Bewilderment

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

Page 33 of 69 · 20 per page

• From The Story of My Experiments with Truth (An Autobiography) (1927)

  The first thing we had to settle was the name of the Ashram. I consulted friends. Amongst the names suggested were ‘Sevashram’ (the abode of service), ‘Tapovan’ (the abode of austrities), etc. I liked the name ‘Sevashram’ but for the absence of emphasis on the method of service. ‘Tapovan’ seemed to be a pretentious title, because though tapas was dear to us we would not presume to be tapasvins (men of austerity). Our creed was devotion to truth, and our business was the search for and insistence on truth. I wanted to acquaint India with the method I had tried in South Africa, and I desired to test in India the extent to which its application might be possible. So my companions and I selected the name ‘Satyagraha Ashram,’ as conveying both goal and our method of service. For the conduct of the Ashram a code of rules and observances was necessary. A draft was therefore prepared, and friends were invited to express their opinions on it. Amongst the many opinions that were received, that of Sir Gurudas Banerji is still in my memory. He liked the rules, but suggested that humility should be added as one of the observances, as he believed that the younger generation sadly lacked humility. Though I noticed this fault, I feared humility would cease to be humility the moment it became a matter of vow. The true connotation of humility is self- effacement. Self-effacement is moksha (salvation), and whilst it cannot, by itself, be an observance, there may be other observances necessary for its attainment. If the acts of an aspirant after moksha or a servant have no humility or selflessness about them, there is no longing for moksha or service. Service without humility is selfishness and egotism. There were at this time about thirteen Tamilians in our party. Five Tamil youngsters had accompanied me from South Africa, and the rest came from different parts of the country. We were in all about twenty- five men and women. This is how the Ashram started. All had their meals in a common kitchen and strove to live as one family. 136ON THE ANVILThe Ashram had been in existence only a few months when we were put to a test such as I had scarcely expected. I received a letter from Amritlal Thakkar to this effect: ‘A humble and honest untouchable family is desirous of joining your Ashram. Will you accept them?’ I was perturbed. I had never expected that an untouchable family with an introduction from no less a man than Thakkar Bapa would so soon be seeking admission to the Ashram. I shared the letter with my companions. They welcomed it. I wrote to Amritlal Thakkar expressing our willingness to accept the family, provided all the members were ready to abide by the rules of the Ashram. The family consisted of Dadabhai, his wife Danibehn and their daughter Lakshmi, then a mere toddling babe. Dudabhai had been a teacher in Bombay.

• From Under the Banner of Heaven (2003)

  FIVE THE SECOND GREAT AWAKENING The sober preacher trained in the dialectics of the seminary was rare west of the Appalachians. One found instead faith healers and circuit-rider evangelists, who stirred their audiences to paroxysms of religious frenzy. . . . The revivals by their very excesses deadened a normal antipathy toward religious eccentricity. And these Pentecostal years, which coincided with Joseph Smith’s adolescence and early manhood, were the most fertile in America’s history for the sprouting of prophets. FAWN BRODIE, NO MAN KNOWS MY HISTORY Shortly after the rescue of Elizabeth Smart and the arrest of Brian David Mitchell, FBI agents discovered a twenty-seven-page booklet Mitchell had written two months before he abducted Elizabeth. Titled “The Book of Immanuel David Isaiah,” it purported to be a divine manifesto, as revealed to Immanuel/Mitchell, announcing the inauguration of a new fundamentalist church, the Seven Diamonds Plus One, which would serve as “a brilliant shining diadem of truth.” The tract identified Immanuel/Mitchell as the “one . . . mighty and strong,” and proclaimed that God had ordained him to lead the new church —the “true and living Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in its purified and exalted state.” “The Book of Immanuel David Isaiah” also explained that God had transferred the “keys and powers and ordinances of the Holy Priesthood for the salvation of mankind . . . through a succession of prophets.” The booklet traced this divinely ordained lineage from Adam to Noah to Abraham to Moses to Jesus “unto Joseph Smith, Jr. and from Joseph Smith, Jr. unto Immanuel David Isaiah and from Immanuel David Isaiah unto the end of the earth.”

