Fear

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.

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• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  As they came lower and lower in their descent, the scene out the window looked to Miri like a moonscape, or how she imagined a moonscape would look. Sandy and flat with tall, dark mountains rising out of nowhere. Lower and lower out of the wild blue yonder, lower and lower until the wheels hit the ground with a thud and the pilot reversed the engines, making a grinding noise. The captain spoke to them over the loudspeaker. “Welcome to McCarran Field, ladies and gentlemen. Enjoy your stay in Las Vegas. We hope you’ll join us again.” She’d survived the trip. Even if she never flew again, which she was sure she wouldn’t, at least she’d gone up into the wild blue yonder three times. At least she’d done that. The passengers applauded as if they’d been watching a show. They were all yakking, thrilled to have landed at McCarran Field or maybe thrilled just to have landed. When they were told they were free to unbuckle their seat belts, Fern jumped into Dr. O’s arms. Rusty, still looking unwell, draped an arm over Miri’s shoulder. “We made it.” Yes, they’d made it, but this was just the beginning. Las Vegas Sun A-BOMB BLAST THRILLS JULY 5 — Thousands of holiday tourists on the Las Vegas strip celebrated dawn with the sight of an atomic flash at the Yucca Flat test site 78 miles away. The mushroom cloud was clearly seen, but there was disappointment at the slight shock. A thousand soldiers, positioned in foxholes only 7,000 yards away from the blast, surged forward minutes after the explosion in a simulated attack to encircle and capture the devastated area. “There were no casualties,” the Army announced. 35

• From A Boy's Own Story (1982)

  He was a small, wiry man with black eyebrows so full that if they weren’t pressed or combed into place they would stick out in disconcerting clumps like brittle, badly cared for paintbrushes or could droop down over an eye in a droll effect at odds with the commands he was barking. His skin was a tan mask clapped over a face that always appeared seriously exhausted; the dark circles and drained, bloodless cheeks could be seen through the false health of his tan. I ascribed his weariness to irritation. In fact he was much older than the other instructors. He may even have been close to retirement age. He might have been ill and in pain and perhaps his irritation was due to his ailment. After lights-out he became someone new. Although he was still in uniform his tie was loosened, his voice seemed to have dropped an octave and a decibel, he had Scotch mysteriously and pleasantly on his breath, and his regard had grown gentle beneath its thatch of drooping eyebrows. He stopped by each tent, sat on the edge of each cot and spoke to each boy in a tone so intimate that the roommate couldn’t eavesdrop. My roommate was a tall, extremely shy and well-bred redhead from a small town in Iowa: someone who seemed not at all eager to confide in me or to seek my friendship or even comments, as though he recognized that this life, at least, was worth enduring only if it remained unexamined. And yet his silences did not guarantee that he was altogether without thought or feeling. At unexpected moments he’d blush or stutter or in mid-sentence his mouth would go dry—and I could never figure out what had prompted these symptoms of anxiety. One night, after our captain had lingered longer than usual in his cloud of Scotch and then passed on to the next tent, I asked my rommate why the captain always stayed longer beside him than me. “I don’t know. He rubs me.” “What do you mean?” “Doesn’t he rub you?” the boy whispered. “Sometimes,” I lied. “All over?” “Like how?” I asked. “Like all”—his voice went dry—“down your front?” “That’s not right,” I said. “He shouldn’t do that. He shouldn’t. It’s abnormal. I’ve read about it.”

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  [image file=image_rsrcA5N.jpg] “PAPE SATAN! pape Satan, aleppe!” began Plutus, with clucking voice; and that gentle Sage, who knew all,1 said, comforting me: “Let not thy fear hurt thee: for, whatever power he have, he shall not hinder thee from descending this rock.” Then he turned himself to that inflated visage, and said; “Peace, cursed Wolf! consume thyself internally with thy greedy rage. Not without cause is our journey to the deep: it is willed on high, there where Michael took vengeance of the proud adultery.”2 As sails, swelled by the wind, fall entangled when the mast breaks: so fell that cruel monster to the ground. Thus we descended into the fourth concavity, taking in more of the dismal bank, which shuts up all the evil of the universe. Ah, Justice Divine! who shall tell in few the many fresh pains and travails that I saw? and why does guilt of ours thus waste us? As does the surge, there above Charybdis,3 that breaks itself against the surge wherewith it meets: so have the people here to counter-dance. Here saw I too many more than elsewhere, both on the one side and on the other, with loud howlings, rolling weights by force of chests; they smote against each other, and then each wheeled round just there, rolling aback, shouting “Why holdest thou?” and “Why throwest thou away?” Thus they returned along the gloomy circle, on either hand, to the opposite point, again shouting at each other their reproachful measure. Then every one, when he had reached it, turned through his half-circle towards the other joust. And I, who felt my heart as it were stung, said: “My Master, now show me what people these are, and whether all those tonsured on our left were of the clergy.”4 And he to me: “In their first life, all were so squint-eyed in mind, that they made no expenditure in it with moderation. Most clearly do their voices bark out this, when they come to the two points of the circle, where contrary guilt divides them. These were Priests, that have not hairy covering on their heads, and Popes and Cardinals, in whom avarice does its utmost.” And I: “Master, among this set, I surely ought to recognize some that were defiled by these evils.” And he to me: “Vain thoughts combinest thou: their undiscerning life, which made them sordid, now makes them too obscure for any recognition. To all eternity they shall continue butting one another; these shall arise from their graves with closed fists; and these with hair shorn off. Ill-giving, and ill-keeping, has deprived them of the bright world, and put them to this conflict; what a conflict it is, I adorn no words to tell. But thou, my Son, mayest now see the brief mockery of the goods that are committed unto Fortune, for which the human kind contend with one another.

