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

  Even while speeches were being delivered, efforts to settle the difference were being made on the platform, and notes were being freely exchanged among the leaders for that purpose. Malaviyaji was leaving no stone unturned to bridge the gulf. Just then Jeramdas handed over his amendment to me and pleaded in his own sweet manner to save the delegates from the dilemma of a division. His amendment appealed to me. Malaviyaji’s eye was already scanning every quarter for a ray of hope. I told him that Jeramdas’s amendment seemed to me to be likely to be acceptable to both the parties. The Lokamanya, to whom it was next shown, said, “If C.R.Das approves, I will have no objection.’ Deshabandhu at last thawed, and cast a look towards Sjt. Bepin Chandra Pal for endorsement. Malaviyaji was filled with hope. He snatched away the slip of paper containing the amendment, and before Deshabandhu had even pronounced a definite ‘yes’, shouted out, ‘Brother delegates, you will be glad to learn that a compromise had been reached.’ What followed beggars description. The pandal was rent with the clapping of hands, and the erstwhile gloomy faces of the audience lit up with joy. It is hardly necessary to deal with the text of the amendment. My object here is only to describe how this resolution was undertaken as part of my experiments with which these chapters deal. The compromise further increased my responsibility. 164CONGRESS INITIATIONI must regard my participation in Congress proceed- ings at Amritsar as my real entrance into the Congress politics. My attendance at the previous Congress was nothing more perhaps than an annual renewal of alle- giance to the Congress. I never felt on these occasions that I had any other work cut out for me except that of a mere private, nor did I desire more. My experience of Amritsar had shown that there were one or two things for which perhaps I had some aptitude and which could be useful to the Congress. I could already see that the late Lokamanya, the Deshabandhu, Pandit Motilalji and other leaders were pleased with my work in connection with the Punjab inquiry. They used to invite me to their informal gatherings where, as I found resolutions for the Subjects Committee were conceived. At these gatherings only those persons were invited who enjoyed the special confidence of the leaders and whose services were needed by them. Interlopers also sometimes found their way to these meetings. There were, for the coming year, two things which interested me, as I had some aptitude for them. One of these was the memorial of the Jalianwala Bagh Massacre. The Congress had passed a resolution for it amid great enthusiasm. A fund of about five lakhs had to be collected for it. I was appointed one of the trustees. Pandit Malaviyaji enjoyed the reputation of being the prince among beggars for the public cause. But I knew that I was not far behind him in that respect.

• From Post Office (1971)

  If I lay on this side, if I lay on that side, if I lay on my back, I ached. I found the easiest way was on my stomach, but that grew tiresome. It took a good two or three minutes to get from one position to another. I tossed and turned, cursing, screaming a little, and laughing a little too, at the ridiculousness of it. On they chattered. They got to me. What did they know of pain in their little cage? Eggheads yakking! Just feathers; brains the size of a pinhead. I managed to get out of bed, go into the kitchen, fill a cup with water and then I walked up to the cage and threw the water all over them. “Motherfuckers!” I cursed them. They looked out at me balefully from under their wet feathers. They were silent! Nothing like the old water treatment. I had borrowed a page from the headshrinkers. Then the green one with the yellow breast reached down and bit himself on the chest. Then he looked up and started chattering to the red one with the green breast, and then they were going again. I sat on the edge of the bed and listened to them. Picasso walked up and bit me on the ankle. That did it. I took the cage outside. Picasso followed me. 10,000 flies rose straight up into the air. I put the cage on the ground, opened the cage door and sat on the steps. Both birds looked at that cage door. They couldn’t understand it and they could. I could feel their tiny minds trying to function. They had their food and water right there, but what was that open space? The green one with the yellow breast went first. He leaped down to the opening from his rung. He sat gripping the wire. He looked down at the flies. He stood there 15 seconds, trying to decide. Then something clicked in his little head. Or her little head. He didn’t fly. He shot straight up into the sky. Up, up, up, up. Straight up! Straight as an arrow! Picasso and I sat there and watched. The damn thing was gone. Then it was the red one with the green breast’s turn. The red one was much more hesitant. He walked around in the bottom of the cage, nervously. It was a hell of a decision. Humans, birds, everything has to make these decisions. It was a hard game. So old red walked around thinking it over. Yellow sunlight. Buzzing flies. Man and dog looking on. All that sky, all that sky. It was too much. Old red leaped to the wire. Three seconds. ZOOP! The bird was gone. Picasso and I picked up the empty cage and walked back into the house. I had a good sleep for the first time in weeks. I even forgot to set the alarm. I was riding a white horse down Broadway, New York City.

• From Fragments (7)

