When Books Grow Limbs...

I love books.

In fact, the main decor of my room is books.

Every inch of desk space is covered with them.

and it's beginning to overflow my room...

And that is the point when Books actually begin to become lost.

Before I could easily find a book that I wanted because *looks* there it was on the corner of the third shelf on the left side of the room.

But now when I'm looking for The Writing Life (Annie Dillard) I look around, smile at the ocean of books surrounding me, shrug my shoulders, and decide that it'd probably be easier just to buy another copy from Amazon. ;)

Now, finding the Odyssey is a Quest! (Not Ironic at all!)

I may have a problem....but just maybe.

*sniffles*

While most of my Friends will be at Wheatstone...

I'll be at an Evangelism Camp.

WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

*breathes* *sniffles* sigh

I'll be okay...just barely. (Heh, if it wasn't anything less than saving souls I doubt I could've been herded into going!)

But you guys had better post pictures and tell me all about it when I get back.


Promise? ;)

And there's always next year! =D =D =D And I'm only 17!!! (Age limit is 19!)

Coeur d'Coeurs

There's a mansion by the sea.

It's a large, rambling mansion with many nooks and crannies.
It's in the late Victorian style, although new parts are coming in everyday.
In the main hall way, underneath the chandelier, past the grand staircase, there's a library.
All four walls are covered with books.
Well worn and beloved books.
The fire crackles and pops cheerily,
with an occasional spark drifting upwards into the chimney.
The furnishing is oak,
rich and ancient oak,
and it smells like warm chocolate cake with vanilla ice cream
and the heat from the fire feels like warm sunshine - the kind that seeps into your bones and stays with you.
There are a couple of armchairs here. High-backed and deep. And the footstool is just the right height
so that your back never tires
and the arm rest? - level so that your neck need not complain.
There's hot chocolate too. Two cups. And witty banter and "good lucks!"

"Well Lewis says this..."

"...What a nice tie you're wearing!"

"Williams thinks...",

"Aquinas would disagree"

"I admit the Third Concerto is more complex and masculine, but surely you must love the Second Concerto more - it's Rach 2!"

"Romance is not dead!"

"Beauty is Objective!"

"Dante!!!"

Laughter-of course- is quite happy to be here.

Bach has brought his Cello and sings to us through the gramophone.

Friendship's here too.

The deep, nutritious kind (eat your greens!) that you can take with you on long trips from home and bring out from your box of treasures and hold against the light when you're feeling rather down.
Or rather, the kind that seeps into your bones and warms you through and through and doesn't leave when the sun goes gloriously into the West.
There are some tears over spilled milk,
but who wouldn't sniffle over the chance at a perfectly blended latte?
And so it's two cups of hot chocolate for us, here, and black forest cake.

Dark Chocolate isn't so bitter when you get to share it.

What Loving a Woman can do to a Man

If all I've said about her until this
were comprehended in a single praise,
now it would be too little to suffice.

I saw her beauty passing all our ways
of understanding, and believe indeed
that He alone who fashioned her enjoys

Its fullness. From this pass I must concede
myself more overcome than ever was
tragedian or comic at the peak

Of difficulty: as the sun in eyes
that tremble weakly, so my memory
of her sweet smile now robs the intellect

And leaves me at a loss. From the first day
I saw her face until this vision now,
my road to song has not been cut away,

But here, as every artist, I must bow
to my last power, and cease to follow on
her loveliness by signs in poetry.

Such beauty I must leave to a clarion
more brilliant than my trumpet to unite
clear words and arduous truth...

(Canto 30.16-34)

"Lady in whom my hope is green anew,
who suffered for my healing, and who deigned
to leave your footprints in the lands below,

It was your power and excellence that sustained
my pilgrimage to see all I have seen;
to you I owe the grace and strength I've gained.

I was a slave; you brought me liberty,
through every road I walked, by every means
you had within your power to succor me.

Preserve in me your work's magnificence
so that my soul, which you have healed, one day
will please you when it slips the body's bands."

I prayed - and she, who was as far away
as she appeared, yet smiled and looked at me;
then turned again to the eternal Spring.

(Canto 31.79-93).

I tear up every time. ='P
The greatest monument ever created for any woman.
That last line is the most important...by the way.

Poi si torno a l'etterna fontana