• From A Boy's Own Story (1982)

  In this house the parents maintained a silence except for the father’s dreaded little comments, the sugar substitute of his sweetness, and the whole chirping menagerie of the mother’s comical voices. No one hovered over the kids. They came and went as they chose, they stayed home and studied or they went out, they ate dinner in or at the last moment they accepted the hospitality of other tables. But under this superficial ease of manner ran their dread of their father and their fear of offending him in some new way. He was a man far milder, far more (shall I say) ladylike than any other father I’d known, and yet his soft way of curling up on a couch and tucking his silk dressing gown modestly around his thin white shanks terrified everyone, as did his way of looking over the tops of his glasses and mouthing without sound the name of his son: “Tom-my”—the lips compressed on the double m and making a meal out of his swallowed, sorrowing disappointment. He was homely, tall, snowy-haired, hardworking, in bad health. He seemed to me the absolute standard of respectability, and by that standard I failed. My sister had coached me in some sort of charm, but no degree of charm, whether counterfeit or genuine, made an impression on Mr. Wellington. He was charm-proof. He disapproved of me. I was a fraud, a charlatan. His disapproval started with my mother and her “reputation,” whatever that might refer to (her divorce? her dates? the fact she worked?). He didn’t like me and he didn’t want his son to associate with me. When I entered his study I’d stand behind Tom. Only now does it occur to me that Tommy may have liked me precisely because his father didn’t. Was Tom’s friendship with me one more way in which he was unobtrusively but firmly disappointing his father? Once we closed Tom’s bedroom door we were immersed again in the happy shabbiness of our friendship. For he was my friend—my best friend! Until now other boys my age had frightened me. We might grab each other in the leaves and play Squirrel; Ralph might have hypnotized me, but those painful stabs at pleasure had left me shaken and swollen with yearning—I wanted someone to love me. Someone adult. Someone under my power. I had prayed I’d grow up as fast as possible. No longer. For the first time I found it exhilarating to be young and with someone young. I loved him, and the love was all the more powerful because I had to hide it. We slept in twin beds only two feet apart.

• From On Beauty (2005)

  Here they all were, Howard’s imaginary class. Howard indulged in a quick visual catalogue of their interesting bits, knowing that this would very likely be the last time he saw them. The punk boy with black-painted fingernails, the Indian girl with the disproportionate eyes of a Disney character, another girl who looked no older than fourteen with a railroad on her teeth. And then, spread across this room: big nose, small ears, obese, on crutches, hair red as rust, wheelchair, six foot five, short skirt, pointy breasts, iPod still on, anorexic with that light downy hair on her cheeks, bow-tie, another bow-tie, football hero, white boy with dreads, long fingernails like a New Jersey housewife, already losing his hair, striped tights – there were so many of them that Smith couldn’t close the door without squashing somebody. So they had come, and they had heard. Howard had pitched his tent and made his case. He had  the anatomy lesson offered them a Rembrandt who was neither a rule breaker nor an original but rather a conformist; he had asked them to ask themselves what they meant by ‘genius’ and, in the perplexed silence, replaced the familiar rebel master of historical fame with Howard’s own vision of a merely competent artisan who painted whatever his wealthy patrons requested. Howard asked his students to imagine prettiness as the mask that power wears. To recast Aesthetics as a rarefied language of exclusion. He promised them a class that would challenge their own beliefs about the redemptive humanity of what is commonly called ‘Art’. ‘Art is the Western myth,’ announced Howard, for the sixth year in a row, ‘with which we both console ourselves and make ourselves.’ Everybody wrote that down. ‘Any questions?’ asked Howard. The answer to this never changed. Silence. But it was an interesting breed of silence particular to upscale liberal arts colleges. It was not silent because nobody had anything to say – quite the opposite. You could feel it, Howard could feel it, millions of things to say brewing in this room, so strong sometimes that they seemed to shoot from the students telepathically and bounce off the furniture. Kids looked down at the table top, or out of the window, or at Howard with great longing; some of the weaker ones blushed and pretended to take notes. But not one of them would speak. They had an intense fear of their peers. And, more than that, of Howard himself. When he first began teaching he had tried, stupidly, to coax them out of this fear – now he positively relished it. The fear was respect, the respect, fear. If you didn’t have the fear you had nothing. ‘Nothing? Have I really been so very thorough? Not a single question?’ A carefully preserved English accent also upped the fear factor.