  Had myself in wine been steeping — Now I dreamed of maidens gay. Racing with them like a steed, On my toe-tips I did speed. Beauteous boys began to jeer me, That with charming maids I played. All did vanish who were near me, When to kiss them I essayed. No more sleep; for, all alone. For my dream did I atone. TO A SYMPOSIUM (36) Merrily let us drink sweet wine. In songs of praise of Bacchus join. Who first did graceful dances learn. Who e'er for song and dance doth yearn, Who like light-hearted Cupids lives, To whom her love fair Venus gives ; Through whom strong drink, hilarious mirth, Through whom was good will given birth. Through whom from sorrows comes relief. Through whom is laid to rest our grief. Now beauteous boys, distributing. Wine mixed with water to us bring; But from our hearts has sadness fled. Mingled with blasts by tempests fed. The wine, pray, let us therefore take, But off from us our sorrows shake; For tell mc what it profits thee X41 Lyric Songs of the Greeks To pine in anxious misery? The future whither do we know? Hidden man's life doth onward flow. Anointed, I for drink will care, And dance and play with maidens fair. But as to cares, be they endured By those who are by cares allured. Merrily let us drink sweet wine, In songs of praise of Bacchus join. TO HIMSELF OR TO AN OLD FRIEND (37) A mirthful man, though old he be. In high esteem I hold. A youthful dancer I love to see; But when an aged dancer I find. His hair to me seems old. But ever youthful is his mind. TO HIMSELF (38) Since I myself a mortal know. My forward course o*er life's path shaping, I know the road where I have been stepping. But not the part I still must go. Ye cares, begone, by me abhorred. Before my end on me advances, I shall take part in mirthful dances, rU laugh and with Lyaeus sport. 142 Anacreontea TO SPRING OR SUMMER (39) There to stroll is a delight Where luxurious grass is growing, Where o*er meadows, sweet and bright, Gentle Zephyr^s breath is blowing. I delight in Bacchus' shade *Neath a leafy vine to tarry, Talking with a lovely maid, E*en whose breath doth Cypris carry. A LOVE SONG (40) The dance of Bacchus I admire, In sportive mirth abounding; With youthful friends to hear my lyre At drinking-bouts resounding. However, with wreaths of- hyacinth gay My festive head to cover, And then with charming maids to play, Of this I am most a lover. My heart bleak envy knoweth not; At drink I hate all quarrels; The darts by tongues abusive shot To shun — these are my morals. 143 Lyric Son^s of the Greeks With blooming maidens I desire To banquet and to revel, And, dancing to the tuneful lyre. To keep life free from evil.

• From Confessions of a Mask (1958)

  And Sonoko also seemed to have been overcome with the same feeling. We waited a long time, but as Sonoko's mother and grandmother did not come, we finally took one of the elevated trains and went on ahead to U Station. In the bustle at the station we were hailed by a Mr. Ohba who was going to visit his son in the same regiment Kusano was in. This middle-aged banker, who disdained the khaki civilian uniform then in official favor and clung stubbornly to Homburg hat and sack coat, was accompanied by a daughter whom both Sonoko and I knew slightly. Why did I rejoice in the fact that this girl was far from beautiful when compared with Sonoko? What was this feeling? In spite of Sonoko's naive frolicking, taking place there before my eyes—she was grasping crossed hands with the Ohba girl and making a great show of intimacy—I realized that Sonoko was endowed with the bright magnanimity that is the prerogative of beauty and that this made her appear to be an adult several years older than she actually was. When we boarded the train it was empty. As though by chance Sonoko and I took seats at a window, facing each other.Counting the maid who had accompanied them, there were three persons in Mr. Ohba's party. And our party, which had finally been completed, consisted of six. As the two groups made a total of nine, we were one too many to occupy two sets of seats across the aisle from each other. I had made this quick calculation without even being aware of it. Could Sonoko have been doing the same? At any rate, when we sat down with a plump opposite each other we exchanged mischievous smiles. In view of the unwieldly number of our combined party, the others tacitly consented when Sonoko and I formed this separate little island for ourselves. As a matter of etiquette Sonoko's grandmother and mother had to sit facing the Ohba father and daughter. Sonoko's younger sister immediately chose a window seat across the aisle, from which she could both see her mother's face and look out the window. The third sister followed her, and their seat became a playground, with the Ohba maid in charge of the two pert girls. Sonoko and I were isolated from all the others by the back of a time-worn seat. The talkative Mr. Ohba took control of the conversation even before the train left the station. His low-voiced, womanish garrulity left his hearers nothing to do but to agree with him. Even the young-spirited grandmother, who was the talkative representative of the Kusano family, was struck speechless with wonder.Both she and the mother could say nothing but "Yes, yes," and were fully occupied with the task of laughing at important point after important point in Mr. Ohba's monologue. As for the Ohba girl, not a single word passed her lips. Presently the train began to move.

• From The Ice Storm (1994)

  And it danced. The jig of the dervish, of delirious and religious mad persons, of hyperactive children and their weary parents. The dance of the charmed snake. The electrical line hopped and skipped and nothing could stop it that Mike knew of. It was just one of the hazards of life now. Cool! Look, he was not a brilliant kid. He had not scored well on standardized tests or on any other tests. He was a little lazy, in fact. Mostly he tried to sit next to Mona Henderson and copy answers. But he knew about live wires, about the lore of live wires. So he made a wide berth several hundred feet around the moiling electrical field and then back onto that thoroughfare, Valley Road, back onto his trail. He wasn’t lonely now. He was full of life. He wished Wendy Hood were here to see all this. As he climbed carefully over the cable guardrail, he checked the icy sheen on the incline there, where Valley Road started down toward Silvermine. He checked the surface and found it to his liking. It could be burnished into a fine sliding surface. He cleared away any chunky, crusty stuff on a good twelve or fourteen feet of the roadway. With his sneakers he brushed this surface clean, as carefully and lovingly as if he were going to sign his name to it. And then he positioned himself ten feet or so from the beginning of this runway to get up speed. Oh, the solitude of that moment! Mike could hear his breath as he chugged up to the ice, and then the sharp intake as he held in the chilly air and careened down the hill. It was good. Cool. He cleared a few more feet. No one was up, but he thought he could make out the glimmerings of dawn in the east. There were stars and moonlight and the intimation of dawn, and these occasionally illumined his solitary competition. No cars would be coming, because the road was sealed off now by the splendid devastation of the elements. Mike was like the hockey stars so prized by New Canaan high schoolers. He was like Ken “The Snake” Stabler, quarterback for his favorite football team, the unforgiving Oakland Raiders. He was like the intrepid skiers at the beginning of The Wide World of Sports. He was like Dave Wottle or Mark Spitz or Tug McGraw or O. J. Simpson. He was a citizen of the physical world. He trudged to the top of his giant slalom again, and again he navigated it flawlessly, coming to the bottom of the slope on his feet. The Russian judges scored him well. The noise of some imagined crowd buoyed him up. He would take the gold and then save the Israeli athletes from their fate.

