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 John Dominic Crossan Essential Set (Jesus; The Birth of Christianity; The Power of Parable; The Greatest Prayer) (2004)

  He loves righteousness and justice; the earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord. By the word of the Lord the heavens were made, and all their host by the breath of his mouth. He gathered the waters of the sea as in a bottle; he put the deeps in storehouses. (Psalm 33:4–7) Mighty King, lover of justice, you have established equity; you have executed justice and righteousness in Jacob…. He spoke to them in the pillar of cloud; they kept his decrees, and the statutes that he gave them…. The Lord works vindication and justice for all who are oppressed. He made known his ways to Moses, his acts to the people of Israel. (Psalms 99:4, 7; 103:6–7) Let the heavens be glad, and let the earth rejoice; let the sea roar, and all that fills it; let the field exult, and everything in it. Then shall all the trees of the forest sing for joy before the Lord; for he is coming, for he is coming to judge the earth. He will judge the world with righteousness, and the peoples with his truth. (Psalm 96:11–13) Weinfeld reverts to that summary in conclusion: “God, the ruler of the universe, proclaims ‘freedom’ and ‘liberation’—that is performs [righteousness and justice],” first, at the dawn of Creation, then at the exodus from Egypt, and, finally, “in the [messianic] future, when He shall reign over the entire earth” (205–206). It is hardly possible to overemphasize that central tradition. The Jewish people were in covenant with a God who had delivered them from oppressive slavery and imminent extermination under Pharaoh in Egypt. That God was, therefore, a divinity that freed the oppressed—unlike foreign gods and goddesses, who were divinities that had enslaved them. Had God intended but to relocate slavery and injustice? Had God effected a primordial deliverance only to allow a later one equally intolerable? Under another Pharaoh? Even under a Pharaoh from among their own people? THE LAW It is often claimed, especially in Christian commentaries, that the prophets spoke for the inner spirit and for justice but that the priests held for the external law and for worship. Some Jews, no doubt, failed to live up to covenantal righteousness, but it was not simply the prophets who did and the priests who did not. Indeed, as Norman Gottwald put it, “Law and Prophets were to become two separate and firmly delimited collections of authoritative writings, constituting the first and second divisions of the three-part Hebrew Bible. Despite the division between the two collections, it is nonetheless evident that these two sets of traditions interacted intimately within the institutional life of Israel over approximately eight centuries from ca. 1050 to 250 B.C.E. ” (1985:458). But what is especially important in what follows is that when the priests articulated traditional law, they did not substitute holiness and purity for justice and righteousness, they combined them both together .

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

  The oldest is a fragmentary wall-picture in the cemetery of Priscilla: it presents Mary wearing a tunic and cloak, in sitting posture, and holding at her breast the child, who turns his face round to the beholder. Near her stands a young and beardless man (probably Joseph) clothed in the pallium, holding a book-roll in one hand, pointing to the star above with the other, and looking upon the mother and child with the expression of joy; between and above the figures is the star of Bethlehem; the whole represents the happiness of a family without the supernatural adornments of dogmatic reflection.513 In the same cemetery of Priscilla there are other frescos, representing (according to De Rossi and Garrucci) the annunciation by the angel, the adoration of the Magi, and the finding of the Lord in the temple. The adoration of the Magi (two or four, afterwards three) is a favorite part of the pictures of the holy family. In the oldest picture of that kind in the cemetery of SS. Peter and Marcellinus, Mary sits on a chair, holding the babe in her lap, and receiving the homage of two Magi, one on each side, presenting their gifts on a plate.514 In later pictures the manger, the ox and the ass, and the miraculous star are added to the scene. The frequent pictures of a lady in praying attitude, with uplifted or outstretched arms (Orans or Orante), especially when found in company with the Good Shepherd, are explained by Roman Catholic archaeologists to mean the church or the blessed Virgin, or both combined, praying for sinners.515 But figures of praying men as well as women are abundant in the catacombs, and often represent the person buried in the adjacent tomb, whose names are sometimes given. No Ora pro nobis, no Ave Maria, no Theotokos or Deipara appears there. The pictures of the Orans are like those of other women, and show no traces of Mariolatry. Nearly all the representations in the catacombs keep within the limits of the gospel history. But after the fourth century, and in the degeneracy of art, Mary was pictured in elaborate mosaics, and on gilded glasses, as the crowned queen of heaven, seated on a throne, in bejewelled purple robes, and with a nimbus of glory, worshipped by angels and saints. The noblest pictures of Mary, in ancient and modern times, endeavor to set forth that peculiar union of virgin purity and motherly tenderness which distinguish "the Wedded Maid and Virgin Mother" from ordinary women, and exert such a powerful charm upon the imagination and feelings of Christendom. No excesses of Mariolatry, sinful as they are, should blind us to the restraining and elevating effect of contemplating, with devout reverence, "The ideal of all womanhood, So mild, so merciful, so strong, so good, So patient, peaceful, loyal, loving, pure."

