Dante 1265-1312 Inferno, Purgatorio, Paradiso Representing the summit of human knowledge, Virgil guides Dante through the descending circles of the pit of Hell. Passing Satan at the pit’s bottom, at dead center, Dante and Virgil then emerge on the beach of the island mountain called Purgatory. Repentant sinners are being purged, and Virgil departs, having led Dante as far as human knowledge can.
Now, at the threshold of Paradise, Dante meets Beatrice. She embodies the knowledge of the divine mysteries bestowed by Grace, who leads him through the successive ascending levels of Heaven to the Empyrean, and there he is allowed to glimpse the glory of God, but only for a moment. I read one of three: Inferno. Reading grade level is about 12.8, 12th grade or college freshman. On April 30, 1921, Pope Benedict XV promulgated an encyclical, In praeclara summorum, naming Dante as one “of the many celebrated geniuses of whom the Catholic faith can boast” and the “pride and glory of humanity”. Praeclara means excellent. Be sure to listen. There is a surprise at the end. Shakespeare wrote the poem about Anne Line and her husband, Roger Line.
According to Wikipedia, “Line was hanged on 27 February 1601. She was executed immediately before two priests, Roger Filcock and Mark Barkworth, who received the more severe sentence of hanging, drawing, and quartering. “At the scaffold she repeated what she had said at her trial, declaring loudly to the bystanders: ‘I am sentenced to die for harbouring a Catholic priest, and so far I am from repenting for having so done, that I wish, with all my soul, that where I have entertained one, I could have entertained a thousand.’” Obsequy means funeral rites. World War I
poem published May 1, 1914, three months before Thomas Hardy 1840-1928 Baudelaire (1821-1867) was a Catholic.
He was deemed scandalous and intentionally provocative. I think he was deeply Catholic, writing on a wide range of subjects, perceiving the truth behind sanctimony, and provoking criticism and outrage. I like that. As far as I see it, sanctimony cuts across all lines, race, ethnicity, education, religion, and economics. In media res
The Latin phrase, now part of everyday English, “in media res,” means “in the middle of things,” and is a literary device that describes a story that begins in the middle of the action/plot. Novels, films, and video games do this. Think middle. Flashback A flashback, sometimes called analepsis or backstory, is an interjected scene that takes the narrative back in time from the current point in the story often to recount crucial events that happened before the primary sequence of events, sometimes a character’s involuntary but powerful, recurring memory. Think back. The two terms are different. You know how crazy I am about Latin. “No matter how confounding the case, Sherlock Holmes always finds the quaesitum.” Without looking up the meaning, just from context, which is what the SAT vocabulary section is all about now, can you guess what quaesitum means? A) meeting B) required C) inquiry D) clue. D is wrong.
If you call General Mills headquarters for culinary advice, 'Betty Crocker' will answer. She is a living fictitious character.
Just some prefatory remarks before the story begins. Some people wonder why I am Catholic. I am an outsider, which these people know, but they do not understand Catholicism atall. I don’t engage in asking why, because the question is unanswerable. I learned that as a patrol officer. The story is an indirect expression of what I know. A ghost story from this perspective is unlike modern, paranormal ship. I claim to be a writer, but I am just a simple Catholic, and though encounters spur writing, I’d rather read and listen than associate. Description in this story is wondrous. “A popular example of a copyleft is the Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike licenses used for works of art. This license allows work to be redistributed and reused as long as the creator is credited, and any derivatives of that work are also made available under the same type of license.
“This allows for the distribution of some digital art without payment to use it, which has become an important distinction in a chronically online world. So, if you own a copyright product and grant others the right to use it too, that’s a copyleft.” -Wordgenius.com I use Creative Commons frequently for artwork and photos. You will see the citation under the thing copied. Risqué words that aren’t.