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  This toy increased in volume at every opportunity and hinted that, rightly used, it would be quite a delightful thing. But directions for its use were nowhere written, and so, when the toy took the initiative in wanting to play with me, my bewilderment was inevitable. Occasionally my humiliation and impatience became so aggravated that I even thought I wanted to destroy the toy. In the end, however, there was nothing for it but to surrender on my side to the insubordinate toy, with its expression of sweet secrecy, and wait passively to see what would happen. Then I took it into my head to try listening more dispassionately to the toy's wishes. When I did so, I found that soon it already possessed its own definite and unmistakable tastes, or what might be called its own mechanism. The nature of its tastes had become bound up, not only with my childhood memories, but, one after another, with such things as the naked bodies of young men seen on a summer's seashore, the swimming teams seen at Meiji Pool, the swarthy young man a cousin of mine married, and the valiant heroes of many an adventure story. Until then I had mistakenly thought I was only poetically attracted to such things, thus confusing the nature of my sensual desires with a system of esthetics. The toy likewise raised its head toward death and pools of blood and muscular flesh. Gory dueling scenes on the frontispieces of adventury-story magazines, which I borrowed in secret from the student houseboy; pictures of young samurai cutting open their bellies, or of soldiers struck by bullets, clenching their teeth and dripping blood from between hands that clutched at khaki-clad breasts ; photographs of hard-muscled sumo wrestlers, of the third rank and not yet grown too fat—at the sight of such things the toy would promptly lift its inquisitive head. (If the adjective "inquisitive" be inappropriate, it can be changed to read either "erotic" or "lustful.") Coming to understand these matters, I began to seek physical pleasure consciously, intentionally. The principles of selection and arrangement were brought into operation. When the composition of a picture in an adventure-story magazine was found defective, I would first copy it with crayons, and then correct it to my satisfaction. Then it would become the picture of a young circus performer dropping to his knees and clutching at a bullet wound in his breast; or a tight-rope walker who had fallen and split his skull open and now lay dying, half his face covered with blood. Often at school I would become so preoccupied with the fear that these bloodthirsty pictures, which I had hidden away in a drawer of the bookcase at home, might be discovered during my absence that I would not even hear the teacher's voice. I knew I should have destroyed them promptly after drawing them, but my toy was so attached to them that I found it absolutely impossible to do so.

• From Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928)

  "No, my child! All that is romantic illusion. Aristocracy is a function, a part of fate. And the masses are a functioning of another part of fate. The individual hardly matters. It is a question of which function you are brought up to and adapted to. It is not the individuals that make an aristocracy: it is the functioning of the aristocratic whole. And it is the functioning of the whole mass that makes the common man what he is." "Then there is no common humanity between us all!" "Just as you like. We all need to fill our bellies. But when it comes to expressive or executive functioning, I believe there is a gulf and an absolute one, between the ruling and the serving classes. The two functions are opposed. And the function determines the individual." Connie looked at him with dazed eyes. "Won't you come on?" she said. And he started his chair. He had said his say. Now he lapsed into his peculiar and rather vacant apathy, that Connie found so trying. In the wood, anyhow, she was determined not to argue. In front of them ran the open cleft of the riding, between the hazel walls and the gay grey trees. The chair puffed slowly on, slowly surging into the forget-me-nots that rose up in the drive like milk froth, beyond the hazel shadows. Clifford steered the middle course, where feet passing had kept a channel through the flowers. But Connie, walking behind, had watched the wheels jolt over the woodruff and the bugle, and squash the little yellow cups of the creeping-jenny. Now they made a wake through the forget-me-nots. All the flowers were there, the first bluebells in blue pools, like standing water. "You are quite right about its being beautiful," said Clifford. "It is so amazingly. What is _quite_ so lovely as an English spring!" Connie thought it sounded as if even the spring bloomed by act of Parliament. An English spring! Why not an Irish one? or Jewish? The chair moved slowly ahead, past tufts of sturdy bluebells that stood up like wheat, and over grey burdock leaves. When they came to the open place where the trees had been felled, the light flooded in rather stark. And the bluebells made sheets of bright blue colour, here and there, sheering off into lilac and purple. And between, the bracken was lifting its brown curled heads, like legions of young snakes with a new secret to whisper to Eve. Clifford kept the chair going till he came to the brow of the hill; Connie followed slowly behind. The oak buds were opening soft and brown. Everything came tenderly out of the old hardness. Even the snaggy craggy oak trees put out the softest young leaves, spreading thin, brown little wings like young bat wings in the light. Why had men never any newness in them, any freshness to come forth with? Stale men!

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  Whenever I said so, the grownups would laugh at first, but then, wondering if they were not being tricked, they would look distastefully at the pallid face of that unchildlike child. Sometimes I happened to say so in the presence of callers who were not close friends of the family; then my grandmother, fearing I would be taken for an idiot, would interrupt in a sharp voice and tell me to go somewhere else and play. While they were still smiling from their laughter, the grownups would usually set about trying to confute me with some sort of scientific explanation. Trying to devise explanations that a child's mind could grasp, they would always start babbling with no little dramatic zeal, saying that a baby's eyes are not yet open at birth, or that even if his eyes are completely open, a newborn baby could not possibly see things clearly enough to remember them. "Isn't that right?" they would say, shaking the small shoulder of the still-unconvinced child. But just then they would seem to be struck by the idea that they were on the point of being taken in by the child's tricks: Even if we think he's a child, we mustn't let our guard down. The little rascal is surely trying to trick us into telling him about "that," and then what is to keep him from asking, with still more childlike innocence: "Where did I come from? How was I born?" And in the end they would look me over again, silently, with a thin smile frozen on their lips, showing that for some reason, which I could never understand, their feelings had been deeply hurt. But their fears were groundless. I had not the slightest desire to ask about "that." Even if I had wanted to ask, I was so fearful of hurting adult feelings that the thought of using trickery would never have occurred to me. No matter how they explained, no matter how they laughed me away, I could not but believe I remembered my own birth. Perhaps the basis for my memory was something I had heard from someone who had been present at the time, or perhaps it was only my own willful imagination. However that may have been, there was one thing I was convinced I had seen clearly, with my own eyes. That was the brim of the basin in which I received my first bath.