• From A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (BDB) (1907)

  nm. song (NH 00.2 so Ecclus‏ ;_ שיר1 estr. 2 Ch 207 +;‏ , -4 55 גורה abs.‏ ש'--; (+ "40 66 לבז 0 ד שירים sf, “TW y 28% etc.; pl.‏ Am 5, ete.;—‏ שריף DW Gn 317 Pr 25: sf.‏ lyric song, + bwin 1K 5”, opp. 72°? Am 8";‏ .1 Ez 33”;‏ ש'" ענבים joyous Gn 317 (J) Is30”;‏ triumphal Ju 5”; love song Ct 1’! (title MW‏ noisy Ams Ez 26%,‏ ; (שיר DWT), 45) (NT‏ ש' בסילים ;237 in drunken revels Is 24°, cf.‏ ni22‏ ;13795 עו 28% Ec 7°; not for sorrow Pr‏ Ww Ec 124 songstresses (prob. birds). 2.‏ usu.‏ ;42° תפלה || religious song, in worship,‏ שיר ;287 WAN WIN‏ ;69% הלל בשיר praise,‏ Ch 29”;‏ 2 137% ץ שיר י" ;12% niin} nban Ne‏ ; חָדֶש (fresh outburst), + 6t., v.‏ "42 18 שיר win‏ pil-‏ שיר המעלות ;26% cf. Is‏ ,46% שיר in y-titles,‏ Pp: 752)3‏ מַעַלָה grim songs ~120'+ 14 t. (v. IL.‏ משַבִּי שיר ;)274 p.‏ מָ".צ).+12+/48 ץ מַזְמוּר.6 , orig. alone in all except 301 921 1%‏ ש') ;)45 1010 שישא specif. song of Levitical —‏ ₪( וי תעפי choirs, with musical accomp., 1 Ch 67 (so‏ read also || 28 6° for DWia, G Th and mod.,‏ כלי (ה)שיר ;"2 Ch 23 29% Ne‏ 2 25°7 ,(ב' cf.‏ instrument +0 accompany song 1 Ch 15" + 6 =‏ (v. "22 2b); cf. Am 6°‏ 8 [שזירות n.f. song (pl.‏ שירה1 Is 5!‏ שִירַת Ex 15! 4 9 t.; estr.‏ ש' 39°);—abs.‏ Am 8* (rd. NW G Hoff‏ שירות pl. estr.‏ ;23 ZAW IH 06 We al.);—song, 006, Ex15'(E), 2S 22"‏ Nu 21 “(E) Is i=: agi:‏ 23 וש I 8}, Dt 3 I‏ = og VP. sing {denom. ace. to Né 2"¢‏ [שיר] 1 xaxvii (1883). 337 Gerb™?, but, if so, an old one);—‏ Qal,, Pf 3 ms.1Y p71; Impf. 3 ms. 1 Ex‏ Nu 21" (read W Jb 33% for Ws, /I1T. WW,‏ !15 so SS Bu Gerb; in this sense also Ew De Di |‏ RV and all mod.); 3 fs. wn) Jus’, etc.; Im».‏ “mpl. שיר‎ Ex ז‎ 5% + ; Inf. estr. לשור‎ 18 18° Kt