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

  From scattered statements of the ante-Nicene fathers we may gather the following view of the eucharistic service as it may have stood in the middle of the third century, if not earlier. The communion was a regular and the most solemn part of the Sunday worship; or it was the worship of God in the stricter sense, in which none but full members of the church could engage. In many places and by many Christians it was celebrated even daily, after apostolic precedent, and according to the very common mystical interpretation of the fourth petition of the Lord’s prayer.403 The service began, after the dismission of the catechumens, with the kiss of peace, given by the men to men, and by the women to women, in token of mutual recognition as members of one redeemed family in the midst of a heartless and loveless world. It was based upon apostolic precedent, and is characteristic of the childlike simplicity, and love and joy of the early Christians.404 The service proper consisted of two principal acts: the oblation,405 or presenting of the offerings of the congregation by the deacons for the ordinance itself, and for the benefit of the clergy and the poor; and the communion, or partaking of the consecrated elements. In the oblation the congregation at the same time presented itself as a living thank-offering; as in the communion it appropriated anew in faith the sacrifice of Christ, and united itself anew with its Head. Both acts were accompanied and consecrated by prayer and songs of praise. In the prayers we must distinguish, first, the general thanksgiving (the eucharist in the strictest sense of the word) for all the natural and spiritual gifts of God, commonly ending with the seraphic hymn, Isa. 6:3; secondly, the prayer of consecration, or the invocation of the Holy Spirit406 upon the people and the elements, usually accompanied by the recital of the words of institution and the Lord’s Prayer; and finally, the general intercessions for all classes, especially for the believers, on the ground of the sacrifice of Christ on the cross for the salvation of the world. The length and order of the prayers, however, were not uniform; nor the position of the Lord’s Prayer, which sometimes took the place of the prayer of consecration, being reserved for the prominent part of the service. Pope Gregory I. says that it "was the custom of the Apostles to consecrate the oblation only by the Lord’s Prayer." The congregation responded from time to time, according to the ancient Jewish and the apostolic usage, with an audible "Amen, "or "Kyrie eleison." The "Sursum corda," also, as an incitement to devotion, with the response, "Habemus ad Dominum," appears at least as early as Cyprian’s time, who expressly alludes to it, and in all the ancient liturgies. The prayers were spoken, not read from a book. But extemporaneous prayer naturally assumes a fixed form by constant repetition.

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

  I therefore suggested to West that the engineer might now be asked to get up and try again to start the engine, so that if we succeeded we might finish in time. West woke him up, and he immediately went into the engine room. And lo and behold! the engine worked almost as soon as he touched it. The whole press rang with peals of joy. ‘How can this be? How is it that all our labours last night were of no avail, and this morning it has been set going as though there were nothing wrong with it?’ I enquired. ‘It is difficult to say,’ said West or the engineer, I forget which. ‘Machines also sometimes seem to behave as though they required rest like us.’ For me the failure of the engine had come as a test for us all, and its working in the nick of time as the fruit of our honest and earnest labours. The copies were despatched in time, and everyone was happy. This initial insistence ensured the regularity of the paper, and created an atmosphere of self- reliance in Phoenix. There came a time we deliberately gave up the use of the engine and worked with hand-power only. Those were, to my mind, the days of the highest moral uplift for Phoenix. 100POLAK TAKES THE PLUNGEIt has always been my regret that, although I started the Settlement at Phoenix, I could stay there only for brief periods. My original idea had been gradually to retire from practice, go and live at the Settlement, earn my livelihood by manual work there, and find the joy of service in the fulfilment of Phoenix. But it was not to be. I have found by experience that man makes his plans to be often upset by God, but, at the same time where the ultimate goal is the search of truth, no matter how a man’s plans are frustrated, the issue is never injurious and often better than anticipated. The unexpected turn that Phoenix took and the unexpected happenings were certainly not injurious, though it is difficult to say that they were better than our original expectations. In order to enable every one of us to make a living by manual labour, we parcelled out the land round the press in pieces of three acres each. One of these fell to my lot. On all these plots we, much against our wish, built houses with corrugated iron. Our desire had been to have mud huts thatched with straw or small brick houses such as would become ordinary peasants, but it could not be. They would have been more expensive and would have meant more time, and everyone was eager to settle down as soon as possible. The editor was still Mansukhlal Naazar.

