familial lineage from Gter bdag gling pa. The lineage of Smin grol gling throneholders is
snying thig. (nyingtik). In Tibetan, "heart drop" or "heart essence" (an abbreviation of snying gi thig le), a term used to describe an important genre of texts of the RNYING MA sect of Tibetan Buddhism. The master sRĪSIMHA is said to have divided the "instruction class" (MAN NGAG SDE) of the great completion (RDZOGS CHEN) teachings into four cycles: the outer, inner, secret, and the most secret unexcelled cycle (yang gsang bla na med pa). In Tibet, VIMALAMITRA organized the teachings of this fourth cycle into an explanatory lineage with scriptures and an aural lineage without scriptures and then concealed these teachings, which were later revealed as the BI MA'I SNYING THIG ("Heart Essence of Vimalamitra"). During his stay in Tibet, PADMASAMBHAVA concealed teachings on the most secret unexcelled cycle, called "heart essence of the dĀKINĪ" (MKHA' 'GRO SNYING THIG). In the fourteenth century, these and other teachings were compiled and elaborated upon by KLONG CHEN RAB 'BYAMS into what are known as the "four heart essences" (SNYING THIG YA BZHI): (1) the "heart essence of VIMALAMITRA" (Bi ma'i snying thig), (2) the "ultimate essence of the lama" (bla ma yang thig), (3) the "heart essence of the dākinī" (mkha' 'gro snying thig), and (4) two sections composed by Klong chen pa, the "ultimate essence of the dākinī" (mkha' 'gro yang thig) and the "ultimate essence of the profound" (zab mo yang thig). Although tracing its roots back to Padmasambhava and Vimalamitra in the eighth century, the snying thig texts and their practices likely derive from Tibetan reformulations of great completion teachings beginning in the eleventh century, when new translations of Indian tantras were being made in Tibet. A wide range of new meditative systems were added into the rdzogs chen corpus, which would prove to be essential to Tibetan Buddhist practice, especially in the RNYING MA and BKA' BRGYUD sects in subsequent centuries.
Sokkuram. (石窟庵). In Korean, "Stone Grotto Hermitage"; a Silla-period, man-made grotto located high on Mt. T'oham behind the monastery of PULGUKSA, which houses what is widely considered to be the most impressive buddha image in Korea. According to the SAMGUK YUSA ("Memorabilia of the Three Kingdoms," written c. 1282-1289), the master builder Kim Taesong (d. 774), who also designed Pulguksa, constructed the cave as an expression of filial piety toward his deceased parents. However, because the grotto directly faces the underwater tomb of the Silla king Munmu (r. 661-680) in the East Sea/Sea of Japan, the site may be also have been associated with a funerary cult surrounding the Silla royal family or with state-protection Buddhism (K. hoguk Pulgyo; C. HUGUO FOJIAO). The construction of both monasteries began around 751 CE, during the reign of the Silla king Kyongdok (r. 742-764), and the grotto temple was completed a few years after Kim Taesong's death in 774 CE. The site was originally named SoKPULSA, or "Stone Buddha Monastery." Since the Korean peninsula has no natural stone grottos like those found in India or Central Asia, the cave was excavated out of the mountainside, and some 360 large granite blocks in various shapes were used to create the ceiling of the shrine. In addition, granite carvings were attached to the inner walls. The result was what appears for all intents and purposes to be a natural cave temple. The finished grotto combines two different styles of Buddhist architecture, the domed rotunda design of the CAITYA halls of India and the cave-temple design of Central Asia and China as seen in DUNHUANG and others sites along the SILK ROAD. At the Sokkuram grotto, a rectangular antechamber with two guardians carved on either side leads into a short, narrow passageway that opens onto the thirty-foot-(nine m.) high domed rotunda. In the vestibule itself are carvings of the four heavenly kings as guardians of the dharma. The center of the rotunda chamber enshrines the Sokkuram stone buddha, a seated-buddha image in the "earth-touching gesture" (BHuMISPARsAMUDRĀ). This image is 10 ft. 8 in. (3.26 meters) in height and carved from a single block of granite; it sits atop a lotus-throne base that is 5 ft. 2 in. (1.58 meters) high. The image is generally accepted to be that of sĀKYAMUNI Buddha, although some scholars instead identify it as an image of VAIROCANA or even AMITĀBHA. In the original layout of the grotto, the morning sunshine would have cascaded through the cave's entrance and struck the jeweled uRnĀKEsA in the Buddha's forehead. On the inner walls surrounding the statue are thirty-nine carvings of Buddhist figures, including the Indian divinities BRAHMĀ and INDRA, the two flanking bodhisattvas SAMANTABHADRA and MANJUsRĪ, and the buddha's ten principal ARHAT-disciples. On the wall directly behind the main image is a carving of the eleven-headed AVALOKITEsVARA. The combination of exquisite architectural beauty and sophisticated design is widely considered to be the pinnacle of Silla Buddhist culture. Despite its fame and reputation during the Silla kingdom, Sokkuram fell into disrepair during the suppression of Buddhism that occurred during the Choson dynasty (1392-1910). Almost everyone except locals had forgotten the grotto until one rainy day in 1909, when a weary postman traveling over the ridge of Mt. T'oham accidentally rediscovered the grotto as he sought shelter from a sudden thunderstorm. He found a narrow opening to a small cave, and as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he was startled to see the massive stone image of the Buddha along with exquisite stone wall carvings. In 1913, the Japanese colonial government spent two years dismantling and repairing the structure, using cement and iron, which later collected moisture and began to decay, threatening the superstructure of the grotto. In 1920, the earth was removed in order to secure the foundation and tar and asphalt were used to waterproof the roof. No further renovations were made until a UNESCO survey team came to evaluate the cave temple and decided to aid the Korean government in further restoring the site between 1961 and 1964. Nowadays, visitors enter the grotto from the side, rather than its original front entrance, and must view the buddha image from behind a protective glass window. Sokkuram is Korean National Treasure No. 24 and was also added to the list of UNESCO World Heritage Sites in 1995.
Somapura. A large Buddhist monastery in northern Bangladesh, near the modern town of Ompur, probably built in the early-ninth century by the Pāla dynasty ruler Devapāla (r. 810-850 CE), the son of Dharmapāla, who had built VIKRAMAsĪLA. Somapura was a mahāvihāra, or "great monastery," under royal supervision and was known as the Dharmapāla Mahāvihara of Somapura. The monastery, which had a unique architectural style, included 177 monks' cells organized on four floors around a courtyard. It was one of the largest monasteries of its day, probably housing some eight hundred monks at the apex of its influence. The most architecturally significant element of the monastery is the Pāhārpur Temple, which is unlike other Indian temples, Hindu or Buddhist. It has a cruciform base, a terraced structure with inset chambers, and a pyramid form, quite similar to Buddhist temples in Burma, Java, and Cambodia. It remains a matter of controversy whether Somapura monastery might have served as a model for Southeast Asian temple architecture. In the mid-eleventh century, the monastery was burned by a Hindu king, but seems to have been restored. It is said that ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNĀNA stopped at Somapura on his way to Tibet, translating there BHĀVAVIVEKA's MADHYAMAKARATNAPRADĪPA into Tibetan.
Sonmun ch'waryo. (禪門撮要). In Korean, "Selected Essentials from the Gate of Son"; a Korean anthology of the essential canon of the Korean SoN (CHAN) school, in two rolls. Although the Sonmun ch'waryo is often attributed to the late-Choson-period Son master KYoNGHo SoNGU (1849-1912), its authorship remains a matter of debate. The text uses as its primary source material the Pophae pobol ("Precious Raft on the Ocean of Dharma"), which was compiled in 1883 at Kamnosa. The Sonmun ch'waryo contains texts that are foundational to the Korean Son tradition. The first roll consists of the writings of the Chinese Chan patriarchs and teachers: the Xuemo lun ("Treatise of the Blood Lineage"), the Guanxin lun ("Treatise of Contemplating the Mind," sometimes otherwise attributed to SHENXIU [606?-706]), and the ERRU SIXING LUN ("Treatise on the Two Accesses and Four Practices"), all attributed to the first Chan patriarch, BODHIDHARMA; the Xiuxin yao lun ("Treatise on the Essentials of Cultivating the Mind"), attributed to the fifth patriarch HONGREN (600-674); the Wanleng lu ("Wanleng Record") and the CHUANXIN FAYAO ("Essential Teachings on Transmitting the Mind"), attributed to HUANGBO XIYUN (d. 850); the Mengshan fayu ("Mengshan's Dharma Discourses") composed of eleven dharma-talks by five masters including Mengshan Deyi (1231-1308) and NAONG HYEGŬN (1320-1376); and an excerpt from the Canchan jingyu ("Words of Admonition on Investigating Chan") attributed to Boshan Wuyi (1575-1630). The second roll consists of the writings of eminent Korean Son monks from the Koryo and Choson periods: POJO CHINUL's (1158-1210) SUSIM KYoL ("Secrets on Cultivating the Mind"), Chinsim chiksol ("Straight Talk on the True Mind"), Kwonsu Chonghye kyolsa mun ("Encouragement to Practice: The Compact of the Samādhi and PrajNā Community"), and KANHWA KYoRŬI NON ("Resolving Doubts About Observing the Hwadu"); the SoNMUN POJANG NOK ("Record of the Treasure Trove of the Son Tradition") and the Sonmun kangyo ("Essentials of the Son Gate"), both attributed to CH'oNCH'AEK (b. 1206); and the Son'gyo sok ("Explication of Son and Kyo") attributed to CH'oNGHo HYUJoNG (1520-1604). The first roll of the Sonmun ch'waryo was published in 1907 at the monastery of Unmunsa and the second in 1908 at PoMoSA. Among the 118 total xylographs of the book, the seventy-eighth and 118th xylographs list the names of people involved in the publication of the text, such as proofreaders, transcribers, and engravers, as well the donors, government officials, and landed gentry who contributed to the cost of the publication.
Spa tshab lo tsā ba Nyi ma grags. (Patsap Lotsawa Nyima Drak) (1055-1145?). A Tibetan scholar of the eleventh and twelfth centuries who played a major role in establishing MADHYAMAKA in Tibet during the period of the second dissemination (PHYI DAR) of the dharma, through his translation of the two major works of CANDRAKĪRTI, the PRASANNAPADĀ and the MADHYAMAKĀVATĀRA, as well as ĀRYADEVA's CATUḤsATAKA and Candrakīrti's commentary on it. At any early age, he made the arduous journey to Kashmir, where he spent the next twenty-three years, the first ten studying Sanskrit and the remaining years translating Madhyamaka works into Tibetan in collaboration with Kashmiri panditas at the monastery of Ratnaguptavihāra near modern-day Srinagar. His teachers and collaborators included Mahājana and Suksmajana, the sons of the master Sajjana, as well as Mahāsumati, the disciple of Parahita. He eventually returned to Tibet, accompanied by two Kashmiri scholars: Kanakavarman and Tilakakalasa. Basing himself at the RA MO CHE temple in LHA SA, he taught Madhyamaka and revised earlier translations of Madhyamaka texts. He thus played a major role in introducing what came to be known as *PRĀSAnGIKA into Tibet and providing the texts upon which the distinction between Prāsangika and *SVĀTANTRIKA could be made. Those terms were not names of branches of Madhyamaka school in India; rather, those designations were coined in Tibet, and Spa tshab may have been the first to use the term *Prāsangika (thal 'gyur pa). He is credited by Tibetan historians as making the *Prāsangika perspective, that is, the perspective of Candrakīrti, the prevailing interpretation of the works of Nāgārjuna and Āryadeva in Tibet.
sprul sku. A Tibetan term often seen transcribed in English as "tulku"; it is the Tibetan translation of the Sanskrit term NIRMĀnAKĀYA, the third of the three bodies of a buddha (TRIKĀYA), the "emanation body" that appears in the world for the benefit of sentient beings. Although the term retains this standard Buddhological meaning in Tibetan, sprul sku is used by extension to refer to an "incarnate lama," and the term is sometimes translated as such. It is not believed in every case that each incarnate lama is the emanation body of a buddha. However, the implication is that there is a difference in the processes whereby ordinary beings and incarnate lamas take birth in the world. For the former, rebirth is process over which one has no control, with a strong possibility that one's new life will be in the lower rebirth destinies (DURGATI) as an animal, hungry ghost, or hell denizen. The rebirth of an "emanation body" is instead considered to be a voluntary choice. The sprul sku are said to exercise control over their rebirth; a dying incarnation will often leave instructions for his disciples as to where to find his next rebirth. The practice of identifying children as the incarnations of deceased masters may date from as early as the eleventh or twelfth century. By the fifteenth century, all sects of Tibetan Buddhism had adopted the practice of identifying the successive rebirths of a great teacher, the most famous instance of which are the DALAI LAMAs. There were some three thousand lines of incarnation in Tibet (only several of whom are female). It was also the case that a single lama may have more than one incarnation; there were sometimes three, which were considered individual incarnations of the body, speech, and mind of the deceased master. The institution of the incarnate lama became a central component of Tibetan society, providing the means by which authority and charisma, both symbolic and material, was passed from one generation to another. The spread of Tibetan Buddhism can be traced by the increasingly large geographical areas in which incarnate lamas have been discovered. A variety of types and levels of sprul sku are identified. A mchog gi sprul sku (choki tulku) (UTTAMANIRMĀnAKĀYA) is a buddha, such as sĀKYAMUNI, who appears in the world with a body adorned with the major and minor marks of a MAHĀPURUsA. A skye ba'i sprul sku (kyewe tulku) (JANMANIRMĀnAKĀYA) is the appearance of a buddha in the form of an animal, human, or divinity. Tibetan incarnate lamas would fall into this category. Also in this category would be those cases in which a buddha appears as an inanimate object that provides benefit to sentient beings, such as a bridge across a river, a path, a tree, or a cooling breeze. A bzo bo sprul sku (sowo tulku) (sILPANIRMĀnAKĀYA) is an artisan or craftsman or a particular manifestation of artistic beauty that subdues the afflictions (KLEsA). Within the the large DGE LUGS PA monasteries, a monk with the title of tshogs chen sprul sku (tsokchen tulku, "great assembly tulku") is excused from performing regular assembly duties. In Tibetan, an incarnate lama is addressed and referred to as RIN PO CHE (precious one), although that term is also used for abbots and other holders of high ecclesiastical office; it may also be used for one's teacher, even if he or she is not an incarnate lama. The term BLA MA (lama) is typically used to refer to incarnations but is also used widely for a teacher.
Sras mkhar dgu thog. (Sekar Gutok). In Tibetan, "Nine-Storied Son's Tower"; a tower purportedly constructed in the late eleventh century by the Tibetan saint MI LA RAS PA as part of his training under the master MAR PA CHOS KYI BLO GROS. Located in the LHO BRAG region of southern Tibet, on the bank of the Gsas River, the nine-storied tower was originally constructed as a memorial for Mar pa's son DAR MA MDO SDE, although because of its location it likely had strategic value as well. The building was renovated in the sixteenth century by DPA' BO GTSUG LAG PHRENG BA, who fashioned a golden roof and added a large monastic institution at the site. The tower remains an important pilgrimage site for Tibetan Buddhists.
srīvijaya. (T. Dpal rnam par rgyal ba; C. Shilifoshi; J. Shitsuribussei; K. Sillibulso 室利佛逝). A kingdom located on the island of Sumatra (in modern Indonesia) which was an important center of Buddhism from the seventh through the eleventh centuries. Located along the key maritime routes of Southeast Asia, it was a major political power in the region. The Chinese pilgrim YIJING (635-713 CE) made extended stays in the kingdom on both his trip to India and his return to China, stopping there first for six months to study Sanskrit, and then making a more lengthy stay beginning in 687, where he translated a number of texts, including much of the massive MuLASARVĀSTIVĀDA VINAYA, and wrote an account of his journey, the NANHAI JIGUI NEIFA ZHUAN; because there was no paper and ink in Sumatra, Yijing made a short trip to China to retrieve these items before returning to srīvijaya to continue his work. He reported that in the city of Bhoga there were more than a thousand monks, whom he praised for their learning and their adherence to the vinaya, which he said was the same as that practiced in India. He advised Chinese monks to stop in srīvijaya for preparatory studies before proceeding to India. In the eleventh century, the Bengali monk ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNĀNA may have visited srīvijaya to study with DHARMAKĪRTIsRĪ; the sources say that he visited Suvarnadvīpa, a term that seemed to encompass a larger region, which included Sumatra.
Srong btsan sgam po. (Songtsen Gampo) (r. c. 605-650). The thirty-third Tibetan religious king (chos kyi rgyal po) who reigned during the period of the Yar klungs dynasty; credited with establishing Buddhism as the predominant religion in Tibet. He is considered the first of three great religious kings, along with KHRI SRONG LDE BTSAN and RAL PA CAN. Although the historical facts of his life are somewhat murky, stories of Srong btsan sgam po's activities pervade Tibetan culture. His rule forged a cohesive national center and brought Tibet to the zenith of it military expansion, shaping an empire that rivaled any in Asia. During Srong btsan sgam po's reign, Tibet was surrounded by Buddhist currents to the south and west, which appear to have had a particularly profound effect on Tibetan civilization. According to traditional sources, the king and his two wives, the Nepalese BHṚKUTI and the Chinese WENCHENG, were instrumental in the early promulgation of Buddhist practice in his kingdom. An important Tibetan text, the MAnI BKA' 'BUM ("One Hundred Thousand Instructions on the Mani"), describes the monarch as an earthly manifestation of AVALOKITEsVARA, the BODHISATTVA of compassion, and his wives as forms of the female bodhisattva TĀRĀ. These accounts are at the heart of Tibet's Buddhist myth of origin and play a central role in how most Tibetans understand the history of their country and religion. After ascending the throne, Srong btsan sgam po moved his capital from the heartland of the Yar klungs Valley in the south to its modern location in LHA SA. With the support of their monarch, each queen established an important Buddhist temple to house a statue she had carried to Tibet: Bhṛkuti founding the JO KHANG temple for an image of sĀKYAMUNI called JO BO MI BSKYOD RDO RJE, Wencheng founding what is now the RA MO CHE temple for her statue of sākyamuni called JO BO SHĀKYAMUNI or Jo bo rin po che. These images were later switched, and today the Jo bo sākyamuni statue sits in the Jo khang, where it is venerated as Tibet's holiest Buddhist relic. According to legend, the Tang princess Wencheng also imported Chinese systems of geomancy and divination through which the Tibetan landscape was viewed as a supine demoness requiring subjugation in order for Buddhism to take root and flourish. Srong btsan sgam po purportedly constructed a series of "taming temples" that acted as nails pinning down the limbs of the demoness (T. srin mo), rendering her powerless. The Jo khang was constructed over the position of the demoness' heart. In addition to the Jo khang, traditional sources count twelve main taming (T. 'dul) temples spread across the Himalayan landscape, each pinning down a point on the demoness's body. These structures appear to be in concentric circles radiating out from her heart at Lha sa. Out from the heart are the "edge-pinning temples" (MTHA' 'DUL GTSUG LAG KHANG) of KHRA 'BRUG, 'GRUM, BKA' TSHAL, and GRUM PA RGYANG, said to pin down her right and left shoulders and right and left hips, respectively; and beyond that four "extra-pinning temples" (YANG 'DUL GTSUG LAG KHANG) BU CHU, MKHO MTHING, DGE GYES, and PRA DUM RTSE that pin down her right and left elbows and right and left knees, respectively. In 637, Srong btsan sgam po established an eleven-storied palace on the hill of northeast Lha sa called Mar po ri. While this structure was later destroyed by fire, it served as the foundation for the PO TA LA palace constructed in the seventeenth century under the direction of the fifth DALAI LAMA NGAG DBANG BLO BZANG RGYA MTSHO. The king is also said to have commissioned his minister Thon mi SaMbhota to create a new script (what is now known as Tibetan) in order to translate Buddhist texts from Sanskrit. He also established what is known as the "great legal code" (gtsug lag bka' khrims chen po). While contemporary scholars now question the portrait of Srong btsan sgam po as a pious convert to Buddhism (it is known, for example, that he maintained close ties to the early BON religion), many of Tibet's most important Buddhist institutions were established during his time.
sutrapitaka. (P. suttapitaka; T. mdo sde'i sde snod; C. jingzang; J. kyozo; K. kyongjang 經藏). In Sanskrit, "basket of discourses," one of the three constituents of the TRIPItAKA (together with the VINAYAPItAKA and the ABHIDHARMAPItAKA). This basket is a disparate collection of thousands of texts attributed to the Buddha (or said to be spoken with his sanction), varying in length from extended narrative accounts to short epigrams. The Pāli suttapitaka is divided into five groups, or NIKĀYA. These are the DĪGHANIKĀYA, or "Long Group," comprising thirty-four lengthier sutras; the MAJJHIMANIKĀYA, or "Middle [Length] Group," comprising 152 sutras; the SAMYUTTANIKĀYA or "Related Group," comprising (by some counts) some seven thousand sutras, organized largely by subject matter in fifty-six categories; the AnGUTTARANIKĀYA, literally, the "Group Increasing by a Factor," or more generally, the "Numerical Group," an anthology of nearly ten thousand brief texts organized by the number of the subject, with the first group dealing with single things, the second dealing with pairs, the third dealing with things that occur in threes, up to things that occur in groups of eleven; and finally the KHUDDAKANIKĀYA, or "Small Group," a diverse collection of miscellaneous texts, including such famous works as the Pāli DHAMMAPADA. Although the Khuddakanikāya contains some early works, as an independent nikāya, it appears to have been the last to be added to the tipitaka and is not mentioned in early accounts. The suttapitaka seems to have been preserved orally for centuries, before being committed to writing in Sri Lanka at the end of the first century BCE. The sutrapitakas of other Indian NIKĀYAs (schools) translated from a number of Indian languages into Chinese and Tibetan use the word ĀGAMA (tradition) in place of nikāya (group) for the groupings of sutras in their respective canons. In their Chinese translations, the DĪRGHĀGAMA or "Long Discourses," belonging to the DHARMAGUPTAKA school, corresponds to the Pāli Dīghanikāya; the MADHYAMĀGAMA or "Middle-Length Discourses" of the SARVĀSTIVĀDA school corresponds to the Pāli Majjhimanikāya; the SAMYUKTĀGAMA or "Connected Discourses," belonging to the Sarvāstivāda school (with a partial translation perhaps belonging to the KĀsYAPĪYA school) corresponds to the Pāli SaMyuttanikāya; and the EKOTTARĀGAMA or "Numerically Arranged Discourses," variously ascribed to the DHARMAGUPTAKAs, or less plausibly the MAHĀSĀMGHIKA school or its PRAJNAPTIVĀDA offshoot, corresponds to the Pāli Anguttaranikāya. Despite the similarities in the titles of these collections, there are substantial differences between the contents of the Sanskrit āgamas and the Pāli nikāyas. The Khuddakanikāya ("Miscellaneous Collection"), the fifth nikāya in the Pāli canon, has no equivalent in the extant Chinese translations of the āgamas; such miscellanies, or "mixed baskets" (S. ksudrakapitaka), were however known to have existed in several of the mainstream Buddhist schools, including the Dharmaguptaka, MahāsāMghika, and MAHĪsĀSAKA.
taizokai. (S. *garbhadhātu; C. taizang jie; K. t'aejang kye 胎蔵界). In Japanese, "womb realm" or "womb world"; one of the two principal diagrams (MAndALA) used in the esoteric traditions of Japan (see MIKKYo), along with the KONGoKAI ("diamond realm"); this diagram is known in Sanskrit as the garbhadhātu mandala. The taizokai mandala is believed to be based on instructions found in the MAHĀVAIROCANĀBHISAMBODHISuTRA (Dainichikyo); the term, however, does not actually appear in any Buddhist scripture and its pictorial form seems to have developed independently of any written documents. Although KuKAI (774-835) is often recognized as introducing the taizokai mandala to Japan, in fact various versions developed over time. Use of the two mandalas flourished during the Heian period, gradually becoming central to Japanese TENDAI Buddhism and SHUGENDo. The taizokai consists of twelve cloisters, which contain various bodhisattvas and deities. At the very center of the mandala is located the Cloister of the Central Dais with Eight Petals (J. Chudaihachiyoin). There, the DHARMAKĀYA MAHĀVAIROCANA sits in the center of an eight-petaled lotus flower, with four companion buddhas and bodhisattvas sitting on its petals. In the four cardinal directions sit the buddhas Ratnaketu (J. Hodo), SaMkusumitarāja (J. Kaifukeo), AMITĀBHA (J. Muryoju), and Divyadundubhi-meghanirghosa (J. Tenkuraion). In the four ordinal directions sit the bodhisattvas SAMANTABHADRA (J. Fugen), MANJUsRĪ (J. Monju), AVALOKITEsVARA (J. Kanjizai; Kannon), and MAITREYA (J. Miroku). The central Buddha and the surrounding four buddhas and bodhisattvas represent the five wisdoms (PANCAJNĀNA). ¶ Mahāvairocana's central cloister is surrounded by a series of cloisters in all the four directions. In the eastern section (the topside of the mandala), there are three cloisters from the central cloister at the outside: (1) Cloister of Universal Knowledge (J. Henchiin), in which three deities sit on each side of a triangle; (2) Cloister of sĀKYAMUNI (J. Shakain), where sākyamuni sits surrounded by his disciples, as a manifestation of Mahāvairocana in the phenomenal world; and (3) Cloister of MaNjusrī (J. Monjuin), in which MaNjusrī sits surrounded by many attendants. In the western section (the bottom of the mandala), there are also three cloisters: (1) The Cloister of the Mantra Holders (J. Jimyoin) includes the bodhisattva PrajNā surrounded by the four VIDYĀRĀJA: ACALANĀTHA (Fudo), TRAILOKYAVIJAYA (Gozanze), YAMĀNTAKA (Daiitoku), and an alternate manifestation of Trailokyavijaya. (2) The Cloister of ĀKĀsAGARBHA (Kokuzoin) represents worldly virtue and merit in the form of Ākāsagarbha. (3) The Cloister of Unsurpassed Attainment (Soshitchiin) includes eight bodhisattvas, symbolizing the achievement of the various virtues through which Mahāvairocana benefits sentient beings. In the southern section (the right side of the mandala), there are two cloisters: (1) Cloister of VAJRAPĀnI (Kongoshuin); in this cloister, VAJRASATTVA is the main deity, representing the Buddha's wisdom inherent in all sentient beings; and (2) Cloister of Removing Obstacles (Jogaishoin), where sits the bodhisattva SARVANĪVARAnAVIsKAMBHIN, representing the elimination of the hindrances to enlightenment. In the northern section (the left side of the mandala), there are also two cloisters: (1) Cloister of the Lotus Division (Rengebuin) where Avalokitesvara is the central deity; and (2) Cloister of KsITIGARBHA (Jizoin), dedicated to the bodhisattva who saves those suffering in hell. All of these eleven cloisters are then enclosed by the Cloister of Outer VAJRADHARAs (Ge Kongobuin), where there are 205 deities, many of them deriving from Indic mythology. In one distinctively Shingon usage, the mandala was placed in the east and the kongokai stood in juxtaposition across from it. The initiate would then invite all buddhas, bodhisattvas, and divinities into the sacred space, invoking all of their power and ultimately unifying with them. In Shugendo, the two mandalas were often spatially superimposed over mountain geography or worn as robes on the practitioner while entering the mountain.
Tārā. (T. Sgrol ma; C. Duoluo; J. Tara; K. Tara 多羅). In Sanskrit, lit. "Savioress"; a female bodhisattva who has the miraculous power to be able to deliver her devotees from all forms of physical danger. Tārā is said to have arisen from either a ray of blue light from the eye of the buddha AMITĀBHA, or from a tear from the eye of the BODHISATTVA AVALOKITEsVARA as he surveyed the suffering universe. The tear fell into a valley and formed a lake, out of which grew the lotus from which Tārā appeared. She is thus said to be the physical manifestation of the compassion of Avalokitesvara, who is himself the quintessence of the compassion of the buddhas. Because buddhas are produced from wisdom and compassion, Tārā, like the goddess PRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀ ("Perfection of Wisdom"), is hailed as "the mother of all buddhas," despite the fact that she is most commonly represented as a beautiful sixteen-year-old maiden. She is often depicted together with BHṚKUTĪ (one of her forms) as one of two female bodhisattvas flanking Avalokitesvara. Tārā is the subject of much devotion in her own right, serving as the subject of many stories, prayers, and tantric SĀDHANAs. She can appear in peaceful or wrathful forms, depending on the circumstances, her powers extending beyond the subjugation of these worldly frights, into the heavens and into the hells. She has two major peaceful forms, however. The first is SITATĀRĀ, or White Tārā. Her right hand is in VARADAMUDRĀ, her left is at her chest in VITARKAMUDRĀ and holds a lotus and she sits in DHYĀNĀSANA. The other is sYĀMATĀRĀ, or Green Tārā. Her right hand is in varadamudrā, her left is at her chest in vitarkamudrā and holds an utpala, and she sits in LALITĀSANA. Her wrathful forms include KURUKULLĀ, a dancing naked YOGINĪ, red in color, who brandishes a bow and arrow in her four arms. In tantric MAndALAs, she appears as the consort of AMOGHASIDDHI, the buddha of the northern quarter; together they are lord and lady of the KARMAKULA. But she is herself also the sole deity in many tantric SĀDHANAs, in which the meditator, whether male or female, visualizes himself or herself in Tārā's feminine form. Tārā is best-known for her salvific powers, appearing the instant her devotee recites her MANTRA, oM tāre tuttāre ture svāhā. She is especially renowned as Astabhayatrānatārā, "Tārā Who Protects from the Eight Fears," because of her ability to deliver those who call upon her when facing the eight great fears (mahābhaya) of lions, elephants, fire, snakes, thieves, water, imprisonment, and demons. Many tales are told recounting her miraculous interventions. Apart from the recitation of her mantra, a particular prayer is the most common medium of invoking Tārā in Tibet. It is a prayer to twenty-one Tārās, derived from an Indian TANTRA devoted to Tārā, the Sarvatathāgatamātṛtārāvisvakarmabhavatantra ("Source of All Rites to Tārā, the Mother of All the Tathāgatas"). According to some commentarial traditions on the prayer, each of the verses refers to a different form of Tārā, totaling twenty-one. According to others, the forms of Tārā are iconographically almost indistinguishable. Tārā entered the Buddhist pantheon relatively late, around the sixth century, in northern India and Nepal, and her worship in Java is attested in inscriptions dating to the end of the eighth century. Like Avalokitesvara, she has played a crucial role in Tibet's history, in both divine and human forms. One version of the creation myth that has the Tibetan race originating from a dalliance between a monkey and an ogress says the monkey was a form of Avalokitesvara and the ogress a form of Tārā. Worship of Tārā in Tibet began in earnest with the second propagation and the arrival of ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNĀNA in the eleventh century; she appears repeatedly in accounts of his life and in his teachings. He had visions of the goddess at crucial points in his life, and she advised him to make his fateful journey to Tibet, despite the fact that his life span would be shortened as a result. His sādhanas for the propitiation of Sitatārā and syāmatārā played a key role in promoting the worship of Tārā in Tibet. He further was responsible for the translation of several important Indic texts relating to the goddess, including three by Vāgīsvarakīrti that make up the 'chi blu, or "cheating death" cycle, the foundation of all lineages of the worship of Sitatārā in Tibet. The famous Tārā chapel at Atisa's temple at SNYE THANG contains nearly identical statues of the twenty-one Tārās. The translator Darmadra brought to Tibet the important ANUYOGA tantra devoted to the worship of Tārā, entitled Bcom ldan 'das ma sgrol ma yang dag par rdzogs pa'i sangs rgyas bstod pa gsungs pa. Tārā is said to have taken human form earlier in Tibetan history as the Chinese princess WENCHENG and Nepalese princess Bhṛkutī, who married King SRONG BTSAN SGAM PO, bringing with them buddha images that would become the most revered in Tibet. Which Tārā they were remains unsettled; however, some sources identify Wencheng with syāmatārā and Bhṛkutī with the goddess of the same name, herself said to be a form of Tārā. Others argue that the Nepalese princess was Sitatārā, and Wencheng was syāmatārā. These identifications, however, like that of Srong btsan sgam po with Avalokitesvara, date only to the fourteenth century, when the cult of Tārā in Tibet was flourishing. In the next generation, Tārā appeared as the wife of King KHRI SRONG LDE BTSAN and the consort of PADMASAMBHAVA, YE SHES MTSHO RGYAL, who in addition to becoming a great tantric master herself, served as scribe when Padmasambhava dictated the treasure texts (GTER MA). Later, Tārā is said to have appeared as the great practitioner of the GCOD tradition, MA GCIG LAP SGRON (1055-1149). Indeed, when Tārā first vowed eons ago to achieve buddhahood in order to free all beings from SAMSĀRA, she swore she would always appear in female form.
Tarkajvālā. (T. Rtog ge 'bar ba). In Sanskrit, the "Blaze of Reasoning"; the extensive prose autocommentary on the MADHYAMAKAHṚDAYA, the major work of the sixth-century Indian MADHYAMAKA (and, from the Tibetan perspective, *SVĀTANTRIKA) master BHĀVAVIVEKA (also referred to as Bhavya and Bhāviveka). The Madhyamakahṛdaya is preserved in both Sanskrit and Tibetan; the Tarkajvālā only in Tibetan. It is a work of eleven chapters, the first three and the last two of which set forth the main points in Bhāvaviveka's view of the nature of reality and the Buddhist path, dealing with such topics as BODHICITTA, the knowledge of reality (tattvajNāna), and omniscience (SARVAJNATĀ). The intervening chapters set forth the positions (and Bhāvaviveka's refutations) of various Buddhist and non-Buddhist schools, including the sRĀVAKA, YOGĀCĀRA, SāMkhya, Vaisesika, Vedānta, and MīmāMsā. These chapters (along with sĀNTARAKsITA's TATTVASAMGRAHA) are an invaluable source of insight into the relations between Madhyamaka and the other Indian philosophical schools of the day. The chapter on the srāvakas, for example, provides a detailed account of the reasons put forth by the srāvaka schools as to why the MAHĀYĀNA sutras are not the word of the Buddha (BUDDHAVACANA). Bhāvaviveka's response to these arguments, as well as his refutation of Yogācāra in the subsequent chapter, are particularly spirited.
tathāgatabhumi. (T. de bzhin gshegs pa'i sa; C. rulai di; J. nyoraiji; K. yorae chi 如來地). The "stage of a thus gone one," the name given in the LAnKĀVATĀRASuTRA to an eleventh ground or stage (BHuMI) of the BODHISATTVA path that constitutes the fruition of buddhahood (buddhaphala). The tenth BODHISATTVABHuMI, DHARMAMEGHĀ, the culminating stage of the "path of cultivation" (BHĀVANĀMĀRGA), still contains both subtle remnants of the cognitive obstructions (JNEYĀVARAnA) as well as seeds of the afflictive obstructions (KLEsĀVARAnA). These obstructions will be completely eradicated through the diamond-like samādhi (VAJROPAMASAMĀDHI), which marks the transition to the "ultimate path" (NIstHĀMĀRGA), or the "path where no further training is necessary" (AsAIKsAMĀRGA). This stage is the tathāgatabhumi, which is also sometimes known as the "universally luminous" (samantaprabhā).
Tattvaratnāvalī. (T. De kho na nyid rin po che'i phreng ba). In Sanskrit, the "Necklace of Principles"; a scholastic exposition of Buddhist TANTRA by Advayavajra, the apparent pen name of the Indian master Maitrīpāda, who flourished in the late tenth and early eleventh centuries CE. The work provides some insight into how Buddhism was understood in the late period of Indian Buddhism, dividing it into the three vehicles of the sRĀVAKAYĀNA, PRATYEKABUDDHAYĀNA, and MAHĀYĀNA, with the Mahāyāna further subdivided into the "way of the perfections" (pāramitānaya) and the "way of mantra" (mantranaya). The work also states that the Madhyamaka school is divided into the two, the Māyopamādvayavāda, or "Proponents of Illusion-like Nonduality," and the Sarvadharmāpratisthānavāda, or "Proponents That All Dharmas Are Nonabiding."
testone ::: n. --> A silver coin of Portugal, worth about sixpence sterling, or about eleven cents.
Teth (Heb.): A lion-serpent. The ninth letter of the Hebrew alphabet. It is attributed to the solar-phallic deity, Set, Tet, Hadit orThoth, which are all forms of Teth, the special formula of which is contained in the eleventh Key of the Book of Thoth; it is entitled Lust and exhibits the Scarlet Woman, Babalon, riding upon the seven-headed Beast, her chalice exalted.
Thảo Đường. (草堂) (c. eleventh century). Vietnamese monk traditionally regarded as the founder of the third school of THIỀN in Vietnam. The THIỀN UYỂN TẬP ANH does not provide a full biography of Thảo Đường, giving only a list of the monks belonging to his school with a remark that he was the abbot of Khai Quốc monastery in the capital city of Thăng Long, and that he transmitted the lineage of the XUEDOU CHONGXIAN (980-1052) line of the YUNMEN ZONG of Chinese CHAN. The legend about Thảo Đường in the Vietnamese Buddhist tradition can be found in the An Nam Chí Lược. According to this source, Thảo Đường followed his teacher to live in Champa. King Lý Thanh Tông (1023-1072), in an expedition against Champa in 1069, captured him and gave him to a monk scribe as a servant. The king came to have great respect for Thảo Đường's virtue and learning and made him state preceptor.
The four heavenly kings of the first and lowest of the six heavens are DHṚTARĀstRA in the east, VIRudHAKA in the south, VIRuPĀKsA in the west, and VAIsRAVAnA in the north. There are many devas inhabiting this heaven: GANDHARVAs in the east, KUMBHĀndAs in the south, NĀGAs in the west, and YAKsAs in the north. As vassals of sAKRO DEVĀNĀM INDRAḤ (lit. "sakra, the lord of the gods"; see INDRA; sAKRA; DEVARĀJAN), the four heavenly kings serve as protectors of the dharma (DHARMAPĀLA) and of sentient beings who are devoted to the dharma. They dwell at the four gates in each direction at the midslope of the world's central axis, Mt. Sumeru. The thirty-three gods of the second heaven are the eight vāsava, two asvina, eleven rudra, and twelve āditya. They live on the summit of Mt. Sumeru and are arrayed around the city of Sudarsana, the capital of their lord sakra. sakra is also known as Indra, the war god of the Āryans, who became a devotee of the Buddha as well as a protector of the dharma. The remaining four heavens are located in the sky above Mt. Sumeru. At the highest level of the sensuous realm, the paranirmitavasavartin heaven, dwells MĀRA, the Evil One. The four heavenly kings and the thirty-three gods are called the "divinities residing on the ground" (bhumyavacaradeva) because they dwell on Mt. Sumeru, while the gods from the Yāma heaven up to the gods of the realm of subtle materiality are known as "divinities residing in the air" (antariksavāsin, antarīksadeva), because they reside in the sky above the mountain. The higher one ascends into the heavens of both the sensuous realm and the subsequent realm of subtle materiality, the larger and more splendid the bodies of those gods become and the longer their life spans. Related to the devas of the sensuous realm are the demigods or titans (S. ASURA), jealous gods whom Indra drove out of the heaven of the thirty-three; they now live in exile in the shadows of Mt. Sumeru. ¶ The heavens of the realm of subtle materiality (rupadhātu) consist of sixteen (according to the SARVĀSTIVĀDA school), seventeen (the SAUTRĀNTIKA school), or eighteen (the THERAVĀDA/STHAVIRANIKĀYA school) levels of devas. These levels, which are collectively called the BRAHMALOKA (world of the Brahmā gods), are subdivided into the four classes of the dhyāna or "concentration" heavens, and rebirth there is dependent on specific meditative attainments in previous lives. One of the most extensive accounts on these heavens appears in the ABHIDHARMAKOsABHĀsYA, which presents seventeen levels of the subtle-materiality devas. Whereas rebirth in the heavens of the sensuous realm are the result of a variety of virtuous deeds done in a previous life, rebirth in the heavens of the realm of subtle materiality or in the immaterial realm is the result of what is called a "nonfluctuating" or "unwavering" action (ANINJYAKARMAN). Here, the only cause that will produce rebirth in one of these heavens is the achievement of the level of meditative concentration or absorption of that particular heaven in the immediately preceding lifetime. Such meditation is called a "nonfluctuating deed" because it always produces the effect of that particular type of rebirth. The first set of dhyāna heavens, where those who practiced the first meditative absorption in the previous lifetime are born, is comprised of three levels:
“The kabalist is a student of ‘secret science,’ one who interprets the hidden meaning of the Scriptures with the help of the symbolical Kabalah, and explains the real one by these means. The Tanaim were the first kabalists among the Jews; they appeared at Jerusalem about the beginning of the third century before the Christian era. The books of Ezekiel, Daniel, Henoch, and the Revelation of St. John, are purely kabalistical. This secret doctrine is identical with that of the Chaldeans, and includes at the same time much of the Persian wisdom, or ‘magic.’ History catches glimpses of famous kabalists ever since the eleventh century. The Mediaeval ages, and even our own times, have had an enormous number of the most learned and intellectual men who were students of the Kabala . . . The most famous among the former were Paracelsus, Henry Khunrath, Jacob Bohmen, Robert Fludd, the two Van Helmonts, the Abbot John Trithemius, Cornelius Agrippa, Cardinal Nicolao Cusani, Jerome Carden, Pope Sixtus IV., and such Christian scholars as Raymond Lully, Giovanni Pico de la Mirandola, Guillaume Postel, the great John Reuchlin, Dr. Henry More, Eugenius Philalethes (Thomas Vaughan), the erudite Jesuit Athanasius Kircher, Christian Knorr (Baron) von Rosenroth; then Sir Isaac Newton, Leibniz, Lord Bacon, Spinosa, etc., etc., the list being almost inexhaustible. As remarked by Mr. Isaac Myer, in his Qabbalah [p. 170], the ideas of the Kabalists have largely influenced European literature. ‘Upon the practical Qabbalah, the Abbe de Villars (nephew of de Montfaucon) in 1670, published his celebrated satirical novel, “The Count de Gabalis,” upon which Pope based his “Rape of the Lock.” Qabbalism ran through the Mediaeval poems, the “Romance of the Rose,” and permeates the writings of Dante.’ No two of them, however, agreed upon the origin of the Kabala, the Zohar, Sepher Yetzirah, etc. Some show it as coming from the Biblical Patriarchs, Abraham, and even Seth; others from Egypt, others again from Chaldea. The system is certainly very old; but like all the rest of systems, whether religious or philosophical, the Kabala is derived directly from the primeval Secret Doctrine of the East; through the Vedas, the Upanishads, Orpheus and Thales, Pythagoras and the Egyptians. Whatever its source, its substratum is at any rate identical with that of all the other systems from the Book of the Dead down to the later Gnostics” (TG 167-8).
The line of Karma pas originated during the twelfth century with DUS GSUM MKHYEN PA, a close disciple of SGAM PO PA BSOD NAMS RIN CHEN, who had himself studied under the famous YOGIN MI LA RAS PA. Dus gsum mkhyen pa established several important monasteries, including Mtshur phu, which served as the main seat of the Karma pas and the Karma bka' brgyud in central Tibet. Dus gsum mkhyen pa's successor, the second Karma pa KARMA PAKSHI, is remembered especially for his prowess in meditation and thaumaturgy. He was patronized by the Mongols, first by Mongke (1209-1259) and later by his brother, the Yuan emperor Qubilai Khan (r. 1260-1294) before losing the emperor's support. The third Karma pa RANG 'BYUNG RDO RJE continued this affiliation with the Mongol court, playing a role in emperor Toghun Temür's (r. 1333-1368) ascension to the throne. The fourth Karma pa Rol pa'i rdo rje and fifth Karma pa Bde bzhin gshegs pa maintained ties with the Chinese court-the former with Toghun Temür and the latter serving as the preceptor of the Yongle emperor (reigned 1402-1424) of the Ming dynasty, a position of great influence. The sixth Karma pa Mthong ba don ldan did not maintain the same political connections of his predecessors; he is remembered especially for his contributions to the religious life of the Karma bka' brgyud, producing meditation and ritual manuals. The seventh Karma pa Chos grags rgya mtsho is known primarily for his philosophical works on logic and epistemology (PRAMĀnA); his voluminous text on the topic is still used today as a principal textbook in many Bka' brgyud monasteries. The eighth Karma pa MI BSKYOD RDO RJE is among the most renowned scholars of his generation, a prolific author whose writings encompassed Sanskrit, poetry, and art, as well as MADHYAMAKA philosophy and tantra. The ninth Karma pa DBANG PHYUG RDO RJE is revered for his influential works on the theory and practice of MAHĀMUDRĀ. It was during his lifetime that the DGE LUGS hierarchs ascended to power, with an attendant decline in the political fortunes of his sect in central Tibet. His successor, the tenth Karma pa Chos kyi dbang phyug, was thus forced into a life of virtual exile near the Sino-Tibetan border in the east as his patron, the king of Gtsang, was defeated by the Gushri Khan, patron of the Dge lugs. As the war came to an end, the tenth Karma pa returned to LHA SA where he established ties with the fifth Dalai Lama NGAG DBANG BLO BZANG RGYA MTSHO. The eleventh Karma pa Ye shes rdo rje and twelfth Karma pa Byang chub rdo rje lived relatively short lives, although the latter made an important journey through Nepal together with his disciple, the brilliant scholar and Sanskritist Si tu CHOS KYI 'BYUNG GNAS. The life of the thirteenth Karma pa Bdud 'dul rdo rje was, for the most part, lived outside the sphere of politics. He is remembered for his love of animals, to which he taught the dharma. Beginning during his lifetime and continuing into that of the fourteenth Karma pa Theg mchog rdo rje, there was a revival of Bka' brgyud doctrine in the eastern Tibetan province of Khams, as part of what has come to be called the RIS MED or non-sectarian movement. The fourteenth Karma pa's disciple, 'JAM MGON KONGS SPRUL BLO GROS MTHA' YAS, played a leading role. The fifteenth Karma pa Mkha' khyab rdo rje, a principal disciple of 'Jam mgon kongs sprul, was a prolific scholar. The sixteenth Karma pa RANG 'BYUNG RIG PA'I RDO RJE, like other lamas of his generation, saw the Communist Chinese occupation of Tibet, fleeing to India in 1959 and establishing an exile seat at Rumtek Monastery in Sikkim. He was the first Karma pa to visit the West. The seventeenth Karma pa O rgyan 'phrin las rdo rje was enthroned at Mtshur phu monastery on September 27, 1992. In late December 2000, he escaped into exile, establishing a residence in Dharamsala, India. Although his identification as the Karma pa has been disputed by a small number of followers of a rival candidate, O rgyan 'phrin las rdo rje is regarded as the seventeenth Karma pa by the majority of the Tibetan community, including the Dalai Lama.
Theravāda. (S. *Sthaviravāda/*Sthaviranikāya; T. Gnas brtan sde pa; C. Shangzuo bu; J. Jozabu; K. Sangjwa pu 上座部). In Pāli, "Way of the Elders" or "School of the Elders"; a designation traditionally used for monastic and textual lineages, and expanded in the modern period to refer to the dominant form of Buddhism of Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia, which is associated with study of the Pāli Buddhist canon (P. tipitaka; S. TRIPItAKA). The denotation of the term Theravāda is fraught with controversy. Buddhaghosa's commentaries to the four Pāli NIKĀYAs typically refer to himself and his colleagues as MAHĀVIHĀRAVĀSIN (lit. "Dweller in the Great Monastery"), the name of the then dominant religious order and ordination lineage in Sri Lanka; in his fifth-century commentary to the Pāli VINAYA, the SAMANTAPĀSĀDIKĀ, Buddhaghosa uses the term Theravāda, but in reference not to a separate school but to a lineage of elders going back to the first Buddhist council (see SAMGĪTI; COUNCIL, FIRST). According to some accounts, the term Theravāda is equivalent to the Sanskrit term *STHAVIRAVĀDA ("School of the Elders"), which is claimed to have been transmitted to Sri Lanka in the third century BCE. However, the term Sthaviravāda is not attested in any Indian source; attested forms (both very rare) include sthāvira or sthāvarīya ("followers of the elders"). In addition, the Tibetan and Sinographic renderings of the term both translate the Sanskrit term *STHAVIRANIKĀYA, suggesting again that Sthaviravāda or Theravāda was not the traditional designation of this school. By the eleventh century CE, what is today designated as the Theravāda became the dominant form of Buddhism in Sri Lanka, achieving a similar status in Burma in the same century, and in Cambodia, Thailand, and Laos by the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. As a term of self-designation for a major branch of Buddhism, Theravāda does not come into common use until the early twentieth century, with ĀNANDA METTEYYA playing a key role. In the nineteenth century, the Buddhism of Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia was typically referred to in the West as "Southern Buddhism," in distinction to the "Northern Buddhism" of Tibet and East Asia. (See, e.g., EUGÈNE BURNOUF and TAKAKUSU JUNJIRo, whose treatments of Pāli materials described them as belonging to the "Southern tradition.") With increased interest in Sanskrit MAHĀYĀNA texts and the rise of Japanese scholarship on Buddhism, the term "Southern Buddhism" began in some circles to be replaced by the term HĪNAYĀNA ("lesser vehicle"), despite that term's pejorative connotations. Perhaps in an effort to forestall this usage, Pāli scholars, including THOMAS W. RHYS DAVIDS (who often referred to Pāli Buddhism as "original Buddhism"), began referring to what had been known as "Southern Buddhism" as Theravāda. The term has since come to be adopted widely throughout Sri Lanka and Southeast Asia. "Theravāda" had often been mistakenly regarded as a synonym of "hīnayāna," when the latter term is used to designate the many non-Mahāyāna schools of Indian Buddhism. In fact, to the extent that the Theravāda is a remnant of the Sthaviranikāya, it represents just one of the several independent traditions of what many scholars now call MAINSTREAM BUDDHIST SCHOOLS. In the 1950s, the WORLD FELLOWSHIP OF BUDDHISTS adopted a formal resolution replacing the pejorative term hīnayāna with the designation Theravāda in descriptions of the non-Mahāyāna tradition. This suggestion was reasonable as a referent for the present state of Buddhism, since the only mainstream Buddhist school that survives in the contemporary world is Theravāda, but it is not historically accurate. Despite the way in which scholars have portrayed the tradition, Theravāda is neither synonymous with early Buddhism, nor a more pristine form of the religion prior to the rise of the Mahāyāna. Such a claim suggests a state of sectarian statis or inertia that belies the diversity over time of doctrine and practice within what comes to be called the Theravāda tradition. In fact, the redaction of Pāli scriptures postdates in many cases the redaction of much of Mahāyāna literature. Even conceding this late coinage of the term Theravāda, it should still be acknowledged that many South and Southeast Asian Buddhists who self-identify as Theravāda do in fact regard the Pāli tipitaka (S. TRIPItAKA) as representing an earlier and more authentic presentation of the word of the Buddha (BUDDHAVACANA) than that found in other contemporary Buddhist traditions, in much that same way that many North and Northeast Asian Mahāyāna Buddhists hold that certain sutras that most scholars identify as being of later date are authentically the teachings of the historical Buddha. Although Theravāda soteriological theory includes a path for the bodhisatta (S. BODHISATTVA), the bodhisattva is a much rarer sanctified figure here than in the Mahāyāna; the more common ideal being in Theravāda is instead the ARHAT. The difference between the Buddha and the arhat is also less pronounced in the Theravāda than in the Mahāyāna schools; in the Theravāda, the Buddha and the arhat achieve the same type of NIRVĀnA, the chief difference between them being that the Buddha finds the path to nirvāna independently, while the arhat achieves his or her enlightenment by following the path set forth by the Buddha. (For other distinctive beliefs of the Theravāda tradition, see STHAVIRANIKĀYA.)
thermidor ::: n. --> The eleventh month of the French republican calendar, -- commencing July 19, and ending August 17. See the Note under Vendemiaire.
Tiantai Zhiyi. (J. Tendai Chigi; K. Ch'ont'ae Chiŭi 天台智顗) (538-597). One of the most influential monks in Chinese Buddhist history and de facto founder of the TIANTAI ZONG. A native of Jingzhou (in present-day Hunan province), Zhiyi was ordained at the age of eighteen after his parents died during the wartime turmoil that preceded the Sui dynasty's unification of China. He studied VINAYA and various MAHĀYĀNA scriptures, including the SADDHARMAPUndARĪKASuTRA ("Lotus Sutra") and related scriptures. In 560, Zhiyi met NANYUE HUISI (515-577), who is later listed as the second patriarch of the Tiantai lineage, on Mt. Dasu in Guangzhou and studied Huisi's teachings on the suiziyi sanmei (cultivating SAMĀDHI wherever mind is directed, or the samādhi of freely flowing thoughts), the "four practices of ease and bliss" (si anle xing), a practice based on the Saddharmapundarīkasutra, and the lotus repentance ritual. Zhiyi left Huisi at his teacher's command and headed for the southern capital of Jinling (present-day Jiangsu province) at the age of thirty (567) to teach the Saddharmapundarīkasutra and the DAZHIDU LUN for eight years at the monastery of Waguansi. The Shi chanboluomi cidi famen [alt. Cidi chanmen] are his lecture notes from this period of meditation and teaching. In 575, he retired to Mt. Tiantai (present-day Zhejiang province), where he built a monastery (later named Xiuchansi by the emperor) and devoted himself to meditative practice for eleven years. During this time he compiled the Fajie cidi chumen and the Tiantai xiao zhiguan. After persistent invitations from the king of Chen, Zhiyi returned to Jinling in 585 and two years later wrote the FAHUA WENJU, an authoritative commentary on the Saddharmapundarīkasutra. Subsequently in Yangzhou, Zhiyi conferred the bodhisattva precepts on the crown prince, who later became Emperor Yang (r. 604-617) of the Sui dynasty. Zhiyi was then given the title Great Master Zhizhe (Wise One). Zhiyi also established another monastery on Mt. Dangyang in Yuquan (present-day Hunan province), which Emperor Wen (r. 581-604) later named Yuquansi. Zhiyi then began lecturing on what became his masterpieces, the FAHUA XUANYI (593) and the MOHE ZHIGUAN (594). At the request of the king of Jin, in 595 Zhiyi returned to Yangzhou, where he composed his famous commentaries on the VIMALAKĪRTINIRDEsA, i.e., the Weimojing xuanshou and the Weimojing wenshou, before dying in 597. Among the thirty or so works attributed to Zhiyi, the Fahua xuanyi, Fahuawenju, and Mohe zhiguan are most renowned and are together known as the Tiantai san dabu (three great Tiantai commentaries).
tristubh (tristup) ::: [a metre with four padas of eleven syllables each].
troubadour ::: n. --> One of a school of poets who flourished from the eleventh to the thirteenth century, principally in Provence, in the south of France, and also in the north of Italy. They invented, and especially cultivated, a kind of lyrical poetry characterized by intricacy of meter and rhyme, and usually of a romantic, amatory strain.
trouveur ::: n. --> One of a school of poets who flourished in Northern France from the eleventh to the fourteenth century.
Trungpa, Chogyam. (Chos rgyam Drung pa) (1939-1987). One of the most influential Tibetan teachers of the twentieth century in introducing Tibetan Buddhism to the West. Chogyam Trungpa (his name, Chos rgyam Drung pa, is an abbreviation of chos kyi rgya mtsho drung pa) was born in Khams in eastern Tibet and identified while still an infant as the eleventh incarnation of the Drung pa lama, an important lineage of teachers in the BKA' BRGYUD sect, and was enthroned as the abbot of Zur mang monastery. He was ordained as a novice monk at the age of eight and received instruction from some of the leading scholars of the Bka' brgyud and RNYING MA sects. In 1958, he received the degrees of skyor dpon and mkhan po, as well as BHIKsU ordination. After the Tibetan uprising against Chinese occupying forces in March 1959, he escaped across the Himalayas to India on horseback and on foot, accompanied by a group of monks. In 1963, he traveled to England to study at Oxford University. In 1967, he moved to Scotland, where he founded a Tibetan meditation center called Samye Ling. While there, he suffered permanent injury in a serious automobile accident and decided thereafter to give up his monastic vows and continue as a lay teacher of Buddhism. In 1969, he moved to the United States, where he established a meditation center in Vermont called Tail of the Tiger. Trungpa Rinpoche's extensive training in Tibetan Buddhism, his eclectic interests, and his facility in English combined to make him the first Tibetan lama (apart from the fourteenth DALAI LAMA) to reach a wide Western audience through his many books, including Born in Tibet (1966), Meditation in Action (1969), and Cutting Through Spiritual Materialism (1973). In 1974, he founded the Naropa Institute (now Naropa University) in Boulder, Colorado, a center devoted to the study of Buddhism, psychology, and the arts. He also developed a network of centers around the world called Dharmadhatus, as well as the Shambhala Training Program. He invited several important Tibetan lamas to the United States in the late 1970s and early 1980s, including DIL MGO MKHYEN BRTSE, BDUD 'JOMS RIN PO CHE, and the sixteenth KARMA PA. In 1986, he moved his headquarters to Halifax, Nova Scotia, and died there the following year.
twelfth ::: a. --> Next in order after the eleventh; coming after eleven others; -- the ordinal of twelve.
Consisting, or being one of, twelve equal parts into which anything is divided. ::: n. --> The quotient of a unit divided by twelve; one of twelve
twelve ::: a. --> One more that eleven; two and ten; twice six; a dozen. ::: n. --> The number next following eleven; the sum of ten and two, or of twice six; twelve units or objects; a dozen.
A symbol representing twelve units, as 12, or xii.
undecagon ::: n. --> A figure having eleven angles and eleven sides.
undecane ::: n. --> A liquid hydrocarbon, C11H24, of the methane series, found in petroleum; -- so called from its containing eleven carbon atoms in the molecule.
undecennary ::: a. --> Occurring once in every period of eleven years; undecennial.
undecennial ::: a. --> Occurring or observed every eleventh year; belonging to, or continuing, a period of eleven years; undecennary; as, an undecennial festival.
upeksā. (P. upekkhā; T. btang snyoms; C. she; J. sha; K. sa 捨). In Sanskrit, "equanimity," a term with at least four important denotations: (1) as a sensation of neutrality that is neither pleasurable nor painful; (2) as one of eleven virtuous mental concomitants (KUsALA-CAITTA), referring to a state of evenness of mind, without overt disturbance by sensuality, hatred, or ignorance; (3) as a state of mental balance during the course of developing concentration, which is free from lethargy and excitement; and (4) one of the four "divine abidings" (BRAHMAVIHĀRA), along with loving-kindness (MAITRĪ), compassion (KARUnĀ), and sympathetic joy (MUDITĀ). As a divine abiding, upeksā indicates an even-mindedness toward all beings, regarding them with neither attachment nor aversion, as neither intimate nor remote; in some descriptions of the four "divine abidings," there is the additional wish that all beings attain such equanimity. In the VISUDDHIMAGGA, equanimity is listed as one of the meditative topics for the cultivation of tranquillity meditation (samathābhāvanā; see S. sAMATHA). Of the four divine abidings, equanimity is capable of producing all four levels of meditative absorption (P. JHĀNA; S. DHYĀNA), while the other divine abidings are capable of producing only the first three of four. The text indicates that, along with the other three divine abidings, equanimity is used only for the cultivation of tranquillity, not for insight training (P. vipassanābhāvanā; see S. VIPAsYANĀ).
Uttaramulanikāya. A monastic fraternity in Sri Lanka, deriving from the ABHAYAGIRI sect. The main monastery of the group was the Uttarola VIHĀRA, built by King Mānavamma, and donated to the monks of the Abhayagiri Vihāra for having permitted his elder brother to be ordained, despite the fact that he had lost one eye and therefore would normally have been disqualified. The first head of the Uttarola monastery was the king's brother himself, whose duties included the supervision of the guardians of the TOOTH RELIC. The late-eleventh or early-twelfth century scholiast ANURUDDHA, author of the famous ABHIDHAMMA primer, ABHIDHAMMATTHASAnGAHA, describes himself in a colophon as an elder of the Uttaramulanikāya.
vaipulya. [alt. vaidalya] (cf. P. vedalla; T. shin tu rgyas pa; C. fangdeng; J. hodo; K. pangdŭng 方等). In Sanskrit, lit. "vast" or "extended," viz., "works of great extent"; a term that appears in the title of a number of MAHĀYĀNA sutras meant to indicate their profundity, comprehensiveness, and stereotypically great length. Such sutras will typically offer a more comprehensive overview of Buddhist thought and practice than shorter sutras that may have a single, or more circumscribed, message. The term is used to name one of the nine (NAVAnGA) (Pāli) or twelve (DVĀDAsĀnGA[PRAVACANA]) (Sanskrit) categories (AnGA) of Buddhist scripture according to their structure or literary style. As one of the nine categories of scriptures organized by type or style, vaipulya corresponds to the Pāli category of vedalla (S. vaidalya), which refers to such catechetical texts as the SAKKAPANHASUTTANTA or the SAMMĀDIttHISUTTA. In the twelve types of scripture used in Mahāyāna classifications, the vaipulyasutras are listed as the eleventh category and especially refer to scriptures of massive size. Mahāyāna sutras included in the vaipulya category include many of the seminal works of the tradition, including the PRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀ sutras, the RATNAKutASuTRA collection, and the AVATAMSAKASuTRA.
vajrayoga. (T. rdo rje rnal 'byor). In Sanskrit, "adamantine yoga"; a system of yogic practice associated with the KĀLACAKRATANTRA, as transmitted in Tibet by Gyi jo Lo tsā ba Zla ba'i 'od-zer, the tantra's earliest translator, during the eleventh century. It is counted as one of the "eight conveyances that are lineages of achievement" (sgrub brgyud shing rta chen po brgyad).
varsā. [alt. varsa, vārsika] (P. vassa; T. dbyar gnas; C. anju; J. ango; K. an'go 安居). In Sanskrit, "rains" and, by extension, "rains retreat"; a three-month period generally beginning the day after the full-moon day of the eighth lunar month (usually July) and concluding on the full moon of the eleventh lunar month (usually October), during which time monks are required to remain in residence in one place. According to tradition, the Buddha instructed monks to cease their peregrinations during the torrential monsoon period in order to prevent the killing of insects and worms while walking on muddy roads. However, the practice of observing a rains retreat was likely adopted from other mendicant sRAMAnA sects in ancient India at the time of the Buddha. The residences established for use during the rains retreat are called varsāvāsa or "rains abode," and the institution of the rains retreat (and the consequent need for more permanent shelter) probably led to the development of formal monasteries (VIHĀRA). During this three-month period, monks are expected to continue their studies and practice. They are not permitted to leave their monasteries except for essential tasks, and then for no more than seven nights. Occasions that permit the monk to be temporarily absent from his monastery include urgent personal matters, such as illness or death of one's parents; an invitation to preach the dharma; or the donation of a VIHĀRA or land or other property to the SAMGHA or an individual monk. If for any reason the residence requirement is not kept, the monk is not eligible to receive a robe donation (KAtHINA) at the end of the rains retreat. The varsā is an important chronological marker, with monastic seniority measured by the number of rain retreats one has completed. In Thailand, where it is customary for all males to be ordained as novices for at least a brief period of their lives, the three months of the rains retreat is often chosen as a particularly auspicious time to undertake this commitment. The end of the retreat is marked by the kathina, or "cloth" ceremony, in which laypeople present gifts to the monks, including cloth for new robes.
Vikramasīla. (T. Rnam gnon ngang tshul). A monastery and monastic university in the northern region of ancient MAGADHA, in the modern Bihar state of India, located along the Ganges River in the Bhagalpur District of Bihar, about 150 miles east of NĀLANDĀ. King Dharmapāla of the Pāla dynasty founded Vikramasīla between the late eighth and early ninth centuries and appointed his teacher, BuddhajNānapāda, to be abbot of the monastic university. Throughout its existence, leaders of the Pāla dynasty supported the teachers, students, and maintenance of the institution. There were six areas of religious study, supplemented by such secular subjects as grammar, metaphysics, and logic. The two monastic universities of Vikramasīla and Nālandā had a great deal of scholarly interaction, and, like Nālandā, Vikramasīla served as a model for Tibetan monasteries. There were more foreign students at Vikramasīla than at Nālandā, and the monastery is said to have been large enough to accommodate around ten thousand resident students, including specific dormitories for visiting Tibetan students. Vikramasīla also housed a substantial library, where texts were both stored and recopied by students and teachers. By the tenth century CE, Vikramasīla had outgrown even Nālandā, reaching its peak in the eleventh century, and offered a famous PRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀ curriculum. The monastery became the focus of tantric scholarship during this period, and pilgrims came to study from many regions of Asia. During the reign of King Nayapāla, in the eleventh century, ATIsA DĪPAMKARAsRĪJNĀNA was considered the greatest scholar at the monastery. Other famous scholars also taught there, including JITĀRI, JNĀNAsRĪMITRA, NĀROPA (briefly), and RATNĀKARAsĀNTI. Vikramasīla was attacked by Muslim armies between 1199 and 1203 CE. During the same period, ODANTAPURĪ was also attacked, and the surviving scholars and students were forced to flee. Many scholars escaped to Nepal and Tibet, saving many texts from their libraries. sĀKYAsRĪBHADRA was the last abbot of Vikramasīla, and also the last to flee to Tibet from the monastery, arriving in 1204.
Virupa. (Bi ru pa). Sanskrit proper name of one of the eighty-four MAHĀSIDDHAs, particularly revered in the SA SKYA sect of Tibetan Buddhism. Very little can be said with certainty about his life (whether he was a historical figure is open to question), but he may have lived at the end of the tenth century CE. He is said to have been a monk and a distinguished scholar of NĀLANDĀ monastery (in some sources, SOMAPURA), who was originally named Dharmapāla, devoting himself to scholastic study during the day and tantric practice at night. He recited the MANTRA of CAKRASAMVARA for years, but, unable to make any progress in his practice, he threw his rosary into the latrine. That night, the goddess NAIRĀTMYĀ, appeared to him in a dream, instructing him to retrieve his rosary. Over the course of six nights, she conferred initiations and instructions that allowed him to attain the sixth bodhisattva BHuMI. She also gave him a text, which is otherwise unknown in Sanskrit, whose Sanskrit title might be reconstructed as *Mārgaphalamulasāstra, the "Root Treatise on the Path and Its Fruition." Dharmapāla subsequently began to engage openly in tantric practices and was expelled from the monastery and branded "deformed" or "ugly" (virupa), whence he derived his name. Among the many stories told about him, perhaps the most famous tells of his stopping in a tavern to drink. When the tavern keeper demanded payment, he offered her the sun instead, using his ritual dagger to stop the sun in its course. The sun did not move for three days, during which time Virupa consumed huge amounts of drink. In order to set the sun on its course, the king agreed to pay his bill. Virupa eventually encountered two YOGINs who became his disciples: dombiheruka and Kṛsnacārin. In the eleventh century, the Tibetan scholar SA CHEN KUN DGA' SNYING PO of the 'Khon clan is said to have had a vision of Virupa in which he received transmission of the *Mārgaphalamulasāstra. This became the foundation for the LAM 'BRAS teachings of the Sa skya sect, where Virupa is regarded as a buddha, equal in importance to Nāropa for the BKA' RGYUD sect. His most famous work is his RDO RJE TSHIG RKANG ("Vajra Verses").
vīrya. (P. viriya; T. brtson 'grus; C. jingjin; J. shojin; K. chongjin 精進). In Sanskrit, "energy," "effort"; an enthusiasm to perform virtuous acts, which serves as the antidote to laziness. Since, by definition, the term refers to a delight in virtue, striving for nonvirtuous ends would not be considered "energy." The connotations of the term include the willingness to undertake virtuous deeds, the delight in the performance of virtuous deeds, a lack of discouragement, a commitment to success, and a dissatisfaction with minimal virtues. Deemed essential to progress on the path, vīrya is a constituent of many numerical lists. Vīrya is the second of the five spiritual faculties (INDRIYA) and counters the hindrance (NĪVARAnA) of sloth and torpor (STYĀNA-MIDDHA). It is counted as one of the eleven wholesome mental concomitants (KUsALA-CAITTA) and constitutes the fourth of the six perfections (PĀRAMITĀ).
Visuddhimagga. In Pāli, "Path of Purity"; the definitive Pāli compedium of Buddhist doctrine and practice, written by the exegete BUDDHAGHOSA at the MAHĀVIHĀRA in ANURĀDHAPURA, Sri Lanka, in the fifth century CE. The work serves as a prolegomenon to the soteriological content of the entire Pāli canon in terms of the three trainings in morality (P. sīla; S. sĪLA), concentration (SAMĀDHI), and wisdom (P. paNNā; S. PRAJNĀ). These are the "three trainings" (P. tisikkhā; S. TRIsIKsĀ) or "higher trainings" (P. adhisikkhā; S. adhisiksā). In his use of this organizing principle for his material, Buddhaghosa is clearly following Upatissa's earlier *VIMUTTIMAGGA, which is now extant only in a Chinese translation. Buddhaghosa had originally come to Sri Lanka from India in order to translate the Sinhalese commentaries (AttHAKATHĀ) to the Pāli canon back into the Pāli language. It is said that, in order to test his knowledge, the Mahāvihāra monks first gave him two verses and ordered him to write a commentary on them; the Visuddhimagga was the result. Legend has it that, after completing the treatise, the divinities hid the text so that he would be forced to rewrite it. After a third time, the divinities finally relented, and when all three copies were compared, they were found to be identical, testifying to the impeccability of Buddhaghosa's understanding of the doctrine. The commentaries that Buddhaghosa was then allowed to edit and translate make numerous references to the Visuddhimagga. The text contains a total of twenty-three chapters: two chapters on precepts, eleven on meditation, and ten on wisdom. In its encyclopedic breadth, it is the closest equivalent in Pāli to the ABHIDHARMAMAHĀVIBHĀsĀ of the SARVĀSTIVĀDA school of ABHIDHARMA. The post-fifth century CE exegete DHAMMAPĀLA wrote a Pāli commentary to the Visuddhimagga titled the PARAMATTHAMANJuSĀ ("Container of Ultimate Truth"), which is also often referred to in the literature as the "Great Subcommentary" (Mahātīkā).
Wat Phu. [alt. Wat Phou; Vat Phu]. In Lao, "Mountain Monastery"; an important Khmer monastery complex located in Champassak province on the Mekong River in southern Laos. The first monastery was probably constructed in the fifth century CE, although the surviving structures (now largely in ruins) date from the eleventh through the thirteenth centuries. Originally a saiva temple, the ruins contain a shrine to siva's bull Nandin, as well as pediments depicting INDRA, Kṛsnā, and Visnu. The temple complex was converted to Buddhist use in the thirteenth century, with Buddhist images added to many of the shrines. In 2001, the site was designated a UNESCO World Heritage Site.
Wesak. (S. Vaisākha; P. Vesākha; T. Sa ga zla ba). A modern rendering of Vesākha, the Pāli name for the fourth lunar month of the traditional Indian calendar (thus corresponding to April-May in the solar calendar); by extension, the term refers to the important event(s) in the life of the Buddha that occurred during that month and to their annual commemoration. According to the THERAVĀDA and Tibetan traditions, it was on the full moon of the fourth lunar month that the Buddha was born, was enlightened, and passed into PARINIRVĀnA. This date is therefore the most important in the Buddhist calendar of many traditions. Wesak is widely celebrated across much of the Buddhist world, but especially in Southeast Asia, where it is considered an especially important time to perform meritorious deeds. According to many East Asian traditions, the full moon of the fourth lunar month marks only the date of the Buddha's birth, with his enlightenment and passage into PARINIRVĀnA occurring in the twelfth and eleventh lunar months, respectively; Wesak is therefore not nearly as important in the East Asian calendar as it is in Southeast Asia and Tibet.
“With regard to the origin of Rudra, it is stated in several Puranas that his (spiritual) progeny, created in him by Brahma, was not confined to either the seven Kumaras or the eleven Rudras, etc., but ‘comprehends infinite numbers of beings in person and equipments like their (virgin) father. Alarmed at their fierceness, numbers, and immortality, Brahma desires his son Rudra to form creatures of a different and mortal nature.’ Rudra refusing to create, desists, etc., hence Rudra is the first rebel” (SD 2:613n).
Wolchongsa. (月精寺). In Korean, "Lunar Essence Monastery"; the fourth district monastery (PONSA) of the contemporary CHOGYE CHONG of Korean Buddhism, located on Odaesan (see WUTAISHAN) in Kangwon province. The monastery's history is closely linked to the VINAYA master CHAJANG (fl. c. 590-658). While Chajang was on pilgrimage at Wutaishan in China, he came across a mysterious old monk who interpreted a prophetic dream he had had and gave him relics (K. sari; S. sARĪRA) of the buddha to take back to Korea with him. Seven days later, a dragon told him to return to Odaesan in Korea to build a monastery; in 643, Chajang arrived at Odaesan, where he eventually constructed Wolchongsa. Wolchongsa's main shrine hall, Chokkwang chon (Calm Radiance Hall), enshrines an image of sĀKYAMUNI as well as a mysterious statue that was found in the diamond pond south of the monastery. This statue, delicately carved in a style common to the eleventh century, is believed to be of BHAIsAJYAGURU. In front of the main hall is a nine-story octagonal pagoda, fifty feet (15.2 meters) high, that was constructed in the tenth century. Skillfully carved and multiangled, it is representative of Koryo-era STuPAs. In front of the stupa is a seated BODHISATTVA, perhaps MANJUsRĪ, making an offering. The statue has been carved with detailed attention to ornamental accessories and clothing. The Chongmyol pogung (Precious Basilica of Calm Extinction) houses the relics of the Buddha that Chajang brought back to Korea and is one of four major shrine halls in Korea that does not enshrine a buddha image (the relics take the place of an image). One of Wolchongsa's most famous residents during the twentieth century was the monk HANAM CHUNGWoN (1876-1951), who helped save some of its buildings from soldiers who had been ordered to burn them down during the Korean War (seventeen buildings were unfortunately burned and had to be reconstructed). Sangwonsa, one of Wolchongsa's branch monasteries (MALSA), is famous among Korean monasteries for its spectacular scenery and is a popular tourist stop.
xingju shuo. (J. shogusetsu; K. songgu sol 性具説). In Chinese, the "nature-replete theory"; also known as liju sanqian, or "principle is replete with the trichiliocosm (TRISĀHASRAMAHĀSĀHASRALOKADHĀTU)." According to TIANTAI doctrine, everything within the three realms of existence (TRAIDHĀTUKA) is all contained within the original nature of all sentient beings. This theory is said to be based on TIANTAI ZHIYI's notion of YINIAN SANQIAN, or "the trichiliocosm in a single thought." During the SHANJIA SHANWAI debate of the eleventh-century Tiantai community, the xingju theory came to connote the trichiliocosm that was replete within myriad phenomena and was distinguished from the HUAYAN doctrine of XINGQI.
Yangqi pai. (J. Yogiha; K. Yanggi p'a 楊岐派). One of the two major branches of the LINJI ZONG of the CHAN school, which is listed among the five houses and seven schools (WU JIA QI ZONG) of the mature Chinese Chan tradition. The school is named after its founder, YANGQI FANGHUI (995-1049), who taught at Mt. Yangqi in what is now Yuanzhou province. Yangqi was a disciple of Shishuang Chuyuan (986-1039), a sixth-generation successor in the Linji school, who also taught HUANGLONG HUINAN (1002-1069), the founder of the HUANGLONG PAI sublineage of the Linji school. The Yangqi lineage flourished under its third-generation successors, Fojian Huiqin (1059-1117), Foyan Qingyuan (1067-1120), and YUANWU KEQIN (1063-1135), who promoted it among the literati, and it became one of the dominant schools of Song-dynasty Buddhism thanks to the decisive role played by Yuanwu's disciple DAHUI ZONGGAO (1089-1163). It was especially within this lineage that the meditative technique of the Chan of investigating the meditative topic or questioning meditation (KANHUA CHAN) flourished. The Yangqi masters took a different approach to GONG'AN (public case) training, criticizing "lettered Chan" (WENZI CHAN), a style of Chan developed by Yunmen and Huanglong masters, which gained popularity among the literati officials in the Northern Song period with its polished language and elegant verse explanations of the meaning of the gong'an. Dahui in particular presented the gong'an as a meditative tool for realizing one's innate enlightenment, not to demonstrate one's talent in clever repartee or one's literary prowess; at the same time, he critiqued the approaches of rival Chan schools, criticizing such Huanglong masters as JUEFAN HUIHONG (1071-1128) for clinging to intellectual and literary endeavors and such CAODONG ZONG masters as HONGZHI ZHENGJUE (1091-1157) for clinging to tranquillity and simply waiting for one's innate enlightenment to manifest itself. The school also produced many gong'an collections, including the BIYANLU ("Blue Cliff Record"), complied by Yuanwu Keqin, and the WUMEN GUAN ("Gateless Checkpoint"), compiled by the seventh-generation successor WUMEN HUIKAI (1183-1260). The Yangqi lineage was formally introduced to Korea by T'AEGO POU (1301-1382), who studied with the eleventh-generation Yangqi teacher Shiwu Qinggong (1272-1352); some modern Korean monks and scholars argue that the contemporary Korean Son tradition should be traced back to T'aego and his Yangqi lineage, rather than to POJO CHINUL (1158-1210). The Yangqi school reached Japan in the thirteenth century through pilgrim monks, including Shunjo (1166-1227), who studied with the Yangqi teacher Meng'an Yuancong (1126-1209), and NANPO JoMYo (1235-1309), better known by his imperially bestowed title Entsu Daio Kokushi ("state preceptor," see GUOSHI), who studied with the ninth-generation teacher XUTANG ZHIYU (1185-1269). All Linji lineages in contemporary Japan are affiliated with the Yangqi pai.
Yogabhāvanāmārga. [alt. Bhāvanāyogamārga; Yogabhāvanāpatha] (T. Rnal 'byor bsgom pa'i lam). In Sanskrit, "Path of Yogic Cultivation"; a work on the BODHISATTVA path usually attributed to the eighth-century Indian master JNānagarbha, who is known as the teacher of sĀNTARAKsITA (c. 725-788) and a disciple of srīgupta. It is presumed that the Yogabhāvanāmārga is an example of the later MADHYAMAKA school's attention to the theme of the stages of meditative cultivation (BHĀVANĀ), as best exemplified by KAMALAsĪLA's three BHĀVANĀKRAMAs. There are two JNānagarbhas known to the tradition, one from the early ninth century and the other from the eleventh century. Some scholars suggest that the commentary to the Maitreya chapter of the SAMDHINIRMOCANASuTRA should be attributed to the first JNānagarbha, while authorship of the Yogabhāvanāmārga should be ascribed to the second. The Yogabhāvanāmārga, along with JNānagarbha's two other works, the Satyadvayavibhanga ("Analysis of the Two Truths") and its autocommentary Satyadvayavibhangavṛtti ("Commentary on Analysis of the Two Truths"), are only extant in Tibetan translation.
Yunjusi. (雲居寺). In Chinese, "Cloud Dwelling Monastery"; monastery that is the home of the FANGSHAN SHIJING (stone scriptures). The monk Jingwan (?-639) allegedly founded this monastery in 631, but a stone inscription dated to 669 is the earliest written record of its existence. The monastery was also known as Xiyusi (Western Valley or Western Region Monastery), and in the seventh-century Mingbaoji ("Records of Miraculous Retribution") it is called Zhichuansi (Fount of Wisdom Monastery). On the nearby hill of Shijingshan (Stone Scriptures Hill) just to the east of Yunjusi, nine cave libraries stored the Fangshan lithic canon: its total of 14,278 lithic blocks of 1,122 Buddhist scriptures represent textual lineages that derive from recensions that circulated during the Tang and Khitan Liao dynasties. The carving of the lithic scriptures started during the Sui dynasty under the monk Jingwan with the support of Empress Xiao (r. 604-617), and continued through the late Ming dynasty. The monastery itself is famous for its pagodas, which were closely associated with the engraving of the lithographs. Seven stone pagodas date from the Tang, of which the single-story one at the top of Stone Scriptures Hill, with an inscription dated to 898, is noted for both its architecture and carved decorations. Two of the five pagodas from the Liao are especially significant. Built in 1117, the octagonal Southern Pagoda has eleven stories and pointed eaves and includes a depository of Buddhist scriptures beneath it. The Northern Pagoda is uniquely shaped: the bottom half is octagonal with bracketed eaves and carved niches, while the upper half is cone-shaped and decorated with nine circular bands. Its surface is decorated with more than thirty groups of brick reliefs depicting scenes of dancing and singing, the most interesting example of which is a goddess strumming a three-stringed instrument, one of the rare extant examples for the study of Liao musical culture. The Northern Pagoda is surrounded by smaller stone pagodas dating from the Tang dynasty, several of which resemble the Xiaoyanta (Small Wild Goose Pagoda; see DACI'ENSI) in the ancient Chinese capital of Chang'an (modern Xi'an).
Yunmen zong. ( J. Unmonshu; K. Unmun chong 雲門宗). In Chinese, "Cloud Gate school"; one of the so-called five houses and seven schools (WU JIA QI ZONG) of the mature Chinese CHAN tradition. It is named after the mountain, located in Shaozhou (present-day Guangdong province), where its founder YUNMEN WENYAN (864-949) taught. Yunmen Wenyan was famous for his "one-word barriers" or "one-word checkpoints" (YIZI GUAN), in which he responded to his students' questions by using only a single word. The school became one of the dominant Chan traditions in the Five Dynasties (Wudai) and early Song dynasty, producing such prominent masters as DONGSHAN SHOUCHU (910-990), Dongshan Xiaocong (d. 1030), XUEDOU ZHONGXIAN (980-1052), and Tianyi Yihuai (992-1064). Yunmen masters played a major role in the development of classical Chan literature. Xuedou Zhongxian's earlier collection of one hundred old cases (guce, viz., GONG'AN), known as the Xuedou songgu, served as the basis for the famous BIYAN LU ("Blue Cliff Record"), which added the extensive commentaries and annotations of the Linji master YUANWU KEQIN (1063-1135) to Zhongxian's original compilation. Several Yunmen masters were closely associated with the Song-dynasty intelligentsia. Dajue Huailian (1009-1090), for example, was as personal friend of the Song literocrat (shidafu) and poet Su Shi (1036-1101). Fori Qichong (1007-1072) asserted the fundamental harmony of Confucianism and Buddhism, explaining Confucian philosophical concepts using Buddhist terminology. CHANGLU ZONGZE (fl. c. late eleventh to early twelfth century) institutionalized the practice of reciting the name of the Buddha (NIANFO) into the routine of Chan monastic life and wrote an influential text on Chan monastic regulations or "rules of purity" (QINGGUI), the CHANYUAN QINGGUI ("Pure Rules for the Chan Grove"). The Yunmen school survived for about two centuries before it was eventually absorbed into the LINJI ZONG.
zhi byed. (shije). In Tibetan, lit. "pacification"; a Tibetan Buddhist tradition of meditation practice traced back to the eleventh-century Indian adept PHA DAM PA SANGS RGYAS, who for many years taught at the small temple of GLANG SKOR, near Ding ri in western Tibet. The name derives from the goal of the practice, which is the "pacification" of all suffering, transforming negative states into positive states through the practice of the six perfections (PĀRAMITĀ), especially the perfection of wisdom (PRAJNĀPĀRAMITĀ). The practice is also said to extend one's life. Together with the related tradition of GCOD, or "severance," promulgated by Pha dam pa sangs rgyas's female disciple MA GCIG LAB SGRON, pacification is frequently counted as one of eight major streams of Buddhist practice found in Tibet, the so-called eight great conveyances that are lineages of achievement (SGRUB BRGYUD SHING RTA CHEN PO BRGYAD). Unlike the tradition of severance, however, the practice of pacification as a unique system had largely died out by the nineteenth century, when great Tibetan scholars of the nonsectarian (RIS MED) movement attempted to preserve its transmission.
KEYS (10k)
1 Kenneth Grant
1 - Chuck Klosterman
NEW FULL DB (2.4M)
22 Anonymous
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9 Bill Bryson
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7 Markus Zusak
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1:Art and love are the same thing: It's the process of seeing yourself in things that are not you." ~ - Chuck Klosterman, (born 1972) American author and essayist, author of eleven books, including two novels, Wikipedia., #KEYS
2:The number 11, according to Crowley, is "the general Number of Magick, or Energy tending towards Change". The change is precisely the transition from one dimension to another signalized by the changing colors of the Shining Ones as they pass through the gateway of death to reappear in another dimension. The death of Osiris symbolizes the change. Furthermore eleven denotes the One behind the Ten. ~ Kenneth Grant, Outer Gateways, #KEYS
*** WISDOM TROVE ***
1:eleven months. now she's gone gone as they go. ~ charles-bukowski, @wisdomtrove 2:What can be done when you’re eleven can often never be done again. ~ stephen-king, @wisdomtrove 3:I just downloaded eleven hundred books onto my Kindle, and now I can't lift it. ~ steve-martin, @wisdomtrove 4:I made my first investment at age eleven. I was wasting my life up until then. ~ warren-buffet, @wisdomtrove 5:The man in the coon skin cap in the pig pen wants eleven dollar bills, you've only got ten. ~ bob-dylan, @wisdomtrove 6:Who goes on vacation without a job? What do you need a break from getting up at eleven? ~ jerry-seinfeld, @wisdomtrove 7:It is appalling that the most segregated hour of Christian America is eleven o'clock on Sunday morning. ~ martin-luther-king, @wisdomtrove 8:Alcohol enables Parliament to do things at eleven at night that no sane person would do at eleven in the morning. ~ george-bernard-shaw, @wisdomtrove 9:When a man sells eleven ounces for twelve, he makes a compact with the devil, and sells himself for the value of an ounce. ~ henry-ward-beecher, @wisdomtrove 10:When late morning rolls around and you're feeling a bit out of sorts, don't worry; you're probably just a little eleven o'clockish. ~ a-a-milne, @wisdomtrove 11:I'm eighty-three and I've been smoking since I was eleven. I'm suing the cigarette company because it promised to kill me and it hasn't. ~ kurt-vonnegut, @wisdomtrove 12:Tell the innocent visitor from another world that two people were killed at Serajevo, and that the best that Europe could do about it was to kill eleven million more. ~ a-a-milne, @wisdomtrove 13:One hundred religious persons knit into a unity by careful organizations do not constitute a church any more than eleven dead men make a football team. The first requisite is life, always. ~ aiden-wilson-tozer, @wisdomtrove 14:Motivation is a mystery.Why does one salesperson see his first prospect at seven in the morning and another salesperson is just getting out of bed at eleven?I don't know.It's part of the mysteries of life. ~ jim-rohn, @wisdomtrove 15:Somewhere between the ages of eleven and fifteen, the average child begins to suffer from an atrophy, the paralysis of curiosity and the suspension of the power to observe. The trouble, I should judge, to lie with the schools. ~ thomas-edison, @wisdomtrove 16:The longest and most destructive party ever held is now into its fourth generation and still no one shows any signs of leaving. Somebody did once look at his watch, but that was eleven years ago now, and there has been no follow up. ~ douglas-adams, @wisdomtrove 17:Each time I write a book, every time I face that yellow pad, the challenge is so great. I have written eleven books, but each time I think, ‘Uh oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody and they’re going to find me out. ~ maya-angelou, @wisdomtrove 18:may i be i is the only prayer& 19:Gentlemen, Chicolini here may talk like an idiot, and look like an idiot, but don't let that fool you: he really is an idiot. I implore you, send him back to his father and brothers, who are waiting for him with open arms in the penitentiary. I suggest that we give him ten years in Leavenworth, or eleven years in Twelveworth. ~ groucho-marx, @wisdomtrove 20:Unfortunately, most of the major denominations still practice segregation in local churches, hospitals, schools, and other church institutions. It is appalling that the most segregated hour of Christian America is eleven o'clock on Sunday morning, the same hour when many are standing to sing: "In Christ There Is No East Nor West. ~ martin-luther-king, @wisdomtrove 21:When grown people speak of the innocence of children, they don't really know what they mean. Pressed, they will go a step further and say, Well, ignorance then. The child is neither. There is no crime which a boy of eleven had not envisaged long ago. His only innocence is, he may not yet be old enough to desire the fruits of it ... his ignorance is, he does not know how to commit it. ~ william-faulkner, @wisdomtrove 22:My passions are all asleep from my having slumbered till nearly eleven and weakened the animal fiber all over me to a delightful sensation about three degrees on this sight of faintness - if I had teeth of pearl and the breath of lilies I should call it languor - but as I am I must call it laziness. In this state of effeminacy the fibers of the brain are relaxed in common with the rest of the body, and to such a happy degree that pleasure has no show of enticement and pain no unbearable frown. Neither poetry, nor ambition, nor love have any alertness of countenance as they pass by me. ~ john-keats, @wisdomtrove *** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***
1:At a quarter to eleven, ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
2:One and one is eleven. ~ Frank Zappa, #NFDB
3:P.S. Be eleven. ~ Rita Williams Garcia, #NFDB
4:He felt old at eleven. Amy ~ Gordon Korman, #NFDB
5:have to do eleven things tonight, ~ John Green, #NFDB
6:I'm the one twice over I'm the new eleven ~ Drake, #NFDB
7:Ten minutes, good, past eleven. ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
8:Fall ten times, stand up eleven. ~ Shannon L Alder, #NFDB
9:When I was eleven, I just got good. ~ Bobby Fischer, #NFDB
10:I liked the bit about quarter to eleven. ~ Erik Satie, #NFDB
11:It was eleven more than neccessary. ~ Jacques Anquetil, #NFDB
12:School should be eleven months of the year. ~ Nikki Giovanni, #NFDB
13:How long was I in the Army? Five foot eleven. ~ Spike Milligan, #NFDB
14:How long was I in the army? Five foot eleven. ~ Spike Milligan, #NFDB
15:Measured my ‘thing’. It was eleven centimetres. ~ Sue Townsend, #NFDB
16:Dr. Eleven, Vol. 1, No. 1: Station Eleven ~ Emily St John Mandel, #NFDB
17:How many times do you get to be 35?
Eleven ~ Stephen Sondheim,#NFDB
18:eleven months. now she's gone gone as they go. ~ Charles Bukowski, #NFDB
19:Never mind being afraid of eleven right now. ~ Patricia Reilly Giff, #NFDB
20:Possession, they say, is eleven points of the law. ~ Jonathan Swift, #NFDB
21:I need eleven hours of sleep so I won’t be cranky. ~ Ann Christopher, #NFDB
22:So who turned up the volume of ignorance up to eleven? ~ Garth Ennis, #NFDB
23:The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars. ~ Anne Sexton, #NFDB
24:On a scale of one to ten, I would rate Elvis eleven. ~ Sammy Davis Jr, #NFDB
25:At the age of eleven, I owned a slave I couldn’t free.O ~ Sue Monk Kidd, #NFDB
26:Eleven Nobel laureates are not going to win the FA Cup. ~ Alex Ferguson, #NFDB
27:Hi People! ILOVE ELEVEN BIRTHDAYS AND A MANGO SHAPED SPACE ~ Wendy Mass, #NFDB
28:O monstrous! eleven buckram men grown out of two! ~ William Shakespeare, #NFDB
29:Remember, your body is a temple, not a 7-Eleven. ~ Jennifer Love Hewitt, #NFDB
30:Mamma loves morals,” she said, at eleven, “Papa loves cats. ~ Andrew Levy, #NFDB
31:My suck was losing my best friend to an eleven year old. ~ Colleen Hoover, #NFDB
32:eleven months.
now she's gone
gone as they go. ~ Charles Bukowski,#NFDB
33:How do I stop eleven million people from buying the grape? ~ Dolores Huerta, #NFDB
34:I think that’s as close to love as eleven-year-olds can get. ~ Markus Zusak, #NFDB
35:I'd known since about eleven that I wanted to live in America. ~ Iggy Azalea, #NFDB
36:An eleven-year-old girl is many things, but she is not stupid. ~ Markus Zusak, #NFDB
37:Though she was only eleven she was something to look at twice. ~ James M Cain, #NFDB
38:Eleven pages— this is a letter! Have courage. I'm going to stop. ~ Jean Webster, #NFDB
39:Show me a ten-foot wall and I'll show you an eleven-foot ladder ~ Peter Bevelin, #NFDB
40:There are a lot of slutty girls in Canada. Eleven-year-old sluts. ~ Michael Cera, #NFDB
41:What can be done when you’re eleven can often never be done again. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
42:You,” Lady Blackstone finally said, “are not eleven years old. ~ Kristi Ann Hunter, #NFDB
43:restless and walked down to the harbour. It was about eleven at night ~ John Fowles, #NFDB
44:You've got bad eating habits if you use a grocery cart in 7-Eleven. ~ Dennis Miller, #NFDB
45:Eleven Benevolent Elephants. Yeah! Say that five times real fast. ~ Donald Allen Kirch, #NFDB
46:The brain works best between half past six and eleven. After that it’s mush, ~ Jo Nesb, #NFDB
47:We should easily be home by eleven. Unless, of course, we were dead. ~ Suzanne Johnson, #NFDB
48:He had even brought drinks for us. Lemonade. Because we were eleven. ~ Jessica Gadziala, #NFDB
49:Like there's actually a need for Greenland. You can get ice at 7-Eleven. ~ Steve Kluger, #NFDB
50:I met Albus Dumbledore at the age of eleven, on our first day at Hogwarts. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
51:Eleven years today, we were in Vegas. It’s still the best day of my life. ~ Jamie McGuire, #NFDB
52:My room was only eleven floors above Rosie's, so I walked up the stairs. ~ Graeme Simsion, #NFDB
53:Eleven-year-old paranoia was powerful. Eleven-year-old relief was euphoric. ~ Markus Zusak, #NFDB
54:On a scale from one to ten, the Pack was eleven and everything else a one. ~ Ilona Andrews, #NFDB
55:Eleven on a scale of ten, honey, let me introduce you to my redneck friend. ~ Jackson Browne, #NFDB
56:I'm a creature of the night for God's sake And she wants me home by eleven? ~ Heather Brewer, #NFDB
57:You can see eleven stars appear over the horizon if you don't look for more. ~ Emily Fridlund, #NFDB
58:I just downloaded eleven hundred books onto my Kindle, and now I can’t lift it. ~ Steve Martin, #NFDB
59:I looked up 'standard' in the dictionary. There are eleven different definitions. ~ Dave Winer, #NFDB
60:I made my first investment at age eleven. I was wasting my life up until then. ~ Warren Buffett, #NFDB
61:At quarter past eleven on that momentous night, the storm breathed its last gasp. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
62:You were his second-in-command, Dr. Eleven. In his absence, you must lead. ~ Emily St John Mandel, #NFDB
63:Eleven kids from three wives, may no harm come to them, is nothing to sneeze at! ~ Sholom Aleichem, #NFDB
64:My daughter wanted a new pair of trainers. I told her You're eleven, make your own! ~ Jeremy Hardy, #NFDB
65:Well, I grew up between Holland and Israel and then moved to France when I was eleven. ~ Keren Ann, #NFDB
66:I’m thirteen—and a half.” He looks at me suspiciously. “Weren’t you eleven last ~ Regina Calcaterra, #NFDB
67:Justin Beiber. I was eleven.”
“Figures.” He snorted.
“Why?”
“He’s not Elven. ~ Amy Patrick,#NFDB
68:You cannot go to a 7-Eleven or a Dunkin' Donuts unless you have a slight Indian accent. ~ Joe Biden, #NFDB
69:The imagined community of millions seems more real as a team of eleven named people. ~ Eric Hobsbawm, #NFDB
70:When I was eleven, I got cast in the last directorial project of Christopher Reeve. ~ Vanessa Marano, #NFDB
71:If you gave Arsene Wenger eleven players and told him to pick his team, this would be it. ~ Andy Gray, #NFDB
72:I had a lot of energy when I was eleven and always liked being in front of a camera. ~ Brendan Dooling, #NFDB
73:All men are forced into one of two categories: those with eleven fingers and those without. ~ Ned Rorem, #NFDB
74:Apprehend. Be humble in the face of the universe. Do good. Eleven words. Three rules. ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
75:The man in the coon skin cap in the pig pen wants eleven dollar bills, you've only got ten. ~ Bob Dylan, #NFDB
76:we consider cats to be middle aged at seven to eleven years old, and geriatric thereafter. ~ Amy Shojai, #NFDB
77:I haven't had a fight since I was eleven. I only won that because she had an asthma attack. ~ John Wayne, #NFDB
78:I was eleven years old with menarche barreling down on me like a speeding bloodmobile. ~ Chuck Palahniuk, #NFDB
79:Kiss the kids, and then you and I can celebrate eleven years of in-your-face-we-made-it. ~ Jamie McGuire, #NFDB
80:My eleven year old daughter mopes around the house all day waiting for her breasts to grow. ~ Bill Cosby, #NFDB
81:trained no fewer than eleven Nobel Prize winners during his life, an unsurpassed record. ~ Richard Rhodes, #NFDB
82:I believed by age eleven that I was horribly ugly and undeserving of human companionship. ~ Stacy Pershall, #NFDB
83:Even at eleven he had observed that things turned out right a ridiculous amount of the time. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
84:Even at eleven, he had observed that things turned out right a ridiculous amount of the time. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
85:I was eleven, then I was sixteen. Though no honors came my way, those were the lovely years. ~ Truman Capote, #NFDB
86:Five hours sleepeth a traveller, seven a scholar, eight a merchant, and eleven every knave.' So ~ Ruskin Bond, #NFDB
87:I was eleven and I wanted to play it because it was in my blood. It was a feeling I couldn't deny ~ Lita Ford, #NFDB
88:Life moves very fast. It rushes us from heaven to hell in a matter of second." -Eleven Minutes ~ Paulo Coelho, #NFDB
89:An eleven-year-old girl sitting on this fire escape could imagine that she was living in a tree. ~ Betty Smith, #NFDB
90:The heart of childhood, from seven to eleven, is the critical period for bonding with the earth. ~ David Sobel, #NFDB
91:I have been wounded altogether twenty times; eleven of these wounds were received at Northfield. ~ Cole Younger, #NFDB
92:I was eleven, then I was sixteen. Though no honors came my way, those were the lovely years. ~ Bernard M Baruch, #NFDB
93:Words are so heavy, she thought, but as the night wore on, she was able to complete eleven pages ~ Markus Zusak, #NFDB
94:Cricket is the only game where you are playing against eleven of the other side and ten of your own. ~ G H Hardy, #NFDB
95:Overall, the United States admits to having lost track of eleven nuclear bombs over the years. I ~ Rachel Maddow, #NFDB
96:In January of 1882, a group of eleven Rosetans—ten men and one boy—set sail for New York. They ~ Malcolm Gladwell, #NFDB
97:…because I was only eleven years old, I was wrapped in the best cloak of invisibility in the world. ~ Alan Bradley, #NFDB
98:eleven hundred defenceless prisoners of both sexes and all ages had been killed by the populace; ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
99:For three more days, Tommy and I loved each other as well as any two eleven-year-olds could. ~ Susan Gregg Gilmore, #NFDB
100:Halloa!" the guard replied. "What o'clock do you make it, Joe?" "Ten minutes, good, past eleven. ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
101:I got a divorce eleven years later on the grounds of cruelty, which is still not easy in England. ~ Dinah Sheridan, #NFDB
102:Football is a fertility festival. Eleven sperm trying to get into the egg. I feel sorry for the goalkeeper. ~ Bjork, #NFDB
103:I had rather eleven died nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. ~ William Shakespeare, #NFDB
104:post-apocalyptic novel Station Eleven asks that question, then it asks another: What would you then try ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
105:She doesn't understand the concept of Roman numerals. She thought we just fought in world war eleven. ~ Joan Rivers, #NFDB
106:We were of thirteen minds, like a tree, in which there is one Red-tail and eleven squirrel parts. ~ Cameron Conaway, #NFDB
107:Work your way on to number twelve,” she snapped. “Number eleven wants nothing more to do with you. ~ Courtney Milan, #NFDB
108:I stopped going out and taking pills and I started hanging out and learning about flat eleven chords. ~ Jamie Lidell, #NFDB
109:I finished the recordings I had started with Eleven. Matt Cameron joined for the rest of those sessions. ~ Jack Irons, #NFDB
110:It's going to be a long, lonesome eleven months in Iraq, long and lonesome being the best-case scenario ~ Ben Fountain, #NFDB
111:I began both auditioning with Pearl Jam and recording for Eleven. In the fall of 1994, I joined Pearl Jam. ~ Jack Irons, #NFDB
112:I love you I love you I love you. Do you actually know I've only danced with you twice in eleven months? ~ J D Salinger, #NFDB
113:Eleven growers from Colorado to Germany have jumped at the chance to bid on pot farming licenses in Uruguay. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
114:The ten hottest years in the atmospheric record, going back only 160 years, have been in the last eleven years. ~ Al Gore, #NFDB
115:If a penny can bring luck and a dime can grant a wish, how come my eleven cents hasn’t bought me what I need. ~ Kasie West, #NFDB
116:Just then one of the eleven silent men got to his feet, folding his newspaper into quarters as he did so, ~ Eleanor Catton, #NFDB
117:And the winner of the drawing that night was an eleven-year-old black girl named Dorothy Daffodil-7 Garland. ~ Kurt Vonnegut, #NFDB
118:Energy has a way of dissipating, you know; what can be done when you're eleven can often never be done again. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
119:If you had been on that jury, son, and eleven other boys like you, Tom would have been a free man..." (Lee 251) ~ Harper Lee, #NFDB
120:The grill-room clock struck eleven with the respectful unobtrusiveness of one whose mission in life is to be ignored. ~ Saki, #NFDB
121:In Eleven Minutes, I started with the question of why sexuality is considered one of the major issues in life. ~ Paulo Coelho, #NFDB
122:inside the elevator. The door closed and the elevator went down, to a heavily fortified floor eleven stories below ~ Ben Coes, #NFDB
123:I wonder, now — yes, why not — unusual combination — holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
124:We’ve got plenty of eleven o’clock services and not enough 12:15 action. We need pews that reach into the street. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
125:It is appalling that the most segregated hour of Christian America is eleven o'clock on Sunday morning. ~ Martin Luther King Jr, #NFDB
126:How old are you, really?” I asked. “Eleven.” I thought for a bit. Then I asked, “How long have you been eleven for? ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
127:Bakers of bread rolls and pastry cooks will not buy grain before eleven o'clock in winter and noon in summer. ~ Cardinal Richelieu, #NFDB
128:The Baron, unfortunately, turns it all the way up to eleven."
"Seriously? Because, you know, that's one more evil ~ Derek Landy,#NFDB
129:You never feel so grown up as when you are eleven, and never so young and unsure as when you are forty. That ~ Catherynne M Valente, #NFDB
130:Betrayed by Judas, denied by Peter, abandoned by the eleven, forsaken by God. Darkness, you get one hour. Then you die. ~ John Piper, #NFDB
131:I'm magnificent! I'm five feet eleven inches and I weigh one hundred thirty-five pounds, and I look like a racehorse. ~ Julie Newmar, #NFDB
132:Dr. Eleven: What was it like for you, at the end? Captain Lonagan: It was exactly like waking up from a dream. ~ Emily St John Mandel, #NFDB
133:Still, waking up this early was just wrong. “Why can’t people be reasonable and only die after eleven A.M.?” I whined. ~ Diana Rowland, #NFDB
134:There isn’t a Seven-Eleven around here, would you believe it? And I thought they had Seven-Elevens on the fucking moon. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
135:What makes people between the ages of eleven and fifteen such mean jerks? I’d rather be ninety-five than thirteen again. ~ Tim Sandlin, #NFDB
136:when I was about eleven, I went to stay with Grans in Montauk for four weeks while August was having his big jaw surgery. ~ R J Palacio, #NFDB
137:Dr. Eleven: What was it like for you, at the end?
Captain Lonagan: It was exactly like waking up from a dream. ~ Emily St John Mandel,#NFDB
138:Eleven years is a great length of time to prepare a movie, it would be wonderful to have 11 years of funded preparation. ~ Tilda Swinton, #NFDB
139:How old are you, really?’ I asked. ‘Eleven.’ I thought for a while. Then I asked, ‘How long have you been eleven for?’ She ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
140:I couldn’t even begin to guess how old he was. Maybe thirty. Or three hundred. When you’re eleven, anyone older is just old. ~ T J Klune, #NFDB
141:it is a fact that eleven million Africans were forcibly carried abroad, more than nine million of them to the Americas. ~ Bernard Bailyn, #NFDB
142:When a man knows that the abstraction ten exists - nothing on earth can stop him from looking for the fact of eleven. ~ Lorraine Hansberry, #NFDB
143:Eleven out of twelve work fine. I'd say that's better chances than getting an orgasm with a blind date and women still try. ~ Ilona Andrews, #NFDB
144:Eleven out of twelve work fine. I’d say that’s better chances than getting an orgasm with a blind date and women still try. ~ Ilona Andrews, #NFDB
145:I always wanted to have children - if it had been up to me, I would have had eleven. It was my husband who wanted only two. ~ Indira Gandhi, #NFDB
146:I was eleven years old when I saw a woman for the first time, and I was seized by such sudden surprise that I burst into tears. ~ Mia Couto, #NFDB
147:I waited at the counter of a white restaurant for eleven years. When they finally integrated, they didn't have what I wanted. ~ Dick Gregory, #NFDB
148:I am simply submerged in work from five in the morning to eleven at night; almost need a few days off to escape a breakdown! ~ Richard Neutra, #NFDB
149:It has been eleven days, Stephen, eleven fucking days! Eleven! The presidency is supposed to age the president, not the public. ~ Jon Stewart, #NFDB
150:My strength is as the strength of ten because my heart is pure," said Carrot.
"Really? Well, there's eleven of them. ~ Terry Pratchett,#NFDB
151:Ma'am," I said at last. "Do you think going out with someone like him is a good idea? At last count, he had eleven Chihuahuas. ~ Richelle Mead, #NFDB
152:Sex when you're married is like going to the 7-Eleven: There's not much variety, but at three in the morning, it's always there. ~ Carol Leifer, #NFDB
153:When a man sells eleven ounces for twelve, he makes a compact with the devil, and sells himself for the value of an ounce. ~ Henry Ward Beecher, #NFDB
154:When late morning rolls around and you're feeling a bit out of sorts, don't worry; you're probably just a little eleven o'clockish. ~ A A Milne, #NFDB
155:You know what I like about the American form of government? They've worked things out so that you're never far from a 7-Eleven. ~ George Carlin, #NFDB
156:I'll send you a friend request."
"You do that, sonny. I'm on the Internet every last Friday in the month, from eleven to three. ~ Nina George,#NFDB
157:I'm going to take you somewhere. It's time you began to see the world. You're eleven years old and it's time you saw something. ~ Louise Fitzhugh, #NFDB
158:I was eleven years old, but I knew without a shadow of a doubt I was staring into the eyes of the boy I was going to love forever, ~ Lesley Jones, #NFDB
159:Well, I started writing songs about three years ago when I learned to play the guitar, but I've been singing since I was eleven. ~ Colbie Caillat, #NFDB
160:So how emotionally unavailable are you?" "On a scale of one to ten, I'm an eleven. Or a zero, depending on which way your scale slides. ~ L T Ryan, #NFDB
161:Up until I was eleven years old, I thought I was the only one of my kind in the world. I couldn't find anybody else who felt as I did. ~ Harry Hay, #NFDB
162:of the thirteen countries highest in consumption of sugar, eleven are found among the thirteen highest in death rate from diabetes.”) ~ Gary Taubes, #NFDB
163:Because when a tender moment happens between any two people, I turn into an eleven-year-old boy. It is my most consistent talent. ~ Becky Albertalli, #NFDB
164:By plane, about eleven hours,” Tsukuru said. “During that time I ate two meals and watched one movie.” “What movie?” “Die Hard 12. ~ Haruki Murakami, #NFDB
165:I might have it at six-fifteen a.m. just as soon as I get in, but usually it's about eleven o'clock when I'll have a glass of sherry. ~ Maya Angelou, #NFDB
166:It is computed that eleven thousand persons have at several times suffered death rather than submit to break eggs at the smaller end. ~ Ray Bradbury, #NFDB
167:Florentina Ariza had kept his answer ready for fifty-three years, seven months and eleven days and nights. 'Forever,' he said. ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez, #NFDB
168:Florentina Ariza had kept his answer ready for fifty-three years, seven months and eleven days and nights. 'Forever,' he said. ~ Gabriel Garcia Marquez, #NFDB
169:How old are you?” “I’ll be eleven next year.” I grin. “So you’re ten years old?” He crosses his arms. Frowns. “I’ll be twelve in two years. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
170:I will be a sonofabitch if he ain't in here at eleven-thirty at night, fartin' around in the dark with a pair of scissors and a paper sack. ~ Ken Kesey, #NFDB
171:You're right. We do need to talk. In Private." Hudson's jaw ticked. It was hot, like a super-spicy dried meat stick from the 7-Eleven. ~ Helena Hunting, #NFDB
172:I said the first thing that came into my head unfortunately. "Save the drama for your mama " I told her just like an eleven-year-old. ~ Charlaine Harris, #NFDB
173:Scientists inform us that you build a new body every eleven months; so from a physical standpoint you are really only eleven months old. ~ Joseph Murphy, #NFDB
174:I had my Olympic gold medal cut up into eleven pieces. Gave all eleven of my kids a piece. It'll come together again when they put me down. ~ Joe Frazier, #NFDB
175:In fact Sarah Palin has created more jobs than Obama has. She created eleven jobs fact-checking at the AP just for the Palin autobiography. ~ Ann Coulter, #NFDB
176:Need a distraction today? Not only does 12 + 1 = 11 + 2, but the letters "twelve plus one" rearrange to give you "eleven plus two." ~ Neil deGrasse Tyson, #NFDB
177:Ryker narrowed his eyes. “I was doing that before you were born, son.” “You were, like, eleven when I was born.” I paused. “I see your point. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
178:You were nice to me for almost ten years," he said gruffly. "Why should that count for nothing just because it's not going to be eleven? ~ Lionel Shriver, #NFDB
179:Dear God. Not only am I unemployed and homeless, but I also have a pregnant woman, bereaved dog, elephant, and eleven horses to take care of. ~ Sara Gruen, #NFDB
180:How does it happen? At what point is she born, the baffled, wounded adult of tomorrow? Is eleven what we react to for the rest of our lives? ~ Kyo Maclear, #NFDB
181:it would take the average American only eleven hours of labor per week to produce as much as he or she produced in forty hours in 1950. ~ Erik Brynjolfsson, #NFDB
182:I was filled with awe at being able hold this precious woman again, the one who had invaded every thought of mine for more than eleven years. ~ A L Jackson, #NFDB
183:So I told her that the Universe began as an eleven-pound strawberry which exploded at seven minutes past midnight three trillion years ago. ~ Kurt Vonnegut, #NFDB
184:It is computed that eleven thousand persons have at several times suffered death rather than submit to break their eggs at the smaller end. ~ Jonathan Swift, #NFDB
185:Somehow, out of his watch shop that never made money, he fed and dressed and cared for eleven more children after his own four were grown. ~ Corrie ten Boom, #NFDB
186:I learned to park outside of Denny's because it's 24 hours. I made a deal at a 7-Eleven with a mailman so I could get my mail delivered there. ~ Tony Robbins, #NFDB
187:In great thick dusty books he read
And hardly ever went to bed
Before it was eleven.
- One Day When They Had Settled Down ~ Mervyn Peake,#NFDB
188:I think about how there was no going back after I took over caring for the family when I was eleven. How I will always have to protect her. ~ Suzanne Collins, #NFDB
189:Whenever I get frustrated, I tell myself, you could be working at a 7-Eleven right now, so never take for granted what you do for a living. ~ Shannen Doherty, #NFDB
190:You're eleven years old, Mr. Potter!" she said in a harsh whisper.
"And therefore subhuman. Sorry... for a moment there, I forgot. ~ Eliezer Yudkowsky,#NFDB
191:We know that many of the apostles of Christ were killed. Eleven out of 12 met violent deaths when they were just talking about God and light. ~ Frederick Lenz, #NFDB
192:Some coaches spend their time trying to get an overview of all eleven defenders. I prefer to zero in on one guy at a time to get the right clue. ~ Sid Gillman, #NFDB
193:When I got home, I cried and cried. I didn’t want to stop learning. I was only eleven years old, but I felt as though I had lost everything. ~ Malala Yousafzai, #NFDB
194:Facilitator Brad Pitt’s character in Ocean’s Eleven, Rusty Ryan, is the logistics guy. He keeps the heist running. You need someone to be the Rusty ~ Jake Knapp, #NFDB
195:Handguns were in-room weapons. Under expert control in high-pressure situations the average range for a successful engagement was about eleven feet. ~ Lee Child, #NFDB
196:Home. This magnificent palace had been her home since she was eleven. She’d came to it as a farmer’s daughter, and now she’d leave it as a soldier. ~ Elise Kova, #NFDB
197:this morning, listening to the BBC news, I learned that half of all prisoners in the UK have the reading age of an eleven-year-old, or below. This ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
198:Unless somebody who's already eleven thousand times platinum is like, "We're ushering this project in," it's not really gonna pop commercially. ~ Pharoahe Monch, #NFDB
199:We pour more money into national defense than anybody else; our defense budgets, in fact, are bigger than those in the next eleven countries combined ~ T R Reid, #NFDB
200:I could hardly breathe, watching her, and didn’t even notice it was beginning to rain. I was just mesmerized by her. All eleven trillion cells of her. ~ Matt Haig, #NFDB
201:One hundred religious persons knit into a unity by careful organization do not constitute a church any more than eleven dead men make a football team. ~ A W Tozer, #NFDB
202:She’s either the house mom or the drill sergeant that you eventually like and respect, even after he’s removed his size eleven boot from your ass. ~ Ernie Lindsey, #NFDB
203:Eleven minutes. That was how long the entire homicidal portrait lasted: one boy’s life destroyed in less time than it took to cook a hamburger. ~ Maggie Stiefvater, #NFDB
204:Eleven years—that is long. Long enough so that the roots of love, if the tree is robust, plunge so deep that they will subsist always, even dried up. ~ Lydia Davis, #NFDB
205:Give me a number between one and twenty.”
Unable to see where this was going, she shrugged. “Eleven.”
“You lose. Now strip off your clothes. ~ Suzanne Wright,#NFDB
206:It was now about eleven o'clock of a fine mid-September morning, with the sun warm but away from the sun a warning hint of the nippy weather to come. ~ John O Hara, #NFDB
207:The incidental fact of his straightness doesn’t mean I want to be NoMo’s five-minute girlfriend, like I’m some 7-Eleven quick stop on his slut train. ~ Rachel Cohn, #NFDB
208:Tom had traveled around the sun eleven times when the delivery truck brought his mother's newest fridge, but a number doesn't really describe his age. ~ N D Wilson, #NFDB
209:One of the great delights of watching Ocean’s Eleven unfold is seeing how each member of the team utilizes his unique skill to help pull off the heist. ~ Jake Knapp, #NFDB
210:embraces. I was filled with awe at being able hold this precious woman again, the one who had invaded every thought of mine for more than eleven years. ~ A L Jackson, #NFDB
211:Our thesis eleven today should be: "Critical leftists have hitherto only dirtied with dust the balls of those in power – the point is to cut them off". ~ Slavoj i ek, #NFDB
212:...She would get up at eleven o'clock, completely nude, in the bathroom, killing scorpions as she came out of her dense and prolonged sleep. ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez, #NFDB
213:Alcohol is a very necessary article. It enables Parliament to do things at eleven at night that no sane person would do at eleven in the morning. ~ George Bernard Shaw, #NFDB
214:Love, my child, is a thing that every mother learns; it is not born with a baby, but made; and for eleven years, I have learned to love you as my son. ~ Salman Rushdie, #NFDB
215:Un momento con una donna capricciosa vale undici anni di vita noiosa.
A single moment with a fiery female is worth eleven years of a boring life. ~ Sarah MacLean,#NFDB
216:A tsunami of heartbreak consumed the landscape of her heart, wiping out all she has known or assumed or believed to be real over the last eleven years. ~ Karen Kingsbury, #NFDB
217:Remember when you were eleven years old and you thought how great it would be to get your period? And then you got it? That's what planning a wedding is like. ~ Mimi Pond, #NFDB
218:eleven types of magic found in the real world that are in Harry Potter, including divination, outer-body experience, and traveling through space and time. ~ Melissa Anelli, #NFDB
219:I learnt to drive at around eleven years old. In an old jeep on a field in Colorado. There were lots of ditches. I could barely see over the steering wheel. ~ David Lauren, #NFDB
220:Summer 2161: Brown, eleven, enrolled in Camp Longhorn by father over strenuous objections of mother. Typical outdoor summer camp in hill country of Texas ~ Arthur C Clarke, #NFDB
221:It still amazes him how they could have been misled by her personality in Year Eleven. It's what depression does to a person, it changes them completely. ~ Melina Marchetta, #NFDB
222:The first concert I attended was an Elvis concert when I was eleven. Even at that age he made me realize the tremendous effect a performer could have on an audience. ~ Cher, #NFDB
223:People kept asking, Whats your market? Ive got no idea at all other than me, an eleven year old kid in a 56-year-old body. But there are a lot of us out there. ~ Graeme Base, #NFDB
224:There's a stability and growth pact which was agreed for the eleven countries which tries to limit the size of budget deficits among the eleven countries. ~ Robert C Solomon, #NFDB
225:When the necessary eleven days were added, George Washington’s birthday, which fell on February 11, 1731, Old Style, became February 22, 1732, New Style. ~ Daniel J Boorstin, #NFDB
226:But a woman who walks alone in the wilderness for eleven hundred miles? I’d never been anything like that before. I had nothing to lose by giving it a whirl. ~ Cheryl Strayed, #NFDB
227:I was never a Boy Scout, but oh, I wanted to be one when I was a kid about ten or eleven years old. But there wasn't anyplace where I could ever join the Boy Scouts. ~ Carl Barks, #NFDB
228:Revelation 6–16 is the main section of the Bible that describes the end-times Tribulation. These eleven chapters focus upon the awful judgments of the end times. ~ Mark Hitchcock, #NFDB
229:Switching to light-coloured roofs and roadways would have the equivalent effect on greenhouse gas emissions to taking one billion cars off the road for eleven years. ~ Steven Chu, #NFDB
230:Tell the innocent visitor from another world that two people were killed at Sarajevo, and that the best that Europe could do about it was to kill eleven million more. ~ A A Milne, #NFDB
231:Tell the innocent visitor from another world that two people were killed at Serajevo, and that the best that Europe could do about it was to kill eleven million more. ~ A A Milne, #NFDB
232:if you tell me you want to spend every single day on the calendar this year falling in love with me, then I’m going to kiss you. And I promise it’ll be an eleven. ~ Colleen Hoover, #NFDB
233:She was eleven, after all. She was both even and odd. She was ready to be many things at once—child, grown-up, poet, engineer, botanist, dragon. The list went on. ~ Kelly Barnhill, #NFDB
234:There are eleven or twelve or thirteen cities in China with populations of over 10 million people and most people in the West have never even heard of these cities. ~ Roger Corman, #NFDB
235:Just nine lucky soldiers had come through the night, half of them wounded and barely alive. Just nine out of twenty was headed for home, with eleven stories to tell. ~ James Taylor, #NFDB
236:OH SHIT! I BELIEVE IN ALL OF THOSE THINGS!" he shouted, and it was true: even at eleven he had observed that things turned out right a ridiculous amount of the time. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
237:There were eleven publishers in New York City, and when it was all over, I think it went down to four or five, and then finally just the three of them, the Big Three. ~ Dan DeCarlo, #NFDB
238:I might have been eleven years old and a little socially immature, but I recognized a gauntlet being thrown down when I saw it, and I had no choice but to take it up. ~ Gayle Forman, #NFDB
239:I write nearly every day. Some days I write for ten or eleven hours. Other days I might only write for three hours. It really depends on how fast the ideas are coming. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
240:She didn't seem to mind being the girl you called every couple of months at eleven at night, just to see what she was "up to." As much relationship as she could handle. ~ Junot D az, #NFDB
241:Outlaws like to sleep in. I’ve been FBI for eight years, and I’ve never once had cause to shoot anyone before eleven in the morning. Not as long as I get my coffee anyway. ~ Joe Hill, #NFDB
242:the April day when the Americans mounted the stone steps and pushed the door buzzer, rain had fallen for eleven of the last eleven days, and Aldine McKenna was waiting, ~ Laura McNeal, #NFDB
243:If you make some comment even obliquely alluding to menstruation or menopause and its effect on my judgment," Murphy interrupted, "I will break your arm in eleven places. ~ Jim Butcher, #NFDB
244:In one of his most famous quotations, King sadly said, “I am [ashamed] and appalled that eleven o’clock on Sunday morning is the most segregated hour in Christian America. ~ Jim Wallis, #NFDB
245:How old are you?” “I’ll be eleven next year.” I grin. “So you’re ten years old?” He crosses his arms. Frowns. “I’ll be twelve in two years.” I think I already love this kid. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
246:There are thoughts of freedom and imminent escape. I could throw away almost everything, she thinks, and begin all over again. Station Eleven will be my constant. ~ Emily St John Mandel, #NFDB
247:And right when your song ended I knew - just like your mother - I was a goner," Peeta says. "Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you. ~ Suzanne Collins, #NFDB
248:At eleven she sat with Dick and the Norths at a houseboat café just opened on the Seine. The river shimmered with lights from the bridges and cradled many cold moons. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald, #NFDB
249:To catch a wave, to stand up - it was just life-changing. There was nothing that even came close. I quit playing all other sports - by the time I was eleven, they were toast. ~ Rob Machado, #NFDB
250:His father clasped his shoulders, holding him at arm’s length, looking him up and down. “You’ve grown.”
“It’s been eleven years,” said Jack numbly. “Of course I’ve grown. ~ Lauren Willig,#NFDB
251:My advice: Don't quit. When I got to New York City, I lived so far below the poverty line, because I didn't give in and get a job at 7-Eleven. I think you can thrive in misery. ~ Rob Zombie, #NFDB
252:They were almond cookies, although they could have been made of spinach and shoes for all I cared. I ate eleven of them, right in a row. It is rude to take the last cookie. ~ Daniel Handler, #NFDB
253:I kissed her again, tenderly touching my lips to hers. “Now what?”
“Kiss the kids, and then you and I can celebrate eleven years of in-your-face-we-made-it. How about that? ~ Jamie McGuire,#NFDB
254:I’ve always believed the Spirit puts people in our lives for a reason. I’m not sure if that applies to eleven-year-old carjackers, but we’ll work with what the Spirit sends. ~ Beverly Jenkins, #NFDB
255:(Officially the earliest age was eleven for officers’ sons and thirteen for the rest, but no one took much notice of the regulation—seven-year-olds were not unknown.) Before ~ Patrick O Brian, #NFDB
256:Over a hundred German scientists arrived here [Huntsville] at eleven o’clock on an April morning and by nightfall more than sixty had applied for cards at the free library. ~ James A Michener, #NFDB
257:That’s what the mother of the gardener’s boy said,” remarked Teresa; “she wanted me to have it destroyed, but I pointed out to her that she had eleven children and I had only one elk. ~ Saki, #NFDB
258:I try to think of something catchy to say, but there's nothing but irritation that something that was funny yo an eleven-year-old boy is still funny to a seventeen-year-old one. ~ Maggie Stiefvater, #NFDB
259:It started as constantly seeing the tombstones of my still living grandparents when trying to fall sleep at eleven years old and hasn’t really let up since. Sounds super chill, right? ~ Jensen Karp, #NFDB
260:Not only had Navidson carried Karen out of that house, he had picked her up a hundred times over the course of eleven years and carried her fear, her torment, and her distance. ~ Mark Z Danielewski, #NFDB
261:Saukerl," she laughed, and as she held up her hand, she knew completely that he was simultaneously calling her a Saumensch. I think that's as close to love as eleven-year-olds can get. ~ Markus Zusak, #NFDB
262:The universe is a symphony of strings, and the mind of God that Einstein eloquently wrote about for thirty years would be cosmic music resonating through eleven-dimensional hyper space. ~ Michio Kaku, #NFDB
263:You'll have to leave my meals on a tray outside the door because I'll be
working pretty late on the secret of making myself invisible, which may take me almost until eleven o'clock. ~ S J Perelman,#NFDB
264:I was taking a nose dive somewhere between eleven and twelve because my sister had died and I was practicing something that siblings do which is follow in their footsteps and die as well. ~ Leo Kottke, #NFDB
265:At eleven-fifteen it rang again, and Jake received his first death threat, anonymous of course. He was called a nigger-loving son of a bitch, one who would not live if the nigger walked. ~ John Grisham, #NFDB
266:At the age of eleven or thereabouts women acquire a poise and an ability to handle difficult situations which a man, if he is lucky, manages to achieve somewhere in the later seventies. ~ P G Wodehouse, #NFDB
267:Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve 'This Side of Wild' Excerpt ~ Gary Paulsen, #NFDB
268:I thought my aunt was terrific. She had paid attention to me as a person, not a child, and that means everything to an eleven-year-old child who does not want to be seen as a child. ~ Elizabeth Gilbert, #NFDB
269:To me then, at the age of eleven, Santa Clause was a bit like God, all-seeing, all-knowing, but without the lousy things that God allows to happen: earthquakes, famines, motorway crashes. ~ Sue Townsend, #NFDB
270:By the time I was ten or eleven, I had a song-book and I was writing everything down. It used to just be my hobby but now it's like my diary, it's where I can go in my own little bubble. ~ Ella Henderson, #NFDB
271:Mayor Rudolph Giuliani entered the building without a hard hat at approximately eleven AM, but ultimately residents were not allowed to return before demolition commenced eight hours later. ~ Gwen Cooper, #NFDB
272:20 Dear You, Six girls. Eight boys. That’s the current number of kids in the Camp Caius stable, and they’re an intriguing little bunch of brats, ranging in age from eleven to twenty-two. ~ Daniel O Malley, #NFDB
273:Alec, what do you believe in? Don't laugh-tell me.' She waited and at last he said:
'I believe an eleven bus will take me to Hammersmith. I don't believe it's driven by Father Christmas. ~ John le Carr,#NFDB
274:I lived in New York for eleven and a half years and I don't think anybody ever asked me about my religion. I never even thought about it. Now, all of a sudden, it was the big thing in my life. ~ Judy Blume, #NFDB
275:We have nine ships and in the next two years will have ten, eleven and twelve. So things are going very nicely and all because of that program that people thought was mindless and so forth. ~ Gavin MacLeod, #NFDB
276:Blue glanced at her watch. A few minutes until eleven. The old legends recommended the church watch be kept at midnight, but the dead kept poor time, especially when there wasn’t a moon. ~ Maggie Stiefvater, #NFDB
277:My mother told me when I was eleven years old, “Learn how to take care of yourself so that the man you marry is the man you choose to be with and not just the man who will take care of you. ~ Sophia Amoruso, #NFDB
278:There's not many people on the face of the earth that don't know Harry Potter is Daniel Radcliffe. He's had that since he was eleven years old, yet he hasn't changed since the day I met him. ~ Matthew Lewis, #NFDB
279:Just six hours of meditation training and eleven hours of practice have been shown to strengthen the white matter tracks in brain regions that help to govern our emotional reactivity. ~ Donna Jackson Nakazawa, #NFDB
280:Actually,” Coursey lowered his voice an octave, “we’ve been informed by Homeland Security that three members of a subversive Brazilian band went through Customs at O’Hare Airport eleven days ago. ~ J A Konrath, #NFDB
281:Don't do this to us." He warned, his voice hoarse with angry desperation as he realize he was losing her. "You're letting eleven years of mistrust color everything you've discovered I've done". ~ Judith McNaught, #NFDB
282:I'm relatively physically adept and I like throwing myself around. Once, twice, but then you get to nine, ten, eleven and to try and make it look realistic all the time, that's not very pleasant. ~ Marton Csokas, #NFDB
283:For a freshman nobody, I look pretty good. At least that's what some girls hanging at the pool said. Sure, they were only eleven and twelve, but girls' opinions are always worth something to me. ~ Lurlene McDaniel, #NFDB
284:Summer’s dawn broke in Michigan around five A.M., and dark didn’t descend until well after eleven P.M. The state was constantly glowing in light, a contrast to its long winters of dark hibernation. ~ Viola Shipman, #NFDB
285:He was waving. "Saukerl," she laughed, and as she held up her hand, she knew completely that he was simultaneously calling her a Saumensch. I think that's as close to love as eleven-year-olds can get. ~ Markus Zusak, #NFDB
286:It was especially striking to me to learn that gun violence is specifically a women’s issue: women in America are eleven times more likely to be murdered with guns than women in other developed nations. ~ Amy Schumer, #NFDB
287:Motivation is a mystery.Why does one salesperson see his first prospect at seven in the morning and another salesperson is just getting out of bed at eleven?I don't know.It's part of the mysteries of life. ~ Jim Rohn, #NFDB
288:Wanted to say goodbye with a BJ but you were so out of it I didn’t have the heart to wake you. Call you when I land in Nashville. Blake’s on the couch if you need ’im. Jess gets in at eleven. Love you. ~ Sarina Bowen, #NFDB
289:Eleven years after the discovery of their bodies, no one has been held accountable for their murders. The chief suspects in the chain of command, including the camp commander, have never been charged. ~ Garry Robbins, #NFDB
290:Foster Mom: “Hm, hm, you’d be surprised, these little kids be out here fucking. ’Cause you know the last one you had up in here, she was eleven years old, and I had to get her a whole box of condoms. ~ Tiffany Haddish, #NFDB
291:Seventh grade. Eleven years old. A bookworm-misfit with long black braids, childish white socks, pointy pink glasses, and no courage for flirting. It's doesn't take long to learn that I'm ridiculous. ~ Margarita Engle, #NFDB
292:A conservative estimate of trailside deaths for 1850 alone is 5,000, meaning that among the optimistic souls departing St. Louis to start a new and better life, one in eleven never made it past the Rockies. ~ Bob Drury, #NFDB
293:You get to be about eleven or twelve and everything's old hat. They've drummed the miraculous out of you, but you don't want it to be like that. You want the miraculous. You want everything to still be new. ~ Tim Tharp, #NFDB
294:I was eleven, the idea of two identical digits in my age still new and spectacular and heartbreaking. The girls must have felt this. They must have known. Where had ten, nine, eight, and seven gone? ~ Jacqueline Woodson, #NFDB
295:My day does not truly begin until I've acquired and consumed a 32-ounce Big Gulp of diet coke from 7-Eleven. It's the Big Gulp that's important, not 7-Eleven, where I find the employees rather disagreeable. ~ Cate Marvin, #NFDB
296:our brains are bombarded by something like eleven million pieces of data—that is, items in our surroundings that come at all of our senses—at once. Of that, we are able to consciously process only about forty ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
297:Larger-than-life, celebrity leaders who ride in from the outside are negatively correlated with taking a company from good to great. Ten of eleven good-to-great CEOs came from inside the company, whereas ~ James C Collins, #NFDB
298:On Bring-Your-Dad-to-School Day
Who are all these fucking parents who can take a day off? If I'm taking a day off, I ain't gonna spend it sitting at some tiny desk with a bunch of eleven-year-olds. ~ Justin Halpern,#NFDB
299:When you're that age, you sometimes have a great enthusiasm that is very deep and very narrow, and that is something that has always intrigued me-- that world of the eleven-year-old that is so quickly lost. ~ Alan Bradley, #NFDB
300:At the end of all this, Russia held in her hands a vast belt of land running from the Baltic sea in the north to the Black Sea in the south, comprising eleven nations with a population of 100 million people. ~ John T Flynn, #NFDB
301:If my father had been working at the 7-Eleven in Wyoming last night, what would he have done? Would he have gone for Elroy's vital-organ zones? Or would he have aimed for his elbows, knees, and shoulders? ~ Andre Dubus III, #NFDB
302:I've been failing for, like, ten or eleven years. When it turns, it'll turn. Right now I'm just trying to squeeze through a very tight financial period, get the movie out, and put my things in order. ~ Francis Ford Coppola, #NFDB
303:One of the places where we lived when I was growing up had this big wood out the back. And starting when I was about 8, I used to enjoy just walking alone through the wood late. Eleven p.m. Midnight. Later. ~ Christian Bale, #NFDB
304:On Realizing He Was Starting to Shrink Due to Old Age “I’m five foot eleven! I used to be six feet, goddamn it. Boy, going bald and shitting infrequently ain’t enough for God, huh? Gotta rub it in, I guess. ~ Justin Halpern, #NFDB
305:The bartender’s eyes went beyond me to the Rock Chicks and he said, “Eleven screaming orgasms, comin’ right up.” Phew. All right, fine. That wasn’t so hard. I could do this. I could buy shots for the girls. ~ Kristen Ashley, #NFDB
306:Whites have more than eleven times the net worth or wealth of African Americans. They make greater salaries. Our unemployment rate is twice theirs. You look at the prison system and who that's chewing up. ~ Randall Robinson, #NFDB
307:Dedication CHAPTER ONE CHAPTER TWO CHAPTER THREE CHAPTER FOUR CHAPTER FIVE CHAPTER SIX CHAPTER SEVEN CHAPTER EIGHT CHAPTER NINE CHAPTER TEN CHAPTER ELEVEN CHAPTER TWELVE CHAPTER THIRTEEN CHAPTER FOURTEEN CHAPTER ~ Lucy Score, #NFDB
308:I am leaning back and running with it and staring at the stars and I’m eleven, I’m sixteen, I’m eighteen, I’m a newborn I’m everyone everywhere with you without you unbound set free in limbo lost at sea. ~ Bryan Lee O Malley, #NFDB
309:She shot him a warm smile as she stopped the car and shut off the engine. “It’s all the Planet of the Apes pictures, all eleven of them; they run from 7:30 P.M. all the way through to 8 A.M. tomorrow morning. ~ Philip K Dick, #NFDB
310:Eleven out of twelve work fine. I'd say that's better chances than getting an orgasm with a blind date and women still try." He blinked and laughed softly. "I never know what you'll say next." "I don't either. ~ Ilona Andrews, #NFDB
311:He’d made a rule, ten years earlier, that the Grimsby Grumman Saloon didn’t open until eleven. That is, on weekdays. Weekends were all his, so on those two glorious days, it was a twenty-four-hour establishment. ~ Dick Wybrow, #NFDB
312:He had Oly letter a little card that he taped on his wall. The thing read, ‘The only liars bigger than the quack are the quack’s patients.’ Arty used to just keep me in stitches. Eleven years old he was then. ~ Katherine Dunn, #NFDB
313:1958, Fred Koch became one of eleven original members of the John Birch Society, the archconservative group best known for spreading far-fetched conspiracy theories about secret Communist plots to subvert America. ~ Jane Mayer, #NFDB
314:Come home with me, Acheron. I’ll make it well worth your while. (Artemis) I have a headache. (Acheron) You’ve had a headache for two hundred years! (Artemis) And you’ve had PMS for eleven thousand. (Acheron) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon, #NFDB
315:My voice softens. 'How old are you?'
'I'll be eleven next year.'
I grin. 'So you're ten years old?'
He crosses his arms. Frowns. 'I'll be twelve in two years.'
I think I already love this kid. ~ Tahereh Mafi,#NFDB
316:They stared each other down, and while the dorky eleven-year-old in my soul kind of hoped that two hot boys might fight over me, the rational, seventeen-year-old knew that Archer need to get out of here, fast. ~ Rachel Hawkins, #NFDB
317:They've got him!" squealed the Duke. "Eleven men to one!"
"You may have heard of Galahad," said Hark, "whose strength was as the strength of ten."
"That leaves one man to get him," cried the Duke. ~ James Thurber,#NFDB
318:Come to think of it, she seemed awfully sure about those ten minutes: it was the first thing out of her mouth. As if nine minutes would be too short or eleven minutes too long. Like cooking spaghetti al dente. ~ Haruki Murakami, #NFDB
319:Logically, I understand that it wasn't Edward's fault my family fell apart after he left. But when you're eleven years old, you don't give a flip about logic. You just really miss holding your big brother's hand. ~ Jodi Picoult, #NFDB
320:Logically, I understand that it wasn’t Edward’s fault my family fell apart after he left. But when you’re eleven years old, you don’t give a fuck about logic. You just really miss holding your big brother’s hand. ~ Jodi Picoult, #NFDB
321:Even when I was a young boy, trouble latched onto me like a magnet. I pounded through life at volume eleven, leaving a trail of broken things: vases, noses, cars, hearts, brain cells. Side effects of reckless living. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
322:If Peter was nine, and a new boy came to St. Norbert’s Home for Wayward Boys who said he was ten, why, then, Peter would declare himself eleven. Also, he could spit the farthest. That made him the undisputed leader. ~ Dave Barry, #NFDB
323:I run with a credit card and a cell phone, so when there is not a 7-Eleven around, like some of the country roads out there, I can get him to deliver a pizza to me. And I kind of give them a coordinate, a corner. ~ Dean Karnazes, #NFDB
324:There were quick footsteps beside me, and then Molly pressed her back to mine. "You take that side!" she said. "I'll take this one!"
DJ Molly C lifted both of her wands and turned the battle chaos to eleven. ~ Jim Butcher,#NFDB
325:The latter was considered a good fellow and a fine leader, until a year later, when he disappeared with a mess fund of eleven hundred dollars and, like so many leaders, proved exceedingly difficult to follow. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald, #NFDB
326:His lights blinked in binary read-out as he answered by voder, “Eleven thousand two hundred thirty-eight with uncertainty plus-minus eighty-one representing possible identities and nulls. Shall I start program? ~ Robert A Heinlein, #NFDB
327:It's not such a huge deal when this happens at a 7-Eleven. It's pretty huge, though, when you spend the entire job interview trying not to come across like a box of hair and you come across like a box of hair. ~ Augusten Burroughs, #NFDB
328:Neil Josten, good morning. I suppose you've already heard the good news? As of eleven o'clock last night, your name is the third-highest search string for NCAA Exy strikers. That puts you right after Riko and Kevin. ~ Nora Sakavic, #NFDB
329:When the school day ends and nothing extraordinary has happened, it’s a tiny heartbreak. It’s like eleven o’clock on the night of your birthday, when you realize no one’s throwing you a surprise party after all. ~ Becky Albertalli, #NFDB
330:My mother's father taught English literature. When I was about ten or eleven, I could recite Macaulay's 'Lays of Ancient Rome.' While other kids were playing pedestrian war games, I'd be Horatius keeping the bridge. ~ Bernie Taupin, #NFDB
331:Your heart can’t belong to anyone anymore. Only the pack. You didn’t sign up for this role, but you’re going to have to embrace it. The lives of eleven men and the people they can potentially maim rests in your hands ~ Sarah Noffke, #NFDB
332:If the wind is blowing like stink and everything is working right, a twelve-meter sailboat can go eleven and a half or twelve miles an hour, the same speed at which a bond lawyer runs around the Cental Park Reservoir. ~ P J O Rourke, #NFDB
333:In my civilian world at home in Los Angeles, half the people I know are on antidepressants or anti–panic attack drugs because they can’t handle the stress of a mean boss or a crowd at the 7-Eleven when buying a Slurpee. ~ Evan Wright, #NFDB
334:I was born and bred a Catholic. I was brought up a very strong Catholic - I practiced in a seminary for four years, from eleven to fourteen, and trained to be a Catholic priest. So I was very steeped in all that. ~ Pete Postlethwaite, #NFDB
335:Out of the thirty thousand types of edible plants thought to exist on Earth, just eleven—corn, rice, wheat, potatoes, cassava, sorghum, millet, beans, barley, rye, and oats—account for 93 percent of all that humans eat, ~ Bill Bryson, #NFDB
336:You know, I've walked this earth for over eleven thousand years, my lady. I have seen things in my life that are unimaginable to you, and you ask me if I doubt you? Lady, I doubt the very air you breathe. (Acheron) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon, #NFDB
337:I bet you thought you were very clever, sneaking off like that." "Medium clever, "Simon acknowledged. "Like a cross between George Clooney in Ocean's Eleven and those MythbBusters guys, but, you know, better-looking. ~ Cassandra Clare, #NFDB
338:We long only to go home,’ ” Kirsten said. This was from the first issue, Station Eleven. A face-off between Dr. Eleven and an adversary from the Undersea. “ ‘We dream of sunlight, we dream of walking on earth.’ ~ Emily St John Mandel, #NFDB
339:Come home with me, Acheron. I’ll make it well worth your while. (Artemis)
I have a headache. (Acheron)
You’ve had a headache for two hundred years! (Artemis)
And you’ve had PMS for eleven thousand. (Acheron) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,#NFDB
340:Eleven years into this, I am able to sleep through any amount of noise and temperature. Sometimes I wake up and hope I slept through a Walking Dead–type zombie apocalypse and I have to lead humans into a new world order. ~ Mindy Kaling, #NFDB
341:Every morning, and every night, I resolved to start a new life, but I always procrastinated, acquiescing to my ailing willpower. And Saturday at eleven o’clock at night was not the right moment to make important decisions. ~ C sar Aira, #NFDB
342:Judith cast Christian a scornful look. “Who names a cat ‘Fillet’? Someone who has eleven kittens to name.” She put her hands on her hips. “I will hear no criticism from anyone who has named a smaller number of kittens. ~ Courtney Milan, #NFDB
343:Maria was amazed to learn that he had been in the Azores, where she had lived until she was eleven. She was doubly amazed that he had been in the Hawaiian Islands, whither she had migrated from the Azores with her people. ~ Jack London, #NFDB
344:So we’re going to SeaWorld,” she told me. “Part Eleven.” “What, are we going to Free Willy or something?” “No,” she said. “We’re just going to go to SeaWorld, that’s all. It’s the only theme park I haven’t broken into yet. ~ John Green, #NFDB
345:There are twelve good reasons for failure. The first one is the avowed intention of doing no more than one is paid to do, and the person who makes this avowal may see the other eleven by stepping before a looking glass. ~ Napoleon Hill, #NFDB
346:Make yourself sleep? Oh, don’t think of it that way.” Reed let her pass him. “It’s an indulgence, not a duty. ‘Nature requires five, custom gives seven, laziness takes nine, and wickedness eleven.’ Try to be wicked. ~ Caroline Stevermer, #NFDB
347:When at last he reached home, eleven and a half years after setting off, and having achieved nothing, he discovered that his relatives had had him declared dead in his absence and had enthusiastically plundered his estate. ~ Bill Bryson, #NFDB
348:I’d go with her, like a flash I’d go, if this were anything more than a dream, anything more than an infidel’s sour regret, anything more than eleven thousand words cast like a handful of sand across the face of the ocean. ~ Ellen Datlow, #NFDB
349:Eleven years ago, she became my life. Seven months ago, she became my wife and now she’ll become the mother of my children. I will always show her her worth and how much she means to me. My family will always come first. ~ Victoria Ashley, #NFDB
350:That’s your little mob in there,’ said Grimes; ‘you let them out at eleven.’ ‘But what am I to teach them?’ said Paul in sudden panic. ‘Oh, I shouldn’t try to teach them anything, not just yet, anyway. Just keep them quiet. ~ Evelyn Waugh, #NFDB
351:Among other things, the catechism said: “Ill treatment of animals bears witness to a cruel and godless heart.” The boy recited, “A hundred and eleven treatment of animals bears witness to a cruel and godless heart. ~ Halld r Kiljan Laxness, #NFDB
352:I am happy today - completely happy - because I died twenty years ago; furthermore I'm happy because I die daily. Every day, at eleven o' clock, I've died twice........After eleven o'clock I'm done with dying for that day. ~ Jens Bj rneboe, #NFDB
353:Out of 30,000 edible plants thought to exist on earth, just eleven account for 93% of all that humans eat: oats, corn, rice, wheat, potatoes, yucca (also called tapioca or cassava), sorghum, millet, beans, barley, and rye. ~ Daniel Levitin, #NFDB
354:Hear me profess sincerely: had I a dozen sons, each in my love alike, and none less dear than thine and my good Marcius, I had rather have eleven die nobly for their country than one voluptuously surfeit out of action. ~ William Shakespeare, #NFDB
355:Rainey and Starrie Skye were two of my five half-sisters. My mother had a habit of going through husbands like tissues, which meant that only the twins had the same father. Mother was currently on husband number eleven. ~ Elizabeth A Reeves, #NFDB
356:Can you increase its dimensionality to eleven, and make it as small as a regular proton?” As soon as the princeps said this, the science consul shouted to the sophon, his voice tinged with fear, “Attention! This is not a command! ~ Liu Cixin, #NFDB
357:Must, never, must avoid, must guard: the minatory commands came the eleven times (from the departing Eisenhower). In contrast, Kennedy's rhetoric on January 20 with a cascade of permissions: the word "let" rang out 14 times. ~ Rick Perlstein, #NFDB
358:my grandmother’s illness sent that sense spinning away, showed me how much my choices eleven years earlier and their consequences had put me in the power of a system that would be relentless in its efforts to take things away. ~ Piper Kerman, #NFDB
359:Out of 30,000 edible plants thought to exist on earth, just eleven account for 93% of all that humans eat: oats, corn, rice, wheat, potatoes, yucca (also called tapioca or cassava), sorghum, millet, beans, barley, and rye. ~ Daniel J Levitin, #NFDB
360:We have all of us got it jumbled up. You never feel so grown up as when you are eleven, and never so young and unsure as when you are forty. That is why time is a rotten jokester and no one ought to let him in to dinner. ~ Catherynne M Valente, #NFDB
361:I think that Bruce Springsteen should do a little number about a 7-Eleven in Asbury Park but write it in such a way that the entire U.S.A. can identify and slurp along with Bruce. Suck for the Boss. Hail the Boss! Hail 7-Eleven! ~ Henry Rollins, #NFDB
362:Oh, you think it's both? Not just the power?” “That's my best guess. I can say for a certainty that two decks won't be able to activate waste recycling as well. That's eleven toilets slowly filling up.” “Not a pretty picture. ~ Randolph Lalonde, #NFDB
363:Somewhere between the ages of eleven and fifteen, the average child begins to suffer from an atrophy, the paralysis of curiosity and the suspension of the power to observe. The trouble, I should judge, to lie with the schools. ~ Thomas A Edison, #NFDB
364:As for poker, I've stayed away from that, even though when I was in Vegas for Ocean's Eleven, I would get accosted by these guys begging me to play. They just want to take my money. They see me, think 'actor' and see some easy money. ~ Matt Damon, #NFDB
365:Everything changed, and eleven months later, here I was in the middle of the night with a gungho major, playing secret agent, hoping some Frenchie didn't put a bullet in my skull before I gave the Germans and Italians their chance. ~ James R Benn, #NFDB
366:There was a DJ who stayed up for eleven days straight, the longest recorded period of time anyone has ever gone without sleep, and he started playing nothing by Phil Collins, and that's how they knew it was time to call the ambulance. ~ Meg Cabot, #NFDB
367:…and I’m thinking how nothing is as simple as you guess-not right or wrong, not Judd Travers, not even me or this dog I got here. But the good part is I saved Shiloh and opened my eyes some. Now that ain’t bad for eleven. ~ Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, #NFDB
368:Today, most people are unaware that of the eleven million people exterminated, five million were not even Jewish. In Dachau, one of the largest and most infamous of all concentration camps, only a third of the population was Jewish. ~ Andy Andrews, #NFDB
369:I've done so many television pilots. I've done eleven I think and I've never had one get picked up. There was never one that I was a guest star on. It's just fascinating, but I don't think it would be fun to be recognized all the time. ~ Missi Pyle, #NFDB
370:The longest and most destructive party ever held is now into its fourth generation and still no one shows any signs of leaving. Somebody did once look at his watch, but that was eleven years ago now, and there has been no follow up. ~ Douglas Adams, #NFDB
371:And how long do you think we can keep up this goddamn coming and going?' he asked.
Florentino Ariza had kept his answer ready for fifty-three years, seven months, and eleven days and nights.
'Forever,' he said. ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez,#NFDB
372:… I hope,’ Lymond said, ‘you are not expecting your wages. If every candidate for mort-pay turned up eleven months after his demise you would ruin the Kingdom, if the Cardinal hadn’t thought of it first. We thought we had lost you. ~ Dorothy Dunnett, #NFDB
373:The death of Mrs. Lincoln was a serious loss to her husband and children. Abraham's sister Sarah was only eleven years old, and the tasks and cares of the little household were altogether too heavy for her years and experience. ~ John George Nicolay, #NFDB
374:The victim was white, in his early thirties, five feet eleven inches tall, ten and a half stone in weight, and in good physical condition. The last part always irritated Banks: how could a corpse ever be in good physical condition ? ~ Peter Robinson, #NFDB
375:A particularly intriguing case is that of an eleven-year-old girl, Meera, who was kidnapped from India’s west coast and then sold to the Spanish in Manila. She was then taken to Mexico where she is remembered as Catarina de San Juan. ~ Sanjeev Sanyal, #NFDB
376:No eleven-year-old has any real grasp of death. He doesn't have any real concept of other people--that they feel pain, even that they exist. And his own adult future isn't real to him, either. Makes it that much easier to throw away. ~ Lionel Shriver, #NFDB
377:That “relationship” was a perfect example of Callie convincing herself of something that didn’t really exist. She’d believed in unicorns until she was eleven, despite all evidence to the contrary, simply because she’d wanted to. ~ Cecily von Ziegesar, #NFDB
378:There were eleven of us. Each more different than the next. All with the same mindset. Things weren't the way they were meant to be. It was our job to make things right. We were the soldiers of Halla. It was time for us to take it back. ~ D J MacHale, #NFDB
379:Catastrophe as Catalyst in the Ontology of Joy, or Hurricane Parties on the Gulf Coast during Hurricane Camille: An In-depth Study of Eleven Victims Who Elected to Stay Compared with Eleven Random Control Subjects Who Elected to Leave”? ~ Walker Percy, #NFDB
380:One night (I was eleven years old at the time) he came and shook me from my sleep and announced, with the same grumbling laconism that he would have employed to predict a good harvest to his tenants, that I should rule the world. ~ Marguerite Yourcenar, #NFDB
381:The Paradox of Choice has a simple yet profoundly life-altering message for all Americans. Schwartz’s eleven practical, simple steps to becoming less choosey will change much in your daily life…. Buy This Book Now!” —PHILIP G. ZIMBARDO, ~ Barry Schwartz, #NFDB
382:I started to write a series of fantasy novels when I was eleven. I have never taken anything artistic as seriously; since then, writing has felt like an attempt to get back there, to my bedroom, my maps, those races and languages and runes. ~ Ken Baumann, #NFDB
383:Stephen Hopkins was making his second trip to America. Eleven years earlier in 1609 he had sailed on the Sea Venture for Virginia, only to become shipwrecked in Bermudaan incident that became the basis for Shakespeare’s The Tempest. ~ Nathaniel Philbrick, #NFDB
384:Yes,’ said Harry quickly. ‘Listen, how much would it be to get to London?’ ‘Eleven Sickles,’ said Stan, ‘but for firteen you get ’ot chocolate, and for fifteen you get an ’ot-water bottle an’ a toofbrush in the colour of your choice.’ Harry ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
385:I sat down and collected all of our eleven sales for the past six months and I added them all together and divided by eleven. I then took that average and presented it as the average price for a Manhattan apartment. The media ate it up. ~ Barbara Corcoran, #NFDB
386:Acknowledgements Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen ~ Shamim Sarif, #NFDB
387:Each time I write a book, every time I face that yellow pad, the challenge is so great. I have written eleven books, but each time I think, ‘Uh oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody and they’re going to find me out. ~ Maya Angelou, #NFDB
388:It was with deep interest that my companion and myself, both now about to see and examine the beauties of a tropical country for the first time, gazed on the land where I, at least, eventually spent eleven of the best years of my life. ~ Henry Walter Bates, #NFDB
389:James couldn’t help smiling: Bruce Clark was a shy eleven-year-old who wouldn’t harm a fly. Bruce Norris was a campus karate champion who would probably enjoy harming the fly and then go after its brothers and sisters for the hell of it. ~ Robert Muchamore, #NFDB
390:That girl was my every weakness. My Achilles’ heel, the chink in my armor, my kryptonite. I’d trailed after when I was eleven. Now I was ready to fall to my knees and grovel after her. No matter how many times I told myself to stay away. ~ Nina Lane, #NFDB
391:Here, we learn that the ruler’s son reportedly owns a portfolio of villas and apartments in Dubai worth a cool $45 million – or 10,000 years of the average Azeri income; not bad for an eleven-year-old.8 Or there is Iran to the south, where ~ Peter Frankopan, #NFDB
392:You know what would be fun,” our school’s administration likely thought, huffing glue out of an old sock. “What if we make our cruellest eleven-year-olds assess each other in wet spandex for an hour every day for a week in the dead of winter? ~ Scaachi Koul, #NFDB
393:She rubbed it onto his hands one day in Year Eleven, feeling the texture of his fingertips, callused by the strings of his guitar, and his palms, rough from woodwork. ("Productive, despite your lazy streak," she had said, inspecting them.) ~ Melina Marchetta, #NFDB
394:There was a DJ who stayed up for eleven days straight, the longest-recorded period of time anyone has ever gone without sleep, and he started playing nothing but Crosby, Stills and Nash, and that's how they knew it was time to call the ambulance. ~ Meg Cabot, #NFDB
395:While I chewed on my eleven brioche rolls, I saw the likes of Gen. David Petraeus, Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand, and that guy from Magic Mike, who also played a hot werewolf and was supposed to have a huge wang. It was an extremely glamorous night. ~ Mindy Kaling, #NFDB
396:But there's food if you know how to find it. My father knew and he taught me some before he was blown to bits in a mine explosion. There was nothing even to bury. I was eleven then. Five years later, I still wake up screaming for him to run. ~ Suzanne Collins, #NFDB
397:I did what any self-respecting man does when there is lots to be done. I opened a bottle of wine and poured myself a large glass, despite the fact it was barely past eleven in the morning, and sat back in a comfortable chair to watch the fun. ~ Simon Majumdar, #NFDB
398:The first four and a half years was me in the studio every day, writing songs for other people. I had jobs, too - eleven jobs. I worked at Kinko's, Fatburger, Subway - I was a sandwich artist - and I was a claims processor at Allstate Insurance. ~ Frank Ocean, #NFDB
399:Yes, September, We have all of us got it jumbled up. You never feel so grown up as when you are eleven, and never so young and unsure as when you are forty. That is why time is a rotten jokester and no one aught to let him in to dinner. ~ Catherynne M Valente, #NFDB
400:How old is the lad?” inquired Barceló, inspecting me out of the corner of his eye. “Almost eleven,” I announced. Barceló flashed a sly smile. “In other words, ten. Don’t add on any years, you rascal. Life will see to that without your help. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zaf n, #NFDB
401:Miranda,” he said. “How long has it been?” This seemed to her a silly question. She’d assumed, she realized, that everyone remembers the date of their divorce, the same way everyone remembers their wedding date. “Eleven years,” she said. ~ Emily St John Mandel, #NFDB
402:Phileas Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven, and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and seventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and seventy-six times, reached the Reform Club ~ Jules Verne, #NFDB
403:A quick Google search reveals there to be seven, ten, five, four or eight ‘years to save the planet’, depending on your headline writer and expert of choice (‘Eleven years to save the planet’ seems at the moment a rallying cry still up for grabs). ~ Bill Bryson, #NFDB
404:Char saw me. Over the shoulder of his partner, he mouthed, "Wait for me."
I grew roots. An earthquake could not have moved me. The clock struck a quarter before eleven. If it had struck the end of the world, I'd have stayed as I was. ~ Gail Carson Levine,#NFDB
405:I hate to think how many minutes of my life I've spent on goddamn hold. I want those minutes back. When death comes for me, I want back every minute I was on hold in traffic jams, and behind people with eleven items in the ten items or less line. ~ Laura Lippman, #NFDB
406:I haven't seen a new football play since I was in high school. You have just so many holes in a line and you have eleven men playing, and there's only so many ways you can go through those holes, and those ways have been used for forty, fifty years. ~ Red Grange, #NFDB
407:Miss Huntingforest beamed at them. 'If you can eat cakes at eleven o'clock in the morning you're all right,' she said. 'It's an acid test, in my opinion. If a man can eat two cookies before noon and enjoy them there's not much wrong with him. ~ Margery Allingham, #NFDB
408:Eichler, whose company spawned more than eleven thousand homes in various California subdivisions between 1950 and 1974. Inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright’s vision of simple modern homes for the American “everyman,” Eichler built inexpensive houses ~ Walter Isaacson, #NFDB
409:I live in New Hampshire. We're in favor of global warming. Eleven hundred more feet of sea-level rises? I've got beachfront property. You tell us up there, "By the end of the century, New York City could be underwater," and we say, "Your point is?" ~ P J O Rourke, #NFDB
410:But what I found most interesting was that Aaron had apparently found a way to pass the time without her. Beside him, holding his hand, was a Moroi girl who looked about eleven but had to be older, unless he'd become a pedophile during our absence. ~ Richelle Mead, #NFDB
411:Morrigan's night held only one possibility. Like every other child born precisely eleven years ago on the last Eventide, when the clock struck midnight she would die-the eleven short years of her doomed life complete; her curse finally fulfilled. ~ Jessica Townsend, #NFDB
412:Passepartout.’ ‘Passepartout suits me,’ responded Mr. Fogg. ‘You are well recommended to me; I hear a good report of you. You know my conditions?’ ‘Yes, monsieur.’ ‘Good! What time is it?’ ‘Twenty-two minutes after eleven,’ returned Passepartout, drawing ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
413:Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we’ll find the perfect match here somewhere – I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.’ Harry took the wand. He felt a sudden warmth in his fingers. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
414:How old is the lad?' inquired Barceló, inspecting me out of the corner of his eye.
'Almost eleven,' I announced.
Barceló flashed a sly smile.
'In other words, ten. Don't add on any years, you rascal. Life will see to that without your help. ~ Carlos Ruiz Zaf n,#NFDB
415:I’d begun at the soundless place where California touches Mexico with five Gatorade bottles full of water and eleven pounds of gear and lots of candy. My backpack was tiny, no bigger than a schoolgirl’s knapsack. Everything I carried was everything I had. ~ Aspen Matis, #NFDB
416:the sunken ships were visible even on the bottom, for it seemed as if they had sunk along with their own space and time, so that they were still illumined by the same eleven o’clock sun that was shining on Saturday, June 9, when they went down. ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez, #NFDB
417:I'm absolutely strict about it. When I land, I put my watch right, and I don't care what I feel like, I will go to bed at half past eleven. If that means going to bed early or late, that's what I live by. As soon as you get there, live by that time. ~ David Attenborough, #NFDB
418:Hemingway was really early. I probably started reading him when I was just eleven or twelve. There was just something magnetic to me in the arrangement of those sentences. Because they were so simple - or rather they appeared to be so simple, but they weren't. ~ Joan Didion, #NFDB
419:There were eleven of us.
Each more different than the next.
All with the same mindset.
Things weren't the way they were meant to be.
It was our job to make things right.
We were the soldiers of Halla.
It was time for us to take it back. ~ D J MacHale,#NFDB
420:I've gotten thrown out of thirty-seven straight games,' he said. 'Once or twice, I've had to go really crazy. I ran onto the court with eleven seconds left once and stole the ball from the other team. It wasn't pretty. But, you know. I have a streak to maintain. ~ John Green, #NFDB
421:Perhaps some of you are wondering how I felt seeing him with a boyfriend rather than a girlfriend. If that’s the case, please. We gods are not hung up about such things. I myself have had…let’s see, thirty-three mortal girlfriends and eleven mortal boyfriends? ~ Rick Riordan, #NFDB
422:It would probably be best if managers went to the IT department and asked that e-mail not be distributed between eight and eleven every morning. The idea that the best way to communicate with people is 24/7 is not really an idea about maximizing productivity. ~ Jocelyn K Glei, #NFDB
423:Larger-than-life, celebrity leaders who ride in from the outside are negatively correlated with going from good to great. Ten of eleven good-to-great CEOs came from inside the company, whereas the comparison companies tried outside CEOs six times more often. ~ James C Collins, #NFDB
424:Nellie grinned. "I always wanted to go to Venice. It's supposed to be the romance capital of the world."
"Sweet," put in Dan. "Too bad your date is an Egyptian Mau on a hunger strike."
The au pair sighed. "Better than an eleven-year-old with a big mouth. ~ Gordon Korman,#NFDB
425:So she spends until about eleven A.M. reading, re-reading, and understanding the new changes in the Project. There are many of these, because this is a Monday morning and Marietta and her higher-ups spent the whole weekend closeted on the top floor, having a ~ Neal Stephenson, #NFDB
426:This is a test, this is only a test. The following passages are just to separate variations of one, eleven and one point one. This is for validation purposes for a specific bug that was filed due to a change that was made to ignore the period which caused eleven to ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
427:It sucks because you’re trying to do the right thing, but the result isn’t showing it. You’re at the stage where good intentions meet crappy abilities. Welcome to my first eleven months as a vampire.” “You’ve only been a vampire for ten months.” “My point exactly. ~ Chloe Neill, #NFDB
428:There are twenty-two stalls in the Barn. Eleven of the stabled horses are, as far as Rutherford can ascertain, former presidents of the United States of America. The other stalls are occupied by regular horses, who give the presidents suspicious, sidelong looks. ~ Karen Russell, #NFDB
429:Hey, when’s your birthday?” “You going to buy me something?” “Easy there.” “Coming up, actually,” I say. “So’s mine.” “November eleventh.” She gawks. “That’s my birthday, too.” “You’re kidding.” “I am not. Eleven eleven.” I lift my glass. “To eleven eleven.” We toast. ~ A J Finn, #NFDB
430:If I were to see the case of a boy aged ten or eleven who's intensely erotically attracted toward a man in his twenties or thirties, if the relationship is totally mutual, and the bonding is genuinely totally mutual, then I would not call it pathological in any way. ~ John Money, #NFDB
431:For example, knowing that it takes only about eleven and a half days for a million seconds to tick away, whereas almost thirty-two years are required for a billion seconds to pass, gives one a better grasp of the relative magnitudes of these two common numbers. ~ John Allen Paulos, #NFDB
432:Now he’d bought a new suit to go back in; blue with pencil stripes, vest and all—eleven dollars on Third Avenue, with a watch and watch chain, and a portable typewriter with which he was going to start writing in a Denver rooming house as soon as he got a job there. ~ Jack Kerouac, #NFDB
433:Clementine nudges my shoulder. “I firmly believe you could hit eleven out of ten targets, with only nine bullets.”
I snort-laugh.
“What?” she says. “It’s true. I also believe you could cut a knife with butter.”
This time, everyone snort-laughs. ~ Gena Showalter,#NFDB
434:October 31st dawned damp and cold, but by nine in the morning the misty rain had dissipated, and blue sky broke through. By eleven the sun had dried the leaves to crisp colors, and the world smelled of apples and burning wood smoke and candles and pumpkin innards. ~ Chet Williamson, #NFDB
435:He finished the bandage and was examining it critically.
"You know those things are unreliable." His voice held just a touch of reproach.