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  [image file=image_rsrcA5N.jpg] “VEXILLA REGIS prodeunt inferni1 towards us: therefore look in front of thee,” my Master said, “if thou discernest him.” As, when a thick mist breathes, or when the night comes on our hemisphere, a mill, which the wind turns, appears at distance: such an edifice did I now seem to see; and, for the wind, shrunk back behind my Guide, because no other shed was there. Already I had come (and with fear I put it into verse) where the souls were wholly covered, and shone through like straw in glass. Some are lying; some stand upright, this on its head, and that upon its soles; another, like a bow, bends face to feet. When we had proceeded on so far, that it pleased my Guide to show to me the Creature which was once so fair, he took himself from before me, and made me stop, saying: “Lo Dis! and lo the place where it behoves thee arm thyself with fortitude.” How icy chill and hoarse I then became, ask not, O Reader! for I write it not, because all speech would fail to tell. I did not die, and did not remain alive; now think for thyself, if thou hast any grain of ingenuity, what I became, deprived of both death and life. The Emperor of the dolorous realm, from mid breast stood forth out of the ice; and I in size am liker to a giant, than the giants are to his arms: mark now how great that whole must be, which corresponds to such a part. If he was once as beautiful as he is ugly now, and lifted up his brows against his Maker, well may all affliction come from him. Oh how great a marvel seemed it to me, when I saw three faces on his head! The one in front, and it was fiery red; the others were two, that were adjoined to this, above the very middle of each shoulder; and they were joined at his crest; and the right seemed between white aud yellow; the left was such to look on, as they who come from where the Nile descends.2 Under each there issued forth two mighty wings, of size befitting such a bird: sea-sails I never saw so broad. No plumes had they; but were in form and texture like a bat’s: and he was flapping them, so that three winds went forth from him. Thereby Cocytus all was frozen; with six eyes he wept, and down three chins gushed tears and bloody foam. In every mouth he champed a sinner with his teeth, like a brake; so that he thus kept three of them in torment. To the one in front, the biting was nought, compared with the tearing: for at times the back of him remained quite stript of skin. “That soul up there, which suffers greatest punishment,” said the Master, “is Judas Iscariot, he who has his head within, and outside plies his legs.

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  * When I was a young man I went from the city called Miletus to see the games and triumphs called Olympian, and being desirous also to come into this famous province, after that I had travelled over all Thessaly, I fortuned in an evil hour to come to the city Larissa, where, while I went up and down to view the streets, to take some relief for my poor estate (for I had spent near all my money) 1 espied a tall old man standing upon a stone in the midst of the market-place, crying with a loud voice, and 'saying that if any man would watch a dead corpse that night he should be rewarded and a price be fixed for his pains. Which when I heard I said to one that passed by: * What is here to do? Do dead men use to run away in this country?' Then answered he: * Hold your peace; for you are but a babe and a F 81 LUCIUS APULEIUS puer et satis peregrinus es, meritoque ignoras Thes- saliae te consistere, ubi sagae mulieres ora mortuorum passim demorsitant, eaque sunt illis artis magicae 22 supplementa’ Contra ego ‘Et quae, tu’ inquam ‘Die sodes, custodela illa feralis?' ‘Iam primum’ respondit ille * Perpetem noctem eximie vigilandum est exertis et inconnivis oculis semper in cadaver intentis, nec acies usquam devertenda, immo ne obliquanda quidem, quippe cum deterrimae ver- sipelles in quodvis animal ore converso latenter arrepant, ut ipsos etiam oculos solis et Iustitiae facile frustrentur; nam et aves et rursum canes et mures, immo vero etiam muscas induunt. Tunc diris cantaminibus somno custodes obruunt : nec satis quisquam definire poterit quantas latebras nequissimae mulieres pro libidine sua. comminiscuntur. Nec tamen huius tam exitiabilis operae merces amplior quam quaterni vel seni ferme offeruntur aurei. Ehem, et quod paene praeterieram, si qui non integrum corpus mane restituerit, quicquid inde decerptum deminutumque fuerit, id omne de facie sua desecto sarcire compellitur.' 23 “ His cognitis animum meum commasculo, et illico accedens praeconem * Clamare ' inquam ‘Iam desine : adest custos paratus, cedo praemium.' * Mille’ inquit * Nummum deponentur tibi. Sed heus iuvenis, cave diligenter principum civitatis filii cadaver a malis Harpyiis probe custodias! * Ineptias’ inquam * Mihi 82 THE GOLDEN ASS, BOOK II

• From A Boy's Own Story (1982)

  Even quite massive houses of many rooms and wings engulfed their plots down to the sidewalk. This conspicuousness declared a pride and innocence: we have nothing to hide, and we want to show you what we’ve got. Tom’s house was a Mediterranean villa with six bedrooms and servants’ quarters over a double garage, but its gleaming leaded panes and the front door (thick oak gouged into griffins) loomed up just ten paces from the street. Once inside that door, however, I felt transported into another society that had ways I could never quite master. The Wellingtons were nice but not charming. The Wellingtons gave thought to everything they did. The staircase was lined with expensive, ugly paintings done from photographs of their four children. Their kids’ teeth were bound in costly wires, their whims for sailboats or skis or guitars were lavishly but silently honored, they were all paraded in a stupor past the monuments of Europe, their vacations down rapids and over glaciers or up mountains were well funded—but silence reigned. No one said a word. Dinner there was torture. A student from the university served. Mr. Wellington carved. Mrs. Wellington, a woman with a girlish spirit trapped inside a large, swollen body, made stabs at conversation, but she was so shy she could speak only in comical accents. She’d grunt in a bass voice like a bear or squeak like a mouse or imitate Donald Duck—anything rather than say a simple declarative sentence in her own fragile, mortified voice. The father terrified us all with his manners (the long white hands wielding the fork and knife and expertly slicing the joint). He radiated disapproval. His disapproval was not the martyr’s blackmail but a sort of murderous mildness: if he weren’t so fastidious he’d murder you. We watched him carve. We were wordless, hypnotized by the candle flames, the neat incisions and deep, bloody invasions, the sound of the metal knife scraping against the tines of the fork, the sickening softness of each red slice laid to the side and the trickle down silver channels ramifying back into a bole of blood. The odd thing is that the father’s spirit did not contaminate the house. His lair, the library, was even the sunniest, most relaxed room of all as the two little dogs, Welsh corgies, trotted from couch to front door at every disturbance, their small, shaggy feet clicking on the polished red tiles. The dogs, the children, his wife—all seemed to prosper in spite of his punitive reserve, his tight eyes, the way he sniffed with contempt at the end of every sentence someone else said. “Oh yes,” he said to me, examining his overly manicured hand, “I know of your mother … by reputation,” and my heart sank.