• From Fragments (7)

  Now gold in many a bracelet, now purple in rai- ments gleams; Now many treasures bring they of fine embroidery, And countless silver vessels, and cups and ivory." He spoke, and his dear father arose in breathless haste. And through the spacious city the tidings traveled fast. Straightway their mules the Trojans to wagons swift and strong Yoked, as on them ascended the festive women's throng. The slender-footed maidens all followed, while aside Were seated Priam's daughters, on pompous cars to ride. The men yoked to the chariots the steeds, aye, all young men; And then, while shouting loudly, the charioteers gave rein. The elder women, shouting, did loudly all rejoice. And in the sweet clear paean the men poured out their voice. They called on the far-darter, whose lyre sounds gloriously. To sing of god-like Hector and of Andromache. 32 Sappho A DIVINE WEDDING FESTIVAL (42) With ambrosia the mixer was filled to the brim. With a flask to the immortals did Hermes pour in, And they all from their goblets were pouring libations. To the bridegroom they proffered their felicita- tions. LOVE'S TEMPEST (43) Like the tempest which falls on the mountain oaks, So Love stirs our hearts with violent strokes. LOVE'S ATTACK (44) The bitter-sweet creature, invincible Love, My limbs set a-trembling, my heart doth move. RESTLESS THROUGH LOVE (45) No longer, mother dear, can I Endure to work my wheel. Through Aphrodite for that boy Such longing do I feel. 33 Lyric SonffS of the Greeks MIDNIGHT SOLITUDE (46) The moon has left the heavens; The Pleiades have set; And at the hour of midnight In solitude I fret. TO A FRIEND (47) Come, my friend, before my face; Show thine eyes' engaging grace. TO ALCAEUS (48) If aught for honor or for right thou hadst cared, Nor by thy tongue to ill hadst been constrained. For modesty thou wouldst not have refrained, But openly to speak for right thou hadst dared. A REFUSAL (49) A friend of thee I'll ever be, But win thyself a younger bride. My greater age refuses me That always I with thee abide. 34 y Sappho ANOTHER (50) I'll marry never, A maid be ever. SAPPHO'S FALSE FRIENDS (51) Those whom I serve with all my might With base deception me requite. SAPPHO'S ENEMIES AND RIVALS A CURSE (52) Far from his course may winds him bear, And may he be oppressed with care. ANDROMEDA (53) What boorish creature see I there. With finery her rudeness veiling, Who doesn't e'en know how to wear Her robe behind her ankles trailing? 35 Lyric Sotiffs of the Greeks (54) A glorious return Andromeda did earn. GORGO (55) She who Gorgo once did love Has of her more than enough. THE CHILD OF POLYANAX (56) To the child of Polyanax I Bid a hearty and long good-bye. TO A RICH BUT UNEDUCATED WOMAN (57) When grim death thy eyelids closes, Then shall no one for thee care; For of the Pierian roses

• From Enchanted: Erotic Bedtime Stories for Women (Erotic Fiction) (2006)

  Afterward, the queen was anxious to stand before her mirror and see the results, but the prince firmly reminded her of her promise to go away with him, insisting that they leave immediately in order to reach their destination before nightfall. The prince’s resolve won out and the two finally set out together. They traveled deep into the woods, farther and farther away from the curse of the queen’s land and into enchanted forests, until at last they came upon a small stone cottage that was nearly hidden by innumerable climbing vines of magically scented rosebushes. The overflowing branches ascended the stones and continued their advance until they were nearly covering the roof. As the couple approached, they breathed in the sweet fragrance that was drifting outward, engulfing them in its heady aroma. Whether it was the enchantment of those flowery vines that besieged it or the fact that it belonged to the prince, I know not, but neither the cottage nor its contents were touched by the sorcerer’s spell. The moment the queen walked through the small doorway and into the cottage, she felt overwhelmingly beautiful and cherished. The very walls seemed to embrace her, and she was filled with happiness. She thought this must be the effect of getting her youth back by eating Snow White’s heart, but actually she was feeling the way she would have felt every day of her life, if only she had not been under the power of the wicked spell. The queen turned to him with a radiant smile. He gazed at her and thought he had never seen her look so lovely. He took her hand and led her up a narrow stairway into a cozy sitting room. In the middle of the room, there stood a large mirror. The prince gently placed the queen before the mirror. It was not enchanted, and so, for the first time in her life, the queen saw herself as she really was, and not by the warped standards maintained outside those cottage walls. She stared at herself in amazement. The prince stood behind the queen and watched. He saw immediately that his plan had worked, and that the queen was finally seeing herself through his eyes. Then he saw her eyes meet his. Suddenly, the queen’s obsession with her own appearance disappeared, and she noticed how handsome her servant was. What an extraordinary couple they made as she gazed at the two of them in the mirror! She wondered how it was that she had never noticed how his thick, dark hair curled slightly at the ends. Or how his dark, smooth skin illuminated his intense blue eyes.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  Meanwhile, Fra Rinaldo's comrade, who had by this taught the serving-wench not one, but maybe more than four paternosters, and had given her a little purse of white thread, which he had from a nun, and made her his devotee, hearing the cuckold call at his wife's chamber-door, had softly betaken himself to a place whence he could, himself unseen, both see and hear what should betide and presently, seeing that all had passed off well, came down and entering the chamber, said, 'Fra Rinaldo, I have despatched all four of the orisons which you bade me say.' 'Brother mine,' answered the friar, 'thou hast a good wind and hast done well; I, for my part, had said but two thereof, when my gossip came; but God the Lord, what with thy pains and mine, hath shown us such favour that the child is healed.' Therewithal the cuckold let bring good wines and confections and entertained his gossip and the latter's comrade with that whereof they had more need than of aught else. Then, attending them to the door, he commended them to God and letting make the waxen image without delay, he sent to hang it up with the others[346] before the statue of St. Ambrose, but not that of Milan."[347] [Footnote 346: _i.e._ the other ex votos.] [Footnote 347: There is apparently some satirical allusion here, which I cannot undertake to explain.] THE FOURTH STORY [Day the Seventh] TOFANO ONE NIGHT SHUTTETH HIS WIFE OUT OF DOORS, WHO, AVAILING NOT TO RE-ENTER BY DINT OF ENTREATIES, FEIGNETH TO CAST HERSELF INTO A WELL AND CASTETH THEREIN A GREAT STONE. TOFANO COMETH FORTH OF THE HOUSE AND RUNNETH THITHER, WHEREUPON SHE SLIPPETH IN AND LOCKING HIM OUT, BAWLETH REPROACHES AT HIM FROM THE WINDOW The king no sooner perceived Elisa's story to be ended than, turning without delay to Lauretta, he signified to her his pleasure that she should tell; whereupon she, without hesitation, began thus, "O Love, how great and how various is thy might! How many thy resources and thy devices! What philosopher, what craftsman[348] could ever have availed or might avail to teach those shifts, those feints, those subterfuges which thou on the spur of the moment suggestest to whoso ensueth in thy traces! Certes, all others' teaching is halting compared with thine, as may very well have been apprehended by the devices which have already been set forth and to which, lovesome ladies, I will add one practised by a woman of a simple wit enough and such as I know none but Love could have taught her. [Footnote 348: Syn. professor of the liberal arts (_artista_).]