“The culprit of many unfortunate typos, ‘annals’ is another word for historical records. The plural noun has been used in English since the 1560s, tracing back to the Latin annales libri, meaning ‘chronicles’ or ‘yearlies.’ “During the early Roman Republic, public events were recorded on tablets called Annales Maximi.” Interested in learning more? I recommend wordgenius.com. https://www.wordgenius.com/we-searched-the-annals-for-these-words-that-sound-risque-but-arent/Y3O-ZBY2rgAHMEg8?utm_source=blog&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=1828559277 drawing courtesy of nicepng.com As beautiful as the monarch butterfly’s orange and black wings are, aposematic coloring means it’s poisonous to birds.” Aposematic—adjective—of colorations or markings that serve to warn or repel predators.
origin of chyron (pronounced kai-raan with a long i)
Nine words invented by mistake: algorithm; sneeze; tornado; culprit; pea; ammunition; sherry; sashay; and varsity. An owl can swivel its head 270 degrees. 270/90 = 3 (quadrants) diagram courtesy of study.com
An unkindness of ravens their targets they peck and choose, They are people at every church who have fine-tuned the ruse. Unforeseeable trespass can set off the sanctimonious fuse, Watch thy step closely or thou wilt sustain a bruise. Then, repeat Nash’s Isabel and vent thy wrath. The root of the English word “nascent” (adjective meaning come into existence and beginning to develop) is the same root for “Renaissance” (noun meaning rebirth). The root is nascens, the present participle of the Latin verb nasci, which means “to be born.” Related words are nation, native, nature, and innate.
Roots sink deeper. Dies Natalis Solis Invicti, translated as, “Birth of the Invincible Sun,” celebrated the birth of the Sun in Imperium Romanum prior to the coming of Catholicism, and with its coming, the celebration neatly switched to “Birth of the Invincible Son.” The word itself, natalis, meaning “of the birth,” changed over time as Latin split into different languages. Latin is Nativitatis, Spanish is Natividad, and English is Nativity. Christus natus est is the Christmas refrain. Christmas is an English contraction of “Christ and Mass.” The White Man’s Burden
Take up the White Man’s burden - Send forth the best ye breed - Go bind your sons to exile To serve your captives’ need; To wait in heavy harness On fluttered folk and wild - Your new-caught sullen peoples, Half devil and half child. Take up the White Man’s burden - In patience to abide To veil the threat of terror And check the show of pride; By open speech and simple, An hundred times made plain, To seek another’s profit, And work another’s gain. Take up the White Man’s burden - The savage wars of peace - Fill full the mouth of famine And bid the sickness cease; And when your goal is nearest The end for others sought, Watch Sloth and heathen Folly Bring all your hopes to nought. Take up the White Man’s burden - No tawdry rule of kings, But toil of serf and sweeper - The tale of common things. The ports ye shall not enter, The roads ye shall not tread, Go make them with your living, And mark them with your dead ! Take up the White Man’s burden - And reap his old reward, The blame of those ye better, The hate of those ye guard - The cry of hosts ye humour (Ah slowly !) towards the light:- “Why brought ye us from bondage, “Our loved Egyptian night ?” Take up the White Man's burden - Ye dare not stoop to less - Nor call too loud on Freedom To cloak your weariness; By all ye cry or whisper, By all ye leave or do, The silent sullen peoples Shall weigh your Gods and you. Take up the White Man’s burden - Have done with childish days - The lightly proffered laurel, The easy, ungrudged praise. Comes now, to search your manhood Through all the thankless years, Cold-edged with dear-bought wisdom, The judgement of your peers. 1899 United States and Philippines I placed this poem in my blog because it will upset many, people who are stopped by the title and will not discover what is happening within. I placed this poem in my blog because it is “based” as the term is understood today. He is that man, any man, who is unafraid of what others say. I placed this poem in my blog because Kipling is a great poet and storyteller. I first encountered him in high school come way of Kim. In the speech, he refers to Kimba, his character in The Jungle Book. Kipling felt like an outsider in the United States and went back to England. I stood on the bridge at midnight,
