October 8, 2008


Someone passed this one on to me at a meeting last night:

A painter may work for what the burning of his picture, or an accident of death to the admirer, may wholly destroy...The only just literary critic is Christ, who admires more than does any man the gifts he Himself has bestowed.

From a letter of J. R. R. Tolkien to C. S. Lewis, paraphrasing Gerard Manley Hopkins.

And going from the deep to the silly, here's one from the content of last night's meeting:

What's that thing you get on Sunday...I mean besides grace...that paper...oh yeah, the bulletin!

Going even further afield, a quote from Federico Fellini from a few seconds of something, I know not what, I caught on TV. For whatever reason this one really speaks to me:

After a certain age, the idea of dying becomes more and more present… And yet, I’m endowed with a particular psychological mechanism whereby all disagreeable things like old age and physical decay, obligations or money worries become material for a story which then becomes a film.

1 comment:

Jim Gerl said...


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Could you please return the favor at: