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 The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  Now when I was alone, I rubbed myne eyes, and armed my selfe to keep the corpes, and to the intent I would not sleepe, I began to sing, and so I passed the time until it was midnight, when as behold there crept in a Wesel into the chamber, and she came against me and put me in very great feare, insomuch that I marvelled greatly at the audacity of so little a beast. To whom I said, get thou hence thou whore and hie thee to thy fellowes, lest thou feele my fingers. Why wilt thou not goe? Then incontinently she ranne away, and when she was gon, I fell on the ground so fast asleepe, that Apollo himself could not discern which of us two was the dead corps, for I lay prostrat as one without life, and needed a keeper likewise. At length the cockes began to crow, declaring that it was day: wherewithall I awaked, and being greatly afeard ran to the dead body with the lamp in my hand, and I viewed him round about: and immediately came in the matron weeping with her Witnesses, and ran to the corps, and eftsoons kissing him, she turned his body and found no part diminished. Then she willed Philodespotus her steward to pay me my wages forthwith. Which when he had done he sayd, We thanke you gentle young man for your paines and verily for your diligence herein we will account you as one of the family. Whereunto I (being joyous of by unhoped gaine, and ratling my money in my hand) did answer, I pray you madam esteeme me as one of your servants, and if you want my service at any time, I am at your commandement. I had not fully declared these words, when as behold all the servants of the house were assembled with weapons to drive me away, one buffeted me about the face, another about the shoulders, some strook me in the sides, some kicked me, and some tare my garments, and so I was handled amongst them and driven from the house, as the proud young man Adonis who was torn by a Bore. And when I was come into the next street, I mused with my selfe, and remembred myne unwise and unadvised words which I had spoken, whereby I considered that I had deserved much more punishment, and that I was worthily beaten for my folly. And by and by the corps came forth, which because it was the body of one of the chiefe of the city, was carried in funeral pompe round about the market place, according to the right of the countrey there.

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  took me by the halter, and would violently have taken me away: but my master, wiping away from his head the blood of the blow which he received of the soldier, desired him gently and civilly to take some pity upon him, and to let him depart with his own, conjuring him by all that he hoped of good fortune, and affirming that his slow ass, well nigh dead with sickness, could scarce carry a few handfuls of herbs from his garden hard by, being very scant of breath ; much less he was able to bear any greater trusses. But when he saw the soldier would in no wise be entreated, but was the more bent on his destruction, and ready with his staff to cleave my master’s head with its thicker part, being desperate he fell down grovelling at his feet, under colour to touch his knees and move him to some pity; but when he saw his time, he took the soldier by the legs and cast him upon the ground: then straight- way he buffeted him, thumped him, bit him, and took a stone and beat his face and his sides, so that he, being first laid along the ground, could not turn or defend himself, but only threaten that if ever he rose he would chop him in pieces. The gardener, when he heard him say so, was advised and drew out his sword which he had by his side, and when he had thrown it far away, he knocked and beat him more cruelly than he did before, in so much that the soldier as he lay all hurt with wounds could not tell by what means to save himself, but only by feigning he was dead. Then my master took the sword and mounted upon my back, riding straight in all haste to the next village; but he had no regard to go to his garden, and when he came thither, he turned into one of his friends’ house and declared all the whole matter, desiring him to save his life, and to 5:8 gt. 465° 41 LUCIUS APULEIUS suo sibi asino tantisper occultaret, quoad celatus spatio bidui triduive capitalem «causam evaderet. Nec oblitus ille veteris amicitiae prompte suscipit, meque per scalas complicitis pedibus in superius cenaculum attracto, hortulanus deorsus in ipsa taber- nacula derepit in quandam cistulam et superingesto delitescit orificio.