• From Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928)

  "T' nuisance on me!" he said briefly, but significantly. She flushed. "Very well!" she said finally. "I won't trouble you. But I don't think I should have minded at all sitting and seeing you look after the birds. I should have liked it. But since you think it interferes with you, I won't disturb you, don't be afraid. You are Sir Clifford's keeper, not mine." The phrase sounded queer, she didn't know why. But she let it pass. "Nay, your Ladyship. It's your Ladyship's own 'ut. It's as your Ladyship likes an' pleases, every time. Yer can turn me off at a wik's notice. It wor only...." "Only what?" she asked, baffled. He pushed back his hat in an odd comic way. "On'y as 'appen yo'd like the place ter yersen, when yer did come, an' not me messin' abaht." "But why?" she said, angry. "Aren't you a civilised human being? Do you think I ought to be afraid of you? Why should I take any notice of you and your being here or not? Why is it important?" He looked at her, all his face glimmering with wicked laughter. "It's not, your Ladyship. Not in the very least," he said. "Well, why then?" she asked. "Shall I get your Ladyship another key then?" "No thank you! I don't want it." "Ah'll get it anyhow. We'd best 'ave two keys ter th' place." "And I consider you are insolent," said Connie, with her colour up, panting a little. "Nay, nay!" he said quickly. "Dunna yer say that! Nay, nay! I niver meant nuthink. Ah on'y thought as if yo' come 'ere, Ah s'd 'ave ter clear out, an' it'd mean a lot o' work, settin' up somewheres else. But if your Ladyship isn't going ter take no notice o' me, then ... it's Sir Clifford's 'ut, an' everythink is as your Ladyship likes, everythink is as your Ladyship likes an' pleases, barrin' yer take no notice o' me, doin' th' bits of jobs as Ah've got ter do." Connie went away completely bewildered. She was not sure whether she had been insulted and mortally offended, or not. Perhaps the man really only meant what he said; that he thought she would expect him to keep away. As if she would dream of it! And as if he could possibly be so important, he and his stupid presence. She went home in a confusion, not knowing what she thought or felt. CHAPTER IX Connie was surprised at her own feeling of aversion from Clifford. What is more, she felt she had always really disliked him. Not hate: there was no passion in it. But a profound physical dislike. Almost it seemed to her, she had married him because she disliked him, in a secret, physical sort of way. But of course, she had married him really because in a mental way he attracted her and excited her. He had seemed, in some way, her master, beyond her.

• From The Story of My Experiments with Truth (An Autobiography) (1927)

  PREPARATION FOR ENGLAND I passed the matriculation examination in 1887. It then used to be held at two centres, Ahmedabad and Bombay. The general poverty of the country naturally led Kathiawad students to prefer the nearer and the cheaper centre. The poverty of my family likewise dictated to me the same choice. This was my first journey from Rajkot to Ahmedabad and that too without a companion. My elders wanted me to pursue my studies at college after the matriculation. There was a college in Bhavnagar as well as in Bombay, and as the former was cheaper, I decided to go there and join the Samaldas College. I went, but found myself entirely at sea. Everything was difficult. I could not follow, let alone taking interest in, the professors’ lectures. It was no fault of theirs. The professors in that College were regarded as first-rate. But I was so raw. At the end of the first term, I returned home. We had in Mavji Dave, who was a shrewd and learned Brahman an old friend and adviser of the family. He had kept up his connection with the family even after my father’s death. He happened to visit us during my vacation. In conversation with my mother and elder brother, he inquired about my studies. Learning that I was at Samaldas College, he said: ‘The times are changed. And none of you can expect to succeed to your father’s gadi without having a proper education. Now as this boy is still pursuing his studies, you should all look to him to keep the gadi. It will take him four or five years to get his B.A. degree, which will at best qualify him for a sixty rupees’ post, not for a Diwanship. If like my son he went in for law, it would take him still longer, by which time there would be a host of lawyers aspiring for a Diwan’s post. I would far rather that you sent him to England. My son Kevalram says it is very easy to become a barrister. In three years’ time he will return. Also expenses will not exceed four

• From The Story of My Experiments with Truth (An Autobiography) (1927)

