| Speaking Natalie |
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To Speak Natalie. v.
On Spirituality "But I thought you agreed that Spirit was the good - the end of the whole process? I thought you religious people were all out for spirituality? Didn't we agree that God is a spirit? Don't you worship Him because He is pure spirit?" "Good heavens, no! We worship Him because He is wise and good. There's nothing specially fine about simply being a spirit. The Devil is a spirit." - C.S. Lewis On Honor In the late twentieth century, you couldn't seriously ask other people to think that you believed in honor and truth and the purity of the body the defense of women the sanctity of true love and all the rest of it. But apparently, Andre really had believed it. - Michael Crichton On Duty Do not confuse "duty" with what other people expect of you; they are utterly different. Duty is a debt you owe to yourself to fulfill obligations you have assumed voluntarily. Paying that debt can entail anything from years of patient work to instant willingness to die. Difficult it may be, but the reward is self-respect. (This rule does not mean that you must not do a favor for a friend, or even a stranger. But let the choice be yours. Don't do it because it is "expected" of you.) - Robert A. Heinlein
"A Woman's Question"
Do you know you have asked for the costliest thing Ever made by the Hand above? A woman's heart, a woman's life - And a woman's wonderful love. Do you know you have asked for this priceless thing As a child might ask for a toy? Demanding what others have died to win, With the reckless dash of a boy. You have written my lesson of duty out, Manlike, you have questioned me. Now stand at the bars of my woman's soul Until I shall question thee. You require your mutton shall always be hot, Your socks and your shirt be whole; I require your heart to be true as God's stars And as pure as His heaven your soul. You require a cook for your mutton and beef, I require a far greater thing; A seamstress you're wanting for socks and shirts - I look for a man and a king. A king for the beautiful realm called Home, And a man that his Maker, God, Shall look upon as He did on the first And say: "It is very good." I am fair and young, but the rose may fade From this soft young cheek one day; Will you love me then 'mid the falling leaves, As you did 'mong the blossoms of May? Is your heart an ocean so strong and true, I may launch my all on its tide? A loving woman finds heaven or hell On the day she is made a bride. I require all things that are grand and true, All things that a man should be; If you give this all, I would stake my life To be all you demand of me. If you cannot be this, a laundress and cook You can hire and little to pay; But a woman's heart and a woman's life Are not to be won that way. - Lena Lathrop Fere. n. A companion, comrade, mate. "Ballad of the Goodly Fere" Ha' we lost the goodliest fere o' all For the priests and the gallows tree? Aye lover he was of brawny men, O' ships and the open sea. When they came wi' a host to take Our Man His smile was good to see, "First let these go!" quo' our Goodly Fere, "Or I'll see ye damned," says he. Aye he sent us out through the crossed high spears And the scorn of his laugh rang free, "Why took ye not me when I walked about Alone in the town?" says he. Oh we drunk his "Hale" in the good red wine When we last made company, No capon priest was the Goodly Fere But a man o' men was he. I ha' seen him drive a hundred men Wi' a bundle o' cords swung free, That they took the high and holy house For their pawn and treasury. They'ss no' get him a' in a book I think Though they write it cunningly; No mouse of the scrolls was the Goodly Fere But aye loved the open sea. If they think they ha' snared our Goodly Fere They are fools to the last degree. "I'll go to the feast," quo' our Goodly Fere, "Though I go to the gallows tree." "Ye ha' seen me heal the lame and blind, And wake the dead," says he, "Ye shall see one thing to master all: 'Tis how a brave man dies on the tree." A son of God was the Goodly Fere That bade us his brothers be. I ha' seen him cow a thousand men. I have seen him upon the tree. He cried no cry when they drave the nails And the blood gushed hot and free, The hounds of the crimson sky gave tongue But never a cry cried he. I ha' seen him cow a thousand men On the hills o' Galilee, They whined as he walked out calm between, Wi' his eyes like the grey o' the sea, Like the sea that brooks no voyaging With the winds unleashed and free, I ha' seen him eat o' the honey-comb Sin' they nailed him to the tree. - Ezra Pound
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