• From The Swimming-Pool Library (1988)

  There was a scare as the door of a flat nearer the lift opened and a man in overalls came out without even looking in my direction. A scraping noise, a girl’s voice saying, ‘No, Wednesday,’ and the slam of a door, must have come from within another flat—it was hard to be sure. I turned on my heel, but being so far in I knew I must ring again to be sensible and certain. Perhaps Mr Hope, sleeping out his jobless afternoon, would be disturbed, and come vacantly to the door. A minute later I burnt off my adrenalin leaping down the stairs—which were bleakly concrete, like the long exit stairways at the back of cinemas. There was a smell of urine, and lines down the walls drawn by running hands. At the turn of each flight ‘NF’ had been scrawled, with a pendant saying ‘Kill All Niggers’ or ‘Wogs Out’. I thought with yearning of the Hopes, whom I did not know, forced to contain their anger, contempt and hurt in such a world. It would be best to see Arthur on common ground—in a bar or club or out in the open air which I now re-entered gratefully. In view of the horror of the case it had been rather reckless to go to his home, and I was glad I had got away with it. Ideally, I suppose, I wanted to help, to give money to the friend or consolation to the grieving mother: though I was always hoping, expecting even, to see him, there was an assumption dully gaining ground in my mind that he was dead. In the charmless passage between the buildings there were at least the skinheads to look forward to. I had once spent a weekend with a skinhead I picked up at a dance-hall in Camden Town; he called himself Dash, though that was not among the qualities of that ugly, passionate boy. I preferred to see it as a polite euphemism for one of the stronger words that were always hypnotically on his lips. They were a challenge, skinheads, and made me feel shifty as they stood about the streets and shopping precincts, magnetising the attention they aimed to repel. Cretinously simplified to booted feet, bum and bullet head, they had some, if not all, of the things one was looking for. I came by easily, and shot a glance at the big one I had noticed before. He was leaning against the wall, by the entrance to one of the rubbish bays, his ankles crossed, and looking straight at me. ‘Got the time,’ he said neutrally, hardly as a question. I virtually stopped, referred to my old gold watch. ‘It’s 4.15,’ I said. ‘Let me see,’ he said, grabbing my wrist and giving me a strange, private smile. There was a swastika tattoo on the back of his hand, very badly done, almost as though it had been drawn on with a biro.

• From Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption (2014)