“Eleven out of twelve work fine. I’d say that’s better chances than getting an orgasm with a blind date and women still try. ~ Ilona Andrews,#NFDB
436:I met one child there eleven years old, speaking three languages [in Guinea]. He could speak English, French and Malinke. Speaking my language actually better than I could. And this hypocrisy - they tell us here in America [ that black people can't be intelligent]. ~ Fannie Lou Hamer, #NFDB
437:I’ve spent eleven days with you in the past eight months and that’s all it took for me to fall for you. Because I’ve sent you over five thousand texts and called you two hundred and eighteen times and you know what I have to show for that? I fucking love you. ~ Kate Canterbary, #NFDB
438:I once said, "You cannot go to a 7-Eleven or a Dunkin' Donuts unless you have a slight Indian accent." When Bobby Jindal entered the Republican campaign, my comment should have been covered again, more prominently. I mean, Jindal is not Native American, he's a real Indian. ~ Joe Biden, #NFDB
439:Seven to eleven is a huge chunk of life, full of dulling and forgetting. It is fabled that we slowly lose the gift of speech with animals, that birds no longer visit our windowsills to converse. As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armor themselves against wonder. ~ Leonard Cohen, #NFDB
440:The life changing moment for me what the first time I went to a war zone and that was Sierra Leone. I took two weeks, eleven years ago and I went. I wasn't an Ambassador or anything I just asked to go and I was allowed to go. It was like someone smacked me in the face. ~ Angelina Jolie, #NFDB
441:am sorry to tell you that your partner is dead.’ You see, words are important. Just eleven words, and my life was devastated. There was no room for hope, no room for bargaining, no room for denial and no room for pleading. A light had gone out and would never shine again. ~ John Nicholl, #NFDB
442:Larger-than-life, celebrity leaders who ride in from the outside are negatively correlated with taking a company from good to great. Ten of eleven good-to-great CEOs came from inside the company, whereas the comparison companies tried outside CEOs six times more often. ~ James C Collins, #NFDB
443:You know, the eleven million people living in the shadows, I believe, they're already American citizens... These people are just waiting, waiting for a chance to contribute fully. And by that standard alone eleven million undocumented aliens are already Americans in my view. ~ Joe Biden, #NFDB
444:Chapter Four Mitch The following day, I arrive at Paige’s house shortly before eleven in the morning. When Mrs. Nichols answers the door and ushers me in, she’s all big smiles and warm greetings. It’s obvious she still doesn’t know I knocked up her only daughter. As ~ Beverley Kendall, #NFDB
445:Mommy, I said aloud, and I thought of her suddenly stopping what she was doing, often in the center of the kitchen, and invoking her own mother whom she lost when she was eleven years old. How is it that we never completely comprehend our love for someone until they’re gone? ~ Patti Smith, #NFDB
446:Words. I'm surrounding by thousands of words. Maybe millions...Deep within me, words pile up in huge drifts. Mountains of phrases and sentences and connected ideas. Clever expressions. Jokes. Love songs...I have never spoken one single word. I am almost eleven years old. ~ Sharon M Draper, #NFDB
447:An Akshauhini contains 21870 chariots, the same number of elephants, 109350 soldiers that fight on foot, and 65610 horsemen. Eighteen such Akshauhinis were assembled for the battle of Kurukshetra, seven on the side of the Pandavas and eleven on the side of the Kauravas. ~ Sharath Komarraju, #NFDB
448:[Life] is like a go player who, not wasting a move, gets the jump on his opponent by sacrificing a small advantage to achieve a great one. It is easy, of course, to sacrifice three stones in order to get ten. The hard thing is to sacrifice ten stones in order to gain eleven. ~ Yoshida Kenk, #NFDB
449:The techie was still going. “Now I want to know what else the dude did while he was messing around in there, right? So I do a scan for any other stuff that was deleted around the same time. And guess what pops up? The entire Outlook PST file. Nuked. At four eleven in the A.M. ~ Tana French, #NFDB
450:You have to admit it’s embarrassing that she’s pregnant at thirty-three. And he’s eleven years older. I feel sorry for their baby. Think of it—when the baby is our age your mother will be almost fifty and my father will be sixty. They’ll be more like grandparents than parents. ~ Judy Blume, #NFDB
451:From the three, you then use one to make eight ones. You add those ones to the three, and you get one-three base eight, or, in other words, In base ten you have eleven, and you take away seven. And seven from eleven is four. Now go back to the sixty-fours, you're left with two. ~ Tom Lehrer, #NFDB
452:It may comfort you to know that if your child reaches the age of eleven or twelve and you have a good bond or relationship, no matter how dramatic adolescence becomes, you children will probably turn out all right and want some form of connection to you in adulthood. ~ Charlotte Sophia Kasl, #NFDB
453:Ten minutes, good, past eleven." "My blood!" ejaculated the vexed coachman, "and not atop of Shooter's yet! Tst! Yah! Get on with you!" The emphatic horse, cut short by the whip in a most decided negative, made a decided scramble for it, and the three other horses followed ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
454:in Malibu on weekends. She hadn’t really been looking for a man in the past eleven years. She had accepted her single state after the divorce and made her peace with it. She really didn’t want to be with a man unless she loved him. But at times the companionship of a man was ~ Danielle Steel, #NFDB
455:I ought to pray before seeing any one. Often when I sleep long, or meet with others early, it is eleven or twelve o'clock before I begin secret prayer. I feel it is far better to begin with God-to see His face first, to get my soul near Him before it is near another. ~ Robert Murray M Cheyne, #NFDB
456:Hardy said Ricky might be locked up in some institution for months, maybe years, if the doctors weren’t told the truth about what the boys witnessed. Hardy was okay, not too bright, and he was making the mistake of talking to Mark as if he were five years old instead of eleven. ~ John Grisham, #NFDB
457:How tall are you, Constantine?” I asked, unable to hide my tears.
Constantine narrowed her eyes at me.
“How tall is you?”
“Five-eleven,” I cried. “I’m already taller than the boys’ basketball coach.”
“Well, I’m five-thirteen, so quit feeling sorry for yourself. ~ Kathryn Stockett,#NFDB
458:The detective had moved to Fort Lauderdale from St. Paul because his wife had inexplicably yearned to experience humidity. A decade later she was back in the Twin Cities and Rolvaag was still in Florida, divorced and sweating like a hog for eleven and a half months of the year. ~ Carl Hiaasen, #NFDB
459:Lagrange’s father, once Treasurer of War for Sardinia, married Marie-Thérèse Gros, the only daughter of a wealthy physician of Cambiano, by whom he had eleven children. Of this numerous brood only the youngest, Joseph-Louis, born on January 25, 1736, survived beyond infancy. ~ Eric Temple Bell, #NFDB
460:Only nine States have been represented since my arrival till within three days. There are now Eleven States barely represented. This tardiness in the States or their Delegates, besides retarding the most important Business makes it exceeding fatiguing to those that do attend. ~ William Whipple, #NFDB
461:The war that killed your grandfather killed sixteen million others. One and a half million French boys alone, most of them younger than I was. Two million on the German side. March the dead in a single-file line, and for eleven days and eleven nights, they’d walk past our door. ~ Anthony Doerr, #NFDB
462:It was a fine thing indeed, Luna thought, being eleven. She loved the symmetry of it, and the lack of symmetry. Eleven was a number that was visually even, but functionally not - it looked one way and behaved in quite another. Just like most eleven-year-olds, or so she assumed. ~ Kelly Barnhill, #NFDB
463:I wanted to be a teacher. I love children, so I wanted to deal with children. Then I wanted to be a veterinarian. But by the age of ten or eleven, when I opened my mouth and said, 'Oh, God, what's this?' I kind of knew teaching and being a veterinarian were gonna have to wait. ~ Whitney Houston, #NFDB
464:You realize something once, when you are nine, and then you realize it again when you are ten, and you realize when you are eleven, twelve, but every year you see that what you thought you understood a year ago, no, wait it is ten times worse. And your heart fills up with lead. ~ Rebecca Makkai, #NFDB
465:He pushed the bag toward her. “I get out of work at eleven. I’ll be at your house by eleven thirty. Leave the front door unlocked. Put the black outfit on and lie on the bed at eleven fifteen with your legs as far apart as you can get them. Make sure the ceiling fan is set to high. ~ Marie Force, #NFDB
466:I really loathe [the bumper sticker] 'Proud Parent of a Terrific Kid!'
Why not a bumper sticker for the unlucky parents, something like: 'My Fifteen-Year-Old's in Detox and Not Speaking to Any of Us' or 'My Kid Robbed a 7-Eleven and is in a Center for Youthful Offenders. ~ Celia Rivenbark,#NFDB
467:women in America are eleven times more likely to be murdered with guns than women in other developed nations. In the eighteen states that require background checks for all handgun sales, 46 percent fewer women are shot and killed by intimate partners than in the states that do not. ~ Amy Schumer, #NFDB
468:Nonviolence; Truth; Non-Stealing; Celibacy; Non-Possession; Body Labour; Control of the Palate; Fear-lessness; Equal Respect for all Religions; Swadeshi (use of home manufactures); Freedom from Untouchability. These eleven should be observed as vows in a spirit of humility. ~ Paramahansa Yogananda, #NFDB
469:I’m talking about these people who’ve ended up in one life instead of another and they are just so disappointed. Do you know what I mean? They’ve done what’s expected of them. They want to do something different but it’s impossible now, ========== Station Eleven (Emily St. John Mandel) ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
470:Instead of watching TV or playing World of Warcraft, work on your idea. Instead of going to bed at ten, go to bed at eleven. We’re not talking about all-nighters or sixteen-hour days—we’re talking about squeezing out a few extra hours a week. That’s enough time to get something going. ~ Jason Fried, #NFDB
471:The decline is in paper values, not in tangible goods and services...America is now in the eighth year of prosperity as commercially defined. The former great periods of prosperity in America averaged eleven years. On this basis we now have three more years to go before the tailspin. ~ Stuart Chase, #NFDB
472:Thursday 1st January 00:15
TO: chris@christophercheshire.com
Fireworks from the London Eye are bursting above my head filling the garden with reds, yellows and blues, but I am on my own. I don’t know where Daniel is. He promised he would be home by eleven.
Happy New Year x ~ Robert Bryndza,#NFDB
473:Unto the end of the world.” Venantius Fortunatus eleven hundred years ago witnesses to the peregrinations of Paul the apostle. He passed the ocean’s curled wave,
As far as islands harbours have;
As far as Brittain yields a bay,
Or Iceland’s frozen shore a stay. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,#NFDB
474:Eleven years later. Numbers have dehumanized us. Over breakfast coffee we read of 40,000 American dead in Vietnam. Instead of vomiting, we reach for the toast. Our morning rush through crowded streets is not to cry murder but to hit that trough before somebody else gobbles our share. ~ Dalton Trumbo, #NFDB
475:At eleven, Kate woke Jake up when she went searching in the cooler for juice.
"You know, you used to be peaceful," he grumbled.
"I can't believe you were ever married." Kate said, as she cracked the can open. "What did you do, make her stand in the corner all the time? ~ Jennifer Crusie,#NFDB
476:Things I wonder about the FBI's list of the "Ten Most Wanted" criminals: When they catch a guy and he comes off the list, does number eleven automatically move up? And does he see it as a promotion? Does he call his criminal friends and say, "I made it, Bruno. I'm finally on the list"? ~ George Carlin, #NFDB
477:You do know something quite important about the Cabinet,” said Adora Belle, apparently waking up. “You know it wasn’t built for or by a girl between the ages of four and, oh, eleven years old.” “How do we know that?” “No pink. Trust me. No girl in that age group would leave out pink. ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
478:For most of us, our language changes under different circumstances. We talked differently in formal situations them with family and friends. We called this form of language doggerel.Think about this: with adults we usually use ten to eleven words per sentence, but with dogs it's four. ~ H Norman Wright, #NFDB
479:I remembered back to leo's burial and holding your hand. I was eleven and you were six, your hand soft and small in mine. As the vicar said 'in sure and certain hope of the resurrection of eternal life' you turned to me, 'I don't want sure and certain hope I want sure and certain Bee. ~ Rosamund Lupton, #NFDB
480:Mr. Beaconsfield is the Year Eleven drama teacher. He’s one of those teachers who likes being “down with the kids”—all gelled hair and “call me Jeff.”He’s also the reason our version of Romeo and Juliet is set in a Brooklyn ghetto and Juliet is leaning out of a trailer rather than a balcony. ~ Zoe Sugg, #NFDB
481:Megan Meade’s Guide to the McGowan Boys
Entry Eleven
Observation #1: Boys are vulnerable.
Even the ones that seem like total, complete jerks.
Observation #2: Boys don’t know when to call a truce already.
Especially the ones that seem like total, complete jerks. ~ Kate Brian,#NFDB
482:may i be i is the only prayer--not may i be great or good or beautiful or wise or strong today... may i be me....five foot eleven, brown hair/eyed, smart, serious, happy, frustrated, impatient, joyful, running, sleeping, smiling, eating, trying, believing, listening, being & becoming. ~ e e cummings, #NFDB
483:Out of the thirty thousand types of edible plants thought to exist on Earth, just eleven—corn, rice, wheat, potatoes, cassava, sorghum, millet, beans, barley, rye, and oats—account for 93 percent of all that humans eat, and every one of them was first cultivated by our Neolithic ancestors. ~ Bill Bryson, #NFDB
484:Medium clever,” Simon acknowledged. “Like a cross between George Clooney in Ocean’s Eleven and those MythBusters guys, but, you know, better-looking.” “I’m always so glad I have no idea what you’re vacantly chattering about,” said Jace. “It fills me with a sense of peace and well-being. ~ Cassandra Clare, #NFDB
485:The only bright spot in the entire evening was the presence of Kevin "Tubby" Matchwell, the eleven-year-old porker who tackled the role of Santa with a beguiling authenticity. The false beard tended to muffle his speech, but they could hear his chafing thighs all the way to the North Pole. ~ David Sedaris, #NFDB
486:Artists," he said, "are people who say, 'I can't fix my country or my state or my city, or even my marriage. But by golly, I can make this square of canvas, or this eight-and-a-half-by-eleven piece of paper, or this lump of clay, or these twelve bars of music, exactly what they ought to be! ~ Kurt Vonnegut, #NFDB
487:How old are you?” the woman asked. “You look about eleven.” “Twenty-four,” Mae said. “My god. You don’t have a mark on you. Were we ever twenty-four, my love?” She turned to the man, who was using a ballpoint pen to scratch the arch of his foot. He shrugged, and the woman let the matter drop. ~ Dave Eggers, #NFDB
488:Medium clever,” Simon acknowledged. “Like a cross between George Clooney in Ocean’s Eleven and those MythBusters guys, but, you know, better-looking.”
“I’m always so glad I have no idea what you’re vacantly chattering about,” said Jace. “It fills me with a sense of peace and well-being. ~ Cassandra Clare,#NFDB
489:During the eleven-year sunspot cycle, for example, solar flares can send enormous quantities of deadly plasma racing toward Earth. In the past, this phenomenon has forced the astronauts on the space station to seek special protection against the potentially lethal barrage of subatomic particles. ~ Michio Kaku, #NFDB
490:I was brought up in the kind of Catholic situation up until I was about eleven years old, which was that God is this thing that we're never going to see, we're never going to meet, but you still have to believe in what we say. It's like this blind faith in something that they can't show you. ~ George Harrison, #NFDB
491:I'm from Milwaukee, Wisconsin. I moved to LA when I was about eleven years old. I always go back to Milwaukee whenever I can. Just chill with my grandpa and my grandmother and just be with family, be with people that were there before I got a million views on YouTube because of my music video. ~ Jacob Latimore, #NFDB
492:But in a pinch, he was a capable coder too. He just wasn’t especially fast. So when he was finally done coding and debugging his program and ran a successful test, it was past eleven on Tuesday night. He hadn’t slept but for a few hours on Sunday night, and the lack of sleep had cooked him. ~ Matthew FitzSimmons, #NFDB
493:War is part of our history, but it is not in at all the same sense part of our prehistory. It is one of the innovations that occurred between nine and eleven thousand years ago when the first civilized societies were coming into being. What has been invented can be changed; war is not in our genes. ~ Gwynne Dyer, #NFDB
494:Many people claim to be liberated...it's an endless list! According to "moi", as Ms. Piggy would say, there are currently, on this earth, 12 beings who are self-realized. Eleven are men, one is a woman. Most of them are in the Far East, most of them you've never heard of and probably never will. ~ Frederick Lenz, #NFDB
495:Moderately hot oven? That's it? No temperature listed? What did that even mean – moderately hot? How moderately hot were they talking here? George Clooney in Ocean's Eleven hot? Or Daniel Craig in Skyfall hot? Probably not Daniel Craig hot. That heat level would scorch any straight girl's peaches. ~ Tiffany Reisz, #NFDB
496:Good grief, man; the Culture’s been a spacefaring species for eleven thousand years; just because you’ve mostly settled down in idealized, tailor-made conditions doesn’t mean you’ve lost the capacity for rapid adaptation. Strength in depth; redundancy; over-design. You know the Culture’s philosophy. ~ Iain M Banks, #NFDB
497:I started writing little short stories and poems as soon as I learned to read and write. I think I was six years old. And then when I got to be eleven, twelve, and into my teens, I was just listening to records all the time, and I got a guitar. I started to take guitar lessons when I was twelve. ~ Lucinda Williams, #NFDB
498:But Willa knew what she meant. She had felt that way during her own childhood; she’d felt like a watchful, wary adult housed in a little girl’s body. And yet nowadays, paradoxically, it often seemed to her that from behind her adult face a child about eleven years old was still gazing out at the world. ~ Anne Tyler, #NFDB
499:in 2005, the Olin Foundation had supported eleven separate programs at Harvard, burnishing the foundation’s name and ideas and proving that even the best-endowed American university would allow an outside, ideological group to build “beachheads,” so long as the project was properly packaged and funded. ~ Jane Mayer, #NFDB
500:Of course, I was a little concerned about it being over two hours [in "Aquarius" ]. "Neighboring Sounds" was two hours and eleven minutes. This is two hours and twenty-five minutes, and I did try bringing it down. For instance, I considered cutting out the sequence with the family looking at pictures. ~ Sonia Braga, #NFDB
501:She shrugged. "Once you've been around for a bit, you get to know stuff."
I kicked a stone. "By `a bit' do you mean `a really long time'?"
She nodded.
"How old are you really?" I asked.
"Eleven."
I thought for a bit. Then I asked, "How long have you been eleven for?"
She smiled at me. ~ Neil Gaiman,#NFDB
502:She snorts. "Yeah, I'll tape my boobs down and wear my Burger King Crown. That'll fool'em. They see five-foot-seven-inch-tall, hippy eleven-year-olds all the time." She sneers at me. "You on the other hand..."
"Did you just call me short?"
"And, apparently, boobless."
"Sawyer doesn't think so. ~ Lisa McMann,#NFDB
503:How do you know?" She shrugged. "Once you’ve been around for a bit, you get to know stuff." I kicked a stone. "By 'a bit' do you mean 'a really long time'?" She nodded. "How old are you, really?" I asked. "Eleven." I thought for a bit. Then I asked, "How long have you been eleven for?" She smiled at me. ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
504:How do you know?” She shrugged. “Once you’ve been around for a bit, you get to know stuff.” I kicked a stone. “By ‘a bit’ do you mean ‘a really long time’?” She nodded. “How old are you, really?” I asked. “Eleven.” I thought for a bit. Then I asked, “How long have you been eleven for?” She smiled at me. ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
505:I am remembering so clearly how he looked when he was eight, when he was eleven, when he was seventeen. Sawyer and I were only together for a few months before he left, but he was my golden boy for so long before that he would have taken the guts of me with him even if we’d never been a couple at all. ~ Katie Cotugno, #NFDB
506:I found a copy of Leven's birth certificate and was surprised to see his birth name listed as E. Leven Thumps. I assume the E. stands for Elton, and I have no idea why they didnt spell it out, but it's intresting to think that it took exactly eleven whacks or thumps to down the oldest tree. ~ Obert Skye, #NFDB
507:Ellie, the eleven-year-old who'd been her papa's favorite, wiped the tears from her freckled cheeks, her voice trembling slightly. Tori’s insides twisted. So easy to feel sorry for the little girl. “No, darling, we won’t have a place to live if we stay here. The letter came from the bank today. We have ~ Callie Hutton, #NFDB
508:In a certain sense, these were lessons I learned by playing with Indian musicians. The rhythmic forms that they use are very complex, and very challenging. In order to play in fifteen, or eleven, or seven or even five, you have to have mastered that time in order to be able to be free with the music. ~ John McLaughlin, #NFDB
509:may i be i is the only prayer--not may i be great or good or beautiful or wise or strong
today... may i be me....five foot eleven, brown hair/eyed, smart, serious, happy, frustrated, impatient, joyful, running, sleeping, smiling, eating, trying, believing, listening, being & becoming. ~ E E Cummings,#NFDB
510:Please be SILENT and LISTEN.
I am the SCHOOLMASTER
and you are in the CLASSROOM.
Just like ELEVEN PLUS TWO equals
TWELVE PLUS ONE,
And even a FUNERAL can be REAL FUN,
You will find my DICTIONARY
is quite INDICATORY.
If you want to read my story, just look...
THEN UNREAD. ~ Pseudonymous Bosch,#NFDB
511:Thanks to years of travel at other people’s expense, I have a lifetime supply of soaps, small bottles of shampoo, aromatic lotions, sewing kits, and shoe mitts. I have over eleven hundred shower caps and require now only a reason to use them. I am so well prepared financially that I have money in a range ~ Bill Bryson, #NFDB
512:Bill Russell, the Boston Celtics great who won more championship rings as a player than anyone else (eleven), revealed in his memoir, Second Wind, that he sometimes secretly rooted for the opposing team during big games because if they were doing well, it meant he would have a more heightened experience. ~ Phil Jackson, #NFDB
513:From its inception, FISA has been the ultimate rubber stamp. In its first twenty-four years, from 1978 to 2002, the court rejected a total of zero government applications while approving many thousands. In the subsequent decade, through 2012, the court has rejected just eleven government applications. ~ Glenn Greenwald, #NFDB
514:God forbid we should ever be twenty years without such a rebellion... We have had thirteen States independent for eleven years. There has been one rebellion. That comes to one rebellion in a century and a half, for each State. What country before ever existed a century and a half without a rebellion. ~ Thomas Jefferson, #NFDB
515:I am remembering so clearly how he looked when he was eight, when he was eleven, when he was seventeen. Sawyer and I were only together for a few months before he left, but he was my golden boy for so long before that he would have taken the guts of me with him even if we’d never been a couple at all. ~ Katie Cotugno, #NFDB
516:She thinks about the other prostitutes who work with her. She thinks about her mother and her friends. They all believe that man feels desire for only eleven minutes a day, and that they’ll pay a fortune for it. That’s not true; a man is also a woman; he wants to find someone, to give meaning to his life. ~ Paulo Coelho, #NFDB
517: September—Eleven Months Before Accident WHEN MAXIMILIAN Hallowell winks at me, my heart somersaults like an overzealous toddler at her first gymnastics class. Because, yes, when it comes to this guy, I am so over-the-top awkward that even the metaphorical tumbling of my internal organs is cringe-worthy. I ~ Lexi Ryan, #NFDB
518:age. But after she turned five, Helen could count on one hand the number of times she had seen Natalie break down. The first was when Teddy died, and the second was when Natalie was eleven and broke her elbow. The third was Mimi’s wedding, when Rose yelled at her in the hallway, and the last time was ~ Lynda Cohen Loigman, #NFDB
519:I can’t even help it. There’s just this thread of anticipation that I can’t seem to quell. So when the school day ends and nothing extraordinary has happened, it’s a tiny heartbreak. It’s like eleven o’clock on the night of your birthday, when you realize no one’s throwing you a surprise party after all. ~ Becky Albertalli, #NFDB
520:J.T Woodland, known as “the cute one” in The Corporation’s seventh-grade boy band, Boyz Will B Boyz. Due to the success of their triple-platinum hit, “Let Me Shave Your Legs Tonight, Girl,” Boyz Will B Boyz ruled the charts for a solid eleven months before hitting puberty and losing ground to Hot Vampire Boyz. ~ Libba Bray, #NFDB
521:When I was a young boy, I preferred cats to dogs. From the age of seven or eight onwards I just felt more comfortable with cats. And I felt more comfortable with girls, I didn't really like hanging out with guys. When I was about ten or eleven, I was friendlier with the girls in my school than with the guys. ~ Ian Anderson, #NFDB
522:I remember being handed a score composed by Mozart at the age of eleven. What could I say? I felt like de Kooning, who was asked to comment on a certain abstract painting, and answered in the negative. He was then told it was the work of a celebrated monkey. 'That's different. For a monkey, it's terrific'. ~ Igor Stravinsky, #NFDB
523:Back when he was a kid, about eleven years old, he used to go looking for cars that had “No Radio in Car” signs on them. He’d take a removable radio, of a type that was very popular at the time, and throw it as hard as he could at the car window with a note wrapped around it that read, now you have one. ~ Keith R A DeCandido, #NFDB
524:Now if, as a rule, the Count generally avoided drinking after eleven, he absolutely never drank after midnight. In fact, he had even found himself quoting his father to Sofia on the subject, asserting that the only things that came from the practice were foolhardy acts, ill-advised liaisons, and gambling debts. ~ Amor Towles, #NFDB
525:There was a time in L.A. when I drove to 7-Eleven to go grocery shopping, and I locked my keys in my car, which wasn't insured. My wallet was in there, and I couldn't call AAA, because I only had $7 in my bank account. It was one of those moments where I was like, 'O.K., I literally have nothing right now. ~ Whitney Cummings, #NFDB
526:When I was eleven or twelve years old, I became for a while fixated on the question whether there could be two 'identical' stones. This is, of course, the question whether the principle of identity of indiscernibles is true and, as I formulated it then, I was bound to fall into confusion about it. ~ Gonzalo Rodriguez Pereyra, #NFDB
527:I was coughing and sneezing, my eyes were sore, my knees were shaky, I was as hungry as a bitch wolf, and I had exactly eight cents to my name. I didn't care. my history was longer by eleven thousand brand-new words, and at that moment I bet there wasn't a chairman of the board in all New York as happy as I. ~ Joseph Mitchell, #NFDB
528:What are you doing here? (Artemis) I wanted to thank you for what you did tonight, but as I considered that, it dawned on me that you have never once in eleven thousand years done anything for me for free. The sheer fear factor of that realization alone has made me come seeking you. So what gives? (Acheron) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon, #NFDB
529:Verse 4.—“Unto the end of the world.” Venantius Fortunatus eleven hundred years ago witnesses to the peregrinations of Paul the apostle. He passed the ocean’s curled wave,
As far as islands harbours have;
As far as Brittain yields a bay,
Or Iceland’s frozen shore a stay. John Cragge, 1557. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,#NFDB
530:One thing that the elves are good at is levitating objects. Being able to float things off the ground is a very helpful skill to have for loading heavy sacks of gifts on to the sleigh every Christmas Eve. But it’s not so helpful when they’re using it to dangle an eleven-year-old girl off the classroom ceiling. ~ Parinita Shetty, #NFDB
531:That rarest of beasts: the perfect thriller. This extraordinary novel set my blood fizzing—I quite literally couldn’t put it down. I told myself I'd just dip in; eleven hours later—it's now 5:47 a.m.—I've finished it, absolutely dazzled."
—A. J. Finn, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Woman in the Window ~ A J Finn,#NFDB
532:We broke up for the night about eleven. Mrs. Butler had come down for a while, and had even played a little, something of Tschaikovsky’s, a singing, plaintive theme that brought sadness back into Margery’s face, and made me think, for no reason, of a wet country road and a plodding, back-burdened peasant. ~ Mary Roberts Rinehart, #NFDB
533:A bright light filled the plane. The first shock-wave hit us. We were eleven and a half miles slant range from the atomic explosion but the whole airplane cracked and crinkled from the blast... We turned back to look at Hiroshima. The city was hidden by that awful cloud... mushrooming, terrible and incredibly tall. ~ Paul Tibbets, #NFDB
534:After much jousting between the Congress and the president over the appointment of more officers, Madison by the end of the year had issued commissions to over eleven hundred individuals, 15 percent of whom immediately declined them, followed by an additional 8 percent who resigned after several months of service. ~ Gordon S Wood, #NFDB
535:What are you doing here? (Artemis)
I wanted to thank you for what you did tonight, but as I considered that, it dawned on me that you have never once in eleven thousand years done anything for me for free. The sheer fear factor of that realization alone has made me come seeking you. So what gives? (Acheron) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,#NFDB
536:At the age of eleven, I began Euclid, with my brother as my tutor. This was one of the great events of my life, as dazzling as first love. I had not imagined there was anything so delicious in the world. From that moment until I was thirty-eight, mathematics was my chief interest and my chief source of happiness. ~ Bertrand Russell, #NFDB
537:Kage— the man I’d only hours ago claimed as my soulmate, the man I’d changed everything for, the man I felt like I would die without seeing for eleven days— was walking out of my life. And all I could do was lie there in my parents’ backyard, with my pants around my knees and my heart in my throat, and cry myself dry. ~ Maris Black, #NFDB
538:Instinct tells me to go to Hannah's, but she doesn't live there anymore and that's when I realize the major difference between my mother and Hannah. My mother deserted me at the 7-Eleven, hundred of kilometers away from home.
Hannah, however, did the unforgivable.
She deserted me in our own backyard. ~ Melina Marchetta,#NFDB
539:My son and I discovered Terry Pratchett's books together, when he was about eleven years old. He'd be reading on his own and would start to laugh, and then eagerly read the passage aloud to me--and I'd do the same to him! Pratchett's books became a shared source of delight for us back then, and they still are today. ~ Linda Sue Park, #NFDB
540:My son never eats baloney. He says the stuff in baloney will kill you. I say when? I’ve got cataracts, high blood pressure, enlarged prostate, skin cancer, hemorrhoids, an artificial hip, false teeth, and gas. Every day I take eleven different pills and a stool softener. And now I’m supposed to worry about baloney. ~ Janet Evanovich, #NFDB
541:relationship with Shayla, he saw them only sporadically, but at least they spent Thanksgiving that year with him. They were around eleven at the time. But they have since moved to Houston, and Boobie hasn’t seen them in four months. He’s tried to call them, but they’re never available. I know many things about Boobie, ~ H G Bissinger, #NFDB
542:They bury their dead with their heads directly downward, because they hold an opinion, that in eleven thousand moons they are all to rise again; in which period the earth (which they conceive to be flat) will turn upside down, and by this means they shall, at their resurrection, be found ready standing on their feet. ~ Jonathan Swift, #NFDB
543:I am eleven years old, I know, and I am not serious enough. Last night I said to myself: tomorrow I will be good. Good? I wasn't any better than I was the day before. Now here is a new month, and I haven't yet thought out how to be more sensible, how to master my impulses and my temper. I am ashamed to be so undisciplined. ~ Ana s Nin, #NFDB
544:If she'd spaced her children out and had eleven babies in eleven years, she would have been no better than her own mother and sisters: irresponsible, a welfare cheat, another bit of Sawdust Lane white trash. But as luck would have it, she'd had them all at once, and now she was, overnight, middle-class. And respectable. ~ Sheri Holman, #NFDB
545:Yes, somewhere inside me there is a child always eleven years old, a girlchild who holds the world responsible for all the things that terrify and call to me. But inside me too is the teenager who armed herself and fought back, the dyke who did what she had to, the woman who learned to love without giving in to fear. ~ Dorothy Allison, #NFDB
546:Did I know all that at eleven? Some, I think. It lay in my heart, unformed, unspoken, but hard as a stone. It would be covered over in time, half forgotten and often contradicted, but it was always there. Destiny is all, Ravn liked to tell me, destiny is everything. He would even say it in English, “Wyrd bi ful aræd. ~ Bernard Cornwell, #NFDB
547:Anyone who is in love is making love the whole time, even when they're not. When two bodies meet, it is just the cup overflowing. They can stay together for hours, even days. They begin the dance one day and finish it the next, or--such is the pleasure they experience--they may never finish it. No eleven minutes for them. ~ Paulo Coelho, #NFDB
548:One of the key words in this letter is comfort or encouragement. The Greek word means “called to one’s side to help.” The verb is used eighteen times in this letter, and the noun eleven times. In spite of all the trials he experienced, Paul was able (by the grace of God) to write a letter saturated with encouragement. ~ Warren W Wiersbe, #NFDB
549:How do you know?"
She shrugged. "Once you've been around for a bit, you get to know stuff."
I kicked a stone. "By 'a bit' do you mean 'a really long time'?"
She nodded.
"How old are you, really?" I asked
"Eleven."
I thought for a bit . Then I asked, "How long have you been eleven for?"
She smiled at me. ~ Neil Gaiman,#NFDB
550:My mother had been in the Soviet whirlpool for eleven years by this point. Enough time, I imagine, to unlearn the bourgeois habits of her native Brooklyn, to accustom herself to the farting and shouting of her neighbours, to doing her washing by hand in the collective tub, to keeping her dry food locked up in her wardrobe ~ Sana Krasikov, #NFDB
551:Anyone who is in love is making love the whole time, even when they're not. When two bodies meet, it is just the cup overflowing. They can stay together for hours, even days. They begin the dance one day and finish it the next, or - such is the pleasure they experience - they may never finish it. No eleven minutes for them. ~ Paulo Coelho, #NFDB
552:For if rice and tuna was his for-guests meal, Ceony couldn’t imagine what the man ate when he dined alone. Perhaps Mg. Aviosky had assigned her here merely to ensure England’s oddest paper magician got some decent nutrition and didn’t wither away, leaving the country with only eleven paper magicians instead of twelve. ~ Charlie N Holmberg, #NFDB
553:Four times, under our educational rules, the human pack is shuffled and cut - at eleven-plus, sixteen-plus, eighteen-plus and twenty-plus - and happy is he who comes top of the deck on each occasion, but especially the last. This is called Finals, the very name of which implies that nothing of importance can happen after it. ~ David Lodge, #NFDB
554:Peak hours for sending a first email through the online dating system tended to be during work (eleven A.M. to four P.M.) and then just after dinner (seven P.M. to nine P.M.). I did have a few women send me a first message after eleven P.M. Those who did had an 82 percent chance of coming from a profile that had too many words. ~ Amy Webb, #NFDB
555:Gentlemen, Chicolini here may talk like an idiot, and look like an idiot, but don't let that fool you: he really is an idiot. I implore you, send him back to his father and brothers, who are waiting for him with open arms in the penitentiary. I suggest that we give him ten years in Leavenworth, or eleven years in Twelveworth. ~ Groucho Marx, #NFDB
556:I had neither kith nor kin in England, and was therefore as free as air -- or as free as an income of eleven shillings and sixpence a day will permit a man to be. Under such circumstances, I naturally gravitated to London, that great cesspool into which all the loungers and idlers of the Empire are irresistibly drained. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle, #NFDB
557:He’s never asked about her depression in the past, just knew it was there like a big black blob over her head. In Year Eleven they thought it was a one-off because her mother had been sick, but he had seen it once or twice again. Francesca knew the signs and he could tell she fought it with everything she had inside of her. ~ Melina Marchetta, #NFDB
558:Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering. When they were ten he asked her to marry him. When they were eleven he kissed her for the first time... For her sixteenth birthday he gave her an English dictionary and together they learned the words. ~ Nicole Krauss, #NFDB
559:Love reinvents our needs with unique speed. My impatience with the customs ritual indicated that Chloe, who I had not known existed a few hours ago, had already acquired the status of a craving. I felt I would die if I missed her outside – die for the sake of someone who had only entered my life at eleven thirty that morning. ~ Alain de Botton, #NFDB
560:Though I would hang on because I’d likely wash up in France, and from what I remember from the summer my family spent there when Felicity and I were young, there are some lovely women in France. Some handsome boys as well, many of whom wear their breeches very tight, though I wasn’t clear where I stood on that when I was eleven. ~ Mackenzi Lee, #NFDB
561:How many minutes is shortly?” I asked. “Is it one minute or eight minutes or eleven minutes? On account of if it's one minute, I can wait, probably. But eleven minutes would be out of the question.” Mr. Scary walked back to my desk. And he sat me in my chair. I glanced up at him. “All I'm looking for is a rough estimate,” I said. ~ Barbara Park, #NFDB
562:Name’s Samuel Clearwater. What’s yours?” I stopped and turned to him. He extended his hand to me and I uncrossed my arms and shook it. For a gangly kid who was the same age as I was, he dressed and spoke like a foul-mouthed grandfather, someone too old to give a shit about filtering his words. And what eleven year old shook hands? ~ T M Frazier, #NFDB
563:Some places, you pass through once and never return, because you can tell something’s very wrong. Everyone’s afraid, or it seems like some people have enough to eat and other people are starving, or you see pregnant eleven-year-olds and you know the place is either lawless or in the grip of something, a cult of some kind. ~ Emily St John Mandel, #NFDB
564:The truth is, when you are very poor, that 11 percent bites into the very bones of your existence. Eleven percent less means choosing between electricity, or food—electricity and food that is already rationed, and fretted over. Eleven percent is not very much—but, when you are very poor, it may form the bedrock of your survival. ~ Caitlin Moran, #NFDB
565:There's people who feel that, Well, if I could profit off of sellin' sex to an eleven-year-old kid that comes through some kind of virtual portal, then I'm not really doin' it in actuality. I'm just kind of co-signing or fostering it, 'cause it can't be attached to me. I'm like, Yes it can, 'cause people are livin' through their avatar. ~ Chuck D, #NFDB
566:And then he drew a dial from his poke, And looking with lack-lustre eye, Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock: Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags: 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine, And after one hour more 'twill be eleven; And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe, And then from hour to hour we rot and rot. ~ William Shakespeare, #NFDB
567:As a doctor, you have a sense of what it's like to be sick, but until you've gone through it yourself, you don't really know....when you get an IV placed, for example, you can actually taste the salt when they start infusing it. They tell me that this happens to everybody, but even after eleven years in medicine, I had never known. ~ Paul Kalanithi, #NFDB
568:If somebody can create an absolute system of beliefs and rules of conduct that will guide a business man at eleven o'clock in the morning, a boy trying to select a career, a woman in an unhappy love affair--well then, surely no pragmatist will object. He insists only that philosophy shall come down to earth and be tried out there. ~ Walter Lippmann, #NFDB
569:...my fingers were trembling as I pressed the number eleven on the elevator panel; my heart was smashing violently against my ribs with the consciousness of reckless guilt. Or rather, the consciousness of an absence of guilt: that I didn't care, didn't give a damn. That it was my turn to break things, to hurt someone irreparably. ~ Beatriz Williams, #NFDB
570:My life has changed because somebody fed my family on Thanksgiving when I was eleven years old. It wasn't the food that changed me, it was the fact that a stranger cared. That's what changed my life. That made me the person I am today and have been for the last 37 years. All that came out of that, that simple act of getting a result. ~ Tony Robbins, #NFDB
571:The House of the Venerable and Inscrutable Colonel was what they called it when they were speaking Chinese. Venerable because of his goatee, white as the dogwood blossom, a badge of unimpeachable credibility in Confucian eyes. Inscrutable because he had gone to his grave without divulging the Secret of the Eleven Herbs and Spices. ~ Neal Stephenson, #NFDB
572:And we had results. Forty-five million kids were eating healthier breakfasts and lunches; eleven million students were getting sixty minutes of physical activity every day through our Let’s Move! Active Schools program. Children overall were eating more whole grains and produce. The era of supersized fast food was coming to a close. ~ Michelle Obama, #NFDB
573:That rarest of beasts: the perfect thriller. This extraordinary novel [The Silent Patient] set my blood fizzing—I quite literally couldn’t put it down. I told myself I'd just dip in; eleven hours later—it's now 5:47 a.m.—I've finished it, absolutely dazzled."
—A. J. Finn, #1 New York Times bestselling author of The Woman in the Window ~ A J Finn,#NFDB
574:A few days after my microwave experiment, I was sitting in class and felt a gentle “pop” on my forehead and hot liquid ran down my face. It was the burn on my forehead just tenderly exploding, of its own volition, on my eleven-year-old face. As the pus—filled with healing white blood cells—trickled down my face, I thought, “I deserve this. ~ Rob Delaney, #NFDB
575:Unfortunately, most of the major denominations still practice segregation in local churches, hospitals, schools, and other church institutions. It is appalling that the most segregated hour of Christian America is eleven o'clock on Sunday morning, the same hour when many are standing to sing: "In Christ There Is No East Nor West. ~ Martin Luther King Jr, #NFDB
576:Anyone reading this book will take in as much information today as Shakespeare took in over a lifetime. Researchers in the new field of interruption science have found that it takes an average of twenty-five minutes to recover from a phone call. Yet such interruptions come every eleven minutes—which means we’re never caught up with our lives. ~ Pico Iyer, #NFDB
577:In all, by the time it closed its doors in 2005, the Olin Foundation had supported eleven separate programs at Harvard, burnishing the foundation's name and ideas and proving that even the best-endowed American university would allow an outside, ideological group to build "beachheads," so long as the project was properly packaged and funded. ~ Jane Mayer, #NFDB
578:He opened the door. “Hello?” “Daddy! Uncle Mo!” It was Jill, his eleven-year-old princess, tearing around the corner, that smile plastered on her face. Mike felt his heart warm—the reaction was instantaneous and universal. When a daughter smiles at her father like that, the father, no matter what his station in life, is suddenly king. “Hey, ~ Harlan Coben, #NFDB
579:As powerful a figure as this man was, still, he was more vulnerable than the slight little girl next to Alessandro. Even Alessandro knew, even at this moment, that the world had worn down the attorney Giuliani in ways that his son simply could not understand. The little ones, the delicate ones of nine or eleven, had all the strength, really. ~ Mark Helprin, #NFDB
580:Group,” the second man said into the headset microphone. “This is Control. Comms check.” “Copy that Control, this is One. Strength ten.” “Eight, also strength ten.” “Twelve, copy that.” “Ten, strength ten.” “Eleven, same here. Strength ten.” “Five. Ditto for me.” “Eleven, what can you see?” The agent code-named Eleven was standing at the bar, ~ Mark Dawson, #NFDB
581:By the age I was then I ought to know the truism that things always look different in the morning. As the night comes on and the deeper it gets, the more mad we are, the more prone to dreadful fears and fantasies. In the morning, not when we first wake up but gradually, things begin to look unlike what they looked like at eleven, at midnight. ~ Barbara Vine, #NFDB
582:I have noticed that the Christianity of a certain class of respectable people begins when they open their prayer-books at eleven o'clock on Sunday morning, and ends when they shut them up again at one o'clock on Sunday afternoon. Nothing so astonishes and insults Christians of this sort as reminding them of their Christianity on a week-day. ~ Wilkie Collins, #NFDB
583:It should be evident that there can be no true Christian sharing unless there is first an impartation of life. An organization and a name do not make a church. One hundred religious persons knit into a unity by careful organization do not constitute a church any more than eleven dead men make a football team. The first requisite is life, always. ~ A W Tozer, #NFDB
584:When I was eleven or twelve, we had this real old guy as a Sunday school teacher. Mom said he'd been in some war: Iraq, Vietnam … I forget. Anyway, almost every class he'd say, "There are no atheists in foxholes, kids." At the time, it was just weird. What did we know about either atheists or foxholes? Nothing. But I sort of understood it now. ~ Mike Mullin, #NFDB
585:The late rebellion in Massachusetts has given more alarm than I think it should have done. Calculate that one rebellion in thirteen states in the course of eleven years, is but one for each state in a century and a half. No country should be so long without one. Nor will any degree of power in the hands of government prevent insurrections. ~ Thomas Jefferson, #NFDB
586:I looked at his beautiful face. He was teaching me so much about myself. I loved this man like no other woman could ever experience. He was as unique as could be. He defined, to me, what perfection was. I looked up and down his tattooed, muscled body. I sighed. He smiled. “Eleven,” I said. “A good solid eleven,” I paused. “And I love you back. ~ Scott Hildreth, #NFDB
587:It seemed like a matter of minutes when we began rolling in the foothills before Oakland and suddenly reached a height and saw stretched out ahead of us the fabulous white city of San Francisco on her eleven mystic hills with the blue Pacific and its advancing wall of potato-patch fog beyond, and smoke and goldenness in the late afternoon of time. ~ Jack Kerouac, #NFDB
588:I bet you thought you were very clever, sneaking off like that.” “Medium clever,” Simon acknowledged. “Like a cross between George Clooney in Ocean’s Eleven and those MythBusters guys, but, you know, better-looking.” “I’m always so glad I have no idea what you’re vacantly chattering about,” said Jace. “It fills me with a sense of peace and well-being. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
589:When she got back from taking Cassie to school Fancy knew that she ought to be working on her wilderness romance. She had promised thirty thousand words to her editor by tomorrow, and she had only written eleven. Specifically:
His rhinoceros smelled like a poppadom: sweaty, salty, strange and strong.
Her editor would cut that line. ~ Jaclyn Moriarty,#NFDB
590:[He] did not understand women. It wasn't the way bartenders or comedians didn't understand women, it was the way poor people didn't understand the economy. You could stand outside the Girard Bank Building every day of your life and never guess anything about what went on in there. That's why, in their hearts, they'd always rather stick up a 7-Eleven. ~ Pete Dexter, #NFDB
591:imagine a flock of birds flying.
How many birds did you see? Eleven, nineteen five?Y You have a vague idea, but you don't know the exact number. So where did that thought came from? Someone put it there.Someone who knows the exact number of birds, trees, stones, flowers. Someone who, in that fraction of second, took charge of you. ~ Paulo Coelho,#NFDB
592:First, after waking up in the morning, could you fall back asleep at ten or eleven a.m.? If the answer is “yes,” you are likely not getting sufficient sleep quantity and/or quality. Second, can you function optimally without caffeine before noon? If the answer is “no,” then you are most likely self-medicating your state of chronic sleep deprivation. ~ Matthew Walker, #NFDB
593:UEFA conducted an analysis of the wage bills of clubs across fifty-two European national leagues and found that the club with the highest wage bill won the national title twenty-nine times (56 percent), the second highest wage bill won eleven times (21 percent), the third highest won four times (8 percent), and the rest won 15 percent of the time. ~ Stefan Szymanski, #NFDB
594:And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And looking with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock:
Thus we may see', Quoth he, 'how the world wags:
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
And then from hour to hour we rot and rot. ~ William Shakespeare,#NFDB
595:I love what I do. I'm living the dream. I know that sounds corny, but I wanted to be a DJ from about the age of eleven or twelve, so the fact that I've spent over half my life living out my dream and still doing it at a very high level, I consider myself very lucky. But I've also worked extremely hard and I still work really hard, maintaining my career. ~ John Digweed, #NFDB
596:The counties with the highest per capita income aren't near New York City or Los Angeles - they're in the Washington, D.C. area - a one-company town where the company is the government. The three counties with the highest incomes in the entire country are all suburbs of Washington. Eleven of the 25 counties with the highest incomes are near Washington. ~ Ann Coulter, #NFDB
597:Many had predicted that Robert would devote himself to Mrs. Pontellier when he arrived. Since the age of fifteen, which was eleven years before, Robert each summer at Grand Isle had constituted himself the devoted attendant of some fair dame or damsel. Sometimes it was a young girl, again a widow; but as often as not it was some interesting married woman. ~ Kate Chopin, #NFDB
598:So our chess game begins tonight, Duchess. At eleven o’clock. I will give you one hour to try to win, blindfolded or no.” His teeth showed very white when he smiled. “And then I shall win.”
Jemma sniffed and turned up her nose. “Pride goeth before a fall, Duke.”
“You will fall before me,” he said, his smile a blatant challenge. “Backwards. ~ Eloisa James,#NFDB
599:Bill Burton, who is biracial himself, believes that “you can’t understand Obama’s relationship with the right wing without taking into account his race. It’s something no one wants to talk about, but really you can’t deny the racial factor. They treated him in a way they never would have if he’d been white. The level of disrespect was just dialed up to eleven. ~ Jane Mayer, #NFDB
600:At the end of World War II, the average holding period for a stock was four years. By 2000, it was eight months. By 2008, it was two months. And by 2011 it was twenty-two seconds, at least according to one professor’s estimates. One founder of a prominent high-frequency trading outfit once claimed his firm’s average holding period was a mere eleven seconds. ~ Scott Patterson, #NFDB
601:The students appeared to be ten or eleven. They were playing some trust game where the students would fall from things and be caught, or get wrapped up in a bag and dragged around and then released.
-I have never understood these games, said Loring. I don't know why you would want to make children more trusting. That is their principle fault to begin with. ~ Jesse Ball,#NFDB
602:You’ve actually just reminded me. I brought you something.” She had finally assembled the first two issues of the Dr. Eleven comics, and had had a few copies printed at her own expense. She extracted two copies each of Dr. Eleven, Vol. 1, No. 1: Station Eleven and Dr. Eleven, Vol. 1, No. 2: The Pursuit from her handbag, and passed them across the table. ~ Emily St John Mandel, #NFDB
603:Every day away from succor was another night spent outside with the corelings, and not even Arlen took that lightly, but he had a deep and driving need to see things that no other man had seen, to go places no other man had gone. He had been eleven when he ran away from home. Now he was twenty, and had seen more of the world than any but a handful of other men. ~ Peter V Brett, #NFDB
604:But as the Count advanced through Essays Eleven, Twelve, and Thirteen, his goal seemed to recede into the distance. It was suddenly as if the book were not a dining room table at all, but a sort of Sahara. And having emptied his canteen, the Count would soon be crawling across its sentences with the peak of each hard-won page revealing but another page beyond..... ~ Amor Towles, #NFDB
605:Dale Chihuly." She pulls out her phone and moves close to show me a picture of his work. "It's an eleven meter-long chandelier at the Victoria and Albert Museum."
It looks like one of those tanges she drew, only it's hanging from a ceiling. Blue and yellow. A sideways ocean.
"It looks to me like a feeling pulled straight out from under your skin," she says. ~ Cath Crowley,#NFDB
606:Every time you see someone sticking up a 7-Eleven, the kid's wearing a hoodie. Every time you see a mugging on a surveillance camera or they get the old lady in the alcove, it's a kid wearing a hoodie. You have to recognize that this whole stylizing yourself as a gangsta - you're going to be a gangsta wannabe? Well, people are going to perceive you as a menace. ~ Geraldo Rivera, #NFDB
607:How tall are you?” I ask. I hobble with one crutch to the oven, where I had put in some cupcakes to bake before I called her for dinner. I take them out and set them on the counter. “Five-eleven,” she says, as she taps a fingertip on the counter. “AKA way too tall for most men.” She laughs, but there’s no joy in it. “You look pretty fucking perfect to me,” I say. ~ Tammy Falkner, #NFDB
608:...if she had known just a few months before, during more innocent times, that she would feel that way for the rest of her life....which is to say conflicted, she would have treasured those unaware, nonjudgmental, preadolescent moments more thoroughly. (Oh, to be eleven again!) Because once you know, once you really know how the world works, you can't unknow it. ~ Jami Attenberg, #NFDB
609:It was about eleven o’clock in the morning, mid October, with the sun not shining and a look of hard wet rain in the clearness of the foothills. I was wearing my powder-blue suit, with dark blue shirt, tie and display handkerchief, black brogues, black wool socks with dark blue clocks on them. I was neat, clean, shaved and sober, and I didn’t care who knew it. ~ Raymond Chandler, #NFDB
610:Thirteen million new homes were built in the United States during the 1950s; eleven million of them were built in the suburbs. Eighty-three percent of all population growth in the 1950s took place in the suburbs. For every two blacks who moved to the cities, three whites moved out. The postwar racial order created a segregated landscape: black cities, white suburbs ~ Jill Lepore, #NFDB
611:In the nineteen years since then, I had learned eleven languages and 713 songs. I had found ways to conceal what I was—even, I was fairly sure, from the Lord of the Radch herself. I had worked as a cook, a janitor, a pilot. I had settled on a plan of action. I had joined a religious order, and made a great deal of money. In all that time I only killed a dozen people. ~ Ann Leckie, #NFDB
612:If Google had existed when I was eleven, my search history would have looked something like this:
how much comes out
how many cups come out
how to stop period
cancel your period
people with no period
spells to delay period
blood magic
witchcraft
witches
the witches
roald dahl
new roald dahl books
free roald dahl books for kids ~ Lindy West,#NFDB
613:I think the addiction stuff, because I was already sort of outed in my family as a sexual person: as a sexually-adventurous and sexually-conflicted person and sexually-driven person. They already knew that about me. They knew that about me when I was eleven. My parents very consciously tried to provide an environment that would protect me from becoming a drug addict. ~ Melissa Febos, #NFDB
614:No reason to feel nervous at night, not even at eleven thirty at night, in the heart of New York. Nothing ever happened to her kind of people; things happened to people living down those cross streets in old red bricks or old brownstones. Things threatened silver and gold dancers there in the Iridium Room across. But things didn’t happen to her or anyone she knew. ~ Dorothy B Hughes, #NFDB
615:In 1862, whalebones had been unearthed by a farmer’s plow blade in the surrounding fields; eleven thousand years before the world’s most famed carpenter supposedly rose again, the glaciers had retreated, and the Atlantic had rushed in, creating a paratropical ocean that for three thousand years reached north to the Saint Lawrence and west to Ottawa. Hence: whalebones. ~ Eric Rickstad, #NFDB
616:At the hour of midnight the Salerian gate was silently opened, and the inhabitants were awakened by the tremendous sound of the Gothic trumpet. Eleven hundred and sixty-three years after the foundation of Rome, the Imperial city, which had subdued and civilised so considerable a part of mankind, was delivered to the licentious fury of the tribes of Germany and Scythia. ~ Edward Gibbon, #NFDB
617:Junior was eleven. The statement is significant. There are a few peevish people in the world who believe that all eleven-year-old boys ought to be hung. Others, less irritable, think that gently chloroforming them would seem more humane. A great many good-natured folks contend that incarceration for a couple of years would prove the best way to dispose of them. ~ Bess Streeter Aldrich, #NFDB
618:At the age of eleven, I began Euclid, with my brother as my tutor. ... I had not imagined that there was anything so delicious in the world. After I had learned the fifth proposition, my brother told me that it was generally considered difficult, but I had found no difficulty whatsoever. This was the first time it had dawned on me that I might have some intelligence. ~ Bertrand Russell, #NFDB
619:But I had to meet you in the end . . . eleven years old, and you were so brave. So good. You walked uncomplainingly along the path that had been laid at your feet. Of course I loved you . . . and I knew that it would happen all over again . . . that where I loved, I would cause irreparable damage. I am no fit person to love . . . I have never loved without causing harm. A ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
620:It was a week after Donald Trump had won. And initially he was still optimistic. He felt that things would be OK ultimately. And I have to tell you, this is the area where, you know, I see, you know, some degree of contradiction. I mean, the president, you know, at one point when he was campaigning said I believe that Donald Trump was not qualified to run a 7-Eleven. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates, #NFDB
621:No. Listen. I get off at nine. I'm gonna pick you up at ten. If you aren't dressed and ready, and I mean showered and shaved ready, I'm going to call a bunch of people and tell them you're having a party at your house with six free kegs and hookers".
"Damn it Trenton, don't."
"You know I will. Last warning. Ten o'clock, or by eleven you'll have guests. Ugly ones". ~ Jamie McGuire,#NFDB
622:There's some things that you wouldn't tackle in a children's book because it would be beyond, not the mental capabilities, but the experience of someone under the age of say ten or eleven to encompass. But that field is smaller than you might think. They can easily cope with death and things like that; they know about it and it's a subject that often preoccupies them. ~ Terry Pratchett, #NFDB
623:When I met Peeta, I was eleven years old, and I was almost dead.” I talk about that awful day when I tried to sell the baby clothes in the rain, how Peeta’s mother chased me from the bakery door, and how he took a beating to bring me the loaves of bread that saved our lives. “We had never even spoken. The first time I ever talked to Peeta was on the train to the Games. ~ Suzanne Collins, #NFDB
624:I had no idea whether they played hide-and-seek in Mexico. Still, it was a game that let me be confident instead of self-conscious and confused, so I reached out my hand to touch the nearest part of him, which was his knee. "Tag," I said. "You're it." If he had run, I could have chased him and known what I was doing, because I know how to be eight, nine, ten, and eleven... ~ Laura McNeal, #NFDB
625:Lettie's hand in my hand made me braver. But Lettie was just a girl, even if she was a big girl, even if she was eleven, even if she had been eleven for a very long time. Ursula Monkton was an adult. It did not matter, at that moment, that she was every monster, every witch, every nightmare made flesh. She was also an adult, and when adults fight children, adults always win. ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
626:According to the Cato Institute, in 1997 alone, the Pentagon handed over more than 1.2 million pieces of military equipment to local police departments.36 Similarly, the National Journal reported that between January 1997 and October 1999, the agency handled 3.4 million orders of Pentagon equipment from over eleven thousand domestic police agencies in all fifty states. ~ Michelle Alexander, #NFDB
627:Four.
That’s the number of people who saw me hiding around the corner from my own apartment in just a skirt and a bra. Eleven.
That’s the number of ant bites I got on my shoeless feet.
Twenty-seven.
That’s the number of times I was tempted to do myself physical harm because I am an IDIOT.
One.
That’s the number of times I tried not to cry, but failed. ~ Cora Carmack,#NFDB
628:There is an undeniable correlation between functional illiteracy, poverty, and crime—in fact, eleven states predict their future need for prison cells based on the reading levels of their fourth graders. Books can change lives, yes, and so can the lack of them. ~ Roxanne J. Coady in Roxanne J. Coady and Joy Johannessen (eds.) The Book That Changed My Life (2006), ISBN 1-592-40210-0, p. xvi., #NFDB
629:In eleven or twelve years of writing, Mike, I can lay claim to at least this: I have never written beneath myself. I have never written anything that I didn't want my name attached to. I have probed deeper in some scripts and I've been more successful in some than others. But all of them that have been on, you know, I'll take my lick. They're mine and that's the way I wanted them. ~ Rod Serling, #NFDB
630:This was food without you. Our loft, rich with the international booty of baskets and carvings, took on the tacky, cluttered aspect of an import outlet: This was our home without you. Objects had never seemed so inert, so pugnaciously incompensatory. Your remnants mocked me: the jump rope limp on its hook; the dirty socks, stiff, caricatured deflations of your size eleven feet. ~ Lionel Shriver, #NFDB
631:if I knew my friends, they weren’t going to make these last eleven days easy. They wanted to win their damn bets, and they wanted me to finally get my head out of my ass, by any means possible. I was pretty confident they didn’t really think any sort of law applied to them, and the thought of prison clearly wasn’t a deterrent if our past circumstances were any indication. Milo ~ Rachel Van Dyken, #NFDB
632:Like the Fed’s other eleven reserve banks, the New York Fed is technically “owned” by the banks in its region. By law, three of the nine directors on the New York Fed board must be representatives of those banks; they also elect three of the other directors, ostensibly to represent the public, with the Federal Reserve Board in Washington appointing the final three directors. ~ Timothy F Geithner, #NFDB
633:I grew up going to the theater. That was one of the nice things my mom did was she took us to plays and symphony concerts and to the museums. Theater captured my imagination. I just loved the idea of that box, which is essentially what a stage is from a certain distance, a box with all this life going on in it. So, I was eleven when I wrote my first play. Of course, it was horrible. ~ David Small, #NFDB
634:He checked the battered old watch that had once been Fabian Prewett’s. “It’s nearly eleven, you’d better get on board.” “Don’t forget to give Neville our love!” Ginny told James as she hugged him. “Mum! I can’t give a professor love!” “But you know Neville —” James rolled his eyes. “Outside, yeah, but at school he’s Professor Longbottom, isn’t he? I can’t walk into Herbology and give ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
635:I came in at half past eleven. Since then I have been sitting in an easy chair like a fool. I could do nothing. I hear nothing but your voice. I am like a fool hearing you call me 'Dear.' I offended two men today by leaving them coolly. I wanted to hear your voice, not theirs. When I am with you I leave aside my contemptuous, suspicious nature. I wish I felt your head on my shoulder. ~ James Joyce, #NFDB
636:When grown people speak of the innocence of children, they dont really know what they mean. Pressed, they will go a step further and say, Well, ignorance then. The child is neither. There is no crime which a boy of eleven had not envisaged long ago. His only innocence is, he may not be old enough to desire the fruits of it...his ignorance is, he does not know how to commit it... ~ William Faulkner, #NFDB
637:Lettie Hempstock’s hand in my hand made me braver. But Lettie was just a girl, even if she was a big girl, even if she was eleven, even if she had been eleven for a very long time. Ursula Monkton was an adult. It did not matter, at that moment, that she was every monster, every witch, every nightmare made flesh. She was also an adult, and when adults fight children, adults always win. ~ Neil Gaiman, #NFDB
638:So I like slept till eleven, because we’re on Christmas break, only it’s called winter break now because Jesus is AN OPPRESSIVE ZOMBIE BASTARD AND WE DO NOT BOW DOWN TO HIS BIRTHDAY! At least not at Allen Ginsberg High School, we don’t. (Go, Fighting Beatniks!) But it’s all good, ’cause I’m going to have to get used to getting up later if I’m going to be a creature of the night. ~ Christopher Moore, #NFDB
639:Suddenly you're at church and you hear someone pray, "For gays and lesbians, that they might realize their [sins]...." That's happening less and less now, but all it takes is one of those when you're nine, ten, eleven, twelve - and it's hard to describe to people who aren't, because of course if you're not gay, an eleven- or twelve-year-old wouldn't even remember that that happened. ~ Stephen Karam, #NFDB
640:Eleven days ago I coined the expression [Solar Normalized Resonant Frequency of the GPG's Height] after I have demonstrated mathematically the valid link between time and space on the Giza Plateau. But now, the revelation is even more glorious after I have shown the physical link between time and space on that area; in addition to confirming the existence of the normalizing factor. ~ Ibrahim Ibrahim, #NFDB
641:Eleven thousand five hundred and fifty-one years old, and yes, I feel every day of it. (Acheron)
Wow, I had no idea. Hell, I didn’t even know we had people back then. (Nick)
Yeah, I was part of the original Bedrock crew who worked in the quarry on the back of dinosaurs and ran with the Flintstones. Barney Rubble was short, but he played a good game of stone-knuckle. (Acheron) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,#NFDB
642:in September 2014, the European Centre for Disease Control and Prevention (ECDC) revealed that the pharmaceutical giant GlaxoSmithKline had released more than eleven gallons of concentrated live polio virus into rivers near Rixen, Belgium. The release, termed accidental, if in fact purposeful, would demonstrate a reliable way to ensure that the polio vaccine continues to be in high demand. ~ Jim Marrs, #NFDB
643:In the eleven months preceding the outbreak of World War II, 211 treaties of peace were signed. Were these treaties of peace written on paper, or were they written on the hearts of men? And we must ask ourselves as we hear of treaties being written today, whether the treaties of the UN are written with the full cognizance of the fact that those who sign them are responsible before God? ~ Fulton J Sheen, #NFDB
644:So they changed the rules—and did away with democracy. “Give us a [constitutional] convention, and I will fix it so that…the Negro shall never be heard from,” former Georgia senator Robert Toombs declared as Reconstruction was coming to an end. Between 1885 and 1908, all eleven post-Confederate states reformed their constitutions and electoral laws to disenfranchise African Americans. ~ Steven Levitsky, #NFDB
645:Jace: Back from you breakfast meeting, I see. I bet you thought you were very clever, sneaking off like that.
Simon: Medium clever. Like a cross between George Clooney in Ocean's Eleven and those MythBusters guy, but, you know, better-looking.
Jace: I'm always so glad I have no idea what you're vacantly chattering about. It fills me with a sense of peace and well-being. ~ Cassandra Clare,#NFDB
646:It's called Sunday school, but we are required to attend twice weekly: on Sunday before regular service and again on Wednesday evenings. There are two separate classes: one for children under ten, held in the classroom down the hall, to teach them basic prayers and the tenets of the Brotherhood's beliefs, and one for girls aged eleven to seventeen, to teach us about how wicked we are. ~ Jessica Spotswood, #NFDB
647:Mercy, look what Ethan found, your Tennessee Collector’s spoon. I told you I didn’t take it!" Aunt Prue hollered.
"Let me see that." Mercy put her glasses on to inspect the spoon. "Well, I’ll be. I finally have all eleven states."
"There are more than eleven states, Aunt Mercy."
"I only collect the states a the Confed’racy." Aunt Grace and Aunt Prue nodded in agreement. ~ Kami Garcia,#NFDB
648:Here, you! The boss wants you. Buck up!' Mr Stafford was talking into the telephone. He replaced the receiver as
Henry entered.
'Oh, Rice, here's a woman wants her husband shadowed while he's on the road. He's an actor. I'm sending you. Go to this address, and get photographs and all particulars. You'll have to catch the eleven o'clock train on Friday.' 'Yes, sir.' 'He's in "The Girl ~ P G Wodehouse,#NFDB
649:Christianity indeed has equaled Judaism in the atrocities, and exceeded it in the extent of its desolation. Eleven millions of men, women, and children have been killed in battle, butchered in their sleep, burned to death at public festivals of sacrifice, poisoned, tortured, assassinated, and pillaged in the spirit of the Religion of Peace, and for the glory of the most merciful God. ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, #NFDB
650:Fifty out of the 168 hours of my week are spent mad because work is interfering with all the Internet articles I’m trying to read, forty-nine are spent trying to get some sleep if I’m lucky, ten are spent suffering through some sort of commuting nightmare, eight are pure panicking, eleven are brooding, and the last forty are eating shitting writing reading watching wishing hoping and hating. ~ Samantha Irby, #NFDB
651:He was talking nonstop. When had it happened? When had the boy turned eleven and decided to like music about various stages of death, alienation, freezing and general doom? Perhaps it ought to have worried Harry, but it didn’t. It was a starting point, a curiosity that had to be satisfied, clothes the boy had to try on to see if they fit. Other things would come along. Better things. Worse things. ~ Jo Nesb, #NFDB
652:In 1519, Hernán Cortés de Monroy y Pizarro, a Spanish conquistador searching for gold and silver, led an expedition from Cuba to the Yucatán Peninsula in southeastern Mexico. He brought with him five hundred soldiers and three hundred civilians on eleven ships. Cortés’s goal was to head inland, conquer the natives, claim the land, and steal whatever gold and silver they could get their hands on. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
653:My family spent many years sleeping side by side in the same room. It's important for me to not separate myself from them or to say that I've suffered more than they have because I'm gay. We all suffered from the same political rejection, and from poverty. When you're starving with eleven other people in the same room, you become connected to them forever. We were all hungry at the same time. ~ Abdellah Taia, #NFDB
654:Bakers of bread rolls and pastry cooks will not buy grain before eleven o'clock in winter and noon in summer; bakers of large loaves will not buy grain before two o'clock. This will enable the people of the town to obtain their supply first. Bakers shall put a distinctive trademark on their loaves, and keep weights and scales in their shops, under penalty of having their licenses removed. ~ Cardinal Richelieu, #NFDB
655:God did not give Joseph any special information about how to get from being the son of a nomad in Palestine to being Pharaoh's right hand man in Egypt. What He did give Joseph were eleven jealous brothers, the attention of a very loose and vengeful woman, the ability to do the service of interpreting dreams and managing other people's affairs and the grace to do that faithfully wherever he was. ~ Rich Mullins, #NFDB
656:I’ve always been impressed by Kobe’s resilience and ironclad self-confidence. Unlike Shaq, who was often plagued by self-doubt, Kobe never let such thoughts cross his mind. If someone set the bar at ten feet, he’d jump eleven, even if no one had ever done it before. That’s the attitude he brought with him when he arrived at training camp that fall, and it had a powerful impact on his teammates. ~ Phil Jackson, #NFDB
657:On the night Test faced the Great One, this is what he'll see... twelve sharpshooters stinging, eleven eyebrows raising, ten spines a'bustin, nine noggins knocking, eight kicks a'kicking, seven punches punching, six suplexes smashing, five seconds of the people chanting The Rock's name... four Rock Bottoms, three People's Elbows, on your two buckteeth, and an ass-kicking all over New Orleans! ~ Dwayne Johnson, #NFDB
658:I have absorbed into myself my own eleven years there not as something shameful nor as a nightmare to be cursed: I have come almost to love that monstrous world, and now, by a happy turn of events, I have also been entrusted with many recent reports and letters. So perhaps I shall be able to give some account of the bones and flesh of that salamander—which, incidentally, is still alive ~ Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, #NFDB
659:Miranda opened her eyes in time to see the sunrise. A wash of violent color, pink and streaks of brilliant orange, the container ships on the horizon suspended between the blaze of the sky and the water aflame, the seascape bleeding into confused visions of Station Eleven, its extravagant sunsets the its indigo sea. The lights of the fleet fading into morning, the ocean burning into sky. ~ Emily St John Mandel, #NFDB
660:Yes, romance novels are extreme. The situations are turned up to eleven and everyone is beautiful without dieting or exercise and the sex is always amazing, but when I strip all that away what I get is that all of this”—Sasha motions to everything around us, and I’m assuming she means the world and our existence and not this particular Mexican restaurant—“that all of this is nothing without love. ~ Liza Palmer, #NFDB
661:Among the most influential of these was George Mason, who wrote the Virginia constitution and its Declaration of Rights. Responding to the insistent demands of Mason and several others, as well as to similar voices outside the Convention, Mason’s fellow Virginian, James Madison, drafted ten amendments that were ratified in 1789–90 by eleven states, more than a sufficient number for their adoption. ~ Robert A Dahl, #NFDB
662:Opting out of telling her that he’d also been lost in thoughts of imprinting on her, Dante instead said, “Give me a number between one and twenty.”
Unable to see where this was going, she shrugged. “Eleven.”
“You lose. Now strip off your clothes.”
She laughed, adoring how roguish he could be sometimes. Despite being a naturally good-humored person, he was only ever this playful with her. ~ Suzanne Wright,#NFDB
663:She didn't like to be talked about. Equally, she didn't like not to be talked about, when the high-minded chatter rushed on as though she was not there. There was no pleasing her, in fact. She had the grace, even at eleven, to know there was no pleasing her. She thought a lot, analytically, about other people's feelings, and had only just begun to realize that this was not usual, and not reciprocated. ~ A S Byatt, #NFDB
664:the human sensory system sends the brain about eleven million bits of information each second.9 However, anyone who has ever taken care of a few children who are all trying to talk to you at once can testify that your conscious mind cannot process anywhere near that amount. The actual amount of information we can handle has been estimated to be somewhere between sixteen and fifty bits per second. ~ Leonard Mlodinow, #NFDB
665:I whisper “I think this is what it must feel like for a Hufflepuff and Slytherin to have a Gryffindor baby.” Why is this making me so emotional? I dab at my eyes. They’re dry. Still. “I’m sad.”
“Lil.” Lo squeezes me. “We don’t know what house he’s in. He’s not eleven yet.”
This is true.
“And we already agreed. We’d be happy if he ended up in Gryffindor.”
This is even truer. ~ Krista Ritchie,#NFDB
666:The much later age of menarche in rural China is remarkable. Twenty-five women in each of the 130 villages in the survey were asked when they had their first menstrual period. The range of village averages was fifteen to nineteen years, with an average of seventeen years. The U.S. average is roughly eleven years! Many studies have shown that earlier menarche leads to higher risk for breast cancer. ~ T Colin Campbell, #NFDB
667:You could've just let me bleed to death and saved yourself a lot of hassle."
Cal scowled at him. "I did it for her."
Archer's smirk faded. "Fair enough," he said softly. "Thank you."
They stared each other down, and while the dorky eleven-year-old in my soul kind of hoped that two hot boys might fight over me, the rational, seventeen-year-old knew that Archer needed to get out of here, fast. ~ Rachel Hawkins,#NFDB
668:And it is all the more extraordinary when you reflect that despite perpetually modest funding Britain still has three of the world’s top ten universities and eleven of the top one hundred. Put another way, Britain has 1 percent of the world’s population, but 11 percent of its best universities, and accounts for nearly 12 percent of total academic citations and 16 percent of the most highly cited studies. I ~ Bill Bryson, #NFDB
669:It’s the private victories that matter most and are felt the deepest and last the longest. It’s the internal triumphs that aren’t recorded on scoreboards or broadcast on the eleven o’clock news that define who we are. Ollin is what determines success in our lives, instead of the conventional measure of winning and losing. With that as a definition of success, it is possible for everyone to win all the time. ~ Kevin Hall, #NFDB
670:Just as Sylvia rated her pain, so can we rate our own stress on a ten point scale. When we first start doing all our stressors are eleven, but over time we learn that real tens are rare occurrences. Most stresses such as ruining a meal, forgetting an appointment, or losing a library book are only ones and twos. Just being able to assign a number to our upset emotions helps us keep our lives in perspective. ~ Mary Pipher, #NFDB
671:The fast growing markets - the BRICS and Next Eleven - are the key. The next billion consumers are not going to come from the US or Western Europe - they are coming from Asia, Latin America and Africa. Formula One follows our strategy: fast growing markets, data, and digital. All those three things Formula One has. And it involves a stunning array of companies. Now that doesn't mean there can't be more. ~ Martin Sorrell, #NFDB
672:The top eleven are, in order, T. S. Eliot’s “Prufrock,” Robert Lowell’s “Skunk Hour,” Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening,” William Carlos Williams’s “Red Wheelbarrow,” Elizabeth Bishop’s “The Fish,” Ezra Pound’s “The River Merchant’s Wife,” Sylvia Plath’s “Daddy,” Pound’s “In a Station of the Metro,” Frost’s “Mending Wall,” Wallace Stevens’s “The Snow Man,” and Williams’s “The Dance. ~ Malcolm Gladwell, #NFDB
673:Well," Paul said. "Hit a stiff hand against the dealer’s seven through ace. Hit soft eighteen against the dealer’s nine or ten. Stand on soft nineteen or above. Double on eleven and on ten against the dealer’s two through nine. Split pairs of aces and eights, never split tens, fives, or fours. Split twos through sevens against the dealer’s two through seven. Split pairs of nines against the dealer’s ~ Perri O Shaughnessy, #NFDB
674:I know why you didn’t get the money. I was wondering how much sixteen million dollars weighs.” “I can tell you exactly. Bank gets hit, they tell us how many of each denomination was lost. Tally that up, you know how many bills; you have four hundred fifty-four bills in a pound, doesn’t matter what denominations—just do the math. This particular sixteen million weighs eleven hundred forty-two pounds.” Holman ~ Robert Crais, #NFDB
675:He advances like a floating Dracula. The menace is ruined by the sporting-goods-store bag loudly crinkling against his leg. A shoebox is in it, judging from the shape.
Imagine the wretched sales assistant who had to help Joshua choose shoes.I require shoes to ensure I can effectively run down the targets I am paid to assassinate in my spare time. I require the best value for my money. I am size eleven ~ Sally Thorne,#NFDB
676:Fact is that I played piano and performed, as a young kid, a Mozart piano concerto with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra . Don't forget I was only eleven-years-old and to be on the stage at that age had tremendous impact on me. Basically love for classical music and performing as a kid on the big stage probably led toward this decision, which meant that music is going to be my big love but also my profession. ~ Herbie Hancock, #NFDB
677:Linga Purana, listed eleven in the order of composition, enunciates many rituals in the text with legends and stories that date back to a hoary period. It gives details of Shiva Puja and has two parts – the first part is said to be ‘Poorva Bhaga’ and the other ‘Uttara Bhaga'. It has 180 chapters in the first part and 55 in the second. The language of the Purana is difficult. ~ B.K. Chaturvedi, in Linga Purana, p. 7 (Preface)., #NFDB
678:Pray calm yourselves. I have eleven children, and I am twenty-six times a grandma, and I have seen them all through their silly seasons, and when it come on them they will run the Devil bowlegged keeping up with their mischief. I think she'll wake when she tires of it. A child's spirit is like a child, you can never catch it by running after it; you must stand still, and, for love, it will soon itself come back. ~ Arthur Miller, #NFDB
679:The number 11, according to Crowley, is "the general Number of Magick, or Energy tending towards Change". The change is precisely the transition from one dimension to another signalized by the changing colors of the Shining Ones as they pass through the gateway of death to reappear in another dimension. The death of Osiris symbolizes the change. Furthermore eleven denotes the One behind the Ten. ~ Kenneth Grant, Outer Gateways, #NFDB
680:Remember how once, just once, you scored the best dope in the world? Remember how you smoked till your mouth and your throat were all sandpaper and your lungs thought you’d gone down on a fireplace? Remember how you put on your headphones—took three tries, didn’t it?—and cranked Dark Side of the Moon or “The Ride of the Valkyries” or whatever most got you off all the way up to eleven, man? Remember what it was like? ~ Rich Horton, #NFDB
681:She knew that I had no idea how close I was, would always be, to the edge, how easily boys like me were erased in absurd, impractical ways. One minute we were tossing snowballs at taxis, firing up in front the 7-Eleven, speeding down side streets and the next we’re surrounded by unholstered guns, a false move away from going down. I would always be a false move away. I would always have the dagger at my throat. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates, #NFDB
682:Before ISIS controlled eastern Syria, an oil well produced around thirty thousand barrels per day, and each barrel sold for two thousand Syrian pounds—eleven dollars at the current exchange rate. Local families that worked in refineries would make two hundred liras (a little more than one dollar) on each barrel they refined primitively. After ISIS took over, a barrel of oil became cheaper because it fixed the price ~ Michael Weiss, #NFDB
683:Eleven-year-olds are supposed to be unreliable. We’re past the age of being poppets: the age where people bend over and poke us in the tum with their fingers and make idiotic noises that sound like “boof-boof”—just the thought of which is enough to make me bring up my Bovril. And yet we’re still not at the age where anyone ever mistakes us for a grown-up. The fact is, we’re invisible—except when we choose not to be. ~ Alan Bradley, #NFDB
684:Every morning on a turkey farm, the farmer comes to feed the turkeys. A scientist turkey, having observed this pattern to hold without change for almost a year, makes the following discovery: “Every morning at eleven, food arrives.” On the morning of Thanksgiving, the scientist announces this law to the other turkeys. But that morning at eleven, food doesn’t arrive; instead, the farmer comes and kills the entire flock. ~ Liu Cixin, #NFDB
685:One year Halloween came on October 24, three hours after midnight. At that time, James Nightshade of 97 Oak Street was thirteen years, eleven months, twenty-three days old. Next door, William Halloway was thirteen years, eleven months, and twenty-four days old. Both touched toward fourteen; it almost trembled in their hands. And that was the October week when they grew up overnight, and were never so young any more. ~ Ray Bradbury, #NFDB
686:And LO and BEHOLD, I was on BOTH the six AND eleven o’clock newscasts!
AND all the commercials, as well! (‘Day of the drag queen at one area high school, controversy at six!’)
And it must have been a slow night because I was the SECOND PIECE of the night! The granny suicide bomber got the lead. BITCH! But I managed to beat out the president’s pulled groin and day six of the Jessica Simpson chapped-lip crisis! ~ James St James,#NFDB
687:Even a 30-year-old man whose wife dies is eleven times more likely to commit suicide than a 30-year-old man whose wife is living. At age 30, when men can bury themselves in their jobs and are physically and financially attractive to women, the loss of the one woman a man loves is so devastating it is often not softened even by the opportunities for many women... in brief, it is the loss of love that devastates men. ~ Warren Farrell, #NFDB
688:One year Halloween came on October 24, three hours after midnight. At that time, James Nightshade of 97 Oak Street was thirteen years, eleven months, twenty-three days old. Next door, William Halloway was thirteen years, eleven months, and twenty-four days old. Both touched toward fourteen; it almost trembled in their hands. And that was the October week when they grew up overnight, and were never so young any more... ~ Ray Bradbury, #NFDB
689:During the fiscal year ending in 1861, expenses of the federal government had been $67 million. After the first year of armed conflict they were $475 million and, by 1865, had risen to one billion, three-hundred million dollars. On the income side of the ledger, taxes covered only about eleven per cent of that figure. By the end of the war, the deficit had risen to $2.61 billion. That money had to come from somewhere. ~ G Edward Griffin, #NFDB
690:Three guys. No doubt the Maricopa County DA would call them invaders. As in, a home invasion turned tragic tonight, in an exclusive gated community northeast of town. Film at eleven. The cops would call them perpetrators. Their lawyers would call them clients. Politicians would call them scum. Criminologists would call them sociopaths. Sociologists would call them misunderstood. The 110th MP would call them dead men walking. ~ Lee Child, #NFDB
691:Moreover, these town toasts ate magnificently, and boasted of the quality of the meals their admirers provided for them. It was the age not only of the dazzling public supper but of the cabinet particulier, where even a bourgeois seduction was preceded by an eleven-course meal. With these altruistic sensualists, a menu of superior imagination could prove more effective than a gift of Suez shares; besides, the ladies’ hosts ~ A J Liebling, #NFDB
692:This trial of yours tomorrow," he said. "Odds are three to one that Pierce will betray you."
"I thought you said he was going to kill me," I said, trying to be flip.
A smile lifted his lips. "Odds are eleven percent there. But the bookies don't know that he lo-o-o-o-oves you," he mocked as he put the puff on the end of the toasting fork. "Stay here. Forget it all, and stay here with me. Let me spare you that. ~ Kim Harrison,#NFDB
693:When I was eleven I stopped dreaming the dreams that didn't come true, I stopped talking to people who didn't listen, I lost hope and I retreated. I assumed that the root of the problem was that I was too strange for the real world. That being the case, I created a charming and dynamic personality to make the necessary forays into the Outside, and I kept my strangeness for myself; my own peculiar jewels under lock and key. ~ Rosanne Cash, #NFDB
694:Your hearing is fine. That’s for sure. What’s the longest word in the Gettysburg Address?” “Which symptom is that?” “Thinking.” He thought. “There are three. All with eleven letters. Proposition, battlefield, and consecrated.” “Now recite the first sentence. Like you were an actor on a stage.” “Lincoln was coming down with smallpox at the time. Did you know that?” “That’s not it.” “I know. That was for extra credit on memory. ~ Lee Child, #NFDB
695:I've been deeply concerned that to date no individuals have been convicted for the brutal killing of three United States citizens, the Bytyqi brothers: Agron, Ylli, and Mehmet.... It's a long time ago, we want to move on, but eleven years after the discovery of their bodies no one has been held accountable for their killing and the chief suspects in the chain of command, including the camp commander, have never been charged. ~ Eliot Engel, #NFDB
696:It had occurred to Sean once - on a bender about ten years before with some buddies, Sean and a bloodstream full of bourbon turning philosophical - that maybe they HAD gotten in that car. All three of them. And what they now thought of as their life was just a dream state. That all three of them were, in reality, still eleven-year-old boys trapped in some cellar, imagining what they'd become if they ever escaped and grew up. ~ Dennis Lehane, #NFDB
697:What Mr. Albee most desires is for the Model UN, the entire group of them, all eleven, even the scoundrel Quinn, to be there waiting, when he gets home each dreary night, and there again when he awakes in the morning, all of them politely debating one another with their resplendent voices, their hearts—which have not yet been broken by anything more serious than an unrequited crush or an unfair grade—quietly aglow with everything. ~ Joe Meno, #NFDB
698:I had an affinity for music and could play anything I heard on the piano, but I wasn't scholastically advanced in any way. It was more of a habitual tendency. I would work on weekends at piano bars playing jazz when I was an art student, but the music wasn't mine - it was covers: everything from Radiohead to really old jazz. But other than that, the only training I had was piano lessons from when I was nine until I was eleven. ~ Melody Gardot, #NFDB
699:Prodigy"
Huge, megalithic corporation seeks a talented, ambitious prodigy to join our exciting dynamic Prodigy Division for summer job. Requirements include at least fourteen years' experience as a certified child prodigy ability to anagram adeptly (and alliterate agilely), fluency in eleven languages. Job duties include reading, remembering encyclopedias, novels, and poetry; and memorizing the first ninety-nine digits of pi.33 ~ John Green,#NFDB
700:Cambridge by moonlight was light blue and brownish black. There was no mist here and a great vault of clear stars hung over the city with an intent luxurious brilliance. It was the sort of night when one knows of other galaxies. My long shadow glided before me on the pavement. Although it was not yet eleven o'clock the place seemed empty and I moved through it like a mysterious and lonely harlequin in a painting: like an assassin. ~ Iris Murdoch, #NFDB
701:So they were here sometime before ten, but we don’t know how long before, and they were gone before eleven,” Robertson said. Robertson was sartorially distinct from his partner, wearing a blue-striped Façonnable long-sleeved dress shirt, dark blue slender jeans with the cuffs rolled up a half inch, and tan lace-up shoes; Lucas envied him the shoes. “We have a call on Likely’s phone, to Baker, at nine o’clock, so he was alive then. ~ John Sandford, #NFDB
702:If I touched you, that’d be it.” Dan shook his head, “Damn, how the fuck am I going to make you understand?” Pleading, almost. “You are everything, don’t you get it? You are the Afghan mountains, the damned red dust, the endless sky. You were my home, and more often than not, also my reason. You are unlike all the others, unlike anyone I shag, because when I touch you, it’s not just a touch, it’s eleven years of heaven and hell. ~ Aleksandr Voinov, #NFDB
703:There’s no two ways about it, Tolkien fans are a funny bunch. I should know, for I was one of them. Been there, done that, read the book, gone mad. I first took on The Lord of the Rings at the age of eleven or twelve; to be precise, I began it at the age of eleven and finished at the age of twelve. It was, and remains, not a book that you happen to read, like any other, but a book that happens to you: a chunk bitten out of your life. ~ Anthony Lane, #NFDB
704:He watched their flight; bird after bird: a dark flash, a swerve, a flutter of wings. He tried to count them before all their darting quivering bodies passed: six, ten, eleven: and wondered were they odd or even in number. Twelve, thirteen: for two came wheeling down from the upper sky. They were flying high and low but ever round and round in straight and curving lines and ever flying from left to right, circling about a temple of air. ~ James Joyce, #NFDB
705:the fate of Europe would have been different. A few drops of water, more or less, decided the downfall of Napoleon. All that Providence required in order to make Waterloo the end of Austerlitz was a little more rain, and a cloud traversing the sky out of season sufficed to make a world crumble. The battle of Waterloo could not be begun until half-past eleven o’clock, and that gave Blücher time to come up. Why? Because the ground was wet. ~ Victor Hugo, #NFDB
706:The staying and doing it, in spite of everything. In spite of the bears and the rattlesnakes and the scat of the mountain lions I never saw; the blisters and scabs and scrapes and lacerations. The exhaustion and the deprivation; the cold and the heat; the monotony and the pain; the thirst and the hunger; the glory and the ghosts that haunted me as I hiked eleven hundred miles from the Mojave Desert to the state of Washington by myself. ~ Cheryl Strayed, #NFDB
707:Berry’s investigation was a searing indictment of how church officials in Louisiana buried reports of sexual abuse of minors and did their best to pay off victims to keep them silent. By the time his story ran, the tiny Lafayette diocese in which Gauthe had committed his crimes was deeply in the red from $4.2 million in confidential settlements to the families of nine victims, and $114 million in pending claims in another eleven lawsuits. ~ Gerald Posner, #NFDB
708:Dear Mr. Potter, Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King’s Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o’clock. Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign. A list of books for next year is enclosed. Yours sincerely, Deputy Headmistress Harry ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
709:I thought I was going to die right there on the spot. I've never heard anything so terrible in my whole life. I hope she is wrong and I never get a period. I am eleven years old and entirely too young to hear about it. Can you imagine my mother not knowing what Kotex are for and dusting the house with them? Well, her mother can just tell her what they are for. I'm not getting into the facts of life. I haven't heard one fact of life I like yet. ~ Fannie Flagg, #NFDB
710:Bill suited the action to the word, getting up and leaning over the handlebars and pumping the pedals at a lunatic rate. Looking at Bill's back, which was amazingly broad for a boy of eleven-going-on-twelve, watching it work under the duffel coat, the shoulders slanting first one way and then the other as he shifted his weight from one pedal to the other, Richie suddenly became sure that they were invulnerable...they would live forever and ever. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
711:even as he knew what kind of parent he’d become, the kind that used to make him gag as recently as two months ago. The ones who blithely assumed their online friends were gluttons for punishment. Here’s my baby lying on his back! And here’s my baby also lying on his back! And how about this one: blurry baby on his back! Good God, the vanity of it all, the epic self-centeredness. He knew all this, and still he uploaded eleven pictures of Brian. ~ Victor LaValle, #NFDB
712:When I came to the United States in 1975 I was eleven, and within a few months my voice broke. I recited commercials like a parrot and I got yelled at quite often. My older brother one night said, "You speak so much English when you're not supposed to, that's why your vocal chords shattered. Now you sound like a duck." I thought it was true. I went from this sweet-voiced Vietnamese kid who spoke Vietnamese and French to this craggy-voiced teenager. ~ Andrew Lam, #NFDB
713:his finger around the trigger. Mark closed his eyes and felt nothing. “How old are you, Mark?” “Eleven.” “You told me that. Eleven. And I’m forty-four. We’re both too young to die, aren’t we, Mark?” “Yes sir.” “But it’s happening, pal. Do you feel it?” “Yes sir.” “My client killed a man and hid the body, and now my client wants to kill me. That’s the whole story. They’ve made me crazy. Ha! Ha! This is great, Mark. This is wonderful. I, the trusted ~ John Grisham, #NFDB
714:I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at 10 Downing Street. This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government an official note stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o'clock, that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and consequently this country is at war with Germany. ~ Neville Chamberlain, #NFDB
715:On my first day in London I made an early start. Reaching the Public Record Office not much after ten, I soon secured the papers I needed for my research and settled in my place. I became, as is the way of the scholar, so deeply absorbed as to lose all consciousness of my surroundings or of the passage of time. When at last I came to myself, it was almost eleven and I was quite exhausted: I knew I could not prudently continue without refreshment. ~ Sarah Caudwell, #NFDB
716:After earning a degree in Marketing at Auburn University, I spent the next five years in the business world, which is a polite way of saying that I had eleven jobs in a five-year period, including door to door sales, skip tracing people who didn’t want to be found, repossessing cars and collecting on defaulted student loans. During this five-year period, I did an in-depth study of abnormal psychology and sociopathic behavior – and then I divorced him. ~ C Mack Lewis, #NFDB
717:An eleven-year-old girl was raped by eighteen men. The suspects ranged in age from middle schoolers to a twenty-seven-year-old. There are pictures and videos. Her life will never be the same. The New York Times, however, would like you to worry about those boys, who will have to live with this for the rest of their lives, and the poor, poor town. That is not simply the careless language of sexual violence. It is the criminal language of sexual violence. ~ Roxane Gay, #NFDB
718:Where is the library?”
“Turn right, proceed thirty-four paces, turn right again, twelve paces, then through door on the right, thirty-five paces, through archway on right another eleven paces, turn right one last time, fifteen paces, enter the door on the right.”
Mappo stared at Iskaral Pust.
The High Priest shifted nervously.
“Or,” the Trell said, eyes narrowed, “turn left, nineteen paces.”
“Aye,” Iskaral muttered. ~ Steven Erikson,#NFDB
719:She was a cop, a Homicide lieutenant with eleven years on the job protecting and defending the hard, merciless streets of New York. There was little she hadn’t seen, touched, smelled, or waded through. Because people, to her mind, would always and could always find more inventive and despicable ways to kill their fellow man, she knew just what torments could be inflicted on the human body.
But bloody and brutal murder was nothing compared to giving birth. ~ J D Robb,#NFDB
720:I'm really interested in the United States, what it means to be American - maybe because my father's an immigrant and my grandparents were immigrants, and also because I grew up so isolated from mainstream life, and it was such a total shock to leave the commune and, in a way, enter America for the first time when I was eleven - so I've always felt a little like an anthropologist - like, what is this strange place I find myself in, what are the rules here? ~ Micah Perks, #NFDB
721:One!
O man! Take heed!
Two!
What says deep midnight's voice indeed?
Three!
"I slept my sleep-
Four!
"From deepest dream I've woke and plead:-
Five!
"The world is deep,
Six!
"And deeper than the day could read.
Seven!
"Deep is its woe-
Eight!
"Joy- deeper still than grief can be:
Nine!
"Woe says: Hence! Go!
Ten!
"But joys all want eternity-
Eleven!
"Want deep profound eternity!"
Twelve! ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,#NFDB
722:During the past eleven days here in the Muslim world, I have eaten from the same plate, drunk from the same glass, and slept on the same rug - while praying to the same God - with fellow Muslims, whose eyes were the bluest of blue, whose hair was the blondest of blond, and whose skin was the whitest of white. And in the words and in the deeds of the white Muslims, I felt the same sincerity that I felt among the black African Muslims of Nigeria, Sudan and Ghana. ~ Malcolm X, #NFDB
723:What made this particularly interesting is that John Howard is by far the dullest man in Australia. Imagine a very committed funeral home director – someone whose burning ambition from the age of eleven was to be a funeral home director, whose proudest achievement in adulthood was to be elected president of the Queanbeyan and District Funeral Home Directors’ Association – then halve his personality and halve it again, and you have pretty well got John Howard. ~ Bill Bryson, #NFDB
724:Bout time," she huffed, but her voice sounded thick and emotional too."I was at the hospital all day yesterday, but they wouldn't let me see you. I bolted past security but they called code ninetynine and chased me down, they escorted me out in handcuffs. The way I see it, the only criminal here is your mom. No visitors? I'm your best friend, or did she not get the memo every year for the past eleven? Next time I'm over, I'm going to lay into that woman. ~ Becca Fitzpatrick, #NFDB
725:How many strokes does it take?"
"One. Two. Three."
"Four. Five..."
"Six."
"Seven. Eight."
"Nine."
"What if Daddy. Ten. Finds out what I did. Eleven. To his innocent little girl?"
"Twelve."
"This is what you do to me. Feel it. Thirteen."
"Fourteen."
"Do What he says, Toni. Fifteen. Come."
His heated lips curved against her ear.
"Fifteen it is."
~ Jennifer TurnerDrake ~ Jennifer Turner,#NFDB
726:These coins are not very valuable. Jack went out to get a napoleon changed, so as to have money suited to the general cheapness of things, and came back and said he had "swamped the bank, had bought eleven quarts of coin, and the head of the firm had gone on the street to negotiate for the balance of the change." I bought nearly half a pint of their money for a shilling myself. I am not proud on account of having so much money, though. I care nothing for wealth. ~ Mark Twain, #NFDB
727:When he was eleven, id Software released the video game Doom, and Eric found the perfect virtual playground to explore his fantasies. His adversaries had faces, bodies, and identities now. They made sounds and fought back. Eric could measure his skills and keep score. He could beat nearly everyone he knew. On the Internet, he could triumph over thousands of strangers he had never met. He almost always won, until later, when he met Dylan. They were an even match. ~ Dave Cullen, #NFDB
728:I didn't major in anthropology in college, but I do feel I had an education in different cultures very early on. My parents divorced when I was eleven, and my father immediately married a woman with three children and was with her for five years. When they got divorced, he immediately married a woman with four children. In the meantime, my mother married a man who had seven children. So I was going from one family to another between the ages of eleven and eighteen. ~ Lily King, #NFDB
729:In October 1944, we were cruising near Samar, getting ready to help lead the invasion of the Philippines. We had thirteen ships in our group, which sounds like a lot, but aside from the carrier, it was mainly destroyers and escorts, so we didn’t have much firepower. And then, on the horizon, we saw what seemed like the entire Japanese fleet coming toward us. Four battleships, eight cruisers, eleven destroyers, hell-bent on sending us to the bottom of the sea. ~ Nicholas Sparks, #NFDB
730:Leibniz wrote letters as we write e-mails. Over his life he sent fifteen thousand letters to eleven hundred people. To this day, they have yet to be fully cataloged. And these weren’t tossed-off one-liners; many were extended essays that broke open whole new areas of science and mathematics. Like today’s frazzled e-mailers, Leibniz complained about information overload. “I cannot tell you how extraordinarily distracted and spread out I am,” he wrote to a friend. ~ George Musser, #NFDB
731:The Bronze Horseman would pursue her into her grave. She felt it. Into her eternity, clambering behind her in the night and in the day, in every hour of sorrow, in every minute of weakness, in darkness, in light, through all of America he would be rattling at her heels, the way he had been relentlessly rattling at her through the past eleven hundred days, through the past eleven hundred nights, right into her maddening dust. How much longer for Tatiana's life? ~ Paullina Simons, #NFDB
732:Linga Purana is where Maheshwara, present in the Agni Linga, explained {the objects of life) virtue, wealth, pleasure, and final liberation at the end of the Agni Kalpa, and this Purana, consists of eleven thousand stanzas. It is said to have been originally composed by Brahma and the primitive Linga is a pillar of radiance, in which Maheswara is present. ~ Horace H. Wilson, in Works:¬Vol. ¬6 : ¬The Vishṅu Purāṅa: a system of Hindu mythology ..., Volume 6 (1864), p. LXVii-LXViii, #NFDB
733:Bout time," she huffed, but her voice sounded thick and emotional too."I was at the hospital all day yesterday, but they wouldn't let me see you. I bolted past security but they called code ninetynine and chased me down, they escorted me out in handcuffs. The way I see it, the only criminal here is your mom. No visitors? I'm your best friend, or did she not get the memo every year for the past eleven? Next time I'm over, I'm going to lay into that woman." ~Vee ~ Becca Fitzpatrick, #NFDB
734:West Baltimore. You sit on your stoop, you drink Colt 45 from a brown paper bag and you watch the radio car roll slowly around the corner. You see the gunman, you hear the shots, you gather on the far corner to watch the paramedics load what remains of a police officer into the rear of an ambulance. Then you go back to your rowhouse, open another can, and settle in front of the television to watch the replay on the eleven o’clock news. Then you go back to the stoop. ~ David Simon, #NFDB
735:This was 1941 and I'd been in prison eleven years. I was thirty-five. I'd spent the best years of my life either in a cell or in a black-hole. I'd only had seven months of total freedom with my Indian tribe. The children my Indian wives must have had by me would be eight years old now. How terrible! How quickly the time had flashed by! But a backward glance showed all these hours and minutes studding my calvary as terribly long, and each one of them hard to bear. ~ Henri Charri re, #NFDB
736:Harry looked up at it, and all of a sudden a knife-sharp memory came to him: standing on this very spot on the day that he had turned eleven, the most wonderful birthday of his life, and Hagrid standing beside him saying, ‘Like I said, yeh’d be mad ter try an’ rob it.’ Gringotts had seemed a place of wonder that day, the enchanted repository of a trove of gold he had never known he possessed, and never for an instant could he have dreamed that he would return to steal ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
737:It was about eleven o'clock in the morning, mid October, with the sun not shining and a look of hard wet rain in the clearness of the foothills. I was wearing my powder-blue suit, with dark blue shirt, tie and display handkerchief, black brogues, black wool socks with dark little clocks on them. I was neat, clean, shaved and sober, and I didn't care who knew it. I was everything the well-dressed private detective ought to be. I was calling on four million dollars. ~ Raymond Chandler, #NFDB
738:She coughs and speaks into her hand. “What was that?” Lowering her hand, she admits, “They had to pack up and drive to Pennsylvania. No more strong cock for this girl. It’s heartbreaking, really. Fernando was amazing. I didn’t understand a single word he said because my Portuguese is nonexistent, but who needs words when you’ve got an eleven-inch cock with the girth of jumbo summer sausage? My pussy may never be the same again . . . but at least I’ll have the memories. ~ Meghan March, #NFDB
739:There's always one sure way of finding out that you're a misfit. When you're eleven years old, and your friends are telling you that they just sneaked into the theater to watch 'Twilight' and that it was "sooooo emotional and sooooo terrifying and soooooo romantic!" - but you've been spending the summer watching 'Rosemary's Baby' and 'Don't Look Now' and knowing the lines to all the Alfred Hitchcock films by heart - that's the moment you realize that you're a misfit. ~ Rebecca McNutt, #NFDB
740:God made all the animals in a single day; he could have swept them all away in the flood and re-created them in one day when they were again needed. Therefore it was an odd idea to save specimens of them for eleven months in the ark, whilst aware that eight persons could not feed or water them by any human possibility. If they were to be preserved by miracle, the ark was not necessary - to let them swim would have answered the purpose and been more indubitably miraculous. ~ Mark Twain, #NFDB
741:Our Father Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, hollow be thy promises and shallow be thy shame. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. On a scale from one to ten, our Lord is totally eleven. Give us this day our daily bread, toasted close to dawn, and forgive us our trespasses as we shoot those who trespass on our lawn, and lead us not into temptation, such as pot or porno, but deliver us from evil (if not delivery, then DiGiorno). ~ Bo Burnham, #NFDB
742:Usually, but not always, a story is told mostly for the benefit of the teller. The story (...) demonstrates how the teller has lived a life full of adventure, of meaning; that they're comical, self-deprecating, and brave; that they're ultimately a person worth knowing.
It's as though folks need to remind themselves of their own worth, and they do this by telling and retelling their favourite eleven or twelve stories, the anecdotes that fundamentally define who they are. ~ Penny Reid,#NFDB
743:I have one final hope, If I get double sixes, maybe he will change his mind, come back to me. As if to cast a magic spell, I blow on the dice just as Dex did...Just as it happened with our first roll, one die lands before its mate. On a six! I hold my breath. For a brief second, I see a mess of dots, and think I have boxcars again. I kneel, staring at the second die. It is onle a five. I have rolled an eleven, It is as if someone is mocking me, saying, Close, but no dice. ~ Emily Giffin, #NFDB
744:Station Eleven is the size of Earth’s moon and was designed to resemble a planet, but it’s a planet that can chart a course through galaxies and requires no sun. The station’s artificial sky was damaged in the war, however, so on Station Eleven’s surface it is always sunset or twilight or night. There was also damage to a number of vital systems involving Station Eleven’s ocean levels, and the only land remaining is a series of islands that once were mountaintops. ~ Emily St John Mandel, #NFDB
745:I was once in the body of a blind girl,' I tell her. 'When I was eleven. Maybe twelve. I don't know if she was my favorite, but I learned more from being her for a day than I'd learn from most people over a year. It showed me how arbitrary and individual it is, the way we experience the world. Not just that the other senses were sharper. But that we find ways to navigate the world as it is presented to us. For me, it was this huge challenge. But for her, it was just life. ~ David Levithan, #NFDB
746:When I got off the plane, after eleven hours of travel and forty years away, the man took my passport and asked me the purpose of my visit, I wrote in my daybook, "To mourn," and then, "To mourn try to live," he gave me a look and asked if I would consider that business or pleasure, I wrote, "Neither." "For how long do you plan to mourn and try to live?" "For as long as I can." "Are we talking about a weekend or a year?" I didn't write anything. The man said, "Next. ~ Jonathan Safran Foer, #NFDB
747:I hate tiny parties’, Jane also admitted, ‘they force one into constant exertion’. She had always been too introverted to make friends easily, and this grew more pronounced as she grew older. Her manner, Frank admitted, was ‘rather reserved to strangers so as to have been by some accused of haughtiness’. Jane described one heavy evening of socialising, which began at seven, as a ‘Labour’ from which the home team of female Austens were eventually ‘delivered’ at ‘past eleven’. ~ Lucy Worsley, #NFDB
748:Maddy showed up around eleven to drop off Scarlet and take me dress shopping. She used her mom skills to get me off the couch.
“Hey, pumpkin, I’ll get you a strawberry shake if you get up now,” she whispered, stroking my head. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? A big strawberry shake from Burger King. Does that sound good?”
“Can I have whipped cream too?” I asked with my eyes still closed.
“Sure, sweetie.”
Tempted by a promised reward, I shuffled after her. ~ Bijou Hunter,#NFDB
749:People who work in the news media do not watch The Apprentice because of what’s been happening in the news media for a number of years, causing all of us who work in it to never want to hear the words “You’re fired” again. This was a mistake. Donald Trump, the actor who plays “Donald Trump,” appeared on The Apprentice for eleven years. At its peak, the show had 20 million viewers. And Trump is a good actor. Donald Trump is almost as good as Alec Baldwin at being Donald Trump. ~ P J O Rourke, #NFDB
750:kitchen to refill his cup with apple juice from the fridge. I ground my teeth and made my eyes go wide in his direction while going back to keeping an eye on my mom who happened to be standing at the stove in the kitchen, giving the rice she was making a stir. “I will. Give me a second,” I hissed at him, glancing in my mom’s direction one more time to make sure she was oblivious. My eleven-year-old mouthed “Wuss” to me over his shoulder as he left the room with his glass full. ~ Mariana Zapata, #NFDB
751:So how far would you have taken it, Mister Poor-me-I’m-trapped-in-a-mirror-dark-sorcerer? If it had worked, if I’d ‘removed my woolen and shown you my breasts,’ how far would you have pushed?” “How the bloody hell far do you think?” “I’m asking you. How far?” she demanded. “I haven’t fucked in eleven hundred and thirty-three years, Jessica,” he said flatly. “I am a man.” “How far?” she repeated frostily. “All the way, woman. All the frigging way. Now get in the damned car. ~ Karen Marie Moning, #NFDB
752:The first patrol car arrived in seven minutes; the paramedics three minutes later. Larkin thought it would end that night when the police finished their questions, but her nightmare had only begun. In forty-eight hours, she would meet with agents from the Department of Justice and the U.S. Attorney’s. In six days, the first attempt would be made on her life. In eleven days, she would meet a man named Joe Pike. Everything in her world was about to change. And it began that night. ~ Robert Crais, #NFDB
753:At this very moment,... the most frightful horrors are taking place in every corner of the world. People are being crushed, slashed, disembowelled, mangled; their dead bodies rot and their eyes decay with the rest. Screams of pain and fear go pulsing through the air at the rate of eleven hundred feet per second. After travelling for three seconds they are perfectly inaudible. These are distressing facts; but do we enjoy life any the less because of them? Most certainly we do not. ~ Aldous Huxley, #NFDB
754:That study confirmed Keller's point: that a reusable grocery bag made of non-woven polypropylene plastic would have to be used at least eleven times to have a lower carbon footprint than using disposable single-use grocery bags. There were other comparisons in the study, too: Using a paper bag three times would do the trick, while it would take 131 trips to the market with a cotton bag to have a lower carbon footprint - which meant the material used for a reusable bag was critical. ~ Edward Humes, #NFDB
755:The dull pulse-like beat started at eleven o’clock at night. It was a new kind of music called ‘rap’. It baffled Ananda even more than disco. He had puzzled and puzzled over why people would want to listen and even move their bodies to an angry, insistent onrush of words – words that rhymed, apparently, but had no echo or afterlife. It was as if they were an extension of the body: never had words sounded so alarmingly physical, and pure physicality lacks empathy, it’s machine-like. ~ Amit Chaudhuri, #NFDB
756:After eleven weeks, the investigation of the shooter was officially closed. The manifesto he’d written had told them everything, particularly who he hated and why. It was a list depressing in its banality, in its adolescent conviction that he’d discovered some grand truth about how people are phonies, how organized religion corrupts, how the world is mostly about pain. As if we didn’t all know this, as if we also weren’t trying to find ways to deal with it that didn’t involve murder. ~ Tom McAllister, #NFDB
757:I have one final hope, If I get double sixes, maybe he will change his mind, come back to me. As if to cast a magic spell, I blow on the dice just as Dex did...Just as it happened with our first roll, one die lands before its mate. On a six! I hold my breath. For a brief second, I see a mess of dots, and think I have boxcars again. I kneel, staring at the second die.
It is onle a five.
I have rolled an eleven, It is as if someone is mocking me, saying, Close, but no dice. ~ Emily Giffin,#NFDB
758:As long as there had been eleven babies, they should have been so accustomed to children that they needn't all of them have objected to me, all except Laddie, of course. That was the reason I loved him so and tried to do every single thing he wanted me to, just the way he liked it done. That was why I was facing the only spot on our land where I was the slightest afraid; because he asked me to. If he had told me to dance a jig on the ridgepole of our barn, I would have tried it. ~ Gene Stratton Porter, #NFDB
759:From his genial cursing, his infrequent shaving, the relaxed way he talked around the cigarette in the corner of his mouth, it was almost as if he were playing a character: some cool guy from a fifties noir or maybe Ocean’s Eleven, a lazy, sated gangster with not much to lose. Yet even in the midst of his new laid-backness he still had that crazed and slightly heroic look of schoolboy insolence, all the more stirring since it was drifting towards autumn, half-ruined and careless of itself. ~ Donna Tartt, #NFDB
760:I love L.A. It's a great, sprawling, spread-to-hell city that protects us by its sheer size. Four hundred sixty-five square miles. Eleven million beating hearts in Los Angeles County, documented and not. Eleven million. What are the odds? The girl raped beneath the Hollywood sign isn't your sister, the boy back-stroking in a red pool isn't your son, the splatter patterns on the ATM machine are sourceless urban art. We're safe that way. When it happens it's going to happen to someone else. ~ Robert Crais, #NFDB
761:China has led the world in new tree planting; in fact, over the last several years, China has planted 40 percent as many tress as the rest of the world put together. Since 1981, all citizens of China older than age eleven (and younger than sixty) have been formally required to plant at least three trees per year. To date, China has planted approximately 100 million acres of new tress. Following China, the countries with the largest net gains in tress include the U.S., India, Vietnam, and Spain. ~ Al Gore, #NFDB
762:I remembered what Dad said once, that some people have all of life's answers worked out the day they're born and there's no use trying to teach them anything new. 'They're closed for business even though, somewhat confusingly, their doors open at eleven, Monday through Friday,' Dad said. And the trying to change what they think, the attempt to explain, the hope they'll come to see your side of things, it was exhausting, because it never made a dent and afterward you only ached unbearably. ~ Marisha Pessl, #NFDB
763:I was on my back, looking up at Morelli through cobwebs, and my first thought was that the 7-Eleven victim had exacted revenge on me, and I’d been stun gunned. The cobwebs cleared, and I discounted stun gunning. “What happened?” I asked Morelli. “You fainted.” “That’s ridiculous.” “I agree, but if someone sent me a dead woman I might faint, too.” He was down on one knee, bending over me. “Are you ready to get up?” “I need a moment.” “Don’t take too long. People will think I’m proposing. ~ Janet Evanovich, #NFDB
764:We never announced a scorched-earth policy; we never announced any policy at all, apart from finding and destroying the enemy, and we proceeded in the most obvious way. We used what was at hand, dropping the greatest volume of explosives in the history of warfare over all the terrain within the thirty-mile sector which fanned out from Khe Sanh. Employing saturation-bombing techniques, we delivered more than 110,000 tons of bombs to those hills during the eleven-week containment of Khe Sanh. ~ Michael Herr, #NFDB
765:Most of them had, among all the factors in the campaign, noticed only what they regarded as Windrip's humor, and three planks in his platform: Five, which promised to increase taxes on the rich; Ten, which condemned the Negroes--since nothing so elevates a dispossessed farmer or a factory worker on relief as to have some race, any race, on which he can look down; and, especially, Eleven, which announced, or seemed to announce, that the average toiler would immediately receive $5000 a year. ~ Sinclair Lewis, #NFDB
766:This doubling of the proportion of obese Americans is consistent through all segments of American society, although obesity remains more common among African Americans and Hispanics than among whites and other ethnic groups, and most common among those in the lowest income brackets and poorly educated. Children were not exempt from this trend. The prevalence of overweight in children six to eleven years old more than doubled between 1980 and 2000; it tripled in children aged eleven to nineteen. ~ Gary Taubes, #NFDB
767:You would not have gone. I understand that. You would not have gone up to his room. You would not have asked him for help. You would not have been wandering lost at midnight at age eleven. You would have been safe and dry and asleep, at home with your mother and father who cared about you and had rules, curfews, expectations. Everything for you would have been different. But if you were me, you would have done what I did. You would have gone, hopeful and stupid, to get the money for the taxi. ~ Rachel Kushner, #NFDB
768:If as one people speaking the same language they have begun to do this, then nothing they plan to do will be impossible for them.
His words, in His Bible. The Book of Genesis, chapter eleven
So our God, our all -powerful God got so scared He scattered the human race across the face of the earth, and shattered their language to heep His children apart.
An almighty God this insecure? Who pits his children against each other, to keep them weak. This is the God we’re supposed to worship? ~ Chuck Palahniuk,#NFDB
769:As for his height, I would put it at no more than five feet nine inches — he being fully erect, out of his monkey crouch — and yet he brazenly put down five feet eleven on all forms and applications … He wore glasses, the lenses thick and greasy, which distorted the things of the world into unnatural shapes. I myself have never needed glasses. I can read roadsigns a halfmile away and I can see individual stars and planets to the seventh magnitude with no optical aids whatever. I can see Uranus. ~ Charles Portis, #NFDB
770:Eleven men and women, exhausted, battered, and armed with captured weapons, against fifty battle-armored foes desperate to kill them. Every one of those eleven knew exactly what their odds of living through the next three minutes were, but it didn't matter. They were all that stood between six hundred civilians and cold-blooded murder, and Alicia's green eyes were hard as she watched the gaps being punched through the western wall.
"Make it count, people," she said, almost conversationally. ~ David Weber,#NFDB
771:The Doctor had a remarkable memory. The problem was, there was so much of it. He had lived eleven lives (or more: there was another life, was there not, that he tried his best never to think about) and he had a different way of remembering things in each life.
The worst part of being however old he was (and he had long since abandoned trying to keep track of it in any way that mattered to anybody but him) was that sometimes things didn’t arrive in his head quite when they were meant to. ~ Neil Gaiman,#NFDB
772:at eleven years old the doctor weighed me & afterwards, my mother told me i was too fat & that i needed to go on a diet immediately. for an entire year, food barely passed through my lips. i did not even allow myself to take a sip of water because i wanted to be so thin that i could blow away with the slightest breeze— disappear. i dropped sixty pounds in a few short months & i had to wear long sleeves to cover up the “cat scratches.” - everybody told me how good i looked, though. ~ Amanda Lovelace, #NFDB
773:I call my mom from the car. I tell her that Neutral Milk Hotel is playing at the Hideout and she says, "Who? What? You're hiding out?" And then I hum a few bars of one of their songs and Mom says, "Oh, I know that song. It's on the mix you made me," and I say, "Right," and she says, "Well you have to be back by eleven," and I say, "Mom this is a historical event. History doesn't have a curfew," and she says, "Back by eleven," and I say, "Fine. Jesus," and then she has to go cut cancer out of someone. ~ John Green, #NFDB
774:Hal frowned. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"Uh, live in a tropical paradise for a week and sip fruity drinks with umbrellas in them by the pool? Yeah, Hal," I said, cranking up the sarcasm far past eleven, "that's a fate worse than death. I don't know what I was thinking."
"No," he said, stretching the word out longer than was healthy for it, "I was thinking more like going on a honeymoon without a wife."
I dropped a sock and looked up at him, stung. "Don't rub it in, man. ~ Cary Attwell,#NFDB
775:I know that many people won’t believe that a child not yet eleven is capable of such feelings. It is not to those people that I am telling my story. I’m telling it to those who have greater knowledge of humanity. An adult who has learned how to transform part of his emotions into thought processes notices that such thoughts aren’t present in a child, and then concludes that the experiences aren’t present, either. But only seldom in my life have I had such deep and painful experiences as I had then. ~ Hermann Hesse, #NFDB
776:In 1997, for instance, the EPA moved to reduce surface ozone, a form of air pollution caused, in part, by emissions from oil refineries. Susan Dudley, an economist who became a top official at the Mercatus Center, came up with a novel criticism of the proposed rule. The EPA, she argued, had not taken into account that by blocking the sun, smog cut down on cases of skin cancer. She claimed that if pollution were controlled, it would cause up to eleven thousand additional cases of skin cancer each year. ~ Jane Mayer, #NFDB
777:(In the 44th session, Seth began a list of qualities and attributes which are included in the spacious present. To date there are eleven of these: Value climate of psychological reality; energy transformation; spontaneity; durability; creation; consciousness; capacity for infinite mobility; law of infinite changeability and transmutation; cooperation; arrival and departure, meaning physical birth and death; and quality depth, the perspective in which an idea can expand, replacing our time and space.) ~ Jane Roberts, #NFDB
778:Los problemas nunca se van, sólo mejoran”, dijo. Warren Buffet tiene problemas de dinero, el mendigo alcoholizado que se halla afuera del 7-Eleven tiene problemas de dinero. La diferencia es que Buffet posee mejores problemas de dinero que el indigente. Todo en la vida es así. “La vida es, en esencia, una serie interminable de problemas, Mark”, comentó el panda. Le dio un trago a su coctel y acomodó el pequeño paraguas rosa en la copa. “La solución de un problema es meramente la creación del siguiente. ~ Mark Manson, #NFDB
779:Confronted by an absolutely infuriating review, it is sometimes helpful for the victim to do a little personal research on the critic. Is there any truth to the rumor that he had no formal education beyond the age of eleven? In any event, is he able to construct a simple English sentence? Do his participles dangle? When moved to lyricism, does he write "I had a fun time"? Was he ever arrested for burglary? I don't know that you will prove anything this way, but it is perfectly harmless and quite soothing. ~ Jean Kerr, #NFDB
780:If you leave a bunch of eleven-year-olds to their own devices, what you get is Lord of the Flies. Like a lot of American kids, I read this book in school. Presumably it was not a coincidence. Presumably someone wanted to point out to us that we were savages, and that we had made ourselves a cruel and stupid world. This was too subtle for me. While the book seemed entirely believable, I didn't get the additional message. I wish they had just told us outright that we were savages and our world was stupid. ~ Paul Graham, #NFDB
781:I was just learning how to read and was reading every sign out loud, practising, and when I saw Cockburn Avenue I said Cock Burn Avenue and then asked what's that? And Elf, she must have been eleven or twelve, said that's from too much sex and my mother said shhhh from the front passenger seat and we didn't dare look over at my dad who clutched the wheel and peered out the windshield like a sniper tracking his target. There were two things he didn't ever want to talk about and they were sex and Russia. ~ Miriam Toews, #NFDB
782:I started by eating a large bag of Cheetos. The bright orange color would serve as a marker during the purge. It would be a map, almost, telling me how far I’d come and how much further I needed to go. When I saw orange vomit cascading from my mouth and flowing in chunks between the two rigid fingers jammed against my gag reflex, I’d know I’d passed 7-Eleven and then I’d make my way back to the restaurant and back through each course beginning with the corn chips, the enchiladas, and ending with the nachos. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
783:The day before yesterday, in the woods of Touques, in a charming spot beside a spring, I found old cigar butts and scraps of pâté. People had been picnicking. I described such a scene in Novembre eleven years ago; it was entirely imagined, and the other day it came true. Everything one invents is true, you may be sure. Poetry is as precise as geometry. Induction is as accurate as deduction; and besides, after reaching a certain point one no longer makes any mistake about the things of the soul. ~ Gustave Flaubert, #NFDB
784:I was on my back, looking up at Morelli through cobwebs, and my first thought was that the 7-Eleven victim had exacted revenge on me, and I’d been stun gunned. The cobwebs cleared, and I discounted stun gunning.
“What happened?” I asked Morelli.
“You fainted.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I agree, but if someone sent me a dead woman I might faint, too.” He was down on one knee, bending over me. “Are you ready to get up?”
“I need a moment.”
“Don’t take too long. People will think I’m proposing. ~ Janet Evanovich,#NFDB
785:Our father, who art in heaven,
hallowed be thy name,
hollow be thy promises
and shallow be thy shame.
Thy kingdom come.
Thy will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.
On a scale from on to ten,
our Lord is totally eleven.
Give us this day our daily bread,
toasted close to dawn,
and forgive us our trespasses
as we shoot those who trespass on our lawn,
and lead us not into temptation,
such as pot or porno,
but deliver us from evil
(if not delivery, then DiGiorno). ~ Bo Burnham,#NFDB
786:The mother kills one child to feed twelve, and one child to feed eleven, and one child to feed ten until she is left with but one child, whom she also slaughters because she too hungers. Finally, she returns to the middle of a cornfield where she slaughtered her other children, where the bones of their thirteen bodies lay. She slits her own throat because she cannot bear the burden of having done what needed to be done. After telling me this story, Elsa said, “A West Indian woman always faces such choices.” The ~ Roxane Gay, #NFDB
787:Eckhart Tolle says, “Addiction begins with pain and ends with pain,” meaning that pain is behind compulsive behavior. Eleven years clean, I still feel the urge to medicate pain. Whenever events don’t go my way, my first instinct is to annul the feeling, to look for an external resource to solve the problem. The second part of Eckhart’s edict kicks in here—addiction “ends with pain.” Medication of any kind offers only a temporary solution; it always leads back to pain and becomes therefore predictably cyclical. ~ Russell Brand, #NFDB
788:Dear Harry, If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven P.M. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays. If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you. Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday, I am, yours most sincerely, Albus Dumbledore ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
789:When Emily Dickinson's poems were published in the 1890s, they were a best-seller; the first book of her poems went through eleven editions of a print run of about 400. So the first print run out of Boston for a first book of poems was 400 for a country that had fifty million people in it. Now a first print run for a first book is maybe 2,000? So that's a five-time increase in the expectation of readership. Probably the audience is almost exactly the same size as it was in 1900, if you just took that one example. ~ Robert Hass, #NFDB
790:It's promising and seductive, that huge Italian family, sitting around the dinner table, surrounded by olive trees. But it's not my family and I am not their family, and no amount of birthing sons, and cooking dinner and raking leaves or planting the gardens or paying for the plane tickets is going to change that. If I don't come back in eleven months, I will not be missed, and no one will write me or call me to acknowledge my absence. Which is not an accusation, just a small truth about clan and bloodline. ~ Gabrielle Hamilton, #NFDB
791:The 1948 war’s diplomatic maneuvers and military campaigns are well engraved in Israeli Jewish historiography. What is missing is the chapter on the ethnic cleansing carried out by the Jews in 1948. As a result of that campaign, five hundred Palestinian villages and eleven urban neighborhoods were destroyed, seven hundred thousand Palestinians were expelled, and several thousand were massacred.2 Even today, it is hard to find a succinct summary of the planning, execution, and repercussions of these tragic results. ~ Noam Chomsky, #NFDB
792:Gujarat's e-governance projects have been recognized in the country and abroad. To give a few examples- Gujarat has the largest Wide Area Network in the Asia Pacific. It is the first State to provide broadband connectivity in all schools and villages. It makes maximum use of video-conferencing including trial of the prisoners. Gujarat's ICT based Grievance Redressal System called SWAGAT has got the United Nation's Public Service Award. In addition, it has received eleven national awards for our various e-services. ~ Narendra Modi, #NFDB
793:Some have asked whether a language can communicate complicated information with only eleven phonemes. A computer scientist knows, however, that computers can communicate anything we program them to do, and that they do this with only two “letters” — 1 and 0, which can be thought of as phonemes. Morse code also has only two “letters,” long and short.
And that is all any language needs. In fact, a language could get by with a single phoneme. In such a language words might look like a, aa, aaa, aaaa, and so on. ~ Daniel L Everett,#NFDB
794:A little? I’m superimpatient,” said Serge. “But trying to improve. That’s the whole problem with society: We detect countless faults in others, but never work on ourselves. And behavior in long lines brings out the worst. Take the nicest people you’d ever meet, stick them in an ultralong line that’s moving like molasses, and it’s as if they were bitten by a werewolf. Some sweet old lady who volunteers to read to the blind: ‘Look at this dickhead with eleven items in the express lane.’ Supermarkets bring out the worst. ~ Tim Dorsey, #NFDB
795:One study found that just three hours of meditation practice led to improved attention and self-control. After eleven hours, researchers could see those changes in the brain. The new meditators had increased neural connections between regions of the brain important for staying focused, ignoring distractions, and controlling impulses. Another study found that eight weeks of daily meditation practice led to increased self-awareness in everyday life, as well as increased gray matter in corresponding areas of the brain. It ~ Kelly McGonigal, #NFDB
796:Sei tornato dall’appuntamento che avevi per colazione, vedo’’ disse Jace senza troppa gentilezza nella voce. “Scommetto che hai pensato di essere molto furbo, a svignartela così.’’
“Diciamo abbastanza furbo’’ ammise Simon. “Una specie di incrocio fra il George Clooney Di Ocean’s Eleven e gli esperti di Miti da sfatare su Discovery Channel, però più bello, ovviamente.’’
“Sono sempre molto felice di non avere la minima idea di quel che vai blaterando’’ ribatté Jace. “La cosa mi infonde un senso di pace e benessere. ~ Cassandra Clare,#NFDB
797:He found himself grinning at her. His nervousness had disappeared, and suddenly he had a sense of his own size, his physical strength, his own brains and being. Four years, he had earned his own bread and keep, fended for himself, had not only remained alive and well but had put together a small fishing fleet of his own, and kept it alive and functioning and fought the wind and the weather and met a payroll of eleven men in his crews-and be damned with the lot of them if he'd go into a funk over which spoon or knife to use. ~ Howard Fast, #NFDB
798:Imagine if you looked different to every person who saw you. Not, like, some people thought you were more or less attractive, but one person thinks you’re a sixty-five-year-old cowboy from Wyoming complete with boots and hat and leathery skin, and the next person sees an eleven-year-old girl wearing a baseball uniform. You have no control over this, and what you look like has nothing to do with the life you have lived or even your genome. You have no idea what each person sees when they look at you. That’s what fame is like. ~ Hank Green, #NFDB
799:At last it came. It would be known as the Sura of the Morning, eleven tantalizingly brief verses which read in full: “By the morning light and the dark of night, your Lord has not forsaken you, Muhammad, nor does he abhor you. The end shall be better than the beginning, and you will be satisfied. Did he not find you an orphan and give you shelter? Did he not find you in error and guide you? Did he not find you poor and enrich you? Do not wrong the orphan, then, nor chide the beggar, but proclaim the goodness of your Lord. ~ Lesley Hazleton, #NFDB
800:If the potato blight had been such a long catastrophe, ending only seven years ago, it occurred to Lib that a child now eleven must have been born into hunger. Weaned on it, reared on it; that had to shape a person. Every thrifty inch of Anna's body had learned to make do with less. She's never been greedy or clamoured for treats - that was how Rosaleen O'Donnell had praised her daughter. Anna must have been petted every time she said she'd had plenty. Earned a smile for every morsel she passed on to her brother or the maid. ~ Emma Donoghue, #NFDB
801:according to Matthew, the eleven went into Galilee to meet Jesus in a mountain by his own appointment, on the same day that he is said to have risen, Luke and John must have been two of that eleven; yet the writer of Luke says expressly, and John implies as much, that the meeting was that same day, in a house in Jerusalem; and, on the other hand, if, according to Luke and John, the eleven were assembled in a house in Jerusalem, Matthew must have been one of that eleven; yet Matthew says the meeting was in a mountain in Galilee, ~ Thomas Paine, #NFDB
802:I was given the name by my brother when I was about eleven or twelve years old. He was older than me, and around that age I was starting to get into girls, and when they would call the house for him, and when he was not there, I would try to talk to them. I was trying to be the man and trying to get them to come and see me, not worrying about him. When he found out... he started calling me Ice Cube as a joke because he said I was trying to be too cool. I just liked it and started telling everybody in the hood "my name is Ice Cube." ~ Ice Cube, #NFDB
803:The uncertainty wore on him. The conditions in jail--the handcuffs, the noise, the filth, the crowding--mangled his senses. It's likely that, if one must be incarcerated in the United States, a jail in central Maine would be among the more tolerable spots, but to Knight it was torture. "Bedlam" is how he referred to the place. It never got dark in jail; at eleven p.m., the lights merely became a little duller. "I suspect," he noted, "more damage has been done to my sanity in jail, in months; than years, decades, in the woods. ~ Michael Finkel, #NFDB
804:This is the BBC in London. You will now hear a statement from the Prime Minister.” “I am speaking to you from the Cabinet room, Ten Downing Street. This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German government a final note, stating that unless we heard from them by eleven o’clock, that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland, a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now, that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently, this country is at war with Germany. ~ Jeffrey Archer, #NFDB
805:The meal began with pickled squid, oyster shooters, marinated anchovies, and scungilli salad. Then Rosalie set an enormous bowl of pasta con le vongole in front of Sal, who ladled it out, talking the entire time. The pasta was followed by huge platters of scampi, which we passed around. It was almost eleven when Rosalie set three enormous stuffed turbots on the table, and it was near midnight when she appeared with a plate of warm sugar-dusted sfinge.
"So our first taste of the New Year will be sweet," Sal whispered in my ear. ~ Ruth Reichl,#NFDB
806:Miss Mandible wants to make love to me but she hesitates because I am officially a child; I am, according to the records, according to the gradebook on her desk, according to the card index in the principal’s office, eleven years old. There is a misconception here, one that I haven’t quite managed to get cleared up yet. I am in fact thirty-five, I’ve been in the Army, I am six feet one, I have hair in the appropriate places, my voice is a barritone, I know very well what to do with Miss Mandible if she ever makes up her mind. ~ Donald Barthelme, #NFDB
807:The thing is that I am a member of that sad, ever-dwindling minority... the child of an unbroken home. I have carried this albatross since the age of eleven, when I started at grammar school. Not a day would pass without somebody I knew turning out to be adopted or illegitimate, or to have mothers who were about to hare off with some bloke, or to have dead fathers and shabby stepfathers. What busy lives they led. How I envied their excuses for introspection, their ear-marked receptacles for every just antagonism and noble loyalty. ~ Martin Amis, #NFDB
808:Never before have the American people had their noses so deeply in one another's business. If I announce that I and eleven other diners shared a thirty-seven-course lunch that likely cost as much as a new Volvo station wagon, Those of a critical nature will let their minds run in tiny, aghast circles of condemnation. My response to them is that none of us twelve disciples of gourmandise wanted a new Volvo. We wanted only lunch and since lunch lasted approximately eleven hours we saved money by not having to buy diner. The defense rests. ~ Jim Harrison, #NFDB
809:Seven million German dead, including the five hundred thousand killed by the Allied bombing campaign. The sixty million dead overall of the Second World War, including eleven million murdered in the Holocaust. The sixteen million of the First World War, over four million in Vietnam, forty million to the Mongol conquests, three and a half million to the Hundred Years War, the fall of Rome took seven million, the Napoleonic Wars took four million, twenty million to the Taiping Rebellion. And so on and so on and so on, all the way back to ~ Kate Atkinson, #NFDB
810:She had collided with an elk and died...At twenty-four minutes to eleven her heart had stopped pumping the blood around her body.
One single muscle in a single person's body. A speck of dust in time. And the world was dead. David stood next to her bed with his arms by his sides, the headache burning behind his forehead.
Here lay his whole future, everything good that he could even imagine would come from life. Here lay the last twelve years of his past. Everything gone; and time shrank to a single unbearable now. ~ John Ajvide Lindqvist,#NFDB
811:Alot can happen in eleven minutes. Decker can run two miles in eleven minutes. I once wrote an English essay in ten. And God knows Carson Levine can talk a girl out of her clothes in less then half that time.
Eleven minutes might as well be eternity underwater. It only takes three minutes without air for loss consciousness. Permanent brain damange begins at four minutes. And then, when the oxygen runs out, full cardiac arrest occurs. Death is possible at five minutes. Probable at seven. Definite at ten.
Decker pulled me out at eleven. ~ Megan Miranda,#NFDB
812:This is natural selection, Darwin’s great insight. All living creatures have the same purpose: to make more of themselves, ensuring their biological future by the only means available. And all living creatures have a maximum reproductive rate: the greatest number of offspring they can generate in a lifetime. (For people, she told the class, the maximum reproductive rate is about twenty children per couple per generation. The potential maximum for dachshunds is around 330: eleven pups per litter, three litters a year, for roughly ten years.) ~ Charles C Mann, #NFDB
813:Everyone in the club is thirteen and in the eighth grade, except for our junior officers, Mallory Pike and Jessica Ramsey. Mal and Jessi are best friends. They are eleven years old and in the sixth grade. Both have pierced ears, and both adore horses — and any movie, book, or video game that has a horse in it. I don’t know how many times they’ve read Marguerite Henry’s Misty of Chincoteague, but I do know they’ve seen The Black Stallion at least twenty times. They recite the lines along with the actors. (I don’t recommend watching it with them.) ~ Ann M Martin, #NFDB
814:In fact we do not try to picture the afterlife, nor is it our selves in our nervous tics and optical flecks that we wish to perpetuate; it is the self as the window on the world that we can't bear to thinkof shutting. My mind when I was a boy of ten or eleven sent up its silent scream at the thought of future aeons -- at the thought of the cosmic party going on without me. The yearning for an afterlife is the opposite of selfish: it is love and praise of the world that we are privileged, in this complex interval of light, to witness and experience. ~ John Updike, #NFDB
815:didn’t realize I was crying until the tears hit my chin and plummeted to my shirt. Fire burned my nose. Five-six-seven-eight-nine-ten-eleven-twelve-thirteen-and-fourteen-year-old Vanessa all came back to me with the same feeling that had been so strong in those years: hurt. The Vanessa who was fifteen and older had felt a different emotion for so long: anger. Anger at my mom’s selfishness. Anger at her for not being able to clean her act up until years after we’d been taken away from her. Anger for being let down for so long, time and time again. ~ Mariana Zapata, #NFDB
816:I buried her like a pagan. I put deer bones in with her, for her journey; a blanket, for warmth; flowers, cedar fronds, stones from places we’d been, grouse feathers, a tidbit of raw venison hamburger, and a swatch of my own hair. A headstone, a footstone. I planted an aspen tree above the headstone, to give her shade, and to someday provide leaf-music in the breeze. It took a long time before I was worth a damn again. How to measure the eleven years of magic she brought to us? How, now, to say thank you? Too late, as usual, for these sorts of things. ~ Rick Bass, #NFDB
817:Though the white liberal imagination likes to feel temporarily bad about black suffering, there really is no mode of empathy that can replicate the daily strain of knowing that as a black person you can be killed for simply being black: no hands in your pockets, no playing music, no sudden movements, no driving your car, no walking at night, no walking in the day, no turning onto this street, no entering this building, no standing your ground, no standing here, no standing there, no talking back, no playing with toy guns, no living while black. Eleven ~ Jesmyn Ward, #NFDB
818:There are twelve houses in the zodiac. Each one represents something. Number one is yourself, personality, and physical appearance. Number two is the money house. Three is communications, siblings, and lower education. Four is home and ma and pa figures. Five is love affairs and children. Six is employment, health, and pets. Seven is marriage and partnerships. Eight is death, rebirth, and reincarnation. Nine is higher education, religion, philosophy, and journeys. Ten is social status, ambitions, and career. Eleven is friendship, and twelve is undoing. ~ Georgie Marie, #NFDB
819:You ugly rat-faced birds.
You call yourself a bird?
You call yourself an owl?
You ain't no decent kind of fowl!
They call you Jatt?
They call you Jutt?
I'm gonna toss you in a rut!
Then I'm gonna punch you in the gut!
Then your gonna wind up on your butt!
Think you're all gizzard!
I seen better lizards.
One-Two-Three-Four,
You're goin' down, won't ask for more.
Five-Six-Seven-Eight,
You ain't better than fish bait...
Nine-Ten-Eleven-Twelve,
I'm gonna send you straight to hell.
-Twilight ~ Kathryn Lasky,#NFDB
820:I never used to see August the way other people saw him. I knew he didn’t look exactly normal, but I really didn’t understand why strangers seemed so shocked when they saw him. Horrified. Sickened. Scared. There are so many words I can use to describe the looks on people’s faces. And for a long time I didn’t get it. I’d just get mad. Mad when they stared. Mad when they looked away. “What the heck are you looking at?” I’d say to people—even grown-ups. Then, when I was about eleven, I went to stay with Grans in Montauk for four weeks while August was having ~ R J Palacio, #NFDB
821:The heat is searing and superb. The paddocks surrounding the town are bleached blond. The distant ring-barked gums, mile after mile, wriggle in the heat-waves, and seem to melt like the bristles of a melting hairbrush. The hills turn powder-blue and gauzy. Mirages resembling pools of mica and shallows of crystal water appear at the far ends of streets and roads. Punctually at eleven every burning morning, the cicadas begin to drill the air, to drill themselves also, ceaselessly and relentlessly, to death in one short day after seven long years underground. ~ Hal Porter, #NFDB
822:My late Uncle Henry, you see, was by way of being the blot on the Wooster escutcheon. An extremely decent chappie personally, and one who had always endeared himself to me by tipping me with considerable lavishness when I was at school; but there's no doubt he did at times do rather rummy things, notably keeping eleven pet rabbits in his bedroom; and I suppose a purist might have considered him more or less off his onion. In fact, to be perfectly frank, he wound up his career, happy to the last and completely surrounded by rabbits, in some sort of a home. ~ P G Wodehouse, #NFDB
823:Chap in the cagoule.” “What’s a cagoule?” “Eleven? Do I hear eleven? Big fat man with the shameless wig? No? Still with the chap in the lightweight, knee-length anorak of French origin, very popular with bearded prannies who wear ethnic shoes, get off on Olde English folk music and have girlfriends called Ros who run encounter groups where you can find your true self and be at one with the cosmos. Eleven still with you, sir.” “Well!” said the chap in the cagoule. “I don’t know if I want it now.” “Oh go on,” said Ros, his girlfriend. “Twelve,” said a new voice. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
824:I'm the first woman you've bedded. I'm almost the only woman you've seen in eleven years. Anyone would mistake the significance of his feelings. You want to make promises. You're a decent man. But when you resume your rightful position, you'll regret any commitment. You'll regret it even more when you fall in love with the woman fit to stand at your side."
He was genuinely angry now. "Unlike the Earl of Wyndhurst's daughter."
She flinched at his sarcasm then lifted her chin and faced him down. "Unlike the poor widow Grace Paget who was your mistress. ~ Anna Campbell,#NFDB
825:The wax starts to melt, and I hold it over the envelope, letting it drip. After I blow out the flame, I pick up the stamp and press it into the wax, sealing the letter and finding the fancy, black skull of the imprint staring back at me.
A gift from Misha. He got tired of me using the one I got when I was eleven with a Harry Potter Gryffindor seal on it. His sister, Annie, kept making fun of him, screaming that his Hogwarts letter had arrived.
So he sent me a more “manly” seal, telling me to use that or nothing at all.
I’d laughed. ~ Penelope Douglas,#NFDB
826:I've dealt with numbers all my life, of course, and after a while you begin to feel that each number has a personality of its own. A twelve is very different from a thirteen, for example. Twelve is upright, conscientious, intelligent, whereas thirteen is a loner, a shady character who won't think twice about breaking the law to get what he wants. Eleven is tough, an outdoorsman who likes tramping through woods and scaling mountains; ten is rather simpleminded, a bland figure who always does what he's told; nine is deep and mystical, a Buddha of contemplation. ~ Paul Auster, #NFDB
827:For every video that swiftly satuated the internet-I'd mom-danced with Jimmy Fallon, Nerf-dunked on LeBron James, and college-rapped with Jay Pharoah- we'd focused ourselves on doing more than trending for a few hours on Twitter. And we had results. Forty-five million kids were eating healthier breakfasts and lunches; eleven million students were getting sixty minutes of physical activity every day through our Let's Move! Active Schools Program. Children were overall eating more whole grains and produce. The era of supersized fast food was coming to a close. ~ Michelle Obama, #NFDB
828:The house was quiet—almost too quiet, as they say—as if the shiny new brick and stonework were somehow holding its collective breath. The stillness surprised her. Despite the late hour Megan figured that Dave would be up, waiting for her to return, maybe sitting in the dark, maybe pacing. But there was no sign of any life at all. She tiptoed up the stairs and turned right. Jordan’s door was open. She could hear him breathing. Like most eleven-year-olds, when Jordan finally fell asleep, he fell hard and deep and it would take an act of God to wake him up. Jordan ~ Harlan Coben, #NFDB
829:The Eleven is not a painting of History, it is History. Perhaps what Michelet saw at the end of the Flore pavilion was History in person, in eleven persons - in terror, because History is pure terror. And that terror attracts us like a magnet. Because we are men, Sir; and because men high and low, scholars and beggars, passionately love History, that is, the terrors and the massacres; they hasten from afar to contemplate them, the terrors and the massacres, under the pretext of deploring them, even of rectifying them, so they claim, the good creatures... ~ Pierre Michon, #NFDB
830:The historian A. J. P. Taylor calls the massacre ‘the decisive moment when Indians were alienated from British rule’. No other ‘punishment’ in the name of law and order had similar casualties: ‘The Peterloo Massacre had claimed about eleven lives. Across the Atlantic, British soldiers provoked into firing on Boston Commons had killed five men and were accused of deliberate massacre. In response to the self-proclaimed Easter Rebellion of 1916 in Dublin, the British had executed sixteen Irishmen.’ Jallianwala confirmed how little the British valued Indian lives. ~ Shashi Tharoor, #NFDB
831:Orion was the one Emily knew well. He had been Emily's childhood friend when, for several summers, they attended CTY, the Center for Talented Youth at Johns Hopkins. At eleven, twelve, and thirteen, they took courses in physics and advanced geometry along with other children selected nationwide. Emily had studied Greek, and Orion took astronomy. Renaissance children, they lived in dorms with other earnest middle-schoolers blowing through problem sets, practicing violin, gathering several times a week for camp games designated by their counselors as "mandatory fun. ~ Allegra Goodman, #NFDB
832:phocomelus Hoppy Harrington generally wheeled up to Modern TV Sales & Service about eleven each morning. He generally glided into the shop, stopping his cart by the counter, and if Jim Fergesson was around he asked to be allowed to go downstairs to watch the two TV repairmen at work. However, if Fergesson was not around, Hoppy gave up and after a while wheeled off, because he knew that the salesmen would not let him go downstairs;' they merely ribbed him, gave him the run-around. He did not mind. Or at least as far as Stuart McConchie could tell, he did not mind. ~ Philip K Dick, #NFDB
833:I had been a magistrate for almost eleven years. I watched the whole of human life come through my court: the hopeless waifs who couldn’t get themselves together sufficiently even to make a court appointment on time; the repeat offenders; the angry, hard-faced young men and exhausted, debt-ridden mothers. It’s quite hard to stay calm and understanding when you see the same faces, the same mistakes made again and again. I could sometimes hear the impatience in my tone. It could be oddly dispiriting, the blank refusal of humankind to even attempt to function responsibly. And ~ Jojo Moyes, #NFDB
834:It was on the day, or rather the night, of 27 June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last lines of the last page in a summer-house in my garden. ... I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of my freedom, and perhaps the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my mind by the idea that I had taken my everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion, and that, whatsoever might be the future date of my history, the life of the historian must be short and precarious. ~ Edward Gibbon, #NFDB
835:Magic,” Lila replied after Merlin inquired how she planned to unveil Ivan. “The human brain receives over eleven million bits of information per second, but the conscious mind can only interpret about two hundred bits per second.” Lila tapped his forehead. “The reality you experience, then—the world of your conscious self—is a vast reduction, approximately fifty-five thousand times less than what your senses are actually receiving, which is really another way of saying that in any given moment there are fifty-five thousand other realities you might just as easily inhabit. ~ Tony Vigorito, #NFDB
836:When he arrived, he found that the two most important women in his life—his mother and his young wife—were dying. At 3:00 a.m. on February 14, Valentine’s Day, Martha Roosevelt, still a vibrant, dark-haired Southern belle at forty-six, died of typhoid fever. Eleven hours later, her daughter-in-law, Alice Lee Roosevelt, who had given birth to Theodore’s first child just two days before, succumbed to Bright’s disease, a kidney disorder. That night, in his diary, Roosevelt marked the date with a large black “X” and a single anguished entry: “The light has gone out of my life. ~ Candice Millard, #NFDB
837:Crowding in many London districts was almost unimaginable. In St. Giles, the worst of London’s rookeries—scene of William Hogarth’s famous engraving Gin Lane—fifty-four thousand people crowded into just a few streets. By one count, eleven hundred people lived in twenty-seven houses along one alley; that is more than forty people per dwelling. In Spitalfields, farther east, inspectors found sixty-three people living in a single house. The house had nine beds—one for every seven occupants. A new word, of unknown provenance, sprang into being to describe such neighborhoods: slums. ~ Bill Bryson, #NFDB
838:Fortunately, the Buddha was characteristically precise about what those benefits include. He said that the intimacy and caring that fill our hearts as the force of lovingkindness develops will bring eleven particular advantages: You will sleep easily. You will wake easily. You will have pleasant dreams. People will love you. Devas [celestial beings] and animals will love you. Devas will protect you. External dangers [poisons, weapons, and fire] will not harm you. Your face will be radiant. Your mind will be serene. You will die unconfused. You will be reborn in happy realms. ~ Sharon Salzberg, #NFDB
839:It’s nearly eleven, you’d better get on board.”
“Don’t forget to give Neville our love!” Ginny told James as she hugged him.
“Mum! I can’t give a professor love!”
“But you know Neville--”
James rolled his eyes.
“Outside, yeah, but at school he’s Professor Longbottom, isn’t he? I can’t walk into Herbology and give him love…”
Shaking his head at his mother’s foolishness, he vented his feelings by aiming a kick at Albus.
“See you later, Al. Watch out for the thestrals.”
“I thought they were invisible? You said they were invisible! ~ J K Rowling,#NFDB
840:How many places have we lived?" I asked Lori.
"That depends on what you mean by 'lived', "she said. "If you spend one in some town, did you live there? What about two nights? Or a whole week? "
I thought. "If you unpack all your things," I said.
We counted eleven placed we had lived, then we lost track. We couldn't remember the names of some of the towns or what the houses we had lived in looked like. Mostly, I remember the inside of cars.
"What do you think would happen if we weren't always moving around?" I asked.
"We'd get caught," Lori said.
pg. 29 ~ Jeannette Walls,#NFDB
841:My passions are all asleep from my having slumbered till nearly eleven and weakened the animal fiber all over me to a delightful sensation about three degrees on this sight of faintness - if I had teeth of pearl and the breath of lilies I should call it languor - but as I am I must call it laziness. In this state of effeminacy the fibers of the brain are relaxed in common with the rest of the body, and to such a happy degree that pleasure has no show of enticement and pain no unbearable frown. Neither poetry, nor ambition, nor love have any alertness of countenance as they pass by me. ~ John Keats, #NFDB
842:Right.” Adrian took a deep breath and plunged on.
“I can’t get into Mystwerk at thirteen, but Spiritas accepts
novices at eleven, just like Wien House.”
“Spiritas?”
“That’s the healers’ academy at Oden’s Ford. You
wouldn’t remember it—it’s just three years old. They’re
combining green magic, music and art therapies, clan remedies,
and, eventually, wizardry.”
“Eventually?” His father raised an eyebrow.
“That’s the goal, but from what I hear, the deans at
Mystwerk haven’t been eager to join in so far.”
His father snorted. “Why am I not surprised? ~ Cinda Williams Chima,#NFDB
843:Father-Speak "Our baby napped exclusively in her swing for months. I work at home, and I kept the swing next to my desk. It was the only way I could get Anna to sleep for more than twenty minutes. Eventually she grew too big for the swing and started sleeping in her crib in my office. If she woke mid-nap, I would jostle the crib, and she would return to sleep. Now the crib is in her room (with a radio set to a talk station), and she takes a two-hour nap. Honestly though, the swing was worth its weight in gold for me when she was an infant." —Hector, father of eleven-month-old Anna ~ Elizabeth Pantley, #NFDB
844:When I was a teenager, I looked at over-fifties with pity and unease: they walked too slow, they talked too slow, they watched TV instead of going out to movies and concerts, their idea of a great party was hotpot with the neighbors and tucked into bed after the eleven o’clock news. But—like most other fifty-, sixty-, and seventysomethings who are in relative good health—I didn’t mind it so much when my turn came. Because the brain doesn’t age, although its ideas about the world may harden and there’s a greater tendency to run off at the mouth about how things were in the good old days. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
845:A critical faculty is a terrible thing. When I was eleven there were no bad films, just films I didn't want to see, there was no bad food, just Brussels sprouts and cabbage, and there were no bad books - everything I read was great. Then suddenly, I woke up in the morning and all that had changed. How could my sister not hear that David Cassidy was not in the same class as Black Sabbath? Why on EARTH would my English teacher think that 'The History of Mr Polly' was better than 'Ten Little Indians' by Agatha Christie? And from that moment on, enjoyment has been a much more elusive quality. ~ Nick Hornby, #NFDB
846:A critical faculty is a terrible thing. When I was eleven there were no bad films, just films that I didn't want to see, there was no bad food, just Brussels sprouts and cabbage, and there were no bad books - everything I read was great. Then suddenly, I woke up in the morning and all that had changed. How could my sister not hear that David Cassidy was not in the same class as Black Sabbath. Why on earth would my English teacher think that The History of Mr Polly was better than Ten Little Indians by Agatha Christie? And from that moment on, enjoyment has been a much more elusive quality. ~ Nick Hornby, #NFDB
847:their emergence was married to industrial successes in the two important districts of Alleppey and Shertallai in north Travancore, which also boasted the first trade union in the state, the Travancore Labour Association. By now it had transformed itself into the Coir Factory Workers’ Union, and with 7,400 fee-paying members, this was perhaps the biggest of fifty unions in the state; Shertallai alone had eleven with 15,000 out of 20,000 local workers registered.16 All of them, it became clear, were prepared to stand up to the Dewan and scotch his latest flirtations with the State Congress. ~ Manu S Pillai, #NFDB
848:I think I snapped a wheel at some point tonight. Or at the very least stepped over into the realm of Rod Serling’s Twilight Zone. (Cassandra)
How do you mean? (Wulf)
Well, let’s see…It’s only eleven o’clock and tonight I have gone to a club that seems to be owned by shape-shifting panthers, where a group of vampire hit men and one possible god attacked me. Went home only to be attacked again by said hit men, god, and then a dragon. Had a Dark-Hunter save me. My bodyguard my or may not be in the service of a goddess and now I just met a sleep spirit. Hell of a day, huh? (Cassandra) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,#NFDB
849:Micah Carter," I say, and he does look up, right at me, and his eyes are the same green-gray-brown that they always have been, and he still have eleven freckles (two on the left cheek, nine on the right), and his glasses are in their perpetual state of sliding down his nose, and this is my Micah August Carter. This is the boy who climbed onto his rood when we were five to hear the wind better. This is the boy who, due to a small miscommunication, donated blood during my appendectomy even though he thought it would kill him. This is the boy who is both my impulse control and my very best ideas. ~ Amy Zhang, #NFDB
850:You see,” I proceeded, “by the time he was eleven or twelve, this was all too late. The no-gun rules, the computer codes ... Children live in the same world we do. To kid ourselves that we can shelter them from it isn’t just naive, it’s a vanity. We want to be able to tell ourselves what good parents we are, that we’re doing our best. If I had it all to do over again, I’d have let Kevin play with whatever he wanted; he liked little enough. And I’d have ditched the TV rules, the G-rated videos. They only made us look foolish. They underscored our powerlessness, and they provoked his contempt. ~ Lionel Shriver, #NFDB
851:The first time my heart broke, I thought back to
the day in my childhood when a piece of glass went
through my finger after an ill-fated cartwheel.
I was eleven years old.
My mother and I were in our bathroom cleaning
up the wound. She dribbled peroxide onto the cut.
It fizzed and burned; I winced at the pain.
It needs to burn so you know it’s healing,
she explained.
That small exchange during my adolescence helped
me learn to appreciate the pain pulsating from my
broken heart. In spite of the severity of my wound,
I knew the healing process had already begun. ~ Alicia Cook,#NFDB
852:An American pilot flying a Spad VII swooped low and dropped a bomb over their position. Walter was hit and badly wounded. He clutched at Bücher’s sleeve. “I won’t die now that there’s an armistice, will I?” he pleaded. Bücher attempted to reassure the youth. As he spoke, gas shells began laying a poisonous cloud over the lines. Bücher pulled a mask over Walter’s head, then over his own. Through the goggles he could make out shapes emerging from the odorous haze as the black Americans continued their attempt to breach the line. Bücher stole a glance at his watch. It was two minutes to eleven. ~ Joseph E Persico, #NFDB
853:Far away, where the swallows take refuge in winter, lived a king who had eleven sons and one daughter, Elise. The eleven brothers--they were all princes--used to go to school with stars on their breasts and swords at their sides. They wrote upon golden slates with diamond pencils, and could read just as well without a book as with one, so there was no mistake about their being princes. Their sister Elise sat upon a little footstool of looking-glass, and she has a picture-book which had cost the half of a kingdom. Oh, these children were very happy; but it was not to last thus forever. ~ Hans Christian Andersen, #NFDB
854:We knew that some guys that looked as though they were al-Qaeda-associated were traveling to KL,” said a senior CIA official, referring to Kuala Lumpur. “We didn’t know what they were going to do there. We were trying to find that. And we were concerned that there might be an attack, because it wasn’t just Mihdhar and Hazmi, it was also ‘eleven young guys’—which was a term that was used for operatives traveling. We didn’t have the names of the others, and on Hazmi we only had his first name, ‘Nawaf.’ So the concern was: What are they doing? Is this a prelude to an attack in KL—what’s happening here? ~ James Bamford, #NFDB
855:S.J.’s second wife, Eloise, decided to have him killed, so she hired two hit men — one of whom, aptly, went by the name of Mr. Peeler. At the time, she was living at the Popeil estate in Newport Beach with her two daughters and her boyfriend, a thirty-seven-year-old machinist. When, at Eloise’s trial, S.J. was questioned about the machinist, he replied, “I was kind of happy to have him take her off my hands.” That was vintage S.J. But eleven months later, after Eloise got out of prison, S.J. married her again. That was vintage S.J., too. As a former colleague of his puts it, “He was a strange bird. ~ Malcolm Gladwell, #NFDB
856:I can remember one occasion, taking a shower with my wife while high, in which I had an idea on the origins and invalidities of racism in terms of Gaussian distribution curves. It was a point obvious in a way, but rarely talked about. I drew curves in soap on the shower wall, and went to write the idea down. One idea led to another, and at the end of about an hour of extremely hard work I had found I had written eleven short essays on a wide range of social, political, philosophical, and human biological topics. . . . I have used them in university commencement addresses, public lectures, and in my books. ~ Carl Sagan, #NFDB
857:The Trell pushed himself upright. “Where is the library?” “Turn right, proceed thirty-four paces, turn right again, twelve paces, then through door on the right, thirty-five paces, through archway on right another eleven paces, turn right one last time, fifteen paces, enter the door on the right.” Mappo stared at Iskaral Pust. The High Priest shifted nervously. “Or,” the Trell said, eyes narrowed, “turn left, nineteen paces.” “Aye,” Iskaral muttered. Mappo strode to the door. “I shall take the short route, then.” “If you must,” the High Priest growled as he bent to close examination of the broom’s ragged end. ~ Steven Erikson, #NFDB
858:You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!” said Dumbledore loudly. “The only protection that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort’s! In spite of all the temptation you have endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart, just as pure as you were at the age of eleven, when you stared into a mirror that reflected your heart’s desire, and it showed you only the way to thwart Lord Voldemort, and not immortality or riches. Harry, have you any idea how few wizards could have seen what you saw in that mirror? Voldemort should have known then what he was dealing with, but he did not! ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
859:Fine, then," she said. "If you don't want to talk, that's fine. I don't think I would want to in your situation either, frankly, but then again I don't know if I could help myself. Humans are very social creatures; we like to communicate in order to feel--"
"You talk too much."
Kira stopped, eyes wide. His voice was dry and hoarse from days of disuse--as far as she knew, it hadn't said a word since they'd captured it, now more than fifty hours ago. She almost wasn't sure she heard him right. The first human to communicate with another species in eleven years, she though, and he tells me to shut up. ~ Dan Wells,#NFDB
860:It’s one thing to explain to an eleven-year-old that there’s no way to know if Anne Frank went to heaven or hell, quite another to explain why such a question might have been an inappropriate one to pose at a bridal shower in front of the church ladies. But such was the nature of my small talk. Had I inherited more of my mother’s beauty and charm or shared some of my sister’s virtue, I might have gotten away with it, but instead I struggled through the trappings of Southern religious culture where a good Christian girl is expected to at least talk about the weather or football before getting to eternal damnation. ~ Rachel Held Evans, #NFDB
861:In 1961, Frank Drake hosted the first SETI conference at Green Bank. There were only eleven in attendance, including Philip Morrison; Carl Sagan; Melvin Calvin (who, during this conference, received a call awarding him a Nobel Prize!); astronomer Su-Shu Huang, who invented the notion of habitable zones around stars; and neuroscientist John Lilly. Swept up in optimism and camaraderie, the participants formed a whimsical organization called the Order of the Dolphin, after Lilly’s work toward communicating with these sleek, bright creatures who seemed to encourage our hope for conversing with other intelligent species. ~ David Grinspoon, #NFDB
862:Marlboro Man’s call woke me up the next morning. It was almost eleven.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”
I hopped out of bed, blinking and stumbling around my room. “Who me? Oh, nothing.” I felt like I’d been drugged.
“Were you asleep?” he said.
“Who, me?” I said again, trying to snap out of my stupor. I was stalling, trying my darnedest to get my bearings.
“Yes. You,” he said, chuckling. “I can’t believe you were asleep!”
“I wasn’t asleep! I was…I just…” I was a loser. A pathetic, late-sleeping loser.
“You’re a real go-getter in the mornings, aren’t you?” I loved it when he played along with me. ~ Ree Drummond,#NFDB
863:Similarly harmless are the albums by Lil' Romeo... Only you will know whether you want to listen to an album by an eleven-year-old rapper. "It's teen-age music, but it's also adult appealing," the biography on Lil' Romeo's Web site claims, but this seems extravagently hopeful, because it's hard to imagine that anyone in his teens would swallow this stuff, and it certainly didn't appeal to this particular adult. The intro features a version of "Frere Jacques;" track two is effectively a rap version of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star;" and "Somebody's in Love" contains the line "Be my Mickey Mouse, and I'll be your Minnie. ~ Nick Hornby, #NFDB
864:to Clara’s party? And why did she accept? ELEVEN “Honestly, you’re the worst investigator in history,” said Dominique. “At least I was asking questions,” snapped Ruth. “Only because I couldn’t get a word in.” Myrna and Clara had joined the other two women in the bistro and were now sitting in front of a fire, lit more for effect than necessity. “She asked André Castonguay how big his dick was.” “I did not. I asked how big a dick he was. There’s a difference.” Ruth brought up her thumb and forefinger to indicate about two inches. Despite herself, Clara smirked. She’d often wanted to ask gallery owners the same question. ~ Louise Penny, #NFDB
865:> Did you not hear me, fiend, I have killed --
> I heard. You killed a number of people who by now would be long-since dead anyway. So what? You've been chained to this slab for eleven hundred years. Haven't you tortured yourself enough?
> It's not me that is torturing me. It's the vengeance of the Lord -- Did you not hear? I --
> -- Am Breschau. Yes, I know. But no one today remembers Breschau. No one. I doubt one living mortal in a hundred thousand could even point to where Livonia used to be, on a map. The world has forgotten you.
> But. . . I. . . am. . .
> Enough. Go. ~ Neil Gaiman,#NFDB
866:They had always been accustomed to eat a great deal of smoked sausage, and how could they know that what they bought in America was not the same—that its color was made by chemicals, and its smoky flavor by more chemicals, and that it was full of "potato flour" besides? Potato flour is the waste of potato after the starch and alcohol have been extracted; it has no more food value than so much wood, and as its use as a food adulterant is a penal offense in Europe, thousands of tons of it are shipped to America every year. It was amazing what quantities of food such as this were needed every day, by eleven hungry persons. A ~ Upton Sinclair, #NFDB
867:From her bed she could hear her mother and father arguing. After her father’s death when she was eleven, she could hear her older brother, Bud, argue with their mother. From what she had learned about domestic battery in the last few years, she should have expected to end up with an abuser, even though her father never hit her or her mother, and the worst she ever got from Bud was a shove or slug in the arm. But man, could the men in her family yell. So loud, so mad, she wondered why the windows didn’t crack. Demand, belittle, insult, accuse, sulk, punish with the meanest words. It was just a matter of degrees; abuse is abuse. The ~ Robyn Carr, #NFDB
868:Izzy, at ten, had been apprehended sneaking into the Humane Society in an attempt to free all the stray cats. “They’re like prisoners on death row,” she’d said. At eleven, her mother—convinced that Izzy was overly clumsy—had enrolled her in dance classes to improve her coordination. Her father insisted she try it for one term before she could quit. Every class, Izzy sat down on the floor and refused to move. For the recital—with the aid of a mirror and a Sharpie—Izzy had written NOT YOUR PUPPET across her forehead and cheeks just before taking the stage, where she stood stock-still while the others, disconcerted, danced around her. ~ Celeste Ng, #NFDB
869:the situation. First time in the country and she had found St. Jarlath’s Crescent with no difficulty. “You must be Noel. I hope I’m not too early for the household.” “No, we were all up. We’re about to go to work, you see, and you are very welcome, by the way.” “Thank you. Well, shall I come in and say hello and good-bye to them?” Noel realized that he might have left her forever on the doorstep, but then he was only half awake. It took him until about eleven a.m., when he had his first vodka and Coke, to be fully in control of the day. Noel was absolutely certain that nobody at Hall’s knew of his morning injection of alcohol and ~ Maeve Binchy, #NFDB
870:I still think of Oregon Trail as a great leveler. If, for example, you were a twelve-year-old girl from Westchester with frizzy hair, a bite plate, and no control over your own life, suddenly you could drown whomever you pleased. Say you have shot four bison, eleven rabbits, and Bambi's mom. Say your wagon weighs 9,783 pounds and this arduous journey has been most arduous. The banker's sick. The carpenter's sick. The butcher, the baker, the algebra-maker. Your fellow pioneers are hanging on by a spool of flax. Your whole life is in flux and all you have is this moment. Are you sure you want to forge the river? Yes. Yes, you are. ~ Sloane Crosley, #NFDB
871:Everyone knows the
story of the traveler in Naples who saw twelve beggars lying in the sun
(it was before the days of Mussolini), and offered a lira to the laziest of
them. Eleven of them jumped up to claim it, so he gave it to the
twelfth. this traveler was on the right lines. But in countries which do
not enjoy Mediterranean sunshine idleness is more difficult, and a
great public propaganda will be required to inaugurate it. I hope that,
after reading the following pages, the leaders of the YMCA will start a
campaign to induce good young men to do nothing. If so, I shall not
have lived in vain. ~ Bertrand Russell,#NFDB
872:This is the last time we’ll walk up this staircase together, Peter taking the stairs two at a time, me nipping at his heels, huffing and puffing to keep up. It’s the last day of school for seniors, the last day of my high school career.
When we reach the top of the staircase, I say, “I feel like taking the stairs two at a time is just bragging. Have you ever noticed that only boys ever take stairs two at a time?”
“Girls probably would if they were as tall.”
“Margot’s friend Chelsea is five eleven, and I don’t think she does it.”
“So what are you saying--boys brag more?”
“Probably. Don’t you think?”
“Probably,” he admits. ~ Jenny Han,#NFDB
873:The fact that it took me eleven years to become an overnight success should also reassure him. It’s not my fault success has brought my unseemly arrogance and braggadocio to the surface: I was always thus tainted, but when you’re poor and unsuccessful it’s just vulgar ostentation to flaunt such character flaws: success wears very badly on me: I’m a sore winner. But those who have known and loved me through the Dismal Swamps of all the lies that are my life will testify that it is not merely the acquisition of pocket money that has made me an elitist. The seeds were always present. Only becoming a Writer of Stature has made them flower. ~ Harlan Ellison, #NFDB
874:While our land forces are for unpredictable contingencies, our sea and air forces secure the global commons. The navy is our away team: its operations tempo around the world is the same, whether in peacetime or wartime. So crucial is our navy that were just one of America’s eleven aircraft carriers sunk or disabled by an enemy combatant, it would constitute a national disaster in strategic and reputational terms as devastating as 9/11. Manifest Destiny, the conquest of a continent with its unleashing of vast economic wealth and national will, reaches a point of concision here at Naval Base San Diego. It is a fitting end to my journey. ~ Robert D Kaplan, #NFDB
875:It's funny. Dev had always said disposables were different. That what they contained was more special because you couldn't instantly see inside. You had to wait. You had to invest in the moment and then wait to see what you got. And those moments had to be the right moments. You had to be sure you wanted this moment when you pressed the button, because time was always running out, you were always one click closer to the end. That's what it felt like here. But that's what made it exciting.
I looked at the tin number at the top of the wheel.
1.
Eleven more clicks.
What would they be? Who'd be in them? What story would they tell? ~ Danny Wallace,#NFDB
876:Gravy No other word will do. For that’s what it was. Gravy. Gravy, these past ten years. Alive, sober, working, loving and being loved by a good woman. Eleven years ago he was told he had six months to live at the rate he was going. And he was going nowhere but down. So he changed his ways somehow. He quit drinking! And the rest? After that it was all gravy, every minute of it, up to and including when he was told about, well, some things that were breaking down and building up inside his head. “Don’t weep for me,” he said to his friends. “I’m a lucky man. I’ve had ten years longer than I or anyone expected. Pure gravy. And don’t forget it. ~ Raymond Carver, #NFDB
877:There was one Judas, but eleven disciples who were forever transformed by Jesus’ broken body. The risk of encountering a few weeds is not sufficient reason to avoid the whole field of human suffering, because I assure you, identifying with the wheat but not the weeds is a gross overestimation of our own station. The correct character to identify with here is the weed shown mercy, not the Savior capable of discerning the human heart. Our holy Savior advised us well: humans must treat the wheat and weeds the same. We are only qualified to administer mercy, not judgment, because we will pull up many a beautiful stalk of wheat, imagining him a weed. ~ Jen Hatmaker, #NFDB
878:Fifty-five thousand, five hundred and seventy-three dead from Bomber Command. Seven million German dead, including the five hundred thousand killed by the Allied bombing campaign. The sixty million dead overall of the Second World War, including eleven million murdered in the Holocaust. The sixteen million of the First World War, over four million in Vietnam, forty million to the Mongol conquests, three and a half million to the Hundred Years War, the fall of Rome took seven million, the Napoleonic Wars took four million, twenty million to the Taiping Rebellion. And so on and so on and so on, all the way back to the Garden when Cain killed Abel. ~ Kate Atkinson, #NFDB
879:Is it true that dogmatism "means assertiveness without knowledge?" How do you know that the assertiveness is without knowledge? When the eleven disciples asserted that Christ appeared to them in the upper room after his resurrection, and they thrust their hands in the wounds in his side and his hands, was it assertion without knowledge? Their statement is dogmatic, and justly so. True religion is dogmatic. All truth is dogmatic. . . . The prophets were dogmatic, and when they received revelation, had visions and visitations from heavenly personages, they knew it, they were not deceived, and their assertions were dogmatic, righteously so. ~ Joseph Fielding Smith, #NFDB
880:I left my car on the street, walked up across the dead yard, and a guy I took to be James Lester opened the door. He was average-sized in dark gray cotton work pants, dirty white socks, and a dingy undershirt. His hair was cut short on the sides and on top, but had been left long and shaggy in back, and he looked at me with a squint. He was thin, with knobby, grease-embedded hands and pale skin sporting Bic-pen tattoos on his arms and shoulders and chest. Work farm stuff. I made him for thirty, but he could’ve been younger. He said, “You’re the guy who called. You’re from the lawyer, right?” A quarter to eleven in the morning and he smelled of beer. ~ Robert Crais, #NFDB
881:Dear Delphine,
When you are older I want you to find Chinua Achebe. I want you to read Things Fall Apart. Don't be hardheaded and try to read this book now. Don't be hardheaded, Delphine. You are the smart one, but you are not ready. You can read all its words. Even the African words. But you will not know what Achebe is saying. It is a bad thing to bite into a hard fruit with little teeth. You will say bad things about the fruit when the problem is your teeth.
I want you to read this book. I want you to know Things Fall Apart. Fourteen is a good age to find Chinua Achebe.
Nzila.
Your Mother.