  creation and similar things in it did not impress me very much, but on the contrary made me incline somewhat towards atheism. There was a cousin of mine, still alive, for whose intellect I had great regard. To him I turned with my doubts. But he could not resolve them. He sent me away with this answer: ‘When you grow up, you will be able to solve these doubts yourself. These questions ought not to be raised at your age.’ I was silenced, but was not comforted. Chapters about diet and the like in Manusmriti seemed to me to run contrary to daily practice. To my doubts as to this also, I got the same answer.’With intellect more developed and with more reading I shall understand it better,’ I said to myself. Manusmriti at any rate did not then teach me ahimsa. I have told the story of my meat-eating. Manusmriti seemed to support it. I also felt that it was quite moral to kill serpents, bugs and the like. I remember to have killed at that age bugs and such other insects, regarding it as a duty. But one thing took deep root in me the conviction that morality is the basis of things, and that truth is the substance of all morality. Truth became my sole objective. It began to grow in magnitude every day, and my definition of it also has been ever widening. A Gujarati didactic stanza likewise gripped my mind and heart. Its Precept-return good for evil-became my guiding principle. It became such a passion with me that I began numerous experiments in it. Here are those (for me) wonderful lines: For a bowl of water give a goodly meal: For a kindly greeting bow thou down with zeal: For a simple penny pay thou back with gold: If thy life be rescued, life do not withhold. Thus the words and actions of the wise regard; Every little service tenfold they reward. But the truly noble know all men as one, And return with gladness good for evil done. 1. Eleventh day of the bright and the dark half of a lunar month ↵ 2. Laws of Manu, a Hindu law-giver. They have the sanction of religion. ↵ 13.

• From The Story of My Experiments with Truth (An Autobiography) (1927)

  ‘I knew your believing nature,’ he rejoined; ‘that is why I purt you to the trouble of coming to me, so that I might warn you against falling into the same error as these simple-hearted Bengalis.’ With these words the mill-owner beckoned to his clerk who wa standing by to produce samples of the stuff that was being manufactured in his mill. Pointing to it he said: ‘Look at this stuff. This is the latest variety turned out by our mill. It is meeting with a widespread demand. We manufacture it from the waste. Naturally, therefore, it is cheap. We send it as far North as the valleys of the Himalayas. We have agencies all over the country, even in places where your voice or your agents can never reach. You can thus see that we do not stand in need of more agents. Besides, you ought to know that India’s production of cloth falls far short of its requirements. The question of Swadeshi, therefore, largely resolves itself into one of production. The moment we can increase our production sufficiently, and improve its quality to the necessary extent, the import of foreign cloth will automatically cease. extent, the import of foreign cloth will automatically cease. My advice to you, therefore, is not to carry on your agitation on its present lines, but to turn your attention to the erection of fresh mills. What we need is not propaganda to inflate demand for our goods, but greater production.’ ‘Then, surely, you will bless my effort, if I am laready engaged in that very thing,’ I asked. ‘How can that be ?’ he exclaimed, a bit puzzled, ‘but may be, you are thinking of promoting the establishment of new mills, in which case you certainly deserve to be congratulated.’ ‘ I am not doing exactly that,’ I explained, ‘but I am engaged in the revival of the spinning wheel.’

• From Between the World and Me (2015)

  I fell again, a short time later and in similar fashion, for another girl, tall with long flowing dreadlocks. She was raised by a Jewish mother in a small, nearly all-white town in Pennsylvania, and now, at Howard, ranged between women and men, asserted this not just with pride but as though it were normal, as though she were normal. I know it’s nothing to you now, but I was from a place—America—where cruelty toward humans who loved as their deepest instincts instructed was a kind of law. I was amazed. This was something black people did? Yes. And they did so much more. The girl with the long dreads lived in a house with a man, a Howard professor, who was married to a white woman. The Howard professor slept with men. His wife slept with women. And the two of them slept with each other. They had a little boy who must be off to college by now. “Faggot” was a word I had employed all my life. And now here they were, The Cabal, The Coven, The Others, The Monsters, The Outsiders, The Faggots, The Dykes, dressed in all their human clothes. I am black, and have been plundered and have lost my body. But perhaps I too had the capacity for plunder, maybe I would take another human’s body to confirm myself in a community. Perhaps I already had. Hate gives identity. The nigger, the fag, the bitch illuminate the border, illuminate what we ostensibly are not, illuminate the Dream of being white, of being a Man. We name the hated strangers and are thus confirmed in the tribe. But my tribe was shattering and reforming around me. I saw these people often, because they were family to someone whom I loved. Their ordinary moments—answering the door, cooking in the kitchen, dancing to Adina Howard—assaulted me and expanded my notion of the human spectrum. I would sit in the living room of that house, observing their private jokes, one part of me judging them, the other reeling from the changes.

• From Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928)