  I quickly decided that wouldn’t be smart. Then I thought for an instant that maybe these weren’t real police officers. “Move and I’ll blow your head off!” The officer shouted the words, but I couldn’t make any sense of what he meant. I tried to stay calm; it was the first time in my life anyone had ever pointed a gun at me. “Put your hands up!” The officer was a white man about my height. In the darkness I could only make out his black uniform and his pointed weapon. I put my hands up and noticed that he seemed nervous. I don’t remember deciding to speak, I just remember the words coming out: “It’s all right. It’s okay.” I’m sure I sounded afraid because I was terrified. I kept saying the words over and over again. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” Finally I said, “I live here, this is my apartment.” I looked at the officer who was pointing the gun at my head less than fifteen feet away. I thought I saw his hands shaking. I kept saying as calmly as I could: “It’s okay, it’s okay.” The second officer, who had not drawn his weapon, inched cautiously toward me. He stepped on the sidewalk, circled behind my parked car, and came up behind me while the other officer continued to point the gun at me. He grabbed me by the arms and pushed me up against the back of my car. The other officer then lowered his weapon. “What are you doing out here?” said the second officer, who seemed older than the one who had drawn his weapon. He sounded angry. “I live here. I moved into that house down the street just a few months ago. My roommate is inside. You can go ask him.” I hated how afraid I sounded and the way my voice was shaking. “What are you doing out in the street?” “I was just listening to the radio.” He placed my hands on the car and bent me over the back of the vehicle. The SWAT car’s bright spotlight was still focused on me. I noticed people up the block turning on their lights and peering out of their front doors. The house next to ours came to life, and a middle-aged white man and woman walked outside and stared at me as I was leaned over the vehicle. The officer holding me asked me for my driver’s license but wouldn’t let me move my arms to retrieve it. I told him that it was in my back pocket, and he fished my wallet out from my pants. The other officer was now leaning inside my car and going through my papers. I knew that he had no probable cause to enter my vehicle and that he was conducting an illegal search.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  23. And he came and dwelt in a city called Nazareth: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken by the prophets, He shall be called a Nazarene. GLOSS. Joseph was not disobedient to the angelic warning, but he arose, and took the young Child and his mother, and came into the land of Israel. The Angel had not fixed the particular place, so that while Joseph hesitates, the Angel returns, and by the often visiting him confirms his obedience. JOSEPHUS. Herod had nine wives, by seven of whom he had a numerous issue. By Josida, his first born Antipater—by Mariamine, Alexander and Aristobulus—by Mathuca, a Samaritan woman, Archelaus—by Cleopatra of Jerusalem, Herod, who was afterwards tetrarch, and Philip. The three first were put to death by Herod; and after his death, Archelaus seized the throne by occasion of his father’s will, and the question of the succession was carried before Augustus Cæsar. After some delay, he made a distribution of the whole of Herod’s dominions in accordance with the Senate’s advice. To Archelaus he assigned one half, consisting of Idumæa and Judæa, with the title of tetrarch, and a promise of that of king if he shewed himself deserving of it. The rest he divided into two tetrarchates, giving Galilee to Herod the tetrarch, Ituræa and Trachonitis to Philip. Thus Archelaus was after his father’s death a duarch, which kind of sovereignty is here called a kingdom. AUGUSTINE. (De Con. Evan. ii. 10.) Here it may be asked, How then could his parents go up every year of Christ’s childhood to Jerusalem, as Luke relates, if fear of Archelaus now prevented them from approaching it? This difficulty is easily solved. At the festival they might escape notice in the crowd, and by returning soon, where in ordinary times they might be afraid to live. So they neither became irreligious by neglecting the festival, nor notorious by dwelling continually in Jerusalem. Or it is open to us to understand Luke when he says, they went up every year, as speaking of a time when they had nothing to fear from Archelaus, who, as Josephus relates, reigned only nine years. There is yet a difficulty in what follows; Being warned in a dream, he turned aside into the parts of Galilee. If Joseph was afraid to go into Judæa because one of Herod’s sons, Archelaus, reigned there, how could he go into Galilee, where another of his sons Herod was tetrarch, as Luke tells us? As if the times of which Luke is speaking were times in which there was any longer need to fear for the Child, when even in Judæa things were so changed, that Archelaus no longer ruled there, but Pilate was governor. GLOSS. (ord.) But then we might ask, why was he not afraid to go into Galilee, seeing Archelaus ruled there also? He could be better concealed in Nazareth than in Jerusalem, which was the capital of the kingdom, and where Archelaus was constantly resident.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  ORIGEN. Or else, He here introduces four characters, the adversary, the magistrate, the officer, and the judge. But with Matthew the character of the magistrate is left out, and instead of the officer a servant is introduced. They differ also in that the one has written a farthing, the other a mite, but each has called it the last. Now we say that all men have present with them two angels, a bad one who encourages them to wicked deeds, a good one who persuades all that is best. Now the former, our adversary whenever we sin rejoices, knowing that he has an occasion for exultations and boasting with the prince of the world, who sent him. But in the Greek, “the adversary” is written with the article, to signify that he is one out of many, seeing that each individual is under the ruler of his nation. Give diligence then that you may be delivered from your adversary, or from the ruler to whom the adversary drags you, by having wisdom, justice, fortitude, and temperance. But if you have given diligence, let it be in Him who says, I am the life, (John 14:6.) otherwise the adversary will hale thee to the judge. Now he says, hale, to point out that they are forced unwillingly to condemnation. But I know no other judge but our Lord Jesus Christ who delivers to the officer. Each of us have our own officers; the officers exercise rule over us, if we owe any thing. If I paid every man every thing, I come to the officers and answer with a fearless heart, “I owe them nothing.” But if I am a debtor, the officer will cast me into prison, nor will he suffer me to go out from thence until I have paid every debt. For the officer has no power to let me off even a farthing. He who forgave one debtor five hundred pence and another fifty, (Luke 7:41.) was the Lord, but the exactor is not the master, but one appointed by the master to demand the debts. But the last mite he calls slight and small, for our sins are either heavy or slight. Happy then is he who sinneth not, and next in happiness he who has sinned slightly. Even among slight sins there is diversity, otherwise he would not say until he has paid the last mite. For if he owes a little, he shall not come out till he pays the last mite. But he who has been guilty of a great debt, will have endless ages for his payment.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  28. Father, glorify thy name. Then came there a voice from heaven, saying, I have both glorified it, and will glorify it again. 29. The people therefore, that stood by, and heard it, said that it thundered: others said, An angel spake to him. 30. Jesus answered and said, This voice came not because of me, but for your sakes. 31. Now is the judgment of this world: now shall the prince of this world be cast out. 32. And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me. 33. This he said, signifying what death he should die. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxvi) To our Lord’s exhortation to His disciples to endurance, they might have replied that it was easy for Him, Who was out of the reach of human pain, to talk philosophically about death, and to recommend others to bear what He is in no danger of having to bear Himself. So He lets them see that He is Himself in an agony, but that He does not intend to decline death, merely for the sake of relieving Himself: Now is My soul troubled. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. lii. 2) I hear Him say, He that hateth his life in this world, shall keep it unto life eternal; and I am ravished, I despise the world; the whole of this life, however long, is but a vapour in My sight; all temporal things are vile, in comparison with eternal. And again I hear Him say, Now is My soul troubled. Thou biddest my soul follow Thee; but I see Thy soul troubled. What foundation shall I seek, if the Rock gives way? Lord, I acknowledge Thy mercy. Thou of Thy love wast of Thine own will troubled, to console those who are troubled through the infirmity of nature; that the members of Thy body perish not in despair. The Head took upon Himself the affections of His members. He was not troubled by any thing, but, as was said above, He troubled Himself. (c. 11:33) CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxvii) As He draws near to the Cross, His human nature appears, a nature that did not wish to die, but cleaved to this present life. He shews that He is not quite without human feelings. For the desire of this present life is not necessarily wrong, any more than hunger. Christ had a body free from sin, but not from natural infirmities. But these attach solely to the dispensation of His humanity, not to His divinity. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. lii) Lastly, let the man who would follow Him, hear at what hour he should follow. A fearful hour has perhaps come: a choice is offered, either to do wrong, or suffer: the weak soul is troubled. Hear our Lord. What shall I say? BEDE. i. e. What but something to confirm My followers? Father, save Me from this hour.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  HILARY. (vi. de Trin. c. 34) They believe that He came forth from God, because He does the works of God. For whereas our Lord had said both, I came forth from the Father, and, I am come into the world from the Father, they testified no wonder at the latter words, I am come into the world, which they had often heard before. But their reply shews a belief in and appreciation of the former, I came forth from the Father. And they notice this in their reply: By this we believe that Thou camest forth from God; not adding, and art come into the world, for they knew already that He was sent from God, but had not yet received the doctrine of His eternal generation. That unutterable doctrine they now began to see for the first time in consequence of these words, and therefore reply that He spoke no longer in parables. For God is not born from God after the manner of human birth: His is a coming forth from, rather than a birth from, God. He is one from one; not a portion, not a defection, not a diminution, not a derivation, not a pretension, not a passion, but the birth of living nature from living nature. He is God coming forth from God, not a creature appointed to the name of God; He did not begin to be from nothing, but came forth from an abiding (manente) nature. To come forth, hath the signification of birth, not of beginning. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. ciii) Lastly, He reminds them of their weak tender age in respect of the inner man. Jesus answered them, Do ye now believe? BEDE. Which can be understood in two ways, either as reproaching, or affirming. If the former, the meaning is, Ye have awaked somewhat late to belief, for behold the hour cometh, yea is now come, that ye shall be scattered every man to his home. If the latter, it is, That which ye believe is true, but behold the hour cometh, &c. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. ciii) For they did not only with their bodies leave His body, when He was taken, but with their minds the faith. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxxix) Ye shall be scattered; i. e. when I am betrayed, fear shall so possess you, that ye will not be able even to take to flight together. But I shall suffer no harm in consequence: And yet I am not alone, because the Father is with Me. AUGUSTINE. (Tr. ciii) He wishes to advance them so far as to understand that He had not separated from the Father because He had come forth from the Father. CHRYSOSTOM. (Hom. lxxix. 2) These things have I said unto you, that ye might have peace: i. e. that ye may not reject Me from your minds. For not only when I am taken shall ye suffer tribulation, but so long as ye are in the world: In the world ye shall have tribulation.