P.S. For now you are eleven. Be eleven. ~ Rita Williams Garcia,#NFDB
882:Scenarios where humans can survive and defeat AIs have been popularized by unrealistic Hollywood movies such as the Terminator series, where the AIs aren’t significantly smarter than humans. When the intelligence differential is large enough, you get not a battle but a slaughter. So far, we humans have driven eight out of eleven elephant species extinct, and killed off the vast majority of the remaining three. If all world governments made a coordinated effort to exterminate the remaining elephants, it would be relatively quick and easy. I think we can confidently rest assured that if a superintelligent AI decides to exterminate humanity, it will be even quicker. ~ Max Tegmark, #NFDB
883:They’d been sleeping on the floor next to the bed ever since the boys had died. This was because the boys, though they were eleven and thirteen, coming into their male sounds and snores, had shared the bed with them every night, the limbs of the four Khuranas tangled ferociously, like a sprig of roots, dreams and sleep patterns merging and helixing, so that on one particular night, when Nakul screamed in his sleep, so did the other three, and the family woke with a common hoarse throat, looking around for intruders and then laughing. “We’re like tightly packed molecules,” Tushar had said, invoking the words of his science teacher and squeezing his mother close. ~ Karan Mahajan, #NFDB
884:You think the amount of days I’ve been alive on this planet has any real bearing on how well I can fuck you? You think the date on my driver’s license means I won’t be able to make you come? That I won’t be able to love you? That I won’t be able to make you happy? If that’s the case, then you are the child here, not me. You’re clinging to this age bullshit like it’s a life raft that’s saving you from drowning, Sasha, when it’s the only thing dragging you under. This moment, here, right now…this is the only time when our ages will ever really matter. You’re eleven years older than me. Accept it. Let it go. You’re fighting an unstoppable force, Sasha. ~ Callie Hart, #NFDB
885:SCRIVENER. Here is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings;
Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd
That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's.
And mark how well the sequel hangs together:
Eleven hours I have spent to write it over,
For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me;
The precedent was full as long a-doing;
And yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd,
Untainted, unexamin'd, free, at liberty.
Here's a good world the while! Who is so gros
That cannot see this palpable device?
Yet who's so bold but says he sees it not?
Bad is the world; and all will come to nought,
When such ill dealing must be seen in thought. ~ William Shakespeare,#NFDB
886:The day on which she turned eleven, Grandfather Bill had presented her with her very own orchid.
"This is especially for you, Julia. Its name is 'Aerides odoratum,' which means 'children of the air.'"
Julia studied the delicate ivory and pink petals of the flower sitting in its pot. They felt velvety beneath her touch.
"Where does this one come from, Grandfather Bill?" she had asked.
"From the Orient, in the jungles of Chiang Mai in northern Thailand."
"Oh. What kind of music do you think it likes?"
"It seems particularly partial to a touch of Mozart," chuckled her grandfather. "Or if it looks like it's wilting, perhaps you could try some Chopin! ~ Lucinda Riley,#NFDB
887:In 2006, the Vogelstein team revealed the first landmark sequencing effort by analyzing thirteen thousand genes in eleven breast and colon cancers. (Although the human genome contains about twenty thousand genes in total, Vogelstein’s team initially had tools to assess only thirteen thousand.) In 2008, both Vogelstein’s group and the Cancer Genome Atlas consortium extended this effort by sequencing hundreds of genes of several dozen specimens of brain tumors. As of 2009, the genomes of ovarian cancer, pancreatic cancer, melanoma, lung cancer, and several forms of leukemia have been sequenced, revealing the full catalog of mutations in each tumor type. Perhaps ~ Siddhartha Mukherjee, #NFDB
888:England’s history is as remarkable as it is old. England has not been subjugated since 1066. It has not been torn apart by civil war since the mid-17th century. Eleven people died in England’s notorious Peterloo massacre; 10,000 died in the Paris Commune. Yet this peaceable kingdom has been remarkably successful in projecting its power abroad. By the mid-19th century it ruled a quarter of the world’s population, using some brutality (its navy forced the Chinese to import opium) but mostly light-touch imperialism. In the late 19th century the Indian civil service employed no more than 2,000 people, fewer than the number who work today for Ofsted, the schools inspectorate. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
889:Miss Manners’ mother always told her to travel either first or third class, but never second, when crossing. (Not crossing class lines, silly; crossing the Atlantic Ocean, in the days when that was done properly, with bouillon at eleven on the promenade deck and tea at five in the salon.) In first class, in those days, you had luxury; in third class, you had fun. This is the proper distribution of the world’s blessings. In second class, you had neither. Naturally, then, someone invented the one-class ship, where the advantages of second class could be enjoyed by all, which is probably why we have those overanxious things called airplanes for crossings these days. You ~ Judith Martin, #NFDB
890:Alan Thicke appreciated the “genuine sense of family, which is especially important if you’re raising kids and coming off a colossal, resounding failure. I loved the warmth, the positive-ness that comes from a successful show. I like what it stood for. Jason Seaver’s values were close to my own. I often found myself saying things at home that I said on the show. Of course, it’s easier to parent when you have eleven writers following you around.” Joanna Kerns said, “I loved coming to work every day. I loved playing a character I could live with. The security of that job for an actor opened so many doors for me. It changed my life. All we did is laugh. We had it so great. ~ Kirk Cameron, #NFDB
891:He studied the composition of food-stuffs, and knew exactly how many proteids and carbohydrates his body needed; and by scientific chewing he said that he tripled the value of all he ate, so that it cost him eleven cents a day. About the first of July he would leave Chicago for his vacation, on foot; and when he struck the harvest fields he would set to work for two dollars and a half a day, and come home when he had another year's supply—a hundred and twenty-five dollars. That was the nearest approach to independence a man could make "under capitalism," he explained; he would never marry, for no sane man would allow himself to fall in love until after the revolution. ~ Upton Sinclair, #NFDB
892:Time magazine tried to cover up the Founding Fathers’ crime of non-diversity by making them look less WASPy.7 A photo display of eleven descendants of the Founders included Yukiko Irwin, born and raised in Japan,8 and an African American probation officer, Elmer Roberts, allegedly descended from Thomas Jefferson’s nonexistent sexual relationship with slave Sally Hemings. Time wanted to make absolutely clear that the United States was not the product of a bunch of Protestant, Anglo-Saxon men, if that’s what you were thinking. Except, the problem is, it was. And the country remained overwhelmingly Anglo-Saxon and Protestant right up until Teddy Kennedy decided to change it. ~ Ann Coulter, #NFDB
893:I’LL tell you something about suicide, Beck. If I were going to off myself with a handgun or a noose or a permanent swim, which I’m not, now would be the time to do it. You have dismissed me and it’s been five hours and eleven days since you took your love away and all of our songs sound bad because they will never see us standing from such great heights and no, you will not still love me tomorrow because you never loved me at all. I’m not Bobby Short or (the real) Beck and you don’t want to defy the logic of all sex laws with me and you are not in love again and you do not love, love, love it. I made it inside of you and you don’t want me back. Nothing is fun anymore, ~ Caroline Kepnes, #NFDB
894:Every time you look up at the stars, it’s like opening a door. You could be anyone, anywhere. You could be yourself at any moment in your life. You open that door and you realize you’re the same person under the same stars. Camping out in the backyard with your best friend, eleven years old. Sixteen, driving alone, stopping at the edge of the city, looking up at the same stars. Walking a wooded path, kissing in the moonlight, look up and you’re eleven again. Chasing cats in a tiny town, you’re eleven again, you’re sixteen again. You’re in a rowboat. You’re staring out the back of a car. Out here where the world begins and ends, it’s like nothing ever stops happening. ~ Bryan Lee O Malley, #NFDB
895:Samaría is a thunderbolt in stone, a thin gash that splits two rock towers and zigzags eleven miles upward from the beach until it crests on a grassy mountain plateau. It’s a terrific place to hide, because the walls are honeycombed with caverns; tuck inside one and dislodging you could be lethal. No one can get down to you from above, and coming up from below means crossing your kill zone. During the war, the Gorge became a free-for-all zone for Evaders, who could see pursuers coming from miles away and scamper down to the beach whenever they heard rumors of a rescue boat, and the “wind boys”—Cretan desperadoes whose only allegiance was to their own cutthroat gang. ~ Christopher McDougall, #NFDB
896:the list of delegates who attended the WASHINGTON AND HIS GROUP. 51 constitutional convention. Most of them were lawyers. Fourteen were land speculators. Twenty-four were money lenders. Eleven were merchants, manufacturers or shippers. Fifteen were slave-holders. Forty of the fifty-five owned public securities. Of these gentlemen, Professor Beard says: " It cannot be said, therefore, that the members of the convention were * disinterested.' On the contrary, we are forced to accept the profoundly significant conclusion that they knew through their personal experiences in economic affairs the precise results which the new government that they were setting up was designed to attain. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
897:My aunt and my mother read to me when I was three from all the old Grimm fairy tales, Andersen fairy tales, and then all the Oz books as I was growing up… So by the time when I was ten or eleven, I was just full to the brim with these, and the Greek myths, and the Roman myths. And then, of course, I went to Sunday school, and then you take in the Christian myths, which are all fascinating in their own way… I guess I always tended to be a visual person, and myths are very visual, and I began to draw, and then I felt the urge to carry on these myths.
If I’m anything at all, I’m not really a science-fiction writer — I’m a writer of fairy tales and modern myths about technology. ~ Ray Bradbury,#NFDB
898:That night I dreamed of Conrad. I was the same age I was now, but he was younger, ten or eleven maybe. I think he might even have been wearing
overalls. We played outside my house until it got dark, just running around the yard.
I said, “Susannah will be wondering where you are. You should go home.” He said, “I can’t. I don’t know how.
Will you help me?” And then I was sad, because I didn’t know how either. We weren’t at my house anymore, and it was so dark. We were in the
woods. We were lost.
When I woke up, I was crying and Jeremiah was asleep next to me. I sat up in the bed. It was dark, the only light in the room was my alarm clock. It
read 4:57. I lay back down. ~ Jenny Han,#NFDB
899:Major Brown called on them to surrender; the Yavapais responded with hoots of derision—that is, until rocks rained down on them, hurled by soldiers who had clawed up the palisade to the bluff overlooking the cave. From inside came the baleful and monotonous intoning of death songs. Determined to finish the business rapidly, Major Brown ordered his men to ricochet bullets off the roof of the cave into the unseen mass of Indians. In three minutes, the cave fell silent. Lieutenant Bourke stepped inside. “A horrible spectacle was disclosed to view. In one corner eleven dead bodies were huddled, in another four; and in different crevices they were piled to the extent of the little cave. ~ Peter Cozzens, #NFDB
900:Without further ado, he took Jordan by the hand and pulled her off to the side of the room. He braced one hand on the wall next to her and peered down into her eyes. “Honey, before we came to this party, you might’ve mentioned that the host had the hots for you.”
She stared back up at him, not looking particularly intimidated. In eleven years of law enforcement, Nick had made many a suspect sweat under the duress of what he knew was an impressive don’t-fuck-with-me face, yet she didn’t so much as bat an eye. Granted, none of those suspects had been wearing a knockout dress with a slit nearly down to the ass, so perhaps the don’t-fuck-with-me face wasn’t in top form right then. ~ Julie James,#NFDB
901:You see, Dimitri and I, we are both suffering from ennui! We have still the match-boxes. But at last one gets tired even of match-boxes. Besides, our collection will soon be complete. And then what are we going to do?"
'Oh, Madame!' I exclaimed, touched by the moral unhappiness of this pretty person, 'if you only had a son, then you would know what to do. You would then learn the purpose of your life, and your thoughts would become at once more serious and yet more cheerful.'
'But I have a son,' she replied. 'He is a big boy; he is eleven years old, and he suffers from ennui like the rest of us. Yes, my George has ennui, too; he is tired of everything. It is very wretched. ~ Anatole France,#NFDB
902:Battle-ax returned. “Mr. Bolitar?” “Yes?” “Ms. Lex will give you five minutes of her time. I have an opening on the fifteenth of next month.” “No good,” Myron said. “It has to be today.” “Ms. Lex is a very busy woman.” “Today,” Myron said. “That simply will not be possible.” “At eleven. If I’m not let in, I go immediately to the press.” “You’re being terribly rude, Mr. Bolitar.” “To the press,” Myron repeated. “Do you understand?” “Yes.” “Will you be there?” “What possible difference could that make?” “All this sexual tension is driving me batty. Maybe afterward we could get together for a nice cool latte.” He heard the phone go click and smiled. The charm, he thought. It’s baaaaack. Esperanza ~ Harlan Coben, #NFDB
903:Yet another recent and distinct species of humans, the Red Deer Cave People, lived in China until at least around eleven thousand years ago. Hints of other recent human species have also been found, and it’s clear that we don’t really know how widely peopled Earth was, until very recently, with alien humanoids. Twenty thousand years ago, Earth may have been home to a wide range of distinct human species. We don’t know what happened to all these close cousins, but it seems likely that in various ways, they fell victim to the great success of our species as we spread around the globe. What a strange and different world it would be if multiple species of humans had survived to the present day. ~ David Grinspoon, #NFDB
904:Parts of it are surprisingly beautiful. On a vast stretch on chromosome eleven, for instance, there is a causeway dedicated entirely to the sensation of smell. Here, a cluster of 155 closely related genes encodes a series of protein receptors that are professional smell sensors. Each receptor binds to a unique chemical structure, like a key to a lock, and generates a distinctive sensation of smell in the brain—spearmint, lemon, caraway, jasmine, vanilla, ginger, pepper. An elaborate form of gene regulation ensures that only one odor-receptor gene is chosen from this cluster and expressed in a single smell-sensing neuron in the nose, thereby enabling us to discriminate thousands of smells. ~ Siddhartha Mukherjee, #NFDB
905:He lifts my chin up to face him. “Why aren’t you afraid of bein’ with me?”
“Are you kidding? I’m terrified.” I focus on the tattoos running up and down his arms.
“I can’t pretend to live a squeaky-clean life.” He holds up my hand so it’s palm against palm with his. Is he thinking about the difference in the color of our skin, his rough fingers against the nail polish on the tips of mine? “In some ways we’re so opposite,” he says.
I thread my fingers through his. “Yeah, but in other ways we’re so similar.”
That gets a smile out of him, until Enrique clears his throat again.
“I’ll meet you here at eleven on Sunday,” I say.
Alex backs away, nods, and winks. “This time it’s a date. ~ Simone Elkeles,#NFDB
906:Eleven o’clock had come and gone. I had to find a way to bring this conversation to a successful conclusion and get out of there. But before I could say anything, she suddenly asked me to hold her. “Why?” I asked, caught off guard. “To charge my batteries,” she said. “Charge your batteries?” “My body has run out of electricity. I haven’t been able to sleep for days now. The minute I get to sleep I wake up, and then I can’t get back to sleep. I can’t think. When I get like that, somebody has to charge my batteries. Otherwise, I can’t go on living. It’s true.” I peered into her eyes, wondering if she was still drunk, but they were once again her usual cool, intelligent eyes. She was far from drunk. ~ Haruki Murakami, #NFDB
907:St. Wagner’s Eve
THE hop—shop is shut up: the night doth wear.
Here, early, Collinson this evening fell
“Into the gulfs of sleep”; and Deverell
Has turned upon the pivot of his chair
The whole of this night long; and Hancock there
Has laboured to repeat, in accents screechy,
“Guardami ben, ben son, ben son Beatrice”;
And Bernhard Smith still beamed, serene and square.
By eight, the coffee was all drunk. At nine
We gave the cat some milk. Our talk did shelve,
Ere ten, to gasps and stupor. Helpless grief
Made, towards eleven, my inmost spirit pine,
Knowing North's hour. And Hancock, hard on twelve,
Showed an engraving of his bas-—relief.
~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti,#NFDB
908:You know what my mother said to me when she came to say good-bye, as if to cheer me up, she says maybe District Twelve will finally have a winner. Then I realized she didn't mean me, she meant you!" bursts out Peeta.
"Oh, she meant you," I say with a wave of dismissal.
"She said, 'She's a survivor, that one.' She is," says Peeta.
That pulls me up short. Did his mother really say that about me? Did she rate me over her son? I see the pain in Peeta's eyes and know he isn't lying.
Suddenly I'm behind the bakery and I can feel the chill of the rain running down my back, the hollowness in my belly. I sound eleven years old when I speak. "But only because someone helped me. ~ Suzanne Collins,#NFDB
909:the architecture student from number eleven presses his face to the glass and looks at the way the light falls through the water, he thinks about a place where he worked in the spring, an office where they had a stack of empty watercooler bottles against the window, and how he would sit and watch the sun mazing its way through the layers of refraction, the beauty of it, he called it spontaneous maths and he wanted to build architecture like he that, he looks at the row of houses opposite and he pictures them built entirely of plastic and glass, he imagines how people's lives might change if their dwellings shook with endless reflections of light, he does not know if it's possible but he thinks it's a nice idea ~ Jon McGregor, #NFDB
910:Luke came, hesitated in the cold spot, and then moved quickly to get out of it, and Eleanor, following, felt with incredulity the piercing cold that struck her between one step and the next; it was like passing through a wall of ice, she thought, and asked the doctor, “What is it?” The doctor was patting his hands together with delight. “You can keep your Turkish corners, my boy,” he said. He reached out a hand and held it carefully over the location of the cold. “They cannot explain this,” he said. “The very essence of the tomb, as Theodora points out. The cold spot in Borley Rectory only dropped eleven degrees,” he went on complacently. “This, I should think, is considerably colder. The heart of the house. ~ Shirley Jackson, #NFDB
911:Morgan Rice Morgan Rice is the #1 bestselling and USA Today bestselling author of the epic fantasy series THE SORCERER’S RING, comprising seventeen books; of the #1 bestselling series THE VAMPIRE JOURNALS, comprising eleven books (and counting); of the #1 bestselling series THE SURVIVAL TRILOGY, a post-apocalyptic thriller comprising two books (and counting); and of the new epic fantasy series KINGS AND SORCERERS. Morgan’s books are available in audio and print editions, and translations are available in over 25 languages. TURNED (Book #1 in the Vampire Journals), ARENA ONE (Book #1 of the Survival Trilogy), and A QUEST OF HEROES (Book #1 in the Sorcerer’s Ring) are each available as a free download on Amazon! ~ Morgan Rice, #NFDB
912:*For eleven years, I've been worked over and abused in ways you can't imagine by things you don't want to know about. I've killed every kind of vile, black-souled, dead-eyed nightmare that ever made you piss your pjs and cry for mommy in the middle of the night. I kill monsters and, if I wanted, I could say a word and burn you to powder from the inside out. I can tear any human you ever met to rages with my bare hands. Give me one good reason why I could possibly need you?
*She looks straight at me, not blinking. No fear in her eyes.
*Because you might be the Tasmanian Devil and the Angel of Death all rolled into one, but you don't even know how to get a phone.
*I hate to admit it, but she has a point. ~ Richard Kadrey,#NFDB
913:Eleven o'clock had come and gone. I had to find a way to bring this conversation to a successful conclusion and get out of there. But before I could say anything, she suddenly asked me to hold her.
'Why?' I asked, caught off guard.
'To charge my batteries,' she said.
'Charge your batteries?'
'My body has run out of electricity. I haven't been able to sleep for days now. The minute I get to sleep I wake up, and then I can't get back to sleep. I can't think. When I get like that, somebody has to charge my batteries. Otherwise, I can't go on living. It's true.'
I peered into her eyes, wondering if she was still drunk, but they were once again her usual cool, intelligent eyes. She was far from drunk. ~ Haruki Murakami,#NFDB
914:Anyway, Ms. Rothschild wasn’t my first crush.”
“She wasn’t?”
“No. You were.”
It takes me a few seconds to process this. Even then, all I can manage is, “Huh?”
“When I first moved here, before I knew your true personality.” I kick him in the shin for that, and he yelps. “I was twelve, and you were eleven. I let you ride my scooter, remember? That scooter was my pride and joy. I saved up for it for two birthdays. And I let you take it for a ride.”
“I thought you were just being generous.”
“You crashed it and you got a big scratch on the side,” he continues. “Remember that?”
“Yeah, I remember you cried.”
“I didn’t cry. I was justifiably upset. And that was the end of my little crush. ~ Jenny Han,#NFDB
915:In a sexual double standard as to who receives consumer protection, it seems that if what you do is done to women in the name of beauty, you may do what you like. It is illegal to claim that something grows hair, or makes you taller, or restores virility, if it does not. It is difficult to imagine that the baldness remedy Minoxidil would be on the market if it had killed nine French and at least eleven American men. In contrast, the long-term effects of Retin-A are still unknown--Dr. Stuart Yusps of the National Cancer Institute refers to its prescription as "a human experiment"--and the Food and Drug Administration has not approved it yet dermatologists are prescribing it to women at a revenue of over $150 million a year. ~ Naomi Wolf, #NFDB
916:I poked my head through the bushes, and saw that the little bunch I was after had joined a great flock of teal, which was on a sand bar in the middle of the stream. They were all huddled together, some standing on the bar, and others in the water right by it, and I aimed for the thickest part of the flock. At the report they sprang into the air, and I leaped to my feet to give them the second barrel, when, from under the bank right beneath me, two shoveller or spoon-bill ducks rose, with great quacking, and, as they were right in line, I took them instead, knocking both over. When I had fished out the two shovellers, I waded over to the sand bar and picked up eleven teal, making thirteen ducks with the two barrels. ~ Theodore Roosevelt, #NFDB
917:In a certain sense the country of ‘Russia’ as such did not exist: it had for centuries been an empire, whether in fact or in aspiration. Spread across eleven time zones and encompassing dozens of different peoples, ‘Russia’ had always been too big to be reduced to a single identity or common sense of purpose.14 During and after the Great Patriotic War the Soviet authorities had indeed played the Russian card, appealing to national pride and exalting the ‘victory of the Russian people’. But the Russian people had never been assigned ‘nationhood’ in the way that Kazakhs or Ukrainians or Armenians were officially ‘nations’ in Soviet parlance. There was not even a separate ‘Russian’ Communist Party. To be Russian was to be Soviet. ~ Tony Judt, #NFDB
918:One of the reasons I wanted to write this column, I think, is because I assumed that the cultural highlight of my month would arrive in book form, and that’s true, for probably eleven months of the year. Books are, let’s face it, better than everything else…. Even if you love movies and music as much as you do books, it’s still, in any given four week period, way, way more likely you’ll find a great book that you haven’t read than a great movie you haven’t seen, or a great album you haven’t heard: the assiduous consumer will eventually exhaust movies and music… the feeling everyone has with literature: that we can’t get through the good novels published in the last six months, let alone those published since publishing began. ~ Nick Hornby, #NFDB
919:Their next option was Australia. Its eastern seaboard had been explored by the great seafarer Captain James Cook. On April 29, 1770, Cook landed in a wonderful inlet, which he called Botany Bay in honor of the rich species found there by the naturalists traveling with him. This seemed like an ideal location to British government officials. The climate was temperate, and the place was as far out of sight and mind as could be imagined. A fleet of eleven ships packed with convicts was on its way to Botany Bay in January 1788 under the command of Captain Arthur Phillip. On January 26, now celebrated as Australia Day, they set up camp in Sydney Cove, the heart of the modern city of Sydney. They called the colony New South Wales. ~ Daron Acemo lu, #NFDB
920:You're a rule person," he said.
"My sister was a cheater. It sort of became necessary."
"She cheated at this game?"
"She cheated ateverything ," I said. "When we played Monopoly, she always
insisted on being banker,
then helped herself to multiple loans and 'service fees' for every real estate
transaction. I was, like, ten or
eleven before I played at someone else's house and they told me you couldn't do
that."
He laughed, the sound seeming loud in all the quiet. I felt myself smiling,
remembering.
"During staring contests," I said, "she always blinked.Always . But then she'd
swear up and down she
hadn't, and make you go again, and again. And when we played Truth, she lied.
Blatantly. ~ Sarah Dessen,#NFDB
921:recorded his family’s experiences year after year. He did so in such an entertaining and original manner that his films have gradually become classics. In Disneyland Dream, the family – father, mother, and three children aged between four and eleven – enters a competition sponsored by the then-new Scotch tape. The winners are to be treated to a trip – by airplane! – to the recently opened Disneyland in Anaheim, California. Lo and behold the youngest child, Danny, wins first prize with the indomitable slogan: ‘I like “Scotch” brand cellophane tape because when some things tear then I can just use it.’ Excitement all round, and the Barstows’ neighbours step out into their front gardens to wave the family off. Then comes the thrilling ~ Geert Mak, #NFDB
922:Jobs also attacked America’s education system, saying that it was hopelessly antiquated and crippled by union work rules. Until the teachers’unions were broken, there was almost no hope for education reform. Teachers should be treated as professionals, he said, not as industrial assembly- line workers. Principals should be able to hire and fire them based on how good they were. Schools should be staying open until at least 6 p.m. and be in session eleven months of the year. It was absurd, he added, that American classrooms were still based on teachers standing at a board and using textbooks. All books, learning materials, and assessments should be digital and interactive, tailored to each student and providing feedback in real time. ~ Walter Isaacson, #NFDB
923:The book of Genesis is a window into what cultures were like before the revelation of the Bible. One thing we see early on is the widespread practice of primogeniture—the eldest son inherited all the wealth, which is how they ensured the family kept its status and place in society. So the second or third son got nothing, or very little. Yet all through the Bible, when God chooses someone to work through, he chooses the younger sibling. He chooses Abel over Cain. He chooses Isaac over Ishmael. He chooses Jacob over Esau. He chooses David over all eleven of his older brothers. Time after time he chooses not the oldest, not the one the world expects and rewards. Never the one from Jerusalem, as it were, but always the one from Nazareth. ~ Timothy J Keller, #NFDB
924:I want the honest truth about something. Could you really fight with someone who did as much damage to you as my father has done to me? (Urian)
I subjected myself to the goddess who drugged me to the point I couldn’t protect my sister and nephew the night they were brutally slaughtered, and they were the only two people in the universe who’d ever given two shits about me. Later that same day, she stood back and let her twin brother butcher me on the floor like an animal, yet within hours after that I sold myself to her to protect mankind. For the sake of the Dark-Hunters, I subjected myself to her cruel whims for eleven thousand years. So, yeah, Urian, I think I could manage to suck it up for an hour to protect the rest of the world. (Acheron) ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,#NFDB
925:From On Being Fired Again
I've known the pleasures of being
fired at least eleven times—
most notably by Larry who found my snood
unsuitable, another time by Jack,
whom I was sleeping with. Poor attitude,
tardiness, a contagious lack
of team spirit; I have been unmotivated
squirting perfume onto little cards,
while stocking salad bars, when stripping
covers from romance novels, their heroines
slaving on the chain gang of obsessive love—
and always the same hard candy
of shame dissolving in my throat;
handing in my apron, returning the cashregister key. And yet, how fine it feels,
the perversity of freedom which never signs
a rent check or explains anything to one's family...
~ Erin Belieu,#NFDB
926:There are organizational as well as ideological ties that bind Sunni sectarians, Arab and Asian alike, with Sunni Arab extremists. While outside the Muslim world the violent anti-Westernism of the Taliban and al-Qaeda appears most prominent, there can be no question that intense hatred of Shias and Shiism is an important motive for both these Sunni terror groups. The Taliban, al-Qaeda, and various Pakistani Sunni extremists fought side by side during the Afghan internal strife of the 1990s. Indeed, most of the murders of Shias at Mazar-i Sharif and Bamiyan appear to have been committed by Pakistani killers from Sipah-i Sahaba, who nearly started a war with Iran when they overran the Iranian consulate in Mazar-i Sharif in 1998 and slaughtered eleven diplomats. ~ Vali Nasr, #NFDB
927:What do you think of Lord St. Vincent?” Pandora asked eagerly.
West’s gaze moved to a man who appeared to be a younger version of his sire, with bronze-gold hair that gleamed like new-minted coins. Princely handsome. A cross between Adonis and the Royal Coronation Coach.
With deliberate casualness, West said, “He’s not as tall as I expected.”
Pandora looked affronted. “He’s every bit as tall as you!”
“I’ll eat my hat if he’s an inch over four foot seven.” West clicked his tongue in a few disapproving tsk-tsks. “And still in short trousers.”
Half annoyed, half amused, Pandora gave him a little shove. “That’s his younger brother Ivo, who is eleven. The one next to him is my fiancé.”
“Aah. Well, I can see why you’d want to marry that one. ~ Lisa Kleypas,#NFDB
928:I'll tell you why I keep my scrapbooks. It's in case my real father shows up .I never met him, don't even know his name...I've got this feeling he's out there searching for me. When he bursts through the door and tells me he's spent a fortune on detectives looking all over the world for me, I'm not going to sit there like a dumb cluck when he asks me what I've been doing. I'm going to yank out my eleven scrapbooks filled with my experiences and inner-most thoughts on life lived in three time zones in America. I was a Girl Scout for three months when we lived in Atlanta. I couldn't get those square knots down for anything, but I got the big concept. Be prepared. Addie always told me, "It's more important to get the big concept than to be an expert in the small stuff. ~ Joan Bauer, #NFDB
929:So let’s see if it made a difference,” I said, and buckled it on. When I lifted it from the table, I was amazed at how light it felt, even fully loaded with my new ice ax and a fresh supply of eleven days’ worth of food. I beamed at Albert. “Thank you.” He chuckled in response, shaking his head. Jubilant, I walked away to take my pack on a trial run on the dirt road that made a loop around the campground. Mine was still the biggest pack of the bunch—hiking solo, I had to carry things that those who hiked in pairs could divvy up, and I didn’t have the ultralight confidence or skills that Greg did—but in comparison to how my pack had been before Albert helped me purge it, it was so light I felt I could leap into the air. Halfway around the loop I paused and leapt. ~ Cheryl Strayed, #NFDB
930:And I wished I could believe him. I wished with all that I had. And when you're eleven, you're on the cusp between still believing wishing worked if you wanted something hard enough and understanding the world is teeth and sharp edges. I wished. I did. I promise you with all that I have that I did.
But I knew the teeth. The sharp edges. And they were bigger than wishing. I was only eleven, but I was the product of my upbringing too.
Maybe that's why I was able to be the one to leave. Maybe I'd been looking for a reason and latched on to the first one that came, no matter how hard it was. If there's one thing I've learned in my life, it's that it's easier to leave someone before they leave you. Because eventually, everyone leaves.
It's inevitable. ~ T J Klune,#NFDB
931:Base two especially impressed the seventeenth-century religious philosopher and mathematician Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. He observed that in this base all numbers were written in terms of the symbols 0 and 1 only. Thus eleven, which equals 1 · 23 + 0 · 22 + 1 · 2 + 1, would be written 1011 in base two. Leibniz saw in this binary arithmetic the image and proof of creation. Unity was God and zero was the void. God drew all objects from the void just as the unity applied to the zero creates all numbers. This conception, over which the reader would do well not to ponder too long, delighted Leibniz so much that he sent it to Grimaldi, the Jesuit president of the Chinese tribunal for mathematics, to be used as an argument for the conversion of the Chinese emperor to Christianity. ~ Morris Kline, #NFDB
932:If I'd been the author, I would've stopped thinking about my microbiome. I would've told Daisy how much I liked her idea for Mychal's art project, and I would've told her that I did remember Davis Pickett, that I remembered being eleven and carrying a vague but constant fear. I would've told her that I remembered once at camp lying next to Davis on the edge of a dock, our legs dangling over, our backs against the rough-hewn planks of wood, staring together up at a cloudless summer sky. I wouldv'e told her that Davis and I never talked much, or even looked at each other, but it didn't mater, because we were looking at the same sky together, which is maybe more intimate than eye contact anyway. Anybody can look at you. It's quite rare to find someone who sees the same world you see. ~ John Green, #NFDB
933:In 2005, according to the CDC, eleven Americans died of all food allergies—that is, adults as well as children, and from an allergy to any food, not just peanuts. Yet schools across America have banned peanuts and peanut butter, among the few protein-rich foods many children like to eat. Compare this with about ten thousand children who are hospitalized each year for sports-related traumatic brain injuries. The hysteria has been led by school officials, the Asthma and Allergy Foundation of America, and Consumer Reports, a liberal magazine that helped stoke the hysteria about secondhand smoke. It is mind-boggling that schools have banned peanut butter. But in the Age of Hysteria, one child who might die suffices to ban a food for the millions of students who would benefit from it. ~ Dennis Prager, #NFDB
934:LUCAS THANKED HER, prompted her for better directions to the bar—“Go straight out to 83 and hook a left, it’s three or four miles out there, look for the eyesore.” He checked the car clock: not yet eleven in the morning. Five minutes later, he was looking at Winn’s, a low rambling place that was a few asbestos shingles short of a full set of siding, that might once have been a motel, and maybe still rented out a few rooms. A yellow plastic roller-sign in the gravel parking lot said “Happy Hour, 4–6” and in smaller letters, “Free First D ink For Ladies.” A dive, Lucas thought. Not a dive-themed bar, but the real thing, and as the woman had said, a genuine eyesore. He took a moment to hope that “D ink” was simply “Drink” with a missing letter. He got out of the truck and went inside. ~ John Sandford, #NFDB
935:Sebastian: Do you remember when you were eleven and had mono? Our parents wanted us to stay away from each other. Dad was afraid I'd catch it and I'd miss Little League practice. Anyway, you were upset because you were lonely and being all kinds of whiny about it...
Lena: I wasn't being whiny. I was stuck in my bedroom by myself for days, and if wasn't sleeping, I was bored.
Sebastian: You were sick and you didn't want to be alone. You wanted me.
Lena: I didn't want you, per se. I just wanted someone...
Sebastian: You've always wanted me. Not just anyone, but me. So, you not wanting me here has nothing to do with you being tired. I know why you don't Or at least I think I understand part of it, and we'll talk about the you-wanting-me part later. ~ Jennifer L Armentrout,#NFDB
936:Ben Belkassem had boned up on the alpha-synths after DeVries stole this ship. Too much was classified for him to learn as much as he would have liked, but he'd learned enough to know her augmentation didn't include the normal alpha-synth com link. Without it, the AI should have been forced to communicate back by voice, not some sort of … of telepathy!
Yet he was beyond surprise where DeVries was concerned. After all, she'd survived multiple disrupter hits with no more than a few minor burns, killed eleven men saving his own highly-trained self, taken out a few ground-to-space weapon emplacements, escaped through the heart of Wyvern's very respectable fortifications, and polished off a destroyer as an encore. As far as he was concerned, she could do anything she damned well liked. ~ David Weber,#NFDB
937:I was walking down the street when I was approached by an eleven-or twelve-year-old boy. He introduced himself and said that he was selling tickets to the annual Boy Scouts circus to be held on the upcoming Saturday night. He asked if I wished to buy any at five dollars apiece. Since one of the last places I wanted to spend Saturday evening was with the Boy Scouts, I declined. "Well," he said, "if you don't want to buy any tickets, how about buying some of our big chocolate bars? They're only a dollar each." I bought a couple and, right away, realized that something noteworthy had happened. I knew that to be the case because: (a) I do not like chocolate bars; (b) I do like dollars; (c) I was standing there with two of his chocolate bars; and (d) he was walking away with two of my dollars. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
938:In October 1805, Stoddard’s tour left St. Louis, including forty-five Indians from eleven tribes. They arrived in Washington in January 1806. Jefferson gave them the standard Great Father talk: “We are become as numerous as the leaves of the trees, and, tho’ we do not boast, we do not fear any nation. . . . My children, we are strong, we are numerous as the stars in the heavens, & we are all gun-men.” He followed the threat with the carrot: if they would be at peace with one another and trade with the Americans, they could be happy. (In reply, one of the chiefs said he was glad the Americans were as numerous as the stars in the skies, and powerful as well. So much the better, in fact, for that meant the government should be strong enough to keep white squatters off Indian lands.) ~ Stephen E Ambrose, #NFDB
939:This was truly to be a radical milestone: the world’s first-ever marathon nude psychotherapy session for criminal psychopaths. Elliott’s raw, naked, LSD-fueled sessions lasted for epic eleven day stretches. The psychopaths spent every waking moment journeying to their darkest corners in an attempt to get better. There were no distractions—no television, no clothes, no clocks, no calendars, only a perpetual discussion (at least one hundred hours every week) of their feelings. When they got hungry, they sucked food through straws that protruded through the walls. As during Paul Bindrim’s own nude psychotherapy sessions, the patients were encouraged to go to their rawest emotional places by screaming and clawing at the walls and confessing fantasies of forbidden sexual longing for one another... ~ Jon Ronson, #NFDB
940:He’d asked his father why it mattered. What was a pair of slacks over a pair of jeans? How was an uncomfortable collar or a tie relevant to showing respect? If they had to be grieving, couldn’t they at least do it in comfortable clothes? He’d been eleven then and his father, patience wearing thin from grief, had let out a tired sigh as he knelt in front of Jonathan to help him with his tie. “Traditions get passed down; they become the rules. Some make sense, some seem pointless, but others,” Douglas said, “others only show their value when you don’t obey them.” “This one seems stupid,” Jonathan responded, squirming in his tight collar as his father finished. “Well,” Douglas said, standing and turning to the mirror to put on his own tie, “I don’t think today is the day that we test the rules. ~ T Ellery Hodges, #NFDB
941:We combed through Macy’s, cleared out Lord & Taylor, and began exploring Bloomingdale’s. We made long lists of items needed, stores to check out, and hints to convey to the in-laws. There was the Wedding Night Itself, The Day After, and Life in General, which required an exhaustive investigative committee of experienced wedding people that included my aunt – who married off five, my second cousin – seven; and my mother’s former classmate Mrs. Frish and her eleven daughters. Shoes, clothes, lingerie, head coverings, linen – all this needed expert advice on what to buy where, and for how much, and most important of all, how long it would last. Elegant’s linen lasted until at least the third child’s bed-wetting. We weren’t to bother with cheaper brands; they could barely absorb one child’s vomit. ~ Eishes Chayil, #NFDB
942:The Starry Night
That does not keep me from having a terrible need of - shall I say the word religion. Then I go out at night to paint the stars.
- Vincent Van Gogh in a letter to his brother
The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry night! This is how
I want to die.
It moves. They are all alive.
Even the moon bulges in its orange irons
to push children, like a god, from its eye.
The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die:
into that rushing beast of the night,
sucked up by that great dragon, to split
from my life with no flag,
no belly,
no cry.
~ Anne Sexton,#NFDB
943:One study showed that omega-3s were equivalent in effect to Prozac in treating depression, and the combination was more effective than either one alone.64 In a related study, administration of omega-3s to patients with recurrent self-harm (e.g., cutting, picking, scratching, burning—the ultimate expression of anxiety) showed a reduction in suicidality, depression, and daily stress.65 A recent trial gave omega-3s along with minerals to eleven-year-old kids with conduct disorder or oppositional defiant disorder (the ones who routinely find themselves in the principal’s office), and within three months their aggression was reduced, and way better than talk therapy.66 Lastly, omega-3 consumption can help ward off depression in children67 and adults,68 and can serve as an adjunct to SSRIs in its treatment.69 ~ Robert H Lustig, #NFDB
944:I asked another friend what it’s like being the mother of a black son. “The condition of black life is one of mourning,” she said bluntly. For her, mourning lived in real time inside her and her son’s reality: At any moment she might lose her reason for living. Though the white liberal imagination likes to feel temporarily bad about black suffering, there really is no mode of empathy that can replicate the daily strain of knowing that as a black person you can be killed for simply being black: no hands in your pockets, no playing music, no sudden movements, no driving your car, no walking at night, no walking in the day, no turning onto this street, no entering this building, no standing your ground, no standing here, no standing there, no talking back, no playing with toy guns, no living while black. Eleven ~ Jesmyn Ward, #NFDB
945:Walt, at about eleven, had a routine of looking at Seymour's wrists and telling him to take off his sweater. "Take off your sweater, hey, Seymour. Go ahead, hey. It's warm in here." S. would beam back at him, shine back at him. He loved that kind of horseplay from any of the kids. I did, too, but only off and on. He did invariably. He thrived, too, waxed strong, on all tactless or underconsidered remarks directed at him by family minors. In 1959, in fact, when on occasion I hear rather nettling news of the doings of my youngest brother and sister, I think on the quantities of joy they brought S. I remember Franny, at about four, sitting on his lap, facing him, and saying, with immense admiration, "Seymour, your teeth are so nice and yellow!" He literally staggered over to me to ask if I'd heard what she said. ~ J D Salinger, #NFDB
946:Let's not play games, Mr. Cratchett," I replied. "I wanted to let you know that I'll be coming in for an appointment with Mr. Raisin on Tuesday morning at eleven o'clock. I shall need about an hour and would prefer it if we were not disturbed during that time. I hope that he will be free at that hour but just so you both know, if he is not, then I am perfectly willing to sit in your office until he is free. I shall bring a book with me to pass the time. I shall bring two, if need be. I shall bring the complete works of Shakespeare if he insists on keeping me waiting interminably and those plays will get me through the long hours. But I will not leave until I have seen him, are we quite clear on that? Now, I wish you a very pleasant Sunday, Mr. Cratchett. Enjoy your lunch, won't you? Your breath smells of whisky. ~ John Boyne, #NFDB
947:I wake on the fiction couch deeply hungover, my head cracking, with Rachel telling me to get up. She’s holding my eyelids open like she used to do in high school when we’d stayed up all night talking and then slept through the morning alarm. ‘Get. Up. Henry.’
‘What time is it? I ask, batting off her hands.
‘It’s eleven. The shop’s been open for an hour. There are customers asking for books I can’t find. George is yelling at a guy called Martin Gamble who’s here to help me create the database. And as a separate issue, Amy’s waiting in the reading garden.’
‘Amy’s here?’ I sit up and mess my hair around. ‘How do I look?’
‘I decline to answer on the grounds that technically you’re my boss and I don’t want to start my new job by insulting you.’
‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I appreciate that. ~ Cath Crowley,#NFDB
948:It’s like taking a photograph of a photograph of a photograph. What’s actually going on gets less clear. Shadows get darker. Faces are blurred. Eventually, it’s all in the interpretation – but the interpretation is being done by people whose job is to look for danger. So they will err on the side of caution. Eventually, a photograph of a child’s birthday party becomes a blurred image of an arms deal. The pixelated face of Guthrie Jones, under-nines balloon-modelling champion, becomes the grizzled visage of Angela Hedergast, infamous uranium seller. Each investigation of the same facts increases the likelihood that something will be found which is frightening – or rather something will be found to be frightening. Eventually, the mere fact that something or someone has been investigated eleven times becomes suspicious. ~ Nick Harkaway, #NFDB
949:In the 1990s, Miraca Gross studied children who were radically accelerated, starting college between eleven and sixteen. None regretted the acceleration, and most had made good and lasting friendships with older children. By contrast, gifted children stuck with age peers experienced rage, depression, and self-criticism. Today, most gifted programs keep children in an age-based setting some of the time and a skills-based setting the rest of the time. Neither affords a perfect fit. The mathematical prodigy Norbert Wiener wrote that the prodigy knows “the suffering which grows from belonging half to the adult world and half to the world of the children about him.” He explained, “I was not so much a mixture of child and man as wholly a child for purposes of companionship and nearly completely a man for purposes of study. ~ Andrew Solomon, #NFDB
950:Things that have happened to me that have generated more sympathy than depression
Having tinnitus.
Scalding my hand on an oven, and having to have my hand in a strange ointment-filled glove for a week.
Accidentally setting my leg on fire.
Losing a job.
Breaking a toe.
Being in debt.
Having a river flood our nice new house, causing ten thousand pounds’ worth of damage.
Bad Amazon reviews.
Getting the norovirus.
Having to be circumcised when I was eleven.
Lower-back pain.
Having a blackboard fall on me.
Irritable bowel syndrome.
Being a street away from a terrorist attack.
Eczema.
Living in Hull in January.
Relationship break-ups.
Working in a cabbage-packing warehouse.
Working in media sales (okay, that came close).
Consuming a poisoned prawn.
Three-day migraines. ~ Matt Haig,#NFDB
951:Jen Hatmaker is the author of the New York Times bestseller For the Love (plus eleven other books) and happy hostess of a tightly knit online community where she reaches millions of people each week. She is a high-functioning introvert who lives her home life in yoga pants and her travel life in fancy yoga pants. She and her husband, Brandon, founded the Legacy Collective, a giving community that granted more than a million dollars in its first year and funds sustainable solutions to systemic problems locally and globally. They also starred in the popular series My Big Family Renovation on HGTV and stayed married through a six-month remodel. Jen is a mom to five, a sought-after speaker, and a delighted resident of Austin, Texas, where she and her family are helping keep Austin weird. For more information, visit jenhatmaker.com. ~ Jen Hatmaker, #NFDB
952:I catch sight of Luis with one of my bandannas on his head and my gut tightens. I yank it off him. "Don't ever touch this, Luis."
"Why not?" he asks, his deep brown eyes all innocent.
To Luis, it's a bandanna. To me, it's a symbol of what is and will never be. How the hell am I supposed to explain it to an eleven-year-old kid? He knows what I am. It's no secret the bandanna has the Latino Blood colors on it. Payback and revenge got me in and now there's no way out. But I'll die before I let one of my brothers get sucked in.
I ball the bandanna in my fist. "Luis, don't touch my shit. Especially my Blood stuff."
"I like red and black."
That's the last thing I need to hear. "If I ever catch you wearin' it again, you'll be sportin' black and blue," I tell him. "Got it, little brother?"
He shrugs. "Yeah. I got it. ~ Simone Elkeles,#NFDB
953:One: God, beginning, source (Gen. 1:1). Two: witness, testimony (John 8:17; Matt. 18:16; Deut. 17:6). Three: Godhead, divine completeness (Ezek. 14:14-18; Dan. 3:23-24). Four: earth, creation, winds, seasons (Gen. 2:10; 1 Cor. 15:39). Five: Cross, grace, atonement (Gen. 1:20-23; Lev. 1:5; Eph. 4:11). Six: man, beast, satan (Gen. 1:26-31; 1 Sam. 17:4-7; Num. 35:15). Seven: perfection, completeness (Heb. 6:1-2; Judg. 14; Josh. 6). Eight: new beginning (Gen. 17; 1 Pet. 3:20; 2 Pet. 3:8). Nine: finality, fullness (Matt. 27:45; Gen. 7:1-2; Gal. 5:22-23; 1 Cor. 12:1-12). Ten: law, government (Exod. 34:28). Eleven: this organization, lawlessness, Antichrist (Dan. 7:24; Gen. 32:22). Twelve: defying government, apostolic fullness (Exod. 28:21; Matt. 10:2-5; Lev. 24:5-6). Thirteen: rebellion, backsliding, apostasy (Gen. 14:4; 1 Kings 11:6). ~ James W Goll, #NFDB
954:With such a tower of strength to back both his arguments and his conscience, it may be imagined that Mr Harding has never felt any compunction as to receiving his quarterly sum of two hundred pounds. Indeed, the subject has never presented itself to his mind in that shape. He has talked not unfrequently, and heard very much about the wills of old founders and the incomes arising from their estates, during the last year or two; he did even, at one moment, feel a doubt (since expelled by his son-in-law’s logic) as to whether Lord Guildford was clearly entitled to receive so enormous an income as he does from the revenues of St Cross; but that he himself was overpaid with his modest eight hundred pounds, — he who, out of that, voluntarily gave up sixty-two pounds eleven shillings and fourpence a year to his twelve old neighbours, ~ Anthony Trollope, #NFDB
955:But then, right at 2300 hours, Werner sees it, hardly one block from where they parked the Opel: an antenna sliding up alongside a chimney. Not much wider than a broomstick. It rises perhaps twelve meters and then unfolds as if by magic into a simple T. A high house on the edge of the sea. A spectacularly good location from which to broadcast. From street level, the antenna is all but invisible. He hears Jutta’s voice: I bet he does these broadcasts from a huge mansion, big as this whole colony, a place with a thousand rooms and a thousand servants. The house is tall and narrow, eleven windows in its facade. Splotched with orange lichen, its foundation furred with moss. Number 4 on the rue Vauborel. Open your eyes and see what you can with them before they close forever. He walks fast to the hotel, head down, hands in his pockets. ~ Anthony Doerr, #NFDB
956:…imagine that the earth—four thousand six hundred million years old—[were] a forty-six-year-old woman…. It had taken the whole of the Earth Woman’s life for the earth to become what it was. For the oceans to part. For the mountains to rise. The Earth Woman was eleven years old…when the first single-celled organisms appeared. The first animals, creatures like worms and jellyfish, appeared only when she was forty. She was over forty-five—just eight months ago—when dinosaurs roamed the earth. The whole of human civilization as we know it began only two hours ago in the Earth Woman’s life…. It was an awe-inspiring and humbling thought…that the whole of contemporary history, the World Wars, the War of Dreams, the Man on the Moon, science, literature, philosophy, the pursuit of knowledge—was no more than a blink of the Earth Woman’s eye. ~ Arundhati Roy, #NFDB
957:Interlude
When I have baked white cakes
And grated green almonds to spread on them;
When I have picked the green crowns from the strawberries
And piled them, cone-pointed, in a blue and yellow platter;
When I have smoothed the seam of the linen I have been working;
What then?
To-morrow it will be the same:
Cakes and strawberries,
And needles in and out of cloth
If the sun is beautiful on bricks and pewter,
How much more beautiful is the moon,
Slanting down the gauffered branches of a plum-tree;
The moon
Wavering across a bed of tulips;
The moon,
Still,
Upon your face.
You shine, Beloved,
You and the moon.
But which is the reflection?
The clock is striking eleven.
I think, when we have shut and barred the door,
The night will be dark
Outside.
~ Amy Lowell,#NFDB
958:Eleven years she had lived in the dark house and its gloomy garden. He was jealous of the very light and air getting to her, and they kept her close. He stopped the wide chimneys, shaded the little windows, left the strong-stemmed ivy to wander where it would over the house-front, the moss to accumulate on the untrimmed fruit trees in the red-walled garden, the weeds to over-run its green and yellow walks. He surrounded her with images of sorrow and desolation. He caused her to be filled with fears of the place and of the stories that were told of it, and then on pretext of correcting them, to be left in it in solitude, or made to shrink about it in the dark. When her mind was most depressed and fullest of terrors, then, he would come out of one of the hiding-places from which he overlooked her, and present himself as her sole resource. ~ Charles Dickens, #NFDB
959:It’s been what – eleven years?” he says, his voice quieter now.
“Twelve.” I swallow.
“Twelve. Christ, yeah, right.” He runs his hand through his hair. “You look different ... but the same – you know,” he shrugs.
“I know,” I smile. “You look different too.” I gesture to the tattoos on his arms.
He grins down at them, then back at me.
“But still the same.” I point my finger to the freckles on his nose.
Surprised by how much my fingers are itching to touch him, I draw my hand back.
He rubs his hand over his nose. “Yeah, no getting rid of them.”
“I always liked them.”
“Yeah, but you liked the Care Bears, Tru.”
I flush. I can’t believe he remembers that.
It’s crazy that he, Jake Wethers, rock god extraordinaire, remembers that I liked the Care Bears when I was little. ~ Samantha Towle,#NFDB
960:Standing on the left side of the runway was my battle-worn X-wing fighter. Parked on the right side was my DeLorean. Sitting on the runway itself was my most frequently used spacecraft, the Vonnegut. Max had already powered up the engines, and they emitted a low, steady roar that filled the hangar. The Vonnegut was a heavily modified Firefly-class transport vessel, modeled after the Serenity in the classic Firefly TV series. The ship had been named the Kaylee when I’d first obtained it, but I’d immediately rechristened it after one of my favorite twentieth-century novelists. Its new name was stenciled on the side of its battered gray hull. I’d looted the Vonnegut from a cadre of Oviraptor clansmen who had foolishly attempted to hijack my X-wing while I was cruising through a large group of worlds in Sector Eleven known as the Whedonverse. The ~ Ernest Cline, #NFDB
961:I remembered what Dad said once, that some people have all of life's answers worked out the day they're born and there's no use trying to teach them anything new. "They're closed for business even though, somewhat confusingly, their doors open at eleven, Monday through Friday," Dad said. And the trying to change what they think, the attempt to explain, the hope they'll come to see your side of things, it was exhausting, because it never made a dent and afterward you only ached unbearably. It was like being a Prisoner in a Maximum-Security Prison, wanting to know what a Visitor's hand felt like (see Living in Darkness, Cowell, 1967). No matter how desperately you wanted to know, pressing your dumb palm against the glass right where the visitor's hand was pressed on the opposite side, you never would know that feeling, not until they set you free. ~ Marisha Pessl, #NFDB
962:Aurora once told me that she knew I was different within the first few months after I was born, because as a baby, I never cried. She had no way of knowing if I was hungry or if my stomach hurt until I was old enough to point and talk. Even when I fell and it was obvious that I had hurt myself, I did not cry. When I didn't get my way, I would go off by myself and sulk or have a tantrum. But I never cried. Later, when I was eleven and Abba died, I didn't cry. When Joseph, my best friend at St. Elizabeth's, died, I didn't cry. Maybe I don't feel what others feel. I have no way of knowing. But I do feel. It's just that what I feel does not elicit tears. What I feel when others cry is more like a dry, empty aloneness, like I'm the only person left in the world.
So it is very strange to feel my eyes well with tears as I read Jasmine's list. ~ Francisco X Stork,#NFDB
963:Anyway, how can you say things like that? You don't know me at all." She wasn't really caught up in this game, but she was enjoying it, as she had enjoyed the dozens of declarations that had been made to her since she was eleven. Her earliest memories were of being told how beautiful she was. Something in her never believed the words, never felt satisfied. It wasn't modesty; it was a craving for more proof than anyone had ever yet given her. Her mind worked constantly at trying to understand for herself exactly what other people saw when they looked at her. She could never grasp it whole and living. Her deepest fantasy was to step outside of her skin and look at herself and find out just what people were thinking about. She spent her life experimenting with people to see how she could make them react, as if, in their response, she could discover herself. ~ Judith Krantz, #NFDB
964:The article was entitled “Vicious Assault Shakes Texas Town,” as if the victim in question were the town itself. James McKinley Jr., the article’s author, focused on how the men’s lives would be changed forever, how the town was being ripped apart, how those poor boys might never be able to return to school. There was discussion of how the eleven-year-old girl, the child, dressed like a twenty-year-old, implying that there is a realm of possibility where a woman can “ask for it” and that it’s somehow understandable that eighteen men would rape a child. There were even questions about the whereabouts of the girl’s mother, given, as we all know, that a mother must be with her child at all times or whatever ill befalls the child is clearly the mother’s fault. Strangely, there were no questions about the whereabouts of the father while this rape was taking place. ~ Roxane Gay, #NFDB
965:It was on the day, or rather night, of the 27th of June 1787, between the hours of eleven and twelve, that I wrote the last line of the last page, in a summer house in my garden. After laying down my pen, I took several turns in a berceau, or covered walk of acacias, which commands a prospect of the country, the lake, and the mountains. The air was temperate, the sky was serene, the silver orb of the moon was reflected from the waters and all nature was silent. I will not dissemble the first emotions of joy on the recovery of my freedom, and, perhaps, the establishment of my fame. But my pride was soon humbled, and a sober melancholy was spread over my mind, by the idea that I had taken an everlasting leave of an old and agreeable companion, and that whatsoever might be the future date of my 'History', the life of the historian must be short and precarious. ~ Edward Gibbon, #NFDB
966:I walked down the empty Broad to breakfast, as I often did on Sundays, at a tea-shop opposite Balliol. The air was full of bells from the surrounding spires and the sun, casting long shadows across the open spaces, dispelled the fears of night. The tea-shop was hushed as a library; a few solitary men in bedroom slippers from Balliol and Trinity looked up as I entered, then turned back to their Sunday newspapers. I ate my scrambled eggs and bitter marmalade with the zest which in youth follows a restless night. I lit a cigarette and sat on, while one by one the Balliol and Trinity men paid their bills and shuffled away, slip-slop, across the street to their colleges. It was nearly eleven when I left, and during my walk I heard the change-ringing cease and, all over the town, give place to the single chime which warned the city that service was about to start. ~ Evelyn Waugh, #NFDB
967:Why were only our heroes nonviolent? I speak not of the morality of nonviolence, but of the sense that blacks are in especial need of this morality. Back then all I could do was measure these freedom-lovers by what I knew. Which is to say, I measured them against children pulling out in the 7-Eleven parking lot, against parents wielding extension cords, and "Yeah, nigger, what's up now?" I judged them against the country I knew, which had acquired the land through murder and tamed it under slavery, against the country whose armies fanned out across the world to extend their dominion. The world, the real one, was civilization secured and ruled by savage means. How could the schools valorize men and women whose values society actively scorned? How could they send us out into the streets of Baltimore, knowing all that they were, and then speak of nonviolence? ~ Ta Nehisi Coates, #NFDB
968:EMILY It happened in Amherst in 1886. When Emily Dickinson died, the family discovered eighteen hundred poems hidden in her bedroom. On tiptoe she lived, and on tiptoe she wrote. She published only eleven poems in her entire lifetime, all anonymously or under a pseudonym. From her Puritan ancestors, she inherited boredom, a mark of distinction for her race and her class: do not touch, do not speak. Gentlemen went into politics and business; ladies perpetuated the species and lived in ill health. Emily inhabited solitude and silence. Cloistered in her bedroom, she invented poems that broke the rules of grammar and the rules of her own isolation. And every day she wrote a letter to her sister-in-law Susan, who lived next door, and sent it by mail. Those poems and letters formed a secret sanctuary. There, her hidden sorrows and forbidden desires could yearn freely. ~ Eduardo Galeano, #NFDB
969:The vampires gave a roar of delight, and word quickly spread that Kurda Smahlt was going into action against Arra Sails. Soon, a huge crowd had formed around the bars, most of them vampires who wanted to see Kurda end up flat on his back.
"She hasn't been beaten on the bars in eleven years," I murmured to Kurda as he chose his staff.
"I know," he groaned.
"Try not to get too close to her," I advised him (speaking as though I was an expert, when in fact I'd only been on the bars once before). "The more you stay away, the longer you can drag it out."
"I'll bear that in mind."
"And be careful," I warned him. "She'll crack your head right open if you give her the chance."
"Are you trying to encourage or discourage me?" he snapped.
"Encourage, of course." I grinned.
"Well, you're doing a lousy job of it! ~ Darren Shan,#NFDB
970:Without ever exactly putting his mind to it, he's come to believe that loss is the standard trajectory. Something new appears in the world-a baby, say, or a car or a house, or an individual shows some special talent-with luck and huge expenditures of soul and effort you might keep the project stoked for a while, but eventually, ultimately, its going down. This is a truth so brutally self-evident that he can't fathom why it's not more widely percieved, hence his contempt for the usual public shock and outrage when a particular situation goes to hell. The war is fucked? Well, duh. Nine-eleven? Slow train coming. They hate our freedoms? Yo, they hate our actual guts! Billy suspects his fellow Americans secretly know better, but something in the land is stuck on teenage drama, on extravagant theatrics of ravaged innocence and soothing mud wallows of self-justifying pity. ~ Ben Fountain, #NFDB
971:The human heart weights (on average) eleven ounces and beats (approximately) one hundred thousand times per day.
In Ancient Greece, the theory was widely held that, as the most powerful and vital part of the body, the heart acted as a brain of sorts- collecting information from all other organs through the circulatory system. Aristotle included thoughts and emotions in his hypotheses relating to the aforementioned information- a fact that modern scientists find quaint in its lack of basic anatomical understanding.
There are reports that long after a person is pronounced dead and a mind and soul gone from its casing, under certain conditions, the heart might continue beating for hours. I find myself wondering if in those instances the organ might continue to feel as well. And, if it does, whether it feels more or less pain than mine at present time. ~ Sarah MacLean,#NFDB
972:Out of nowhere, her body began to buzz with awareness. Lena looked up. And spotted him.
Duncan towered above most everyone else on Main Street. He walked at a steady pace, with a strong stride. He was about half a block from the water and headed right toward her.
Lena slipped under the awning of Frankie’s Fish-n-Chips, pulled a bistro chair into the shade, and sat with her back against the restaurant’s cedar-shingled wall. Her heart was beating like crazy! What was she—eleven years old? She took a deep breath and told herself to calm down and blend in with the dozen or so tourists dining al fresco. She slumped in the chair and covered the lower part of her face with her shopping bag.
A mother of two glared at Lena, moving her chair to act as a buffer between Lena and her offspring. Good grief! Since when did a woman with a tote full of eggplant look like a threat? ~ Susan Donovan,#NFDB
973:To exemplify that particular situation, we can look to a cool day in late June. Rudy, to put it mildly, was incensed. Who did Liesel Meminger think she was, telling him she had to take the washing and ironing alone today? Wasn’t he good enough to walk the streets with her?
“Stop complaining, Saukerl,” she reprimanded him. “I just feel bad. You’re missing the game.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“Well, if you put it like that.” There was a Schmunzel. “You can stick your washing.”
He ran off and wasted no time joining a team. When Liesel made it to the top of Himmel Street, she looked back just in time to see him standing in front of the nearest makeshift goals. He was waving.
“Saukerl,” she laughed, and as she held up her hand, she knew completely that he was simultaneously calling her a Saumensch. I think that’s as close to love as eleven-year-olds can get. ~ Markus Zusak,#NFDB
974:It was late morning when he woke and found the telephone beside his bed in the hotel tolling frantically, and remembered that he had left word to be called at eleven. Sloane was snoring heavily, his clothes in a pile by his bed. They dressed and ate breakfast in silence, and then sauntered out to get some air. Amory's mind was working slowly, trying to assimilate what had happened and separate from the chaotic imagery that stacked his memory the bare shreds of truth. If the morning had been cold and gray he could have grasped the reins of the past in an instant, but it was one of those days that New York gets sometimes in May, when the air of Fifth Avenue is a soft, light wine. How much or how little Sloane remembered Amory did not care to know; he apparently had none of the nervous tension that was gripping Amory and forcing his mind back and forth like a shrieking saw. ~ F Scott Fitzgerald, #NFDB
975:So. I, uh...” Beck ran a hand across the back of his neck, watching as Nolan leaned so far back in the office chair, it was dangerously close to tipping over. Or breaking in half. “I fucked up pretty badly.”
“Yeah? What did you do? Wash your whites with colors? Have eleven items in the ten or less line at the grocery store? Sleep with a married chick?” Nolan chuckled to himself at that last part, knowing Beck wouldn't stoop to something so low as adultery.
“I slept with Ash's sister.” The stunned look on Nolan's face would've been hysterical, if Beck had been talking about anything even remotely humorous. When the man remained mute, staring at him as if he'd grown another head, Beck couldn't help himself. “Only we didn't sleep.”
It was a full three seconds before Nolan blinked. “You're gonna die.” The somber statement of fact was barely more than a whisper. ~ Jodi Watters,#NFDB
976:Things accumulated in purses. Unless they were deliberately unloaded and all contents examined for utility occasionally, one could find oneself transporting around in one's daily life three lipstick cases with just a crumb of lipstick left, an old eyebrow pencil sharpener without a blade, pieces of defunct watch, odd earrings, handkerchiefs (three crumpled, one uncrumpled), two grubby powder puffs, bent hairpins, patterns of ribbon to be matched, a cigarette lighter without fuel (and two with fuel), a spark plug, some papers of Bex and a sprinkling of loose white aspirin, eleven train tickets (the return half of which had not been given up), four tram tickets, cinema and theatre stubs, seven pence three farthings in loose change and the mandatory throat lozenge stuck to the lining. At least, those had been the extra contents of Phyrne's bag the last time Dot had turned it out. ~ Kerry Greenwood, #NFDB
977:How old are you, anyway?” she asked, squinting at him.
There was a pause. At last he said, “Why do you want to know?”
“I just wondered,” said Winnie.
“All right. I’m one hundred and four years old,” he told her solemnly.
“No, I mean really,” she persisted.
“Well then,” he said, “if you must know, I’m seventeen.”
“Seventeen?”
“That’s right.”
“Oh,” said Winnie hopelessly. “Seventeen. That’s old.”
“You have no idea,” he agreed with a nod.
Winnie had the feeling he was laughing at her, but decided it was a nice kind of laughing. “Are you married?” she asked next.
This time he laughed out loud. “No, I’m not married. Are you?”
Now it was Winnie’s turn to laugh. “Of course not,” she said. “I’m only ten. But I’ll be eleven pretty soon.”
“And then you’ll get married,” he suggested.
Winnie laughed again, her head on one side, admiring him. ~ Natalie Babbitt,#NFDB
978:On the first day of practice, we were all scared to death. Plus he hadn't brought along any footballs. One kid finally spoke up for all of us 'Excuse me, Coach. There are no footballs.'
And Coach Graham responded, 'We don't need any footballs.' There was silence while we thought about that...
'How many men are on the football field at a time?' he asked us. Eleven on a team, we answered. So that makes twenty-two.
'And how many people are touching the football at any given time?' One of them.
'Right!' he said. 'So we're going to work on what those other twenty-one guys are doing.'
Fundamentals. That was a great gift Coach Graham gave us. Fundamentals, fundamentals, fundamentals. As a college professor, I've seen this one lesson so many kids ignore, always to their detriment: You've got to get the fundamentals down, because otherwise the fancy stuff is not going to work. ~ Randy Pausch,#NFDB
979:A form of entertainment that has recently become very popular, particularly in the smaller towns, is the Coca-Cola party. Usually the ladies assemble between eleven and twelve in the morning at the home of the hostess. Trays of tall iced glasses filled with Coca-Cola are passed, followed by platters of crackers and small iced cakes. The dining table is decorated like any tea-table with flowers, fruit or mints, except that there are little buckets of ice so that guests may replenish their glasses as the ice melts. Other bottled drinks are usually provided for those who do not like Coca-Cola, but these are few in Georgia. This simple, inexpensive form of entertainment is particularly popular with the young matrons and young girls, who use it to honor a visitor or a bride. Occasionally the parties are held in the afternoon, but usually the afternoon is time for the more elaborate tea. ~ Mark Kurlansky, #NFDB
980:Every room I've lived in since I was given my own room at eleven was lined with, and usually overfull of, books. My employment in bookstores was always continuous with my private hours: shelving and alphabetizing, building shelves, and browsing-- in my collection and others-- in order to understand a small amount about the widest possible number of books. Such numbers of books are constantly acquired that constant culling is necessary; if I slouch in this discipline, the books erupt. I've also bricked myself in with music--vinyl records, then compact discs. My homes have been improbably information-dense, like capsules for survival of a nuclear war, or models of the interior of my own skull. That comparison--room as brain-- is one I've often reached for in describing the rooms of others, but it began with the suspicion that I'd externalized my own brain, for anyone who cared to look. ~ Jonathan Lethem, #NFDB
981:some of the structural drivers of inflation have also weakened. Trade unions have become less powerful. Loss-making state industries have been privatized. But, perhaps most importantly of all, the social constituency with an interest in positive real returns on bonds has grown. In the developed world a rising share of wealth is held in the form of private pension funds and other savings institutions that are required, or at least expected, to hold a high proportion of their assets in the form of government bonds and other fixed income securities. In 2007 a survey of pension funds in eleven major economies revealed that bonds accounted for more than a quarter of their assets, substantially lower than in past decades, but still a substantial share.71 With every passing year, the proportion of the population living off the income from such funds goes up, as the share of retirees increases. ~ Niall Ferguson, #NFDB
982:They had just docked in Greece and the passengers learned they would be quarantined and not be allowed to go ashore...
"It was the bitterest disappointment we had yet experienced. To lie a whole day in sight of the Acropolis, and yet be obliged to go away without visiting Athens! Disappointment was hardly a strong enough word to describe the circumstances....At eleven o'clock at night, when most of the ship's company were abed, four of us stole softly ashore in a small boat, a clouded moon favoring the enterprise...Once ashore and seeing no road, we took a tall hill to the left of the distant Acropolis for a mark, and steered straight for it over all obstructions...The full moon was riding high in the cloudless heavens now. We sauntered carelessly and unthinkingly to the edge of the lofty battlements of the citadel, and looked down---- a vision! And such a vision! Athens by moonlight! ~ Mark Twain,#NFDB
983:Things accumulated in purses. Unless they were deliberately unloaded and all contents examined for utility occasionally, one could find oneself transporting around in one’s daily life three lipstick cases each with just a crumb of lipstick left, an old eyebrow pencil sharpener without a blade, pieces of defunct watch, odd earrings, handkerchiefs (three crumpled, one uncrumpled), two grubby powder puffs, bent hairpins, patterns of ribbon to be matched, a cigarette lighter without fuel (and two with fuel), a spark plug, some papers of Bex and a sprinkling of loose white aspirin, eleven train tickets (the return half of which had not been given up), four tram tickets, cinema and theatre stubs, seven`pence three farthings in loose change and the manda-tory throat lozenge stuck to the lining. At least, those had been the extra contents of Phryne’s bag the last time Dot had turned it out. The ~ Kerry Greenwood, #NFDB
984:In April 1914, two National Guard companies were stationed in the hills overlooking the largest tent colony of strikers, the one at Ludlow, housing a thousand men, women, children. On the morning of April 20, a machine gun attack began on the tents. The miners fired back. Their leader, a Greek named Lou Tikas, was lured up into the hills to discuss a truce, then shot to death by a company of National Guardsmen. The women and children dug pits beneath the tents to escape the gunfire. At dusk, the Guard moved down from the hills with torches, set fire to the tents, and the families fled into the hills; thirteen people were killed by gunfire. The following day, a telephone linesman going through the ruins of the Ludlow tent colony lifted an iron cot covering a pit in one of the tents and found the charred, twisted bodies of eleven children and two women. This became known as the Ludlow Massacre. ~ Howard Zinn, #NFDB
985:Liberty
''Let there be Liberty!' God said, and, lo!
The red skies all were luminous. The glow
Struck first Columbia's kindling mountain peaks
One hundred and eleven years ago!'
So sang a patriot whom once I saw
Descending Bunker's holy hill. With awe
I noted that he shone with sacred light,
Like Moses with the tables of the Law.
One hundred and eleven years? O small
And paltry period compared with all
The tide of centuries that flowed and ebbed
To etch Yosemite's divided wall!
Ah, Liberty, they sing you always young
Whose harps are in your adoration strung
(Each swears you are his countrywoman, too,
And speak no language but his mother tongue).
And truly, lass, although with shout and horn
Man has all-hailed you from creation's morn,
I cannot think you old-I think, indeed,
You are by twenty centuries unborn.
~ Ambrose Bierce,#NFDB
986:That the Roman empire was, like all its predecessors, a form of extortion by force, an enriching of well-connected Romans (who “make a desolation and call it peace”) at the expense of hapless conquered peoples, would also not have carried much weight with most readers. Hadn’t Philip of Macedon’s first conquest been the seizure of the Balkan gold mines? Hadn’t Alexander’s last planned campaign been for the sake of controlling the lucrative Arabian spice trade? How could anyone demur over such things? What would be the point of holding out against the nature of man and of the universe itself? Augustus set up in the midst of the Roman Forum a statue of himself that loomed eleven times the size of a normal man,10 and similarly awesome statues were erected in central shrines throughout the empire. Augustus was not a normal man; he was a god, deserving of worship. And, like all gods, he was terrifying. ~ Thomas Cahill, #NFDB
987:Her eyes rounded. “They don’t open until eleven.”
“Unless you’re me, and you strike up a conversation with the prep cook who starts work at seven.”
“Ah.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he said, uncurling his forefinger from around his own cup to point it at her. “His name is George and he has a wife and three kids.”
“My mind’s not in the gutter!” Well, not since she woke from a twenty-minute midnight doze during which she’d imagined herself stretched out on her bed, Gage standing at its foot, slowing stripping off his clothes.
He grinned at her, then reached into his front pocket to pull free a slim camera. Still juggling his coffee, he managed to bring the viewfinder to his eye and snap a shot. “I’ll call it ‘Guilty as Charged.’”
“That’s an invasion of privacy,” she said, frowning at him.
“I think that blush indicates that you’ve been mentally invading mine.”
“Gage! ~ Christie Ridgway,#NFDB
988:Hoover had also created a Division of Simplified Practices, whose job it was to standardize and harmonize the distressinly fractious and unresponsible manufacturing and construction sectors. In those days roads were often still paved in brick, and brick was a typical example: sixty-six different sizes were being produced by manufacturers when Hoover ordered research on the topic. This was sheer waste, as far as the utilitarian Hoover was concerned. He therefore pulled the nation's paving-brick firms into a room and settled the matter; the range of sizes dropped from sixty-six to eleven. Emboldened, Hoover also looked into brick for homes; here he claimed victoryoutright, for the number of sizes went "from forty-four to one," the praiseful Irvin reported. Then there were beds. Seventy-four different sizes were available; as a result of encouragement from Hoover, the figure went down to four" (page 37) ~ Amity Shlaes, #NFDB
989:Tell me you thought about me. That you think about me now."
My lips move, but I can't speak.
His hand drops, and I feel suddenly cold. Bereft. The way I've felt for so long now. Even before arriving in Chaparral. Since I manifested at age eleven and lost myself. Became simply the fire-breather to everyone who knew me. My parents. My sister. Cassian. They saw me as that first and foremost. I guess even I'm guilty of that. Of seeing myself as nothing beyond the last drake dire-breather.
Only now, here with Will, I realize I'm something more. Someone not bound by the rules of her pride, her face, her family. Someone who can be loved for herself, draki or not.
"I thought about you," I whisper, my voice not my own. It belongs to someone else. Someone brave, someone about to risk everything and follow her heart. "I've never stopped thinking about you." Somehow, I doubt I ever will. ~ Sophie Jordan,#NFDB
990:I glanced at my watch - it was two minutes to eleven; just right for lunch when and if we ever got to the godforsaken lodge - and took some comfort from the thought that at least I still had my wits about me. Or at least I felt as if I did. Presumably, a confused person would be too addled to recognize that he was confused. Ergo, if you know that you are not confused then you are not confused. Unless, it suddenly occurred to me - and here was an arresting notion - unless persuading yourself that you are not confused is merely a cruel, early symptom of confusion. Or even an advanced symptom. Who could tell? For all I knew I could be stumbling into some kind of helpless preconfusional state characterized by the fear on the part of the sufferer that he may be stumbling into some kind of helpless preconfusional state. That's the trouble with losing your mind; by the time it's gone, it's too late to get it back. ~ Bill Bryson, #NFDB
991:Balanced atop the highest spire of the Salt Lake Temple, gleaming in the Utah sun, a statue of the angel Moroni stands watch over downtown Salt Lake City with his golden trumpet raised. This massive granite edifice is the spiritual and temporal nexus of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (LDS), which presents itself as the world's only true religion. Temple Square is to Mormons what the Vatican is to Catholics, or the Kaaba in Mecca is to Muslims. At last count there were more than eleven million Saints the world over, and Mormonism is the fastest-growing faith in the Western Hemisphere. At present in the United States there are more Mormons than Presbyterians or Episcopalians. On the planet as a whole, there are now more Mormons than Jews. Mormonism is considered in some sober academic circles to be well on its way to becoming a major world religion--the first such faith to emerge since Islam. ~ Jon Krakauer, #NFDB
992:I focus on my favorite daydream, the one where I return from London at the end of the summer and am all glamorous and drop-dead gorgeous and every girl in my school is completely jealous when Quinn McKeyan asks me to Fall Homecoming because he can’t resist my charm.
Hey, it’s my daydream. I can dream what I want to.
The thing is, Quinn’s face keeps getting replaced in my head by Dante’s.
Since I’ve had a mad crush on Quinn from the time we started kindergarten all the way through our junior year last year, that’s saying something.
Every daydream I’ve had for eleven years has been of him. I’m a very loyal daydreamer. And I suddenly feel like I’m cheating on my imaginary boyfriend, a boy who happens to be real, but who has been dating my best friend Becca for the past two years. And no. Becca has no idea that I’m secretly in love with her boyfriend. It’s the one secret that I’ve kept from her. ~ Courtney Cole,#NFDB
993:In the shooter hypothesis, a good marksman shoots at a target, creating a hole every ten centimeters. Now suppose the surface of the target is inhabited by intelligent, two-dimensional creatures. Their scientists, after observing the universe, discover a great law: “There exists a hole in the universe every ten centimeters.” They have mistaken the result of the marksman’s momentary whim for an unalterable law of the universe. The farmer hypothesis, on the other hand, has the flavor of a horror story: Every morning on a turkey farm, the farmer comes to feed the turkeys. A scientist turkey, having observed this pattern to hold without change for almost a year, makes the following discovery: “Every morning at eleven, food arrives.” On the morning of Thanksgiving, the scientist announces this law to the other turkeys. But that morning at eleven, food doesn’t arrive; instead, the farmer comes and kills the entire flock. ~ Liu Cixin, #NFDB
994:What are you doing here?” he asked Bailey, surprised that Bailey was roaming the streets in his wheelchair at eleven o'clock.
“Karaoke, baby.”
“Karaoke?”
“Yep. Haven't done it in a while, and we've been getting complaints from the produce section. Seems the carrots have formed a Bailey Sheen fan club. Tonight is for the fans. Fern's got quite a following in the frozen foods.”
“Karaoke . . . here?” Ambrose didn't even crack a smile . . . but he wanted to.
“Yep. Closing time means we have free rein of the place. We take over the store’s sound system, use the intercom for a microphone, plug in our CDs, and rock Jolley's Supermarket. It's awesome. You should join us. I should warn you, though, I'm amazing, and I'm also a mic hog.”
Fern giggled, but looked at Ambrose hopefully. Oh, hell, no. He wasn't singing Karaoke. Not even to please Fern Taylor, which he actually wanted to do, surprisingly enough. ~ Amy Harmon,#NFDB
995:The jury hung at eleven to one. Promptly a new jury was impaneled. During the second trial a member of the jury came forward to report a bribe attempt. He was excused and replaced by an alternate. This jury found Jimmy Hoffa not guilty. A crushed Bobby Kennedy still had the perjury charge against Hoffa to fall back on. But not for long. The perjury indictment relied on wiretapped conversations between Johnny Dio and Jimmy Hoffa. The wiretap had been authorized pursuant to New York State law and was a valid search and seizure of the telephone conversation under existing New York law. Unfortunately for Bobby, this was the beginning of the age of the Warren Court’s expansion of its control over state and local police procedures. The U.S. Supreme Court ruled that such state-sanctioned wiretaps were unconstitutional and that any evidence obtained by the wiretaps or derived from them was “fruit of the poisonous tree. ~ Charles Brandt, #NFDB
996:Tragant (2006: 239) sums up the evidence: ‘When FL (foreign language) instruction starts early in primary school there seems to be a decline in the learners’ attitudes around the age of ten to eleven; when most students start a foreign language or enter immersion programmes in secondary school, their initial attitudes are positive but their interest soon wanes.’ This may, of course, have a lot to do with the kind of teaching the children are subject to. If teachers are untrained in foreign language instruction for young learners, it’s unlikely that even the small amount of time available will be used to best effect. This is especially the case if instruction mimics the kind of teacher-fronted, transmissive, grammar-focused instruction that characterizes language teaching at secondary and tertiary level. And a transmissive approach is typically the default choice in large classes of (potentially) unruly children. ~ Scott Thornbury, #NFDB
997:Another hour it would come streaming through the Golden Gate to shroud the romantic city in white, and a young man would hold his girl by the hand and climb slowly up a long white sidewalk with a bottle of Tokay in his pocket. That was Frisco; and beautiful women standing in white doorways, waiting for their men; and Coit Tower, and the Embarcadero, and Market Street, and the eleven teeming hills.
I spun around till I was dizzy; I thought I'd fall down as in a dream, clear off the precipice. Oh where is the girl I love? I thought, and looked everywhere, as I had looked everywhere in the little world below. And before me was the great raw bulge and bulk of my American continent; somewhere far across, gloomy, crazy New York was throwing up its cloud of dust and brown steam. There is something brown and holy about the East; and California is white like washlines and emptyheaded -- at least that's what I thought then. ~ Jack Kerouac,#NFDB
998:Rutting
There was nothing simple about it
even then an eleven-year-old's hunger
for the wet perfection
of the Alhambra, the musky torsos
of football stars, ancient Egypt and Jacques Cousteau's
lurching empires of the sea, bazaars
in Mughal India, the sacred plunge
into a Cadbury's Five Star bar, Kanchenjanga, kisses bluer
than the Adriatic, honeystain of sunlight
on temple wall, a moon-lathered Parthenon, draught
of northern air in Scottish castles. The child god craving
to pop a universe
into one's mouth.
It's back again,
the lust
that is the deepest
I have known,
celebrated by paperback romances
in station bookstalls, by poets in the dungeons
of Toledo, by bards crooning foreverness
and gut-thump on FM radio
in Bombay traffic jams an undoing,
an unmaking,
raw
raw a monsoonal ferocity
of need.
18
~ Arundhathi Subramaniam,#NFDB
999:The breakthrough study was done by Dr. Peter Elwood and a team from the Cochrane Institute of Primary Care and Public Health, Cardiff University, United Kingdom, and released in December 2013. For thirty years, these researchers followed 2,235 men living in Caerphilly, Wales, aged 45 to 59, and observed the impact of five activities on their health and on whether they developed dementia or cognitive decline, heart disease, cancer, or early death. The Cardiff study was meticulous, examining the men at intervals over the thirty years, and if they showed signs of cognitive decline or dementia, they were sent for detailed clinical assessments of high quality. It overcame study design problems from eleven previous studies (discussed in the endnotes). Results showed that if the men did four or five of the following behaviors, their risk for cognitive (mental) decline and dementia (including Alzheimer’s) fell by 60 percent: ~ Norman Doidge, #NFDB
1000:Felix Schmidt
It was only a little house of two rooms -Almost like a child's play-house -With scarce five acres of ground around it;
And I had so many children to feed
And school and clothe, and a wife who was sick
From bearing children.
One day lawyer Whitney came along
And proved to me that Christian Dallman,
Who owned three thousand acres of land,
Had bought the eighty that adjoined me
In eighteen hundred and seventy-one
For eleven dollars, at a sale for taxes,
While my father lay in his mortal illness.
So the quarrel arose and I went to law.
But when we came to the proof,
A survey of the land showed clear as day
That Dallman's tax deed covered my ground
And my little house of two rooms.
It served me right for stirring him up.
I lost my case and lost my place.
I left the court room and went to work
As Christian Dallman's tenant.
~ Edgar Lee Masters,#NFDB
1001:Can take care of myself.”
Aye, that was why she’d latched on to us, complete strangers that we were. “I’ll buy you an entire fee-sish while I’m out.” Fee-sish was a bright pink, sweet, juicy fruit encased in a hard prickly shell. I suspected it was a favorite of Aryne’s from the way she tried to snatch any that appeared on a plate in her vicinity, though she had never said as much to me. “If I come back and feel no suspicion that you’ve left the room, the whole fruit is yours.”
Aryne’s eyebrows rose.
Yes, I was aware of the wiggle room I’d left her in that statement. I would have to give her the fruit if she managed to leave the room and return without my suspecting she had ever left in the first place.
But then, I’d given myself breathing room, too. All I had to do was suspect. I didn’t have to prove anything.
I was able to outwit an eleven-year-old. Occasionally. I was proud of myself. ~ Moira J Moore,#NFDB
1002:Just before I left for Long Island and my new life, I got another call, this one from Dr. Ernest Sachs, up at Dartmouth Medical School. He was head of neurology at the time, and he invited me up to give a lecture. I was thrilled. I was to play the role of professor at my old alma mater! It was especially sweet because the very same medical school had rejected my application eleven years earlier, even though I was an undergraduate at Dartmouth and my brother was one of their stellar graduates. It is events like this in one’s past that fall off the story line. What if I had been accepted and gone? There would have been no split-brain work for me. How would that whole story have been different? I believe that things just happen in life, and pretty much after the fact, we make up a story to make it all seem rational. We all like simple stories that suggest a causal chain to life’s events. Yet randomness is ever present. ~ Michael S Gazzaniga, #NFDB
1003:The Hmong community might not always meet the expectations of the American community, but it certainly knew how to run itself. Blia once drew me a flowchart-which was Cartesian-delineating how his organization worked. "At the top is the president and advisory board of eight," he explained. "Then eleven Board of
Director. Then seventeen district leaders. Then our 6,000 members. Let us say we need a hundred dollars to help out person who will be evicted. The seventeen district leaders carry the news, and everyone donate five cents or ten cents. Tomorrow we get that money. Or if one person die, tomorrow money will flow back to help that family. If there is change in welfare rules, we get out information the same way. If someone have problem with their child, we can solve problem inside Hmong community before it gets to the police. This way, 6,000 people we can serve with four or five people working in our office. No problem. ~ Anne Fadiman,#NFDB
1004:His face almost looked the way it did when he was a teenager, when there was the subtle expression of both confidence and mischief in his darkly handsome eyes. When I think of him now, though, I don’t picture his face the way it is. What I see is from a memory, from a moment when he must have been eleven or twelve years old and we were both in our backyard and it was summertime and I was drawing in a coloring book and he was there in the green grass and he didn’t know I was watching him. He was crawling around on all fours; he was practicing being a lion or a tiger or more probably a leopard and he was growling to himself, stalking the shadow of a bird, and he didn’t see me staring at him and I think my mother was there, looking at us from an upstairs window, watching us both and gently smiling, and what I remember most is that all of us were happy then with who we were at that moment; at that moment, all of us were quietly happy. ~ Joe Meno, #NFDB
1005:After the publication of a report in 1967 by Bridget Plowden, an amateur educationalist, describing primary schooling, Britain’s education system had become an ideological battleground. Masked by a scattering of platitudes about improving schools, Plowden recommended the destruction of traditional education. Children, she wrote, should no longer sit in rows of desks but instead gather in groups around tables to encourage self-learning. She also recommended that the eleven-plus examination, a three-part test (English, maths and intelligence) taken in one day that irrevocably determined a child’s educational fate – either to blossom in a grammar school or be consigned to failure in a secondary modern school – should be abandoned. Grammar schools should be replaced by non-selective comprehensives that mixed children of all standards. With cross-party support, successive Labour and Conservative governments implemented her recommendations. ~ Tom Bower, #NFDB
1006:Shepherd Book: What are we up to, sweetheart?
River: Fixing your Bible.
Book: I, um... What?
River: Bible's broken. Contradictions, false logistics - doesn't make sense.
Shepherd Book: No, no. You-you-you can't...
River: So we'll integrate non-progressional evolution theory with God's creation of Eden. Eleven inherent metaphoric parallels already there. Eleven. Important number. Prime number. One goes into the house of eleven eleven times, but always comes out one. Noah's ark is a problem.
Shepherd Book: Really?
River: We'll have to call it early quantum state phenomenon. Only way to fit 5000 species of mammal on the same boat.
Shepherd Book: River, you don't fix the Bible.
River: It's broken. It doesn't make sense.
Book: It's not about making sense. It's about believing in something, and letting that belief be real enough to change your life. It's about faith. You don't fix faith, River. It fixes you. ~ Ben Edlund,#NFDB
1007:The first trailblazer was Ivy Lee. He is often considered the founder of modern public relations and the originator of corporate crisis communications.* In 1914 he went to work for the Rockefeller interests after coal miners striking at one of the mines they controlled in Ludlow, Colorado, were massacred by the National Guard. Between nineteen and twenty-five people were killed, including two women and eleven children. Lee’s press releases claimed that their deaths were the result of an overturned camp stove. Ivy Lee was one of the first members of the Council on Foreign Relations when it was founded just after World War I; he was thus co-opted into America’s foreign policy establishment. Shortly before he died in 1934, Congress began investigating his public relations work on behalf of the notorious German chemical monopoly I.G. Farben, which helped fund Hitler’s rise to power and would later develop the poison gas used in the Nazi death camps. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
1008:It was true that Al had asked her to move the jars and magazines, and there was probably a word for the way she'd stepped around those jars and magazines for the last eleven days, often nearly stumbling on them; maybe a psychiatric word with many syllables or maybe a simple word like "spite." But it seemed to her that he'd asked her to do more than "one thing" while he was gone. He'd also asked her to make the boys three meals a day, and clothe them and read to them and nurse them in sickness, and scrub the kitchen floor and wash the sheets and iron his shirts, and do it all without a husband's kisses or kind words. If she tried to get credit for these labors of hers, however, Al simply asked her whose labors had paid for the house and food and linens? Never mind that his work so satisfied him that he didn't need her love, while her chores so bored her that she needed his love doubly. In any rational accounting, his work canceled her work. ~ Jonathan Franzen, #NFDB
1009:The essence of the evening was captured by a question from the audience. Someone asked: “What would it take to change your worldview?” My answer was simple: Any single piece of evidence. If we found a fossilized animal trying to swim between the layers of rock in the Grand Canyon, if we found a process by which a new huge fraction of a radioactive material’s neutrons could become protons in some heretofore fantastically short period of time, if we found a way to create eleven species a day, if there were some way for starlight to get here without going the speed of light, that would force me and every other scientist to look at the world in a new way. However, no such contradictory evidence has ever been found—not any, not ever. Mr. Ham responded that nothing would change his mind. He has a book that he believes provides all the answers to any natural science question that could ever be posed. No piece of evidence would change his mind—not any, not ever. ~ Bill Nye, #NFDB
1010:What did Jonathan Edwards mean in sending word to his wife that their union was “uncommon”? Was it that? And how was a union that had issued in eleven offspring “spiritual”? Of one thing we may be sure: Jonathan Edwards was not using his last words carelessly. This “major artist and chief American philosopher” (Miller, 1949:225) had not yet discarded his palette. His message to her had—all his words had—an exact, uncoded meaning, Lockean in its empirical force, that is there for us to recover if we will attend. Our path is to discover if we can the substance of this “uncommon” and “spiritual” union that was at the same time unquestionably an erotic bond. Something greater than curiosity is at stake for us here. Jonathan Edwards is preeminently a theologian of the heart and of the affections; to discover the kind of love that was central between these two may provide an exact clue to his own theological ethics—a bonus not to be disdained. ~ James William McClendon Jr, #NFDB
1011:Harriet Hanson was an eleven-year-old girl working in the mill. She later recalled:
I worked in a lower room where I had heard the proposed strike fully, if not vehemently, discussed. I had been an ardent listener to what was said against this attempt at "oppression" on the part of the corporation, and naturally I took sides with the strikers. When the day came on which the girls were to turn out, those in the upper rooms started first, and so many of them left that our mill was at once shut down. Then, when the girls in my room stood irresolute, uncertain what to do. . . I, who began to think they would not go out, after all their talk, became impatient, and started on ahead, saying, with childish bravado, " I don't care what you do . . . I am going to turn out, whether anyone else does or not," and I marched out, and was following by the others.
As I looked back at the long line that followed me, I was more proud than I have ever since. . . ~ Howard Zinn,#NFDB
1012:I remember thinking that this bed, at last, seemed very firm, and then I was blinking at the bedside clock that told me it was eleven-fifty-three. That didn’t seem possible. It had been well after midnight when I fell onto the bed. How could it be seven minutes before now? I closed my eyes again and tried to think, which was even harder than it had been lately. For just a moment I thought I must have slept backward through time, finally arriving here in bed before I actually got here. I spent a few pleasant moments thinking of what I should say to myself when I saw me walk in the door. But then I opened my eyes again, and noticed a bright edge of light showing around the bottom of the heavy curtains, and I thought, Aha. It’s daytime. I slept through the night, and lo! The sun has riz. That explains everything. Still, a little disappointing. I’d been hoping for a really interesting conversation with someone I knew to be a brilliant conversationalist—Me. ~ Jeff Lindsay, #NFDB
1013:There’s a curious correlation between these sunspot peaks and flu epidemics. In the twentieth century, six of the nine sunspot peaks occurred in tandem with massive flu outbreaks. In fact, the worst outbreaks of the century, killing millions in 1918 and 1919, followed a sunspot peak in 1917. This might just be coincidence, of course. Or it might not. Outbreaks and pandemics are thought to be caused by antigenic drift, when a mutation occurs in the DNA of a virus, or antigenic shift, when a virus acquires new genes from a related strain. When the antigenic drift or shift in a virus is significant enough, our bodies don’t recognize it and have no antibodies to fight it—and that spells trouble. It’s like a criminal on the run taking on a whole new identity so his pursuers can’t recognize him. What causes antigenic drift? Mutations, which can be caused by radiation. Which is what the sun spews forth in significantly greater than normal amounts every eleven years. ~ Sharon Moalem, #NFDB
1014:Here’s another analogy. Human beings bring only a handful of facial features to the blueprint of how we look—two eyes, two eyebrows, a nose, a mouth, a pair of cheekbones, and two ears, all pasted onto a somewhat ovular-to-round face. That particular blueprint doesn’t often vary much, either. Interestingly enough, this is about the same number of essential storytelling parts and milestones that each and every story needs to showcase in order to be successful. Now, consider this: With only these eleven variables to work with, ask yourself how often you see two people who look exactly alike. In a crowd of ten thousand faces, you would be able to differentiate each and every one of them, other than a set of twins or two in attendance. Where we humans are concerned, the miracle of originality resides in the Creator, who applies an engineering-driven process—eleven variables— to an artistic outcome. Where art is concerned, there is something to be learned from that. ~ Larry Brooks, #NFDB
1015:I lowered my phone, hope and anger warring for control of my emotions. As always, it was easier to let anger win. I turned back to Sylvester. "You threw him out?" I asked, in a low dangerous tone. "I was asleep for almost eleven hours, and you threw him out?"
"October, I told you we had asked him -"
"No. 'We asked him to leave so you can rest' only works if I was asleep for four hours, or six, or maybe eight, although me sleeping for eight hours when I'm not injured or drugged is such a perishingly rare event that he should have been sitting next to the bed with a bowl of popcorn. Do you understand me? I was poisoned. This stuff is poison to changelings, and the man I love wanted to be with me, and you sent him away. You kept him away from me for eleven hours, and you didn't tell him what was going on. I know you meant well. But can either of you tell me how in the hell you could believe that was right? ~ Seanan McGuire,#NFDB
1016:I should think of the universe as a giant painting rendered in more than three dimensions; some scientists say eleven, some say fewer, some say more, but no one knows—or will ever know—for sure. In an art gallery, when you stand too close to a large canvas executed in only two dimensions, you can see the artist’s brushstrokes and certain details clearly, but you can’t understand either the full effect of the piece or the artist’s intentions. You have to step back and step back again, and sometimes yet again, in order to grasp the totality of the work. To understand the universe, our world, and all life in the world, you have to step out of time, which for living humanity is not an option, because we are a part of this painting, characters within it, able to perceive it only as a continuing series of events, episodes. However, because we are conscious creatures with the gift of reason, we can seek and learn and extrapolate from what we learn, and conceive the truth. ~ Dean Koontz, #NFDB
1017:Menopause had finally terminated her fantastically involved and complex relationship with her womb: a legendary saga of irregular bleeding, eleven-month pregnancies straight out of the Royal Society proceedings, terrifying primal omens, miscarriages, heartbreaking epochs of barrenness punctuated by phases of such explosive fertility that Uncle Thomas had been afraid to come near her—disturbing asymmetries, prolapses, relapses, and just plain lapses, hellish cramping fits, mysterious interactions with the Moon and other cœlestial phenomena, shocking imbalances of all four of the humours known to Medicine plus a few known only to Mayflower, seismic rumblings audible from adjoining rooms—cancers reabsorbed—(incredibly) three successful pregnancies culminating in four-day labors that snapped stout bedframes like kindling, vibrated pictures off walls, and sent queues of vicars, mid-wives, physicians, and family members down into their own beds, ruined with exhaustion. ~ Neal Stephenson, #NFDB
1018:Your route will be different. It must be. You knew things at eleven that I did not know when I was twenty-five. When I was eleven my highest priority was the simple security of my body. My life was the immediate negotiation of violence - within my house and without. But already you have expectations, I see that in you. Survival and safety are not enough. Your hopes - your dreams, if you will - leave me with an array of warring emotions. I am so very proud of you - your openness, your ambition, your aggression, your intelligence. My job, in the little time we have left together, is to match that intelligence with wisdom. Part of that wisdom is understanding what you were given - a city where gay bars are unremarkable, a soccer team on which half the players speak some other language. What I am saying is that it does not all belong to you, that the beauty in you is not strictly yours and is largely the result of enjoying an abnormal amount of security in your black body. ~ Ta Nehisi Coates, #NFDB
1019:...her other paramour was a student at the UASD -- one of those City College types who's been in school eleven years and is always five credits shy of a degree. Students today don't mean na; but in Latin America whipped into a frenzy by the fall of Arbenz, by the stoning of Nixon, by the Guerillas of the Sierra Madre, by the endless cynical maneuverings of the Yankee Pig Dogs -- in a Latin America already a year and a half into the Decade of Guerilla -- a student was something else altogether, an agent for change, a quantum string in the staid Newtonian universe. Such a student was Arquimedes. He also listened to the shortwave, but not for Dodgers scores; what he risked his life for was the news leaking out of Havana, news of the future. Arquemides was, therefore, a student, the son of a Zapatero and a midwife, a tirapiedra and a quemagoma for life. Being a student wasn't a joke, not with Trujillo and Johnny Abbes scooping up everybody following the foiled Cuban Invasion of 1959. ~ Junot D az, #NFDB
1020:By the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis, Eisenhower’s test ban had failed, and the United States and the Soviet Union had both returned to nuclear weapons testing. Twice during the height of the Cuban Missile Crisis, on October 20 and October 26, 1962, the United States detonated two nuclear weapons—code-named Checkmate and Bluegill Triple Prime—in space. These tests, which sought to advance knowledge in ARPA’s pursuit of the Christofilos effect, are on the record and are known. What is not known outside Defense Department circles is that in response, on October 22 and October 28, 1962, the Soviets also detonated two nuclear weapons in space, also in pursuit of the Christofilos effect. In recently declassified film footage of an emergency meeting at the White House, Secretary of Defense McNamara can be heard discussing one of these two Soviet nuclear bomb tests with the president and his closest advisors. “The Soviets fired three eleven-hundred-mile missiles yesterday at Kapustin Yar, ~ Annie Jacobsen, #NFDB
1021:He shrugged. “You know I was in the dark about all that as much as you were. This time it’s straightforward. And sanctioned.” “Sanctioned by whom?” He looked at me. “By the proper authorities.” “All right,” I said, taking a sip from the porcelain demitasse. “Tell me.” He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. “After nine-eleven, Congress took the shackles off the Agency. There’s a new spirit in the place. We’re pushing the envelope again, going after the bad guys—” “The few, the proud?” He frowned. “Look, we’re really making a difference now—” “Be all that you can be?” His jaw clenched. “Do you just enjoy pissing me off?” “A bit, yes.” “It’s petty.” I took another sip of espresso. “What’s your point?” “I wish you’d just listen.” “So far I’ve listened to five clichés, including something about shackled envelopes. I’m waiting for you to actually say something.” He flushed, but then nodded and even managed a chuckle. I smiled at his composure. He had matured since I had last seen him. ~ Barry Eisler, #NFDB
1022:Numbers had no rhymes that could cause problems, so it was fine to call out one, two, and three by their proper names. But zero, which was even less likely to create rhyming difficulties, proved to be an irresistible target, and so aviators referred to zeros as “balls.” Wally Schirra, more than most astronauts, could barely contain himself. Throughout the eleven days of the Apollo 7 mission, Wally had taken special pleasure in calling down, “First off, we’ll read off balls,” or “Star difference angle was four balls,” or “Two balls twenty-two, plus four balls six, plus four balls one.” Inevitably, the capcom would follow that lead, since he could hardly say zero when Wally was talking balls. So the voice from the ground would answer the commander: “Okay, all balls minus twenty-six eighty-seven.” Then, finally, a female reporter at a NASA press conference during Apollo 7’s mission raised her hand and said, “I don’t understand about the balls.” All of the male reporters laughed until they cried. ~ Jeffrey Kluger, #NFDB
1023:I’m relieved.” Ryder leveled his eyes with Michael. “I can’t live here . . . like this anymore.” Not the reaction Michael expected. “Your job?” “It’s almost summer. I’m out. I’ll find another job.” The words were easy to digest, but he didn’t believe them. “You love Utah.” “Love is a strong word. I’m used to Utah. I didn’t leave when I was eighteen. Most of you did, even if only for a little while.” Ryder refilled both their glasses and moved to the couch. Michael followed. “Do you know how many states gay marriage is legal?” “Twenty.” The answer came easy. If there was one thing easy to support and follow, it was any topic related to homosexuals. “Twenty. At least eleven more have appeals in the courts to add those states to the mix, Utah included.” Ryder set his glass aside and took Michael’s hand. “It’s going to take small towns like this forever to catch up even after it’s legalized. I don’t want to wait for them. I want to live, Mike.” This was that moment Michael knew was coming. Truth. ~ Catherine Bybee, #NFDB
1024:For this boy destined to be the world’s greatest heir, money was so omnipresent as to be invisible—something “there, like air or food or any other element,” he later said—yet it was never easily attainable.11 As if he were a poor, rural boy, he earned pocket change by mending vases and broken fountain pens or by sharpening pencils. Aware of the rich children spoiled by their parents, Senior seized every opportunity to teach his son the value of money. Once, while Rockefeller was being shaved at Forest Hill, Junior entered with a plan to give away his Sunday-school money in one lump sum, for a fixed period, and be done with it. “Let’s figure it out first,” Rockefeller advised and made Junior run through calculations that showed he would lose eleven cents interest while the Sunday school gained nothing in return. Afterward, Rockefeller told his barber, “I don’t care about the boy giving his money in that way. I want him to give it. But I also want him to learn the lesson of being careful of the little things. ~ Ron Chernow, #NFDB
1025:in this dream where he was eleven years old, and then he had smelled something like the death of time, and someone lit a match and he had looked down and seen the decomposing face of a boy named Patrick Hockstetter, a boy who had disappeared in July of 1958, and there were worms crawling in and out of Patrick Hockstetter’s cheeks, and that gassy, awful smell was coming from inside of Patrick Hockstetter, and in that dream that was more memory than dream he had looked to one side and had seen two schoolbooks that were fat with moisture and overgrown with green mold: Roads to Everywhere, and Understanding Our America. They were in their current condition because it was a foul wetness down here (“How I Spent My Summer Vacation,” a theme by Patrick Hockstetter—“I spent it dead in a tunnel! Moss grew on my books and they swelled up to the size of Sears catalogues!”). Eddie opened his mouth to scream and that was when the scabrous fingers of the leper clittered around his cheek and plunged themselves into his mouth ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
1026:I will reluctantly teach you enough trivia for a passing mark on the Ministry-mandated portions of your first-year finals. Since your exact mark on these sections will make no difference to your future life, anyone who wants more than a passing mark is welcome to waste their own time studying our pathetic excuse for a textbook. The title of this subject is not Defence Against Minor Pests. You are here to learn how to defend yourselves against the Dark Arts. Which means, let us be very clear on this, defending yourselves against Dark Wizards. People with wands who want to hurt you and who will likely succeed in doing so unless you hurt them first! There is no defence without offence! There is no defence without fighting! This reality is deemed too harsh for eleven-year-olds by the fat, overpaid, Auror-guarded politicians who mandated your curriculum. To the abyss with those fools! You are here for the subject that has been taught at Hogwarts for eight hundred years! Welcome to your first year of Battle Magic! ~ Eliezer Yudkowsky, #NFDB
1027:A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley fool; a miserable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
Andrail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms and yet a motley fool.
'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he,
'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:'
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock:
Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags:
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear. ~ William Shakespeare,#NFDB
1028:A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest,
A motley fool; a miserable world!
As I do live by food, I met a fool
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun,
And rail'd on Lady Fortune in good terms,
In good set terms and yet a motley fool.
'Good morrow, fool,' quoth I. 'No, sir,' quoth he,
'Call me not fool till heaven hath sent me fortune:'
And then he drew a dial from his poke,
And, looking on it with lack-lustre eye,
Says very wisely, 'It is ten o'clock:
Thus we may see,' quoth he, 'how the world wags:
'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after one hour more 'twill be eleven;
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,
And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;
And thereby hangs a tale.' When I did hear
The motley fool thus moral on the time,
My lungs began to crow like chanticleer,
That fools should be so deep-contemplative,
And I did laugh sans intermission
An hour by his dial. O noble fool!
A worthy fool! Motley's the only wear. ~ William Shakespeare,#NFDB
1029:When their subjects were between the ages of three and eleven, the researchers, led by the psychologists Avshalom Caspi and Terrie Moffitt and including Brent Roberts, used a variety of tests and questionnaires to measure the children’s self-control and then combined those results into a single self-control rating for each child. When they surveyed the subjects at age thirty-two, they found that the childhood self-control measure had predicted a wide array of outcomes. The lower a subject’s self-control in childhood, the more likely he or she was at thirty-two to smoke, to have health problems, to have a bad credit rating, and to have been in trouble with the law. In some cases, the effect sizes were huge: Adults with the lowest self-control scores in childhood were three times more likely to have been convicted of a crime than those who scored highest as kids. They were three times more likely to have multiple addictions, and they were more than twice as likely to be raising their children in a single-parent household. ~ Paul Tough, #NFDB
1030:Down at the foamy shoreline, where small tight waves explode against black rocks, a lifeguard with feet wedged in the wet and vaguely tangerine sand stands shirtless like a magnificent sea-Jesus. An ill-timed journey into a breaker knocks a boy on his little back. A bald man throws a tennis ball for his Labrador and a second, unrelated dog bounds in after it. Through a gauze of mist a brunette—tall, and from where we’re sitting seemingly riddled with breasts—kicks water on the sunlit torso of her blond companion. There are three other drinkers in the place, already tethered to the sunbleached bar. It is eleven a.m. Slumped in his cumbersome mechanised wheelchair that squeaks somewhere down by the left back wheel when he’s doing pressure lifts, Aldo squints out from sand-whipped windows into the tumour of searing light. He turns to me and says, ‘I’m nobody’s muse.’ I think: That’s a great line right there. I take out my notebook and when he shoots me an outraged look I say, ‘That’s right, motherfucker. I’m writing it down. ~ Steve Toltz, #NFDB
1031:Carroll was eleven years old when he saw The Haunting in The Oregon Theater. He had gone with his cousins, but when the lights went down, his companions were swallowed by the dark and Carroll found himself essentially alone, shut tight into his own suffocating cabinet of shadows. At times, it required all his will not to hide his eyes, yet his insides churned with a nervous-sick frisson of pleasure. When the lights finally came up, his nerve endings were ringing, as if he had for a moment grabbed a copper wire with live current in it. It was a sensation for which he had developed a compulsion.
Later, when he was a professional and it was his business, his feelings were more muted - not gone, but experienced distantly, more like the memory of an emotion than the thing itself. More recently, even the memory had fled, and in its place was a deadening amnesia, a numb disinterest when he looked at the piles of magazines on his coffee table. Or no - he was overcome with dread, but the wrong kind of dread.
("Best New Horror") ~ Joe Hill,#NFDB
1032:Well to hell with them. He’d done his duty, he’d paid his respects. He wouldn’t bother them any more. Let them live in their cramped flat, visited by this … gentleman, this mock adult. Rebus had more important things to do. Books to read. Notes to make. And another busy day ahead. It was ten o’clock. He could be back at his hotel by eleven. An early night, that’s what was needed. Eight hours’ sleep in the last two days. No wonder he was ratty, looking for a fight. He began to feel a little bit ashamed. Kenny was too easy a target. He’d crushed a tiny fly beneath a tower-block of resentment. Resentment, John, or plain jealousy? That was not a question for a tired man. Not a question for a man like John Rebus. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he might start getting some answers. He was determined to pay for his keep now that he had been brought to London. Tomorrow, the task began in earnest. He shook Kenny’s hand again and gave him a man-to-man half-wink before leaving the flat. Rhona offered to see him to the door. They went into the hall, leaving ~ Ian Rankin, #NFDB
1033:In 1988, a cave explorer named Véronique Le Guen volunteered for an extreme experiment: to live alone in an underground cavern in southern France without a clock for one hundred and eleven days, monitored by scientists who wished to study the human body's natural rhythms in the absence of time cues. For a while, she settled into a pattern of thirty hours awake and twenty hours asleep. She described herself as being "psychologically completely out of phase, where I no longer know what my values are or what is my purpose in life."
When she returned to society, her husband later noted, she seemed to have an emptiness inside her that she was unable to fully express. "While I was alone in my cave I was my own judge," she said. "You are your own most severe judge. You must never lie or all is lost. The strongest sentiment I brought out of the cave is that in my life I will never tolerate lying." A little more than a year later, Le Guen swallowed an overdose of barbiturates and lay down in her car in Paris, a suicide at age thirty-three. ~ Michael Finkel,#NFDB
1034:The first three decisions made by New Labour were highly symbolic, designed to show the City of London that this was not an old-style Labour regime. They had made their peace with free-market values: the Bank of England would be detached from government control and given full authority to determine monetary policy. A second determining act on entering office was to cut eleven pounds a week in welfare benefits to single mothers. The savings for the state were minimal. The aim was ideological: a show of contempt for the ‘weaknesses’ of the old welfare state, and an assertion of ‘family values’. The third measure was to charge tuition fees to all university students. This was a proposal that had been rejected more than once by the preceding Conservative government, on the grounds that it was unfair and discriminated against students from poor families. New Labour apologists were quick to point out that students in real need would not be charged, but the overall effect has been to discourage working-class children from aspiring to higher education. ~ Tariq Ali, #NFDB
1035:At Swindon we turned off the main road and, as the sun mounted high, we were among dry-stone walls and ashlar houses. It was about eleven when Sebastian, without warning, turned the car into a cart track and stopped. It was hot enough now to make us seek the shade. On a sheep-cropped knoll under a clump of elms we ate the strawberries and drank the wine--as Sebastian promised, they were delicious together--and we lit fat, Turkish cigarettes and lay on our backs, Sebastian's eyes on the leaves above him, mine on his profile, while the blue-grey smoke rose, untroubled by any wind, to the blue-green shadows of foliage, and the sweet scent of the tobacco merged with the sweet summer scents around us and the fumes of the sweet, golden wine seemed to lift us a finger's breadth above the turf and hold us suspended.
"Just the place to bury a crock of gold," said Sebastian. "I should like to bury something precious in every place where I've been happy and then, when I was old and ugly and miserable, I could come back and dig it up and remember. ~ Evelyn Waugh,#NFDB
1036:Do Not Complain—Be Thankful! Do everything without complaining or arguing. PHILIPPIANS 2:14 NIV One of the reasons the Israelites spent forty years wandering in the wilderness for what should have been an eleven-day journey was because they were complaining. “And the people spoke against God and against Moses, Why have you brought us out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no bread, neither is there any water, and we loathe this light (contemptible, unsubstantial) manna” (Numbers 21:5). Do you hear their bad attitude? They believe their discomfort is God’s fault! Or Moses’ fault! And they are complaining about the miraculous manna God sent daily from heaven to feed them! One of the worst parts about complaining is that it prevents us from seeing all the blessings we do have. Do you have a situation or circumstance you want to be free from? Start finding things to be thankful for. Don’t focus on the things you don’t have, but look at all you do have in Christ. Power Thought: I am thankful at all times for everything I have in Christ. ~ Joyce Meyer, #NFDB
1037:neurosurgeon. I graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill in 1976 with a major in chemistry and earned my M.D. at Duke University Medical School in 1980. During my eleven years of medical school and residency training at Duke as well as Massachusetts General Hospital and Harvard, I focused on neuroendocrinology, the study of the interactions between the nervous system and the endocrine system—the series of glands that release the hormones that direct most of your body’s activities. I also spent two of those eleven years investigating how blood vessels in one area of the brain react pathologically when there is bleeding into it from an aneurysm—a syndrome known as cerebral vasospasm. After completing a fellowship in cerebrovascular neurosurgery in Newcastle-Upon-Tyne in the United Kingdom, I spent fifteen years on the faculty of Harvard Medical School as an associate professor of surgery, with a specialization in neurosurgery. During those years I operated on countless patients, many of them with severe, life-threatening brain conditions. ~ Eben Alexander, #NFDB
1038:Sometimes, in prison, when he’d been lying awake at night staring at the bunk over his head, Johnny had thought that he missed Wolf most of all.
Wasn’t that a damned sad commentary on his life?
The dog whined again. Knowing he was being ridiculous, that he was liable to lose the hand at the wrist when the animal charged, Johnny nonetheless took a step forward,holding out his fingers for sniffing.
“Wolf? Come here, boy.”
Incredibly, the huge animal sank to its belly and slunk forward, behaving as if it wanted to believe but feared a cruel trick. Johnny dropped to his knees to greet it, his hands reaching out, burrowing in the coarse hide, stroking and scratching as the dog whined and licked and pawed him and butted him with its head.
“Ah, Wolf,” he said as he accepted the truth at last, that this one thing that he had loved had been spared in order to greet him. Then, as the big head snuggled into his lap, he wrapped his arms around the dog’s thick neck and buried his face against the animal’s side.
For the first time in eleven years, he wept. ~ Karen Robards,#NFDB
1039:The Connecticut River
March 2, 1704
Temperature 10 degrees
“Munnonock,” said Mercy’s Indian.
Eben did not know the word or any of the syllables in it.
Mercy frowned, trying to work it out. She shook her head at Tannhahorens.
He pointed at her. “Munnonock,” he said again. His voice lingered on the m’s and n’s humming like a bee, and then, hand on his chest, he repeated his name, “Tannhahorens,” and pointed at Mercy. “Munnonock.”
Mercy had been given an Indian name.
Even shivered. Names had power. It occurred to him that the real name of this eleven-year-old had a terrible power: Mercy. The Indians might show mercy to her and she, in turn, might show mercy to them.
Ruth said sharply, “Do not answer. You are English. Your name is Mercy Carter. Scorn him.”
“Ruth, that isn’t fair,” said Sarah. “Tannhahorens owns her. She has to do as he says. Mercy, ignore Ruth.”
Mercy had not even heard Ruth. She heard only the syllables meant to drag her, or tempt her, into another language and another life.
Munnonock. ~ Caroline B Cooney,#NFDB
1040:We ride too high on deceptive notions of power and security and control and then when it all comes crashing down on us the low is made deeper by the high. By its precipitousness, but also by the humiliation you feel for having failed to see the plummet coming. . . . Lulled by years of relative peace and prosperity we settle into micromanaging our lives with our fancy technologies and custom interest rates and eleven different kinds of milk, and this leads to a certain inwardness, an unchecked narrowing of perspective, the vague expectation that even if we don't earn them and nurture them the truly essential amenities will endure forever as they are. We trust that someone else is looking after the civil liberties shop, so we don't have to. Our military might is unmatched and in any case the madness is at least an ocean away. And then all of a sudden we look up from ordering paper towels online to find ourselves delivered right into the madness. And we wonder: How did this happen? What was I doing when this was in the works? Is it too late to think about it now? . . . ~ Lisa Halliday, #NFDB
1041:Passengers drank and smoked. Both; a lot. This was a significant source of profit for Cunard. The company laid in a supply of 150 cases of Black & White Whiskey, 50 cases of Canadian Club Whiskey, and 50 of Plymouth Gin; also, 15 cases each of an eleven-year-old French red wine, a Chambertin, and an eleven-year-old French white, a Chablis, and twelve barrels of stout and ten of ale. Cunard stockpiled thirty thousand “Three Castles” cigarettes and ten thousand Manila cigars. The ship also sold cigars from Havana and American cigarettes made by Phillip Morris. For the many passengers who brought pipes, Cunard acquired 560 pounds of loose Capstan tobacco—“navy cut”—and 200 pounds of Lord Nelson Flake, both in 4-ounce tins. Passengers also brought their own. Michael Byrne, a retired New York merchant and former deputy sheriff traveling in first class, apparently planned to spend a good deal of the voyage smoking. He packed 11 pounds of Old Rover Tobacco and three hundred cigars. During the voyage, the scent of combusted tobacco was ever present, especially after dinner. ~ Erik Larson, #NFDB
1042:Remember your Creator in the days of your youth, before the days of trouble come and the years approach when you will say, “I find no pleasure in them.” ECCLESIASTES 12:1 NOVEMBER 9 I was once interviewed by reporters from a hometown of mine—Findlay, Ohio. They asked me the usual questions. Finally, one of them asked, “Dr. Peale, have you any advice for young people about how to work for a good future for themselves, and, beyond that, how they can help make the world a better place for people everywhere?” With that question in mind, I would suggest that the essential first step would be to let God release a fuller measure of our potential. Everyone has potential. God put it in you. That is a tremendous word: potential. Eleven men once got their potential freed and began to use it, and they turned the whole world upside down with their message of Christ. They were so dynamic that wherever they went, they turned things upside down, bringing new life, new understanding, and new joy. Did anyone ever say that about you? How to release our potential—this is the challenge. ~ Norman Vincent Peale, #NFDB
1043:HAPPENING APART FROM WHAT’S HAPPENING AROUND IT There is a vividness to eleven years of love because it is over. A clarity of Greece now because I live in Manhattan or New England. If what is happening is part of what’s going on around what’s occurring, it is impossible to know what is truly happening. If love is part of the passion, part of the fine food or the villa on the Mediterranean, it is not clear what the love is. When I was walking in the mountains with the Japanese man and began to hear the water, he said, “What is the sound of the waterfall?” “Silence,” he finally told me. The stillness I did not notice until the sound of water falling made apparent the silence I had been hearing long before. I ask myself what is the sound of women? What is the word for that still thing I have hunted inside them for so long? Deep inside the avalanche of joy, the thing deeper in the dark, and deeper still in the bed where we are lost. Deeper, deeper down where a woman’s heart is holding its breath, where something very far away in that body is becoming something we don’t have a name for. ~ Jack Gilbert, #NFDB
1044:But when he had served the god faithfully for eleven days, it sometimes happened that other powers gained the ascendancy over him, and he would be seized with a violent craving for the coarse enjoyment of gross pleasures. Then he would plunge into dissipations, feverish with that human thirst for self-destruction which yearns, when the blood burns as hotly as blood can burn, for degradation, perverseness, filth, and smut, with precisely the measure of strength possessed by another equally human longing, the longing to keep one's self greater than one's self and purer.
In these moments there was but little that was rough and coarse enough for him, and when they had passed, it was long before he could regain his balance; for in truth these excesses were not natural to him; he was too healthy for them, too little poisoned by brooding. In a sense, they came as a rebound from his devotion to the higher spirits of his art, almost like a revenge, as though his nature had been violated by the pursuit of those idealistic aims which choice, aided by circumstances, had made his own. ~ Jens Peter Jacobsen,#NFDB
1045:To The Art Of Edgar Degas
Beachcomber on the shores of tears
Limning the gestures of defeat
In dancers, whores, and opera-stars –
The lonely, lighted various street
You sauntered through, oblique, perverse,
In your home territory a spy,
Accosted you and with a curse
You froze it with your Gorgon’s eye.
With what tense patience you refine
The everyness of everyday
And with free colour and a line
Make my mysteries of flaccid clay!
By what strange enterprise you live!
Edgy, insatiably alone,
You choose your tenderness to give
To showgirls whom you turn to stone –
But stone that moves, tired stone that leans
To ease involuntarily the toe
Of ballet-girls like watering-cans
(Those arguers at the bar) as though
In their brief pause you found relief
From posed dilemmas of the mindYour grudging aristocratic grief,
The wildcat cares of going blind.
Well, walk your evening streets and look
Each last eleven at the show:
The darkening pleasures you forsook
Look back like burning windows now.
~ David Campbell,#NFDB
1046:I like looking at your body,” she said.
“Thank you. I like looking at you, period,” I responded. She removed her shirt. She asked for help with her bra. We embraced. Our skins touched. I felt her heart beat against my chest. I felt my heart beating. Our heartbeats became one. One heartbeat. We became one. Time passed. I looked at my watch. 10:10. I stood. She remained on the bed, defining beauty.
“It’s getting close to eleven, baby. You should probably get up,” I said, looking for my shirt. I ran my hands through my hair.
“Stand right there,” she said. “Don’t move.” I stood. She reached to the side of the bed, and got her phone from her purse. She held it at arm’s length. “Don’t move,” she said.
“I heard you,” I responded. I stood. She took three photos. “I wish I could paint a picture of you,” I said.
“Do you paint?” she asked.
“No,” I responded, “But I wish I could. I would paint a picture of you right now, lying there without your shirt. I could stand here, Britney, and admire you for all of what is forever. You make me want to cry. But. That part of me is broken. ~ Scott Hildreth,#NFDB
1047:faster but the picture remained entirely static. The stillness of a deserted office descended and held steady as time rushed by. “When do the cleaners come in?” Reacher asked. “Just before midnight,” Froelich said. “That late?” “They’re night workers. This is a round-the-clock operation.” “And there’s nothing else visible before then?” “Nothing at all.” “So spool ahead. We get the picture.” Froelich operated the buttons and shuttled between fast-forward with snow on the screen and regular-speed playback with a picture to check the timecode. At eleven-fifty P.M. she let the tape run. The counter clicked ahead, a second at a time. At eleven fifty-two there was motion at the far end of the corridor. A team of three people emerged from the gloom. There were two women and a man, all of them wearing dark overalls. They looked Hispanic. They were all short and compact, dark-haired, stoic. The man was pushing a cart. It had a black garbage bag locked into a hoop at the front, and trays stacked with cloths and spray bottles on shelves at the rear. One of the women was carrying a vacuum cleaner. It rode on ~ Lee Child, #NFDB
1048:After a lineup of stellar secondi- braised tripe, fried lamb chops, veal braciola simmered in tomato sauce- Andrea and I wander into the kitchen to talk with Leonardo Vignoli, the man behind the near-perfect meal. Cesare al Casaletto had been a neighborhood anchor since the 1950's, but when Leonardo and his wife, Maria Pia Cicconi, bought it in 2009, they began implementing small changes to modernize the food. Eleven years working in Michelin-starred restaurants in France gave Leonardo a perspective and a set of skills to bring back to Rome. "I wanted to bring my technical base to the flavors and aromas I grew up on." From the look of the menu, Cesare could be any other trattoria in Rome; it's not until you twirl that otherworldly cacio e pepe (which Leonardo makes using ice in the pan to form a thicker, more stable emulsion) and attack his antipasti- polpette di bollito, crunchy croquettes made from luscious strands of long-simmered veal; a paper cone filled with fried squid, sweet and supple, light and greaseless- that you understand what makes this place special. ~ Matt Goulding, #NFDB
1049:ITEM. Eleven women from the Miss Black America Pageant all claimed Mike Tyson touched them on their rears. So the founder of the pageant filed a $607 million lawsuit against Mike Tyson. Several of the contestants eventually admitted they had lied in the hope of getting publicity and cashing in on the award money.49 Think about it. If each woman had the potential for being awarded $20 to $30 million, aren’t we really bribing women to make false accusations? And the Miss Black America Pageant itself got more publicity than it had received in its history. The lawsuit made tabloid headlines; the dropping of the lawsuit was buried in the back pages. When we fail to give as much attention to an accusation being false as to the original accusation, the accused is left with an image problem. When this image problem was added to Tyson’s already tarnished image, Tyson was doubtless more likely to be found guilty when one of the Miss Black America contestants (Desiree Washington) accused him of date rape than he would have if tabloid headlines had recently been saying “Black Beauties Bribed by Big Bucks. ~ Warren Farrell, #NFDB
1050:Throughout the decades after Independence, the political culture of the country reflected these ‘secular’ assumptions and attitudes. Though the Indian population was 80 per cent Hindu and the country had been partitioned as a result of a demand for a separate Muslim homeland, three of India’s eleven presidents were Muslims; so were innumerable governors, cabinet ministers, chief ministers of states, ambassadors, generals, and Supreme Court justices. During the war with Pakistan in 1971, when the Pakistani leadership was foolish enough to proclaim a jihad against the Hindu unbelievers, the Indian Air Force in the northern sector was commanded by a Muslim (Air Marshal, later Air Chief Marshal, I. H. Latif); the army commander was a Parsi (General, later Field Marshal, S. H. F. J. Manekshaw), the general officer commanding the forces that marched into Bangladesh was a Sikh (General J. S. Aurora), and the general flown in to negotiate the surrender of the Pakistani forces in East Bengal was Jewish (Major-General J. F. R. Jacob). They led the armed forces of an overwhelmingly Hindu country. That is India. ~ Shashi Tharoor, #NFDB
1051:To The Times. Steeple Aston 19 April 1974 Sir, I hear on my radio Mr Reg Prentice, of the party which I support, saying to a gathering on education the following: ‘The eleven plus must go, so must selection at twelve plus, at sixteen plus, and any other age.’ What can this mean? How are universities to continue? Are we to have engineers without selection of those who understand mathematics, linguists without selection of those who understand grammar? To many teachers such declarations of policy must seem obscure and astonishing, and to imply the adoption of some quite new philosophy of education which has not, so far as I know, been in this context discussed. It is certainly odd that the Labour Party should wish to promote a process of natural unplanned sorting which will favour the children of rich and educated people, leaving other children at a disadvantage. I thought socialism was concerned with the removal of unfair disadvantages. Surely what we need is a careful reconsideration of how to select, not the radical and dangerous abandonment of the principle of selection. Yours faithfully, Iris Murdoch ~ Iris Murdoch, #NFDB
1052:Yes,” Kami snapped. “Yes, I matter to him. He wants to keep me to himself, he asked me to go out with him when we’d barely met, and he doesn’t want to touch me.”
Holly blinked. “What?”
“Him being real and me being real,” Kami said. “It’s been hard for us to get used to. Him having a body, it’s been like being thirteen, when you can’t get over how strange guys are, and you can’t look at them when you sit next to them, and when your hands brush you almost have a heart attack.”
“I remember that.” Holly nodded. “Except I was eleven.”
Kami and Angela both looked at her with raised eyebrows. Holly shrugged.
“It’s been like when Holly was eleven, then,” Kami said. “Except worse. Neither of us has known how to handle it, but I’ve wanted to. And he hasn’t. I don’t know what to do about someone who only wants me for my mind.”
Holly slid down the wall to sit on the floor. “I can honestly say it has never happened to me.”
“Yeah,” said Angela. “Guys, always trying to kiss me. I have to beat them off with a stick. Seriously, I keep the stick behind the door at home. ~ Sarah Rees Brennan,#NFDB
1053:From eight-thirty in the morning until eleven he dealt with a case of petty larceny; there were six witnesses to examine, and he didn’t believe a word that any of them said. In European cases there are words one believes and words one distrusts: it is possible to draw a speculative line between the truth and the lies; at least the cui bono principle to some extent operates, and it is usually safe to assume, if the accusation is theft and there is no question of insurance, that something has at least been stolen. But here one could make no such assumption; one could draw no lines. He had known police officers who nerves broke down in the effort to separate a single grain of incontestable truth; they ended, some of them, by striking a witness, they were pilloried in the local Creole papers and were invalided home or transferred. It woke in some men a virulent hatred of a black skin, but Scobie had long ago, during his fifteen years, passed through the dangerous stages; now lost in the tangle of lies he felt an extraordinary affection for these people who paralysed an alien form of justice by so simple a method. ~ Graham Greene, #NFDB
1054:Five years later, Albert Sabin published the results of an alternative polio vaccine he had used in an immunization campaign in Toluca, Mexico, a city of a hundred thousand people, where a polio outbreak was in progress. His was an oral vaccine, easier to administer than Salk’s injected one. It was also a live vaccine, containing weakened but intact poliovirus, and so it could produce not only immunity but also a mild contagious infection that would spread the immunity to others. In just four days, Sabin’s team managed to vaccinate more than 80 percent of the children under the age of eleven—26,000 children in all. It was a blitzkrieg assault. Within weeks, polio had disappeared from the city. This approach, Sabin argued, could be used to eliminate polio from entire countries, even the world. The only leader in the West who took him up on the idea was Fidel Castro. In 1962, Castro’s Committee for the Defense of the Revolution organized 82,366 local committees to carry out a succession of weeklong house-to-house national immunization campaigns using the Sabin vaccine. In 1963, only one case of polio occurred in Cuba. ~ Atul Gawande, #NFDB
1055:These words on the screen represented her latest project, an attempt at a series of commercial, discreetly feminist crime novels. She had read all of Agatha Christie at eleven years old, and later lots of Chandler and James M.Cain. There seemed no reason why she shouldn't try writing something in between, but she was discovering once again that reading and writing were not the same-you couldn't just soak it up then squeeze it out again. She found herself unable to think of a name for her detective, let alone a cohesive original plot, and even her pseudonym was poor: Emma T. Wilde? She wondered if she was doomed to be one of those people who spend their lives trying things. She had tried being in a band, writing plays and children's books, she had tried acting and getting a job in publishing. Perhaps crime fiction was just another failed project to place alongside trapeze, Buddhism and Spanish. She used the computer's word counter feature. Thirty-five words, including the title page and her rotten pseudonym. Emma groaned, released the hydraulic lever on the side of her office chair and sank a little closer to the carpet. ~ David Nicholls, #NFDB
1056:Imagine Melitene, land of plenty, under snow and ice and high blue skies; imagine it in spring, with the meltwater running off the mountains and the herds going up to the high pastures to graze and their milk scented with mint and citrus; imagine it in high summer, limpid in the day’s heat, with the hawks circling high above and the mares full fat with foal, swatting flies with their tails.
Imagine that a man enters this idyll who does not know that he has come to paradise, who brings with him such ill luck as to make the statue of Fortune fall on her face at his passing and set the crows circling in murderous groups, eleven at a time, number of ill augur.
Imagine such a man causing the minted milk to sour, and the men to sour with it, even before he gives the word to prosecute an unwinnable war, against the orders of his betters; or at least against Corbulo’s explicit command.
Such a man was our new general and while you will have heard of the statue that fell on its face and the other ill omens – they became common enough currency in Rome soon after – you may not know that he disobeyed orders when he began his war. ~ M C Scott,#NFDB
1057:—Lo siento —dije. Alex abrió la boca para hablar y yo negué con la cabeza para detenerlo—. Alex, sólo escúchame. Necesito que entiendas. Cuando pensé que mi madre estaba muerta… su funeral… y los días posteriores, sólo conseguí lograrlo gracias a ti, porque estuviste justo a mi lado cuidándome. Y cuando mi padre me llevó a Londres, lo único que conseguía sacarme de la cama en la mañana, y a través de cada día en esa maldita escuela, era el pensamiento de que un día llegaría a verte de nuevo. Sólo saber que estabas por ahí, era suficiente. Así que, incluso antes de esto, incluso antes de que realmente comenzaras a rescatarme de los hombres malos con armas grandes, te necesitaba. He sido impulsiva y loca y aprovechado oportunidades toda mi vida porque siempre he sabido que estarías allí cuando las cosas fueran mal. Lo que pasa. Mucho.¿Recuerdas el lago? ¿El incidente del trineo? ¿El árbol en el patio trasero? Y ni siquiera hemos llegado a casi ser capturada por La Unidad en un Seven Eleven o recibir un disparo en Joshua Tree. Y en cada uno de esos momentos me has rescatado. Cada vez has estado allí. Eres como mi red de seguridad. ~ Sarah Alderson, #NFDB
1058:In the past few decades quite a few people have suggested -- citing most often the offence of impossible proportions -- that Barbie dolls teach young girls to hate themselves. But the opposite may be true. British researchers recently found that girls between the ages of seven and eleven harbor surprisingly strong feelings of dislike for their Barbie dolls, with no other toy or brand name inspiring such a negative response from the children. The dolls "provoked rejection, hatred, and violence" and many girls preferred Barbie torture -- by cutting, burning, decapitating, or microwaving -- over other ways of playing with the doll. Reasons that the girls hated their Barbies included, somewhat poetically, the fact that they were 'plastic.' The researchers also noted that the girls never spoke of one single, special Barbie, but tended to talk about having a box full of anonymous Barbies. 'On a deeper level Barbie has become inanimate,' one of the researchers remarked. 'She has lost any individual warmth that she might have possessed if she were perceived as a singular person. This may go some way towards explaining the violence and torture. ~ Eula Biss, #NFDB
1059:The most notorious story is the Trovan antibiotic study conducted by Pfizer in Kano, Nigeria, during a meningitis epidemic. An experimental new antibiotic was compared, in a randomised trial, with a low dose of a competing antibiotic that was known to be effective. Eleven children died, roughly the same number from each group. Crucially, the participants were apparently not informed about the experimental nature of the treatments, and moreover, they were not informed that a treatment known to be effective was available, immediately, from Médecins sans Frontières next door at the very same facility. Pfizer argued in court – successfully – that there was no international norm requiring it to get informed consent for a trial involving experimental drugs in Africa, so the cases relating to the trial should be heard in Nigeria only. That’s a chilling thing to hear a company claim about experimental drug trials, and it was knocked back in 2006 when the Nigerian Ministry of Health released its report on the trial. This stated that Pfizer had violated Nigerian law, the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child and the Declaration of Helsinki. ~ Ben Goldacre, #NFDB
1060:The only people who ever called me were my dad, my brother, assorted Vaders to tell me to come early or late to work (including Sean, but he always sounded grumpy that he had to call me, so it wasn’t as big a thrill as you’d think), Tammy to tell me to come early or late to tennis practice, and Frances. I glanced at the caller ID screen and clicked the phone on. “What’s up, Fanny?”
From the time Mom died until I was eleven, Frances the au pair had hung out in the background of my life. Once Sean overheard someone calling her Fanny, whch apparently is a nickname for Frances. We found this shocking. I mean, who has a nickname that’s a synonym for derriere? Who’s named Frances in the first place? So the boys started calling her Fanny the Nanny. Then, Booty the Babysitter. Then, Butt I Don’t Need a Governess. This had everything to do with the nickname Fanny and the fact that she tried not to get upset at being addressed in this undignified manner when she was trying to raise compassionate, responsible children. It had nothing to do with her having an outsized rumpus. Frances had a cute figure, if you could see it under all that hippie-wear. ~ Jennifer Echols,#NFDB
1061:Is this okay with you, Jenna? For him to stay here?"
"Yeah," I said. "It's good. You have no idea what it takes for him to ask for help."
I spent all evening in Alan's office, reading at his desk and keeping Cameron company. Mostly he slept, snoring lightly and once in a while murmuring unintelligible something into his pillow. I turned my chair so that I could look at him whenever I wanted, at his face or at the bare foot that stuck out from under the covers, or at his arm dangling off the side of the sofa bed.
Around eleven, when I was ready for bed, Cameron woke up. I brought him broth and crackers. "Hi," I said.
"Have you been here all this time?"
"Most of it."
Alan's beige pajamas looked small and uncomfortable on Cameron. "You don't have to," he said. "I can take care of myself." He reached for the broth. I watched him slurp straight from his bowl, everything about him becoming younger and more boyish by the second-rosy lips on the white rim of the bowl, wrists without enough pajama sleeve to cover them, cowlick hair and sleepy eyes.
"I know you can. But you don't have to."
"Well..." He finally looked at me. "Thanks. ~ Sara Zarr,#NFDB
1062:The Raspberries In My Driveway
Nature will bear the closest inspection . She invites us to lay our eyes level with
her smallest leaf, and take an insect view of its plain.
-Thoreau
The raspberries
in my driveway
have always
been here
(for the whole eleven years
I have owned
but have not owned
this house),
yet
I have never
tasted them
before.
Always on a plane.
Always in the arms
of man, not God,
always too busy,
too fretful,
too worried
to see
that all along
my driveway
are red, red raspberries
for me to taste.
Shiny and red,
without hairsunlike the berries
from the market.
Little jewelsI share them
with the birds!
On one perches
a tiny green insect.
227
I blow her off.
She flies!
I burst the raspberry
upon my tongue.
In my solitude
I commune
with raspberries,
with grasses,
with the world.
The world was always
there before,
but where
was I?
Ah raspberryif you are so beautiful
upon my ready tongue,
imagine
what wonders
lie in store for me!
~ Erica Jong,#NFDB
1063:It is difficult to know how anyone, even the most bitter anti-Catholic, could truly have believed any of this! By itself, the biography of Moses Maimonides (1135–1204) makes a travesty of all these claims. In 1148, the Maimonides family pretended to convert to Islam when the Jews of Córdoba were told to become Muslims or leave, upon pain of death. Note that when most historians mention that in 1492 Ferdinand and Isabella ordered the Jews of Spain to convert to Christianity or leave, they forget to mention that the Muslims had imposed the same demand in the twelfth century. Nor do they mention that many Jews who opted to leave Moorish Spain rather than pretend to convert settled in the Christian areas of northern Spain. In any event, after eleven years of posing as converts, the Maimonides family became so fearful of discovery that they fled to Morocco where they continued their deception. Thus, throughout his adult life, the most celebrated medieval Jewish thinker posed as a Muslim.64 His story clearly reveals that, as Richard Fletcher has put it so well, “Moorish Spain was not a tolerant and enlightened society even in its most cultivated epoch. ~ Rodney Stark, #NFDB
1064:None of them could afford to go back and think about that tragedy right now. Amy needed to believe in him. And he had to stay focused on this mom and this boy. He refused to consider the possibility that this was anything more than a missing child. Anything else took him down a road he couldn’t bring himself to travel. That didn’t mean that he didn’t understand the urgency of finding Josh before his mom freaked out completely or before the situation turned into something worse. Any location that attracted a lot of children also had the potential to draw those who preyed on them. With the security staff fanning out, he turned back to Amy. “Let me take the baby, okay? Then we can leave the stroller here with Trish,” he said lightly. The little sweetheart with her blond curls and pink bow in her hair immediately beamed at him in a way that made his heart ache. “Who’s this angel?” he asked, responding to that smile with one of his own. “Her name’s Emma,” Amy said. “She’s eleven months old. Are you sure you want to hold her? I can keep her.” “I don’t mind. I have a niece who’s not much older,” he told her. He gently patted the baby’s back till she settled ~ Sherryl Woods, #NFDB
1065:It took eleven weeks to organize the hunt for Osama bin Laden. When that hunt began in earnest, I was in eastern Afghanistan, in and around Jalalabad, where I had traveled on five trips over the years. An old acquaintance named Haji Abdul Qadir had just reclaimed his post as the provincial governor, two days after the fall of the Taliban. Haji Qadir was an exemplar of Afghan democracy. A well-educated and highly cultured Pathan tribal leader in his early sixties, a wealthy dealer in opium and weapons and other basic staples of the Afghan economy, he had been a CIA-supported commander in the fight against the Soviet occupation, the governor of his province from 1992 to 1996, and a close associate of the Taliban in their time. He personally welcomed Osama bin Laden to Afghanistan and helped him establish a compound outside Jalalabad. Now he welcomed the American occupation. Haji Qadir was a good host. We walked in the gardens of the governor’s palace, through swayback palms and feathery tamarisks. He was expecting a visit from his American friends any day now, and he was looking forward to the renewal of old ties and the ritual exchange of cash for information. ~ Tim Weiner, #NFDB
1066:Blue mountains to the north of the walls,
White river winding about them;
Here we must make separation
And go out through a thousand miles of dead grass.
Mind like a floating wide cloud,
Sunset like the parting of old acquaintances
Who bow over their clasped hands at a distance.
Our horses neigh to each other
as we are departing.
This poem is from CATHAY (London: Elkin Mathews, 1915), the volume of Chinese poems
The book's widely-applauded publication prompted T.S. Eliot to remark that Pound had "reinvented Chinese poetry for our time."
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ Li Bai, Taking Leave of a Friend by Li Po Tr. by Ezra Pound
,#NFDB
1067:My waiter friend, Laurent, working at the Brasserie Champs du Mars near the Eiffel Tower, one night while serving me Une Grande Beer, explained his life. “I work from ten to twelve hours, sometimes fourteen,” he says, “and then at midnight I go dancing, dancing, dancing until four or five in the morning and go to bed and sleep until ten and then up, up and to work by eleven and another ten or twelve or sometimes fifteen hours of work.” “How can you do that?” I ask. “Easily,” he says. “To be asleep is to be dead. It is like death. So we dance, we dance so as not to be dead. We do not want that.” “How old are you?” I ask, at last. “Twenty-three,” he says. “Ah,” I say and take his elbow gently. “Ah. Twenty-three, is it?” “Twenty-three,” he says, smiling. “And you?” “Seventy-six,” I say. “And I do not want to be dead, either. But I am not twenty-three. How can I answer? What do I do?” “Yes,” says Laurent, still smiling and innocent, “what do you do at three in the morning?” “Write,” I say, at last. “Write!” Laurent says, astonished. “Write?” “So as not to be dead,” I say. “Like you.” “Me?” “Yes,” I say, smiling now, myself. “At three in the morning, I write, I write, I write! ~ Ray Bradbury, #NFDB
1068:They say the roads of Sanso are steep,
Sheer as the mountains.
The walls rise in a man's face,
Clouds grow out of the hill
at his horse's bridle.
Sweet trees are on the paved way of the Shin,
Their trunks burst through the paving,
And freshets are bursting their ice
in the midst of Shoku, a proud city.
Men's fates are already set,
There is no need of asking diviners.
-
This poem is from CATHAY (London: Elkin Mathews, 1915), the volume of Chinese poems
The book's widely-applauded publication prompted T.S. Eliot to remark that Pound had "reinvented Chinese poetry for our time."
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ Li Bai, Leave-Taking Near Shoku
,#NFDB
1069:Yes, good point,” said Mrs. Weasley from the top of the table, where she sat, spectacles perched on the end of her nose, scanning an immense list of jobs that she had scribbled on a very long piece of parchment. “Now, Ron, have you cleaned out your room yet?” “Why?” exclaimed Ron, slamming his spoon down and glaring at his mother. “Why does my room have to be cleaned out? Harry and I are fine with it the way it is!” “We are holding your brother’s wedding here in a few days’ time, young man —” “And are they getting married in my bedroom?” asked Ron furiously. “No! So why in the name of Merlin’s saggy left —” “Don’t talk to your mother like that,” said Mr. Weasley firmly. “And do as you’re told.” Ron scowled at both his parents, then picked up his spoon and attacked the last few mouthfuls of his apple tart. “I can help, some of it’s my mess,” Harry told Ron, but Mrs. Weasley cut across him. “No, Harry, dear, I’d much rather you helped Arthur muck out the chickens, and Hermione, I’d be ever so grateful if you’d change the sheets for Monsieur and Madame Delacour; you know they’re arriving at eleven tomorrow morning.” But as it turned out, there was very little to do for the chickens. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
1070:Jobs and Wozniak had no personal assets, but Wayne (who worried about a global financial Armageddon) kept gold coins hidden in his mattress. Because they had structured Apple as a simple partnership rather than a corporation, the partners would be personally liable for the debts, and Wayne was afraid potential creditors would go after him. So he returned to the Santa Clara County office just eleven days later with a “statement of withdrawal” and an amendment to the partnership agreement. “By virtue of a re-assessment of understandings by and between all parties,” it began, “Wayne shall hereinafter cease to function in the status of ‘Partner.’” It noted that in payment for his 10% of the company, he received $800, and shortly afterward $1,500 more. Had he stayed on and kept his 10% stake, at the end of 2012 it would have been worth approximately $54 billion. Instead he was then living alone in a small home in Pahrump, Nevada, where he played the penny slot machines and lived off his social security check. He later claimed he had no regrets. “I made the best decision for me at the time. Both of them were real whirlwinds, and I knew my stomach and it wasn’t ready for such a ride. ~ Walter Isaacson, #NFDB
1071:agency, where she’d filled seemingly endless paperwork despite all the forms she’d already filled out online, and was now in proud possession of the keys to a Honda Civic. It was nine o’clock in the morning, and the sky outside was as gray as pewter, with mean little flakes of snow, not the fluffy, festive kind, drifting down on a muted grey landscape of concrete and leafless trees. Claire dumped her bag in the trunk—or the boot, she supposed, someone in England would call it. Claire had always loved her godmother Ruth’s English accent, and when she was a kid she’d quizzed Ruth on all the different British words. Pavement for sidewalk. Jumper for sweater. Rubber for eraser. The last one, of course, had caused eleven-year-old Claire to burst into muffled giggles of embarrassment and mirth. Ruth had just smiled, her eyes twinkling, sharing the admittedly immature joke. Slowly, very conscious she was driving on the other side of the road, Claire pulled onto the road, and then followed signs for the M62 and York. An hour and a half later, those mean little flakes of snow had turned thick and fluffy and white. They were beautiful, but her little car was not handling the snowy roads all that ~ Kate Hewitt, #NFDB
1072:I mean, seriously, dude,” he said, “I allow flexible hours, but this eleven thirty shit has to stop. It makes me look bad to my boss when he sees you rolling in so late.” “I’m sorry,” I said. I didn’t know how to explain that I had willfully and radically rearranged my priorities and, as a consequence, no longer gave a damn about work. Sure, I was willing to maintain my Business-Man persona, but only in ways that suited me as a family man. “I’ll try to work it out so I get in sooner.” “Don’t try, idiot. Do. Ten o’clock. That’s the latest I want you coming in.” “Ten o’clock . . .” I shook my head and let out a long, contemplative sigh. I did the math, working backward from ten o’clock: Leave the house by nine. Kids over to Mary’s at eight thirty, which gives me only thirty minutes to eat, shower, and get dressed. That won’t work. The alternative is waking up earlier, like around six. No fucking way. “I don’t know if that’s going to work.” He laughed. “Ten o’clock. Make it happen.” I knew I couldn’t give him a plausible explanation for my eleven thirty start time. No one in the chain of command above me at work would care about my Best Practices. So, in the end, I lied. “Ten o’clock it is. ~ David Finch, #NFDB
1073:10. What books would you recommend to an aspiring entrepreneur? Some quick favorites: The 22 Immutable Laws of Marketing: Violate Them at Your Own Risk! by Al Ries and Jack Trout The 48 Laws of Power by Robert Greene The 33 Strategies of War by Robert Greene Antifragile: Things That Gain from Disorder by Nassim Nicholas Taleb The Fish That Ate the Whale: The Life and Times of America’s Banana King by Rich Cohen Wikinomics: How Mass Collaboration Changes Everything by Don Tapscott and Anthony D. Williams Contagious: Why Things Catch On by Jonah Berger The Pirate’s Dilemma: How Youth Culture Is Reinventing Capitalism by Matt Mason Rules for Radicals: A Pragmatic Primer for Realistic Radicals by Saul D. Alinsky The New New Thing: A Silicon Valley Story by Michael Lewis Here Comes Everybody: The Power of Organizing Without Organizations by Clay Shirky Purple Cow: Transform Your Business by Being Remarkable by Seth Godin Eleven Rings: The Soul of Success by Phil Jackson and Hugh Delehanty Billion Dollar Lessons: What You Can Learn from the Most Inexcusable Business Failures of the Last 25 Years by Paul B. Carroll and Chunka Mui Gonzo Marketing: Winning Through Worst Practices by Christopher Locke ~ Ryan Holiday, #NFDB
1074:When the members of the Frontiers of Science discussed physics, they often used the abbreviation “SF.” They didn’t mean “science fiction,” but the two words “shooter” and “farmer.” This was a reference to two hypotheses, both involving the fundamental nature of the laws of the universe. In the shooter hypothesis, a good marksman shoots at a target, creating a hole every ten centimeters. Now suppose the surface of the target is inhabited by intelligent, two-dimensional creatures. Their scientists, after observing the universe, discover a great law: “There exists a hole in the universe every ten centimeters.” They have mistaken the result of the marksman’s momentary whim for an unalterable law of the universe. The farmer hypothesis, on the other hand, has the flavor of a horror story: Every morning on a turkey farm, the farmer comes to feed the turkeys. A scientist turkey, having observed this pattern to hold without change for almost a year, makes the following discovery: “Every morning at eleven, food arrives.” On the morning of Thanksgiving, the scientist announces this law to the other turkeys. But that morning at eleven, food doesn’t arrive; instead, the farmer comes and kills the entire flock. Wang ~ Liu Cixin, #NFDB
1075:What are you doing?" I ask.
She straightens with a surprised shriek. "Oh, Jessamin! It's just you. Well. This is embarrassing." She smiles guiltily. "I was eavesdropping on the parlor, actually."
"With ... a flower."
"My own spell. Don't tell anyone. It's crass to invent new ways to use magic, and everyone would look down on me. But you'll appreciate this! I gave my aunt a lovely potted plant that I recommended she place in the parlor. A very special potted plant, that allows me to pick a flower and use it as a conduit through which I can hear conversations. I did not gain my reputation as Avebury's most skilled gossip by chance."
"You have certainly elevated eavesdropping to new and complicated heights. Wouldn't it be simpler to just listen outside the door?"
She leans forward. "Here, on my forehead, feel."
Puzzled, I run my fingers over the spot she indicated. There's a small indentation. "What is that?"
"When I was eleven, I was listening to an argument between my father and uncle. My father stormed out, and the door hit me so hard it knocked me unconscious and left a permanent dent! So I became more creative in the interest of self-preservation."
"You are a wonder. ~ Kiersten White,#NFDB
1076:Hi, Lloyd, a little slow tonight isn't it?'
Lloyd said it was. Lloyd asked him what would it be.
'Now I'm really glad you asked me that, really glad. Because I happen to have two twenties and two tens in my wallet and I was afraid they'd be sitting right there until sometime next April. There isn't a 7-Eleven around here, would you believe it? And I thought they had 7-Elevens on the fucking moon.'
Lloyd sympathized.
'So here's what, you set me up an even twenty martinis...One for every month I've been on the wagon and one to grow on. You can do that, can't you? You aren't too busy?
Lloyd said he wasn't busy at all.
'Good man. You line those martinis up right along the bar and I'm going to take them down, one by one. White man's burden, Lloyd my man.'
Lloyd turned to do the job. Jack reached into his pocket for the money clip and came out with an Excedrin bottle instead.
'I seem to be momentarily light,' Jack said. 'How's my credit in this joint, anyhow?'
Lloyd said his credit was fine.
'That's super. I like you, Lloyd. You were always the best of them. Best damned barkeep between Barre and Portland, Maine. Portland, Oregon for that matter. ~ Stephen King,#NFDB
1077:I’ve something to ask you,” Poppy said. Harry waited patiently, his gaze resting on her face. “May we stay in Hampshire for a few days?” His eyes turned wary. “For what purpose?” She smiled slightly. “It’s called a holiday. Haven’t you ever gone on holiday before?” Harry shook his head. “I’m not sure what I would do.” “You read, walk, ride, spend a morning fishing or shooting, perhaps go calling on the neighbors . . . tour the local ruins, visit the shops in town . . .” Poppy paused as she saw the lack of enthusiasm on his face. “. . . Make love to your wife?” “Done,” he said promptly. “May we stay a fortnight?” “Ten days.” “Eleven?” she asked hopefully. Harry sighed. Eleven days away from the Rutledge. In close company with his in-laws. He was tempted to argue, but he wasn’t fool enough to risk the ground he’d gained with Poppy. He’d come here with the expectation of a royal battle to get her back to London. But if Poppy would take him willingly into her bed, and then accompany him back with no fuss, it was worth a concession on his part. Still . . . eleven days . . . “Why not?” he muttered. “I’ll probably go mad after three days.” “That’s all right,” Poppy said cheerfully. “No one around here would notice. ~ Lisa Kleypas, #NFDB
1078:The phoenix are at play on their terrace.
The phoenix are gone, the river flows on alone.
Flowers and grass
Cover over the dark path
where lay the dynastic house of the Go.
The bright cloths and bright caps of Shin
Are now the base of old hills.
The Three Mountains fall through the far heaven,
The isle of White Heron
splits the two streams apart.
Now the high clouds cover the sun
And I can not see Choan afar
And I am sad.
This poem is from CATHAY (London: Elkin Mathews, 1915), the volume of Chinese poems
The book's widely-applauded publication prompted T.S. Eliot to remark that Pound had "reinvented Chinese poetry for our time."
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ Li Bai, The City of Choan
,#NFDB
1079:He regarded his briefcase. It was full of student papers—114 essays entitled “What I Wish.” He had been putting off reading them for over a week. He opened the briefcase, then paused, reluctant to look inside. How many student papers had he read in these twelve years? How many strokes of his red pen had he made? How many times had he underlined it’s and written its. Was there ever a student who didn’t make a mischievous younger brother the subject of an essay? Was there ever a student who didn’t make four syllables out of “mischievous”? This was the twelfth in a series of senior classes that Miles was trying to raise to an acceptable level of English usage, and like the previous eleven, this class would graduate in the spring to make room for another class in the fall, and he would read the same errors over again. This annual renewal of ignorance, together with the sad fact that most of his students had been drilled in what he taught since they were in the fifth grade, left him with a vague sense of futility that made it hard for him to read student writing. But while he had lost his urge to read student papers, he had not lost his guilt about not reading them, so he carried around with him, like a conscience... ~ Jon Hassler, #NFDB
1080:Olaudah Equiano, born sometime around 1745 in a rural community somewhere within the confines of the Kingdom of Benin. Kidnapped from his home at the age of eleven, Equiano was eventually sold to British slavers operating in the Bight of Biafra, from whence he was conveyed first to Barbados, then to a plantation in colonial Virginia. Equiano’s further adventures—and there were many—are narrated in his autobiography, The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano: or, Gustavus Vassa, the African, published in 1789. After spending much of the Seven Years’ War hauling gunpowder on a British frigate, he was promised his freedom, denied his freedom, sold to several owners—who regularly lied to him, promising his freedom, and then broke their word—until he passed into the hands of a Quaker merchant in Pennsylvania, who eventually allowed him to purchase his liberty. Over the course of his later years he was to become a successful merchant in his own right, a best-selling author, an Arctic explorer, and eventually, one of the leading voices of English Abolitionism. His eloquence and the power of his life story played significant parts in the movement that led to the British abolition of the slave trade in 1807. ~ David Graeber, #NFDB
1081:I’m so sorry to break up this cozy little gathering,” she said, her voice trembling. “I’m sure you all need your rest…but there are wedding presents stacked in my room that need sorting out and I was under the impression that you had agreed to help.”
“Oh yes,” said Hermione, looking terrified as she leapt to her feet, sending books flying in every direction, “we will…we’re sorry…”
With an anguished look at Harry and Ron, Hermione hurried out of the room after Mrs. Weasley.
“It’s like being a house-elf,” complained Ron in an undertone, still massaging his head as he and Harry followed. “Except without the job satisfaction. The sooner this wedding’s over, the happier I’ll be.”
“Yeah,” said Harry, “then we’ll have nothing to do except find Horcruxes…It’ll be like a holiday, won’t it?”
Ron started to laugh, but at the sight of the enormous pile of wedding presents waiting for them in Mrs. Weasley’s room, stopped quite abruptly.
The Delacours arrived the following morning at eleven o’clock. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were feeling quite resentful toward Fleur’s family by this time, and it was with ill grace that Ron stumped back upstairs to put on matching socks, and Harry attempted to flatten his hair. ~ J K Rowling,#NFDB
1082:They" hate us because they feel--and "they" are not wrong--that it is within our power to do so much more, and that we practice a kind of passive-aggressive violence on the Third World. We do this by, for example, demonizing tobacco as poison here while promoting cigarettes in Asia; inflating produce prices by paying farmers not to grow food as millions go hungry worldwide; skimping on quality and then imposing tariffs on foreign products made better or cheaper than our own; padding corporate profits through Third World sweatshops; letting drug companies stand by as millions die of AIDS in Africa to keep prices up on lifesaving drugs; and on and on.
We do, upon reaching a very high comfort level, mostly choose to go from ten to eleven instead of helping another guy far away go from zero to one.
We even do it in our own country. Barbara Ehrenreich's brilliant book Nickel and Dimed describes the impossibility of living with dignity or comfort as one of the millions of minimum-wage workers in fast food, aisle-stocking and table-waiting jobs. Their labor for next to nothing ensures that well-off people can be a little more pampered.
So if we do it to our own, what chance do foreigners have? ~ Bill Maher,#NFDB
1083:The Child Bearers
Jean, death comes close to us all,
flapping its awful wings at us
and the gluey wings crawl up our nose.
Our children tremble in their teen-age cribs,
whirling off on a thumb or a motorcycle,
mine pushed into gnawing a stilbestrol cancer
I passed on like hemophilia,
or yours in the seventh grade, with her spleen
smacked in by the balance beam.
And we, mothers, crumpled, and flyspotted
with bringing them this far
can do nothing now but pray.
Let us put your three children
and my two children,
ages ranging from eleven to twenty-one,
and send them in a large air net up to God,
with many stamps, real air mail,
and huge signs attached:
SPECIAL HANDLING.
DO NOT STAPLE, FOLD OR MUTILATE!
And perhaps He will notice
and pass a psalm over them
for keeping safe for a whole,
for a whole God-damned life-span.
And not even a muddled angel will
peek down at us in our foxhole.
And He will not have time
to send down an eyedropper of prayer for us,
the mothering thing of us,
as we drip into the soup
and drown
in the worry festering inside us,
lest our children
go so fast
they go.
220
~ Anne Sexton,#NFDB
1084:Making dinner for Wayne is either the easiest thing or the hardest thing on the planet, depending on how you look at it. After all, Wayne's famous Eleven are neither difficult to procure nor annoying to prepare.
They are just.
So.
Boring.
Roasted chicken
Plain hamburgers
Steak cooked medium
Pork chops
Eggs scrambled dry
Potatoes, preferably fries, chips, baked, or mashed, and not with anything fancy mixed in
Chili, preferably Hormel canned
Green beans
Carrots
Corn
Iceberg lettuce with ranch dressing
That's it. The sum total of what Wayne will put into his maw. He doesn't even eat fricking PIZZA for chrissakes. Not including condiments, limited to ketchup and yellow mustard and Miracle Whip, and any and all forms of baked goods... when it comes to breads and pastries and desserts he has the palate of a gourmand, no loaf goes untouched, no sweet unexplored. It saves him, only slightly, from being a complete food wasteland. And he has no idea that it is strange to everyone that he will eat apple pie and apple cake and apple charlotte and apple brown Betty and apple dumplings and fritters and muffins and doughnuts and crisp and crumble and buckle, but will not eat AN APPLE. ~ Stacey Ballis,#NFDB
1085:Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering. When they were ten he asked her to marry him. When they were eleven he kissed her for the first time. When they were thirteen they got into a fight and for three weeks they didn’t talk. When they were fifteen she showed him the scar on her left breast. Their love was a secret they told no one. He promised her he would never love another girl as long as he lived. What if I die? she asked. Even then, he said. For her sixteenth birthday he gave her an English dictionary and together they learned the words. What’s this? he’d ask, tracing his index finger around her ankle, and she’d look it up. And this? he’d ask, kissing her elbow. Elbow! What kind of word is that? and then he’d lick it, making her giggle. What about this? he asked, touching the soft skin behind her ear. I don’t know, she said, turning off the flashlight and rolling over, with a sigh, onto her back. When they were seventeen they made love for the first time, on a bed of straw in a shed. Later—when things happened that they could never have imagined—she wrote him a letter that said: When will you learn that there isn’t a word for everything? Once ~ Nicole Krauss, #NFDB
1086:You do know that Cranford is getting more and more difficult, don’t you?” Robert shook his head as he crossed over to where Cassidy was seated by the fire.
“Told you to shove off?”
“No. Just that you were not here.”
Cassidy laughed. “The man must like you. Sees most of my friends as ne’er-do-wells and slams the door in their faces.”
“After telling them to shove off?”
“Exactly.” Pointing to the seat opposite, Cassidy yawned. “So why, pray tell, did I have to rise so early?”
“It’s almost eleven.”
“Yes, but in order to be ready, I had to be up by the ungodly hour of nine.”
“Unforgivable.”
“I think so.”
“Well, I have a favor to ask of you.”
“You got me up early to ask a favor. I know I owe you—but, really, I would have been in a much more receptive mood had you waited until … say seven this evening.”
“Perhaps, but this favor involves intrigue, betrayal, feminine wiles, and a healthy dose of acting the man-about-town.”
“I am a man-about-town; acting would not be required there.”
“Good to know.… And so, the favor.”
“You have my interest. Tell me more.”
Robert smiled and shifted forward on his seat.
Cassidy did the same.
“Let me give you a little background first.”
Cassidy smiled. “As you wish. ~ Cindy Anstey,#NFDB
1087:Alexander Hamilton Junior High School
-- SEMESTER REPORT --
STUDENT: Joseph Margolis
TEACHER: Janet Hicks
ENGLISH: A, ARITHMETIC: A, SOCIAL STUDIES: A, SCIENCE: A, NEATNESS: A, PUNCTUALITY: A, PARTICIPATION: A, OBEDIENCE: D
Teacher's Comments:
Joseph remains a challenging student. While I appreciate his creativity, I am sure you will agree that a classroom is an inappropriate forum for a reckless imagination. There is not a shred of evidence to support his claim that Dolley Madison was a Lesbian, and even fewer grounds to explain why he even knows what the word means. Similarly, an analysis of the Constitutional Convention does not generate sufficient cause to initiate a two-hour classroom debate on what types of automobiles the Founding Fathers would have driven were they alive today. When asked on a subsequent examination, "What did Benjamin Franklin use to discover electricity?" eleven children responded "A Packard convertible". I trust you see my problem.
[...]
Janet Hicks
Parent's Comments:
As usual I am very proud of Joey's grades. I too was unaware that Dolley Madison was a Lesbian. I assumed they were all Protestants.
Thank you for writing.
Ida Margolis ~ Steve Kluger,#NFDB
1088:JOURNALIST— (3) TERRIFIED TO DISAPPOINT MISS HABER AND HER
READERS, WE WILL TRY TO ACCOMMODATE HER
“FASCINATING RUMORS, SO FAR UNCHECKED” BY
BUSTING UP OUR MARRIAGE EVEN THOUGH WE STILL
LIKE EACH OTHER. JOANNE & PAUL NEWMAN This was a stunner, and it got folks talking. The Newmans’ marriage, then eleven years along, was considered stable: all those kids, the famed Connecticut home, the films they’d worked on together, the collaborative success of Rachel, Rachel. It didn’t seem right. Gossipy movie fan magazines had often tried to goose a few sales out of articles speculating that the Newmans were at odds with each other (“Shout by Shout: Paul Newman’s Bitter Fights with His Wife”; “Strange Rumors About Hollywood’s ‘Happiest Marriage’”) or that forty-three-year-old Newman was feeling randy and seeking consolations outside the home (“Paul Newman’s Just at That Age”; “Is Paul Newman’s Joanne Too Possessive?”). Invariably, they all stopped short of actually announcing real trouble or accusing Newman of adultery. The Newmans were supposed to be examples. But this strange advertisement didn’t so much squelch rumors as give people reason to wonder about them. They didn’t have to wait long for a fuller story. Later that year a gossip magazine ~ Shawn Levy,#NFDB
1089:We have all seen children of this sort, terribly shy, standing alone at the fringes of the games and groupings of their peers. O’Connor worried that a long-term pattern of isolation was forming, even at an early age, that would create persistent difficulties in social comfort and adjustment through adulthood. In an attempt to reverse the pattern, O’Connor made a film containing eleven different scenes in a nursery-school setting. Each scene began by showing a different solitary child watching some ongoing social activity and then actively joining the activity, to everyone’s enjoyment. O’Connor selected a group of the most severely withdrawn children from four preschools and showed them his film. The impact was impressive. The isolates immediately began to interact with their peers at a level equal to that of the normal children in the schools. Even more astonishing was what O’Connor found when he returned to observe six weeks later. While the withdrawn children who had not seen O’Connor’s film remained as isolated as ever, those who had viewed it were now leading their schools in amount of social activity. It seems that this twenty-three-minute movie, viewed just once, was enough to reverse a potential pattern of lifelong maladaptive behavior. ~ Robert B Cialdini, #NFDB
1090:Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain, as in revenge, have sucked up from the sea contagious fogs.…” Pestilential, a note in the text explains, next to the word contagious, in Kirsten’s favorite of the three versions of the text that the Symphony carries. Shakespeare was the third born to his parents, but the first to survive infancy. Four of his siblings died young. His son, Hamnet, died at eleven and left behind a twin. Plague closed the theaters again and again, death flickering over the landscape. And now in a twilight once more lit by candles, the age of electricity having come and gone, Titania turns to face her fairy king. “Therefore the moon, the governess of floods, pale in her anger, washes all the air, that rheumatic diseases do abound.” Oberon watches her with his entourage of fairies. Titania speaks as if to herself now, Oberon forgotten. Her voice carries high and clear over the silent audience, over the string section waiting for their cue on stage left. “And through this distemperature, we see the seasons alter.” All three caravans of the Traveling Symphony are labeled as such, THE TRAVELING SYMPHONY lettered in white on both sides, but the lead caravan carries an additional line of text: Because survival is insufficient. ~ Emily St John Mandel, #NFDB
1091:Sadhana Look around. Among your family, coworkers, and friends, can you see how everyone has different levels of perception? Just observe this closely. If you know a few people who seem to have a greater clarity of perception than others, watch how they conduct their body. They often have a certain poise without practice. But just a little practice can make an enormous difference. If you sit for just a few hours a day with your spine erect, you will see that it will have an unmistakable effect on your life. You will now begin to understand what I mean by the geometry of your existence. Just the way you hold your body determines almost everything about you. Another way of listening to life is paying attention to it experientially, not intellectually or emotionally. Choose any one thing about yourself: your breath, your heartbeat, your pulse, your little finger. Just pay attention to it for eleven minutes at a time. Do this at least three times a day. Keep your attention on any sensation, but feel free to continue doing whatever you are doing. If you lose attention, it doesn’t matter. Simply refocus your attention. This practice will allow you to move from mental alertness to awareness. You will find the quality of your life experience will begin to change. ~ Sadhguru, #NFDB
1092:I've been meaning to ask," said Magnus. "When Shinyun and I were fighting in the pentagram in Rome, you shot her. You told me that you could see dozens of illusions of me fighting dozens of her. How did you know which one was really her?"
"I didn't," said Alec. "I knew which one was you."
"Oh. Was one version of me more handsome than the others?" Magnus said, charmed. "More debonair? Possessed a certain je ne sais quoi?"
"I don't know about that," said Alec. "You reached for a knife. You had it in your grasp, and then you let it go."
Magnus deflated.
