Joy

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 Little Women (1868)

  Come, Laurie, promise, and give me one more reason to call this the happiest day of my life." A demand so sudden and so serious made the young man hesitate a moment, for ridicule is often harder to bear than self-denial. Meg knew that if he gave the promise he would keep it at all costs, and feeling her power, used it as a woman may for her friend's good. She did not speak, but she looked up at him with a face made very eloquent by happiness, and a smile which said, "No one can refuse me anything today." Laurie certainly could not, and with an answering smile, he gave her his hand, saying heartily, "I promise, Mrs. Brooke!" "I thank you, very, very much." "And I drink 'long life to your resolution', Teddy," cried Jo, baptizing him with a splash of lemonade, as she waved her glass and beamed approvingly upon him. So the toast was drunk, the pledge made and loyally kept in spite of many temptations, for with instinctive wisdom, the girls seized a happy moment to do their friend a service, for which he thanked them all his life. After lunch, people strolled about, by twos and threes, through the house and garden, enjoying the sunshine without and within. Meg and John happened to be standing together in the middle of the grass plot, when Laurie was seized with an inspiration which put the finishing touch to this unfashionable wedding. "All the married people take hands and dance round the new-made husband and wife, as the Germans do, while we bachelors and spinsters prance in couples outside!" cried Laurie, promenading down the path with Amy, with such infectious spirit and skill that everyone else followed their example without a murmur. Mr. and Mrs. March, Aunt and Uncle Carrol began it, others rapidly joined in, even Sallie Moffat, after a moment's hesitation, threw her train over her arm and whisked Ned into the ring. But the crowning joke was Mr. Laurence and Aunt March, for when the stately old gentleman chasseed solemnly up to the old lady, she just tucked her cane under her arm, and hopped briskly away to join hands with the rest and dance about the bridal pair, while the young folks pervaded the garden like butterflies on a midsummer day. Want of breath brought the impromptu ball to a close, and then people began to go. "I wish you well, my dear, I heartily wish you well, but I think you'll be sorry for it," said Aunt March to Meg, adding to the bridegroom, as he led her to the carriage, "You've got a treasure, young man, see that you deserve it." "That is the prettiest wedding I've been to for an age, Ned, and I don't see why, for there wasn't a bit of style about it," observed Mrs. Moffat to her husband, as they drove away.

• From Little Women (1868)

  Your mother will come, I know, and the late train is in at two A.M. I shall go for her, and you've only got to bottle up your rapture, and keep Beth quiet till that blessed lady gets here." "Laurie, you're an angel! How shall I ever thank you?" "Fly at me again. I rather liked it," said Laurie, looking mischievous, a thing he had not done for a fortnight. "No, thank you. I'll do it by proxy, when your grandpa comes. Don't tease, but go home and rest, for you'll be up half the night. Bless you, Teddy, bless you!" Jo had backed into a corner, and as she finished her speech, she vanished precipitately into the kitchen, where she sat down upon a dresser and told the assembled cats that she was "happy, oh, so happy!" while Laurie departed, feeling that he had made a rather neat thing of it. "That's the interferingest chap I ever see, but I forgive him and do hope Mrs. March is coming right away," said Hannah, with an air of relief, when Jo told the good news. Meg had a quiet rapture, and then brooded over the letter, while Jo set the sickroom in order, and Hannah "knocked up a couple of pies in case of company unexpected". A breath of fresh air seemed to blow through the house, and something better than sunshine brightened the quiet rooms. Everything appeared to feel the hopeful change. Beth's bird began to chirp again, and a half-blown rose was discovered on Amy's bush in the window. The fires seemed to burn with unusual cheeriness, and every time the girls met, their pale faces broke into smiles as they hugged one another, whispering encouragingly, "Mother's coming, dear! Mother's coming!" Every one rejoiced but Beth. She lay in that heavy stupor, alike unconscious of hope and joy, doubt and danger. It was a piteous sight, the once rosy face so changed and vacant, the once busy hands so weak and wasted, the once smiling lips quite dumb, and the once pretty, well-kept hair scattered rough and tangled on the pillow. All day she lay so, only rousing now and then to mutter, "Water!" with lips so parched they could hardly shape the word. All day Jo and Meg hovered over her, watching, waiting, hoping, and trusting in God and Mother, and all day the snow fell, the bitter wind raged, and the hours dragged slowly by. But night came at last, and every time the clock struck, the sisters, still sitting on either side of the bed, looked at each other with brightening eyes, for each hour brought help nearer. The doctor had been in to say that some change, for better or worse, would probably take place about midnight, at which time he would return. Hannah, quite worn out, lay down on the sofa at the bed's foot and fell fast asleep, Mr.

• From Another Country (1962)

  “We were really very lucky,” Cass said. “The people who had it had been here for years and years and they finally decided to move to Connecticut—or someplace like that. I don’t remember. Anyway, since they’d been here so long the rent hadn’t gone up much, you know? So it’s really a lot cheaper than most things like this in the city.” She looked over at Ida. “You know, you look wonderful, you really do. I’m so glad to see you.” “I’m glad to see you,” said Ida, “and I feel fine, I feel better than I’ve felt, oh, in years.” She crossed to the bar, and stood facing Cass. “Look like you people done got serious about your drinking, too,” she said, in a raucous, whiskey voice. “Let me have a taste of that there Cutty Sark.” Cass laughed, “I thought you were a bourbon woman.” She dropped some ice in a glass. “When it comes to liquor,” Ida said, “I’s anybody’s woman.” And she laughed, looking exactly like a little girl. “Let me have some water in that, sugar, I don’t want to get carried away here this afternoon.” She looked toward Vivaldo, who stood on the steps, watching her. She leaned toward Cass. “Honey, who’s that funny-looking number standing in the do’way?” “Oh, he drops by from time to time. He always looks that way. He’s harmless.” “I’ll have the same thing the lady’s drinking,” said Vivaldo, and joined them at the bar. “Well, I’m glad you told me he’s harmless,” Ida said, and winked at him, and drummed her long fingernails on the bar. “I’ll have a short drink with you,” said Cass, “and then I’m simply going to have to vanish. I’ve got to finish fixing lunch—and we have to eat it—and I’m not even dressed yet.” “Well, I’ll help you in the kitchen,” Ida said. “What time are all these other people coming over?” “About five, I guess. There’s this TV producer coming, he’s supposed to be very bright and liberal—Steve Ellis, does that sound right?—” “Oh, yes,” said Ida, “he’s supposed to be very good, that man. He’s very well known.” She mentioned a show of his she had seen some months ago, which utilized Negroes, and which had won a great many awards. “Wow.” She wiggled her shoulders. “Who else is coming?” “Well. Ellis. And Richard’s editor. And some other writer whose name I can’t remember. And I guess they’re bringing their wives.” She sipped her drink, looking rather weary. “I can’t imagine why we’re doing this. I guess it’s mainly on account of the TV man. But Richard’s publishers are giving Richard a small party Monday—in their offices—and he could just as well see all those people then.” “Buck up, old girl,” said Vivaldo. “You’re just going to have to get used to it.”

• From Little Women (1868)

  "And I to see Miss Marsch, but no, you haf a party," and the Professor paused as the sound of voices and the tap of dancing feet came down to them. "No, we haven't, only the family. My sister and friends have just come home, and we are all very happy. Come in, and make one of us." Though a very social man, I think Mr. Bhaer would have gone decorously away, and come again another day, but how could he, when Jo shut the door behind him, and bereft him of his hat? Perhaps her face had something to do with it, for she forgot to hide her joy at seeing him, and showed it with a frankness that proved irresistible to the solitary man, whose welcome far exceeded his boldest hopes. "If I shall not be Monsieur de Trop, I will so gladly see them all. You haf been ill, my friend?" He put the question abruptly, for, as Jo hung up his coat, the light fell on her face, and he saw a change in it. "Not ill, but tired and sorrowful. We have had trouble since I saw you last." "Ah, yes, I know. My heart was sore for you when I heard that," and he shook hands again, with such a sympathetic face that Jo felt as if no comfort could equal the look of the kind eyes, the grasp of the big, warm hand. "Father, Mother, this is my friend, Professor Bhaer," she said, with a face and tone of such irrepressible pride and pleasure that she might as well have blown a trumpet and opened the door with a flourish. If the stranger had any doubts about his reception, they were set at rest in a minute by the cordial welcome he received. Everyone greeted him kindly, for Jo's sake at first, but very soon they liked him for his own. They could not help it, for he carried the talisman that opens all hearts, and these simple people warmed to him at once, feeling even the more friendly because he was poor. For poverty enriches those who live above it, and is a sure passport to truly hospitable spirits. Mr. Bhaer sat looking about him with the air of a traveler who knocks at a strange door, and when it opens, finds himself at home. The children went to him like bees to a honeypot, and establishing themselves on each knee, proceeded to captivate him by rifling his pockets, pulling his beard, and investigating his watch, with juvenile audacity. The women telegraphed their approval to one another, and Mr. March, feeling that he had got a kindred spirit, opened his choicest stores for his guest's benefit, while silent John listened and enjoyed the talk, but said not a word, and Mr. Laurence found it impossible to go to sleep.

• From Who Wrote the Bible? Searching for Its Origins and Authors (2025)

  12. The Psalms in Tradition and Practice Worship in ancient Israel didn’t look like worship does today. Most prominently, it involved bloody animal sacrifice. If a person wanted to address the deity, the only means of doing so was bringing a sacrifice. The psalm they might recite was welcome, but it came along for the ride. The best illustration of this process comes from the story of Hannah at the beginning of 1 Samuel. Hannah is famous as the once-barren mother of Samuel who is blessed with miraculous fertility after she prays for a child. She prays at the sanctuary, where she has come with her husband to offer their annual sacrifices. Once Samuel is born, she returns to the sanctuary, where she offers a sacrifice and then prays again. This prayer is given in full in 1 Samuel 2. However, with only the words of her prayer—and without the narrative context—it’s impossible to tell why she is there. Nearly at the beginning, she says, “My mouth derides my enemies, because I rejoice in my victory.” The prayer ends just as confusingly: “The Lord! His adversaries shall be shattered.” It’s a psalm of thanksgiving but a typically generic one. The only hint that the prayer is related to Hannah’s situation comes in the middle, as part of a litany of miraculous reversals wrought by God: The strong are weak, while the weak are strong; the full are hungry, while the hungry are full—and the one who is barren is fertile, while the one who has many children is forlorn. This example is an excellent representation of how psalms worked: A person would go to the Temple, make their sacrificial offering, and recite a psalm generically appropriate to their situation. In this sense, scholars can’t quite get a clear or specific answer to who wrote the psalms. The psalms in the Bible are poetry created by ancient Israelite literary artists who took up the traditional forms and themes of the liturgy and presented them as written texts. Some go back to perhaps the 8th or 9th centuries BCE; others date from after the destruction of the Temple and the exile in the 6th century. The book of Psalms is a collection of Israelite cultic poetry and song that was growing and changing up to the end of the biblical period and then beyond. Reading Gunkel, Hermann. An Introduction to the Psalms. Mercer University Press, 1998. Mowinckel, Sigmund. The Psalms in Israel’s Worship. Abingdon, 1962. 74

• From Little Women (1868)

  Brooke, my tutor, doesn't stay here, you know, and I have no one to go about with me, so I just stop at home and get on as I can." "That's bad. You ought to make an effort and go visiting everywhere you are asked, then you'll have plenty of friends, and pleasant places to go to. Never mind being bashful. It won't last long if you keep going." Laurie turned red again, but wasn't offended at being accused of bashfulness, for there was so much good will in Jo it was impossible not to take her blunt speeches as kindly as they were meant. "Do you like your school?" asked the boy, changing the subject, after a little pause, during which he stared at the fire and Jo looked about her, well pleased. "Don't go to school, I'm a businessman—girl, I mean. I go to wait on my great-aunt, and a dear, cross old soul she is, too," answered Jo. Laurie opened his mouth to ask another question, but remembering just in time that it wasn't manners to make too many inquiries into people's affairs, he shut it again, and looked uncomfortable. Jo liked his good breeding, and didn't mind having a laugh at Aunt March, so she gave him a lively description of the fidgety old lady, her fat poodle, the parrot that talked Spanish, and the library where she reveled. Laurie enjoyed that immensely, and when she told about the prim old gentleman who came once to woo Aunt March, and in the middle of a fine speech, how Poll had tweaked his wig off to his great dismay, the boy lay back and laughed till the tears ran down his cheeks, and a maid popped her head in to see what was the matter. "Oh! That does me no end of good. Tell on, please," he said, taking his face out of the sofa cushion, red and shining with merriment. Much elated with her success, Jo did 'tell on', all about their plays and plans, their hopes and fears for Father, and the most interesting events of the little world in which the sisters lived. Then they got to talking about books, and to Jo's delight, she found that Laurie loved them as well as she did, and had read even more than herself. "If you like them so much, come down and see ours. Grandfather is out, so you needn't be afraid," said Laurie, getting up. "I'm not afraid of anything," returned Jo, with a toss of the head. "I don't believe you are!" exclaimed the boy, looking at her with much admiration, though he privately thought she would have good reason to be a trifle afraid of the old gentleman, if she met him in some of his moods. The atmosphere of the whole house being summerlike, Laurie led the way from room to room, letting Jo stop to examine whatever struck her fancy.

• From Little Women (1868)

  This is a ladies' club, and we wish to be private and proper." "I'm afraid he'll laugh at our paper, and make fun of us afterward," observed Pickwick, pulling the little curl on her forehead, as she always did when doubtful. Up rose Snodgrass, very much in earnest. "Sir, I give you my word as a gentleman, Laurie won't do anything of the sort. He likes to write, and he'll give a tone to our contributions and keep us from being sentimental, don't you see? We can do so little for him, and he does so much for us, I think the least we can do is to offer him a place here, and make him welcome if he comes." This artful allusion to benefits conferred brought Tupman to his feet, looking as if he had quite made up his mind. "Yes; we ought to do it, even if we are afraid. I say he may come, and his grandpa, too, if he likes." This spirited burst from Beth electrified the club, and Jo left her seat to shake hands approvingly. "Now then, vote again. Everybody remember it's our Laurie, and say, 'Aye!'" cried Snodgrass excitedly. "Aye! Aye! Aye!" replied three voices at once. "Good! Bless you! Now, as there's nothing like 'taking time by the fetlock', as Winkle characteristically observes, allow me to present the new member." And, to the dismay of the rest of the club, Jo threw open the door of the closet, and displayed Laurie sitting on a rag bag, flushed and twinkling with suppressed laughter. "You rogue! You traitor! Jo, how could you?" cried the three girls, as Snodgrass led her friend triumphantly forth, and producing both a chair and a badge, installed him in a jiffy. "The coolness of you two rascals is amazing," began Mr. Pickwick, trying to get up an awful frown and only succeeding in producing an amiable smile. But the new member was equal to the occasion, and rising, with a grateful salutation to the Chair, said in the most engaging manner, "Mr. President and ladies—I beg pardon, gentlemen—allow me to introduce myself as Sam Weller, the very humble servant of the club." "Good! Good!" cried Jo, pounding with the handle of the old warming pan on which she leaned. "My faithful friend and noble patron," continued Laurie with a wave of the hand, "who has so flatteringly presented me, is not to be blamed for the base stratagem of tonight. I planned it, and she only gave in after lots of teasing." "Come now, don't lay it all on yourself. You know I proposed the cupboard," broke in Snodgrass, who was enjoying the joke amazingly. "Never mind what she says. I'm the wretch that did it, sir," said the new member, with a Welleresque nod to Mr. Pickwick. "But on my honor, I never will do so again, and henceforth devote myself to the interest of this immortal club." "Hear!

• From Little Women (1868)

  The tea bell rang before he had finished describing the paradise which he meant to earn for Meg, and he proudly took her in to supper, both looking so happy that Jo hadn't the heart to be jealous or dismal. Amy was very much impressed by John's devotion and Meg's dignity, Beth beamed at them from a distance, while Mr. and Mrs. March surveyed the young couple with such tender satisfaction that it was perfectly evident Aunt March was right in calling them as 'unworldly as a pair of babies'. No one ate much, but everyone looked very happy, and the old room seemed to brighten up amazingly when the first romance of the family began there. "You can't say nothing pleasant ever happens now, can you, Meg?" said Amy, trying to decide how she would group the lovers in a sketch she was planning to make. "No, I'm sure I can't. How much has happened since I said that! It seems a year ago," answered Meg, who was in a blissful dream lifted far above such common things as bread and butter. "The joys come close upon the sorrows this time, and I rather think the changes have begun," said Mrs. March. "In most families there comes, now and then, a year full of events. This has been such a one, but it ends well, after all." "Hope the next will end better," muttered Jo, who found it very hard to see Meg absorbed in a stranger before her face, for Jo loved a few persons very dearly and dreaded to have their affection lost or lessened in any way. "I hope the third year from this will end better. I mean it shall, if I live to work out my plans," said Mr. Brooke, smiling at Meg, as if everything had become possible to him now. "Doesn't it seem very long to wait?" asked Amy, who was in a hurry for the wedding. "I've got so much to learn before I shall be ready, it seems a short time to me," answered Meg, with a sweet gravity in her face never seen there before. "You have only to wait, I am to do the work," said John beginning his labors by picking up Meg's napkin, with an expression which caused Jo to shake her head, and then say to herself with an air of relief as the front door banged, "Here comes Laurie. Now we shall have some sensible conversation." But Jo was mistaken, for Laurie came prancing in, overflowing with good spirits, bearing a great bridal-looking bouquet for 'Mrs. John Brooke', and evidently laboring under the delusion that the whole affair had been brought about by his excellent management. "I knew Brooke would have it all his own way, he always does, for when he makes up his mind to accomplish anything, it's done though the sky falls," said Laurie, when he had presented his offering and his congratulations. "Much obliged for that recommendation.

• From Push (1996)

  She say, " 'Shore,' that word is 'shore,' that's almost like 'beach,' very good very good," she say. Then she say in soft voice like cat purr (I always wishted I had a cat), "Can you read the whole thing?" I say, "A Day at the Beach." She says very good and closes the book. I want to cry. I want to laugh. I want to hug kiss Miz Rain. She make me feel good. I never readed nuffin' before. Wednesday can't come fast enuff" I'm thinking as I walk down one-two-five. I loves Harlem, especially 125th Street. Lotta stuff" out here. You could see we got culchure. I gotta ask my muver for some money for journal book and pay Rhonda back for chips. This gonna be good school for me I know it. My muver is in the middle of her stories when I come in—TV, TV She shout on me the minute I open the door. "Bring your fat ass in here!" What she think I was doing? I'm tired; I don't want no trouble. "Where you sneak your ass off to this morning?" She look like whale on couch. My muver have not left the house in, let's see—1983, '84, '85, '86, 'n now '87. Ever since Little Mongo was born. Social worker come here. I be at school. My grandmuver, Tbosie, bring Little Mongo over on days social worker come; game is Little Mongo live here, my mama take care of Little Mongo and me. My mama get check 'n food stamps for me 'n Lil Mongo. But it's my baby. Little Mongo is money for me! "You hear me talking to you! I said where you sneak your ass off to this morning!" "School!" I shout back. "I was school!" "You was school?" Mama mimic me how I talk. I hate that! She know what I mean. "You lying whore!" "Not!" "You is! The welfare done called here, saying they is removing you from my budget 'cause you not in regular attendance at school." JeeZUS! Where she been! I told her I got kickted out. I been home three weeks, twenty-four seven. She here when Mrs Lichenstein's white ass come here. I mean Mama what's the deal! Who stupid, me or Mama? "What you staring at?" To get to my room I got to walk past Mama. I jus' wanna go to my room. "I ain' had no breakfast," Mama say. Oh, so that's it. She want me to cook. Mad 'cause I ain' cook 'fore I left. Shit, get tired of cooking for her. It hard for Mama to stand up long. I look at her. She ain' circus size yet but she getting there.