  Connie felt there was truth in this. But she also felt that Mick was hardly making a display of selflessness. "Aren't all men wrapped up in themselves?" she asked. "Oh, more or less, I allow. A man's got to be, to get through. But that's not the point. The point is, what sort of a time can a man give a woman? Can he give her a damn good time, or can't he? If he can't he's no right to the woman...." He paused and gazed at her with his full, hazel eyes, almost hypnotic. "Now I consider," he added, "I can give a woman the darndest good time she can ask for. I think I can guarantee myself." "And what sort of a good time?" asked Connie, gazing on him still with a sort of amazement, that looked like thrill; and underneath feeling nothing at all. "Every sort of a good time, damn it, every sort! Dress, jewels up to a point, any night-club you like, know anybody you want to know, live the pace ... travel and be somebody wherever you go.... Darn it, every sort of good time." He spoke it almost in a brilliancy of triumph, and Connie looked at him as if dazzled, and really feeling nothing at all. Hardly even the surface of her mind was tickled at the glowing prospects he offered her. Hardly even her most outside self responded, that at any other time would have been thrilled. She just got no feeling from it all, she couldn't "go off." She just sat and stared and looked dazzled, and felt nothing, only somewhere she smelt the extraordinarily unpleasant smell of the bitch-goddess. Mick sat on tenterhooks, leaning forward in his chair, glaring at her almost hysterically: and whether he was more anxious out of vanity for her to say Yes! or whether he was more panic-stricken for fear she _should_ say Yes!--who can tell? "I should have to think about it," she said. "I couldn't say now. It may seem to you Clifford doesn't count, but he does. When you think how disabled he is...." "Oh damn it all! if a fellow's going to trade on his disabilities, I might begin to say how lonely I am, and always have been, and all the rest of the my-eye-Betty-Martin sob-stuff! Damn it all, if a fellow's got nothing but disabilities to recommend him...." He turned aside, working his hands furiously in his trousers pockets. That evening he said to her: "You're coming round to my room tonight, aren't you? I don't darned know where your room is." "All right!" she said.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Bruno and Buffalmacco, hearing this, fell a-laughing in their sleeves and eyeing each other askance, made a show of exceeding wonderment and praised Calandrino's counsel, but Bruno asked how the stone in question was called. Calandrino, who was a clod-pated fellow, had already forgotten the name, wherefore quoth he, 'What have we to do with the name, since we know the virtue of the stone? Meseemeth we were best go about the quest without more ado.' 'Well, then,' said Bruno, 'how is it fashioned?' 'It is of all fashions,' replied Calandrino; 'but all are well nigh black; wherefore meseemeth that what we have to do is to gather up all the black stones we see, till we happen upon the right. So let us lose no time, but get us gone.' Quoth Bruno, 'Wait awhile,' and turning to his comrade, said, 'Methinketh Calandrino saith well; but meseemeth this is no season for the search, for that the sun is high and shineth full upon the Mugnone, where it hath dried all the stones, so that certain of those that be there appear presently white, which of a morning, ere the sun have dried them, show black; more by token that, to-day being a working day, there be many folk, on one occasion or another abroad along the banks, who, seeing us, may guess what we are about and maybe do likewise, whereby the stone may come to their hands and we shall have lost the trot for the amble. Meseemeth (an you be of the same way of thinking) that this is a business to be undertaken of a morning, whenas the black may be the better known from the white, and of a holiday, when there will be none there to see us.'

• From Macho Sluts (1988)

  There was a chorus of “I am.” Kay and EZ looked at each other. “I don’t know about you,” Alex said, “but I’m in no shape to drive the bike home. I got mine locked up good, and security will keep an eye on it for me. Think that’ll be okay, Tyre?” “Sure, there’s a night watch. If it’s chained it’ll be fine.” She was relieved at Alex’s tact. She didn’t want Kay and EZ to pull away. Things were going to be weird enough for the two of them without a self-imposed exile back to the boys’-club world of Folsom Street. “Okay,” said Michael, “I’m parked right outside. Only one condition—Roxanne has to go out the same way she came in.” “In the mummy bag?” Roxanne said. “No, on our shoulders.” Tyre and Alex put their arms around each other and watched everyone else get a handful of Roxanne and hoist her off the floor. “Good thing she’s just a little girl,” Tyre said. Alex snorted. The rest of the crew was singing, “She’s Got a Jolly Good Asshole” to the tune of “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow.” “You know,” Tyre said slowly, as she and Alex followed everybody else out, “we put your lady through some very heavy shit.” She turned out the lights and closed the door. “You could say that, all right.” “Where can you go from here? Even this has got to run out of steam eventually.” Alex thought about it for a long time. “Sell her?” she said. It was only half a joke. Tyre nodded, absorbed it. Would it be a permanent transfer of rights, or would there be a time limit? Would all privileges be sold, or simply a portion of them? Who would be able to afford such an exotic delight? It was a bewildering and exhilarating notion. “The Calyx of Isis wants the movie rights,” she said, and slid her tired, rich, albino ass through the limousine’s back door. All the way home, she stared at Roxanne, sleeping on Alex’s shoulder, and tried to calculate the fair-market value of that much love. Macho Sluts The Hustler I’ve been more comfortable in a public toilet. This room is a crucifying closet, stifling hot, and lit with ghoulish, humming fluorescent lights. There are no windows—nothing to look at but this big mahogany box of a desk and the Big Box herself—excuse me, I mean the Big Boss—behind it. Normally, I find women of her size attractive. There’s a larger canvas to work on, and more padding. But this woman’s bulk is menacing, and the lack of distance between us isn’t decent. I can see the wax in her ears. I’m confused, crowded, put off my game. I don’t get this close to anybody who isn’t manacled to a wall.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  The judge, in a manner astonied, as were likewise as many as were there, at this mischance and unknowing what to say, abode long silent; then, recollecting himself, he said, 'It seemeth this sage is poisonous, the which is not wont to happen of sage. But, so it may not avail to offend on this wise against any other, be it cut down even to the roots and cast into the fire.' This the keeper of the garden proceeded to do in the judge's presence, and no sooner had he levelled the great bush with the ground than the cause of the death of the two unfortunate lovers appeared; for thereunder was a toad of marvellous bigness, by whose pestiferous breath they concluded the sage to have become venomous. None daring approach the beast, they made a great hedge of brushwood about it and there burnt it, together with the sage. So ended the judge's inquest upon the death of the unfortunate Pasquino, who, together with his Simona, all swollen as they were, was buried by Stramba and Atticciato and Guccio Imbratta and Malagevole in the church of St. Paul, whereof it chanced they were parishioners." THE EIGHTH STORY [Day the Fourth] GIROLAMO LOVETH SALVESTRA AND BEING CONSTRAINED BY HIS MOTHER'S PRAYERS TO GO TO PARIS, RETURNETH AND FINDETH HIS MISTRESS MARRIED; WHEREUPON HE ENTERETH HER HOUSE BY STEALTH AND DIETH BY HER SIDE; AND HE BEING CARRIED TO A CHURCH, SALVESTRA DIETH BESIDE HIM Emilia's story come to an end, Neifile, by the king's commandment, began thus: "There are some, noble ladies, who believe themselves to know more than other folk, albeit, to my thinking, they know less, and who, by reason thereof, presume to oppose their judgment not only to the counsels of men, but even to set it up against the very nature of things; of which presumption very grave ills have befallen aforetime, nor ever was any good known to come thereof. And for that of all natural things love is that which least brooketh contrary counsel or opposition and whose nature is such that it may lightlier consume of itself than be done away by advisement, it hath come to my mind to narrate to you a story of a lady, who, seeking to be wiser than pertained unto her and than she was, nay, than the matter comported in which she studied to show her wit, thought to tear out from an enamoured heart a love which had belike been set there of the stars, and so doing, succeeded in expelling at once love and life from her son's body.