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  In this manner the traiterous Cooke prepared himselfe to slay me: and when he was ready with his knives to doe his feat, I devised with my selfe how I might escape the present perill, and I did not long delay: for incontinently I brake the halter wherewith I was tied, and flinging my heeles hither and thither to save my selfe, at length I ran hastily into a Parlour, where the Master of the house was feasting with the Priests of the goddesse Syria, and disquieted all the company, throwing downe their meats and drinks from the table. The Master of the house dismayed at my great disorder, commanded one of his servants to take me up, and locke me in some strong place, to the end I might disturb them no more. But I little regarded my imprisonment, considering that I was happily delivered from the hands of the traiterous Cooke. Howbeit fortune, or the fatall disposition of the divine providence, which neither can be avoided by wise counsell, neither yet by any wholesome remedie, invented a new torment, for by and by a young ladde came running into the Parlour all trembling, and declared to the Master of the house, that there was a madde Dog running about in the streetes, which had done much harme, for he had bitten many grey hounds and horses in the Inne by: And he spared neither man nor beast. For there was one Mitilius a Mulettour, Epheseus, a Cooke, Hyppanius a chamberlaine, and Appolonius a Physition, who (thinking to chase away the madde Dogge) were cruelly wounded by him, insomuch that many Horses and other beasts infected with the venyme of his poysonous teeth became madde likewise. Which thing caused them all at the table greatly to feare, and thinking that I had beene bitten in like sort, came out with speares, Clubs, and Pitchforks purposing to slay me, and I had undoubtedly beene slaine, had I not by and by crept into the Chamber, where my Master intended to lodge all night. Then they closed and locked fast the doores about me, and kept the chamber round, till such time as they thought that the pestilent rage of madnesse had killed me. When I was thus shutte in the chamber alone, I laid me downe upon the bed to sleepe, considering it was long time past, since I lay and tooke my rest as a man doth. When morning was come, and that I was well reposed, I rose up lustily. In the meane season, they which were appointed to watch about the chamber all night, reasoned with themselves in this sort, Verely (quoth one) I think that this rude Asse be dead.

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  O good Lord what a sort of poore slaves were there; some had their skinne blacke and blew, some had their backes striped with lashes, some were covered with rugged sackes, some had their members onely hidden: some wore such ragged clouts, that you might perceive all their naked bodies, some were marked and burned in the heads with hot yrons, some had their haire halfe clipped, some had lockes of their legges, some very ugly and evill favoured, that they could scarce see, their eyes and face were so blacke and dimme with smoake, like those that fight in the sands, and know not where they strike by reason of dust: And some had their faces all mealy. But how should I speake of the horses my companions, how they being old and weake, thrust their heads into the manger: they had their neckes all wounded and worne away: they rated their nosethrilles with a continuall cough, their sides were bare with their harnesse and great travell, their ribs were broken with beating, their hooves were battered broad with incessant labour, and their skinne rugged by reason of their lancknesse. When I saw this dreadfull sight, I began to feare, least I should come to the like state: and considering with my selfe the good fortune which I was sometime in when I was a man, I greatly lamented, holding downe my head, and would eate no meate, but I saw no comfort or consolation of my evill fortune, saving that my mind was somewhat recreated to heare and understand what every man said, for they neither feared nor doubted my presence. At that time I remembred how Homer the divine author of ancient Poetry, described him to be a wise man, which had travelled divers countries and nations, wherefore I gave great thanks to my Asse for me, in that by this meanes I had seene the experience of many things, and was become more wise (notwithstanding the great misery and labour which I daily sustained): but I will tell you a pretty jest, which commeth now to my remembrance, to the intent your eares may be delighted in hearing the same. THE FORTIETH CHAPTER How Apuleius was handled by the Bakers wife, which was a harlot.

• From Fear of Flying (1973)

  He would go into stores and ask the storekeepers to take down various items, then handle each one, talk elatedly about each one, and then walk out. He would go into a coffee shop and play with the sugar pourer on every table before he sat down. People kept staring at him. Sometimes the storekeepers or waiters would say, “Take it easy buddy, relax buddy” or sometimes they’d throw him out. Everyone sensed that something was wrong. His agitation jangled the air. To Brian, this was only proof of divinity. “You see,” he said, “they know I’m God and they don’t know how else to react.” It was doubly hard for me because I half believed Brian’s theory. Exceptional people are often called crazy by the ordinary world. If God did come back, he would probably wind up in the psycho ward. I was a Laingian way before Laing began publishing. But I was also scared to death. When we finally got home at 2 a.m. , Brian was still frantic and wide-awake, though I was exhausted. He wanted to show me his power. He wanted to prove he could satisfy me. He hadn’t screwed me in about six weeks, but now he wouldn’t stop. He fucked like a machine, refusing to succumb to an orgasm himself but urging me to come again and again and again. After the first three times I was sore and wanted to stop. I begged him to stop but he wouldn’t. He kept banging away at me like an ax murderer. I was crying and pleading. “Brian, please stop,” I sobbed. “You thought I couldn’t satisfy you!” he screamed. His eyes were wild. “You see!” he said, lunging into me. “You see! You see! You see!” “Brian, please stop!” “Doesn’t that prove it? Doesn’t that prove I’m God?” “Please stop,” I whimpered. When he stopped at last, he withdrew from me violently and thrust his still-hard penis into my mouth. But I was crying too hard to blow him. I lay on the bed sobbing. What was I going to do? I didn’t want to stay alone with him, but where could I go? For the first time I really began to be convinced he was dangerous. Suddenly Brian broke down and started to cry. He wanted to castrate himself, he said. He wanted our marriage to be purified of all carnality. He wanted to be like Abelard, and me to be like Héloïse. He wanted to be purified of all fleshly desires so that he could save the world. He wanted to be soft like a eunuch. He wanted to be soft like Christ. He wanted to be shot full of arrows like Saint Sebastian. He threw his arms around me and sobbed in my lap.

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  just now from one4 who was a neighbour of theirs on the other side; would I still were covered with him, for I should not fear claw nor hook!” And Libicocco cried: “Too much have we endured!” and with the hook seized his arm, and mangling carried off a part of brawn. Draghignazzo, he too, wished to have a catch at the legs below; whereat their Decurion wheeled around with evil aspect. When they were somewhat pacified, my Guide without delay asked him that still kept gazing on his wound: “Who was he, from whom thou sayest that thou madest an ill departure to come ashore?” And he answered: “It was Friar Gomita, he of Gallura, vessel of every fraud, who had his master’s enemies in hand, and did so to them that they all praise him for it: money took he for himself, and dismissed them smoothly, as he says; and in his other offices besides, he was no petty but a sovereign barrator. With him keeps company Don Michel Zanche of Logodoro;5 and in speaking of Sardinia the tongues of them do not feel weary. Oh me! see that other grinning; I would say more; but fear he is preparing to claw my scurf.” And their great Marshal, turning to Farfarello, who rolled his eyes to strike, said: “Off with thee, villainous bird!” “If you wish to see or hear Tuscans or Lombards,” the frightened sinner then resumed, “I will make them come. But let the evil claws hold back a little, that they may not fear their vengeance; and I, sitting in this same place, for one that I am, will make seven come, on whistling as is our wont to do when any of us gets out.” Cagnazzo at these words raised his snout, shaking his head, and said: “Hear the malice he has contrived, to throw himself down!” Whereat he, who had artifices in great store, replied: “Too malicious indeed! when I contrive for my companions greater sorrow.” Alichino held in no longer, and in opposition to the others said to him: “If thou stoop, I will not follow thee at gallop, but beat my wings above the pitch; let the height be left and be the bank a screen, to see if thou alone prevailest over us.” O Reader, thou shalt hear new sport! All turned their eyes toward the other side, he first who had been most unripe for doing it. The Navarrese chose well his time; planted his soles upon the ground, and in an instant leapt and from their purpose freed himself. Thereat each was stung with guilt; but he most who had been cause of the mistake; he therefore started forth, and shouted: “Thou’rt caught!” But little it availed him; for wings could not outspeed the terror the sinner went under; and he, flying, raised up his breast: not otherwise the duck suddenly dives down, when the falcon approaches, and he returns up angry and defeated.

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  “What’s to be afraid of, darling?” “You know.” “It’s going to be fine. I promise.” Irene gave Miri her most reassuring smile. “But you’ve never flown,” Miri said. “How can you promise when anything could happen, anything could go wrong?” “Anything could go wrong any day of the week. What’s the point of worrying in advance?” “How do you stop yourself from worrying?” “I think of all the good things in my life.” “What about the bad things?” “There’s no room for them inside my head. Not anymore. Now I say live and let live, and I kick those other thoughts away. You can do that, too.” “I’m trying, Nana. I swear, I’m trying.” Irene squeezed her hand. “That’s my girl.” — SHE DID NOT want to flash back to six months ago, to that frigid December day when the ball of fire fell from the sky, exploding not once, but twice. She had pains in her stomach now, maybe from not eating anything since yesterday afternoon, when Suzanne had hosted a going-away lunch for her. Tuna salad and deviled eggs, all arranged on a pretty platter with pale blue ribbons tying up the napkins. The girls were careful not to mention Mason’s name. Robo, who had come from Millburn, brought up the subject once. “Good riddance to him.” Without saying a word Suzanne and Eleanor let her know she was out of bounds. Miri handed the panda bear from its shelf in her now-empty closet to Suzanne, asking her to give it to Betsy in person as soon as Mrs. Foster said it was okay to visit. Suzanne promised she would. They’d chipped in to give Miri a going-away present from Oakley’s, a double box of stationery with a western motif—cowboys, cacti, broncos—decorating the lower-right-hand corner of each sheet, plus an Esterbrook pen in pastel green, with a bottle of green ink, exactly what she’d been hoping someone would give her for Hanukkah. “Something to remember us by,” Suzanne said. “As if I could forget any of you,” Miri told them, choking up. She promised to write. They promised they’d write, too.