"You knew it was me because I'm worse at fighting than she is?" Magnus asked. "Well, that's terrible news. I imagine 'pathetic in combat' is on the top ten list of Shadowhutner turnoffs."
"No," said Alec.
"Number eleven, just below 'doesn't actually look good in black'?"
Alec shook his head again. "Before we were together," he said, "I was angry a lot, and I hurt people because I was in pain. Being kind when you're in pain - it's hard. Most people struggle to do it at the best of times. The demon who cast that spell couldn't imagine it. But among all those identical figures, there was one person who hesitated to hurt somebody, even at the moment of utmost horror. That had to be you. ~ Cassandra Clare,#NFDB
1093:CHAPTER ELEVEN QUIDDITCH As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered in frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots. The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harry would be playing in his first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor versus Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the House Championship. Hardly anyone had seen Harry play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harry should be kept, well, secret. But the news that he was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harry didn’t know which was worse — people telling him he’d be brilliant or people telling him they’d be running around underneath him holding a mattress. It was really lucky that Harry now had Hermione as a friend. He didn’t know how he’d have gotten through all his homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent him Quidditch Through the Ages, which turned out to be a very interesting read. Harry ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
1094:By attempting to kill you, Voldemort himself singled out the remarkable person who sits here in front of me, and gave him the tools for the job! It is Voldemort's fault that you were able to see into his thoughts, his ambitions, that you even understand the snakelike language in which he gives orders, and yet, Harry, despite your privileged insight into Voldemort's world (which, incidentally, is a gift any Death Eater would kill to have), you have never been seduced by the Dark Arts, never, even for a second, shown the slightest desire to become one of Voldemort's followers!"
"Of course I haven't!" said Harry indignantly. "He killed my mum and dad!"
"You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!" said Dumbledore loudly. "The only protection that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort's! In spite of all the temptation you have endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart, just as pure as you were at the age of eleven, when you stared into a mirror that reflected your heart's desire, and it showed you only the way to thwart Lord Voldemort, and not immortality or riches. Harry, have you any idea how few wizards could have seen what you saw in that mirror? Voldemort should have known then what he was dealing with, but he did not! ~ J K Rowling,#NFDB
1095:Whisky Poet
Whisky poet! After eating a cold supper,
the crowd Pat used to associate with
when she was still at high school
no longer want to hear you read your poems — it’s after
eleven o’clock on a hot December evening, and you
are a little sore-head. Yet from Vegas
I finally came to your rescue.
I hadn’t slept long when I
awoke, a few miles under the table, sinking
slowly into everything had come down
with a faint crash. I’d make up my
mind later, I thought, should there prove
to be a reason to do so. Meanwhile I had plans
to get laid, as in plots to hatch, so I bestirred
myself from the futile picnic and rang
to be continued. Mr Penny, who lived in
my pocket, had a chute I used to slide down
while fishing for odd jobs: wherever it led to
told me what I wanted. I didn’t want
whisky, but I did want the whisky poet
to read me one of his poems. I’d step
to the edge of the precipice and signal. Sometimes
I’d see Pat and her school friends signalling back
to thank me — clearly they thought I too was
untanked — as I entered the back of the ambulance
and the whisky poet began declaiming, and his name
went up in lights, and I blanked out
as we left the kerb.
~ Chris Edwards,#NFDB
1096:Biju stepped out of the airport into the Calcutta night, warm, mammalian. His feet sank into dust winnowed to softness at his feet, ad he felt an unbearable feeling, sad and tender, old and sweet like the memory of falling asleep, a baby on his mother's lap. Thousands of people were out though it was almost eleven. He saw a pair of elegant bearded goats in a rickshaw, riding to slaughter. A conference of old men with elegant goat faces, smoking bidis. A mosque and minarets lit magic green in the night with a group of women rushing by in burkas, bangles clinking under the black and a big psychedelic mess of colour from a sweet shop. Rotis flew through the air as in a juggling act, polka-dotting the sky high over a restaurant that bore the slogan "Good food makes good mood". Biju stood there in that dusty tepid soft sari night. Sweet drabness of home - he felt everything shifting and clicking into place around him, felt himself slowly shrink back to size, the enormous anxiety of being a foreigner ebbing - that unbearable arrogance and shame of the immigrant. Nobody paid attention to him here, and if they said anything at all, their words were easy, unconcerned. He looked about and for the first time in God knows how long, his vision unblurred and he found that he could see clearly. ~ Kiran Desai, #NFDB
1097:Through that space of an inch, he saw her reflection in the bureau mirror. Her back faced the mirror and she had pulled her bulky sweatshirt up over her head and shoulders, trying to get a glimpse of her back and upper arms in the mirror. She was covered with bruises. Lots of big bruises on her back, one on her shoulder and upper arms. Preacher was mesmerized. For a moment his eyes were locked on those purple splotches. “Aw, Jesus,” he whispered in a breath. He quickly backed away from the slit in the door and got up against the wall outside, out of sight. It took him a moment to collect himself; he was stricken. Horrified. All he could think was, what kind of animal does something like that? His mouth hung open because he couldn’t imagine this. He was a warrior, a trained fighter, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t done that much damage to a man equal to him in size, in a fair fight. Some instinct kicked in that told him he shouldn’t let on that he’d seen. She was already afraid of everything, including him. But there was also the reality that this wasn’t a woman who’d been smacked. She’d been pummeled. He didn’t even know the girl, yet all he wanted was to kill the son of a bitch who’d done that to her. After five or eleven months of beatings, then death for the sorry bastard. She ~ Robyn Carr, #NFDB
1098:At eleven o’clock it is day chez Madame.36 The curtains are drawn. Propped on bolsters and pillows, and her head scratched into a little order, the bulletins of the sick are read, and the billets of the well. She writes to some of her acquaintance and receives the visits of others. If the morning is not very thronged, she is able to get out and hobble round the cage of the Palais royal: but she must hobble quickly, for the coiffeur’s turn is come; and a tremendous turn it is! Happy, if he does not make her arrive when dinner is half over! The torpitude of digestion a little passed, she flutters half an hour through the streets by way of paying visits, and then to the Spectacles. These finished, another half hour is devoted to dodging in and out of the doors of her very sincere friends, and away to supper. After supper cards; and after cards bed, to rise at noon the next day, and to tread, like a mill-horse, the same trodden circle over again. Thus the days of life are consumed, one by one, without an object beyond the present moment: ever flying from the ennui … eternally in pursuit of happiness which keeps eternally before us. If death or a bankruptcy happen to trip us out of the circle, it is matter for the buzz of the evening, and is completely forgotten by the next morning. This ~ Jon Meacham, #NFDB
1099:something in. I wonder what the heck he’s doing. It was almost like he was waiting for me. I don't say anything, not wanting to be rude. Maybe he lives in the building. He’s not a tall man, maybe five-eleven, which doesn’t seem so big after having Mason in my space. Mason’s more than a few inches over six foot. But what this man doesn’t have in height, he has in muscles. He looks like someone who used to wrestle, I think absently. His gray hair streaks over his once-solid black hair. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s in his early fifties. The elevator dings, and he follows me on, hitting the button for both of us. When I step out, he follows me out the building and down the street. I start walking faster, unsure what the heck is going on. “Miss Myers.” When he says my name, I stop and turn, and he almost runs into me. “I’m your security. No need to be scared of me.” “Security?” “Seems you like to wander. I’m here to make sure you don’t wander into trouble.” “I don’t wander,” I fire back. He raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Just doing my job, ma’am.” His easy smile forces me to release the tension in my shoulders. Sometimes things would get a little scary when I walked home to my old apartment. It wasn’t in the nicest neighborhood. Heck, sometimes I didn’t even feel safe in my apartment. ~ Alexa Riley, #NFDB
1100:Today, Arabic numerals are in use pretty much around the world, while the words with which we name numbers naturally differ from language to language. And, as Dehaene and others have noted, these differences are far from trivial. English is cumbersome. There are special words for the numbers from 11 to 19 and for the decades from 20 to 90. This makes counting a challenge for English-speaking children, who are prone to such errors as “twenty-eight, twenty-nine, twenty-ten, twenty-eleven.” French is just as bad, with vestigial base-twenty monstrosities, like quatre-vingt-dix-neuf (four twenty ten nine) for 99. Chinese, by contrast, is simplicity itself; its number syntax perfectly mirrors the base-ten form of Arabic numerals, with a minimum of terms. Consequently, the average Chinese four-year-old can count up to forty, whereas American children of the same age struggle to get to fifteen. And the advantages extend to adults. Because Chinese number words are so brief—they take less than a quarter of a second to say, on average, compared with a third of a second for English—the average Chinese speaker has a memory span of nine digits, versus seven digits for English speakers. (Speakers of the marvelously efficient Cantonese dialect, common in Hong Kong, can juggle ten digits in active memory.) ~ Jim Holt, #NFDB
1101:A remarkably consistent finding, starting with elementary school students, is that males are better at math than females. While the difference is minor when it comes to considering average scores, there is a huge difference when it comes to math stars at the upper extreme of the distribution. For example, in 1983, for every girl scoring in the highest percentile on the math SAT, there were eleven boys. Why the difference? There have always been suggestions that testosterone is central. During development, testosterone fuels the growth of a brain region involved in mathematical thinking, and giving adults testosterone enhances some math skills. Oh, okay, it’s biological. But consider a paper published in Science in 2008.1 The authors examined the relationship between math scores and sexual equality in forty countries (based on economic, educational, and political indices of gender equality; the worst was Turkey, the United States was middling, and, naturally, the Scandinavians were tops). Lo and behold, the more gender equal the country, the less of a discrepancy in math scores. By the time you get to the Scandinavian countries, it’s statistically insignificant. And by the time you examine the most gender-equal country on earth at the time, Iceland, girls are better at math than boys. ~ Robert M Sapolsky, #NFDB
1102:Words.
I’m surrounded by thousands of words. Maybe millions.
Cathedral. Mayonnaise. Pomegranate.
Mississippi. Neapolitan. Hippopotamus.
Silky. Terrifying. Iridescent.
Tickle. Sneeze. Wish. Worry.
Words have always swirled around me like snowflakes—each one delicate and different, each one melting untouched in my hands.
Deep within me, words pile up in huge drifts. Mountains of phrases and sentences and connected ideas. Clever expressions. Jokes. Love songs.
From the time I was really little—maybe just a few months old—words were like sweet, liquid gifts, and I drank them like lemonade. I could almost taste them. They made my jumbled thoughts and feelings have substance. My parents have always blanketed me with conversation. They chattered and babbled. They verbalized and vocalized. My father sang to me. My mother whispered her strength into my ear.
Every word my parents spoke to me or about me I absorbed and kept and remembered. All of them.
I have no idea how I untangled the complicated process of words and thought, but it happened quickly and naturally. By the time I was two, all my memories had words, and all my words had meanings.
But only in my head.
I have never spoken one single word. I am almost eleven years old. ~ Sharon M Draper,#NFDB
1103:In spite of all these concerns, in the morning when I left my hotel I went joyfully down the stairs, whistling all the while, and emerged into the street at ten or eleven, whenever I wanted. It was fun, I felt happy, and then I realized that it wasn’t all much fun and I wasn’t all that happy. Had a weight been lifted from my back? The weight of living? I had been born bowed down with grief. The universe seemed to me a kind of enormous cage, or rather a big prison, with the sky a ceiling, and the horizon walls beyond which there had to be something else. But what? I was in a vast space, and yet it was locked. Or rather, I had the feeling I was in a huge ship, and the sky above was an enormous cover. There was a crowd of prisoners, and as far as I could tell most of them were unaware of their condition. What was there beyond the walls? Well, when you really thought about it, there was a positive side to the picture: the daily prison, the little jail inside the big one, had opened its doors to me. Now I was able to stroll at will along the main thoroughfares, the broad avenues of the big jail. It was a world comparable to a zoo in which the animals enjoyed a kind of semi-freedom, with man-made mountains, artificial woods, and imitation lakes, but at the far reaches there were still the same old fences. ~ Eug ne Ionesco, #NFDB
1104:Let us consider some of the most important Anarchist acts within the last two decades. Strange as it may seem, one of the most significant deeds of political violence occurred here in America, in connection with the Homestead strike of 1892. During that memorable time the Carnegie Steel Company organized a conspiracy to crush the Amalgamated Association of Iron and Steel Workers. Henry Clay Frick, then Chairman of the Company, was intrusted with that democratic task. He lost no time in carrying out the policy of breaking the Union, the policy which he had so successfully practiced during his reign of terror in the coke regions. Secretly, and while peace negotiations were being purposely prolonged, Frick supervised the military preparations, the fortification of the Homestead Steel Works, the erection of a high board fence, capped with barbed wire and provided with loopholes for sharpshooters. And then, in the dead of night, he attempted to smuggle his army of hired Pinkerton thugs into Homestead, which act precipitated the terrible carnage of the steel workers. Not content with the death of eleven victims, killed in the Pinkerton skirmish, Henry Clay Frick, good Christian and free American, straightway began the hounding down of the helpless wives and orphans, by ordering them out of the wretched Company houses. ~ Emma Goldman, #NFDB
1105:My diary. Little Ginny’s been writing in it for months and months, telling me all her pitiful worries and woes — how her brothers tease her, how she had to come to school with secondhand robes and books, how” — Riddle’s eyes glinted — “how she didn’t think famous, good, great Harry Potter would ever like her. . . .” All the time he spoke, Riddle’s eyes never left Harry’s face. There was an almost hungry look in them. “It’s very boring, having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl,” he went on. “But I was patient. I wrote back. I was sympathetic, I was kind. Ginny simply loved me. No one’s ever understood me like you, Tom. . . . I’m so glad I’ve got this diary to confide in. . . . It’s like having a friend I can carry around in my pocket. . . .” Riddle laughed, a high, cold laugh that didn’t suit him. It made the hairs stand up on the back of Harry’s neck. “If I say it myself, Harry, I’ve always been able to charm the people I needed. So Ginny poured out her soul to me, and her soul happened to be exactly what I wanted. . . . I grew stronger and stronger on a diet of her deepest fears, her darkest secrets. I grew powerful, far more powerful than little Miss Weasley. Powerful enough to start feeding Miss Weasley a few of my secrets, to start pouring a little of my soul back into her . . . ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
1106:Something, somewhere, somewhen, must have happened differently… PETUNIA EVANS married Michael Verres, a Professor of Biochemistry at Oxford. HARRY JAMES POTTER-EVANS-VERRES grew up in a house filled to the brim with books. He once bit a math teacher who didn’t know what a logarithm was. He’s read Godel, Escher, Bach and Judgment Under Uncertainty: Heuristics and Biases and volume one of The Feynman Lectures on Physics. And despite what everyone who’s met him seems to fear, he doesn’t want to become the next Dark Lord. He was raised better than that. He wants to discover the laws of magic and become a god. HERMIONE GRANGER is doing better than him in every class except broomstick riding. DRACO MALFOY is exactly what you would expect an eleven-year-old boy to be like if Darth Vader were his doting father. PROFESSOR QUIRRELL is living his lifelong dream of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, or as he prefers to call his class, Battle Magic. His students are all wondering what’s going to go wrong with the Defense Professor this time. DUMBLEDORE is either insane, or playing some vastly deeper game which involved setting fire to a chicken. DEPUTY HEADMISTRESS MINERVA MCGONAGALL needs to go off somewhere private and scream for a while. Presenting: HARRY POTTER AND THE METHODS OF RATIONALITY You ain’t guessin’ where this one’s going. ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
1107:There is a secret society of seven men that controls the finances of the world. This is known to everyone but the details are not known. There are some who believe that it would be better if one of those seven men were a financier.
There is a secret society of three men and four women that controls all the fashions of the world. The details of this are known to all who are in the fashion. And I am not.
There is a secret society of nineteen men that is behind all the fascist organizations in the world. The secret name of this society is Glomerule.
There is a secret society of thirteen persons known as the Elders of Edom that controls all the secret sources of the world. That the sources have become muddy is of concern to them.
There is a secret society of only four persons that manufactures all the jokes of the world. One of these persons is unfunny and he is responsible for all the unfunny jokes.
There is a secret society of eleven persons that is behind all Bolshevik and atheist societies of the world. The devil himself is a member of this society, and he works tirelessly to become a principal member. The secret name of this society is Ocean....
Chesterton said that Mankind itself was a secret society. Whether it would be better or worse if the secret should ever come out he did not say. ~ R A Lafferty,#NFDB
1108:Humans, like all mammals, are heat engines; surviving means having to continually cool off, as panting dogs do. For that, the temperature needs to be low enough for the air to act as a kind of refrigerant, drawing heat off the skin so the engine can keep pumping. At seven degrees of warming, that would become impossible for portions of the planet’s equatorial band, and especially the tropics, where humidity adds to the problem. And the effect would be fast: after a few hours, a human body would be cooked to death from both inside and out. At eleven or twelve degrees Celsius of warming, more than half the world’s population, as distributed today, would die of direct heat. Things almost certainly won’t get that hot anytime soon, though some models of unabated emissions do bring us that far eventually, over centuries. But at just five degrees, according to some calculations, whole parts of the globe would be literally unsurvivable for humans. At six, summer labor of any kind would become impossible in the lower Mississippi Valley, and everybody in the United States east of the Rockies would suffer more from heat than anyone, anywhere, in the world today. New York City would be hotter than present-day Bahrain, one of the planet’s hottest spots, and the temperature in Bahrain “would induce hyperthermia in even sleeping humans. ~ David Wallace Wells, #NFDB
1109:I’m about to haul my packs into a tree to make camp when a silver parachute floats down and lands in front of me. A gift form a sponsor. But why now? I’ve been in fairly good shape with supplies. Maybe Haymitch’s noticed my despondency and is trying to cheer me up a bit. Or could it be something to help my ear?
I open the parachute and find a small loaf of bread. It’s not the fine white of the Capitol stuff. It’s made of dark ration grain and shaped in a crescent. Sprinkled with seeds. I flashback to Peeta’s lesson on the various district breads in the Training Center. This bread came from District 11. I cautiously lift the still warm loaf. What must it have cost the people of District 11 who can’t even feed themselves? How many would’ve had to do without to scrape up a coin to put in the collection for this one loaf? It had been meant for Rue, surely. But instead of pulling the gift when she died, they’d authorized Haymitch to give it to me. As a thank-you? Or because, like me, they don’t like to let debts go unpaid? For whatever reason, this is a first. A district gift to a tribute who’s not your own.
I lift my face and step into the last falling rays of sunlight. “My thanks to the people of District Eleven,” I say. I want them to know I know where it came from. That the full value of the gift has been recognized. ~ Suzanne Collins,#NFDB
1110:That miserable son of a bitch!” he bit out between clenched teeth. “After eleven years he’s going to have it his way. And all because I couldn’t keep my hands off her.”
The vicar could scarcely conceal his joyous relief. “There are worse things than having to marry a wonderful young woman who also had the excellent judgment to fall in love with you,” he pointed out.
Ian almost, but not quite, smiled at that. The impulse passed in an instant, however, as reality crushed down on him, infuriating and complicated. “Whatever she felt for me, it was a long time ago. All she wants now is independence.”
The vicar’s brows shot up, and he chuckled with surprise. “Independence? Really? What an odd notion for a female. I’m sure you’ll be able to disabuse her of such fanciful ideas.”
“Don’t count on it.”
“Independence is vastly overrated. Give it to her and she’ll hate it,” he suggested.
Ian scarcely heard him; the fury at having to capitulate to his grandfather was building inside him again with terrible force. “Damn him!” he said in a murderous underbreath. “I’d have let him rot in hell, and his title with him.”
Duncan’s smile didn’t fade as he said with asperity, “It’s possible that it’s fear of ‘rotting in hell,’ as you so picturesquely phrased it, that has made him so desperate to affirm you now as his heir. ~ Judith McNaught,#NFDB
1111:Unluckier still was Guillaume Le Gentil, whose experiences are wonderfully summarized by Timothy Ferris in Coming of Age in the Milky Way. Le Gentil set off from France a year ahead of time to observe the transit from India, but various setbacks left him still at sea on the day of the transit—just about the worst place to be since steady measurements were impossible on a pitching ship. Undaunted, Le Gentil continued on to India to await the next transit in 1769. With eight years to prepare, he erected a first-rate viewing station, tested and retested his instruments, and had everything in a state of perfect readiness. On the morning of the second transit, June 4, 1769, he awoke to a fine day, but, just as Venus began its pass, a cloud slid in front of the Sun and remained there for almost exactly the duration of the transit: three hours, fourteen minutes, and seven seconds. Stoically, Le Gentil packed up his instruments and set off for the nearest port, but en route he contracted dysentery and was laid up for nearly a year. Still weakened, he finally made it onto a ship. It was nearly wrecked in a hurricane off the African coast. When at last he reached home, eleven and a half years after setting off, and having achieved nothing, he discovered that his relatives had had him declared dead in his absence and had enthusiastically plundered his estate. ~ Bill Bryson, #NFDB
1112:If a Jewess from the East – her family comes from Cairo, I gather – were to find herself in need of help in Paris, where would she go?’ ‘To her family,’ replied ben-Gideon promptly. ‘I’m not sure she has one in Paris.’ ‘Benjamin, my mother spends eleven and a half hours out of twenty-four going from sister to sister, from aunt to aunt, from the houses of her sisters-in-law and second-cousins to the grandparents of my father’s old business-partners, lugging my sisters along with her, and what do you think they all talk about? Family.’ Ben-Gideon ticked off subjects with his fingers. ‘Who’s marrying whom. Who shouldn’t have married whom and why not. Who’s expecting a child and who isn’t bringing their children up properly. Oh, was she the one who married Avram ben-Hurri ben-Moishe ben-Yakov and is now operating that import business in Prague? . . . No, no, that was the OTHER Cousin Rachel who married Avram ben-Hurri ben-Moishe ben-CHAIM and THEY’RE in Warsaw, where THEIR son is a rabbi . . . Every rabbi from Portugal to Persia will tell you that women’s minds are incapable of the concentration required for study of the Torah, yet I guarantee you that not a single word of this lore is forgotten. You can drop any Jew over the age of seven naked in the dark out of a balloon anywhere in Europe, and he or she will locate family in time for breakfast. ~ Barbara Hambly, #NFDB
1113:Unluckier still was Guillaume Le Gentil, whose experiences are wonderfully summarized by Timothy Ferris in Coming of Age in the Milky Way. Le Gentil set off from France a year ahead of time to observe the transit from India, but various setbacks left him still at sea on the day of the transit—just about the worst place to be since steady measurements were impossible on a pitching ship. Undaunted, Le Gentil continued on to India to await the next transit in 1769. With eight years to prepare, he erected a first-rate viewing station, tested and retested his instruments, and had everything in a state of perfect readiness. On the morning of the second transit, June 4, 1769, he awoke to a fine day, but, just as Venus began its pass, a cloud slid in front of the Sun and remained there for almost exactly the duration of the transit: three hours, fourteen minutes, and seven seconds. Stoically, Le Gentil packed up his instruments and set off for the nearest port, but en route he contracted dysentery and was laid up for nearly a year. Still weakened, he finally made it onto a ship. It was nearly wrecked in a hurricane off the African coast. When at last he reached home, eleven and a half years after setting off, and having achieved nothing, he discovered that his relatives had had him declared dead in his absence and had enthusiastically plundered his estate. In ~ Bill Bryson, #NFDB
1114:After a brief murmured exchange, the lady's maid opened the door a bit wider, and Phoebe's brother Ivo stuck his head inside.
"Hullo, sis," he said casually. "You look very nice in that gold dress."
"It's ecru." At his perplexed look, she repeated, "Ecru."
"God bless you," Ivo said, and gave her a cheeky grin as he entered the room.
Phoebe lifted her gaze heavenward. "Why are you here, Ivo?"
"I'm going to escort you downstairs, so you don't have to go alone."
Phoebe was so moved, she couldn't speak. She could only stare at the eleven-year-old boy, who was volunteering to take the place her husband would have assumed.
"It was Father's idea," Ivo continued, a touch bashfully. "I'm sorry I'm not as tall as the other ladies' escorts, or even as tall as you. I'm really only half an escort. But that's still better than nothing, isn't it?" His expression turned uncertain as he saw that her eyes were watering.
After clearing her throat, Phoebe managed an unsteady reply. "At this moment, my gallant Ivo, you tower above every other gentleman here. I'm so very honored."
He grinned and offered his arm in a gesture she had seen him practice in the past with their father. "The honor is mine, sis."
In that moment, Phoebe had the briefest intimation of what Ivo would be like as a full-grown man, confident and irresistibly charming. ~ Lisa Kleypas,#NFDB
1115:There can be no question that Musk has mastered the art of getting the most out of his employees. Interview three dozen SpaceX engineers and each one of them will have picked up on a managerial nuance that Musk has used to get people to meet his deadlines. One example from Brogan: Where a typical manager may set the deadline for the employee, Musk guides his engineers into taking ownership of their own delivery dates. “He doesn’t say, ‘You have to do this by Friday at two P.M.,’” Brogan said. “He says, ‘I need the impossible done by Friday at two P.M. Can you do it?’ Then, when you say yes, you are not working hard because he told you to. You’re working hard for yourself. It’s a distinction you can feel. You have signed up to do your own work.” And by recruiting hundreds of bright, self-motivated people, SpaceX has maximized the power of the individual. One person putting in a sixteen-hour day ends up being much more effective than two people working eight-hour days together. The individual doesn’t have to hold meetings, reach a consensus, or bring other people up to speed on a project. He just keeps working and working and working. The ideal SpaceX employee is someone like Steve Davis, the director of advanced projects at SpaceX. “He’s been working sixteen hours a day every day for years,” Brogan said. “He gets more done than eleven people working together. ~ Ashlee Vance, #NFDB
1116:An obsession, a mania, Lib supposed it could be called. A sickness of the mind. Hysteria, as that awful doctor had named it? Anna reminded Lib of a princess under a spell in a fairy tale. What could restore the girl to ordinary life? Not a prince. A magical herb from the world's end? Some shock to jolt a poisoned bite of apple out of her throat? No, something simple as a breath of air: reason. What if Lib shook the girl awake this very minute and said, Come to your senses!
But that was part of the definition of madness, Lib supposed, the refusal to accept that one was mad. Standish's wards were full of such people.
Besides, could children ever be considered quite of sound mind? Seven was counted the age of reason, but Lib's sense of seven-year-olds was that they still brimmed over with imagination. Children lived to play. Of course they could be put to work, but in spare moments they took their games as seriously as lunatics did their delusions. Like small gods, children formed their miniature worlds out of clay, or even just words. To them, the truth was never simple.
But Anna was eleven, which was a far cry from seven, Lib argued with herself. Other eleven-year-olds knew when they'd eaten and when they hadn't; they were old enough to tell make-believe from fact. There was something very different about - very wrong with - Anna O'Donnell. ~ Emma Donoghue,#NFDB
1117:Unluckier still was Guillaume Le Gentil, whose experiences are wonderfully summarized by Timothy Ferris in Coming of Age in the Milky Way . Le Gentil set off from France a year ahead of time to observe the transit (of Venus) from India, but various setbacks left him still at sea on the day of the transit—just about the worst place to be since steady measurements were impossible on a pitching ship.
Undaunted, Le Gentil continued on to India to await the next transit in 1769. With eight years to prepare, he erected a first-rate viewing station, tested and retested his instruments, and had everything in a state of perfect readiness. On the morning of the second transit, June 4, 1769, he awoke to a fine day, but, just as Venus began its pass, a cloud slid in front of the Sun and remained there for almost exactly the duration of the transit: three hours, fourteen minutes, and seven seconds.
Stoically, Le Gentil packed up his instruments and set off for the nearest port, but en route he contracted dysentery and was laid up for nearly a year. Still weakened, he finally made it onto a ship. It was nearly wrecked in a hurricane off the African coast. When at last he reached home, eleven and a half years after setting off, and having achieved nothing, he discovered that his relatives had had him declared dead in his absence and had enthusiastically plundered his estate ~ Bill Bryson,#NFDB
1118:increasingly rare the larger they become. So it is one thing to land upon a seven or eleven. But to land upon a one thousand and nine is another thing altogether. Can you imagine identifying a prime number in the hundreds of thousands . . . ? In the millions . . . ?” Nina looked off in the distance, as if she could see that largest and most impregnable of all the numbers situated on its rocky promontory where for thousands of years it had withstood the onslaughts of fire-breathing dragons and barbarian hordes. Then she resumed her work. The Count took another look at the sheet in his hands with a heightened sense of respect. After all, an educated man should admire any course of study no matter how arcane, if it be pursued with curiosity and devotion. “Here,” he said in the tone of one chipping in. “This number is not prime.” Nina looked up with an expression of disbelief. “Which number?” He laid the paper in front of her and tapped a figure circled in red. “One thousand one hundred and seventy-three.” “How do you know it isn’t prime?” “If a number’s individual digits sum to a number that is divisible by three, then it too is divisible by three.” Confronted with this extraordinary fact, Nina replied: “Mon Dieu.” Then she leaned back in her chair and appraised the Count in a manner acknowledging that she may have underestimated him. Now, when a man has been underestimated ~ Amor Towles, #NFDB
1119:Pharaohs
It took Khufu twenty-three years to build his Great Pyramid at Giza, where some eleven hundred stone blocks, each weighing about two and a half tons, had to be quarried, moved, and set in place every day during the annual building season, roughly four months long. Few commentators on these facts can resist noting that this achievement is an amazing testimonial to the pharaoh’s iron control over the workers of Egypt. I submit, on the contrary, that pharaoh Khufu needed to exercise no more control over his workers at Giza than pharaoh Bill Gates exercises over his workers at Microsoft. I submit that Egyptian workers, relatively speaking, got as much out of building Khufu’s pyramid as Microsoft workers will get out of building Bill Gates’s pyramid (which will surely dwarf Khufu’s a hundred times over, though it will not, of course, be built of stone).
No special control is needed to make people into pyramid builders—if they see themselves as having no choice but to build pyramids. They’ll build whatever they’re told to build, whether it’s pyramids, parking garages, or computer programs.
Karl Marx recognized that workers without a choice are workers in chains. But his idea of breaking chains was for us to depose the pharaohs and then build the pyramids for ourselves, as if building pyramids is something we just can’t stop doing, we love it so much. ~ Daniel Quinn,#NFDB
1120:I don’t know, but I thought they were the best sort of gifts, for I saw that plenty of kind thought and clever contrivance went to them, ay, and some little self-denial too.” “Papa, you look as if you meant something; but ours are nothing but nasty old rubbish.” “Perhaps some fairy, or something better, has brought a wand to touch the rubbish, Blanche; for I think that the maidens gave what would have been worthless kept, but became precious as they gave it.” “Do you mean the list of our flannel petticoats, papa, that Mary has made into a tippet?” “Perhaps I meant Mary’s own time and pains, as well as the tippet. Would she have done much good with them otherwise?” “No, she would have played. Oh! then you like the presents because they are our own making? I never thought of that. Was that the reason you did not give us any of your sovereigns to buy things with?” “Perhaps I want my sovereigns for the eleven gaping mouths at home, Blanche. But would not it be a pity to spoil your pleasure? You would have lost all the chattering and laughing and buzzing I have heard round Margaret of late, and I am quite sure Miss Rivers can hardly be as happy in the gifts that cost her nothing, as one little girl who gives her sugar-plums out of her own mouth!” Blanche clasped her papa’s hand tight, and bounded five or six times. “They are our presents, not yours,” said she. “Yes, I see. I like them better now. ~ Charlotte Mary Yonge, #NFDB
1121:Parents need to awaken to the fact that some of today’s trendy tunes on the pop charts include lyrics that glamourize illicit drug usage, encourage demoralizing sexual activity, and blaspheme God. It was difficult enough for me to read the lyrics to some of these songs in my research for this book, much less think about what they represent and how they mock godly principles. “Just harmless music,” you say; “another form of artful expression.” After all, “no one bothers listening to the words anyway; they’re just interested in the beat . . . right?” Think on this disturbing story: A twenty-nine-year-old man confessed to police that he sang songs while fatally stabbing his wife and daughter. His four-year-old son survived the attack despite being stabbed eleven times. According to police, the husband and father said he was possessed and believed that his wife was a demon. (Note: It is not possible for a human being to become a demon, but one can be controlled by demonic forces.) The man reportedly told the police that just before stabbing his wife, he started screaming lyrics from a popular rap song, saying, “Here comes Satan. I’m the anti-Christ; I’m going to kill you.” Police said this father admitted that when the kids awoke to their mother’s screams, he stabbed them too. He said he stabbed his son the most because he loved him the most. Then he rolled a cigarette, said another prayer, and called 911.14 ~ John Hagee, #NFDB
1122:The blue mountains are constantly walking." Dōgen is quoting the Chan master Furong. -- "If you doubt mountains walking you do not know your own walking."
-- Dōgen is not concerned with "sacred mountains" - or pilgrimages, or spirit allies, or wilderness as some special quality. His mountains and streams are the processes of this earth, all of existence, process, essence, action, absence; they roll being and non-being together. They are what we are, we are what they are. For those who would see directly into essential nature, the idea of the sacred is a delusion and an obstruction: it diverts us from seeing what is before our eyes: plain thusness. Roots, stems, and branches are all equally scratchy. No hierarchy, no equality. No occult and exoteric, no gifted kids and slow achievers. No wild and tame, no bound or free, no natural and artificial. Each totally its own frail self. Even though connected all which ways; even because connected all which ways. This, thusness, is the nature of the nature of nature. The wild in wild.
So the blue mountains walk to the kitchen and back to the shop, to the desk, to the stove. We sit on the park bench and let the wind and rain drench us. The blue mountains walk out to put another coin in the parking meter, and go down to the 7-Eleven. The blue mountains march out of the sea, shoulder the sky for a while, and slip back to into the waters. ~ Gary Snyder,#NFDB
1123:Something, somewhere, somewhen, must have happened differently...
PETUNIA EVANS married Michael Verres, a Professor of Biochemistry at Oxford.
HARRY JAMES POTTER-EVANS-VERRES grew up in a house filled to the brim with books. He once bit a math teacher who didn't know what a logarithm was. He's read Godel, Escher, Bach and Judgment Under Uncertainty: Heuristics and Biases and volume one of The Feynman Lectures on Physics. And despite what everyone who's met him seems to fear, he doesn't want to become the next Dark Lord. He was raised better than that. He wants to discover the laws of magic and become a god.
HERMIONE GRANGER is doing better than him in every class except broomstick riding.
DRACO MALFOY is exactly what you would expect an eleven-year-old boy to be like if Darth Vader were his doting father.
PROFESSOR QUIRRELL is living his lifelong dream of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, or as he prefers to call his class, Battle Magic. His students are all wondering what's going to go wrong with the Defense Professor this time.
DUMBLEDORE is either insane, or playing some vastly deeper game which involved setting fire to a chicken.
DEPUTY HEADMISTRESS MINERVA MCGONAGALL needs to go off somewhere private and scream for a while.
Presenting:
HARRY POTTER AND THE METHODS OF RATIONALITY
You ain't guessin' where this one's going. ~ Eliezer Yudkowsky,#NFDB
1124:she jerked the Prophet out from under Harry’s hand and unfolded it to look at the front page — “you should go and find Slughorn and start appealing to his better nature.” “Anyone we know — ?” asked Ron, as Hermione scanned the headlines. “Yes!” said Hermione, causing both Harry and Ron to gag on their breakfast. “But it’s all right, he’s not dead — it’s Mundungus, he’s been arrested and sent to Azkaban! Something to do with impersonating an Inferius during an attempted burglary . . . and someone called Octavius Pepper has vanished. . . . Oh, and how horrible, a nine-year-old boy has been arrested for trying to kill his grandparents, they think he was under the Imperius Curse. . . .” They finished their breakfast in silence. Hermione set off immediately for Ancient Runes; Ron for the common room, where he still had to finish his conclusion on Snape’s dementor essay; and Harry for the corridor on the seventh floor and the stretch of wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to do ballet. Harry slipped on his Invisibility Cloak once he had found an empty passage, but he need not have bothered. When he reached his destination he found it deserted. Harry was not sure whether his chances of getting inside the room were better with Malfoy inside it or out, but at least his first attempt was not going to be complicated by the presence of Crabbe or Goyle pretending to be an eleven-year-old girl. ~ J K Rowling, #NFDB
1125:In 1994 another bombshell was dropped. Edward Witten of Princeton's Institute for Advanced Study and Paul Townsend of Cambridge University speculated that all five string theories were in fact the same theory-but only if we add an eleventh dimension. From the vantage point of the eleventh dimension, all five different theories collapsed into one! The theory was unique after all, but only if we ascended to the mountaintop of the eleventh dimension.
In the eleventh dimension a new mathematical object can exist, called the membrane (e.g., like the surface of a sphere). Here was the amazing observation: if one dropped from eleven dimensions down to ten dimensions, all five string theories would emerge, starting from a single membrane. Hence all five string theories were just different ways of moving a membrane down from eleven to ten dimensions.
(To visualize this, imagine a beach ball with a rubber band stretched around the equator. Imagine taking a pair of scissors and cutting the beach ball twice, once above and once below the rubber band, thereby lopping off the top and bottom of the beach ball. All that is left is the rubber band, a string. In the same way, if we curl up the eleventh dimension, all that is left of a membrane is its equator, which is the string. In fact, mathematically there are five ways in which this slicing can occur, leaving us with five different string theories in ten dimensions.) ~ Michio Kaku,#NFDB
1126:What he had been too cautious to hope for was pulled from his dreams and made real on the television screen. At that momentous hour on December 26, 1991, as he watched the red flag of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics—the empire extending eleven times zones, from the Sea of Japan to the Baltic coast, encompassing more than a hundred ethnicities and two hundred languages; the collective whose security demanded the sacrifice of millions, whose Slavic stupidity had demanded the deportation of Khassan’s entire homeland; that utopian mirage cooked up by cruel young men who gave their mustaches more care than their morality; that whole horrid system that told him what he could be and do and think and say and believe and love and desire and hate, the system captained by Lenin and Zinoviev and Stalin and Malenkov and Beria and Molotov and Khrushchev and Kosygin and Mikoyan and Podgorny and Brezhnev and Andropov and Chernenko and Gorbachev, all of whom but Gorbachev he hated with a scorn no author should have for his subject, a scorn genetically encoded in his blood, inherited from his ancestors with their black hair and dark skin—as he watched that flag slink down the Kremlin flagpole for the final time, left limp by the windless sky, as if even the weather wanted to impart on communism this final disgrace, he looped his arms around his wife and son and he held them as the state that had denied him his life quietly died. ~ Anthony Marra, #NFDB
1127:Us Two
Wherever I am, there's always Pooh,
There's always Pooh and Me.
Whatever I do, he wants to do,
"Where are you going today?" says Pooh:
"Well, that's very odd 'cos I was too.
Let's go together," says Pooh, says he.
"Let's go together," says Pooh.
"What's twice eleven?" I said to Pooh.
("Twice what?" said Pooh to Me.)
"I think it ought to be twenty-two."
"Just what I think myself," said Pooh.
"It wasn't an easy sum to do,
But that's what it is," said Pooh, said he.
"That's what it is," said Pooh.
"Let's look for dragons," I said to Pooh.
"Yes, let's," said Pooh to Me.
We crossed the river and found a few"Yes, those are dragons all right," said Pooh.
"As soon as I saw their beaks I knew.
That's what they are," said Pooh, said he.
"That's what they are," said Pooh.
"Let's frighten the dragons," I said to Pooh.
"That's right," said Pooh to Me.
"I'm not afraid," I said to Pooh,
And I held his paw and I shouted "Shoo!
Silly old dragons!"- and off they flew.
"I wasn't afraid," said Pooh, said he,
"I'm never afraid with you."
So wherever I am, there's always Pooh,
There's always Pooh and Me.
"What would I do?" I said to Pooh,
"If it wasn't for you," and Pooh said: "True,
It isn't much fun for One, but Two,
Can stick together, says Pooh, says he. "That's how it is," says Pooh.
67
~ Alan Alexander Milne,#NFDB
1128:We do a thing in America, which is to label people “workaholics” and tell them that work is ruining their lives. It’s such a widespread opinion that it seems like the premise to every indie movie is “Workaholic mom comes home to find that her entire family hates her. It’s not until she cuts back on work, smokes a little pot, and takes up ballroom dancing classes with her neglected husband that she realizes what is truly important in life. Not work.” Working parents have now eclipsed shady Russian-esque operatives as America’s most popular choice of movie villain. And to some degree, I understand why the trope exists. It probably resonates because most people in this country hate their jobs. The economies of entire countries like Turks and Caicos are banking on US citizens hating their jobs and wanting to get away from it all. And I understand that. But it’s a confusing message for kids. The reason I’m bringing this up is not to defend my status as someone who always works. (I swear I’m not that Tiger Mom lady! I don’t think you need to play piano for eleven hours with no meals! Or only watch historical movies, then write reports on them for me to read and grade!) It’s just that, the truth is, I have never, ever, ever met a highly confident and successful person who is not what a movie would call a “workaholic.” We can’t have it both ways, and children should know that. Because confidence is like respect; you have to earn it. ~ Mindy Kaling, #NFDB
1129:would have to eat nearly a bushel of apples a day or half a bushel of oranges to obtain a liberal factor of safety for providing phosphorus; similarly one would be required to eat nine and one half pounds of carrots or eleven pounds of beets each day to get enough phosphorus for a liberal factor of safety, while this quantity would be provided in one pound of lentils or beans, wheat or oats. I have discussed elsewhere the availability of phosphorus depending upon its chemical form. Since the calories largely determine the satisfying of the appetite and since under ordinary circumstances we stop when we have obtained about two thousand to twenty-five hundred very little of the highly sweetened fruits defeats our nutritional program. We would have to consume daily the contents of thirty-two one pound jars of marmalade, jellies or jams to provide a two gram intake of phosphorus. This quantity would provide 32,500 calories; an amount impossible for the system to take care of. Milk is one of the best foods for providing minerals but it may be inadequate in several vitamins. Of all of the primitive groups studied those using sea foods abundantly appear to obtain an adequate quantity of minerals particularly phosphorus with the greatest ease, in part because the fat-soluble vitamins provided in the sea foods (by which I mean animal life of the sea) are usually high. This enables a more efficient utilization of the minerals, calcium and phosphorus ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
1130:In truth the memoir was a game of postponement – a trick he played on himself almost daily, and fell for every time. There would be a poor and evasive morning, with letters to write as well, and a number of phone calls that had to be made; then lunch, at a place not necessarily close, and several things to do after lunch, with mounting anxiety in the two hours before six o’clock: and then a drink, a glow of resolve and sensible postponement till the following morning, when, too hung-over to do much work before ten, he would seek infuriated refuge, about eleven forty-five, in the trying necessity of going out once more to lunch. Over lunch, at Caspar’s or at the Garrick, he would be asked how work was going, when it could be expected, and the confidence of the questioner severely inhibited his answers – they had a bottle of wine, no more, but still the atmosphere was appreciably softened, his little hints at difficulties were taken as mere modesty – ‘I’m sure it will be marvellous’ – ‘It will take as long as it takes’ – and he left fractionally consoled himself, as if some great humane reprieve were somehow possible, and time (as deadline after deadline loomed and fell away behind) were not an overriding question. In the evenings especially, and towards bedtime, half-drunk, he started seeing connexions, approaches, lovely ideas for the work, and sat suffused with a sense of the masterly thing it was in his power to do the next morning. ~ Alan Hollinghurst, #NFDB
1131:The Dai horse neighs against the bleak wind of
Etsu,
The birds of Etsu have no love for En, in the north,
Emotion is born out of habit.
Yesterday we went out of the Wild-Goose gate,
To-day from the Dragon-Pen.*
Surprised. Desert turmoil. Sea sun.
Flying snow bewilders the barbarian heaven.
Lice swarm like ants over our accoutrements.
Mind and spirit drive on the feathery banners.
Hard fight gets no reward.
Loyalty is hard to explain.
Who will be sorry for General Rishogu,
the swift moving,
Whose white head is lost for this province?
*NOTE by Pound: "i. e., we have been warring from one end of the empire to the other, now east, now west, on each border."
This poem is from CATHAY (London: Elkin Mathews, 1915), the volume of Chinese poems
The book's widely-applauded publication prompted T.S. Eliot to remark that Pound had "reinvented Chinese poetry for our time."
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ Li Bai, South-Folk in Cold Country
,#NFDB
1132:-- What a fool I was. "Want To Be a Little Off-Beat?" Here's ten ways, the article said. A lilac door was one. So off I tripped to the nearest hardware store to assert my unique individuality with the same tin of paint as two million other dimwits. Conned into idiocy. My mind is full of trivialities. At lunch Ian said Duncan's piece of cake is miles bigger than mine -- it's not fair, and I roared that they should quit bothering me with trivialities. So when they're at school, do I settle down with the plays of Sophocles? I do not. I think about the color of my front door. That's being unfair to myself. I took that course, Ancient Greek Drama, last winter. Yeh, I took it all right.
Young academic generously giving up his Thursday evenings in the cause of adult education. Mrs. MacAindra, I don't think you've got quite the right slant on Clytemnestra. Why not? The king sacrificed their youngest daughter for success in war-- what's the queen supposed to do, shout for joy? That's not quite the point we're discussing, is it? She murdered her husband, Mrs. MacAindra, (Oh God, don't you think I know that? The poor bitch.) Yeh well I guess you must know, Dr. Thorne. Sorry. Oh, that's fine -- I always try to encourage people to express themselves.
-- Young twerp. Let somebody try killing one of his daughters. But still, he had his Ph.D. What do I have? Grade Eleven. My own fault.... ~ Margaret Laurence,#NFDB
1133:Mzatal gave a decisive nod. “I will
manage this. It cannot continue to interfere
with his work. Too much is at stake.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How do you
intend to manage it?”
“I will tell him the truth and outline the
consequences.”
I was surprised Mzatal didn’t shrivel
away from the look I gave him. “Dude.
Seriously? You expect him to stop
crushing on me because you forbid it?”
Mzatal frowned, contemplative.
“Perhaps not ideal given the entanglement
of human emotions, though there is no time
for it to drag on,” he said, as if he actually
knew what he was talking about. “If he
knows you have no interest and sees how
his distractions have affected his work, he
will subside enough for now.”
My withering look became glacial.
“Boss, you’re completely awesome in
many ways, but you are so off-base with
this it’s not even funny.” I rolled my eyes.
“I’ve already ramped ‘No Interest’ up to
eleven on the dial and, at this point, he
doesn’t care if his work suffers.” I took a
big gulp of coffee, then ran my fingers
through my tangled hair. “Let me deal with
it. Normally I’m not into direct
confrontation with this sort of shit, but
there’s isn’t enough time for it to fizzle out
on its own.”
Mzatal regarded me with that damned
unreadable mask which he’d slipped on as
I was talking. Great. Lords weren’t much
on being told they were wrong, but it had
to be said. ~ Diana Rowland,#NFDB
1134:Influenza is caused by three types of viruses, of which the most worrisome and widespread is influenza A. Viruses of that type all share certain genetic traits: a single-stranded RNA genome, which is partitioned into eight segments, which serve as templates for eleven different proteins. In other words, they have eight discrete stretches of RNA coding, linked together like eight railroad cars, with eleven different deliverable cargoes. The eleven deliverables are the molecules that comprise the structure and functional machinery of the virus. They are what the genes make. Two of those molecules become spiky protuberances from the outer surface of the viral envelope: hemagglutinin and neuraminidase. Those two, recognizable by an immune system, and crucial for penetrating and exiting cells of a host, give the various subtypes of influenza A their definitive labels: H5N1, H1N1, and so on. The term “H5N1” indicates a virus featuring subtype 5 of the hemagglutinin protein combined with subtype 1 of the neuraminidase protein. Sixteen different kinds of hemagglutinin, plus nine kinds of neuraminidase, have been detected in the natural world. Hemagglutinin is the key that unlocks a cell membrane so that the virus can get in, and neuraminidase is the key for getting back out. Okay so far? Having absorbed this simple paragraph, you understand more about influenza than 99.9 percent of the people on Earth. Pat yourself on the back and get a flu shot in November. At ~ David Quammen, #NFDB
1135:As for me, I went inside, walked up to my bedroom, and fell on the floor. What…just happened? Staring at the ceiling, I tried to take it all in. My mind began to race, trying to figure out what it all meant. Do I need to learn how to whittle? Cook fried chicken? Ride a horse? Use a scythe? My face began to feel flushed. And children? Oh, Lord. That means we might have children! What will we name them? Travis and Dolly? Oh my gosh. I have children in my future. I could see it plainly in front of me. They’ll be little redheaded children with green eyes just like mine, and they’ll have lots of freckles, too. I’ll have ten of them, maybe eleven. I’ll have to squat in the garden and give birth while picking my okra. Every stereotype of domestic country life came rushing to the surface. A lot of them involved bearing children.
Then my whole body relaxed in a mushy, contended heap as I remembered all the times I’d walked back into that very room after being with Marlboro Man, my cowboy, my savior. I remembered all the times I’d fallen onto my bed in a fizzy state of euphoria, sighing and smelling my shirt to try to get one last whiff. All the times I’d picked up the phone early in the morning and heard his sexy voice on the other end. All the times I’d longed to see him again, two minutes after he’d dropped me off. This was right, this was oh, so right. If I couldn’t go a day without seeing him, I certainly couldn’t go a lifetime… ~ Ree Drummond,#NFDB
1136:Eleven people have been killed as a result of violence targeted at abortion providers: four doctors, two clinic employees, a security guard, a police officer, a clinic escort, and two others. Anti-abortion extremists are considered a domestic terrorist threat by the U.S. Department of Justice. Yet violence is not the only threat to abortion clinics. In the past five years, politicians have passed more than 280 laws restricting access to abortion. In 2016, the Supreme Court struck down a Texas law that would have required every abortion clinic to have a surgical suite, and doctors to have admitting privileges at a local hospital in case of complications. For many clinics, these requirements were cost prohibitive and would have forced them to close. Also, since many abortion doctors fly in to do their work, they aren’t able to get admitting privileges at local hospitals. It is worth noting that less than 0.3 percent of women who have an abortion require hospitalization due to complications. In fact colonoscopies, liposuction, vasectomies…and childbirth—all of which are performed outside of surgical suites—have higher risks of death. In Indiana in 2016, Mike Pence signed a law to ban abortion based on fetal disability and required providers to give information about perinatal hospice—keeping the fetus in utero until it dies of natural causes. This same law required aborted fetuses to be cremated or given a formal burial even if the mother did not wish this to happen. ~ Jodi Picoult, #NFDB
1137:Think also of the situation that began in Denmark when the author of a biography of Muhammad wanted a drawing on his book jacket that represented the Prophet. All the artists he approached said, No, we can’t do it; we fear Muslim reprisals and would fear for our lives. Hearing of the author’s challenge, the daily newspaper Jyllands-Posten asked cartoonists to depict the Prophet as a test of whether freedom of expression had been limited in Denmark as a result of Islamic terrorists. Twelve cartoonists agreed, and the newspaper published their images in September 2005. Muslim organizations immediately demanded an apology, which the editor-in-chief refused to make, saying that a democracy makes use of all means of expression, including satire, and the images were not intended to insult the Prophet or Muslims. Nonetheless, 3,000 of the 187,000 Muslims living in Denmark protested the paper, which had to post guards as a result of death threats. Eleven foreign ambassadors visited the paper to complain. Months later, in January 2006, Muslim countries began to boycott Danish products. The Danish economy lost some 90 million euros in about a week; companies were forced to lay off hundreds of employees. In February, newspapers in other European countries published the images in support of Denmark and freedom of the press. Islamic extremists attacked and burned the Danish embassy in Beirut; one person was killed. Other European embassies in Islamic countries were attacked. ~ Ayaan Hirsi Ali, #NFDB
1138:Everything did change, faster than his fingers could type. What he had been too cautious to hope for was pulled from his dreams and made real on the television screen. At that momentous hour on December 26, 1991, as he watched the red flag of the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics—the empire “empire extending eleven times zones, from the Sea of Japan to the Baltic coast, encompassing more than a hundred ethnicities and two hundred languages; the collective whose security demanded the sacrifice of millions, whose Slavic stupidity had demanded the deportation of Khassan’s entire homeland; that utopian mirage cooked up by cruel young men who gave their mustaches more care than their morality; that whole horrid system that told him what he could be and do and think and say and believe and love and desire and hate, the system captained by Lenin and Zinoviev and Stalin and Malenkov and Beria and Molotov and Khrushchev and Kosygin and Mikoyan and Podgorny and Brezhnev and Andropov and Chernenko and Gorbachev, all of whom but Gorbachev he hated with a scorn no author should have for his subject, a scorn genetically encoded in his blood, inherited from his ancestors with their black hair and dark skin—as he watched that flag slink down the Kremlin flagpole for the final time, left limp by the windless sky, as if even the weather wanted to impart on communism this final disgrace, he looped his arms around his wife and son and he held them as the state that had denied him his life quietly died. ~ Anthony Marra, #NFDB
1139:Pulling off my cover-up, chucking it on the stone flags, I dive in, the shock of the cool water on my overheated skin exactly what I need to stop me thinking. I do a length underwater as fast as I can, and when I come up, gasping and shaking my head, I realize that everyone’s staring at me.
“Wow,” Evan says, looking over his guitar, which is propped on his lap as he sits cross-legged on a towel. “You in a race with the Invisible Man?”
I giggle at this image.
“Violet,” he sings, strumming a chord. “Running a race with a serious face--so did you win? Or was it him? Don’t forget, Vio-let--Dive in!”
He ends on a high falsetto note, grinning at me.
“That doesn’t make much sense,” he adds. “But hey, at least I rhymed your name.”
“Violet’s pretty easy,” I say, propping my arms on the edge of the pool and smiling back at him. “Regret, forget, net, jet, yet, set, bet--”
“Try Evan,” he suggests. “Apart from numbers and heaven, which gets old very quickly, there’s practically nothing.”
“Numbers? Oh! Eleven…seven…” I furrow my brow.
“Devon,” Kelly calls over. “That’s a county in England.”
“Leaven,” I add. “You do it to bread.”
Evan’s expression is comical, his blue eyes stretched as wide as they’ll go as he plucks a string and, in a singsong nursery-rhyme voice, intones:
“From the age of seven to eleven
Before he tragically went to heaven
Evan leavened bread in Devon.”
He throws his hands wide. “See? Not much to work with. ~ Lauren Henderson,#NFDB
1140:But Holbrooke brought to every job he ever held a visionary quality that transcended practical considerations. He talked openly about changing the world. “If Richard calls you and asks you for something, just say yes,” Henry Kissinger said. “If you say no, you’ll eventually get to yes, but the journey will be very painful.” We all said yes. By the summer, Holbrooke had assembled his Ocean’s Eleven heist team—about thirty of us, from different disciplines and agencies, with and without government experience. In the Pakistani press, the colorful additions to the team were watched closely, and generally celebrated. Others took a dimmer view. “He got this strange band of characters around him. Don’t attribute that to me,” a senior military leader told me. “His efforts to bring into the State Department representatives from all of the agencies that had a kind of stake or contribution to our efforts, I thought was absolutely brilliant,” Hillary Clinton said, “and everybody else was fighting tooth and nail.” It was only later, when I worked in the wider State Department bureaucracy as Clinton’s director of global youth issues during the Arab Spring, that I realized how singular life was in the Office of the Special Representative for Afghanistan and Pakistan—quickly acronymed, like all things in government, to SRAP. The drab, low-ceilinged office space next to the cafeteria was about as far from the colorful open workspaces of Silicon Valley as you could imagine, but it had the feeling of a start-up. ~ Ronan Farrow, #NFDB
1141:So, this being the content of your happy hour, you decide to break your iron-clad rule, that rule of rules, and have eleven drinks instead of the modest nine with which you had been wont to stave off the song of twilight, when the lights are low, and the flickering shadows, etc., etc. But, opening the refrigerator, you discover that the slovely bitch has failed to fill up the ice trays so there is no more ice for your tenth and eleventh sloshes. On discovering this you are just about ready to throw in the entire enterprise, happy home, and go to the bordel for the evening, where at least you can be sure that everyone will be kind to you, and not ask you for a horse, and the floor will not be a muck of sauce diable and pork chops. But when you put your hand in your pocket you discover that there are only three dollars there - not enough to cover a sortie to the bordel, where Master Charge is not accepted, so that the entire scheme, going to the bordel, is blasted. Upon making these determinations, which are not such as to bring the hot flush of excitement to the old cheek, you measure out your iceless over-the-limit drinks, using a little cold water as a make-do, and return to what is called the "living" room, and prepare to live, for a little while longer in a truce with your circumstances - aware that there are wretches worse off than you, people whose trepanations have not been successful, girls who have not been invited to the sexual revolution, priests still frocked. It is seven-thirty. ~ Donald Barthelme, #NFDB
1142:Nope,” she managed. “No other questions.”
Eleven centuries of captivity. Hung on his hated enemy’s study wall. Eleven centuries of not touching. Not eating. Not loving. Had he had anyone to talk
to?
Her face must have betrayed her thoughts, for he startled her by saying softly, “ ’Tis no longer of
consequence, lass, but thank you for the compassion. ’Tis nigh over. Seventeen more days, Jessica. That’s all.”
For some reason his words brought a sudden hot burn of tears to the backs of her eyes. Not only hadn’t eleven centuries turned him into a monster, he was trying to soothe her, to make her feel better about his imprisonment.
“You weep for me, woman?”
She turned away. “It’s been a long day. Hell, it’s been a long week.”
“Jessica.” Her name was a soft command.
She disobeyed it, staring out the window at the rolling hills.
“Jessica, look at me.”
Eyes bright with unshed tears, she whipped her head around and glared at him. “I weep for you, okay?” she snapped. “For eleven centuries stuck in there. Can I start driving again or do you need something else?”
He smiled faintly, raised his hand, and splayed his palm against the inside of the silvery glass. Without an ounce of conscious thought, her hand rose to
meet his, aligning on the cool silver,
palm to palm, finger to finger, thumb to thumb. And though she felt only a cold hardness beneath her palm, the gesture made something go all warm and soft in her heart.
Neither of them spoke or moved for a moment. ~ Karen Marie Moning,#NFDB
1143:There was a risk that Morrison might slip away, and before releasing him, Agent Burger made sure that he’d gone through a rigorous process known as Bertillonage. Devised by the French criminologist Alphonse Bertillon in 1879, it was the first scientific method for identifying repeat criminals. Using a caliper and other special tools, Agent Burger, with the help of the Dallas police, took eleven of Morrison’s body measurements. Among them were the length of his left foot, the width and length of his head, and the diameter of his right ear. After Agent Burger informed Morrison of the purpose of these measurements, he also commissioned a mug shot, another of Bertillon’s innovations. In 1894, Ida Tarbell, the muckraking journalist, wrote that any prisoner who passed through Bertillon’s system would be forever “spotted”: “He may efface his tattooing, compress his chest, dye his hair, extract his teeth, scar his body, dissimulate his height. It is useless.” But Bertillonage was already being displaced by a more efficient method of identification that was revolutionizing the world of scientific detection: fingerprinting. In some cases, a suspect could now be placed at the scene of a crime even without a witness present. When Hoover became the bureau’s acting director, he created the Identification Division, a central repository for the fingerprints of arrested criminals from around the country. Such scientific methods, Hoover proclaimed, would assist “the guardians of civilization in the face of the common danger. ~ David Grann, #NFDB
1144:Jack Reacher made his first appearance in print on March 17, 1997—St. Patrick’s Day—when Putnam published Killing Floor in the United States, which was Reacher’s—and my—debut. But I can trace his, and the book’s, genesis backward at least to New Year’s Eve 1988. Back then I worked for a commercial television station in Manchester, England. I was eleven years into a career as a presentation director, which was a little like an air traffic controller for the network airwaves. In February 1988, the UK commercial network had started twenty-four-hour broadcasting. For a year before that, management had been talking about how to man the new expanded commitment. None of us really wanted to work nights. Management didn’t really want to hire extra people. End of story. Stalemate. Impasse. What broke it was the offer of a huge raise. We took it, and by New Year’s Eve we were ten fat and happy months into the new contract. I went to a party, but didn’t feel much like celebrating. Not that I wasn’t content in the short term—I sleep better by day than night, and I like being up and about when the world is quiet and lonely, and for sure I was having a ball with the new salary. But I knew in my bones that management resented the raise, and I knew that the new contract was in fact the beginning of the end. Sooner or later, we would all be fired in revenge. I felt it was only a matter of time. Nobody agreed with me, except one woman. At the party, in a quiet moment, she asked me, “What are you going to do when this is all over? ~ Lee Child, #NFDB
1145:The car was on the FDR drive now and, turning her head, she glanced out at the bleak brown buildings of the projects that stretched for blocks along the drive. Something inside her sank at the sight of all that sameness, and she suddenly felt defeated.
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. In the past year, she'd started experiencing these moments of desperate emptiness, as if nothing really mattered, nothing was ever going to change, there was nothing new; and she could see her life stretching before her--one endless long day after the next, in which every day was essentially the same. Meanwhile, time was marching on, and all that was happening to her was that she was getting older and smaller, and one day she would be no bigger than a dot, and then she would simply disappear. Poof! Like a small leaf burned up under a magnifying glass in the sun. These feelings were shocking to her, because she'd never experienced world-weariness before. She'd never had time. All her life, she'd been striving and striving to become this thing that was herself--the entity that was Nico O'Neilly. And then, one morning, time had caught up with her and she had woken up and realized that she was there. She had arrived at her destination, and she had everything she'd worked so hard for: a stunning career, a loving (well, sort of) husband, whom she respected, and a beautiful eleven-year-old daughter whom she adored.
She should have been thrilled. But instead, she felt tired. Like all those things belonged to someone else. ~ Candace Bushnell,#NFDB
1146:Two things that weren’t even on the agenda survived every upheaval that followed. General Akhtar remained a general until the time he died, and all God’s names were slowly deleted from the national memory as if a wind had swept the land and blown them away. Innocuous, intimate names: Persian Khuda which had always been handy for ghazal poets as it rhymed with most of the operative verbs; Rab, which poor people invoked in their hour of distress; Maula, which Sufis shouted in their hashish sessions. Allah had given Himself ninety-nine names. His people had improvised many more. But all these names slowly started to disappear: from official stationery, from Friday sermons, from newspaper editorials, from mothers’ prayers, from greeting cards, from official memos, from the lips of television quiz-show hosts, from children’s storybooks, from lovers’ songs, from court orders, from telephone operators’ greetings, from habeas corpus applications, from inter-school debating competitions, from road inauguration speeches, from memorial services, from cricket players’ curses; even from beggars’ begging pleas. In the name of God, God was exiled from the land and replaced by the one and only Allah who, General Zia convinced himself, spoke only through him. But today, eleven years later, Allah was sending him signs that all pointed to a place so dark, so final, that General Zia wished he could muster up some doubts about the Book. He knew if you didn’t have Jonah’s optimism, the belly of the whale was your final resting place. ~ Mohammed Hanif, #NFDB
1147:I don’t come here every night, so I thought maybe we just missed each other. But I asked Jack—you haven’t been around for a beer at all. A couple of weeks, I think….” Eleven days, he thought miserably. “And you were going to make a break for it once I showed up. I hadn’t even considered you were avoiding me. Do I make you nervous or something?” she asked. “Whew,” he answered, shaking his head. “I haven’t been out of the army long enough to get over that rank thing. Your uncle—” “Isn’t anywhere in sight,” she said, cutting him off. “Is it just my uncle?” “You’re a pretty girl, Shelby,” he said. “And you’re just a girl. Puts me on edge, yeah.” “Well then, we’re even,” she said. He gave her a perplexed look and she said, “You’re a good-looking guy, obviously been around a lot more than I have, and you’re older. Scary.” He laughed at her candidness. “There you go—like water on a grease fire. Let’s play it safe, huh? Now tell me about your day.” “Nothing to tell. Besides, this is interesting. I’d like to know what’s going on here. So, it’s pretty much that I’m a lot younger than you are. Or you just don’t like me.” And then she blushed, which made him squirm. It obviously took guts for her to push on this issue. But she wanted to know. So he decided to tell her. “You know what it is, Shelby,” he said. “You’re young and tender. A sweet young thing. I’m hell on sweet young things.” She laughed at him. “I bet anything you usually find a way to get past all that.” Well, she didn’t scare easy, Luke realized with some admiration. ~ Robyn Carr, #NFDB
1148:Arithmetic
Arithmetic is where numbers fly like pigeons in and out of your
head.
Arithmetic tell you how many you lose or win if you know how
many you had before you lost or won.
Arithmetic is seven eleven all good children go to heaven -- or five
six bundle of sticks.
Arithmetic is numbers you squeeze from your head to your hand
to your pencil to your paper till you get the answer.
Arithmetic is where the answer is right and everything is nice and
you can look out of the window and see the blue sky
-- or the
answer is wrong and you have to start all over and
try again
and see how it comes out this time.
If you take a number and double it and double it again and then
double it a few more times, the number gets bigger
and bigger
and goes higher and higher and only arithmetic can
tell you
what the number is when you decide to quit
doubling.
Arithmetic is where you have to multiply -- and you carry the
multiplication table in your head and hope you won't
lose it.
If you have two animal crackers, one good and one bad, and you
eat one and a striped zebra with streaks all over him
eats the
other, how many animal crackers will you have if
somebody
offers you five six seven and you say No no no and
you say
Nay nay nay and you say Nix nix nix?
If you ask your mother for one fried egg for breakfast and she
gives you two fried eggs and you eat both of them,
who is
better in arithmetic, you or your mother?
~ Carl Sandburg,#NFDB
1149:«Dashenka, sister, Dasha?»
«Yes?» She sounded so sad.
Tatiana swallowed. «Want to hear a funny story?»
«Oh, yes, please: I need a funny story to cheer me up. Tell me, darling».
«Stalin as Chairman of the Presidium went in front of the House of Parliament to make a short speech that lasted maybe five minutes. After the speech there was applause. The plenum stood on its feet and applauded. For a minute. Then another minute. They stood and applauded. But – Another minute. Still applauded. They were standing up, and still applauding, as Stalin stood in front of the lectern and listened with a humble smile on his face, the epitome of humility. Another minute. And still applauded. No one knew what to do. They waited for a signal from the Chairman to cease, but no such signal came from the humble and diminutive man. Another minute went by. And still they stood and applauded. It had now been eleven minutes. And no one knew what to do. Someone had to stop applauding. But who? Twelve minutes of applause. Thirteen minutes of applause. And still he stood there. And still they stood there. Fourteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. Finally, at the fifteen-minute mark, the man in the front, the Secretary of Transportation, stopped. As soon as he stopped, the entire auditorium fell mute. The following week the Secretary of Transportation was shot for treason».
«Tania!» exclaimed a startled Dasha. «That was supposed to be funny?»
«Yes», said Tatiana. «Funny, as in, cheer up, things could be worse. You could be the Secretary of Transportation». ~ Paullina Simons,#NFDB
1150:with his daughter.” “Incest?” Rainie looked at Quincy incredulously. “Jesus, SupSpAg, how do you sleep with that mind?” “I can’t be sure,” Quincy said modestly, “but it has all the classic signs. Domineering father alone with his young daughter for the first thirteen years of her life. Seems very doting on the outside. I’m sure if you conducted further interviews you’d find plenty of neighbors and teachers telling you how ‘close’ Mr. Avalon and his daughter were. How ‘involved’ he was in her life. But then she hits puberty and the jig is up. To continue risks pregnancy, plus she’s starting to get a woman’s body, and many of these men aren’t interested in that. So Mr. Avalon goes ahead and takes a wife, some poor, passive woman to serve as window dressing and help him appear suitable to the outside world. Now he clings to the fantasy of what he once had. And protects it jealously.” “Does Mr. Avalon have access to a computer?” Rainie asked Luke. “In his office.” She turned to Quincy. “If Mr. Avalon was involved with his daughter, would he have problems with her relationship with VanderZanden?” “He’ll have problems with any of her relationships. In his mind, she’s his.” “That’s it then. He found out, got angry—” “And got an alibi,” Luke interrupted flatly. They looked at him sharply. He was nearly apologetic. “I tried, Rainie. I stayed in town till eleven last night trying to break this guy’s story. I’ve probably pissed off every blue blood in the city and it still holds. Mr. Avalon was in a business meeting all day Tuesday. His secretary swears ~ Lisa Gardner, #NFDB
1151:Ibn Sina was born in a tiny settlement called Afshanah, outside the village of Kharmaythan, and soon after his birth his family moved to the nearby city of Bukhara. While he was still a small boy his father, a tax collector, arranged for him to study with a teacher of Qu’ran and a teacher of literature, and by the time he was ten he had memorized the entire Qu’ran and absorbed much of Muslim culture. His father met a learned vegetable peddler named Mahmud the Mathematician, who taught the child Indian calculation and algebra. Before the gifted youth grew his first facial hairs he had qualified in law and delved into Euclid and geometry, and his teachers begged his father to allow him to devote his life to scholarship. He began the study of medicine at eleven and by the time he was sixteen he was lecturing to older physicians and spending much of his time in the practice of law. All his life he would be both jurist and philosopher, but he noted that although these learned pursuits were given deference and respect by the Persian world in which he lived, nothing mattered more to an individual than his well-being and whether he would live or die. At an early age, fate made Ibn Sina the servant of a series of rulers who used his genius to guard their health, and though he wrote dozens of volumes on law and philosophy—enough to win him the affectionate sobriquet of Second Teacher (First Teacher being Mohammed)—it was as the Prince of Physicians that he gained the fame and adulation that followed him wherever he traveled. In Ispahan, where he had gone at ~ Noah Gordon, #NFDB
1152:The book of Genesis is a window into what cultures were like before the revelation of the Bible. One thing we see early on is the widespread practice of primogeniture—the eldest son inherited all the wealth, which is how they ensured the family kept its status and place in society. So the second or third son got nothing, or very little. Yet all through the Bible, when God chooses someone to work through, he chooses the younger sibling. He chooses Abel over Cain. He chooses Isaac over Ishmael. He chooses Jacob over Esau. He chooses David over all eleven of his older brothers. Time after time he chooses not the oldest, not the one the world expects and rewards. Never the one from Jerusalem, as it were, but always the one from Nazareth. Another ancient cultural tradition revealed in Genesis is that in those societies, women who had lots of children were extolled as heroic. If you had many children, that meant economic success, it meant military success, and of course it meant the odds of carrying on the family name were secure. So women who could not have children were shamed and stigmatized. Yet throughout the Bible, when God shows us how he works through a woman, he chooses the ones who cannot have children, and opens their wombs. These are despised women, but God chooses them over ones who are loved and blessed in the eyes of the world. He chooses Sarah, Abraham’s wife; Rebecca, Isaac’s wife; Samuel’s mother, Hannah; and John’s mother, Elizabeth. God always works through the men or the boys nobody wanted, through the women or girls nobody wanted. ~ Timothy J Keller, #NFDB
1153:Let’s remember that it would afterward create inventions unimaginable to previous generations, outracing sound via the telegraph and flooding silences with the music of the phonograph—and harnessing electricity to illuminate the darkness with delicate glass bulbs; and it would invent the motion picture so that people in darkened theaters could dream while still awake; and it would loft human beings into the world of the birds above our heads in winged apparatuses that would eventually soar across continents and then across oceans; and it would via assembly-line innovation make the horseless carriage available to the working man; and it would invent baseball and football and basketball; and it would in two wars defend civilization and democracy from totalitarian tyranny; and it would invent jazz and blues and rock and roll; and it would invent a device that could make what was happening in one place appear instantly to other people thousands of miles away; and it would make this device available to almost everyone; and it would vault our species beyond Earth’s gravity and onto other heavenly bodies, depositing one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve men onto the white surface of the moon; and it would invent the computer and it would invent the Internet, with its endless information going to and fro over the surface of the Earth. All of these things and so many more were made possible by that one document written in that hot room in Philadelphia over the course of one hundred days—that promise to the future of the world. ~ Eric Metaxas, #NFDB
1154:The powerful influence of filmed examples in changing the behavior of children can be used as therapy for various problems. Some striking evidence is available in the research of psychologist Robert O’Connor on socially withdrawn preschool children. We have all seen children of this sort, terribly shy, standing alone at the fringes of the games and groupings of their peers. O’Connor worried that a long-term pattern of isolation was forming, even at an early age, that would create persistent difficulties in social comfort and adjustment through adulthood. In an attempt to reverse the pattern, O’Connor made a film containing eleven different scenes in a nursery-school setting. Each scene began by showing a different solitary child watching some ongoing social activity and then actively joining the activity, to everyone’s enjoyment. O’Connor selected a group of the most severely withdrawn children from four preschools and showed them his film. The impact was impressive. The isolates immediately began to interact with their peers at a level equal to that of the normal children in the schools. Even more astonishing was what O’Connor found when he returned to observe six weeks later. While the withdrawn children who had not seen O’Connor’s film remained as isolated as ever, those who had viewed it were now leading their schools in amount of social activity. It seems that this twenty-three-minute movie, viewed just once, was enough to reverse a potential pattern of lifelong maladaptive behavior. Such is the potency of the principle of social proof.50 When ~ Robert B Cialdini, #NFDB
1155:Now we will live!” This is what the hungry little boy liked to say, as he toddled along the quiet roadside, or through the empty fields. But the food that he saw was only in his imagination. The wheat had all been taken away, in a heartless campaign of requisitions that began Europe’s era of mass killing. It was 1933, and Joseph Stalin was deliberately starving Soviet Ukraine. The little boy died, as did more than three million other people. “I will meet her,” said a young Soviet man of his wife, “under the ground.” He was right; he was shot after she was, and they were buried among the seven hundred thousand victims of Stalin’s Great Terror of 1937 and 1938. “They asked for my wedding ring, which I….” The Polish officer broke off his diary just before he was executed by the Soviet secret police in 1940. He was one of about two hundred thousand Polish citizens shot by the Soviets or the Germans at the beginning of the Second World War, while Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union jointly occupied his country. Late in 1941, an eleven-year-old Russian girl in Leningrad finished her own humble diary: “Only Tania is left.” Adolf Hitler had betrayed Stalin, her city was under siege by the Germans, and her family were among the four million Soviet citizens the Germans starved to death. The following summer, a twelve-year-old Jewish girl in Belarus wrote a last letter to her father: “I am saying good-bye to you before I die. I am so afraid of this death because they throw small children into the mass graves alive.” She was among the more than five million Jews gassed or shot by the Germans. ~ Timothy Snyder, #NFDB
1156:Every February, my classmates and I were herded into assemblies for a ritual review of the Civil Rights Movement. Our teachers urged us toward the example of freedom marchers, Freedom Riders, and Freedom Summers, and it seemed that the month could not pass without a series of films dedicated to the glories of being beaten on camera. The black people in these films seemed to love the worst things in life - love the dogs that rent their children apart, the tear gas that clawed at their lungs, the firehoses that tore off their clothes and tumbled them into the streets. They seemed to love the men who raped them, the women who cursed them, love the children who spat on them, the terrorists that bombed them. Why are they showing this to us? Why were only our heroes nonviolent? I speak not of the morality of nonviolence, but of the sense that blacks are in especial need of this morality. Back then all I could do was measure these freedom-lovers by what I knew. Which is to say, I measured them against children pulling out in the 7-Eleven parking lot, against parents wielding extension cords, and "Yeah, nigger, what's up now?" I judged them against the country I knew, which had acquired the land through murder and tamed it under slavery, against the country whose armies fanned out across the world to extend their dominion. The world, the real one, was civilization secured and ruled by savage means. How could the schools valorize men and women whose values society actively scorned? How could they send us out into the streets of Baltimore, knowing all that they were, and then speak of nonviolence? ~ Ta Nehisi Coates, #NFDB
1157:I am a cutter, you see. Also a snipper, a slicer, a carver, a jabber. I am a very special case. I have a purpose. My skin, you see, screams. It's covered with words - cook, cupcake, kitty, curls - as if a knife-wielding first-grader learned to write on my flesh. I sometimes, but only sometimes, laugh. Getting out of the bath and seeing, out of the corner of my eye, down the side of a leg: babydoll. Pull on a sweater and, in a flash of my wrist: harmful. Why these words? Thousands of hours of therapy have yielded a few ideas from the good doctors. They are often feminine, in a Dick and Jane, pink vs. puppy dog tails sort of way. Or they're flat-out negative. Number of synonyms for anxious carved in my skin: eleven. The one thing I know for sure is that at the time, it was crucial to see these letters on me, and not just see them, but feel them. Burning on my left hip: petticoat.
And near it, my first word, slashed on an anxious summer day at age thirteen: wicked. I woke up that morning, hot and bored, worried about the hours ahead. How do you keep safe when your whole day is as wide and empty as the sky? Anything could happen. I remember feeling that word, heavy and slightly sticky across my pubic bone. My mother's steak knife. Cutting like a child along red imaginary lines. Cleaning myself. Digging in deeper. Cleaning myself. Pouring bleach over the knife and sneaking through the kitchen to return it. Wicked. Relief. The rest of the day, I spent ministering to my wound. Dig into the curves of W with an alcohol-soaked Q-tip. Pet my cheek until the sting went away. Lotion. Bandage. Repeat. ~ Gillian Flynn,#NFDB
1158:In 2012, I turned fifty-six. Hugh and his longtime girlfriend took me out to dinner. On the way home I remembered a bit of old folklore—probably you’ve heard it—about how to boil a frog. You put it in cold water, then start turning up the heat. If you do it gradually, the frog is too stupid to jump out. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I decided it was an excellent metaphor for growing old. When I was a teenager, I looked at over-fifties with pity and unease: they walked too slow, they talked too slow, they watched TV instead of going out to movies and concerts, their idea of a great party was hotpot with the neighbors and tucked into bed after the eleven o’clock news. But—like most other fifty-, sixty-, and seventysomethings who are in relative good health—I didn’t mind it so much when my turn came. Because the brain doesn’t age, although its ideas about the world may harden and there’s a greater tendency to run off at the mouth about how things were in the good old days. (I was spared that, at least, because most of my so-called good old days had been spent as a full-bore, straight-on-for-Texas drug addict.) I think for most people, life’s deceptive deliriums begin to fall away after fifty. The days speed up, the aches multiply, and your gait slows down, but there are compensations. In calmness comes appreciation, and—in my case—a determination to be as much of a do-right-daddy as possible in the time I had left. That meant ladling out soup once a week at a homeless shelter in Boulder, and working for three or four political candidates with the radical idea that Colorado should not be paved over. ~ Stephen King, #NFDB
1159:Let Us Fly!
Let us fly! It is long past eleven;
The watch-dogs are silent; the moon
Hath all but abandoned the heaven,
And midnight is sinking in swoon.
Not a chirp to be heard in the thicket;
The kine are asleep in the byre;
All is hushed; here I stand at the wicket,
Alone, with my pulses on fire.
There! silently close you the lattice!
Now daintily drop we the latch!
What is that? O my pretty one! that is
A sparrow that moved in the thatch.
Quick! a hasty foot over the orchard!
The horses are saddled beyond.
To-night 'tis our fate to be tortured,
To-morrow night nothing but fond!
Yet I pause. O my Mabel! my beauty!
If they who sleep tranquil within
But knew how Love wrestles with Duty,
They weakness would call it, not sin!
If they, the calm clients of virtue,
But once on your bosom had throbbed,
They would swear 'twas a crime to desert you,
And pardon the felon that robbed.
No! Sooner the shade of the cypress
Stretch premature over your tomb,
Than the tread of the slanderous vipress,
Should, pitiless, darken your doom!
And in the last Grand Accusation
For selfishness, falsehood, or sloth,
This act of sublime abnegation
Shall, trumpet-tongued, plead for us both
Giacomo! back to the stable;
I shan't want the horses to-night.
And see you be gentle with Mabel;
328
It is not her temper, but fright.
Soft and warm, deep and broad, be her litter,
And her mane most caressingly curled.
O God! love is sweet, loss is bitter,
And I am alone in the world!
~ Alfred Austin,#NFDB
1160:SELF-ASSESSMENTAre You an Empath? To find out, take the following empath self-assessment, answering “mostly yes” or “mostly no” to each question. •Have I ever been labeled overly sensitive, shy, or introverted? •Do I frequently get overwhelmed or anxious? •Do arguments and yelling make me ill? •Do I often feel like I don’t fit in? •Do crowds drain me, and do I need alone time to revive myself? •Do noise, odors, or nonstop talkers overwhelm me? •Do I have chemical sensitivities or a low tolerance for scratchy clothes? •Do I prefer taking my own car to places so that I can leave early if I need to? •Do I overeat to cope with stress? •Am I afraid of becoming suffocated by intimate relationships? •Do I startle easily? •Do I react strongly to caffeine or medications? •Do I have a low threshold for pain? •Do I tend to socially isolate? •Do I absorb other people’s stress, emotions, or symptoms? •Am I overwhelmed by multitasking, and do I prefer to do one thing at a time? •Do I replenish myself in nature? •Do I need a long time to recuperate after being with difficult people or energy vampires? •Do I feel better in small towns or the country rather than large cities? •Do I prefer one-to-one interactions and small groups to large gatherings? Now calculate your results. •If you answered yes to one to five questions, you’re at least a partial empath. •If you answered yes to six to ten questions, you have moderate empath tendencies. •If you answered yes to eleven to fifteen questions, you have strong empath tendencies. •If you answered yes to more than fifteen questions, you are a full-blown empath. ~ Judith Orloff, #NFDB
1161:The temperature jumped another ninety degrees. Why couldn't anyone see in my life how awesome Noah was? I shoved up my sleeves, welcoming the cold air on my skin.
"Echo, stop!" Ashley propelled her self out of the gliter.
I froze and then remembered Ashley was damaged. I was going on a date, not to Vegas to elope.
Noah's strong hand slipped over my wrist before he entwined his fingers with mine. The sensation of warm flesh against an area I allowed no one to see, much less touch, caused me to shiver. My eyes widened, realizing my mistake. This is what had freaked Ashley out. What had come over me? I never pulled up my sleeves. I spent all my time pulling them down. When had I become...comfortable?
He rubbed his thumb over my hand. "I planned on taking her to my house to meet some of my friends."
Noah could have told them he was getting me to the ghetto to buy us crack and they wouldn't have heard him. Ashley stood in place, staring at my exposed scars as my father stared at our combined hands. I reached over to pull down my sleeve, but Noah casually placed his hand over my forearm, preventing me fron doing it. My lungs squeezed out all the oxygen in my body. Noah Hutchins, in fact, a human being, was overtly, on purpose, touching my scars.
I'd stopped breathing moments ago, as had Ashley. Noah continued as nothing earth-shattering had happened. "What time does Echo need to be home?"
Blinking my self back to life, i answered for them, "My curfew is eleven."
"Twelve." My father stood and extended his hand. "I didn't have a chance to properly introduce myself earlier. I'm Owen Emerson. ~ Katie McGarry,#NFDB
1162:I’d better go,” Marlboro Man said, leaning forward and kissing my cheek. I still grasped the diamond ring in my warm, sweaty hand. “I don’t want Mike to burst a blood vessel.” He laughed out loud, clearly enjoying it all.
I tried to speak but couldn’t. I’d been rendered totally mute. Nothing could have prepared me for those ten minutes of my life. The last thing I remember, I’d awakened at eleven. Moments later, I was hiding in my bathroom, trying, in all my early-morning ugliness, to avoid being seen by Marlboro Man, who’d dropped by unexpectedly. Now I was standing on the front porch, a diamond ring in my hand. It was all completely surreal.
Marlboro Man turned to leave. “You can give me your answer later,” he said, grinning, his Wranglers waving good-bye to me in the bright noonday sun.
But then it all came flashing across my line of sight. The boots in the bar, the icy blue-green eyes, the starched shirt, the Wranglers…the first date, the long talks, my breakdown in his kitchen, the movies, the nights on his porch, the kisses, the long drives, the hugs…the all-encompassing, mind-numbing passion I felt. It played frame by frame in my mind in a steady stream.
“Hey,” I said, walking toward him and effortlessly sliding the ring on my finger. I wrapped my arms around his neck as his arms, instinctively, wrapped around my waist and raised me off the ground in our all-too-familiar pose. “Yep,” I said effortlessly. He smiled and hugged me tightly. Mike, once again, laid on the horn, oblivious to what had just happened. Marlboro Man said nothing more. He simply kissed me, smiled, then drove my brother to the mall. ~ Ree Drummond,#NFDB
1163:Tomes
There is a section in my library for death
and another for Irish history,
a few shelves for the poetry of China and Japan,
and in the center a row of imperturbable reference books,
the ones you can turn to anytime,
when the night is going wrong
or when the day is full of empty promise.
I have nothing against
the thin monograph, the odd query,
a note on the identity of Chekhov's dentist,
but what I prefer on days like these
is to get up from the couch,
pull down The History of the World,
and hold in my hands a book
containing nearly everything
and weighing no more than a sack of potatoes,
eleven pounds, I discovered one day when I placed it
on the black, iron scale
my mother used to keep in her kitchen,
the device on which she would place
a certain amount of flour,
a certain amount of fish.
Open flat on my lap
under a halo of lamplight,
a book like this always has a way
of soothing the nerves,
quieting the riotous surf of information
that foams around my waist
even though it never mentions
the silent labors of the poor,
the daydreams of grocers and tailors,
or the faces of men and women alone in single roomseven though it never mentions my mother,
now that I think of her again,
who only last year rolled off the edge of the earth
in her electric bed,
78
in her smooth pink nightgown
the bones of her fingers interlocked,
her sunken eyes staring upward
beyond all knowledge,
beyond the tiny figures of history,
some in uniform, some not,
marching onto the pages of this incredibly heavy book.
~ Billy Collins,#NFDB
1164:Chapter Eleven
She did not spend long in the supermarket at Riverwalk, confining her purchases to supplies she would need for the next few days. There was beef for stew, a large pumpkin, a packet of beans, a dozen eggs, and two loaves of bread. The pumpkin looked delicious—almost perfectly round and deep yellow in colour, it sat on the passenger seat beside her so comfortably as she drove out of the car park, so pleased to be what it was, that she imagined conducting a conversation with it, telling it about the Orphan Farm and Mma Potokwane and her concerns over Mma Makutsi. And the pumpkin would remain silent, of course, but would somehow indicate that it knew what she was talking about, that there were similar issues in the world of pumpkins.
She smiled. There was no harm, she thought, in allowing your imagination to run away with you, as a child’s will do, because the thoughts that came in that way could be a comfort, a relief in a world that could be both sad and serious. Why not imagine a talk with a pumpkin? Why not imagine going off for a drive with a friendly pumpkin, a companion who would not, after all, answer back; who would agree with everything you said, and would at the end of the day appear on your plate as a final gesture of friendship? Why not allow yourself a few minutes of imaginative silliness so that you could remember what it was like when you believed such things, when you were a child at the feet of your grandmother, listening to the old Setswana tales of talking trees and clever baboons and all the things that made up that world that lay just on the other side of the world we knew, the world of the real Botswana.
Mma Ramotswe ~ Alexander McCall Smith,#NFDB
1165:Whether he talked or not made little difference to my mood. My only enemy was the clock on the dashboard, whose hands would move relentlessly to one o'clock. We drove east, we drove west, amidst the myriad villages that cling like limpets to the Mediterranean shore, and today I remember none of them. All I remember is the feel of the leather seats, the texture of the map upon my knee, its frayed edges, its worn seams, and how one day, looking at the clock, I thought to myself, 'This moment now, at twenty past eleven, this must never be lost, ' and I shut my eyes to make the experience more lasting. When I opened my eyes we were by a bend in the road, and a peasant girl in a black shawl waved to us; I can see her now, her dusty skirt, her gleaming, friendly smile, and in a second we had passed the bend and could see her no more. Already she belonged to the past, she was only a memory. I wanted to go back again, to recapture the moment that had gone, and then it came to me that if we did it would not be the same, even the sun would be changed in the sky, casting another shadow, and the peasant girl would trudge past us along the road in a different way, not waving this time, perhaps not even seeing us. There was something chilling in the thought, something a little melancholy, and looking at the clock I saw that five more minutes had gone by. Soon we would have reached our time limit, and must return to the hotel. 'If only there could be an invention', I said impulsively, 'that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again." (Rebecca, chapter five) ~ Daphne du Maurier, #NFDB
1166:They do the twenty-one-gun salute for the good guys, right? So I brought this.” Beckett pointed the gun in the sky. “For Mouse.”
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen shots exploded from Beckett’s gun.
“Who am I fucking kidding? What the hell does a gun shot by me mean? Nothing special, that’s for damn sure. Fuck it.”
“For Mouse, who watched over my sister and saved Blake and me from more than we could’ve handled in the woods that night.” Livia nodded at Beckett, and he squeezed the trigger. When the sound had cleared, she counted out loud. “Seventeen.”
Kyle stepped forward and replaced Livia at Beckett’s arm. “For Mouse. I didn’t know you well, but I wish I had.” The air snapped with the shot. “Eighteen.”
Cole rubbed Kyle’s shoulder as he approached. He took the gun from Beckett’s hand. “For Mouse, who protected Beckett from himself for years.” The gun popped again. “Nineteen.”
Blake thought for a moment with the gun pointed at the ground, then aimed it at the sky. “For Mouse, who saved Livia’s life when I couldn’t. Thank you is not enough.” The gun took his gratitude to the heavens. “Twenty.”
Eve took the gun from Blake, the hand that had been shaking steadied. “Mouse, I wish you were still here. This place was better when you were part of it.” The last shot was the most jarring, juxtaposed with the perfect silence of its wake.
As if the bullet was a key in a lock, the gray skies opened and a quiet, lovely snow shower filtered down. The flakes decorated the hair of the six mourners like glistening knit caps.
Eve turned her face to be bathed in the fresh flakes. “Twenty-one,” she said softly, replacing her earpiece. ~ Debra Anastasia,#NFDB
1167:What passed in the mind of this man at the supreme moment of his agony cannot be told in words. He was still comparatively young, he was surrounded by the loving care of a devoted family, but he had convinced himself by a course of reasoning, illogical perhaps, yet certainly plausible, that he must separate himself from all he held dear in the world, even life itself. To form the slightest idea of his feelings, one must have seen his face with its expression of enforced resignation and its tear-moistened eyes raised to heaven. The minute hand moved on. The pistols were loaded; he stretched forth his hand, took one up, and murmured his daughter's name. Then he laid it down seized his pen, and wrote a few words. It seemed to him as if he had not taken a sufficient farewell of his beloved daughter. Then he turned again to the clock, counting time now not by minutes, but by seconds. He took up the deadly weapon again, his lips parted and his eyes fixed on the clock, and then shuddered at the click of the trigger as he cocked the pistol. At this moment of mortal anguish the cold sweat came forth upon his brow, a pang stronger than death clutched at his heart-strings. He heard the door of the staircase creak on its hinges—the clock gave its warning to strike eleven—the door of his study opened; Morrel did not turn round—he expected these words of Cocles, "The agent of Thomson & French."
He placed the muzzle of the pistol between his teeth. Suddenly he heard a cry—it was his daughter's voice. He turned and saw Julie. The pistol fell from his hands. "My father!" cried the young girl, out of breath, and half dead with joy—"saved, you are saved!" And she threw herself into his arms, holding in her extended hand a red, netted silk purse. ~ Alexandre Dumas,#NFDB
1168:I see.” A smile played on his lips. “I must do the thing properly, then. If you’ll rise?” He pressed her to her feet, then slid from the chair and dropped to one knee. He took her hand in his own roughened one. “You will not be offended by the truth?” She looked down at him, this kneeling duke, with his odd, deliberate ways. There was simply no one else like him, and she loved him for that. “I might. But I want it anyway.” He worked shaking fingers between hers, then gave a sharp nod. “Here it is. Eleven years ago, you married an old man who wanted to cheer his last years with a nubile young wife. I have no expectation of dying soon, so I am quite prepared to see you grow haggard and fat over the forthcoming decades.” A crack of laughter burst from her throat; his mouth creased in a barely suppressed smile as he added, “My finances are adequate without the aid of your fortune. And—forgive me for mentioning it—but my bloodline is more noble than yours too.” “This is hardly a litany of praise.” “It’s the truth. And so is this: that there is only one remaining reason for me to offer you marriage. I love you.” His grip about her fingers tightened. “For many years, I had no talent for using my heart, and so I never bothered with it—until you entered my life and showed me the pleasurable bits of life that I was missing. How much sweeter is work when there is someone to play with at day’s end. How a small kindness can grow to touch everyone around it. Everything is better with you near.” The walls around her heart were weak now, indeed. “I want to believe you. So much. But I know your nature is solitary. How can I be sure you won’t tire of me and toss me aside like a Carcel lamp?” “I would never toss aside a Carcel lamp.” She couldn’t help but laugh. ~ Theresa Romain, #NFDB
1169:A Lake Charles-based artist, Sally was a progressive Democrat who in 2016 primary favored Bernie Sanders. Sally's very dear friend and worl-traveling flight attendant from Opelousas, Louisiana, Shirley was an enthusiast for the Tea Party and Donald Trump. Both woman had joined sororities at LSU. Each had married, had three children, lived in homes walking distance apart in Lake Charles, and had keys to each other's houses. Each loved the other's children. Shirley knew Sally's parents and even consulted Sally's mother when the two go to "fussing to much." They exchanged birthday and Christmas gifts and jointly scoured the newspaper for notices of upcoming cultural events they had, when they were neighbors in Lake Charles, attended together. One day when I was staying as Shirley's overnight guest in Opelousas, I noticed a watercolor picture hanging on the guestroom wall, which Sally had painted as a gift for Shirley's eleven-year-old daughter, who aspired to become a ballerina. With one pointed toe on a pudgy, pastel cloud, the other lifted high, the ballerina's head was encircled by yellow star-like butterflies. It was a loving picture of a child's dream--one that came true. Both women followed the news on TV--Sally through MSNBC's Rachel Maddow, and Shirley via Fox News's Charles Krauthammer, and each talked these different reports over with a like-minded husband. The two women talk by phone two or three times a week, and their grown children keep in touch, partly across the same politcal divide. While this book is not about the personal lives of these two women, it couldn't have been written without them both, and I believe that their friendship models what our country itself needs to forge: the capacity to connect across difference. ~ Arlie Russell Hochschild, #NFDB
1170:Elements Of Composition
Composed as I am, like others,
of elements on certain well-known lists,
father's seed and mother's egg
gathering earth, air, fire, mostly
water, into a mulberry mass,
moulding calcium,
carbon, even gold, magnesium and such,
into a chattering self tangled
in love and work,
scary dreams, capable of eyes that can see,
only by moving constantly,
the constancy of things
like Stonehenge or cherry trees;
add uncle's eleven fingers
making shadow-plays of rajas
and cats, hissing,
becoming fingers again, the look
of panic on sister's face
an hour before
her wedding, a dated newspaper map,
of a place one has never seen, maybe
no longer there
after the riots, downtown Nairobi,
that a friend carried in his passport
as others would
a woman's picture in their wallets;
add the lepers of Madurai,
male, female, married,
with children,
lion faces, crabs for claws,
clotted on their shadows
under the stone-eyed
goddesses of dance, mere pillars,
moving as nothing on earth
can move &mdash
I pass through them
as they pass through me
taking and leaving
affections, seeds, skeletons,
millennia of fossil records
of insects that do not last
a day,
body-prints of mayflies,
a legend half-heard
in a train
of the half-man searching
for an ever-fleeing
other half
through Muharram tigers,
hyacinths in crocodile waters,
and the sweet
twisted lives of epileptic saints,
and even as I add
I lose, decompose,
into my elements
into other names and forms,
past, and passing, tenses
without time,
caterpillar on a leaf, eating,
10
being eaten.
~ A. K. Ramanujan,#NFDB
1171:He walked me to the door, and we stood on the top step. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he kissed me on the nose and said, “I’m glad I came back.” God, he was sweet.
“I’m glad you did, too,” I replied. “But…” I paused for a moment, gathering courage. “Did you have something you wanted to say?”
It was forward, yes--gutsy. But I wasn’t going to let this moment pass. I didn’t have many more moments with him, after all; soon I’d be gone to Chicago. Sitting in coffee shops at eleven at night, if I wanted. Working. Eventually going back to school. I’d be danged if I was going to miss what he’d started to say a few minutes earlier, before my mom and her cashmere robe showed up and spoiled everything.
Marlboro Man looked up at me and smiled, apparently pleased that I’d shown such assertiveness. An outgoing middle child all my life, with him I’d become quiet, shy--an unrecognizable version of myself. He’d captured my heart so unexpectedly, so completely, I’d been rendered utterly incapable of speaking. He had this uncanny way of sucking the words right out of me and leaving nothing but pure, unadulterated passion in their place.
He grabbed me even more tightly. “Well, first of all,” he began, “I really…I really like you.” He looked into my eyes in a seeming effort to transmit the true meaning of each word straight into my psyche. All muscle tone disappeared from my body.
Marlboro Man was so willing to put himself out there, so unafraid to put forth his true feelings. I simply wasn’t used to this. I was used to head games, tactics, apathy, aloofness. When it came to love and romance, I’d developed a rock-solid tolerance for mediocrity. And here, in two short weeks, Marlboro Man had blown it all to kingdom come.
There was nothing mediocre about Marlboro Man. ~ Ree Drummond,#NFDB
1172:We were on a family holiday to Cyprus to visit my aunt and uncle. My uncle Andrew was then the brigadier to all the British forces on the island, and as such a senior military figure I am sure he must have dreaded us coming to town.
After a few days holed up in the garrison my uncle innocently suggested that maybe we would enjoy a trip to the mountains. He already knew the answer that my father and I would give. We were in.
The Troodos Mountains are a small range of snowy peaks in the center of the island, and the soldiers posted to Cyprus use them to ski and train in. There are a couple of ski runs, but the majority of the peaks in winter are wild and unspoiled.
In other words, they are ripe for an adventure.
Dad and I borrowed two sets of army skis and boots from the garrison up in the hills and spent a great afternoon together skiing down the couple of designated runs. But designated runs can also be quite boring. We both looked at each other and suggested a quick off-piste detour.
It was all game…age eleven.
It wasn’t very far into this between-the-trees deep-powder detour that the weather, dramatically, and very suddenly, took a turn for the worse.
A mountain mist rolled in, reducing visibility to almost zero. We stopped to try and get, or guess, our directions back to the piste, but our guess was wrong, and very soon we both realized we were lost. (Or temporarily geographically challenged, as I have learned to call it.)
Dad and I made the mistake that so many do in that situation, and plowed on blind, in the vain hope that the miraculous would occur. We had no map, no compass, no food, no water, no mobile telephone (they hadn’t even been invented yet), and in truth, no likelihood of finding our way.
We were perfect candidates for a disaster. ~ Bear Grylls,#NFDB
1173:Thesaurus
It could be the name of a prehistoric beast
that roamed the Paleozoic earth, rising up
on its hind legs to show off its large vocabulary,
or some lover in a myth who is metamorphosed into a book.
It means treasury, but it is just a place
where words congregate with their relatives,
a big park where hundreds of family reunions
are always being held,
house, home, abode, dwelling, lodgings, and digs,
all sharing the same picnic basket and thermos;
hairy, hirsute, woolly, furry, fleecy, and shaggy
all running a sack race or throwing horseshoes,
inert, static, motionless, fixed and immobile
standing and kneeling in rows for a group photograph.
Here father is next to sire and brother close
to sibling, separated only by fine shades of meaning.
And every group has its odd cousin, the one
who traveled the farthest to be here:
astereognosis, polydipsia, or some eleven
syllable, unpronounceable substitute for the word tool.
Even their own relatives have to squint at their name tags.
I can see my own copy up on a high shelf.
I rarely open it, because I know there is no
such thing as a synonym and because I get nervous
around people who always assemble with their own kind,
forming clubs and nailing signs to closed front doors
while others huddle alone in the dark streets.
I would rather see words out on their own, away
from their families and the warehouse of Roget,
wandering the world where they sometimes fall
in love with a completely different word.
Surely, you have seen pairs of them standing forever
next to each other on the same line inside a poem,
a small chapel where weddings like these,
between perfect strangers, can take place.
75
~ Billy Collins,#NFDB
1174:However, there have been close calls where we were extremely lucky that there was a human in the loop. On October 27, 1962, during the Cuban Missile Crisis, eleven U.S. Navy destroyers and the aircraft carrier USS Randolph had cornered the Soviet submarine B-59 near Cuba, in international waters outside the U.S. “quarantine” area. What they didn’t know was that the temperature onboard had risen past 45°C (113°F) because the submarine’s batteries were running out and the air-conditioning had stopped. On the verge of carbon dioxide poisoning, many crew members had fainted. The crew had had no contact with Moscow for days and didn’t know whether World War III had already begun. Then the Americans started dropping small depth charges, which they had, unbeknownst to the crew, told Moscow were merely meant to force the sub to surface and leave. “We thought—that’s it—the end,” crew member V. P. Orlov recalled. “It felt like you were sitting in a metal barrel, which somebody is constantly blasting with a sledgehammer.” What the Americans also didn’t know was that the B-59 crew had a nuclear torpedo that they were authorized to launch without clearing it with Moscow. Indeed, Captain Savitski decided to launch the nuclear torpedo. Valentin Grigorievich, the torpedo officer, exclaimed: “We will die, but we will sink them all—we will not disgrace our navy!” Fortunately, the decision to launch had to be authorized by three officers on board, and one of them, Vasili Arkhipov, said no. It’s sobering that very few have heard of Arkhipov, although his decision may have averted World War III and been the single most valuable contribution to humanity in modern history.38 It’s also sobering to contemplate what might have happened had B-59 been an autonomous AI-controlled submarine with no humans in the loop. ~ Max Tegmark, #NFDB
1175:I’m kind of hoping it will end like this. You made me happy. Very happy. But…you deserve everything. Wife, kids, a white picket fence.”
“And I’ll have all of it. With you.”
“You know that can’t happen with me.”
“Then it can’t happen with anyone. There won’t be a next Rosie. And there won’t be another story like ours. This is it, Rose LeBlanc. And this is us. If there is no you, then there is no me.”
“You know, I always hated Romeo and Juliet . The play. The movie. The very idea. It was tragic, all right. Tragically stupid. I mean, they were what? Thirteen? Sixteen? What a waste of life, to kill yourself because your family wouldn’t let you get hitched. But Romeo and Juliet were right. I was the next eleven years killing myself slowly while I grieved for you. Then you came back, and I still thought it was just a fascination. But now that I know…”
“Now that I know that it can only ever be you, you’re going to get better for me so Earth won’t explode. Can you do that, Sirius? I promise not to leave this room until you get out. Not even for a shower. Not even to get you your chocolate chip cookies. I’ll get someone to drive all the way to New York and bring them for you.”
“I love you.” Rosie’s tears curtained her vision.
“I love you, Baby LeBlanc,” I said. “So fucking much. You taught me how to love. How well did I do?”
“A-plus,” she whispered. “You aced it. Can you promise me something?”
“Anything.”
“ Live .”
“Not without you.”
“And have kids. Lots of them. They’re fun.” “Rosie…”
“I’m not afraid. I got what I wanted from this life. You .”
“Rosie.”
“I love you, Earth. You were good to me.” “Rose!”
Her eyes closed, the door opened, the sound on her monitor went off, and my heart disintegrated.
Piece.
By piece.
By piece. ~ L J Shen,#NFDB
1176:Here, I have something for you."
"It had better not be an engagement ring."
He paused, his lips puckering as if the thought hadn't occurred to him and he was regretting it.
"Or gloves," added Cinder. "That didn't work out too well last time."
Grinning, Kai took a step closer to her and dropped to one knee.
Her eyes widened.
"Cinder ..."
Her heart thumped. "Wait."
"I've been waiting a long time to give this to you."
"Kai -"
With an expression as serious as politics, he pulled his hand from behind his back. In it was cupped a small metal foot, frayed wires sticking up from the cavity and the joints packed with grease.
Cinder released her breath, then started to laugh. "You - ugh."
"Are you terribly disappointed, because I'm sure Luna has some great jewelry stores if you wanted me to -"
"Shut up," she said, taking the foot. She turned it over in her palms, shaking her head. "I keep trying to get rid of this thing, but somehow it keeps finding its way back to me. What made you keep it?"
"It occurred to me that if I could find the cyborg that fits this foot, it must be a sign we were meant to be together." He twisted his lips to one side. "But then I realized it would probably fit an eight-year-old."
"Eleven, actually."
"Close enough." He hesitated. "Honestly, I guess it was the only thing I had to connect me to you when I thought I'd never see you again."
She slid her gaze off the foot. "Why are you still kneeling?"
Kai reached for her prosthetic hand and brushed his lips against her newly polished knuckles. "You'll have to get used to people kneeling to you. It kind of comes with the territory."
"I'm going to make it a law that the correct way to address your sovereign is by giving a high five."
Kai's smile brightened. "That's genus. Me too. ~ Marissa Meyer,#NFDB
1177:12-13 So they left the mountain called Olives and returned to Jerusalem. It was a little over half a mile. They went to the upper room they had been using as a meeting place: Peter John James Andrew Philip Thomas Bartholomew Matthew James son of Alphaeus Simon the Zealot Judas, son of James. 14 They agreed they were in this for good, completely together in prayer, the women included. Also Jesus’ mother, Mary, and his brothers. REPLACING JUDAS 15-17 During this time, Peter stood up in the company—there were about 120 of them in the room at the time—and said, “Friends, long ago the Holy Spirit spoke through David regarding Judas, who became the guide to those who arrested Jesus. That Scripture had to be fulfilled, and now has been. Judas was one of us and had his assigned place in this ministry. 18-20 “As you know, he took the evil bribe money and bought a small farm. There he came to a bad end, rupturing his belly and spilling his guts. Everybody in Jerusalem knows this by now; they call the place Murder Meadow. It’s exactly what we find written in the Psalms: Let his farm become haunted So no one can ever live there. “And also what was written later: Let someone else take over his post. 21-22 “Judas must now be replaced. The replacement must come from the company of men who stayed together with us from the time Jesus was baptized by John up to the day of his ascension, designated along with us as a witness to his resurrection.” 23-26 They nominated two: Joseph Barsabbas, nicknamed Justus, and Matthias. Then they prayed, “You, O God, know every one of us inside and out. Make plain which of these two men you choose to take the place in this ministry and leadership that Judas threw away in order to go his own way.” They then drew straws. Matthias won and was counted in with the eleven apostles. ~ Eugene H Peterson, #NFDB
1178:Tired of his lack of understanding, she asked him for an unusual birthday gift: that for one day he would take care of the domestic chores. He accepted in amusement, and indeed took charge of the house at dawn. He served a splendid breakfast, but he forgot that fried eggs did not agree with her and that she did not drink café con leche. Then he ordered a birthday luncheon for eight guests and gave instructions for tidying the house, and he tried so hard to manage better than she did that before noon he had to capitulate without a trace of embarrassment. From the first moment he realized he did not have the slightest idea where anything was, above all in the kitchen, and the servants let him upset everything to find each item, for they were playing the game too. At ten o’clock no decisions had been made regarding lunch because the housecleaning was not finished yet, the bedroom was not straightened, the bathroom was not scrubbed; he forgot to replace the toilet paper, change the sheets, and send the coachmen for the children, and he confused the servants’ duties: he told the cook to make the beds and set the chambermaids to cooking. At eleven o’clock, when the guests were about to arrive, the chaos in the house was such that Fermina Daza resumed command, laughing out loud, not with the triumphant attitude she would have liked but shaken instead with compassion for the domestic helplessness of her husband. He was bitter and offered the argument he always used: “Things did not go as badly for me as they would for you if you tried to cure the sick.” But it was a useful lesson, and not for him alone. Over the years they both reached the same wise conclusion by different paths: it was not possible to live together in any way, or love in any other way, and nothing in this world was more difficult than love. ~ Gabriel Garc a M rquez, #NFDB
1179:Quiller-Couch was all by himself my college education. I went down to the public library one day when I was seventeen looking for books on the art of writing, and found five books of lectures which Q had delivered to his students of writing at Cambridge. “Just what I need!” I congratulated myself. I hurried home with the first volume and started reading and got to page 3 and hit a snag: Q was lecturing to young men educated at Eton and Harrow. He therefore assumed that his students—including me—had read Paradise Lost as a matter of course and would understand his analysis of the “Invocation to Light” in Book 9. So I said, “Wait here,” and went down to the library and got Paradise Lost and took it home and started reading it and got to page 3, when I hit a snag: Milton assumed I’d read the Christian version of Isaiah and the New Testament and had learned all about Lucifer and the War in Heaven, and since I’d been reared in Judaism I hadn’t. So I said, “Wait here,” and borrowed a Christian Bible and read about Lucifer and so forth, and then went back to Milton and read Paradise Lost, and then finally got back to Q, page 3. On page 4 or 5, I discovered that the point of the sentence at the top of the page was in Latin and the long quotation at the bottom of the page was in Greek. So I advertised in the Saturday Review for somebody to teach me Latin and Greek, and went back to Q meanwhile, and discovered he assumed I not only knew all the plays of Shakespeare, and Boswell’s Johnson, but also the Second book of Esdras, which is not in the Old Testament and not in the New Testament, it’s in the Apocrypha, which is a set of books nobody had ever thought to tell me existed. So what with one thing and another and an average of three “Wait here’s” a week, it took me eleven years to get through Q’s five books of lectures. ~ Helene Hanff, #NFDB
1180:The short version of it is, he and a squad of special operations troops flew into a village in southern Afghanistan in two Blackhawks, with a gunship flying support. They were targeting a house where two Taliban leadership guys were hiding out with their bodyguards. They landed, hit the house, there was a short fight there, they killed one man, but they’d caught the Taliban guys while they were sleeping. They controlled and handcuffed the guys they were looking for, and had five of their bodyguards on the floor. Then the village came down on them like a ton of bricks. Instead of just being the two guys with their bodyguards, there were like fifty or sixty Taliban in there. There was no way to haul out the guys they’d arrested—there was nothing they could do but run. They got out by the skin of their teeth.” “What about Carver?” Lucas asked. “Carver was the last guy out of the house. Turns out, the Taliban guys they’d handcuffed were executed. So were the bodyguards, and two of them were kids. Eleven or twelve years old. Armed, you know, but . . . kids.” “Yeah.” “An army investigator recommended that Carver be charged with murder, but it was quashed by the command in Afghanistan—deaths in the course of combat,” Kidd said. “The investigator protested, but he was a career guy, a major, and eventually he shut up.” “Would he talk now? I need something that would open Carver up.” “I don’t think so,” Kidd said. “He’s just made lieutenant colonel. He’s never going to get a star, but if he behaves, he could get his birds before he retires.” “Birds?” “Eagles. He could be promoted to colonel. That’s a nice retirement bump for guys who behave. But, there’s another guy. The second-to-the-last guy out. He’s apparently the one who saw the executions and made the initial report. He’s out of the army now. He lives down in Albuquerque. ~ John Sandford, #NFDB
1181:Q (Quiller-Couch) was all by himself my college education. I went down to the public library one day when I was seventeen looking for books on the art of writing, and found five books of lectures which Q had delivered to his students of writing at Cambridge.
"Just what I need!" I congratulated myself. I hurried home with the first volume and started reading and got to page 3 and hit a snag:
Q was lecturing to young men educated at Eton and Harrow. He therefore assumed his students − including me − had read Paradise Lost as a matter of course and would understand his analysis of the "Invocation to Light" in Book 9. So I said, "Wait here," and went down to the library and got Paradise Lost and took it home and started reading it and got to page 3, when I hit a snag:
Milton assumed I'd read the Christian version of Isaiah and the New Testament and had learned all about Lucifer and the War in Heaven, and since I'd been reared in Judaism I hadn't. So I said, "Wait here," and borrowed a Christian Bible and read about Lucifer and so forth, and then went back to Milton and read Paradise Lost, and then finally got back to Q, page 3. On page 4 or 5, I discovered that the point of the sentence at the top of the page was in Latin and the long quotation at the bottom of the page was in Greek. So I advertised in the Saturday Review for somebody to teach me Latin and Greek, and went back to Q meanwhile, and discovered he assumed I not only knew all the plays by Shakespeare, and Boswell's Johnson, but also the Second books of Esdras, which is not in the Old Testament and not in the New Testament, it's in the Apocrypha, which is a set of books nobody had ever thought to tell me existed.
So what with one thing and another and an average of three "Wait here's" a week, it took me eleven years to get through Q's five books of lectures. ~ Helene Hanff,#NFDB
1182:Once upon a time, there was a boy. He lived in a village that no longer exists, on the edge of a field that no longer exists, where everything was discovered and everything was possible. A stick could be a sword. A pebble could be a diamond. A tree was a castle.
Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived in a house across the field from a girl who no longer exists. They made up a thousand games. She was the Queen and he was the King. In the autumn light, her hair shone like a crown. They collected the world in small handfuls. When the sky grew dark, they parted with leaves in their hair.
Once upon a time there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering. When they were ten he asked her to marry him. When they were eleven he kissed her for the first time. When they were thirteen they got into a fight and for three weeks they didn't talk. When they were fifteen she showed him the scar on her left breast. Their love was a secret they told no one. He promised her he would never love another girl as long as he lived. "What if I die?" she asked. "Even then," he said. For her sixteenth birthday, he gave her an English dictionary and together they learned the words. "What's this?" he'd ask, tracing his index finger around her ankle and she'd look it up. "And this?" he'd ask, kissing her elbow. "Elbow! What kind of word is that?" and then he'd lick it, making her giggle. "What about this," he asked, touching the soft skin behind her ear. "I don't know," she said, turning off the flashlight and rolling over, with a sigh, onto her back. When they were seventeen they made love for the first time, on a bed of straw in a shed. Later-when things happened that they could never have imagined-she wrote him a letter that said: When will you learn that there isn't a word for everything? ~ Nicole Krauss,#NFDB
1183:The sponge or active charcoal inside a filter is three-dimensional. Their adsorbent surfaces, however, are two-dimensional. Thus, you can see how a tiny high-dimensional structure can contain a huge low-dimensional structure. But at the macroscopic level, this is about the limit of the ability for high-dimensional space to contain low-dimensional space. Because God was stingy, during the big bang He only provided the macroscopic world with three spatial dimensions, plus the dimension of time. But this doesn’t mean that higher dimensions don’t exist. Up to seven additional dimensions are locked within the micro scale, or, more precisely, within the quantum realm. And added to the four dimensions at the macro scale, fundamental particles exist within an eleven-dimensional space-time.” “So what?” “I just want to point out this fact: In the universe, an important mark of a civilization’s technological advancement is its ability to control and make use of micro dimensions. Making use of fundamental particles without taking advantage of the micro dimensions is something that our naked, hairy ancestors already began back when they lit bonfires within caves. Controlling chemical reactions is just manipulating micro particles without regard to the micro dimensions. Of course, this control also progressed from crude to advanced: from bonfires to steam engines, and then generators. Now, the ability for humans to manipulate micro particles at the macro level has reached a peak: We have computers and nanomaterials. But all of that is accomplished without unlocking the many micro dimensions. From the perspective of a more advanced civilization in the universe, bonfires and computers and nanomaterials are not fundamentally different. They all belong to the same level. That’s also why they still think of humans as mere bugs. Unfortunately, I think they’re right. ~ Liu Cixin, #NFDB
1184:I just realized I know nothing about you. Do you have a family? Where are you from?” The idea that I just invited a relative stranger, who owns nothing, to live in my apartment gave me a stomachache, but the weird thing was that I felt like I had known him forever.
“I’m from Detroit; my entire family still lives there. My mom works in a bakery at a grocery store and my dad is a retired electrician. I have twelve brothers and sisters.”
“Really? I’m an only child. I can’t imagine having a huge family like that—it must have been awesome!”
Relaxing his stance, he leaned his tattooed forearm onto the dresser and crossed his feet. Jackson came over and sat next to him. Will unconsciously began petting Jackson’s head. It made my heart warm. “Actually, I don’t have twelve brothers and sisters. I have one brother and eleven sisters.” He paused. “I’m dead serious. My brother Ray is the oldest and I’m the youngest with eleven girls in between. I swear my parents just wanted to give Ray a brother, so they kept having more babies. By the time I was born, Ray was sixteen and didn’t give a shit. On top of it, they all have R names except me. It’s a f**king joke.”
“You’re kidding? Name ‘em,” I demanded.
In a super-fast voice Will recited, “Raymond, Reina, Rachelle, Rae, Riley, Rianna, Reese, Regan, Remy, Regina, Ranielle, Rebecca, and then me, Will.”
“Surely they could have figured out another R name?”
“Well my brother was named after my dad, so my mom felt like I should be named after someone too, being the only other boy and all. So I was named after my grandfather… Wilbur Ryan.”
“Oh my god!” I burst into laughter. “Your name is Wilbur?”
“Hey, woman, that’s my poppy’s name, too.”
Still giggling, I said, “I’m sorry, I just expected William.”
“Yeah, it’s okay. Everyone does.” He smiled and winked at me again. ~ Renee Carlino,#NFDB
1185:All right there, mate?’ Clark jumped and turned round. He straightened up and looked at Billy, recognition taking a few seconds. Billy’s hair was shorter now, and his face was tanned. ‘Christ, you startled me,’ he said. ‘What have you got there?’ Clark held up the jar by a piece of tatty string. ‘Sticklebacks!’ For a moment his blue eyes shone with excitement, then they clouded over. He ran a wet hand through his red hair and swept it off his face. His freckles were more pronounced than usual, and for a moment Billy saw him as an eleven-year-old again. He felt his throat constrict, which made his next sentence a strangled croak. ‘We had fun, didn’t we, Clark?’ Clark snorted and set the jar of fish down on a large stone. He waded out of the water and sat down heavily on the bank. Billy edged closer and then tentatively sat down next to him. ‘Don’t get too comfortable,’ said Clark. ‘Look, Clark. Can’t we be friends again?’ ‘Can’t we be friends again?’ mimicked Clark. ‘We’re not in the school playground now, Billy.’ ‘Why did you come here?’ asked Billy. Clark thought for a moment. ‘To reflect.’ He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a brown envelope. ‘Here,’ he said, thrusting it into Billy’s hands. Billy opened the envelope and stared at the contents. ‘You’ve been called up?’ ‘Military training,’ explained Clark. Billy knew it was only a matter of time. Since Parliament had passed the Act in April, all men aged twenty and twenty-one were required to undertake six months’ military training. He didn’t know what to say. ‘Clark, look …’ He passed the envelope back. ‘How’s Chrissie?’ asked Clark, looking Billy directly in the eye. Billy was taken by surprise at the sudden mention of her name and picked at a blade of grass. ‘She’s fine, thanks. In fact she’s with me now, over there.’ Clark looked in the direction of Billy’s finger and Chrissie slid out sheepishly from behind a tree. ~ Kathryn Hughes, #NFDB
1186:Now in my eleven years of conventional life I had learned many things and one of them is what it means to be convicted of rape--I do not mean the man who did it, I mean the woman to whom it was done. Rape is one of the Christian mysteries, it creates a luminous and beautiful tableau in people's minds; and as I listened furtively to what nobody would allow me to hear straight out, I slowly came to understand that I was face to face with one of those feminine disasters, like pregnancy, like disease, like weakness; she was not only the victim of the act but in some strange way its perpetrator; somehow she had attracted the lightening that struck her out of a clear sky. A diabolical chance--which was not chance--had revealed her to all of us as she truly was, in her secret inadequacy, in that wretched guiltiness which she had kept hidden for seventeen years but which now finally manifested in front of everybody. Her secret guilt was this:
She was Cunt.
She had "lost" something.
Now the other party to the incident had manifested his essential nature, too; he was Prick--but being Prick is not a bad thing. In fact, he had "gotten away with" something (possibly what she had "lost").
And there I was at eleven years of age:
She was out late at night.
She was in the wrong part of town.
Her skirt was too short and that provoked him.
She liked having her eye blacked and her head banged against the sidewalk.
I understood this perfectly. (I reflected thus in my dream, in my state of being a pair of eyes in a small wooden box stuck forever on a grey, geometric plane--or so I thought.) I too had been guilty of what had been done to me, when I came home from the playground in tears because I had been beaten up by bigger children who were bullies.
I was dirty.
I was crying.
I demanded comfort.
I was being inconvenient.
I did not disappear into thin air. ~ Joanna Russ,#NFDB
1187:A Man's Repentance
To-night when I came from the club at eleven,
Under the gaslight I saw a faceA woman's face! and I swear to heaven
It looked like the ghastly ghost of-Grace!
And Grace? why, Grace was fair; and I tarried,
And loved her a season as we men do.
And then-but pshaw! why, of course, she is married,
Has a husband, and doubtless, a babe or two.
She was perfectly calm on the day we parted;
She spared me a scene, to my great surprise.
She wasn't the kind to be broken-hearted,
I remember she said, with a spark in her eyes.
I was tempted, I know, by her proud defiance,
To make good my promises there and then.
But the world would have called it a mésalliance!
I dreaded the comments and sneers of men.
So I left her to grieve for a faithless lover,
And to hide her heart from the cold world's sight
As women do hide them, the wide earth over;
My God! was it Grace that I saw to-night?
I thought of her married, and often with pity,
A poor man's wife in some dull place.
And now to know she is here in the city,
Under the gaslight, and with that face!
Yet I knew it at once, in spite of the daubing
Of paint and powder, and she knew me;
She drew a quick breath that was almost sobbing,
26
And shrank in the shade so I should not see.
There was hell in her eyes! She was worn and jaded;
Her soul is at war with the life she has led.
As I looked on that face so strangely faded,
I wonder God did not strike me dead.
While I have been happy and gay and jolly,
Received by the very best people in town,
That girl whom I led in the way to folly,
Has gone on recklessly down and down.
Two o'clock, and no sleep has found me.
That face I saw in the street-lamp's light
Peers everywhere out from the shadows around meI know how a murderer feels to-night!
~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox,#NFDB
1188:March 21 MORNING “Ye shall be scattered, every man to his own, and shall leave me alone.” — John 16:32 FEW had fellowship with the sorrows of Gethsemane. The majority of the disciples were not sufficiently advanced in grace to be admitted to behold the mysteries of “the agony.” Occupied with the passover feast at their own houses, they represent the many who live upon the letter, but are mere babes as to the spirit of the gospel. To twelve, nay, to eleven only was the privilege given to enter Gethsemane and see “this great sight.” Out of the eleven, eight were left at a distance; they had fellowship, but not of that intimate sort to which men greatly beloved are admitted. Only three highly favoured ones could approach the veil of our Lord’s mysterious sorrow: within that veil even these must not intrude; a stone’s-cast distance must be left between. He must tread the wine-press alone, and of the people there must be none with Him. Peter and the two sons of Zebedee, represent the few eminent, experienced saints, who may be written down as “Fathers;” these having done business on great waters, can in some degree measure the huge Atlantic waves of their Redeemer’s passion. To some selected spirits it is given, for the good of others, and to strengthen them for future, special, and tremendous conflict, to enter the inner circle and hear the pleadings of the suffering High Priest; they have fellowship with Him in His sufferings, and are made conformable unto His death. Yet even these cannot penetrate the secret places of the Saviour’s woe. “Thine unknown sufferings” is the remarkable expression of the Greek liturgy: there was an inner chamber in our Master’s grief, shut out from human knowledge and fellowship. There Jesus is “left alone.” Here Jesus was more than ever an “Unspeakable gift!” Is not Watts right when he sings — “And all the unknown joys he gives, Were bought with agonies unknown. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon, #NFDB
1189:n 1985, Bob Munro volunteered his time to go and serve in the poorest slums of Africa on behalf of the United Nations. He loved football. One day, he was passing through the Mathare slums in Nairobi, Kenya, which happens to be one of the poorest areas in the world, and where more than a quarter million people live in abject poverty and filth. He saw some children playing football, bare feet, in total grime— they weren’t actually playing football, but kicking each other. As he saw one of the children kick the other, he immediately shouted, ‘Foul’, and the game stopped. He got out of his car and being the white man, obviously stood out. As an ardent lover of football, he said, ‘This is not the way to play football.’ He took the ball and told the boys, ‘Tomorrow I will bring another ball and teach you how to play football.’ The next day, 600 children were there to play football. He made a rule that only those children who clean up the place be allowed to play. He started a volunteers’ group for self-help and said, ‘Those who want to play football as part of my team must clean up.’ The children got involved and started cleaning the slums, and out of love for football, slowly the entire area was cleaned. As time went by, he developed teams to play. He developed referees from within. Guess what was the result in four years? The Kenyan football eleven national team emerged from the same Mathare slums. Bob Munro has created thousands of football teams from there, but the rules are very unique. The rules are very clear that every player in those football teams must contribute 60 hours to social work and community service per month. Only then can they play football. They get additional points not for winning a game, but for completing a community service project such as cleaning, counselling and helping others. He has created 8,000 volunteers out of this system of community service through the love of football. ~ Shiv Khera, #NFDB
1190: By the North Gate, the wind blows full of sand,
Lonely from the beginning of time until now!
Trees fall, the grass goes yellow with autumn.
I climb the towers and towers
to watch out the barbarous land:
Desolate castle, the sky, the wide desert.
There is no wall left to this village.
Bones white with a thousand frosts,
High heaps, covered with trees and grass;
Who brought this to pass?
Who has brought the flaming imperial anger?
Who has brought the army with drums and with
kettle-drums?
Barbarous kings.
A gracious spring, turned to blood-ravenous autumn,
A turmoil of wars-men, spread over the middle
kingdom,
Three hundred and sixty thousand,
And sorrow, sorrow like rain.
Sorrow to go, and sorrow, sorrow returning.
Desolate, desolate fields,
And no children of warfare upon them,
No longer the men for offence and defence.
Ah, how shall you know the dreary sorrow at the
North Gate,
With Riboku's name forgotten,
And we guardsmen fed to the tigers.
--Written by Li Po, translated into English by Ezra Pound
This poem is from CATHAY (London: Elkin Mathews, 1915), the volume of Chinese poems
The book's widely-applauded publication prompted T.S. Eliot to remark that Pound had "reinvented Chinese poetry for our time."
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English. by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ Li Bai, Lament of the Frontier Guard
,#NFDB
1191:The last encounter was one Ian enjoyed, because Elizabeth was with him after they’d had their second-and last permissible-dance. Viscount Mondevale had approached them with Valerie hanging on his arm, and the rest of their group fanned around them. The sight of the young woman who’d caused them both so much pain evoked almost as much ire in Ian as the sight of Mondevale watching Elizabeth like a lovelorn swain.
“Mondevale,” Ian had said curtly, feeling the tension in Elizabeth’s fingers when she looked at Valerie, “I applaud your taste. I’m certain Miss Jamison will make you a fine wife, if you ever get up the spine to ask her. If you do, however, take my advice, and hire her a tutor, because she can’t write and she can’t spell.” Transferring his blistering gaze to the gaping young woman, Ian clipped, “’Greenhouse’ has a ‘u’ in it. Shall I spell ‘malice’ for you as well?”
“Ian,” Elizabeth chided gently as they walked away. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” She looked up at him and smiled, and Ian grinned back at her. Suddenly he felt completely in harmony with the world.
The feeling was so lasting that he managed to endure the remaining three weeks-with all the requisite social and courtship rituals and betrothal formalities-with equanimity while he mentally marked off each day before he could make her his and join his starving body with hers.
With a polite smile on his face Ian appeared at teas and mentally composed letters to his secretary; he sat through the opera and slowly undressed her in his mind; he endured eleven Venetian breakfasts where he mentally designed an entirely new kind of mast for his fleet of ships; he escorted her to eighteen balls and politely refrained from acting our his recurring fantasy of dismembering the fops who clustered around her, eyeing her lush curves and mouthing platitudes to her.
It was the longest three weeks of his life.
It was the shortest three weeks of hers. ~ Judith McNaught,#NFDB
1192:Say the planet is born at midnight and it runs for one day. First there is nothing. Two hours are lost to lava and meteors. Life doesn’t show up until three or four a.m. Even then, it’s just the barest self-copying bits and pieces. From dawn to late morning—a million million years of branching—nothing more exists than lean and simple cells. Then there is everything. Something wild happens, not long after noon. One kind of simple cell enslaves a couple of others. Nuclei get membranes. Cells evolve organelles. What was once a solo campsite grows into a town. The day is two-thirds done when animals and plants part ways. And still life is only single cells. Dusk falls before compound life takes hold. Every large living thing is a latecomer, showing up after dark. Nine p.m. brings jellyfish and worms. Later that hour comes the breakout—backbones, cartilage, an explosion of body forms. From one instant to the next, countless new stems and twigs in the spreading crown burst open and run. Plants make it up on land just before ten. Then insects, who instantly take to the air. Moments later, tetrapods crawl up from the tidal muck, carrying around on their skin and in their guts whole worlds of earlier creatures. By eleven, dinosaurs have shot their bolt, leaving the mammals and birds in charge for an hour. Somewhere in that last sixty minutes, high up in the phylogenetic canopy, life grows aware. Creatures start to speculate. Animals start teaching their children about the past and the future. Animals learn to hold rituals. Anatomically modern man shows up four seconds before midnight. The first cave paintings appear three seconds later. And in a thousandth of a click of the second hand, life solves the mystery of DNA and starts to map the tree of life itself. By midnight, most of the globe is converted to row crops for the care and feeding of one species. And that’s when the tree of life becomes something else again. That’s when the giant trunk starts to teeter. ~ Richard Powers, #NFDB
1193:This is the house where they found Jack dead.
This is the room
of the house
where they found Jack dead.
This is the floor
in the room
of the house
where they found Jack dead.
This is the wall, splattered in red,
standing next to the floor,
in the room
of the house
where they found Jack dead.
This is the door leading into the tomb.
This is the wall splattered in red,
standing next to the floor
in the room
of the house
where they found Jack dead.
This is the clock hanging over the door.
This is the wall splattered in red
standing next to the floor
in the room
in the room
of the house
where they found Jack dead.
This is the bird coming out of the clock
hanging over the door
in the wall
by the floor
in the room
of the house
where they found Jack dead.
This is the song in the heart of the bird
coming out of the clock
hanging over the door
in the wall
by the floor
in the room
of the house
where they found Jack dead.
These are the words
to the song of the bird
coming out of the clock
hanging over the door
in the wall
by the floor
in the room
of the house
where they found Jack dead.
This is the man who sits in the cell.
Eleven years have come and gone.
Jack is dead, but he lives on.
He waits in silence, but he still can hear.
The ancient song echoes in his ears.
The sound of time with its tick tick TOCK!
The song of the bird coming out of the clock,
hanging over a door leading into a tomb,
where there stand four walls splattered all in red,
and a floor where a good man fell and bled,
in the room of the house where they found Jack dead.
These are the words of the cuckoo’s song,
as he asks us who will right these wrongs.
The cuckoo sings and the cuckoo wails,
for the dead who cannot tell their tales.
Rage all you want, but at close of day,
justice is mine, and I will repay. ~ Carolee Dean,#NFDB
1194:The Old Place
SO the last day’s come at last, the close of my fifteen year—
The end of the hope, an’ the struggles, an’ messes I’ve put in here.
All of the shearings over, the final mustering done,—
Eleven hundred an’ fifty for the incoming man, near on.
Over five thousand I drove ’em, mob by mob, down the coast;
Eleven-fifty in fifteen year…it isn’t much of a boast.
Oh, it’s a bad old place! Blown out o’ your bed half the nights,
And in the summer the grass burnt shiny an’ bare as your hand, on the heights:
The creek dried up by November, and in May a thundering roar
That carries down toll o’ your stock to salt ’em whole on the shore.
Clear’d I have, and I’ve clear’d an’ clear’d, yet everywhere, slap in your face,
Briar, tauhinu, 1 an’ ruin! God! it’s a brute of a place.
…An’ the house got burnt which I built, myself, with all that worry and pride;
Where the Missus was always homesick, and where she took fever, and died.
Yes, well! I’m leaving the place. Apples look red on that bough.
I set the slips with my own hand. Well—they’re the other man’s now.
The breezy bluff: an’ the clover that smells so over the land,
Drowning the reek o’ the rubbish, that plucks the profit out o’ your hand:
That bit o’ Bush paddock I fall’d myself, an’ watch’d, each year, come clean
(Don’t it look fresh in the tawny? A scrap of Old-Country green):
This air, all healthy with sun an’ salt, an’ bright with purity:
An’ the glossy karakas 2 there, twinkling to the big blue twinkling sea:
Aye, the broad blue sea beyond, an’ the gem-clear cove below,
Where the boat I’ll never handle again; sits rocking to and fro:
There’s the last look to it all! an’ now for the last upon
This room, where Hetty was born, an’ my Mary died, an’ John…
Well! I’m leaving the poor old place, and it cuts as keen as a knife;
The place that’s broken my heart—the place where I’ve lived my life.
~ Blanche Edith Baughan,#NFDB
1195:We began the show by asking: Who did more for the world, Michael Milken or Mother Teresa?
This seems like a no-brainer. Milken is the greedy junk-bond king. One year, his firm paid him $550 million. Then he went to jail for breaking securities laws. Mother Teresa is the nun who spent her lifetime helping the poor and died without a penny. Her good deeds live on even after her death; several thousand sisters now continue the charities she began. At first glance, of course Mother Teresa did more for the world.
But it's not so simple. Milken's selfish pursuit of profit helped a lot of people, too. Think about it: By pioneering a new way for companies to raise money, Milken created millions of jobs. The ignorant media sneered at 'junk bonds', but Milken's innovative use of them meant exciting new ideas flourished.
We now make calls on a national cellular network established by a company called McCaw Cellular, which Milken financed. And our calls are cheaper because Milken's junk bonds financed MCI. CEO Bill McGowan simply couldn't get the money anywhere else. Without Milken, MCI wouldn't have grown from 11 to 50,000 employees. CNN's 24-hour news and Ted Turner's other left-wing ventures were made possible by Milken's 'junk'.
The world's biggest toy company, Mattel, the cosmetics company Revlon, and the supermarket giant Safeway were among many rescued from bankruptcy by Milken's junk bonds. He financed more than 3,000 companies, including what are now Barnes & Noble, AOL Time Warner, Comcast, Mellon Bank, Occidental Petroleum, Jeep Eagle, Calvin Klein, Hasbro, Days Inn, 7-Eleven, and Computer Associates. Millions of people have productive employment today because of Michael Milken. (Millions of jobs is hard to believe, and when 'Greed' aired, I just said he created thousands of jobs; but later I met Milken, and he was annoyed with me because he claimed he'd created millions of jobs. I asked him to document that, to name the companies and the jobs, and he did.) ~ John Stossel,#NFDB
1196:What the Party did not say was that it considered Liu a special kind of threat. His contacts overseas and his embrace of the Internet merged two of the Party’s most neuralgic issues: the threat of a foreign-backed “color revolution” and the organizing potential of the Web. The previous year, President Hu Jintao told the Politburo, “Whether we can cope with the Internet” will determine “the stability of the state.” At Liu’s trial that December, the prosecution needed just fourteen minutes to present its case. When it was Liu’s turn to speak, he denied none of the charges. Instead, he read a statement in which he predicted that the ruling against him would not “pass the test of history”: I look forward to the day when our country will be a land of free expression: a country where the words of each citizen will get equal respect; a country where different values, ideas, beliefs, and political views can compete with one another even as they peacefully coexist; a country where expression of both majority and minority views will be secure, and, in particular, where political views that differ from those of the people in power will be fully respected and protected; a country where all political views will be spread out beneath the sun for citizens to choose among, and every citizen will be able to express views without the slightest of fears; a country where it will be impossible to suffer persecution for expressing a political view. I hope that I will be the last victim in China’s long record of treating words as crimes. Midway through Liu’s statement, the judge abruptly cut him off, saying the prosecution used only fourteen minutes and so the defense must do the same. (Chinese lawyers had never encountered this principle before.) Two days later, on Christmas Day 2009, the court sentenced Liu to eleven years in prison. This was lengthy by Chinese standards; local activists interpreted it as a deterrent to others, in the spirit of the old saying “Kill a chicken to scare the monkeys. ~ Evan Osnos, #NFDB
1197:Try Evan,” he suggests. “Apart from numbers and heaven, which gets old very quickly, there’s practically nothing.”
“Numbers? Oh! Eleven…seven…” I furrow my brow.
“Devon,” Kelly calls over. “That’s a county in England.”
“Leaven,” I add. “You do it to bread.”
Evan’s expression is comical, his blue eyes stretched as wide as they’ll go as he plucks a string and, in a singsong nursery-rhyme voice, intones:
“From the age of seven to eleven
Before he tragically went to heaven
Evan leavened bread in Devon.”
He throws his hands wide. “See? Not much to work with.”
“At least you don’t have rude stuff that rhymes with you,” Kelly says gloomily. “They called me Smelly Jelly Belly at school for years.”
“And Kendra isn’t that great either. It sort of sounds like bend-ya,” Kendra adds.
I can’t help smiling that Kendra and Kelly are competitive in everything, even down to whose name rhymes with worse stuff.
“Kendra,” Evan sings, playing a chord, “I would never bend ya,
or lend ya
or send ya…
Oh, the words I can engender
thinking about Kendra…”
“‘Engender’!” Kelly exclaims. “That’s really good!”
I pull myself out of the pool and walk over to a lounger, picking up a towel and wrapping it around myself; I sit on one side of Evan, Kelly on the other. Even cool-as-a-cucumber Kendra has sat up to watch Evan playing his guitar.
“What about Paige?” I ask, looking over at his sister, the only one uninterested in her brother’s talent. She’s got a moisturizing pack on her hair--her head is wrapped in the special leopard-skin towel she uses when she’s doing a hair treatment--pink headphones on her ears, and a magazine in her hands as she reclines on her lounger.
“Paige goes into a rage when you tell her she’s not yet legal drinking age--” Evan sings immediately, and Paige, who must have been listening after all, promptly throws her magazine at his head. He ducks easily, and it flies past and lands on the tiles. ~ Lauren Henderson,#NFDB
1198:And, as inflation has fallen, so bonds have rallied in what has been one of the great bond bull markets of modern history. Even more remarkably, despite the spectacular Argentine default – not to mention Russia’s in 1998 – the spreads on emerging market bonds have trended steadily downwards, reaching lows in early 2007 that had not been seen since before the First World War, implying an almost unshakeable confidence in the economic future. Rumours of the death of Mr Bond have clearly proved to be exaggerated. Inflation has come down partly because many of the items we buy, from clothes to computers, have got cheaper as a result of technological innovation and the relocation of production to low-wage economies in Asia. It has also been reduced because of a worldwide transformation in monetary policy, which began with the monetarist-inspired increases in short-term rates implemented by the Bank of England and the Federal Reserve in the late 1970s and early 1980s, and continued with the spread of central bank independence and explicit targets in the 1990s. Just as importantly, as the Argentine case shows, some of the structural drivers of inflation have also weakened. Trade unions have become less powerful. Loss-making state industries have been privatized. But, perhaps most importantly of all, the social constituency with an interest in positive real returns on bonds has grown. In the developed world a rising share of wealth is held in the form of private pension funds and other savings institutions that are required, or at least expected, to hold a high proportion of their assets in the form of government bonds and other fixed income securities. In 2007 a survey of pension funds in eleven major economies revealed that bonds accounted for more than a quarter of their assets, substantially lower than in past decades, but still a substantial share.71 With every passing year, the proportion of the population living off the income from such funds goes up, as the share of retirees increases. ~ Niall Ferguson, #NFDB
1199:The Shanty
THERE ARE tracks through the scrub, there’s a track down the hill,
And a track round the bend from M‘Courteney’s mill,
Where they slyly emerge from the bush and converge,
You’ll discover the humpy—the theme of this dirge—
That is used for the sale of O’Sullivan’s ‘purge.’
And if curses and cries,
And a blasting of eyes,
And a series of blasphemies fearful arise,
And a lunatic din,
And a racket like sin,
You can bet all you own the O’Sullivan’s in.
It’s a bark and slab hut, with a bar and a bunk,
And a man propped before it disgustingly drunk,
And a nameless galoot in a hand-me-down suit,
Straddling out on the grass, grim as death, and as mute,
Trapping millions of rabbits that run from his boot.
When eleven lie round
In all shapes on the mound,
And two navvies are fighting like fiends on the ground,
’Tisn’t needful to say
It’s the sweet Sabbath day,
And that trade at the shanty’s uncommonly gay.
Mrs. O’. makes the drinks, and O’Sullivan’s dart
Is to drink all he can to keep others in heart.
Though he’s old in the hoof, and he reckons he’s proof
’Gainst infernalest liquors, in warp and in woof,
He’s quite frequently seen howling out on the roof.
For from fungus or fruits,
From old rags or from roots,
Grass, cabbages, pickles, old bedding or boots,
Or the leaves of the gum,
Or whatever may come,
Mrs. O’. can extract the most illigant’ rum.
They’ve no peace in the hut and no peace on the hill,
Mrs. O’. never sleeps and her hand’s never still;
And old constable Mack cannot hit on the track
153
As a man of the law. As a stranger in black
When he finds his way there he can’t find his way back.
There’s no signboard to see,
But those fools on the spree,
Or a man in his shirt shrieking prayers to a tree.
As for licenses—yar!
They don’t know what they are,
For they drink without license at Sullivan’s bar.
~ Edward George Dyson,#NFDB
1200:Merging Aspects
Another king I knew had twelve champions,
each chosen for his astrological sign.
My favourite was the Piscean who combined
courage and gentleness but who eventually
was slain by the Aquarian, a mess of
ambition and impeccable manners.
The women of the court barely differed
from the harems I had once pretended to guard:
brittle, fickle, beautiful and intelligent
in matters of court affairs and male intrigue.
In everything to do with the quotidian
they were vulgar, inept and invalid.
This time I had a savage paramour,
a magus like myself with no more regard
than I for inbred kings or their progeny.
In the ambling course of things we made a good
bad pair and parted the best of enemies.
He made me think of love’s discrepancies:
how with the best will in the world and a spilled
cornucopia of physicalities
two can pass from strangers into strangers.
There was no intimacy we had not shared
including several of our own invention,
no finer or grosser point of the body’s being
we had not explored, the stupra and beatitudes
of the mind’s behaviour mapped. Once and forever
our feelings and ideas were exchanged
and the emotions’ gamut intermingled.
Yet all we had to show for it were ashes
of the long caress, the brief orgasmic pyre
ensconced three moments longer with our magics.
And not a single scion of the harrowing,
no daughter to reheat our tepid ageing.
All I remember of his individual
features is a single red-flecked iris,
a stem and testes like the stele at Delos,
taste for wine made slightly effervescent
with minuscule amounts of scented sherbet,
and never the slightest wish to know himself.
21
The king expelled all of us from his court
a periodical purge. The eleven remaining
champions were auctioned to barbarians.
I have never known the date of my birth nor want to.
The stars are incandescently impersonal.
~ Bruce Beaver,#NFDB
1201:Life, of course, never gets anyone's entire attention. Death always remains interesting, pulls us, draws us. As sleep is necessary to our physiology, so depression seems necessary to our psychic economy. In some secret way, Thanatos nourishes Eros as well as opposes it. The two principles work in covert concert; though in most of us Eros dominates, in none of us is Thanatos completely subdued. However-and this is the paradox of suicide-to take one's life is to behave in a more active, assertive, "erotic" way than to helplessly watch as one's life is taken away from one by inevitable mortality. Suicide thus engages with both the death-hating and the death-loving parts of us: on some level, perhaps, we may envy the suicide even as we pity him. It has frequently been asked whether the poetry of Plath would have so aroused the attention of the world if Plath had not killed herself. I would agree with those who say no. The death-ridden poems move us and electrify us because of our knowledge of what happened. Alvarez has observed that the late poems read as if they were written posthumously, but they do so only because a death actually took place. "When I am talking about the weather / I know what I am talking about," Kurt Schwitters writes in a Dada poem (which I have quoted in its entirety). When Plath is talking about the death wish, she knows what she is talking about. In 1966, Anne Sexton, who committed suicide eleven years after Plath, wrote a poem entitled "Wanting to Die," in which these startlingly informative lines appear: But suicides have a special language.
Like carpenters they want to know which tools.
They never ask why build.
When, in the opening of "Lady Lazarus," Plath triumphantly exclaims, "I have done it again," and, later in the poem, writes, Dying Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call, we can only share her elation. We know we are in the presence of a master builder. ~ Janet Malcolm,#NFDB
1202:Dunbar loved shooting skeet because he hated every minute of it and the time passed so slowly. He had figured out that a single hour on the skeet-shooting range with people like Havermeyer and Appleby could be worth as much as eleven-times-seventeen years.
“I think you’re crazy,” was the way Clevinger had responded to Dunbar’s discovery.
“Who wants to know?” Dunbar answered.
“I mean it,” Clevinger insisted.
“Who cares?” Dunbar answered.
“I really do. I’ll even go as far as to concede that life seems longer i—“
“—is longer i—“
“—is longer—IS longer? All right, is longer if it’s filled with periods of boredom and discomfort, b—“
“Guess how fast?” Dunbar said suddenly.
“Huh?”
“They go,” Dunbar explained.
“Who?”
“Years.”
“Years?”
“Years,” said Dunbar. “Years, years, years.”
“Do you know how long a year takes when it’s going away?” Dunbar asked Clevinger. “This long.” He snapped his fingers. “A second ago you were stepping into college with your lungs full of fresh air. Today you’re an old man.”
“Old?” asked Clevinger with surprise. “What are you talking about?”
“Old.”
“I’m not old.”
“You’re inches away from death every time you go on a mission. How much older can you be at your age? A half minute before that you were stepping into high school, and an unhooked brassiere was as close as you ever hoped to get to Paradise. Only a fifth of a second before that you were a small kid with a ten-week summer vacation that lasted a hundred thousand years and still ended too soon. Zip! They go rocketing by so fast. How the hell else are you ever going to slow time down?” Dunbar was almost angry when he finished.
“Well, maybe it is true,” Clevinger conceded unwillingly in a subdued tone. Maybe a long life does have to be filled with many unpleasant conditions if it’s to seem long. But in that event, who wants one?”
“I do,” Dunbar told him.
“Why?” Clevinger asked.
“What else is there? ~ Joseph Heller,#NFDB
1203:I am not my uncle. I am not my father, but I do subscribe to the twenty rules he taught me from the cradle. One, if you’re afraid to fight, then you’ll never win. Two, in times of tragedy and turmoil, you’ll learn who your true friends are. Treasure them because they are few and far between. Three, know your enemies, and never become your own worst one. Four, be grateful for those enemies. They will keep you honest and ever striving to better yourself. Five, listen to all good advice, but never substitute someone else’s judgment for your own. Six, all men and women lie. But never lie to yourself. Seven, many will flatter you. Befriend the ones who don’t, for they will
remind you that you’re human and not infallible. Eight, never fear the truth. It’s the lies that will destroy you. Nine, your worst decisions will always be those that are made out of fear. Think all matters through with a clear head. Ten, your mistakes won’t define you, but your memories, good and bad, will. Eleven, be grateful for your mistakes as they will tell you who and what you’re not. Twelve, don’t be afraid to examine the past, it’s how you learn what you don’t want to do again. Thirteen, there’s a lot to be said for not knowing better. Fourteen, all men die. Not everyone lives. Fifteen, on your deathbed, your greatest regrets will be what you didn’t do. Sixteen, don’t be afraid to love. Yes, it’s a weakness that can be used against you. But it’s also a source of the greatest strength you will ever know. Seventeen, the past is history written in stone that can’t be altered. The future is transitory and never guaranteed. Today is the only thing you can change for certain. Have the courage to do so and make the most of it because it could be all you’ll ever have. Eighteen, you can be in a crowd, surrounded by people, and still be lonely. Nineteen, love all, regardless of what they do. Trust only those you have to. Harm none until they harm you. And twenty… Never be afraid to kill or destroy your enemies. They won’t hesitate to kill or destroy you.” - Darling Cruel ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon,#NFDB
1204:Robinson Crusoe's Story
THE night was thick and hazy
When the 'Piccadilly Daisy'
Carried down the crew and captain in the sea;
And I think the water drowned 'em;
For they never, never found 'em,
And I know they didn't come ashore with me.
Oh! 'twas very sad and lonely
When I found myself the only
Population on this cultivated shore;
But I've made a little tavern
In a rocky little cavern,
And I sit and watch for people at the door.
I spent no time in looking
For a girl to do my cooking,
As I'm quite a clever hand at making stews;
But I had that fellow Friday,
Just to keep the tavern tidy,
And to put a Sunday polish on my shoes.
I have a little garden
That I'm cultivating lard in,
As the things I eat are rather tough and dry;
For I live on toasted lizards,
Prickly pears, and parrot gizzards,
And I'm really very fond of beetle-pie.
The clothes I had were furry,
And it made me fret and worry
When I found the moths were eating off the hair;
And I had to scrape and sand 'em,
And I boiled 'em and I tanned 'em,
Till I got the fine morocco suit I wear.
I sometimes seek diversion
In a family excursion
With the few domestic animals you see;
And we take along a carrot
As refreshment for the parrot,
And a little can of jungleberry tea.
Then we gather as we travel,
Bits of moss and dirty gravel,
And we chip off little specimens of stone;
And we carry home as prizes
Funny bugs, of handy sizes,
Just to give the day a scientific tone.
If the roads are wet and muddy
We remain at home and study,—
For the Goat is very clever at a sum,—
And the Dog, instead of fighting,
Studies ornamental writing,
While the Cat is taking lessons on the drum.
We retire at eleven,
And we rise again at seven;
And I wish to call attention, as I close,
To the fact that all the scholars
Are correct about their collars,
And particular in turning out their toes.
~ Charles Edward Carryl,#NFDB
1205:(Golden Globe acceptance speech in the style of Jane Austen's letters):
"Four A.M. Having just returned from an evening at the Golden Spheres, which despite the inconveniences of heat, noise and overcrowding, was not without its pleasures. Thankfully, there were no dogs and no children. The gowns were middling. There was a good deal of shouting and behavior verging on the profligate, however, people were very free with their compliments and I made several new acquaintances. Miss Lindsay Doran, of Mirage, wherever that might be, who is largely responsible for my presence here, an enchanting companion about whom too much good cannot be said. Mr. Ang Lee, of foreign extraction, who most unexpectedly apppeared to understand me better than I undersand myself. Mr. James Schamus, a copiously erudite gentleman, and Miss Kate Winslet, beautiful in both countenance and spirit. Mr. Pat Doyle, a composer and a Scot, who displayed the kind of wild behavior one has lernt to expect from that race. Mr. Mark Canton, an energetic person with a ready smile who, as I understand it, owes me a vast deal of money. Miss Lisa Henson -- a lovely girl, and Mr. Gareth Wigan -- a lovely boy. I attempted to converse with Mr. Sydney Pollack, but his charms and wisdom are so generally pleasing that it proved impossible to get within ten feet of him. The room was full of interesting activitiy until eleven P.M. when it emptied rather suddenly. The lateness of the hour is due therefore not to the dance, but to the waiting, in a long line for horseless vehicles of unconscionable size. The modern world has clearly done nothing for transport.
P.S. Managed to avoid the hoyden Emily Tomkins who has purloined my creation and added things of her own. Nefarious creature."
"With gratitude and apologies to Miss Austen, thank you. ~ Emma Thompson,#NFDB
1206:King Ryence's Challenge
As it fell out on a Pentecost day,
King Arthur at Camelot kept his court royall,
With his faire queen dame Guenever the gay,
And many bold barons sitting in hall,
With ladies attired in purple and pall,
And heraults in hewkes, hooting on high,
Cryed, Largesse, Largesse, Chevaliers tres-hardie.
A doughty dwarfe to the uppermost deas
Right pertlye gan pricke, kneeling on knee;
With steven fulle stoute amids all the preas,
Say'd, 'Nowe Sir King Arthur, God save thee and see!
Sir Ryence of North-Gales greeteth well thee,
And bids thee thy beard anon to him send,
Or else from thy jaws he will it off rend.
'For his robe of state is a rich scarlet mantle,
With eleven kings beards bordered about,
And there is room lefte yet in a kantle,
For thine to stande, to make the twelfth out.
This must be done, be thou never so stout;
This must be done, I tell thee no fable,
Maugre the teethe of all thy Round Table.'
When this mortal message from his mouthe past,
Great was the noyse bothe in hall and in bower:
The king fum'd; the queene screecht; ladies were aghast;
Princes puff'd; barons blustred; lords began lower;
Knights stormed; squires startled, like steeds in a stower;
Pages and yeoman yell'd out in the hall;
Then in came Sir Kay, the 'king's' seneschal.
'Silence, my soveraignes,' quoth this courteous knight,
And in that stound the stowre began still:
'Then' the dwarfe's diner full deerely was dight;
Of wine and wassel he had his wille,
And when he had eaten and drunken his fill,
An hundred pieces of fine coyned gold
Were given this dwarf for this message bold.
360
'But say to Sir Ryence, thou dwarf,' quoth the king,
'That for his bold message I do him defye,
And shortlye with basins and pans will him ring
Out of North-Gales; where he and I
With swords, and not razors, quickly shall trye,
Whether he, or King Arthur, will prove the best barbor:'
And therewith he shook his good sword Escalabor.
*******
~ Anonymous Olde English,#NFDB
1207:A loud clearing of Enrique’s throat tears us apart.
Alex looks at me with intense passion. “I have to get back to work,” he says, his breathing ragged.
“Oh. Well, sure.” Suddenly embarrassed at our PDA, I step back.
“Can I see you later today?” he asks.
“My friend Sierra is coming over for dinner.”
“The one who looks in her purse a lot?”
“Um, yeah.” I need to change the subject or I’ll be tempted to invite him, too. I can see it all now--my mom seething in disgust at Alex and his tattoos.
“My cousin Elena is gettin’ married on Sunday. Go with me to the wedding,” he says.
I look at the ground. “I can’t have my friends know about us. Or my parents.”
“I won’t tell ’em.”
“What about people at the wedding? They’ll all see us together.”
“Nobody from school will be there. Except my family, and I’ll make sure they keep their mouths shut.”
I can’t. Lying and sneaking around has never been my strong point. I push him away. “I can’t think when you’re standing that close.”
“Good. Now about that wedding.”
God, looking at him makes me want to go. “What time?”
“Noon. It’ll be an experience you won’t forget. Trust me. I’ll pick you up at eleven.”
“I didn’t say ‘yes’ yet.”
“Ah, but you were about to,” he says in his dark, smooth voice.
“Why don’t I meet you here at eleven,” I suggest, gesturing to the body shop. If my mom finds out about us, all hell will break loose.
He lifts my chin up to face him. “Why aren’t you afraid of bein’ with me?”
“Are you kidding? I’m terrified.” I focus on the tattoos running up and down his arms.
“I can’t pretend to live a squeaky-clean life.” He holds up my hand so it’s palm against palm with his. Is he thinking about the difference in the color of our skin, his rough fingers against the nail polish on the tips of mine? “In some ways we’re so opposite,” he says.
I thread my fingers through his. “Yeah, but in other ways we’re so similar.”
That gets a smile out of him, until Enrique clears his throat again.
“I’ll meet you here at eleven on Sunday,” I say.
Alex backs away, nods, and winks. “This time it’s a date. ~ Simone Elkeles,#NFDB
1208:The Dinner-Party
Fish
'So . . .' they said,
With their wine-glasses delicately poised,
Mocking at the thing they cannot understand.
'So . . .' they said again,
Amused and insolent.
The silver on the table glittered,
And the red wine in the glasses
Seemed the blood I had wasted
In a foolish cause.
Game
The gentleman with the grey-and-black whiskers
Sneered languidly over his quail.
Then my heart flew up and laboured,
And I burst from my own holding
And hurled myself forward.
With straight blows I beat upon him,
Furiously, with red-hot anger, I thrust against him.
But my weapon slithered over his polished surface,
And I recoiled upon myself,
Panting.
Drawing-Room
In a dress all softness and half-tones,
Indolent and half-reclined,
She lay upon a couch,
With the firelight reflected in her jewels.
But her eyes had no reflection,
They swam in a grey smoke,
The smoke of smouldering ashes,
The smoke of her cindered heart.
305
Coffee
They sat in a circle with their coffee-cups.
One dropped in a lump of sugar,
One stirred with a spoon.
I saw them as a circle of ghosts
Sipping blackness out of beautiful china,
And mildly protesting against my coarseness
In being alive.
Talk
They took dead men's souls
And pinned them on their breasts for ornament;
Their cuff-links and tiaras
Were gems dug from a grave;
They were ghouls battening on exhumed thoughts;
And I took a green liqueur from a servant
So that he might come near me
And give me the comfort of a living thing.
Eleven O'Clock
The front door was hard and heavy,
It shut behind me on the house of ghosts.
I flattened my feet on the pavement
To feel it solid under me;
I ran my hand along the railings
And shook them,
And pressed their pointed bars
Into my palms.
The hurt of it reassured me,
And I did it again and again
Until they were bruised.
When I woke in the night
I laughed to find them aching,
For only living flesh can suffer.
~ Amy Lowell,#NFDB
1209:Darling paused to let that seep into their collective minds before he spoke in a cold tone. “I am not my uncle. I am not my father, but I do subscribe to the twenty rules he taught me from the cradle. One, if you’re afraid to fight, then you’ll never win. Two, in times of tragedy and turmoil, you’ll learn who your true friends are. Treasure them because they are few and far between. Three, know your enemies, and never become your own worst one. Four, be grateful for those enemies. They will keep you honest and ever striving to better yourself. Five, listen to all good advice, but never substitute someone else’s judgment for your own. Six, all men and women lie. But never lie to yourself. Seven, many will flatter you. Befriend the ones who don’t, for they will remind you that you’re human and not infallible. Eight, never fear the truth. It’s the lies that will destroy you. Nine, your worst decisions will always be those that are made out of fear. Think all matters through with a clear head. Ten, your mistakes won’t define you, but your memories, good and bad, will. Eleven, be grateful for your mistakes as they will tell you who and what you’re not. Twelve, don’t be afraid to examine the past, it’s how you learn what you don’t want to do again. Thirteen, there’s a lot to be said for not knowing better. Fourteen, all men die. Not everyone lives. Fifteen, on your deathbed, your greatest regrets will be what you didn’t do. Sixteen, don’t be afraid to love. Yes, it’s a weakness that can be used against you. But it’s also a source of the greatest strength you will ever know. Seventeen, the past is history written in stone that can’t be altered. The future is transitory and never guaranteed. Today is the only thing you can change for certain. Have the courage to do so and make the most of it because it could be all you’ll ever have. Eighteen, you can be in a crowd, surrounded by people, and still be lonely. Nineteen, love all, regardless of what they do. Trust only those you have to. Harm none until they harm you. And twenty… Never be afraid to kill or destroy your enemies. They won’t hesitate to kill or destroy you.” The ~ Sherrilyn Kenyon, #NFDB
1210:Preparatory Meditations - Second Series: 7
(Psalms 105:17. He sent a Man before Them, even Joseph, who was Sold, etc.)
All dull, my Lord, my spirits flat, and dead,
All water-soaked and sapless to the skin.
Oh! Screw me up and make my spirit's bed
Thy quickening virtue, for my ink is dim,
My pencil blunt. Doth Joseph type out Thee?
Heralds of angels sing out, 'Bow the knee.'
Is Joseph's glorious shine a type of Thee?
How bright art Thou? He envied was as well.
And so was Thou. He's stripped and picked, poor he,
Into the pit. And so was Thou. They shell
Thee of Thy kernel. He by Judah's sold
For twenty bits; thirty for Thee he'd told.
Joseph was tempted by his mistress vile.
Thou by the devil, but both shame the foe.
Joseph was cast into the jail awhile.
And so was Thou. Sweet apples mellow so.
Joseph did from his jail to glory run.
Thou from death's pallet rose like morning sun.
Joseph lays in against the famine, and
Thou dost prepare the bread of life for Thine,
He bought with corn for Pharaoh th' men and land.
Thou with Thy bread mak'st such themselves consign
Over to Thee, that eat it. Joseph makes
His brethren bow before him. Thine too quake.
Joseph constrains his brethren till their sins
Do gall their souls. Repentance babbles fresh.
Thou treatest sinners till repentance springs,
Then with him send'st a Benjamin-like mess.
Joseph doth cheer his humble brethren. Thou
Dost stud with joy the mourning saints that bow.
Joseph's bright shine th' Eleven Tribes must preach.
And Thine Apostles now eleven, Thine.
31
They bear his presents to his friends: Thine reach
Thine unto Thine, thus now behold a shine.
How hast Thou penciled out, my Lord, most bright
Thy glorious image here, on Joseph's light.
This I bewail in me under this shine,
To see so dull a color in my skin.
Lord, lay Thy brightsome colors on me Thine.
Scour Thou my pipes, then play Thy tunes therein.
I will not hang my harp in willows by,
While Thy sweet praise my tunes doth glorify.
~ Edward Taylor,#NFDB
1211:Power
The difference between poetry and rhetoric
is being ready to kill
yourself
instead of your children.
I am trapped on a desert of raw gunshot wounds
and a dead child dragging his shattered black
face off the edge of my sleep
blood from his punctured cheeks and shoulders
is the only liquid for miles
and my stomach
churns at the imagined taste while
my mouth splits into dry lips
without loyalty or reason
thirsting for the wetness of his blood
as it sinks into the whiteness
of the desert where I am lost
without imagery or magic
trying to make power out of hatred and destruction
trying to heal my dying son with kisses
only the sun will bleach his bones quicker.
A policeman who shot down a ten year old in Queens
stood over the boy with his cop shoes in childish blood
and a voice said “Die you little motherfucker” and
there are tapes to prove it. At his trial
this policeman said in his own defense
“I didn't notice the size nor nothing else
only the color”. And
there are tapes to prove that, too.
Today that 37 year old white man
with 13 years of police forcing
was set free
by eleven white men who said they were satisfied
justice had been done
and one Black Woman who said
“They convinced me” meaning
they had dragged her 4'10'' black Woman's frame
32
over the hot coals
of four centuries of white male approval
until she let go
the first real power she ever had
and lined her own womb with cement
to make a graveyard for our children.
I have not been able to touch the destruction
within me.
But unless I learn to use
the difference between poetry and rhetoric
my power too will run corrupt as poisonous mold
or lie limp and useless as an unconnected wire
and one day I will take my teenaged plug
and connect it to the nearest socket
raping an 85 year old white woman
who is somebody's mother
and as I beat her senseless and set a torch to her bed
a greek chorus will be singing in 3/4 time
“Poor thing. She never hurt a soul. What beasts they are.”
~ Audre Lorde,#NFDB
1212:My delightful, my love, my life, I don’t understand anything: how can you not be with me? I’m so infinitely used to you that I now feel myself lost and empty: without you, my soul. You turn my life into something light, amazing, rainbowed—you put a glint of happiness on everything—always different: sometimes you can be smoky-pink, downy, sometimes dark, winged—and I don’t know when I love your eyes more—when they are open or shut. It’s eleven p.m. now: I’m trying with all the force of my soul to see you through space; my thoughts plead for a heavenly visa to Berlin via air . . . My sweet excitement . . .
Today I can’t write about anything except my longing for you. I’m gloomy and fearful: silly thoughts are swarming—that you’ll stumble as you jump out of a carriage in the underground, or that someone will bump into you in the street . . . I don’t know how I’ll survive the week.
My tenderness, my happiness, what words can I write for you? How strange that although my life’s work is moving a pen over paper, I don’t know how to tell you how I love, how I desire you. Such agitation—and such divine peace: melting clouds immersed in sunshine—mounds of happiness. And I am floating with you, in you, aflame and melting—and a whole life with you is like the movement of clouds, their airy, quiet falls, their lightness and smoothness, and the heavenly variety of outline and tint—my inexplicable love. I cannot express these cirrus-cumulus sensations.
When you and I were at the cemetery last time, I felt it so piercingly and clearly: you know it all, you know what will happen after death—you know it absolutely simply and calmly—as a bird knows that, fluttering from a branch, it will fly and not fall down . . . And that’s why I am so happy with you, my lovely, my little one. And here’s more: you and I are so special; the miracles we know, no one knows, and no one loves the way we love.
What are you doing now? For some reason I think you’re in the study: you’ve got up, walked to the door, you are pulling the door wings together and pausing for a moment—waiting to see if they’ll move apart again. I’m tired, I’m terribly tired, good night, my joy. Tomorrow I’ll write you about all kinds of everyday things. My love. ~ Vladimir Nabokov,#NFDB
1213:It was a relief to see his father, who'd always been an unfailing source of reassurance and comfort. They clasped hands in a firm shake, and used their free arms to pull close for a moment. Such demonstrations of affection weren't common among fathers and sons of their rank, but then, they'd never been a conventional family.
After a few hearty thumps on the back, Sebastian drew back and glanced over him with the attentive concern that hearkened to Gabriel's earliest memories. Not missing the traces of weariness on his face, his father lightly tousled his hair the way he had when he was a boy. "You haven't been sleeping."
"I went carousing with friends for most of last night," Gabriel admitted. "It ended when we were all too drunk to see a hole through a ladder."
Sebastian grinned and removed his coat, tossing the exquisitely tailored garment to a nearby chair. "Reveling in the waning days of bachelorhood, are we?"
"It would be more accurate to say I'm thrashing like a drowning rat."
"Same thing." Sebastian unfastened his cuffs and began to roll up his shirtsleeves. An active life at Heron's Point, the family estate in Sussex, had kept him as fit and limber as a man half his age. Frequent exposure to the sunlight had gilded his hair and darkened his complexion, making his pale blue eyes startling in their brightness.
While other men of his generation had become staid and settled, the duke was more vigorous than ever, in part because his youngest son was still only eleven. The duchess, Evie, had conceived unexpectedly long after she had assumed her childbearing years were past. As a result there were eight years between the baby's birth and that of the next oldest sibling, Seraphina. Evie had been more than a little embarrassed to find herself with child at her age, especially in the face of her husband's teasing claims that she was a walking advertisement of his potency. And indeed, there have been a hint of extra swagger in Sebastian's step all through his wife's last pregnancy.
Their fifth child was a handsome boy with hair the deep auburn red of an Irish setter. He'd been christened Michael Ivo, but somehow the pugnacious middle name suited him more than his given name. Now a lively, cheerful lad, Ivo accompanied his father nearly everywhere. ~ Lisa Kleypas,#NFDB
1214:Oh, good. I was worried you’d taken ill.”
“Why?” Elizabeth asked as she took a sip of the chocolate. It was cold as ice!
“Because I couldn’t wake-“
“What time is it?” Elizabeth cried.
“Nearly eleven.”
“Eleven! But I told you to wake me at eight! How could you let me oversleep this way?” she said, her sleep-drugged mind already groping wildly for a solution. She could dress quickly and catch up with everyone. Or…
“I did try,” Berta exclaimed, hurt by the uncharacteristic sharpness in Elizabeth’s tone, “but you didn’t want to wake up.”
“I never want to awaken, Berta, you know that!”
“But you were worse this morning than normal. You said your head ached.”
“I always say things like that. I don’t know what I’m saying when I’m asleep. I’ll say anything to bargain for a few minutes’ more sleep. You’ve known that for years, and you always shake me awake anyway.”
“But you said,” Berta persisted, tugging unhappily a her apron, “that since it rained so much last night you were sure the trip to the village wouldn’t take place, so you didn’t have to arise at all.”
“Berta, for heaven’s sake!” Elizabeth cried, throwing off the covers and jumping out of bed with more energy than she’d ever shown after such a short period of wakefulness. “I’ve told you I’m dying of diphtheria to make you go away, and that didn’t succeed!”
“Well,” Berta shot back, marching over to the bell pull and ringing for a bath to be brought up, “when you told me that, your face wasn’t pale and your head didn’t feel hot to my touch. And you hadn’t dragged yourself into bed as if you could hardly stand when it was half past one in the morning!”
Contrite, Elizabeth slumped down in the bed. “It’s not your fault that I sleep like a hibernating bear. And besides, if they didn’t go to the village, it makes no difference at all that I overslept.” She was trying to resign herself to the notion of spending the day in the house with a man who could look at her across a roomful of diners and make her heart leap when Berta said, “They did go to the village. Last night’s storm was more noise and threat than rain.”
Closing her eyes for a brief moment, Elizabeth emitted a long sigh. It was already eleven, which meant Ian had already begun his useless vigil at the cottage. ~ Judith McNaught,#NFDB
1215:Nigeria is not alone, either in the prevalence of child marriage or in attempts to end the practice. In September 2008, Moroccan officials closed sixty Koranic schools operated by Sheikh Mohamed Ben Abderrahman Al-Maghraoui, because he issued a decree justifying marriage to girls as young as nine. “The sheikh,” according to Agence France-Presse, “said his decree was based on the fact that the Prophet Mohammed consummated his marriage to his favourite wife when she was that age.”23 It should come as no surprise, then, given the words of the Koran about divorcing prepubescent women and Muhammad’s example in marrying Aisha, that in some areas of the Islamic world the practice of child marriage enjoys the blessing of the law. Time magazine reported in 2001 that “in Iran the legal age for marriage is nine for girls, fourteen for boys,” and notes that “the law has occasionally been exploited by pedophiles, who marry poor young girls from the provinces, use and then abandon them. In 2000 the Iranian Parliament voted to raise the minimum age for girls to fourteen, but this year, a legislative oversight body dominated by traditional clerics vetoed the move.”24 Likewise, the New York Times reported in 2008 that in Yemen, “despite a rising tide of outrage, the fight against the practice is not easy. Hard-line Islamic conservatives, whose influence has grown enormously in the past two decades, defend it, pointing to the Prophet Muhammad’s marriage to a 9-year-old.”25 (The characterization of proponents of Islamic law as “conservatives” is notable—the Times doesn’t seem fazed by the fact that “conservatives” in the U.S. are not typically advocates of child marriage.) And so child marriage remains prevalent in many areas of the Islamic world. In 2007, photographer Stephanie Sinclair won the UNICEF Photo of the Year competition for a wedding photograph of an Afghani couple: the groom was said to be forty years old but looked older; the bride was eleven. UNICEF Patroness Eva Luise Köhler explained, “The UNICEF Photo of the Year 2007 raises awareness about a worldwide problem. Millions of girls are married while they are still under age. Most of theses child brides are forever denied a self-determined life.”26 According to UNICEF, about half the women in Afghanistan are married before they reach the age of eighteen.27 ~ Robert Spencer, #NFDB
1216:We’ll meet you at Ringrose’s Inn tomorrow for a late breakfast. Say, around ten A.M.?”
Tristan barked a laugh.
“What?” Jane asked. “Is that too late?”
Now Dom laughed, too, and Tristan laughed even harder.
“What’s so funny?” Jane snapped.
“It’s not about you,” Lisette said dryly. “They’re laughing at me. My brothers think me incapable of rising early. Or getting off in a timely fashion.”
“That’s because, dear girl, we have yet to see you rise before eleven or leave by noon for a trip,” Dom teased.
Tristan grinned at Jane. “Better schedule that meeting in York for a bit later, Freckles.”
Freckles. Tristan had dubbed her with the nickname during Dom’s courtship of her, and that reminder of her past with Dom and his family roused an ache in her chest.
She avoided Dom’s gaze. “How about midafternoon then?”
“Nonsense.” Lisette rolled her eyes. “I can rise early, no matter what my idiot brothers think. We’ll be there midmorning for breakfast if I have to dunk my head in ice water to accomplish it. Max wanted to get an early start, anyway.”
Dom chuckled. “Max always wants to get an early start. But he’d have to have a different wife in order to manage that.”
The two men nudged each other with smug looks.
“Yes, he would,” Lisette said in a voice of pure sweetness, “one he wasn’t quite so enamored of. But since sampling my particular charms always takes him so very long in the morning, I admit that we do end up lying abed late more times than not.”
Jane knew she ought to be shocked by such frankness, but she was having too much fun watching the men’s mouths fall open, and a red flush creep up their faces.
Lisette flashed them a coy look. “But I shall endeavor to prevent my husband from enjoying his usual pleasures tomorrow morning. That should resolve the matter.” She threaded her arm through Jane’s. “Now come, my dear, let’s join the others for dinner. I’d love a glass of wine, wouldn’t you?”
The two women had barely made it out into the hall before they burst into laughter. “That’ll teach…them,” Lisette gasped. “Did you see…Tristan’s face?”
“And Dom’s,” Jane choked out. “Oh, Lord, you are so wicked!”
“Why, of course.” Lisette’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “What’s the point of being a duchess if you can’t shock people from time to time? ~ Sabrina Jeffries,#NFDB
1217:
New Rule: Republicans must stop pitting the American people against the government. Last week, we heard a speech from Republican leader Bobby Jindal--and he began it with the story that every immigrant tells about going to an American grocery store for the first time and being overwhelmed with the "endless variety on the shelves." And this was just a 7-Eleven--wait till he sees a Safeway. The thing is, that "endless variety"exists only because Americans pay taxes to a government, which maintains roads, irrigates fields, oversees the electrical grid, and everything else that enables the modern American supermarket to carry forty-seven varieties of frozen breakfast pastry.
Of course, it's easy to tear government down--Ronald Reagan used to say the nine most terrifying words in the Englishlanguage were "I'm from the government and I'm here to help." But that was before "I'm Sarah Palin, now show me the launch codes."
The stimulus package was attacked as typical "tax and spend"--like repairing bridges is left-wing stuff. "There the liberals go again, always wanting to get across the river." Folks, the people are the government--the first responders who put out fires--that's your government. The ranger who shoos pedophiles out of the park restroom, the postman who delivers your porn.
How stupid is it when people say, "That's all we need: the federal government telling Detroit how to make cars or Wells Fargo how to run a bank. You want them to look like the post office?"
You mean the place that takes a note that's in my hand in L.A. on Monday and gives it to my sister in New Jersey on Wednesday, for 44 cents? Let me be the first to say, I would be thrilled if America's health-care system was anywhere near as functional as the post office.
Truth is, recent years have made me much more wary of government stepping aside and letting unregulated private enterprise run things it plainly is too greedy to trust with. Like Wall Street. Like rebuilding Iraq.
Like the way Republicans always frame the health-care debate by saying, "Health-care decisions should be made by doctors and patients, not government bureaucrats," leaving out the fact that health-care decisions aren't made by doctors, patients, or bureaucrats; they're made by insurance companies. Which are a lot like hospital gowns--chances are your gas isn't covered. ~ Bill Maher,#NFDB
1218:March has come to the bridge head,
Peach boughs and apricot boughs hang over a
thousand gates,
At morning there are flowers to cut the heart,
And evening drives them on the eastward-flowing
waters.
Petals are on the gone waters and on the going,
And on the back-swirling eddies,
But to-day's men are not the men of the old days,
Though they hang in the same way over the bridge-
rail.
The sea's colour moves at the dawn
And the princes still stand in rows, about the throne,
And the moon falls over the portals of Sei-go-yo,
And clings to the walls and the gate-top.
With head gear glittering against the cloud and
sun,
The lords go forth from the court, and into far
borders.
They ride upon dragon-like horses,
Upon horses with head-trappings of yellow metal,
And the streets make way for their passage.
Haughty their passing,
Haughty their steps as they go in to great banquets,
To high halls and curious food,
To the perfumed air and girls dancing,
To clear flutes and clear singing;
To the dance of the seventy couples;
To the mad chase through the gardens.
Night and day are given over to pleasure
And they think it will last a thousand autumns,
Unwearying autumns.
For them the yellow dogs howl portents in vain,
And what are they compared to the Lady Riokushu,
That was cause of hate!
Who among them is a man like Han-rei
Who departed alone with his mistress,
With her hair unbound, and he his own skiffsman!
This poem is from CATHAY (London: Elkin Mathews, 1915), the volume of Chinese poems
The book's widely-applauded publication prompted T.S. Eliot to remark that Pound had "reinvented Chinese poetry for our time."
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ Li Bai, Poem by The Bridge at Ten-Shin
,#NFDB
1219:Kenzie agreed to meet him at the park in the morning. Early. Linc sat in his car, waiting for her and watching the sun come up. She pulled in less than five minutes later.
They ran some laps, and she told him what Jim had said. Then she ran ahead. He lengthened his strides to catch up, concentrating on the running so he could think.
She outpaced him several more times.
Feeling frisky. She seemed to have bounced back from her near breakdown at the climbing gym over that ugly card.
He caught up again and flung himself across an imaginary ribbon. “And the winner is!”
“Cheater,” she yelled, laughing.
He loped off the track toward the exercise structures and she followed.
Linc grabbed the pull-up bar and swung himself up, doing several.
“Jim’s not crazy, Kenzie. Five.”
The pull-ups hurt his arms, but it felt good. He’d been spending too much time sitting in front of laptops.
Kenzie leaned against the metal frame of the structure, looking around absently at the small park.
“I guess he was just thinking out loud. I never saw him get that steamed, though.”
He let himself down with excruciating slowness and went up again. “Six. You can understand why.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“Seven.” He went for some fast ones. “Eight. Nine. Ten.” He sucked in a breath, tightening his abs, and let it out with a whoosh. “Going to the media is an idea. I considered it myself. But--eleven--it won’t work for us. Not at this point.”
“Don’t forget about Randy Holt. She didn’t want to go public.”
“Twelve.” His biceps bulged as he stayed up, swinging a little in midair. He thought he detected a flicker of interest in Kenzie’s eyes. About time. He was killing himself.
She swung her arms to warm up. “Are you done showing off?”
“Are you impressed yet?”
Small smile. Okay, she had a lot on her mind. He wouldn’t push it. Then--Linc almost lost his grip when she walked over and put a hand on his chest.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” she said mischievously.
Linc gasped. He wasn’t sure whether to drop to the ground and take her in his arms, or lose the challenge.
“Thirteen. Fourteen. And…fifteen.” He dropped to the ground with bent knees, more winded than he expected. “Your turn.”
Kenzie reached high to grab the bar before he could grab her and did several without breaking a sweat, her ankles crossed. Perfect form. In more ways than one. ~ Janet Dailey,#NFDB
1220:You do realize that Dom is going to throttle me for helping you.”
“I don’t see why,” she said lightly. “You are head of the Duke’s Men, aren’t you? Surely you can go wherever you please and involve yourself as much as you like.”
As Lisette burst into laughter, Max shook his head. “My brother-in-law doesn’t exactly like having his agency called ‘the Duke’s Men.’ I’d keep that appellation under your hat, if I were you.”
“Oh, that sounds so much like Dom,” Jane muttered, “not to appreciate a fellow who showed faith in him and was willing to use him to find his own cousin, not to mention invest in his business concern.”
Lisette laughed even harder now, which only made Max wince.
“What?” Jane asked. “What is it?”
A flush spread over Max’s face. “Let’s just say that my part in…er…’the Duke’s Men’ has been greatly exaggerated by the papers. Rather tangential, really.”
“In other words,” Lisette teased, “he pretty much did nothing. He didn’t even come up with the name, and he certainly didn’t hire Dom to find Victor. Tristan stumbled across Victor himself, and then…”
Lisette spun out the story of how she had met Max and how Dom had become involved. How Max had made a grand gesture for the press to protect Tristan from George.
“Oh, Lord,” Jane breathed. “That’s why you were all at George’s house that day.” The day she’d first seen Dom after nearly eleven years apart.
“Exactly. I mean, Max does what he can to recommend the agency, and certainly Dom benefits from the excellent press he received as a result of Tristan’s finding Victor. But beyond that, Max has nothing to do with it. He has tried to invest in it, but Dom gets all hot under the collar every time he suggests it.”
“What a shock,” Jane said sarcastically.
She thought of Dom the Almighty, having his hard work and keen investigative sense attributed to some duke who’d simply taken up with his sister, and began to laugh. Then Lisette joined her, and eventually, Max.
They laughed until tears rolled down Jane’s cheeks and Lisette was holding her sides.
“Poor Dom,” Jane gasped, when she’d finally gained control of herself. “No matter how carefully he plans, someone always comes along to muck things up. We must all be quite a trial to him.”
“Oh, indeed, we are,” Lisette said, sobering. “But honestly, he takes himself far too seriously, so it’s good for him. ~ Sabrina Jeffries,#NFDB
1221:I can only imagine the sort of havoc Oliver must have wreaked as a boy.”
Oliver handed Minerva in, then climbed in to sit beside her. “We weren’t that bad.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Minerva exclaimed, her eyes twinkling. “One dull evening, he and his friends went to a ball dressed in the livery of the hired footmen. Then they proceeded to drink up the liquor, flirt and wink at the elderly ladies until they were all blushing, and make loud criticisms of the entertainment. After the lady of the house caught on to their scheme and rounded up some stout young men to throw them out, they stole a small stone cupid she had in her garden and sent her a ransom note for it.”
“How the devil do you know that?” Oliver asked. “You were, what, eleven?”
“Twelve,” Minerva said. “And it was all Gran’s servants could talk about. Made quite a stir in society, as I recall. What was the ransom? A kiss for each of you from the lady’s daughter?”
A faint smile touched Oliver’s lips. “And she never did pay it. Apparently her suitors took issue with it. Not to mention her parents.”
“Good heavens,” Maria said.
“Come to think of it,” Oliver mused aloud, “I believe Kirkwood still has that cupid somewhere. I should ask him.”
“You’re as bad as Freddy and my cousins,” Maria chided. “They put soap on all the windows of the mayor’s carriage on the very day he was supposed to lead a procession through Dartmouth. You should have seen him blustering when he discovered it.”
“Was he a pompous idiot?” Oliver asked.
“A lecher, actually. He tried to force a kiss on my aunt. And him a married man, too!”
“Then I hope they did more than soap his windows,” Oliver drawled.
The comment caught Maria by surprise. “And you, of course, have never kissed a married woman?”
“Not if they didn’t ask to be kissed,” he said, a strange tension in his voice. “But we weren’t speaking of me, we were speaking of Dartmouth’s dastardly mayor. Did soaping his windows teach him a lesson?”
“No, but the gift they left for him in the coach did the trick. They got it from the town’s largest cow.”
Oliver and Minerva both laughed. Mrs. Plumtree did not. She was as silent as death beside Maria, clearly scandalized by the entire conversation.
“Why do boys always feel an urgent need to create a mess others are forced to clean up?” Minerva asked.
“Because they know how it irritates us,” Maria said. ~ Sabrina Jeffries,#NFDB
1222:For as to what we have heard you affirm, that there are other kingdoms and states in the world inhabited by human creatures as large as yourself, our philosophers are in much doubt, and would rather conjecture that you dropped from the moon, or one of the stars; because it is certain, that a hundred mortals of your bulk would in a short time destroy all the fruits and cattle of his majesty’s dominions: besides, our histories of six thousand moons make no mention of any other regions than the two great empires of Lilliput and Blefuscu. Which two mighty powers have, as I was going to tell you, been engaged in a most obstinate war for six-and-thirty moons past. It began upon the following occasion. It is allowed on all hands, that the primitive way of breaking eggs, before we eat them, was upon the larger end; but his present majesty’s grandfather, while he was a boy, going to eat an egg, and breaking it according to the ancient practice, happened to cut one of his fingers. Whereupon the emperor his father published an edict, commanding all his subjects, upon great penalties, to break the smaller end of their eggs. The people so highly resented this law, that our histories tell us, there have been six rebellions raised on that account; wherein one emperor lost his life, and another his crown. These civil commotions were constantly fomented by the monarchs of Blefuscu; and when they were quelled, the exiles always fled for refuge to that empire. It is computed that eleven thousand persons have at several times suffered death, rather than submit to break their eggs at the smaller end. Many hundred large volumes have been published upon this controversy: but the books of the Big-endians have been long forbidden, and the whole party rendered incapable by law of holding employments. During the course of these troubles, the emperors of Blefusca did frequently expostulate by their ambassadors, accusing us of making a schism in religion, by offending against a fundamental doctrine of our great prophet Lustrog, in the fifty-fourth chapter of the Blundecral (which is their Alcoran). This, however, is thought to be a mere strain upon the text; for the words are these: ‘that all true believers break their eggs at the convenient end.’ And which is the convenient end, seems, in my humble opinion to be left to every man’s conscience, or at least in the power of the chief magistrate to determine. ~ Jonathan Swift, #NFDB
1223:One and two and three and four and five and six…”
Oh, God don’t let me hurt him.
“…and seven and eight and nine and ten and eleven…”
Am I really doing this? Here? Is this real?
“…and twelve and thirteen and fourteen and fifteen…”
We’re in the middle of nowhere. No one is going to find us. Even the fire has gone out.
“…and sixteen and seventeen and eighteen and nineteen…”
He’s dead. I’m just beating on his body.
“…and twenty and twenty-one and twenty-two and twenty-three and twenty-four…”
My arms hurt. How can my arms hurt now? Blake. I can’t. I can’t be here without you.
“…and twenty-five and twenty-six and twenty-seven and twenty-eight and twenty-nine and thirty.”
The next step was simple: cover his mouth and fill his lungs with air. Breathe into him with life’s breath. Livia did so, licked her lips, and started compressions again.
“And one and two and three and four and five and six and seven…”
I’ve got to be positive. I have to know he’ll make it.
“…and eight and nine and ten and eleven and twelve and thirteen and fourteen…”
We’re going to grow old together, Blake. We’re going to hold hands and kiss.
“…and fifteen and sixteen and seventeen and eighteen and nineteen…”
I’m giving you all my energy. All this love and hope. It’s going from my heart to yours, through my hands.
“…and twenty and twenty-one and twenty-two and twenty-three…”
Feel it, Blake. Feel it.
“…and twenty-four and twenty-five and twenty-six and twenty-seven…”
I love you so much. I’m going to love you forever. Can you feel that, Blake?
“…and twenty-eight and twenty-nine and thirty.”
Livia leaned down, repositioned Blake’s head, and filled his lungs twice more. As she put her hands on his chest to keep her rhythm, she looked down at his face, at his skin.
“And one and two and three and four and five and six…”
Am I imagining that? Your skin?
“…and seven and eight and nine and ten and eleven…”
Blake! Blake, your skin! It’s just like glass, Blake. You’re really sparkling. I can see it. I can really see it. Your skin is amazing!
Livia’s tears landed on her hard-pumping hands. Nothing would stop her from beating Blake’s heart for him now. Nothing. Not even the sound of people crashing through the woods.
“…and twelve and thirteen and fourteen and fifteen and sixteen and seventeen…”
You’re glistening, Blake. I’ll never stop. I’ll never stop. ~ Debra Anastasia,#NFDB
1224:I’m going to say this once here, and then—because it is obvious—I will not repeat it in the course of this book: not all boys engage in such behavior, not by a long shot, and many young men are girls’ staunchest allies. However, every girl I spoke with, every single girl—regardless of her class, ethnicity, or sexual orientation; regardless of what she wore, regardless of her appearance—had been harassed in middle school, high school, college, or, often, all three. Who, then, is truly at risk of being “distracted” at school?
At best, blaming girls’ clothing for the thoughts and actions of boys is counterproductive. At worst, it’s a short step from there to “she was asking for it.” Yet, I also can’t help but feel that girls such as Camila, who favors what she called “more so-called provocative” clothing, are missing something. Taking up the right to bare arms (and legs and cleavage and midriffs) as a feminist rallying cry strikes me as suspiciously Orwellian. I recall the simple litmus test for sexism proposed by British feminist Caitlin Moran, one that Camila unconsciously referenced: Are the guys doing it, too? “If they aren’t,” Moran wrote, “chances are you’re dealing with what we strident feminists refer to as ‘some total fucking bullshit.’”
So while only girls get catcalled, it’s also true that only girls’ fashions urge body consciousness at the very youngest ages. Target offers bikinis for infants. The Gap hawks “skinny jeans” for toddlers. Preschoolers worship Disney princesses, characters whose eyes are larger than their waists. No one is trying to convince eleven-year-old boys to wear itty-bitty booty shorts or bare their bellies in the middle of winter. As concerned as I am about the policing of girls’ sexuality through clothing, I also worry about the incessant drumbeat of self-objectification: the pressure on young women to reduce their worth to their bodies and to see those bodies as a collection of parts that exist for others’ pleasure; to continuously monitor their appearance; to perform rather than to feel sensuality. I recall a conversation I had with Deborah Tolman, a professor at Hunter College and perhaps the foremost expert on teenage girls’ sexual desire. In her work, she said, girls had begun responding “to questions about how their bodies feel—questions about sexuality or arousal—by describing how they think they look. I have to remind them that looking good is not a feeling. ~ Peggy Orenstein,#NFDB
1225:Shirt"
The back, the yoke, the yardage. Lapped seams,
The nearly invisible stitches along the collar
Turned in a sweatshop by Koreans or Malaysians
Gossiping over tea and noodles on their break
Or talking money or politics while one fitted
This armpiece with its overseam to the band
Of cuff I button at my wrist. The presser, the cutter,
The wringer, the mangle. The needle, the union,
The treadle, the bobbin. The code. The infamous blaze
At the Triangle Factory in nineteen-eleven.
One hundred and forty-six died in the flames
On the ninth floor, no hydrants, no fire escapes—
The witness in a building across the street
Who watched how a young man helped a girl to step
Up to the windowsill, then held her out
Away from the masonry wall and let her drop.
And then another. As if he were helping them up
To enter a streetcar, and not eternity.
A third before he dropped her put her arms
Around his neck and kissed him. Then he held
Her into space, and dropped her. Almost at once
He stepped to the sill himself, his jacket flared
And fluttered up from his shirt as he came down,
Air filling up the legs of his gray trousers—
Like Hart Crane’s Bedlamite, “shrill shirt ballooning.”
Wonderful how the pattern matches perfectly
Across the placket and over the twin bar-tacked
Corners of both pockets, like a strict rhyme
Or a major chord. Prints, plaids, checks,
Houndstooth, Tattersall, Madras. The clan tartans
Invented by mill-owners inspired by the hoax of Ossian,
To control their savage Scottish workers, tamed
By a fabricated heraldry: MacGregor,
Bailey, MacMartin. The kilt, devised for workers
To wear among the dusty clattering looms.
Weavers, carders, spinners. The loader,
The docker, the navvy. The planter, the picker, the sorter
Sweating at her machine in a litter of cotton
As slaves in calico headrags sweated in fields:
George Herbert, your descendant is a Black
Lady in South Carolina, her name is Irma
And she inspected my shirt. Its color and fit
And feel and its clean smell have satisfied
Both her and me. We have culled its cost and quality
Down to the buttons of simulated bone,
The buttonholes, the sizing, the facing, the characters
Printed in black on neckband and tail. The shape,
The label, the labor, the color, the shade. The shirt. ~ Robert Pinsky,#NFDB
1226:Melinda Pratt rides city bus number twelve to her cello lesson, wearing her mother's jean jacket and only one sock. Hallo, world, says Minna. Minna often addresses the world, sometimes silently, sometimes out loud. Bus number twelve is her favorite place for watching, inside and out. The bus passes cars and bicycles and people walking dogs. It passes store windows, and every so often Minna sees her face reflection, two dark eyes in a face as pale as a winter dawn. There are fourteen people on the bus today. Minna stands up to count them. She likes to count people, telephone poles, hats, umbrellas, and, lately, earrings. One girl, sitting directly in front of Minna, has seven earrings, five in one ear. She has wisps of dyed green hair that lie like forsythia buds against her neck.
There are, Minna knows, a king, a past president of the United States, and a beauty queen on the bus. Minna can tell by looking. The king yawns and scratches his ear with his little finger. Scratches, not picks. The beauty queen sleeps, her mouth open, her hair the color of tomatoes not yet ripe. The past preside of the United States reads Teen Love and Body Builder's Annual.
Next to Minna, leaning against the seat, is her cello in its zippered canvas case. Next to her cello is her younger brother, McGrew, who is humming. McGrew always hums. Sometimes he hums sentences, though most often it comes out like singing. McGrew's teachers do not enjoy McGrew answering questions in hums or song. Neither does the school principal, Mr. Ripley. McGrew spends lots of time sitting on the bench outside Mr. Ripley's office, humming.
Today McGrew is humming the newspaper. First the headlines, then the sports section, then the comics. McGrew only laughs at the headlines.
Minna smiles at her brother. He is small and stocky and compact like a suitcase. Minna loves him. McGrew always tells the truth, even when he shouldn't. He is kind. And he lends Minna money from the coffee jar he keeps beneath his mattress.
Minna looks out the bus window and thinks about her life. Her one life. She likes artichokes and blue fingernail polish and Mozart played too fast. She loves baseball, and the month of March because no one else much likes March, and every shade of brown she has ever seen. But this is only one life. Someday, she knows, she will have another life. A better one. McGrew knows this, too. McGrew is ten years old. He knows nearly everything. He knows, for instance, that his older sister, Minna Pratt, age eleven, is sitting patiently next to her cello waiting to be a woman. ~ Patricia MacLachlan,#NFDB
1227:Fairy tales are about trouble, about getting into and out of it, and trouble seems to be a necessary stage on the route to becoming. All the magic and glass mountains and pearls the size of houses and princesses beautiful as the day and talking birds and part-time serpents are distractions from the core of most of the stories, the struggle to survive against adversaries, to find your place in the world, and to come into your own.
Fairy tales are almost always the stories of the powerless, of youngest sons, abandoned children, orphans, of humans transformed into birds and beasts or otherwise enchanted away from their own lives and selves. Even princesses are chattels to be disowned by fathers, punished by step-mothers, or claimed by princes, though they often assert themselves in between and are rarely as passive as the cartoon versions. Fairy tales are children's stories not in wh they were made for but in their focus on the early stages of life, when others have power over you and you have power over no one.
In them, power is rarely the right tool for survival anyway. Rather the powerless thrive on alliances, often in the form of reciprocated acts of kindness -- from beehives that were not raided, birds that were not killed but set free or fed, old women who were saluted with respect. Kindness sewn among the meek is harvested in crisis...
In Hans Christian Andersen's retelling of the old Nordic tale that begins with a stepmother, "The Wild Swans," the banished sister can only disenchant her eleven brothers -- who are swans all day look but turn human at night -- by gathering stinging nettles barehanded from churchyard graves, making them into flax, spinning them and knitting eleven long-sleeved shirts while remaining silent the whole time. If she speaks, they'll remain birds forever. In her silence, she cannot protest the crimes she accused of and nearly burned as a witch.
Hauled off to a pyre as she knits the last of the shirts, she is rescued by the swans, who fly in at the last moment. As they swoop down, she throws the nettle shirts over them so that they turn into men again, all but the youngest brother, whose shirt is missing a sleeve so that he's left with one arm and one wing, eternally a swan-man. Why shirts made of graveyard nettles by bleeding fingers and silence should disenchant men turned into birds by their step-mother is a question the story doesn't need to answer. It just needs to give us compelling images of exile, loneliness, affection, and metamorphosis -- and of a heroine who nearly dies of being unable to tell her own story. ~ Rebecca Solnit,#NFDB
1228:To The Baron Destonne
WHO HAD WISHED AT THE NEXT TRANSIT OF MERCURY TO FIND HIMSELF
AGAIN BETWEEN MRS. LA BORDE AND MRS. B.
In twice five winters more and one,
Hermes again will cross the Sun;
Again a dusky spot appear,
Slow-journeying o'er his splendid sphere:
The stars shall slide into their places,
Exhibiting the self-same faces,
And in the like position fix
As Thursday morning, eighty-six.
But changing mortals hope in vain
Their lost position more to gain;—
Once more between La Borde and me!—
Ah, wish not what will never be!
For wandering planets have their rules,
Well known in astronomic schools;
But life's swift wheels will ne'er turn back,
When once they've measured o'er their track.
Eleven years,—twice five and one,—
Is a long hour in Beauty's sun:
Those years will pilfer many a grace
Which decks La Borde's enchanting face;
The little Loves which round her fly,
Will moult the wing, and droop, and die:
And I, grown dull, my lyre unstrung
In some old chimney corner hung,
Gay scenes of Paris all forgot,
Shall rust within my silent cot:
Life's summer ended, and life's spring,
Nor she shall charm, nor I shall sing.
Even Cook, upon whose blooming brow
The youthful graces open now,
Eleven years may vastly change:
No more the Provinces he'll range;
No more with humid eyes entreat,
And wait his doom at Beauty's feet;
181
Married and grave, he'll spend his time
Far from the idleness of rime;
Forgetting oranges and myrtle,
Will drink his port and eat his turtle;
Perhaps with country justice sit,
And turn his back on thee and Wit.
For thee, my friend, whose copious vein
Pours forth at will the polished strain,
With every talent formed to please,
Each fair idea quick to seize;—
Who knows within so long a space
What scenes the present may efface,
What course thy stream of life may take,
What winds may curl, what storms may shake,
What varying colours, gay or grave,
Shall tinge by turns the passing wave;
Of objects on its banks what swarms—
The loftier or the fairer forms—
Shall glide before the liquid glass,
And print their image as they pass?
Let Fancy then and Friendship stray
In Pleasure's flowery walks today,
Today improve the social hours,
And build today the Muse's bowers;
And when life's pageant on will go,
Try not to stop the passing show;
But give to scenes that once were dear,
A sigh, a farewell, and a tear.
~ Anna Laetitia Barbauld,#NFDB
1229:Did the Führer take her (mother) away?”
The question surprised them both, and it forced Papa to stand up. He looked at
the brown-shirted men taking to the pile of ash with shovels. He could hear them
hacking into it. Another lie was growing in his mouth, but he found it impossible
to let it out. He said, “I think he might have, yes.”
“I knew it.” The words were thrown at the steps and Liesel could feel the
slush of anger, stirring hotly in her stomach. “I hate the Führer,” she said. “I hate
him.”
And Hans Hubermann?
What did he do?
What did he say?
Did he bend down and embrace his foster daughter, as he wanted to? Did he
tell her that he was sorry for what was happening to her, to her mother, for what
had happened to her brother?
Not exactly.
He clenched his eyes. Then opened them. He slapped Liesel Meminger
squarely in the face.
“Don’t ever say that!” His voice was quiet, but sharp.
As the girl shook and sagged on the steps, he sat next to her and held his face
in his hands. It would be easy to say that he was just a tall man sitting poorpostured
and shattered on some church steps, but he wasn’t. At the time, Liesel
had no idea that her foster father, Hans Hubermann, was contemplating one of
the most dangerous dilemmas a German citizen could face. Not only that, he’d
been facing it for close to a year.
“Papa?”
The surprise in her voice rushed her, but it also rendered her useless. She
wanted to run, but she couldn’t. She could take a Watschen from nuns and Rosas,
but it hurt so much more from Papa. The hands were gone from Papa’s face now
and he found the resolve to speak again.
“You can say that in our house,” he said, looking gravely at Liesel’s cheek.
“But you never say it on the street, at school, at the BDM, never!” He stood in
front of her and lifted her by the triceps. He shook her. “Do you hear me?”
With her eyes trapped wide open, Liesel nodded her compliance.
It was, in fact, a rehearsal for a future lecture, when all of Hans Hubermann’s
worst fears arrived on Himmel Street later that year, in the early hours of a
November morning.
“Good.” He placed her back down. “Now, let us try …” At the bottom of the
steps, Papa stood erect and cocked his arm. Forty-five degrees. “Heil Hitler.”
Liesel stood up and also raised her arm. With absolute misery, she repeated it.
“Heil Hitler.” It was quite a sight—an eleven-year-old girl, trying not to cry on
the church steps, saluting the Führer as the voices over Papa’s shoulder chopped
and beat at the dark shape in the background. ~ Markus Zusak,#NFDB
1230:The New England wilderness
March 1, 1704
Temperature 10 degrees
The Indian next to Mr. Williams interrupted him roughly. “We kill. You tell.”
Mr. Williams ceased to pray. “Joe Alexander escaped last night,” he said. “If anyone else tries to escape, they will burn the rest of us alive.”
Burn alive? Burn innocent women and children because one young man flew from their grasp?
Her Indian stood some distance away amid the other warriors. He was now wearing a vivid blue cloth coat of European design. In one hand he held his French flintlock, and over his shoulder hung his bow and a full otter-skin quiver--actually, the entire dead otter, complete with face and feet. His coat hung open to show a belt around his waist, from which hung his tomahawk and scalping knife. His skin was not red after all, but the color of autumn. Burnished chestnut. His shaved head gleamed. He looked completely and utterly savage.
He might sorrow for a dead brother warrior, but grief would make him more likely to burn a captive, not less likely.
Mercy imagined kindling around her feet, a stake at her back, her flesh charring like a side of beef.
Beside her, Eben seemed almost to faint.
Mercy had the odd thought that she, an eleven-year-old girl, might be stronger than he, a seventeen-year-old boy.
The English were silent, entirely able to believe they might be burned.
The first person to move was Mercy’s Indian. Sharply raising one hand, bringing the eyes of all upon him, he pointed to Mercy Carter.
She was frozen with horror.
His finger beckoned. There could be no mistake. The meaning was come.
There was no speech and no movement from a hundred captives and three hundred enemies. It was the French Mercy hated at that moment. How could they stand by and let other whites be burned alive?
She had no choice but to go to him. She set Daniel down. Perhaps they would spare Daniel. Perhaps only she was to be burned.
She forced herself to keep her chin up, her eyes steady and her steps even. How could she be afraid of going where her five-year-old brother had gone first? O Tommy, she thought, rest in the Lord. Perhaps you are with Mother now. Perhaps I will see you in a moment.
She did not want to die.
Her footsteps crunched on the snow.
Nobody spoke. Nobody moved.
The Indian handed Mercy a slab of cornmeal bread, and then beckoned to Daniel, who cried, “Oh, good, I’m so hungry!” and came running, his happy little face tilted in a smile at the Indian who fed him. “Mercy said we’d eat later,” Daniel confided in the Indian.
The English trembled in their relief and the French laughed. ~ Caroline B Cooney,#NFDB
1231:A week before my due date, Marlboro Man had to preg-test a hundred cows. Preg-testing cows, I would learn in horror that warm June morning, does not involve the cow urinating on a test stick and waiting at least three minutes to read the result. Instead, a large animal vet inserts his entire arm into a long disposable glove, then inserts the gloved arm high into the rectum of a pregnant cow until the vet’s arm is no longer visible. Once his arm is deep inside the cow’s nether regions, the vet can feel the size and angle of the cow’s cervix and determine two things:
1. Whether or not she is pregnant.
2. How far along she is.
With this information, Marlboro Man decides whether to rebreed the nonpregnant cows, and in which pasture to place the pregnant cows; cows that became bred at the same time will stay in the same pasture so that they’ll all give birth in approximately the same time frame.
Of course, I understood none of this as I watched the doctor insert the entire length of his arm into a hundred different cows’ bottoms. All I knew is that he’d insert his arm, the cow would moo, he would pull out his arm, and the cow would poop. Unintentionally, each time a new cow would pass through the chute, I’d instinctively bear down. I was just as pregnant as many of the cows. My nether regions were uncomfortable enough as it was. The thought of someone inserting their…
It was more than I probably should have signed up for that morning.
“God help me!” I yelped as Marlboro Man and I pulled away from the working area after the last cow was tested. “What in the name of all that is holy did I just witness?”
“How’d you like that?” Marlboro Man asked, smiling a satisfied smile. He loved introducing me to new ranching activities. The more shocking I found them, the better.
“Seriously,” I mumbled, grasping my enormous belly as if to protect my baby from the reality of this bizarre, disturbing world. “That was just…that was like nothing I’ve ever seen before!” It made the rectal thermometer episode I’d endured many months earlier seem like a garden party.
Marlboro Man laughed and rested his hand on my knee. It stayed there the rest of the drive home.
At eleven that night, I woke up feeling strange. Marlboro Man and I had just drifted off to sleep, and my abdomen felt tight and weird. I stared at the ceiling, breathing deeply in an effort to will it away. But then I put two and two together: the whole trauma of what I’d seen earlier in the day must have finally caught up with me. In my sympathy for the preg-tested cows, I must have borne down a few too many times.
I sat up in bed. I was definitely in labor. ~ Ree Drummond,#NFDB
1232:Sister Ann
I'm lyin' in a narrow bed,
'N' starin' at a wall.
Where all is white my plastered head
Is whitest of it all.
My life is jist a whitewashed blank,
With flamin' spurts of pain.
I dunno who I've got to thank,
I've p'raps been trod on by a tank,
Or caught out in the rain
When skies were peltin' fish-plates, bricks
'n' lengths of bullock-chain.
I'm lyin' here, a sulky swine,
'N' hatin' of the bloke
Who's in the doss right next to mine
With 'arf his girders broke.
He never done no 'arm t me,
'N' he's pertickler ill;
But I have got him snouted, see,
'N' all old earth beside but she
Come with the chemist's swill,
'N' puts a kind, soft 'and on mine, 'n' all
my nark is still.
She ain't a beaut, she's thirty two,
She scales eleven stone;
But, 'struth, I didn't think it true
There was such women grown!
She's nurse 'n' sister, mum 'n' dad,
'N' all that straight 'n' fine
In every girl I ever had.
When Gabr'el comes, 'n' all the glad
Young saints are tipped the sign,
You'll see this donah take her place, first
angel in the line!
She's sweet 'n' cool, her touch is dew—
Wet lilies on yer brow.
(Jist 'ark et me what never knew
96
Of lilies up to now).
She fits your case in 'arf a wink,
'N' knows how, why, 'n' where.
If you are five days gone in drink,
N' hoverin' on perdition's brink,
It is her brother there.
God how pain will take a man, and
He has spoke with her!
I dunno if she ever sleeps
Ten minutes at a stretch.
A dozen times a night she creeps
To soothe a screamin' wretch
Who has a tiger-headed Hun
A-gnawin' at his chest.
'N' when the long, 'ard flght is won,
'N' he is still 'n' nearly done,
She smiles down on his rest,
'N' minds me of a mother with a baby at her
breast.
The curly kid we cuddled when
There was no splendid row
(It seemed a little matter then,
But feels so wondrous now).
It's part of her. She's Joan iv Ark,
Flo Nightingale, all fair
'N' dinkum dames who've made their mark
If she comes tip-toe in the dark,
We blighters feel her there.
The whole pack perks up like a bird, 'n'
sorter takes the air.
She chats you in a 'Ighland botch;
But if our Sis saw fit
To pitch Hindoo instead of Scotch
I'd get the hang of it,
Because her heart it is that talks
What now is plain to me.
At war where bloody murder stalks,
'N' Nick his hottest samples hawks.
I have been given to see
97
What simple human kindness is, what
brotherhood may be.
~ Edward George Dyson,#NFDB
1233:Peeta,” I say lightly. “You said at the interview you’d had a crush on me forever. When did forever start?”
“Oh, let’s see. I guess the first day of school. We were five. You had on a red plaid dress and your hair... it was in two braids instead of one. My father pointed you out when we were waiting to line up,” Peeta says.
“Your father? Why?” I ask.
“He said, ‘See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,’” Peeta says.
“What? You’re making that up!” I exclaim.
“No, true story,” Peeta says. “And I said, ‘A coal miner? Why did she want a coal miner if she could’ve had you?’ And he said, ‘Because when he sings... even the birds stop to listen.’”
“That’s true. They do. I mean, they did,” I say. I’m stunned and surprisingly moved, thinking of the baker telling this to Peeta. It strikes me that my own reluctance to sing, my own dismissal of music might not really be that I think it’s a waste of time. It might be because it reminds me too much of my father.
“So that day, in music assembly, the teacher asked who knew the valley song. Your hand shot right up in the air. She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent,” Peeta says.
“Oh, please,” I say, laughing.
“No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew—just like your mother—I was a goner,” Peeta says. “Then for the next eleven years, I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you.”
“Without success,” I add.
“Without success. So, in a way, my name being drawn in the reaping was a real piece of luck,” says Peeta. For a moment, I’m almost foolishly happy and then confusion sweeps over me. Because we’re supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love not actually being in love. But Peeta’s story has a ring of truth to it. That part about my father and the birds. And I did sing the first day of school, although I don’t remember the song. And that red plaid dress... there was one, a hand-me-down to Prim that got washed to rags after my father’s death.
It would explain another thing, too. Why Peeta took a beating to give me the bread on that awful hollow day. So, if those details are true... could it all be true?
“You have a... remarkable memory,” I say haltingly. “I remember everything about you,” says Peeta, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re the one who wasn’t paying attention.”
“I am now,” I say.
“Well, I don’t have much competition here,” he says. I want to draw away, to close those shutters again, but I know I can’t. It’s as if I can hear Haymitch whispering in my ear, “Say it! Say it!”
I swallow hard and get the words out. “You don’t have much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans in. ~ Suzanne Collins,#NFDB
1234:You are protected, in short, by your ability to love!" said Dum-bledore loudly. "The only protection that can possibly work against the lure of power like Voldemort's! In spite of all the temptation you have endured, all the suffering, you remain pure of heart, just as pure as you were at the age of eleven, when you stared into a mir-ror that reflected your heart's desire, and it showed you only the way to thwart Lord Voldemort, and not immortality or riches. Harry, have you any idea how few wizards could have seen what you saw in that mirror? Voldemort should have known then what he was dealing with, but he did not! But he knows it now. You have flitted into Lord Voldemort's mind without damage to yourself, but he cannot possess you with-out enduring mortal agony, as he discovered in the Ministry. I do not think he understands why, Harry, but then, he was in such a hurry to mutilate his own soul, he never paused to understand the incomparable power of a soul that is untarnished and whole."
"But, sir," said Harry, making valiant efforts not to sound argu-mentative, "it all comes to the same thing, doesn't it? I've got to try and kill him, or —"
"Got to?" said Dumbledore. "Of course you've got to! But not because of the prophecy! Because you, yourself, will never rest until you've tried! We both know it! Imagine, please, just for a moment,
that you had never heard that prophecy! How would you feel about Voldemort now? Think!"
Harry watched Dumbledore striding up and down in front ol him, and thought. He thought of his mother, his father, and Sinus. He thought of Cedric Diggory. He thought of all the terrible deeds he knew Lord Voldemort had done. A flame seemed to leap inside his chest, searing his throat.
"I'd want him finished," said Harry quietly. "And I'd want to do it."
"Of course you would!" cried Dumbledore. "You see, the prophecy does not mean you have to do anything! But the prophecy caused Lord Voldemort to mark you as his equal. ... In other words, you are free to choose your way, quite free to turn your back on the prophecy! But Voldemort continues to set store by the prophecy. He will continue to hunt you . . . which makes it certain, really, that —"
"That one of us is going to end up killing the other," said Harry. "Yes."
But he understood at last what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. It was, he thought, the difference between being dragged into the arena to face a battle to the death and walking into the arena with your head held high. Some people, perhaps, would say that there was little to choose between the two ways, but Dumble-dore knew — and so do I, thought Harry, with a rush of fierce pride, and so did my parents — that there was all the difference in the world. ~ J K Rowling,#NFDB
1235:New Rule: Not everything in America has to make a profit. If conservatives get to call universal health care "socialized medicine," I get to call private, for-profit health care "soulless vampire bastards making money off human pain." Now, I know what you're thinking: "But, Bill, the profit motive is what sustains capitalism." Yes, and our sex drive is what sustains the human species, but we don't try to fuck everything.
It wasn't that long ago when a kid in America broke his leg, his parents took him to the local Catholic hospital, the nun stuck a thermometer in his ass, the doctor slapped some plaster on his ankle, and you were done. The bill was $1.50; plus, you got to keep the thermometer.
But like everything else that's good and noble in life, some bean counter decided that hospitals could be big business, so now they're not hospitals anymore; they're Jiffy Lubes with bedpans. The more people who get sick, and stay sick, the higher their profit margins, which is why they're always pushing the Jell-O.
Did you know that the United States is ranked fiftieth in the world in life expectancy? And the forty-nine loser countries were they live longer than us? Oh, it's hardly worth it, they may live longer, but they live shackled to the tyranny of nonprofit health care. Here in America, you're not coughing up blood, little Bobby, you're coughing up freedom. The problem with President Obama's health-care plan isn't socialism. It's capitalism. When did the profit motive become the only reason to do anything? When did that become the new patriotism? Ask not what you could do for your country, ask what's in it for Blue Cross Blue Shield.
And it's not just medicine--prisons also used to be a nonprofit business, and for good reason--who the hell wants to own a prison? By definition, you're going to have trouble with the tenants. It's not a coincidence that we outsourced running prisons to private corporations and then the number of prisoners in America skyrocketed.
There used to be some things we just didn't do for money. Did you know, for example, there was a time when being called a "war profiteer" was a bad thing? FDR said he didn't want World War II to create one millionaire, but I'm guessing Iraq has made more than a few executives at Halliburton into millionaires. Halliburton sold soldiers soda for $7.50 a can. They were honoring 9/11 by charging like 7-Eleven. Which is wrong. We're Americans; we don't fight wars for money. We fight them for oil.
And my final example of the profit motive screwing something up that used to be good when it was nonprofit: TV news. I heard all the news anchors this week talk about how much better the news coverage was back in Cronkite's day. And I thought, "Gee, if only you were in a position to do something about it. ~ Bill Maher,#NFDB
1236:Tony Williams: You’ve often mentioned that Tales of Hoffmann (1951) has been a major influence on you.
George Romero: It was the first film I got completely involved with. An aunt and uncle took me to see it in downtown Manhattan when it first played. And that was an event for me since I was about eleven at the time. The imagery just blew me away completely. I wanted to go and see a Tarzan movie but my aunt and uncle said, “No! Come and see a bit of culture here.” So I thought I was missing out. But I really fell in love with the film. There used to be a television show in New York called Million Dollar Movie. They would show the same film twice a day on weekdays, three times on Saturday, and three-to-four times on Sunday. Tales of Hoffmann appeared on it one week. I missed the first couple of days because I wasn’t aware that it was on. But the moment I found it was on, I watched virtually every telecast. This was before the days of video so, naturally, I couldn’t tape it. Those were the days you had to rent 16mm prints of any film. Most cities of any size had rental services and you could rent a surprising number of films. So once I started to look at Tales of Hoffmann I realized how much stuff Michael Powell did in the camera. Powell was so innovative in his technique. But it was also transparent so I could see how he achieved certain effects such as his use of an overprint in the scene of the ballet dancer on the lily ponds. I was beginning to understand how adept a director can be. But, aside from that, the imagery was superb. Robert Helpmann is the greatest Dracula that ever was. Those eyes were compelling. I was impressed by the way Powell shot Helpmann sweeping around in his cape and craning down over the balcony in the tavern. I felt the film was so unique compared to most of the things we were seeing in American cinema such as the westerns and other dreadful stuff I used to watch. Tales of Hoffmann just took me into another world in terms of its innovative cinematic technique. So it really got me going.
Tony Williams: A really beautiful print exists on laserdisc with commentary by Martin Scorsese and others.
George Romero: I was invited to collaborate on the commentary by Marty. Pat Buba (Tony’s brother) knew Thelma Schoonmaker and I got to meet Powell in later years. We had a wonderful dinner with him one evening. What an amazing guy! Eventually I got to see more of his movies that I’d never seen before such as I Know Where I’m Going and A Canterbury Tale. Anyway, I couldn’t do the commentary on Tales of Hoffmann with Marty. But, back in the old days in New York, Marty and I were the only two people who would rent a 16mm copy of the film. Every time I found it was out I knew that he had it and each time he wanted it he knew who had it! So that made us buddies. ~ George A Romero,#NFDB
1237:Failures as people: millions of Americans felt that this description fit them to a T. Seeking a solution, any solution, they eagerly forked over their cash to any huckster who promised release, the quicker and more effortlessly the better: therapies like “bioenergetics” (“The Revolutionary Therapy That Uses the Language of the Body to Heal the Problems of the Mind”); Primal Scream (which held that when patients shrieked in a therapist’s office, childhood trauma could be reexperienced, then released; John Lennon and James Earl Jones were fans); or Transcendental Meditation, which promised that deliverance could come if you merely closed your eyes and chanted a mantra (the “TM” organization sold personal mantras, each supposedly “unique,” to hundreds of thousands of devotees). Or “religions” like the Church Universal and Triumphant, or the Reverend Sun Myung Moon’s Unification Church, or “Scientology”—this last one invented by a science fiction writer, reportedly on a bet. Devotees paid cash to be “audited” by practitioners who claimed the power—if, naturally, you paid for enough sessions—to remove “trauma patterns” accreted over the 75 million years that had passed since Xenu, tyrant of the Galactic Confederacy, deposited billions of people on earth next to volcanoes and detonated hydrogen bombs inside those volcanos, thus scattering harming “body thetans” to attach to the souls of the living, which once unlatched allowed practitioners to cross the “bridge to total freedom” and “unlimited creativity.” Another religion, the story had it, promised “perfect knowledge”—though its adherents’ public meeting was held up several hours because none of them knew how to run the movie projector. Gallup reported that six million Americans had tried TM, five million had twisted themselves into yoga poses, and two million had sampled some sort of Oriental religion. And hundreds of thousands of Americans in eleven cities had plunked down $250 for the privilege being screamed at as “assholes.” “est”—Erhard Seminars Training, named after the only-in-America hustler who invented it, Werner Erhard, originally Jack Rosenberg, a former used-car and encyclopedia salesman who had tried and failed to join the Marines (this was not incidental) at the age of seventeen, and experienced a spiritual rebirth one morning while driving across the Golden Gate Bridge (“I realized that I knew nothing. . . . In the next instant—after I realized that I knew nothing—I realized that I knew everything”)—promised “to transform one’s ability to experience living so that the situations one had been trying to change or had been putting up with, clear up just in the process of life itself,” all that in just sixty hours, courtesy of a for-profit corporation whose president had been general manager of the Coca-Cola Bottling Company of California and a former member of the Harvard Business School faculty. A ~ Rick Perlstein, #NFDB
1238:I’m Captain Florida, the state history pimp Gatherin’ more data than a DEA blimp West Palm, Tampa Bay, Miami-Dade Cruisin’ the coasts till Johnny Vegas gets laid Developer ho’s, and the politician bitches Smackin’ ’em down, while I’m takin’ lots of pictures Hurricanes, sinkholes, natural disaster ’Scuse me while I kick back, with my View-Master (S:) I’m Captain Florida, obscure facts are all legit (C:) I’m Coleman, the sidekick, with a big bong hit (S:) I’m Captain Florida, staying literate (C:) Coleman sees a book and says, “Fuck that shit” Ain’t never been caught, slippin’ nooses down the Keys Got more buoyancy than Elián González Knockin’ off the parasites, and takin’ all their moola Recruiting my apostles for the Church of Don Shula I’m an old-school gangster with a psycho ex-wife Molly Packin’ Glocks, a shotgun and my 7-Eleven coffee Trippin’ the theme parks, the malls, the time-shares Bustin’ my rhymes through all the red-tide scares (S:) I’m the surge in the storms, don’t believe the hype (C:) I’m his stoned number two, where’d I put my hash pipe? (S:) Florida, no appointments and a tank of gas (C:) Tequila, no employment and a bag of grass Think you’ve seen it all? I beg to differ Mosquitoes like bats and a peg-leg stripper The scammers, the schemers, the real estate liars Birthday-party clowns in a meth-lab fire But dig us, don’t diss us, pay a visit, don’t be late And statistics always lie, so ignore the murder rate Beaches, palm trees and golfing is our curse Our residents won’t bite, but a few will shoot first Everglades, orange groves, alligators, Buffett Scarface, Hemingway, an Andrew Jackson to suck it Solarcaine, Rogaine, eight balls of cocaine See the hall of fame for the criminally insane Artifacts, folklore, roadside attractions Crackers, Haitians, Cuban-exile factions The early-bird specials, drivin’ like molasses Condo-meeting fistfights in cataract glasses (S:) I’m the native tourist, with the rants that can’t be beat (C:) Serge, I think I put my shoes on the wrong feet (S:) A stack of old postcards in another dingy room (C:) A cold Bud forty and a magic mushroom Can’t stop, turnpike, keep ridin’ like the wind Gotta make a detour for a souvenir pin But if you like to litter, you’re just liable to get hurt Do ya like the MAC-10 under my tropical shirt? I just keep meeting jerks, I’m a human land-filler But it’s totally unfair, this term “serial killer” The police never rest, always breakin’ in my pad But sunshine is my bling, and I’m hangin’ like a chad (S:) Serge has got to roll and drop the mike on this rap . . . (C:) Coleman’s climbin’ in the tub, to take a little nap . . . (S:) . . . Disappearin’ in the swamp—and goin’ tangent, tangent, tangent . . . (C:) He’s goin’ tangent, tangent . . . (Fade-out) (S:) I’m goin’ tangent, tangent . . . (C:) Fuck goin’ platinum, he’s goin’ tangent, tangent . . . (S:) . . . Wikipedia all up and down your ass . . . (C:) Wikity-Wikity-Wikity . . . ~ Tim Dorsey, #NFDB
1239:Marlboro Man’s call woke me up the next morning. It was almost eleven.
“Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”
I hopped out of bed, blinking and stumbling around my room. “Who me? Oh, nothing.” I felt like I’d been drugged.
“Were you asleep?” he said.
“Who, me?” I said again, trying to snap out of my stupor. I was stalling, trying my darnedest to get my bearings.
“Yes. You,” he said, chuckling. “I can’t believe you were asleep!”
“I wasn’t asleep! I was…I just…” I was a loser. A pathetic, late-sleeping loser.
“You’re a real go-getter in the mornings, aren’t you?” I loved it when he played along with me.
I rubbed my eyes and pinched my own cheek, trying to wake up. “Yep. Kinda,” I answered. Then, changing the subject: “So…what are you up to today?”
“Oh, I had to run to the city early this morning,” he said.
“Really?” I interrupted. The city was over two hours from his house. “You got an early start!” I would never understand these early mornings. When does anyone ever sleep out there?
Marlboro Man continued, undaunted. “Oh, and by the way…I’m pulling into your driveway right now.”
Huh?
I ran to my bathroom mirror and looked at myself. I shuddered at the sight: puffy eyes, matted hair, pillow mark on my left cheek. Loose, faded pajamas. Bag lady material. Sleeping till eleven had not been good for my appearance. “No. No you’re not,” I begged.
“Yep. I am,” he answered.
“No you’re not,” I repeated.
“Yes. I am,” he said.
I slammed my bathroom door and hit the lock. Please, Lord, please, I prayed, grabbing my toothbrush. Please let him be joking.
I brushed my teeth like a crazed lunatic as I examined myself in the mirror. Why couldn’t I look the women in commercials who wake up in a bed with ironed sheets and a dewy complexion with their hair perfectly tousled? I wasn’t fit for human eyes, let alone the piercing eyes of the sexy, magnetic Marlboro Man, who by now was walking up the stairs to my bedroom. I could hear the clomping of his boots.
The boots were in my bedroom by now, and so was the gravelly voice attached to them. “Hey,” I heard him say. I patted an ice-cold washcloth on my face and said ten Hail Marys, incredulous that I would yet again find myself trapped in the prison of a bathroom with Marlboro Man, my cowboy love, on the other side of the door. What in the world was he doing there? Didn’t he have some cows to wrangle? Some fence to fix? It was broad daylight; didn’t he have a ranch to run? I needed to speak to him about his work ethic.
“Oh, hello,” I responded through the door, ransacking the hamper in my bathroom for something, anything better than the sacrilege that adorned my body. Didn’t I have any respect for myself?
I heard Marlboro Man laugh quietly. “What’re you doing in there?” I found my favorite pair of faded, soft jeans.
“Hiding,” I replied, stepping into them and buttoning the waist.
“Well, c’mere,” he said softly. ~ Ree Drummond,#NFDB
1240:The Twelve Days Of Christmas
~ Anonymous
English Christmas carol, likely based on an older French song
(first published in the children's book Mirth Without Mischief, 1780)
On the first day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
A partridge in a pear tree.
On the second day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.
On the third day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.
On the fourth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.
On the fifth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Five gold rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.
On the sixth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Six geese a-laying,
Five gold rings,
Four calling birds,
315
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.
On the seventh day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five gold rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.
On the eighth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five gold rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.
On the ninth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Nine drummers drumming,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five gold rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.
On the tenth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Ten pipers piping,
Nine drummers drumming,
Eight maids a-milking,
316
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five gold rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.
On the eleventh day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Eleven ladies dancing,
Ten pipers piping,
Nine drummers drumming,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five gold rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.
On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My true love sent to me
Twelve fiddlers fiddling,
Eleven ladies dancing,
Ten pipers piping,
Nine drummers drumming,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five gold rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves, and
A partridge in a pear tree.
~ Anonymous,#NFDB
1241:This boat is of shato-wood, and its gunwales are
cut magnolia,
Musicians with jewelled flutes and with pipes of gold
Fill full the sides in rows, and our wine
Is rich for a thousand cups.
We carry singing girls, drift with the drifting water,
Yet Sennin needs
A yellow stork for a charger, and all our seamen
Would follow the white gulls or ride them.
Kutsu's prose song
Hangs with the sun and moon.
King So's terraced palace
is now but barren hill,
But I draw pen on this barge
Causing the five peaks to tremble,
And I have joy in these words
like the joy of blue islands.
(If glory could last forever
Then the waters of Han would flow northward.)
And I have moped in the Emperor's garden, await-
ing an order-to-write !
I looked at the dragon-pond, with its willow-
coloured water
Just reflecting the sky's tinge,
And heard the five-score nightingales aimlessly singing.
The eastern wind brings the green colour into the
island grasses at Yei-shu,
The purple house and the crimson are full of Spring
softness.
South of the pond the willow-tips are half-blue and
bluer,
Their cords tangle in mist, against the brocade-like
palace.
Vine-strings a hundred feet long hang down from
carved railings,
And high over the willows, the fine birds sing to
each other, and listen,
CryingKwan, Kuan,' for the early wind, and the
feel of it.
The wind bundles itself into a bluish cloud and
wanders off.
Over a thousand gates, over a thousand doors are
the sounds of spring singing,
And the Emperor is at Ko.
Five clouds hang aloft, bright on the purple sky,
The imperial guards come forth from the golden
house with their armour a-gleaming.
The Emperor in his jewelled car goes out to inspect
his flowers,
He goes out to Hori, to look at the wing-flapping
storks,
He returns by way of Sei rock, to hear the new
nightingales,
For the gardens at Jo-run are full of new nighting-
gales,
Their sound is mixed in this flute,
Their voice is in the twelve pipes here.
This poem is from CATHAY (London: Elkin Mathews, 1915), the volume of Chinese poems
The book's widely-applauded publication prompted T.S. Eliot to remark that Pound had "reinvented Chinese poetry for our time."
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ Li Bai, The River Song
,#NFDB
1242:Episode 34
THE fall of his lord he was fain to requite
in after days; and to Eadgils he proved
friend to the friendless, and forces sent
over the sea to the son of Ohtere,
weapons and warriors: well repaid he
those care-paths cold when the king he slew.
Thus safe through struggles the son of Ecgtheow
had passed a plenty, through perils dire,
with daring deeds, till this day was come
that doomed him now with the dragon to strive.
With comrades eleven the lord of Geats
swollen in rage went seeking the dragon.
He had heard whence all the harm arose
and the killing of clansmen; that cup of price
on the lap of the lord had been laid by the finder.
In the throng was this one thirteenth man,
starter of all the strife and ill,
care-laden captive; cringing thence
forced and reluctant, he led them on
till he came in ken of that cavern-hall,
the barrow delved near billowy surges,
flood of ocean. Within 'twas full
of wire-gold and jewels; a jealous warden,
warrior trusty, the treasures held,
lurked in his lair. Not light the task
of entrance for any of earth-born men!
Sat on the headland the hero king,
spake words of hail to his hearth-companions,
gold-friend of Geats. All gloomy his soul,
wavering, death-bound. Wyrd full nigh
stood ready to greet the gray-haired man,
to seize his soul-hoard, sunder apart
life and body. Not long would be
the warrior's spirit enwound with flesh.
Beowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow: -"Through store of struggles I strove in youth,
mighty feuds; I mind them all.
I was seven years old when the sovran of rings,
friend-of-his-folk, from my father took me,
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had me, and held me, Hrethel the king,
with food and fee, faithful in kinship.
Ne'er, while I lived there, he loathlier found me,
bairn in the burg, than his birthright sons,
Herebeald and Haethcyn and Hygelac mine.
For the eldest of these, by unmeet chance,
by kinsman's deed, was the death-bed strewn,
when Haethcyn killed him with horny bow,
his own dear liege laid low with an arrow,
missed the mark and his mate shot down,
one brother the other, with bloody shaft.
A feeless fight, and a fearful sin,
horror to Hrethel; yet, hard as it was,
unavenged must the atheling die!
Too awful it is for an aged man
to bide and bear, that his bairn so young
rides on the gallows. A rime he makes,
sorrow-song for his son there hanging
as rapture of ravens; no rescue now
can come from the old, disabled man!
Still is he minded, as morning breaks,
of the heir gone elsewhere; another he hopes not
he will bide to see his burg within
as ward for his wealth, now the one has found
doom of death that the deed incurred.
Forlorn he looks on the lodge of his son,
wine-hall waste and wind-swept chambers
reft of revel. The rider sleepeth,
the hero, far-hidden; no harp resounds,
in the courts no wassail, as once was heard.
~ Anonymous Olde English,#NFDB
1243:what love looks like
what does love look like the therapist asks
one week after the breakup
and i’m not sure how to answer her question
except for the fact that i thought love
looked so much like you
that’s when it hit me
and i realized how naive i had been
to place an idea so beautiful on the image of a person
as if anybody on this entire earth
could encompass all love represented
as if this emotion seven billion people tremble for
would look like a five foot eleven
medium-sized brown-skinned guy
who likes eating frozen pizza for breakfast
what does love look like the therapist asks again
this time interrupting my thoughts midsentence
and at this point i’m about to get up
and walk right out the door
except i paid too much money for this hour
so instead i take a piercing look at her
the way you look at someone
when you’re about to hand it to them
lips pursed tightly preparing to launch into conversation
eyes digging deeply into theirs
searching for all the weak spots
they have hidden somewhere
hair being tucked behind the ears
as if you have to physically prepare for a conversation
on the philosophies or rather disappointments
of what love looks like
well i tell her
i don’t think love is him anymore
if love was him
he would be here wouldn’t he
if he was the one for me
wouldn’t he be the one sitting across from me
if love was him it would have been simple
i don’t think love is him anymore i repeat
i think love never was
i think i just wanted something
was ready to give myself to something
i believed was bigger than myself
and when i saw someone
who probably fit the part
i made it very much my intention
to make him my counterpart
and i lost myself to him
he took and he took
wrapped me in the word special
until i was so convinced he had eyes only to see me
hands only to feel me
a body only to be with me
oh how he emptied me
how does that make you feel
interrupts the therapist
well i said
it kind of makes me feel like shit
maybe we’re looking at it wrong
we think it’s something to search for out there
something meant to crash into us
on our way out of an elevator
or slip into our chair at a cafe somewhere
appear at the end of an aisle at the bookstore
looking the right amount of sexy and intellectual
but i think love starts here
everything else is just desire and projection
of all our wants needs and fantasies
but those externalities could never work out
if we didn’t turn inward and learn
how to love ourselves in order to love other people
love does not look like a person
love is our actions
love is giving all we can
even if it’s just the bigger slice of cake
love is understanding
we have the power to hurt one another
but we are going to do everything in our power
to make sure we don’t
love is figuring out all the kind sweetness we deserve
and when someone shows up
saying they will provide it as you do
but their actions seem to break you
rather than build you
love is knowing who to choose ~ Rupi Kaur,#NFDB
1244:In scores of cities all over the United States, when the Communists were simultaneously meeting at their various headquarters on New Year’s Day of 1920, Mr. Palmer’s agents and police and voluntary aides fell upon them—fell upon everybody, in fact, who was in the hall, regardless of whether he was a Communist or not (how could one tell?)—and bundled them off to jail, with or without warrant. Every conceivable bit of evidence—literature, membership lists, books, papers, pictures on the wall, everything—was seized, with or without a search warrant. On this and succeeding nights other Communists and suspected Communists were seized in their homes. Over six thousand men were arrested in all, and thrust summarily behind the bars for days or weeks—often without any chance to learn what was the explicit charge against them. At least one American citizen, not a Communist, was jailed for days through some mistake—probably a confusion of names—and barely escaped deportation. In Detroit, over a hundred men were herded into a bull-pen measuring twenty-four by thirty feet and kept there for a week under conditions which the mayor of the city called intolerable. In Hartford, while the suspects were in jail the authorities took the further precaution of arresting and incarcerating all visitors who came to see them, a friendly call being regarded as prima facie evidence of affiliation with the Communist party. Ultimately a considerable proportion of the prisoners were released for want of sufficient evidence that they were Communists. Ultimately, too, it was divulged that in the whole country-wide raid upon these dangerous men—supposedly armed to the teeth—exactly three pistols were found, and no explosives at all. But at the time the newspapers were full of reports from Mr. Palmer’s office that new evidence of a gigantic plot against the safety of the country had been unearthed; and although the steel strike was failing, the coal strike was failing, and any danger of a socialist régime, to say nothing of a revolution, was daily fading, nevertheless to the great mass of the American people the Bolshevist bogey became more terrifying than ever. Mr. Palmer was in full cry. In public statements he was reminding the twenty million owners of Liberty bonds and the nine million farm-owners and the eleven million owners of savings accounts, that the Reds proposed to take away all they had. He was distributing boilerplate propaganda to the press, containing pictures of horrid-looking Bolsheviks with bristling beards, and asking if such as these should rule over America. Politicians were quoting the suggestion of Guy Empey that the proper implements for dealing with the Reds could be “found in any hardware store,” or proclaiming, “My motto for the Reds is S. O. S.—ship or shoot. I believe we should place them all on a ship of stone, with sails of lead, and that their first stopping-place should be hell.” College graduates were calling for the dismissal of professors suspected of radicalism; school-teachers were being made to sign oaths of allegiance; business men with unorthodox political or economic ideas were learning to hold their tongues if they wanted to hold their jobs. Hysteria had reached its height. ~ Frederick Lewis Allen, #NFDB
1245:The Knight Whose Armour Didn'T Squeak
Of all the Knights in Appledore
The wisest was Sir Thomas Tom.
He multiplied as far as four,
And knew what nine was taken from
To make eleven. He could write
A letter to another Knight.
No other Knight in all the land
Could do the things which he could do.
Not only did he understand
The way to polish swords, but knew
What remedy a Knight should seek
Whose armour had begun to squeak.
And, if he didn't fight too much,
It wasn't that he didn't care
For blips and buffetings and such,
But felt that it was hardly fair
To risk, by frequent injuries,
A brain as delicate as his.
His castle (Castle Tom) was set
Conveniently on a hill;
And daily, when it wasn't wet,
He paced the battlements until
Some smaller Knight who couldn't swim
Should reach the moat and challenge him.
Or sometimes, feeling full of fight,
He hurried out to scour the plain,
And, seeing some approaching Knight,
He either hurried home again,
Or hid; and, when the foe was past,
Blew a triumphant trumpet-blast.
One day when good Sir Thomas Tom
Was resting in a handy ditch,
The noises he was hiding from,
Though very much the noises which
56
He'd always hidden from before,
Seemed somehow less....Or was it more?
The trotting horse, the trumpet's blast,
The whistling sword, the armour's squeak,
These, and especially the last,
Had clattered by him all the week.
Was this the same, or was it not?
Something was different. But what?
Sir Thomas raised a cautious ear
And listened as Sir Hugh went by,
And suddenly he seemed to hear
(Or not to hear) the reason why
This stranger made a nicer sound
Than other Knights who lived around.
Sir Thomas watched the way he went His rage was such he couldn't speak,
For years they'd called him down in Kent
The Knight Whose Armour Didn't Squeak!
Yet here and now he looked upon
Another Knight whose squeak had gone.
He rushed to where his horse was tied;
He spurred it to a rapid trot.
The only fear he felt inside
About his enemy was not
'How sharp his sword?' 'How stout his heart?'
But 'Has he got too long a start?'
Sir Hugh was singing, hand on hip,
When something sudden came along,
And caught him a terrific blip
Right in the middle of his song.
'A thunderstorm!' he thought. 'Of course!'
And toppled gently off his horse.
Then said the good Sir Thomas Tom,
Dismounting with a friendly air,
'Allow me to extract you from
The heavy armour that you wear.
57
At times like these the bravest Knight
May find his armour much too tight.'
A hundred yards or so beyond
The scene of brave Sir Hugh's defeat
Sir Thomas found a useful pond,
And, careful not to wet his feet,
He brought the armour to the brink,
And flung it in...and watched it sink.
So ever after, more and more,
The men of Kent would proudly speak
Of Thomas Tom of Appledore,
'The Knight Whose Armour Didn't Squeak.'
Whilst Hugh, the Knight who gave him best,
Squeaks just as badly as the rest.
~ Alan Alexander Milne,#NFDB
1246:it is not uncommon for experts in DNA analysis to testify at a criminal trial that a DNA sample taken from a crime scene matches that taken from a suspect. How certain are such matches? When DNA evidence was first introduced, a number of experts testified that false positives are impossible in DNA testing. Today DNA experts regularly testify that the odds of a random person’s matching the crime sample are less than 1 in 1 million or 1 in 1 billion. With those odds one could hardly blame a juror for thinking, throw away the key. But there is another statistic that is often not presented to the jury, one having to do with the fact that labs make errors, for instance, in collecting or handling a sample, by accidentally mixing or swapping samples, or by misinterpreting or incorrectly reporting results. Each of these errors is rare but not nearly as rare as a random match. The Philadelphia City Crime Laboratory, for instance, admitted that it had swapped the reference sample of the defendant and the victim in a rape case, and a testing firm called Cellmark Diagnostics admitted a similar error.20 Unfortunately, the power of statistics relating to DNA presented in court is such that in Oklahoma a court sentenced a man named Timothy Durham to more than 3,100 years in prison even though eleven witnesses had placed him in another state at the time of the crime. It turned out that in the initial analysis the lab had failed to completely separate the DNA of the rapist and that of the victim in the fluid they tested, and the combination of the victim’s and the rapist’s DNA produced a positive result when compared with Durham’s. A later retest turned up the error, and Durham was released after spending nearly four years in prison.21 Estimates of the error rate due to human causes vary, but many experts put it at around 1 percent. However, since the error rate of many labs has never been measured, courts often do not allow testimony on this overall statistic. Even if courts did allow testimony regarding false positives, how would jurors assess it? Most jurors assume that given the two types of error—the 1 in 1 billion accidental match and the 1 in 100 lab-error match—the overall error rate must be somewhere in between, say 1 in 500 million, which is still for most jurors beyond a reasonable doubt. But employing the laws of probability, we find a much different answer. The way to think of it is this: Since both errors are very unlikely, we can ignore the possibility that there is both an accidental match and a lab error. Therefore, we seek the probability that one error or the other occurred. That is given by our sum rule: it is the probability of a lab error (1 in 100) + the probability of an accidental match (1 in 1 billion). Since the latter is 10 million times smaller than the former, to a very good approximation the chance of both errors is the same as the chance of the more probable error—that is, the chances are 1 in 100. Given both possible causes, therefore, we should ignore the fancy expert testimony about the odds of accidental matches and focus instead on the much higher laboratory error rate—the very data courts often do not allow attorneys to present! And so the oft-repeated claims of DNA infallibility are exaggerated. ~ Leonard Mlodinow, #NFDB
1247:Parties: A Hymn Of Hate
I hate Parties;
They bring out the worst in me.
There is the Novelty Affair,
Given by the woman
Who is awfully clever at that sort of thing.
Everybody must come in fancy dress;
They are always eleven Old-Fashioned Girls,
And fourteen Hawaiian gentlemen
Wearing the native costume
Of last season's tennis clothes, with a wreath around the
neck.
The hostess introduces a series of clean, home games:
Each participant is given a fair chance
To guess the number of seeds in a cucumber,
Or thread a needle against time,
Or see how many names of wild flowers he knows.
Ice cream in trick formations,
And punch like Volstead used to make
Buoy up the players after the mental strain.
You have to tell the hostess that it's a riot,
And she says she'll just die if you don't come to her next
partyIf only a guarantee went with that!
Then there is the Bridge Festival.
The winner is awarded an arts-and-crafts hearth-brush,
And all the rest get garlands of hothouse raspberries.
You cut for partners
And draw the man who wrote the game.
He won't let bygones be bygones;
After each hand
He starts getting personal about your motives in leading
clubs,
And one word frequently leads to another.
At the next table
You have one of those partners
Who says it is nothing but a game, after all.
He trumps your ace
And tries to laugh it off.
And yet they shoot men like Elwell.
102
There is the Day in the Country;
It seems more like a week.
All the contestants are wedged into automobiles,
And you are allotted the space between two ladies
Who close in on you.
The party gets a nice early start,
Because everybody wants to make a long day of itThe get their wish.
Everyone contributes a basket of lunch;
Each person has it all figured out
That no one else will think of bringing hard-boiled eggs.
There is intensive picking of dogwood,
And no one is quite sure what poison ivy is like;
They find out the next day.
Things start off with a rush.
Everybody joins in the old songs,
And points out cloud effects,
And puts in a good word for the colour of the grass.
But after the first fifty miles,
Nature doesn't go over so big,
And singing belongs to the lost arts.
There is a slight spurt on the homestretch,
And everyone exclaims over how beautiful the lights of the
city lookI'll say they do.
And there is the informal little Dinner Party;
The lowest form of taking nourishment.
The man on your left draws diagrams with a fork,
Illustrating the way he is going to have a new sun-parlour
built on;
And the one on your right
Explains how soon business conditions will better, and why.
When the more material part of the evening is over,
You have your choice of listening to the Harry Lauder records,
Or having the hostess hem you in
And show you the snapshots of the baby they took last summer.
Just before you break away,
You mutter something to the host and hostess
About sometime soon you must have them overOver your dead body.
I hate Parties;
They bring out the worst in me.
103
~ Dorothy Parker,#NFDB
1248:Cixi’s lack of formal education was more than made up for by her intuitive intelligence, which she liked to use from her earliest years. In 1843, when she was seven, the empire had just finished its first war with the West, the Opium War, which had been started by Britain in reaction to Beijing clamping down on the illegal opium trade conducted by British merchants. China was defeated and had to pay a hefty indemnity.
Desperate for funds, Emperor Daoguang (father of Cixi’s future husband) held back the traditional presents for his sons’ brides – gold necklaces with corals and pearls – and vetoed elaborate banquets for their weddings. New Year and birthday celebrations were scaled down, even cancelled, and minor royal concubines had to subsidise their reduced allowances by selling their embroidery on the market through eunuchs. The emperor himself even went on surprise raids of his concubines’ wardrobes, to check whether they were hiding extravagant clothes against his orders. As part of a determined drive to stamp out theft by officials, an investigation was conducted of the state coffer, which revealed that more “than nine million taels of silver had gone missing.
Furious, the emperor ordered all the senior keepers and inspectors of the silver reserve for the previous forty-four years to pay fines to make up the loss – whether or not they were guilty.
Cixi’s great-grandfather had served as one of the keepers and his share of the fine amounted to 43,200 taels – a colossal sum, next to which his official salary had been a pittance. As he had died a long time ago, his son, Cixi’s grandfather, was obliged to pay half the sum, even though he worked in the Ministry of Punishments and had nothing to do with the state coffer. After three years of futile struggle to raise money, he only managed to hand over 1,800 taels, and an edict signed by the emperor confined him to prison, only to be released if and when his son, Cixi’s father, delivered the balance.
The life of the family was turned upside down. Cixi, then eleven years old, had to take in sewing jobs to earn extra money – which she would remember all her life and would later talk about to her ladies-in-waiting in the court. “As she was the eldest of two daughters and three sons, her father discussed the matter with her, and she rose to the occasion. Her ideas were carefully considered and practical: what possessions to sell, what valuables to pawn, whom to turn to for loans and how to approach them. Finally, the family raised 60 per cent of the sum, enough to get her grandfather out of prison. The young Cixi’s contribution to solving the crisis became a family legend, and her father paid her the ultimate compliment: ‘This daughter of mine is really more like a son!’
Treated like a son, Cixi was able to talk to her father about things that were normally closed areas for women. Inevitably their conversations touched on official business and state affairs, which helped form Cixi’s lifelong interest. Being consulted and having her views acted on, she acquired self-confidence and never accepted the com“common assumption that women’s brains were inferior to men’s. The crisis also helped shape her future method of rule. Having tasted the bitterness of arbitrary punishment, she would make an effort to be fair to her officials. ~ Jung Chang,#NFDB
1249:Where to?” Max asked as she climbed in. “I assume that you had some destination in mind when you cooked up that nonsense about needing your bags.”
“I want to join Dom.” She stared him down, daring him to gainsay her. She’d take a hackney if she had to. “He’s probably still at Manton’s Investigations, so let’s start there.”
Though a smile tugged at the duke’s lips, he merely gave the order to the coachman. As soon as they set off, however, he said, “You do realize that Dom is going to throttle me for helping you.”
“I don’t see why,” she said lightly. “You are head of the Duke’s Men, aren’t you? Surely you can go wherever you please and involve yourself as much as you like.”
As Lisette burst into laughter, Max shook his head. “My brother-in-law doesn’t exactly like having his agency called ‘the Duke’s Men.’ I’d keep that appellation under your hat, if I were you.”
“Oh, that sounds so much like Dom,” Jane muttered, “not to appreciate a fellow who showed faith in him and was willing to use him to find his own cousin, not to mention invest in his business concern.”
Lisette laughed even harder now, which only made Max wince.
“What?” Jane asked. “What is it?”
A flush spread over Max’s face. “Let’s just say that my part in…er…’the Duke’s Men’ has been greatly exaggerated by the papers. Rather tangential, really.”
“In other words,” Lisette teased, “he pretty much did nothing. He didn’t even come up with the name, and he certainly didn’t hire Dom to find Victor. Tristan stumbled across Victor himself, and then…”
Lisette spun out the story of how she had met Max and how Dom had become involved. How Max had made a grand gesture for the press to protect Tristan from George.
“Oh, Lord,” Jane breathed. “That’s why you were all at George’s house that day.” The day she’d first seen Dom after nearly eleven years apart.
“Exactly. I mean, Max does what he can to recommend the agency, and certainly Dom benefits from the excellent press he received as a result of Tristan’s finding Victor. But beyond that, Max has nothing to do with it. He has tried to invest in it, but Dom gets all hot under the collar every time he suggests it.”
“What a shock,” Jane said sarcastically.
She thought of Dom the Almighty, having his hard work and keen investigative sense attributed to some duke who’d simply taken up with his sister, and began to laugh. Then Lisette joined her, and eventually, Max.
They laughed until tears rolled down Jane’s cheeks and Lisette was holding her sides.
“Poor Dom,” Jane gasped, when she’d finally gained control of herself. “No matter how carefully he plans, someone always comes along to muck things up. We must all be quite a trial to him.”
“Oh, indeed, we are,” Lisette said, sobering. “But honestly, he takes himself far too seriously, so it’s good for him.” She smiled at Jane. “You’re good for him. He needs a woman who stands firm when he tries to dictate how the world must be, a woman who will teach him that it’s all right if plans go awry. He needs to learn that he can pick up the pieces and still be happy, as long as he does it with the right person.”
“I only hope he agrees with you,” Jane said. “I really do.”
Because if she could be that woman for Dom--if he could let her be that woman for him--then they might have a chance, after all. ~ Sabrina Jeffries,#NFDB
1250:Travel Papers
Au silence de celle qui laisse rêveur.
—René Char
By boat to Seurasaari where
the small fish were called vendace.
A man blew a horn of birchwood
toward the nightless sea.
Still voice. Fire that is no fire.
Ahead years unknown to be lived—
Bells from the tower in the all-at-once, then
one by one, hours. Outside
(so fleetingly) ourselves—
In a still mirror, in a blue within
where this earthly journey dreaming
itself begins,
thought into being from the hidden to the end of the visible.
Mountains before and behind,
heather and lichen, yarrow, gorse,
then a sea village of chartreuse fronds.
Spent fuel, burnt
wind, mute swans.
We drove the birch-lined
highway from Dresden
to Berlin behind armored
cars in late afternoon,
nineteenth of June, passing
the black cloud of a freight
25
truck from Budapest.
Through disappearing
villages, past horses grazing vanished fields.
The year before you died, America
went to war again on the other
side of the world.
This is how the earth becomes,
you said, a grotto of skeletons.
In the ruins of a station: a soaked
bed, broken chairs, a dead coal stove.
White weather, chalk and basalt,
puffins, fuchsia and history shot
through with particles
of recognition: this one
wetted down with petrol then
set alight, that one taking
forty rounds, this other
found eleven years later in a bog.
In the station house, imaginary
maps, smoke chased by wind, a registry
of arrivals, the logs of ghost
ships and a few prison
diaries written on tissue paper.
Do you remember the blue-leaved lilies?
The grotto, the hoarfrost, the frieze?
Through the casements of glass hand-blown
26
before the war, a birch tree lets snow drop
through its limbs onto other birches. Birch twigs
in wind through glass.
Who were we then? Such
a laughter as morning peeled
its light from us!
You said the cemeteries were full in a voice
like wind plaiting willows—fields in bloom
but silent without grasshoppers or bees.
What do you want then? You with your
neverness, your unknown,
your book of things, you
with once years ahead to be lived.
Your father believes he took you
with him, that you are
in an urn beside your sleeping mother
but I am still writing with your hand,
as you stand in your still-there of lighted words.
Such is the piano's sadness and the rifle's moonlight.
Stairwells remember as do doors, but windows do not—
do not, upon waking, gaze out a window
if you wish to remember your dream
An ache of hope that you will come back—
27
the cawing flock is not your coming.
Did you float toward Salzburg? A wind
in the mustard fields?—or walk instead
beside me through the asylum in Krakow?
Hours after your death you seemed
everywhere at once like the swifts at twilight.
Now your moments are clouds
in a photograph of swifts.
In the hour held
open between day and night under
the meteor showers of Perseid
we held each other for the last time.
Dead, you whispered where is the road?
There, through the last of the sentences, just there—
through the last of the sentences, the road—
~ Carolyn Forché,#NFDB
1251:The sensation I was feeling on the clifftop was some sort of reverberation in the air itself.… The whale had submerged and I was still feeling something. The strange rhythm seemed now to be coming from behind me, from the land, so I turned to look across the gorge … where my heart stopped.… Standing there in the shade of the tree was an elephant … staring out to sea!… A female with a left tusk broken off near the base.… I knew who she was, who she had to be. I recognized her from a color photograph put out by the Department of Water Affairs and Forestry under the title “The Last Remaining Knysna Elephant.” This was the Matriarch herself.… She was here because she no longer had anyone to talk to in the forest. She was standing here on the edge of the ocean because it was the next, nearest, and most powerful source of infrasound. The underrumble of the surf would have been well within her range, a soothing balm for an animal used to being surrounded by low and comforting frequencies, by the lifesounds of a herd, and now this was the next-best thing. My heart went out to her. The whole idea of this grandmother of many being alone for the first time in her life was tragic, conjuring up the vision of countless other old and lonely souls. But just as I was about to be consumed by helpless sorrow, something even more extraordinary took place.… The throbbing was back in the air. I could feel it, and I began to understand why. The blue whale was on the surface again, pointed inshore, resting, her blowhole clearly visible. The Matriarch was here for the whale! The largest animal in the ocean and the largest living land animal were no more than a hundred yards apart, and I was convinced that they were communicating! In infrasound, in concert, sharing big brains and long lives, understanding the pain of high investment in a few precious offspring, aware of the importance and the pleasure of complex sociality, these rare and lovely great ladies were commiserating over the back fence of this rocky Cape shore, woman to woman, matriarch to matriarch, almost the last of their kind. I turned, blinking away the tears, and left them to it. This was no place for a mere man.… Early afternoon. They were coming to this place, to this tall grass, all along. They will feed here for a while and then, because there’s no water right here, go down to where those egrets are. There’s water there. After they’ve had a good drink, they might make a big loop and come back here again later to feed some more. It will be a one-family-at-a-time choice as the adults decide when to drink and bathe. When elephants are finally ready to make a significant move, everyone points in the same direction. But they do wait until the matriarch decides. “I’ve seen families cued up waiting for half an hour,” comments Vicki, “waiting for the matriarch to signal, ‘Okay.’” And now they go. Makelele, eleven years old, walks with a deep limp. Five years ago he showed up with a broken right rear leg. It must have been agony, and it’s healed at a horrible angle, almost as if his knee faces backward, shaping that leg like the hock on a horse. Yet he is here, surviving with a little help from his friends. “He’s slow,” Vicki acknowledges. “It’s remarkable that he’s managing, but his family seems to wait for him.” Another Amboseli elephant, named Tito, broke a leg when he was a year old, probably from falling into a garbage pit. ~ Carl Safina, #NFDB
1252:If it will reassure you that I’m not a coward, I suppose I could rearrange his face.” Quietly he added, “The music has ended,” and for the first time Elizabeth realized they were no longer waltzing but were only swaying lightly together. With no other excuse to stand in his arms, Elizabeth tried to ignore her disappointment and step back, but just then the musicians began another melody, and their bodies began to move together in perfect time to the music.
“Since I’ve already deprived you of your escort for the outing to the village tomorrow,” he said after a minute, “would you consider an alternative?”
Her heart soared, because she thought he was going to offer to escort her himself. Again he read her thoughts, but his words were dampening.
“I cannot escort you there,” he said flatly.
Her smile faded. “Why not?”
“Don’t be a henwit. Being seen in my company is hardly the sort of thing to enhance a debutante’s reputation.”
Her mind whirled, trying to tally some sort of balance sheet that would disprove his claim. After all, he was a favorite of the Duke of Hammund’s…but while the duke was considered a great matrimonial prize, his reputation as a libertine and rake made mamas fear him as much as they coveted him as a son-in-law. On the other hand, Charise Dumont was considered perfectly respectable by the ton, and so this country gathering was above reproach. Except it wasn’t, according to Lord Howard. “Is that why you refused to dance with me when I asked you to earlier?”
“That was part of the reason.”
“What was the rest of it?” she asked curiously.
His chuckle was grim. “Call it a well-developed instinct for self-preservation.”
“What?”
“Your eyes are more lethal than dueling pistols, my sweet,” he said wryly. “They could make a saint forget his goal.”
Elizabeth had heard many flowery praises sung to her beauty, and she endured them with polite disinterest, but Ian’s blunt, almost reluctant flattery made her chuckle. Later she would realize that at this moment she had made her greatest mistake of all-she had been lulled into regarding him as an equal, a gently bred person whom she could trust, even relax with. “What sort of alternative were you going to suggest for tomorrow?”
“Luncheon,” he said. “Somewhere private where we can talk, and where we won’t be seen together.”
A cozy picnic luncheon for two was definitely not on Lucinda’s list of acceptable pastimes for London debutantes, but even so, Elizabeth was reluctant to refuse. “Outdoors…by the lake?” she speculated aloud, trying to justify the idea by making it public.
“I think it’s going to rain tomorrow, and besides, we’d risk being seen together there.”
“Then where?”
“In the woods. I’ll meet you at the woodcutter’s cottage at the south end of the property near the stream at eleven. There's a path that leads to it two miles from the gate-off the main road." Elizabeth was too alarmed by such a prospect to stop to wonder how and when Ian Thornton had become so familiar with Charise's property and all its secluded haunts.
"Absolutely not," she said in a shaky, breathless voice. Even she was not naïve enough to consider being alone with a man in a cottage, and she was terribly disappointed that he'd suggested it. Gentlemen didn't make such suggestions, and well-bred ladies never accepted them. Lucinda's warnings about such things had been eloquent and, Elizabeth felt, sensible. ~ Judith McNaught,#NFDB
1253:I like rainbows.
We came back down to the meadow near the steaming terrace and sat in the river, just where one of the bigger hot streams poured into the cold water of the Ferris Fork. It is illegal – not to say suicidal – to bathe in any of the thermal features of the park. But when those features empty into the river, at what is called a hot pot, swimming and soaking are perfectly acceptable. So we were soaking off our long walk, talking about our favorite waterfalls, and discussing rainbows when it occurred to us that the moon was full. There wasn’t a hint of foul weather. And if you had a clear sky and a waterfall facing in just the right direction…
Over the course of a couple of days we hked back down the canyon to the Boundary Creek Trail and followed it to Dunanda Falls, which is only about eight miles from the ranger station at the entrance to the park. Dunanda is a 150-foot-high plunge facing generally south, so that in the afternoons reliable rainbows dance over the rocks at its base. It is the archetype of all western waterfalls. Dunenda is an Indian name; in Shoshone it means “straight down,” which is a pretty good description of the plunge.
...
…We had to walk three miles back toward the ranger station and our assigned campsite. We planned to set up our tents, eat, hang our food, and walk back to Dunanda Falls in the dark, using headlamps. We could be there by ten or eleven. At that time the full moon would clear the east ridge of the downriver canyon and would be shining directly on the fall.
Walking at night is never a happy proposition, and this particular evening stroll involved five stream crossings, mostly on old logs, and took a lot longer than we’d anticipated. Still, we beat the moon to the fall.
Most of us took up residence in one or another of the hot pots. Presently the moon, like a floodlight, rose over the canyon rim. The falling water took on a silver tinge, and the rock wall, which had looked gold under the sun, was now a slick black so the contrast of water and rock was incomparably stark. The pools below the lip of the fall were glowing, as from within, with a pale blue light. And then it started at the base of the fall: just a diagonal line in the spray that ran from the lower east to the upper west side of the wall.
“It’s going to happen,” I told Kara, who was sitting beside me in one of the hot pots.
Where falling water hit the rock at the base of the fall and exploded upward in vapor, the light was very bright. It concentrated itself in a shining ball. The diagonal line was above and slowly began to bend until, in the fullness of time (ten minutes, maybe), it formed a perfectly symmetrical bow, shining silver blue under the moon. The color was vaguely electrical.
Kara said she could see colors in the moonbow, and when I looked very hard, I thought I could make out a faint line of reddish orange above, and some deep violet at the bottom. Both colors were very pale, flickering, like bad florescent light.
In any case, it was exhilarating, the experience of a lifetime: an entirely perfect moonbow, silver and iridescent, all shining and spectral there at the base of Dunanda Falls. The hot pot itself was a luxury, and I considered myself a pretty swell fellow, doing all this for the sanity of city dwellers, who need such things more than anyone else. I even thought of naming the moonbow: Cahill’s Luminescence. Something like that. Otherwise, someone else might take credit for it. ~ Tim Cahill,#NFDB
1254:Is there a bird among them, dear boy?” Charity asked innocently, peering not at the things on the desk, but at his face, noting the muscle beginning to twitch at Ian’s tense jaw.
“No.”
“Then they must be in the schoolroom! Of course,” she said cheerfully, “that’s it. How like me, Hortense would say, to have made such a silly mistake.”
Ian dragged his eyes from the proof that his grandfather had been keeping track of him almost from the day of his birth-certainly from the day when he was able to leave the cottage on his own two legs-to her face and said mockingly, “Hortense isn’t very perceptive. I would say you are as wily as a fox.”
She gave him a little knowing smile and pressed her finger to her lips. “Don’t tell her, will you? She does so enjoy thinking she is the clever one.”
“How did he manage to have these drawn?” Ian asked, stopping her as she turned away.
“A woman in the village near your home drew many of them. Later he hired an artist when he knew you were going to be somewhere at a specific time. I’ll just leave you here where it’s nice and quiet.” She was leaving him, Ian knew, to look through the items on the desk. For a long moment he hesitated, and then he slowly sat down in the chair, looking over the confidential reports on himself. They were all written by one Mr. Edgard Norwich, and as Ian began scanning the thick stack of pages, his anger at his grandfather for this outrageous invasion of his privacy slowly became amusement. For one thing, nearly every letter from the investigator began with phrases that made it clear the duke had chastised him for not reporting in enough detail. The top letter began,
I apologize, Your Grace, for my unintentional laxness in failing to mention that indeed Mr. Thornton enjoys an occasional cheroot…
The next one opened with,
I did not realize, Your Grace, that you would wish to know how fast his horse ran in the race-in addition to knowing that he won.
From the creases and holds in the hundreds of reports it was obvious to Ian that they’d been handled and read repeatedly, and it was equally obvious from some of the investigator’s casual comments that his grandfather had apparently expressed his personal pride to him:
You will be pleased to know, Your Grace, that young Ian is a fine whip, just as you expected…
I quite agree with you, as do many others, that Mr. Thornton is undoubtedly a genius…
I assure you, Your Grace, that your concern over that duel is unfounded. It was a flesh wound in the arm, nothing more.
Ian flipped through them at random, unaware that the barricade he’d erected against his grandfather was beginning to crack very slightly.
“Your Grace,” the investigator had written in a rare fit of exasperation when Ian was eleven,
“the suggestion that I should be able to find a physician who might secretly look at young Ian’s sore throat is beyond all bounds of reason. Even if I could find one who was willing to pretend to be a lost traveler, I really cannot see how he could contrive to have a peek at the boy’s throat without causing suspicion!”
The minutes became an hour, and Ian’s disbelief increased as he scanned the entire history of his life, from his achievements to his peccadilloes. His gambling gains and losses appeared regularly; each ship he added to his fleet had been described, and sketches forwarded separately; his financial progress had been reported in minute and glowing detail. ~ Judith McNaught,#NFDB
1255:What is a Gallagher Girl?” Liz asked.
She looked nervously down at the papers in her hand even though I knew for a fact she had memorized every word.
“When I was eleven I thought I knew the answer to that question. That was when the recruiters came to see me. They showed me brochures and told me they were impressed by my test scores and asked if I was ready to be challenged. And I said yes. Because that was what a Gallagher Girl was to me then, a student at the toughest school in the world.”
She took a deep breath and talked on.
“What is a Gallagher Girl?” Liz asked again. “When I was thirteen I thought I knew the answer to that question. That was when Dr. Fibs allowed me to start doing my own experiments in the lab. I could go anywhere—make anything. Do anything my mind could dream up. Because I was a Gallagher Girl. And, to me, that meant I was the future.”
Liz took another deep breath.
“What is a Gallagher Girl?” This time, when Liz asked it, her voice cracked. “When I was seventeen I stood on a dark street in Washington, D.C., and watched one Gallagher Girl literally jump in front of a bullet to save the life of another. I saw a group of women gather around a girl whom they had never met, telling the world that if any harm was to come to their sister, it had to go through them first.”
Liz straightened. She no longer had to look down at her paper as she said, “What is a Gallagher Girl? I’m eighteen now, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s that I don’t really know the answer to that question. Maybe she is destined to be our first international graduate and take her rightful place among Her Majesty’s Secret Service with MI6.”
I glanced to my right and, call me crazy, but I could have sworn Rebecca Baxter was crying.
“Maybe she is someone who chooses to give back, to serve her life protecting others just as someone once protected her.”
Macey smirked but didn’t cry. I got the feeling that Macey McHenry might never cry again.
“Who knows?” Liz asked. “Maybe she’s an undercover journalist.” I glanced at Tina Walters. “An FBI agent.” Eva Alvarez beamed. “A code breaker.” Kim Lee smiled. “A queen.” I thought of little Amirah and knew somehow that she’d be okay.
“Maybe she’s even a college student.” Liz looked right at me. “Or maybe she’s so much more.”
Then Liz went quiet for a moment. She too looked up at the place where the mansion used to stand.
“You know, there was a time when I thought that the Gallagher Academy was made of stone and wood, Grand Halls and high-tech labs. When I thought it was bulletproof, hack-proof, and…yes…fireproof. And I stand before you today happy for the reminder that none of those things are true. Yes, I really am. Because I know now that a Gallagher Girl is not someone who draws her power from that building. I know now with scientific certainty that it is the other way around.”
A hushed awe descended over the already quiet crowd as she said this. Maybe it was the gravity of her words and what they meant, but for me personally, I like to think it was Gilly looking down, smiling at us all.
“What is a Gallagher Girl?” Liz asked one final time. “She’s a genius, a scientist, a heroine, a spy. And now we are at the end of our time at school, and the one thing I know for certain is this: A Gallagher Girl is whatever she wants to be.”
Thunderous, raucous applause filled the student section.
Liz smiled and wiped her eyes. She leaned close to the microphone.
“And, most of all, she is my sister. ~ Ally Carter,#NFDB
1256:Kristen had dreamed of having children since she was herself a child and had always thought that she would love motherhood as much as she would love her babies. “I know that being a mom will be demanding,” she told me once. “But I don’t think it will change me much. I’ll still have my life, and our baby will be part of it.” She envisioned long walks through the neighborhood with Emily. She envisioned herself mastering the endlessly repeating three-hour cycle of playing, feeding, sleeping, and diaper changing. Most of all, she envisioned a full parenting partnership, in which I’d help whenever I was home—morning, nighttime, and weekends. Of course, I didn’t know any of this until she told me, which she did after Emily was born. At first, the newness of parenthood made it seem as though everything was going according to our expectations. We’ll be up all day and all night for a few weeks, but then we’ll hit our stride and our lives will go back to normal, plus one baby. Kristen took a few months off from work to focus all of her attention on Emily, knowing that it would be hard to juggle the contradicting demands of an infant and a career. She was determined to own motherhood. “We’re still in that tough transition,” Kristen would tell me, trying to console Emily at four A.M. “Pretty soon, we’ll find our routine. I hope.” But things didn’t go as we had planned. There were complications with breast-feeding. Emily wasn’t gaining weight; she wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t play. She was born in December, when it was far too cold to go for walks outdoors. While I was at work, Kristen would sit on the floor with Emily in the dark—all the lights off, all the shades closed—and cry. She’d think about her friends, all of whom had made motherhood look so easy with their own babies. “Mary had no problem breast-feeding,” she’d tell me. “Jenny said that these first few months had been her favorite. Why can’t I get the hang of this?” I didn’t have any answers, but still I offered solutions, none of which she wanted to hear: “Talk to a lactation consultant about the feeding issues.” “Establish a routine and stick to it.” Eventually, she stopped talking altogether. While Kristen struggled, I watched from the sidelines, unaware that she needed help. I excused myself from the nighttime and morning responsibilities, as the interruptions to my daily schedule became too much for me to handle. We didn’t know this was because of a developmental disorder; I just looked incredibly selfish. I contributed, but not fully. I’d return from work, and Kristen would go upstairs to sleep for a few hours while I’d carry Emily from room to room, gently bouncing her as I walked, trying to keep her from crying. But eventually eleven o’clock would roll around and I’d go to bed, and Kristen would be awake the rest of the night with her. The next morning, I would wake up and leave for work, while Kristen stared down the barrel of another day alone. To my surprise, I grew increasingly disappointed in her: She wanted to have children. Why is she miserable all the time? What’s her problem? I also resented what I had come to recognize as our failing marriage. I’d expected our marriage to be happy, fulfilling, overflowing with constant affection. My wife was supposed to be able to handle things like motherhood with aplomb. Kristen loved me, and she loved Emily, but that wasn’t enough for me. In my version of a happy marriage, my wife would also love the difficulties of being my wife and being a mom. It hadn’t occurred to me that I’d have to earn the happiness, the fulfillment, the affection. Nor had it occurred to me that she might have her own perspective on marriage and motherhood. ~ David Finch, #NFDB
1257:He removed his hand from his worn, pleasantly snug jeans…and it held something small. Holy Lord, I said to myself. What in the name of kingdom come is going on here? His face wore a sweet, sweet smile.
I stood there completely frozen. “Um…what?” I asked. I could formulate no words but these.
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead he took my left hand in his, opened up my fingers, and placed a diamond ring onto my palm, which was, by now, beginning to sweat.
“I said,” he closed my hand tightly around the ring. “I want you to marry me.” He paused for a moment. “If you need time to think about it, I’ll understand.” His hands were still wrapped around my knuckles. He touched his forehead to mine, and the ligaments of my knees turned to spaghetti.
Marry you? My mind raced a mile a minute. Ten miles a second. I had three million thoughts all at once, and my heart thumped wildly in my chest.
Marry you? But then I’d have to cut my hair short. Married women have short hair, and they get it fixed at the beauty shop.
Marry you? But then I’d have to make casseroles.
Marry you? But then I’d have to wear yellow rubber gloves to do the dishes.
Marry you? As in, move out to the country and actually live with you? In your house? In the country? But I…I…I don’t live in the country. I don’t know how. I can’t ride a horse. I’m scared of spiders.
I forced myself to speak again. “Um…what?” I repeated, a touch of frantic urgency to my voice.
“You heard me,” Marlboro Man said, still smiling. He knew this would catch me by surprise.
Just then my brother Mike laid on the horn again. He leaned out of the window and yelled at the top of his lungs, “C’mon! I am gonna b-b-be late for lunch!” Mike didn’t like being late.
Marlboro Man laughed. “Be right there, Mike!” I would have laughed, too, at the hilarious scene playing out before my eyes. A ring. A proposal. My developmentally disabled and highly impatient brother Mike, waiting for Marlboro Man to drive him to the mall. The horn of the diesel pickup. Normally, I would have laughed. But this time I was way, way too stunned.
“I’d better go,” Marlboro Man said, leaning forward and kissing my cheek. I still grasped the diamond ring in my warm, sweaty hand. “I don’t want Mike to burst a blood vessel.” He laughed out loud, clearly enjoying it all.
I tried to speak but couldn’t. I’d been rendered totally mute. Nothing could have prepared me for those ten minutes of my life. The last thing I remember, I’d awakened at eleven. Moments later, I was hiding in my bathroom, trying, in all my early-morning ugliness, to avoid being seen by Marlboro Man, who’d dropped by unexpectedly. Now I was standing on the front porch, a diamond ring in my hand. It was all completely surreal.
Marlboro Man turned to leave. “You can give me your answer later,” he said, grinning, his Wranglers waving good-bye to me in the bright noonday sun.
But then it all came flashing across my line of sight. The boots in the bar, the icy blue-green eyes, the starched shirt, the Wranglers…the first date, the long talks, my breakdown in his kitchen, the movies, the nights on his porch, the kisses, the long drives, the hugs…the all-encompassing, mind-numbing passion I felt. It played frame by frame in my mind in a steady stream.
“Hey,” I said, walking toward him and effortlessly sliding the ring on my finger. I wrapped my arms around his neck as his arms, instinctively, wrapped around my waist and raised me off the ground in our all-too-familiar pose. “Yep,” I said effortlessly. He smiled and hugged me tightly. Mike, once again, laid on the horn, oblivious to what had just happened. Marlboro Man said nothing more. He simply kissed me, smiled, then drove my brother to the mall. ~ Ree Drummond,#NFDB
1258:One," said the recording secretary.
"Jesus wept," answered Leon promptly.
There was not a sound in the church. You could almost hear the butterflies pass. Father looked down and laid his lower lip in folds with his fingers, like he did sometimes when it wouldn't behave to suit him.
"Two," said the secretary after just a breath of pause.
Leon looked over the congregation easily and then fastened his eyes on Abram Saunders, the father of Absalom, and said reprovingly: "Give not sleep to thine eyes nor slumber to thine eyelids."
Abram straightened up suddenly and blinked in astonishment, while father held fast to his lip.
"Three," called the secretary hurriedly.
Leon shifted his gaze to Betsy Alton, who hadn't spoken to her next door neighbour in five years.
"Hatred stirreth up strife," he told her softly, "but love covereth all sins."
Things were so quiet it seemed as if the air would snap.
"Four."
The mild blue eyes travelled back to the men's side and settled on Isaac Thomas, a man too lazy to plow and sow land his father had left him. They were not so mild, and the voice was touched with command: "Go to the ant, thou sluggard, consider her ways and be wise."
Still that silence.
"Five," said the secretary hurriedly, as if he wished it were over. Back came the eyes to the women's side and past all question looked straight at Hannah Dover.
"As a jewel of gold in a swine's snout, so is a fair woman without discretion."
"Six," said the secretary and looked appealingly at father, whose face was filled with dismay.
Again Leon's eyes crossed the aisle and he looked directly at the man whom everybody in the community called "Stiff-necked Johnny."
I think he was rather proud of it, he worked so hard to keep them doing it.
"Lift not up your horn on high: speak not with a stiff neck," Leon commanded him.
Toward the door some one tittered.
"Seven," called the secretary hastily.
Leon glanced around the room.
"But how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity," he announced in delighted tones as if he had found it out by himself.
"Eight," called the secretary with something like a breath of relief.
Our angel boy never had looked so angelic, and he was beaming on the Princess.
"Thou art all fair, my love; there is no spot in thee," he told her.
Laddie would thrash him for that.
Instantly after, "Nine," he recited straight at Laddie: "I made a covenant with mine eyes; why then should I think upon a maid?"
More than one giggled that time.
"Ten!" came almost sharply.
Leon looked scared for the first time. He actually seemed to shiver. Maybe he realized at last that it was a pretty serious thing he was doing. When he spoke he said these words in the most surprised voice you ever heard: "I was almost in all evil in the midst of the congregation and assembly."
"Eleven."
Perhaps these words are in the Bible. They are not there to read the way Leon repeated them, for he put a short pause after the first name, and he glanced toward our father: "Jesus Christ, the SAME, yesterday, and to-day, and forever!"
Sure as you live my mother's shoulders shook.
"Twelve."
Suddenly Leon seemed to be forsaken. He surely shrank in size and appeared abused.
"When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up," he announced, and looked as happy over the ending as he had seemed forlorn at the beginning.
"Thirteen."
"The Lord is on my side; I will not fear; what can man do unto me?" inquired Leon of every one in the church. Then he soberly made a bow and walked to his seat. ~ Gene Stratton Porter,#NFDB
1259:We kissed again, and I shivered in the cold night air. Wanting to get me out of the cold, he led me to his pickup and opened the door so we could both climb in. The pickup was still warm and toasty, like a campfire was burning in the backseat. I looked at him, giggled like a schoolgirl, and asked, “What have you been doing all this time?”
“Oh, I was headed home,” he said, fiddling with my fingers. “But then I just turned around; I couldn’t help it.” His hand found my upper back and pulled me closer. The windows were getting foggy. I felt like I was seventeen.
“I’ve got this problem,” he continued, in between kisses.
“Yeah?” I asked, playing dumb. My hand rested on his left bicep. My attraction soared to the heavens. He caressed the back of my head, messing up my hair…but I didn’t care; I had other things on my mind.
“I’m crazy about you,” he said.
By now I was on his lap, right in the front seat of his Diesel Ford F250, making out with him as if I’d just discovered the concept. I had no idea how I’d gotten there--the diesel pickup or his lap. But I was there. And, burying my face in his neck, I quietly repeated his sentiments. “I’m crazy about you, too.”
I’d been afflicted with acute boy-craziness for over half my life. But what I was feeling for Marlboro Man was indescribably powerful. It was a primal attraction--the almost uncontrollable urge to wrap my arms and legs around him every time I looked into his eyes. The increased heart rate and respiration every time I heard his voice. The urge to have twelve thousand of his babies…and I wasn’t even sure I wanted children.
“So anyway,” he continued.
That’s when we heard the loud knocking on the pickup window. I jumped through the roof--it was after 2:00 A.M. Who on earth could it be? The Son of Sam--it had to be! Marlboro Man rolled down the window, and a huge cloud of passion and steam escaped. It wasn’t the Son of Sam. Worse--it was my mother. And she was wearing her heather gray cashmere robe.
“Reeee?” she sang. “Is that yoooou?” She leaned closer and peered through the window.
I slid off of Marlboro Man’s lap and gave her a halfhearted wave. “Uh…hi, Mom. Yeah. It’s just me.”
She laughed. “Oh, okay…whew! I just didn’t know who was out here. I didn’t recognize the car!” She looked at Marlboro Man, whom she’d met only one time before, when he picked me up for a date.
“Well, hello again!” she exclaimed, extending her manicured hand.
He took her hand and shook it gently. “Hello, ma’am,” he replied, his voice still thick with lust and emotion. I sank in my seat. I was an adult, and had just been caught parking at 2:00 A.M. in the driveway of my parents’ house by my robe-wearing mother. She’d seen the foggy windows. She’d seen me sitting on his lap. I felt like I’d just gotten grounded.
“Well, okay, then,” my mom said, turning around. “Good night, you two!” And with that, she flitted back into the house.
Marlboro Man and I looked at each other. I hid my face in my hands and shook my head. He chuckled, opened the door, and said, “C’mon…I’d better get you home before curfew.” My sweaty hands still hid my face.
He walked me to the door, and we stood on the top step. Wrapping his arms around my waist, he kissed me on the nose and said, “I’m glad I came back.” God, he was sweet.
“I’m glad you did, too,” I replied. “But…” I paused for a moment, gathering courage. “Did you have something you wanted to say?”
It was forward, yes--gutsy. But I wasn’t going to let this moment pass. I didn’t have many more moments with him, after all; soon I’d be gone to Chicago. Sitting in coffee shops at eleven at night, if I wanted. Working. Eventually going back to school. I’d be danged if I was going to miss what he’d started to say a few minutes earlier, before my mom and her cashmere robe showed up and spoiled everything. ~ Ree Drummond,#NFDB
1260:Take a look at the following list of numbers: 4, 8, 5, 3, 9, 7, 6. Read them out loud. Now look away and spend twenty seconds memorizing that sequence before saying them out loud again. If you speak English, you have about a 50 percent chance of remembering that sequence perfectly. If you're Chinese, though, you're almost certain to get it right every time. Why is that? Because as human beings we store digits in a memory loop that runs for about two seconds. We most easily memorize whatever we can say or read within that two-second span. And Chinese speakers get that list of numbers—4, 8, 5, 3, 9, 7, 6—right almost every time because, unlike English, their language allows them to fit all those seven numbers into two seconds. That example comes from Stanislas Dehaene's book The Number Sense. As Dehaene explains: Chinese number words are remarkably brief. Most of them can be uttered in less than one-quarter of a second (for instance, 4 is "si" and 7 "qi"). Their English equivalents—"four," "seven"—are longer: pronouncing them takes about one-third of a second. The memory gap between English and Chinese apparently is entirely due to this difference in length. In languages as diverse as Welsh, Arabic, Chinese, English and Hebrew, there is a reproducible correlation between the time required to pronounce numbers in a given language and the memory span of its speakers. In this domain, the prize for efficacy goes to the Cantonese dialect of Chinese, whose brevity grants residents of Hong Kong a rocketing memory span of about 10 digits. It turns out that there is also a big difference in how number-naming systems in Western and Asian languages are constructed. In English, we say fourteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, and nineteen, so one might expect that we would also say oneteen, twoteen, threeteen, and five- teen. But we don't. We use a different form: eleven, twelve, thirteen, and fifteen. Similarly, we have forty and sixty, which sound like the words they are related to (four and six). But we also say fifty and thirty and twenty, which sort of sound like five and three and two, but not really. And, for that matter, for numbers above twenty, we put the "decade" first and the unit number second (twentyone, twenty-two), whereas for the teens, we do it the other way around (fourteen, seventeen, eighteen). The number system in English is highly irregular. Not so in China, Japan, and Korea. They have a logical counting system. Eleven is ten-one. Twelve is ten-two. Twenty-four is two- tens-four and so on. That difference means that Asian children learn to count much faster than American children. Four-year-old Chinese children can count, on average, to forty. American children at that age can count only to fifteen, and most don't reach forty until they're five. By the age of five, in other words, American children are already a year behind their Asian counterparts in the most fundamental of math skills. The regularity of their number system also means that Asian children can perform basic functions, such as addition, far more easily. Ask an English-speaking seven-yearold to add thirty-seven plus twenty-two in her head, and she has to convert the words to numbers (37+22). Only then can she do the math: 2 plus 7 is 9 and 30 and 20 is 50, which makes 59. Ask an Asian child to add three-tensseven and two-tens-two, and then the necessary equation is right there, embedded in the sentence. No number translation is necessary: It's five-tens-nine. "The Asian system is transparent," says Karen Fuson, a Northwestern University psychologist who has closely studied Asian-Western differences. "I think that it makes the whole attitude toward math different. Instead of being a rote learning thing, there's a pattern I can figure out. There is an expectation that I can do this. There is an expectation that it's sensible. For fractions, we say three-fifths. The Chinese is literally 'out of five parts, take three.' That's telling you conceptually ~ Anonymous, #NFDB
1261:He was known by three names. The official records have the first one: Marcos Maria Ribeira. And his official data. Born 1929. Died 1970. Worked in the steel foundry. Perfect safety record. Never arrested. A wife, six children. A model citizen, because he never did anything bad enough to go on the public record.
The second name he had was Marcao. Big Marcos. Because he was a giant of a man. Reached his adult size early in his life. How old was he when he reached two meters? Eleven? Definitely by the time he was twelve. His size and strength made him valuable in the foundry,where the lots of steel are so small that much of the work is controlled by hand and strength matters. People's lives depended on Marcao's strength.
His third name was Cao. Dog. That was the name you used for him when you heard his wife, Novinha, had another black eye, walked with a limp, had stitches in her lip. He was an animal to do that to her.
Not that any of you liked Novinha. Not that cold woman who never gave any of you good morning. But she was smaller than he was, and she was the mother of his children, and when he beat her, he deserved the name of Cao.
Tell me, is this the man you knew? Spent more hours in the bars than anyone but never made any friends there, never the camaraderie of alcohol for him. You couldn't even tell how much he had been drinking. He was surly and short-tempered before he had a drink and he was surly and short-tempered right before he passed out-nobody could tell the difference. You never heard of him having a friend, and none of you was ever glad to see him come into a room. That's the man you knew, most of you. Cao. Hardly a man at all.
A few men, the men from the foundry in Bairro das Fabricados, knew him as a strong arm as they could trust. They knew he never said he could do more than he could do and he always did what he said he would do. You could count on him. So, within the walls of the foundry, he had their respect. But when you walked out of the door, you treated him like everybody else-ignored him, thought little of him.
Some of you also know something else that you never talk about much. You know you gave him the name Cao long before he earned it. You were ten, eleven, twelve years old. Little boys. He grew so tall. It made you ashamed to be near him. And afraid, because he made you feel helpless.
So you handled him the way human beings always handle things that are bigger than they are. You banded together. Like hunters trying to bring down a mastodon. Like bullfighters trying to weaken a giant bull to prepare it for the kill. Pokes, taunts, teases. Keep him turning around. He can't guess where the next blow was coming from. Prick him with barbs that stay under his skin. Weaken him with pain. Madden him. Because big as he is, you can make him do things. You can make him yell. You can make him run. You can make him cry. See? He's weaker than you after all.
There's no blame in this. You were children then, and children are cruel without knowing better. You wouldn't do that now. But now that I've reminded you, you can clearly see an answer. You called him a dog, so he became one. For the rest of his life, hurting helpless people. Beating his wife. Speaking so cruelly and abusively to his son, Miro, that it drove the boy out of his house. He was acting the way you treated him, becoming what you told him he was.
But the easy answer isn't true. Your torments didn't make him violent - they made him sullen. And when you grew out of tormenting him, he grew out of hating you. He wasn't one to bear a grudge. His anger cooled and turned into suspicion. He knew you despised him; he learned to live without you. In peace.
So how did he become the cruel man you knew him to be? Think a moment. Who was it that tasted his cruelty? His wife. His children. Some people beat their wife and children because they lust for power, but are too weak or stupid to win power in the world. ~ Orson Scott Card,#NFDB
1262:Speech to the German Folk
January 30, 1944
Without January 30, 1933, and without the National Socialist revolution, without the tremendous domestic cleansing and construction efforts, there would be no factor today that could oppose the Bolshevik colossus. After all, Germany was itself so ill at the time, so weakened by the spreading Jewish infection, that it could hardly think of overcoming the Bolshevik danger at home, not to mention abroad. The economic ruin brought about by the Jews as in other countries, the unemployment of millions of Germans, the destruction of peasantry, trade, and industry only prepared the way for the planned internal collapse. This was furthered by support for the continued existence of a senseless state of classes, which could only serve to transform the reason of the masses into hatred in order to make them the willing instrument of the Bolshevik revolution. By mobilizing the proletarian slaves, the Jews hoped that, following the destruction of the national intelligentsia, they could all the more reduce them for good to coolies. But even if this process of the Bolshevik revolt in the interior of Germany had not led to complete success, the state with its democratic Weimar constitution would have been reduced to something ridiculously helpless in view of the great tasks of current world politics. In order to be armed for this confrontation, not only the problems of political power but also the social and economic problems had to be resolved.
When National Socialism undertook the realization of its program eleven years ago, it managed just in time to build up a state that did not only have the strength at home but also the power abroad to fulfill the same European mission which first Greece fulfilled in antiquity by opposing the Persians, then Rome [by opposing] the Carthaginians, and the Occident in later centuries by opposing the invasions from the east.
Therefore, in the year 1933, we set ourselves four great tasks among many others. On their resolution depended not only the future of the Reich but also the rescue of Europe, perhaps even of the entire human civilization:
1. The Reich had to regain the internal social peace that it had lost by resolving the social questions. That meant that the elements of a division into classes bourgeoisie and proletariat-had to be eliminated in their various manifestations and be replaced by a Volksgemeinschaft. The appeal to reason had to be supplemented by the merciless eradication of the base elements of resistance in all camps.
2. The social and political unification of the nation had to be supplemented by a national, political one. This meant that the body of the Reich, which was not only politically, but also governmentally divided, had to be replaced by a unified National Socialist state, the construction and leadership of which were suited to oppose and withstand even the heaviest attacks and severest tests of the future.
3. The nationally and politically coherent centralized state had the mission of immediately creating a Wehrmacht, whose ideology, moral attitude, numerical strength, and material equipment could serve as an instrument of self-assertion. After the outside world had rejected all German offers for a limitation of armament, the Reich had to fashion its own armament accordingly.
4. In order to secure its continued existence in Europe with the prospect of actual success, it was necessary to integrate all those countries which were inhabited by Germans, or were areas which had belonged to the German Reich for over a thousand years and which, in terms of their national substance and economy, were indispensable to the preservation of the Reich, that is, for its political and military defense.
Only the resolution of all these tasks could result in the creation of that state which was capable, at home and abroad, of waging the fight for its defense and for the preservation of the European family of nations. ~ Adolf Hitler,#NFDB
1263:When she finally reached it, she bent forward and looked through the peephole.
Jay was grinning back at her from outside.
Her heart leaped for a completely different reason.
She set aside her crutches and quickly unbolted the door to open it.
"What took you so long?"
Her knee was bent and her ankle pulled up off the ground. She balanced against the doorjamb. "What d'you think, dumbass?" she retorted smartly, keeping her voice down so she wouldn't alert her parents. "You scared the crap out of me, by the way. My parents are already in bed, and I was all alone down here."
"Good!" he exclaimed as he reached in and grabbed her around the waist, dragging her up against him and wrapping his arms around her.
She giggled while he held her there, enjoying everything about the feel of him against her. "What are you doing here? I thought I wouldn't see you till tomorrow."
"I wanted to show you something!" He beamed at her, and his enthusiasm reached out to capture her in its grip. She couldn't help smiling back excitedly.
"What is it?" she asked breathlessly.
He didn't release her; he just turned, still holding her gently in his arms, so that she could see out into the driveway. The first thing she noticed was the officer in his car, alert now as he kept a watchful eye on the two of them. Violet realized that it was late, already past eleven, and from the look on his face, she thought he must have been hoping for a quiet, uneventful evening out there.
And then she saw the car. It was beautiful and sleek, painted a glossy black that, even in the dark, reflected the light like a polished mirror. Violet recognized the Acura insignia on the front of the hood, and even though she could tell it wasn't brand-new, it looked like it had been well taken care of.
"Whose is it?" she asked admiringly. It was way better than her crappy little Honda.
Jay grinned again, his face glowing with enthusiasm. "It's mine. I got it tonight. That's why I had to go. My mom had the night off, and I wanted to get it before..." He smiled down at her. "I didn't want to borrow your car to take you to the dance."
"Really?" she breathed. "How...? I didn't even know you were..." She couldn't seem to find the right words; she was envious and excited for him all at the same time.
"I know right?" he answered, as if she'd actually asked coherent questions. "I've been saving for...for forever, really. What do you think?"
Violet smiled at him, thinking that he was entirely too perfect for her. "I think it's beautiful," she said with more meaning than he understood. And then she glanced back at the car. "I had no idea that you were getting a car. I love it, Jay," she insisted, wrapping her arms around his neck as he hoisted her up, cradling her like a small child."
"I'd offer to take you for a test-drive, but I'm afraid that Supercop over there would probably Taser me with his stun gun. So you'll have to wait until tomorrow," he said, and without waiting for an invitation he carried her inside, dead bolting the door behind him.
He settled down on the couch, where she'd been sitting by herself just moments before, without letting her go. There was a movie on the television, but neither of them paid any attention to it as Jay reclined, stretching out and drawing her down into the circle of his arms. They spent the rest of the night like that, cradled together, their bodies fitting each other perfectly, as they kissed and whispered and laughed quietly in the darkness.
At some point Violet was aware that she was drifting into sleep, as her thoughts turned dreamlike, becoming disjointed and fuzzy and hard to hold on to. She didn't fight it; she enjoyed the lazy, drifting feeling, along with the warmth created by the cocoon of Jay's body wrapped protectively around her.
It was the safest she'd felt in days...maybe weeks...
And for the first time since she'd been chased by the man in the woods, her dreams were free from monsters. ~ Kimberly Derting,#NFDB
1264:The Diary Of ~ Anaïs Nin
, Volume 1: 1931-1934
"Am I, at bottom, that fervent little Spanish Catholic child who chastised herself
for loving toys, who forbade herself the enjoyment of sweet foods, who practiced
silence, who humiliated her pride, who adored symbols, statues, burning candles,
incense, the caress of nuns, organ music, for whom Communion was a great
event? I was so exalted by the idea of eating Jesus's flesh and drinking His blood
that I couldn't swallow the host well, and I dreaded harming the it. I visualized
Christ descending into my heart so realistically (I was a realist then!) that I could
see Him walking down the stairs and entering the room of my heart like a sacred
Visitor. That state of this room was a subject of great preoccupation for me. . . At
the ages of nine, ten, eleven, I believe I approximated sainthood. And then, at
sixteen, resentful of controls, disillusioned with a God who had not granted my
prayers (the return of my father), who performed no miracles, who left me
fatherless in a strange country, I rejected all Catholicism with exaggeration.
Goodness, virtue, charity, submission, stifled me. I took up the words of
Lawrence: "They stress only pain, sacrifice, suffering and death. They do not
dwell enough on the resurrection, on joy and life in the present." Today I feel my
past like an unbearable weight, I feel that it interferes with my present life, that
it must be the cause for this withdrawal, this closing of doors. . . I am embalmed
because a nun leaned over me, enveloped me in her veils, kissed me. The chill
curse of Christianity. I do not confess any more, I have no remorse, yet am I
doing penance for my enjoyments? Nobody knows what a magnificent prey I was
for Christian legends, because of my compassion and my tenderness for human
beings. Today it divides me from enjoyment in life."
p. 70-71
"As June walked towards me from the darkness of the garden into the light of the
door, I saw for the first time the most beautiful woman on earth. A startling
white face, burning dark eyes, a face so alive I felt it would consume itself before
my eyes. Years ago I tried to imagine true beauty; I created in my mind an
image of just such a woman. I had never seen her until last night. Yet I knew
long ago the phosphorescent color of her skin, her huntress profile, the evenness
of her teeth. She is bizarre, fantastic, nervous, like someone in a high fever. Her
beauty drowned me. As I sat before her, I felt I would do anything she asked of
me. Henry suddenly faded. She was color and brilliance and strangeness. By the
end of the evening I had extricated myself from her power. She killed my
admiration by her talk. Her talk. The enormous ego, false, weak, posturing. She
lacks the courage of her personality, which is sensual, heavy with experience.
Her role alone preoccupies her. She invents dramas in which she always stars. I
am sure she creates genuine dramas, genuine chaos and whirlpools of feelings,
but I feel that her share in it is a pose. That night, in spite of my response to her,
she sought to be whatever she felt I wanted her to be. She is an actress every
moment. I cannot grasp the core of June. Everything Henry has said about her is
true."
I wanted to run out and kiss her fanatastic beauty and say: 'June, you have killed
my sincerity too. I will never know again who I am, what I am, what I love, what
I want. Your beauty has drowned me, the core of me. You carry away with you a
part of me reflected in you. When your beauty struck me, it dissolved me. Deep
down, I am not different from you. I dreamed you, I wished for your existance.
You are the woman I want to be. I see in you that part of me which is you. I feel
compassion for your childlike pride, for your trembling unsureness, your
dramatization of events, your enhancing of the loves given to you. I surrender
my sincerity because if I love you it means we share the same fantasies, the
same madnesses"
~ Anaïs Nin,#NFDB
1265:Gemini And Virgo
Some vast amount of years ago,
Ere all my youth had vanished from me,
A boy it was my lot to know,
Whom his familiar friends called Tommy.
I love to gaze upon a child;
A young bud bursting into blossom;
Artless, as Eve yet unbeguiled,
And agile as a young opossum:
And such was he. A calm-browed lad,
Yet mad, at moments, as a hatter:
Why hatters as a race are mad
I never knew, nor does it matter.
He was what nurses call a 'limb;'
One of those small misguided creatures,
Who, though their intellects are dim,
Are one too many for their teachers:
And, if you asked of him to say
What twice 10 was, or 3 times 7,
He'd glance (in quite a placid way)
From heaven to earth, from earth to heaven:
And smile, and look politely round,
To catch a casual suggestion;
But make no effort to propound
Any solution of the question.
And so not much esteemed was he
Of the authorities: and therefore
He fraternized by chance with me,
Needing a somebody to care for:
And three fair summers did we twain
Live (as they say) and love together;
And bore by turns the wholesome cane
Till our young skins became as leather:
30
And carved our names on every desk,
And tore our clothes, and inked our collars;
And looked unique and picturesque,
But not, it may be, model scholars.
We did much as we chose to do;
We'd never heard of Mrs. Grundy;
All the theology we knew
Was that we mightn't play on Sunday;
And all the general truths, that cakes
Were to be bought at four a-penny,
And that excruciating aches
Resulted if we ate too many:
And seeing ignorance is bliss,
And wisdom consequently folly,
The obvious result is this That our two lives were very jolly.
At last the separation came.
Real love, at that time, was the fashion;
And by a horrid chance, the same
Young thing was, to us both, a passion.
Old POSER snorted like a horse:
His feet were large, his hands were pimply,
His manner, when excited, coarse:But Miss P. was an angel simply.
She was a blushing gushing thing;
All--more than all--my fancy painted;
Once--when she helped me to a wing
Of goose--I thought I should have fainted.
The people said that she was blue:
But I was green, and loved her dearly.
She was approaching thirty-two;
And I was then eleven, nearly.
I did not love as others do;
31
(None ever did that I've heard tell of)
My passion was a byword through
The town she was, of course, the belle of.
Oh sweet--as to the toilworn man
The far-off sound of rippling river;
As to cadets in Hindostan
The fleeting remnant of their liver To me was ANNA; dear as gold
That fills the miser's sunless coffers;
As to the spinster, growing old,
The thought--the dream--that she had offers.
I'd sent her little gifts of fruit;
I'd written lines to her as Venus;
I'd sworn unflinchingly to shoot
The man who dared to come between us:
And it was you, my Thomas, you,
The friend in whom my soul confided,
Who dared to gaze on her--to do,
I may say, much the same as I did.
One night I SAW him squeeze her hand;
There was no doubt about the matter;
I said he must resign, or stand
My vengeance--and he chose the latter.
We met, we 'planted' blows on blows:
We fought as long as we were able:
My rival had a bottle-nose,
And both my speaking eyes were sable.
When the school-bell cut short our strife,
Miss P. gave both of us a plaster;
And in a week became the wife
Of Horace Nibbs, the writing-master.
***
I loved her then--I'd love her still,
32
Only one must not love Another's:
But thou and I, my Tommy, will,
When we again meet, meet as brothers.
It may be that in age one seeks
Peace only: that the blood is brisker
In boy's veins, than in theirs whose cheeks
Are partially obscured by whisker;
Or that the growing ages steal
The memories of past wrongs from us.
But this is certain--that I feel
Most friendly unto thee, oh Thomas!
And wheresoe'er we meet again,
On this or that side the equator,
If I've not turned teetotaller then,
And have wherewith to pay the waiter,
To thee I'll drain the modest cup,
Ignite with thee the mild Havannah;
And we will waft, while liquoring up,
Forgiveness to the heartless ANNA.
~ Charles Stuart Calverley,#NFDB
1266:1.
One morn before me were three figures seen,
I With bowed necks, and joined hands, side-faced;
And one behind the other stepp'd serene,
In placid sandals, and in white robes graced;
They pass'd, like figures on a marble urn,
When shifted round to see the other side;
They came again; as when the urn once more
Is shifted round, the first seen shades return;
And they were strange to me, as may betide
With vases, to one deep in Phidian lore.
2.
How is it, Shadows! that I knew ye not?
How came ye muffled in so hush a masque?
Was it a silent deep-disguised plot
To steal away, and leave without a task
My idle days? Ripe was the drowsy hour;
The blissful cloud of summer-indolence
Benumb'd my eyes; my pulse grew less and less;
Pain had no sting, and pleasure's wreath no flower:
O, why did ye not melt, and leave my sense
Unhaunted quite of all but-nothingness?
3.
A third time came they by;-alas! wherefore?
My sleep had been embroider'd with dim dreams;
My soul had been a lawn besprinkled o'er
With flowers, and stirring shades, and baffled beams:
The morn was clouded, but no shower fell,
Tho' in her lids hung the sweet tears of May;
The open casement press'd a new-leav'd vine,
Let in the budding warmth and throstle's lay;
O Shadows! 'twas a time to bid farewell!
Upon your skirts had fallen no tears of mine.
4.
A third time pass'd they by, and, passing, turn'd
Each one the face a moment whiles to me;
Then faded, and to follow them I burn'd
And ached for wings, because I knew the three;
The first was a fair maid, and Love her name;
The second was Ambition, pale of cheek,
And ever watchful with fatigued eye;
The last, whom I love more, the more of blame
Is heap'd upon her, maiden most unmeek,-
I knew to be my demon Poesy.
5.
They faded, and, forsooth! I wanted wings:
O folly! What is Love! and where is it?
And for that poor Ambition-it springs
From a man's little heart's short fever-fit;
For Poesy!-no,-she has not a joy,-
At least for me,-so sweet as drowsy noons,
And evenings steep'd in honied indolence;
O, for an age so shelter'd from annoy,
That I may never know how change the moons,
Or hear the voice of busy common-sense!
6.
So, ye three Ghosts, adieu! Ye cannot raise
My head cool-bedded in the flowery grass;
For I would not be dieted with praise,
A pet-lamb in a sentimental farce!
Fade sofdy from my eyes, and be once more
In masque-like figures on the dreamy urn;
Farewell! I yet have visions for the night,
And for the day faint visions there is store;
Vanish, ye Phantoms! from my idle spright,
Into the clouds, and never more return!
'First given by Lord Houghton among the Literary Remains in 1848, with the date 1819. Among the many debts of these notes to the late Dante Gabriel Rossetti, I must not fail to record the indication of the following passage from Keats's letter begun on the 14th of February 1819 as anticipating the Ode on Indolence:--
"This morning I am in a sort of temper, indolent and supremely careless; I long after a stanza or two of Thomson's 'Castle of Indolence;' my passions are all asleep, from my having slumbered till nearly eleven, and weakened the animal fibre all over me, to a delightful sensation, about three degrees on this side of faintness. If I had teeth or pearl, and the breath of lilies, I should call it languor; but, as I am, I must call it laziness. In this state of effeminacy, the fibres of the brain are relaxed, in common with the rest of the body, and to such a happy degree, that pleasure has no show of enticement, and pain no unbearable frown; neither Poetry, nor Ambition, nor Love, have any alterness of countenance; as they pass by me, they seem rather like three figures on a Greek vase, two men and a woman, whom no one but myself could distinguish in their disguisement. This is the only happiness, and is a rare instance of advantage in the body overpowering the mind."
The date under which this passage occurs in the journal letter is the 19th of March. It seems almost certain therefore that the Ode must have been composed after the fragment of The Eve Of St. Mark, -- not before it as usually given.
(stanza 6.): It is no doubt owing to the want of opportunity to revise the poem finally that this beautiful stanza comes down to us disfigured by the bad rhyme 'grass' and 'farce.'
~ Poetical Works of John Keats, ed. H. Buxton Forman, Crowell publ. 1895. by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
~ John Keats, Ode On Indolence
,#NFDB
1267:On The Road
October, and eleven after dark:
Both mist and night. Among us in the coach
Packed heat on which the windows have been shut:
Our backs unto the motion—Hunt's and mine.
The last lamps of the Paris Station move
Slow with wide haloes past the clouded pane;
The road in secret empty darkness. One
Who sits beside me, now I turn, has pulled
A nightcap to his eyes. A woman here,
Knees to my knees—a twenty-nine-year-old—
Smiles at the mouth I open, seeing him:
I look her gravely in the jaws, and write.
Already while I write heads have been leaned
Upon the wall,—the lamp that's overhead
Dropping its shadow to the waist and hands.
Some time 'twixt sleep and wake. A dead pause then,
With giddy humming silence in the ears.
It is a Station. Eyes are opening now,
And mouths collecting their propriety.
From one of our two windows, now drawn up,
A lady leans, hawks a clear throat, and spits.
Hunt lifts his head from my cramped shoulder where
It has been lying—long stray hairs from it
Crawling upon my face and teazing me.
Ten minutes' law. Our feet are in the road.
A weak thin dimness at the sky, whose chill
Lies vague and hard. The mist of crimson heat
Hangs, a spread glare, about our engine's bulk.
I shall get in again, and sleep this time.
A heavy clamour that fills up the brain
Like thought grown burdensome; and in the ears
Speed that seems striving to o'ertake itself;
And in the pulses torpid life, which shakes
As water to a stir of wind beneath.
Poor Hunt, who has the toothache and can't smoke,
Has asked me twice for brandy. I would sleep;
But man proposes, and no more. I sit
With open eyes, and a head quite awake,
But which keeps catching itself lolled aside
196
And looking sentimental. In the coach,
If any one tries talking, the voice jolts,
And stuns the ear that stoops for it.
Amiens.
Half-an-hour's rest. Another shivering walk
Along the station, waiting for the bell.
Ding-dong. Now this time, by the Lord, I'll sleep.
I must have slept some while. Now that I wake,
Day is beginning in a kind of haze
White with grey trees. The hours have had their lapse.
A sky too dull for cloud. A country lain
In fields, where teams drag up the furrow yet;
Or else a level of trees, the furthest ones
Seen like faint clouds at the horizon's point.
Quite a clear distance, though in vapour. Mills
That turn with the dry wind. Large stacks of hay
Made to look bleak. Dead autumn, and no sun.
The smoke upon our course is borne so near
Along the earth, the earth appears to steam.
Blanc-Misseron, the last French station, passed.
We are in Belgium. It is just the same:—
Nothing to write of, and no good in verse.
Curse the big mounds of sand-weed! curse the miles
Of barren chill,—the twentyfold relays!
Curse every beastly Station on the road!
As well to write as swear. Hunt was just now
Making great eyes because outside the pane
One of the stokers passed whom he declared
A stunner. A vile mummy with a bag
Is squatted next me: a disgusting girl
Broad opposite. We have a poet, though,
Who is a gentleman, and looks like one;
Only he seems ashamed of writing verse,
And heads each new page with “Mon cher Ami.”
Hunt's stunner has just come into the coach,
And set us hard agrin from ear to ear.
Another Station. There's a stupid horn
Set wheezing. Now I should just like to know
—Just merely for the whim—what good that is.
These Stations for the most part are a kind
Of London coal-merchant's back premises;
Whitewashed, but as by hands of coal-heavers;
197
Grimy themselves, and always circled in
With foul coke-loads that make the nose aroint.
Here is a Belgian village,—no, a town
Moated and buttressed. Next, a water-track
Lying with draggled reeds in a flat slime.
Next, the old country, always all the same.
Now by Hans Hemmling and by John Van Eyck,
You'll find, till something's new, I write no more.
(4 HOURS)
There is small change of country; but the sun
Is out, and it seems shame this were not said:
For upon all the grass the warmth has caught;
And betwixt distant whitened poplar-stems
Makes greener darkness; and in dells of trees
Shows spaces of a verdure that was hid;
And the sky has its blue floated with white,
And crossed with falls of the sun's glory aslant
To lay upon the waters of the world;
And from the road men stand with shaded eyes
To look; and flowers in gardens have grown strong,
And our own shadows here within the coach
Are brighter; and all colour has more bloom.
So, after the sore torments of the route:—
Toothache, and headache, and the ache of wind,
And huddled sleep, and smarting wakefulness,
And night, and day, and hunger sick at food,
And twentyfold relays, and packages
To be unlocked, and passports to be found,
And heavy well-kept landscape;—we were glad
Because we entered Brussels in the sun.
~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti,#NFDB
1268:To So-Kin of Rakuyo, ancient friend, Chancellor of
Gen.
Now I remember that you built me a special tavern
By the south side of the bridge at Ten-Shin.
With yellow gold and white jewels, we paid for songs
and laughter
And we were drunk for month on month, forget-
ting the kings and princes.
Intelligent men came drifting in from the sea and
from the west border,
And with them, and with you especially
There was nothing at cross purpose,
And they made nothing of sea-crossing or of
mountain-crossing,
If only they could be of that fellowship,
And we all spoke out our hearts and minds, and
without regret.
And then I was sent off to South Wei,
smothered in laurel groves,
And you to the north of Raku-hoku,
Till we had nothing but thoughts and memories in
common.
And then, when separation had come to its worst,
We met, and travelled into Sen-Go,
Through all the thirty-six folds of the turning and
twisting waters,
Into a valley of the thousand bright flowers,
That was the first valley;
And into ten thousand valleys full of voices and
pine-winds.
And with silver harness and reins of gold,
Out come the East of Kan foreman and his
company.
And there came also the True man of Shi-yo to
meet me,
Playing on a jewelled mouth-organ.
In the storied houses of San-Ko they gave us more
Sennin music,
Many instruments, like the sound of young phoenix
broods.
The foreman of Kan Chu, drunk, danced
because his long sleeves wouldn't keep still
With that music playing,
And I, wrapped in brocade, went to sleep with my
head on his lap,
And my spirit so high it was all over the heavens,
And before the end of the day we were scattered
like stars, or rain.
I had to be off to So, far away over the waters,
You back to your river-bridge.
And your father, who was brave as a leopard,
Was governor in Hei Shu, and put down the bar-
barian rabble.
And one May he had you send for me,
despite the long distance.
And what with broken wheels and so on, I won't
say it wasn't hard going,
Over roads twisted like sheep's guts.
And I was still going, late in the year,
in the cutting wind from the North,
And thinking how little you cared for the cost,
and you caring enough to pay it.
And what a reception:
Red jade cups, food well set on a blue jewelled table,
And I was drunk, and had no thought of returning.
And you would walk out with me to the western
corner of the castle,
To the dynastic temple, with water about it clear
as blue jade,
With boats floating, and the sound of mouth-
organs and drums,
With ripples like dragon-scales, going grass green
on the water,
Pleasure lasting, with courtezans, going and coming
without hindrance,
With the willow-flakes falling like snow,
And the vermilioned girls getting drunk
about sunset,
And the water, a hundred feet deep, reflecting green
eyebrows
--Eyebrows painted green are a fine sight in young
moonlight,
Gracefully painted--
And the girls singing back at each other,
Dancing in transparent brocade,
And the wind lifting the song, and interrupting it,
Tossing it up under the clouds.
And all this comes to an end.
And is not again to be met with.
I went up to the court for examination,
Tried Layu's luck, offered the Choyo song,
And got no promotion,
and went back to the East Mountains
white-headed.
And once again, later, we met at the South bridge-
head.
And then the crowd broke up, you went north to
San palace,
And if you ask how I regret that parting:
It is like the flowers falling at Spring's end
Confused, whirled in a tangle.
What is the use of talking, and there is no end of
talking,
There is no end of things in the heart.
I call in the boy,
Have him sit on his knees here
To seal this,
And send it a thousand miles, thinking.
This poem is from CATHAY (London: Elkin Mathews, 1915), the volume of Chinese poems
The book's widely-applauded publication prompted T.S. Eliot to remark that Pound had "reinvented Chinese poetry for our time."
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
~ Li Bai, Exile's Letter
,#NFDB
1269:THE
OTHER DANCING
SONG
1
Into your eyes I looked recently, 0 life: I saw gold
blinking in your night-eye; my heart stopped in delight:
a golden boat I saw blinking on nocturnal waters, a
golden rocking-boat, sinking, drinking, and winking
again. At my foot, frantic to dance, you cast a glance, a
laughing, questioning, melting rocking-glance: twice
only you stirred your rattle with your small hands, and
my foot was already rocking with dancing frenzy.
My heels twitched, then my toes hearkened to understand you, and rose: for the dancer has his ear in his
toes.
I leaped toward you, but you fled back from my leap,
and the tongue of your fleeing, flying hair licked me in
its sweep.
Away from you I leaped, and from your serpents' ire;
and already you stood there, half turned, your eyes full
of desire.
225
With crooked glances you teach me-crooked ways;
on crooked ways my foot learns treachery.
I fear you near, I love you far; your flight lures me,
your seeking cures me: I suffer, but what would I not
gladly suffer for you?
You, whose coldness fires, whose hatred seduces,
whose flight binds, whose scorn inspires:
Who would not hate you, you great binder, entwiner,
temptress, seeker, and finder? Who would not love you,
you innocent, impatient, wind-swift, child-eyed sinner?
Whereto are you luring me now, you never-tame extreme? And now you are fleeing from me again, you
sweet wildcat and ingratel
I dance after you, I follow wherever your traces
linger. Where are you? Give me your hand! Or only one
finger
Here are caves and thickets; we shall get lost. Stop!
Stand still Don't you see owls and bats whirring past?
You owll You batl Intent to confound Where are we?
Such howling and yelping you have learned from a
hound.
Your lovely little white teeth are gnashing at me; out
of a curly little mane your evil eyes are flashing at me.
That is a dance up high and down low: I am the
hunter; would you be my dog or my doe?
Alongside me nowl And swift, you malicious leaping
belle! Now up and over there Alas, as I leaped I fell.
Oh, see me lying there, you prankster, suing for
grace. I should like to walk with you in a lovelier place.
Love's paths through silent bushes, past many-hued
plants. Or there along that lake: there goldfish swim
and dance.
You are weary now? Over there are sunsets and
sheep: when shepherds play on their flutes-is it not
lovely to sleep?
226
You are so terribly weary? I'll carry you there; just
let your arms sink. And if you are thirsty-I have got
something, but your mouth does not want it to drink.
Oh, this damned nimble, supple snake and slippery
witch! Where are you? In my face two red blotches
from your hand itch.
I am verily weary of always being your sheepish
shepherd. You witch, if I have so far sung to you, now
you shall cry.
Keeping time with my whip, you shall dance and cryl
Or have I forgotten the whip? Not II
2
Then life answered me thus, covering up her delicate
ears: "O Zarathustra, don't crack your whip so frightfullyl After all, you know that noise murders thoughtand just now such tender thoughts are coming to me. We
are both two real good-for-nothings and evil-for-nothings. Beyond good and evil we found our island and
our green meadow-we two alone. Therefore we had
better like each other. And even if we do not love each
other from the heart-need we bear each other a
grudge if we do not love each other from the heart?
And that I like you, often too well, that you know; and
the reason is that I am jealous of your wisdom. Oh, this
mad old fool of a wisdom! If your wisdom ever ran
away from you, then my love would quickly run away
from you too."
Then life looked back and around thoughtfully and
said softly: "O Zarathustra, you are not faithful enough
to me. You do not love me nearly as much as you say;
I know you are thinking of leaving me soon. There is
an old heavy, heavy growl-bell that growls at night all
the way up to your cave; when you hear this bell strike
the hour at midnight, then you think between one and
227
twelve-you think, 0 Zarathustra, I know it, of how you
want to leave me soon."
"Yes," I answered hesitantly, "but you also know-"
and I whispered something into her ear, right through
her tangled yellow foolish tresses.
"You know that, 0 Zarathustra? Nobody knows that."
And we looked at each other and gazed on the green
meadow over which the cool evening was running just
then, and we wept together. But then life was dearer to
me than all my wisdom ever was.
Thus spoke Zarathustra.
3
One!
0 man, take care
Two!
What does the deep midnight declare?
Three
"I was asleepFour!
"From a deep dream I woke and swear:
Five!
"The world is deep,
Six!
"Deeper than day had been aware.
Seven!
"Deep is its woe;
Eight!
"Joy-deeper yet than agony:
Nine!
"Woe implores: Gol
Ten!
"But all joy wants eternity-
228
Eleven!
'Wants deep, wants deep eternity."
Twelve!
~ Friedrich Nietzsche, THE OTHER DANCING SONG
,#NFDB
1270:Over his friend, Enkidu, Gilgamesh cried bitterly, roaming the wilderness.
"I am going to die!am I not like Enkidu?!
Deep sadness penetrates my core,
I fear death, and now roam the wilderness
I will set out to the region of Utanapishtim, son of Ubartutu,
and will go with utmost dispatch!
When I arrived at mountain passes at nightfall,'
I saw lions, and I was terrified!
I raised my head in prayer to Sin,
to the Great Lady of the gods my supplications poured
forth, 'Save me from !"'
He was sleeping in the night, but awoke with a start with a dream:
A warrior(!) enjoyed his life
he raised his axe in his hand,
drew the dagger from his sheath,
and fell into their midst like an arrow.
He struck and he scattered them,
The name of the former
The name of the second
(26 lines are missing here, telling of the beginning of his quest.]
The Scorpion-Beings
The mountain is called Mashu.
Then he reached Mount Mashu,
which daily guards the rising and setting of the Sun,
above which only the dome of the heavens reaches,
and whose flank reaches as far as the Netherworld below,
there were Scorpion-beings watching over its gate.
Trembling terror they inspire, the sight of them is death,
their frightening aura sweeps over the mountains.
At the rising and setting they watch over the Sun.
When Gilgamesh saw them, trembling terror blanketed his face,
but he pulled himself together and drew near to them.
The scorpion-being called out to his female:
"He who comes to us, his body is the flesh of gods!"
The scorpion-being, his female, answered him:
"(Only) two-thirds of him is a god, one-third is human."
The male scorpion-being called out,
saying to the offspring of the gods:
"Why have you traveled so distant a journey?
Why have you come here to me,
over rivers whose crossing is treacherous!
I want to learn your
I want to learn"
[16 lines are missing here. When the text resumes Gilgamesh is speaking.]
"I have come on account of my ancestor Utanapishtim,
who joined the Assembly of the Gods, and was given eternal life.
About Death and Life I must ask him!"
The scorpion-being spoke to Gilgamesh, saying:
"Never has there been, Gilgamesh, a mortal man who could do that(?).
No one has crossed through the mountains,
for twelve leagues it is darkness throughout
dense is the darkness, and light there is none.
To the rising of the sun
To the setting of the sun
To the setting of the sun
They caused to go out"
[67 lines are missing, in which Gilgamesh convinces the scorpion-being to allow him
passage.]
"Though it be in deep sadness and pain,
in cold or heat
gasping after breath I will go on!
Now! Open the Gate!"
The scorpion-being spoke to Gilgamesh, saying:
"Go on, Gilgamesh, fear not!
The Mashu mountains I give to you freely (!),
the mountains, the ranges, you may traverse
In safety may your feet carry you.
The gate of the mountain"
To the rising of the sun
To the setting of the sun
To the setting of the sun
They caused to go out"
[67 lines are missing, in which Gilgamesh convinces the scorpion-being to allow him
passage.]
"Though it be in deep sadness and pain,
in cold or heat
gasping after breath I will go on!
Now! Open the Gate!"
The scorpion-being spoke to Gilgamesh, saying:
"Go on, Gilgamesh, fear not!
The Mashu mountains I give to you freely (!),
the mountains, the ranges, you may traverse
In safety may your feet carry you.
The gate of the mountain"
As soon as Gilgamesh heard this
he heeded the utterances of the scorpion-being.
Along the Road of the Sun L he journeyed
one league he traveled,
dense was the darkness, light there was none.
Neither what lies ahead nor behind does it allow him to see.
Two leagues he traveled,
dense was the darkness, light there was none,
neither what lies ahead nor behind does it allow him to see.
[22 lines are missing here.]
Four leagues he traveled,
dense was the darkness, light there was none,
neither what lies ahead nor behind does it allow him to see.
Five leagues he traveled,
dense was the darkness, light there was none,
neither what lies ahead nor behind does it allow him to see.
Six leagues he traveled,
dense was the darkness, light there was none,
neither what lies ahead nor behind does it allow him to see.
Seven leagues he traveled ..
dense was the darkness, light there was none,
neither what lies ahead nor behind does it allow him to see.
Eight leagues he traveled and cried out (!),
dense was the darkness, light there was none,
neither what lies ahead nor behind does it allow him to see.
Nine leagues he traveled the North Wind.
It licked at his face,
dense was the darkness, light there was none,
neither what lies ahead nor behind does it allow him to see.
Ten leagues he traveled
is near,
four leagues.
Eleven leagues he traveled and came out before the sun(rise).
Twelve leagues he traveled and it grew brilliant.
it bears lapis lazuli as foliage,
bearing fruit, a delight to look upon.
(25 lines are missing here, describing the garden in detail.]
cedar
agate
of the sea lapis lazuli,
like thorns and briars carnelian,
rubies, hematite,
like emeralds (!)
of the sea,
Gilgamesh on walking onward,
raised his eyes and saw
~ Anonymous, The Epic of Gilgamesh TabletIX
,#NFDB
1271:The Cock And The Bull
You see this pebble-stone? It’s a thing I bought
Of a bit of a chit of a boy i’ the mid o’ the day —
I like to dock the smaller parts-o’-speech,
As we curtail the already cur-tail’d cur
(You catch the paronomasia, play ’po’ words?),
Did, rather, i’ the pre-Landseerian days.
Well, to my muttons. I purchased the concern,
And clapt it i’ my poke, having given for same
By way o’ chop, swop, barter or exchange —
‘Chop’ was my snickering dandiprat’s own term —
One shilling and fourpence, current coin o’ the realm.
O-n-e one and f-o-u-r four
Pence, one and fourpence — you are with me, sir? —
What hour it skills not: ten or eleven o’ the clock,
One day (and what a roaring day it was
Go shop or sight-see — bar a spit o’ rain!)
In February, eighteen sixty nine,
Alexandrina Victoria, Fidei
Hm — hm — how runs the jargon? being on throne.
Such, sir, are all the facts, succinctly put,
The basis or substratum — what you will —
Of the impending eighty thousand lines.
‘Not much in ’em either,’ quoth perhaps simple Hodge.
But there’s a superstructure. Wait a bit.
Mark first the rationale of the thing:
Hear logic rivel and levigate the deed.
That shilling — and for matter o’ that, the pence —
I had o’ course upo’ me — wi’ me say —
(Mecum’s the Latin, make a note o’ that)
When I popp’d pen i’ stand, scratch’d ear, wip’d snout,
(Let everybody wipe his own himself)
Sniff’d — tch! — at snuffbox; tumbled up, he-heed,
Haw-haw’d (not hee-haw’d, that’s another guess thing
Then fumbled at, and stumbled out of, door,
I shoved the timber ope wi’ my omoplat;
And in vestibulo, i’ the lobby to-wit,
(Iacobi Facciolati’s rendering, sir,)
Donn’d galligaskins, antigropeloes,
57
And so forth; and, complete with hat and gloves,
One on and one a-dangle i’ my hand,
And ombrifuge (Lord love you!), case o’ rain,
I flopp’d forth, ’sbuddikins! on my own ten toes,
(I do assure you there be ten of them,)
And went clump-clumping up hill and down dale
To find myself o’ the sudden i’ front o’ the boy.
Put case I hadn’t ’em on me, could I ha’ bought
This sort-o’-kind-o’-what-you-might-call toy,
This pebble-thing, o’ the boy-thing? Q.E.D.
That’s proven without aid from mumping Pope,
Sleek porporate or bloated Cardinal.
(Isn’t it, old Fatchaps? You’re in Euclid now.)
So, having the shilling — having i’ fact a lot —
And pence and halfpence, ever so many o’ them,
I purchased, as I think I said before,
The pebble (lapis, lapidis, -di, -dem, -de —
What nouns ’crease short i’ the genitive, Fatchaps, eh?)
O’ the boy, a bare-legg’d beggarly son of a gun,
For one-and-fourpence. Here we are again.
Now Law steps in, bigwigg’d, voluminous-jaw’d;
Investigates and re-investigates.
Was the transaction illegal? Law shakes head.
Perpend, sir, all the bearings of the case.
At first the coin was mine, the chattel his.
But now (by virtue of the said exchange
And barter) vice versa all the coin,
Per juris operationem, vests
I’ the boy and his assigns till ding o’ doom;
(In sæcula sæculo-o-o-orum;
I think I hear the Abate mouth out that.)
To have and hold the same to him and them… .
Confer some idiot on Conveyancing.
Whereas the pebble and every part thereof,
And all that appertaineth thereunto,
Quodcunque pertinet ad eam rem,
(I fancy, sir, my Latin’s rather pat)
Or shall, will, may, might, can, could, would or should,
(Subaudi cætera — clap we to the close —
For what’s the good of law in a case o’ the kind)
58
Is mine to all intents and purposes.
This settled, I resume the thread o’ the tale.
Now for a touch o’ the vendor’s quality.
He says a gen’lman bought a pebble of him,
(This pebble i’ sooth, sir, which I hold i’ my hand) —
And paid for ’t, like a gen’lman, on the nail.
‘Did I o’ercharge him a ha’penny? Devil a bit.
Fiddlepin’s end! Get out, you blazing ass!
Gabble o’ the goose. Don’t bugaboo-baby me!
Go double or quits? Yah! tittup! what’s the odds?’
— There’s the transaction view’d i’ the vendor’s light.
Next ask that dumpled hag, stood snuffling by,
With her three frowsy blowsy brats o’ babes,
The scum o’ the kennel, cream o’ the filth-heap — Faugh!
Aie, aie, aie, aie! ?t?t?t?t?t??,
(’Stead which we blurt out Hoighty toighty now) —
And the baker and candlestickmaker, and Jack and Gill,
Blear’d Goody this and queasy Gaffer that.
Ask the schoolmaster. Take schoolmaster first.
He saw a gentleman purchase of a lad
A stone, and pay for it rite, on the square,
And carry it off per saltum, jauntily,
Propria quæ maribus, gentleman’s property now
(Agreeably to the law explain’d above),
In proprium usum, for his private ends.
The boy he chuck’d a brown i’ the air, and bit
I’ the face the shilling: heaved a thumping stone
At a lean hen that ran cluck clucking by,
(And hit her, dead as nail i’ post o’ door,)
Then abiit — what’s the Ciceronian phrase? —
Excessit, evasit, erupit — off slogs boy;
Off like bird, avi similis — (you observed
The dative? Pretty i’ the Mantuan!) — Anglice,
Off in three flea skips. Hactenus, so far,
So good, tam bene. Bene, satis, male — ,
Where was I with my trope ’bout one in a quag?
I did once hitch the syntax into verse:
Verbum personale, a verb personal,
Concordat — ay, ‘agrees,’ old Fatchaps — cum
59
Nominativo, with its nominative,
Genere, i’ point o’ gender, numero,
O’ number, et persona, and person. Ut,
Instance: Sol ruit, down flops sun, et and,
Montes umbrantur, out flounce mountains. Pah!
Excuse me, sir, I think I’m going mad.
You see the trick on ’t though, and can yourself
Continue the discourse ad libitum.
It takes up about eighty thousand lines,
A thing imagination boggles at;
And might, odds-bobs, sir! in judicious hands,
Extend from here to Mesopotamy.
~ Charles Stuart Calverley,#NFDB
1272:The Burglar Of Babylon
On the fair green hills of Rio
There grows a fearful stain:
The poor who come to Rio
And can't go home again.
On the hills a million people,
A million sparrows, nest,
Like a confused migration
That's had to light and rest,
Building its nests, or houses,
Out of nothing at all, or air.
You'd think a breath would end them,
They perch so lightly there.
But they cling and spread like lichen,
And people come and come.
There's one hill called the Chicken,
And one called Catacomb;
There's the hill of Kerosene,
And the hill of Skeleton,
The hill of Astonishment,
And the hill of Babylon.
Micuçú was a burglar and killer,
An enemy of society.
He had escaped three times
From the worst penitentiary.
They don't know how many he murdered
(Though they say he never raped),
And he wounded two policemen
This last time he escaped.
They said, "He'll go to his auntie,
Who raised him like a son.
She has a little drink shop
On the hill of Babylon."
100
He did go straight to his auntie,
And he drank a final beer.
He told her, "The soldiers are coming,
And I've got to disappear."
"Ninety years they gave me.
Who wants to live that long?
I'll settle for ninety hours,
On the hill of Babylon.
"Don't tell anyone you saw me.
I'll run as long as I can.
You were good to me, and I love you,
But I'm a doomed man."
Going out, he met a mulata
Carrying water on her head.
"If you say you saw me, daughter,
You're as good as dead."
There are caves up there, and hideouts,
And an old fort, falling down.
They used to watch for Frenchmen
From the hill of Babylon.
Below him was the ocean.
It reached far up the sky,
Flat as a wall, and on it
Were freighters passing by,
Or climbing the wall, and climbing
Till each looked like a fly,
And then fell over and vanished;
And he knew he was going to die.
He could hear the goats baa-baa-ing.
He could hear the babies cry;
Fluttering kites strained upward;
And he knew he was going to die.
A buzzard flapped so near him
101
He could see its naked neck.
He waved his arms and shouted,
"Not yet, my son, not yet!"
An Army helicopter
Came nosing around and in.
He could see two men inside it,
but they never spotted him.
The soldiers were all over,
On all sides of the hill,
And right against the skyline
A row of them, small and still.
Children peeked out of windows,
And men in the drink shop swore,
And spat a little cachaça
At the light cracks in the floor.
But the soldiers were nervous, even
with tommy guns in hand,
And one of them, in a panic,
Shot the officer in command.
He hit him in three places;
The other shots went wild.
The soldier had hysterics
And sobbed like a little child.
The dying man said, "Finish
The job we came here for."
he committed his soul to God
And his sons to the Governor.
They ran and got a priest,
And he died in hope of Heaven
--A man from Pernambuco,
The youngest of eleven.
They wanted to stop the search,
but the Army said, "No, go on,"
So the soldiers swarmed again
102
Up the hill of Babylon.
Rich people in apartments
Watched through binoculars
As long as the daylight lasted.
And all night, under the stars,
Micuçú hid in the grasses
Or sat in a little tree,
Listening for sounds, and staring
At the lighthouse out at sea.
And the lighthouse stared back at him,
til finally it was dawn.
He was soaked with dew, and hungry,
On the hill of Babylon.
The yellow sun was ugly,
Like a raw egg on a plate-Slick from the sea. He cursed it,
For he knew it sealed his fate.
He saw the long white beaches
And people going to swim,
With towels and beach umbrellas,
But the soldiers were after him.
Far, far below, the people
Were little colored spots,
And the heads of those in swimming
Were floating coconuts.
He heard the peanut vendor
Go peep-peep on his whistle,
And the man that sells umbrellas
Swinging his watchman's rattle.
Women with market baskets
Stood on the corners and talked,
Then went on their way to market,
Gazing up as they walked.
103
The rich with their binoculars
Were back again, and many
Were standing on the rooftops,
Among TV antennae.
It was early, eight or eight-thirty.
He saw a soldier climb,
Looking right at him. He fired,
And missed for the last time.
He could hear the soldier panting,
Though he never got very near.
Micuçú dashed for shelter.
But he got it, behind the ear.
He heard the babies crying
Far, far away in his head,
And the mongrels barking and barking.
Then Micuçú was dead.
He had a Taurus revolver,
And just the clothes he had on,
With two contos in the pockets,
On the hill of Babylon.
The police and the populace
Heaved a sigh of relief,
But behind the counter his auntie
Wiped her eyes in grief.
"We have always been respected.
My shop is honest and clean.
I loved him, but from a baby
Micuçú was mean.
"We have always been respected.
His sister has a job.
Both of us gave him money.
Why did he have to rob?
"I raised him to be honest,
Even here, in Babylon slum."
104
The customers had another,
Looking serious and glum.
But one of them said to another,
When he got outside the door,
"He wasn't much of a burglar,
He got caught six times--or more."
This morning the little soldiers
are on Babylon hill again;
Their gun barrels and helmets
Shine in a gentle rain.
Micuçú is buried already.
They're after another two,
But they say they aren't as dangerous
As the poor Micuçú.
On the green hills of Rio
There grows a fearful stain:
The poor who come to Rio
And can't go home again.
There's the hill of Kerosene,
And the hill of the Skeleton,
The hill of Astonishment,
And the hill of Babylon.
~ Elizabeth Bishop,#NFDB
1273:An old man cocked his car upon a bridge;
He and his friend, their faces to the South,
Had trod the uneven road. Their hoots were soiled,
Their Connemara cloth worn out of shape;
They had kept a steady pace as though their beds,
Despite a dwindling and late-risen moon,
Were distant still. An old man cocked his ear.
Aherne. What made that Sound?
Robartes. A rat or water-hen
Splashed, or an otter slid into the stream.
We are on the bridge; that shadow is the tower,
And the light proves that he is reading still.
He has found, after the manner of his kind,
Mere images; chosen this place to live in
Because, it may be, of the candle-light
From the far tower where Milton's Platonist
Sat late, or Shelley's visionary prince:
The lonely light that Samuel Palmer engraved,
An image of mysterious wisdom won by toil;
And now he seeks in book or manuscript
What he shall never find.
Aherne. Why should not you
Who know it all ring at his door, and speak
Just truth enough to show that his whole life
Will scarcely find for him a broken crust
Of all those truths that are your daily bread;
And when you have spoken take the roads again?
Robartes. He wrote of me in that extravagant style
He had learnt from pater, and to round his tale
Said I was dead; and dead I choose to be.
Aherne. Sing me the changes of the moon once more;
True song, though speech: "mine author sung it me.'
Robartes. Twenty-and-eight the phases of the moon,
The full and the moon's dark and all the crescents,
Twenty-and-eight, and yet but six-and-twenty
The cradles that a man must needs be rocked in:
For there's no human life at the full or the dark.
From the first crescent to the half, the dream
But summons to adventure and the man
Is always happy like a bird or a beast;
But while the moon is rounding towards the full
He follows whatever whim's most difficult
Among whims not impossible, and though scarred.
As with the cat-o'-nine-tails of the mind,
His body moulded from within his body
Grows comelier. Eleven pass, and then
Athene takes Achilles by the hair,
Hector is in the dust, Nietzsche is born,
Because the hero's crescent is the twelfth.
And yet, twice born, twice buried, grow he must,
Before the full moon, helpless as a worm.
The thirteenth moon but sets the soul at war
In its own being, and when that war's begun
There is no muscle in the arm; and after,
Under the frenzy of the fourteenth moon,
The soul begins to tremble into stillness,
To die into the labyrinth of itself!
Aherne. Sing out the song; sing to the end, and sing
The strange reward of all that discipline.
Robartes. All thought becomes an image and the soul
Becomes a body: that body and that soul
Too perfect at the full to lie in a cradle,
Too lonely for the traffic of the world:
Body and soul cast out and cast away
Beyond the visible world.
Aherne. All dreams of the soul
End in a beautiful man's or woman's body.
Robartes, Have you not always known it?