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  In the hall stood the Christmas-tree of her childhood, for Sir Philip loved the old German custom which would seem to insist that even the aged be as children and play with God on His birth- day. At the top of the tree swung the little wax Christ-child in His spangled nightgown with gold and blue ribbons; and the little wax Christ-child bent downwards and sideways because, although small, He was rather heavy — or, as Stephen had thought when she too had been small, because He was trying to look for His presents. In the morning they all went to church in the village, and the church smelt of coldness and freshly bruised greenstuff — of the laurel and holly and pungent pine branches, that wreathed the oak pulpit and framed the altar; and the anxious-faced eagle who must carry the Scriptures on his wings, he too was looking quite festive. Very redolent of England it was, that small church, with its apple-cheeked choirboys in newly washed garments; with its young Oxford parson who in summer played cricket to the glory of God and the good of the county; with its trim con- gregation of neighbouring gentry who had recently purchased an excellent organ, so that now they could hear the opening bars of the hymns with a feeling of self-satisfaction, but with some- 96 THE WELL OF LONELINESS thing else too that came nearer to Heaven, because of those lovely old songs of Christmas. The choir raised their sexless, untroubled voices: ‘ While shepherds watched their flocks . . .’ sang the choir; and Anna’s soft mezzo mingled and blended with her hus- band’s deep boom and Puddle’s soprano. Then Stephen sang too for the sheer joy of singing, though her voice at best was inclined to be husky: ‘ While shepherds watched their flocks by night,’ carolled Stephen — for some reason thinking of Raftery. After church the habitual Christmas greetings: “ Merry Christmas.’ ‘ Merry Christmas.’ ‘Same to you, many of them! ’ Then home to Morton and the large mid-day dinner — turkey, plum pudding with its crisp brandy butter, and the mince-pies that invariably gave Puddle indigestion. Then dessert with all sorts of sweet fruits out of boxes, crystallized fruits that made your hands sticky, together with fruit from the Morton green-houses; and from somewhere that no one could ever remember, the ele- gant miniature Lady-apples that you ate skins and all in two bites if you were greedy.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  In such and the like discourse was Ferondo entertained half a score months with eating and drinking and beating, what while the abbot assiduously visited the fair lady, without miscarriage, and gave himself the goodliest time in the world with her. At last, as ill-luck would have it, the lady found herself with child and straightway acquainted the abbot therewith, wherefore it seemed well to them both that Ferondo should without delay be recalled from purgatory to life and return to her, so she might avouch herself with child by him. Accordingly, the abbot that same night caused call to Ferondo in prison with a counterfeit voice, saying, 'Ferondo, take comfort, for it is God's pleasure that thou return to the world, where thou shalt have a son by thy wife, whom look thou name Benedict, for that by the prayers of thy holy abbot and of thy wife and for the love of St. Benedict He doth thee this favour.' Ferondo, hearing this, was exceedingly rejoiced and said, 'It liketh me well, Lord grant a good year to Seignior God Almighty and to the abbot and St. Benedict and my cheesy[196] sweet honey wife.' The abbot let give him, in the wine that he sent him, so much of the powder aforesaid as should cause him sleep maybe four hours and with the aid of his monk, having put his own clothes on him, restored him privily to the tomb wherein he had been buried. [Footnote 196: _Sic_ (_casciata_); meaning that he loves her as well as he loves cheese, for which it is well known that the lower-class Italian has a romantic passion. According to Alexandre Dumas, the Italian loves cheese so well that he has succeeded in introducing it into everything he eats or drinks, with the one exception of coffee.] Next morning, at break of day, Ferondo came to himself and espying light,--a thing which he had not seen for good ten months,--through some crevice of the tomb, doubted not but he was alive again. Accordingly, he fell to bawling out, 'Open to me! Open to me!' and heaving so lustily at the lid of the tomb with his head that he stirred it, for that it was eath to move, and had begun to move it away, when the monks, having now made an end of saying matins, ran thither and knew Ferondo's voice and saw him in act to come forth of the sepulchre; whereupon, all aghast for the strangeness of the case, they took to their heels and ran to the abbot, who made a show of rising from prayer and said, 'My sons, have no fear; take the cross and the holy water and follow after me, so we may see that which God willeth to show forth to us of His might'; and as he said, so he did.