• From A Boy's Own Story (1982)

  What you watching? Tell me, what you watching?” He had frightened me, which he could see—it made him laugh. I smiled to show him I knew how foolish I was being. “I’m just here to—” “Read?” he demanded, taking my book away and shutting it. “Shi-i-i …” he hissed again, steam running out before the t. “You here to meet someone, boy?” He’d disengaged himself and turned to stare at me. Although his eyes were serious, militantly serious, the creasing of the wrinkles beside them suggested imminent comedy. “No,” I said, quite audibly. He handed the book back to me. “I’m here because I want to run away from my father’s house,” I said. “I thought I might find someone to go with me.” “Whar you planning to run to?” “New York.” There was something so cold and firm and well-spoken about me—the clipped tones of a businessman defeating the farmer’s hoaxing yarn—that the man dropped his chin into his palm and thought. “What’s today?” he asked at last. “Saturday.” “I myself taking the Greyhound to New Yawk Tuesday mawning,” he said. “Wanna go?” “Sure.” He told me that if I’d bring him forty dollars on Monday evening he’d buy me my ticket. He asked me where I lived and I told him; his willingness to help me made me trust him. Without ever explicitly being taught such things, I’d learned by studying my father that at certain crucial moments—an emergency, an opportunity—one must act first and think later. One must suppress minor inner objections and put off feelings of cowardice or confusion and turn oneself into a simple instrument of action. I’d seen my father become calm when he’d taken Blanche’s daughter to the hospital. I’d also watched him feel his way blindly with nods, smiles and monosyllables toward the shadowy opening of a hugely promising but still vague business deal. And with women he was ever alert to adventure: the gauzy transit of a laugh across his path, a minor whirlpool in the sluggish flow of talk, the faintest whiff of seduction.… I, too, wanted to be a man of the world and dared not question my new friend too closely. For instance, I knew a train ticket could be bought at the last moment, even on board, but I was willing to assume either that a bus ticket had to be secured in advance or that at least he thought it did.

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  Whilst I was gazing fixedly down on it, my Guide, saying, “Take care, take care!” drew me to him from the place where I was standing. Then I turned round, like one who longs to see what he must shun, and who is dashed with sudden fear, so that he puts not off his flight to look; and behind us I saw a black Demon come running up the cliff. Ah, how ferocious was his aspect! and how bitter he seemed to me in gesture, with his wings outspread, and light of foot! His shoulders that were sharp and high, a sinner with both haunches laded; and of each foot he held the sinew grasped. “Ye Malebranche1 of our bridge!” he said, “lo! one of Santa Zita’s2 Elders; thrust him under, while I return for others to that city which I have provided well with them: every one there is a barrator, except Bonturo;3 there they make ‘Ay’ of ‘No’ for money.” Down he threw him, then wheeled along the flinty cliff; and never was mastiff loosed with such a haste to follow thief. The sinner plunged in, and came up again writhing convolved; but the Demons, who were under cover of the bridge, cried: “Here the Sacred Face4 besteads not; here swim ye otherwise than in the Serchio:5 therefore, unless thou wishest to make trial of our drags, come not out above the pitch.” Then they struck him with more than a hundred prongs, and said: “Covered thou must dance thee here; so that, if thou canst, thou mayest pilfer privately.” Not otherwise do the cooks make their vassals dip the flesh into the middle of the boiler with their hooks, to hinder it from floating. The kind Master said to me: “That it may not be seen that thou art here, cower down behind a jag, so that thou mayest have some screen for thyself;6 and whatever outrage may be done to me, fear not thou: for I know these matters, having once before been in the like affray.” Then he passed beyond the head of the bridge; and when he arrived on the sixth bank, it was needful for him to have a steadfast front. With that fury and that storm, wherewith the dogs rush forth upon the poor man who where he stops suddenly seeks alms, rushed those Demons from beneath the bridge, and turned against him all their crooks; but he cried: “Be none of ye outrageous! Before ye touch me with your forks, let one of you come forth to hear me, and then take counsel about hooking me.” All cried: “Let Malacoda go”; thereat one moved himself, the other standing firm, and came to him, saying: “What will this avail him?” “Dost thou expect, Malacoda,” said my Master, “to find I have come here, secure already against all your hindrances, without will Divine and fate propitious? Let me pass on: for it is willed in Heaven that I show another this savage way.”

