Far Better Things...

The Library

A place I could spend hours in...

I have heard it said before that the library is the place to consult heroes.

It is where we get a snapshot of what someone's life looked like.  It is where we are taught and where we form our opinions.

One of my favorite summer pastimes...go and spend hours in a library. Pick a subject, grab a handful of books, then read and read. Go on rabbit trails.

Summer is for reading!


Until next time,
Happy Reading!

A Quick Update

Dear Friend, 

I has been way too long.

But don't worry, I have still been reading.

On my mind tonight is this short passage from C.S. Lewis' Last Battle. 

An excellent ending to a series that each time I read I discover something new.

Happy Reading!

Hunger Games

Well, up until now, I have pretty much written about classics and poetry, which are my favorites...but then I read Hunger Games.
It is so hard to describe this book, I have never read one quite like this one (nor have I read three books in one week...during school too). It was quite the emotional ride, but in the end, I seemed to be satisfied.  Its amazing what Suzanne Collins was able to do with this book.  It was entertaining, certainly, but it could also be considered a sort of commentary on government, which makes it very thought provoking.
After feverishly reading this book for the past week, when I finished, I hardly knew what to do with myself.  Should I cry or cheer? I ended up doing a little of both I think.
So, here's some quotes, just to get you interested

“Deep in the meadow, hidden far away
A cloak of leaves, a moonbeam ray
Forget your woes and let your troubles lay
And when it's morning again, they'll wash away
Here it's safe, here it's warm
Here the daisies guard you from every harm
Here your dreams are sweet and tomorrow brings them true
Here is the place where I love you.” 

“You know, you could live a thousand lifetimes and not deserve him.” 

“What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.” 

“I think....you still have no idea. The effect you can have.”

Psalm 144

The Bible is the greatest piece of literature and the ultimate story, because it is a living Word.  It applies to every aspect of our complicated lives.  Psalm 144 is one of my favorite passages of Scripture, and so I thought that I would share it with you.  Lately, I have been looking up Scripture in Strong's Concordance and reading the Word in different translations so as to get the full meaning of the words.  One thing that I have been doing with this is writing down my own version of the verses in my journal.  Through this, I have really begun to be able to understand the deeper meanings behind the words and it has been very interesting to me.  I am posting Psalm 144 in the Amplified Version, but I would encourage you to look it up in several different editions and also on Strong's Concordance, here is the link 

http://www.blueletterbible.org/Bible.cfm?b=Psa&c=144&v=1&t=KJV#1

[A Psalm] of David.

 ¹BLESSED BE the Lord, my Rock and my keen and firm Strength, Who teaches my hands to war and my fingers to fight--

    ²My Steadfast Love and my Fortress, my High Tower and my Deliverer, my Shield and He in Whom I trust and take refuge, Who subdues my people under me.

    ³Lord, what is man that You take notice of him? Or [the] son of man that You take account of him?^(A)

    ⁴Man is like vanity and a breath; his days are as a shadow that passes away.

    ⁵Bow Your heavens, O Lord, and come down; touch the mountains, and they shall smoke.

    ⁶Cast forth lightning and scatter [my enemies]; send out Your arrows and embarrass and frustrate them.

    ⁷Stretch forth Your hand from above; rescue me and deliver me out of great waters, from the hands of hostile aliens (tribes around us)

    ⁸Whose mouths speak deceit and whose right hands are right hands [raised in taking] fraudulent oaths.

    ⁹I will sing a new song to You, O God; upon a harp, an instrument of ten strings, will I offer praises to You.

    ¹⁰You are He Who gives salvation to kings, Who rescues David His servant from the hurtful sword [of evil].

    ¹¹Rescue me and deliver me out of the power of [hostile] alien [tribes] whose mouths speak deceit and whose right hands are right hands [raised in taking] fraudulent oaths.

    ¹²When our sons shall be as plants grown large in their youth and our daughters as sculptured corner pillars hewn like those of a palace;

    ¹³When our garners are full, affording all manner of store, and our sheep bring forth thousands and ten thousands in our pastures;

    ¹⁴When our oxen are well loaded; when there is no invasion [of hostile armies] and no going forth [against besiegers--when there is no murder or manslaughter] and no outcry in our streets;

    ¹⁵Happy and blessed are the people who are in such a case; yes, happy (blessed, fortunate, prosperous, to be envied) are the people whose God is the Lord!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: A Psalm of Life

It has been such a long time since I have posted anything!
I was flipping through my Longfellow book and came across this poem that I really enjoyed.

A Psalm of Life

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
        Life is but an empty dream ! —
    For the soul is dead that slumbers,
        And things are not what they seem.
    Life is real !   Life is earnest!
        And the grave is not its goal ;
    Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
        Was not spoken of the soul.
    Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
        Is our destined end or way ;
    But to act, that each to-morrow
        Find us farther than to-day.
    Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
        And our hearts, though stout and brave,
    Still, like muffled drums, are beating
        Funeral marches to the grave.
    In the world's broad field of battle,
        In the bivouac of Life,
    Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
        Be a hero in the strife !
    Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
        Let the dead Past bury its dead !
    Act,— act in the living Present !
        Heart within, and God o'erhead !
    Lives of great men all remind us
        We can make our lives sublime,
    And, departing, leave behind us
        Footprints on the sands of time ;
    Footprints, that perhaps another,
        Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
    A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
        Seeing, shall take heart again.
    Let us, then, be up and doing,
        With a heart for any fate ;
    Still achieving, still pursuing,
        Learn to labor and to wait.

The Scarlet Pimpernel: Emmuska Orczy

This is a book that I read several years ago, and just decided to pick it up again this summer.  Emmuska Orczy does an excellent job of giving vivid description while leaving details out for the readers imagine.  I would highly recommend this book because of its redeeming qualities and self-sacrifice that are an essential part of the story.
Here is a brief summary of the story to get you interested: This story occurs during the French revolution, when the people rose up to throw off the restraint of the French Aristocracy.  The British are sympathetic towards the French "arito's," and one Englishman in particular has sworn to save all that he can from the guillotine.  He forms "the league of the scarlet pimpernel," the name of a common English flower.  This book is about his daring adventures to save a family of French aristocrats while his enemies are plotting to discover his identity.

Here is a brief excerpt from the book, when Sir Percy (the Scarlet Pimpernel) and his wife just parted from each other.

"Had she but turned back then, and looked out once more on to the rose-lit garden, she would have seen that which would have made her own sufferings seem but light and easy to bear--a strong man, overwhelmed with his own passion and despair. Pride had given way at last, obstinacy was gone: the will was powerless. He was but a man madly, blindly, passionately in love and as soon as her light footstep had died away within the house, he knelt down upon the terrace steps, and in the very madness of his love he kissed one by one the places where her small foot had trodden, and the stone balustrade, where her tiny hand had rested last."