Aherne. The song will have it
That those that we have loved got their long fingers
From death, and wounds, or on Sinai's top,
Or from some bloody whip in their own hands.
They ran from cradle to cradle till at last
Their beauty dropped out of the loneliness
Of body and soul.
Robartes. The lover's heart knows that.
Aherne. It must be that the terror in their eyes
Is memory or foreknowledge of the hour
When all is fed with light and heaven is bare.
Robartes. When the moon's full those creatures of the
full
Are met on the waste hills by countrymen
Who shudder and hurry by: body and soul
Estranged amid the strangeness of themselves,
Caught up in contemplation, the mind's eye
Fixed upon images that once were thought;
For separate, perfect, and immovable
Images can break the solitude
Of lovely, satisfied, indifferent eyes.
And thereupon with aged, high-pitched voice
Aherne laughed, thinking of the man within,
His sleepless candle and lahorious pen.
Robartes. And after that the crumbling of the moon.
The soul remembering its loneliness
Shudders in many cradles; all is changed,
It would be the world's servant, and as it serves,
Choosing whatever task's most difficult
Among tasks not impossible, it takes
Upon the body and upon the soul
The coarseness of the drudge.
Aherne. Before the full
It sought itself and afterwards the world.
Robartes. Because you are forgotten, half out of life,
And never wrote a book, your thought is clear.
Reformer, merchant, statesman, learned man,
Dutiful husband, honest wife by turn,
Cradle upon cradle, and all in flight and all
Deformed because there is no deformity
But saves us from a dream.
Aherne. And what of those
That the last servile crescent has set free?
Robartes. Because all dark, like those that are all light,
They are cast beyond the verge, and in a cloud,
Crying to one another like the bats;
And having no desire they cannot tell
What's good or bad, or what it is to triumph
At the perfection of one's own obedience;
And yet they speak what's blown into the mind;
Deformed beyond deformity, unformed,
Insipid as the dough before it is baked,
They change their bodies at a word.
Aherne. And then?
Rohartes. When all the dough has been so kneaded up
That it can take what form cook Nature fancies,
The first thin crescent is wheeled round once more.
Aherne. But the escape; the song's not finished yet.
Robartes. Hunchback and Saint and Fool are the last
crescents.
The burning bow that once could shoot an arrow
Out of the up and down, the wagon-wheel
Of beauty's cruelty and wisdom's chatter
Out of that raving tide is drawn betwixt
Deformity of body and of mind.
Aherne. Were not our beds far off I'd ring the bell,
Stand under the rough roof-timbers of the hall
Beside the castle door, where all is stark
Austerity, a place set out for wisdom
That he will never find; I'd play a part;
He would never know me after all these years
But take me for some drunken countryman:
I'd stand and mutter there until he caught
"Hunchback and Sant and Fool,' and that they came
Under the three last crescents of the moon.
And then I'd stagger out. He'd crack his wits
Day after day, yet never find the meaning.
And then he laughed to think that what seemed hard
Should be so simple a bat rose from the hazels
And circled round him with its squeaky cry,
The light in the tower window was put out.
~ William Butler Yeats, The Phases Of The Moon
,#NFDB
1274:1000
The Menologium. (Preface To The Anglo-Saxon
Chronicles)
CHRIST WAS BORN, KING OF GLORY
in midwinter, mighty prince,
eternal, almighty, on the eighth day,
Healer, called, heaven's ward;
so at the same time singing praises
countless folk begin the year,
for the awaited time comes to town,
the first month, famous January.
Five nights later the Lord's baptism,
and eternal God's epiphany comes;
the twelve-days' time to blessed men known,
by us in Britain called Twelfthnight.
Four weeks later February falls,
Sol-month brighter settles in town,
a month minus two days;
so February's way was reckoned by the wise,
One night more is Mary's mass,
the King's mother; for on that day Christ,
the child of the Ruler, she revealed in the temple.
After five nights winter was fared,
and after seventeen he suffered death:
the Saviour's man, great Matthew,
when spring has come to stay in town.
And to the folk after five nights
-- unless it is Leap Year, when it comes one night later -by his cold clothes of frost and hail
wild March is known throughout the world,
Hlyda-month, blowing loud,
Eleven nights later, holy and noble,
Gregory shone in God's service,
honoured in Britain. So Benedict,
nine nights passing, sought the Preserver,
the resolute man celebrated in writings
by men under his rule. So the wise in reckoning
at that time count the equinox,
because, wielding power, God at the beginning
made on the same day sun and moon.
1001
Four nights after the Father
sent the equinox, his archangel announced
the mighty salvation to great Mary,
that she the Shaper of all should bear
bring to birth the best of kings,
as it was widely told through the world;
that was a great destiny delivered to us.
So after seven nights the Saviour sends
the month of April, most often bringing
the mighty time of comfort to mankind,
the Lord's resurrection, when joy is rightly
celebrated everywhere, as that wise one sang:
'This is the day which the Lord hath made;
we will rejoice and be glad in it.'
Nor may we hold that time by tally
of a length of days, nor the Lord's
ascension to heaven, for always it changes
within the rules known to the wise man,
old in winters; in the cycle
he can with craft find the holy days.
The martyrs' memory we must yet recount,
say in words, sing with wisdom,
that after nineteen nights and five
from Easter's blessed coming to us,
men begin to raise the relics,
holy treasures; that is a high day,
when Rogation is held. Quickly to men's homes,
six nights further in the fine gear,
in groves and flowers comes glorious, shining,
strongly to men as it must,
the fulness of May through many lands.
On the same day the noble disciples
Philip and James gave up their lives,
mighty warriors, for the maker's love.
After two nights was taken by God
to blessed Helen the noblest of beams,
on which lay suffering the Lord of angels
for love of man, the maker on a gallows
by the Father's leave. After the first week
minus one night, to men are brought
sun-bright days by summer to town,
warm weather. Woods and fields as soon
1002
bloom and blossom; so beauty is called up
over middle-earth, as in his manner
each kind of creature declares the King's love,
the Almighty's. After eight nights
and days turning, the Lord took up
Augustine into the other light,
embraced the blessed man who in Britain
gladly inspired men's obedience
within the will of God as wise Gregory bade.
Nor have I heard before of a better man
anywhere bringing better teaching,
a more celebrated bishop over the sea;
by the king's seat in Kent he rests near the church
after six long days the month draws near,
earlier by us called Litha,
now called June, and the gem rises
in the heavens the highest in the year,
then sinks from his place and sets;
he will not for long travel late,
the fairest light over the fields.
After thirteen nights and ten the glorious thane
loved by the Lord, John the Baptist, was born,
whom we celebrate in midsummer.
And widely it is held throughout the world,
widely honoured as well it should be,
that holy day in the homes of men,
when Peter and Paul the apostles,
loyal servants, suffered in Rome
five nights on from midsummer's day
glorious martyrdom; miracles they worked,
many for men among the nations,
countless, manifest and clear through the Maker's Son.
Then after two nights, timely to us,
comes July, in which James
on the twenty-fourth night took up his life,
wise and truthful, teacher of the people,
Zebedee's son. Summer on the seventh night
brings the weed-month brightly to town;
everywhere August comes to the earth,
and Lammas-time. Later coming,
one week minus one day,
is high autumn, heavy with harvest;
1003
then wealth is found that is fair on earth.
On the third day the glorious deacon
was martyred and went forth, mighty man,
Lawrence, who now has life
with the wonder-Father in reward for his works.
After five nights the fairest of virgins,
the wondrous woman, went to the God of hosts
for her son's mothering, to the victory-seat,
a home in heaven; the Saviour has so
repaid forever that perfect fostering.
Then on the tenth night in the turning of time,
Bartholomew here in Britain
is honoured far and wide for his fate.
So also after four nights,
the noble's death-day is known to men:
he who baptized the glorious Boy,
the worthy warrior of the Word,
of whom God said no greater man
was born on earth between man and woman.
And after three nights throughout the nations,
the month that is held by men as holy
fares to the people as it was foreseen,
as the old astronomers ere found,
September's way; and it was on the seventh day
that the best queens came to birth,
the Lord's mother. Then more days pass,
thirteen in number, and the blameless thane
clear-sighted in God's word sent up his spirit:
Matthew to his Maker
went in eternal joy. Then arrives
after three nights to the nations,
the day of equinox to the children of earth;
and here we count worthy, far and wide,
the archangel's time in the autumn,
Michael, known to the multitude,
five nights after the equinox-day.
Two nights later, the tenth month
comes to men with wise counsel,
October arrives among men with abundance:
Winterfylleth was the old word
among the island-dwellers, Angles and Saxons,
men and women. So the warriors' time comes
1004
on the twenty-seventh, and the two noble ones
on the same day are celebrated:
we have heard how long ago
Simon and Jude, shining with glory,
did great deeds. For that their doom
was a blessed uplifting. Then arrives quickly,
after four nights, to the folk with plenty,
Blotmonath in town, and brings feasting to men:
November, a time of blessedness
like no other month, by the Lord's mercy.
The same day we celebrate the feast of All Saints,
who worked in the world the will of God.
Then winter's day opens wide
in six nights, seizes the sun,
ravages the harvest with rime and snow,
chains them with frost at the Lord's command;
the green meadows may not stay with us,
the fields' covering. And four nights later
it was that the mighty one, Martin, departed,
the stainless servant sought the Lord;
and on the twelfth night Clement was taken,
sunk in the grey sea, strong in victory,
called on by name by many in need.
On the seventh night after, dear to the Saviour,
noble Andrew arose into heaven,
gave his ghost into God's keeping,
eager depart in earthly death,
Then morning to men brings in the month
called December by the Redeemer's children,
the old Yule. So in eight nights and twelve
the Saviour himself, strong in purpose,
gave with difficulty an eternal kingdom to Thomas,
and to the bold man his blessing.
Then after four nights the Father of angels
sent his Son into creation's expanse
to comfort mankind. Now you can find
the holy days, that man shall hold
throughout Britain at the bidding
of the Saxon's king at the same time.
~ Anonymous Olde English,#NFDB
1275:Forsaking All Others Part 3
THERE was an instant when he might have said
He could not see the lady; but instead
He nodded with a blank, impassive face,
And waited, never moving from his place
Beside the window, till a moment more
And she was there, leaning against the door
Which she had closed. She stood there, silent, staring,
Trembling with fear at her own act of daring,
But not with fear of him. Erect and slim,
White as the daytime moon, she spoke to him.
'I know,' she said, 'that it was not your plan
That we should ever meet: I know a man
Assumes despotic power, assumes his voice
In cases such as ours shall have the choice...
'But is that just, I ask... is that fair play
That you should have the right to throw away,
Crush and destroy and utterly deny
Our joint possession... or rather mine, for I
Value our friendship so much more than you
Appear to...' 'No,' he said, 'That is not true.'
She shook her head. 'Ah, if you thought it rare,
Precious and wonderful, you would not dare
Destroy it by yourself... not even you.'
He answered: 'I not only would. I do.
You speak of friendship. What a silly word,
And as dishonest as I ever heard.
Let us at least be candid, for God's sake,
And speak the truth... what difference does it make?
It is not friendship we are speaking of,
But the first moments of a passionate love....'
'You're wrong,' she cried, 'you're absolutely wrong.
Not everything emotional and strong
27
Between a man and woman needs must be
Physical love... People like you and me
Are wise enough and old enough to take
This fiery elemental thing and make
Something for every day, serene and cool...
I am not of the all-or-nothing school.'
He smiled. 'We light hell-fires, and you engage
They'll warm our palsied hands in our old age,'
At this she paused, and then she said:'Your tone
Wounds me. I live so terribly alone,
I am perhaps too eager for a friend...
But not a lover. Oh, please comprehend
I want no lovers. Think me vain or not
But I assure you I might have a lot
Of them. But friendship such as you could give Wisdom and strength and knowledge how to live
In this harsh world in which I draw my breath
With so much pain... it seems a sort of death
To yield so rich a promise... to forego
Such happiness..,' She heard him laugh. 'You know
All that is nonsense,' 'Nonsense? ' 'All but this.'
And on her willing lips she felt his kiss.
II
'I HAVE a new friend,' thought Lee, 'I have a lover,
Made of steel and fire as a lover ought to be,
And I do not much care if all the world discover
That I adore him madly and that he loves me.
'Everything I do nowadays is pleasant,
Talking, walking, brushing out my hair
Oh, isn't it fine a friend, not being even present,
Can give the world a meaning, and common things an air! '
III
O, AGONY infernal
That lovers undergo!
O, secret trysts diurnal
That nobody must know.
28
O, vigilance eternal
The whole world for a foe.
But Lee and Wayne were clever
And all that springtime through
They met and met, and never
Were noticed so to do.
And no one whatsoever
Suspected them - or knew.
IV
LOVE in a city in spring,
Not so divine a thing
As love the poet dreams
Meadows and brimming streams,
Yet there is much to say
For love in New York in May
Parks set in tulip beds,
Yellows and whites and reds,
Japanese plums in flower
And that wisteria bower
Dripping its blossoms sweet
Over a rustic seat
Where tramps and nursemaids meet...
New York in early May
Breaks out in awnings gay;
Daisies and ivy trailing
From every window railing.
And at this time of year
Strange open hacks appear,
Shabby and old and low
Wherein strange couples go
Generally after dark,
Clop-clopping round the park.
And with it all, the loud,
Noisy, indifferent crowd
Offers to lovers shrewd
Infinite solitude.
29
V
FOUR thousand years ago a great king died,
And there were rites and hymns and long processions,
And he was buried in his pomp and pride,
With all his vast possessions.
Gold beds with lapis-lazuli inlay,
And chairs, and perfume jars of alabaster,
And many slaves were slain, lest they betray
The tomb that held their master.
Lee leant her hand upon his mummy case,
(Opened to show the gold and silver plating) ,
And as Wayne came her look was an embrace:
'Darling, I don't mind waiting.
'I like,' she said, 'to settle in my seat
A moment ere the rising of the curtain,
Waiting for something certain can be sweet...
For something almost certain.'
VI
THEY would meet for luncheon every day
At a small unknown French cafe
Half-way up town and half-way down
With a chef deserving great renown.
And Pierre the waiter would smile and say:
'Bonjour, Monsieur, dame,' and they
Would see by his smile discreet and sly
That he knew exactly the reason why
A couple so proud and rich should come
To eat each day in a squalid slum.
And nothing delighted his Gallic heart
More than to find he could play a part
And protect 'ces amoureux foux d' amour'
And guide their choice through the carte du jour.
VII
BUT most of all Lee loved the hours
30
When streets filled full of violet mists
And after-glows on taller towers
Prove that the sunset still exists:
And in Wayne's long dark car reclining
They'd cross a bridge, and bye and bye
Turn back to see the city shining
Against a pale blue, star-sewn sky.
VIII
'I KNOW,' she said, 'I am a fool to weep,
I know the time will pass, however black.
Oh, Jim, if I could take a drug, and sleep
And sleep till you come back.
'Do you remember how poor Juliet said:
'Think you that we shall ever meet again? '
And what was poor weak Romeo instead
Of you... a king of men!
'Don't be surprised to find me at the train
With pipes and garlands and a choric dance,
Telling the porters: 'That is J. H. Wayne,
My one supreme romance.' '
So it seemed natural to Lee to speak,
If Wayne were going away for a week.
IX
HE had been gone three days, when wearily strolling about
She stopped and sent him a wire, writing it out
With a pencil chained to a desk: 'This is to say
There are over eighty thousand seconds a day,
Each one of them longer than seconds ought to be
And a personal foe of yours devotedly Lee.'
A letter from Ruth - a letter from Lee.
Wayne took them both with his bedroom key.
Every day since he went away
31
Lee had written him - every day How kind, how tender! And yet his wife
Had always written him, all his life,
Since that first Fall day, since that first fond year
When to part was really 'un peu mourir.'
Ruth's letters had come in her small, black writing,
So faithful - and now so unexciting
A long unbreakable chain whose fetters
Were formed of those little daily letters,
Leading him back to his alien youth,
And his love - his first deep love of Ruth.
Once he had waited, young and lonely,
For those daily letters to come, the only
Solace in absence, terror-smitten,
Thinking, Dear God, if she hasn't written!
When did they change? what day, what hour
Did her letters lose their magical power?
He was the same man, and she the same
Woman - and still her letters came...
A letter from Ruth - a letter from Lee.
Wayne took them both with his bedroom key.
Was it a habit - a memory
Of that deep old love that his heart once nursed?
Who knows?
He opened Ruth's letter first
XI
THE day that Wayne was coming home,
Lee flitted fleet-footed among the throng
Of suburbanites shuffling their feet along
Under the turquoise dome
With the signs of the zodiac all turned wrong.
A blue-capped official, proud and remote,
Was writing unmoved as the crowd increased
Messages brief as those fingers wrote
On the wall at Belshazzar's dreadful feast:
'Train Fifty-One is on time. Train Eleven
On time. Train Nineteen an hour late.'
32
And then the announcement, big with fate:
'Train Fifteen on Track Forty-Seven.'
And Lee's heart beat with a wild elation,
And she ran like a child in a childish game,
Pushed without pity or grace or shame
Past women and children to take her station
Where she could perfectly see
Down the dark hole where the train would be See Wayne as soon as he came.
The passengers came streaming out,
Some with bags and some without,
Some with babies, some with pets,
All about her was greeting,
Kissing and meeting,
Talking and lighting cigarettes.
And when she saw him coming,
His head above the stream,
No miracle so startling,
So magical could seem,
As this - that he was coming
A real man, not a dream!
~ Alice Duer Miller,#NFDB
1276:The Battle Of Harlaw--Evergreen Version
Frae Dunidier as I cam throuch,
Doun by the hill of Banochie,
Allangst the lands of Garioch.
Grit pitie was to heir and se
The noys and dulesum hermonie,
That evir that dreiry day did daw!
Cryand the corynoch on hie,
Alas! alas! for the Harlaw.
I marvlit what the matter meant;
All folks were in a fiery fariy:
I wist nocht wha was fae or freind,
Yet quietly I did me carrie.
But sen the days of auld King Hairy,
Sic slauchter was not hard nor sene,
And thair I had nae tyme to tairy,
For bissiness in Aberdene.
Thus as I walkit on the way,
To Inverury as I went,
I met a man, and bad him stay,
Requeisting him to mak me quaint
Of the beginning and the event
That happenit thair at the Harlaw;
Then he entreited me to tak tent,
And he the truth sould to me schaw.
Grit Donald of the Ysles did claim
Unto the lands of Ross sum richt,
And to the governour he came,
Them for to haif, gif that he micht,
Wha saw his interest was but slicht,
And thairfore answerit with disdain.
He hastit hame baith day and nicht,
And sent nae bodward back again.
But Donald richt impatient
Of that answer Duke Robert gaif,
He vow'd to God Omniyotent,
190
All the hale lands of Ross to half,
Or ells be graithed in his graif:
He wald not quat his richt for nocht,
Nor be abusit like a slaif;
That bargin sould be deirly bocht.
Then haistylie he did command
That all his weir-men should convene;
Ilk an well harnisit frae hand,
To melt and heir what he did mein.
He waxit wrath and vowit tein;
Sweirand he wald surpryse the North,
Subdew the brugh of Aberdene,
Mearns, Angus, and all Fyfe to Forth.
Thus with the weir-men of the yles,
Wha war ay at his bidding bown,
With money maid, with forss and wyls,
Richt far and neir, baith up and doun,
Throw mount and muir, frae town to town,
Allangst the lands of Ross he roars,
And all obey'd at his bandown,
Evin frae the North to Suthren shoars.
Then all the countrie men did yield;
For nae resistans durst they mak,
Nor offer batill in the feild,
Be forss of arms to beir him bak.
Syne they resolvit all and spak,
That best it was for thair behoif,
They sould him for thair chiftain tak,
Believing weil he did them luve.
Then he a proclamation maid,
All men to meet at Inverness,
Throw Murray land to mak a raid,
Frae Arthursyre unto Spey-ness.
And further mair, he sent express,
To schaw his collours and ensenzie,
To all and sindry, mair and less,
Throchout the bounds of Byne and Enzie.
191
And then throw fair Strathbogie land
His purpose was for to pursew,
And whatsoevir durst gainstand,
That race they should full sairly rew.
Then he bad all his men be trew,
And him defend by forss and slicht,
And promist them rewardis anew,
And mak them men of mekle micht.
Without resistans, as he said,
Throw all these parts he stoutly past,
Where sum war wae, and sum war glaid,
But Garioch was all agast.
Throw all these feilds be sped him fast,
For sic a sicht was never sene;
And then, forsuith, he langd at last
To se the bruch of Aberdene.
To hinder this prowd enterprise,
The stout and michty Erl of Marr
With all his men in arms did ryse,
Even frae Curgarf to Craigyvar:
And down the syde of Don richt far,
Angus and Mearns did all convene
To fecht, or Donald came sae nar
The ryall bruch of Aberdene.
And thus the martial Erle of Marr
Marcht with his men in richt array;
Befoir his enemis was aware,
His banner bauldly did display.
For weil enewch they kent the way,
And all their semblance well they saw:
Without all dangir or delay,
Come haistily to the Harlaw.
With him the braif Lord Ogilvy,
Of Angus sheriff principall,
The constable of gude Dunde,
The vanguard led before them all.
Suppose in number they war small,
Thay first richt bauldlie did pursew,
192
And maid thair faes befor them fall,
Wha then that race did sairly rew.
And then the worthy Lord Salton,
The strong undoubted Laird of Drum,
The stalwart Laird of Lawristone,
With ilk thair forces all and sum.
Panmuir with all his men, did cum,
The provost of braif Aberdene,
With trumpets and with tuick of drum,
Came schortly in thair armour schene.
These with the Earle of Marr came on,
In the reir-ward richt orderlie,
Thair enemies to sett upon;
In awfull manner hardilie,
Togither vowit to live and die,
Since they had marchit mony mylis,
For to suppress the tyrannie
Of douted Donald of the Ysles.
But he, in number ten to ane,
Right subtile alang did ryde,
With Malcomtosch, and fell Maclean,
With all thair power at thair syde;
Presumeand on their strenth and pryde,
Without all feir or ony aw,
Richt bauldie battil did abyde,
Hard by the town of fair Harlaw.
The armies met, the trumpet sounds,
The dandring drums alloud did touk,
Baith armies byding on the bounds,
Till ane of them the feild sould bruik.
Nae help was thairfor, nane wald jouk,
Ferss was the fecht on ilka syde,
And on the ground lay mony a bouk
Of them that thair did battil byd.
With doutsum victorie they dealt,
The bludy battil lastit lang;
Each man fits nibours forss thair felt,
193
The weakest aft-tymes gat the wrang:
Thair was nae mowis thair them amang,
Naithing was hard but heavy knocks,
That eccho mad a dulefull sang,
Thairto resounding frae the rocks.
But Donalds men at last gaif back,
For they war all out of array:
The Earl of Marris men throw them brak,
Pursewing shairply in thair way,
Thair enemys to tak or slay,
Be dynt of forss to gar them yield;
Wha war richt blyth to win away,
And sae for feirdness tint the feild.
Then Donald fled, and that full fast,
To mountains hich for all his micht;
For he and his war all agast,
And ran till they war out of sicht;
And sae of Ross he lost his richt,
Thocht mony men with hem he brocht;
Towards the yles fled day and nicht,
And all he wan was deirlie bocht.
This is (quod he) the richt report
Of all that I did heir and knaw;
Thocht my discourse be sumthing schort,
Tak this to be a richt suthe saw:
Contrairie God and the kings law,
Thair was spilt mekle Christian blude,
Into the battil of Harlaw:
This is the sum, sae I conclude.
But yet a bonnie while abide,
And I sall mak thee cleirly ken
What slaughter was on ilkay syde,
Of Lowland and of Highland men,
Wha for thair awin haif evir bene;
These lazie lowns micht weil be spared,
Chased like deers into their dens,
And gat their wages for reward.
194
Malcomtosh, of the clan heid-cheif,
Macklean with his grit hauchty heid,
With all thair succour and relief,
War dulefully dung to the deid;
And now we are freid of thair feid,
They will not lang to cum again;
Thousands with them, without remeid,
On Donald's syd, that day war slain.
And on the uther syde war lost,
Into the feild that dismal day,
Chief men of worth, of mekle cost,
To be lamentit sair for ay.
The Lord Saltoun of Rothemay,
A man of micht and mekle main;
Grit dolour was for his decay,
That sae unhappylie was slain.
Of the best men amang them was
The gracious gude Lord Ogilvy,
The sheriff-principal of Angus,
Renownit for truth and equitie,
For faith and magnanimitie;
He had few fallows in the field,
Yet fell by fatall destinie,
For he naeways wad grant to yield.
Sir James Scrimgeor of Duddap, knicht,
Grit constabill of fair Dunde,
Unto the dulefull deith was dicht;
The kingis cheif bannerman was he,
A valiant man of chevalrie,
Whose predecessors wan that place
At Spey, with gude King William frie
'Gainst Murray, and Macduncan's race.
Gude Sir Allexander Irving,
The much renowit laird of Drum,
Nane in his days was bettir sene
When they war semblit all and sum.
To praise him we sould not be dumm,
For valour, witt, and worthyness;
195
To end his days he ther did cum
Whose ransom is remeidyless.
And thair the knicht of Lawriston
Was slain into his armour schene,
And gude Sir Robert Davidson,
Wha provost was of Aberdene:
The knicht of Panmure, as was sene,
A mortall man in armour bricht,
Sir Thomas Murray, stout and kene,
Left to the warld thair last gude nicht.
Thair was not sen King Keneths days
Sic strange intestine crewel stryf
In Scotland sene, as ilk man says,
Whare mony liklie lost thair lyfe;
Whilk maid divorce twene man and wyfe,
And mony childrene fatherless,
Whilk in this realme has bene full ryfe:
Lord help these lands, our wrangs redress.
In July, on Saint James his even,
That four and twenty dismall day,
Twelve hundred, ten score and eleven
Of theirs sen Chryst, the suthe to say,
Men will remember, as they may,
When thus the ventie they knaw,
And mony a ane may murn for ay,
The brim battil of the Harlaw.
~ Andrew Lang,#NFDB
1277:financially and employed him as his unofficial secretary.
In March 768, he began his journey again and got as far as Hunan province,
where he died in Tanzhou (now Changsha) in November or December 770, in his
58th year. He was survived by his wife and two sons, who remained in the area
for some years at least. His last known descendant is a grandson who requested
a grave inscription for the poet from Yuan Zhen in 813.
Hung summarises his life by concluding that, "He appeared to be a filial son, an
affectionate father, a generous brother, a faithful husband, a loyal friend, a
dutiful official, and a patriotic subject."
Works
Criticism of ~ Du Fu
's works has focused on his strong sense of history, his moral
engagement, and his technical excellence.
History
Since the Song dynasty, critics have called ~ Du Fu
the "poet historian". The most
directly historical of his poems are those commenting on military tactics or the
successes and failures of the government, or the poems of advice which he wrote
to the emperor. Indirectly, he wrote about the effect of the times in which he
lived on himself, and on the ordinary people of China. As Watson notes, this is
information "of a kind seldom found in the officially compiled histories of the
era".
~ Du Fu
's political comments are based on emotion rather than calculation: his
prescriptions have been paraphrased as, "Let us all be less selfish, let us all do
what we are supposed to do". Since his views were impossible to disagree with,
his forcefully expressed truisms enabled his installation as the central figure of
Chinese poetic history.
Moral engagement
A second favourite epithet of Chinese critics is that of "poet sage" (?? shi shèng),
a counterpart to the philosophical sage, Confucius. One of the earliest surviving
works, The Song of the Wagons (from around 750), gives voice to the sufferings
of a conscript soldier in the imperial army, even before the beginning of the
rebellion; this poem brings out the tension between the need of acceptance and
fulfilment of one's duties, and a clear-sighted consciousness of the suffering
which this can involve. These themes are continuously articulated in the poems
on the lives of both soldiers and civilians which ~ Du Fu
produced throughout his
life.
Although ~ Du Fu
's frequent references to his own difficulties can give the
impression of an all-consuming solipsism, Hawkes argues that his "famous
compassion in fact includes himself, viewed quite objectively and almost as an
afterthought". He therefore "lends grandeur" to the wider picture by comparing it
to "his own slightly comical triviality".
~ Du Fu
's compassion, for himself and for others, was part of his general
broadening of the scope of poetry: he devoted many works to topics which had
previously been considered unsuitable for poetic treatment. Zhang Jie wrote that
for ~ Du Fu
, "everything in this world is poetry", and he wrote extensively on
subjects such as domestic life, calligraphy, paintings, animals, and other poems.
Technical excellence
~ Du Fu
's work is notable above all for its range. Chinese critics traditionally used
the term txt (jídàchéng- "complete symphony"), a reference to Mencius'
description of Confucius. Yuan Zhen was the first to note the breadth of ~ Du Fu
's
achievement, writing in 813 that his predecessor, "united in his work traits which
previous men had displayed only singly". He mastered all the forms of Chinese
poetry: Chou says that in every form he "either made outstanding advances or
contributed outstanding examples". Furthermore, his poems use a wide range of
registers, from the direct and colloquial to the allusive and self-consciously
literary. This variety is manifested even within individual works: Owen identifies
the, "rapid stylistic and thematic shifts" in poems which enable the poet to
represent different facets of a situation, while Chou uses the term "juxtaposition"
as the major analytical tool in her work. ~ Du Fu
is noted for having written more
on poetics and painting than any other writer of his time. He wrote eighteen
poems on painting alone, more than any other Tang poet. ~ Du Fu
's seemingly
negative commentary on the prized horse paintings of Han Gan ignited a
controversy that has persisted to the present day.
The tenor of his work changed as he developed his style and adapted to his
surroundings ("chameleon-like" according to Watson): his earliest works are in a
relatively derivative, courtly style, but he came into his own in the years of the
rebellion. Owen comments on the "grim simplicity" of the Qinzhou poems, which
mirrors the desert landscape; the works from his Chengdu period are "light, often
finely observed"; while the poems from the late Kuizhou period have a "density
and power of vision".
Influence
According to the Encyclopædia Britannica, ~ Du Fu
's writings are considered by
many literary critics to be among the greatest of all time, and it states "his
dense, compressed language makes use of all the connotative overtones of a
phrase and of all the intonational potentials of the individual word, qualities that
no translation can ever reveal."
In his lifetime and immediately following his death, ~ Du Fu
was not greatly
appreciated. In part this can be attributed to his stylistic and formal innovations,
some of which are still "considered extremely daring and bizarre by Chinese
critics." There are few contemporary references to him—only eleven poems from
six writers—and these describe him in terms of affection, but not as a paragon of
poetic or moral ideals. ~ Du Fu
is also poorly represented in contemporary
anthologies of poetry.
However, as Hung notes, he "is the only Chinese poet whose influence grew with
time", and his works began to increase in popularity in the ninth century. Early
positive comments came from Bai Juyi, who praised the moral sentiments of
some of ~ Du Fu
's works (although he found these in only a small fraction of the
poems), and from Han Yu, who wrote a piece defending ~ Du Fu
and Li Bai on
aesthetic grounds from attacks made against them. Both these writers showed
the influence of ~ Du Fu
in their own poetic work. By the beginning of the 10th
century, Wei Zhuang constructed the first replica of his thatched cottage in
Sichuan.
It was in the 11th century, during the Northern Song era that ~ Du Fu
's reputation
reached its peak. In this period a comprehensive re-evaluation of earlier poets
took place, in which Wang Wei, Li Bai and ~ Du Fu
came to be regarded as
representing respectively the Buddhist, Daoist and Confucian strands of Chinese
culture. At the same time, the development of Neo-Confucianism ensured that
~ Du Fu
, as its poetic exemplar, occupied the paramount position. Su Shi famously
expressed this reasoning when he wrote that ~ Du Fu
was "preeminent...
because... through all his vicissitudes, he never for the space of a meal forgot his
sovereign". His influence was helped by his ability to reconcile apparent
opposites: political conservatives were attracted by his loyalty to the established
order, while political radicals embraced his concern for the poor. Literary
conservatives could look to his technical mastery, while literary radicals were
inspired by his innovations. Since the establishment of the People's Republic of
China, ~ Du Fu
's loyalty to the state and concern for the poor have been
interpreted as embryonic nationalism and socialism, and he has been praised for
his use of simple, "people's language".
~ Du Fu
's popularity grew to such an extent that it is as hard to measure his
influence as that of Shakespeare in England: it was hard for any Chinese poet not
to be influenced by him. While there was never another ~ Du Fu
, individual poets
followed in the traditions of specific aspects of his work: Bai Juyi's concern for the
poor, Lu You's patriotism, and Mei Yaochen's reflections on the quotidian are a
few examples. More broadly, ~ Du Fu
's work in transforming the lushi from mere
word play into "a vehicle for serious poetic utterance" set the stage for every
subsequent writer in the genre.
~ Du Fu
has also been influential beyond China, although in common with the other
High Tang poets, his reception into the Japanese literary culture was relatively
late. It was not until the 17th century that he was accorded the same level of
fame in Japan as in China, but he then had a profound influence on poets such as
Matsuo Basho. In the 20th century, he was the favourite poet of Kenneth
Rexroth, who has described him as "the greatest non-epic, non-dramatic poet
who has survived in any language", and commented that, "he has made me a
better man, as a moral agent and as a perceiving organism".
A Homeless Man's Departure
After the Rebellion of 755, all was silent wasteland,
gardens and cottages turned to grass and thorns.
My village had over a hundred households,
but the chaotic world scattered them east and west.
No information about the survivors;
the dead are dust and mud.
I, a humble soldier, was defeated in battle.
I ran back home to look for old roads
and walked a long time through the empty lanes.
The sun was thin, the air tragic and dismal.
I met only foxes and raccoons,
their hair on end as they snarled in rage.
Who remains in my neighborhood?
One or two old widows.
A returning bird loves its old branches,
how could I give up this poor nest?
In spring I carry my hoe all alone,
yet still water the land at sunset.
The county governor's clerk heard I'd returned
and summoned me to practice the war-drum.
This military service won't take me from my state.
I look around and have no one to worry about.
It's just me alone and the journey is short,
but I will end up lost if I travel too far.
Since my village has been washed away,
near or far makes no difference.
I will forever feel pain for my long-sick mother.
I abandoned her in this valley five years ago.
She gave birth to me, yet I could not help her.
We cry sour sobs till our lives end.
In my life I have no family to say farewell to,
so how can I be called a human being?
~ Du Fu,#NFDB
1278:was therefore under the complete governance of his mother, a strict Catholic,
who raised him and his older brother and younger sisters in a stern and religious
household. After her husband's departure, Mme Rimbaud became known as
"Widow Rimbaud".
Schooling and teen years (1862–1871)
Fearing that her children were spending too much time with and being overinfluenced by neighbouring children of the poor, Mme Rimbaud moved her family
to the Cours d'Orléans in 1862. This was a better neighborhood, and whereas the
boys were previously taught at home by their mother, they were then sent, at
the ages of nine and eight, to the Pension Rossat. For the five years that they
attended school, however, their formidable mother still imposed her will upon
them, pushing for scholastic success. She would punish her sons by making them
learn a hundred lines of Latin verse by heart and if they gave an inaccurate
recitation, she would deprive them of meals. When Arthur was nine, he wrote a
700-word essay objecting to his having to learn Latin in school. Vigorously
condemning a classical education as a mere gateway to a salaried position,
Rimbaud wrote repeatedly, "I will be a rentier (one who lives off his assets)". He
disliked schoolwork and his mother's continued control and constant supervision;
the children were not allowed to leave their mother's sight, and, until the boys
were sixteen and fifteen respectively, she would walk them home from the school
grounds.
As a boy, Arthur was small, brown-haired and pale with what a childhood friend
called "eyes of pale blue irradiated with dark blue—the loveliest eyes I've seen".
When he was eleven, Arthur had his First Communion; despite his intellectual
and individualistic nature, he was an ardent Catholic like his mother. For this
reason he was called "sale petit Cagot" ("snotty little prig") by his fellow
schoolboys. He and his brother were sent to the Collège de Charleville for school
that same year. Until this time, his reading was confined almost entirely to the
Bible, but he also enjoyed fairy tales and stories of adventure such as the novels
of James Fenimore Cooper and Gustave Aimard. He became a highly successful
student and was head of his class in all subjects but sciences and mathematics.
Many of his schoolmasters remarked upon the young student's ability to absorb
great quantities of material. In 1869 he won eight first prizes in the school,
including the prize for Religious Education, and in 1870 he won seven firsts.
When he had reached the third class, Mme Rimbaud, hoping for a brilliant
scholastic future for her second son, hired a tutor, Father Ariste L'héritier, for
private lessons. Lhéritier succeeded in sparking the young scholar's love of Greek
and Latin as well as French classical literature. He was also the first person to
encourage the boy to write original verse in both French and Latin Rimbaud's first
poem to appear in print was "Les Étrennes des orphelins" ("The Orphans' New
Year's Gift"), which was published in the 2 January 1870 issue of Revue pour
tous. Two weeks after his poem was printed, a new teacher named Georges
Izambard arrived at the Collège de Charleville. Izambard became Rimbaud's
literary mentor and soon a close accord formed between professor and student
and Rimbaud for a short time saw Izambard as a kind of older brother figure. At
the age of fifteen, Rimbaud was showing maturity as a poet; the first poem he
showed Izambard, "Ophélie", would later be included in anthologies as one of
Rimbaud's three or four best poems. When the Franco-Prussian War broke out,
Izambard left Charleville and Rimbaud became despondent. He ran away to Paris
with no money for his ticket and was subsequently arrested and imprisoned for a
week. After returning home, Rimbaud ran away to escape his mother's wrath.
From late October 1870, Rimbaud's behaviour became outwardly provocative; he
drank alcohol, spoke rudely, composed scatological poems, stole books from local
shops, and abandoned his hitherto characteristically neat appearance by allowing
his hair to grow long. At the same time he wrote to Izambard about his method
for attaining poetical transcendence or visionary power through a "long,
intimidating, immense and rational derangement of all the senses. The sufferings
are enormous, but one must be strong, be born a poet, and I have recognized
myself as a poet." It is rumoured that he briefly joined the Paris Commune of
1871, which he portrayed in his poem L'orgie parisienne (ou : Paris se repeuple),
("The Parisian Orgy" or "Paris Repopulates"). Another poem, Le cœur volé ("The
Stolen Heart"), is often interpreted as a description of him being raped by
drunken Communard soldiers, but this is unlikely since Rimbaud continued to
support the Communards and wrote poems sympathetic to their aims.
Life with Verlaine (1871–1875)
Rimbaud was encouraged by friend and office employee Charles Auguste
Bretagne to write to
relationship between the two poets grew increasingly bitter.
By late June 1873, Verlaine grew frustrated with the relationship and returned to
Paris, where he quickly began to mourn Rimbaud's absence. On 8 July, he
telegraphed Rimbaud, instructing him to come to the Hotel Liège in Brussels;
Rimbaud complied at once. The Brussels reunion went badly: they argued
continuously and Verlaine took refuge in heavy drinking. On the morning of 10
July, Verlaine bought a revolver and ammunition. That afternoon, "in a drunken
rage," Verlaine fired two shots at Rimbaud, one of them wounding the 18-yearold in the left wrist.
Rimbaud dismissed the wound as superficial, and did not initially seek to file
charges against Verlaine. But shortly after the shooting, Verlaine (and his
mother) accompanied Rimbaud to a Brussels railway station, where Verlaine
"behaved as if he were insane." His bizarre behavior induced Rimbaud to "fear
that he might give himself over to new excesses," so he turned and ran away. In
his words, "it was then I [Rimbaud] begged a police officer to arrest him
[Verlaine]." Verlaine was arrested for attempted murder and subjected to a
humiliating medico-legal examination. He was also interrogated with regard to
both his intimate correspondence with Rimbaud and his wife's accusations about
the nature of his relationship with Rimbaud. Rimbaud eventually withdrew the
complaint, but the judge nonetheless sentenced Verlaine to two years in prison.
Rimbaud returned home to Charleville and completed his prose work Une Saison
en Enfer ("A Season in Hell")—still widely regarded as one of the pioneering
examples of modern Symbolist writing—which made various allusions to his life
with Verlaine, described as a drôle de ménage ("domestic farce") with his frère
pitoyable ("pitiful brother") and vierge folle ("mad virgin") to whom he was
l'époux infernal ("the infernal groom"). In 1874 he returned to London with the
poet
friend Paul Demeny, the letter expounded his revolutionary theories about poetry
and life, while also denouncing most poets that preceded him. Wishing for new
poetic forms and ideas, he wrote:
I say that one must be a seer, make oneself a seer. The poet makes himself
a seer by a long, prodigious, and rational disordering of all the senses. Every
form of love, of suffering, of madness; he searches himself, he consumes all the
poisons in him, and keeps only their quintessences. This is an unspeakable
torture during which he needs all his faith and superhuman strength, and during
which he becomes the great patient, the great criminal, the great accursed – and
the great learned one! – among men. – For he arrives at the unknown! Because
he has cultivated his own soul – which was rich to begin with – more than any
other man! He reaches the unknown; and even if, crazed, he ends up by losing
the understanding of his visions, at least he has seen them! Let him die charging
through those unutterable, unnameable things: other horrible workers will come;
they will begin from the horizons where he has succumbed!
Rimbaud expounded the same ideas in his poem, "Le bateau ivre" ("The Drunken
Boat"). This hundred-line poem tells the tale of a boat that breaks free of human
society when its handlers are killed by "Redskins" (Peaux-Rouges). At first
thinking that it drifts where it pleases, it soon realizes that it is being guided by
and to the "poem of the sea". It sees visions both magnificent ("the blue and
yellow of singing phosphorescence", "l'éveil jaune et bleu des phosphores
chanteurs",) and disgusting ("nets where a whole Leviathan was rotting" "nasses
/ Où pourrit dans les joncs tout un Léviathan). It ends floating and washed clean,
wishing only to sink and become one with the sea.
Archibald MacLeish has commented on this poem: "Anyone who doubts that
poetry can say what prose cannot has only to read the so-called Lettres du
Voyant and 'Bateau Ivre' together. What is pretentious and adolescent in the
Lettres is true in the poem—unanswerably true."
Rimbaud's poetry influenced the Symbolists, Dadaists and Surrealists, and later
writers adopted not only some of his themes, but also his inventive use of form
and language. French poet
A Winter Dream
In winter we’ll travel in a little pink carriage
With cushions of blue.
We’ll be fine. A nest of mad kisses waits
In each corner too.
You’ll shut your eyes, not to see, through the glass,
Grimacing shadows of evening,
Those snarling monsters, a crowd going past
Of black wolves and black demons.
Then you’ll feel your cheek tickled quite hard…
A little kiss, like a maddened spider,
Will run over your neck…
And you’ll say: “Catch it!” bowing your head,
– And we’ll take our time finding that creature
– Who travels so far…
~ Arthur Rimbaud,#NFDB
1279:Eighteen Hundred And Eleven
Still the loud death drum, thundering from afar,
O'er the vext nations pours the storm of war:
To the stern call still Britain bends her ear,
Feeds the fierce strife, the' alternate hope and fear;
Bravely, though vainly, dares to strive with Fate,
And seeks by turns to prop each sinking state.
Colossal power with overwhelming force
Bears down each fort of Freedom in its course;
Prostrate she lies beneath the Despot's sway,
While the hushed nations curse him—and obey.
Bounteous in vain, with frantic man at strife,
Glad Nature pours the means—the joys of life;
In vain with orange-blossoms scents the gale,
The hills with olives clothes, with corn the vale;
Man calls to Famine, nor invokes in vain,
Disease and Rapine follow in her train;
The tramp of marching hosts disturbs the plough,
The sword, not sickle, reaps the harvest now,
And where the soldier gleans the scant supply,
The helpless peasant but retires to die;
No laws his hut from licensed outrage shield,
And war's least horror is the' ensanguined field.
Fruitful in vain, the matron counts with pride
The blooming youths that grace her honoured side;
No son returns to press her widowed hand,
Her fallen blossoms strew a foreign strand.
—Fruitful in vain, she boasts her virgin race,
Whom cultured arts adorn and gentlest grace;
Defrauded of its homage, Beauty mourns,
And the rose withers on its virgin thorns.
Frequent, some stream obscure, some uncouth name,
By deeds of blood is lifted into fame;
Oft o'er the daily page some soft one bends
To learn the fate of husband, brothers, friends,
Or the spread map with anxious eye explores,
Its dotted boundaries and penciled shores,
48
Asks where the spot that wrecked her bliss is found,
And learns its name but to detest the sound.
And think'st thou, Britain, still to sit at ease,
An island queen amidst thy subject seas,
While the vext billows, in their distant roar,
But soothe thy slumbers, and but kiss thy shore?
To sport in wars, while danger keeps aloof,
Thy grassy turf unbruised by hostile hoof?
So sing thy flatterers;—but, Britain, know,
Thou who hast shared the guilt must share the woe.
Nor distant is the hour; low murmurs spread,
And whispered fears, creating what they dread;
Ruin, as with an earthquake shock, is here,
There, the heart-witherings of unuttered fear,
And that sad death, whence most affection bleeds,
Which sickness, only of the soul, precedes.
Thy baseless wealth dissolves in air away,
Like mists that melt before the morning ray:
No more on crowded mart or busy street
Friends, meeting friends, with cheerful hurry greet;
Sad, on the ground thy princely merchants bend
Their altered looks, and evil days portend,
And fold their arms, and watch with anxious breast
The tempest blackening in the distant West.
Yes, thou must droop; thy Midas dream is o'er;
The golden tide of Commerce leaves thy shore,
Leaves thee to prove the' alternate ills that haunt
Enfeebling Luxury and ghastly Want;
Leaves thee, perhaps, to visit distant lands,
And deal the gifts of Heaven with equal hands.
Yet, O my Country, name beloved, revered,
By every tie that binds the soul endeared,
Whose image to my infant senses came
Mixt with Religion's light and Freedom's holy flame!
If prayers may not avert, if 'tis thy fate
To rank amongst the names that once were great,
Not like the dim, cold Crescent shalt thou fade,
Thy debt to Science and the Muse unpaid;
49
Thine are the laws surrounding states revere,
Thine the full harvest of the mental year,
Thine the bright stars in Glory's sky that shine,
And arts that make it life to live are thine.
If westward streams the light that leaves thy shores,
Still from thy lamp the streaming radiance pours.
Wide spreads thy race from Ganges to the pole,
O'er half the western world thy accents roll:
Nations beyond the Apalachian hills
Thy hand has planted and thy spirit fills:
Soon as their gradual progress shall impart
The finer sense of morals and of art,
Thy stores of knowledge the new states shall know,
And think thy thoughts, and with thy fancy glow;
Thy Lockes, thy Paleys shall instruct their youth,
Thy leading star direct their search for truth;
Beneath the spreading platan's tent-like shade,
Or by Missouri's rushing waters laid,
“Old father Thames” shall be the poet's theme,
Of Hagley's woods the' enamoured virgin dream,
And Milton's tones the raptured ear enthrall,
Mixt with the roaring of Niagara's fall;
In Thomson's glass the' ingenuous youth shall learn
A fairer face of Nature to discern;
Nor of the bards that swept the British lyre
Shall fade one laurel, or one note expire.
Then, loved Joanna, to admiring eyes
Thy storied groups in scenic pomp shall rise;
Their high-souled strains and Shakespear's noble rage
Shall with alternate passion shake the stage.
Some youthful Basil from thy moral lay
With stricter hand his fond desires shall sway;
Some Ethwald, as the fleeting shadows pass,
Start at his likeness in the mystic glass;
The tragic Muse resume her just controul,
With pity and with terror purge the soul,
While wide o'er transatlantic realms thy name
Shall live in light, and gather all its fame.
Where wanders Fancy down the lapse of years
Shedding o'er imaged woes untimely tears?
50
Fond moody power! as hopes—as fears prevail,
She longs, or dreads, to lift the awful veil,
On visions of delight now loves to dwell,
Now hears the shriek of woe or Freedom's knell:
Perhaps, she says, long ages past away,
And set in western waves our closing day,
Night, Gothic night, again may shade the plains
Where Power is seated, and where Science reigns;
England, the seat of arts, be only known
By the grey ruin and the mouldering stone;
That Time may tear the garland from her brow,
And Europe sit in dust, as Asia now.
Yet then the' ingenuous youth whom Fancy fires
With pictured glories of illustrious sires,
With duteous zeal their pilgrimage shall take
From the Blue Mountains, or Ontario's lake,
With fond adoring steps to press the sod
By statesmen, sages, poets, heroes trod;
On Isis' banks to draw inspiring air,
From Runnymede to send the patriot's prayer;
In pensive thought, where Cam's slow waters wind,
To meet those shades that ruled the realms of mind;
In silent halls to sculptured marbles bow,
And hang fresh wreaths round Newton's awful brow.
Oft shall they seek some peasant's homely shed,
Who toils, unconscious of the mighty dead,
To ask where Avon's winding waters stray,
And thence a knot of wild flowers bear away;
Anxious inquire where Clarkson, friend of man,
Or all-accomplished Jones his race began;
If of the modest mansion aught remains
Where Heaven and Nature prompted Cowper's strains;
Where Roscoe, to whose patriot breast belong
The Roman virtue and the Tuscan song,
Led Ceres to the black and barren moor
Where Ceres never gained a wreath before:
With curious search their pilgrim steps shall rove
By many a ruined tower and proud alcove,
Shall listen for those strains that soothed of yore
Thy rock, stern Skiddaw, and thy fall, Lodore;
Feast with Dun Edin's classic brow their sight,
51
And “visit Melross by the pale moonlight.”
But who their mingled feelings shall pursue
When London's faded glories rise to view?
The mighty city, which by every road,
In floods of people poured itself abroad;
Ungirt by walls, irregularly great,
No jealous drawbridge, and no closing gate;
Whose merchants (such the state which commerce brings)
Sent forth their mandates to dependent kings;
Streets, where the turban'd Moslem, bearded Jew,
And woolly Afric, met the brown Hindu;
Where through each vein spontaneous plenty flowed,
Where Wealth enjoyed, and Charity bestowed.
Pensive and thoughtful shall the wanderers greet
Each splendid square, and still, untrodden street;
Or of some crumbling turret, mined by time,
The broken stairs with perilous step shall climb,
Thence stretch their view the wide horizon round,
By scattered hamlets trace its ancient bound,
And, choked no more with fleets, fair Thames survey
Through reeds and sedge pursue his idle way.
With throbbing bosoms shall the wanderers tread
The hallowed mansions of the silent dead,
Shall enter the long isle and vaulted dome
Where Genius and where Valour find a home;
Awe-struck, midst chill sepulchral marbles breathe,
Where all above is still, as all beneath;
Bend at each antique shrine, and frequent turn
To clasp with fond delight some sculptured urn,
The ponderous mass of Johnson's form to greet,
Or breathe the prayer at Howard's sainted feet.
Perhaps some Briton, in whose musing mind
Those ages live which Time has cast behind,
To every spot shall lead his wondering guests
On whose known site the beam of glory rests:
Here Chatham's eloquence in thunder broke,
Here Fox persuaded, or here Garrick spoke;
Shall boast how Nelson, fame and death in view,
52
To wonted victory led his ardent crew,
In England's name enforced, with loftiest tone,
Their duty,—and too well fulfilled his own:
How gallant Moore,
as ebbing life dissolved,
But hoped his country had his fame absolved.
Or call up sages whose capacious mind
Left in its course a track of light behind;
Point where mute crowds on Davy's lips reposed,
And Nature's coyest secrets were disclosed;
Join with their Franklin, Priestley's injured name,
Whom, then, each continent shall proudly claim.
Oft shall the strangers turn their eager feet
The rich remains of ancient art to greet,
The pictured walls with critic eye explore,
And Reynolds be what Raphael was before.
On spoils from every clime their eyes shall gaze,
Egyptian granites and the' Etruscan vase;
And when midst fallen London, they survey
The stone where Alexander's ashes lay,
Shall own with humbled pride the lesson just
By Time's slow finger written in the dust.
There walks a Spirit o'er the peopled earth,
Secret his progress is, unknown his birth;
Moody and viewless as the changing wind,
No force arrests his foot, no chains can bind;
Where'er he turns, the human brute awakes,
And, roused to better life, his sordid hut forsakes:
He thinks, he reasons, glows with purer fires,
Feels finer wants, and burns with new desires:
Obedient Nature follows where he leads;
The steaming marsh is changed to fruitful meads;
The beasts retire from man's asserted reign,
And prove his kingdom was not given in vain.
Then from its bed is drawn the ponderous ore,
Then Commerce pours her gifts on every shore,
Then Babel's towers and terraced gardens rise,
And pointed obelisks invade the skies;
The prince commands, in Tyrian purple drest,
53
And Egypt's virgins weave the linen vest.
Then spans the graceful arch the roaring tide,
And stricter bounds the cultured fields divide.
Then kindles Fancy, then expands the heart,
Then blow the flowers of Genius and of Art;
Saints, heroes, sages, who the land adorn,
Seem rather to descend than to be born;
Whilst History, midst the rolls consigned to fame,
With pen of adamant inscribes their name.
The Genius now forsakes the favoured shore,
And hates, capricious, what he loved before;
Then empires fall to dust, then arts decay,
And wasted realms enfeebled despots sway;
Even Nature's changed; without his fostering smile
Ophir no gold, no plenty yields the Nile;
The thirsty sand absorbs the useless rill,
And spotted plagues from putrid fens distill.
In desert solitudes then Tadmor sleeps,
Stern Marius then o'er fallen Carthage weeps;
Then with enthusiast love the pilgrim roves
To seek his footsteps in forsaken groves,
Explores the fractured arch, the ruined tower,
Those limbs disjointed of gigantic power;
Still at each step he dreads the adder's sting,
The Arab's javelin, or the tiger's spring;
With doubtful caution treads the echoing ground,
And asks where Troy or Babylon is found.
And now the vagrant Power no more detains
The vale of Tempe, or Ausonian plains;
Northward he throws the animating ray,
O'er Celtic nations bursts the mental day:
And, as some playful child the mirror turns,
Now here now there the moving lustre burns;
Now o'er his changeful fancy more prevail
Batavia's dykes than Arno's purple vale,
And stinted suns, and rivers bound with frost,
Than Enna's plains or Baia's viny coast;
Venice the Adriatic weds in vain,
And Death sits brooding o'er Campania's plain;
O'er Baltic shores and through Hercynian groves,
54
Stirring the soul, the mighty impulse moves;
Art plies his tools, and Commerce spreads her sail,
And wealth is wafted in each shifting gale.
The sons of Odin tread on Persian looms,
And Odin's daughters breathe distilled perfumes
Loud minstrel bards, in Gothic halls, rehearse
The Runic rhyme, and “build the lofty verse:”
The Muse, whose liquid notes were wont to swell
To the soft breathings of the' Æolian shell,
Submits, reluctant, to the harsher tone,
And scarce believes the altered voice her own.
And now, where Cæsar saw with proud disdain
The wattled hut and skin of azure stain,
Corinthian columns rear their graceful forms,
And light varandas brave the wintry storms,
While British tongues the fading fame prolong
Of Tully's eloquence and Maro's song.
Where once Bonduca whirled the scythed car,
And the fierce matrons raised the shriek of war,
Light forms beneath transparent muslins float,
And tutored voices swell the artful note.
Light-leaved acacias and the shady plane
And spreading cedar grace the woodland reign;
While crystal walls the tenderer plants confine,
The fragrant orange and the nectared pine;
The Syrian grape there hangs her rich festoons,
Nor asks for purer air, or brighter noons:
Science and Art urge on the useful toil,
New mould a climate and create the soil,
Subdue the rigour of the northern Bear,
O'er polar climes shed aromatic air,
On yielding Nature urge their new demands,
And ask not gifts but tribute at her hands.
London exults:—on London Art bestows
Her summer ices and her winter rose;
Gems of the East her mural crown adorn,
And Plenty at her feet pours forth her horn;
While even the exiles her just laws disclaim,
People a continent, and build a name:
August she sits, and with extended hands
Holds forth the book of life to distant lands.
55
But fairest flowers expand but to decay;
The worm is in thy core, thy glories pass away;
Arts, arms and wealth destroy the fruits they bring;
Commerce, like beauty, knows no second spring.
Crime walks thy streets, Fraud earns her unblest bread,
O'er want and woe thy gorgeous robe is spread,
And angel charities in vain oppose:
With grandeur's growth the mass of misery grows.
For see,—to other climes the Genius soars,
He turns from Europe's desolated shores;
And lo, even now, midst mountains wrapt in storm,
On Andes' heights he shrouds his awful form;
On Chimborazo's summits treads sublime,
Measuring in lofty thought the march of Time;
Sudden he calls:—“'Tis now the hour!” he cries,
Spreads his broad hand, and bids the nations rise.
La Plata hears amidst her torrents' roar;
Potosi hears it, as she digs the ore:
Ardent, the Genius fans the noble strife,
And pours through feeble souls a higher life,
Shouts to the mingled tribes from sea to sea,
And swears—Thy world, Columbus, shall be free.
~ Anna Laetitia Barbauld,#NFDB
1280:Beauty And The Beast
A Merchant, who by generous pains
Prospered in honourable gains,
Could boast, his wealth and fame to share,
Three manly Sons, three Daughters fair;
With these he felt supremely blest.His latest born surpass'd the rest:
She was so gentle, good and kind,
So fair in feature, form, and mind,
So constant too in filial duty,
The neighbours called her Little Beauty!
And when fair childhood's days were run,
That title still she wore and won;
Lovelier as older still she grew,
Improv'd in grace and goodness too.Her elder Sisters, gay and vain,
View'd her with envy and disdain,
Toss'd up their heads with haughty air;
Dress, Fashion, Pleasure, all their care.
'Twas thus, improving and improv'd;
Loving, and worthy to be lov'd,
Sprightly, yet grave, each circling day
Saw Beauty innocently gay.
Thus smooth the May-like moments past;
Blest times! but soon by clouds o'ercast!
Sudden as winds that madd'ning sweep
The foaming surface of the deep,
Vast treasures, trusted to the wave,
Were buried in the billowy grave!
Our Merchant, late of boundless store,
Saw Famine hasting to his door.
With willing hand and ready grace,
Mild Beauty takes the Servant's place;
Rose with the sun to household cares,
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And morn's repast with zeal prepares,
The wholesome meal, the cheerful fire:
What cannot filial love inspire?
And when the task of day was done,
Suspended till the rising sun,
Music and song the hours employ'd,
As more deserv'd, the more enjoy'd;
Till Industry, with Pastime join'd,
Refresh'd the body and the mind;
And when the groupe retir'd to rest,
Father and Brothers Beauty blest.
Not so the Sisters; as before
'Twas rich and idle, now 'twas poor.
In shabby finery array'd,
They still affected a parade:
While both insulted gentle Beauty,
Unwearied in the housewife's duty;
They mock'd her robe of modest brown,
And view'd her with a taunting frown;
Yet scarce could hold their rage to see
The blithe effects of Industry.
In this retreat a year had past,
When happier tidings came at last,
And in the Merchant's smile appear'd
Prospects that all the Cotters cheer'd:
A letter came; its purport good;
Part of his ventures brav'd the flood:
'With speed,' said he, 'I must to town,
'And what, my girls, must I bring down?'
The envious Sisters, all confusion,
Commissions gave in wild profusion;
Caps, hats, and bonnets, bracelets, broaches,
To cram the pockets of the coaches,
With laces, linens, to complete
The order, and to fill the seat.
Such wants and wishes now appear'd,
23
To make them larger Beauty fear'd;
Yet lest her silence might produce
From jealous Sisters more abuse,
Considerately good, she chose,
The emblem of herself,-a Rose.
The good man on his journey went,
His thoughts on generous Beauty bent.
'If Heav'n,' he said, and breath'd a prayer,
'If Heav'n that tender child should spare,
'Whate'er my lot, I must be bless'd,
'I must be rich:'-he wept the rest.
Timely such feelings!-Fortune still,
Unkind and niggard, crost his will.
Of all his hopes, alas, the gains
Were far o'erbalanc'd by the pains;
For after a long tedious round,
He had to measure back his ground.
A short day's travel from his Cot,
New misadventures were his lot;
Dark grew the air, the wind blew high,
And spoke the gathering tempest nigh;
Hail, snow, and night-fog join'd their force,
Bewildering rider and his horse.
Dismay'd, perplext, the road they crost,
And in the dubious maze were lost.
When glimmering through the vapours drear,
A taper shew'd a dwelling near.
And guess our Merchant's glad surprise,
When a rich palace seemed to rise
As on he mov'd! The knee be bent,
Thankful to Heaven; then nearer went.
But, O! how much his wonder grew,
When nothing living met his view!Entering a splendid hall, he found,
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With every luxury around,
A blazing fire, a plenteous board,
A costly cellaret, well stor'd,
All open'd wide, as if to say,
'Stranger, refresh thee on thy way!'
The Merchant to the fire drew near,
Deeming the owner would appear,
And pardon one who, drench'd in rain,
Unask'd, had ventured to remain.
The court-yard clock had number'd seven,
When first he came; but when eleven
Struck on his ear as mute he sate,
It sounded like the knoll of Fate.
And yet so hungry was he grown,
He pick'd a capon to the bone;
And as choice wines before him stood,
He needs must taste if they were good:
So much he felt his spirits cheer'dThe more he drank, the less he fear'd.
Now bolder grown, he pac'd along,
(Still hoping he might do no wrong),
When, entering at a gilded door,
High-rais'd upon a sumptuous floor,
A sofa shew'd all Persia's pride,
And each magnificence beside:
So down at once the Merchant lay,
Tir'd with the wonders of the day.
But had it been a rushy bed,
Tuck'd in the corner of a shed,
With no less joy had it been press'd:
The good man pray'd, and sank to rest.
Nor woke he till the noon of day;
And as he thus enchanted lay,
'Now for my storm-sopp'd clothes,' he cries:
25
When lo! a suit complete he spies;
'Yes, 'tis all fairy-work, no doubt,
'By gentle Pity brought about!'
Tenfold, when risen, amazement grew;
For bursting on his gazing view,
Instead of snow, he saw fair bowers
In all the pride of summer flowers.
Entering again the hall, behold,
Serv'd up in silver, pearl, and gold,
A breakfast, form'd of all things rare,
As if Queen Mab herself were there.
As now he past, with spirits gay,
A shower of Roses strew'd the way,
E'en to his hand the branches bent:
'One of these boughs-I go content!
'Beauty, dear Beauty-thy request
'If I may bear away, I'm blest.'
The Merchant pull'd-the branches broke!A hideous growling while he spoke,
Assail'd his startled ears; and then
A frightful Beast, as from a den,
Rushing to view, exclaimed, 'Ingrate!
'That stolen branch has seal'd thy fate.
'All that my castle own'd was thine,
'My food, my fire, my bed, my wine:
'Thou robb'st my Rose-trees in return,
'For this, base Plunderer, thou shalt mourn!'
'My Lord, I swear upon my knees,
'I did not mean to harm your trees;
'But a lov'd Daughter, fair as spring,
'Intreated me a Rose to bring;
'O didst thou know, my lord, the Maid!'-
'I am no Lord,' Beast angry said,
'And so no flattery!-but know,
'If, on your oath before you go,
'Within three wasted Moons you here
26
'Cause that lov'd Daughter to appear,
'And visit Beast a volunteer
'To suffer for thee, thou mayest live:'Speak not!-do this!-and I forgive.'
Mute and deprest the Merchant fled,
Unhappy traveller, evil sped!
Beauty was first her sire to meet,
Springing impatient from her seat;
Her Brothers next assembled round;
Her straying Sisters soon were found.
While yet the Father fondly press'd
The Child of Duty to his Breast,'Accept these Roses, ill-starr'd Maid!
'For thee thy Father's life is paid.'
The Merchant told the tale of Beast;
And loud lamentings, when he ceas'd,
From both the jealous Sisters broke,
As thus with taunting rage they spoke:
'And so thou kill'st thy Father, Miss,
'Proud, sinful creature, heardst thou this?
'We only wish'd a few new clothes;
'Beauty, forsooth, must have her Rose!
'Yet, harden'd Wretch, her eyes are dry,
'Tho' for her Pride our Sire must die!'
'Die! Not for worlds!' exclaim'd the Maid;
'Beast kindly will take me instead:
'And O, a thousand deaths I'd prove
'To shew my Father how I love!'
The Brothers cried, 'Let us away,
'We'll perish, or the Monster slay.'
'Vain hope, my gen'rous Sons, his power
'Can troops of men and horse devour:
'Your offer, Beauty, moves my soul;
'But no man can his fate controul:
27
'Mine was the fault; you, Love, are free;
'And mine the punishment shall be.'
Beauty was firm! the Sire caress'd
Again his Darling to his breast;
With blended love and awe survey'd,
And each good Brother blest the Maid!
Three months elaps'd, her Father's heart
Heav'd high, as she prepar'd to part;
The Sisters try'd a tear to force,
While Beauty smil'd as she took horse;
Yet smil'd thro' many a generous tear,
To find the parting moment near!
And just as evening's shades came on,
The splendid Palace court they won.
Beauty, now lost in wonder all,
Gain'd with her Sire the spacious hall;
Where, of the costliest viands made,
Behold, a sumptuous table laid!
The Merchant, sickening at the sight,
Sat down with looks of dire affright,
But nothing touch'd; tho' Beauty prest,
And strove to lull his fears to rest.
Just as she spoke, a hideous noise
Announc'd the growling monster's voice.
And now Beast suddenly stalk'd forth,
While Beauty well nigh sank to earth:
Scarce could she conquer her alarms,
Tho' folded in a father's arms.
Grim Beast first question'd fierce, if she
Had hither journey'd willingly?
'Yes,' Beauty cried-in trembling tone:
'That's kind,' said Beast, and thus went on'Good Merchant, at to-morrow's dawn,
'I charge and warn you to be gone!
'And further, on life's penalty,
'Dare not again to visit me.
'Beauty, farewell!' he now withdrew,
As she return'd the dread adieu.
28
Each then their separate pillow prest,
And slumber clos'd their eyes in rest.
As zephyr light, from magic sleep,
Soon as the sun began to peep,
Sprang Beauty; and now took her way
To where her anguish'd father lay,But envious time stole swiftly on;
'Begone! lov'd Father! ah! begone!
'The early dew now gems the thorn,
'The sun-beams gain upon the morn.
'Haste, Father, haste! Heaven guards the good!'
In wonder rapt the Merchant stood;
And while dread fears his thoughts employ,
A child so generous still was joy.
'My Father's safe!' she cried, 'blest Heaven!
'The rest is light, this bounty given.'
She now survey'd th' enchanting scene,
Sweet gardens of eternal green;
Mirrors, and chandeliers of glass,
And diamonds bright which those surpass;
All these her admiration gain'd;
But how was her attention chain'd,
When she in golden letters trac'd,
High o'er an arch of emeralds plac'd,
'Beauty's apartment! Enter, blest!
'This, but an earnest of the rest!'
The fair one was rejoic'd to find,
Beast studied less her eye, than mind.
But, wishing still a nearer view,
Forth from the shelves a book she drew,
In whose first page, in lines of gold,
She might heart-easing words behold:
'Welcome Beauty, banish fear!
'You are Queen, and Mistress here:
29
'Speak your wishes, speak your will,
'Swift obedience meets them still.'
'Alas!' said she, with heartfelt sighs,
The daughter rushing to her eyes,
'There's nothing I so much desire,
'As to behold my tender Sire.'
Beauty had scarce her wish express'd,
When it was granted by the Beast:
A wond'rous mirror to her eye,
Brought all her cottage family.
Here her good Brothers at their toil,
For still they dress'd the grateful soil;
And there with pity she perceiv'd,
How much for her the Merchant griev'd;
How much her Sisters felt delight
To know her banish'd from their sight,
Altho' with voice and looks of guile,
Their bosoms full of joy the while,
They labour'd hard to force a tear,
And imitate a grief sincere.
At noon's repast, she heard a sound
Breathing unseen sweet music round;
But when the evening board was spread,
The voice of Beast recall'd her dread:
'May I observe you sup?' he said;
'Ah, tremble not; your will is law;
'One question answer'd, I withdraw.'Am I not hideous to your eyes?'
'Your temper's sweet,' she mild replies.
'Yes, but I'm ugly, have no sense:''That's better far, than vain pretence.''Try to be happy, and at ease,'
Sigh'd Beast, 'as I will try to please.''Your outward form is scarcely seen
'Since I arriv'd, so kind you've been.'
30
One quarter of the rolling year,
No other living creature near,
Beauty with Beast had past serene,
Save some sad hours that stole between.
That she her Father's life had sav'd,
Upon her heart of hearts was grav'd:
While yet she view'd the Beast with dread,
This was the balm that conscience shed.
But now a second solace grew,
Whose cause e'en conscience scarcely knew.
Here on a Monster's mercy cast,Yet, when her first dire fears were past,
She found that Monster, timid, mild,
Led like the lion by the child.
Custom and kindness banish'd fear;
Beauty oft wish'd that Beast were near.
Nine was the chosen hour that Beast
Constant attended Beauty's feast,
Yet ne'er presum'd to touch the food,
Sat humble, or submissive stood,
Or, audience crav'd, respectful spoke,
Nor aim'd at wit, or ribald joke,
But oftner bent the raptur'd ear
Or ravish'd eye, to see or hear.
And if th' appointed hour pass'd by,
'Twas marked by Beauty with a sigh.
'Swear not to leave me,' sigh'd the Beast:
'I swear'-for now her fears were ceas'd,
'And willing swear,-so now and then
'I might my Father see again'One little week-he's now alone.'
'Granted!' quoth Beast: your will be done!'
'Your Ring upon the table lay
'At night,-you're there at peep of day:
'But oh,-remember, or I die!'
He gaz'd, and went without reply.
At early morn, she rang to rise;
31
The Maid beholds with glad surprise:
Summons her Father to her side,
Who, kneeling and embracing, cried,
With rapture and devotion wild,
'O bless'd be Heaven, and blest my Child!'
Beauty the Father now address'd,
And strait to see her Sisters press'd.
They both were married, and both prov'd
Neither was happy or belov'd.
And when she told them she was blest
With days of ease, and nights of rest;
To hide the malice of the soul,
Into the garden sly they stole,
And there in floods of tears they vent
Their hate, and feel its punishment.
'If,' said the eldest, 'you agree,
'We'll make that wench more curs'd than we!
'I have a plot, my sister dear:
'More than her week let's keep her here.
'No more with Monster shall she sup,
'Who, in his rage, shall eat her up.'
And now such art they both employ'd,
While Beauty wept, yet was o'erjoy'd;
And when the stated hour was come,'Ah! can you quit so soon your home?'
Eager they question'd-tore their hairAnd look'd the Pictures of Despair.
Beauty, tho' blushing at delay,
Promis'd another week to stay.
Meantime, altho' she err'd from love,
Her conscious heart could ill approve'Thy vow was giv'n, thy vow was broke!'
Thus Conscience to her bosom spoke.
Thoughts such as these assail'd her breast,
32
And a sad vision broke her rest!
The palace-garden was the place,
Which her imaginations trace:
There, on a lawn, as if to die,
She saw poor Beast extended lie,
Reproaching with his latest breath
Beauty's ingratitude in death.
Rous'd from her sleep, the contrite Maid
The Ring upon her toilette laid,
And Conscience gave a sound repose:
Balmy her rest; and when she rose,
The palace of poor Beast she found,
Groves, gardens, arbours, blooming round:
The morning shone in summer's pride,
Beauty for fairer evening sigh'dSigh'd for the object once so fear'd,
By worth, by kindness now endear'd.
But when had past the wonted hour,
And no wish'd footstep pass'd the door;When yet another hour lagg'd on,Then to the wide canal she ran:
'For there in vision,' said the fair,
'Was stretch'd the object of my care!'
And there, alas! he now was found,
Extended on the flowery ground.
'Ah! fond and faithful Beast,' she cried,
'Hast thou for me perfidious died?
'O! could'st thou hear my fervid prayer,
''Twould ease the anguish of despair.'
Beast open'd now his long-clos'd eyes,
And saw the fair with glad surprise.
'In my last moments you are sent;
'You pity, and I die content.'
'Thou shalt not die,' rejoin'd the Maid;
'O rather live to hate, upbraid'But no! my grievous fault forgive!
'I feel I can't without thee live.'
33
Beauty had scarce pronounc'd the word,
When magic sounds of sweet accord,
The music of celestial spheres
As if from seraph harps she hears;
Amaz'd she stood,-new wonders grew;
For Beast now vanish'd from her view;
And, lo! a Prince, with every grace
Of figure, fashion, feature, face,
In whom all charms of Nature meet,
Was kneeling at fair Beauty's feet.
'But where is Beast?' still Beauty cried:
'Behold him here!' the Prince replied.
'Orasmyn, lady, is my name,
'In Persia not unknown to fame;
'Till this re-humanizing hour,
'The victim of a Fairy's pow'r;'Till a deliverer could be found,
'Who, while the accursed spell still bound,
'Could first endure, tho' with alarm,
'And break at last by love the charm!'
Beauty delighted gave her hand,
And bade the Prince her fate command;
The Prince now led through rooms of state,
Where Beauty's family await,
In bridal vestments all array'd,
By some superior power convey'd.
'Beauty,' pronounc'd a heavenly voice,
'Now take from me your princely choice.
'Virtue, to every good beside
'While wit and beauty were denied,
'Fix'd your pure heart! for which, unseen,
'I led your steps; and now a Queen,
'Seated on Persia's glittering throne,
''Tis mine and Virtue's task to crown!
'But as for you, ye Sisters vain,
34
'Still first and last in envy's train,
'Before fair Beauty's Palace-gate,
'Such Justice has decreed your fate,
'Transform'd to statues you must dwell,
'Curs'd with the single power, to feel'Unless by penitence and prayer'But this will ask long years of care,
'Of promise and performance too,
'A change of mind from false to true'A change I scarce can hope from you.'
Instant the Power stretch'd forth her wand,
Her sceptre of supreme command,
When lo! at her resistless call,
Gay crowds came thronging through the hall,
The blissful hour to celebrate
When Persia's Prince resum'd his state:
At once the dome with music rang,
And virgins danc'd, and minstrels sang;
It was the Jubilee of Youth,
Led on by Virtue and by Truth;
The pride of Persia fill'd the scene,
To hail Orasmyn and his Queen!
THE END
~ Charles Lamb,#NFDB
1281:A Last Confession
Our Lombard country-girls along the coast
Wear daggers in their garters: for they know
That they might hate another girl to death
Or meet a German lover. Such a knife
I bought her, with a hilt of horn and pearl.
Father, you cannot know of all my thoughts
That day in going to meet her,—that last day
For the last time, she said;—of all the love
And all the hopeless hope that she might change
And go back with me. Ah! and everywhere,
At places we both knew along the road,
Some fresh shape of herself as once she was
Grew present at my side; until it seemed—
So close they gathered round me—they would all
Be with me when I reached the spot at last,
To plead my cause with her against herself
So changed. O Father, if you knew all this
You cannot know, then you would know too, Father,
And only then, if God can pardon me.
What can be told I'll tell, if you will hear.
I passed a village-fair upon my road,
And thought, being empty-handed, I would take
Some little present: such might prove, I said,
Either a pledge between us, or (God help me!)
A parting gift. And there it was I bought
The knife I spoke of, such as women wear.
That day, some three hours afterwards, I found
For certain, it must be a parting gift.
And, standing silent now at last, I looked
Into her scornful face; and heard the sea
Still trying hard to din into my ears
Some speech it knew which still might change her heart,
If only it could make me understand.
One moment thus. Another, and her face
Seemed further off than the last line of sea,
So that I thought, if now she were to speak
I could not hear her. Then again I knew
All, as we stood together on the sand
At Iglio, in the first thin shade o' the hills.
“Take it,” I said, and held it out to her,
While the hilt glanced within my trembling hold;
“Take it and keep it for my sake,” I said.
Her neck unbent not, neither did her eyes
Move, nor her foot left beating of the sand;
Only she put it by from her and laughed.
Father, you hear my speech and not her laugh;
But God heard that. Will God remember all?
It was another laugh than the sweet sound
Which rose from her sweet childish heart, that day
Eleven years before, when first I found her
Alone upon the hill-side; and her curls
Shook down in the warm grass as she looked up
Out of her curls in my eyes bent to hers.
She might have served a painter to pourtray
That heavenly child which in the latter days
Shall walk between the lion and the lamb.
I had been for nights in hiding, worn and sick
And hardly fed; and so her words at first
Seemed fiftul like the talking of the trees
And voices in the air that knew my name.
And I remember that I sat me down
Upon the slope with her, and thought the world
Must be all over or had never been,
We seemed there so alone. And soon she told me
Her parents both were gone away from her.
I thought perhaps she meant that they had died;
But when I asked her this, she looked again
Into my face and said that yestereve
They kissed her long, and wept and made her weep,
And gave her all the bread they had with them,
And then had gone together up the hill
Where we were sitting now, and had walked on
Into the great red light; “and so,” she said,
“I have come up here too; and when this evening
They step out of the light as they stepped in,
I shall be here to kiss them.” And she laughed.
Then I bethought me suddenly of the famine;
And how the church-steps throughout all the town,
When last I had been there a month ago,
Swarmed with starved folk; and how the bread was weighed
By Austrians armed; and women that I knew
10
For wives and mothers walked the public street,
Saying aloud that if their husbands feared
To snatch the children's food, themselves would stay
Till they had earned it there. So then this child
Was piteous to me; for all told me then
Her parents must have left her to God's chance,
To man's or to the Church's charity,
Because of the great famine, rather than
To watch her growing thin between their knees.
With that, God took my mother's voice and spoke,
And sights and sounds came back and things long since,
And all my childhood found me on the hills;
And so I took her with me.
I was young.
Scarce man then, Father: but the cause which gave
The wounds I die of now had brought me then
Some wounds already; and I lived alone,
As any hiding hunted man must live.
It was no easy thing to keep a child
In safety; for herself it was not safe,
And doubled my own danger: but I knew
That God would help me.
Yet a little while
Pardon me, Father, if I pause. I think
I have been speaking to you of some matters
There was no need to speak of, have I not?
You do not know how clearly those things stood
Within my mind, which I have spoken of,
Nor how they strove for utterance. Life all past
Is like the sky when the sun sets in it,
Clearest where furthest off.
I told you how
She scorned my parting gift and laughed. And yet
A woman's laugh's another thing sometimes:
I think they laugh in Heaven. I know last night
I dreamed I saw into the garden of God,
Where women walked whose painted images
I have seen with candles round them in the church.
They bent this way and that, one to another,
Playing: and over the long golden hair
Of each there floated like a ring of fire
Which when she stooped stooped with her, and when she rose
11
Rose with her. Then a breeze flew in among them,
As if a window had been opened in heaven
For God to give His blessing from, before
This world of ours should set; (for in my dream
I thought our world was setting, and the sun
Flared, a spent taper; ) and beneath that gust
The rings of light quivered like forest-leaves.
Then all the blessed maidens who were there
Stood up together, as it were a voice
That called them; and they threw their tresses back,
And smote their palms, and all laughed up at once,
For the strong heavenly joy they had in them
To hear God bless the world. Wherewith I woke:
And looking round, I saw as usual
That she was standing there with her long locks
Pressed to her side; and her laugh ended theirs.
For always when I see her now, she laughs.
And yet her childish laughter haunts me too,
The life of this dead terror; as in days
When she, a child, dwelt with me. I must tell
Something of those days yet before the end.
I brought her from the city—one such day
When she was still a merry loving child,—
The earliest gift I mind my giving her;
A little image of a flying Love
Made of our coloured glass-ware, in his hands
A dart of gilded metal and a torch.
And him she kissed and me, and fain would know
Why were his poor eyes blindfold, why the wings
And why the arrow. What I knew I told
Of Venus and of Cupid,—strange old tales.
And when she heard that he could rule the loves
Of men and women, still she shook her head
And wondered; and, “Nay, nay,” she murmured still,
“So strong, and he a younger child than I!”
And then she'd have me fix him on the wall
Fronting her little bed; and then again
She needs must fix him there herself, because
I gave him to her and she loved him so,
And he should make her love me better yet,
If women loved the more, the more they grew.
But the fit place upon the wall was high
12
For her, and so I held her in my arms:
And each time that the heavy pruning-hook
I gave her for a hammer slipped away
As it would often, still she laughed and laughed
And kissed and kissed me. But amid her mirth,
Just as she hung the image on the nail,
It slipped and all its fragments strewed the ground:
And as it fell she screamed, for in her hand
The dart had entered deeply and drawn blood.
And so her laughter turned to tears: and “Oh!”
I said, the while I bandaged the small hand,—
“That I should be the first to make you bleed,
Who love and love and love you!”—kissing still
The fingers till I got her safe to bed.
And still she sobbed,—“not for the pain at all,”
She said, “but for the Love, the poor good Love
You gave me.” So she cried herself to sleep.
Another later thing comes back to me.
'Twas in those hardest foulest days of all,
When still from his shut palace, sitting clean
Above the splash of blood, old Metternich
(May his soul die, and never-dying worms
Feast on its pain for ever! ) used to thin
His year's doomed hundreds daintily, each month
Thirties and fifties. This time, as I think,
Was when his thrift forbad the poor to take
That evil brackish salt which the dry rocks
Keep all through winter when the sea draws in.
The first I heard of it was a chance shot
In the street here and there, and on the stones
A stumbling clatter as of horse hemmed round.
Then, when she saw me hurry out of doors,
My gun slung at my shoulder and my knife
Stuck in my girdle, she smoothed down my hair
And laughed to see me look so brave, and leaped
Up to my neck and kissed me. She was still
A child; and yet that kiss was on my lips
So hot all day where the smoke shut us in.
For now, being always with her, the first love
I had—the father's, brother's love—was changed,
I think, in somewise; like a holy thought
Which is a prayer before one knows of it.
13
The first time I perceived this, I remember,
Was once when after hunting I came home
Weary, and she brought food and fruit for me,
And sat down at my feet upon the floor
Leaning against my side. But when I felt
Her sweet head reach from that low seat of hers
So high as to be laid upon my heart,
I turned and looked upon my darling there
And marked for the first time how tall she was;
And my heart beat with so much violence
Under her cheek, I thought she could not choose
But wonder at it soon and ask me why;
And so I bade her rise and eat with me.
And when, remembering all and counting back
The time, I made out fourteen years for her
And told her so, she gazed at me with eyes
As of the sky and sea on a grey day,
And drew her long hands through her hair, and asked me
If she was not a woman; and then laughed:
And as she stooped in laughing, I could see
Beneath the growing throat the breasts half-globed
Like folded lilies deepset in the stream.
Yes, let me think of her as then; for so
Her image, Father, is not like the sights
Which come when you are gone. She had a mouth
Made to bring death to life,—the underlip
Sucked in, as if it strove to kiss itself.
Her face was pearly pale, as when one stoops
Over wan water; and the dark crisped hair
And the hair's shadow made it paler still:—
Deep-serried locks, the dimness of the cloud
Where the moon's gaze is set in eddying gloom.
Her body bore her neck as the tree's stem
Bears the top branch; and as the branch sustains
The flower of the year's pride, her high neck bore
That face made wonderful with night and day.
Her voice was swift, yet ever the last words
Fell lingeringly; and rounded finger-tips
She had, that clung a little where they touched
And then were gone o' the instant. Her great eyes,
That sometimes turned half dizzily beneath
The passionate lids, as faint, when she would speak,
14
Had also in them hidden springs of mirth,
Which under the dark lashes evermore
Shook to her laugh, as when a bird flies low
Between the water and the willow-leaves,
And the shade quivers till he wins the light.
I was a moody comrade to her then,
For all the love I bore her. Italy,
The weeping desolate mother, long has claimed
Her sons' strong arms to lean on, and their hands
To lop the poisonous thicket from her path,
Cleaving her way to light. And from her need
Had grown the fashion of my whole poor life
Which I was proud to yield her, as my father
Had yielded his. And this had come to be
A game to play, a love to clasp, a hate
To wreak, all things together that a man
Needs for his blood to ripen; till at times
All else seemed shadows, and I wondered still
To see such life pass muster and be deemed
Time's bodily substance. In those hours, no doubt,
To the young girl my eyes were like my soul,—
Dark wells of death-in-life that yearned for day.
Sig.
And though she ruled me always, I remember
That once when I was thus and she still kept
Leaping about the place and laughing, I
Did almost chide her; whereupon she knelt
And putting her two hands into my breast
Sang me a song. Are these tears in my eyes?
'Tis long since I have wept for anything.
I thought that song forgotten out of mind;
And now, just as I spoke of it, it came
All back. It is but a rude thing, ill rhymed,
Such as a blind man chaunts and his dog hears
Holding the platter, when the children run
To merrier sport and leave him. Thus it goes:—
La bella donna*
Piangendo disse:
“Come son fisse
Le stelle in cielo!
Quel fiato anelo
Dello stanco sole,
15
Quanto m' assonna!
E la luna, macchiata
Come uno specchio
Logoro e vecchio,—
Faccia affannata,
Che cosa vuole?
“Chè stelle, luna, e sole,
Ciascun m' annoja
E m' annojano insieme;
Non me ne preme
Nè ci prendo gioja.
E veramente,
Che le spalle sien franche
E la braccia bianche
She wept, sweet lady,
And said in weeping:
“What spell is keeping
The stars so steady?
Why does the power
Of the sun's noon-hour
To sleep so move me?
And the moon in heaven,
Stained where she passes
As a worn-out glass is,—
Wearily driven,
Why walks she above me?
“Stars, moon, and sun too,
I'm tired of either
And all together!
Whom speak they unto
That I should listen?
For very surely,
Though my arms and shoulders
Dazzle beholders,
And my eyes glisten,
All's nothing purely!
What are words said for
At all about them,
If he they are made for
Can do without them?”
She laughed, sweet lady,
And said in laughing:
16
“His hand clings half in
My own already!
Oh! do you love me?
Oh! speak of passion
In no new fashion,
No loud inveighings,
But the old sayings
You once said of me.
“You said: ‘As summer,
Through boughs grown brittle,
Comes back a little
Ere frosts benumb her,—
So bring'st thou to me
All leaves and flowers,
Though autumn's gloomy
To-day in the bowers.’
“Oh! does he love me,
When my voice teaches
The very speeches
He then spoke of me?
Alas! what flavour
Still with me lingers?”
(But she laughed as my kisses
Glowed in her fingers
With love's old blisses.)
“Oh! what one favour
Remains to woo him,
Whose whole poor savour
Belongs not to him?”
E il seno caldo e tondo,
Non mi fa niente.
Che cosa al mondo
Posso più far di questi
Se non piacciono a te, come dicesti?”
La donna rise
E riprese ridendo:—
“Questa mano che prendo
È dunque mia?
Tu m' ami dunque?
Dimmelo ancora,
Non in modo qualunque,
Ma le parole
17
Belle e precise
Che dicesti pria.
‘Siccome suole
La state talora
(Dicesti) un qualche istante
Tornare innanzi inverno,
Così tu fai ch' io scerno
Le foglie tutte quante,
Ben ch' io certo tenessi
Per passato l' autunno.’
“Eccolo il mio alunno!
Io debbo insegnargli
Quei cari detti istessi
Ch' ei mi disse una volta!
Oimè! Che cosa dargli,”
(Ma ridea piano piano
Dei baci in sulla mano,)
“Ch' ei non m'abbia da lungo tempo tolta?”
That I should sing upon this bed!—with you
To listen, and such words still left to say!
Yet was it I that sang? The voice seemed hers,
As on the very day she sang to me;
When, having done, she took out of my hand
Something that I had played with all the while
And laid it down beyond my reach; and so
Turning my face round till it fronted hers,—
“Weeping or laughing, which was best?” she said.
But these are foolish tales. How should I show
The heart that glowed then with love's heat, each day
More and more brightly?—when for long years now
The very flame that flew about the heart,
And gave it fiery wings, has come to be
The lapping blaze of hell's environment
Whose tongues all bid the molten heart despair.
Yet one more thing comes back on me to-night
Which I may tell you: for it bore my soul
Dread firstlings of the brood that rend it now.
It chanced that in our last year's wanderings
We dwelt at Monza, far away from home,
If home we had: and in the Duomo there
I sometimes entered with her when she prayed.
An image of Our Lady stands there, wrought
18
In marble by some great Italian hand
In the great days when she and Italy
Sat on one throne together: and to her
And to none else my loved one told her heart.
She was a woman then; and as she knelt,—
Her sweet brow in the sweet brow's shadow there,—
They seemed two kindred forms whereby our land
(Whose work still serves the world for miracle)
Made manifest herself in womanhood.
Father, the day I speak of was the first
For weeks that I had borne her company
Into the Duomo; and those weeks had been
Much troubled, for then first the glimpses came
Of some impenetrable restlessness
Growing in her to make her changed and cold.
And as we entered there that day, I bent
My eyes on the fair Image, and I said
Within my heart, “Oh turn her heart to me!”
And so I left her to her prayers, and went
To gaze upon the pride of Monza's shrine,
Where in the sacristy the light still falls
Upon the Iron Crown of Italy,
On whose crowned heads the day has closed, nor yet
The daybreak gilds another head to crown.
But coming back, I wondered when I saw
That the sweet Lady of her prayers now stood
Alone without her; until further off,
Before some new Madonna gaily decked,
Tinselled and gewgawed, a slight German toy,
I saw her kneel, still praying. At my step
She rose, and side by side we left the church.
I was much moved, and sharply questioned her
Of her transferred devotion; but she seemed
Stubborn and heedless; till she lightly laughed
And said: “The old Madonna? Aye indeed,
She had my old thoughts,—this one has my new.”
Then silent to the soul I held my way:
And from the fountains of the public place
Unto the pigeon-haunted pinnacles,
Bright wings and water winnowed the bright air;
And stately with her laugh's subsiding smile
She went, with clear-swayed waist and towering neck
19
And hands held light before her; and the face
Which long had made a day in my life's night
Was night in day to me; as all men's eyes
Turned on her beauty, and she seemed to tread
Beyond my heart to the world made for her.
Ah there! my wounds will snatch my sense again:
The pain comes billowing on like a full cloud
Of thunder, and the flash that breaks from it
Leaves my brain burning. That's the wound he gave,
The Austrian whose white coat I still made match
With his white face, only the two grew red
As suits his trade. The devil makes them wear
White for a livery, that the blood may show
Braver that brings them to him. So he looks
Sheer o'er the field and knows his own at once.
Give me a draught of water in that cup;
My voice feels thick; perhaps you do not hear;
But you must hear. If you mistake my words
And so absolve me, I am sure the blessing
Will burn my soul. If you mistake my words
And so absolve me, Father, the great sin
Is yours, not mine: mark this: your soul shall burn
With mine for it. I have seen pictures where
Souls burned with Latin shriekings in their mouths:
Shall my end be as theirs? Nay, but I know
'Tis you shall shriek in Latin. Some bell rings,
Rings through my brain: it strikes the hour in hell.
You see I cannot, Father; I have tried,
But cannot, as you see. These twenty times
Beginning, I have come to the same point
And stopped. Beyond, there are but broken words
Which will not let you understand my tale.
It is that then we have her with us here,
As when she wrung her hair out in my dream
To-night, till all the darkness reeked of it.
Her hair is always wet, for she has kept
Its tresses wrapped about her side for years;
And when she wrung them round over the floor,
I heard the blood between her fingers hiss;
So that I sat up in my bed and screamed
Once and again; and once to once, she laughed.
Look that you turn not now,—she's at your back:
20
Gather your robe up, Father, and keep close,
Or she'll sit down on it and send you mad.
At Iglio in the first thin shade o' the hills
The sand is black and red. The black was black
When what was spilt that day sank into it,
And the red scarcely darkened. There I stood
This night with her, and saw the sand the same.
What would you have me tell you? Father, father,
How shall I make you know? You have not known
The dreadful soul of woman, who one day
Forgets the old and takes the new to heart,
Forgets what man remembers, and therewith
Forgets the man. Nor can I clearly tell
How the change happened between her and me.
Her eyes looked on me from an emptied heart
When most my heart was full of her; and still
In every corner of myself I sought
To find what service failed her; and no less
Than in the good time past, there all was hers.
What do you love? Your Heaven? Conceive it spread
For one first year of all eternity
All round you with all joys and gifts of God;
And then when most your soul is blent with it
And all yields song together,—then it stands
O' the sudden like a pool that once gave back
Your image, but now drowns it and is clear
Again,—or like a sun bewitched, that burns
Your shadow from you, and still shines in sight.
How could you bear it? Would you not cry out,
Among those eyes grown blind to you, those ears
That hear no more your voice you hear the same,—
“God! what is left but hell for company,
But hell, hell, hell?”—until the name so breathed
Whirled with hot wind and sucked you down in fire?
Even so I stood the day her empty heart
Left her place empty in our home, while yet
I knew not why she went nor where she went
Nor how to reach her: so I stood the day
When to my prayers at last one sight of her
Was granted, and I looked on heaven made pale
With scorn, and heard heaven mock me in that laugh.
O sweet, long sweet! Was that some ghost of you,
21
Even as your ghost that haunts me now,—twin shapes
Of fear and hatred? May I find you yet
Mine when death wakes? Ah! be it even in flame,
We may have sweetness yet, if you but say
As once in childish sorrow: “Not my pain,
My pain was nothing: oh your poor poor love,
Your broken love!”
My Father, have I not
Yet told you the last things of that last day
On which I went to meet her by the sea?
O God, O God! but I must tell you all.
Midway upon my journey, when I stopped
To buy the dagger at the village fair,
I saw two cursed rats about the place
I knew for spies—blood-sellers both. That day
Was not yet over; for three hours to come
I prized my life: and so I looked around
For safety. A poor painted mountebank
Was playing tricks and shouting in a crowd.
I knew he must have heard my name, so I
Pushed past and whispered to him who I was,
And of my danger. Straight he hustled me
Into his booth, as it were in the trick,
And brought me out next minute with my face
All smeared in patches and a zany's gown;
And there I handed him his cups and balls
And swung the sand-bags round to clear the ring
For half an hour. The spies came once and looked;
And while they stopped, and made all sights and sounds
Sharp to my startled senses, I remember
A woman laughed above me. I looked up
And saw where a brown-shouldered harlot leaned
Half through a tavern window thick with vine.
Some man had come behind her in the room
And caught her by her arms, and she had turned
With that coarse empty laugh on him, as now
He munched her neck with kisses, while the vine
Crawled in her back.
And three hours afterwards,
When she that I had run all risks to meet
Laughed as I told you, my life burned to death
Within me, for I thought it like the laugh
22
Heard at the fair. She had not left me long;
But all she might have changed to, or might change to,
(I know nought since—she never speaks a word—)
Seemed in that laugh. Have I not told you yet,
Not told you all this time what happened, Father,
When I had offered her the little knife,
And bade her keep it for my sake that loved her,
And she had laughed? Have I not told you yet?
“Take it,” I said to her the second time,
“Take it and keep it.” And then came a fire
That burnt my hand; and then the fire was blood,
And sea and sky were blood and fire, and all
The day was one red blindness; till it seemed,
Within the whirling brain's eclipse, that she
Or I or all things bled or burned to death.
And then I found her laid against my feet
And knew that I had stabbed her, and saw still
Her look in falling. For she took the knife
Deep in her heart, even as I bade her then,
And fell; and her stiff bodice scooped the sand
Into her bosom.
And she keeps it, see,
Do you not see she keeps it?—there, beneath
Wet fingers and wet tresses, in her heart.
For look you, when she stirs her hand, it shows
The little hilt of horn and pearl,—even such
A dagger as our women of the coast
Twist in their garters.
Father, I have done:
And from her side now she unwinds the thick
Dark hair; all round her side it is wet through,
But, like the sand at Iglio, does not change.
Now you may see the dagger clearly. Father,
I have told all: tell me at once what hope
Can reach me still. For now she draws it out
Slowly, and only smiles as yet: look, Father,
She scarcely smiles: but I shall hear her laugh
Soon, when she shows the crimson steel to God.
~ Dante Gabriel Rossetti,#NFDB
1282:lived most of her life with her family at the parish of Haworth on the Yorkshire
moors. For a couple of years she went to a boarding school. At the age of
nineteen, she left Haworth working as a governess between 1839 and 1845.
After leaving her teaching position, she fulfilled her literary ambitions. She wrote
a volume of poetry with her sisters (Poems by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, 1846)
and in short succession she wrote two novels. Agnes Grey, based upon her
experiences as a governess, was published in 1847. Her second and last novel,
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall appeared in 1848. Anne's life was cut short with her
death of pulmonary tuberculosis when she was 29 years old.
~ Anne Brontë
is somewhat overshadowed by her more famous sisters,
In the summer of 1824, Patrick sent his eldest daughters Maria, Elizabeth,
Charlotte and Emily to Crofton Hall in Crofton, West Yorkshire, and later to the
Clergy Daughter's School, Cowan Bridge, Lancashire. When the two eldest
siblings died of consumption in 1825, Maria on 6 May and Elizabeth on 15 June,
Charlotte and Emily were immediately brought home. The unexpected deaths of
Anne's two eldest sisters distressed the bereaved family enough that Patrick
could not face sending them away again. For the next five years, all the Brontë
children were educated at home, largely by their father and aunt. The young
Brontës made little attempt to mix with others outside the parsonage, but relied
upon each other for friendship and companionship. The bleak moors surrounding
Haworth became their playground.
Education
Anne's studies at home included music and drawing. Anne, Emily and Branwell
had piano lessons at the parsonage from the Keighley parish organist. The
Brontë children received art lessons from John Bradley of Keighley and all of
them drew with some skill. Their aunt tried to make sure the girls knew how to
run a household, but their minds were more inclined to literature. Their father's
well-stocked library was a main source of knowledge.
Those readings fed the Brontës' imaginations. The children's creativity soared
after their father presented Branwell with a set of toy soldiers in June 1826. They
named the soldiers and developed their characters, which they called the
"Twelves". This led to the creation of an imaginary world: the African kingdom of
"Angria". That was illustrated with maps and watercolour renderings. The
children kept themselves busy devising plots about the people of Angria, and its
capital city, "Glass Town", later called Verreopolis, and finally, Verdopolis.
These fantasy worlds and kingdoms gradually acquired all the characteristics of
the real world—sovereigns, armies, heroes, outlaws, fugitives, inns, schools and
publishers. For these peoples and lands the children created newspapers,
magazines and chronicles, all of which were written out in extremely tiny books,
with writing that was so small it was difficult to read without the aid of a
magnifying glass. These juvenile creations and writings served as the
apprenticeship of their later, literary talents.
Juvenilia
Around 1831, when Anne was eleven, she and her sister Emily broke away from
Charlotte and Branwell in the creation and development of the fictional sagas of
Angria establishing their own fantasy world of Gondal. Anne was at this time
particularly close to Emily; the closeness of their relationship was reinforced by
Charlotte's departure for Roe Head School, in January 1831. When Charlotte's
friend Ellen Nussey visited Haworth in 1833, she reported that Emily and Anne
were "like twins", "inseparable companions". She described Anne at this time:
"Anne, dear gentle Anne was quite different in appearance from the others, and
she was her aunt's favourite. Her hair was a very pretty light brown, and fell on
her neck in graceful curls. She had lovely violet-blue eyes; fine pencilled
eyebrows and a clear almost transparent complexion. She still pursued her
studies and especially her sewing, under the surveillance of her aunt." Anne also
took lessons from Charlotte, after she came back from the boarding school, at
Roe Head. Later, Anne began more formal studies at Miss Wooler's school at Roe
Head, Huddersfield. Charlotte returned there on 29 July 1835 as a teacher. Emily
accompanied her as a pupil; her tuition largely financed by Charlotte's teaching.
Within a few months, Emily was unable to adapt to life at school, and by October,
was physically ill from homesickness. She was withdrawn from the school and
replaced by Anne.
At fifteen, it was Anne's first time away from home, and she made few friends at
Roe Head. She was quiet and hard working, and determined to stay and get the
education that would allow her to support herself. Anne stayed for two years,
winning a good-conduct medal in December 1836, and returning home only
during Christmas and the summer holidays. Anne and Charlotte do not appear to
have been close during their time at Roe Head (Charlotte's letters almost never
mention Anne) but Charlotte was concerned about the health of her sister. At
some point before December 1837, Anne became seriously ill with gastritis and
underwent a religious crisis. A Moravian minister was called to see Anne several
times during her illness, suggesting that her distress was caused, at least in part,
by conflict with the local Anglican clergy. Charlotte was sufficiently concerned
about Anne's illness to notify Patrick Brontë, and to take Anne home where she
remained to recover.
Employment at Blake Hall
Little is known about Anne's life during 1838, but in 1839, a year after leaving
the school and at the age of nineteen, she was actively looking for a teaching
position. As the daughter of a poor clergyman, she needed to earn a living. Her
father had no private income and the parsonage would revert to the church on
his death. Teaching or being a governess in a private family were among the few
options available to poor but educated women. In April, 1839, Anne began to
work as a governess with the Ingham family at Blake Hall, near Mirfield.
The children in Anne's charge were spoilt and wild, and persistently disobeyed
and tormented her. She experienced great difficulty controlling them, and had
almost no success in instilling any education. She was not empowered to inflict
any punishment, and when she complained of their behaviour to their parents,
she received no support, but was merely criticised for not being capable of her
job. The Inghams, unsatisfied with their children's progress, dismissed Anne at
the end of the year. She returned home at Christmas, 1839, joining Charlotte
and Emily, who had left their positions, and Branwell. The whole episode at Blake
Hall was so traumatic for Anne, that she reproduced it in almost perfect detail in
her later novel, Agnes Grey.
William Weightman
At Anne's return to Haworth, she met William Weightman (1814–1842), Patrick's
new curate, who began work in the parish in August 1839. Twenty-five years old,
he had obtained a two-year licentiate in theology from the University of Durham.
He quickly became welcome at the parsonage. Anne's acquaintance with William
Weightman parallels the writing of a number of poems, which may suggest that
she fell in love with him. There is considerable disagreement over this point. Not
much outside evidence exists beyond a teasing anecdote of Charlotte's to Ellen
Nussey in January 1842.
It may or may not be relevant that the source of Agnes Grey 's renewed interest
in poetry is the curate to whom she is attracted. As the person to whom Anne
Brontë may have been attracted, William Weightman has aroused much
curiosity. It seems clear that he was a good-looking, engaging young man,
whose easy humour and kindness towards the Brontë sisters made a
considerable impression. It is such a character that she portrays in Edward
Weston, and that her heroine Agnes Grey finds deeply appealing.
If Anne did form an attachment to Weightman, that does not imply that he, in
turn, was attracted to her. Indeed, it is entirely possible that Weightman was no
more aware of her than of her sisters or their friend Ellen Nussey. Nor does it
follow that Anne believed him to be interested in her. If anything, her poems
suggest just the opposite–they speak of quietly experienced but intensely felt
emotions, intentionally hidden from others, without any indication of their being
requited. It is also possible that an initially mild attraction to Weightman
assumed increasing importance to Anne over time, in the absence of other
opportunities for love, marriage, and children.
Anne would have seen William Weightman on her holidays at home, particularly
during the summer of 1842, when her sisters were away. He died of cholera in
the same year. Anne expressed her grief for his death in her poem "I will not
mourn thee, lovely one", in which she called him "our darling".
Governess
Anne soon obtained a second post: this time as a governess to the children of
the Reverend Edmund Robinson and his wife Lydia, at Thorp Green, a wealthy
country house near York. Thorp Green appeared later as Horton Lodge in her
novel Agnes Grey. Anne was to have four pupils: Lydia, age 15, Elizabeth, age
13, Mary, age 12, and Edmund, age 8. Initially, she encountered the same
problems with the unruly children that she had experienced at Blake Hall. Anne
missed her home and family, commenting in a diary paper in 1841 that she did
not like her situation and wished to leave it. Her own quiet, gentle disposition did
not help matters. However, despite her outwardly placid appearance, Anne was
determined and with the experience she gradually gained, she eventually made a
success of her position, becoming well liked by her new employers. Her charges,
the Robinson girls, ultimately became her lifelong friends.
For the next five years, Anne spent no more than five or six weeks a year with
her family, during holidays at Christmas and in June. The rest of her time she
was with the Robinsons at their home Thorp Green. She was also obliged to
accompany the family on their annual holidays to Scarborough. Between 1840
and 1844, Anne spent around five weeks each summer at the resort, and loved
the place. A number of locations in Scarborough formed the setting for Agnes
Grey 's final scenes.
During the time working for the Robinsons, Anne and her sisters considered the
possibility of setting-up their own school. Various locations, including their own
home, the parsonage, were considered as places to establish it. The project
never materialised and Anne chose repeatedly to return to Thorp Green. She
came home at the death of her aunt in early November 1842, while her sisters
were away in Brussels. Elizabeth Branwell left a £350 legacy for each of her
nieces.
Anne returned to Thorp Green in January 1843. She secured a position for
Branwell with her employers: he was to take over from her as tutor to the
Robinsons' son, Edmund, the only boy in the family, who was growing too old to
be under Anne's care. However Branwell did not live in the house with the
Robinson family, as Anne did. Anne's vaunted calm appears to have been the
result of hard-fought battles, balancing deeply felt emotions with careful thought,
a sense of responsibility, and resolute determination. All three Brontë sisters had
spent time working as governesses or teachers, and all had experienced
problems controlling their charges, gaining support from their employers, and
coping with homesickness—but Anne was the only one who persevered and made
a success of her work.
Back at The Parsonage
Anne and Branwell continued to teach at Thorp Green for the next three years.
However, Branwell was enticed into a secret relationship with his employer's
wife, Lydia Robinson. When Anne and her brother returned home for the holidays
in June 1846, she resigned her position. While Anne gave no reason for leaving
Thorp Green, it is generally thought that she wanted to leave upon becoming
aware of the relationship between her brother and Mrs. Robinson. Branwell was
sternly dismissed when his employer found out about his relationship with his
wife. In spite of her brother's behaviour, Anne retained close ties to Elizabeth and
Mary Robinson, exchanging frequent letters with them even after Branwell's
disgrace. The Robinson sisters came to visit Anne in December 1848.
Once free of her position as a governess, Anne took Emily to visit some of the
places she had come to know and love in the past five years. An initial plan of
going to the sea at Scarborough fell through, and the sisters went instead to
York, where Anne showed her sister the York Minster.
A Book of Poems
In the summer of 1845, all four of the Brontës were at home with their father
Patrick. None of the four had any immediate prospect of employment. It was at
this point that Charlotte came across Emily's poems. They had been shared only
with Anne, her partner in the world of Gondal. Charlotte proposed that they be
published. Anne also revealed her own poems. Charlotte's reaction was
characteristically patronising: "I thought that these verses too had a sweet
sincere pathos of their own". Eventually, though not easily, the sisters reached
an agreement. They told neither Branwell, nor their father, nor their friends
about what they were doing. Anne and Emily each contributed 21 poems and
Charlotte with nineteen. With Aunt Branwell's money, the Brontë sisters paid to
have the collection published.
Afraid that their work would be judged differently if they revealed their identity
as women, the book appeared under their three chosen pseudonyms—or pennames, the initials of which were the same as their own. Charlotte became
Currer Bell, Emily became Ellis Bell and Anne became Acton Bell. Poems by
Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell was available for sale in May 1846. The cost of
publication was about ¾ of Anne's annual salary at Thorp Green. On 7 May 1846,
the first three copies of the book were delivered to Haworth Parsonage. The
volume achieved three somewhat favourable reviews, but was a dismal failure,
with only two copies being sold during the first year. Anne, however, began to
find a market for her more recent poetry. Both the Leeds Intelligencer and
Fraser's Magazine published her poem "The Narrow Way" under her pseudonym,
Acton Bell. Four months earlier, in August, Fraser's Magazine had also published
her poem "The Three Guides".
Novelist
Agnes Grey
Even before the fate of the book of poems became apparent, the three sisters
were working on a new project. They began to work on their first novels.
Charlotte wrote The Professor, Emily Wuthering Heights, and Anne Agnes Grey.
By July 1846, a package with the three manuscripts was making the rounds of
London publishers.
After a number of rejections, Emily's Wuthering Heights and Anne's Agnes Grey
were accepted by a publisher in London, but Charlotte's novel was rejected by
every other publisher to whom it was sent. However, Charlotte was not long in
completing her second novel, the now famous Jane Eyre, and this was
immediately accepted by Smith, Elder & Co., a different publisher from Anne's
and Emily's though also located in London. However, Jane Eyre was the first to
appear in print. While Anne and Emily's novels 'lingered in the press', Charlotte's
second novel was an immediate and resounding success. Meanwhile, Anne and
Emily were obliged to pay fifty pounds to help meet the publishing costs. Their
publisher, urged on by the success of Jane Eyre, finally published Emily's
Wuthering Heights and Anne's Agnes Grey in December 1847. These two sold
exceptionally well, but Agnes Grey was distinctly outshone by Emily's much more
dramatic Wuthering Heights.
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall
Anne's second novel, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, was published in the last week
of June 1848. It was an instant, phenomenal success; within six weeks it was
sold out.
The Tenant of Wildfell Hall is perhaps the most shocking of the Brontës' novels.
In seeking to present the truth in literature, Anne's depiction of alcoholism and
debauchery was profoundly disturbing to nineteenth-century readers. Helen
Graham, the tenant of the title, intrigues Gilbert Markham and gradually she
reveals her mysterious past as an artist and wife of the dissipated Arthur
Huntingdon. The book's brilliance lies in its revelation of the position of women at
the time, and its multi-layered plot.
It is easy today to underestimate the extent to which the novel challenged
existing social and legal structures. May Sinclair, in 1913, said that the slamming
of Helen Huntingdon's bedroom door against her husband reverberated
throughout Victorian England. Anne's heroine eventually leaves her husband to
protect their young son from his influence. She supports herself and her son by
painting, while living in hiding, fearful of discovery. In doing so, she violates not
only social conventions, but also English law. At the time, a married woman had
no independent legal existence, apart from her husband; could not own her own
property, sue for divorce, or control custody of her children. If she attempted to
live apart from him, her husband had the right to reclaim her. If she took their
child with her, she was liable for kidnapping. In living off her own earnings, she
was held to be stealing her husband's property, since any income she made was
legally his.
London Visit
In July 1848, in order to dispel the rumour that the three "Bell brothers" were all
the same person, Charlotte and Anne went to London to reveal their identities to
the publisher George Smith. The women spent several days in his company.
Many years after Anne's death, he wrote in the Cornhill Magazine his impressions
of her, describing her as: "...a gentle, quiet, rather subdued person, by no means
pretty, yet of a pleasing appearance. Her manner was curiously expressive of a
wish for protection and encouragement, a kind of constant appeal which invited
sympathy."
In the second edition of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, which appeared in August
1848, Anne clearly stated her intentions in writing it. She presented a forceful
rebuttal to critics who considered her portrayal of Huntingdon overly graphic and
disturbing. (Charlotte was among them.)
When we have to do with vice and vicious characters, I maintain it is better to
depict them as they really are than as they would wish to appear. To represent a
bad thing in its least offensive light, is doubtless the most agreeable course for a
writer of fiction to pursue; but is it the most honest, or the safest? Is it better to
reveal the snares and pitfalls of life to the young and thoughtless traveller, or to
cover them with branches and flowers? O Reader! if there were less of this
delicate concealment of facts–this whispering 'Peace, peace', when there is no
peace, there would be less of sin and misery to the young of both sexes who are
left to wring their bitter knowledge from experience."
Anne also sharply castigated reviewers who speculated on the sex of the authors,
and the appropriateness of their writing to their sex, in words that do little to
reinforce the stereotype of Anne as meek and gentle.
I am satisfied that if a book is a good one, it is so whatever the sex of the author
may be. All novels are or should be written for both men and women to read,
and I am at a loss to conceive how a man should permit himself to write anything
that would be really disgraceful to a woman, or why a woman should be censured
for writing anything that would be proper and becoming for a man."
The increasing popularity of the Bells' work led to renewed interest in the Poems
by Currer, Ellis, and Acton Bell, originally published by Aylott and Jones. The
remaining print run was purchased by Smith and Elder, and reissued under new
covers in November 1848. It still sold poorly.
Family Tragedies
Only in their late twenties, a highly successful literary career appeared a
certainty for Anne and her sisters. However, an impending tragedy was to engulf
the family. Within the next ten months, three of the siblings, including Anne,
would be dead.
Branwell's health had gradually deteriorated over the previous two years, but its
seriousness was half disguised by his persistent drunkenness. He died on the
morning of 24 September 1848. His sudden death came as a shock to the family.
He was aged just thirty-one. The cause was recorded as chronic bronchitis –
marasmus; though, through his recorded symptoms, it is now believed that he
was also suffering from tuberculosis.
The whole family had suffered from coughs and colds during the winter of 1848
and it was Emily who next became severely ill. She deteriorated rapidly over a
two month period, persistently refusing all medical aid until the morning of 19
December, when, being so weak, she declared: "if you will send for a doctor, I
will see him now". It was far too late. At about two o'clock that afternoon, after a
hard, short conflict in which she struggled desperately to hang on to life, she
died, aged just thirty.
Emily's death deeply affected Anne and her grief further undermined her physical
health. Over Christmas, Anne caught influenza. Her symptoms intensified, and in
early January, her father sent for a Leeds physician, who diagnosed her condition
as consumption, and intimated that it was quite advanced leaving little hope of a
recovery. Anne met the news with characteristic determination and self-control.
Unlike Emily, Anne took all the recommended medicines, and responded to all
10
the advice she was given. That same month Anne wrote her last poem, " A
dreadful darkness closes in", in which she deals with the realisation of being
terminally ill. Her health fluctuated as the months passed, but she progressively
grew thinner and weaker.
Death
In February 1849, Anne seemed somewhat better. By this time, she had decided
to make a return visit to Scarborough in the hope that the change of location and
fresh sea air might initiate a recovery, and give her a chance to live. On 24 May
1849, Anne said her goodbyes to her father and the servants at Haworth, and set
off for Scarborough with Charlotte and their friend Ellen Nussey. En route, the
three spent a day and a night in York, where, escorting Anne around in a
wheelchair, they did some shopping, and at Anne's request, visited York Minster.
However, it was clear that Anne had little strength left.
On Sunday, 27 May, Anne asked Charlotte whether it would be easier for her if
she return home to die instead of remaining at Scarborough. A doctor, consulted
the next day, indicated that death was already close. Anne received the news
quietly. She expressed her love and concern for Ellen and Charlotte, and seeing
Charlotte's distress, whispered to her to "take courage". Conscious and calm,
Anne died at about two o'clock in the afternoon, Monday, 28 May 1849.
Over the following few days, Charlotte made the decision to "lay the flower
where it had fallen". Anne was buried not in Haworth with the rest of her family,
but in Scarborough. The funeral was held on Wednesday, 30 May, which did not
allow time for Patrick Brontë to make the 70-mile (110 km) trip to Scarborough,
had he wished to do so. The former schoolmistress at Roe Head, Miss Wooler,
was also in Scarborough at this time, and she was the only other mourner at
Anne's funeral. She was buried in St. Mary's churchyard, beneath the castle
walls, and overlooking the bay. Charlotte commissioned a stone to be placed
over her grave, with the simple inscription "Here lie the remains of ~ Anne Brontë
,
daughter of the Revd. P. Brontë, Incumbent of Haworth, Yorkshire. She died,
Aged 28, 28 May 1849". Anne was actually twenty-nine at the time of her death.
Reputation
A year after Anne's death, further editions of her novels were required; however,
Charlotte prevented re-publication of Anne's second novel, The Tenant of Wildfell
Hall. In 1850, Charlotte wrote damningly "Wildfell Hall it hardly appears to me
desirable to preserve. The choice of subject in that work is a mistake, it was too
little consonant with the character, tastes and ideas of the gentle, retiring
11
inexperienced writer." This act was the predominant cause of Anne's relegation
to the back seat of the Brontë bandwagon. Anne's novel was daring for the
Victorian era with its depiction of scenes of mental and physical cruelty and
approach to divorce. The consequence was that Charlotte's novels, along with
Emily's Wuthering Heights, continued to be published, firmly launching these two
sisters into literary stardom, while Anne's work was consigned to oblivion.
Further, Anne was only twenty-eight when she wrote The Tenant of Wildfell Hall;
at a comparable age, Charlotte had produced only The Professor.
The general view has been that Anne is a mere shadow compared with Charlotte,
the family's most prolific writer, and Emily, the genius. This has occurred to a
large extent because Anne was very different, as a person and as a writer, from
Charlotte and Emily. The controlled, reflective camera eye of Agnes Grey is closer
to Jane Austen's Persuasion than to Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre. The
painstaking realism and social criticism of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall directly
counters the romanticised violence of Wuthering Heights. Anne's religious
concerns, reflected in her books and expressed directly in her poems, were not
concerns shared by her sisters. Anne's subtle prose has a fine ironic edge; her
novels also reveal Anne to be the most socially radical of the three. Now, with
increasing critical interest in female authors, her life is being reexamined, and
her work reevaluated. A re-appraisal of Anne's work has begun, gradually leading
to her acceptance, not as a minor Brontë, but as a major literary figure in her
own right.
12
A Fragment
'Maiden, thou wert thoughtless once
Of beauty or of grace,
Simple and homely in attire
Careless of form and face.
Then whence this change, and why so oft
Dost smooth thy hazel hair?
And wherefore deck thy youthful form
With such unwearied care?
'Tell us - and cease to tire our ears
With yonder hackneyed strain Why wilt thou play those simple tunes
So often o'er again?'
'Nay, gentle friends, I can but say
That childhood's thoughts are gone.
Each year its own new feelings brings
And years move swiftly on,
And for these little simple airs,
I love to play them o'er So much I dare not promise now
To play them never more.'
I answered and it was enough;
They turned them to depart;
They could not read my secret thoughts
Nor see my throbbing heart.
I've noticed many a youthful form
Upon whose changeful face
The inmost workings of the soul
The gazer's eye might trace.
The speaking eye, the changing lip,
The ready blushing cheek,
The smiling or beclouded brow
Their different feelings speak.
But, thank God! you might gaze on mine
For hours and never know
The secret changes of my soul
From joy to bitter woe.
13
Last night, as we sat round the fire
Conversing merrily,
We heard without approaching steps
Of one well known to me.
There was no trembling in my voice,
No blush upon my cheek,
No lustrous sparkle in my eyes,
Of hope or joy to speak;
But O my spirit burned within,
My heart beat thick and fast.
He came not nigh - he went away
And then my joy was past.
And yet my comrades marked it not,
My voice was still the same;
They saw me smile, and o'er my face No signs of sadness came;
They little knew my hidden thoughts
And they will never know
The anguish of my drooping heart,
The bitter aching woe!
Olivia Vernon.
~ Anne Brontë,#NFDB
1283:A TRAGEDY IN TWO ACTS
Translated from the Original Doric
'Choose Reform or Civil War,
When through thy streets, instead of hare with dogs,
A Consort-Queen shall hunt a King with hogs,
Riding on the IONIAN MINOTAUR.'
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
Tyrant Swellfoot, King of Thebes.
Iona Taurina, his Queen.
Mammon, Arch-Priest of Famine.
Purganax Wizard, Minister of Swellfoot.
Dakry Wizard, Minister of Swellfoot.
Laoctonos Wizard, Minister of Swellfoot.
The Gadfly.
The Leech.
The Rat.
Moses, the Sow-gelder.
Solomon, the Porkman.
Zephaniah, Pig-butcher.
The Minotaur.
Chorus of the Swinish Multitude.
Guards, Attendants, Priests, etc., etc.
SCENE.--THEBES
ACT I.
Scene I.-- A magnificent Temple, built of thigh-bones and death's-heads, and tiled with scalps. Over the Altar the statue of Famine, veiled; a number of Boars, Sows, and Sucking-Pigs, crowned with thistle, shamrock, and oak, sitting on the steps, and clinging round the Altar of the Temple.
Enter Swellfoot, in his Royal robes, without perceiving the Pigs.
Swellfoot.
Thou supreme Goddess! by whose power divine
These graceful limbs are clothed in proud array [He contemplates himself with satisfaction.
Of gold and purple, and this kingly paunch
Swells like a sail before a favouring breeze,
And these most sacred nether promontories
Lie satisfied with layers of fat; and these
Boeotian cheeks, like Egypt's pyramid,
(Nor with less toil were their foundations laid)[1],
Sustain the cone of my untroubled brain,
That point, the emblem of a pointless nothing!
Thou to whom Kings and laurelled Emperors,
Radical-butchers, Paper-money-millers,
Bishops and Deacons, and the entire army
Of those fat martyrs to the persecution
Of stifling turtle-soup, and brandy-devils,
Offer their secret vows! Thou plenteous Ceres
Of their Eleusis, hail!
The Swine.
Eigh! eigh! eigh! eigh!
Swellfoot.
Ha! what are ye,
Who, crowned with leaves devoted to the Furies,
Cling round this sacred shrine?
Swine.
Aigh! aigh! aigh!
Swellfoot.
What! ye that are
The very beasts that, offered at her altar
With blood and groans, salt-cake, and fat, and inwards,
Ever propitiate her reluctant will
When taxes are withheld?
Swine.
Ugh! ugh! ugh!
Swellfoot.
What! ye who grub
With filthy snouts my red potatoes up
In Allan's rushy bog? Who eat the oats
Up, from my cavalry in the Hebrides?
Who swill the hog-wash soup my cooks digest
From bones, and rags, and scraps of shoe-leather,
Which should be given to cleaner Pigs than you?
The Swine.Semichorus I.
The same, alas! the same;
Though only now the name
Of Pig remains to me.
Semichorus II.
If 'twere your kingly will
Us wretched Swine to kill,
What should we yield to thee?
Swellfoot.
Why, skin and bones, and some few hairs for mortar.
Chorus of Swine.
I have heard your Laureate sing,
That pity was a royal thing;
Under your mighty ancestors, we Pigs
Were bless'd as nightingales on myrtle sprigs,
Or grasshoppers that live on noonday dew,
And sung, old annals tell, as sweetly too;
But now our sties are fallen in, we catch
The murrain and the mange, the scab and itch;
Sometimes your royal dogs tear down our thatch,
And then we seek the shelter of a ditch;
Hog-wash or grains, or ruta-baga, none
Has yet been ours since your reign begun.
First Sow.
My Pigs, 'tis in vain to tug.
Second Sow.
I could almost eat my litter.
First Pig.
I suck, but no milk will come from the dug.
Second Pig.
Our skin and our bones would be bitter.
The Boars.
We fight for this rag of greasy rug,
Though a trough of wash would be fitter.
Semichorus.
Happier Swine were they than we,
Drowned in the Gadarean sea
I wish that pity would drive out the devils,
Which in your royal bosom hold their revels,
And sink us in the waves of thy compassion!
Alas! the Pigs are an unhappy nation!
Now if your Majesty would have our bristles
To bind your mortar with, or fill our colons
With rich blood, or make brawn out of our gristles,
In policyask else your royal Solons
You ought to give us hog-wash and clean straw,
And sties well thatched; besides it is the law!
Swellfoot.
This is sedition, and rank blasphemy!
Ho! there, my guards!
Enter a Guard.
Guard.
Your sacred Majesty.
Swellfoot.
Call in the Jews, Solomon the court porkman,
Moses the sow-gelder, and Zephaniah
The hog-butcher.
Guard.
They are in waiting, Sire.
Enter Solomon, Moses, and Zephaniah.
Swellfoot.
Out with your knife, old Moses, and spay those Sows [The Pigs run about in consternation.
That load the earth with Pigs; cut close and deep.
Moral restraint I see has no effect,
Nor prostitution, nor our own example,
Starvation, typhus-fever, war, nor prison
This was the art which the arch-priest of Famine
Hinted at in his charge to the Theban clergy
Cut close and deep, good Moses.
Moses.
Let your Majesty
Keep the Boars quiet, else
Swellfoot.
Zephaniah, cut
That fat Hog's throat, the brute seems overfed;
Seditious hunks! to whine for want of grains.
Zephaniah.
Your sacred Majesty, he has the dropsy;
We shall find pints of hydatids in's liver,
He has not half an inch of wholesome fat
Upon his carious ribs
Swellfoot.
'Tis all the same,
He'll serve instead of riot money, when
Our murmuring troops bivouac in Thebes' streets;
And January winds, after a day
Of butchering, will make them relish carrion.
Now, Solomon, I'll sell you in a lump
The whole kit of them.
Solomon.
Why, your Majesty,
I could not give
Swellfoot.
Kill them out of the way,
That shall be price enough, and let me hear
Their everlasting grunts and whines no more!
[Exeunt, driving in the Swine.
Enter Mammon, the Arch-Priest; and Purganax, Chief of the Council of Wizards.
Purganax.
The future looks as black as death, a cloud,
Dark as the frown of Hell, hangs over it
The troops grow mutinousthe revenue fails
There's something rotten in usfor the level
Of the State slopes, its very bases topple,
The boldest turn their backs upon themselves!
Mammon.
Why what's the matter, my dear fellow, now?
Do the troops mutiny?decimate some regiments;
Does money fail?come to my mintcoin paper,
Till gold be at a discount, and ashamed
To show his bilious face, go purge himself,
In emulation of her vestal whiteness.
Purganax.
Oh, would that this were all! The oracle!!
Mammon.
Why it was I who spoke that oracle,
And whether I was dead drunk or inspired,
I cannot well remember; nor, in truth,
The oracle itself!
Purganax.
The words went thus:
'Boeotia, choose reform or civil war!
When through the streets, instead of hare with dogs,
A Consort Queen shall hunt a King with Hogs,
Riding on the Ionian Minotaur.'
Mammon.
Now if the oracle had ne'er foretold
This sad alternative, it must arrive,
Or not, and so it must now that it has;
And whether I was urged by grace divine
Or Lesbian liquor to declare these words,
Which must, as all words must, be false or true,
It matters not: for the same Power made all,
Oracle, wine, and me and youor none
'Tis the same thing. If you knew as much
Of oracles as I do
Purganax.
You arch-priests
Believe in nothing; if you were to dream
Of a particular number in the Lottery,
You would not buy the ticket?
Mammon.
Yet our tickets
Are seldom blanks. But what steps have you taken?
For prophecies, when once they get abroad,
Like liars who tell the truth to serve their ends,
Or hypocrites who, from assuming virtue,
Do the same actions that the virtuous do,
Contrive their own fulfilment. This Iona
Wellyou know what the chaste Pasiphae did,
Wife to that most religious King of Crete,
And still how popular the tale is here;
And these dull Swine of Thebes boast their descent
From the free Minotaur. You know they still
Call themselves Bulls, though thus degenerate,
And everything relating to a Bull
Is popular and respectable in Thebes.
Their arms are seven Bulls in a field gules;
They think their strength consists in eating beef,
Now there were danger in the precedent
If Queen Iona
Purganax.
I have taken good care
That shall not be. I struck the crust o' the earth
With this enchanted rod, and Hell lay bare!
And from a cavern full of ugly shapes
I chose a Leech, a Gadfly, and a Rat.
The Gadfly was the same which Juno sent
To agitate Io[2], and which Ezekiel[3] mentions
That the Lord whistled for out of the mountains
Of utmost Aethiopia, to torment
Mesopotamian Babylon. The beast
Has a loud trumpet like the scarabee,
His crookd tail is barbed with many stings,
Each able to make a thousand wounds, and each
Immedicable; from his convex eyes
He sees fair things in many hideous shapes,
And trumpets all his falsehood to the world.
Like other beetles he is fed on dung
He has eleven feet with which he crawls,
Trailing a blistering slime, and this foul beast
Has tracked Iona from the Theban limits,
From isle to isle, from city unto city,
Urging her flight from the far Chersonese
To fabulous Solyma, and the Aetnean Isle,
Ortygia, Melite, and Calypso's Rock,
And the swart tribes of Garamant and Fez,
Aeolia and Elysium, and thy shores,
Parthenope, which now, alas! are free!
And through the fortunate Saturnian land,
Into the darkness of the West.
Mammon.
But if
This Gadfly should drive Iona hither?
Purganax.
Gods! what an if! but there is my gray Rat:
So thin with want, he can crawl in and out
Of any narrow chink and filthy hole,
And he shall creep into her dressing-room,
And
Mammon.
My dear friend, where are your wits? as if
She does not always toast a piece of cheese
And bait the trap? and rats, when lean enough
To crawl through such chinks
Purganax.
But my Leecha leech
Fit to suck blood, with lubricous round rings,
Capaciously expatiative, which make
His little body like a red balloon,
As full of blood as that of hydrogen,
Sucked from men's hearts; insatiably he sucks
And clings and pullsa horse-leech, whose deep maw
The plethoric King Swellfoot could not fill,
And who, till full, will cling for ever.
Mammon.
This
For Queen Iona would suffice, and less;
But 'tis the Swinish multitude I fear,
And in that fear I have
Purganax.
Done what?
Mammon.
Disinherited
My eldest son Chrysaor, because he
Attended public meetings, and would always
Stand prating there of commerce, public faith,
Economy, and unadulterate coin,
And other topics, ultra-radical;
And have entailed my estate, called the Fool's Paradise,
And funds in fairy-money, bonds, and bills,
Upon my accomplished daughter Banknotina,
And married her to the gallows[4].
Purganax.
A good match!
Mammon.
A high connexion, Purganax. The bridegroom
Is of a very ancient family,
Of Hounslow Heath, Tyburn, and the New Drop,
And has great influence in both Houses;oh!
He makes the fondest husband; nay, too fond,
New-married people should not kiss in public;
But the poor souls love one another so!
And then my little grandchildren, the gibbets,
Promising children as you ever saw,
The young playing at hanging, the elder learning
How to hold radicals. They are well taught too,
For every gibbet says its catechism
And reads a select chapter in the Bible
Before it goes to play.
[A most tremendous humming is heard.
Purganax.
Ha! what do I hear?
Enter the Gadfly.
Mammon.
Your Gadfly, as it seems, is tired of gadding.
Gadfly.
Hum! hum! hum!
From the lakes of the Alps, and the cold gray scalps
Of the mountains, I come!
Hum! hum! hum!
From Morocco and Fez, and the high palaces
Of golden Byzantium;
From the temples divine of old Palestine,
From Athens and Rome,
With a ha! and a hum!
I come! I come!
All inn-doors and windows
Were open to me:
I saw all that sin does,
Which lamps hardly see
That burn in the night by the curtained bed,
The impudent lamps! for they blushed not red,
Dinging and singing,
From slumber I rung her,
Loud as the clank of an ironmonger;
Hum! hum! hum!
Far, far, far!
With the trump of my lips, and the sting at my hips,
I drove herafar!
Far, far, far!
From city to city, abandoned of pity,
A ship without needle or star;
Homeless she passed, like a cloud on the blast,
Seeking peace, finding war;
She is here in her car,
From afar, and afar;
Hum! hum!
I have stung her and wrung her,
The venom is working;
And if you had hung her
With canting and quirking,
She could not be deader than she will be soon;
I have driven her close to you, under the moon,
Night and day, hum! hum! ha!
I have hummed her and drummed her
From place to place, till at last I have dumbed her,
Hum! hum! hum!
Enter the Leech and the Rat.
Leech.
I will suck
Blood or muck!
The disease of the state is a plethory,
Who so fit to reduce it as I?
Rat.
I'll slily seize and
Let blood from her weasand,
Creeping through crevice, and chink, and cranny,
With my snaky tail, and my sides so scranny.
Purganax.
Aroint ye! thou unprofitable worm! [To the Leech.
And thou, dull beetle, get thee back to hell! [To the Gadfly.
To sting the ghosts of Babylonian kings,
And the ox-headed Io
Swine
(within).
Ugh, ugh, ugh!
Hail! Iona the divine,
We will be no longer Swine,
But Bulls with horns and dewlaps.
Rat.
For,
You know, my lord, the Minotaur
Purganax
(fiercely).
Be silent! get to hell! or I will call
The cat out of the kitchen. Well, Lord Mammon,
This is a pretty business.
[Exit the Rat.
Mammon.
I will go
And spell some scheme to make it ugly then.
[Exit.
Enter Swellfoot.
Swellfoot.
She is returned! Taurina is in Thebes,
When Swellfoot wishes that she were in hell!
Oh, Hymen, clothed in yellow jealousy,
And waving o'er the couch of wedded kings
The torch of Discord with its fiery hair;
This is thy work, thou patron saint of queens!
Swellfoot is wived! though parted by the sea,
The very name of wife had conjugal rights;
Her cursd image ate, drank, slept with me,
And in the arms of Adiposa oft
Her memory has received a husband's
[A loud tumult, and cries of 'Iona for ever!No Swellfoot!'!
Hark!
How the Swine cry Iona Taurina;
I suffer the real presence; Purganax,
Off with her head!
Purganax.
But I must first impanel
A jury of the Pigs.
Swellfoot.
Pack them then.
Purganax.
Or fattening some few in two separate sties,
And giving them clean straw, tying some bits
Of ribbon round their legsgiving their Sows
Some tawdry lace, and bits of lustre glass,
And their young Boars white and red rags, and tails
Of cows, and jay feathers, and sticking cauliflowers
Between the ears of the old ones; and when
They are persuaded, that by the inherent virtue
Of these things, they are all imperial Pigs,
Good Lord! they'd rip each other's bellies up,
Not to say, help us in destroying her.
Swellfoot.
This plan might be tried too;where's General
Laoctonos?
Enter Laoctonos and Dakry.
It is my royal pleasure
That you, Lord General, bring the head and body,
If separate it would please me better, hither
Of Queen Iona.
Laoctonos.
That pleasure I well knew,
And made a charge with those battalions bold,
Called, from their dress and grin, the royal apes,
Upon the Swine, who in a hollow square
Enclosed her, and received the first attack
Like so many rhinoceroses, and then
Retreating in good order, with bare tusks
And wrinkled snouts presented to the foe,
Bore her in triumph to the public sty.
What is still worse, some Sows upon the ground
Have given the ape-guards apples, nuts, and gin,
And they all whisk their tails aloft, and cry,
'Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot!'
Purganax.
Hark!
The Swine
(without).
Long live Iona! down with Swellfoot!
Dakry.
I
Went to the garret of the swineherd's tower,
Which overlooks the sty, and made a long
Harangue (all words) to the assembled Swine,
Of delicacy, mercy, judgement, law,
Morals, and precedents, and purity,
Adultery, destitution, and divorce,
Piety, faith, and state necessity,
And how I loved the Queen!and then I wept
With the pathos of my own eloquence,
And every tear turned to a mill-stone, which
Brained many a gaping Pig, and there was made
A slough of blood and brains upon the place,
Greased with the pounded bacon; round and round
The mill-stones rolled, ploughing the pavement up,
And hurling Sucking-Pigs into the air,
With dust and stones.
Enter Mammon.
Mammon.
I wonder that gray wizards
Like you should be so beardless in their schemes;
It had been but a point of policy
To keep Iona and the Swine apart.
Divide and rule! but ye have made a junction
Between two parties who will govern you
But for my art.Behold this BAG! it is
The poison BAG of that Green Spider huge,
On which our spies skulked in ovation through
The streets of Thebes, when they were paved with dead:
A bane so much the deadlier fills it now
As calumny is worse than death,for here
The Gadfly's venom, fifty times distilled,
Is mingled with the vomit of the Leech,
In due proportion, and black ratsbane, which
That very Rat, who, like the Pontic tyrant,
Nurtures himself on poison, dare not touch;
All is sealed up with the broad seal of Fraud,
Who is the Devil's Lord High Chancellor,
And over it the Primate of all Hell
Murmured this pious baptism:'Be thou called
The GREEN BAG; and this power and grace be thine:
That thy contents, on whomsoever poured,
Turn innocence to guilt, and gentlest looks
To savage, foul, and fierce deformity.
Let all baptized by thy infernal dew
Be called adulterer, drunkard, liar, wretch!
No name left out which orthodoxy loves,
Court Journal or legitimate Review!
Be they called tyrant, beast, fool, glutton, lover
Of other wives and husbands than their own
The heaviest sin on this side of the Alps!
Wither they to a ghastly caricature
Of what was human!let not man or beast
Behold their face with unaverted eyes!
Or hear their names with ears that tingle not
With blood of indignation, rage, and shame!'
This is a perilous liquor;good my Lords. [Swellfoot approaches to touch the GREEN BAG.
Beware! for God's sake, beware!if you should break
The seal, and touch the fatal liquor
Purganax.
There,
Give it to me. I have been used to handle
All sorts of poisons. His dread Majesty
Only desires to see the colour of it.
Mammon.
Now, with a little common sense, my Lords,
Only undoing all that has been done
(Yet so as it may seem we but confirm it),
Our victory is assured. We must entice
Her Majesty from the sty, and make the Pigs
Believe that the contents of the GREEN BAG
Are the true test of guilt or innocence.
And that, if she be guilty, 'twill transform her
To manifest deformity like guilt.
If innocent, she will become transfigured
Into an angel, such as they say she is;
And they will see her flying through the air,
So bright that she will dim the noonday sun;
Showering down blessings in the shape of comfits.
This, trust a priest, is just the sort of thing
Swine will believe. I'll wager you will see them
Climbing upon the thatch of their low sties,
With pieces of smoked glass, to watch her sail
Among the clouds, and some will hold the flaps
Of one another's ears between their teeth,
To catch the coming hail of comfits in.
You, Purganax, who have the gift o' the gab,
Make them a solemn speech to this effect:
I go to put in readiness the feast
Kept to the honour of our goddess Famine,
Where, for more glory, let the ceremony
Take place of the uglification of the Queen.
Dakry
(to Swellfoot).
I, as the keeper of your sacred conscience,
Humbly remind your Majesty that the care
Of your high office, as Man-milliner
To red Bellona, should not be deferred.
Purganax.
All part, in happier plight to meet again.
[Exeunt.
END OF THE FIRST ACT.
ACT II
Scene I.
The Public Sty. The Boars in full Assembly.
Enter Purganax.
Purganax.
Grant me your patience, Gentlemen and Boars,
Ye, by whose patience under public burthens
The glorious constitution of these sties
Subsists, and shall subsist. The Lean-Pig rates
Grow with the growing populace of Swine,
The taxes, that true source of Piggishness
(How can I find a more appropriate term
To include religion, morals, peace, and plenty,
And all that fit Boeotia as a nation
To teach the other nations how to live?),
Increase with Piggishness itself; and still
Does the revenue, that great spring of all
The patronage, and pensions, and by-payments,
Which free-born Pigs regard with jealous eyes,
Diminish, till at length, by glorious steps,
All the land's produce will be merged in taxes,
And the revenue will amount tonothing!
The failure of a foreign market for
Sausages, bristles, and blood-puddings,
And such home manufactures, is but partial;
And, that the population of the Pigs,
Instead of hog-wash, has been fed on straw
And water, is a fact which isyou know
That isit is a state-necessity
Temporary, of course. Those impious Pigs,
Who, by frequent squeaks, have dared impugn
The settled Swellfoot system, or to make
Irreverent mockery of the genuflexions
Inculcated by the arch-priest, have been whipped
Into a loyal and an orthodox whine.
Things being in this happy state, the Queen
Iona
[A loud cry from the Pigs.
She is innocent! most innocent!
Purganax.
That is the very thing that I was saying,
Gentlemen Swine; the Queen Iona being
Most innocent, no doubt, returns to Thebes,
And the lean Sows and Boars collect about her,
Wishing to make her think that we believe
(I mean those more substantial Pigs, who swill
Rich hog-wash, while the others mouth damp straw)
That she is guilty; thus, the Lean-Pig faction
Seeks to obtain that hog-wash, which has been
Your immemorial right, and which I will
Maintain you in to the last drop of
A Boar
(interrupting him).
What
Does any one accuse her of?
Purganax.
Why, no one
Makes any positive accusation;but
There were hints dropped, and so the privy wizards
Conceived that it became them to advise
His Majesty to investigate their truth;
Not for his own sake; he could be content
To let his wife play any pranks she pleased,
If, by that sufferance, he could please the Pigs;
But then he fears the morals of the Swine,
The Sows especially, and what effect
It might produce upon the purity and
Religion of the rising generation
Of Sucking-Pigs, if it could be suspected
That Queen Iona
[A pause.
First Boar.
Well, go on; we long
To hear what she can possibly have done.
Purganax.
Why, it is hinted, that a certain Bull
Thus much is known:the milk-white Bulls that feed
Beside Clitumnus and the crystal lakes
Of the Cisalpine mountains, in fresh dews
Of lotus-grass and blossoming asphodel
Sleeking their silken hair, and with sweet breath
Loading the morning winds until they faint
With living fragrance, are so beautiful!
Well, I say nothing;but Europa rode
On such a one from Asia into Crete,
And the enamoured sea grew calm beneath
His gliding beauty. And Pasiphae,
Iona's grandmother,but she is innocent!
And that both you and I, and all assert.
First Boar.
Most innocent!
Purganax.
Behold this BAG; a bag
Second Boar.
Oh! no GREEN BAGS!! Jealousy's eyes are green,
Scorpions are green, and water-snakes, and efts,
And verdigris, and
Purganax.
Honourable Swine,
In Piggish souls can prepossessions reign?
Allow me to remind you, grass is green
All flesh is grass;no bacon but is flesh
Ye are but bacon. This divining BAG
(Which is not green, but only bacon colour)
Is filled with liquor, which if sprinkled o'er
A woman guilty ofwe all know what
Makes her so hideous, till she finds one blind
She never can commit the like again.
If innocent, she will turn into an angel,
And rain down blessings in the shape of comfits
As she flies up to heaven. Now, my proposal
Is to convert her sacred Majesty
Into an angel (as I am sure we shall do),
By pouring on her head this mystic water.[Showing the Bag.
I know that she is innocent; I wish
Only to prove her so to all the world.
First Boar.
Excellent, just, and noble Purganax.
Second Boar.
How glorious it will be to see her Majesty
Flying above our heads, her petticoats
Streaming likelikelike
Third Boar.
Anything.
Purganax.
Oh no!
But like a standard of an admiral's ship,
Or like the banner of a conquering host,
Or like a cloud dyed in the dying day,
Unravelled on the blast from a white mountain;
Or like a meteor, or a war-steed's mane,
Or waterfall from a dizzy precipice
Scattered upon the wind.
First Boar.
Or a cow's tail.
Second Boar.
Or anything, as the learned Boar observed.
Purganax.
Gentlemen Boars, I move a resolution,
That her most sacred Majesty should be
Invited to attend the feast of Famine,
And to receive upon her chaste white body
Dews of Apotheosis from this BAG.
[A great confusion is heard of the Pigs out of Doors, which communicates itself to those within. During the first Strophe, the doors of the Sty are staved in, and a number of exceedingly leanPigs and Sows and Boars rush in.
Semichorus I.
No! Yes!
Semichorus II.
Yes! No!
Semichorus I.
A law!
Semichorus II.
A flaw!
Semichorus I.
Porkers, we shall lose our wash,
Or must share it with the Lean-Pigs!
First Boar.
Order! order! be not rash!
Was there ever such a scene, Pigs!
An old Sow
(rushing in).
I never saw so fine a dash
Since I first began to wean Pigs.
Second Boar
(solemnly).
The Queen will be an angel time enough.
I vote, in form of an amendment, that
Purganax rub a little of that stuff
Upon his face.
Purganax
(his heart is seen to beat through his waistcoat).
Gods! What would ye be at?
Semichorus I.
Purganax has plainly shown a
Cloven foot and jackdaw feather.
Semichorus II.
I vote Swellfoot and Iona
Try the magic test together;
Whenever royal spouses bicker,
Both should try the magic liquor.
An old Boar
(aside).
A miserable state is that of Pigs,
For if their drivers would tear caps and wigs,
The Swine must bite each other's ear therefore.
An old Sow
(aside).
A wretched lot Jove has assigned to Swine,
Squabbling makes Pig-herds hungry, and they dine
On bacon, and whip Sucking-Pigs the more.
Chorus.
Hog-wash has been ta'en away:
If the Bull-Queen is divested,
We shall be in every way
Hunted, stripped, exposed, molested;
Let us do whate'er we may,
That she shall not be arrested.
Queen, we entrench you with walls of brawn,
And palisades of tusks, sharp as a bayonet:
Place your most sacred person here. We pawn
Our lives that none a finger dare to lay on it.
Those who wrong you, wrong us;
Those who hate you, hate us;
Those who sting you, sting us;
Those who bait you, bait us;
The oracle is now about to be
Fulfilled by circumvolving destiny;
Which says: 'Thebes, choose reform or civil war,
When through your streets, instead of hare with dogs,
A Consort Queen shall hunt a King with Hogs,
Riding upon the IONIAN MINOTAUR.'
Enter Iona Taurina.
Iona Taurina
(coming forward).
Gentlemen Swine, and gentle Lady-Pigs,
The tender heart of every Boar acquits
Their Queen, of any act incongruous
With native Piggishness, and she, reposing
With confidence upon the grunting nation,
Has thrown herself, her cause, her life, her all,
Her innocence, into their Hoggish arms;
Nor has the expectation been deceived
Of finding shelter there. Yet know, great Boars,
(For such whoever lives among you finds you,
And so do I), the innocent are proud!
I have accepted your protection only
In compliment of your kind love and care,
Not for necessity. The innocent
Are safest there where trials and dangers wait;
Innocent Queens o'er white-hot ploughshares tread
Unsinged, and ladies, Erin's laureate sings it[5],
Decked with rare gems, and beauty rarer still,
Walked from Killarney to the Giant's Causeway,
Through rebels, smugglers, troops of yeomanry,
White-boys and Orange-boys, and constables,
Tithe-proctors, and excise people, uninjured!
Thus I!
Lord Purganax, I do commit myself
Into your custody, and am prepared
To stand the test, whatever it may be!
Purganax.
This magnanimity in your sacred Majesty
Must please the Pigs. You cannot fail of being
A heavenly angel. Smoke your bits of glass,
Ye loyal Swine, or her transfiguration
Will blind your wondering eyes.
An old Boar
(aside).
Take care, my Lord,
They do not smoke you first.
Purganax.
At the approaching feast
Of Famine, let the expiation be.
Swine.
Content! content!
Iona Taurina
(aside).
I, most content of all,
Know that my foes even thus prepare their fall!
[Exeunt omnes.
Scene II.
The interior of the Temple of Famine. The statue of the Goddess, a skeleton clothed in parti-coloured rags, seated upon a heap of skulls and loaves intermingled. A number of exceedingly fat Priests in black garments arrayed on each side, with marrow-bones and cleavers in their hands. [Solomon, the Court Porkman.] A flourish of trumpets.
Enter Mammon as arch-priest, Swellfoot, Dakry, Purganax, Laoctonos, followed by Iona Taurina guarded. On the other side enter the Swine.
Chorus of Priests, accompanied by the Court Porkman on marrow-bones and cleavers.
Goddess bare, and gaunt, and pale,
Empress of the world, all hail!
What though Cretans old called thee
City-crested Cybele?
We call thee Famine!
Goddess of fasts and feasts, starving and cramming!
Through thee, for emperors, kings, and priests and lords,
Who rule by viziers, sceptres, bank-notes, words,
The earth pours forth its plenteous fruits,
Corn, wool, linen, flesh, and roots
Those who consume these fruits through thee grow fat,
Those who produce these fruits through thee grow lean,
Whatever change takes place, oh, stick to that!
And let things be as they have ever been;
At least while we remain thy priests,
And proclaim thy fasts and feasts.
Through thee the sacred Swellfoot dynasty
Is based upon a rock amid that sea
Whose waves are Swineso let it ever be!
[Swellfoot, etc., seat themselves at a table magnificently covered at the upper end of the Temple. Attendants pass over the stage with hog-wash in pails. A number of Pigs, exceedingly lean, follow them licking up the wash.
Mammon.
I fear your sacred Majesty has lost
The appetite which you were used to have.
Allow me now to recommend this dish
A simple kickshaw by your Persian cook,
Such as is served at the great King's second table.
The price and pains which its ingredients cost
Might have maintained some dozen families
A winter or twonot moreso plain a dish
Could scarcely disagree.
Swellfoot.
After the trial,
And these fastidious Pigs are gone, perhaps
I may recover my lost appetite,
I feel the gout flying about my stomach
Give me a glass of Maraschino punch.
Purganax
(filling his glass, and standing up).
The glorious Constitution of the Pigs!
All.
A toast! a toast! stand up, and three times three!
Dakry.
No heel-tapsdarken daylights!
Laoctonos.
Claret, somehow,
Puts me in mind of blood, and blood of claret!
Swellfoot.
Laoctonos is fishing for a compliment,
But 'tis his due. Yes, you have drunk more wine,
And shed more blood, than any man in Thebes. [To Purganax.
For God's sake stop the grunting of those Pigs!
Purganax.
We dare not, Sire, 'tis Famine's privilege.
Chorus of Swine.
Hail to thee, hail to thee, Famine!
Thy throne is on blood, and thy robe is of rags;
Thou devil which livest on damning;
Saint of new churches, and cant, and GREEN BAGS,
Till in pity and terror thou risest,
Confounding the schemes of the wisest;
When thou liftest thy skeleton form,
When the loaves and the skulls roll about,
We will greet theethe voice of a storm
Would be lost in our terrible shout!
Then hail to thee, hail to thee, Famine!
Hail to thee, Empress of Earth!
When thou risest, dividing possessions;
When thou risest, uprooting oppressions,
In the pride of thy ghastly mirth;
Over palaces, temples, and graves,
We will rush as thy minister-slaves,
Trampling behind in thy train,
Till all be made level again!
Mammon.
I hear a crackling of the giant bones
Of the dread image, and in the black pits
Which once were eyes, I see two livid flames.
These prodigies are oracular, and show
The presence of the unseen Deity.
Mighty events are hastening to their doom!
Swellfoot.
I only hear the lean and mutinous Swine
Grunting about the temple.
Dakry.
In a crisis
Of such exceeding delicacy, I think
We ought to put her Majesty, the Queen,
Upon her trial without delay.
Mammon.
THE BAG
Is here.
Purganax.
I have rehearsed the entire scene
With an ox-bladder and some ditchwater,
On Lady P-; it cannot fail. (Taking up the Bag.)
Your Majesty [To Swellfoot.
In such a filthy business had better
Stand on one side, lest it should sprinkle you.
A spot or two on me would do no harm,
Nay, it might hide the blood, which the sad Genius
Of the Green Isle has fixed, as by a spell,
Upon my browwhich would stain all its seas,
But which those seas could never wash away!
Iona Taurina.
My Lord, I am readynay, I am impatient
To undergo the test.
[A graceful figure in a semi-transparent veil passes unnoticed through the Temple; the word LIBERTY is seen through the veil, as if it were written in fire upon its forehead. Its words are almost drowned in the furious grunting of the Pigs, and the business of the trial. She kneels on the steps of the Altar, and speaks in tones at first faint and low, but which ever become louder and louder.
Mighty Empress! Death's white wife!
Ghastly mother-in-law of Life!
By the God who made thee such,
By the magic of thy touch,
By the starving and the cramming
Of fasts and feasts! by thy dread self, O Famine!
I charge thee! when thou wake the multitude,
Thou lead them not upon the paths of blood.
The earth did never mean her foison
For those who crown life's cup with poison
Of fanatic rage and meaningless revenge
But for those radiant spirits, who are still
The standard-bearers in the van of Change.
Be they th'appointed stewards, to fill
The lap of Pain, and Toil, and Age!
Remit, O Queen! thy accustomed rage!
Be what thou art not! In voice faint and low
Freedom calls Famine,her eternal foe,
To brief alliance, hollow truce.Rise now!
[Whilst the Veiled Figure has been chanting this strophe, Mammon, Dakry, Laoctonos, and Swellfoot, have surrounded Iona Taurina, who, with her hands folded on her breast, and her eyes lifted to Heaven, stands, as with saint-like resignation, to wait the issue of the business, in perfect confidence of her innocence.
[Purganax, after unsealing the Green Bag, is gravely about to pour the liquor upon her head, when suddenly the whole expression of her figure and countenance changes; she snatches it from his hand with a loud laugh of triumph, and empties it over Swellfoot and his whole Court, who are instantly changed into a number of filthy and ugly animals, and rush out of the Temple. The image of Famine then arises with a tremendous sound, the Pigs begin scrambling for the loaves, and are tripped up by the skulls; all those who eat the loaves are turned into Bulls, and arrange themselves quietly behind the altar. The image of Famine sinks through a chasm in the earth, and a Minotaur rises.
Minotaur.
I am the Ionian Minotaur, the mightiest
Of all Europa's taurine progeny
I am the old traditional Man-Bull;
And from my ancestors having been Ionian,
I am called Ion, which, by interpretation,
Is John; in plain Theban, that is to say,
My name's John Bull; I am a famous hunter,
And can leap any gate in all Boeotia,
Even the palings of the royal park,
Or double ditch about the new enclosures;
And if your Majesty will deign to mount me,
At least till you have hunted down your game,
I will not throw you.
Iona Taurina.
(During this speech she has been putting on boots and spurs, and a hunting-cap, buckishly cocked on one side, and tucking up her hair, she leaps nimbly on his back.)
Hoa! hoa! tallyho! tallyho! ho! ho!
Come, let us hunt these ugly badgers down,
These stinking foxes, these devouring otters,
These hares, these wolves, these anything but men.
Hey, for a whipper-in! my loyal Pigs,
Now let your noses be as keen as beagles',
Your steps as swift as greyhounds', and your cries
More dulcet and symphonious than the bells
Of village-towers, on sunshine holiday;
Wake all the dewy woods with jangling music.
Give them no law (are they not beasts of blood?)
But such as they gave you. Tallyho! ho!
Through forest, furze, and bog, and den, and desert,
Pursue the ugly beasts! tallyho! ho!
Full Chorus of Iona and the Swine.
Tallyho! tallyho!
Through rain, hail, and snow,
Through brake, gorse, and briar,
Through fen, flood, and mire,
We go! we go!
Tallyho! tallyho!
Through pond, ditch, and slough,
Wind them, and find them,
Like the Devil behind them,
Tallyho! tallyho!
[Exeunt, in full cry; Iona driving on the Swine, with the empty Green Bag.
THE END
'Begun at the Baths of San Giuliano, near Pisa, August 24, 1819; published anonymously by J. Johnston, Cheapside (imprint C. F. Seyfang,) 1820. On a threat of prosecution the publisher surrendered the whole impression, seven copies -- the total number sold -- excepted. Oedipus does not appear in the first edition of the Poetical Works, 1839, but it was included by Mrs. Shelley in the second edition of that year.' ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, Oedipus Tyrannus or Swellfoot The Tyrant
,#NFDB
1284:Beowulf
LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he lay
friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till before him the folk, both far and near,
who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
gave him gifts: a good king he!
To him an heir was afterward born,
a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
to favor the folk, feeling their woe
that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,
son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
So becomes it a youth to quit him well
with his father's friends, by fee and gift,
that to aid him, aged, in after days,
come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,
liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds
shall an earl have honor in every clan.
Forth he fared at the fated moment,
sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.
Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,
loving clansmen, as late he charged them,
while wielded words the winsome Scyld,
the leader beloved who long had ruled….
In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:
there laid they down their darling lord
on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,
by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
fetched from far was freighted with him.
No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle,
47
with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
a heaped hoard that hence should go
far o'er the flood with him floating away.
No less these loaded the lordly gifts,
thanes' huge treasure, than those had done
who in former time forth had sent him
sole on the seas, a suckling child.
High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
mournful their mood. No man is able
to say in sooth, no son of the halls,
no hero 'neath heaven, - who harbored that freight!
Now Beowulf bode in the burg of the Scyldings,
leader beloved, and long he ruled
in fame with all folk, since his father had gone
away from the world, till awoke an heir,
haughty Healfdene, who held through life,
sage and sturdy, the Scyldings glad.
Then, one after one, there woke to him,
to the chieftain of clansmen, children four:
Heorogar, then Hrothgar, then Halga brave;
and I heard that - was -'s queen,
the Heathoscylfing's helpmate dear.
To Hrothgar was given such glory of war,
such honor of combat, that all his kin
obeyed him gladly till great grew his band
of youthful comrades. It came in his mind
to bid his henchmen a hall uprear,
a master mead-house, mightier far
than ever was seen by the sons of earth,
and within it, then, to old and young
he would all allot that the Lord had sent him,
save only the land and the lives of his men.
Wide, I heard, was the work commanded,
for many a tribe this mid-earth round,
to fashion the folkstead. It fell, as he ordered,
in rapid achievement that ready it stood there,
of halls the noblest: Heorot [1] he named it
whose message had might in many a land.
48
Not reckless of promise, the rings he dealt,
treasure at banquet: there towered the hall,
high, gabled wide, the hot surge waiting
of furious flame. [2] Nor far was that day
when father and son-in-law stood in feud
for warfare and hatred that woke again.
With envy and anger an evil spirit
endured the dole in his dark abode,
that he heard each day the din of revel
high in the hall: there harps rang out,
clear song of the singer. He sang who knew
tales of the early time of man,
how the Almighty made the earth,
fairest fields enfolded by water,
set, triumphant, sun and moon
for a light to lighten the land-dwellers,
and braided bright the breast of earth
with limbs and leaves, made life for all
of mortal beings that breathe and move.
So lived the clansmen in cheer and revel
a winsome life, till one began
to fashion evils, that field of hell.
Grendel this monster grim was called,
march-riever [5] mighty, in moorland living,
in fen and fastness; fief of the giants
the hapless wight a while had kept
since the Creator his exile doomed.
On kin of Cain was the killing avenged
by sovran God for slaughtered Abel.
Ill fared his feud, [6] and far was he driven,
for the slaughter's sake, from sight of men.
Of Cain awoke all that woful breed,
Etins [7] and elves and evil-spirits,
as well as the giants that warred with God
weary while: but their wage was paid them!
II
WENT he forth to find at fall of night
that haughty house, and heed wherever
the Ring-Danes, outrevelled, to rest had gone.
Found within it the atheling band
asleep after feasting and fearless of sorrow,
49
of human hardship. Unhallowed wight,
grim and greedy, he grasped betimes,
wrathful, reckless, from resting-places,
thirty of the thanes, and thence he rushed
fain of his fell spoil, faring homeward,
laden with slaughter, his lair to seek.
Then at the dawning, as day was breaking,
the might of Grendel to men was known;
then after wassail was wail uplifted,
loud moan in the morn. The mighty chief,
atheling excellent, unblithe sat,
labored in woe for the loss of his thanes,
when once had been traced the trail of the fiend,
spirit accurst: too cruel that sorrow,
too long, too loathsome. Not late the respite;
with night returning, anew began
ruthless murder; he recked no whit,
firm in his guilt, of the feud and crime.
They were easy to find who elsewhere sought
in room remote their rest at night,
bed in the bowers, [1] when that bale was shown,
was seen in sooth, with surest token, the hall-thane's [2] hate. Such held themselves
far and fast who the fiend outran!
Thus ruled unrighteous and raged his fill
one against all; until empty stood
that lordly building, and long it bode so.
Twelve years' tide the trouble he bore,
sovran of Scyldings, sorrows in plenty,
boundless cares. There came unhidden
tidings true to the tribes of men,
in sorrowful songs, how ceaselessly Grendel
harassed Hrothgar, what hate he bore him,
what murder and massacre, many a year,
feud unfading, - refused consent
to deal with any of Daneland's earls,
make pact of peace, or compound for gold:
still less did the wise men ween to get
great fee for the feud from his fiendish hands.
But the evil one ambushed old and young
death-shadow dark, and dogged them still,
lured, or lurked in the livelong night
50
of misty moorlands: men may say not
where the haunts of these Hell-Runes be.
Such heaping of horrors the hater of men,
lonely roamer, wrought unceasing,
harassings heavy. O'er Heorot he lorded,
gold-bright hall, in gloomy nights;
and ne'er could the prince [4] approach his throne,
- 'twas judgment of God, - or have joy in his hall.
Sore was the sorrow to Scyldings'-friend,
heart-rending misery. Many nobles
sat assembled, and searched out counsel
how it were best for bold-hearted men
against harassing terror to try their hand.
Whiles they vowed in their heathen fanes
altar-offerings, asked with words [5]
that the slayer-of-souls would succor give them
for the pain of their people. Their practice this,
their heathen hope; 'twas Hell they thought of
in mood of their mind. Almighty they knew not,
Doomsman of Deeds and dreadful Lord,
nor Heaven's-Helmet heeded they ever,
Wielder-of-Wonder. - Woe for that man
who in harm and hatred hales his soul
to fiery embraces; - nor favor nor change
awaits he ever. But well for him
that after death-day may draw to his Lord,
and friendship find in the Father's arms!
III
THUS seethed unceasing the son of Healfdene
with the woe of these days; not wisest men
assuaged his sorrow; too sore the anguish,
loathly and long, that lay on his folk,
most baneful of burdens and bales of the night.
This heard in his home Hygelac's thane,
great among Geats, of Grendel's doings.
He was the mightiest man of valor
in that same day of this our life,
stalwart and stately. A stout wave-walker
he bade make ready. Yon battle-king, said he,
far o'er the swan-road he fain would seek,
the noble monarch who needed men!
51
The prince's journey by prudent folk
was little blamed, though they loved him dear;
they whetted the hero, and hailed good omens.
And now the bold one from bands of Geats
comrades chose, the keenest of warriors
e'er he could find; with fourteen men
the sea-wood [1] he sought, and, sailor proved,
led them on to the land's confines.
Time had now flown; [2] afloat was the ship,
boat under bluff. On board they climbed,
warriors ready; waves were churning
sea with sand; the sailors bore
on the breast of the bark their bright array,
their mail and weapons: the men pushed off,
on its willing way, the well-braced craft.
Then moved o'er the waters by might of the wind
that bark like a bird with breast of foam,
till in season due, on the second day,
the curved prow such course had run
that sailors now could see the land,
sea-cliffs shining, steep high hills,
headlands broad. Their haven was found,
their journey ended. Up then quickly
the Weders' [3] clansmen climbed ashore,
anchored their sea-wood, with armor clashing
and gear of battle: God they thanked
for passing in peace o'er the paths of the sea.
Now saw from the cliff a Scylding clansman,
a warden that watched the water-side,
how they bore o'er the gangway glittering shields,
war-gear in readiness; wonder seized him
to know what manner of men they were.
Straight to the strand his steed he rode,
Hrothgar's henchman; with hand of might
he shook his spear, and spake in parley.
'Who are ye, then, ye armed men,
mailed folk, that yon mighty vessel
have urged thus over the ocean ways,
here o'er the waters? A warden I,
sentinel set o'er the sea-march here,
lest any foe to the folk of Danes
with harrying fleet should harm the land.
52
No aliens ever at ease thus bore them,
linden-wielders: [4] yet word-of-leave
clearly ye lack from clansmen here,
my folk's agreement. - A greater ne'er saw I
of warriors in world than is one of you, yon hero in harness! No henchman he
worthied by weapons, if witness his features,
his peerless presence! I pray you, though, tell
your folk and home, lest hence ye fare
suspect to wander your way as spies
in Danish land. Now, dwellers afar,
ocean-travellers, take from me
simple advice: the sooner the better
I hear of the country whence ye came.'
IV
To him the stateliest spake in answer;
the warriors' leader his word-hoard unlocked:'We are by kin of the clan of Geats,
and Hygelac's own hearth-fellows we.
To folk afar was my father known,
noble atheling, Ecgtheow named.
Full of winters, he fared away
aged from earth; he is honored still
through width of the world by wise men all.
To thy lord and liege in loyal mood
we hasten hither, to Healfdene's son,
people-protector: be pleased to advise us!
To that mighty-one come we on mickle errand,
to the lord of the Danes; nor deem I right
that aught be hidden. We hear - thou knowest
if sooth it is - the saying of men,
that amid the Scyldings a scathing monster,
dark ill-doer, in dusky nights
shows terrific his rage unmatched,
hatred and murder. To Hrothgar I
in greatness of soul would succor bring,
so the Wise-and-Brave [1] may worst his foes, if ever the end of ills is fated,
of cruel contest, if cure shall follow,
and the boiling care-waves cooler grow;
else ever afterward anguish-days
53
he shall suffer in sorrow while stands in place
high on its hill that house unpeered!'
Astride his steed, the strand-ward answered,
clansman unquailing: 'The keen-souled thane
must be skilled to sever and sunder duly
words and works, if he well intends.
I gather, this band is graciously bent
to the Scyldings' master. March, then, bearing
weapons and weeds the way I show you.
I will bid my men your boat meanwhile
to guard for fear lest foemen come, your new-tarred ship by shore of ocean
faithfully watching till once again
it waft o'er the waters those well-loved thanes,
- winding-neck'd wood, - to Weders' bounds,
heroes such as the hest of fate
shall succor and save from the shock of war.'
They bent them to march, - the boat lay still,
fettered by cable and fast at anchor,
broad-bosomed ship. - Then shone the boars
over the cheek-guard; chased with gold,
keen and gleaming, guard it kept
o'er the man of war, as marched along
heroes in haste, till the hall they saw,
broad of gable and bright with gold:
that was the fairest, 'mid folk of earth,
of houses 'neath heaven, where Hrothgar lived,
and the gleam of it lightened o'er lands afar.
The sturdy shieldsman showed that bright
burg-of-the-boldest; bade them go
straightway thither; his steed then turned,
hardy hero, and hailed them thus:'Tis time that I fare from you. Father Almighty
in grace and mercy guard you well,
safe in your seekings. Seaward I go,
'gainst hostile warriors hold my watch.'
STONE-BRIGHT the street: it showed the way
to the crowd of clansmen. Corselets glistened
hand-forged, hard; on their harness bright
the steel ring sang, as they strode along
54
in mail of battle, and marched to the hall.