• From A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (BDB) (1907)

  skip, dance; Ar. 33, 1x. run with leaps and bounds, 5 leaping up briskly) ;—Qal skip about, Pf. 3 mpl. 1121 y114* (of mts., (כַּאִילִים‎ ; Impf. 2 mpl. 77 יצ‎ (id.; both of Sinai quak- ing at law-giving); Inf.cstr. WP7 NY Ec 3‘ a time to mourn (75D), and a time to skip about (gaily). Pi. dance, leap: Impf. 3 mpl. 1777) Is 13” (of (שָעִירִים‎ ; MPD Ib 21" (of children; merrily), Jo2° (of locusts) Pt. W2) 1Chi5” 1 David; -= רב‎ , NBD, in || 26"); fs, TIP Na z?(of jolting ו‎ in 2 5 6"* ins. BIN L will dance, after "25, 6 ThWe DrBuHPS (1229). Hiph. /mpf. 3 ms. sf. וירקידם‎ w 20" he (*) made them skip like calves (trees, by lightning). רקון = .רקק .1 .+ רקה‎ +. 11. pps. i [רקח]‎ vb. mix, or compound oil, oint- ment (perh. denom.; in this case / meaning unknown; NH has מרְקחת‎ ointment; Ph. רקח‎ either spice-mixer (Bloch) or spice-dealer (Lizb) ; perh. akin to As. rikku, spice, Meissn**"?"®, ef. rikké, Oa) B me ee 3 ms, ירקח‎ Ex 30%; רקה‎ y=, i737" Hero} tee estr. ‘np4 id 97% ;— mia, 7 א‎ so (P; mp3, i ene like the holy oil); pt. as subst. a as a ל‎ name, mixer, perfumer, Ex 3075 37° 20 10 Pu. Pt. mpl. O29 2 Ch 164 mixed as ointment. Hiph. Inf. abs. הרְקת‎ הַמַרְקְחָה‎ Ez 247° (|| ONT), as Imv., spice the spic- ing (1), i.e. spice (the meat) ו‎ but very dub., Krae prop. P1159 PIN empty out the broth. n.[m.] spice ;—'17 J" Ct 8? wine,‏ רקח1 (that is) spice (i.e. spiced ney‏ n. [m. [ spice-mixture, perfume ;—‏ רקחז Ex 30”; of‏ ר' מַרְקְחַת מעשה of holy oil, np‏ Incense, npin nyyro >) 35,‏ 955 [רקב]‎ vb. rot (NH id.; Aram. רקב‎ in | רקע ointment-maker, per-‏ .גג .גב [רקח] ך Ne 3°, 1.e. one‏ בְִּהֶרַקחִים fumer ;—only in phr.‏ of the perfumers, i.e. of that guild, | =‏ n.f. (female) ointment-maker,‏ [רקהַה]1 .(אפות ninay,‏ +4( "8 ₪ 1 רקחוּת perfumer ;—pl.‏ 1 [maz .מ |. גג ג [רק‎ [ perfumery ;—pl. sf. רקח‎ Is 57° thy perfumeries, unguents. t [מרקח]‎ n.{m.| spice, perfume (of cheeks); pl. DYIPID Ct 5" (v. also 2739 8). n.f. 1. ointment-pot, in which‏ מרקחַהז ointment is compounded, Jb 41” (fig.). 2.‏ spice-seasoning (1); as acc. cogn. v. Y Hiph.‏ tnnpya n.f. 1. ointment-mixture. 2. ointment-pot (2);—1. abs. 97 ‘N79 1 Ch 0": רקח כ‎ Ex 30”. 2. ‘Da 2Ch 16" in an ointment-pot (?), or as an ointment-mixture.