• From Saint Thomas Aquinas Collection (22 Books) (2016)

  IN this Gospel the Lord treats of four things. I. He shews what we ought to do, “Except your righteousness shall exceed,” &c.; which proves that we ought to have abundant righteousness. II. He shews what we seek, “the kingdom of heaven.” For this reason we ought to do righteousness, that by it we may come to the kingdom. Of both, S. Matt. 6:33, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteousness.” There He shews what we should avoid, “Thou shalt not kill.” III. But He shews that we ought to flee from a threefold sin. (1) The sin of deed, “Thou shalt not kill:” by this is prohibited every act by which our neighbour is injured. Isai. 1:16, “Cease to do evil.” Levit. 19:16, “Neither shalt thou stand against the blood of thy neighbour.” (2) He prohibits all sin of the heart, “Whosoever is angry with his brother.” Eccles. 11:10, “Remove anger from thy heart, and put away evil from thy flesh.” (3) Sin of the mouth, S. Matt. 5:22, “But whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca.” Ephes. 4:29, “Let no corrupt communication proceed out of your mouth.” IV. He shews what we ought to fear, i.e., the coming judgment, “Shall be in danger of the judgment.” But He here places three things that we ought to fear—(1) The judgment in which all the wicked shall be condemned, “shall be in danger of the judgment.” Judith 16:20, “The Lord Almighty will take revenge on them; in the day of judgment He will visit them.” (2) The Council of Angels and Saints, in which all the wicked will be examined, but “who shall say to his brother, Raca, shall be in danger of the Council.” Isai. 3:14, “The Lord will enter into judgment with the ancients of His people and the princes thereof.” Mal. 4:6, “Lest I come to smite the earth with a curse.” (3) The infernal fire, in which all the wicked will be eternally punished, “shall be in danger of hell fire.” Judith 16:21, “For He will give fire and worms into their flesh that they may burn and may feel for ever.” From which fire may Christ deliver us, &c. HOMILY XIII THE EVIL AND THE GOOD WAY SEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER TRINITY.—(FROM THE EPISTLE)“As ye have yielded your members servants to uncleanness and to iniquity unto iniquity, even so now yield your members servants to righteousness unto holiness.”—Romans 6:19. IN this Epistle the Apostle exhorts us to two things—firstly, to the avoidance of evil, “As ye have yielded your members,” &c.; secondly, to the love of good, “even so now yield your members,” &c.