• From Wild (2012)

  But I knew what those 498 miles were. I’d been in California two months, but it seemed like I’d aged years since I’d stood on Tehachapi Pass alone with my pack and imagined reaching this spot. I went to the metal box, pulled out the trail register, and paged through it, reading the entries from the previous weeks. There were notes from a few people whose names I’d never seen and others from people I hadn’t met, but whom I felt I knew because I’d been trailing them all summer. The most recent entries were from the couples—John and Sarah, Helen and Sam. Beneath their jubilant entries, I wrote my own, so overwhelmed with emotion that I opted to be concise: “I made it!” Oregon. Oregon. Oregon. I was here. I walked into it, catching views of the peaks of majestic Mount Shasta to the south and the lower but sterner Mount McLoughlin to the north. I hiked high on a ridgeline, coming to short icy patches of snow that I crossed with the help of my ski pole. I could see cows grazing in the high green meadows not far below me, their big square bells clanking as they moved. “Hello, Oregon cows,” I called to them. That night I camped under a nearly full moon, the sky bright and cool. I opened J. M. Coetzee’s Waiting for the Barbarians, but read only a few pages because I couldn’t concentrate; my mind wandered to thoughts of Ashland instead. It was finally so close that I could bear to let myself think about it. In Ashland there would be food, music, and wine, and people who knew nothing of the PCT. And most important, there’d be money, and not just my usual twenty bucks. I’d put $250 in traveler’s checks into my Ashland box, originally believing that it would be the box that greeted me at the very end of my trip. It didn’t contain food or resupplies. It had only traveler’s checks and a “real world” outfit to wear—my favorite faded blue Levi’s and a slim-fitting black T-shirt; a brand-new black lace bra and matching underwear. It was in these things that months before I thought I’d celebrate the end of my trip and catch a ride back to Portland. When I’d changed my itinerary, I’d asked Lisa to put that small box into another of the boxes I’d loaded down with food and supplies and readdress it to Ashland, instead of one of the stops I wasn’t going to make in the Sierra Nevada. I couldn’t wait to get my hands on it—that box within the box—and spend the weekend wearing nontrail clothes. I arrived in Ashland the next day around lunchtime, after hitching a ride from the trail with a group of AmeriCorps volunteers. “Did you hear the big news?” one of them had asked after I’d climbed into their van.

• From Little Women (1868)

  Six weeks is a long time to wait, and a still longer time for a girl to keep a secret, but Jo did both, and was just beginning to give up all hope of ever seeing her manuscript again, when a letter arrived which almost took her breath away, for on opening it, a check for a hundred dollars fell into her lap. For a minute she stared at it as if it had been a snake, then she read her letter and began to cry. If the amiable gentleman who wrote that kindly note could have known what intense happiness he was giving a fellow creature, I think he would devote his leisure hours, if he has any, to that amusement, for Jo valued the letter more than the money, because it was encouraging, and after years of effort it was so pleasant to find that she had learned to do something, though it was only to write a sensation story. A prouder young woman was seldom seen than she, when, having composed herself, she electrified the family by appearing before them with the letter in one hand, the check in the other, announcing that she had won the prize. Of course there was a great jubilee, and when the story came everyone read and praised it, though after her father had told her that the language was good, the romance fresh and hearty, and the tragedy quite thrilling, he shook his head, and said in his unworldly way... "You can do better than this, Jo. Aim at the highest, and never mind the money." "I think the money is the best part of it. What will you do with such a fortune?" asked Amy, regarding the magic slip of paper with a reverential eye. "Send Beth and Mother to the seaside for a month or two," answered Jo promptly. To the seaside they went, after much discussion, and though Beth didn't come home as plump and rosy as could be desired, she was much better, while Mrs. March declared she felt ten years younger. So Jo was satisfied with the investment of her prize money, and fell to work with a cheery spirit, bent on earning more of those delightful checks. She did earn several that year, and began to feel herself a power in the house, for by the magic of a pen, her 'rubbish' turned into comforts for them all. The Duke's Daughter paid the butcher's bill, A Phantom Hand put down a new carpet, and the Curse of the Coventrys proved the blessing of the Marches in the way of groceries and gowns. Wealth is certainly a most desirable thing, but poverty has its sunny side, and one of the sweet uses of adversity is the genuine satisfaction which comes from hearty work of head or hand, and to the inspiration of necessity, we owe half the wise, beautiful, and useful blessings of the world.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  It chanced one day that as he sauntered about the quarter on the stroke of noon, he encountered Bentivegna del Mazzo, driving an ass laden with gear, and accosting him, asked whither he went. 'Faith, sir,' answered the husbandman, 'to tell you the truth, I am going to town about a business of mine and am carrying these things to Squire Bonaccorri da Ginestreto, so he may help me in I know not what whereof the police-court judge hath summoned me by his proctor for a peremptory attendance.' The priest was rejoiced to hear this and said, 'Thou dost well, my son; go now with my benison and return speedily; and shouldst thou chance to see Lapuccio or Naldino, forget not to bid them bring me those straps they wot of for my flails.' Bentivegna answered that it should be done and went his way towards Florence, whereupon the priest bethought himself that now was his time to go try his luck with Belcolore. Accordingly, he let not the grass grow under his feet, but set off forthright and stayed not till he came to her house and entering in, said, 'God send us all well! Who is within there?' Belcolore, who was gone up into the hay-loft, hearing him, said, 'Marry, sir, you are welcome; but what do you gadding it abroad in this heat?' 'So God give me good luck,' answered he, 'I came to abide with thee awhile, for that I met thy man going to town.'

