PATIENCE, hard thing! the hard thing but to pray, But bid for, Patience is! Patience who asks Wants war, wants wounds; weary his times, his tasks; To do without, take tosses, and obey. Rare patience roots in these, and, these away, Nowhere. Natural heart's ivy, Patience masks Our ruins of wrecked past purpose. There she basks Purple eyes and seas of liquid leaves all day.
We hear our hearts grate on themselves: it kills To bruise them dearer. Yet the rebellious wills Of us we do bid God bend to him even so. And where is he who more and more distils Delicious kindness? -- He is patient. Patience fills His crisp combs, and that comes those ways we know.
Writing is like making coffee in a french press. It’s good
to let your thoughts brew for a while, sloshing around in the coffee grounds of
your mind, but eventually you have to push down the strainer and pour out the
coffee.
This morning, Alice (4) taught her younger brother Clive about knives: "Oh!! Don't touch that Clive! It's ouchie! It's so ouchie it will make you bleed!"
I think that's a pretty good explanation of cuts. :)
I've done it. My friends no longer need be ashamed to acknowledge me. I've finally read Lord of the Rings all the way through....and I liked it. Not that there was any doubt of its being admirable, but I did doubt the worth of my own taste. Any road, it was good. :)
I read the part of Fellowship of the Ring today where the hobbits get
lost in the old forest, and the trees are leading them to the Withywindle
to be captured. Then I went out into the swamp for a walk, and managed
to get myself "lost." Of course, I really always knew where I was and
where the house was (the only two things that really matter in the
swamp :)), but I didn't always know how to get where I wanted to go. I
had to keep reminding myself that the bushes weren't actually out to
get me. The swamp can make some deceptive trails all on its own --
places where the bushes open invitingly and draw you in and on until
suddenly you find yourself up against a wall of brambles or a deep part
of the creek. I must admit that I looked suspiciously at the fir trees
every time that happened...and held my breath while I was ducking
through them, as if I had been going under water. But I made it home in
the end, despite the trees.