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  Thus, between the dry bank and the putrid fen, we compassed a large arc of that loathly slough, with eyes turned towards those that swallow of its filth; we came to the foot of a tower at last. 1. Virgil understood these words; but as for us, it seems best to admit that we do not even know to which language they belong, though various attempts have been made to connect them with Hebrew, Greek, and French.2. See Rev. xii 7-9. “Adultery” in the Biblical sense (Ezek. xxiii. 37).3. The whirlpool of Charybdis (in the straits of Messina) which was specially dangerous by reason of its proximity to the rock Scylla, is frequently alluded to in classical literature.4. The avarice of the clergy was held in special aversion by Dante (cf. Cantos i, note 9, and xix).5. At the time of the composition of the Convito (iv) Dante himself did not yet connect Fortune in any way with the Deity.6. Even as the Intelligences were created by God to regulate the Heavens (cf. Par. xxviii), so a power was ordained by Him to guide the destinies of man on earth; and this power is Fortune.7. These lines may mean that Fortune should not be blamed seeing that, on the one hand, she acts under God’s direction, while, on the other, man has the power of free will and a conscience, altogether beyond the pale of her influence (see Canto xv). They may also be taken to imply that the man who has experienced the blows of Fortune should rejoice: for the turn of her wheel may soon bring him happiness.8. The Angels, created together with the Heavens (cf. Purg. xi and xxxi).9. At the beginning of Canto ii the Poet describes the evening of the first day of the journey; it is now past midnight.C A N T O V I I IBefore reaching the high tower, the Poets have observed two flame-signals rise from its summit, and another make answer at a great distance; and now they see Phlegyas, coming with angry rapidity to ferry them over. They enter his bark; and sail across the broad marsh, or Fifth Circle. On the passage, a spirit, all covered with mud, addresses Dante, and is recognized by him. It is Filippo Argenti, of the old Adimari family; who had been much noted for his ostentation, arrogance, and brutal anger. After leaving him, Dante begins to hear a sound of lamentation; and Virgil tells him that the City of Dis (Satan, Lucifer) is getting near. He looks forward, through the grim vapour; and discerns its pinnacles, red, as if they bad come out of fire. Phlegyas lands them at the gates. These they find occupied by a host of fallen angels, who deny them admittance. [image file=image_rsrcA5N.jpg] I SAY continuing,1 that, long before we reached the foot of the high tower, our eves went upwards to its summit,

• From The Genius of Judy: How Judy Blume Rewrote Childhood for All of Us (2023)

  Judy, then in her thirties, wrote the novel because she recognized that families were changing and kids were feeling unmoored. To learn more about how divorce affected children, she “did considerable reading and six months of crying,” she told an interviewer. Maybe she felt so emotional because she’d started to wonder if her own clan was headed in that same direction. “I tried to reassure [Randy and Larry] but I really wasn’t sure myself,” she explained in Letters to Judy . “I wrote It’s Not the End of the World at that time to try to answer some of my children’s questions about divorce, to let other kids know they were not alone and, perhaps, because I was not happy in my own marriage.” When we meet the Newmans at the start of the novel, the New Jersey–based family of five’s dinner time has devolved into chaos after Bill, the father, comes home late from work. Karen—a middle child sandwiched between fourteen-year-old Jeff and six-year-old Amy—watches as her parents get angrier and angrier with each other, until her mother, Ellie, tosses a sponge across the room. Karen guesses her dad will sleep on the couch that night, as he’s been doing frequently. Still, she’s blindsided when Ellie gathers up the children to tell them that she and Bill are separating. “I felt tears come to my eyes,” Karen says, after her mom drops the news. “I told myself, ‘don’t start crying now Karen, you jerk.’ ” But later, when she’s alone, she gets emotional. “I would rather have them fight than be divorced. I’m scared… I’m so scared. I wish somebody would talk to me and tell me it’s going to be all right. I miss Daddy already. I hate them both! I wish I was dead.” Over the course of the next few months, the Newmans struggle to adapt as Bill moves out and gets his own apartment and Ellie reconsiders her place in the world. Through it all, Karen tries to stay “dependable” even though she’s swollen with anger. “Sometimes I feel sorry for my mother and other times I hate her,” she writes in her daybook, where she assigns every day a letter grade. It’s been a long time since she’s had an A. She’s also taken it upon herself to get her parents back together—and to stop Bill from going to Reno, where, due to New Jersey’s strict divorce laws, he plans to live for six weeks to officially dissolve the marriage. When her painstakingly designed Viking diorama fails to successfully reunite them, Karen finally gives in to a full-blown tantrum. “I stamped on it with both feet until there was nothing left but a broken shoebox and a lot of blue sparkle all over my rug,” she says. For Judy, fine-tuning Karen’s emotional range proved to be one of the trickiest parts of the editorial process.