• From The Decameron (1353)

  The abbot, for all he had a great beard and was clad after the Saracen fashion, presently recognized him and altogether reassured, took him by the hand, saying, 'My son, thou art welcome back.' Then he continued, 'Thou must not marvel at our affright, for that there is not a man in these parts but firmly believeth thee to be dead, insomuch that I must tell thee that Madam Adalieta thy wife, overmastered by the prayers and threats of her kinsfolk and against her own will, is married again and is this morning to go to her new husband; ay, and the bride-feast and all that pertaineth unto the nuptial festivities is prepared.' Therewithal Messer Torello arose from off the rich bed and greeting the abbot and the monks with marvellous joyance, prayed them all to speak with none of that his return, against he should have despatched an occasion of his; after which, having caused lay up the costly jewels in safety, he recounted to his uncle all that had befallen him up to that moment. The abbot rejoiced in his happy fortunes and together with him, rendered thanks to God, after which Messer Torello asked him who was his lady's new husband. The abbot told him and Torello said, 'I have a mind, ere folk know of my return, to see what manner countenance is that of my wife in these nuptials; wherefore, albeit it is not the usance of men of your habit to go to entertainments of this kind, I would have you contrive, for the love of me, that we may go thither, you and I.' The abbot replied that he would well and accordingly, as soon as it was day, he sent to the new bridegroom, saying that he would fain be at his nuptials with a friend of his, whereto the gentleman answered that it liked him passing well.

• From The Well of Loneliness (1928)

  2 From now on Stephen entered a completely new world, that turned on an axis of Collins. A world full of constant exciting adventures; of elation, of joy, of incredible sadness, but withal a fine place to be dashing about in like a moth who is courting a candle. Up and down went the days; they resembled a swing that soared high above the tree-tops, then dropped to the depths, but seldom if ever hung midway. And with them went Stephen, clinging to the swing, waking up in the mornings with a thrill of vague excitement—the sort of excitement that belonged by rights to birthdays, and Christmas, and a visit to the pantomime at Malvern. She would open her eyes and jump out of bed quickly, still too sleepy to remember why she felt so elated; but then would come memory—she would know that this day she was actually going to see Collins. The thought would set her splashing in her sitz-bath, and tearing the buttons off her clothes in her haste, and cleaning her nails with such ruthlessness and vigour that she made them quite sore in the process. She began to be very inattentive at her lessons, sucking her pencil, staring out of the window, or what was far worse, not listening at all, except for Collins’ footsteps. The nurse slapped her hands, and stood her in the corner, and deprived her of jam, but all to no purpose; for Stephen would smile, hugging closer her secret—it was worth being punished for Collins. She grew restless and could not be induced to sit still even when her nurse read aloud. At one time she had very much liked being read to, especially from books that were all about heroes; but now such stories so stirred her ambition, that she longed intensely to live them. She, Stephen, now longed to be William Tell, or Nelson, or the whole Charge of Balaclava; and this led to much foraging in the nursery rag-bag, much hunting up of garments once used for charades, much swagger and noise, much strutting and posing, and much staring into the mirror. There ensued a period of general confusion when the nursery looked as though smitten by an earthquake; when the chairs and the floor would be littered with oddments that Stephen had dug out but discarded. Once dressed, however, she would walk away grandly, waving the nurse peremptorily aside, going, as always, in search of Collins, who might have to be stalked to the basement. Sometimes Collins would play up, especially to Nelson. ‘My, but you do look fine!’ she would exclaim. And then to the cook: ‘Do come here, Mrs. Wilson!

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

  From the date of reading this book, I may claim to have become a vegetarian by choice. I blessed the day on which I had taken the vow before my mother. I had all along abstained from meat in the interests of truth and of the vow I had taken, but had wished at the same time that every Indian should be a meat-eater, and had looked forward to being one myself freely and openly some day, and to enlisting others in the cause. The choice was now made in favour of vegetarianism, the spread of which henceforward became my mission. 17PLAYING THE ENGLISH GENTLEMANMy faith in vegetarianism grew on me from day to day. Salt’s book whetted my appetite for dietetic studies. I went in for all books available on on vegetaranism and read them. One of these, Howard Williams’ The Ethics of Diet, was ‘biographical history of the literature of humane dietetics from the earliest period to the present day.’It tried to make out, that all philosophers and prophets from Pythagoras and Jesus down to those of the present age were vegetarians. Dr. Anna Kingsford’s The Perfect Way in Diet was also an attractive book. Dr. Allinson’s writings on health and hygiene were likewise very helpful. He advocated a curative system based on regulation of the dietary of patients. Himself a vegetarian, he prescribed for his patients also a strictly vegetarian diet. The result of reading all this literature was that dietetic experiments came to take an important place in my life. Health was the principal consideration of these experiments to begin with. But later on religion became the supreme motive. Meanwhile my friend had not ceased to worry about me. His love for me led him to think that, if I persisted in my objections to meat-eating, I should not only develop a weak constitution, but should remain a duffer, because I should never feel at home in English society. When he came to know that I had begun to interest myself in books on vegetarianism, he was afraid lest these studies should muddle my head; that I should fritter my life away in experiments, forgetting my own work, and become a crank. He therefore made one last effort to reform me. He one day invited me to go to the theatre. Before the play we were to dine together at the Holborn Restaurant, to me a palatial place and the first big restaurant I had been to since leaving the Victoria Hotel. The stay at that hotel had scarcely been a helpful experience, for I had not lived there with my wits about me. The friend had planned to take me to this restaurant evidently imagining that modesty would forbid any questions. And it was a very big company of diners in the midst of which my friend and I sat sharing a table between us. The first course was soup.