• From Little Women (1868)

  At last!'" continued Kate, who had read French novels, and admired the style. "'Tis she!' cried Count Gustave, and fell at her feet in an ecstasy of joy. 'Oh, rise!' she said, extending a hand of marble fairness. 'Never! Till you tell me how I may rescue you,' swore the knight, still kneeling. 'Alas, my cruel fate condemns me to remain here till my tyrant is destroyed.' 'Where is the villain?' 'In the mauve salon. Go, brave heart, and save me from despair.' 'I obey, and return victorious or dead!' With these thrilling words he rushed away, and flinging open the door of the mauve salon, was about to enter, when he received..." "A stunning blow from the big Greek lexicon, which an old fellow in a black gown fired at him," said Ned. "Instantly, Sir What's-his-name recovered himself, pitched the tyrant out of the window, and turned to join the lady, victorious, but with a bump on his brow, found the door locked, tore up the curtains, made a rope ladder, got halfway down when the ladder broke, and he went headfirst into the moat, sixty feet below. Could swim like a duck, paddled round the castle till he came to a little door guarded by two stout fellows, knocked their heads together till they cracked like a couple of nuts, then, by a trifling exertion of his prodigious strength, he smashed in the door, went up a pair of stone steps covered with dust a foot thick, toads as big as your fist, and spiders that would frighten you into hysterics, Miss March. At the top of these steps he came plump upon a sight that took his breath away and chilled his blood..." "A tall figure, all in white with a veil over its face and a lamp in its wasted hand," went on Meg. "It beckoned, gliding noiselessly before him down a corridor as dark and cold as any tomb. Shadowy effigies in armor stood on either side, a dead silence reigned, the lamp burned blue, and the ghostly figure ever and anon turned its face toward him, showing the glitter of awful eyes through its white veil. They reached a curtained door, behind which sounded lovely music. He sprang forward to enter, but the specter plucked him back, and waved threateningly before him a..." "Snuffbox," said Jo, in a sepulchral tone, which convulsed the audience. "'Thankee,' said the knight politely, as he took a pinch and sneezed seven times so violently that his head fell off. 'Ha! Ha!' laughed the ghost, and having peeped through the keyhole at the princesses spinning away for dear life, the evil spirit picked up her victim and put him in a large tin box, where there were eleven other knights packed together without their heads, like sardines, who all rose and began to..." "Dance a hornpipe," cut in Fred, as Jo paused for breath, "and, as they danced, the rubbishy old castle turned to a man-of-war in full sail.

• From Little Women (1868)

  At the door her sisters seized and bore her to the parlor in a triumphal procession, all pointing and all saying at once, "Look there! Look there!" Beth did look, and turned pale with delight and surprise, for there stood a little cabinet piano, with a letter lying on the glossy lid, directed like a sign board to "Miss Elizabeth March." "For me?" gasped Beth, holding onto Jo and feeling as if she should tumble down, it was such an overwhelming thing altogether. "Yes, all for you, my precious! Isn't it splendid of him? Don't you think he's the dearest old man in the world? Here's the key in the letter. We didn't open it, but we are dying to know what he says," cried Jo, hugging her sister and offering the note. "You read it! I can't, I feel so queer! Oh, it is too lovely!" and Beth hid her face in Jo's apron, quite upset by her present. Jo opened the paper and began to laugh, for the first words she saw were... "Miss March: "Dear Madam—" "How nice it sounds! I wish someone would write to me so!" said Amy, who thought the old-fashioned address very elegant. "'I have had many pairs of slippers in my life, but I never had any that suited me so well as yours,'" continues Jo. "'Heart's-ease is my favorite flower, and these will always remind me of the gentle giver. I like to pay my debts, so I know you will allow 'the old gentleman' to send you something which once belonged to the little grand daughter he lost. With hearty thanks and best wishes, I remain "'Your grateful friend and humble servant, 'JAMES LAURENCE'." "There, Beth, that's an honor to be proud of, I'm sure! Laurie told me how fond Mr. Laurence used to be of the child who died, and how he kept all her little things carefully. Just think, he's given you her piano. That comes of having big blue eyes and loving music," said Jo, trying to soothe Beth, who trembled and looked more excited than she had ever been before. "See the cunning brackets to hold candles, and the nice green silk, puckered up, with a gold rose in the middle, and the pretty rack and stool, all complete," added Meg, opening the instrument and displaying its beauties. "'Your humble servant, James Laurence'. Only think of his writing that to you. I'll tell the girls. They'll think it's splendid," said Amy, much impressed by the note. "Try it, honey. Let's hear the sound of the baby pianny," said Hannah, who always took a share in the family joys and sorrows. So Beth tried it, and everyone pronounced it the most remarkable piano ever heard.

• From The Confessions of Saint Augustine (354)

  Now was the day come wherein I was in deed to be freed of my Rhetoric Professorship, whereof in thought I was already freed. And it was done. Thou didst rescue my tongue, whence Thou hadst before rescued my heart. And I blessed Thee, rejoicing; retiring with all mine to the villa. What I there did in writing, which was now enlisted in Thy service, though still, in this breathing-time as it were, panting from the school of pride, my books may witness, as well what I debated with others, as what with myself alone, before Thee: what with Nebridius, who was absent, my Epistles bear witness. And when shall I have time to rehearse all Thy great benefits towards us at that time, especially when hasting on to yet greater mercies? For my remembrance recalls me, and pleasant is it to me, O Lord, to confess to Thee, by what inward goads Thou tamedst me; and how Thou hast evened me, lowering the mountains and hills of my high imaginations, straightening my crookedness, and smoothing my rough ways; and how Thou also subduedst the brother of my heart, Alypius, unto the name of Thy Only Begotten, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, which he would not at first vouchsafe to have inserted in our writings. For rather would he have them savour of the lofty cedars of the Schools, which the Lord hath now broken down, than of the wholesome herbs of the Church, the antidote against serpents.

