Archive for the ‘great writing’ Category

Serious Quote From a Funny Book

Tuesday, April 14th, 2009

From “Three Men in a Boat” by Jerome K. Jerome, which is one of the funniest books ever written. But this is different:

Once upon a time, through a strange country, there rode some goodly knights, and their path lay by a deep wood, where tangled briers grew very thick and strong, and tore the flesh of them that lost their way therein.  And the leaves of the trees that grew in the wood were very dark and thick, so that no ray of light came through the branches to lighten the gloom and sadness.

And, as they passed by that dark wood, one knight of those that rode, missing his comrades, wandered far away, and returned to them no more; and they, sorely grieving, rode on without him, mourning him as one dead.

Now, when they had reached the fair castle towards which they had been journeying, they stayed there many days, and made merry; and one night, as they sat in cheerful ease around the logs that burned in the great hall, and drank a loving measure, there came the comrade they had lost, and greeted them.  His clothes were ragged, like a beggar’s, and many sad wounds were on his sweet flesh, but upon his face there shone a great radiance of deep joy.

And they questioned him, asking him what had befallen him; and he told them how in the dark wood he had lost his way, and had wandered many days and nights, till, torn and bleeding, he had lain him down to die.

Then, when he was nigh unto death, lo! through the savage gloom there came to him a stately maiden, and took him by the hand and led him on through devious paths, unknown to any man, until upon the darkness of the wood there dawned a light such as the light of day was unto but as a little lamp unto the sun; and, in that wondrous light, our wayworn knight saw as in a dream a vision, and so glorious, so fair the vision seemed, that of his bleeding wounds he thought no more, but stood as one entranced, whose joy is deep as is the sea, whereof no man can tell the depth.

And the vision faded, and the knight, kneeling upon the ground, thanked the good saint who into that sad wood had strayed his steps, so he had seen the vision that laid there hid.

And the name of the dark forest was Sorrow; but of the vision that the good knight saw therein we may not speak nor tell.

John Cheever, Reconsidered

Tuesday, April 7th, 2009

A Little Bit of David Foster Wallace

Sunday, March 15th, 2009

Newspaper Blackout Poems

Monday, September 22nd, 2008

Process (Or, Just What Went Into Producing That Magazine Story You Just Read)

Friday, September 19th, 2008

Patty Hearst/Tania

Friday, August 29th, 2008

Dick Cavett

Saturday, August 23rd, 2008

So Bad It’s Good

Tuesday, July 31st, 2007

The Dead Beat

Friday, July 6th, 2007

It Almost, Just Almost, Beats “Headless Body in Topless Bar”

Friday, June 8th, 2007