Quotes | dual personalities

“The first time we met, we hated each other.”*

by chuckofish

“What happens to me when I’m provoked is that I get tongue-tied and my mind goes blank. Then I spend all night tossing and turning trying to figure out what I should have said.”

The story of my life. And Nora Ephron’s, it would appear. Today is Nora’s birthday (1941–2012). Nora had a lot to say about Life and she was very amusing and I usually agree with her.

“Here are some questions I am constantly noodling over: Do you splurge or do you hoard? Do you live every day as if it’s your last, or do you save your money on the chance you’ll live twenty more years? Is life too short, or is it going to be too long? Do you work as hard as you can, or do you slow down to smell the roses? And where do carbohydrates fit into all this? Are we really all going to spend our last years avoiding bread, especially now that bread in America is so unbelievably delicious? And what about chocolate?”

And my favorite–

“Sometimes I think that not having to worry about your hair anymore is the secret upside of death.”

So in honor of Nora, let’s watch one of her movies: When Harry Met Sally (1989), My Blue Heaven (1990), Sleepless in Seattle (1993), You’ve Got Mail (1998)…

“Sometimes I wonder about my life. I lead a small life – well, valuable, but small – and sometimes I wonder, do I do it because I like it, or because I haven’t been brave? So much of what I see reminds me of something I read in a book, when shouldn’t it be the other way around? I don’t really want an answer. I just want to send this cosmic question out into the void. So good night, dear void.”

I have to admit I have a real soft spot for this one:

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After all, laughter is good medicine. Maybe the best medicine.

“I loathed being sixty-four, and I will hate being sixty-five. I don’t let on about such things in person; in person, I am cheerful and Pollyanna-ish. But the honest truth is that it’s sad to be over sixty. The long shadows are everywhere—friends dying and battling illness. A miasma of melancholy hangs there, forcing you to deal with the fact that your life, however happy and successful, has been full of disappointments and mistakes, little ones and big ones. There are dreams that are never quite going to come true, ambitions that will never quite be realized. There are, in short, regrets. Edith Piaf was famous for singing a song called “Non, je ne regrette rien.” It’s a good song. I know what she meant. I can get into it; I can make a case that I regret nothing. After all, most of my mistakes turned out to be things I survived, or turned into funny stories, or, on occasion, even made money from.”

Have a good weekend! Wanna see a monkey?

*Harry Burns in When Harry met Sally

6 Comments

Make My Heart a House of Prayer*

by chuckofish

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Henry Thomas Bosdet, Jesus Before his Crucifixion

Good Friday. It should be a day of reflection, but I have to work, as usual.

Here are a few poems and images to help us stay focused.

Good Friday
Christina Rossetti

Am I a stone, and not a sheep,
That I can stand, O Christ, beneath Thy cross,
To number drop by drop Thy blood’s slow loss,
And yet not weep?

Not so those women loved
Who with exceeding grief lamented Thee;
Not so fallen Peter weeping bitterly;
Not so the thief was moved;

Not so the Sun and Moon
Which hid their faces in a starless sky,
A horror of great darkness at broad noon –
I, only I.

Yet give not o’er,
But seek Thy sheep, true Shepherd of the flock;
Greater than Moses, turn and look once more
And smite a rock.

John Singer Sargent, 1903, Boston Public Library

Good Friday
George Herbert

Oh my chief good,
How shall I measure out thy blood?
How shall I count what thee befell,
And each grief tell?

Shall I thy woes
Number according to thy foes?
Or, since one star show’d thy first breath,
Shall all thy death?

Or shall each leaf,
Which falls in Autumn, score a grief?
Or cannot leaves, but fruit, be sign,
Of the true vine?

Then let each hour
Of my whole life one grief devour;
That thy distress through all may run,
And be my sun.

Or rather let
My several sins their sorrows get;
That, as each beast his cure doth know,
Each sin may so.

Since blood is fittest, Lord, to write
Thy sorrows in, and bloody fight;
My heart hath store; write there, where in
One box doth lie both ink and sin:

That when Sin spies so many foes,
Thy whips, thy nails, thy wounds, thy woes,
All come to lodge there, Sin may say,
No room for me, and fly away.

Sin being gone, O fill the place,
And keep possession with thy grace;
Lest sin take courage and return,
And all the writings blot or burn.

The Crucifixion, from the Life of Our Lord, published by the Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge, London, 1880

So whatever you do today, keep in mind that it is Good Friday.

The Robe (1953)

But far be it from me to glory except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. (Galatians 6:14)

*Charles Wesley

3 Comments

How are things in Glocca Morra?

by chuckofish

Daughter #2 made it safely to flyover land and to my office yesterday where she graded mid-terms and I got some work done.

In the afternoon we went to the hospital to see the both wee babes.

Later the boy came over to our house with Lottiebelle for dinner (daughter #3 was in class) and we had more time to hold and stare. Nothing better.

Today, we repeat. Have a good one!

Behold, children are a gift of the LORD,
The fruit of the womb is a reward.

Like arrows in the hand of a warrior,
So are the children of one’s youth.

How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them;
They will not be ashamed
When they speak with their enemies in the gate.

Psalm 127: 3-5

3 Comments

“Oh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky.”*

by chuckofish

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“Children are still the way you were as a child, sad and happy in just the same way–and if you think of your childhood, you once again live among them, among the solitary children.”

― Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet

It has been a busy week. Little Lottiebelle went home.

She also had her first appointment at the pediatrician’s office.

The little guy had to stay in the NICU, but he got a new pair of little man boat shoes. OMG. Can you stand it?

He came through his hernia surgery yesterday like a champ. We are hoping he’ll come home next week.

This weekend I’m going to get ready for the arrival of daughter #1 on Tuesday and then daughter #1 on Friday for a bridal shower next Saturday. You know, this means stocking the fridge/pantry with Diet Coke, white wine, leafy greens, and Flaming Hot Cheetos.

I’ll be ready.

In the meantime, did you know that S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders turns 50 this year? It may be time to re-read this classic.

“I’ve been thinking about it, and that poem, that guy that wrote it, he meant you’re gold when you’re a kid, like green. When you’re a kid everything’s new, dawn. It’s just when you get used to everything that it’s day. Like the way you dig sunsets, Pony. That’s gold. Keep that way, it’s a good way to be. I want you to tell Dally to look at one. He’ll probably think you’re crazy, but ask for me. I don’t think he’s ever really seen a sunset. And don’t be so bugged over being a greaser. You still have a lot of time to make yourself be what you want. There’s still lots of good in the world. Tell Dally. I don’t think he knows.

Stay gold, Ponyboy.”

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Have a good weekend!

*Herman Melville, Moby-Dick; the top photo is little ANC III with ANC jr. on a beach in Italy in the mid-1920s

8 Comments

March 9, 2017

Food for thought

by chuckofish

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How meanly and miserably we live for the most part! We escape fate continually by the skin of our teeth, as the saying is. We are practically desperate. But as any man, in respect to material wealth, aims to become independent or wealthy, so, in respect to our spirits and imagination, we should have some spare capital and superfluous vigor, have some margin and leeway in which to move. What kind of gift is life unless we have spirits to enjoy it and taste its true flavor? if, in respect to spirits, we are to be forever cramped and in debt?

–Henry David Thoreau, Journals

As for [William] Blake’s happiness–a man who knew him said: “If asked whether I ever knew among the intellectual, a happy man, Blake would be the only one who would immediately occur to me.”

And yet this creative power in Blake did not come from ambition. …He burned most of his own work. Because he said, “I should be sorry if I had any earthly fame, for whatever natural glory a man has is so much detracted from his spiritual glory. I wish to do nothing for profit. I wish to live for art. I want nothing whatever. I am quite happy.”

…He did not mind death in the least. He said that to him it was just like going into another room. On the day of his death he composed songs to his Maker and sang them for his wife to hear. Just before he died his countenance became fair, his eyes brightened and he burst into singing of the things he saw in heaven. ”

–Brenda Ueland, If You Want to Write

In the empty night hours I can still walk through the streets. Dawn may surprise me on a bench in Garay Park, thinking (trying to think) of the passage in the Asrar Nama where it says that the Zahir is the shadow of the Rose and the Rending of the Veil. I associate that saying with this bit of information: In order to lose themselves in God, the Sufis recite their own names, or the ninety-nine divine names, until they become meaningless. I long to travel that path. Perhaps I shall conclude by wearing away the Zahir simply through thinking of it again and again. Perhaps behind the coin I shall find God.

–Jorge Luis Borges, The Zahir

Discuss among yourselves.

(The photo is of Lew Wallace)

3 Comments

March 8, 2017

“I can do all things through him who gives me strength.”*

by chuckofish

“It is not work that kills men; it is worry. Work is healthy; you can hardly put more upon a man than he can bear. Worry is the rust upon the blade. It is not the revolution which destroys the machinery but the friction. Fear secretes acids; but love and trust are sweet juices.”

–Henry Ward Beecher

A toast tonight to Henry Ward Beecher, American Congregationalist clergyman, firebrand preacher, and social reformer, who died on this day 130 years ago.

Here’s an interesting story about the history of Beecher’s Brooklyn church.

Also, I just learned that the writer Nancy Willard died last month. I met her about twenty years ago when she visited my high school alma mater and I had dinner with her and drove her around in my old 240 wagon. I thought she was a very nice person, who had a lot of interesting things to say about the writing life. We were simpatico I thought. Into paradise may the angels lead you, Nancy. At your coming may the martyrs receive you, and bring you into the holy city Jerusalem.

*Philippians 4:13

4 Comments

February 28, 2017

“Blow the trumpet in Zion!”

by chuckofish

Tonight we dine on pancakes. That’s as crazy as it gets at my house.

Seriously though, I really cannot believe that Lent is upon us. March is a super busy month and will whiz by, I just know it. So maybe I’ll try to slow things down a bit in Lent by intentionally not hurrying and taking my own sweet time.

“Never let a hurried lifestyle disturb the relationship of abiding in Him.”

–Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

“Lay aside this ardor of mind, which exhausts your body, and leads you to commit errors. Accustom yourself gradually to carry prayer into all your daily occupations. Speak, move, work, in peace, as if you were in prayer, as indeed you ought to be. Do everything without excitement, by the spirit of grace. As soon as you perceive your natural impetuosity gliding in, retire quietly within, where is the kingdom of God. Listen to the leadings of grace, then say and do nothing but what the Holy Spirit shall put in your heart. You will find that you become more tranquil, that your words will be fewer and more effectual, and that, with less effort, you will accomplish more good.”

–Francois de la Mothe Fenelon

Enjoy your pancakes! (I know I will.)

*Joel 2:1

3 Comments

February 23, 2017

“Courage, dear heart”

by chuckofish

“Lucy looked along the beam and presently saw something in it. At first it looked like a cross, then it looked like an aeroplane, then it looked like a kite, and at last with a whirring of wings it was right overhead and was an albatross. It circled three times round the mast and then perched for an instant on the crest of the gilded dragon at the prow. It called out in a strong sweet voice what seemed to be words though no one understood them. After that it spread its wings, rose, and began to fly slowly ahead, bearing a little to starboard. Drinian steered after it not doubting that it offered good guidance. But no one but Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, “Courage, dear heart,” and the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan’s, and with the voice a delicious smell breathed in her face.”

–C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader

4 Comments

February 13, 2017

“Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, for the facing of the hour”*

by chuckofish

Spring seemed on the verge of arriving this weekend with temps in the 70s and new life bursting forth all over.

Screen Shot 2017-02-12 at 2.55.05 PM.png But this happens every year and we know not to be fooled–the cold weather will return.

The OM and I went to see the wee babes this weekend according to our new routine.

The little gal thinks, “My, Pappy, what big glasses you have!”

As you can see, they are making great strides and are mastering the “suck, swallow, breath” drill. Even the little guy, who is still only 4 lbs, 8 oz., is beginning to have that chubby baby look at last. They are doing fine.

I went to church and there were very few people there. (I wondered whether people thought going to Joe’s funeral on Thursday let them off the hook.) After church, I had lunch with my pals and we marveled at how busy we are. I did find time over the weekend to finish The Transit of Venus. You know, it takes longer to read a book to which you have to pay such close attention. I felt while reading it that I was just barely smart enough to appreciate it.

You might have said, What beauty. Instead Caro introduced herself. Monosyllables were planted like bollards, closing every avenue. The boy had not forgotten what to say: he had chosen a part with no lines. He was cool, and except for the wrists, unruffled. One talked as if to a child. “What’s your name, where do you go to school?” His name was Felix, and he was to go somewhere–no doubt Oxford, or doubtless Cambridge–in the autumn. When someone else came up he disappeared instantly, having somehow stuck it out till then.

Shirley Hazzard, wow.

Now it is Monday again. Take it slow. Savor the moment. Live in the now.

*Hymn #594, Harry Emerson Fosdick

7 Comments

February 9, 2017

A quiet heart

by chuckofish

In quietness and in confidence shall be your strength. (Isaiah 30:15)

It is always weakness to be fretting and worrying, questioning and mis-trusting. What can we do if we wear ourselves to skin and bone? Can we gain anything by fearing and fuming? Do we not unfit ourselves for action and unhinge our minds for wise decision? We are sinking by our struggles when we might float by faith.

Oh, for grace to be quiet! Why run from house to house to repeat the weary story which makes us more and more heart-sick as we tell it? Why even stay at home to cry out in agony because of wretched forebodings which may never be fulfilled? It would be well to keep a quiet tongue, but it would be far better if we had a quiet heart. Oh, to be still and know that Jehovah is God!

Oh, for grace to be confident in God! The holy One of Israel must defend and deliver His own. He cannot run back from His solemn declarations. We may make sure that every word of His will stand though the mountains should depart. He deserves to be confided in; and if we would display confidence and consequent quietness, we might be as happy as the spirits before the throne.

Come, my soul, return unto thy rest, and lean thy head upon the bosom of the Lord Jesus.

–C.H. Spurgeon, Faith’s Checkbook

One thing I have learned as I get older is that worrying gets us nowhere.

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life?”

(Matt 6:25-27)

Not worrying takes work. And patience. And faith.

Trusting that God is in control is key. And also freeing. Thy will be done.

Blue and White Tea Cups by Laura Lacambra Shubert (Pinterest)

3 Comments

dual personalities

Category: Quotes

May 19, 2017

“The first time we met, we hated each other.”*

by chuckofish

April 14, 2017

Make My Heart a House of Prayer*

by chuckofish

March 22, 2017

How are things in Glocca Morra?

by chuckofish

March 17, 2017

“Oh, Starbuck! it is a mild, mild wind, and a mild looking sky.”*

by chuckofish

March 9, 2017

Food for thought

by chuckofish

March 8, 2017

“I can do all things through him who gives me strength.”*

by chuckofish

February 28, 2017

“Blow the trumpet in Zion!”

by chuckofish

February 23, 2017

“Courage, dear heart”

by chuckofish

February 13, 2017

“Grant us wisdom, grant us courage, for the facing of the hour”*

by chuckofish

February 9, 2017

A quiet heart

by chuckofish