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

  If my client were to seek immediate execution of the award, it would be impossible for Tyeb Sheth to meet the whole of the awarded amount, and there was an unwritten law among the Porbandar Memans living in South Africa that death should be preferred to bankruptcy. It was impossible for Tyeb Sheth to pay down the whole sum of about £ 37,000 and costs. He meant to pay not a pie less than the amount, and he did not want to be declared bankrupt. There was only one way. Dada Abdulla should him to pay in moderate instalments. He was equal to the occasion, and granted Tyeb Sheth instalments spread over a very long period. It was more difficult for me to secure this concession of payment by instalments than to get the parties to agree to arbitration. But both were happy over the result, and both rose in the public estimation. My joy was boundless. I had learnt the true practice of law. I had learnt to find out the better side of human nature and to enter men’s hearts. I realized that the true function of a lawyer was to unite parties riven asunder. The lesson was so indelibly burnt into me that a large part of my time during the twenty years of my practice as a lawyer was occupied in bringing about private compromises of hundreds of cases. I lost nothing thereby – not even money, certainly not my soul. 42RELIGIOUS FERMENTIt is now time to turn again to my experiences with Christian friends. Mr. Baker was getting anxious about my future. He took me to the Wellington Convention. The Protestant Christians organize such gatherings every few years for religious enlightenment or, in other words, self- purification. One may call this religious restoration or revival. The Wellington Convention was of this type. The chairman was the famous divine of the place, the Rev. Andrew Murray. Mr. Baker had hoped that the atmosphere of religious exaltation at the Convention, and the enthusiasm and earnestness of the people attending it, would inevitably lead me to embrace Christianity. But his final hope was the efficacy of prayer. He had an abiding faith in prayer. It was his firm conviction that God could not but listen to prayer fervently offered. He would cite the instances of men like George Muller of Bristol, who depended entirely on prayer even for his temporal needs. I listened to his discourse on the efficacy of prayer with unbiased attention, and assured him that nothing could prevent me from embracing Christianity, should I feel the call. I had no hesitation in giving him this assurance, as I had long since taught myself to follow the inner voice. I delighted in submitting to it. To act against it would be difficult and painful to me. So we went to Wellington. Mr. Baker was hard put to it in having ‘a coloured man’ like me for his companion.

• From Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928)

  He too had bared the front part of his body and she felt his naked flesh against her as he came in to her. For a moment he was still inside her, turgid there and quivering. Then as he began to move, in the sudden helpless orgasm, there awoke in her new strange thrills rippling inside her. Rippling, rippling, rippling, like a flapping overlapping of soft flames, soft as feathers, running to points of brilliance, exquisite, exquisite and melting her all molten inside. It was like bells rippling up and up to a culmination. She lay unconscious of the wild little cries she uttered at the last. But it was over too soon, too soon, and she could no longer force her own conclusion with her own activity. This was different, different. She could do nothing. She could no longer harden and grip for her own satisfaction upon him. She could only wait, wait and moan in spirit as she felt him withdrawing, withdrawing and contracting, coming to the terrible moment when he would slip out of her and be gone. Whilst all her womb was open and soft, and softly clamouring, like a sea-anemone under the tide, clamouring for him to come in again and make a fulfilment for her. She clung to him unconscious in passion, and he never quite slipped from her, and she felt the soft bud of him within her stirring, and strange rhythms flushing up into her with a strange rhythmic growing motion, swelling and swelling till it filled her all cleaving consciousness, and then began again the unspeakable motion that was not really motion, but pure deepening whirlpools of sensation swirling deeper and deeper through all her tissue and consciousness, till she was one perfect concentric fluid of feeling, and she lay there crying in unconscious inarticulate cries. The voice out of the uttermost night, the life! The man heard it beneath him with a kind of awe, as his life sprang out into her. And as it subsided, he subsided too and lay utterly still, unknowing, while her grip on him slowly relaxed, and she lay inert. And they lay and knew nothing, not even of each other, both lost. Till at last he began to rouse and become aware of his defenceless nakedness, and she was aware that his body was loosening its clasp on her. He was coming apart; but in her breast she felt she could not bear him to leave her uncovered. He must cover her now for ever. But he drew away at last, and kissed her and covered her over, and began to cover himself. She lay looking up to the boughs of the tree, unable as yet to move. He stood and fastened up his breeches, looking round. All was dense and silent, save for the awed dog that lay with its paws against its nose. He sat down again on the brushwood and took Connie's hand in silence.

• From Lady Chatterley's Lover (1928)

  "Am I temptation!" she said, stroking his face. "I'm so glad I'm temptation to you! Don't let's think about it! You frighten me when you start thinking: you roll me out flat. Don't let's think about it. We can think so much when we are apart. That's the whole point! I've been thinking, I _must_ come to you for another night before I go. I must come once more to the cottage. Shall I come on Thursday night?" "Isn't that when your sister will be there?" "Yes! But she said we would start at teatime. So we could start at teatime. But she could sleep somewhere else and I could sleep with you." "But then she'd have to know." "Oh, I shall tell her. I've more or less told her already. I must talk it all over with Hilda. She's a great help, so sensible." He was thinking of her plan. "So you'd start off from Wragby at teatime, as if you were going to London? Which way were you going?" "By Nottingham and Grantham." "And then your sister would drop you somewhere and you'd walk or drive back here? Sounds very risky, to me." "Does it? Well then, Hilda could bring me back. She could sleep at Mansfield, and bring me back here in the evening, and fetch me again in the morning. It's quite easy." "And the people who see you?" "I'll wear goggles and a veil." He pondered for some time. "Well," he said. "You please yourself, as usual." "But wouldn't it please you?" "Oh, yes! It'd please me all right," he said a little grimly. "I might as well smite while the iron's hot." "Do you know what I thought?" she said suddenly. "It suddenly came to me. You are the 'Knight of the Burning Pestle'!" "Ay! And you? Are you the Lady of the Red-Hot Mortar?" "Yes!" she said. "Yes! You're Sir Pestle and I'm Lady Mortar." "All right, then I'm knighted. John Thomas is Sir John, to your Lady Jane." "Yes! John Thomas is knighted! I'm my-lady-maiden-hair, and you must have flowers too. Yes!" She threaded two pink campions in the bush of red-gold hair above his penis. "There!" she said. "Charming! Charming! Sir John!" And she pushed a bit of forget-me-not in the dark hair of his breast. "And you won't forget me _there_, will you?" she kissed him on the breast, and made two bits of forget-me-not lodge one over each nipple, kissing him again. "Make a calendar of me!" he said. He laughed, and the flowers shook from his breast. "Wait a bit!" he said. He rose, and opened the door of the hut. Flossie, lying in the porch, got up and looked at him. "Ay, it's me!" he said. The rain had ceased. There was a wet, heavy, perfumed stillness. Evening was approaching.

