Without forgiveness we are stuck in a black box with no exit. Without forgiveness we cannot move on, or find ways of preventing the repetition of these crimes.
“. . .A commonplace book is what a provident poet cannot subsist without, for this proverbial reason, that ‘great wits have short memories:’ and whereas, on the other hand, poets, being liars by profession, ought to have good memories; to reconcile these, a book of this sort, is in the nature of a supplemental memory, or a record of what occurs remarkable in every day’s reading or conversation. There you enter not only your own original thoughts, (which, a hundred to one, are few and insignificant) but such of other men as you think fit to make your own, by entering them there. . .”
The “few and insignificant thoughts” are exactly what will be found here in Commonplaces.
There are insufficient words to describe the worldwide scandal of abuse — who would have believed such a thing thirty years ago? I try to imagine what my mother, or BH’s mother, would have made of it.
“Prepare to hurl boulders!”
Lilies and Mohawks are unlikely bedfellows; I had to know more.
In a roundabout way I speak of hemp; not the type you smoke and get high on, but another variety, a useful one.
Not so very long ago I remember loose sugar being weighed into stout paper bags; likewise tea and other dry goods, like rice. Very little was pre-packed. We didn’t all die of food poisoning either.
“Gesamtkunstwerk.” That’s the word I’m looking for!
If I tell you that you will need a linen gremial, a staff, a ring and a miter, would you know why?
Sam Dastor, actor, is preparing to read BH’s book “Crater’s Edge” for Audible. It’s brave of Sam because he speaks neither Polish, Russian nor Persian.
Every week my sister and I bought “The Beano” and “The Dandy” which we read from end to end in total silence, most likely sucking a gobstopper – also tolerated by my mother, despite the hideous name.