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  2. JOHN LEAL Once John Leal left Noxhurst, halfway through his last term of college, he drifted until he ended up in Yanji, China. In this city, adjacent to North Korea, he began working with an activist group that smuggled Korean refugees toward asylum in Seoul. He’d found his life’s work, he thought. Instead, he was kidnapped by North Korean agents, spirited across the border, and thrown into a prison camp outside of Pyongyang. In the stories he later told the group, he said the gulag brutalities were bad enough, but at least they’d been expected. What astonished him was the allegiance his fellow inmates showed toward the lunatic despot whose policies had installed them in their cells. They’d been jailed because, oh, they’d splashed a drop of tea on his newsprint portrait. A neighbor claimed to have overheard them whistling a South Korean pop song. Punished for absurdities, they still maintained that the beloved sovereign, a divine being, couldn’t be to blame. At first, he assumed this was lip service, the prisoners afraid to say otherwise. But then, he thought of the refugees he’d met in Yanji, how they talked of loving the god they’d fled. They attributed the regime’s troubles to anyone but the sole person in charge. A month into John Leal’s time in the gulag, prison guards held an optional foot race, the prize a framed icon of the despot. In the confusion, those who fell were trampled. One child died of a broken spine. Through howls of pain, he shouted hosannahs for his lord. They weren’t lying, the poor fools. They believed in the man as one might believe in Jesus Christ. Some people needed leading. In or out of the gulag, they craved faith. But think if the tyrant had been as upright as his disciples trusted him to be. The heights he’d have achieved, if he loved them—if, John Leal thought, until his idea began. 3. PHOEBE I hoped I’d be a piano genius, Phoebe told the group, in the first Jejah confession she tried giving. She’d have sat in the circle, holding a kidskin journal. Though I’d driven Phoebe here, I was outside, going home. It’s a mistake. I should have stayed, but I didn’t. Instead, I’ll add what details I can. The full lips, spit-polished. She licked them, tense. I’m striving to picture it: Phoebe, talking. The thin, long-fingered hands folded tight. She looked down, inhaled. But I didn’t just wait, she said. I expected, no, I wanted to work for it. I spilled time into the piano as I’d have put cash in a bank. I saw full concert halls in the future, solo recitals. Front-page plaudits. I practiced Liszt while imagined spotlights gilded the living room. Recollection is half invention, but it feels as though I spent my entire childhood training to prove I was the significant pianist I believed I’d be. So, I piled up trophies. It wasn’t enough.