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  Then Psyches perceived the felicity of divine providence, and according to the advertisement of the incorporeall voyces she first reposed her selfe upon the bed, and then refreshed her body in the baines. This done, shee saw the table garnished with meats, and a chaire to sit downe. When Psyches was set downe, all sorts of divine meats and wines were brought in, not by any body, but as it were with a winde, for she saw no person before her, but only heard voyces on every side. After that all the services were brought to the table, one came in and sung invisibly, another played on the harpe, but she saw no man. The harmony of the Instruments did so greatly shrill in her eares, that though there were no manner of person, yet seemed she in the midst of a multitude of people. All these pleasures finished, when night aproched Psyches went to bed, and when she was layd, that the sweet sleep came upon her, she greatly feared her virginity, because shee was alone. Then came her unknowne husband and lay with her: and after that hee had made a perfect consummation of the marriage, he rose in the morning before day, and departed. Soone after came her invisible servants, and presented to her such things as were necessary for her defloration. And thus she passed forth a great while, and as it happeneth, the novelty of the things by continuall custome did encrease her pleasure, but especially the sound of the instruments was a comfort to her being alone. During this time that Psyches was in this place of pleasures, her father and mother did nothing but weepe and lament, and her two sisters hearing of her most miserable fortune, came with great dolour and sorrow to comfort and speake with her parents. The night following, Psyches husband spake unto her (for she might feele his eyes, his hands, and his ears) and sayd, O my sweet Spowse and dear wife, fortune doth menace unto thee imminent danger, wherof I wish thee greatly to beware: for know that thy sisters, thinking that thou art dead, bee greatly troubled, and are coming to the mountain by thy steps. Whose lamentations if thou fortune to heare, beware that thou doe in no wise make answer, or looke up towards them, for if thou doe thou shalt purchase to mee great sorrow, and to thyself utter destruction. Psyches hearing her Husband, was contented to doe all things as hee had commanded. After that hee was departed and the night passed away, Psyches lamented and lamented all the day following, thinking that now shee was past all hopes of comfort, in that shee was closed within the walls of a prison, deprived of humane conversation, and commaunded not to aid her sorrowful Sisters, no nor once to see them. Thus she passed all the day in weeping, and went to bed at night, without any refection of meat or baine.

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  summe decorum efllictim deperit totasque artis manus, machinas omnes ardenter exercet: audivi vesperi, meis his, inquam, auribus audivi, quod non celerius sol caelo ruisset noctique ad exercendas illecebras magiae maturius cessisset, ipsi soli nubilam caliginem et perpetuas tenebras comminantem. Hunc iuve- nem, cum e balneis rediret ipsa, tonstrinae residen- tem hesterna die forte conspexit, ac me capillos eius, qui iam caede cultrorum desecti humi iacebant, clanculo praecepit ! auferre: quos me sedulo furtim- que colligentem tonsor invenit, et quod alioquin publicitus maleficae disciplinae perinfames sumus, arreptam inclementer increpat: ‘Tune, ultima, non cessas subinde lectorum iuvenum capillamenta surri- pere? Quod scelus nisi tandem desines, magistra- tibus te constanter obiciam.' Et verbum facto secutu: immissa manu scrutatus e mediis papillis meis iam capillos absconditos iratus abripuit: quo gesto gravi- ter affecta mecumque reputans dominae meae mores, quod huiusmodi repulsa satis acriter commoveri me- que verberare saevissime consuevit, iam de fuga con- silium tenebam, sed istud quidem tui contemplatione abieci statim. Verum cum tristis inde discederem, conspicio quendam forficulis attondentem caprinos utres; quos cum probe constrictos inflatosque et iam pendentes cernerem, ne prorsus vacuis manibus re- direm,? capillos eorum humi iacentes, flavos ac per hoc ! Theemendationof Scioppiusforthe MSS’ praecipitavit ferre, 2 These five words occur in the MSS after discederem at the beginning of the chapter. Their transposition here (suggested by van der Vliet) seems necessary. 124 THE GOLDEN ASS, BOOK III

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  These words, of colour obscure, saw I written above a gate; whereat I: “Master, their meaning to me is hard.” And he to me, as one experienced: “Here must all distrust be left; all cowardice must here be dead. We are come to the place where I told thee thou shouldst see the wretched people, who have lost the good of the intellect.” And placing his hand on mine, with a cheerful countenance that comforted me, he led me into the secret things. Here sighs, plaints, and deep wailings resounded through the starless air: it made me weep at first. Strange tongues, horrible outcries, words of pain, tones of anger, voices deep and hoarse, and sounds of hands amongst them, made a tumult, which turns itself unceasing in that air for ever dyed, as sand when it eddies in a whirlwind. And I, my head begirt with horror, said: “Master, what is this that I hear? and who are these that seem so overcome with pain?” And he to me: “This miserable mode the dreary souls of those sustain, who lived without blame, and without praise. They are mixed with that caitiff choir of the angels, who were not rebellious, nor were faithful to God; but were for themselves.3 Heaven chased them forth to keep its beauty from impair; and the deep Hell receives them not, for the wicked would have some glory over them.”4 And I: “Master, what is so grievous to them, that makes them lament thus bitterly?” He answered: “I will tell it to thee very briefly. These have no hope of death; and their blind life is so mean, that they are envious of every other lot. Report of them the world permits not to exist; Mercy and Justice disdains them: let us not speak of them; but look, and pass.” And I, who looked, saw an ensign,5 which whirling ran so quickly that it seemed to scorn all pause; and behind it came so long a train of people, that I should never have believed death had undone so many. After I had recognized some amongst them, I saw and knew the shadow of him6 who from cowardice made the great refusal. Forthwith I understood and felt assured, that this was the crew of caitiffs, hateful to God and to his enemies. These unfortunates, who never were alive, were naked, and sorely goaded by hornets and by wasps that were there. These made their faces stream with blood, which mixed with tears was gathered at their feet by loathsome worms. And then, as I looked onwards, I saw people on the Shore of a great River: whereat I said: “Master, now grant that I may know who these are; and what usage makes them seem so ready to pass over, as I discern by the faint light.” And he to me: “The things shall be known to thee, when we stay our steps upon the joyless strand of Acheron.”