There, weary of ocean, the wall along
they set their bucklers, their broad shields, down,
and bowed them to bench: the breastplates clanged,
war-gear of men; their weapons stacked,
spears of the seafarers stood together,
gray-tipped ash: that iron band
was worthily weaponed! - A warrior proud
asked of the heroes their home and kin.
'Whence, now, bear ye burnished shields,
harness gray and helmets grim,
spears in multitude? Messenger, I,
Hrothgar's herald! Heroes so many
ne'er met I as strangers of mood so strong.
'Tis plain that for prowess, not plunged into exile,
for high-hearted valor, Hrothgar ye seek!'
Him the sturdy-in-war bespake with words,
proud earl of the Weders answer made,
hardy 'neath helmet:-'Hygelac's, we,
fellows at board; I am Beowulf named.
I am seeking to say to the son of Healfdene
this mission of mine, to thy master-lord,
the doughty prince, if he deign at all
grace that we greet him, the good one, now.'
Wulfgar spake, the Wendles' chieftain,
whose might of mind to many was known,
his courage and counsel: 'The king of Danes,
the Scyldings' friend, I fain will tell,
the Breaker-of-Rings, as the boon thou askest,
the famed prince, of thy faring hither,
and, swiftly after, such answer bring
as the doughty monarch may deign to give.'
Hied then in haste to where Hrothgar sat
white-haired and old, his earls about him,
till the stout thane stood at the shoulder there
of the Danish king: good courtier he!
Wulfgar spake to his winsome lord:'Hither have fared to thee far-come men
o'er the paths of ocean, people of Geatland;
and the stateliest there by his sturdy band
is Beowulf named. This boon they seek,
that they, my master, may with thee
55
have speech at will: nor spurn their prayer
to give them hearing, gracious Hrothgar!
In weeds of the warrior worthy they,
methinks, of our liking; their leader most surely,
a hero that hither his henchmen has led.'
VI
HROTHGAR answered, helmet of Scyldings:'I knew him of yore in his youthful days;
his aged father was Ecgtheow named,
to whom, at home, gave Hrethel the Geat
his only daughter. Their offspring bold
fares hither to seek the steadfast friend.
And seamen, too, have said me this, who carried my gifts to the Geatish court,
thither for thanks, - he has thirty men's
heft of grasp in the gripe of his hand,
the bold-in-battle. Blessed God
out of his mercy this man hath sent
to Danes of the West, as I ween indeed,
against horror of Grendel. I hope to give
the good youth gold for his gallant thought.
Be thou in haste, and bid them hither,
clan of kinsmen, to come before me;
and add this word, - they are welcome guests
to folk of the Danes.'
[To the door of the hall
Wulfgar went] and the word declared:'To you this message my master sends,
East-Danes' king, that your kin he knows,
hardy heroes, and hails you all
welcome hither o'er waves of the sea!
Ye may wend your way in war-attire,
and under helmets Hrothgar greet;
but let here the battle-shields bide your parley,
and wooden war-shafts wait its end.'
Uprose the mighty one, ringed with his men,
brave band of thanes: some bode without,
battle-gear guarding, as bade the chief.
Then hied that troop where the herald led them,
under Heorot's roof: [the hero strode,]
hardy 'neath helm, till the hearth he neared.
56
Beowulf spake, - his breastplate gleamed,
war-net woven by wit of the smith:'Thou Hrothgar, hail! Hygelac's I,
kinsman and follower. Fame a plenty
have I gained in youth! These Grendel-deeds
I heard in my home-land heralded clear.
Seafarers say how stands this hall,
of buildings best, for your band of thanes
empty and idle, when evening sun
in the harbor of heaven is hidden away.
So my vassals advised me well, brave and wise, the best of men, O sovran Hrothgar, to seek thee here,
for my nerve and my might they knew full well.
Themselves had seen me from slaughter come
blood-flecked from foes, where five I bound,
and that wild brood worsted. I' the waves I slew
nicors [1] by night, in need and peril
avenging the Weders, [2] whose woe they sought, crushing the grim ones. Grendel now,
monster cruel, be mine to quell
in single battle! So, from thee,
thou sovran of the Shining-Danes,
Scyldings'-bulwark, a boon I seek, and, Friend-of-the-folk, refuse it not,
O Warriors'-shield, now I've wandered far, that I alone with my liegemen here,
this hardy band, may Heorot purge!
More I hear, that the monster dire,
in his wanton mood, of weapons recks not;
hence shall I scorn - so Hygelac stay,
king of my kindred, kind to me! brand or buckler to bear in the fight,
gold-colored targe: but with gripe alone
must I front the fiend and fight for life,
foe against foe. Then faith be his
in the doom of the Lord whom death shall take.
Fain, I ween, if the fight he win,
in this hall of gold my Geatish band
will he fearless eat, - as oft before, my noblest thanes. Nor need'st thou then
to hide my head; [3] for his shall I be,
57
dyed in gore, if death must take me;
and my blood-covered body he'll bear as prey,
ruthless devour it, the roamer-lonely,
with my life-blood redden his lair in the fen:
no further for me need'st food prepare!
To Hygelac send, if Hild [4] should take me,
best of war-weeds, warding my breast,
armor excellent, heirloom of Hrethel
and work of Wayland. [5] Fares Wyrd as she must.'
VII
HROTHGAR spake, the Scyldings'-helmet:'For fight defensive, Friend my Beowulf,
to succor and save, thou hast sought us here.
Thy father's combat [1] a feud enkindled
when Heatholaf with hand he slew
among the Wylfings; his Weder kin
for horror of fighting feared to hold him.
Fleeing, he sought our South-Dane folk,
over surge of ocean the Honor-Scyldings,
when first I was ruling the folk of Danes,
wielded, youthful, this widespread realm,
this hoard-hold of heroes. Heorogar was dead,
my elder brother, had breathed his last,
Healfdene's bairn: he was better than I!
Straightway the feud with fee [2] I settled,
to the Wylfings sent, o'er watery ridges,
treasures olden: oaths he [3] swore me.
Sore is my soul to say to any
of the race of man what ruth for me
in Heorot Grendel with hate hath wrought,
what sudden harryings. Hall-folk fail me,
my warriors wane; for Wyrd hath swept them
into Grendel's grasp. But God is able
this deadly foe from his deeds to turn!
Boasted full oft, as my beer they drank,
earls o'er the ale-cup, armed men,
that they would bide in the beer-hall here,
Grendel's attack with terror of blades.
Then was this mead-house at morning tide
dyed with gore, when the daylight broke,
all the boards of the benches blood-besprinkled,
58
gory the hall: I had heroes the less,
doughty dear-ones that death had reft.
- But sit to the banquet, unbind thy words,
hardy hero, as heart shall prompt thee.'
Gathered together, the Geatish men
in the banquet-hall on bench assigned,
sturdy-spirited, sat them down,
hardy-hearted. A henchman attended,
carried the carven cup in hand,
served the clear mead. Oft minstrels sang
blithe in Heorot. Heroes revelled,
no dearth of warriors, Weder and Dane.
VIII
UNFERTH spake, the son of Ecglaf,
who sat at the feet of the Scyldings' lord,
unbound the battle-runes. - Beowulf's quest,
sturdy seafarer's, sorely galled him;
ever he envied that other men
should more achieve in middle-earth
of fame under heaven than he himself. 'Art thou that Beowulf, Breca's rival,
who emulous swam on the open sea,
when for pride the pair of you proved the floods,
and wantonly dared in waters deep
to risk your lives? No living man,
or lief or loath, from your labor dire
could you dissuade, from swimming the main.
Ocean-tides with your arms ye covered,
with strenuous hands the sea-streets measured,
swam o'er the waters. Winter's storm
rolled the rough waves. In realm of sea
a sennight strove ye. In swimming he topped thee,
had more of main! Him at morning-tide
billows bore to the Battling Reamas,
whence he hied to his home so dear
beloved of his liegemen, to land of Brondings,
fastness fair, where his folk he ruled,
town and treasure. In triumph o'er thee
Beanstan's bairn [2] his boast achieved.
So ween I for thee a worse adventure
- though in buffet of battle thou brave hast been,
59
in struggle grim, - if Grendel's approach
thou darst await through the watch of night!'
Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:'What a deal hast uttered, dear my Unferth,
drunken with beer, of Breca now,
told of his triumph! Truth I claim it,
that I had more of might in the sea
than any man else, more ocean-endurance.
We twain had talked, in time of youth,
and made our boast, - we were merely boys,
striplings still, - to stake our lives
far at sea: and so we performed it.
Naked swords, as we swam along,
we held in hand, with hope to guard us
against the whales. Not a whit from me
could he float afar o'er the flood of waves,
haste o'er the billows; nor him I abandoned.
Together we twain on the tides abode
five nights full till the flood divided us,
churning waves and chillest weather,
darkling night, and the northern wind
ruthless rushed on us: rough was the surge.
Now the wrath of the sea-fish rose apace;
yet me 'gainst the monsters my mailed coat,
hard and hand-linked, help afforded, battle-sark braided my breast to ward,
garnished with gold. There grasped me firm
and haled me to bottom the hated foe,
with grimmest gripe. 'Twas granted me, though,
to pierce the monster with point of sword,
with blade of battle: huge beast of the sea
was whelmed by the hurly through hand of mine.
IX
ME thus often the evil monsters
thronging threatened. With thrust of my sword,
the darling, I dealt them due return!
Nowise had they bliss from their booty then
to devour their victim, vengeful creatures,
seated to banquet at bottom of sea;
but at break of day, by my brand sore hurt,
on the edge of ocean up they lay,
60
put to sleep by the sword. And since, by them
on the fathomless sea-ways sailor-folk
are never molested. - Light from east,
came bright God's beacon; the billows sank,
so that I saw the sea-cliffs high,
windy walls. For Wyrd oft saveth
earl undoomed if he doughty be!
And so it came that I killed with my sword
nine of the nicors. Of night-fought battles
ne'er heard I a harder 'neath heaven's dome,
nor adrift on the deep a more desolate man!
Yet I came unharmed from that hostile clutch,
though spent with swimming. The sea upbore me,
flood of the tide, on Finnish land,
the welling waters. No wise of thee
have I heard men tell such terror of falchions,
bitter battle. Breca ne'er yet,
not one of you pair, in the play of war
such daring deed has done at all
with bloody brand, - I boast not of it! though thou wast the bane [1] of thy brethren dear,
thy closest kin, whence curse of hell
awaits thee, well as thy wit may serve!
For I say in sooth, thou son of Ecglaf,
never had Grendel these grim deeds wrought,
monster dire, on thy master dear,
in Heorot such havoc, if heart of thine
were as battle-bold as thy boast is loud!
But he has found no feud will happen;
from sword-clash dread of your Danish clan
he vaunts him safe, from the Victor-Scyldings.
He forces pledges, favors none
of the land of Danes, but lustily murders,
fights and feasts, nor feud he dreads
from Spear-Dane men. But speedily now
shall I prove him the prowess and pride of the Geats,
shall bid him battle. Blithe to mead
go he that listeth, when light of dawn
this morrow morning o'er men of earth,
ether-robed sun from the south shall beam!'
Joyous then was the Jewel-giver,
hoar-haired, war-brave; help awaited
61
the Bright-Danes' prince, from Beowulf hearing,
folk's good shepherd, such firm resolve.
Then was laughter of liegemen loud resounding
with winsome words. Came Wealhtheow forth,
queen of Hrothgar, heedful of courtesy,
gold-decked, greeting the guests in hall;
and the high-born lady handed the cup
first to the East-Danes' heir and warden,
bade him be blithe at the beer-carouse,
the land's beloved one. Lustily took he
banquet and beaker, battle-famed king.
Through the hall then went the Helmings' Lady,
to younger and older everywhere
carried the cup, till come the moment
when the ring-graced queen, the royal-hearted,
to Beowulf bore the beaker of mead.
She greeted the Geats' lord, God she thanked,
in wisdom's words, that her will was granted,
that at last on a hero her hope could lean
for comfort in terrors. The cup he took,
hardy-in-war, from Wealhtheow's hand,
and answer uttered the eager-for-combat.
Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:'This was my thought, when my thanes and I
bent to the ocean and entered our boat,
that I would work the will of your people
fully, or fighting fall in death,
in fiend's gripe fast. I am firm to do
an earl's brave deed, or end the days
of this life of mine in the mead-hall here.'
Well these words to the woman seemed,
Beowulf's battle-boast. - Bright with gold
the stately dame by her spouse sat down.
Again, as erst, began in hall
warriors' wassail and words of power,
the proud-band's revel, till presently
the son of Healfdene hastened to seek
rest for the night; he knew there waited
fight for the fiend in that festal hall,
when the sheen of the sun they saw no more,
and dusk of night sank darkling nigh,
and shadowy shapes came striding on,
62
wan under welkin. The warriors rose.
Man to man, he made harangue,
Hrothgar to Beowulf, bade him hail,
let him wield the wine hall: a word he added:'Never to any man erst I trusted,
since I could heave up hand and shield,
this noble Dane-Hall, till now to thee.
Have now and hold this house unpeered;
remember thy glory; thy might declare;
watch for the foe! No wish shall fail thee
if thou bidest the battle with bold-won life.'
THEN Hrothgar went with his hero-train,
defence-of-Scyldings, forth from hall;
fain would the war-lord Wealhtheow seek,
couch of his queen. The King-of-Glory
against this Grendel a guard had set,
so heroes heard, a hall-defender,
who warded the monarch and watched for the monster.
In truth, the Geats' prince gladly trusted
his mettle, his might, the mercy of God!
Cast off then his corselet of iron,
helmet from head; to his henchman gave, choicest of weapons, - the well-chased sword,
bidding him guard the gear of battle.
Spake then his Vaunt the valiant man,
Beowulf Geat, ere the bed be sought:'Of force in fight no feebler I count me,
in grim war-deeds, than Grendel deems him.
Not with the sword, then, to sleep of death
his life will I give, though it lie in my power.
No skill is his to strike against me,
my shield to hew though he hardy be,
bold in battle; we both, this night,
shall spurn the sword, if he seek me here,
unweaponed, for war. Let wisest God,
sacred Lord, on which side soever
doom decree as he deemeth right.'
Reclined then the chieftain, and cheek-pillows held
the head of the earl, while all about him
seamen hardy on hall-beds sank.
63
None of them thought that thence their steps
to the folk and fastness that fostered them,
to the land they loved, would lead them back!
Full well they wist that on warriors many
battle-death seized, in the banquet-hall,
of Danish clan. But comfort and help,
war-weal weaving, to Weder folk
the Master gave, that, by might of one,
over their enemy all prevailed,
by single strength. In sooth 'tis told
that highest God o'er human kind
hath wielded ever! - Thro' wan night striding,
came the walker-in-shadow. Warriors slept
whose hest was to guard the gabled hall, all save one. 'Twas widely known
that against God's will the ghostly ravager
him [1] could not hurl to haunts of darkness;
wakeful, ready, with warrior's wrath,
bold he bided the battle's issue.
XI
THEN from the moorland, by misty crags,
with God's wrath laden, Grendel came.
The monster was minded of mankind now
sundry to seize in the stately house.
Under welkin he walked, till the wine-palace there,
gold-hall of men, he gladly discerned,
flashing with fretwork. Not first time, this,
that he the home of Hrothgar sought, yet ne'er in his life-day, late or early,
such hardy heroes, such hall-thanes, found!
To the house the warrior walked apace,
parted from peace; [1] the portal opended,
though with forged bolts fast, when his fists had
struck it,
and baleful he burst in his blatant rage,
the house's mouth. All hastily, then,
o'er fair-paved floor the fiend trod on,
ireful he strode; there streamed from his eyes
fearful flashes, like flame to see.
He spied in hall the hero-band,
kin and clansmen clustered asleep,
64
hardy liegemen. Then laughed his heart;
for the monster was minded, ere morn should dawn,
savage, to sever the soul of each,
life from body, since lusty banquet
waited his will! But Wyrd forbade him
to seize any more of men on earth
after that evening. Eagerly watched
Hygelac's kinsman his cursed foe,
how he would fare in fell attack.
Not that the monster was minded to pause!
Straightway he seized a sleeping warrior
for the first, and tore him fiercely asunder,
the bone-frame bit, drank blood in streams,
swallowed him piecemeal: swiftly thus
the lifeless corse was clear devoured,
e'en feet and hands. Then farther he hied;
for the hardy hero with hand he grasped,
felt for the foe with fiendish claw,
for the hero reclining, - who clutched it boldly,
prompt to answer, propped on his arm.
Soon then saw that shepherd-of-evils
that never he met in this middle-world,
in the ways of earth, another wight
with heavier hand-gripe; at heart he feared,
sorrowed in soul, - none the sooner escaped!
Fain would he flee, his fastness seek,
the den of devils: no doings now
such as oft he had done in days of old!
Then bethought him the hardy Hygelac-thane
of his boast at evening: up he bounded,
grasped firm his foe, whose fingers cracked.
The fiend made off, but the earl close followed.
The monster meant - if he might at all to fling himself free, and far away
fly to the fens, - knew his fingers' power
in the gripe of the grim one. Gruesome march
to Heorot this monster of harm had made!
Din filled the room; the Danes were bereft,
castle-dwellers and clansmen all,
earls, of their ale. Angry were both
those savage hall-guards: the house resounded.
Wonder it was the wine-hall firm
65
in the strain of their struggle stood, to earth
the fair house fell not; too fast it was
within and without by its iron bands
craftily clamped; though there crashed from sill
many a mead-bench - men have told me gay with gold, where the grim foes wrestled.
So well had weened the wisest Scyldings
that not ever at all might any man
that bone-decked, brave house break asunder,
crush by craft, - unless clasp of fire
in smoke engulfed it. - Again uprose
din redoubled. Danes of the North
with fear and frenzy were filled, each one,
who from the wall that wailing heard,
God's foe sounding his grisly song,
cry of the conquered, clamorous pain
from captive of hell. Too closely held him
he who of men in might was strongest
in that same day of this our life.
XII
NOT in any wise would the earls'-defence [1]
suffer that slaughterous stranger to live,
useless deeming his days and years
to men on earth. Now many an earl
of Beowulf brandished blade ancestral,
fain the life of their lord to shield,
their praised prince, if power were theirs;
never they knew, - as they neared the foe,
hardy-hearted heroes of war,
aiming their swords on every side
the accursed to kill, - no keenest blade,
no farest of falchions fashioned on earth,
could harm or hurt that hideous fiend!
He was safe, by his spells, from sword of battle,
from edge of iron. Yet his end and parting
on that same day of this our life
woful should be, and his wandering soul
far off flit to the fiends' domain.
Soon he found, who in former days,
harmful in heart and hated of God,
on many a man such murder wrought,
66
that the frame of his body failed him now.
For him the keen-souled kinsman of Hygelac
held in hand; hateful alive
was each to other. The outlaw dire
took mortal hurt; a mighty wound
showed on his shoulder, and sinews cracked,
and the bone-frame burst. To Beowulf now
the glory was given, and Grendel thence
death-sick his den in the dark moor sought,
noisome abode: he knew too well
that here was the last of life, an end
of his days on earth. - To all the Danes
by that bloody battle the boon had come.
From ravage had rescued the roving stranger
Hrothgar's hall; the hardy and wise one
had purged it anew. His night-work pleased him,
his deed and its honor. To Eastern Danes
had the valiant Geat his vaunt made good,
all their sorrow and ills assuaged,
their bale of battle borne so long,
and all the dole they erst endured
pain a-plenty. - 'Twas proof of this,
when the hardy-in-fight a hand laid down,
arm and shoulder, - all, indeed,
of Grendel's gripe, - 'neath the gabled roof·
XIII
MANY at morning, as men have told me,
warriors gathered the gift-hall round,
folk-leaders faring from far and near,
o'er wide-stretched ways, the wonder to view,
trace of the traitor. Not troublous seemed
the enemy's end to any man
who saw by the gait of the graceless foe
how the weary-hearted, away from thence,
baffled in battle and banned, his steps
death-marked dragged to the devils' mere.
Bloody the billows were boiling there,
turbid the tide of tumbling waves
horribly seething, with sword-blood hot,
by that doomed one dyed, who in den of the moor
laid forlorn his life adown,
67
his heathen soul,-and hell received it.
Home then rode the hoary clansmen
from that merry journey, and many a youth,
on horses white, the hardy warriors,
back from the mere. Then Beowulf's glory
eager they echoed, and all averred
that from sea to sea, or south or north,
there was no other in earth's domain,
under vault of heaven, more valiant found,
of warriors none more worthy to rule!
(On their lord beloved they laid no slight,
gracious Hrothgar: a good king he!)
From time to time, the tried-in-battle
their gray steeds set to gallop amain,
and ran a race when the road seemed fair.
From time to time, a thane of the king,
who had made many vaunts, and was mindful of verses,
stored with sagas and songs of old,
bound word to word in well-knit rime,
welded his lay; this warrior soon
of Beowulf's quest right cleverly sang,
and artfully added an excellent tale,
in well-ranged words, of the warlike deeds
he had heard in saga of Sigemund.
Strange the story: he said it all, the Waelsing's wanderings wide, his struggles,
which never were told to tribes of men,
the feuds and the frauds, save to Fitela only,
when of these doings he deigned to speak,
uncle to nephew; as ever the twain
stood side by side in stress of war,
and multitude of the monster kind
they had felled with their swords. Of Sigemund
grew,
when he passed from life, no little praise;
for the doughty-in-combat a dragon killed
that herded the hoard: [1] under hoary rock
the atheling dared the deed alone
fearful quest, nor was Fitela there.
Yet so it befell, his falchion pierced
that wondrous worm, - on the wall it struck,
best blade; the dragon died in its blood.
68
Thus had the dread-one by daring achieved
over the ring-hoard to rule at will,
himself to pleasure; a sea-boat he loaded,
and bore on its bosom the beaming gold,
son of Waels; the worm was consumed.
He had of all heroes the highest renown
among races of men, this refuge-of-warriors,
for deeds of daring that decked his name
since the hand and heart of Heremod
grew slack in battle. He, swiftly banished
to mingle with monsters at mercy of foes,
to death was betrayed; for torrents of sorrow
had lamed him too long; a load of care
to earls and athelings all he proved.
Oft indeed, in earlier days,
for the warrior's wayfaring wise men mourned,
who had hoped of him help from harm and bale,
and had thought their sovran's son would thrive,
follow his father, his folk protect,
the hoard and the stronghold, heroes' land,
home of Scyldings. - But here, thanes said,
the kinsman of Hygelac kinder seemed
to all: the other [2] was urged to crime!
And afresh to the race, [3] the fallow roads
by swift steeds measured! The morning sun
was climbing higher. Clansmen hastened
to the high-built hall, those hardy-minded,
the wonder to witness. Warden of treasure,
crowned with glory, the king himself,
with stately band from the bride-bower strode;
and with him the queen and her crowd of maidens
measured the path to the mead-house fair.
XIV
HROTHGAR spake, - to the hall he went,
stood by the steps, the steep roof saw,
garnished with gold, and Grendel's hand:'For the sight I see to the Sovran Ruler
be speedy thanks! A throng of sorrows
I have borne from Grendel; but God still works
wonder on wonder, the Warden-of-Glory.
It was but now that I never more
69
for woes that weighed on me waited help
long as I lived, when, laved in blood,
stood sword-gore-stained this stateliest house, widespread woe for wise men all,
who had no hope to hinder ever
foes infernal and fiendish sprites
from havoc in hall. This hero now,
by the Wielder's might, a work has done
that not all of us erst could ever do
by wile and wisdom. Lo, well can she say
whoso of women this warrior bore
among sons of men, if still she liveth,
that the God of the ages was good to her
in the birth of her bairn. Now, Beowulf, thee,
of heroes best, I shall heartily love
as mine own, my son; preserve thou ever
this kinship new: thou shalt never lack
wealth of the world that I wield as mine!
Full oft for less have I largess showered,
my precious hoard, on a punier man,
less stout in struggle. Thyself hast now
fulfilled such deeds, that thy fame shall endure
through all the ages. As ever he did,
well may the Wielder reward thee still!'
Beowulf spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:'This work of war most willingly
we have fought, this fight, and fearlessly dared
force of the foe. Fain, too, were I
hadst thou but seen himself, what time
the fiend in his trappings tottered to fall!
Swiftly, I thought, in strongest gripe
on his bed of death to bind him down,
that he in the hent of this hand of mine
should breathe his last: but he broke away.
Him I might not - the Maker willed not hinder from flight, and firm enough hold
the life-destroyer: too sturdy was he,
the ruthless, in running! For rescue, however,
he left behind him his hand in pledge,
arm and shoulder; nor aught of help
could the cursed one thus procure at all.
None the longer liveth he, loathsome fiend,
70
sunk in his sins, but sorrow holds him
tightly grasped in gripe of anguish,
in baleful bonds, where bide he must,
evil outlaw, such awful doom
as the Mighty Maker shall mete him out.'
More silent seemed the son of Ecglaf [1]
in boastful speech of his battle-deeds,
since athelings all, through the earl's great prowess,
beheld that hand, on the high roof gazing,
foeman's fingers, - the forepart of each
of the sturdy nails to steel was likest, heathen's 'hand-spear,' hostile warrior's
claw uncanny. 'Twas clear, they said,
that him no blade of the brave could touch,
how keen soever, or cut away
that battle-hand bloody from baneful foe.
XV
THERE was hurry and hest in Heorot now
for hands to bedeck it, and dense was the throng
of men and women the wine-hall to cleanse,
the guest-room to garnish. Gold-gay shone the hangings
that were wove on the wall, and wonders many
to delight each mortal that looks upon them.
Though braced within by iron bands,
that building bright was broken sorely; [1]
rent were its hinges; the roof alone
held safe and sound, when, seared with crime,
the fiendish foe his flight essayed,
of life despairing. - No light thing that,
the flight for safety, - essay it who will!
Forced of fate, he shall find his way
to the refuge ready for race of man,
for soul-possessors, and sons of earth;
and there his body on bed of death
shall rest after revel.
Arrived was the hour
when to hall proceeded Healfdene's son:
the king himself would sit to banquet.
Ne'er heard I of host in haughtier throng
more graciously gathered round giver-of-rings!
Bowed then to bench those bearers-of-glory,
71
fain of the feasting. Featly received
many a mead-cup the mighty-in-spirit,
kinsmen who sat in the sumptuous hall,
Hrothgar and Hrothulf. Heorot now
was filled with friends; the folk of Scyldings
ne'er yet had tried the traitor's deed.
To Beowulf gave the bairn of Healfdene
a gold-wove banner, guerdon of triumph,
broidered battle-flag, breastplate and helmet;
and a splendid sword was seen of many
borne to the brave one. Beowulf took
cup in hall: for such costly gifts
he suffered no shame in that soldier throng.
For I heard of few heroes, in heartier mood,
with four such gifts, so fashioned with gold,
on the ale-bench honoring others thus!
O'er the roof of the helmet high, a ridge,
wound with wires, kept ward o'er the head,
lest the relict-of-files should fierce invade,
sharp in the strife, when that shielded hero
should go to grapple against his foes.
Then the earls'-defence on the floor bade lead
coursers eight, with carven head-gear,
adown the hall: one horse was decked
with a saddle all shining and set in jewels;
'twas the battle-seat of the best of kings,
when to play of swords the son of Healfdene
was fain to fare. Ne'er failed his valor
in the crush of combat when corpses fell.
To Beowulf over them both then gave
the refuge-of-Ingwines right and power,
o'er war-steeds and weapons: wished him joy of them.
Manfully thus the mighty prince,
hoard-guard for heroes, that hard fight repaid
with steeds and treasures contemned by none
who is willing to say the sooth aright.
XVI
AND the lord of earls, to each that came
with Beowulf over the briny ways,
an heirloom there at the ale-bench gave,
precious gift; and the price [] bade pay
72
in gold for him whom Grendel erst
murdered, - and fain of them more had killed,
had not wisest God their Wyrd averted,
and the man's brave mood. The Maker then
ruled human kind, as here and now.
Therefore is insight always best,
and forethought of mind. How much awaits him
of lief and of loath, who long time here,
through days of warfare this world endures!
Then song and music mingled sounds
in the presence of Healfdene's head-of-armies
and harping was heard with the hero-lay
as Hrothgar's singer the hall-joy woke
along the mead-seats, making his song
of that sudden raid on the sons of Finn.
Healfdene's hero, Hnaef the Scylding,
was fated to fall in the Frisian slaughter.
Hildeburh needed not hold in value
her enemies' honor! [6] Innocent both
were the loved ones she lost at the linden-play,
bairn and brother, they bowed to fate,
stricken by spears; 'twas a sorrowful woman!
None doubted why the daughter of Hoc
bewailed her doom when dawning came,
and under the sky she saw them lying,
kinsmen murdered, where most she had kenned
of the sweets of the world! By war were swept, too,
Finn's own liegemen, and few were left;
in the parleying-place he could ply no longer
weapon, nor war could he wage on Hengest,
and rescue his remnant by right of arms
from the prince's thane. A pact he offered:
another dwelling the Danes should have,
hall and high-seat, and half the power
should fall to them in Frisian land;
and at the fee-gifts, Folcwald's son
day by day the Danes should honor,
the folk of Hengest favor with rings,
even as truly, with treasure and jewels,
with fretted gold, as his Frisian kin
he meant to honor in ale-hall there.
Pact of peace they plighted further
73
on both sides firmly. Finn to Hengest
with oath, upon honor, openly promised
that woful remnant, with wise-men's aid,
nobly to govern, so none of the guests
by word or work should warp the treaty,
or with malice of mind bemoan themselves
as forced to follow their fee-giver's slayer,
lordless men, as their lot ordained.
Should Frisian, moreover, with foeman's taunt,
that murderous hatred to mind recall,
then edge of the sword must seal his doom.
Oaths were given, and ancient gold
heaped from hoard. - The hardy Scylding,
battle-thane best, [9] on his balefire lay.
All on the pyre were plain to see
the gory sark, the gilded swine-crest,
boar of hard iron, and athelings many
slain by the sword: at the slaughter they fell.
It was Hildeburh's hest, at Hnaef's own pyre
the bairn of her body on brands to lay,
his bones to burn, on the balefire placed,
at his uncle's side. In sorrowful dirges
bewept them the woman: great wailing ascended.
Then wound up to welkin the wildest of death-fires,
roared o'er the hillock: [10] heads all were melted,
gashes burst, and blood gushed out
from bites [11] of the body. Balefire devoured,
greediest spirit, those spared not by war
out of either folk: their flower was gone.
XVII
THEN hastened those heroes their home to see,
friendless, to find the Frisian land,
houses and high burg. Hengest still
through the death-dyed winter dwelt with Finn,
holding pact, yet of home he minded,
though powerless his ring-decked prow to drive
over the waters, now waves rolled fierce
lashed by the winds, or winter locked them
in icy fetters. Then fared another
year to men's dwellings, as yet they do,
the sunbright skies, that their season ever
74
duly await. Far off winter was driven;
fair lay earth's breast; and fain was the rover,
the guest, to depart, though more gladly he pondered
on wreaking his vengeance than roaming the deep,
and how to hasten the hot encounter
where sons of the Frisians were sure to be.
So he escaped not the common doom,
when Hun with 'Lafing,' the light-of-battle,
best of blades, his bosom pierced:
its edge was famed with the Frisian earls.
On fierce-heart Finn there fell likewise,
on himself at home, the horrid sword-death;
for Guthlaf and Oslaf of grim attack
had sorrowing told, from sea-ways landed,
mourning their woes. [1] Finn's wavering spirit
bode not in breast. The burg was reddened
with blood of foemen, and Finn was slain,
king amid clansmen; the queen was taken.
To their ship the Scylding warriors bore
all the chattels the chieftain owned,
whatever they found in Finn's domain
of gems and jewels. The gentle wife
o'er paths of the deep to the Danes they bore,
led to her land.
The lay was finished,
the gleeman's song. Then glad rose the revel;
bench-joy brightened. Bearers draw
from their 'wonder-vats' wine. Comes Wealhtheow forth,
under gold-crown goes where the good pair sit,
uncle and nephew, true each to the other one,
kindred in amity. Unferth the spokesman
at the Scylding lord's feet sat: men had faith in his Spirit,
his keenness of courage, though kinsmen had found him
unsure at the sword-play. The Scylding queen spoke:
'Quaff of this cup, my king and lord,
breaker of rings, and blithe be thou,
gold-friend of men; to the Geats here speak
such words of mildness as man should use.
Be glad with thy Geats; of those gifts be mindful,
or near or far, which now thou hast.
Men say to me, as son thou wishest
yon hero to hold. Thy Heorot purged,
75
jewel-hall brightest, enjoy while thou canst,
with many a largess; and leave to thy kin
folk and realm when forth thou goest
to greet thy doom. For gracious I deem
my Hrothulf, [2] willing to hold and rule
nobly our youths, if thou yield up first,
prince of Scyldings, thy part in the world.
I ween with good he will well requite
offspring of ours, when all he minds
that for him we did in his helpless days
of gift and grace to gain him honor!'
Then she turned to the seat where her sons were placed,
Hrethric and Hrothmund, with heroes' bairns,
young men together: the Geat, too, sat there,
Beowulf brave, the brothers between.
XVIII
A CUP she gave him, with kindly greeting
and winsome words. Of wounden gold,
she offered, to honor him, arm-jewels twain,
corselet and rings, and of collars the noblest
that ever I knew the earth around.
Ne'er heard I so mighty, 'neath heaven's dome,
a hoard-gem of heroes, since Hama bore
to his bright-built burg the Brisings' necklace,
jewel and gem casket. - Jealousy fled he,
Eormenric's hate: chose help eternal.
Hygelac Geat, grandson of Swerting,
on the last of his raids this ring bore with him,
under his banner the booty defending,
the war-spoil warding; but Wyrd o'erwhelmed him
what time, in his daring, dangers he sought,
feud with Frisians. Fairest of gems
he bore with him over the beaker-of-waves,
sovran strong: under shield he died.
Fell the corpse of the king into keeping of Franks,
gear of the breast, and that gorgeous ring;
weaker warriors won the spoil,
after gripe of battle, from Geatland's lord,
and held the death-field.
Din rose in hall.
Wealhtheow spake amid warriors, and said:-
76
'This jewel enjoy in thy jocund youth,
Beowulf lov'd, these battle-weeds wear,
a royal treasure, and richly thrive!
Preserve thy strength, and these striplings here
counsel in kindness: requital be mine.
Hast done such deeds, that for days to come
thou art famed among folk both far and near,
so wide as washeth the wave of Ocean
his windy walls. Through the ways of life
prosper, O prince! I pray for thee
rich possessions. To son of mine
be helpful in deed and uphold his joys!
Here every earl to the other is true,
mild of mood, to the master loyal!
Thanes are friendly, the throng obedient,
liegemen are revelling: list and obey!'
Went then to her place.-That was proudest of feasts;
flowed wine for the warriors. Wyrd they knew not,
destiny dire, and the doom to be seen
by many an earl when eve should come,
and Hrothgar homeward hasten away,
royal, to rest. The room was guarded
by an army of earls, as erst was done.
They bared the bench-boards; abroad they spread
beds and bolsters. - One beer-carouser
in danger of doom lay down in the hall. At their heads they set their shields of war,
bucklers bright; on the bench were there
over each atheling, easy to see,
the high battle-helmet, the haughty spear,
the corselet of rings. 'Twas their custom so
ever to be for battle prepared,
at home, or harrying, which it were,
even as oft as evil threatened
their sovran king. - They were clansmen good.
XIX
THEN sank they to sleep. With sorrow one bought
his rest of the evening, - as ofttime had happened
when Grendel guarded that golden hall,
evil wrought, till his end drew nigh,
slaughter for sins. 'Twas seen and told
77
how an avenger survived the fiend,
as was learned afar. The livelong time
after that grim fight, Grendel's mother,
monster of women, mourned her woe.
She was doomed to dwell in the dreary waters,
cold sea-courses, since Cain cut down
with edge of the sword his only brother,
his father's offspring: outlawed he fled,
marked with murder, from men's delights
warded the wilds. - There woke from him
such fate-sent ghosts as Grendel, who,
war-wolf horrid, at Heorot found
a warrior watching and waiting the fray,
with whom the grisly one grappled amain.
But the man remembered his mighty power,
the glorious gift that God had sent him,
in his Maker's mercy put his trust
for comfort and help: so he conquered the foe,
felled the fiend, who fled abject,
reft of joy, to the realms of death,
mankind's foe. And his mother now,
gloomy and grim, would go that quest
of sorrow, the death of her son to avenge.
To Heorot came she, where helmeted Danes
slept in the hall. Too soon came back
old ills of the earls, when in she burst,
the mother of Grendel. Less grim, though, that terror,
e'en as terror of woman in war is less,
might of maid, than of men in arms
when, hammer-forged, the falchion hard,
sword gore-stained, through swine of the helm,
crested, with keen blade carves amain.
Then was in hall the hard-edge drawn,
the swords on the settles, [1] and shields a-many
firm held in hand: nor helmet minded
nor harness of mail, whom that horror seized.
Haste was hers; she would hie afar
and save her life when the liegemen saw her.
Yet a single atheling up she seized
fast and firm, as she fled to the moor.
He was for Hrothgar of heroes the dearest,
of trusty vassals betwixt the seas,
78
whom she killed on his couch, a clansman famous,
in battle brave. - Nor was Beowulf there;
another house had been held apart,
after giving of gold, for the Geat renowned. Uproar filled Heorot; the hand all had viewed,
blood-flecked, she bore with her; bale was returned,
dole in the dwellings: 'twas dire exchange
where Dane and Geat were doomed to give
the lives of loved ones. Long-tried king,
the hoary hero, at heart was sad
when he knew his noble no more lived,
and dead indeed was his dearest thane.
To his bower was Beowulf brought in haste,
dauntless victor. As daylight broke,
along with his earls the atheling lord,
with his clansmen, came where the king abode
waiting to see if the Wielder-of-All
would turn this tale of trouble and woe.
Strode o'er floor the famed-in-strife,
with his hand-companions, - the hall resounded, wishing to greet the wise old king,
Ingwines' lord; he asked if the night
had passed in peace to the prince's mind.
XX
HROTHGAR spake, helmet-of-Scyldings:'Ask not of pleasure! Pain is renewed
to Danish folk. Dead is Aeschere,
of Yrmenlaf the elder brother,
my sage adviser and stay in council,
shoulder-comrade in stress of fight
when warriors clashed and we warded our heads,
hewed the helm-boars; hero famed
should be every earl as Aeschere was!
But here in Heorot a hand hath slain him
of wandering death-sprite. I wot not whither,
proud of the prey, her path she took,
fain of her fill. The feud she avenged
that yesternight, unyieldingly,
Grendel in grimmest grasp thou killedst, seeing how long these liegemen mine
he ruined and ravaged. Reft of life,
79
in arms he fell. Now another comes,
keen and cruel, her kin to avenge,
faring far in feud of blood:
so that many a thane shall think, who e'er
sorrows in soul for that sharer of rings,
this is hardest of heart-bales. The hand lies low
that once was willing each wish to please.
Land-dwellers here [2] and liegemen mine,
who house by those parts, I have heard relate
that such a pair they have sometimes seen,
march-stalkers mighty the moorland haunting,
wandering spirits: one of them seemed,
so far as my folk could fairly judge,
of womankind; and one, accursed,
in man's guise trod the misery-track
of exile, though huger than human bulk.
Grendel in days long gone they named him,
folk of the land; his father they knew not,
nor any brood that was born to him
of treacherous spirits. Untrod is their home;
by wolf-cliffs haunt they and windy headlands,
fenways fearful, where flows the stream
from mountains gliding to gloom of the rocks,
underground flood. Not far is it hence
in measure of miles that the mere expands,
and o'er it the frost-bound forest hanging,
sturdily rooted, shadows the wave.
By night is a wonder weird to see,
fire on the waters. So wise lived none
of the sons of men, to search those depths!
Nay, though the heath-rover, harried by dogs,
the horn-proud hart, this holt should seek,
long distance driven, his dear life first
on the brink he yields ere he brave the plunge
to hide his head: 'tis no happy place!
Thence the welter of waters washes up
wan to welkin when winds bestir
evil storms, and air grows dusk,
and the heavens weep. Now is help once more
with thee alone! The land thou knowst not,
place of fear, where thou findest out
that sin-flecked being. Seek if thou dare!
80
I will reward thee, for waging this fight,
with ancient treasure, as erst I did,
with winding gold, if thou winnest back.'
XXI
BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:
'Sorrow not, sage! It beseems us better
friends to avenge than fruitlessly mourn them.
Each of us all must his end abide
in the ways of the world; so win who may
glory ere death! When his days are told,
that is the warrior's worthiest doom.
Rise, O realm-warder! Ride we anon,
and mark the trail of the mother of Grendel.
No harbor shall hide her - heed my promise! enfolding of field or forested mountain
or floor of the flood, let her flee where she will!
But thou this day endure in patience,
as I ween thou wilt, thy woes each one.'
Leaped up the graybeard: God he thanked,
mighty Lord, for the man's brave words.
For Hrothgar soon a horse was saddled
wave-maned steed. The sovran wise
stately rode on; his shield-armed men
followed in force. The footprints led
along the woodland, widely seen,
a path o'er the plain, where she passed, and trod
the murky moor; of men-at-arms
she bore the bravest and best one, dead,
him who with Hrothgar the homestead ruled.
On then went the atheling-born
o'er stone-cliffs steep and strait defiles,
narrow passes and unknown ways,
headlands sheer, and the haunts of the Nicors.
Foremost he [1] fared, a few at his side
of the wiser men, the ways to scan,
till he found in a flash the forested hill
hanging over the hoary rock,
a woful wood: the waves below
were dyed in blood. The Danish men
had sorrow of soul, and for Scyldings all,
for many a hero, 'twas hard to bear,
81
ill for earls, when Aeschere's head
they found by the flood on the foreland there.
Waves were welling, the warriors saw,
hot with blood; but the horn sang oft
battle-song bold. The band sat down,
and watched on the water worm-like things,
sea-dragons strange that sounded the deep,
and nicors that lay on the ledge of the ness such as oft essay at hour of morn
on the road-of-sails their ruthless quest, and sea-snakes and monsters. These started away,
swollen and savage that song to hear,
that war-horn's blast. The warden of Geats,
with bolt from bow, then balked of life,
of wave-work, one monster, amid its heart
went the keen war-shaft; in water it seemed
less doughty in swimming whom death had seized.
Swift on the billows, with boar-spears well
hooked and barbed, it was hard beset,
done to death and dragged on the headland,
wave-roamer wondrous. Warriors viewed the grisly guest.
Then girt him Beowulf
in martial mail, nor mourned for his life.
His breastplate broad and bright of hues,
woven by hand, should the waters try;
well could it ward the warrior's body
that battle should break on his breast in vain
nor harm his heart by the hand of a foe.
And the helmet white that his head protected
was destined to dare the deeps of the flood,
through wave-whirl win: 'twas wound with chains,
decked with gold, as in days of yore
the weapon-smith worked it wondrously,
with swine-forms set it, that swords nowise,
brandished in battle, could bite that helm.
Nor was that the meanest of mighty helps
which Hrothgar's orator offered at need:
'Hrunting' they named the hilted sword,
of old-time heirlooms easily first;
iron was its edge, all etched with poison,
with battle-blood hardened, nor blenched it at fight
in hero's hand who held it ever,
82
on paths of peril prepared to go
to folkstead [2] of foes. Not first time this
it was destined to do a daring task.
For he bore not in mind, the bairn of Ecglaf
sturdy and strong, that speech he had made,
drunk with wine, now this weapon he lent
to a stouter swordsman. Himself, though, durst not
under welter of waters wager his life
as loyal liegeman. So lost he his glory,
honor of earls. With the other not so,
who girded him now for the grim encounter.
XXII
BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:'Have mind, thou honored offspring of Healfdene
gold-friend of men, now I go on this quest,
sovran wise, what once was said:
if in thy cause it came that I
should lose my life, thou wouldst loyal bide
to me, though fallen, in father's place!
Be guardian, thou, to this group of my thanes,
my warrior-friends, if War should seize me;
and the goodly gifts thou gavest me,
Hrothgar beloved, to Hygelac send!
Geatland's king may ken by the gold,
Hrethel's son see, when he stares at the treasure,
that I got me a friend for goodness famed,
and joyed while I could in my jewel-bestower.
And let Unferth wield this wondrous sword,
earl far-honored, this heirloom precious,
hard of edge: with Hrunting I
seek doom of glory, or Death shall take me.'
After these words the Weder-Geat lord
boldly hastened, biding never
answer at all: the ocean floods
closed o'er the hero. Long while of the day
fled ere he felt the floor of the sea.
Soon found the fiend who the flood-domain
sword-hungry held these hundred winters,
greedy and grim, that some guest from above,
some man, was raiding her monster-realm.
She grasped out for him with grisly claws,
83
and the warrior seized; yet scathed she not
his body hale; the breastplate hindered,
as she strove to shatter the sark of war,
the linked harness, with loathsome hand.
Then bore this brine-wolf, when bottom she touched,
the lord of rings to the lair she haunted
whiles vainly he strove, though his valor held,
weapon to wield against wondrous monsters
that sore beset him; sea-beasts many
tried with fierce tusks to tear his mail,
and swarmed on the stranger. But soon he marked
he was now in some hall, he knew not which,
where water never could work him harm,
nor through the roof could reach him ever
fangs of the flood. Firelight he saw,
beams of a blaze that brightly shone.
Then the warrior was ware of that wolf-of-the-deep,
mere-wife monstrous. For mighty stroke
he swung his blade, and the blow withheld not.
Then sang on her head that seemly blade
its war-song wild. But the warrior found
the light-of-battle [1] was loath to bite,
to harm the heart: its hard edge failed
the noble at need, yet had known of old
strife hand to hand, and had helmets cloven,
doomed men's fighting-gear. First time, this,
for the gleaming blade that its glory fell.
Firm still stood, nor failed in valor,
heedful of high deeds, Hygelac's kinsman;
flung away fretted sword, featly jewelled,
the angry earl; on earth it lay
steel-edged and stiff. His strength he trusted,
hand-gripe of might. So man shall do
whenever in war he weens to earn him
lasting fame, nor fears for his life!
Seized then by shoulder, shrank not from combat,
the Geatish war-prince Grendel's mother.
Flung then the fierce one, filled with wrath,
his deadly foe, that she fell to ground.
Swift on her part she paid him back
with grisly grasp, and grappled with him.
Spent with struggle, stumbled the warrior,
84
fiercest of fighting-men, fell adown.
On the hall-guest she hurled herself,
hent her short sword,
broad and brown-edged, the bairn to avenge,
the sole-born son. - On his shoulder lay
braided breast-mail, barring death,
withstanding entrance of edge or blade.
Life would have ended for Ecgtheow's son,
under wide earth for that earl of Geats,
had his armor of war not aided him,
battle-net hard, and holy God
wielded the victory, wisest Maker.
The Lord of Heaven allowed his cause;
and easily rose the earl erect.
XXIII
'MID the battle-gear saw he a blade triumphant,
old-sword of Eotens, with edge of proof,
warriors' heirloom, weapon unmatched,
- save only 'twas more than other men
to bandy-of-battle could bear at all as the giants had wrought it, ready and keen.
Seized then its chain-hilt the Scyldings' chieftain,
bold and battle-grim, brandished the sword,
reckless of life, and so wrathfully smote
that it gripped her neck and grasped her hard,
her bone-rings breaking: the blade pierced through
that fated-one's flesh: to floor she sank.
Bloody the blade: he was blithe of his deed.
Then blazed forth light. 'Twas bright within
as when from the sky there shines unclouded
heaven's candle. The hall he scanned.
By the wall then went he; his weapon raised
high by its hilts the Hygelac-thane,
angry and eager. That edge was not useless
to the warrior now. He wished with speed
Grendel to guerdon for grim raids many,
for the war he waged on Western-Danes
oftener far than an only time,
when of Hrothgar's hearth-companions
he slew in slumber, in sleep devoured,
fifteen men of the folk of Danes,
85
and as many others outward bore,
his horrible prey. Well paid for that
the wrathful prince! For now prone he saw
Grendel stretched there, spent with war,
spoiled of life, so scathed had left him
Heorot's battle. The body sprang far
when after death it endured the blow,
sword-stroke savage, that severed its head.
Soon, [1] then, saw the sage companions
who waited with Hrothgar, watching the flood,
that the tossing waters turbid grew,
blood-stained the mere. Old men together,
hoary-haired, of the hero spake;
the warrior would not, they weened, again,
proud of conquest, come to seek
their mighty master. To many it seemed
the wolf-of-the-waves had won his life.
The ninth hour came. The noble Scyldings
left the headland; homeward went
the gold-friend of men. [2] But the guests sat on,
stared at the surges, sick in heart,
and wished, yet weened not, their winsome lord
again to see.
Now that sword began,
from blood of the fight, in battle-droppings,
war-blade, to wane: 'twas a wondrous thing
that all of it melted as ice is wont
when frosty fetters the Father loosens,
unwinds the wave-bonds, wielding all
seasons and times: the true God he!
Nor took from that dwelling the duke of the Geats
precious things, though a plenty he saw,
save only the head and that hilt withal
blazoned with jewels: the blade had melted,
burned was the bright sword, her blood was so hot,
so poisoned the hell-sprite who perished within there.
Soon he was swimming who safe saw in combat
downfall of demons; up-dove through the flood.
The clashing waters were cleansed now,
waste of waves, where the wandering fiend
her life-days left and this lapsing world.
Swam then to strand the sailors'-refuge,
86
sturdy-in-spirit, of sea-booty glad,
of burden brave he bore with him.
Went then to greet him, and God they thanked,
the thane-band choice of their chieftain blithe,
that safe and sound they could see him again.
Soon from the hardy one helmet and armor
deftly they doffed: now drowsed the mere,
water 'neath welkin, with war-blood stained.
Forth they fared by the footpaths thence,
merry at heart the highways measured,
well-known roads. Courageous men
carried the head from the cliff by the sea,
an arduous task for all the band,
the firm in fight, since four were needed
on the shaft-of-slaughter [4] strenuously
to bear to the gold-hall Grendel's head.
So presently to the palace there
foemen fearless, fourteen Geats,
marching came. Their master-of-clan
mighty amid them the meadow-ways trod.
Strode then within the sovran thane
fearless in fight, of fame renowned,
hardy hero, Hrothgar to greet.
And next by the hair into hall was borne
Grendel's head, where the henchmen were drinking,
an awe to clan and queen alike,
a monster of marvel: the men looked on.
XXIV
BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:'Lo, now, this sea-booty, son of Healfdene,
Lord of Scyldings, we've lustily brought thee,
sign of glory; thou seest it here.
Not lightly did I with my life escape!
In war under water this work I essayed
with endless effort; and even so
my strength had been lost had the Lord not shielded me.
Not a whit could I with Hrunting do
in work of war, though the weapon is good;
yet a sword the Sovran of Men vouchsafed me
to spy on the wall there, in splendor hanging,
old, gigantic, - how oft He guides
87
the friendless wight! - and I fought with that brand,
felling in fight, since fate was with me,
the house's wardens. That war-sword then all burned, bright blade, when the
blood gushed o'er it,
battle-sweat hot; but the hilt I brought back
from my foes. So avenged I their fiendish deeds
death-fall of Danes, as was due and right.
And this is my hest, that in Heorot now
safe thou canst sleep with thy soldier band,
and every thane of all thy folk
both old and young; no evil fear,
Scyldings' lord, from that side again,
aught ill for thy earls, as erst thou must!'
Then the golden hilt, for that gray-haired leader,
hoary hero, in hand was laid,
giant-wrought, old. So owned and enjoyed it
after downfall of devils, the Danish lord,
wonder-smiths' work, since the world was rid
of that grim-souled fiend, the foe of God,
murder-marked, and his mother as well.
Now it passed into power of the people's king,
best of all that the oceans bound
who have scattered their gold o'er Scandia's isle.
Hrothgar spake - the hilt he viewed,
heirloom old, where was etched the rise
of that far-off fight when the floods o'erwhelmed,
raging waves, the race of giants
(fearful their fate!), a folk estranged
from God Eternal: whence guerdon due
in that waste of waters the Wielder paid them.
So on the guard of shining gold
in runic staves it was rightly said
for whom the serpent-traced sword was wrought,
best of blades, in bygone days,
and the hilt well wound. - The wise-one spake,
son of Healfdene; silent were all:'Lo, so may he say who sooth and right
follows 'mid folk, of far times mindful,
a land-warden old, [1] that this earl belongs
to the better breed! So, borne aloft,
thy fame must fly, O friend my Beowulf,
far and wide o'er folksteads many. Firmly thou
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shalt all maintain,
mighty strength with mood of wisdom. Love of
mine will I assure thee,
as, awhile ago, I promised;
thou shalt prove a stay in future,
in far-off years, to folk of thine,
to the heroes a help. Was not Heremod thus
to offspring of Ecgwela, Honor-Scyldings,
nor grew for their grace, but for grisly slaughter,
for doom of death to the Danishmen.
He slew, wrath-swollen, his shoulder-comrades,
companions at board! So he passed alone,
chieftain haughty, from human cheer.
Though him the Maker with might endowed,
delights of power, and uplifted high
above all men, yet blood-fierce his mind,
his breast-hoard, grew, no bracelets gave he
to Danes as was due; he endured all joyless
strain of struggle and stress of woe,
long feud with his folk. Here find thy lesson!
Of virtue advise thee! This verse I have said for thee,
wise from lapsed winters. Wondrous seems
how to sons of men Almighty God
in the strength of His spirit sendeth wisdom,
estate, high station: He swayeth all things.
Whiles He letteth right lustily fare
the heart of the hero of high-born race, in seat ancestral assigns him bliss,
his folk's sure fortress in fee to hold,
puts in his power great parts of the earth,
empire so ample, that end of it
this wanter-of-wisdom weeneth none.
So he waxes in wealth, nowise can harm him
illness or age; no evil cares
shadow his spirit; no sword-hate threatens
from ever an enemy: all the world
wends at his will, no worse he knoweth,
till all within him obstinate pride
waxes and wakes while the warden slumbers,
the spirit's sentry; sleep is too fast
which masters his might, and the murderer nears,
stealthily shooting the shafts from his bow!
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XXV
'UNDER harness his heart then is hit indeed
by sharpest shafts; and no shelter avails
from foul behest of the hellish fiend.
Him seems too little what long he possessed.
Greedy and grim, no golden rings
he gives for his pride; the promised future
forgets he and spurns, with all God has sent him,
Wonder-Wielder, of wealth and fame.
Yet in the end it ever comes
that the frame of the body fragile yields,
fated falls; and there follows another
who joyously the jewels divides,
the royal riches, nor recks of his forebear.
Ban, then, such baleful thoughts, Beowulf dearest,
best of men, and the better part choose,
profit eternal; and temper thy pride,
warrior famous! The flower of thy might
lasts now a while: but erelong it shall be
that sickness or sword thy strength shall minish,
or fang of fire, or flooding billow,
or bite of blade, or brandished spear,
or odious age; or the eyes' clear beam
wax dull and darken: Death even thee
in haste shall o'erwhelm, thou hero of war!
So the Ring-Danes these half-years a hundred I ruled,
wielded 'neath welkin, and warded them bravely
from mighty-ones many o'er middle-earth,
from spear and sword, till it seemed for me
no foe could be found under fold of the sky.
Lo, sudden the shift! To me seated secure
came grief for joy when Grendel began
to harry my home, the hellish foe;
for those ruthless raids, unresting I suffered
heart-sorrow heavy. Heaven be thanked,
Lord Eternal, for life extended
that I on this head all hewn and bloody,
after long evil, with eyes may gaze!
- Go to the bench now! Be glad at banquet,
warrior worthy! A wealth of treasure
at dawn of day, be dealt between us!'
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Glad was the Geats' lord, going betimes
to seek his seat, as the Sage commanded.
Afresh, as before, for the famed-in-battle,
for the band of the hall, was a banquet dight
nobly anew. The Night-Helm darkened
dusk o'er the drinkers.
The doughty ones rose:
for the hoary-headed would hasten to rest,
aged Scylding; and eager the Geat,
shield-fighter sturdy, for sleeping yearned.
Him wander-weary, warrior-guest
from far, a hall-thane heralded forth,
who by custom courtly cared for all
needs of a thane as in those old days
warrior-wanderers wont to have.
So slumbered the stout-heart. Stately the hall
rose gabled and gilt where the guest slept on
till a raven black the rapture-of-heaven [2]
blithe-heart boded. Bright came flying
shine after shadow. The swordsmen hastened,
athelings all were eager homeward
forth to fare; and far from thence
the great-hearted guest would guide his keel.
Bade then the hardy-one Hrunting be brought
to the son of Ecglaf, the sword bade him take,
excellent iron, and uttered his thanks for it,
quoth that he counted it keen in battle,
'war-friend' winsome: with words he slandered not
edge of the blade: 'twas a big-hearted man!
Now eager for parting and armed at point
warriors waited, while went to his host
that Darling of Danes. The doughty atheling
to high-seat hastened and Hrothgar greeted.
XXVI
BEOWULF spake, bairn of Ecgtheow:'Lo, we seafarers say our will,
far-come men, that we fain would seek
Hygelac now. We here have found
hosts to our heart: thou hast harbored us well.
If ever on earth I am able to win me
more of thy love, O lord of men,
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aught anew, than I now have done,
for work of war I am willing still!
If it come to me ever across the seas
that neighbor foemen annoy and fright thee, as they that hate thee erewhile have used, thousands then of thanes I shall bring,
heroes to help thee. Of Hygelac I know,
ward of his folk, that, though few his years,
the lord of the Geats will give me aid
by word and by work, that well I may serve thee,
wielding the war-wood to win thy triumph
and lending thee might when thou lackest men.
If thy Hrethric should come to court of Geats,
a sovran's son, he will surely there
find his friends. A far-off land
each man should visit who vaunts him brave.'
Him then answering, Hrothgar spake:'These words of thine the wisest God
sent to thy soul! No sager counsel
from so young in years e'er yet have I heard.
Thou art strong of main and in mind art wary,
art wise in words! I ween indeed
if ever it hap that Hrethel's heir
by spear be seized, by sword-grim battle,
by illness or iron, thine elder and lord,
people's leader, - and life be thine, no seemlier man will the Sea-Geats find
at all to choose for their chief and king,
for hoard-guard of heroes, if hold thou wilt
thy kinsman's kingdom! Thy keen mind pleases me
the longer the better, Beowulf loved!
Thou hast brought it about that both our peoples,
sons of the Geat and Spear-Dane folk,
shall have mutual peace, and from murderous strife,
such as once they waged, from war refrain.
Long as I rule this realm so wide,
let our hoards be common, let heroes with gold
each other greet o'er the gannet's-bath,
and the ringed-prow bear o'er rolling waves
tokens of love. I trow my landfolk
towards friend and foe are firmly joined,
and honor they keep in the olden way.'
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To him in the hall, then, Healfdene's son
gave treasures twelve, and the trust-of-earls
bade him fare with the gifts to his folk beloved,
hale to his home, and in haste return.
Then kissed the king of kin renowned,
Scyldings' chieftain, that choicest thane,
and fell on his neck. Fast flowed the tears
of the hoary-headed. Heavy with winters,
he had chances twain, but he clung to this, [1] that each should look on the other again,
and hear him in hall. Was this hero so dear to him.
his breast's wild billows he banned in vain;
safe in his soul a secret longing,
locked in his mind, for that loved man
burned in his blood. Then Beowulf strode,
glad of his gold-gifts, the grass-plot o'er,
warrior blithe. The wave-roamer bode
riding at anchor, its owner awaiting.
As they hastened onward, Hrothgar's gift
they lauded at length. - 'Twas a lord unpeered,
every way blameless, till age had broken
- it spareth no mortal - his splendid might.
XXVII
CAME now to ocean the ever-courageous
hardy henchmen, their harness bearing,
woven war-sarks. The warden marked,
trusty as ever, the earl's return.
From the height of the hill no hostile words
reached the guests as he rode to greet them;
but 'Welcome!' he called to that Weder clan
as the sheen-mailed spoilers to ship marched on.
Then on the strand, with steeds and treasure
and armor their roomy and ring-dight ship
was heavily laden: high its mast
rose over Hrothgar's hoarded gems.
A sword to the boat-guard Beowulf gave,
mounted with gold; on the mead-bench since
he was better esteemed, that blade possessing,
heirloom old. - Their ocean-keel boarding,
they drove through the deep, and Daneland left.
A sea-cloth was set, a sail with ropes,
93
firm to the mast; the flood-timbers moaned;
nor did wind over billows that wave-swimmer blow
across from her course. The craft sped on,
foam-necked it floated forth o'er the waves,
keel firm-bound over briny currents,
till they got them sight of the Geatish cliffs,
home-known headlands. High the boat,
stirred by winds, on the strand updrove.
Helpful at haven the harbor-guard stood,
who long already for loved companions
by the water had waited and watched afar.
He bound to the beach the broad-bosomed ship
with anchor-bands, lest ocean-billows
that trusty timber should tear away.
Then Beowulf bade them bear the treasure,
gold and jewels; no journey far
was it thence to go to the giver of rings,
Hygelac Hrethling: at home he dwelt
by the sea-wall close, himself and clan.
Haughty that house, a hero the king,
high the hall, and Hygd right young,
wise and wary, though winters few
in those fortress walls she had found a home,
Haereth's daughter. Nor humble her ways,
nor grudged she gifts to the Geatish men,
of precious treasure. Not Thryth's pride showed she,
folk-queen famed, or that fell deceit.
Was none so daring that durst make bold
(save her lord alone) of the liegemen dear
that lady full in the face to look,
but forged fetters he found his lot,
bonds of death! And brief the respite;
soon as they seized him, his sword-doom was spoken,
and the burnished blade a baleful murder
proclaimed and closed. No queenly way
for woman to practise, though peerless she,
that the weaver-of-peace [3] from warrior dear
by wrath and lying his life should reave!
But Hemming's kinsman hindered this. For over their ale men also told
that of these folk-horrors fewer she wrought,
onslaughts of evil, after she went,
94
gold-decked bride, to the brave young prince,
atheling haughty, and Offa's hall
o'er the fallow flood at her father's bidding
safely sought, where since she prospered,
royal, throned, rich in goods,
fain of the fair life fate had sent her,
and leal in love to the lord of warriors.
He, of all heroes I heard of ever
from sea to sea, of the sons of earth,
most excellent seemed. Hence Offa was praised
for his fighting and feeing by far-off men,
the spear-bold warrior; wisely he ruled
over his empire. Eomer woke to him,
help of heroes, Hemming's kinsman,
Grandson of Garmund, grim in war.
XXVIII
HASTENED the hardy one, henchmen with him,
sandy strand of the sea to tread
and widespread ways. The world's great candle,
sun shone from south. They strode along
with sturdy steps to the spot they knew
where the battle-king young, his burg within,
slayer of Ongentheow, shared the rings,
shelter-of-heroes. To Hygelac
Beowulf's coming was quickly told, that there in the court the clansmen's refuge,
the shield-companion sound and alive,
hale from the hero-play homeward strode.
With haste in the hall, by highest order,
room for the rovers was readily made.
By his sovran he sat, come safe from battle,
kinsman by kinsman. His kindly lord
he first had greeted in gracious form,
with manly words. The mead dispensing,
came through the high hall Haereth's daughter,
winsome to warriors, wine-cup bore
to the hands of the heroes. Hygelac then
his comrade fairly with question plied
in the lofty hall, sore longing to know
what manner of sojourn the Sea-Geats made.
'What came of thy quest, my kinsman Beowulf,
95
when thy yearnings suddenly swept thee yonder
battle to seek o'er the briny sea,
combat in Heorot? Hrothgar couldst thou
aid at all, the honored chief,
in his wide-known woes? With waves of care
my sad heart seethed; I sore mistrusted
my loved one's venture: long I begged thee
by no means to seek that slaughtering monster,
but suffer the South-Danes to settle their feud
themselves with Grendel. Now God be thanked
that safe and sound I can see thee now!'
Beowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow:''Tis known and unhidden, Hygelac Lord,
to many men, that meeting of ours,
struggle grim between Grendel and me,
which we fought on the field where full too many
sorrows he wrought for the Scylding-Victors,
evils unending. These all I avenged.
No boast can be from breed of Grendel,
any on earth, for that uproar at dawn,
from the longest-lived of the loathsome race
in fleshly fold! - But first I went
Hrothgar to greet in the hall of gifts,
where Healfdene's kinsman high-renowned,
soon as my purpose was plain to him,
assigned me a seat by his son and heir.
The liegemen were lusty; my life-days never
such merry men over mead in hall
have I heard under heaven! The high-born queen,
people's peace-bringer, passed through the hall,
cheered the young clansmen, clasps of gold,
ere she sought her seat, to sundry gave.
Oft to the heroes Hrothgar's daughter,
to earls in turn, the ale-cup tendered, she whom I heard these hall-companions
Freawaru name, when fretted gold
she proffered the warriors. Promised is she,
gold-decked maid, to the glad son of Froda.
Sage this seems to the Scylding's-friend,
kingdom's-keeper: he counts it wise
the woman to wed so and ward off feud,
store of slaughter. But seldom ever
96
when men are slain, does the murder-spear sink
but briefest while, though the bride be fair! [1]
'Nor haply will like it the Heathobard lord,
and as little each of his liegemen all,
when a thane of the Danes, in that doughty throng,
goes with the lady along their hall,
and on him the old-time heirlooms glisten
hard and ring-decked, Heathobard's treasure,
weapons that once they wielded fair
until they lost at the linden-play [2]
liegeman leal and their lives as well.
Then, over the ale, on this heirloom gazing,
some ash-wielder old who has all in mind
that spear-death of men, [3] - he is stern of mood,
heavy at heart, - in the hero young
tests the temper and tries the soul
and war-hate wakens, with words like these:_Canst thou not, comrade, ken that sword
which to the fray thy father carried
in his final feud, 'neath the fighting-mask,
dearest of blades, when the Danish slew him
and wielded the war-place on Withergild's fall,
after havoc of heroes, those hardy Scyldings?
Now, the son of a certain slaughtering Dane,
proud of his treasure, paces this hall,
joys in the killing, and carries the jewel [4]
that rightfully ought to be owned by thee!_
Thus he urges and eggs him all the time
with keenest words, till occasion offers
that Freawaru's thane, for his father's deed,
after bite of brand in his blood must slumber,
losing his life; but that liegeman flies
living away, for the land he kens.
And thus be broken on both their sides
oaths of the earls, when Ingeld's breast
wells with war-hate, and wife-love now
after the care-billows cooler grows.
'So [5] I hold not high the Heathobards' faith
due to the Danes, or their during love
and pact of peace. - But I pass from that,
turning to Grendel, O giver-of-treasure,
and saying in full how the fight resulted,
97
hand-fray of heroes. When heaven's jewel
had fled o'er far fields, that fierce sprite came,
night-foe savage, to seek us out
where safe and sound we sentried the hall.
To Hondscio then was that harassing deadly,
his fall there was fated. He first was slain,
girded warrior. Grendel on him
turned murderous mouth, on our mighty kinsman,
and all of the brave man's body devoured.
Yet none the earlier, empty-handed,
would the bloody-toothed murderer, mindful of bale,
outward go from the gold-decked hall:
but me he attacked in his terror of might,
with greedy hand grasped me. A glove hung by him [6]
wide and wondrous, wound with bands;
and in artful wise it all was wrought,
by devilish craft, of dragon-skins.
Me therein, an innocent man,
the fiendish foe was fain to thrust
with many another. He might not so,
when I all angrily upright stood.
'Twere long to relate how that land-destroyer
I paid in kind for his cruel deeds;
yet there, my prince, this people of thine
got fame by my fighting. He fled away,
and a little space his life preserved;
but there staid behind him his stronger hand
left in Heorot; heartsick thence
on the floor of the ocean that outcast fell.
Me for this struggle the Scyldings'-friend
paid in plenty with plates of gold,
with many a treasure, when morn had come
and we all at the banquet-board sat down.
Then was song and glee. The gray-haired Scylding,
much tested, told of the times of yore.
Whiles the hero his harp bestirred,
wood-of-delight; now lays he chanted
of sooth and sadness, or said aright
legends of wonder, the wide-hearted king;
or for years of his youth he would yearn at times,
for strength of old struggles, now stricken with age,
hoary hero: his heart surged full
98
when, wise with winters, he wailed their flight.
Thus in the hall the whole of that day
at ease we feasted, till fell o'er earth
another night. Anon full ready
in greed of vengeance, Grendel's mother
set forth all doleful. Dead was her son
through war-hate of Weders; now, woman monstrous
with fury fell a foeman she slew,
avenged her offspring. From Aeschere old,
loyal councillor, life was gone;
nor might they e'en, when morning broke,
those Danish people, their death-done comrade
burn with brands, on balefire lay
the man they mourned. Under mountain stream
she had carried the corpse with cruel hands.
For Hrothgar that was the heaviest sorrow
of all that had laden the lord of his folk.
The leader then, by thy life, besought me
(sad was his soul) in the sea-waves' coil
to play the hero and hazard my being
for glory of prowess: my guerdon he pledged.
I then in the waters - 'tis widely known that sea-floor-guardian savage found.
Hand-to-hand there a while we struggled;
billows welled blood; in the briny hall
her head I hewed with a hardy blade
from Grendel's mother, - and gained my life,
though not without danger. My doom was not yet.
Then the haven-of-heroes, Healfdene's son,
gave me in guerdon great gifts of price.
XXXI
'So held this king to the customs old,
that I wanted for nought in the wage I gained,
the meed of my might; he made me gifts,
Healfdene's heir, for my own disposal.
Now to thee, my prince, I proffer them all,
gladly give them. Thy grace alone
can find me favor. Few indeed
have I of kinsmen, save, Hygelac, thee!'
Then he bade them bear him the boar-head standard,
the battle-helm high, and breastplate gray,
99
the splendid sword; then spake in form:'Me this war-gear the wise old prince,
Hrothgar, gave, and his hest he added,
that its story be straightway said to thee. A while it was held by Heorogar king,
for long time lord of the land of Scyldings;
yet not to his son the sovran left it,
to daring Heoroweard, - dear as he was to him,
his harness of battle. - Well hold thou it all!'
And I heard that soon passed o'er the path of this treasure, all apple-fallow, four
good steeds,
each like the others, arms and horses
he gave to the king. So should kinsmen be,
not weave one another the net of wiles,
or with deep-hid treachery death contrive
for neighbor and comrade. His nephew was ever
by hardy Hygelac held full dear,
and each kept watch o'er the other's weal.
I heard, too, the necklace to Hygd he presented,
wonder-wrought treasure, which Wealhtheow gave him
sovran's daughter: three steeds he added,
slender and saddle-gay. Since such gift
the gem gleamed bright on the breast of the queen.
Thus showed his strain the son of Ecgtheow
as a man remarked for mighty deeds
and acts of honor. At ale he slew not
comrade or kin; nor cruel his mood,
though of sons of earth his strength was greatest,
a glorious gift that God had sent
the splendid leader. Long was he spurned,
and worthless by Geatish warriors held;
him at mead the master-of-clans
failed full oft to favor at all.
Slack and shiftless the strong men deemed him,
profitless prince; but payment came,
to the warrior honored, for all his woes. Then the bulwark-of-earls [1] bade bring within,
hardy chieftain, Hrethel's heirloom
garnished with gold: no Geat e'er knew
in shape of a sword a statelier prize.
The brand he laid in Beowulf's lap;
and of hides assigned him seven thousand,
100
with house and high-seat. They held in common
land alike by their line of birth,
inheritance, home: but higher the king
because of his rule o'er the realm itself.
Now further it fell with the flight of years,
with harryings horrid, that Hygelac perished,
and Heardred, too, by hewing of swords
under the shield-wall slaughtered lay,
when him at the van of his victor-folk
sought hardy heroes, Heatho-Scilfings,
in arms o'erwhelming Hereric's nephew.
Then Beowulf came as king this broad
realm to wield; and he ruled it well
fifty winters, [4] a wise old prince,
warding his land, until One began
in the dark of night, a Dragon, to rage.
In the grave on the hill a hoard it guarded,
in the stone-barrow steep. A strait path reached it,
unknown to mortals. Some man, however,
came by chance that cave within
to the heathen hoard. [5] In hand he took
a golden goblet, nor gave he it back,
stole with it away, while the watcher slept,
by thievish wiles: for the warden's wrath
prince and people must pay betimes!
XXXII
THAT way he went with no will of his own,
in danger of life, to the dragon's hoard,
but for pressure of peril, some prince's thane.
He fled in fear the fatal scourge,
seeking shelter, a sinful man,
and entered in. At the awful sight
tottered that guest, and terror seized him;
yet the wretched fugitive rallied anon
from fright and fear ere he fled away,
and took the cup from that treasure-hoard.
Of such besides there was store enough,
heirlooms old, the earth below,
which some earl forgotten, in ancient years,
left the last of his lofty race,
heedfully there had hidden away,
101
dearest treasure. For death of yore
had hurried all hence; and he alone
left to live, the last of the clan,
weeping his friends, yet wished to bide
warding the treasure, his one delight,
though brief his respite. The barrow, new-ready,
to strand and sea-waves stood anear,
hard by the headland, hidden and closed;
there laid within it his lordly heirlooms
and heaped hoard of heavy gold
that warden of rings. Few words he spake:
'Now hold thou, earth, since heroes may not,
what earls have owned! Lo, erst from thee
brave men brought it! But battle-death seized
and cruel killing my clansmen all,
robbed them of life and a liegeman's joys.
None have I left to lift the sword,
or to cleanse the carven cup of price,
beaker bright. My brave are gone.
And the helmet hard, all haughty with gold,
shall part from its plating. Polishers sleep
who could brighten and burnish the battle-mask;
and those weeds of war that were wont to brave
over bicker of shields the bite of steel
rust with their bearer. The ringed mail
fares not far with famous chieftain,
at side of hero! No harp's delight,
no glee-wood's gladness! No good hawk now
flies through the hall! Nor horses fleet
stamp in the burgstead! Battle and death
the flower of my race have reft away.'
Mournful of mood, thus he moaned his woe,
alone, for them all, and unblithe wept
by day and by night, till death's fell wave
o'erwhelmed his heart. His hoard-of-bliss
that old ill-doer open found,
who, blazing at twilight the barrows haunteth,
naked foe-dragon flying by night
folded in fire: the folk of earth
dread him sore. 'Tis his doom to seek
hoard in the graves, and heathen gold
to watch, many-wintered: nor wins he thereby!
102
Powerful this plague-of-the-people thus
held the house of the hoard in earth
three hundred winters; till One aroused
wrath in his breast, to the ruler bearing
that costly cup, and the king implored
for bond of peace. So the barrow was plundered,
borne off was booty. His boon was granted
that wretched man; and his ruler saw
first time what was fashioned in far-off days.
When the dragon awoke, new woe was kindled.
O'er the stone he snuffed. The stark-heart found
footprint of foe who so far had gone
in his hidden craft by the creature's head. So may the undoomed easily flee
evils and exile, if only he gain
the grace of The Wielder! - That warden of gold
o'er the ground went seeking, greedy to find
the man who wrought him such wrong in sleep.
Savage and burning, the barrow he circled
all without; nor was any there,
none in the waste…. Yet war he desired,
was eager for battle. The barrow he entered,
sought the cup, and discovered soon
that some one of mortals had searched his treasure,
his lordly gold. The guardian waited
ill-enduring till evening came;
boiling with wrath was the barrow's keeper,
and fain with flame the foe to pay
for the dear cup's loss. - Now day was fled
as the worm had wished. By its wall no more
was it glad to bide, but burning flew
folded in flame: a fearful beginning
for sons of the soil; and soon it came,
in the doom of their lord, to a dreadful end.
XXXIII
THEN the baleful fiend its fire belched out,
and bright homes burned. The blaze stood high
all landsfolk frighting. No living thing
would that loathly one leave as aloft it flew.
Wide was the dragon's warring seen,
its fiendish fury far and near,
103
as the grim destroyer those Geatish people
hated and hounded. To hidden lair,
to its hoard it hastened at hint of dawn.
Folk of the land it had lapped in flame,
with bale and brand. In its barrow it trusted,
its battling and bulwarks: that boast was vain!
To Beowulf then the bale was told
quickly and truly: the king's own home,
of buildings the best, in brand-waves melted,
that gift-throne of Geats. To the good old man
sad in heart, 'twas heaviest sorrow.
The sage assumed that his sovran God
he had angered, breaking ancient law,
and embittered the Lord. His breast within
with black thoughts welled, as his wont was never.
The folk's own fastness that fiery dragon
with flame had destroyed, and the stronghold all
washed by waves; but the warlike king,
prince of the Weders, plotted vengeance.
Warriors'-bulwark, he bade them work
all of iron - the earl's commander a war-shield wondrous: well he knew
that forest-wood against fire were worthless,
linden could aid not. - Atheling brave,
he was fated to finish this fleeting life,
his days on earth, and the dragon with him,
though long it had watched o'er the wealth of the hoard! Shame he reckoned it, sharer-of-rings,
to follow the flyer-afar with a host,
a broad-flung band; nor the battle feared he,
nor deemed he dreadful the dragon's warring,
its vigor and valor: ventures desperate
he had passed a-plenty, and perils of war,
contest-crash, since, conqueror proud,
Hrothgar's hall he had wholly purged,
and in grapple had killed the kin of Grendel,
loathsome breed! Not least was that
of hand-to-hand fights where Hygelac fell,
when the ruler of Geats in rush of battle,
lord of his folk, in the Frisian land,
son of Hrethel, by sword-draughts died,
by brands down-beaten. Thence Beowulf fled
104
through strength of himself and his swimming power,
though alone, and his arms were laden with thirty
coats of mail, when he came to the sea!
Nor yet might Hetwaras [2] haughtily boast
their craft of contest, who carried against him
shields to the fight: but few escaped
from strife with the hero to seek their homes!
Then swam over ocean Ecgtheow's son
lonely and sorrowful, seeking his land,
where Hygd made him offer of hoard and realm,
rings and royal-seat, reckoning naught
the strength of her son to save their kingdom
from hostile hordes, after Hygelac's death.
No sooner for this could the stricken ones
in any wise move that atheling's mind
over young Heardred's head as lord
and ruler of all the realm to be:
yet the hero upheld him with helpful words,
aided in honor, till, older grown,
he wielded the Weder-Geats. - Wandering exiles
sought him o'er seas, the sons of Ohtere,
who had spurned the sway of the Scylfings'-helmet,
the bravest and best that broke the rings,
in Swedish land, of the sea-kings' line,
haughty hero. [3] Hence Heardred's end.
For shelter he gave them, sword-death came,
the blade's fell blow, to bairn of Hygelac;
but the son of Ongentheow sought again
house and home when Heardred fell,
leaving Beowulf lord of Geats
and gift-seat's master. - A good king he!
XXXIV
THE fall of his lord he was fain to requite
in after days; and to Eadgils he proved
friend to the friendless, and forces sent
over the sea to the son of Ohtere,
weapons and warriors: well repaid he
those care-paths cold when the king he slew. [1]
Thus safe through struggles the son of Ecgtheow
had passed a plenty, through perils dire,
105
with daring deeds, till this day was come
that doomed him now with the dragon to strive.
With comrades eleven the lord of Geats
swollen in rage went seeking the dragon.
He had heard whence all the harm arose
and the killing of clansmen; that cup of price
on the lap of the lord had been laid by the finder.
In the throng was this one thirteenth man,
starter of all the strife and ill,
care-laden captive; cringing thence
forced and reluctant, he led them on
till he came in ken of that cavern-hall,
the barrow delved near billowy surges,
flood of ocean. Within 'twas full
of wire-gold and jewels; a jealous warden,
warrior trusty, the treasures held,
lurked in his lair. Not light the task
of entrance for any of earth-born men!
Sat on the headland the hero king,
spake words of hail to his hearth-companions,
gold-friend of Geats. All gloomy his soul,
wavering, death-bound. Wyrd full nigh
stood ready to greet the gray-haired man,
to seize his soul-hoard, sunder apart
life and body. Not long would be
the warrior's spirit enwound with flesh.
Beowulf spake, the bairn of Ecgtheow:'Through store of struggles I strove in youth,
mighty feuds; I mind them all.
I was seven years old when the sovran of rings,
friend-of-his-folk, from my father took me,
had me, and held me, Hrethel the king,
with food and fee, faithful in kinship.
Ne'er, while I lived there, he loathlier found me,
bairn in the burg, than his birthright sons,
Herebeald and Haethcyn and Hygelac mine.
For the eldest of these, by unmeet chance,
by kinsman's deed, was the death-bed strewn,
when Haethcyn killed him with horny bow,
his own dear liege laid low with an arrow,
missed the mark and his mate shot down,
one brother the other, with bloody shaft.
106
A feeless fight, [2] and a fearful sin,
horror to Hrethel; yet, hard as it was,
unavenged must the atheling die!
Too awful it is for an aged man
to bide and bear, that his bairn so young
rides on the gallows. A rime he makes,
sorrow-song for his son there hanging
as rapture of ravens; no rescue now
can come from the old, disabled man!
Still is he minded, as morning breaks,
of the heir gone elsewhere; [3] another he hopes not
he will bide to see his burg within
as ward for his wealth, now the one has found
doom of death that the deed incurred.
Forlorn he looks on the lodge of his son,
wine-hall waste and wind-swept chambers
reft of revel. The rider sleepeth,
the hero, far-hidden; [4] no harp resounds,
in the courts no wassail, as once was heard.
XXXV
'THEN he goes to his chamber, a grief-song chants
alone for his lost. Too large all seems,
homestead and house. So the helmet-of-Weders
hid in his heart for Herebeald
waves of woe. No way could he take
to avenge on the slayer slaughter so foul;
nor e'en could he harass that hero at all
with loathing deed, though he loved him not.
And so for the sorrow his soul endured,
men's gladness he gave up and God's light chose.
Lands and cities he left his sons
(as the wealthy do) when he went from earth.
There was strife and struggle 'twixt Swede and Geat
o'er the width of waters; war arose,
hard battle-horror, when Hrethel died,
and Ongentheow's offspring grew
strife-keen, bold, nor brooked o'er the seas
pact of peace, but pushed their hosts
to harass in hatred by Hreosnabeorh.
Men of my folk for that feud had vengeance,
107
for woful war ('tis widely known),
though one of them bought it with blood of his heart,
a bargain hard: for Haethcyn proved
fatal that fray, for the first-of-Geats.
At morn, I heard, was the murderer killed
by kinsman for kinsman, [1] with clash of sword,
when Ongentheow met Eofor there.
Wide split the war-helm: wan he fell,
hoary Scylfing; the hand that smote him
of feud was mindful, nor flinched from the death-blow.
- 'For all that he [2] gave me, my gleaming sword
repaid him at war, - such power I wielded, for lordly treasure: with land he entrusted me,
homestead and house. He had no need
from Swedish realm, or from Spear-Dane folk,
or from men of the Gifths, to get him help, some warrior worse for wage to buy!
Ever I fought in the front of all,
sole to the fore; and so shall I fight
while I bide in life and this blade shall last
that early and late hath loyal proved
since for my doughtiness Daeghrefn fell,
slain by my hand, the Hugas' champion.
Nor fared he thence to the Frisian king
with the booty back, and breast-adornments;
but, slain in struggle, that standard-bearer
fell, atheling brave. Not with blade was he slain,
but his bones were broken by brawny gripe,
his heart-waves stilled. - The sword-edge now,
hard blade and my hand, for the hoard shall strive.'
Beowulf spake, and a battle-vow made
his last of all: 'I have lived through many
wars in my youth; now once again,
old folk-defender, feud will I seek,
do doughty deeds, if the dark destroyer
forth from his cavern come to fight me!'
Then hailed he the helmeted heroes all,
for the last time greeting his liegemen dear,
comrades of war: 'I should carry no weapon,
no sword to the serpent, if sure I knew
how, with such enemy, else my vows
I could gain as I did in Grendel's day.
108
But fire in this fight I must fear me now,
and poisonous breath; so I bring with me
breastplate and board. [3] From the barrow's keeper
no footbreadth flee I. One fight shall end
our war by the wall, as Wyrd allots,
all mankind's master. My mood is bold
but forbears to boast o'er this battling-flyer.
- Now abide by the barrow, ye breastplate-mailed,
ye heroes in harness, which of us twain
better from battle-rush bear his wounds.
Wait ye the finish. The fight is not yours,
nor meet for any but me alone
to measure might with this monster here
and play the hero. Hardily I
shall win that wealth, or war shall seize,
cruel killing, your king and lord!'
Up stood then with shield the sturdy champion,
stayed by the strength of his single manhood,
and hardy 'neath helmet his harness bore
under cleft of the cliffs: no coward's path!
Soon spied by the wall that warrior chief,
survivor of many a victory-field
where foemen fought with furious clashings,
an arch of stone; and within, a stream
that broke from the barrow. The brooklet's wave
was hot with fire. The hoard that way
he never could hope unharmed to near,
or endure those deeps, [4] for the dragon's flame.
Then let from his breast, for he burst with rage,
the Weder-Geat prince a word outgo;
stormed the stark-heart; stern went ringing
and clear his cry 'neath the cliff-rocks gray.
The hoard-guard heard a human voice;
his rage was enkindled. No respite now
for pact of peace! The poison-breath
of that foul worm first came forth from the cave,
hot reek-of-fight: the rocks resounded.
Stout by the stone-way his shield he raised,
lord of the Geats, against the loathed-one;
while with courage keen that coiled foe
came seeking strife. The sturdy king
had drawn his sword, not dull of edge,
109
heirloom old; and each of the two
felt fear of his foe, though fierce their mood.
Stoutly stood with his shield high-raised
the warrior king, as the worm now coiled
together amain: the mailed-one waited.
Now, spire by spire, fast sped and glided
that blazing serpent. The shield protected,
soul and body a shorter while
for the hero-king than his heart desired,
could his will have wielded the welcome respite
but once in his life! But Wyrd denied it,
and victory's honors. - His arm he lifted
lord of the Geats, the grim foe smote
with atheling's heirloom. Its edge was turned
brown blade, on the bone, and bit more feebly
than its noble master had need of then
in his baleful stress. - Then the barrow's keeper
waxed full wild for that weighty blow,
cast deadly flames; wide drove and far
those vicious fires. No victor's glory
the Geats' lord boasted; his brand had failed,
naked in battle, as never it should,
excellent iron! - 'Twas no easy path
that Ecgtheow's honored heir must tread
over the plain to the place of the foe;
for against his will he must win a home
elsewhere far, as must all men, leaving
this lapsing life! - Not long it was
ere those champions grimly closed again.
The hoard-guard was heartened; high heaved his breast
once more; and by peril was pressed again,
enfolded in flames, the folk-commander!
Nor yet about him his band of comrades,
sons of athelings, armed stood
with warlike front: to the woods they bent them,
their lives to save. But the soul of one
with care was cumbered. Kinship true
can never be marred in a noble mind!
XXXVI
WIGLAF his name was, Weohstan's son,
linden-thane loved, the lord of Scylfings,
110
Aelfhere's kinsman. His king he now saw
with heat under helmet hard oppressed.
He minded the prizes his prince had given him,
wealthy seat of the Waegmunding line,
and folk-rights that his father owned
Not long he lingered. The linden yellow,
his shield, he seized; the old sword he drew: as heirloom of Eanmund earth-dwellers knew it,
who was slain by the sword-edge, son of Ohtere,
friendless exile, erst in fray
killed by Weohstan, who won for his kin
brown-bright helmet, breastplate ringed,
old sword of Eotens, Onela's gift,
weeds of war of the warrior-thane,
battle-gear brave: though a brother's child
had been felled, the feud was unfelt by Onela. [1]
For winters this war-gear Weohstan kept,
breastplate and board, till his bairn had grown
earlship to earn as the old sire did:
then he gave him, mid Geats, the gear of battle,
portion huge, when he passed from life,
fared aged forth. For the first time now
with his leader-lord the liegeman young
was bidden to share the shock of battle.
Neither softened his soul, nor the sire's bequest
weakened in war. [2] So the worm found out
when once in fight the foes had met!
Wiglaf spake, - and his words were sage;
sad in spirit, he said to his comrades:'I remember the time, when mead we took,
what promise we made to this prince of ours
in the banquet-hall, to our breaker-of-rings,
for gear of combat to give him requital,
for hard-sword and helmet, if hap should bring
stress of this sort! Himself who chose us
from all his army to aid him now,
urged us to glory, and gave these treasures,
because he counted us keen with the spear
and hardy 'neath helm, though this hero-work
our leader hoped unhelped and alone
to finish for us, - folk-defender
who hath got him glory greater than all men
111
for daring deeds! Now the day is come
that our noble master has need of the might
of warriors stout. Let us stride along
the hero to help while the heat is about him
glowing and grim! For God is my witness
I am far more fain the fire should seize
along with my lord these limbs of mine! [3]
Unsuiting it seems our shields to bear
homeward hence, save here we essay
to fell the foe and defend the life
of the Weders' lord. I wot 'twere shame
on the law of our land if alone the king
out of Geatish warriors woe endured
and sank in the struggle! My sword and helmet,
breastplate and board, for us both shall serve!'
Through slaughter-reek strode he to succor his Chieftain,
his battle-helm bore, and brief words spake:'Beowulf dearest, do all bravely,
as in youthful days of yore thou vowedst
that while life should last thou wouldst let no wise
thy glory droop! Now, great in deeds,
atheling steadfast, with all thy strength
shield thy life! I will stand to help thee.'
At the words the worm came once again,
murderous monster mad with rage,
with fire-billows flaming, its foes to seek,
the hated men. In heat-waves burned
that board [4] to the boss, and the breastplate failed
to shelter at all the spear-thane young.
Yet quickly under his kinsman's shield
went eager the earl, since his own was now
all burned by the blaze. The bold king again
had mind of his glory: with might his glaive
was driven into the dragon's head, blow nerved by hate. But Naegling was shivered,
broken in battle was Beowulf's sword,
old and gray. 'Twas granted him not
that ever the edge of iron at all
could help him at strife: too strong was his hand,
so the tale is told, and he tried too far
with strength of stroke all swords he wielded,
though sturdy their steel: they steaded him nought.
112
Then for the third time thought on its feud
that folk-destroyer, fire-dread dragon,
and rushed on the hero, where room allowed,
battle-grim, burning; its bitter teeth
closed on his neck, and covered him
with waves of blood from his breast that welled.
XXXVII
'TWAS now, men say, in his sovran's need
that the earl made known his noble strain,
craft and keenness and courage enduring.
Heedless of harm, though his hand was burned,
hardy-hearted, he helped his kinsman.
A little lower the loathsome beast
he smote with sword; his steel drove in
bright and burnished; that blaze began
to lose and lessen. At last the king
wielded his wits again, war-knife drew,
a biting blade by his breastplate hanging,
and the Weders'-helm smote that worm asunder,
felled the foe, flung forth its life.
So had they killed it, kinsmen both,
athelings twain: thus an earl should be
in danger's day! - Of deeds of valor
this conqueror's-hour of the king was last,
of his work in the world. The wound began,
which that dragon-of-earth had erst inflicted,
to swell and smart; and soon he found
in his breast was boiling, baleful and deep,
pain of poison. The prince walked on,
wise in his thought, to the wall of rock;
then sat, and stared at the structure of giants,
where arch of stone and steadfast column
upheld forever that hall in earth.
Yet here must the hand of the henchman peerless
lave with water his winsome lord,
the king and conqueror covered with blood,
with struggle spent, and unspan his helmet.
Beowulf spake in spite of his hurt,
his mortal wound; full well he knew
his portion now was past and gone
of earthly bliss, and all had fled
113
of his file of days, and death was near:
'I would fain bestow on son of mine
this gear of war, were given me now
that any heir should after me come
of my proper blood. This people I ruled
fifty winters. No folk-king was there,
none at all, of the neighboring clans
who war would wage me with 'warriors'-friends' [1]
and threat me with horrors. At home I bided
what fate might come, and I cared for mine own;
feuds I sought not, nor falsely swore
ever on oath. For all these things,
though fatally wounded, fain am I!
From the Ruler-of-Man no wrath shall seize me,
when life from my frame must flee away,
for killing of kinsmen! Now quickly go
and gaze on that hoard 'neath the hoary rock,
Wiglaf loved, now the worm lies low,
sleeps, heart-sore, of his spoil bereaved.
And fare in haste. I would fain behold
the gorgeous heirlooms, golden store,
have joy in the jewels and gems, lay down
softlier for sight of this splendid hoard
my life and the lordship I long have held.'
XXXVIII
I HAVE heard that swiftly the son of Weohstan
at wish and word of his wounded king, war-sick warrior, - woven mail-coat,
battle-sark, bore 'neath the barrow's roof.
Then the clansman keen, of conquest proud,
passing the seat, [1] saw store of jewels
and glistening gold the ground along;
by the wall were marvels, and many a vessel
in the den of the dragon, the dawn-flier old:
unburnished bowls of bygone men
reft of richness; rusty helms
of the olden age; and arm-rings many
wondrously woven. - Such wealth of gold,
booty from barrow, can burden with pride
each human wight: let him hide it who will! -
114
His glance too fell on a gold-wove banner
high o'er the hoard, of handiwork noblest,
brilliantly broidered; so bright its gleam,
all the earth-floor he easily saw
and viewed all these vessels. No vestige now
was seen of the serpent: the sword had ta'en him.
Then, I heard, the hill of its hoard was reft,
old work of giants, by one alone;
he burdened his bosom with beakers and plate
at his own good will, and the ensign took,
brightest of beacons. - The blade of his lord
- its edge was iron - had injured deep
one that guarded the golden hoard
many a year and its murder-fire
spread hot round the barrow in horror-billows
at midnight hour, till it met its doom.
Hasted the herald, the hoard so spurred him
his track to retrace; he was troubled by doubt,
high-souled hero, if haply he'd find
alive, where he left him, the lord of Weders,
weakening fast by the wall of the cave.
So he carried the load. His lord and king
he found all bleeding, famous chief
at the lapse of life. The liegeman again
plashed him with water, till point of word
broke through the breast-hoard. Beowulf spake,
sage and sad, as he stared at the gold. 'For the gold and treasure, to God my thanks,
to the Wielder-of-Wonders, with words I say,
for what I behold, to Heaven's Lord,
for the grace that I give such gifts to my folk
or ever the day of my death be run!
Now I've bartered here for booty of treasure
the last of my life, so look ye well
to the needs of my land! No longer I tarry.
A barrow bid ye the battle-fanned raise
for my ashes. 'Twill shine by the shore of the flood,
to folk of mine memorial fair
on Hrones Headland high uplifted,
that ocean-wanderers oft may hail
Beowulf's Barrow, as back from far
they drive their keels o'er the darkling wave.'
115
From his neck he unclasped the collar of gold,
valorous king, to his vassal gave it
with bright-gold helmet, breastplate, and ring,
to the youthful thane: bade him use them in joy.
'Thou art end and remnant of all our race
the Waegmunding name. For Wyrd hath swept them,
all my line, to the land of doom,
earls in their glory: I after them go.'
This word was the last which the wise old man
harbored in heart ere hot death-waves
of balefire he chose. From his bosom fled
his soul to seek the saints' reward.
XXXIX
IT was heavy hap for that hero young
on his lord beloved to look and find him
lying on earth with life at end,
sorrowful sight. But the slayer too,
awful earth-dragon, empty of breath,
lay felled in fight, nor, fain of its treasure,
could the writhing monster rule it more.
For edges of iron had ended its days,
hard and battle-sharp, hammers' leaving;
and that flier-afar had fallen to ground
hushed by its hurt, its hoard all near,
no longer lusty aloft to whirl
at midnight, making its merriment seen,
proud of its prizes: prone it sank
by the handiwork of the hero-king.
Forsooth among folk but few achieve,
- though sturdy and strong, as stories tell me,
and never so daring in deed of valor, the perilous breath of a poison-foe
to brave, and to rush on the ring-board hall,
whenever his watch the warden keeps
bold in the barrow. Beowulf paid
the price of death for that precious hoard;
and each of the foes had found the end
of this fleeting life.
Befell erelong
that the laggards in war the wood had left,
116
trothbreakers, cowards, ten together,
fearing before to flourish a spear
in the sore distress of their sovran lord.
Now in their shame their shields they carried,
armor of fight, where the old man lay;
and they gazed on Wiglaf. Wearied he sat
at his sovran's shoulder, shieldsman good,
to wake him with water. [2] Nowise it availed.
Though well he wished it, in world no more
could he barrier life for that leader-of-battles
nor baffle the will of all-wielding God.
Doom of the Lord was law o'er the deeds
of every man, as it is to-day.
Grim was the answer, easy to get,
from the youth for those that had yielded to fear!
Wiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan, mournful he looked on those men unloved:'Who sooth will speak, can say indeed
that the ruler who gave you golden rings
and the harness of war in which ye stand
- for he at ale-bench often-times
bestowed on hall-folk helm and breastplate,
lord to liegemen, the likeliest gear
which near of far he could find to give, threw away and wasted these weeds of battle,
on men who failed when the foemen came!
Not at all could the king of his comrades-in-arms
venture to vaunt, though the Victory-Wielder,
God, gave him grace that he got revenge
sole with his sword in stress and need.
To rescue his life, 'twas little that I
could serve him in struggle; yet shift I made
(hopeless it seemed) to help my kinsman.
Its strength ever waned, when with weapon I struck
that fatal foe, and the fire less strongly
flowed from its head. - Too few the heroes
in throe of contest that thronged to our king!
Now gift of treasure and girding of sword,
joy of the house and home-delight
shall fail your folk; his freehold-land
every clansman within your kin
shall lose and leave, when lords highborn
117
hear afar of that flight of yours,
a fameless deed. Yea, death is better
for liegemen all than a life of shame!'
XL
THAT battle-toil bade he at burg to announce,
at the fort on the cliff, where, full of sorrow,
all the morning earls had sat,
daring shieldsmen, in doubt of twain:
would they wail as dead, or welcome home,
their lord beloved? Little [1] kept back
of the tidings new, but told them all,
the herald that up the headland rode. 'Now the willing-giver to Weder folk
in death-bed lies; the Lord of Geats
on the slaughter-bed sleeps by the serpent's deed!
And beside him is stretched that slayer-of-men
with knife-wounds sick: [2] no sword availed
on the awesome thing in any wise
to work a wound. There Wiglaf sitteth,
Weohstan's bairn, by Beowulf's side,
the living earl by the other dead,
and heavy of heart a head-watch [3] keeps
o'er friend and foe. - Now our folk may look
for waging of war when once unhidden
to Frisian and Frank the fall of the king
is spread afar. - The strife began
when hot on the Hugas [4] Hygelac fell
and fared with his fleet to the Frisian land.
Him there the Hetwaras humbled in war,
plied with such prowess their power o'erwhelming
that the bold-in-battle bowed beneath it
and fell in fight. To his friends no wise
could that earl give treasure! And ever since
the Merowings' favor has failed us wholly.
Nor aught expect I of peace and faith
from Swedish folk. 'Twas spread afar
how Ongentheow reft at Ravenswood
Haethcyn Hrethling of hope and life,
when the folk of Geats for the first time sought
in wanton pride the Warlike-Scylfings.
Soon the sage old sire [5] of Ohtere,
118
ancient and awful, gave answering blow;
the sea-king [6] he slew, and his spouse redeemed,
his good wife rescued, though robbed of her gold,
mother of Ohtere and Onela.
Then he followed his foes, who fled before him
sore beset and stole their way,
bereft of a ruler, to Ravenswood.
With his host he besieged there what swords had left,
the weary and wounded; woes he threatened
the whole night through to that hard-pressed throng:
some with the morrow his sword should kill,
some should go to the gallows-tree
for rapture of ravens. But rescue came
with dawn of day for those desperate men
when they heard the horn of Hygelac sound,
tones of his trumpet; the trusty king
had followed their trail with faithful band.
XLI
'THE bloody swath of Swedes and Geats
and the storm of their strife, were seen afar,
how folk against folk the fight had wakened.
The ancient king with his atheling band
sought his citadel, sorrowing much:
Ongentheow earl went up to his burg.
He had tested Hygelac's hardihood,
the proud one's prowess, would prove it no longer,
defied no more those fighting-wanderers
nor hoped from the seamen to save his hoard,
his bairn and his bride: so he bent him again,
old, to his earth-walls. Yet after him came
with slaughter for Swedes the standards of Hygelac
o'er peaceful plains in pride advancing,
till Hrethelings fought in the fenced town. [1]
Then Ongentheow with edge of sword,
the hoary-bearded, was held at bay,
and the folk-king there was forced to suffer
Eofor's anger. In ire, at the king
Wulf Wonreding with weapon struck;
and the chieftain's blood, for that blow, in streams
flowed 'neath his hair. No fear felt he,
stout old Scylfing, but straightway repaid
119
in better bargain that bitter stroke
and faced his foe with fell intent.
Nor swift enough was the son of Wonred
answer to render the aged chief;
too soon on his head the helm was cloven;
blood-bedecked he bowed to earth,
and fell adown; not doomed was he yet,
and well he waxed, though the wound was sore.
Then the hardy Hygelac-thane, [2]
when his brother fell, with broad brand smote,
giants' sword crashing through giants'-helm
across the shield-wall: sank the king,
his folk's old herdsman, fatally hurt.
There were many to bind the brother's wounds
and lift him, fast as fate allowed
his people to wield the place-of-war.
But Eofor took from Ongentheow,
earl from other, the iron-breastplate,
hard sword hilted, and helmet too,
and the hoar-chief's harness to Hygelac carried,
who took the trappings, and truly promised
rich fee 'mid folk, - and fulfilled it so.
For that grim strife gave the Geatish lord,
Hrethel's offspring, when home he came,
to Eofor and Wulf a wealth of treasure,
Each of them had a hundred thousand [3]
in land and linked rings; nor at less price reckoned
mid-earth men such mighty deeds!
And to Eofor he gave his only daughter
in pledge of grace, the pride of his home.
'Such is the feud, the foeman's rage,
death-hate of men: so I deem it sure
that the Swedish folk will seek us home
for this fall of their friends, the fighting-Scylfings,
when once they learn that our warrior leader
lifeless lies, who land and hoard
ever defended from all his foes,
furthered his folk's weal, finished his course
a hardy hero. - Now haste is best,
that we go to gaze on our Geatish lord,
and bear the bountiful breaker-of-rings
to the funeral pyre. No fragments merely
120
shall burn with the warrior. Wealth of jewels,
gold untold and gained in terror,
treasure at last with his life obtained,
all of that booty the brands shall take,
fire shall eat it. No earl must carry
memorial jewel. No maiden fair
shall wreathe her neck with noble ring:
nay, sad in spirit and shorn of her gold,
oft shall she pass o'er paths of exile
now our lord all laughter has laid aside,
all mirth and revel. Many a spear
morning-cold shall be clasped amain,
lifted aloft; nor shall lilt of harp
those warriors wake; but the wan-hued raven,
fain o'er the fallen, his feast shall praise
and boast to the eagle how bravely he ate
when he and the wolf were wasting the slain.'
So he told his sorrowful tidings,
and little [4] he lied, the loyal man
of word or of work. The warriors rose;
sad, they climbed to the Cliff-of-Eagles,
went, welling with tears, the wonder to view.
Found on the sand there, stretched at rest,
their lifeless lord, who had lavished rings
of old upon them. Ending-day
had dawned on the doughty-one; death had seized
in woful slaughter the Weders' king.
There saw they, besides, the strangest being,
loathsome, lying their leader near,
prone on the field. The fiery dragon,
fearful fiend, with flame was scorched.
Reckoned by feet, it was fifty measures
in length as it lay. Aloft erewhile
it had revelled by night, and anon come back,
seeking its den; now in death's sure clutch
it had come to the end of its earth-hall joys.
By it there stood the stoups and jars;
dishes lay there, and dear-decked swords
eaten with rust, as, on earth's lap resting,
a thousand winters they waited there.
For all that heritage huge, that gold
of bygone men, was bound by a spell, [5]
121
so the treasure-hall could be touched by none
of human kind, - save that Heaven's King,
God himself, might give whom he would,
Helper of Heroes, the hoard to open, even such a man as seemed to him meet.
XLII
A PERILOUS path, it proved, he [1] trod
who heinously hid, that hall within,
wealth under wall! Its watcher had killed
one of a few, [2] and the feud was avenged
in woful fashion. Wondrous seems it,
what manner a man of might and valor
oft ends his life, when the earl no longer
in mead-hall may live with loving friends.
So Beowulf, when that barrow's warden
he sought, and the struggle; himself knew not
in what wise he should wend from the world at last.
For [3] princes potent, who placed the gold,
with a curse to doomsday covered it deep,
so that marked with sin the man should be,
hedged with horrors, in hell-bonds fast,
racked with plagues, who should rob their hoard.
Yet no greed for gold, but the grace of heaven,
ever the king had kept in view. [4]
Wiglaf spake, the son of Weohstan:'At the mandate of one, oft warriors many
sorrow must suffer; and so must we.
The people's-shepherd showed not aught
of care for our counsel, king beloved!
That guardian of gold he should grapple not, urged we,
but let him lie where he long had been
in his earth-hall waiting the end of the world,
the hest of heaven. - This hoard is ours
but grievously gotten; too grim the fate
which thither carried our king and lord.
I was within there, and all I viewed,
the chambered treasure, when chance allowed me
(and my path was made in no pleasant wise)
under the earth-wall. Eager, I seized
such heap from the hoard as hands could bear
122
and hurriedly carried it hither back
to my liege and lord. Alive was he still,
still wielding his wits. The wise old man
spake much in his sorrow, and sent you greetings
and bade that ye build, when he breathed no more,
on the place of his balefire a barrow high,
memorial mighty. Of men was he
worthiest warrior wide earth o'er
the while he had joy of his jewels and burg.
Let us set out in haste now, the second time
to see and search this store of treasure,
these wall-hid wonders, - the way I show you, where, gathered near, ye may gaze your fill
at broad-gold and rings. Let the bier, soon made,
be all in order when out we come,
our king and captain to carry thither
- man beloved - where long he shall bide
safe in the shelter of sovran God.'
Then the bairn of Weohstan bade command,
hardy chief, to heroes many
that owned their homesteads, hither to bring
firewood from far - o'er the folk they ruled for the famed-one's funeral. ' Fire shall devour
and wan flames feed on the fearless warrior
who oft stood stout in the iron-shower,
when, sped from the string, a storm of arrows
shot o'er the shield-wall: the shaft held firm,
featly feathered, followed the barb.'
And now the sage young son of Weohstan
seven chose of the chieftain's thanes,
the best he found that band within,
and went with these warriors, one of eight,
under hostile roof. In hand one bore
a lighted torch and led the way.
No lots they cast for keeping the hoard
when once the warriors saw it in hall,
altogether without a guardian,
lying there lost. And little they mourned
when they had hastily haled it out,
dear-bought treasure! The dragon they cast,
the worm, o'er the wall for the wave to take,
and surges swallowed that shepherd of gems.
123
Then the woven gold on a wain was laden countless quite! - and the king was borne,
hoary hero, to Hrones-Ness.
XLIII
THEN fashioned for him the folk of Geats
firm on the earth a funeral-pile,
and hung it with helmets and harness of war
and breastplates bright, as the boon he asked;
and they laid amid it the mighty chieftain,
heroes mourning their master dear.
Then on the hill that hugest of balefires
the warriors wakened. Wood-smoke rose
black over blaze, and blent was the roar
of flame with weeping (the wind was still),
till the fire had broken the frame of bones,
hot at the heart. In heavy mood
their misery moaned they, their master's death.
Wailing her woe, the widow [1] old,
her hair upbound, for Beowulf's death
sung in her sorrow, and said full oft
she dreaded the doleful days to come,
deaths enow, and doom of battle,
and shame. - The smoke by the sky was devoured.
The folk of the Weders fashioned there
on the headland a barrow broad and high,
by ocean-farers far descried:
in ten days' time their toil had raised it,
the battle-brave's beacon. Round brands of the pyre
a wall they built, the worthiest ever
that wit could prompt in their wisest men.
They placed in the barrow that precious booty,
the rounds and the rings they had reft erewhile,
hardy heroes, from hoard in cave, trusting the ground with treasure of earls,
gold in the earth, where ever it lies
useless to men as of yore it was.
Then about that barrow the battle-keen rode,
atheling-born, a band of twelve,
lament to make, to mourn their king,
chant their dirge, and their chieftain honor.
124
They praised his earlship, his acts of prowess
worthily witnessed: and well it is
that men their master-friend mightily laud,
heartily love, when hence he goes
from life in the body forlorn away.
Thus made their mourning the men of Geatland,
for their hero's passing his hearth-companions:
quoth that of all the kings of earth,
of men he was mildest and most beloved,
to his kin the kindest, keenest for praise.
~ Charles Baudelaire,#NFDB
84 Integral Yoga
25 Yoga
20 Fiction
17 Poetry
13 Occultism
12 Christianity
6 Philosophy
6 Hinduism
5 Psychology
1 Thelema
1 Sufism
1 Mythology
1 Mysticism
1 Islam
1 Integral Theory
1 Education
1 Baha i Faith
1 Alchemy
54 The Mother
51 Satprem
23 Sri Ramakrishna
20 Sri Aurobindo
19 H P Lovecraft
18 Nolini Kanta Gupta
8 Li Bai
6 Vyasa
6 Carl Jung
6 Aleister Crowley
5 Saint Augustine of Hippo
5 A B Purani
4 James George Frazer
3 Plato
3 Jorge Luis Borges
3 Anonymous
2 William Wordsworth
2 Walt Whitman
2 Swami Krishnananda
2 Saint John of Climacus
2 Mahendranath Gupta
2 Jordan Peterson
2 Friedrich Nietzsche
2 Aldous Huxley
22 The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna
19 Lovecraft - Poems
15 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04
13 Agenda Vol 13
12 Agenda Vol 11
8 Li Bai - Poems
7 The Bible
6 Vishnu Purana
6 The Secret Doctrine
6 Agenda Vol 03
5 Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo
5 City of God
4 The Golden Bough
4 Essays On The Gita
4 Agenda Vol 10
4 A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah
3 The Secret Of The Veda
3 Talks
3 Some Answers From The Mother
3 Magick Without Tears
3 Liber ABA
3 Aion
2 Wordsworth - Poems
2 Whitman - Poems
2 Vedic and Philological Studies
2 The Study and Practice of Yoga
2 The Perennial Philosophy
2 The Ladder of Divine Ascent
2 Savitri
2 Record of Yoga
2 Maps of Meaning
2 Labyrinths
2 Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07
2 Agenda Vol 09
2 Agenda Vol 08
2 Agenda Vol 06
2 Agenda Vol 05
2 Agenda Vol 04
2 Agenda Vol 02
2 Agenda Vol 01
00.03 - Upanishadic Symbolism, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 02, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Now, each one of them in its turn has its own emanations the eleven Rudriyas are familiar. These are secondary and there are tertiary and other graded emanations the last ones touch the earth and embody physico-vital forces. The lowest formations or beings can trace their origin to one or other of the primaries and their nature and function partake of or are an echo of their first ancestor.
Man, however, is an epitome of creation. He embraces and incarnates the entire gamut of consciousness and comprises in him all beings from the highest Divinity to the lowest jinn or elf. And yet each human being in his true personality is a lineal descendant of one or other typal aspect or original Personality of the one supreme Reality; and his individual character is all the more pronounced and well-defined the more organised and developed is the being. The psychic being in man is thus a direct descent, an immediate emanation along a definite line of devolution of the supreme consciousness. We may now understand and explain easily why one chooses a particular Ishta, an ideal god, what is the drive that pushes one to become a worshipper of Siva or Vishnu or any other deity. It is not any rational understanding, a weighing of pros and cons and then a resultant conclusion that leads one to choose a path of religion or spirituality. It is the soul's natural call to the God, the type of being and consciousness of which it is a spark, from which it has descended, it is the secret affinity the spiritual blood-relation as it were that determines the choice and adherence. And it is this that we name Faith. And the exclusiveness and violence and bitterness which attend such adherence and which go "by the "name of partisanship, sectarianism, fanaticism etc., a;e a deformation in the ignorance on the physico-vital plane of the secret loyalty to one's source and origin. Of course, the pattern or law is not so simple and rigid, but it gives a token or typal pattern. For it must not be forgotten that the supreme source or the original is one and indivisible and in the highest integration consciousness is global and not exclusive. And the human being that attains such a status is not bound or wholly limited to one particular formation: its personality is based on the truth of impersonality. And yet the two can go together: an individual can be impersonal in consciousness and yet personal in becoming and true to type.
0.00 - INTRODUCTION, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
Totapuri, a monk of the most orthodox type, never stayed at a place more than three days. But he remained at Dakshineswar eleven months. He too had something to learn.
Totapuri had no idea of the struggles of ordinary men in the toils of passion and desire. Having maintained all through life the guilelessness of a child, he laughed at the idea of a man's being led astray by the senses. He was convinced that the world was maya and had only to be denounced to vanish for ever. A born non-dualist, he had no faith in a Personal God. He did not believe in the terrible aspect of Kali, much less in Her benign aspect. Music and the chanting of God's holy name were to him only so much nonsense. He ridiculed the spending of emotion on the worship of a Personal God.
--
Totapuri returned to Dakshineswar and spent the remaining hours of the night meditating on the Divine Mother. In the morning he went to the Kali temple with Sri Ramakrishna and prostrated himself before the image of the Mother. He now realized why he had spent eleven months at Dakshineswar. Bidding farewell to the disciple, he continued on his way, enlightened.
Sri Ramakrishna later described the significance of Totapuri's lessons:
--
The Holy Mother — so Sarada Devi had come to be affectionately known by Sri Ramakrishna's devotees — was brought from Dakshineswar to look after the general cooking and to prepare the special diet of the patient. The dwelling space being extremely limited, she had to adapt herself to cramped conditions. At three o'clock in the morning she would finish her bath in the Ganges and then enter a small covered place on the roof, where she spent the whole day cooking and praying. After eleven at night, when the visitors went away, she would come down to her small bedroom on the first floor to enjoy a few hours' sleep. Thus she spent three months, working hard, sleeping little, and praying constantly for the Master's recovery.
At Syampukur the devotees led an intense life. Their attendance on the Master was in itself a form of spiritual discipline. His mind was constantly soaring to an exalted plane of consciousness. Now and then they would catch the contagion of his spiritual fervour. They sought to divine the meaning of this illness of the Master, whom most of them had accepted as an Incarnation of God. One group, headed by Girish with his robust optimism and great power of imagination, believed that the illness was a mere pretext to serve a deeper purpose. The Master had willed his illness in order to bring the devotees together and promote solidarity among them. As soon as this purpose was served, he would himself get rid of the disease. A second group thought that the Divine Mother, in whose hand the Master was an instrument, had brought about this illness to serve Her own mysterious ends. But the young rationalists, led by Narendra, refused to ascribe a
0.00 - The Book of Lies Text, #The Book of Lies, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
eleven is the great number of Magick, and this
chapter indicates a supreme magical method; but it is
really called eleven, because of Liber Legis, I, 60.
The first part of the chapter describes the universe
--
The eleven initial A's in the last sentence are Magick
Pentagrams, emphasising this curse.
--
He strikes eleven times upon the Bell 3 3 3-5 5 5 5 5-
3 3 3 and places the Fire in the Thurible.
--
He strikes eleven times upon the Bell.
Now I begin to pray: Thou Child,
--
eleven times upon the Bell. With the Burin he then
makes upon his breast the proper sign.
--
He strikes eleven times upon the Bell, and cries
ABRAHADABRA.
--
Fourscore and eleven books wrote I; in each did I
expound THE GREAT WORK fully, from The
--
eleven.
Then said each AMO;(24) for its number is An Hundred
and eleven.
Each took the Trowel from his LAP,(25) whose number
is AN Hundred and eleven.
Each called moreover on the Goddess NINA,(26) for
Her number is An Hundred and eleven.
Yet with all this went The Work awry; for THE
0.03 - Letters to My little smile, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Do you know that this happens only once in eleven years?
eleven years ago, in 1922, in the month of February, it was possible to write 2.2.22 and eleven years from now, in the month
of April, it will be possible to write 4.4.44, and so on. It is
0.06 - Letters to a Young Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
About ten or eleven years ago I had an experience in Your
presence and through You. I was in a great difficulty and
0.11 - Letters to a Sadhak, #Some Answers From The Mother, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Series eleven
Series eleven
Letters to a Sadhak
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
must persistently eliminate from your consciousness the effect
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
You give everything we need, but my capacity to receive
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
To do this, each thought, each feeling, each sensation, each
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
came to me spontaneously was this: "The two states are
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
Here is an amusing phrase from an anonymous author:
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
Does spontaneity come spontaneously or does one have
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
Transformation demands a very high degree of aspiration, surrender and receptivity, doesn't it?
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
When Mother says that wealth should not be a personal
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
It is objectified in the creation, in the manifestation, there
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
(Concerning unconsciousness during sleep)
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
Sri Aurobindo has written in Savitri:
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
A Mother's eyes are on them and her arms
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
If the universe is one, shouldn't the liberation of one single person on earth have the power to liberate everyone?
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
"The ideal Sadhaka should be able to say in the Biblical
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
"The days were travellers on a destined road,
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
The quotation means that in order to reach the divine regions
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
When the Presence becomes concrete, does this indicate
--
Series eleven - To a Sadhak
In Sri Aurobindo's yoga, the transformation of the body is
0 1959-01-27, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
So X will to do a special work for you for eleven days, and if at the end of this period the suffering still persists, he will send me to Pondicherry to deliver something directly into your hands. I, too, would like very much to do something to alleviate your suffering.
By a special grace, X gave me both stages of the tantric initiation at the same time, although they are normally separated by several years; then if all goes well, he will give me the full initiation in 6 months. I have thus received a mantra, along with the power of realizing it. X told me that a realization should come at the beginning of the fifth month if I repeat the mantra strictly according to his instructions, but he again told me that the hostile forces would do all they could to prevent me from saying my mantra: mental suggestions and even illness. X has understood that I have work at the Ashram, and he has exempted me from the outer forms (pujas and other rituals), but nevertheless I must repeat my mantra very accurately every day (3,333 times, that is, a little more than 3 hours uninterrupted in the mornings, and more than 2 hours in the evening). I must therefore organize myself in such a way as to get up very early in the morning in Pondicherry, for in no case will your work suffer.
0 1960-07-23 - The Flood and the race - turning back to guide and save amongst the torrents - sadhana vs tamas and destruction - power of giving and offering - Japa, 7 lakhs, 140000 per day, 1 crore takes 20 years, #Agenda Vol 01, #unset, #Zen
Something interesting happened last night exactly between ten and eleven. I was in some kind of vehicle. I didnt see the vehicle but I was in it. Someone in front of me was driving, though I could only see his back; I didnt bother about who it washe was simply the one meant to do it.
It was as if the doors of destruction had been flung open. Floodsfloods as vast as an oceanwere rushing down onto something the earth? A formidable current pouring down at an insane speed, with an unstoppable power. It was brackish waternot transparent, but brackish. And it was imperative to reach a certain spot BEFORE the water. Had the water reached there ahead of me, nothing could have been done. Whereas if I got there first (I say I, but it was not I with this body), if I got to the other side before the water, I would be completely safe; and from this safe position, I would be able, I would have a chance to help those left behind.
0 1961-06-24, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I have to goa high-priest is waiting for me! Yes, the man in charge of all the temples of Gujarat, thoroughly orthodoxhe has come to the Ashram for some mysterious reason and he wants to see me. Is it really necessary? I asked. He wanted an interview, he wants to speak to me (naturally hell be speaking god knows whatGujarati!). I had him told, I cant hear, Im deaf! Its very convenient Im deaf, I cant hear. If he wants to receive a flower from me (I didnt say make a pranam,8 because that would be scandalous!), he can come and Ill give him a flower. I told him eleven oclockits that time now.
This is all Xs work. The most unexpected people, people youd think would rather be cursed than come to a place like this, are coming from everywhere, from the most diverse milieus the most materialistic materialists, fanatical communists, as well as all sorts of sannyasis, bhikkus, swamis, priestsoh! People who previously were not at all they werent so much disinterested as actually displeased with the Ashram.
0 1961-08-05, #Agenda Vol 02, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
But one day when my brother had disobeyed him (Matteo must have been ten or eleven, and I perhaps nine or ten), I came into the dining room and saw my father sitting on a sofa with my brother across his knees; he had pulled down his trousers and was spanking him, I dont know what for. It wasnt a very serious spanking, but still. I came in, drew myself up to my full height and said, Papa, if you ever do that again, I am leaving this house! And with such authority, mon petit! He stopped and never did it again.
Some very funny stories!
0 1962-02-06, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
In Sri Aurobindo's play, Andromeda, daughter of the King of Syria, is condemned by her own people to be devoured by Poseidon, the Sea-god, for some impiety she had committed against him. The story is actually about the passage of a half-primitive tribe, living in terror of the old dark and cruel gods, to a more evolved and sunlit stage. Perseus, son of Diana and Zeus, and protected by Pallas Athene, goddess of wisdom and intelligence, comes to deliver Andromeda from the rock she is chained to (the rock symbolizes the Inconscient for the Rishis), and founds the religion of Athene, "... the Omnipotent / Made from His being to lead and discipline / The immortal spirit of man, till it attain / To order and magnificent mastery / Of all his outward world" (in the words of Sri Aurobindo). It is the force of progress pitted against the old priests of the old religions, symbolized by the cruel and ambitious Polydaon. Here Mother is scrutinizing an old problem"Always the same problem"that she must have encountered in many existences (Egypt included) and would encounter again eleven years later: the acceptance of the death she is forced into as the Supreme's Will, and then this "love of Life" she twice mentions here.
***
0 1962-04-03, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Just between eleven and twelve [last night] I had an experience by which I discovered that there is a group of peoplepurposely their identity was not revealed to mewanting to create a kind of religion based on the revelation of Sri Aurobindo. But they have taken only the side of power and force, a certain kind of knowledge and all which could be utilized by Asuric forces. There is a big Asuric being that has succeeded in taking the appearance of Sri Aurobindo. It is only an appearance. This appearance of Sri Aurobindo has declared to me that the work I am doing is not his. It has declared that I have been a traitor to him and to his work and has refused to have anything to do with me.
There is in that group a man whom I must have seen once or twice, who is not with them in spirit, but only in appearance, but without knowledge. He does not know what kind of being it is. And he always hopes to make him accept me, believing it is truly Sri Aurobindo. I saw this being last night. I wont tell you all the details of the vision. It is not necessary. But I must say that I was fully conscious, aware of everything, knowing that there was an Asuric Force there, but not rejecting it, because of the infinity of Sri Aurobindo. I knew that everything is part of him and I do not want to reject anything. I met this being last night three times, even apologized for sins that I have not committed, and in full love and surrender.
0 1962-05-31, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
If you want to ask a question, just ask. If you want to be silent, we can be silent. Whatever you liketill eleven oclock I am at your disposal!
Nothing? You have nothing to tell me? Theres nothing you would like to say?
0 1962-06-12, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
(Unexpectedly, this conversation led into the subject of Satprem's break with X, who had been his guru for the past few years. Here then, briefly, is the story behind the rupture: No sooner had Satprem brought X to the Ashram than a swarm of disciples threw themselves at him. Conspicuous among these were the moneymen, the same wheelerdealers who, eleven years later, after Mother's departure, were to reveal their ambitions in Auroville as well as Pondicherry. Satprem's somewhat straightforward manner soon got in the way of their schemes. He had a deep affection for X and when he repeatedly saw that these peoplespiritual scoundrels is the only word for themwere, in the hope of sowing confusion (for they always prosper best in confusion), bringing false reports to Mother of things X had supposedly said, he tried in all innocence to put X on his guard against the false reports and dishonest people who were wronging him. But instead of listening to Satprem and understanding that he spoke out of love, Xwith all his Tantric power behindflew into a violent rage against him, as if he had been casting a slur on X's prestige. Satprem then broke with X, but not without sorrow.)
Anything new?
0 1962-08-08, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Is it eleven oclock?
All right then, keep on with your book. Its good, much better than you think! (gesture of denial from Satprem) Yes, yes, I know what you mean, definitive thingsits like me and my definitive transformations! We must learn how to wait. Later on, it will come.
0 1962-08-11, #Agenda Vol 03, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I had the experience for several hours this morning. It started in the middle of the night and lasted through the morning until I was inundated with people. It began during the night in quite a powerful manner (in the body, all this is in the body), with a formidable sensation of power (so much so that in the middle of the experience I suddenly thought, I have to tell this to Satprem tomorrowright in the midst of the experience!). And THE Vibration seemed so utterly present (present I have the feeling its always present, but it was perceived, which gives it a kind of efficacya kind we can grasp). It was like that all morning until eight or eight-thirty; after eight oclock the experience slowly faded. It began around eleven at night and lasted till then. And so yes, its exactly what I say there: it automatically puts each thing in its place.
***
0 1963-03-09, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Oh, listen (this is not meant to be published or told), I dont know if Ive told you already. I was nine or ten years old, I was running with some friends in the forest of Fontainebleau (Ive told this story somewhere). The forest is rather dense, so you cant see very far ahead. We were running, and speeding along as I was, I didnt see I was coming to the edge overhanging the road. The place where we were was about ten feet above the road (more than a story high), and the road was paved with stonesfreshly paved. And we were running. I was racing ahead, the others were behind. Well, Id built up such momentum that I couldnt stopwhoosh! I went sailing into the air. I was ten, eleven at the most, mind you, with no notion of the miraculous or the marvelous, nothing, nothing I was just flung into the air. And I felt something supporting me, holding me up, and I was literally SET DOWN on the ground, on the stones. I got up (I found it perfectly natural, you understand!): not a scratch, not a speck of dust, nothing, absolutely intact. I fell down very, very slowly. Then everyone rushed up to see. Oh, its nothing! I said, I am all right. And I left it at that. But the impression lingered. That feeling of something carrying me (gesture of a slow fall, like a leaf falling in stages with slight pauses): I fell down that slow. And the material proof was there, it was no illusion since I was unscathed the road was paved with stones (you know the flint stones of France?): not a scratch, nothing. Not a speck of dust.
The soul was very alive at the time, and with all its strength it resisted the intrusion of the material logic4 of the worldso it seemed to me perfectly natural. I simply thought, No. Accidents cant happen to me.
--
Also when I was eleven or twelve, my mother rented a cottage at the edge of a forest: we didnt have to go through the town. I used to go and sit in the forest all alone. I would sit lost in reverie. One day (it happened often), one day some squirrels had come, several birds, and also (Mother opens her eyes wide), deer, looking on. How lovely it was! When I opened my eyes and saw them, I found it charming they scampered away.
The memory of all these things returned AFTERWARDS, when I met Thonlong afterwards, when I was more than twenty, that is, more than ten years later. I met Thon and got the explanation of these things, I understood. Then I remembered all that had happened to me, and I thought, Well! Because Madame Thon said to me (I told her all my childhood stories), she said to me, Oh, but I know, you are THAT, the stamp of THAT is on you. I thought over what she had said, and I saw it was indeed true. All those experiences I had were very clear indications that there were certainly people in the invisible looking after me! (Mother laughs)
0 1963-06-08, #Agenda Vol 04, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Obviously, there was there must have been a cause for alarm, because as soon as I became conscious of the experience (it started before I became conscious of it; when I did, it seemed to me it had already been going on for a long time; so when I say three hours, it means three hours during which I was conscious, but it had started long before; it was around eleven at night and lasted till three in the morning), so the second I was made conscious of the thing, obviously there was a cause for alarm, because immediately I was told, You see, this is what is going on, and it was thanks to that ecstasy in the body that there was no alarm: Oh, things are fine, everything is fine. And when the experience was over, it didnt end like an experience exhausting itself; it ended as if, very slowly, the thing were, not exactly veiled to my consciousness, but as if my consciousness were turned away from it, with the feeling, Dont worry. At the start and at the end. All the same, when I woke up, I thought (because my head felt strange, there was a bizarre sensation as if I had become quite swollen! Swollen, inordinately swollen), I thought, Maybe when I get up tomorrow morning (I get up at 4:30), Ill find myself in a complete daze! Thats why I observed but everything was fine, there only remained that sort of feeling of being swollen. I feel (yet it was two nights ago, not last night), I feel as if my head were swollen! But the clear-headedness is the same as ever!! (laughing) Nothings been disturbed!
On the contrary, there is a sort of like an acuteness, something more acute in the perception, a little bit ironic I dont know why. A magnified impression that all the things in the world are much ado about nothing, a lot of fuss about nothing Ive had that feeling for for centuries, I could say, but there is in addition something ever so slightly acute and ironic.
0 1964-11-28, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Ten past eleven! Oh, you see (laughing), the clock is calling us!
And you? I am asking you, but I knowit isnt that I dont know, but I would like you to tell me.
0 1964-12-07, #Agenda Vol 05, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Seven to eleven.
Ive played as long as that!
0 1965-02-19, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
And this morning (this is rather interesting), I received a letter from R. telling me, That evening I had an extraordinary experience, but now its beginning to appear like an impossibility, like something unreal. The exact moment when the experience came over me (of course, when he received the news of the attack, his first reaction was that of human fear, with the hands becoming cold and so on, but he sat down, he braced himself, he called me), and then he felt a Peace come down from above, something he had never felt before, which swept through his whole being, took hold of him entirely and lasted for I dont know, I think he said till eleven at nightit lasted a long time. He had experienced a little bit of it from time to time, but it had never been like that: it came down into him, it seized hold of him entirely. And he says, I could move about: it was THERE, it didnt budge, it was inside me. So I thought, At last someone who felt! There has been at least one who felt.
But at the time, I saw so clearly in which people the vibration responded to the vibrations of Falsehood: that sort of movement which is like a tremor in Matter. So I know the people. But I must say there is around me someone, one person who had the true physical vibration (I had known it for a long time, but now Ive had concrete proof: its P.), and no one can understand, no one can know it, but I knew it: physically, not a single response, like this (immutable gesture). So I told him to look after the defense and organize everything.
0 1965-10-20, #Agenda Vol 06, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
(Satprem had sent Mother a letter complaining about his lack of experiences, in particular the fact that he never saw Sri Aurobindo, except once eleven years earlier, and that in addition Mother told him she saw him only rarely. In the end Satprem wrote, "I wonder what I am doing here?")
I am not going to eat you, dont be afraid!
--
I never see him. I tell you, I saw him once eleven years ago.
Well, yes, some people have never seen him since he left physically. But there is no need to see him in order to feel him.
0 1967-07-26, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I can recall only one instance when I took things seriously, and even then (laughing), I put on a serious LOOK. It involved my brother, who was still quite young (my brother must have been twelve, or less: ten, and I eightno, nine and eleven, something like that, mere children). My brother was quick-tempered, he was easily angered and would speak very bluntly, almost harshly. One day he talked back to my father (I forget about what); my father was furious and put him across his knees (my father was an extremely strong man, I mean physically strong), he put my brother across his knees and (laughing) started spanking him; he had pulled his pants down and was spanking him. I enter and see that (it was taking place in the dining room), I see that, see my father, look at him, and say to myself, But this man is mad! And I told him, You stop at once, or Im leaving this house. (I was two years younger than my brother.) And I said it with such seriousness, oh! And I was resolute. And my father (laughing) was flabbergasted.
All those memories have come back like that. So now I remember to what extentto what extent the consciousness was already there. But it was amusing.
0 1967-11-08, #Agenda Vol 08, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
We spent a long part of the night together, from about eleven till oh, a long time, till three in the morning, working togetherworking and moving about. Those are placeskinds of houses, landscapesvery well known places where I go periodically, in an atmosphere which is specific to them and for a specific work. There are mountains, there are roads going down, there are And its always the same thing: its a place that exists permanently; but what happens there is different each time (as in life). And the approach is different: sometimes I go there on foot, sometimes in a car, and sometimes I have very peculiar means of transport! I dont always meet the same people there, and I dont always do the same work, but the quality of the atmosphere (Mother feels the air with her fingers) remains always the same. Its a certain place of organizationof power of organization.
But I have known that place and have been going there for years and years. And last night, I spent oh, certainly a good three hours therethree hours of our time here (I dont know how long that was over there).
--
Then the 11th is M.s birthday. She was born on the eleventh of the eleventh month of 1911 eleven is the number of progress. Spiritually, she may not be very interested, but materially she is a woman who really likes and wants to do things well; what she does she likes to do well.
***
0 1968-06-29, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Yes, Mother, its half past eleven.
Is there anything you wanted to ask?
0 1968-08-10, #Agenda Vol 09, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Whats the time? Quarter past eleven.
Its a LONG TIME since I could rest so peacefullya long time.1
0 1969-01-01, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Quarter past eleven.
Shall we be quiet for ten minutes?
0 1969-02-05, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Its five to eleven.
Perhaps its the beginning of something interesting.
--
eleven years later, in February 1980, Satprem will complete his Mind of the Cells.
***
0 1969-04-19, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
eleven oclock, oh!
Wouldnt you enjoy to go boating? I told Z to take you along.
0 1969-04-23, #Agenda Vol 10, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
I had lots of things to tell you, and strangely, my watch stopped; I had no idea of the time, so I asked, What time is it? They told me, Its quarter to eleven. It gave me such a shock (laughing) that everything I wanted to tell you went away! vrpp, like that!
(silence)
0 1970-01-17, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Oh, its very late, Mother, half past eleven.
Oh!
0 1970-02-07, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Its the same thing: now they are hypnotized with this business of exchange. It comes from the collective imbecility which has accepted all those rules of exchangeit should never have been subjected to rules, because, naturally, the minute there is a rule, its meant to be broken. And then, everyone does it on the sly, oh! I got a letter from a man (I didnt get it directly, it came through someone), a man who offered, if I gave him the dollars I receive (I receive a good deal of themnot a huge lot, but still, regularly enough), if I gave him the dollars, he offered to give me eleven rupees a dollar, sometimes twelve. I didnt answer. But then, theyre all there, watching whether theres anything to Its disgusting.
The man said, I dont do it for everyone, I give the regular ten for one, but FOR YOU Ill do it (!) You know, it didnt have a pleasant smell. I said, Yes, so people can say, The Mother does itthank you very much!
--
Twenty past eleven.
Already I was going to propose a meditation, but its too late.
0 1970-04-04, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Quarter past eleven.
After some time, I will be able to say certain things, but Do you hear when I speak?
0 1970-04-11, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Twenty past eleven.
If you want to make me talk, you must come with questions, otherwise its not possible.
0 1970-04-29, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
eleven thirty-five, Mother.
Oh! Is the doctor here?
0 1970-05-23, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Five to eleven.
We have time. Would you like us to stay silent?
0 1970-05-30, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Five to eleven, Mother.
If you dont mind being like that
0 1970-09-09, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Ten past eleven, Mother.
Do you have anything to say?
0 1970-09-12, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Five to eleven.
(Mother plunges in again, then emerges from her contemplation, suffocating)
0 1970-09-19, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
eleven, Mother.
Is there no work? Working avoids concentrating.
0 1970-10-03, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Quarter past eleven.
(Mother looks a few times, but goes away straight off)
0 1970-10-14, #Agenda Vol 11, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
eleven, Mother.
Dont you have a practical little work to do?
0 1971-12-15, #Agenda Vol 12, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Twenty-two past eleven.
Twenty-two past ten.
No, twenty-two past eleven!
Oh!
0 1972-01-05, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Its eleven oclock, Mother.
The atmosphere is very peaceful, very clear.
0 1972-01-29, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Its eleven oclock.
Could you ask him if. Whats the date today?
--
Ask him whether on the 29th at eleven oclock (put it in local time there) he felt something.
And if he did feel somethingwhatever it is, an impression (I dont want to define it), something, a Force, some phenomenonif he felt something at that hour, we could agree on a particular day and time, and try: I would do a special concentration on him.
0 1972-03-04, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Ten to eleven, Mother.
Do you want to stay ten minutes more?
0 1972-04-05, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
We would like to know how they persuaded her. I cannot help thinking of the vision I had eleven years earlier (Agenda II, February 11, 1961), in which Mother had "died" because she had eaten "a grain of rice."
On May 19,1973, six months before Mother left, Pranab closed Mother's door on Satprem, and on everyone else as well, including Sujata.
0 1972-05-17, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
(Mother goes into contemplation till the end and opens her eyes just as the clock strikes eleven)
Whats the time?
eleven oclock, Mother.
So you see, when I went in, I told myself: I will come out of the meditation (not meditation, but anyway), Ill speak at eleven oclock! (laughter) Thats why I asked you the time. Interesting!
When you become simple, you know, like a child all goes well.
0 1972-07-12, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Well, if you say ten-thirty, itll mean eleven! (laughter)
Yes, yes! (Mother gives Satprem a little tap on the shoulder.)
0 1972-07-19, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Ten past eleven.
No; what is it?
0 1972-08-09, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
eleven years.
Four and a half billion years, according to the current estimate.
0 1972-12-23, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
If you wake me (wake me is a way of speaking, of course!) at eleven, Ill give you an example!
Yes, Mother!
0 1973-01-10, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Youll be late, Mother, no? Its already eleven.
You were called in late.
0 1973-04-07, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Around eleven oclock, like now.
Yes, Mother, certainly.3
--
(Satprem to Mother:) Shall I come tomorrow at eleven, Mother?
(Pranab:) All that humbug, I dont like.
--
(Satprem:) Shall I come at eleven or a little before?
A short while, till 11:25.
0 1973-05-05, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
Ten past eleven, Mother.
(Satprem rests his forehead on Mothers lap)
0 1973-05-09, #Agenda Vol 13, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
eleven oclock, Mother.
Ten oclock?
No, its, eleven.
Thank you, mon petit.
02.11 - The Kingdoms and Godheads of the Greater Mind, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
END OF CANTO eleven
1.00 - Introduction to Alchemy of Happiness, #The Alchemy of Happiness, #Al-Ghazali, #Sufism
The remarkable treatise, which I introduce to your notice, is a translation from one of the numerous works of the Arabian Philosopher, Abou Hamid Mohammed ben Mohammed al Ghazzali, who flourished in the eleventh century. He was born about the year A. D. 1056, or 450 of the Mohammedan era, at Tous in Khorasan, and he died in the prime of life in his native country about the year 1011, or 505 A. H. Although educated by Mohammedan parents, he avows that during a considerable period of his life he was a prey to doubts about the truth, and that at times he was an absolute sceptic. While yet comparatively young, his learning and genius recommended him to the renowned sovereign Nizam ul Mulk, who gave him a professorship in the college which he had founded at Bagdad. His speculative mind still harassing him with doubts, in his enthusiasm to arrive at a solid foundation for knowledge, he resigned his position, visited Mecca and Jerusalem, and finally returned to Khorasan, where he led a life of both monastic study and devotion, and consecrated his pen to writing the results of his meditations.
Mohammedan scholars of the present day still hold him in such high respect, that his name is never mentioned by them without some such distinctive epithet, as the "Scientific [6] Imaum," or "Chief witness for Islamism." His rank in the eastern world, as a philosopher and a theologian, had naturally given his name some distinction in our histories of philosophy, and it is enumerated in connection with those of Averroes (Abu Roshd) and Avicenna (Abu Sina) as illustrating the intellectual life and the philosophical schools of the Mohammedans. Still his writings were less known than either of the two others. His principal work, The Destruction of the Philosophers, called forth in reply one of the two most important works of Averroes entitled The Destruction of the Destruction. Averroes, in his commentary upon Aristotle, extracts from Ghazzali copiously for the purpose of refuting bis views. A short treatise of his had been published at Cologne, in 1506, and Pocock had given in Latin his interpretation of the two fundamental articles of the Mohammedan creed. Von Hammer printed in 1838, at Vienna, a translation of a moral essay, Eyuha el Weled, as a new year's token for youth.
1.012 - Joseph, #Quran, #unset, #Zen
4. When Joseph said to his father, “O my father, I saw eleven planets, and the sun, and the moon; I saw them bowing down to me.”
5. He said, “O my son, do not relate your vision to your brothers, lest they plot and scheme against you. Satan is man's sworn enemy.
1.01 - Economy, #Walden, and On The Duty Of Civil Disobedience, #Henry David Thoreau, #Philosophy
I planted about two acres and a half of light and sandy soil near it chiefly with beans, but also a small part with potatoes, corn, peas, and turnips. The whole lot contains eleven acres, mostly growing up to pines and hickories, and was sold the preceding season for eight dollars and eight cents an acre. One farmer said that it was good for nothing but to raise cheeping squirrels on. I put no manure whatever on this land, not being the owner, but merely a squatter, and not expecting to cultivate so much again, and I did not quite hoe it all once. I got out several cords of stumps in ploughing, which supplied me with fuel for a long time, and left small circles of virgin mould, easily distinguishable through the summer by the greater luxuriance of the beans there. The dead and for the most part unmerchantable wood behind my house, and the driftwood from the pond, have supplied the remainder of my fuel. I was obliged to hire a team and a man for the ploughing, though I held the plough myself. My farm outgoes for the first season were, for implements, seed, work, &c., $14.72. The seed corn was given me. This never costs anything to speak of, unless you plant more than enough. I got twelve bushels of beans, and eighteen bushels of potatoes, beside some peas and sweet corn. The yellow corn and turnips were too late to come to any thing. My whole income from the farm was
$ 23.44
1.01 - Historical Survey, #A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah, #Israel Regardie, #Occultism
The great Jewish historian, Graetz, too, holds the unhistoric view that Jewish mysticism is a morbid and late growth, foreign to the religious genius of Israel, and that it has its origin in the speculations of one Isaac the Blind in Spain somewhere between the eleventh and twelfth centuries. Graetz regards the Qabalah, the Zohar in particular, as a " false doctrine which, although new, styled itself a genuine teaching of Israel " ( History of the Jews,
Vol. Ill, p. 565).
1.01 - Meeting the Master - Authors first meeting, December 1918, #Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo, #unset, #Zen
Sri Aurobindo was sitting in a wooden chair behind a small table covered with an indigo-blue cloth in the verandah upstairs when I went up to meet him. I felt a spiritual light surrounding his face. His look was penetrating. He had known me by my correspondence. I reminded him about my brother having met him at Baroda; he had not forgotten him. Then I informed him that our group was now ready to start revolutionary activity. It had taken us about eleven years to get organised.
Sri Aurobindo remained silent for some time. Then he put me questions about my sadhana. I described my efforts and added: "Sadhana is all right, but it is difficult to concentrate on it so long as India is not free."
1.01 - Principles of Practical Psycho therapy, #The Practice of Psycho therapy, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
tenth he was again aboard ship. In the eleventh he went down a river. In the
twelfth he walked beside a brook. In the thirteenth he was on a steamer. In
1.01 - Soul and God, #The Red Book Liber Novus, #unset, #Zen
2, Jung states that he wandered for eleven years (p. 19). He had stopped writing in this book in
1902, taking it up again in the autumn of 1913.
1.01 - The Lord of hosts, #Sefer Yetzirah The Book of Creation In Theory and Practice, #Anonymous, #Various
Ten are the numbers out of nothing, and not the number nine, ten and not eleven. Comprehend this great wisdom, understand this 7 knowledge, inquire into it and ponder on it, render it evident and lead 8 the Creator back to His throne again.
SECTION 4.
1.01 - To Watanabe Sukefusa, #Beating the Cloth Drum Letters of Zen Master Hakuin, #unset, #Zen
After the incident, mother and son both acted as though nothing had happened. But later that night, at about eleven o'clock, Shinkichir suddenly broke into loud screams that shook and convulsed his entire body. "How terrible! Please forgive me! It's all my fault!" he moaned over and over. Violent sweat began pouring down his body, increasing as the night wore on. He fell in and out of consciousness. His screams resounded through the streets, causing a flurry of excitement to pass through the village.
By morning the fever had subsided, and people began coming by to see how he was. "It sounded like you were in terrible agony last night," they said. "Actually," he replied, "I was in some kind of a trance. An old man appeared to me wearing the headdress, white court garments, and black footwear of ancient times. Crowds of monstrous-looking creatures were milling around him, so ghastly I was forced to turn my eyes away. 'This is an emissary from hell. Do exactly as he says,' the creatures
1.02 - MAPS OF MEANING - THREE LEVELS OF ANALYSIS, #Maps of Meaning, #Jordan Peterson, #Psychology
The angry Tiamat the unknown, chaos, in its terrible or destructive aspect produces eleven species of
monsters to aid her in her battle including the viper, the dragon, the great lion, the rabid dog, the
--
Altogether eleven kinds of monsters of this sort she brought into being.
Of those among the gods, her first-born, who formed her assembly,
1.02 - Meeting the Master - Authors second meeting, March 1921, #Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo, #unset, #Zen
The second time I met Sri Aurobindo was in March 1921, when there was a greater familiarity. Having come for a short stay, I remained eleven days on Sri Aurobindo's asking me to prolong my stay. During my journey from Madras to Pondicherry I was enchanted by the natural scenery the vast stretches of green paddy fields. But Pondicherry as a city was lethargic, with a colonial atmosphere an exhibition of the worst elements of European and Indian culture. The market was dirty and stinking and the people had no idea of sanitation. The sea-beach was made filthy by them. Smuggling was the main business.
But the greatest surprise of my visit in 1921 was the 'darshan' of Sri Aurobindo. During the interval of two years his body had undergone a transformation which could only be described as miraculous. In 1918 the colour of the body was like that of an ordinary Bengali rather dark though there was a lustre on the face and the gaze was penetrating. This time on going upstairs to see him (in the same house) I found his cheeks wore an apple-pink colour and the whole body glowed with a soft creamy white light. So great and unexpected was the change that I could not help exclaiming: "What has happened to you?"
--
On the last day of my stay of eleven days I met Sri Aurobindo between three and four in the afternoon. The main topic was Sadhana.When I got up to take leave I asked him: "What are you waiting for?" I put the question because it was clear to me that he had been constantly living in the Higher Consciousness.
"It is true," he said, "that the Divine Consciousness has descended but it has not yet descended into the physical being. So long as that is not done the work cannot be said to be accomplished."
1.02 - Prayer of Parashara to Vishnu, #Vishnu Purana, #Vyasa, #Hinduism
kāra)[23], denominated Vaikarīka, 'pure;' Taijasa, 'passionate;' and Bhūtādi, 'rudimental,'[24] is produced; the origin of the (subtile) elements, and of the organs of sense; invested, in consequence of its three qualities, by Intellect, as Intellect is by the Chief principle. Elementary Egotism then becoming productive, as the rudiment of sound, produced from it Ether, of which sound is the characteristic, investing it with its rudiment of sound. Ether becoming productive, engendered the rudiment of touch; whence originated strong wind, the property of which is touch; and Ether, with the rudiment of sound, enveloped the rudiment of touch. Then wind becoming productive, produced the rudiment of form (colour); whence light (or fire) proceeded, of which, form (colour) is the attribute; and the rudiment of touch enveloped the wind with the rudiment of colour. Light becoming productive, produced the rudiment of taste; whence proceed all juices in which flavour resides; and the rudiment of colour invested the juices with the rudiment of taste. The waters becoming productive, engendered the rudiment of smell; whence an aggregate (earth) originates, of which smell is the property[25]. In each several element resides its peculiar rudiment; thence the property of tanmātratā,[26] (type or rudiment) is ascribed to these elements. Rudimental elements are not endowed with qualities, and therefore they are neither soothing, nor terrific, nor stupifying[27]. This is the elemental creation, proceeding from the principle of egotism affected by the property of darkness. The organs of sense are said to be the passionate products of the same principle, affected by foulness; and the ten divinities[28] proceed from egotism affected by the principle of goodness; as does Mind, which is the eleventh. The organs of sense are ten: of the ten, five are the skin, eye, nose, tongue, and ear; the object of which, combined with Intellect, is the apprehension of sound and the rest: the organs of excretion and procreation, the hands, the feet, and the voice, form the other five; of which excretion, generation, manipulation, motion, and speaking, are the several acts.
Then, ether, air, light, water, and earth, severally united with the properties of sound and the rest, existed as distinguishable according to their qualities, as soothing, terrific, or stupifying; but possessing various energies, and being unconnected, they could not, without combination, create living beings, not having blended with each other. Having combined, therefore, with one another, they assumed, through their mutual association, the character of one mass of entire unity; and from the direction of spirit, with the acquiescence of the indiscrete Principle[29], Intellect and the rest, to the gross elements inclusive, formed an egg[30], which gradually expanded like a bubble of water. This vast egg, O sage, compounded of the elements, and resting on the waters, was the excellent natural abode of Viṣṇu in the form of Brahmā; and there Viṣṇu, the lord of the universe, whose essence is inscrutable, assumed a perceptible form, and even he himself abided in it in the character of Brahmā[31]. Its womb, vast as the mountain Meru, was composed of the mountains; and the mighty oceans were the waters that filled its cavity. In that egg, O Brahman, were the continents and seas and mountains, the planets and divisions of the universe, the gods, the demons, and mankind. And this egg was externally invested by seven natural envelopes, or by water, air, fire, ether, and Aha
1.04 - ADVICE TO HOUSEHOLDERS, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
Day and night eleven bats
Scream there incessantly.
--
"There is no use in merely making a noise if you want to establish the Deity in the shrine of your heart, if you want to realize God. First of all purify the mind. In the pure heart God takes His seat. One cannot bring the holy image into the temple if the droppings of bats are all around. The eleven bats are our eleven organs: five of action, five of perception, and the mind.
"First of all invoke the Deity, and then give lectures to your heart's content. First of all dive deep. Plunge to the bottom and gather up the gems. Then you may do other things. But nobody wants to plunge. People are without spiritual discipline and prayer, without renunciation and dispassion. They learn a few words and immediately start to deliver lectures. It is difficult to teach others. Only if a man gets a comm and from God, after realizing Him, is he entitled to teach."
--
M: "Keshab Sen held daily morning prayers in his house, lasting till ten or eleven.
During these prayers he gave the inner meaning of the Durga Puja. He said that if anyone could realize the Divine Mother, that is to say, could install Mother Durga in the shrine of his heart, then Lakshmi, Sarasvati, Kartika, and Ganesa would come there of themselves. Lakshmi means wealth, Sarasvati knowledge, Kartika strength, and Ganesa success. By realizing the Divine Mother within one's heart, one gets all these without any effort whatever."
--
About eleven o'clock the Master took his meal, the offerings from temple of Kli. After taking his noonday rest he resumed his conversation with the devotees. Every now and then he uttered the holy word "Om" or repeated the sacred names of the deities.
After sunset the evening worship was performed in the temples. Since it was the day of Vijaya, the devotees first saluted the Divine Mother and then took the dust of the Master's feet.
1.04 - Magic and Religion, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
light o' love, and at the first stroke of eleven he begins to mumble
the mass backwards, and ends just as the clocks are knelling the
1.04 - THE APPEARANCE OF ANOMALY - CHALLENGE TO THE SHARED MAP, #Maps of Meaning, #Jordan Peterson, #Psychology
I remember that when I was eleven years old a high-school boy named Volodinka M., now long since
dead, visited us one Sunday with an announcement of the latest discovery made at school. The discovery
--
son, Julian (one year eleven months old) (October 5, 1995). Julian was in the process of toilet training and
rapid speech development, and was having some trouble controlling his emotions. Mikhaila liked to call
1.04 - The Core of the Teaching, #Essays On The Gita, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Gita. The rest of the eighteen chapters with their high philosophy are given a secondary importance, except indeed the great vision in the eleventh. This is natural enough for the modern mind which is, or has been till yesterday, inclined to be impatient of
Essays on the Gita
1.04 - The Paths, #A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah, #Israel Regardie, #Occultism
Path No. eleven on Tree of Life, joining Keser to Chokmah.
Numerical value, 1.
1.05 - Adam Kadmon, #A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah, #Israel Regardie, #Occultism
Knowledge, as being the child of Binah and Choltmah, or a sublimation of the Ruach, supposed to appear in the Abyss in the course of man's evolution as an evolved faculty. It is a false Sephirah, however, and the Sepher Yetsirah, in anticipation, most emphatically warns us that " Ten are the ineffable Sephiros. Ten and not nine. Ten and not eleven.
Understand with Wisdom, and apprehend with care It is a non-existent Sephirah because, for one thing, Know- ledge when examined contains within itself - as the progeny of Ruach - the same element of self-contradiction, and being situate in the Abyss, dispersion and so of self-destruction.
1.06 - Agni and the Truth, #The Secret Of The Veda, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
In order to illustrate the method I propose to take the first eleven Suktas of the first Mandala and to show how some of the central ideas of a psychological interpretation arise out of certain important passages or single hymns and how the surrounding context of the passages and the general thought of the hymns assume an entirely new appearance in the light of this profounder thinking.
The Sanhita of the Rig Veda, as we possess it, is arranged in ten books or Mandalas. A double principle is observed in the arrangement. Six of the Mandalas are given each to the hymns of a single Rishi or family of Rishis. Thus the second is devoted chiefly to the Suktas of the Rishi Gritsamada, the third and the seventh similarly to the great names of Vishwamitra and Vasishtha respectively, the fourth to Vamadeva, the sixth to
--
Mandalas are collections of Suktas by various Rishis, but the hymns of each seer are ordinarily placed together in the order of their deities, Agni leading, Indra following, the other gods succeeding. Thus the first Mandala opens with ten hymns of the seer Madhuchchhandas, son of Vishwamitra, and an eleventh ascribed to Jetri, son of Madhuchchhandas. This last Sukta, however, is identical in style, manner and spirit with the ten that precede it and they can all be taken together as a single block of hymns one in intention and diction.
A certain principle of thought-development also has not been absent from the arrangement of these Vedic hymns. The opening Mandala seems to have been so designed that the general thought of the Veda in its various elements should gradually unroll itself under the cover of the established symbols by the voices of a certain number of Rishis who almost all rank high as thinkers and sacred singers and are, some of them, among the most famous names of Vedic tradition. Nor can it be by accident that the tenth or closing Mandala gives us, with an even greater miscellaneity of authors, the last developments of the thought of the Veda and some of the most modern in language of its Suktas.
1.06 - The Greatness of the Individual, #Essays In Philosophy And Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
The great and memorable vision of Kurukshetra when Sri Krishna manifesting his world-form declared himself as destroying Time, is significant of this deep perception of humanity. When Arjuna wished to cast aside his bow and quiver, when he said, This is a sin we do and a great destruction of men and brothers, I will forbear, Sri Krishna after convincing his intellect of error, proceeded by that marvellous vision described in the eleventh canto of the Gita to stamp the truth of things upon his imagination. Thus run the mighty stanzas:
1.06 - THE MASTER WITH THE BRAHMO DEVOTEES, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
MASTER (to the devotees): "A man becomes liberated even in this life when he knows that God is the Doer of all things. Once Keshab came here with Sambhu Mallick. I said to him, 'Not even a leaf moves except by the will of God.' Where is man's free will? All are under the will of God. Nangta was a man of great knowledge, yet even he was about to drown himself in the Ganges. He stayed here eleven months. At one time he suffered from stomach trouble. The excruciating pain made him lose control over himself, and he wanted to drown himself in the river. There was a long shoal near the bathing-ghat. However far he went into the river, he couldn't find water above his knees. Then he understood everything and came back. At one time I was very ill and was about to cut my throat with a knife. Therefore I say: 'O Mother, I am the machine and Thou art the Operator; I am the chariot and Thou art the Driver. I move as Thou movest me; I do as Thou makest me do.' "
The devotees sing kirtan in the Master's room:
--
"When I was ten or eleven years old and lived at Kamarpukur, I first experienced samdhi. As I was passing through a paddy-field, I saw something and was overwhelmed. There are certain characteristics of God-vision. One sees light, feels joy, and experiences the upsurge of a great current in one's chest, like the bursting of a rocket."
The next day Baburam and Ramdayal returned to Calcutta. M. spent the day and the night with the Master.
1.06 - The Sign of the Fishes, #Aion, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
visible beginnings all lay in the early years of the eleventh cen-
tury. The contemporary documents amassed by Hahn throw a
--
Christ and Antichrist in the eleventh century. The antichristian
era is to blame that the spirit became non-spiritual and that the
1.07 - A Song of Longing for Tara, the Infallible, #How to Free Your Mind - Tara the Liberator, #Thubten Chodron, #unset
Ive got to pick up the kids at eleven and meet my colleague for lunch at
twelve. And, by the way, I want to become a Buddha. Oh my gosh, look what
1.07 - Note on the word Go, #Vedic and Philological Studies, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
The combination of go & vaja occurs again in the eleventh hymn where the seer writes Purvir Indrasya ratayo na vi dasyanti utayah, yadi vajasya gomatah stotribhyo manhate magham. The former delights of Indra, those first established his (new &larger) expansions of being do not destroy or scatter, when to his praisers he enlarges the mass of their illuminated substance or strength of being. Here again we have Madhuchchhandas deep experience & his fine & subtle knowledge. It is a common experience in Yoga that the ananda and siddhi first established, is destroyed in the effort or movement towards a larger fullness of being, knowledge or delight, and a period of crisis intervenes in which there is a rending & scattering of joy & light, a period of darkness, confusion & trouble painful to all & dangerous except to the strongest. Can these crises, difficulties, perilous conditions of soul be avoided? Yes, says Madhuchchhandas in effect, when you deliver yourself with devotion into the care of Indra, he comes to your help, he removes that limitation, that concentration in detail, in the alpam, the little, that consequent necessity of losing hold of one thing in order to give yourself to another, he increases the magha, the vijnanamay state of mahattwa or relative non-limitation in the finite which shows itself by an increase of fundamental force of being filled with higher illumination. That support of vaja prevents us from falling from what we have gained; there is sufficient substance of being expressed in us to provide for the new utayah without sacrificing the joys already established; there is sufficient luminousness of mind to prevent darkness, obscuration & misery supervening. Thus we see still the same symbolic sense, the same depth, the same experience as true to the Yogin today as to Madhuchchhandas thousands of years ago.
Now that we have thus substantially fixed the meaning of go and gomat, we can go back to a passage already to some extent discussed, the third verse of the seventh hymn. Indro dirghaya chakshasa a suryam rohayad divi, vi gobhir adrim airayat; Indra for far vision ascended to the sun in heaven; he sent him abroad over all the mountain with his rays. This is so plainly the meaning of the verse that I cannot understand, once it is perceived & understood, how we can accept any other rendering. I have already discussed the relations of Indra, Surya & the Mountain of our graded ascent in beingSri Ramakrishnas staircase to the Sad Brahman. The far vision is the unlimited knowledge acquired in Mahas, in the wide supra-rational movement of our consciousness as opposed to the contracted rational or infrarational vision which works only on details or from & by details, the alpam; for that Mind has to ascend to the Sun in Heaven, the principle of Mahas on the higher levels of mind itself, not on the supra-rational level, not swe dame. Because it is not swe dame, the full illumination is not possible, we cannot become practically omniscient; all Indra can do is to send down the sun, not in itself, but in its rays to various parts of the mountain of being, all over it, it is true, but still revealing only the higher truth in its parts, not in its full sum of knowledge. The language is so precise, once we understand the Vedic terminology, that I do not think we can be mistaken in this interpretation, which, moreover, agrees perfectly with Yogic experience and the constant theme of Madhuchchhandas. He is describing the first dawn & development of the higher knowledge in the mind, still liable to attack & obstruction, (yujam vritreshu vajrinam), still uncertain in quantity (Indram vayam mahadhane indram arbhe havamahe). Irayat is naturally transitive, bears the meaning it has in prerana, prerita, and can have no object but Surya, unless we suppose, which is less natural, that it is Surya who sends Indra to the mountain accompanied by his rays.
There is only one other passage we have now left for examination but it is of considerable importance & interest. It is in the hymn ascribed to the son of Madhuchchhanda, though very probably it isMadhuchchhandas own, the eleventh hymn and the fifth verse. Twam Valasya gomato apavar adrivo bilam, Twam deva abibhyushas tujyamanasa avishuh. Thou, O dweller on the mountain, didst uncover the lair of Vala the luminous, Thee the gods entered unfearing & protected. Indra, the dweller on the mountain of being, he who established in Swarga looks ever upward, has, to assist the strivings of man, uncovered the lair of Vala the luminous. Who is Vala the luminous? Does gomat mean the fellow who has the cows & is Vala a demon of cloud or darkness afflicted with the cow-stealing propensities, the Titanic bovi-kleptomania attributed by tradition to the Panis? He is, I suggest, one of the Titans who deny a higher ascent to man, a Titan who possesses but withholds & hides the luminous realms of ideal truth from man,interposing the hiranmayam patram of the Isha Upanishad, the golden cover or lid, by which the face of truth is concealed, satyasyapihitam mukham. Tat twam Pushan apavrinu, cries the Vedantic sage, using the same word apavri, but he calls to Surya, not to Indra, because he seeks the possession of the Vedanta, the sight of the rupam kalyanatamam which belongs to those who can meet Surya in his own home. The Vedic seer, at an earlier stage of the struggle, is satisfied with the minor conquests of Indra. He does not yet rise to those heights where Indra working in the mind is no longer a supreme helper, but may even be, as the Puranas tell us, an obstacle and an opponentbecause activity of mind even the highest, so long as it is not abandoned and overpassed, interferes with a yet higher attainment. It is only by rejecting Indra that we can dwell with Surya in his luminous halls, Tena tyaktena bhunjithah. Nevertheless the conquest over Bala is for humanity in its present stage a great conquest, and when & because it is accomplished the other gods can enter safely into the mental force & work in it, fearless because protected by Indras victorious might. For he is now Balabhid; he has pierced Bala & is no longer liable to that fear which overtook him when Vritra only had been overthrowna fear due to his perceiving the immensity of the task that still remained & the more formidable enemies beyond. We shall come again to Bala & the Titans & the meaning of these divine battles,viryani yani chakara prathamani vajri.
All the passages I have quoted proceed from the hymns of Madhuchchhanda son of Viswamitra, the opening eleven hymns of the Rigveda. This seer is one of the deepest & profoundest of the spirits chosen as vessels & channels of the divine knowledge of the Veda, one of those who least loses the thing symbolised in the material symbol, but who tends rather to let the symbol disappear in that which it symbolises. The comparison of the maker of beautiful images to the milch cow & Indra to the milker is an example of his constant tendency the word gavam is avoided with sudugham, so that the idea of milking or pressing forth may be suggested without insisting on the material image of the cow, & in goduhe, the symbol of the cow melts away into the thing symbolised, knowledge, light, illumination. A comparison with Medhatithi son of Kanwa brings out the difference. In Madhuchchhandas hymns the materialist rendering is often inapplicable & even when applicable yields a much poorer sense than the symbolic renderingbecause the seer is little concerned with the symbol except as the recognised means of suggesting things supramaterial. But Medhatithi is much concerned with the symbol & not indifferent to the outer life; in his hymns the materialist rendering gives us a good sense without excluding the symbolic, but often the symbolic has to be sought for & if we did not know the true Vedic tradition from Madhuchchhanda we could not gather it unaided from Medhatithi. The son of Viswamitra is deeply concerned with knowledge & with immortality & rapture as its attendant circumstances & conditions, the son of Kanwa, though not indifferent to knowledge, with the intoxication of the wine of immortality & its outpouring in mortal life & action. To use Vedic symbolism, one is a herder of kine, the other a herder of horses; Madhuchchhandas totem is the meditative cow, Medhatithis the rapid & bounding horse. There is a great calm, depth & nobility in the first eleven hymns, a great verve, joy, energy & vibrant force in the twelve that follow.
There is only one passage in which Medhatithi uses the word go and that passage is characteristic. There are only three main ideas in the hymn, the drinking of the Soma by Indra, the increase of his rapture & force by the drinking of the Soma, & the result of that increase, Semam nah kamam a prina gobhir aswaih shatakrato, Then do thou fill full this desire of ours with horses & with kine, O Shatakratu. Read apart from his other & deeper hymns, we should not venture to put any symbolic sense into these horses & kine; but from other passages it is evident that Medhatithi was not dispossessed of the tradition of Vedic symbolism, & it would be an injustice to him to suppose that he was lusting merely for a material wealth, that this was his desire and not the illumination of knowledge & the inner joy & vigour which is denoted by the symbol of the steed.
1.07 - Production of the mind-born sons of Brahma, #Vishnu Purana, #Vyasa, #Hinduism
Creation continued. Production of the mind-born sons of Brahmā; of the Prajāpatis; of Sanandana and others; of Rudra and the eleven Rudras; of the Manu Svāyambhuva, and his wife Śatarūpā; of their children. The daughters of Dakṣa, and their marriage to Dharma and others. The progeny of Disarms and Adharma. The perpetual succession of worlds, and different modes of mundane dissolution.
Parāśara said:-
--
giras, Marīci, Dakṣa, Atri, and Vaśiṣṭha: these are the nine Brahmas (or Brahma ṛṣis) celebrated in the Purāṇas[2]. Sanandana and the other sons of Brahmā were previously created by him, but they were without desire or passion, inspired with holy wisdom, estranged from the universe, and undesirous of progeny. This when Brahmā perceived, he was filled with wrath capable of consuming the three worlds, the flame of which invested, like a garland, heaven, earth, and hell. Then from his forehead, darkened with angry frowns, sprang Rudra[3], radiant as the noon-tide sun, fierce, and of vast bulk, and of a figure which was half male, half female. Separate yourself, Brahmā said to him; and having so spoken, disappeared. Obedient to which command, Rudra became twofold, disjoining his male and female natures. His male being he again divided into eleven persons, of whom some were agreeable, some hideous, some fierce, some mild; and he multiplied his female nature manifold, of complexions black or white[4].