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  11 The entire vision [of all these things] will be to you like the words of a scroll that is sealed, which they give to one who can read, saying, “Read this, please,” he shall say, “I cannot, for it is sealed.” 12 Then the book will be given to the one who cannot read, saying, “Read this, please.” And he will say, “I cannot read.” 13 Then the Lord said, “Because this nation approaches [Me only] with their words And honors Me [only] with their lip service, But they remove their hearts far from Me, And their reverence for Me is a tradition that is learned by rote [without any regard for its meaning], 14 Therefore, listen carefully, I will again do marvelous and amazing things with this people, wonderful and astonishing things; And the wisdom of their wise men will perish, And the understanding of their discerning men will be hidden.” 15 Woe (judgment is coming) to those who [try to] deeply hide their plans from the LORD , Whose deeds are done in a dark place, And who say, “Who sees us?” or “Who knows us?” 16 You turn things upside down [with your perversity]! Shall the potter be considered equal with the clay, That the thing that is made would say to its maker, “He did not make me”; Or the thing that is formed say to him who formed it, “He has no understanding”? Blessing after Discipline 17 Is it not yet a very little while Until Lebanon will be turned into a fertile field, And the fertile field regarded as a forest? 18 On that day the deaf will hear the words of a book, And out of their gloom and darkness the eyes of the blind will see [the words of the book]. 19 The afflicted also will increase their joy in the LORD , And the needy of mankind will rejoice and celebrate in the Holy One of Israel. 20 For the tyrant will come to an end and the scorner will be finished, Indeed all who are intent on doing evil will be cut off— 21 Those who cause a person to be condemned with a [false] word, And lay a trap for him who upholds justice at the [city] gate, And defraud the one in the right with meaningless arguments. 22 Therefore, the LORD , who redeemed Abraham [from paganism] says this, concerning the house of Jacob (Israel): “Jacob will not be ashamed, nor will his face turn pale [with disappointment because of his children’s degenerate behavior]; 23 For when he sees his children, the work of My hands, in his midst, They will sanctify My Name; They will sanctify the Holy One of Jacob And will stand in awe and reverent fear of the God of Israel. 24 “Those who err in mind will know the truth, And those who criticize and murmur discontentedly will accept instruction.

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  13 It will come to pass in that day that a great trumpet will be blown, and those who were lost and perishing in the land of Assyria and who were scattered in the land of Egypt will come and worship the LORD on the holy mountain at Jerusalem. [Zech 14:16 ; Matt 24:31 ; Rev 11:15 ] Isaiah 28 Ephraim’s Captivity Predicted 1 W OE (JUDGMENT is coming) to [Samaria] the splendid crown of the drunkards of a Ephraim, And to the fading flower of its glorious beauty, Which is at the head of the rich valley Of those who are overcome with wine! 2 Listen carefully, the Lord has a strong and mighty agent [the Assyrian]; Like a tempest of hail, a disastrous storm, Like a tempest of mighty overflowing waters, He has cast it down to the earth with His hand. 3 The splendid crown of the drunkards of Ephraim is trampled by [the foreigners’] feet. 4 And the fading flower of its glorious beauty, Which is at the head of the rich valley, Will be like the early fig before the summer, Which one sees, And as soon as it is in his hand He [greedily] swallows it [and so will the Assyrians rapidly devour Samaria, Israel’s capital]. 5 In that day the LORD of hosts will become a magnificent crown And a glorious diadem to the [converted] remnant of His people, 6 A spirit of justice for him who sits in judgment [administering the law], A strength to those who drive back the battle at the gate. 7 But even these reel with wine and stagger from strong drink: The priest and the prophet reel with strong drink; They are confused by wine, they stagger from strong drink; They reel while seeing visions, They stagger when pronouncing judgment. 8 For all the tables are full of filthy vomit, so that there is no place [that is clean.] 9 They say “To whom would He teach knowledge? And to whom would He explain the message? Those just weaned from milk? Those just taken from the breast? 10 “For He says , ‘Precept upon precept, precept upon precept, Rule upon rule, rule upon rule, Here a little, there a little.’ ” 11 Indeed, the LORD will teach this people [in a more humiliating way] By [men with] stammering lips and a foreign tongue, 12 He who said to them, “This is the place of quiet, give rest to the weary,” And, “This is the resting place,” yet they would not listen. 13 Therefore the word of the LORD to them will be [merely monotonous repetitions]: “Precept upon precept, precept upon precept, Rule upon rule, rule upon rule, Here a little, there a little.” That they may go and stumble backward, and be broken, ensnared, and taken captive. Judah Is Warned 14 Therefore, hear the word of the LORD , you arrogant men Who rule this people who are in Jerusalem!

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  19 All the people in Jerusalem learned about this, so in their own dialect—Aramaic—they called the piece of land Hakeldama, that is, Field of Blood.) 20 “For in the book of Psalms it is written, ‘LET HIS PLACE OF RESIDENCE BECOME DESOLATE , AND LET THERE BE NO ONE TO LIVE IN IT ’; and [again], ‘LET ANOTHER TAKE HIS POSITION AS OVERSEER .’ [Ps 69:25 ; 109:8 ] 21 “So of the men who have accompanied us during all the time that the Lord Jesus spent with us, 22 beginning with the baptism by John [at the outset of Jesus’ ministry] until the day when He was taken up from us—one of these men must become a witness with us [to testify] of His resurrection.” 23 And they put forward two men, Joseph, the one called Barsabbas (who was surnamed Justus), and Matthias. 24 They prayed and said, “You, Lord, who know all hearts [their thoughts, motives, desires], show us which one of these two You have chosen 25 to occupy this ministry and apostleship which Judas left to go to his own place [of evil].” 26 And they e cast lots for them, and the lot fell to Matthias; and he was added to the eleven apostles. Acts 2 The Day of Pentecost 1 W hen the day of a Pentecost had come, they were all together in one place, 2 and suddenly a sound came from heaven like a rushing violent wind, and it filled the whole house where they were sitting. 3 There appeared to them tongues resembling fire, which were being distributed [among them], and they rested on each one of them [as each person received the Holy Spirit]. 4 And they were all filled [that is, diffused throughout their being] with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other b tongues (different languages), as the Spirit was giving them the ability to speak out [clearly and appropriately]. 5 Now there were Jews living in Jerusalem, devout and God-fearing men from every nation under heaven. 6 And when this sound was heard, a crowd gathered, and they were bewildered because each one was hearing those in the upper room speaking in his own language or dialect. 7 They were completely astonished, saying, “Look! Are not all of these who are speaking Galileans? 8 “Then how is it that each of us hears in our own language or native dialect?