• From Fear of Flying (1973)

  Sometimes you can read bits of Corriere della Sera before you wipe your ass on the news. But in general the toilets run swift here and the shit disappears long before you can leap up and turn around to admire it. Hence Italian art. Germans have their own shit to admire. Lacking this, Italians make sculptures and paintings. French: The old hotels in Paris with two Brobdingnagian iron footprints straddling a stinking hole. Orange trees planted in Versailles to cover cesspool smell. Il est defendu de faire pipi dans la chambre du Roi. Lights in Paris toilets which only go on when you turn the lock. I somehow cannot make sense of French philosophy & literature vis à vis the French approach to merde. The French are very abstract thinkers—but they could also produce a poet of particularity like Ponge, who writes an epic poem on soap. How does this connect with French toilets? Japanese: Squatting as a basic fact of life in the Orient. Toilet basin recessed in the floor. Flower arrangement behind. This has something to do with Zen. (Cf. Suzuki.) — It was after twelve when we finally got to our hotel and we found we had been assigned a tiny room on the top floor. I wanted to object, but Bennett was more interested in getting some rest. So we pulled down the shades against the noonday sun, undressed, and collapsed on the beds without even unpacking. Despite the strangeness of the place, Bennett went right to sleep. I tossed and fought with the feather comforter until I dozed fitfully amid dreams of Nazis and plane crashes. I kept waking up with my heart pounding and my teeth chattering. It was the usual panic I always have the first day away from home, but it was worse because of our being back in Germany. I was already wishing we hadn’t returned. At about three-thirty we got up and rather languidly made love in one of the single beds. I still felt that I was dreaming and kept pretending Bennett was somebody else. But who? I couldn’t get a clear picture of him. I never could. Who was this phantom man who haunted my life? My father? My German analyst? The zipless fuck? Why did his face always refuse to come into focus?

• From Fear of Flying (1973)

  You have to sleep, I told myself sternly. But already I could feel myself moving into a panic which recalled my worst childhood night terrors. I felt the center of myself slipping backward in time even as my adult, rational self protested. You are not a child, I said aloud, but the insane pounding of my heart continued. I was covered with cold sweat. I sat rooted to the bed. I knew I needed a bath, but would not take one because of my fear of leaving the room. I had to pee desperately, but was afraid to go out to the toilet. I did not even dare to take off my shoes (for fear the man under the bed would grab me by the foot). I did not dare wash my face (who knew what lurked behind the curtain?). I thought I saw a figure moving on the terrace outside the window. Phantom cars of light crossed the ceiling. A toilet flushed in the hall and I jumped. There were footsteps down the hall. I began to remember scenes from Murders in the Rue Morgue. I remembered some nameless movie I had seen on television at about the age of five. It showed a vampire who could fade in and out of walls. No locks could keep him out. I visualized him pulsating in and out of the dirty, splotched wallpaper. I appealed again to my adult self for help. I tried to be critical and rational. I knew what vampires stood for. I knew the man under the bed was partly my father. I thought of Groddeck’s Book of the It. The fear of the intruder is the wish for the intruder. I thought of all my sessions with Dr. Happe in which we had spoken of my night terrors. I remembered my adolescent fantasy of being stabbed or shot by a strange man. I would be sitting at my desk writing and the man would always attack from behind. Who was he? Why was my life populated by phantom men? “Is there no way out of the mind?” Sylvia Plath asked in one of her desperate last poems. If I was trapped, I was trapped by my own fears. Motivating everything was the terror of being alone. It sometimes seemed I would make any compromise, endure any ignominy, stay with any man just so as not to face being alone. But why? What was so terrible about being alone? Try to think of the reasons, I told myself. Try. me: Why is being alone so terrible? me: Because if no man loves me I have no identity. me: But obviously that isn’t true. You write, people read your work and it matters to them. You teach and your students need you and care about you. You have friends who love you. Even your parents and sisters love you—in their own peculiar way.