• From The Principle of Desire (2013)

  How many times had he sat with the rest of them in this booth, after late movies or just for the hell of it? Had it ever looked so good in here, so on-purpose shabby-chic retro hip? What was that song, the one the loser dude sang in My Fair Lady? Ed’s brain helpfully started the soundtrack, embedding the tune in his ear so he had to converse with his friends and order pie—pecan, because it was fresh—while trying not to hum along with his earworm. All at once am I several stories high, knowing I’m on the street where you live... “What took you so long getting here?” Ben prodded. “It’s a pretty straight shot.” “I, uh...I walked Beth to her car first then walked back to mine. Wanted to stretch my legs a little.” His friend snorted. “Too bad it wasn’t a cold night, right? Hey, how’s that back feeling?” He slapped Ed on the back of his shoulder, setting every welt stinging again. “Asshole.” “It’s like a sunburn, sweetie,” Cami commiserated. “It’ll be an invisible magnet until it fades. People who’ve never slapped your back before will do it in the next few days and they won’t even know why.” “I totally did it on purpose, though,” Ben said, grinning without shame. “Consider it part of the hazing process for joining the club of deviance.” “Is there a T-shirt or something?” “No, the uniform is clothing-optional. But there is pie. And you’ve already experienced the secret handshake.” Ivan leaned across the table. “There isn’t really a uniform or secret handshake. Ben’s being facetious.” Ed nodded solemnly. “Got it. Thanks.” Ivan mirrored his nod, then smiled more knowingly than Ed was used to seeing from him. “But he wasn’t lying about the pie.” They were all snickering like twelve-year-olds when the waitress returned with their drinks. “So do you think you’ll come back, Ed?” Lindsey asked as they sugared their teas and unsheathed their straws. “You were a great sport, but it’s not for everybody.” He glanced at Beth before he could stop himself. She had the same question on her face. “I’ll have to get back to you on that. And in the meantime, let’s talk about anything else.” “The Fighting Perdedors!” Ben suggested. Beth lifted her eyebrows. “I beg your pardon?” “It’s our RPG group,” Cami explained. “Even when we’re not doing a big AD&D campaign or something, we meet every Wednesday night and play board games. A few months ago we tried to win this one group adventure game that’s really hard to beat, but we lost three game nights in a row. So we decided we were total losers, but of course we still kept playing. Not that same game, obviously, because it sucks. But anyway, that was the birth of the Fighting Perdedors.”

• From A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (BDB) (1907)