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

  There was such an outcry all round against this flagrant piece of injustice that their further incarceration became impossible. Most of the prisoners were released before the Congress opened. Lala Harkishanlal and the other leaders were all released, while the session of the Congress was still in progress. The Ali Brothers too arrived there straight from jail. The people’s joy knew no bounds. Pandit Motilal Nehru, who, at the sacrifice of his splendid practice, had made the Punjab his headquarters and had done great service, was the President of the Congress; the late Swami Shraddhanandji was the Chairman of the Reception Committee. Up to this time my share in the annual proceedings of the Congress was confined only to the constructive advocacy of Hindi by making my speech in the natinal language, and to presenting in that speech the case of the Indians overseas. Nor did I expect to be called upon to do anything more this year. But, as had happened on many a previous occasion, responsible work came to me all of a sudden. The King’s announcement on the new reforms had just been issued. It was not wholly satisfactory even to me, and was unsatisfactory to everyone else. But I felt at that time that the reforms, though defective, could still be accepted. I felt in the King’s announcement and its language the hand of Lord Sinha, and it lent a ray of hope. But experienced stalwarts like the late Lokamanya and Deshabandhu Chittaranjan Das shook their heads. Pandit Malaviyaji was neutral. Pandit Malaviyaji had harboured me in his own room. I had a glimpse of the simplicity of his life on the occasion of the foundation ceremony of the Hindu University; but on this occasion, being in the same room with him, I was able to observe his daily routine in the closest detail, and what I saw filled me with joyful surprise. His room presented the appearance of a free inn for all the poor. You could hardly cross from one end to the other. It was so crowded. It was accessible at all odd hours to chance visitors who had the licence to take as much of his time as they liked. In a corner of this crib lay my charpai in all its dignity. But I may not occupy this chapter with a description of Malaviyaji’s mode of living, and must return to my subject. I was thus enabled to hold daily discussions with Malaviyaji, who used lovingly to explain to me, like an elder brother, the various view-points of the different parties. I saw that my participation in the deliberations on the resolution on the reforms was inevitable. Having had my share of responsibility in the drawing up of the Congress report on the Punjab wrongs, I felt that all that still remained to be done in that connection must claim my attention. There had to be dealings with Government in that matter. Then similarly there was the Khilafat question.

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

  I would ask your Lordship to hear me out and then arraign me if there is any occasion for it.’ ‘I am sorry to have interrupted you,’ replied the judge. ‘Pray do go on with your explanation of the discrepancy.’ I had enough material in support of my explanation. Thanks to the judge having raised this question, I was able to rivet the Court’s attention on my argument from the very start. I felt much encouraged and took the opportunity of entering into a detailed explanation. The Court gave me a patient hearing, and I was able to convince the judges that the discrepancy was due entirely to inadvertence. They therefore did not feel disposed to cancel the whole award, which had involved considerable labour. The opposing counsel seemed to feel secure in the belief that not much argument would be needed after the error had been admitted. But the judges continued to interrupt him, as they were convinced that the error was a slip which could be easily rectified. The counsel laboured hard to attack the award, but the judge who had originally started with the suspicion had now come round definitely to my side. ‘Supposing Mr. Gandhi had not admitted the error, what would you have done?’ he asked. ‘It was impossible for us to secure the services of a more competent and honest expert accountant than the one appointed by us.’ ‘The Court must presume that you know your case best. If you cannot point out anything beyond the slip which any expert accountant is liable to commit, the Court will be loath to compel the parties to go in for fresh litigation and fresh expenses because of a patent mistake. We may not order a fresh hearing when such an error can be easily corrected continued the judge. And so the counsel’s objection was overruled. The Court either confirmed the award, with the error rectified, or ordered the arbitrator to rectify the error, I forget which. I was delighted. So were my client and senior counsel; and I was confirmed in my conviction that it was not impossible to practise law without compromising truth. Let the reader, however, remember that even truthfulness in the practice of the profession cannot cure it of the fundamental defect that vitiates it. 125CLIENTS TURNED CO-WORKERSThe distinction between the legal practice in Natal and that in the Transvaal was that in Natal there was a joint bar; a barrister, whilst he was admitted to the rank of advocate, could also practise as an attorney; whereas in the Transvaal, as in Bombay, the spheres of attorneys and advocates were distinct. A barrister had the right of election whether he would practise as an advocate or as an attorney. So whilst in Natal I was admitted as an advocate, in the Transvaal I sought admission as an attorney.