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  Miri On May 8 news spread that another plane had crashed in Elizabeth, smashing into Levy Brothers department store. Miri was eating lunch at her usual table in the cafeteria when she heard. She felt sick to her stomach and had to swallow again and again to keep down the egg salad sandwich she’d just finished. She thought of the lady who worked in the teen department at Levy Brothers, the one who was having her nails done the morning Mr. Roman gave Miri her Elizabeth Taylor haircut. Had she been at work today? Was she dead now? The teacher who was lunch monitor that week shouted, “Everyone under the tables. Now!” She was one of the new, young teachers. She wore small pearl earrings that gave her face a glow. But now she wasn’t glowing. She shouted, “Quiet, please! Another plane may be on the way. Cover your heads with your hands.” Kids were screaming. Someone vomited on the floor. The smell of sweat mixed with the vomit and the uneaten lunches. They had grown complacent, Miri thought, more interested in ninth-grade graduation and going off to high school than about planes crashing. They’d been moving on with their lives, which is what their parents urged them to do. They were trying to be regular kids, happy kids, to please their families. But this proved you never knew when something terrible would happen. Miri wished she could be with Mason. If she was going to die she wanted to die in his arms. Oh, god—please let him be all right. She and Suzanne held on to each other under the table. Some girls were whimpering. For once, the boys shut up. Miri could smell her own sweat, the sweat of fear, the sweat that deodorant didn’t prevent. Robo was probably so glad she’d moved away from Elizabeth. But not everyone could afford to buy a house in Millburn or South Orange or some other fancy town where planes didn’t crash. Suzanne’s eyes were tightly shut. Her lips moved silently. Probably she was praying. But praying wouldn’t save them, would it? It didn’t save the people on the planes. Not that Miri knew if they’d prayed, but she was betting they had. Was Suzanne praying to Jesus? Did it matter who you prayed to? Did anything matter? It seemed like they were under the lunch tables for hours. Finally, an all-clear whistle blew. As they came out, they saw Donny Kellen, that idiot, standing on a

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  34 Miri She was sure they would drive. See the U.S.A. in Your Chevrolet, even if their Chevrolet was an Oldsmobile. But she was wrong. They were going to fly. Off we go into the wild blue yonder...She couldn’t keep songs about flying out of her head. And especially the ending of that song—live in fame or go down in flame —not that she’d lived in fame but still...She’d seen what it was like to go down in flame. And she didn’t want any part of it. That was putting it mildly. “I really don’t want to fly,” she told Rusty. Rusty said, “I understand.” “If you understand, why would you make me do it?” “I don’t want you to spend your life avoiding travel. I want you to see the world.” “I’ll drive.” “You can’t drive across the ocean.” “I’ll take a boat.” “Everyone will be flying, Miri.” “That doesn’t mean I have to be like everyone else.” “No, but you don’t want your fears to limit your possibilities.” “That sounds like something Dr. O would say, not you.” “But it makes sense, doesn’t it?” Miri shrugged. Did it? “Christina and Jack are driving to Las Vegas.” “Are you saying you want to go with them? Because I don’t think that would be appropriate.” Before her world fell apart, Miri might have begged to go with them, Mason surely would have been along. She hadn’t seen Christina or Jack since the breakup. She hated that word. Breakup. It reminded her of Henry’s description of the third crash—Like a swollen cream puff that had broken apart. She felt as if she, too, had broken apart. “I still don’t see why we can’t drive.” “The sooner we get there, the sooner we can establish residency.” Rusty was losing patience, Miri could tell. “It takes six weeks before you can get a divorce. And we can’t get married until the divorce is final.” Married. She sometimes forgot that her mother was going to marry Dr. O. He would be her stepfather. He’d be there for dinner at night, asking about her day, like a real father. But what about his kids? How would that make them feel? Sometimes, she didn’t blame Natalie for hating him.