• From Mystical Tradition: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (2008)

  Panentheism (“There is a presence of God in all things”), which is distinct from Pantheism (“God is all things”). 2. Besht expressed great optimism about the human capacity to know and love God and to grow in holiness. 3. In contrast to the Lurianic tradition, he downplayed asceticism and penitence, emphasizing instead the positive feeling of great joy (simcha) to be found in worship. 4. Adherence to God (devequt) is accomplished more by prayer than by study, and prayer can express itself fully in joyful ecstasy (hitlahavut). III. The Hasidic form of mysticism spread rapidly in Eastern Europe and took on distinct characteristics. A. Disciples, including the Talmudic scholar Rabbi Dov Baer of Mezritch (1704(cid:16)1772), joined the movement, which then gained credibility and moved toward the mainstream. 1. Tales centering on the life and character of the Ba’al Shem Tov—his simplicity, compassion, awareness of God, and even his miracles—began to be shaped and disseminated. 2. Hasidic Jews could be found throughout Poland, Russia, Byelorusse, Lithuania, the Ukraine, even in Palestine, in Galilee. B. The movement also experienced resistance from Jews who regarded it with suspicion and resulted in some excommunications. 1. Rabbi Elijah ben Solomon, the Gaon of Vilna, or the “Great One” of Vilna (1720–1797), although himself a mystic of Kabbalah, fiercely opposed Hasidism. 2. Objections were made, above all, to the relative freedom of the movement from the study of Torah. C. The focus on the person of Besht led to the emergence of the tzaddik in the Hasidic tradition. 1. The tzaddik became the center of a community’s life as a result of his personality and prayer, rather than his expertise in Law. 2. He was regarded as an exemplar of virtue (and even of the divine life) and considered to have extraordinary qualities. 3. The position of the tzaddik was handed down dynastically, at times taking on a messianic coloration. 4. Distinct branches of Hasidism arose because of these dynastic lines, such as the Chabad Lubavitcher. 48 ©2008 The Teaching Company. IV. As it developed historically, both in Europe and in America, the Hasidic movement maintained its distinctive features but also moved closer to the mainline Rabbinic tradition. A. The Tzaddik Nachman of Breslav (1772–1810) provides an example of the use of the tale as a teaching instrument. B. With Rabbi Menachem Nahum of Chernobyl (1730–1797), we see the cultivation of a life of piety and virtue in Hasidism and the use of the sermon as a means of teaching mystical doctrine. Recommended Reading: Buber, M. Tales of the Hasidim: The Later Masters. Questions to Consider: 1. How does the historical development of Hasidism demonstrate the powerful hold of Torah at the center of Jewish consciousness? 2. Discuss the role of stories throughout the Jewish mystical tradition. ©2008 The Teaching Company. 49

• From Wild (2012)

  I was entering. I was leaving. California streamed behind me like a long silk veil. I didn’t feel like a big fat idiot anymore. And I didn’t feel like a hard-ass motherfucking Amazonian queen. I felt fierce and humble and gathered up inside, like I was safe in this world too. PART FIVE BOX OF RAINI’m a slow walker, but I never walk back. ABRAHAM LINCOLN Tell me, what is it you plan to do With your one wild and precious life? MARY OLIVER, “The Summer Day” 15 BOX OF RAINI woke in the darkness on my second-to-last night in California to the sound of wind whipping the branches of the trees and the tap-tapping of rain against my tent. It had been so dry all summer long that I’d stopped putting the rain cover on, sleeping with only a wide pane of mesh between the sky and me. I scrambled barefoot into the dark to pull my rain cover over my tent, shivering, though it was early August. It had been in the nineties for weeks, sometimes even reaching a hundred, but with the wind and the rain, the weather had suddenly shifted. Back in my tent, I put on my fleece leggings and anorak, crawled into my sleeping bag, and zipped it all the way up to my chin, cinching its hood tight around my head. When I woke at six, the little thermometer on my backpack said that it was 37 degrees. I hiked along a high ridgeline in the rain, dressed in most of what I had. Each time I stopped for more than a few minutes, I grew so chilled that my teeth chattered comically until I walked on and began to sweat again. On clear days, my guidebook claimed, Oregon was in view to the north, but I couldn’t see anything for the thick fog that obscured anything beyond ten feet. I didn’t need to see Oregon. I could feel it, huge before me. I would walk its entire length if I made it all the way to the Bridge of the Gods. Who would I be if I did? Who would I be if I didn’t? Midmorning, Stacy appeared out of the mist, walking southbound on the trail. We’d hiked away from Seiad Valley together the day before, after spending a night with Rex and the couples. In the morning, Rex had caught a bus back to his real life, while the rest of us walked on, splitting up a few hours out. I was fairly certain I wouldn’t see the couples on the trail again, but Stacy and I had made plans to meet up in Ashland, where she was going to lay over for a few days waiting for her friend Dee to arrive before they began their hike through Oregon. Seeing her now startled me, as if she were part woman, part ghost.