As the clocks were striking the hour, And the moon rose o'er the city, Behind the dark church-tower. I saw her bright reflection In the waters under me, Like a golden goblet falling And sinking into the sea. And far in the hazy distance Of that lovely night in June, The blaze of the flaming furnace Gleamed redder than the moon. Among the long, black rafters The wavering shadows lay, And the current that came from the ocean Seemed to lift and bear them away; As, sweeping and eddying through them, Rose the belated tide, And, streaming into the moonlight, The seaweed floated wide. And like those waters rushing Among the wooden piers, A flood of thoughts came o’er me That filled my eyes with tears. How often, O, how often, In the days that had gone by, I had stood on that bridge at midnight And gazed on that wave and sky! How often, O, how often, I had wished that the ebbing tide Would bear me away on its bosom O’er the ocean wild and wide! For my heart was hot and restless, And my life was full of care, And the burden laid upon me Seemed greater than I could bear. But now it has fallen from me, It is buried in the sea; And only the sorrow of others Throws its shadow over me. Yet whenever I cross the river On its bridge with wooden piers, Like the odor of brine from the ocean Comes the thought of other years. And I think how many thousands Of care-encumbered men, Each bearing his burden of sorrow, Have crossed the bridge since then. I see the long procession Still passing to and fro, The young heart hot and restless, And the old subdued and slow! And forever and forever, As long as the river flows, As long as the heart has passions, As long as life has woes; The moon and its broken reflection And its shadows shall appear, As the symbol of love in heaven, And its wavering image here. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow 1845 The word “based” is slang and will wind up in dictionaries, but don’t go looking in any online dictionaries, because you will get biased based, except for Urban Dictionary, which at least identifies who is saying what. Even dictionaries can be bent by editors to favor one side over another. According to Urban Dictionary, it is “a word used when you agree with something; or when you want to recognize someone for being themselves, i.e., courageous and unique or not caring what others think.” Considered an adjective, “based” is synonymous with “red-pilled” and an antonym of “cringe” and “woke”. Some organizations and some people, left or right, have no sense of what young people are thinking and no sense of play. Duds lose my attention. based
drawing courtesy of knowyourmeme.com Lesson 106 Feeling like an outsider? Welcome to my blog. I have outlasted Alexander’s other tutors not because I am a genius, but because he and I are outsiders, generally unwelcome. “How come?” you whine. We will not give our mental consent to bullies, jocks, and idiots. To insiders fitting the description, walking among ‘traditional’ Catholics and crawling about on YouTube, consider how you stack up against the Son of Man. Pushing them aside, or trying to, alternately I feel proud and down, for the sharp cuts, so if you are the same, welcome. speculum
Enjambment (noun) is the continuation of a sentence without a pause beyond the end of a line, couplet, or stanza. The technique can make reading poetry tricky, as it’s natural to want to pause at the end of the line.
Reader: Mike Harris
Title: “The Coin of Dionysius” Characters: Baxter, Carlisle, Carrados Author: Ernest Bramah Smith, English, 1868-1942 Genres: Horror, Supernatural Fiction, Detective Fiction From the reader: Max Carrados is a fictional blind detective in a series of mystery stories and books by Ernest Bramah, beginning in 1914. The Max Carrados stories appeared alongside Sherlock Holmes in The Strand Magazine, in which they often had top billing, and frequently outsold his eminent contemporary at the time, even if they failed to achieve the longevity of Holmes. Age 16, having been near bottom in every subject, the author quit school. Only Cherries?
They didn't want me around Said I couldn't have no cherries Or watch them pick cherries Or even stand near the table Where one of those Kultur-Kookie-Klucks With the big fat legged-smile Was fixing to pop a nice red cherry In on top of his gold spoon You know I don't like those people Who act as if a cherry Was something they personally thought up The Temple To leave the earth was my wish, and no will stayed my rising. Early, before sun had filled the roads with carts Conveying folk to weddings and to murders; Before men left their selves of sleep, to wander In the dark of the world like whipped beasts. I took no pack. I had no horse, no staff, no gun. I got up a little way and something called me, Saying, ‘Put your hand in mine. We will seek God together.’ And I answered, ‘It is your father who is lost, not mine.’ Then the sky filled with tears of blood, and snakes sang. Kenneth Patchen 1911-1972 Beware singing snakes, Catholics and ex-Catholics. A Dream Within a Dream
Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow -- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is it therefore the less gone? All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. I stand amid the roar Of a surf-tormented shore, And I hold within my hand Grains of the golden sand -- How few! yet how they creep Through my fingers to the deep, While I weep — while I weep! O God! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? O God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream? Edgar Allan Poe 1809-1849 |
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