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  1. When the sun is in Aquarius, i.e. between January 21 and February 21, he is more in evidence in proportion as the days and nights become more and more equal. This is the usual explanation of these verses. But there is much to be said for Butler’s interpretation (based on the Ottimo): when “the nights are already passing away to the south,” the sun is, of course, proceeding northwards.2. Hoar-frost melts sooner than snow.3. The serpents in these verses were suggested by Lucan (Phars. ix). The country by the Red Sea is Arabia.4. The heliotrope (a stone) was credited with the power of making its wearer invisible.5. The peculiarities of the phœnix are alluded to by many classical and medieval writers; Dante’s immediate source was evidently Ovid, Metam. xv.6. Dante would appear to be describing an epileptic fit.7. In 1293 Vanni Fucci, a Black of Pistoia, robbed the treasure of San Jacopo in the Church of San Zeno, together with two accomplices. The real culprits remained undetected for a year; but in the meantime, a certain Rampino de’ Foresi was suspected of the theft and detained in prison.8. The Bianchi, having assisted in the expulsion of the Neri from Pistoia (May, 1301), were themselves driven from Florence in November, 1301, when Charles of Valois entered the city. For some time Pistoia remained the stronghold of the Whites. The last lines probably refer to the capture, in 1302, of Serravalle (near Pistoia. Campo Piceno is the tract between Serravalle and Montecatini) by the Florentine and Lucchese Guelfs, under Moroello Malaspina, Marquis of Giovagallo in Valdimagra (the extremity of Lunigiana). For Moroello see Purg. viii, note 5.C A N T O X X VAt the end of his angry prophecy, Fucci rises into a boundless pate rage, such as is hardly known in northern countries; and like the sacrilegious thief and brute that he is, gives vent to it in the wildest blasphemy. The serpents instantly set upon him, and inflict such punishment, that Dante regards them as friends ever after. Cacus too, with a load of serpents on his haunch and a fiery dragon on his shoulders, comes shouting in pursuit of him. Dante afterwards finds five of his own countrymen—first three in human shape, then two changed into reptiles—and by dint of great attention learns the names of them all, and very accurately sees the unheard-of transformations they have to undergo. The reptiles are Cianfa de’ Donati and Guercio de’ Cavalcanti; the three in human shape are Agnello de’ Brunelleschi, Buoso degli Abati, and Puccio de’ Galigai—all five of very noble kindred, “all from Florence, and great thieves in their time” (omnes de Florentina, et magni fares suo tempore. Pietro). [image file=image_rsrcA5N.jpg] AT THE conclusion of his words, the thief raised up his hands with both the figs,1 shouting: “Take them, God, for at thee I aim them!”

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  To whom he answered, Madam in the office of your bounty shall prevaile herein, but the insolencie of some is not to be supported. This hee spake very angerly: But Byrrhena was earnest upon him, and assured him hee should have no wrong at any mans hand. Whereby he was inforced to declare the same, and so lapping up the end of the Table cloath and carpet together, hee leaned with his elbow thereon, and held out three forefingers of his right hand in manner of an orator, and sayd, When I was a young man I went unto a certaine city called Milet, to see the games and triumphs there named Olympia, and being desirous 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 seeke some reliefe for my poore estate (for I had spent all my money) I espied an old man standing on a stone in the middest of the market place, crying with a loud voice and saying, that if any man would watch a dead corps that night hee should be reasonably rewarded for this paines. Which when I heard, I sayd to one who passed by, What is here to doe? Do dead men use to run away in this Countrey? Then answered he, Hold your peace, for you are but a Babe and a stranger here, and not without cause you are ignorant how you are in Thessaly, where the women Witches bite off by morsels the flesh and faces of dead men, and thereby work their sorceries and inchantments. Then quoth I, In good fellowship tell me the order of this custody and how it is. Marry (quoth he) first you must watch all the night, with your eyes bent continually upon the Corps, never looking off, nor moving aside. For these Witches do turn themselves into sundry kindes of beasts, whereby they deceive the eyes of all men, sometimes they are transformed into birds, sometimes into Dogs and Mice, and sometimes into flies. Moreover they will charme the keepers of the corps asleepe, neither can it be declared what meanes and shifts these wicked women do use, to bring their purpose to passe: and the reward for such dangerous watching is no more than foure or sixe shillings. But hearken further (for I had well nigh forgotten) if the keeper of the dead body doe not render on the morning following, the corps whole and sound as he received the same, he shall be punished in this sort: That is, if the corps be diminished or spoyled in any part of his face, hands or toes, the same shall be diminished and spoyled in the keeper.