• From Mystical Tradition: Judaism, Christianity, and Islam (2008)

  2. At the same time, Spinoza’s pantheistic view of reality echoed the vision of Kabbalism. D. Sabbatianism continued to divide Jewish communities, particularly with the rise of Jacob Frank (17261791), a follower of Sabbatai Zevi and another false Messiah who also apostasized, this time, to Christianity. E. While Judaism thrived in its Talmudic form in urban centers that offered stable conditions, in the Ukraine, where Hasidism arose, Jews were scattered in rural villages with no centers of learning. F. Hasidism emerged in these conditions as a powerful form of popular mysticism that was centered in the transformation of individuals more than the study of texts, focused on ecstatic joy more than penitential sorrow. II. The Hasidic movement was deeply marked by the charismatic nature of its founder, Rabbi Israel ben Eliezer, the Ba’al Shem Tov (also called Besht, 16981760). A. Besht was a simple and poor man, a lover of nature, and not a scholar. 1. His poverty was acute, and he held a series of simple jobs throughout his life, including minding a village tavern. He and his wife, Chana, had two children. 2. He served as a sexton in the synagogue and a mediator in the Jewish community but gained fame as a healer, inscribing amulets and prescribing herbs for the sick. He had the gift of controlling the divine name; thus, he was known as Ba’al Shem Tov, “Master of the Good Name.” B. Besht began gathering followers and started teaching in Medzhybizh around 1740; even members of the educated elite came to hear him. 1. He wrote no scholarly works, and his teaching did not take the typical form of rabbinic commentary on Torah. 2. He assumed the symbolic world of Kabbalah but taught by means of stories and pointed sayings. C. The salient elements of Besht’s teaching make clear the distinctive development in mysticism he represents. 1. For Besht, all things are filled with God and can reveal God, especially, the human person. This view is known as ©2008 The Teaching Company. 47

• From History of the Christian Church: The Complete Set of Eight Volumes (1858)

  Yet, on the other hand, the Christian life of the period before Constantine has been often unwarrantably idealized. In a human nature essentially the same, we could but expect the same faults which we found even in the apostolic churches. The Epistles of Cyprian afford incontestable evidence, that, especially in the intervals of repose, an abatement of zeal soon showed itself, and, on the reopening of persecution, the Christian name was dishonored by hosts of apostates. And not seldom did the most prominent virtues, courage in death, and strictness of morals, degenerate into morbid fanaticism and unnatural rigor. § 95. The Church and Public Amusements. Tertullian: De Spectaculis. On the Roman Spectacles see the abundant references in Friedlaender, II. 255–580 (5th ed.) Christianity is anything but sanctimonious gloominess and misanthropic austerity. It is the fountain of true joy, and of that peace which "passeth all understanding." But this joy wells up from the consciousness of pardon and of fellowship with God, is inseparable from holy earnestness, and has no concord with worldly frivolity and sensual amusement, which carry the sting of a bad conscience, and beget only disgust and bitter remorse. "What is more blessed," asks Tertullian, "than reconciliation with God our Father and Lord; than the revelation of the truth, the knowledge of error; than the forgiveness of so great past misdeeds? Is there a greater joy than the disgust with earthly pleasure, than contempt for the whole world, than true freedom, than an unstained conscience, than contentment in life and fearlessness in death?"

• From The Confessions of Saint Augustine (354)

  Up, Lord, and do; stir us up, and recall us; kindle and draw us; inflame, grow sweet unto us, let us now love, let us run. Do not many, out of a deeper hell of blindness than Victorinus, return to Thee, approach, and are enlightened, receiving that Light, which they who receive, receive power from Thee to become Thy sons? But if they be less known to the nations, even they that know them, joy less for them. For when many joy together, each also has more exuberant joy for that they are kindled and inflamed one by the other. Again, because those known to many, influence the more towards salvation, and lead the way with many to follow. And therefore do they also who preceded them much rejoice in them, because they rejoice not in them alone. For far be it, that in Thy tabernacle the persons of the rich should be accepted before the poor, or the noble before the ignoble; seeing rather Thou hast chosen the weak things of the world to confound the strong; and the base things of this world, and the things despised hast Thou chosen, and those things which are not, that Thou mightest bring to nought things that are. And yet even that least of Thy apostles, by whose tongue Thou soundedst forth these words, when through his warfare, Paulus the Proconsul, his pride conquered, was made to pass under the easy yoke of Thy Christ, and became a provincial of the great King; he also for his former name Saul, was pleased to be called Paul, in testimony of so great a victory. For the enemy is more overcome in one, of whom he hath more hold; by whom he hath hold of more. But the proud he hath more hold of, through their nobility; and by them, of more through their authority. By how much the more welcome then the heart of Victorinus was esteemed, which the devil had held as an impregnable possession, the tongue of Victorinus, with which mighty and keen weapon he had slain many; so much the more abundantly ought Thy sons to rejoice, for that our King hath bound the strong man, and they saw his vessels taken from him and cleansed, and made meet for Thy honour; and become serviceable for the Lord, unto every good work.