• From The Incendiaries (2018)

  He spins it while people sing— She fell silent, gaze fixed to my left. I turned, but I noticed nothing unusual. Lilies splayed open on the windowsill, wilting stars. A tall man waited at the stoplight. I thought I saw him again, she said. Who? His name’s John Leal—do you know him? I don’t think so. No, it’s nothing, she said. I just, I keep thinking I’ve spotted him, but— Who is this? Flustered, she tried to explain. Bix lit the candle, and she thanked him. It took a few tries, but, at last, I gathered she’d gone to a club the other night, downtown. She stepped outside, phone in hand, to call a taxi. Someone else was also there, leaning against the wall. When she hung up, he hailed Phoebe by name. She didn’t recognize him, but figured she was to blame. They’d met. She’d forgotten. To be polite, she played along, as if she knew him, but he ignored the act. I’m John Leal, he said. You’re Phoebe. I hoped I’d run into you. I thought of how to set it up, and look, here you are. Then, he listed small facts about her life. Trivial details, but nothing he should have known. He handed a folded note to Phoebe. I’d love to see you again, he said. It’s up to you, though. Call me when you’re tired of wasting this life. When you’re tired of—huh, I said. Isn’t it strange? Phoebe said. Oh, also, he had no shoes on. I thought, at first, that friends might be playing a practical joke on me. But it’s not much of a joke. She lifted a glass to Bix. From the level above us, male voices united in song, a capella. I asked if she intended to get in touch with this John Leal. No, but she wished she’d asked how he knew what he did. She’d kept the note, she said, pulling a slip from her wallet. It was plain, lined, ripping along the fold. In block letters, he’d printed his name. John Leal. I suggested she give him a call. Why? It’s bothering you, I said. If you want, I’ll help. I could see him with you. Just then, a large man popped up behind Phoebe, sliding his hands across her eyes. Guess who, he said. He raised his arms. A full lilac robe spilled out from beneath his peacoat, a priest’s white band at his throat. No, don’t get up, he said. I’ve left Liesl outside in the cold, and I told her I wouldn’t be a minute but hello, Phoebe, don’t you look tip-top. Tell me if you like this outfit. One of Liesl’s friends is hosting a themed night: come as you aren’t. So, you’re going as the pope, Phoebe said. Or a curtain. Curtain, he said.

• From Amplified Holy Bible (2015)

  3 But when the people of Gibeon [the Hivites] heard what Joshua had done to Jericho and Ai, 4 they too acted craftily and cunningly, and set out and took along provisions, but took worn-out sacks on their donkeys, and wineskins (leather bottles) that were worn out and split open and patched together, 5 and worn-out and patched sandals on their feet, and worn-out clothes; and all their supply of food was dry and had turned to crumbs. 6 They went to Joshua in the camp at Gilgal and said to him and the men of Israel, “We have come from a far country; so now, make a covenant (treaty) with us.” 7 But the men of Israel said to the Hivites, “Perhaps you are living within our land; how then can we make a covenant (treaty) with you?” 8 They said to Joshua, “We are your servants.” Then Joshua said to them, “Who are you, and where do you come from?” 9 They said to him, “Your servants have come from a country that is very far away because of the fame of the LORD your God; for we have heard the news about Him and all [the remarkable things] that He did in Egypt, 10 and everything that He did to the two kings of the Amorites who were beyond the Jordan, to Sihon the king of Heshbon and to Og the king of Bashan who lived in Ashtaroth. 11 “So our elders and all the residents of our country said to us, ‘Take provisions for the journey and go to meet the sons of Israel and say to them, “We are your servants; now make a covenant (treaty) with us.” ’ 12 “This bread of ours was hot (fresh) when we took it along as our provision from our houses on the day we left to come to you; now look, it is dry and has turned to crumbs. 13 “These wineskins which we filled were new, and look, they are split; our clothes and our sandals are worn out because of the very long journey [that we had to make].” 14 So the men [of Israel] took some of their own provisions [and offered them in friendship], and [foolishly] did not ask for the counsel of the LORD . 15 Joshua made peace with them and made a covenant (treaty) with them, to let them live; and the leaders of the congregation [of Israel] swore an oath to them. 16 It happened that three days after they had made a covenant (treaty) with them, the Israelites heard that they were [actually] their neighbors and that they were living among them. 17 Then the sons of Israel set out and came to their cities on the third day. Now the cities [of the Hivites] were Gibeon and Chephirah and Beeroth and Kiriath-jearim.