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  30 tant; et unus e numero sic appellat: * Quorsum istam festinanti vestigio lucubratis viam nec noctis intempestae Manes Larvasque formidatis? An tu, probissima puella, parentes tuos intervisere propera- bas? Sed nos et solitudini tuae praesidium praesta- bimus et ad parentes tuos iter monstrabimus," et unus manu secutus prehenso loro retrorsum me cir- cumtorquet, nec baculi nodosi quod gerebat suetis ictibus temperat. Tunc ingratis ad promptum re- currens exitium reminiscor doloris ungulae et occipio 292 THE GOLDEN ASS, BOOK VI ancient miracles: we shall believe by the example of this truth that Phrixus saved himself from drown- ing upon a ram, Arion escaped upon a dolphin, and that Europa rode upon a bull. If Jupiter trans- formed himself into a lowing bull, why may it not be that under shape of this ass is hidden the figure of a man, or some power divine?” While that the virgin did thus mix sorrowful sighs with her hopes and prayers we fortuned to come to a place where three ways did meet, and she took me by the halter and would have me turn on the right hand to her father’s house, but I (knowing that the thieves were gone that way to fetch the residue of their pillage) resisted with my head as much as I might, saying within myself: “ What wilt thou do, unhappy maiden? Why wouldest thou go so will- ingly to Hell? Why wilt thou run into destruction in despite of my feet? Why dost thou seek thine own harm and mine likewise?” And while we two strove together like men striving at law about the division of land, or rather about some right of way, the thieves returned laden with their prey, and per- ceived us afar off by the light of the moon: and after they had known us they laughed despitefully, and one of them began to say: “ Whither go you so - hastily? Be you not afraid of spirits and ghosts of the night? And you (you harlot) do you go to see your parents? Come on, we will bear you company for safety's sake and shew you the way to your parents.” And therewithal one took me by the halter and drove me back again, beating me cruelly with a great staff that he had, full of knobs; then I returning against my will to my ready destruction, and remembering the grief of my hoof, began to shake my head and to wax lame, but he that led me 293 31 LUCIUS APULEIUS

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  [image file=image_rsrcA5M.jpg] C A N T O IDante finds himself astray in a dark Wood, where he spends a night of great misery. He says that death is hardly more bitter, than it is to recall what he suffered there; but that he will tell the fearful things he saw, in order that he may also tell how he found guidance, and first began to discern the real causes of all misery. He comes to a Hill; and seeing its summit already bright with the rays of the Sun, he begins to ascend it. The way to it looks quite deserted. He is met by a beautiful Leopard, which keeps distracting his attention from the Hill, and makes him turn back several times. The hour of the morning, the season, and the gay outward aspect of that animal, give him good hopes at first; but he is driven down and terrified by a Lion and a She-wolf. Virgil comes to his aid, and tells him that the Wolf lets none pass her way, but entangles and slays every one that tries to get up the mountain by the road on which she stands. He says a time will come when a swift and strong Greyhound shall clear the earth of her, and chase her into Hell. And he offers to conduct Dante by another road; to show him the eternal roots of misery and of joy, and leave him with a higher guide that will lead him up to Heaven. [image file=image_rsrcA5N.jpg] IN THE middle of the journey of our life1 I came to myself in a dark wood2 where the straight way was lost. Ah! how hard a thing it is to tell what a wild, and rough, and stubborn wood this was, which in my thought renews the fear! So bitter is it, that scarcely more is death: but to treat of the good that I there found, I will relate the other things that I discerned. I cannot rightly tell how I entered it, so full of sleep was I about the moment that I left the true way. But after I had reached the foot of a Hill3 there, where that valley ended, which had pierced my heart with fear, I looked up and saw its shoulders already clothed with the rays of the Planet4 that leads men straight on every road. Then the fear was somewhat calmed, which had continued in the lake of my heart the night that I passed so piteously. And as he, who with panting breath has escaped from the deep sea to the shore, turns to the dangerous water and gazes: so my mind, which still was fleeing, turned back to see the pass that no one ever left alive. After I had rested my wearied body a short while, I took the way again along the desert strand, so that the right foot always was the lower.5

• 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.