Then Brahmā[5] created himself the Manu Svāyambhuva, born of, and identical with, his original self, for the protection of created beings; and the female portion of himself he constituted Śatarūpā, whom austerity purified from the sin (of forbidden nuptials), and whom the divine Manu Svāyambhuva took to wife. From these two were born two sons, Priyavrata and Uttānapāda[6], and two daughters, named Prasūti and Ākūti, graced with loveliness and exalted merit[7]. Prasūti he gave to Dakṣa, after giving Ākūti to the patriarch Ruci[8], who espoused her. Ākūti bore to Ruci twins, Yajña and Dakṣinā[9], who afterwards became husband and wife, and had twelve sons, the deities called Yāmas[10], in the Manvantara of Svāyambhuva.
The patriarch Dakṣa had by Prasūti twenty-four daughters[11]: hear from me their names: Sraddhā (faith), Lakṣmī (prosperity), Dhriti (steadiness), Tuṣṭi (resignation), Puṣṭi (thriving), Medhā (intelligence), Krīyā (action, devotion), Buddhi (intellect), Lajjā (modesty), Vapu (body), Sānti (expiation), Siddhi (perfection), Kīrtti (fame): these thirteen daughters of Dakṣa, Dharma (righteousness) took to wife. The other eleven bright-eyed and younger daughters of the patriarch were, Khyāti (celebrity), Sati (truth), Sambhūti (fitness), Smriti (memory), Prīti (affection), Kṣamā (patience), Sannati (humility), Anasūyā (charity), Ūrjjā (energy), with Svāhā (offering), and Swadhā (oblation). These maidens were respectively wedded to the Munis, Bhrigu, Bhava, Marīci, A
giras, Pulastya, Pulaha, Kratu, Atri, and Vaśiṣṭha; to Fire (Vahni), and to the Pitris (progenitors)[12]. The progeny of Dharma by the daughters of Dakṣa were as follows: by Sraddhā he had Kāma (desire); by Lakṣmī, Darpa (pride); by Dhriti, Niyama (precept); by Tuṣṭi, Santoṣa (content); by Puṣṭi, Lobha (cupidity); by Medhā, Sruta (sacred tradition); by Kriyā, Daṇḍa, Naya, and Vinaya (correction, polity, and prudence); by Buddhi, Bodha (understanding); by Lajjā, Vinaya (good behaviour); by Vapu, Vyavasaya (perseverance). Sānti gave birth to Kṣema (prosperity); Siddhi to Sukha (enjoyment); and Kīrtti to Yasas (reputation[13]). These were the sons of Dharma; one of whom, Kāma, had Hersha (joy) by his wife Nandi (delight).
--
[3]: Besides this general notice of the origin of Rudra and his separate forms, we have in the next chapter an entirely different set of beings so denominated; and the eleven alluded to in the text are also more particularly enumerated in a subsequent chapter. The origin of Rudra, as one of the agents in creation, is described in most of the Purāṇas. The Mahābhārata, indeed, refers his origin to Viṣṇu, representing him as the personification of his anger, whilst Brahmā is that of his kindness. The Kūrma P. makes him proceed from Brahmā's mouth, whilst engaged in meditating on creation. The Varāha P. makes this appearance of Rudra the consequence of a promise made by Śiva to Brahmā, that he would become his son. In the parallel passages in other Purāṇas the progeny of the Rudra created by Brahmā is not confined to the eleven, but comprehends infinite numbers of beings in person and equipments like their parent; until Brahmā, alarmed at their fierceness, numbers, and immortality, desires his son Rudra, or, as the Matsya calls him, Vāmadeva, to form creatures of a different and mortal nature. Rudra refusing to do this, desists; whence his name Sthānu, from Sthā, 'to stay.' Li
ga, Vāyu P. &c.
1.07 - The Farther Reaches of Human Nature, #Sex Ecology Spirituality, #Ken Wilber, #Philosophy
At level three, occurring around eleven to seventeen years (early formop), "the social personality or role is seen as a false outer appearance, different from the true inner self." Here we see very clearly the differentiation of the self (the rational ego) from its embeddedness in sociocentric roles-the emergence of a new interiority or relative autonomy which is aware of, and thus transcends or disidentifies from, overt social roles. "The self is what the person's nature normally is; it is a kind of essence and remains itself over changes in mental contents."
Likewise, and for precisely the same reasons, "reflective self-awareness appears at this level." (This is fulcrum five, the rational and reflexive ego differentiating from, and thus transcending, sociocentric or mythic-membership roles, with the correlative possible pathology of "identity crisis." Notice also that the new ego-self is beginning to remain as witness to the stream of mental events, and is not merely carried away by any passing thoughts; the adolescent at this stage reports that something "remains itself over changes in mental contents.")
1.07 - The Literal Qabalah (continued), #A Garden of Pomegranates - An Outline of the Qabalah, #Israel Regardie, #Occultism
Science and the Unseen World, Prof. A. S. Eddington pointed out that " out of the electric charges dispersed in the primitive chaos ninety-two different kinds of matter - ninety-two chemical elements - have been built. ... At root the diversity of the ninety-two elements reflects the diversity of the integers from one to ninety-two because the chemical characteristics of element No. 11 (sodium) arise from the fact that it has the power at low temperature of gathering round it eleven negative electric charges ; those of No. 12
(magnesium) from its power of gathering twelve particles ; and so on ".
1.080 - Pratyahara - The Return of Energy, #The Study and Practice of Yoga, #Swami Krishnananda, #Yoga
Tata param vayat indriym (II.55). We then become supreme master of the senses and can direct them wherever we like. The senses no more compel us to act against our wish, and do not any more make us puppets in their hands, on account of the control gained over their activities. But this parama vashyata, the great mastery one gains over sense activities, is gained with great, hard effort. A very intensely strenuous effort is necessary for years, perhaps to gain this sort of mastery over the senses. We think that the senses will automatically come back from their objects; but, they will not listen to us. They are very powerful, and they will simply show their thumbs before us if we talk to them. It requires persistence, tenacity and untiring effort day in and day out doing the very same thing, even if we may fail in our attempt. It does not mean that every day we will succeed. One day they will listen, and for ten days they will not listen. Then it will look like our effort has been a failure. We will complain, What is the matter with me? For ten days I am struggling; nothing is happening. But, on the eleventh day they may listen. This is the peculiarity of these senses and the mind, so one should not be dejected.
It was already mentioned on an earlier occasion that this melancholy mood is a great obstacle in yoga. Duhkha daurmanasya are the two things mentioned sorrow or grief, and dejection of spirit on account of not having gained mastery, or not having achieved anything. This should not come, because not even an adept can know what mastery he has gained, where he is standing, and what are the obstacles preventing him from achievement. Nothing will be known even to an expert. Even such a person will be kept in the dark; such is the mysterious realm that we are treading and walking through. But, the great watchword of this practice is: never be diffident. We should never condemn ourselves or be dispirited in our practice. It may be that for months together we may not achieve concentration, which is also possible due to the working of certain karmas. Even then, one should be tirelessly pursuing it.
1.08 - Origin of Rudra: his becoming eight Rudras, #Vishnu Purana, #Vyasa, #Hinduism
ga, and Vāyu agree with our text in the nomenclature of the Rudras, and their types, their wives, and progeny. The types are those which are enumerated in the Nāndī, p. 59 or opening benedictory verse, of Sakuntalā; and the passage of the Viṣṇu P. was found by Mons. Chezy on the envelope of his copy. He has justly corrected Sir Wm. Jones's version of the term ### 'the sacrifice is performed with solemnity;' as the word means, 'Brahmane officiant,' 'the Brāhmaṇ who is qualified by initiation (Dīkṣā) to conduct the rite.' These are considered as the bodies, or visible forms, of those modifications of Rudra which are variously named, and which, being praised in them, severally abstain from harming them: ### Vāyu P. The Bhāgavata, III. 12, has a different scheme, as usual; but it confounds the notion of the eleven Rudras, to whom the text subsequently adverts, with that of the eight here specified. These eleven it terms Manyu, Manu, Mahīnasa, Mahān, Siva, Ritadhwaja, Ugraretas, Bhava, Kāla, Vāmadeva, and Dhritavrata: their wives are, Dhī, Dhriti, Rasalomā, Niyut, Sarpī, Ilā, Ambikā, Irāvatī, Swadhā, Dīkṣā, Rudrānī: and their places are, the heart, senses, breath, ether, air, fire, water, earth, sun, moon, and tapas, or ascetic devotion. The same allegory or mystification characterises both accounts.
[5]: See the story of Dakṣa's sacrifice at the end of the chapter.
--
gadvāra, as tradition reports[2]. They found Dakṣa, the best of the devout, surrounded by the singers and nymphs of heaven, and by numerous sages, beneath the shade of clustering trees and climbing plants; and all of them, whether dwellers on earth, in air, or in the regions above the skies, approached the patriarch with outward gestures of respect. The Ādityas, Vasus, Rudras, Maruts, all entitled to partake of the oblations, together with Jiṣṇu, were present. The four classes of Pitris, Ushmapās, Somapās, Ājyapās, and Dhūmapās, or those who feed upon the flame, the acid juice, the butter, or the smoke of offerings, the Aswins and the progenitors, came along with Brahmā. Creatures of every class, born from the womb, the egg, from vapour, or vegetation, came upon their invocation; as did all the gods, with their brides, who in their resplendent vehicles blazed like so many fires. Beholding them thus assembled, the sage Dadhīca was filled with indignation, and observed, 'The man who worships what ought not to be worshipped, or pays not reverence where veneration is due, is guilty, most assuredly, of heinous sin.' Then addressing Dakṣa, he said to him, 'Why do you not offer homage to the god who is the lord of life (Paśubhartri)?' Dakṣa spake; 'I have already many Rudras present, armed with tridents, wearing braided hair, and existing in eleven forms: I recognise no other Mahādeva.' Dadhīca spake; 'The invocation that is not addressed to Īśa, is, for all, but a solitary (and imperfect) summons. Inasmuch as I behold no other divinity who is superior to Śa
kara, this sacrifice of Dakṣa will not be completed.' Dakṣa spake; I offer, in a golden cup, this entire oblation, which has been consecrated by many prayers, as an offering ever due to the unequalled Viṣṇu, the sovereign lord of all[3].'
1.08 - The Gods of the Veda - The Secret of the Veda, #Vedic and Philological Studies, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
The thought passes on in the eleventh Rik from the prayer to the fulfilment. Yajnam dadhe Saraswat. Saraswati upholds the Yajna; she has accepted the office of governance & already upbears in her strength the action of the sacrifice. In that action she is Chodayitr unritnm, chetant sumatnm. That great luminous impulse of inspiration in which the truths of being start to light of themselves and are captured and possessed by the mind, that spiritual enlightenment and awakening in which right thoughts & right seeing become spontaneously the substance of our purified mental state, proceed from Saraswati & are already being poured by her into the system, like the Aryan stream into the Indus. Mati means any activity of the mind; right thoughts in the intellect, right feelings in the heart, right perceptions in the sensational mind, sumati may embrace any or all of these associations; in another context, by a different turn of the prefix, it may express kindly thoughts, friendly feelings, happy perceptions.
In the last Rik the source of this great illumination is indicated. Spiritual knowledge is not natural to the mind; it is in us a higher faculty concealed & sleeping, not active to our consciousness. It is only when the inspiration of a divine enlightenment,Saraswat ketun, in the concrete Vedic language,seizes on that self-luminous faculty & directs a ray of it into our understanding that we receive the high truths, the great illuminations which raise us above our normal humanity. But it is not an isolated illumination with which this son of Viswamitra intends to be satisfied. The position for him is that the human perception & reason, but asleep, sushupta, achetana, on the level of the pure ideal knowledge. He wishes it to awake to the divine knowledge & his whole mental state to be illumined by it. The divine Inspiration has to awaken to conscious activity this great water now lying still & veiled in our humanity. This great awakening Saraswati now in the action of the Sacrifice effects for MadhuchchhandasMaho arnah prachetayati. The instrument is ketu, enlightening perception. With the knowledge that now streams into the mind from the ocean of divine knowledge all the ideas of the understanding in their various & many-branching activity are possessed and illumined. Dhiyo viv vi rjati. She illumines variously or in various directions, or, less probably, she entirely illumines, all the activities of the understanding. This invasion & illumination of his whole mental state by the state of divine knowledge, with its spontaneous manifestation of high truths, right thoughts, right feelings, the ritam jyotih, is the culmination of this sacrifice of Madhuchchhandas.
1.097 - Sublimation of Object-Consciousness, #The Study and Practice of Yoga, #Swami Krishnananda, #Yoga
Thus, there is a very scientific methodology provided to us in these sutras, which have to be studied gradually, stage by stage, in their successive intensity and applicability. Many authors think that the sutras of Patanjali in respect of yoga are concluded with the Vibhuti Pada because in it he mentions that kaivalya is attained. What else is there to say, afterwards? Some people are of the opinion that there are only three sections of Patanjali, not four sections, but there are others who think that there should be four sections, not three, because each section is called a pada Samadhi Pada, Sadhana Pada, Vibhuti Pada and Kaivalya Pada. A pada is a quarter, and we cannot have three quarters; quarters are always four. So, inasmuch as the word pada is used in respect of each section, it is the opinion of many that four sections must be there, not three. And the fourth section has a meaning of its own. Though it is not directly connected with practice, it furnishes certain details. Just as there are people who think that the Bhagavadgita ends with the eleventh chapter and the successive chapters are additions, as a kind of commentary, there are others who think that they are not simply additions; they have an organic connection with what has preceded.
So is the case with these sutras. The Kaivalya Pada is a metaphysical disquisition of Patanjali, where we find his philosophical peculiarities as distinct from other schools of thought, which of course have great relevance to the practice which he has described in the earlier sutras.
1.09 - Sri Aurobindo and the Big Bang, #Preparing for the Miraculous, #George Van Vrekhem, #Integral Yoga
tion on the controversy. The results showed that eleven
experts backed the Big Bang, eight stood by the Steady
1.09 - The Worship of Trees, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
sacred tree. On the eleventh of the month Phalgun (February)
libations are poured at the foot of the tree, a red or yellow string
11.01 - The Eternal Day The Souls Choice and the Supreme Consummation, #Savitri, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
BOOK eleven
The Book of Everlasting Day
--
END OF BOOK eleven
11.01 - The Opening Scene of Savitri, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part eleven The Opening Scene of Savitri
The Opening Scene of Savitri
11.02 - The Golden Life-line, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part eleven The Golden Life-line
The Golden Life-line
11.03 - Cosmonautics, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part elevenCosmonautics
Cosmonautics
11.04 - The Triple Cord, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part eleven The Triple Cord
The Triple Cord
11.05 - The Ladder of Unconsciousness, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part eleven The Ladder of Unconsciousness
The Ladder of Unconsciousness
11.06 - The Mounting Fire, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part eleven The Mounting Fire
The Mounting Fire
11.07 - The Labours of the Gods: The five Purifications, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part eleven The Labours of the Gods: The five Purifications
The Labours of the Gods: The five Purifications
11.08 - Body-Energy, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part elevenBody-Energy
Body-Energy
11.09 - Towards the Immortal Body, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part elevenTowards the Immortal Body
Towards the Immortal Body
11.10 - The Test of Truth, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part eleven The Test of Truth
The Test of Truth
11.11 - The Ideal Centre, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part eleven The Ideal Centre
The Ideal Centre
11.12 - Two Equations, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part elevenTwo Equations
Two Equations
11.13 - In these Fateful Days, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part eleven In these Fateful Days
In these Fateful Days
11.14 - Our Finest Hour, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part elevenOur Finest Hour
Our Finest Hour
11.15 - Sri Aurobindo, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 04, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Other Authors Nolini Kanta Gupta Part elevenSri Aurobindo
Sri Aurobindo
1.11 - BOOK THE ELEVENTH, #Metamorphoses, #Ovid, #Poetry
object:1.11 - BOOK THE elevenTH
author class:Ovid
--
BOOK THE elevenTH
The Death of Orpheus
--
Then on th' eleventh, when with brighter ray
Phosphor had chac'd the fading stars away,
1.11 - On talkativeness and silence., #The Ladder of Divine Ascent, #Saint John of Climacus, #unset
The eleventh step. He who has mastered it has cut off at one blow a multitude of evils.
1.1.2 - Commentary, #Kena and Other Upanishads, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
IND WAS called by Indian psychologists the eleventh
and ranks as the supreme sense. In the ancient arrangement of the senses, five of knowledge and five of
1.12 - God Departs, #Twelve Years With Sri Aurobindo, #Nirodbaran, #Integral Yoga
Even a non-attendant, Amal Kiran, reported a last act of Grace that was his good fortune: "My turn to go up to the Darshan of November 24, 1950, came. As soon as my wife and I appeared at the door of the long Meditation Room upstairs, at the other end of which was the small room where Sri Aurobindo and the Mother were sitting, the Mother leaned towards Sri Aurobindo and said something. At once he started smiling. All through the Darshan the smile was on his lips, and my wife tells me that until I disappeared into the next room on my way out, he was looking in my direction and smiling. Such a thing had never happened at any other Darshan I had attended. This was just eleven days before he passed away.
"When I had an interview with the Mother after December 5, I asked her what she had whispered to Sri Aurobindo. She replied, 'I told him, Amal is coming.' I inquired why she had to give the information. Her answer was, 'Sri Aurobindo's eyes had gone very bad. He could not see people clearly. Of course he could contact the consciousness of whoever was before him but could not recognise the outer being and form. The moment he heard me, he began to smile.'
1.12 - TIME AND ETERNITY, #The Perennial Philosophy, #Aldous Huxley, #Philosophy
Whenever God is thought of as being wholly in time, there is a tendency to regard Him as a numinous rather than a moral being, a God of mere unmitigated Power rather than a God of Power, Wisdom and Love, an inscrutable and dangerous potentate to be propitiated by sacrifices, not a Spirit to be worshipped in spirit. All this is only natural; for time is a perpetual perishing and a God who is wholly in time is a God who destroys as fast as He creates. Nature is as incomprehensibly appalling as it is lovely and bountiful. If the Divine does not transcend the temporal order in which it is immanent, and if the human spirit does not transcend its time-bound soul, then there is no possibility of justifying the ways of God to man. God as manifested in the universe is the irresistible Being who speaks to Job out of the whirlwind, and whose emblems are Behemoth and Leviathan, the war horse and the eagle. It is this same Being who is described in the Apocalyptic eleventh chapter of the Bhagavad Gita. O Supreme Spirit, says Arjuna, addressing himself to the Krishna whom he now knows to be the incarnation of the Godhead, I long to see your Isvara-form that is to say, his form as God of the world, Nature, the temporal order. Krishna answers, You shall behold the whole universe, with all things animate and inanimate, within this body of mine. Arjunas reaction to the revelation is one of amazement and fear.
Ah, my God, I see all gods within your body;
1.13 - Gnostic Symbols of the Self, #Aion, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
of the eleventh century. Well might the writings of this Master
lie buried for six hundred years, for "his time was not yet come."
1.13 - THE MASTER AND M., #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
Hari, a young man of twenty-eight, had lost his wife about eleven years before and had not married a second time. He was much, devoted to his parents, brothers, and sisters.
Hazra was living at Dakshineswar. Rkhl lived with the Master, though now and then he stayed at Adhar's house. Narendra, Bhavanath, Adhar, M., Ram, Manomohan, and other devotees visited the Master almost every week.
1.14 - The Structure and Dynamics of the Self, #Aion, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
which led, in the eleventh century, to a widespread recognition
of the evil principle as the world creator.
1.15 - The world overrun with trees; they are destroyed by the Pracetasas, #Vishnu Purana, #Vyasa, #Hinduism
kalpā. The deities called Vasus, because, preceded by fire, they abound in splendour and might[15], are severally named Āpa, Dhruva, Soma, Dhava (fire), Anila (wind), Anala (fire), Pratyūṣa (day-break), and Prabhāsa (light). The four sons of Āpa were Vaitaṇḍya, Śrama (weariness), Srānta (fatigue), and Dhur (burthen). Kāla (time), the cerisher of the world, was the son of Dhruva. The son of Soma was Varchas (light), who was the father of Varcasvī (radiance). Dhava had, by his wife Manoharā (loveliness), Draviṇa, Hutahavyavāha, Śiśira, Prāṇa, and Ramaṇa. The two sons of Anila (wind), by his wife Śivā, were Manojava (swift as thought) and Avijñātagati (untraceable motion). The son of Agni (fire), Kumāra, was born in a clump of Śara reeds: his sons were Sākha, Visākha, Naigameya, and Pṛṣṭhaja. The offspring of the Krittikās was named Kārtikeya. The son of Pratyūṣa was the Ṛṣi named Devala, who had two philosophic and intelligent sons[16]. The sister of Vācaspati, lovely and virtuous, Yogasiddhā, who pervades the wholes world without being devoted to it, was the wife of Prabhāsa, the eighth of the Vasus, and bore to him the patriarch Viswakarmā, the author of a thousand arts, the mechanist of the gods, the fabricator of all ornaments, the chief of artists, the constructor of the self-moving chariots of the deities, and by whose skill men obtain subsistence. Ajaikapād, Ahirvradhna, and the wise Rudra Tvaṣṭri, were born; and the self-born son of Twashtri was also the celebrated Viśvarūpa. There are eleven well-known Rudras, lords of the three worlds, or Hara, Bahurūpa, Tryambaka, Aparājita, Vṛṣakapi, Sambhu, Kaparddī, Raivata, Mrigavyādha, Sarva, and Kapāli[17]; but there are a hundred appellations of the immeasurably mighty Rudras[18].
The daughters of Dakṣa who were married to Kaśyapa were Aditi, Diti, Danu, Aṛṣṭā, Surasā, Surabhi, Vinatā, Tāmrā, Krodhavaśā, Iḍā, Khasā, Kadru, and Muni[19]; whose progeny I will describe to you. There were twelve celebrated deities in a former Manvantara, called Tuṣitas[20], who, upon the approach of the present period, or in the reign of the last Manu, Cākṣuṣa, assembled, and said to one another, "Come, let us quickly enter into the womb of Aditī, that we may be born in the next Manvantara, for thereby we shall again enjoy the rank of gods:" and accordingly they were born the sons of Kaśyapa, the son of Marīci, by Aditī, the daughter of Dakṣa; thence named the twelve Ādityas; whose appellations were respectively, Viṣṇu, Śakra, Āryaman, Dhūtī, Tvāṣṭri, Pūṣan, Vivaswat, Savitri, Mitra, Varuṇa, Aṃśa, and Bhaga[21]. These, who in the Cākṣuṣa Manvantara were the gods called Tuṣitas, were called the twelve Ādityas in the Manvantara of Vaivaśvata.
--
[17]: The passage is, ### Whose sons they are does not appear; the object being, according to the comment, to specify only the eleven divisions or modifications of the youngest Rudra, Tvaṣṭa.' We have, however, an unusual variety of reading here in two copies of the comment: 'The eleven Rudras, in whom the family of Tvaṣṭri (a synonyme, it may be observed, sometimes of Viswakarmā) is included, were born. The enumeration of the Rudras ends with Aparājita, of whom Tryambaka is the epithet.' Accordingly the three last names in all the other copies of the text are omitted in these two; their places being supplied by the three first, two of whom are always named in the lists of the Rudras. According to the Vāyu and Brāhma P. the Rudras are the children of Kaśyapa by Surabhi: the Bhāgavata makes them the progeny of Bhūta and Sarūpā: the Matsya, Padma, and Hari V., in the second series, the offspring of Surabhi by Brahmā. The names in three of the Paurāṇic authorities run thus:
[18]: The posterity of Dakṣa's daughters p. 122 by Dharma are clearly allegorical personifications chiefly of two classes, one consisting of astronomical phenomena, and the other of portions or subjects of the ritual of the Vedas.
--
[27]: This number is founded upon a text of the Vedas, which to the eight Vasus, eleven Rudras, and twelve Ādityas, adds Prajāpati, either Brahmā or Dakṣa, and Vashatkāra, 'deified oblation.' They have the epithet Chandajā, as born in different Manvantaras, of their own will.
[28]: The Purāṇas generally coñcur in this genealogy, reading sometimes Anuhrāda, Hrāda, &c. for Anuhlāda and the rest. Although placed second in the order of Kaśyapa's descendants, the Daityas are in fact the elder branch. Thus the Mahābhārata, Mokṣa Dherma, calls Diti the senior wife of Kaśyapa: and the Vāyu terms Hiraṇyakaśipu and Hiraṇyākṣa the eldest of all the sons of that patriarch. "Titan and his enormous brood" were "heaven's first born."
1.16 - Man, A Transitional Being, #Sri Aurobindo or the Adventure of Consciousness, #Satprem, #Integral Yoga
that with such consciousness she knew of Sri Aurobindo's existence long before meeting him physically and coming to join him in Pondicherry. Between the ages of eleven and thirteen, she explains, a series of psychic and spiritual experiences revealed to me not only the existence of God, but man's possibility of finding Him and revealing Him integrally in consciousness and action, and of manifesting Him on earth in a divine life. This revelation, along with the practical discipline for achieving it, were given to me during my body's sleep by several teachers, some of whom I met afterwards on the physical plane. Later on, as the inner and outer development progressed, my spiritual and psychic relationship with one of these beings became increasingly clear and rich. . . . The moment I saw Sri Aurobindo, I
knew it was he who had come to do the work on earth and that it was with him I was to work. The "transformation" was under way. It was the Mother who took charge of the Ashram when Sri Aurobindo retired into complete solitude in 1926, and it is she who would continue the Work after his departure in 1950. The Mother's consciousness and mine are the same.312 It is quite significant that the living synthesis of East and West, which Sri Aurobindo already symbolized, would become perfected by this meeting between East and West, as if the world could only be fulfilled by the coming together of the two poles of existence, Consciousness and Force, Spirit and Earth, He and She forever.
1.17 - M. AT DAKSHINEWAR, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
At eight o'clock in the morning Sri Ramakrishna and M. were talking together in the pine-grove at the northern end of the temple garden. This was the eleventh day of M.'s stay with the Master.
It was winter. The sun had just risen. The river was flowing north with the tide. Not far off could be seen the bel-tree where the Master had practised great spiritual austerities. Sri Ramakrishna faced the east as he talked to his disciple and told him about the Knowledge of Brahman.
--
The following day was Tuesday, the ekadasi day of the lunar fortnight. It was eleven o'clock in the morning and the Master had not yet taken his meal. M., Rkhl, and other devotees were sitting in the Master's room.
MASTER (to M.): "One should fast on the eleventh day of the lunar fortnight. That purifies the mind and helps one to develop love of God. Isn't that so?"
M: "Yes, sir."
1.17 - The Seven-Headed Thought, Swar and the Dashagwas, #The Secret Of The Veda, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Tradition asserts the separate existence of two classes of Angiras Rishis, the one Navagwas who sacrificed for nine months, the other Dashagwas whose sessions of sacrifice endured for ten. According to this interpretation we must take Navagwa and Dashagwa as "nine-cowed" and "ten-cowed", each cow representing collectively the thirty Dawns which constitute one month of the sacrificial year. But there is at least one passage of the Rig Veda which on its surface is in direct conflict with the traditional interpretation. For in the seventh verse of V.45 and again in the eleventh we are told that it was the Navagwas, not the Dashagwas, who sacrificed or chanted the hymn for ten months. This seventh verse runs, Anunod atra hastayato adrir, arcan yena dasa maso navagvah.; r.tam yat sarama ga avindad, visvani satya angiras cakara, "Here cried (or, moved) the stone impelled by the hand, whereby the Navagwas chanted for ten months the hymn; Sarama travelling to the Truth found the cows; all things the Angiras made true." And in verse 11 we have the assertion repeated; Dhiyam vo apsu dadhis.e svars.am, yayataran dasa maso navagvah.; aya dhiya syama devagopa, aya dhiya tuturyama ati amhah.. "I hold for you in the waters (i.e. the seven Rivers) the thought that wins possession of heaven2
(this is once more the seven-headed thought born from the Truth and found by Ayasya), by which the Navagwas passed through the ten months; by this thought may we have the gods for protectors, by this thought may we pass through beyond the evil."
The statement is explicit. Sayana indeed makes a faint-hearted attempt to take dasa maso in v. 7, ten months, as if it were an epithet dasamaso, the ten-month ones i.e. the Dashagwas; but he offers this improbable rendering only as an alternative and abandons it in the eleventh rik.
Sayana takes it to mean, "I recite the hymn for water" i.e. in order to get rain; the case however is the locative plural, and dadhis.e means "I place or hold" or, with the psychological sense, "think" or "hold in thought, meditate". Dhis.an.a like dh means thought; dhiyam dadhis.e would thus mean "I think or meditate the thought."
1.19 - The Victory of the Fathers, #The Secret Of The Veda, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
This eleventh verse is very striking in its significance. We have the opposition of the Knowledge and the Ignorance familiar to
Vedanta; and the Knowledge is likened to the wide open levels which are frequently referred to in the Veda; they are the large levels to which those ascend who labour in the sacrifice and they find there Agni seated self-blissful (V.7.5); they are the wide being which he makes for his own body (V.4.6), the level wideness, the unobstructed vast. It is therefore the infinite being of the Deva to which we arrive on the plane of the Truth, and it contains
1.200-1.224 Talks, #Talks, #Sri Ramana Maharshi, #Hinduism
Department, Delhi: He has read Paul Bruntons Search in Secret India and The Secret Path. He lost his wife with whom he had led a happy life for eleven or twelve years. In his grief he seeks solace. He does not find solace in reading books: wants to tear them up. He does not intend to ask questions. He simply wants to sit here and derive what solace he can in the presence of Maharshi.
Maharshi, as if in a train of thoughts, spoke now and then to the following effect:
1.20 - TANTUM RELIGIO POTUIT SUADERE MALORUM, #The Perennial Philosophy, #Aldous Huxley, #Philosophy
It would be hard to find a better summing up of the conclusions, to which any spiritually and psychologically realistic mind must sooner or later come, than the foregoing paragraphs written in the eleventh century by one of the masters of Zen Buddhism.
The extract that follows is a moving protest against the crimes and follies perpetrated in the name of religion by those sixteenth-century Reformers who had turned to God without turning away from themselves and who were therefore far more keenly interested in the temporal aspects of historic Christianity the ecclesiastical organization, the logic-chopping, the letter of Scripturethan in the Spirit who must be worshipped in spirit, the eternal Reality in the selfless knowledge of whom stands mans eternal life. Its author was Sebastian Castellio, who was at one time Calvins favourite disciple, but who parted company with his master when the latter burned Servetus for heresy against his own heresy. Fortunately Castellio was living in Basel when he made his plea for charity and common decency; penned in Geneva, it would have earned him torture and death.
1.20 - Visnu appears to Prahlada, #Vishnu Purana, #Vyasa, #Hinduism
[3]: The days of full and new moon are sacred with all sects of Hindus: the eighth and twelfth days of the lunar half month were considered holy by the Vaiṣṇavas, as appears from the text. The eighth maintains its character in a great degree from the eighth of Bhādra being the birthday of Kṛṣṇa; but the eleventh, in more recent Vaiṣṇava works, as the Brahma Vaivartta P., has taken the place of the twelfth, and is even more sacred than the eighth.
[4]: Or any solemn gift; that of a cow is held particularly sacred; but it implies accompaniments of a more costly character, ornaments and gold.
1.2.11 - Patience and Perseverance, #Letters On Yoga II, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Chapter eleven
Patience and Perseverance
1.21 - Families of the Daityas, #Vishnu Purana, #Vyasa, #Hinduism
[19]: The Bhāgavata says, of animals with cloven hoofs. The Vāyu has, of the eleven Rudras, of the bull of Śiva, and of two daughters, Rohiṇī and Gandharbī; from the former of whom descended horned cattle; and from the latter, horses.
[20]: According to the Vāyu, Khasā had two sons, Yakṣa and Rākṣas, severally the progenitors of those beings.
1.21 - My Theory of Astrology, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
It seems a long while since I set up your Nativity, and read it, but it is very clear in my mind that you were astonished, as so many others have been, by the simplicity and correctness of my reading. It began, you remember, by your giving me the usual data when we dropped in for tea at the Anglers' Rest. I calculated the Ascendant on the spot, and remarked "Rubbish!" I looked at you again very carefully; and, after many grunts, observed, "More likely half-past ten within an hour one way or the other." You insisted; I insisted. Unwilling to make a Fracas in the Inn, we decided to put you to the trouble of writing to your mother to settle the dispute. Back came the answer: "within a few minutes of eleven. I remember because your father had hung on as long as he could he had to take the morning service."
This occurrence is very common in my experience; I have contradicted what sounded like ascertained fact and proved on enquiry to have been right; so, considering that the statistics I made many years ago showed me to have been right 109 times out of 120, I think two things are fairly near probation; firstly, I am not guessing that doesn't matter much; but, secondly, which is of supreme importance, there is a definite connection between the personal appearance and manner of the native, and the Sign of the Zodiac which was rising when he first drew air into his lungs.
1.22 - ADVICE TO AN ACTOR, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
Referring to the date of an invitation, he says 'the eleventh' instead of 'the thirteenth'.
And Gopal-he belongs in a herd of cows!"
1.23 - FESTIVAL AT SURENDRAS HOUSE, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
During many a moonlit night Krishna would dance with Radha and the gopis in the sacred groves of Vrindvan, and on such occasions the gopis would experience the highest religious ecstasy. At the age of eleven Krishna was called to be the king of Mathura. He left the gopis, promising them, however, His divine vision whenever they concentrated on Him in their hearts.
For centuries and centuries the lovers of God in 1ndia have been worshipping the Divine by recreating in themselves the yearning of the gopis for Krishna. Many of the folk-songs of India have as their theme this sweet episode of Krishna's life. Sri Chaitanya revived this phase of Hindu religious life by his spiritual practice and his divine visions. In his ecstatic music Chaitanya assumed the role of Radha and manifested the longing to be united with Krishna. For a long period Sri Ramakrishna also worshipped God as his beloved Krishna, looking on himself as one of the gopis or as God's handmaid.
1.23 - On mad price, and, in the same Step, on unclean and blasphemous thoughts., #The Ladder of Divine Ascent, #Saint John of Climacus, #unset
5. A venerable man said to me: Suppose that there are twelve shameful passions. If we deliberately love one of them (I mean, pride), it will fill the place of the remaining eleven.
6. A haughty monk contradicts violently, but a humble one cannot even look one in the face.
1.27 - AT DAKSHINESWAR, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
IT WAS ABOUT eleven O'CLOCK. The Master was sitting in his room at Dakshineswar.
He had not yet taken his midday meal.
--
About eleven o'clock Jnan Babu arrived. He was a government official and had received four university degrees.
MASTER (at the sight of Jnan Babu): "Well! Well! This sudden awakening of 'knowledge'!"
1.30 - Other Falsifiers or Forgers. Gianni Schicchi, Myrrha, Adam of Brescia, Potiphar's Wife, and Sinon of Troy., #The Divine Comedy, #Dante Alighieri, #Christianity
Although the circuit be eleven miles,
And be not less than half a mile across.
1.38 - Woman - Her Magical Formula, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
I am the Empress & the Hierophant. Thus eleven, as my bride is eleven. [15-16]
I am the Snake that giveth Knowledge & Delight and bright glory, and stir the hearts of men with drunkenness. ... [22]
1.439, #Talks, #Sri Ramana Maharshi, #Hinduism
devotee said: There is a girl of eleven in Lahore. She is very
remarkable. She says she can call upon Krishna twice and remain
1.44 - Serious Style of A.C., or the Apparent Frivolity of Some of my Remarks, #Magick Without Tears, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
Let this serve for an epitaph: Gray took eleven years; I, less.
Elegy Written in a Country Farmyard
1.62 - The Fire-Festivals of Europe, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
between eleven and twelve on St. John's Night and wash yourself in
three wells, you will see all who are to die in the following year.
--
between eleven and fourteen years of age, who work stark naked in a
dark room; sometimes it is made by an old man and an old woman also
1.67 - The External Soul in Folk-Custom, #The Golden Bough, #James George Frazer, #Occultism
Maule, eleventh Earl of Dalhousie, was dead.
In England children are sometimes passed through a cleft ash-tree as
--
lad of about eleven years of age--wore a mask in imitation of a
wolf's head. Now, as the Indians of this part of America are divided
1.anon - The Epic of Gilgamesh Tablet X, #Anonymous - Poems, #unset, #Zen
take an eleventh, Gilgamesh, and a twelfth pole!"
In twice 60 rods Gilgamesh had used up the punting poles.
1f.lovecraft - At the Mountains of Madness, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
preceding day, or of the night before that. eleven known dead, young
Gedney missing. People pardoned our hazy lack of details through
--
rendered all eleven bodies unsuitable for transportation outside.
Indeed, I flatter myself that even in the midst of our distress, utter
--
outline and rising to an irregular height of ten or eleven feet. For
this latter we headed; and when at last we were able actually to touch
1f.lovecraft - Cool Air, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
stupefying suddenness. One night about eleven the pump of the
refrigerating machine broke down, so that within three hours the
1f.lovecraft - Herbert West-Reanimator, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
We retired about eleven, but I did not sleep well. Bolton had a
surprisingly good police force for so small a town, and I could not
1f.lovecraft - Medusas Coil, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
him from running away to the Spanish War when he was eleven! Romantic
young devil, toofull of high notionsyoud call em Victorian, nowno
1f.lovecraft - The Alchemist, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
That I had left at most but eleven years of further existence was made
certain to me by the words which I read. My life, previously held at
1f.lovecraft - The Call of Cthulhu, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
with a complement of eleven men. The Emma, he says, was delayed and
thrown widely south of her course by the great storm of March 1st,
1f.lovecraft - The Case of Charles Dexter Ward, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
had come up at the eleventh hour though absent from the preliminary
session in the tavern. All these freemen and their hundred sailors
--
Academy in King Street on the eleventh of February, 1762, which fell on
a Thursday; or about how the actors cut the text of Steeles Conscious
--
eleven oclock that portentous morning? Did he not telephone the doctor
in vain that evening, and again the next day, and had he not driven to
1f.lovecraft - The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
toad-things and twenty-four almost-human torch-bearers, eleven on
either side, and one each before and behind. Carter was placed in the
--
cargo. And on the evening of the eleventh day they came in sight of the
isle of Oriab, with Ngranek rising jagged and snow-crowned in the
--
had passed eleven quarries; the land being here given over altogether
to onyx cliffs and boulders, with no vegetation at all, but only great
1f.lovecraft - The Dunwich Horror, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
eleven months. His speech was somewhat remarkable both because of its
difference from the ordinary accents of the region, and because it
1f.lovecraft - The Festival, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
blasphemous book in my hands made it doubly so. When eleven struck,
however, the old man stood up, glided to a massive carved chest in a
1f.lovecraft - The Horror in the Museum, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
meet in front of the museum at eleven.
Jones hailed a cab, and breathed more freely when he had crossed
--
At eleven Jones found Rogers waiting by the basement door in Southwark
Street. Their words were few, but each seemed taut with a menacing
1f.lovecraft - The Rats in the Walls, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
eleventh Baron Exham, fled to Virginia and there founded the family
which by the next century had become known as Delapore.
1f.lovecraft - The Shadow out of Time, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
early but could not sleep. Rising shortly before eleven, and afflicted
as usual with that strange feeling regarding the northeastward terrain,
1f.lovecraft - The Shadow over Innsmouth, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
knew that those hoarse strokes were telling the hour of eleven. Then
suddenly all thoughts of time were blotted out by an onrushing image of
1f.lovecraft - The Statement of Randolph Carter, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
half past eleven on that awful night. That we bore electric lanterns,
spades, and a curious coil of wire with attached instruments, I will
--
half past eleven on the Gainesville pike, headed for Big Cypress Swamp.
This is probably true, but I have no distinct memory of it. The picture
1f.lovecraft - The Trap, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
I finally set to work in the early morning of the eleventh day after
the disappearance, having drawn all the shades of my living-room and
--
borne through all those terrible eleven days, suddenly broke down like
a little child and began to weep hysterically in great, stifling, dry
1f.lovecraft - Through the Gates of the Silver Key, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
have granted eleven times only to beings of your planetfive times only
to those you call men, or those resembling them. I am ready to shew you
1f.lovecraft - Till A the Seas, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Mladdna. She had come that day in his eleventh year, when all the
hunters went to seek food, and did not return. Ull had no mother that
1f.lovecraft - Winged Death, #Lovecraft - Poems, #unset, #Zen
reality. About eleven oclock this morning, as I was writing on a
manuscript, something darted down to the inkwell for a second and
--
which has gone wildNature or my head. Until about eleven I did very
little except walk up and down the room.
--
blacks. The hour is now a little after eleven. Is twelve the end? I
have just one last resort, brought to my mind through utter
1.jk - Ode On Indolence, #Keats - Poems, #John Keats, #Poetry
"This morning I am in a sort of temper, indolent and supremely careless; I long after a stanza or two of Thomson's 'Castle of Indolence;' my passions are all asleep, from my having slumbered till nearly eleven, and weakened the animal fibre all over me, to a delightful sensation, about three degrees on this side of faintness. If I had teeth or pearl, and the breath of lilies, I should call it languor; but, as I am, I must call it laziness. In this state of effeminacy, the fibres of the brain are relaxed, in common with the rest of the body, and to such a happy degree, that pleasure has no show of enticement, and pain no unbearable frown; neither Poetry, nor Ambition, nor Love, have any alterness of countenance; as they pass by me, they seem rather like three figures on a Greek vase, two men and a woman, whom no one but myself could distinguish in their disguisement. This is the only happiness, and is a rare instance of advantage in the body overpowering the mind."
The date under which this passage occurs in the journal letter is the 19th of March. It seems almost certain therefore that the Ode must have been composed after the fragment of The Eve Of St. Mark, -- not before it as usually given.
1.lb - Exile's Letter, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
1.lb - Lament of the Frontier Guard, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English. by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
1.lb - Leave-Taking Near Shoku, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
1.lb - Poem by The Bridge at Ten-Shin, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
1.lb - South-Folk in Cold Country, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
1.lb - Taking Leave of a Friend by Li Po Tr. by Ezra Pound, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
1.lb - The City of Choan, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
1.lb - The River Song, #Li Bai - Poems, #Li Bai, #Poetry
CATHAY is comprised of 18 translations of various early Chinese poems, eleven poems by T'ang Dynasty poet Li Po ("Rihaku"), and the Anglo-Saxon poem, "The Seafarer," which Pound included for timeline comparison of 8th-Century English poetry with 8th-Century Chinese poetry.
CATHAY ranks among the most pivotal publications in the entire history of translation and of modern poetry in English.
1.pbs - Oedipus Tyrannus or Swellfoot The Tyrant, #Shelley - Poems, #Percy Bysshe Shelley, #Fiction
He has eleven feet with which he crawls,
Trailing a blistering slime, and this foul beast
1.wby - The Phases Of The Moon, #Yeats - Poems, #William Butler Yeats, #Poetry
Grows comelier. eleven pass, and then
Athene takes Achilles by the hair,
1.whitman - Song of Myself, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies;
That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve young men.
1.whitman - Song Of Myself- XXXIV, #Whitman - Poems, #unset, #Zen
At eleven o'clock began the burning of the bodies;
That is the tale of the murder of the four hundred and twelve young men.
1.ww - Book Eleventh- France [concluded], #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
object:1.ww - Book eleventh- France [concluded]
author class:William Wordsworth
1.ww - The Idiot Boy, #Wordsworth - Poems, #unset, #Zen
Both will be here before eleven.'
Poor Susan moans, poor Susan groans;
The clock gives warning for eleven;
'Tis on the stroke--'He must be near,'
2.01 - The Two Natures, #Essays On The Gita, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
Gita related and synthetised works and knowledge. The vision of the World-Purusha intervenes in the eleventh chapter, gives a dynamic turn to this stage of the synthesis and relates it vividly to works and life. Thus again all is brought powerfully back to the original question of Arjuna round which the whole exposition revolves and completes its cycle. Afterwards the Gita proceeds by the differentiation of the Purusha and Prakriti to work out its ideas of the action of the gunas, of the ascension beyond the gunas and of the culmination of desireless works with knowledge where that coalesces with Bhakti, - knowledge, works and love made one, - and it rises thence to its great finale, the supreme secret of self-surrender to the Master of Existence.
In this second part of the Gita we come to a more concise and easy manner of statement than we have yet had. In the first six chapters the definitions have not yet been made which give the key to the underlying truth; difficulties are being met and solved; the progress is a little laboured and moves through several involutions and returns; much is implied the bearing of which is not yet clear. Here we seem to get on to clearer ground and to lay hold of a more compact and pointed expression. But because of this very conciseness we have to be careful always
2.02 - The Circle, #Liber ABA, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
8:On the Circle are inscribe the Names of God; the Circle is of green, and the names are in flaming vermilion, of the same colour as the Tau. Without the Circle are nine pentagrams equidistant,1 in the centre of each of which burns a small Lamp; these are the "Fortresses upon the Frontiers of the Abyss." See the eleventh thyr, Liber 418 ("Equinox V"). They keep off those forces of darkness which might otherwise break in.
9:The names of God form a further protection. The Magician may consider what names he will use; but each name should in some way symbolise this Work in its method and accomplishment. It is impossible here to enter into this subject fully; the discovery or construction of suitable names mught occupy the most learned Qabalist for many years.
2.03 - Karmayogin A Commentary on the Isha Upanishad, #Isha Upanishad, #unset, #Zen
introspective, as the eleventh. So far however the Mind acts with
rapidity and directness under the comparatively light restrictions
2.04 - ADVICE TO ISHAN, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
It was the day of the worship of Kli, the Divine Mother. The worship was to begin at eleven o'clock at night. Several devotees arrived at the temple.
All creation is the sport of my mad Mother Kli; By Her my the three worlds are bewitched.
--
Others sat quietly performing japa on the steps leading to the Ganges. It was about eleven o'clock, the most auspicious time for contemplation of the Divine Mother. The flood-tide was rising in the Ganges, and the lights on its banks were reflected here and there in its dark waters.
From outside the shrine M. was looking wistfully at the image. Ramlal came to the temple with a book in his hand containing the rules of the worship. He asked M. if he wanted to come in. M. felt highly favoured and entered the shrine. He saw that the Divine Mother was profusely decorated. The room was brilliantly illuminated by a large chandelier that hung from the ceiling. Two candles were burning in front of the image.
2.04 - The Secret of Secrets, #Essays On The Gita, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
LL THE truth that has developed itself at this length step by step, each bringing forward a fresh aspect of the integral knowledge and founding on it some result of spiritual state and action, has now to take a turn of immense importance. The Teacher therefore takes care first to draw attention to the decisive character of what he is about to say, so that the mind of Arjuna may be awakened and attentive. For he is going to open his mind to the knowledge and sight of the integral Divinity and lead up to the vision of the eleventh book, by which the warrior of Kurukshetra becomes conscious of the author and upholder of his being and action and mission, the
Godhead in man and the world, whom nothing in man and the world limits or binds, because all proceeds from him, is a movement in his infinite being, continues and is supported by his will, is justified in his divine self-knowledge, has him always for its origin, substance and end. Arjuna is to become aware of himself as existing only in God and as acting only by the power within him, his workings only an instrumentality of the divine action, his egoistic consciousness only a veil and to his ignorance a misrepresentation of the real being within him which is an immortal spark and portion of the supreme Godhead.
2.06 - WITH VARIOUS DEVOTEES, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
It was ten or eleven o'clock at night. Sri Ramakrishna was sitting on the small couch, resting against a pillow. M. sat on the floor. The Master was conversing with him. A lamp burnt on a stand near the wall. The Master felt great compassion for his devotees. He wanted to bless M. by accepting his personal service.
MASTER: "My feet ache. Please rub them gently."
2.08 - ALICE IN WONDERLAND, #God Exists, #Swami Sivananda Saraswati, #Hinduism
I have been telling you sometimes that there is some secret meaning behind the last words in the eleventh Chapter of the Gita where we are told that Bhakti is supreme. The Bhakti that Sri Krishna speaks of here is not ordinary obeisance to an idol. It is not a mass that you perform in the church. It is a melting of your being before the Absolute. Therefore Bhagavan Sri Krishna says, Not charity, not philanthropy, not study, not austerity, is capable of bringing about this great vision that you had, Arjuna! Only by devotion can I be seen, contacted. Only by devotion am I capable of being known, seen and entered into. These three words are used in the Bhagavad Gita at the end of the eleventh Chapterknowing, seeing, and entering. Arjuna knew and saw, but never entered into It. Therefore, he was the same Arjuna after the Bhagavad Gita also. He never merged into the Supreme Being.
Now, religion is knowing, seeing and entering into. Knowing is considered by such thinkers like Ramanuja, the great propounder of the Visishtadvaita philosophy, as inferior to devotion. I am now digressing a little bit from the point, into another thing altogether, which is also interesting.
2.09 - THE MASTERS BIRTHDAY, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
Sri Ramakrishna was sitting on the small couch. It was about eleven o'clock. Ram and the other devotees wanted to dress him in a new cloth. The Master said, "No, no."
Pointing to an English-educated man, he said "What will he say about it?" At the earnest request of the devotees he said "Well, since you insist, I shall have to agree."
2.12 - On Miracles, #Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo, #unset, #Zen
Disciple: The Puranas state that the span of life is different in different cycles. Is it a fact? For instance, Rama is said to have lived eleven thousand years.
Sri Aurobindo: That is nothing! (Laughter)
2.12 - The Way and the Bhakta, #Essays On The Gita, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
N THE eleventh chapter of the Gita the original object of the teaching has been achieved and brought up to a certain completeness. The comm and to divine action done for the sake of the world and in union with the Spirit who dwells in it and in all its creatures and in whom all its working takes place, has been given and accepted by the Vibhuti. The disciple has been led away from the old poise of the normal man and the standards, motives, outlook, egoistic consciousness of his ignorance, away from all that had finally failed him in the hour of his spiritual crisis. The very action which on that standing he had rejected, the terrible function, the appalling labour, he has now been brought to admit and accept on a new inner basis. A reconciling greater knowledge, a diviner consciousness, a high impersonal motive, a spiritual standard of oneness with the will of the Divine acting on the world from the fountain light and with the motive power of the spiritual nature, - this is the new inner principle of works which is to transform the old ignorant action. A knowledge which embraces oneness with the Divine and arrives through the Divine at conscious oneness with all things and beings, a will emptied of egoism and acting only by the comm and and as an instrumentation of the secret
Master of works, a divine love whose one aspiration is towards a close intimacy with the supreme Soul of all existence, accomplished by the unity of these three perfected powers an inner all-comprehending unity with the transcendent and universal
2.1.3.4 - Conduct, #On Education, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
What should be the main concern in education for children aged eleven to thirteen?
The most important thing to teach them is the absolute necessity of being sincere.
2.14 - AT RAMS HOUSE, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
Once I fell into the clutches of a Jnni, who made me listen to Vednta for eleven months. But he couldn't altogether destroy the seed of bhakti in me. No matter where my mind wandered, it would come back to the Divine Mother. Whenever I sang of Her, Nangta would weep and say, 'Ah! What is this?' You see, he was such a great Jnni and still he wept. (To the younger Naren and the others) Remember the popular saying that if a man drinks the juice of the lekh creeper, a plant grows inside his stomach. Once the seed of bhakti is sown, the effect is inevitable: it will gradually grow into a tree with flowers and fruits.
"You may reason and argue a thousand times, but if you have the seed of bhakti within you, you will surely come back to Hari."
2.14 - On Movements, #Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo, #unset, #Zen
But this Bahaism is just what suits the common mind. There are now two sects run by Baha Ullahs two sons. Abdul Baha is the younger one. He has some vital force from his father and he used to see some kind of Light in meditation and so he began to think of himself as the incarnation of the Light on earth, and whoever was received in the fold was supposed to be influenced by it. Bahaism has included certain mental concepts also, e.g., toleration, universal brotherhood, equality of man and woman, etc. The other day he included Buddhism also, though he seems to know nothing about it. He has about eleven million followers, of which two million are in Europe.
If the Mahomedans get a religion of that sort it is much better than what they are having now.
2.15 - CAR FESTIVAL AT BALARMS HOUSE, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
About eleven o'clock the devotees saluted the Master and were departing one by one.
MASTER: "You may all go. (Pointing to Narendra and the younger Naren) It will be enough if these two stay. (To Girish) Will you eat your supper at home? You may stay a few minutes if you want to. You want a smoke! But Balarm's servant is just like his master. Ask him for a smoke; he won't give it! (All laugh.) But don't go away without having your smoke."
2.16 - VISIT TO NANDA BOSES HOUSE, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
Sri Ramakrishna had returned to Balarm's house. He was resting in the small room to the west of the drawing-room. It was quite late, almost a quarter to eleven.
Sri Ramakrishna said to Jogin, "Please rub my feet gently." M. was sitting near by. While Jogin was rubbing his feet the Master said suddenly: "I feel hungry. I shall eat some farina pudding."
2.17 - THE MASTER ON HIMSELF AND HIS EXPERIENCES, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
It was eleven o'clock in the morning. The devotees were gradually arriving from Calcutta. Balarm, Narendra, the younger Naren, NavaGopal, and a Vaishnava from katoa arrived. Rkhl and Ltu were staying with Sri Ramakrishna. A Punjabi sdhu had been staying in the Panchavati for some days.
The younger Naren had a tumour on his forehead. Sri Ramakrishna was strolling in the Panchavati with the devotees. He said to the younger Naren: "Why don't you have your tumour operated on? It is not in the throat but only on the forehead. That is a simple thing. People have their orchitis operated on."
2.18 - January 1939, #Evening Talks With Sri Aurobindo, #unset, #Zen
I met Lele when I was searching for some guidance and practised meditation under his guidance. I had the Nirvana experience in Sardar Majumdar's house in the room on the top floor. After that I had to rely on inner guidance for my Sadhana. In Alipore the Sadhana was very fast, it was extravagant and exhilarating. On the vital plane it can be dangerous and disastrous. I took to fasting at Alipore for ten or eleven days and lost ten pounds in weight. At Pondicherry the loss of weight was not so much, though the physical substance began to be reduced. It was in Shankar Chetty's house. I was walking eight hours a day during a twenty-three days' fast.
The miraculous or extraordinary powers acquired by Yogis on the vital plane are not all true in the physical. There are many pitfalls in the Vital. The vital powers take up even a man like Hitler and make him do things by suggesting to him "It shall happen." There are quite a number of cases of sadhaks here who have lost their Sadhana by listening to these voices from the vital world. And the humour of it all is that they all say that they come either from the Mother or from me!
--
Disciple: Barcelona is going! The French people are waking up at the eleventh hour.
Sri Aurobindo: Yes, the democracies are not showing much courage, at present, at any rate.
2.18 - SRI RAMAKRISHNA AT SYAMPUKUR, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
SURENDRA "At that time I was crying to the Mother in the worship hall. My elder brothers had gone upstairs. I thought the Mother said, 'I will come again.' "It was about eleven o'clock in the morning. Sri Ramakrishna finished his meal. M. poured water into his hand for him to rinse his mouth.
MASTER (to M.): "Rkhl has indigestion.
2.19 - THE MASTER AND DR. SARKAR, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
At eleven o'clock M. went to Dr. Sarkar's house to report Sri Ramakrishna's condition.
The doctor showed great eagerness to hear about him.
2.20 - THE MASTERS TRAINING OF HIS DISCIPLES, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
"During my boyhood God manifested Himself in me. I was then eleven years old. One day, while I was walking across a paddy field, I saw something. Later on I came to know from people that I had been unconscious, and my body totally motionless. Since that day I have been an altogether different man. I began to see another person within me. When I used to conduct the worship in the temple, my hand, instead of going toward the Deity, would very often come toward my head, and I would put flowers there. A young man who was then staying with me did not dare approach me. He would say: 'I see a light on your face. I am afraid to come very near you.'
"You know I am a fool. I know nothing. Then who is it that says all these things? I say to the Divine Mother: 'O Mother, I am the machine and Thou art the Operator. I am the house and Thou art the Indweller. I am the chariot and Thou art the Charioteer. I do as Thou makest me do; I speak as Thou makest me speak; I move as Thou makest me move. It is not I! It is not I! It is all Thou! It is all Thou!' Hers is the glory; we are only Her instruments. Once Radha, to prove her chastity, carried on her head a pitcher filled with water. The pitcher had a thousand holes, but not a drop of water spilled. People began to praise her, saying, 'Such a chaste woman the world will never see again!' Then Radha said to them: Why do you praise me? Say: Glory unto Krishna! Hail Krishna! I am only His handmaid.'
2.21 - IN THE COMPANY OF DEVOTEES AT SYAMPUKUR, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
It was about eleven o'clock in the morning. Sri Ramakrishna was sitting in his room with the devotees. He was talking to a Christian devotee named Misra. Misra was born of a Christian family in northwestern India and belonged to the Quaker sect. He was thirty-five years old. Though clad in European dress he wore the ochre cloth of a sannysi under his foreign clothes. Two of his brothers had died on the day fixed for the marriage of one of them, and on that very day Misra had renounced the world.
MISRA: " 'It is Rma alone who dwells in all beings.'"
2.22 - THE MASTER AT COSSIPORE, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
"I experienced one of my first ecstasies when I was ten or eleven years old, as I was going through a meadow to the shrine of Visalakshi. What a vision! I became completely unconscious of the outer world.
"I was twenty-two or twenty-three when the Divine Mother one day asked me in the Kali temple, 'Do you want to be Akshara?' I didn't know what the word meant. I asked Haladhari about it. He said, 'Kshara means jiva, living being; Akshara means Paramatman, the Supreme Soul.'
2.25 - AFTER THE PASSING AWAY, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
For the first few months Surendra contributed thirty rupees a month. As the other members joined the monastery one by one, he doubled his contribution, which he later increased to a hundred rupees. The monthly rent for the house was eleven rupees. The cook received six rupees a month. The rest was spent for food.
The younger Gopal brought the Master's bed and other articles of daily use from the garden house at Cossipore. The brahmin who had been cook at Cossipore was engaged for the new monastery. The first permanent member was the elder Gopal. Sarat spent the nights there. In the beginning Sarat, Sashi, Baburam, Niranjan, and Kali used to visit the monastery every now and then, according to their convenience, Tarak, who had gone to Vrindavan following the Master's death, returned to Calcutta after a few months and soon became a permanent member of the monastery. Rakhal, Jogin, Latu, and Kali were living at Vrindavan with the Holy Mother when the monastery was started. Kali returned to Calcutta within a month, Rakhal after a few months, and Jogin and Latu after a year. The householder devotees frequently visited the monastic brothers and spent hours with them in meditation and study.
--
Sashi finished the regular worship in the worship hall. About eleven the brothers of the math returned from the Ganges after taking their baths. They put on clean cloths, went to the shrine, prostrated themselves before the Deity, and meditated there a little while.
After the food was offered to the Deity they had their meal. M. ate with them.
--
It was eleven o'clock at night when their supper was over. The brothers prepared a bed for M., and all went to sleep.
It was midnight. M. was wide awake. He said to himself: "Everything is as it was before. The same Ayodhya — only Rama is not there." M. silently left his bed. It was the full-moon night of Vaisakh, the thrice-blessed day of the Buddhists, associated with Buddha's birth, realization, and passing away. M. was walking alone on the bank of the Ganges, contemplating the Master.
30.09 - Lines of Tantra (Charyapada), #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
This poetry is the record of an inner empire which, it is supposed, may have lasted from the eighth to the eleventh centuries. The story of the discovery of these writings is a fascinating one. Just a little over half a century ago, Pandit Haraprasad Shastri, a, truly gifted scholar and lover of the Bengali language and literature, had been doing some researches into the ancient history of Bengal and was earnestly engaged in the collection of old manuscripts in the villages and the libraries. In this connection he once went to Nepal and there he chanced across some ancient manuscripts, among which there was one that drew his particular attention. At first he thought it might be some work in an earlier form of Hindi and did not accordingly give it much attention.
But afterwards, when out of curiosity he read through the manuscript with care, he made the startling discovery that here was the earliest and a beautifully poetic form of the Bengali language. The manuscript contained fifty poems or songs; they were the work of a Tantric Buddhist group known as Siddhacharyas.
3.0 - THE ETERNAL RECURRENCE, #Twilight of the Idols, #Friedrich Nietzsche, #Philosophy
work, which was translated for the eleventh volume of this Edition of
the Complete Works.
33.14 - I Played Football, #Collected Works of Nolini Kanta Gupta - Vol 07, #Nolini Kanta Gupta, #Integral Yoga
Let me tell you a story here in this connection. It is not a story, but a thing that actually happened. It was the time, at the beginning of the century or even earlier, when the youth of Calcutta took to football seriously and enthusiastically. And among the pioneers was the same team - of which I spoke just now - Kumartuli. This club had at its head as manager and inspirer a gentleman who gave his all - money and time and energy - for his organisation. He had the ambition to see his boys play and play successfully with the European and military teams. It was an ambition. For there was no comparison in those days between a team of British soldiers and a team of weakling Indians. The Indians in football were almost like new recruits in comparison with the seasoned Britons. First of all, the Indians played all bare-footed against eleven pairs of high boots. Secondly, the Britons were strong robust beef-eating bodies while the Indians were almost airy nothings. Thirdly, the British had a long strenuous training behind them: the Indians were newcomers in the field. However, this particular Indian team worked and practised with zeal in view of a match with the Britishers. The result of course was a foregone conclusion. They were lucky to get defeated by only a couple of goals.
Now the British team had a generous captain who became interested in the matter and undertook to coach and train the Indians. A big tournament came on at about that time and this Indian team was pitted against a famous Military team, Blackwatch or something. The manager - the guiding spirit of the Indian team - was, as I said, a high-spirited, enthusiastic, ebullient personage - he had only one defect, if defect you call it: he was addicted to drinking. That was a fillip to increase his enthusiasm and buoyancy and daredevilry. He used to invite his players to feastings and revelry - to inspire them and encourage them. Now the day of days approached. And the-gentleman was in jitters, terribly nervous: how were his boys to face these giants? And a change came upon him. On the previous day he refrained from drinking, fasted, observed maunaor silence, went to Kalighat and worshipped Mother Kali.
--
The gentleman returned and saw that with great effort his boys had managed a drawn game and they pulled through till half time. Now the danger was ahead - half an hour more. He could not restrain himself and again he rushed to the Sannyasi who was still sitting there in the same position, and prayed and entreated him saying they were threatened with defeat at the hands of Mlechchhas, their honour and prestige were at stake. The Sannyasi asked, "How many killed and wounded?" The gentleman explained again it was not like that. It was a football game. The Sannyasi asked, "How many on their side?" They were eleven. The Sannyasi then asked the gentleman to get eleven bits of stone. These were collected and placed before him. The Sannyasi arranged them in a row, and then drew some circles around and sprinkled water and uttered something. And then he told the gentleman to go away. He returned, the game had already started after the recess. But a strange thing he began to notice. He saw one of the soldiers - a giant of a fellow - rushing with the ball and nearing the goal and about to shoot into it, when suddenly he tumbled down and rolled over and the ball went off somewhere. In fact all the mighty heroes were behaving in a curious manner. They were running but with difficulty as if with legs tied up. They fumbled, tottered, fell down - moved with great difficulty. Something was restraining and impeding them, pulling them back. So the result was a victory for the Indians by two goals. You can imagine what they did after this miraculous victory. The gentleman manager rushed towards the tree to thank the Sannyasi. But where was he? Nothing was there, barring the row of stones.
(2)
4.42 - Chapter Two, #Liber ABA, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
II,16: I am the Empress & the Hierophant. Thus eleven, as my bride is eleven.
II,17:
5.03 - ADAM AS THE FIRST ADEPT, #Mysterium Coniunctionis, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
[571] The Jewish sources are even more explicit. Adam understood all the arts,96 he invented writing, and from the angels he learnt husbandry and all the professions including the art of the smith.97 A treatise from the eleventh century lists thirty kinds of fruit which he brought with him from paradise.98 Maimonides states that Adam wrote a book on trees and plants.99 Rabbi Eliezer credits Adam with the invention of the leap-year.100 According to him, the tables on which God later inscribed the law came from Adam.101 From Eliezer, probably, derives the statement of Bernardus Trevisanus that Hermes Trismegistus found seven stone tables in the vale of Hebron, left over from antediluvian times. On them was a description of the seven liberal arts. Adam had put these tables there after his expulsion from paradise.102 According to Dorn, Adam was the first practitioner and inventor of the arts. He had a knowledge of all things before and after the Fall, and he also prophesied the renewal and chastening of the world by the flood.103 His descendants set up two stone tables on which they recorded all the natural arts in hieroglyphic script. Noah found one of these tables at the foot of Mount Ararat, bearing a record of astronomy.104
[572] This legend probably goes back to Jewish tradition, to stories like the one mentioned in the Zohar:
6.0 - Conscious, Unconscious, and Individuation, #The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, #Carl Jung, #Psychology
688 An eleven-year-old girl, whose parents were divorced, had, at
a time of great difficulties and upsets, drawn a number of pic-
--
ages of eight and eleven whose parents are about to be divorced,
or in adults who, as the result of a neurosis and its treatment,
7.05 - Patience and Perseverance, #Words Of Long Ago, #The Mother, #Integral Yoga
His widow, Sundari Bala Rai, faithfully carried out his great wish. One year later the translator completed his work, and the eleven volumes of the Mahabharata were presented to the
European public who could now know and admire the eighteen
9.99 - Glossary, #The Gospel of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
ekadasi: The eleventh day after the full or new moon, which a devotee spends in full or partial fasting, prayer, and worship.
ektara: A musical instrument with one string.
Aeneid, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
on the Aeneid for eleven years, until his death in 19 B.C. Feeling,
apparently, that the epic was still unfinished, he directed in his will
--
was; as did the man who, born in 70 B.C., spent the last eleven years
of his life, before his death in 19 B.C., at work on one poemleaving it still incompletely revised. He was not wagering all on the
Apology, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
Perhaps you think that I am braving you in what I am saying now, as in what I said before about the tears and prayers. But this is not so. I speak rather because I am convinced that I never intentionally wronged any one, although I cannot convince youthe time has been too short; if there were a law at Athens, as there is in other cities, that a capital cause should not be decided in one day, then I believe that I should have convinced you. But I cannot in a moment refute great slanders; and, as I am convinced that I never wronged another, I will assuredly not wrong myself. I will not say of myself that I deserve any evil, or propose any penalty. Why should I? because I am afraid of the penalty of death which Meletus proposes? When I do not know whether death is a good or an evil, why should I propose a penalty which would certainly be an evil? Shall I say imprisonment? And why should I live in prison, and be the slave of the magistrates of the yearof the eleven? Or shall the penalty be a fine, and imprisonment until the fine is paid? There is the same objection. I should have to lie in prison, for money I have none, and cannot pay. And if I say exile (and this may possibly be the penalty which you will affix), I must indeed be blinded by the love of life, if I am so irrational as to expect that when you, who are my own citizens, cannot endure my discourses and words, and have found them so grievous and odious that you will have no more of them, others are likely to endure me. No indeed, men of Athens, that is not very likely. And what a life should I lead, at my age, wandering from city to city, ever changing my place of exile, and always being driven out! For I am quite sure that wherever I go, there, as here, the young men will flock to me; and if I drive them away, their elders will drive me out at their request; and if I let them come, their fathers and friends will drive me out for their sakes.
Some one will say: Yes, Socrates, but cannot you hold your tongue, and then you may go into a foreign city, and no one will interfere with you? Now I have great difficulty in making you understand my answer to this. For if I tell you that to do as you say would be a disobedience to the God, and therefore that I cannot hold my tongue, you will not believe that I am serious; and if I say again that daily to discourse about virtue, and of those other things about which you hear me examining myself and others, is the greatest good of man, and that the unexamined life is not worth living, you are still less likely to believe me. Yet I say what is true, although a thing of which it is hard for me to persuade you. Also, I have never been accustomed to think that I deserve to suffer any harm. Had I money I might have estimated the offence at what I was able to pay, and not have been much the worse. But I have none, and therefore I must ask you to proportion the fine to my means. Well, perhaps I could afford a mina, and therefore I propose that penalty: Plato, Crito, Critobulus, and Apollodorus, my friends here, bid me say thirty min, and they will be the sureties. Let thirty min be the penalty; for which sum they will be ample security to you.
APPENDIX I - Curriculum of A. A., #Liber ABA, #Aleister Crowley, #Philosophy
Liber CXCIV. (194) [] - An Intimation with Reference to the Constitution of the Order ::: Any Province of the O.T.O. is governed by the Grand Master and those to whom he delegates his Authority, until such time as the Order is established, which is the case when it possesses eleven or more Profess-houses in the province. Then the regular constitution is automatically Promulgated. The Quotation is slightly adapted from an address in one of the Rituals.
Liber CXCVII. (197) [C] - Sir Palamedes the saracen knight ::: The High History of Good Sir Palamedes the Saracen Knight and of his following of the Questing Beast. A poetic account of the Great Work and enumeration of many obstacles. Equinox IV, Special Supplement.
Averroes Search, #Labyrinths, #Jorge Luis Borges, #Poetry
writing the eleventh chapter of his work Tahafut-ul-Tahafut (Destruction of
Destruction), in which it is maintained, contrary to the Persian ascetic
Big Mind (non-dual), #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
Tiby. I am the one who has experienced great joy and great pain. I stand five foot eleven, about 190 pounds. What more do you want to know about me?
FACILITATOR: Well, do you have needs, do you have wants?
BOOK II. -- PART I. ANTHROPOGENESIS., #The Secret Doctrine, #H P Blavatsky, #Theosophy
power; it must, therefore, have been more than eleven thousand years ago."
But another calculation and proof may be adduced of the great antiquity of these Hindu Aryans who
BOOK II. -- PART III. ADDENDA. SCIENCE AND THE SECRET DOCTRINE CONTRASTED, #The Secret Doctrine, #H P Blavatsky, #Theosophy
Brittany -- nearly a mile in length and numbering 11,000 ranged in eleven rows -- are twin sisters of
those at Stonehenge. The Conical menhir of Loch-Maria-ker in Morbihan, measures twenty yards in
BOOK II. -- PART II. THE ARCHAIC SYMBOLISM OF THE WORLD-RELIGIONS, #The Secret Doctrine, #H P Blavatsky, #Theosophy
vital breaths" (prana, life) with manas, as eleventh, whereas as Siva, he is the Destroyer of that life.
Brahma calls him Rudra, and gives him, besides, seven other names, which names are his seven forms
--
created in him by Brahma, was not confined to either the seven Kumaras or the eleven Rudras, etc.,
but "comprehends infinite numbers of beings in person and equipments like their (virgin) father.
BOOK I. -- PART I. COSMIC EVOLUTION, #The Secret Doctrine, #H P Blavatsky, #Theosophy
Among the eleven Stanzas omitted* there is one which gives a full description of the formation of the
planetary chains one after another, after the first Cosmic and Atomic differentiation had commenced
--
14,000,000 years old since its incrustation, is only eleven and two thirds millions of years old since
that stage . . ." etc. And if our Moon is but a splash from our Earth, why can no similar inference be
BOOK I. -- PART III. SCIENCE AND THE SECRET DOCTRINE CONTRASTED, #The Secret Doctrine, #H P Blavatsky, #Theosophy
This, Science will not deny, since Astronomy knows of the fixed cycle of eleven years when the
number of solar spots increases,* which is due to the contraction of the Solar HEART. The universe
--
periodical commercial crises to the influence of the Sun spots every eleventh cyclic year. (See his
"Investigations into Currency and Finance.") This is worthy of praise and encouragement surely.
--
upon it -- heroes, personages, and events. Thus in the dream of Joseph, who saw eleven "stars"
http://www.theosociety.org/pasadena/sd/sd1-3-17.htm (2 von 20) [06.05.2003 03:34:10]
--
discovered in it, moreover, a prophecy of Christ, who is that twelfth star, they say, and the eleven
apostles; the absence of the twelfth being also regarded as a prophetic allusion to the treachery of
BOOK I. -- PART II. THE EVOLUTION OF SYMBOLISM IN ITS APPROXIMATE ORDER, #The Secret Doctrine, #H P Blavatsky, #Theosophy
infant Jesus. In the smaller sarcophagi that surrounded the larger one, eleven leaden plates rolled like
scrolls were found, three of which have been deciphered. The contents of these ought to be regarded as
Book of Exodus, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
7 And thou shalt make curtains of goats' hair to be a covering upon the tabernacle: eleven curtains shalt thou make. 8 The length of one curtain shall be thirty cubits, and the breadth of one curtain four cubits: and the eleven curtains shall be all of one measure. 9 And thou shalt couple five curtains by themselves, and six curtains by themselves, and shalt double the sixth curtain in the forefront of the tabernacle. 10 And thou shalt make fifty loops on the edge of the one curtain that is outmost in the coupling, and fifty loops in the edge of the curtain which coupleth the second. 11 And thou shalt make fifty taches of brass, and put the taches into the loops, and couple the tent together, that it may be one. 12 And the remnant that remaineth of the curtains of the tent, the half curtain that remaineth, shall hang over the backside of the tabernacle. 13 And a cubit on the one side, and a cubit on the other side of that which remaineth in the length of the curtains of the tent, it shall hang over the sides of the tabernacle on this side and on that side, to cover it. 14 And thou shalt make a covering for the tent of rams' skins dyed red, and a covering above of badgers' skins.
The Wooden Walls
--
14 And he made curtains of goats' hair for the tent over the tabernacle: eleven curtains he made them. 15 The length of one curtain was thirty cubits, and four cubits was the breadth of one curtain: the eleven curtains were of one size. 16 And he coupled five curtains by themselves, and six curtains by themselves. 17 And he made fifty loops upon the uttermost edge of the curtain in the coupling, and fifty loops made he upon the edge of the curtain which coupleth the second. 18 And he made fifty taches of brass to couple the tent together, that it might be one. 19 And he made a covering for the tent of rams' skins dyed red, and a covering of badgers' skins above that.
The Boards
Book of Genesis, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
The Book of Genesis is the subject of many artistic endeavors; the painting of Joseph's dream of the sun, moon, and eleven stars in Genesis 37:9 by Vincent Van Gogh entitled "Starry Night" in 1889 is one of the most famous.
The following Scripture is the Authorized King James Version of the Holy Bible, now in the public domain, and the New International Version. King James I commissioned a group of Biblical scholars in 1604 to establish an authoritative translation of the Bible from the ancient languages and other translations at the time, and the work was completed in 1611. The original King James Bible included the Apocrypha but in a separate section. A literary masterpiece of the English language, the original King James Bible is still in use today. Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 Biblica - The International Bible Society. All rights reserved throughout the world. Used by permission of Biblica - The International Bible Society. Chapters 5 and 12-50 are from the King James Bible, and Chapters 1-4 and 6-11 are the NIV version.
--
22 And he rose up that night, and took his two wives, and his two womenservants, and his eleven sons, and passed over the ford Jabbok. 23 And he took them, and sent them over the brook, and sent over that he had. 24 And Jacob was left alone; and there wrestled a man with him until the breaking of the day. 25 And when he saw that he prevailed not against him, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and the hollow of Jacob's thigh was out of joint, as he wrestled with him. 26 And he said, Let me go, for the day breaketh. And he said, I will not let thee go, except thou bless me. 27 And he said unto him, What is thy name? And he said, Jacob. 28 And he said, Thy name shall be called no more Jacob, but Israel: for as a prince hast thou power with God and with men, and hast prevailed. 29 And Jacob asked him, and said, Tell me, I pray thee, thy name. And he said, Wherefore is it that thou dost ask after my name? And he blessed him there. 30 And Jacob called the name of the place Peniel: for I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved. 31 And as he passed over Penuel the sun rose upon him, and he halted upon his thigh. 32 Therefore the children of Israel eat not of the sinew which shrank, which is upon the hollow of the thigh, unto this day: because he touched the hollow of Jacob's thigh in the sinew that shrank.
CHAPTER 33
--
and, behold, the sun and the moon and the eleven stars made obeisance to me.
10 And he told it to his father, and to his brethren: and his father rebuked him, and said unto him, What is this dream that thou hast dreamed? Shall I and thy mother and thy brethren indeed come to bow down ourselves to thee to the earth? 11 And his brethren envied him; but his father observed the saying.
Book of Imaginary Beings (text), #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
In the eleventh book of the Iliad we read that there was a
blue three-headed Dragon on Agamemnons shield; centuries
BOOK XI. - Augustine passes to the second part of the work, in which the origin, progress, and destinies of the earthly and heavenly cities are discussed.Speculations regarding the creation of the world, #City of God, #Saint Augustine of Hippo, #Christianity
BOOK elevenTH.
ARGUMENT.
BOOK XIV. - Of the punishment and results of mans first sin, and of the propagation of man without lust, #City of God, #Saint Augustine of Hippo, #Christianity
Man then lived with God for his rule in a paradise at once physical and spiritual. For neither was it a paradise only physical for the advantage of the body, and not also spiritual for the advantage of the mind; nor was it only spiritual to afford enjoyment to man by his internal sensations, and not also physical to afford him enjoyment through his external senses. But obviously it was both for both ends. But after that proud and therefore envious angel (of whose fall I have said as much as I was able in the eleventh and twelfth books of this work, as well as that of his fellows, who, from being God's angels, became his angels), preferring to rule with a kind of pomp of empire rather than to be another's subject, fell from the spiritual Paradise, and essaying to insinuate his persuasive guile into the mind of man, whose unfallen condition provoked him to envy now that himself was fallen, he chose the serpent as his mouthpiece in that bodily Paradise in which it and all the other earthly animals were living with those two human beings, the man and his wife, subject to[Pg 24] them, and harmless; and he chose the serpent because, being slippery, and moving in tortuous windings, it was suitable for his purpose. And this animal being subdued to his wicked ends by the presence and superior force of his angelic nature, he abused as his instrument, and first tried his deceit upon the woman, making his assault upon the weaker part of that human alliance, that he might gradually gain the whole, and not supposing that the man would readily give ear to him, or be deceived, but that he might yield to the error of the woman. For as Aaron was not induced to agree with the people when they blindly wished him to make an idol, and yet yielded to constraint; and as it is not credible that Solomon was so blind as to suppose that idols should be worshipped, but was drawn over to such sacrilege by the blandishments of women; so we cannot believe that Adam was deceived, and supposed the devil's word to be truth, and therefore transgressed God's law, but that he by the drawings of kindred yielded to the woman, the husb and to the wife, the one human being to the only other human being. For not without significance did the apostle say, "And Adam was not deceived, but the woman being deceived was in the transgression;"[89] but he speaks thus, because the woman accepted as true what the serpent told her, but the man could not bear to be severed from his only companion, even though this involved a partnership in sin. He was not on this account less culpable, but sinned with his eyes open. And so the apostle does not say, "He did not sin," but "He was not deceived." For he shows that he sinned when he says, "By one man sin entered into the world,"[90] and immediately after more distinctly, "In the likeness of Adam's transgression." But he meant that those are deceived who do not judge that which they do to be sin; but he knew. Otherwise how were it true "Adam was not deceived?" But having as yet no experience of the divine severity, he was possibly deceived in so far as he thought his sin venial. And consequently he was not deceived as the woman was deceived, but he was deceived as to the judgment which would be passed on his apology: "The woman whom thou gavest to be with me, she gave me, and I did[Pg 25] eat."[91] What need of saying more? Although they were not both deceived by credulity, yet both were entangled in the snares of the devil, and taken by sin.
12. Of the nature of man's first sin.
BOOK XVIII. - A parallel history of the earthly and heavenly cities from the time of Abraham to the end of the world, #City of God, #Saint Augustine of Hippo, #Christianity
In the reign of Mamitus, the twelfth king of Assyria, and Plemnus, the eleventh of Sicyon, while Argus still reigned over the Argives, Joseph died in Egypt a hundred and ten years old. After his death, the people of God, increasing wonderfully, remained in Egypt a hundred and forty-five years, in tranquillity at first, until those who knew Joseph were dead. Afterward, through envy of their increase, and the suspicion that they would at length gain their freedom, they were oppressed with persecutions and the labours of intolerable servitude, amid which, however, they still grew, being multiplied with God-given fertility. During this period the same kingdoms continued in Assyria and Greece.
8. Who were kings when Moses was born, and what gods began to be worshipped then.
--
After neas, whom they deified, Latium had eleven kings, none of whom was deified. But Aventinus, who was the twelfth after neas, having been laid low in war, and buried in that hill still called by his name, was added to the number of such gods as they made for themselves. Some, indeed, were unwilling to write that he was slain in battle, but said he was nowhere to be found, and that it was not from his name, but from the alighting of birds, that hill was called Aventinus.[507] After this no god was made in Latium except Romulus the founder of Rome. But two kings are found between these two, the first of whom I shall describe in the Virgilian verse:
"Next came that Procas, glory of the Trojan race."[508]
--
52. Whether we should believe what some think, that, as the ten persecutions which are past have been fulfilled, there remains no other beyond the eleventh, which must happen in the very time of Antichrist.
I do not think, indeed, that what some have thought or may think is rashly said or believed, that until the time of Antichrist the Church of Christ is not to suffer any persecutions besides those she has already suffered,that is, ten, and that the eleventh and last shall be inflicted by Antichrist. They reckon as the first that made by Nero, the second by Domitian, the third by Trajan, the fourth by Antoninus, the fifth by Severus, the sixth by Maximin, the seventh by Decius, the eighth by Valerian, the ninth by Aurelian, the tenth by Diocletian and Maximian. For as there were ten plagues in Egypt before the people of God could begin to go out, they think this is to be referred to as showing that the last persecution by Antichrist must be like the eleventh plague, in which the Egyptians, while following the Hebrews with hostility, perished in the Red Sea when the people of God passed through on dry land. Yet I do not think persecutions were prophetically signified by what was done in Egypt, however nicely and ingeniously those who think so may seem to have compared the two in detail, not by the prophetic Spirit, but by the conjecture of the human mind, which sometimes hits the truth, and sometimes is deceived. But what can those who think this say of the persecution in which the Lord Himself was crucified? In which number will they put it? And if they think the reckoning is to be made exclusive of this one, as if those must be counted which pertain to the body, and not that in which the Head Himself was set upon and slain, what can they make of that one which, after Christ ascended into heaven, took place in Jerusalem, when the blessed Stephen was stoned; when James the brother of John was slaughtered with the sword; when the Apostle Peter was imprisoned to be killed, and was set free by the angel; when the brethren were driven away and scattered from Jerusalem; when Saul, who afterward became the Apostle Paul, wasted the Church; and when he himself, publishing[Pg 287] the glad tidings of the faith he had persecuted, suffered such things as he had inflicted, either from the Jews or from other nations, where he most fervently preached Christ everywhere? Why, then, do they think fit to start with Nero, when the Church in her growth had reached the times of Nero amid the most cruel persecutions, about which it would be too long to say anything? But if they think that only the persecutions made by kings ought to be reckoned, it was king Herod who also made a most grievous one after the ascension of the Lord. And what account do they give of Julian, whom they do not number in the ten? Did not he persecute the Church, who forbade the Christians to teach or learn liberal letters? Under him, the elder Valentinian, who was the third emperor after him, stood forth as a confessor of the Christian faith, and was dismissed from his comm and in the army. I shall say nothing of what he did at Antioch, except to mention his being struck with wonder at the freedom and cheerfulness of one most faithful and stedfast young man, who, when many were seized to be tortured, was tortured during a whole day, and sang under the instrument of torture, until the emperor feared lest he should succumb under the continued cruelties and put him to shame at last, which made him dread and fear that he would be yet more dishonourably put to the blush by the rest. Lastly, within our own recollection, did not Valens the Arian, brother of the foresaid Valentinian, waste the catholic Church by great persecution throughout the East? But how unreasonable it is not to consider that the Church, which bears fruit and grows through the whole world, may suffer persecution from kings in some nations even when she does not suffer it in others! Perhaps, however, it was not to be reckoned a persecution when the king of the Goths, in Gothia itself, persecuted the Christians with wonderful cruelty, when there were none but catholics there, of whom very many were crowned with martyrdom, as we have heard from certain brethren who had been there at that time as boys, and unhesitatingly called to mind that they had seen these things? And what took place in Persia of late? Was not persecution so hot against the Christians (if even yet it is allayed) that some of the fugitives from it came even to[Pg 288] Roman towns? When I think of these and the like things, it does not seem to me that the number of persecutions with which the Church is to be tried can be definitely stated. But, on the other hand, it is no less rash to affirm that there will be some persecutions by kings besides that last one, about which no Christian is in doubt. Therefore we leave this undecided, supporting or refuting neither side of this question, but only restraining men from the audacious presumption of affirming either of them.
53. Of the hidden time of the final persecution.
BOOK XVI. - The history of the city of God from Noah to the time of the kings of Israel, #City of God, #Saint Augustine of Hippo, #Christianity
We must therefore introduce into this work an explanation of the generations of the three sons of Noah, in so far as that may illustrate the progress in time of the two cities. Scripture first mentions that of the youngest son, who is called Japheth: he had eight sons,[234] and by two of these sons seven grandchildren, three by one son, four by the other; in all, fifteen descendants. Ham, Noah's middle son, had four sons, and by one of them five grandsons, and by one of these two great-grandsons; in all, eleven. After enumerating these, Scripture returns to the first of the sons, and says, "Cush begat Nimrod; he began to be a giant on the earth. He was a giant hunter against the Lord God: wherefore they say, As Nimrod the giant hunter against the Lord. And the beginning of his kingdom was Babylon, Erech, Accad, and Calneh, in the land of Shinar. Out of that land went forth Assur, and built Nineveh, and the city Rehoboth, and Calah, and Resen between Nineveh and Calah: this was a great city." Now this Cush, father of the giant Nimrod, is the first-named among the sons of Ham, to whom five sons and two grandsons are ascribed. But he either begat this giant after his grandsons were born, or, which is more credible, Scripture speaks of him[Pg 109] separately on account of his eminence; for mention is also made of his kingdom, which began with that magnificent city Babylon, and the other places, whether cities or districts, mentioned along with it. But what is recorded of the land of Shinar which belonged to Nimrod's kingdom, to wit, that Assur went forth from it and built Nineveh and the other cities mentioned with it, happened long after; but he takes occasion to speak of it here on account of the grandeur of the Assyrian kingdom, which was wonderfully extended by Ninus son of Belus, and founder of the great city Nineveh, which was named after him, Nineveh, from Ninus. But Assur, father of the Assyrian, was not one of the sons of Ham, Noah's middle son, but is found among the sons of Shem, his eldest son. Whence it appears that among Shem's offspring there arose men who afterwards took possession of that giant's kingdom, and advancing from it, founded other cities, the first of which was called Nineveh, from Ninus. From him Scripture returns to Ham's other son, Mizraim; and his sons are enumerated, not as seven individuals, but as seven nations. And from the sixth, as if from the sixth son, the race called the Philistines are said to have sprung; so that there are in all eight. Then it returns again to Canaan, in whose person Ham was cursed; and his eleven sons are named. Then the territories they occupied, and some of the cities, are named. And thus, if we count sons and grandsons, there are thirty-one of Ham's descendants registered.
It remains to mention the sons of Shem, Noah's eldest son; for to him this genealogical narrative gradually ascends from the youngest. But in the commencement of the record of Shem's sons there is an obscurity which calls for explanation, since it is closely connected with the object of our investigation. For we read, "Unto Shem also, the father of all the children of Heber, the brother of Japheth the elder, were children born."[235] This is the order of the words: And to Shem was born Heber, even to himself, that is, to Shem himself was born Heber, and Shem is the father of all his children. We are intended to understand that Shem is the patriarch of all his posterity who were to be mentioned, whether sons, grandsons,[Pg 110] great-grandsons, or descendants at any remove. For Shem did not beget Heber, who was indeed in the fifth generation from him. For Shem begat, among other sons, Arphaxad; Arphaxad begat Cainan, Cainan begat Salah, Salah begat Heber. And it was with good reason that he was named first among Shem's offspring, taking precedence even of his sons, though only a grandchild of the fifth generation; for from him, as tradition says, the Hebrews derived their name, though the other etymology which derives the name from Abraham (as if Abrahews) may possibly be correct. But there can be little doubt that the former is the right etymology, and that they were called after Heber, Heberews, and then, dropping a letter, Hebrews; and so was their language called Hebrew, which was spoken by none but the people of Israel among whom was the city of God, mysteriously prefigured in all the people, and truly present in the saints. Six of Shem's sons then are first named, then four grandsons born to one of these sons; then it mentions another son of Shem, who begat a grandson; and his son, again, or Shem's great-grandson, was Heber. And Heber begat two sons, and called the one Peleg, which means "dividing;" and Scripture subjoins the reason of this name, saying, "for in his days was the earth divided." What this means will afterwards appear. Heber's other son begat twelve sons; consequently all Shem's descendants are twenty-seven. The total number of the progeny of the three sons of Noah is seventy-three, fifteen by Japheth, thirty-one by Ham, twenty-seven by Shem. Then Scripture adds, "These are the sons of Shem, after their families, after their tongues, in their lands, after their nations." And so of the whole number: "These are the families of the sons of Noah after their generations, in their nations; and by these were the isles of the nations dispersed through the earth after the flood." From which we gather that the seventy-three (or rather, as I shall presently show, seventy-two) were not individuals, but nations. For in a former passage, when the sons of Japheth were enumerated, it is said in conclusion, "By these were the isles of the nations divided in their lands, every one after his language, in their tribes, and in their nations."
--
When it is added, "And when the sun was now setting there was a flame, and lo, a smoking furnace, and lamps of fire, which passed through between those pieces," this signifies that at the end of the world the carnal shall be judged by fire. For just as the affliction of the city of God, such as never was before, which is expected to take place under Antichrist, was signified by Abraham's horror of great darkness about the going down of the sun, that is, when the end of the world draws nigh,so at the going down of the sun, that is, at the very end of the world, there is signified by that fire the day of judgment, which separates the carnal who are to be saved by fire from those who are to be condemned in the fire. And then the covenant made with Abraham particularly sets forth the land of Canaan, and names eleven tribes in it from the river of Egypt even to the great river Euphrates. It is not then from the great river of Egypt, that is, the Nile, but from a small one which separates Egypt from Palestine, where the city of Rhinocorura is.
25. Of Sarah's handmaid, Hagar, whom she herself wished to be Abraham's concubine.
BOOK XV. - The progress of the earthly and heavenly cities traced by the sacred history, #City of God, #Saint Augustine of Hippo, #Christianity
For they are by no means to be listened to who suppose that in those times years were differently reckoned, and were so short that one of our years may be supposed to be equal to ten of theirs. So that they say, when we read or hear that some man lived 900 years, we should understand ninety,ten of those years making but one of ours, and ten of ours equalling 100 of theirs. Consequently, as they suppose, Adam was twenty-three years of age when he begat Seth, and Seth himself was twenty years and six months old when his son Enos was born, though the Scripture calls these months 205 years. For, on the hypothesis of those whose opinion we are explaining, it was customary to divide one such year as we have into ten parts, and to call each part a year. And each of these parts was composed of six days squared; because God finished His works in six days, that He might rest the seventh. Of this I disputed according to my ability in the eleventh book.[170] Now six squared, or six times six, gives thirty-six days; and this multiplied by ten amounts to 360 days, or twelve lunar months. As for the five remaining days which are needed to complete the solar year, and for the fourth part of a day, which requires that into every fourth or leap-year a day be added, the ancients added such days as the Romans used to call "intercalary," in order to complete the number of the years. So that Enos, Seth's son, was nineteen years old when his son Cainan was born, though Scripture calls these years 190. And so through all the generations in which the ages of the antediluvians are given, we find in our versions that almost no one begat a son at the age of 100 or under, or even at the age of 120 or thereabouts; but the youngest fathers are recorded to have been 160 years old and upwards. And the reason of this, they say, is that no one can beget children when he is ten years old, the age spoken of by those men as 100, but that sixteen is the age of puberty, and competent now to propagate offspring; and this is the age[Pg 69] called by them 160. And that it may not be thought incredible that in these days the year was differently computed from our own, they adduce what is recorded by several writers of history, that the Egyptians had a year of four months, the Acarnanians of six, and the Lavinians of thirteen months.[171] The younger Pliny, after mentioning that some writers reported that one man had lived 152 years, another ten more, others 200, others 300, that some had even reached 500 and 600, and a few 800 years of age, gave it as his opinion that all this must be ascribed to mistaken computation. For some, he says, make summer and winter each a year; others make each season a year, like the Arcadians, whose years, he says, were of three months. He added, too, that the Egyptians, of whose little years of four months we have spoken already, sometimes terminated their year at the wane of each moon; so that with them there are produced lifetimes of 1000 years.
By these plausible arguments certain persons, with no desire to weaken the credit of this sacred history, but rather to facilitate belief in it by removing the difficulty of such incredible longevity, have been themselves persuaded, and think they act wisely in persuading others, that in these days the year was so brief that ten of their years equal but one of ours, while ten of ours equal 100 of theirs. But there is the plainest evidence to show that this is quite false. Before producing this evidence, however, it seems right to mention a conjecture which is yet more plausible. From the Hebrew manuscripts we could at once refute this confident statement; for in them Adam is found to have lived not 230 but 130 years before he begat his third son. If, then, this mean thirteen years by our ordinary computation, then he must have begotten his first son when he was only twelve or thereabouts. Who can at this age beget children according to the ordinary and familiar course of nature? But not to mention him, since it is possible he may have been able to beget his like as soon as he was created,for it is not credible that he was created so little as our infants are,not to mention him, his[Pg 70] son was not 205 years old when he begat Enos, as our versions have it, but 105, and consequently, according to this idea, was not eleven years old. But what shall I say of his son Cainan, who, though by our version 170 years old, was by the Hebrew text seventy when he beget Mahalaleel? If seventy years in those times meant only seven of our years, what man of seven years old begets children?
13. Whether, in computing years, we ought to follow the Hebrew or the Septuagint.
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Let us now see how it can be plainly made out that in the enormously protracted lives of those men the years were not so short that ten of their years were equal to only one of ours, but were of as great length as our own, which are measured by the course of the sun. It is proved by this, that Scripture states that the flood occurred in the six hundredth year of Noah's life. But why in the same place is it also written, "The waters of the flood were upon the earth in the six hundredth year of Noah's life, in the second month, the twenty-seventh day of the month,"[173] if that very brief year (of which it took ten to make one of ours) consisted of thirty-six days? For so scant a year, if the ancient usage dignified it with the name of year, either has not months, or its month must be three days, so that it may have twelve of them. How then was it here said, "In the six hundredth year, the second month, the twenty-seventh day of the month," unless the months then were of the same length as the months now? For how else could it be said that the flood began on the twenty-seventh day of the second month? Then afterwards, at the end of the flood, it is thus written: "And the ark rested in the seventh month, on the twenty-seventh day of the month, on the mountains of Ararat. And the waters decreased continually until the eleventh month: on the first day of the month were the tops of the mountains seen."[174] But if the[Pg 74] months were such as we have, then so were the years. And certainly months of three days each could not have a twenty-seventh day. Or if every measure of time was diminished in proportion, and a thirtieth part of three days was then called a day, then that great deluge, which is recorded to have lasted forty days and forty nights, was really over in less than four of our days. Who can away with such foolishness and absurdity? Far be this error from us,an error which seeks to build up our faith in the divine Scriptures on false conjecture, only to demolish our faith at another point. It is plain that the day then was what it now is, a space of four-and-twenty hours, determined by the lapse of day and night; the month then equal to the month now, which is defined by the rise and completion of one moon; the year then equal to the year now, which is completed by twelve lunar months, with the addition of five days and a-fourth to adjust it with the course of the sun. It was a year of this length which was reckoned the six hundredth of Noah's life; and in the second month, the twenty-seventh day of the month, the flood began,a flood which, as is recorded, was caused by heavy rains continuing for forty days, which days had not only two hours and a little more, but four-and-twenty hours, completing a night and a day. And consequently those antediluvians lived more than 900 years, which were years as long as those which afterwards Abraham lived 175 of, and after him his son Isaac 180, and his son Jacob nearly 150, and some time after, Moses 120, and men now seventy or eighty, or not much longer, of which years it is said, "their strength is labour and sorrow."[175]
But that discrepancy of numbers which is found to exist between our own and the Hebrew text does not touch the longevity of the ancients; and if there is any diversity so great that both versions cannot be true, we must take our ideas of the real facts from that text out of which our own version has been translated. However, though any one who pleases has it in his power to correct this version, yet it is not unimportant to observe that no one has presumed to emend the Septuagint from the Hebrew text in the many[Pg 75] places where they seem to disagree. For this difference has not been reckoned a falsification; and for my own part I am persuaded it ought not to be reckoned so. But where the difference is not a mere copyist's error, and where the sense is agreeable to truth and illustrative of truth, we must believe that the divine Spirit prompted them to give a varying version, not in their function of translators, but in the liberty of prophesying. And therefore we find that the apostles justly sanction the Septuagint, by quoting it as well as the Hebrew when they adduce proofs from the Scriptures. But as I have promised to treat this subject more carefully, if God help me, in a more fitting place, I will now go on with the matter in hand. For there can be no doubt that, the lives of men being so long, the first-born of the first man could have built a city,a city, however, which was earthly, and not that which is called the city of God, to describe which we have taken in hand this great work.
--
But in whatever manner the generations of Cain's line are traced downwards, whether it be by first-born sons or by the heirs to the throne, it seems to me that I must by no means omit to notice that, when Lamech had been set down as the seventh from Adam, there were named, in addition, as many of his children as made up this number to eleven, which is the number signifying sin; for three sons and one daughter are added. The wives of Lamech have another signification, different from that which I am now pressing. For at present I am speaking of the children, and not of those by whom the children were begotten. Since, then, the law is symbolized by the number ten,whence that memorable Decalogue,there is no doubt that the number eleven, which goes beyond[196] ten, symbolizes the transgression of the law, and consequently sin. For this reason, eleven veils of goat's skin were ordered to be hung in the tabernacle of the testimony, which served in the wanderings of God's people as an ambulatory temple. And in that haircloth there was a reminder of sins, because the goats were to be set on the left hand of the Judge; and therefore, when we confess our sins, we prostrate ourselves in haircloth, as if we were saying what is written in the psalm, "My sin is ever before me."[197] The progeny of Adam, then, by Cain the murderer, is completed in the number eleven, which symbolizes sin; and this number itself is made up by a woman, as it was by the same sex that beginning was made of sin by which we all die. And it was committed that the pleasure of the flesh, which resists the spirit, might follow; and so Naamah, the daughter of Lamech, means "pleasure." But from Adam to Noah, in the line of Seth, there are ten generations. And to Noah three sons are added, of whom, while one fell into sin, two were blessed by their father; so that, if you deduct the reprobate and add the gracious sons to the number, you get twelve,a number signalized in the case[Pg 89] of the patriarchs and of the apostles, and made up of the parts of the number seven multiplied into one another,for three times four, or four times three, give twelve. These things being so, I see that I must consider and mention how these two lines, which by their separate genealogies depict the two cities, one of earth-born, the other of regenerated persons, became afterwards so mixed and confused, that the whole human race, with the exception of eight persons, deserved to perish in the deluge.
21. Why it is that, as soon as Cain's son Enoch has been named, the genealogy is forthwith continued as far as the deluge, while after the mention of Enos, Seth's son, the narrative returns again to the creation of man.
Liber 111 - The Book of Wisdom - LIBER ALEPH VEL CXI, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
Mountains, the Sun being in Cancer in the eleventh Year of the Aeon,
even in the Week after thy Birth. And I think this Woman to be Her whom
--
O'Neill, or Blake, who wrote for our Understanding these eleven Sacred
Words! ---
--
eleventh Hour) Virtue and Wit that I may compose a True Book upon these
ways of Union. Thy first Step, therefore, o my Son, is to attain unto
--
called Strength, or more truly, Lust, whose Number is eleven which is
Aud, the Light Odic of Magick. And therein is figured the Lion, even
--
also an Hundred and eleven in his full Orthography; to signify the Most
Holy Trinity, and by Metathesis it is Thick Darkness, and Sudden Death.
Liber 46 - The Key of the Mysteries, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
THE NUMBER eleven
eleven is the number of force; it is that of strife and martyrdom.
Every man who dies for an idea is a martyr, for in him the aspirations
Liber 71 - The Voice of the Silence - The Two Paths - The Seven Portals, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
the eleventh thyr; when the Exempt Adept reaches the Frontier of the
Abyss, his Holy Guardian Angel leaves him, and this is the one supreme
Liber, #Liber Null, #Peter J Carroll, #Occultism
Liber CXCIV. (194) [] - An Intimation with Reference to the Constitution of the Order ::: Any Province of the O.T.O. is governed by the Grand Master and those to whom he delegates his Authority, until such time as the Order is established, which is the case when it possesses eleven or more Profess-houses in the province. Then the regular constitution is automatically Promulgated. The Quotation is slightly adapted from an address in one of the Rituals.
Liber CXCVII. (197) [C] - Sir Palamedes the saracen knight ::: The High History of Good Sir Palamedes the Saracen Knight and of his following of the Questing Beast. A poetic account of the Great Work and enumeration of many obstacles. Equinox IV, Special Supplement.
Phaedo, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
PHAEDO: I will begin at the beginning, and endeavour to repeat the entire conversation. On the previous days we had been in the habit of assembling early in the morning at the court in which the trial took place, and which is not far from the prison. There we used to wait talking with one another until the opening of the doors (for they were not opened very early); then we went in and generally passed the day with Socrates. On the last morning we assembled sooner than usual, having heard on the day before when we quitted the prison in the evening that the sacred ship had come from Delos, and so we arranged to meet very early at the accustomed place. On our arrival the jailer who answered the door, instead of admitting us, came out and told us to stay until he called us. 'For the eleven,' he said, 'are now with Socrates; they are taking off his chains, and giving orders that he is to die to-day.' He soon returned and said that we might come in. On entering we found Socrates just released from chains, and Xanthippe, whom you know, sitting by him, and holding his child in her arms. When she saw us she uttered a cry and said, as women will: 'O Socrates, this is the last time that either you will converse with your friends, or they with you.' Socrates turned to Crito and said: 'Crito, let some one take her home.' Some of Crito's people accordingly led her away, crying out and beating herself. And when she was gone, Socrates, sitting up on the couch, bent and rubbed his leg, saying, as he was rubbing: How singular is the thing called pleasure, and how curiously related to pain, which might be thought to be the opposite of it; for they are never present to a man at the same instant, and yet he who pursues either is generally compelled to take the other; their bodies are two, but they are joined by a single head. And I cannot help thinking that if Aesop had remembered them, he would have made a fable about God trying to reconcile their strife, and how, when he could not, he fastened their heads together; and this is the reason why when one comes the other follows, as I know by my own experience now, when after the pain in my leg which was caused by the chain pleasure appears to succeed.
Upon this Cebes said: I am glad, Socrates, that you have mentioned the name of Aesop. For it reminds me of a question which has been asked by many, and was asked of me only the day before yesterday by Evenus the poethe will be sure to ask it again, and therefore if you would like me to have an answer ready for him, you may as well tell me what I should say to him:he wanted to know why you, who never before wrote a line of poetry, now that you are in prison are turning Aesop's fables into verse, and also composing that hymn in honour of Apollo.
--
Socrates replied with a smile: O Simmias, what are you saying? I am not very likely to persuade other men that I do not regard my present situation as a misfortune, if I cannot even persuade you that I am no worse off now than at any other time in my life. Will you not allow that I have as much of the spirit of prophecy in me as the swans? For they, when they perceive that they must die, having sung all their life long, do then sing more lustily than ever, rejoicing in the thought that they are about to go away to the god whose ministers they are. But men, because they are themselves afraid of death, slanderously affirm of the swans that they sing a lament at the last, not considering that no bird sings when cold, or hungry, or in pain, not even the nightingale, nor the swallow, nor yet the hoopoe; which are said indeed to tune a lay of sorrow, although I do not believe this to be true of them any more than of the swans. But because they are sacred to Apollo, they have the gift of prophecy, and anticipate the good things of another world, wherefore they sing and rejoice in that day more than they ever did before. And I too, believing myself to be the consecrated servant of the same God, and the fellow-servant of the swans, and thinking that I have received from my master gifts of prophecy which are not inferior to theirs, would not go out of life less merrily than the swans. Never mind then, if this be your only objection, but speak and ask anything which you like, while the eleven magistrates of Athens allow.
Very good, Socrates, said Simmias; then I will tell you my difficulty, and Cebes will tell you his. I feel myself, (and I daresay that you have the same feeling), how hard or rather impossible is the attainment of any certainty about questions such as these in the present life. And yet I should deem him a coward who did not prove what is said about them to the uttermost, or whose heart failed him before he had examined them on every side. For he should persevere until he has achieved one of two things: either he should discover, or be taught the truth about them; or, if this be impossible, I would have him take the best and most irrefragable of human theories, and let this be the raft upon which he sails through lifenot without risk, as I admit, if he cannot find some word of God which will more surely and safely carry him. And now, as you bid me, I will venture to question you, and then I shall not have to reproach myself hereafter with not having said at the time what I think. For when I consider the matter, either alone or with Cebes, the argument does certainly appear to me, Socrates, to be not sufficient.
--
Now the hour of sunset was near, for a good deal of time had passed while he was within. When he came out, he sat down with us again after his bath, but not much was said. Soon the jailer, who was the servant of the eleven, entered and stood by him, saying:To you, Socrates, whom I know to be the noblest and gentlest and best of all who ever came to this place, I will not impute the angry feelings of other men, who rage and swear at me, when, in obedience to the authorities, I bid them drink the poisonindeed, I am sure that you will not be angry with me; for others, as you are aware, and not I, are to blame. And so fare you well, and try to bear lightly what must needs beyou know my errand. Then bursting into tears he turned away and went out.
Socrates looked at him and said: I return your good wishes, and will do as you bid. Then turning to us, he said, How charming the man is: since I have been in prison he has always been coming to see me, and at times he would talk to me, and was as good to me as could be, and now see how generously he sorrows on my account. We must do as he says, Crito; and therefore let the cup be brought, if the poison is prepared: if not, let the attendant prepare some.
r1913 01 11, #Record of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
In the evening perfect forms directly under the eye became numerous and a number of them stable, but these were not of the most lifelike perfection, the defect being insufficiently developed material; the perfection was in the circumstances. Will has relinquished the rupadrishti to the self-action of the Para Prakriti, and is only slightly active for the samadhi. Swapna-samadhi is attempting to develop continuity, but is obliged to have recourse to recurrence in order to stimulate the tendency, as the habit of the drishti withdrawing immediately from the thing once it is seen, still prevails. Kamananda chiefly sahaituka was resumed, but not yet with a sustained frequency. Power began to control the bodily siddhi, but not yet with entire success; the jalavisrishti at last revived its intensity and the relics of sensitiveness to cold with nirananda suddenly recovered intensity. Secondary utthapana, attempted, failed to progress sensibly; but the primary utthapana overcame easily an attempt to break it and continued strongly from about five to after half past eleven (walking all the time) with only a break for meals. Sleep at night fell from 7 or 8 hours to five. Trikaldrishti manifested a striking power and accuracy. The resistance to Power in the karma showed itself in a fresh outbreak of anaikya in the surroundings, known by trikaldrishti before it happened.
***
r1913 07 10, #Record of Yoga, #Sri Aurobindo, #Integral Yoga
The last sentence of this entry appears to have been added on the eleventh.Ed.
***
Sayings of Sri Ramakrishna (text), #Sayings of Sri Ramakrishna, #Sri Ramakrishna, #Hinduism
cleansing and purifying the temple! Day and night the eleven bats screech there. Ah, for nothing you
have raised all this clamour by the loud blowing of the conch!" So if you want to install the sacred image
--
comes and makes it His seat. No image of God can be set up in a dirty place. The eleven bats referred to
above are the eleven senses (the five organs of knowledge, the five organs of action and the mind). First
dive deep within your own self and get the gems lying hidden there. After that you can have everything
Tablets of Baha u llah text, #Tablets of Baha u llah, #Baha u llah, #Baha i
The eleventh Glad-Tidings
Talks 176-200, #Talks, #Sri Ramana Maharshi, #Hinduism
M.: About eleven years before. What did Dr. Beasly say?
D.: It is in strict confidence. I shall tell you everything if you are left alone with me.
Talks 600-652, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
They were walking slowly, conversing at the same time. The devotee said: "There is a girl of eleven in Lahore. She is very remarkable. She says she can call upon Krishna twice and remain conscious, but if she calls the third time she becomes unconscious and remains in trance for ten hours continuously."
M.: So long as you think that Krishna is different from you, you call upon
Talks With Sri Aurobindo 1, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
PURANI: Barcelona is going! The French people are waking up at the eleventh
hour.
--
Cape Town. This fight shows that at sea the English are superior to the Germans. They fought with six-inch guns against the Germans' eleven-inch
guns. The Germans ought to have sunk at least two cruisers.
Talks With Sri Aurobindo 2, #Talks With Sri Aurobindo, #unset, #Zen
coat, waistcoat, shirt, one vest, then another, and still another and so onaltogether eleven! (Laughter)
Purani started a talk about some evening procession of the Selvaraju family.
The Act of Creation text, #The Act of Creation, #Arthur Koestler, #Psychology
prominent part in medieval literature from the eleventh to the fifteenth centuries.
They were epics centred on heroic events; their name is derived from the Latin
--
seems, of eleven fibres two in the centre, nine outside. But these
deceptively simple structures revealed by the electron-microscope
--
is susceptible for it (in ducks, for instance, between eleven and eighteen
hours after birth, with a pointed peak in the susceptibility curve at
--
reflex' in an infant eleven months of age, by striking an iron bar
with a hammer each time the child touched its pet animal, a white rat.
--
that this child of eleven months was incapable of seeing the difference
between rabbit, cotton wool, and human hair. But at that time the
--
little boy uttered the word "atta" at the end of his eleventh month
whenever anything disappeared when a person left the room or
--
the why's asked by a child of four years, eleven months, in the course
of four days, 17 which is both charming and instructive. (One asterisk
--
perial bride; went to the University of Leipzig when he was eleven,
and at seventeen enjoyed European fame; he died at forty. Pascal had
Theaetetus, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
SOCRATES: Well, then, he will say, according to that argument, the number eleven, which is only thought, can never be mistaken for twelve, which is only thought: How would you answer him?
THEAETETUS: I should say that a mistake may very likely arise between the eleven or twelve which are seen or handled, but that no similar mistake can arise between the eleven and twelve which are in the mind.
SOCRATES: Well, but do you think that no one ever put before his own mind five and seven,I do not mean five or seven men or horses, but five or seven in the abstract, which, as we say, are recorded on the waxen block, and in which false opinion is held to be impossible; did no man ever ask himself how many these numbers make when added together, and answer that they are eleven, while another thinks that they are twelve, or would all agree in thinking and saying that they are twelve?
THEAETETUS: Certainly not; many would think that they are eleven, and in the higher numbers the chance of error is greater still; for I assume you to be speaking of numbers in general.
SOCRATES: Exactly; and I want you to consider whether this does not imply that the twelve in the waxen block are supposed to be eleven?
THEAETETUS: Yes, that seems to be the case.
--
SOCRATES: Then shall we say that about names we care nothing?any one may twist and turn the words 'knowing' and 'learning' in any way which he likes, but since we have determined that the possession of knowledge is not the having or using it, we do assert that a man cannot not possess that which he possesses; and, therefore, in no case can a man not know that which he knows, but he may get a false opinion about it; for he may have the knowledge, not of this particular thing, but of some other;when the various numbers and forms of knowledge are flying about in the aviary, and wishing to capture a certain sort of knowledge out of the general store, he takes the wrong one by mistake, that is to say, when he thought eleven to be twelve, he got hold of the ring-dove which he had in his mind, when he wanted the pigeon.
THEAETETUS: A very rational explanation.
The Book of Joshua, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
48 And in the mountains, Shamir, and Jattir, and Socoh, 49 And Dannah, and Kirjath-sannah, which is Debir, 50 And Anab, and Eshtemoh, and Anim, 51 And Goshen, and Holon, and Giloh; eleven cities with their villages: 52 Arab, and Dumah, and Eshean, 53 And Janum, and Beth-tappuah, and Aphekah, 54 And Humtah, and Kirjath-arba, which is Hebron, and Zior; nine cities with their villages: 55 Maon, Carmel, and Ziph, and Juttah, 56 And Jezreel, and Jokdeam, and Zanoah, 57 Cain, Gibeah, and Timnah; ten cities with their villages: 58 Halhul, Beth-zur, and Gedor, 59 And Maarath, and Beth-anoth, and Eltekon; six cities with their villages: 60 Kirjath-baal, which is Kirjath-jearim, and Rabbah; two cities with their villages:
61 In the wilderness, Beth-arabah, Middin, and Secacah, 62 And Nibshan, and the city of Salt, and En-gedi; six cities with their villages. 63 As for the Jebusites the inhabitants of Jerusalem, the children of Judah could not drive them out: but the Jebusites dwell with the children of Judah at Jerusalem unto this day.
The Dream of a Ridiculous Man, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
And then, after that, I learned the truth. I learned the truth last November,precisely on the third of November, and since that time I remember my every moment. It was a gloomy evening, as gloomy as could be. I was returning home then, between ten and eleven o'clock, and I remember I precisely thought that there could not be a gloomier time. Even in the physical respect. Rain had poured down all day, and it was the coldest and gloomiest rain, even some sort of menacing rain,
I remember that, with an obvious hostility to people, and now, between ten and eleven, it suddenly stopped, and a terrible dampness set in, damper and colder than when it was raining, and a sort of steam rose from everything, from every stone in the street and from every alleyway, if you looked far into its depths from the street.
I suddenly imagined that if the gaslights went out everywhere, it would be more cheerful, and that with the gaslights it was sadder for the heart, because they threw light on it all. I'd had almost no dinner that day, and had spent since early evening sitting at some engineer's, with two more friends siting there as well. I kept silent, and they seemed to be sick of me. They talked about something provocative and suddenly even grew excited. But it made no difference to them, I could see that, and they got excited just so. I suddenly told them that: "Gentlemen," I said, "it makes no difference to you." They weren't offended, but they all started laughing at me. It was because I said it without any reproach and simply because it made no difference to me. And they could see that it made no difference to me, and found that amusing.
The Dwellings of the Philosophers, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
(3) "If gold is joined eleven times with her (the water), it emits its seed and becomes debilitated to the point of
death; then the seed conceives and engenders a son, clearer than its father".
the Eternal Wisdom, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
The eleventh Hymn to Agni View Similar The Victory of the Fathers
Arya : A Philosophical ReviewVol. 02 - 15th March 1916The Eternal WisdomContemplation
--
The eleventh Hymn to Agni View Similar The Victory of the Fathers
The Fifteenth Hymn to Agni View Similar The Hound of Heaven
The Gospel According to Luke, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
1 But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they went to the tomb, taking the spices which they had prepared. 2 And they found the stone rolled away from the tomb, 3 but when they went in they did not find the body. 4 While they were perplexed about this, behold, two men stood by them in dazzling apparel; 5 and as they were frightened and bowed their faces to the ground, the men said to them, Why do you seek the living among the dead? 6 Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, 7 that the Son of man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and on the third day rise. 8 And they remembered his words, 9 and returning from the tomb they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. 10 Now it was Mary Magdalene and Joanna and Mary the mother of James and the other women with them who told this to the apostles; 11 but these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them.
The Road to Emmaus
--
31 And their eyes were opened and they recognized him; and he vanished out of their sight. 32 They said to each other, Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the scriptures? 33 And they rose that same hour and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven gathered together and those who were with them, 34 who said, The Lord has risen indeed, and has appeared to Simon! 35 Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he was known to them in the breaking of the bread.
Jesus Appears to His Disciples
The Gospel According to Mark, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
9 Now after He had risen early on the first day of the week, He first appeared to Mary Magdalene, from whom He had cast out seven demons. 10 She went and reported to those who had been with Him, while they were mourning and weeping. 11 When they heard that He was alive and had been seen by her, they refused to believe it. 12 After that, He appeared in a different form to two of them while they were walking along on their way to the country. 13 They went away and reported it to the others, but they did not believe them either. 14 Afterward He appeared to the eleven themselves as they were reclining at the table; and He reproached them for their unbelief and hardness of heart, because they had not believed those who had seen Him after He had risen. 15 And He said to them, "Go into all the world and preach the gospel to all creation. 16 "He who has believed and has been baptized shall be saved; but he who has disbelieved shall be condemned. 17 "These signs will accompany those who have believed: in My name they will cast out demons, they will speak with new tongues; 18 they will pick up serpents, and if they drink any deadly poison, it will not hurt them; they will lay hands on the sick, and they will recover." 19 So then, when the Lord Jesus had spoken to them, He was received up into heaven and sat down at the right hand of God. 20 And they went out and preached everywhere, while the Lord worked with them, and confirmed the word by the signs that followed.
Home
The Gospel According to Matthew, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
1 "For the kingdom of heaven is like a householder who went out early in the morning to hire laborers for his vineyard. 2 After agreeing with the laborers for a denarius a day, he sent them into his vineyard. 3 And going out about the third hour he saw others standing idle in the market place; 4 and to them he said, `You go into the vineyard too, and whatever is right I will give you.' So they went. 5 Going out again about the sixth hour and the ninth hour, he did the same. 6 And about the eleventh hour he went out and found others standing; and he said to them, `Why do you stand here idle all day?' 7 They said to him, `Because no one has hired us.' He said to them, `You go into the vineyard too.' 8 And when evening came, the owner of the vineyard said to his steward, `Call the laborers and pay them their wages, beginning with the last, up to the first.' 9 And when those hired about the eleventh hour came, each of them received a denarius. 10 Now when the first came, they thought they would receive more; but each of them also received a denarius. 11 And on receiving it they grumbled at the householder, 12 saying, `These last worked only one hour, and you have made them equal to us who have borne the burden of the day and the scorching heat.' 13 But he replied to one of them, `Friend, I am doing you no wrong; did you not agree with me for a denarius? 14 Take what belongs to you, and go; I choose to give to this last as I give to you. 15 Am I not allowed to do what I choose with what belongs to me? Or do you begrudge my generosity?' 16 So the last will be first, and the first last."
The Third Prediction of the Passion
--
16 Now the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. 17 And when they saw him they worshiped him; but some doubted. 18 And Jesus came and said to them, "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me.
19 Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,
The Immortal, #Labyrinths, #Jorge Luis Borges, #Poetry
Very little, he replied. Less than the meagerest rhapsode. It has been eleven hundred years since last I wrote it.
That day, all was revealed to me. The Troglodytes were the Immortals; the stream and its sand-laden waters, the River sought by the rider. As for the City whose renown had spread to the very Ganges, the Immortals had destroyed it almost nine hundred years ago. Out of the shattered remains of the City's ruin they had built on the same spot the incoherent city I had wandered through - that parody or antithesis of City which was also a temple to the irrational gods that rule the world and to those gods about whom we know nothing save that they do not resemble man. The founding of this city was the last symbol to which the Immortals had descended; it marks the point at which, esteeming all exertion vain, they resolved to live in thought, in pure speculation. They built that carapace, abandoned it, and went off to make their dwellings in the caves. In their self- absorption, they scarcely perceived the physical world.
The Revelation of Jesus Christ or the Apocalypse, #The Bible, #Anonymous, #Various
15 And he that talked with me had a golden reed to measure the city, and the gates thereof, and the wall thereof. 16 And the city lieth foursquare, and the length is as large as the breadth: and he measured the city with the reed, twelve thousand furlongs. The length and the breadth and the height of it are equal. 17 And he measured the wall thereof, an hundred and forty and four cubits, according to the measure of a man, that is, of the angel. 18 And the building of the wall of it was of jasper: and the city was pure gold, like unto clear glass. 19 And the foundations of the wall of the city were garnished with all manner of precious stones. The first foundation was jasper; the second, sapphire; the third, a chalcedony; the fourth, an emerald; 20 The fifth, sardonyx; the sixth, sardius; the seventh, chrysolite; the eighth, beryl; the ninth, a topaz; the tenth, a chrysoprasus; the eleventh, a jacinth; the twelfth, an amethyst. 21 And the twelve gates were twelve pearls; every several gate was of one pearl: and the street of the city was pure gold, as it were transparent glass.
22 And I saw no temple therein: for the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are the temple of it. 23 And the city had no need of the sun, neither of the moon, to shine in it: for the glory of God did lighten it, and the Lamb is the light thereof. 24 And the nations of them which are saved shall walk in the light of it: and the kings of the earth do bring their glory and honour into it. 25 And the gates of it shall not be shut at all by day: for there shall be no night there. 26 And they shall bring the glory and honour of the nations into it.
The Shadow Out Of Time, #unset, #Arthur C Clarke, #Fiction
before eleven, and afflicted as usual with that strange feeling regarding the northeastward
terrain, I set out on one of my typical nocturnal walks; seeing and greeting only one
Thus Spoke Zarathustra text, #Thus Spoke Zarathustra, #Friedrich Nietzsche, #Philosophy
was to take eleven years to destroy his body after it had
destroyed his mind.
--- Overview of noun eleven
The noun eleven has 2 senses (no senses from tagged texts)
1. eleven, 11, XI ::: (the cardinal number that is the sum of ten and one)
2. football team, eleven ::: (a team that plays football)
--- Overview of adj eleven
The adj eleven has 1 sense (first 1 from tagged texts)
1. (12) eleven, 11, xi ::: (being one more than ten)
--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun eleven
2 senses of eleven
Sense 1
eleven, 11, XI
=> large integer
=> integer, whole number
=> number
=> definite quantity
=> measure, quantity, amount
=> abstraction, abstract entity
=> entity
Sense 2
football team, eleven
=> team, squad
=> unit, social unit
=> organization, organisation
=> social group
=> group, grouping
=> abstraction, abstract entity
=> entity
--- Hyponyms of noun eleven
--- Synonyms/Hypernyms (Ordered by Estimated Frequency) of noun eleven
2 senses of eleven
Sense 1
eleven, 11, XI
=> large integer
Sense 2
football team, eleven
=> team, squad
--- Similarity of adj eleven
1 sense of eleven
Sense 1
eleven, 11, xi
=> cardinal (vs. ordinal)
--- Antonyms of adj eleven
1 sense of eleven
Sense 1
eleven, 11, xi
INDIRECT (VIA cardinal) -> ordinal
--- Coordinate Terms (sisters) of noun eleven
2 senses of eleven
Sense 1
eleven, 11, XI
-> large integer
=> ten, 10, X, tenner, decade
=> eleven, 11, XI
=> twelve, 12, XII, dozen
=> teens
=> thirteen, 13, XIII, baker's dozen, long dozen
=> fourteen, 14, XIV
=> fifteen, 15, XV
=> sixteen, 16, XVI
=> seventeen, 17, XVII
=> eighteen, 18, XVIII
=> nineteen, 19, XIX
=> twenty, 20, XX
=> twenty-one, 21, XXI
=> twenty-two, 22, XXII
=> twenty-three, 23, XXIII
=> twenty-four, 24, XXIV, two dozen
=> twenty-five, 25, XXV
=> twenty-six, 26, XXVI
=> twenty-seven, 27, XXVII
=> twenty-eight, 28, XXVIII
=> twenty-nine, 29, XXIX
=> thirty, 30, XXX
=> forty, 40, XL
=> fifty, 50, L
=> sixty, 60, LX
=> seventy, 70, LXX
=> seventy-eight, 78, LXXVIII
=> eighty, 80, LXXX, fourscore
=> ninety, 90, XC
=> hundred, 100, C, century, one C
=> gross, 144
=> long hundred, great hundred, 120
=> five hundred, 500, D
=> thousand, one thousand, 1000, M, K, chiliad, G, grand, thou, yard
=> great gross, 1728
=> ten thousand, 10000, myriad
=> hundred thousand, 100000, lakh
=> million, 1000000, one thousand thousand, meg
=> crore
=> billion, one thousand million, 1000000000
=> billion, one million million, 1000000000000
=> trillion, one million million, 1000000000000
=> trillion, one million million million
=> quadrillion
=> quadrillion
=> quintillion
=> sextillion
=> septillion
=> octillion
=> aleph-null, aleph-nought, aleph-zero
Sense 2
football team, eleven
-> team, squad
=> A-team
=> battery
=> flying squad
=> major-league team, major-league club
=> minor-league team, minor-league club
=> baseball team
=> basketball team, five
=> football team, eleven
=> hockey team
=> junior varsity, JV
=> varsity, first team
=> second string
=> police squad, squad
=> powerhouse
=> offense, offence
=> defense, defence, defending team
=> hit squad
=> section
=> little-league team
=> crew
--- Pertainyms of adj eleven
1 sense of eleven
Sense 1
eleven, 11, xi
--- Derived Forms of adj eleven
--- Grep of noun eleven
eleven
eleven-plus
eleventh
eleventh cranial nerve
eleventh hour
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https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/10369932-the-eleventh-plague
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https://itlaw.wikia.org/wiki/Category:Case-U.S.-Eleventh_Amendment
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selforum - sri aurobindo classifies eleven poets
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Madeline (1988 - 2002) - A children's show based on the books by Ludwig Bemelmans. The show was about the adventure of Madeline who live in an orphanage with eleven other little girls with a nun. It took place in Paris,France where she got in to all kinds of mischief where she would need help to get out of it. It started o...
The New Scooby and Scrappy-Doo Show (1983 - 1983) - "The New Scooby and Scrappy Doo Show" is the sixth incarnation of the Hanna-Barbera Saturday morning cartoon Scooby-Doo. It premiered on September 10, 1983, and ran for one season on ABC as a half-hour program made up of two eleven-minute short cartoons. (In 1984 for the second season, the name of t...
Yin Yang Yo! (2006 - 2009) - Yin Yang Yo! is the most popular Disney/Jetix cartoon that started in 2006. It revolves eleven-year-old rabbits Yin and Yang trained by Master Yo to defeat evil with Woo Foo. The show was created by Bob Boyle II, who also created Wow! Wow! Wubbzy!
Frasier (1993 - 2004) - Frasier is an American sitcom that was broadcast on NBC for eleven seasons, premiering on September 16, 1993, and concluding on May 13, 2004.
Tak and the Power of Juju (2007 - 2009) - an American CGI animated television series that formerly aired on Nickelodeon from August 31, 2007 to January 24, 2009. Based on the 2003 video game of the same name, the show consists of two eleven minute stories per half-hour episode. It is Nickelodeon's first all-CGI series (produced in house) an...
Inazuma Eleven (2008 - 2011) - Inazuma Irebun, lit. "Lightning Eleven") is a Japanese manga series written and illustrated by Tenya Yabuno based on a series of video games created by Level-5. The manga has been published by Shogakukan in CoroCoro Comic since the June 2008 issue. The manga series won the 2010 Kodansha Manga Award...
Zombie-Loan (2007 - Current) - An anime adaptation produced by Xebec M2 was announced and started broadcast on the Japanese network TV Asahi on July 3, 2007. It contained a total of eleven episodes, with the final broadcast on September 11, 2007. Subsequent episodes 12 and 13 were released as part of the seventh volume of the DVD...
HappinessCharge PreCure! (2014 - 2015) - a 2014 Japanese magical girl anime series produced by Toei Animation, and the eleventh installment in Izumi Todo's Pretty Cure metaseries, released to celebrate its 10th anniversary.[2] It is directed by Tatsuya Nagamine, who previously directed HeartCatch PreCure!, and written by Yoshimi Narita, wh...
The Amazing Race (2001 - Current) - Eleven teams of two people compete in a race around the world split into 12 legs and each with intense physical challenges. Each leg of the race is covered by one episode.
Scooby-Doo! Mystery Incorporated (2010 - 2013) - The eleventh TV show in the Scooby-Doo franchise sees the Mystery Inc. gang solving mysteries and secrets all over their hometown of Crystal Cove.
The Peanut Butter Solution(1985) - Peanut butter is the secret ingredient for magic potions made by two 'friendly' ghosts. Eleven-year-old Michael looses all of his hair when he gets a 'fright' and uses the potion to get his hair back, but too much peanut butter causes things to get a bit 'hairy'.A young Celine Dion performs"Listen t...
12 Angry Men(1997) - A jury argues a case in a stuffy room on a hot summer's day. Eleven say "guilty!" But one holdout (Jack Lemmon) is convinced of the defendant's innocence and stubbornly argues "reasonable doubt." This tense courtroom drama is a remake of Sidney Lumet's 1957 favorite and was produced for the Showtime...
Undercover Blues(1993) - Nick and Nora Charles are updated to a touchy-feely couple of the 1990s who take a break from the action to raise their eleven-month-old child. Kathleen Turner and Dennis Quaid star as Jane and Jeff Blue, two CIA super-agents who have abandoned the daily grind to devote quality time to their baby bu...
Little Criminals(1995) - The story is mainly about an eleven year old kid called Des. He and his friends do all kinds of illegal things like vandalism, stealing, lighting fires, mug people and using drugs. They do this because of a law which says that they cannot be charged until the age of twelve. When Des meets Cory, they...
Pokmon: Giratina & the Sky Warrior(2008) - The eleventh Pokemon movie. In the Reverse World, a word parallel to that of our own, lives the Pokemon Giratina, its sole inhabitant. After the warriors of space & time Dialga & Palkia engage in a fight which enrages Giratina, the only one sough to stop it is Shaymin, the Gratitude Pokemon. Failing...
They Were Eleven(1986) - The elite Cosmo Academy attracts applicants from every stellar nation in the galaxy. One young hopeful is Tadatos Lane, an orphan esper from Terra. The final stage of the academy's entrance exam is a perilous mission simulation aboard an actual derelict starship. The applicants depart for the ships...
Mad Hot Ballroom(2005) - A documentary movie about eleven New York City public school kids who dream of ballroom dancing. The movie gives an in-depth look at the students' lives through their point of views and shows how they all get along, despite their different cultures, as they make their way up to the city competition.
The Child(1977) - A newly-hired housekeeper in a remote area is alarmed to discover that her boss's eleven-year-old daughter is using her supernatural powers to take revenge on the people she holds responsible for her mother's death, with the aid of her flesh-eating zombie 'friends'...
The Longshots(2008) - The true story of Jasmine Plummer who, at the age of eleven, became the first female to play in Pop Warner football tournament in its 56-year history.
Cheaper by the Dozen(2003) - Cheaper by the Dozen is the life story of Kate Baker and her large family. Her husband Tom is a college football coach and they have twelve children, with eleven living at home. After Tom receives a job offer from an old friend, the family move to Evanston, Illinois much to the protest of the younge...
Night at the Museum(2006) - Larry Daley is divorced, unable to keep a steady job, and has failed at many business ventures including his dream job of being an inventor. His ex-wife fears his lifestyle is a bad influence on his eleven-year-old son Nick. One day, an elderly nigh security guard at the American Museum of Natural H...
Star Trek (2009)(2009) - Star Trek is a 2009 American science fiction action film directed by J. J. Abrams, written by Roberto Orci and Alex Kurtzman and distributed by Paramount Pictures. It is the eleventh film of the Star Trek film franchise and is also a reboot that features the main characters of the original Star Trek...
Halloween(2018) - Halloween is a 2018 American horror slasher film directed by David Gordon Green and written by Green, Jeff Fradley, and Danny McBride. It is the eleventh installment in the Halloween film series and a direct sequel to the 1978 film of the same name while effecting a retcon of all previous sequels. O...
Diary of a Wimpy Kid(2010) - Based on the mega-popular novel by Jeff Kinney eleven-year-old Greg Heffley is just starting middle school along with his best fried Rowley Jefferson. Despite constantly being picked on by his older brother Rodrick and bickering with his younger brother Manny, Greg believes that he will be famous an...
https://myanimelist.net/anime/10507/Inazuma_Eleven_Go --
https://myanimelist.net/anime/10948/Koukaku_Kidoutai__Stand_Alone_Complex_2nd_GIG_-_Individual_Eleven_-_Tachikoma_na_Hibi -- Sci-Fi, Comedy, Mecha
https://myanimelist.net/anime/10999/Inazuma_Eleven_Go__Kyuukyoku_no_Kizuna_Gryphon -- Sci-Fi, Sports, Super Power, Shounen
https://myanimelist.net/anime/12117/Detective_Conan_Movie_16__The_Eleventh_Striker -- Adventure, Comedy, Mystery, Police, Shounen, Sports
https://myanimelist.net/anime/12585/Inazuma_Eleven_Go_Specials -- Sports, Super Power, Shounen
https://myanimelist.net/anime/13261/Inazuma_Eleven_Go__Chrono_Stone -- Sports, Super Power, Shounen
https://myanimelist.net/anime/15785/Inazuma_Eleven_Go_vs_Danball_Senki_W_Movie -- Action, Kids, Mecha, Sports
https://myanimelist.net/anime/16964/Inazuma_Eleven_Go__TCG_CM_NG-shuu -- Comedy
https://myanimelist.net/anime/18097/Inazuma_Eleven_Go__Galaxy -- Shounen, Sports, Super Power
https://myanimelist.net/anime/2316/Akakichi_no_Eleven --
https://myanimelist.net/anime/24347/Inazuma_Eleven__Chou_Jigen_Dream_Match --
https://myanimelist.net/anime/2448/Koukaku_Kidoutai__Stand_Alone_Complex_2nd_GIG_-_Individual_Eleven --
https://myanimelist.net/anime/33733/Inazuma_Eleven__Ares_no_Tenbin --
https://myanimelist.net/anime/34178/Inazuma_Eleven__Outer_Code --
https://myanimelist.net/anime/36913/Inazuma_Eleven_x_Kaitou_Gru_no_Tsuki_Dorobou -- Comedy
https://myanimelist.net/anime/37814/Inazuma_Eleven__Reloaded_-_Soccer_no_Henkaku -- Sports
https://myanimelist.net/anime/38235/Inazuma_Eleven__Orion_no_Kokuin -- Sports
https://myanimelist.net/anime/5231/Inazuma_Eleven -- Sports, Super Power, Shounen
https://myanimelist.net/anime/9032/Inazuma_Eleven__Saikyou_Gundan_Ogre_Shuurai -- Shounen, Sports, Super Power
https://myanimelist.net/manga/19315/Inazuma_Eleven
Before I Disappear (2014) ::: 7.2/10 -- Unrated | 1h 33min | Adventure, Drama | 28 November 2014 (USA) -- At the lowest point of his life, Richie gets a call from his estranged sister, asking him to look after his eleven-year old niece, Sophia, for a few hours. Director: Shawn Christensen Writer:
Cheaters (2000) ::: 6.7/10 -- R | 1h 48min | Drama | TV Movie 20 May 2000 -- Eleven students conspire with their teacher to cheat on an academic competition. Director: John Stockwell Writer: John Stockwell
Cheaters (2000) ::: 6.7/10 -- R | 1h 48min | Drama | TV Movie 20 May 2000 -- Eleven students conspire with their teacher to cheat on an academic competition.
Eleventh Hour ::: TV-14 | 45min | Crime, Drama, Mystery | TV Series (20082009) -- A government scientist and his tough attractive FBI handler try to save people from deadly scientific experiments, poisoners, rare diseases, and environmental hazards. Creator:
Ghost in the Shell: S.A.C. 2nd GIG - Individual Eleven (2006) ::: 8.4/10 -- Kkaku kidtai: S.A.C. 2nd GIG - Individual eleven (original title) -- 2007 Ghost in the Shell: S.A.C. 2nd GIG - Individual Eleven Poster -- A new terrorist organization known as the Individual Eleven is bent on mass destruction. Will the cyborg detective heroine and her elite anti-crime unit be able to stop them? Director: Kenji Kamiyama
Good Omens ::: TV-MA | 5h 28min | Comedy, Fantasy | TV Mini-Series (2019) Episode Guide 6 episodes Good Omens Poster -- A tale of the bungling of Armageddon features an angel, a demon, an eleven-year-old Antichrist, and a doom-saying witch. Creators: Neil Gaiman, Terry Pratchett
Ocean's 11 (1960) ::: 6.6/10 -- Ocean's Eleven (original title) -- Ocean's 11 Poster -- Danny Ocean gathers a group of his World War II compatriots to pull off the ultimate Las Vegas heist. Together the eleven friends plan to rob five Las Vegas casinos in one night. Director: Lewis Milestone Writers:
Ocean's Eleven (2001) ::: 7.7/10 -- PG-13 | 1h 56min | Crime, Thriller | 7 December 2001 (USA) -- Danny Ocean and his ten accomplices plan to rob three Las Vegas casinos simultaneously. Director: Steven Soderbergh Writers: George Clayton Johnson, Jack Golden Russell | 3 more credits
Ocean's Eleven (2001) ::: 7.7/10 -- PG-13 | 1h 56min | Crime, Thriller | 7 December 2001 (USA) -- Danny Ocean and his ten accomplices plan to rob three Las Vegas casinos simultaneously.
Ocean's Thirteen (2007) ::: 6.9/10 -- PG-13 | 2h 2min | Action, Crime, Thriller | 8 June 2007 (USA) -- Danny Ocean rounds up the boys for a third heist after casino owner Willy Bank double-crosses one of the original eleven, Reuben Tishkoff. Director: Steven Soderbergh Writers: Brian Koppelman, David Levien | 2 more credits
Ocean's Twelve (2004) ::: 6.5/10 -- PG-13 | 2h 5min | Crime, Thriller | 10 December 2004 (USA) -- Daniel Ocean recruits one more team member so he can pull off three major European heists in this sequel to Ocean's Eleven (2001). Director: Steven Soderbergh Writers: George Nolfi, George Clayton Johnson (characters) | 1 more credit
Off the Map (2003) ::: 7.2/10 -- PG-13 | 1h 45min | Drama | 4 April 2007 (Australia) -- An eleven-year-old girl watches her father come down with a crippling depression. Over one summer, she learns answers to several mysteries, and comes to terms with love and loss. Director: Campbell Scott Writers:
Playing by Heart (1998) ::: 7.0/10 -- R | 2h 1min | Comedy, Drama, Romance | 22 January 1999 (USA) -- Eleven articulate people work through affairs of the heart in Los Angeles. Director: Willard Carroll Writer: Willard Carroll
Sivas (2014) ::: 7.4/10 -- Not Rated | 1h 37min | Drama | 31 October 2014 (Turkey) -- An eleven-year-old boy and a weathered fighting dog develop a strong relationship after the boy finds the dog wounded in a ditch, left to die. Director: Kaan Mjdeci Writer: Kaan Mjdeci Stars:
The Cure (1995) ::: 7.7/10 -- PG-13 | 1h 37min | Drama | 21 April 1995 (USA) -- Erik, a loner, finds a friend in Dexter, an eleven-year-old boy with AIDS. They vow to find a cure for AIDS together and save Dexter's life in an eventful summer. Director: Peter Horton Writer:
The List of Adrian Messenger (1963) ::: 6.9/10 -- Not Rated | 1h 38min | Mystery, Thriller | 29 May 1963 (USA) -- A former intelligence officer is tasked by the heir to the Gleneyre estate to investigate the unusual deaths of a disparate group of eleven men on a list. Director: John Huston Writers: Anthony Veiller (screenplay by), Philip MacDonald (based upon a story by)
The Loud House ::: TV-Y7 | 22min | Animation, Action, Adventure | TV Series (2016 ) -- Lincoln Loud is an eleven-year-old boy who lives with ten sisters. With the help of his right-hand man Clyde, Lincoln finds new ways to survive in such a large family every day. Creators:
The Wild Thornberrys ::: TV-Y7 | 30min | Animation, Adventure, Comedy | TV Series (19982004) -- The life of an adventurous family, from the point of view of an eleven-year-old girl gifted with animal language. Creators: Jeff Astrof, Gabor Csupo, Arlene Klasky | 6 more credits
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Code Geass: Boukoku no Akito 1 - Yokuryuu wa Maiorita -- -- Sunrise -- 1 ep -- Original -- Action Mecha Military Sci-Fi -- Code Geass: Boukoku no Akito 1 - Yokuryuu wa Maiorita Code Geass: Boukoku no Akito 1 - Yokuryuu wa Maiorita -- It is the year 2017, and Europe is being invaded by the forces of the Holy Britannian Empire. In an attempt to combat the opposition's overwhelming pressure and put an end to the massive casualties, the army forms a special unit called Wyvern, or W-0, composed of former Japanese citizens referred to as "Elevens." Recruited from ghettos, these young men and women pilot Knightmare frames—humanoid war machines—into dangerous operations where death awaits, hoping to make a name for themselves. -- -- When a European regiment attempting to recapture a crucial city is pinned down by the enemy, it's up to W-0 to bail them out. Among those selected for the rescue operation is Lieutenant Akito Hyuuga, known as "Hannibal's Ghost" due to his prowess on the battlefield. However, the supposed rescue mission becomes suicidal when, in an attempt to take out as many Britannians as possible, the commanding officer initiates the Knightmare's self-destruct sequence. In its aftermath, Akito finds that he is the last one standing… -- -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation -- Movie - Jul 16, 2012 -- 153,710 7.40
Code Geass: Hangyaku no Lelouch R2 -- -- Sunrise -- 25 eps -- Original -- Action Military Sci-Fi Super Power Drama Mecha -- Code Geass: Hangyaku no Lelouch R2 Code Geass: Hangyaku no Lelouch R2 -- One year has passed since the Black Rebellion, a failed uprising against the Holy Britannian Empire led by the masked vigilante Zero, who is now missing. At a loss without their revolutionary leader, Area 11's resistance group—the Black Knights—find themselves too powerless to combat the brutality inflicted upon the Elevens by Britannia, which has increased significantly in order to crush any hope of a future revolt. -- -- Lelouch Lamperouge, having lost all memory of his double life, is living peacefully alongside his friends as a high school student at Ashford Academy. His former partner C.C., unable to accept this turn of events, takes it upon herself to remind him of his past purpose, hoping that the mastermind Zero will rise once again to finish what he started, in this thrilling conclusion to the series. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Bandai Entertainment, Funimation -- 1,328,109 8.91
Detective Conan Movie 16: The Eleventh Striker -- -- TMS Entertainment -- 1 ep -- Manga -- Adventure Comedy Mystery Police Shounen Sports -- Detective Conan Movie 16: The Eleventh Striker Detective Conan Movie 16: The Eleventh Striker -- In Touto Stadium, a J. League soccer match is taking place. During this, Detective Kogorou Mouri receives a bomb threat from an unknown caller and a mysterious riddle that points to its location. Conan Edogawa must now save the fans of the game before the time runs out. -- -- Fortunately, with Conan's quick actions and clever thinking, the bomb is discovered and the explosion is evaded. The culprit does not stop there; Detective Kogorou is informed of another hidden bomb set to explode at a large event in the city. Forced into a race against time, with thousands of more lives at stake, Conan must decipher another riddle, discover the place of the bomb, and catch the culprit in order to escape a terrible tragedy. -- -- Movie - Apr 14, 2012 -- 33,061 7.73
Donten ni Warau -- -- Doga Kobo -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Action Historical Shoujo Supernatural -- Donten ni Warau Donten ni Warau -- When swords were outlawed in the eleventh year of the Meiji Era, the mighty samurai population began to dwindle. Those who rejected the ban on blades rebelled, causing violent unrest to erupt throughout the countryside. To combat the rise in criminal activity, an inescapable lake prison was constructed. Three young men, born of the Kumoh line, were given the duty of delivering criminals to their place of confinement—but could there be more to their mission than meets the eye? -- -- (Source: FUNimation) -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation -- TV - Oct 4, 2014 -- 106,490 7.52
Donten ni Warau -- -- Doga Kobo -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Action Historical Shoujo Supernatural -- Donten ni Warau Donten ni Warau -- When swords were outlawed in the eleventh year of the Meiji Era, the mighty samurai population began to dwindle. Those who rejected the ban on blades rebelled, causing violent unrest to erupt throughout the countryside. To combat the rise in criminal activity, an inescapable lake prison was constructed. Three young men, born of the Kumoh line, were given the duty of delivering criminals to their place of confinement—but could there be more to their mission than meets the eye? -- -- (Source: FUNimation) -- TV - Oct 4, 2014 -- 106,490 7.52
Donten ni Warau Gaiden: Ketsubetsu, Yamainu no Chikai -- -- Blade, Wit Studio -- 1 ep -- Manga -- Action Historical Supernatural -- Donten ni Warau Gaiden: Ketsubetsu, Yamainu no Chikai Donten ni Warau Gaiden: Ketsubetsu, Yamainu no Chikai -- One year has passed after the great battle against the "Orochi" (gigantic snake). Tenka had been paralyzed from the final battle and he took part of the government's human experiment before the battle. Tenka withdrew himself from society, but his younger brothers, Soramaru and Chuutaro, find out the secret past about their older brother. -- -- (Source: Amazon Prime Video) -- -- Licensor: -- Eleven Arts -- Movie - Dec 2, 2017 -- 11,188 7.40
Donten ni Warau Gaiden: Shukumei, Soutou no Fuuma -- -- Blade, Wit Studio -- 1 ep -- Manga -- Action Historical Supernatural -- Donten ni Warau Gaiden: Shukumei, Soutou no Fuuma Donten ni Warau Gaiden: Shukumei, Soutou no Fuuma -- Fuuma ninja clan is a secret ninja tribe that is waiting for the "Orochi" (gigantic snake) to resurrect for generations. Shirasu and his twin brother Ichiu grew up in this viscous environment and this tells how they become the leaders of the clan. -- -- (Source: Amazon Prime Video) -- -- Licensor: -- Eleven Arts -- Movie - Jun 9, 2018 -- 8,361 7.52
Girls & Panzer: Shoukai Shimasu! -- -- Actas -- 2 eps -- Original -- Military School -- Girls & Panzer: Shoukai Shimasu! Girls & Panzer: Shoukai Shimasu! -- Specials aired between episodes five and six and episodes ten and eleven, both recapitulation episodes. -- -- Licensor: -- Sentai Filmworks -- Special - Nov 13, 2012 -- 17,349 6.63
Hibike! Euphonium Movie 2: Todoketai Melody -- -- Kyoto Animation -- 1 ep -- Novel -- Drama Music School -- Hibike! Euphonium Movie 2: Todoketai Melody Hibike! Euphonium Movie 2: Todoketai Melody -- Following their success in the qualifying round for the Kansai regional competition, the members of the Kitauji High School concert band set their sights on the next upcoming performance. Utilizing their summer break to the utmost, the band participates in a camp where they are instructed by their band advisor Noboru Taki and his friends who make their living as professional musicians. -- -- Kumiko Oumae and her friends remain determined to attain gold at the Kansai competition, but trouble arises when a student who once quit the band shows interest in rejoining and sparks unpleasant memories for the second-year members. Kumiko also learns about her teacher's surprising past and the motivation behind his desire to lead the band to victory. Reaching nationals will require hard work, and the adamant conviction in each student's commitment to the band will be put to the test. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Eleven Arts -- Movie - Sep 30, 2017 -- 20,503 7.74
Hibike! Euphonium Movie 3: Chikai no Finale -- -- Kyoto Animation -- 1 ep -- Novel -- Music Drama School -- Hibike! Euphonium Movie 3: Chikai no Finale Hibike! Euphonium Movie 3: Chikai no Finale -- A new year signifies a new beginning, and that seems to be the case for Kitauji High School’s concert band. Following the graduation of the third-year seniors comes the entrance of the first-year juniors. The band members put in their utmost effort in practicing for their goal—to enter nationals. -- -- The now second-year Kumiko Oumae, along with her friends, is met with the new and quirky batch of first-years, resulting in friction and conflict between the band members. However, as time passes, their inner feelings slowly unravel, but not every conflict is as easy to solve as the other. The trust and bonds between the band members will be challenged as they push forward for their regionals. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Eleven Arts -- Movie - Apr 19, 2019 -- 40,620 7.76
Inazuma Eleven -- -- OLM -- 127 eps -- Game -- Sports Super Power Shounen -- Inazuma Eleven Inazuma Eleven -- While other schools in Japan compete for the title of being the best soccer team in the country, Raimon Middle School's soccer club, Inazuma Eleven, struggles to rise from the verge of being disbanded. The grandson of Inazuma Eleven's first generation goalkeeper and captain of the team, Mamoru Endou, takes the challenge of kicking the long neglected club back into shape. To do this, he'll need a little help and more than a little luck. -- -- Mamoru Endou finds hope in the hands of Shuuya Gouenji, a brilliant young player who has given up on soccer. Mamoru is determined to get Shuuya and other new recruits to join his team, no matter what the cost. Is his passion and determination enough to treat the ailing club? Or is there no more hope for the team? -- TV - Oct 5, 2008 -- 146,492 7.60
Inazuma Eleven Go -- -- OLM -- 47 eps -- Game -- Shounen Sports Super Power -- Inazuma Eleven Go Inazuma Eleven Go -- Tenma Matsukaze is a new student at Raimon Junior High. Due to his love for soccer, he decides to join the school soccer team, which gained its reputation after the amazing performance shown ten years earlier in the Football Frontier International, a tournament that hosts the best youth teams the world has to offer. Unfortunately, the once renowned school doesn't have the soccer spirit it once enjoyed. -- -- This is primarily due to the fact that soccer in Japan is now controlled by a dark entity known as the "Fifth Sector." They alone decide the fate of every match, instructing teams to either win or lose. The actions of the Fifth Sector have beaten down the country’s soccer teams, who no longer have a love for the game. -- -- Tenma and his teammates will look to shift this paradigm and fight back against their evil oppressors. Thankfully, they will not be alone in this battle, as they will get help from a group known as the "Resistance." Cheer on the boys of Inazuma Eleven Go as they fight the good fight! -- TV - May 4, 2011 -- 57,397 6.96
Inazuma Eleven Go: Chrono Stone -- -- OLM -- 51 eps -- Game -- Sports Super Power Shounen -- Inazuma Eleven Go: Chrono Stone Inazuma Eleven Go: Chrono Stone -- Inazuma Eleven Go: Chrono Stone is set after the Holy Road Soccer Tournament. The hero of of the moment, Tenma Matsukaze, traveled all over Japan to teach soccer to kids. -- -- He returns to Raimon Junior High School after completing his mission, but to his surprise, it's no longer the same Raimon Junior High that he remembers. The soccer club is non-existent, and the members of the champion team in the Holy Road Soccer Tournament have no recollection of taking part in the tournament. They neither remember Tenma nor the game of soccer they loved. As Tenma is baffled by this twist, Alpha, the leader of the Route Agents and captain of Protocol Omega team, suddenly appears before him. Alpha declares that he and his team are responsible for wiping out passion for soccer in Raimon along with the memories of the soccer club members: and Tenma himself is next. -- -- That's when a strange boy named Fei Rune appears just in time to save him. Just who is Fei, and why does Alpha want to eliminate soccer for good? Tenma knows that he needs to do everything in his power to emerge victorious. It's a battle that could seal the fate of soccer forever. -- 40,499 7.17
Inazuma Eleven Go: Galaxy -- -- OLM -- 43 eps -- Game -- Shounen Sports Super Power -- Inazuma Eleven Go: Galaxy Inazuma Eleven Go: Galaxy -- After fighting to free the game of soccer in Japan from the Fifth Sector, the country's soccer squads can once again look forward to stepping onto the field. However, a new challenge will emerge for Japanese players in the form of the Football Frontier International Vision 2, a new tournament that will bring together the best teams each country can assemble. -- -- Tenma Matsukaze and his Raimon teammates, Takuto Shindou and Kyousuke Tsurugi, are once again part of the action as they have been selected to play for the Japanese representative, Inazuma Japan. Much to their surprise, the coach selects eight other players that have no previous experience playing soccer! -- -- Team Inazuma Japan will have a huge mountain to climb, building chemistry and skills as they go along. What they don’t know is that the tournament will set the stage for something much bigger, something out of this world in Inazuma Eleven Go: Galaxy! -- TV - May 8, 2013 -- 33,690 6.63
Inazuma Eleven Go: Kyuukyoku no Kizuna Gryphon -- -- OLM -- 1 ep -- Game -- Sci-Fi Sports Super Power Shounen -- Inazuma Eleven Go: Kyuukyoku no Kizuna Gryphon Inazuma Eleven Go: Kyuukyoku no Kizuna Gryphon -- The Raimon team has been invited by Fifth Sector strangely to a soccer camp. When they agree, things go out of hand since it was revealed that Fifth Sector wants to eliminate them once and for all on the island called God Eden. Now, the Raimon team needs to train harder to be able to show that they have the strength to fight back and prove Fifth Sector's doings wrong. -- -- (Source: Inazuma Eleven Wiki) -- Movie - Dec 23, 2011 -- 12,052 7.39
Inazuma Eleven Go vs. Danball Senki W Movie -- -- OLM -- 1 ep -- - -- Action Kids Mecha Sports -- Inazuma Eleven Go vs. Danball Senki W Movie Inazuma Eleven Go vs. Danball Senki W Movie -- As Shinsei Inazuma Japan was about to have a match with Inazuma Legend Japan, a mysterious attack of a person and a swarm of robots interrupted, and another mysterious girl's power drove the world into another dimension. As the world of Inazuma Eleven Go and Danball Senki W met, the two teams must work together to find out what happened to their worlds. -- -- (Source: Wikipedia) -- Movie - Dec 1, 2012 -- 9,791 7.01
Inazuma Eleven: Saikyou Gundan Ogre Shuurai -- -- OLM -- 1 ep -- - -- Shounen Sports Super Power -- Inazuma Eleven: Saikyou Gundan Ogre Shuurai Inazuma Eleven: Saikyou Gundan Ogre Shuurai -- An organization in the future sends the specially trained Team Ogre to defeat Endou Mamoru and his team, to prevent him from influencing the world with his soccer. -- -- (Source: AniDB) -- Movie - Dec 23, 2010 -- 20,845 7.32
Kakegurui×× -- -- MAPPA -- 12 eps -- Manga -- Drama Game Mystery Psychological School Shounen -- Kakegurui×× Kakegurui×× -- As Yumeko Jabami's fame grows and the reputation of the student council dwindles, Kirari Momobami decides to revolutionize the group. To this end, she announces an election for its next president. The rules are simple: each student in the school receives one chip. Whoever has the most chips by the end of thirty days becomes both the new president and the head of the Momobami clan. -- -- Upon receiving news of this development, the Momobami branch families spring into action. Eleven transfer students arrive at Hyakkao Private Academy, each aiming to lead both the school and the Momobami clan. Equipped with unique talents, they will compete to get as many chips as possible—but their chips are not the only things on the line. -- -- 480,876 7.28
Koe no Katachi -- -- Kyoto Animation -- 1 ep -- Manga -- Drama School Shounen -- Koe no Katachi Koe no Katachi -- As a wild youth, elementary school student Shouya Ishida sought to beat boredom in the cruelest ways. When the deaf Shouko Nishimiya transfers into his class, Shouya and the rest of his class thoughtlessly bully her for fun. However, when her mother notifies the school, he is singled out and blamed for everything done to her. With Shouko transferring out of the school, Shouya is left at the mercy of his classmates. He is heartlessly ostracized all throughout elementary and middle school, while teachers turn a blind eye. -- -- Now in his third year of high school, Shouya is still plagued by his wrongdoings as a young boy. Sincerely regretting his past actions, he sets out on a journey of redemption: to meet Shouko once more and make amends. -- -- Koe no Katachi tells the heartwarming tale of Shouya's reunion with Shouko and his honest attempts to redeem himself, all while being continually haunted by the shadows of his past. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Eleven Arts, NYAV Post -- Movie - Sep 17, 2016 -- 1,504,877 8.99
Koukaku Kidoutai: Stand Alone Complex 2nd GIG -- -- Production I.G -- 26 eps -- Manga -- Action Military Sci-Fi Mystery Police Mecha Seinen -- Koukaku Kidoutai: Stand Alone Complex 2nd GIG Koukaku Kidoutai: Stand Alone Complex 2nd GIG -- Following the closure of the "Laughing Man" case, Section 9 is re-established by Japan's newly elected Prime Minister, Youko Kayabuki, to combat the persistent threat of cyber-terrorism. -- -- A group calling themselves "The Individual Eleven" has begun committing acts of terror across Japan. While Motoko Kusanagi, Daisuke Aramaki, Batou, and the other members of Section 9 investigate this new menace, the Japanese government faces a separate crisis, as foreign refugees displaced by the Third World War seek asylum in Japan. But as the members of the special-ops team continually encounter Gouda Kazundo—a leading member of the Cabinet Intelligence Service—in their hunt, they begin to suspect that he may be involved, and that the events of the refugee crisis and The Individual Eleven may be more connected than they realize... -- -- -- Licensor: -- Bandai Entertainment, Manga Entertainment -- TV - Jan 1, 2004 -- 194,747 8.54
Koukaku Kidoutai: Stand Alone Complex 2nd GIG - Individual Eleven -- -- Production I.G -- 1 ep -- - -- Action Sci-Fi Mecha -- Koukaku Kidoutai: Stand Alone Complex 2nd GIG - Individual Eleven Koukaku Kidoutai: Stand Alone Complex 2nd GIG - Individual Eleven -- Compilation movie of the "Individual Eleven" story from Ghost in the Shell: SAC 2nd Gig series. -- -- (Source: AniDB) -- -- Licensor: -- Bandai Entertainment, Manga Entertainment -- Special - Jan 27, 2006 -- 25,741 8.02
Mirai Nikki -- -- Asread -- 1 ep -- Manga -- Action Supernatural Shounen -- Mirai Nikki Mirai Nikki -- A short OVA that was bundled with the limited edition of the eleventh volume of the manga. -- OVA - Dec 9, 2010 -- 192,864 7.25
Ongaku Shoujo (TV) -- -- Studio Deen -- 12 eps -- Original -- Music Slice of Life -- Ongaku Shoujo (TV) Ongaku Shoujo (TV) -- There are eleven girls that consist the C-class Ongaku Shoujo idol unit under Pine Records. Despite generating red sales marks and not being very popular, Producer Ikebashi and the members are trying their very best to up their levels. Nevertheless, Ikebashi suggests recruiting a new member for Ongaku Shoujo; someone who can act as a catalyst for the success of the group. Thus, an audition was opened, leading to the soon-to-be legendary group's meeting to a girl named Hanako. -- -- (Source: MAL News) -- 13,134 5.95
Penguin Highway -- -- Studio Colorido -- 1 ep -- Novel -- Fantasy Sci-Fi -- Penguin Highway Penguin Highway -- Schoolboy Aoyama is bright, inquisitive and a bit headstrong. He has a lot of brainwork to get busy with – after all, he'll be an adult in just a few thousand days. For the moment, though, he'll have to live life as a fourth-grader. Not that it's a bad life. -- -- Summer has arrived and school's nearly out. He has a crush on an intriguing older woman he's met at his dentist's office, who's coaching him in his chess game. And a colony of penguins has materialized in the middle of Aoyama's sleepy little town. Where on Earth – or elsewhere – did these waddling interlopers come from? Aoyama and his friends embark on a research mission, applying rigorous scientific methods and principles. Their discoveries, however, only lead to ever more puzzling wonders... -- -- (Source: Fantasia) -- -- Licensor: -- Eleven Arts -- Movie - Aug 17, 2018 -- 49,145 7.63
Poputepipikku -- -- Kamikaze Douga -- 12 eps -- 4-koma manga -- Comedy Dementia Parody -- Poputepipikku Poputepipikku -- Poputepipikku turns absurdist comedy up to eleven with its pop culture references and surreal hilarity. With two bonafide high school girl protagonists—the short and exceptionally quick to anger Popuko, and the tall and unshakably calm Pipimi—they throw genres against the wall and don't wait to see what sticks. Parody is interlaced with drama, action, crudeness, and the show's overarching goal—to become a real anime. -- -- 174,464 7.28
Poputepipikku -- -- Kamikaze Douga -- 12 eps -- 4-koma manga -- Comedy Dementia Parody -- Poputepipikku Poputepipikku -- Poputepipikku turns absurdist comedy up to eleven with its pop culture references and surreal hilarity. With two bonafide high school girl protagonists—the short and exceptionally quick to anger Popuko, and the tall and unshakably calm Pipimi—they throw genres against the wall and don't wait to see what sticks. Parody is interlaced with drama, action, crudeness, and the show's overarching goal—to become a real anime. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation, Sentai Filmworks -- 174,464 7.28
Sayonara no Asa ni Yakusoku no Hana wo Kazarou -- -- P.A. Works -- 1 ep -- Original -- Drama Fantasy -- Sayonara no Asa ni Yakusoku no Hana wo Kazarou Sayonara no Asa ni Yakusoku no Hana wo Kazarou -- Maquia is a member of a special race called the Iorph—mystical beings who can live for hundreds of years and remain separate from the lives and daily troubles of mankind. However, Maquia has always felt lonely despite being surrounded by her people, as she was orphaned from a young age. She daydreams about the outside world, but dares not travel from her home due to the warnings of the clan's chief. -- -- One day however, the outside world finds her, as the power-hungry kingdom of Mezarte invades her homeland. They already have what is left of the giant dragons, the Renato, under their control, and now their king wishes to add the immortality of the Iorph to his bloodline. -- -- The humans and their Renato ravage the Iorph homeland and kill most of its inhabitants. Caught in the midst of the attack, Maquia is carried off by one of the Renato that has gone berserk. It soon dies, and she is left deserted in a forest far from home, now truly alone save for the cries of a single baby off in the distance. Maquia finds the baby in a destroyed village and decides to raise him as her own, naming him Ariel. Although she knows nothing of the human world, how to raise a child that ages much faster than her, or how to live with the smoldering loneliness inside, she is determined to make it all work somehow. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Eleven Arts, Shout! Factory -- Movie - Feb 24, 2018 -- 264,866 8.44
Sennen Joyuu -- -- Madhouse -- 1 ep -- Original -- Action Adventure Drama Fantasy Historical Romance -- Sennen Joyuu Sennen Joyuu -- At the turn of the millennium, Ginei Studio's dilapidated buildings are set to be demolished. Ex-employee and filmmaker Genya Tachibana decides to honor this occasion with a commemorative documentary about the company's star actress: Chiyoko Fujiwara, the reclusive sweetheart of Shouwa Era cinema. Having finally obtained permission to interview the retired starlet, an enamored Genya drags along cynical cameraman Kyouji Ida to meet her, ready to put his lifelong idol back in the spotlight once more. -- -- Hidden in this secluded mountain retreat is a thousand years of history condensed into one lifetime, waiting to be narrated. Chiyoko's recollections take them on an illusionary journey through Japanese cinematic history that transcends the boundaries of reality; the saga of her acting career intertwines with her filmography, the actors in her life blend seamlessly with the characters on screen, and the present melds with the past. Though the actress may have retired at the height of her career 30 years ago, the curtain on her life's stage has yet to fall. -- -- -- Licensor: -- DreamWorks, Eleven Arts -- Movie - Sep 14, 2002 -- 131,992 8.27
Shirobako Movie -- -- P.A. Works -- 1 ep -- Original -- Comedy Drama -- Shirobako Movie Shirobako Movie -- The film's story is set four years after the events of the original Shirobako anime. Aoi Miyamori keeps busy dealing with the ordinary troubles in her daily work at Musashino Animation. After a morning meeting, Watanabe talks to Aoi and puts her in charge of a new theatrical anime project for the studio. The project has unexpected problems, and Aoi is unsure if the company can proceed with a theatrical anime with its current state of affairs. While dealing with that anxiety, Aoi meets a new colleague named Kaede Miyai (voiced by Ayane Sakura). She and the MusAni team work together to complete the project. -- -- (Source: ANN) -- -- Licensor: -- Eleven Arts -- Movie - Feb 29, 2020 -- 32,391 7.82
Soukou no Strain -- -- Studio Fantasia -- 13 eps -- Original -- Drama Ecchi Mecha Military Sci-Fi Space -- Soukou no Strain Soukou no Strain -- Eleven-year-old Sara Werec's elder brother, Ralph, was sent to the frontlines of an interstellar war 130 light years away, and Sara vowed to reunite with him one day as a comrade. Five years later, Sara is a student at Grapera Space Armed Soldier Academy, training to become a Reasoner, a pilot of an advanced weapons system called a "Strain." -- -- When the academy is suddenly attacked by enemy forces, Sara enters battle against a Strain that quickly overpowers her. After incapacitating her, the pilot reveals himself to be her Ralph. Killing all the other students and destroying the school, he disappears, leaving Sara to question everything she has ever known. Soukou no Strain is the story of Sara as she reenters training under a new name, now determined to confront her brother and make sense of her brother's actions. -- -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation -- TV - Nov 2, 2006 -- 20,207 7.06
Super Lovers OVA -- -- Studio Deen -- 2 eps -- Manga -- Slice of Life Comedy Drama Romance Shounen Ai -- Super Lovers OVA Super Lovers OVA -- Bundled with manga's tenth and eleventh volume. -- -- Licensor: -- Funimation -- OVA - Jan 1, 2017 -- 23,704 7.38
Super Lovers OVA -- -- Studio Deen -- 2 eps -- Manga -- Slice of Life Comedy Drama Romance Shounen Ai -- Super Lovers OVA Super Lovers OVA -- Bundled with manga's tenth and eleventh volume. -- OVA - Jan 1, 2017 -- 23,704 7.38
Uchuu no Hou: Reimei-hen -- -- HS Pictures Studio -- 1 ep -- Original -- Sci-Fi Space -- Uchuu no Hou: Reimei-hen Uchuu no Hou: Reimei-hen -- University students, Ray, Anna, Tyler, Halle, and Eisuke are enjoying college life and pursuing their dreams, but in reality, They have a secret mission, to fight against invading Reptilians from outer space. One day, Ray travels back in time to 330 million years ago on Earth, to find his missing friend Tyler who has fallen into a trap set by the evil alien, Dahar. During that time, Alpha, the God of the Earth, was planning to create a new civilization on Earth and invited Queen Zamza and her fellow Reptilian from the planet Zeta, to Earth. -- -- What is the intention of Dahar? What will happen to Ray and Tyler? -- -- And what is “the plan of the God of the Earth"? -- -- (Source: Eleven Arts) -- Movie - Oct 12, 2018 -- 1,370 5.42
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