  T9423 n.m. "77" lyre (on formation cf. Tag Sm; NH 7d ל | הברא ממה‎ 5 Mand. כינאר(א)‎ N6é™*™ (who questions Shemi- tie origin); Ar. /: 1 as loan-word in Hellen. Gk. xwipa (G and Joseph.); in Egypt. kn-an-aul acc. to Bondi’*)—abs. כ'‎ Gn 47; sf. ES 35 307 pl. nies ד‎ Korea sf. 2339 Ez 26%, NI} y-137?;—lyre, stringed instrument used for popular as well as sacred music (ety Benz 2e 2 aiNow soo ce ;—3 וְעוּנָב‎ Gn 471, -- na 317; 22 12219 איש ירע‎ ז‎ ₪ 1677 aman skilled in playing on the lyre, cf. v3 (i722 JAN); at banquets Is 5” Qa ליל , תף‎ M), token of merriment 24° ) + (תפים‎ £226", ef B23 לֶקיל‎ °2391 783 24ND TM Tb 30%, any dip smb 73) AND ישא‎ Jb 21”; carried by a loose woman Is 23% (fig. of Tyre) ; in sim. Is 16" (of murmuring sound of bowels=heart, in pity) ; used also in praising %, usu. as accom- paniment of song (cf. 1 Ch15*°) ובל ותף ְחָלִיל וכ‎ (חפים|| )130% ;50% ז‎ ; esp. before the ark 28 6° (40°92, DSA, etc.) || 1 Ch 13% and in sanc- tuary (usu. + ונבל‎ etc.) 1 K 10”, but esp. Chr Wy :—1 Ch 13° (pl., and so chiefly in Chr), ו 16° ד‎ 2 Ch ue oy 20% 29” Ne Tee ץש‎ 33° (sg-, and so chiefly in WwW), 43° 49° 57° דך‎ Si" 1 O20 98 3, GS 1a 47 aap nso. Ck ND ץ‎ 137°—Vbs. used with כ"‎ are :— Van Gn 45, 2 82 816% 2 phew 2 8 6= ז‎ Ch 13°, 3 OW 1 Chi5%, 3 DYDD v*, 282) 251%, 2 TTT y 337 43% 2 זמר‎ 77 98° 147’ 149°, 2 amobn 150°—On ancient lyres meme. agp. Dr 20% 8 et < _=-— 1 רת‎ N22 n.pr.loc. in Galilee (Naphtali), ™33 Dt 3% Jos 13% Nu34™; n733 Jos 19°; M33 (so Baer; N22 Norzi) Jos "דד‎ 12° 1K 15”;—-1. a city 1010"); GB KevepeO, A 36606, GL 46/6060, as always exc. Jos 13%), so prob. 117 (D2; B Kevepod, A XevepeOOc), Dt at (B 1100/0060 ;—Max- = .מכ‎ 2. יִםדכַנָרֶת‎ , lake near the city, Nu 34" )2 OB Xevapa, A Xevepe), Jos13” (P; GB Xeveped; A GL Xevepo6), nina DY Jos 12° (D; GB Xeve- pc; A Xevveped); כָּלבְנרות‎ 1 K 15% = all the territory about the city and lake, ef. racav עד‎ yiv 366066 GL,—® has 1533, גָנִיסַר‎ , 7D53, ef. TO UOwp ‘Tod Tewnoap 1 Makk. עשי ל‎ Mk 6% Mt ז‎ 4% Lu ₪1; etymol. connexion with 133 disputed by GASm "48". Buh] Gest 180. —On the lake and surrounding region v. 490 , See GASm Geogr. ch. xxi, Pd Pal 254 Buhl Geogr. 119 225 Fu ZPY. 1879 (ii.), 52-74 Frei 10. 1886 (ix.), 81-145 van Kaster en ib. 1888 (xi.), 212-248

• From Introduction to the Hebrew Bible and Deutero-Canonical Books (2018)

  In view of the reference to Belshazzar in Baruch 1, dependence on Daniel is likely. The second half of the book consists of the hymn in praise of wisdom (3:9—4:4), followed by an address by Jerusalem to the people of Israel (4:5-29) and an address to Jerusalem (4:30—5:9). It is uncertain whether the original language of these poems was Greek or Hebrew. The hymn on wisdom begins as an address to Israel, bidding her hear the commandments of life (cf. Deut 30:15-20). Israel is in a foreign land because it neglected the wisdom of God. Already this passage implies that wisdom is to be found in the Torah. The poem continues in a vein similar to Job 28. No one knows the place of wisdom. No one has gone up to heaven to bring her down (cf. the words of Agur in Prov 30:3-4). Only the Creator knows where to find her. In Job 28 God pointedly refused to reveal it to humanity. Rather, he said, “Fear of the L ord , that is wisdom, and to depart from evil is understanding.” In other words, humanity does not have access to wisdom and should simply fear the Lord. According to Baruch, however, “he gave her to his servant Jacob, and to Israel, whom he loved. Afterward she appeared on earth, and lived with humankind” (3:36-37). Baruch 4:1 echoes Sirach 24: “She is the book of the commandments of God, the law that endures forever.” The poem concludes by asserting “Happy are we, O Israel, for we know what is pleasing to God” (Bar 4:4). There can be little doubt that this poem presupposes Ben Sira’s identification of wisdom and the law. The identification, however, may be understood in a different way. In Ben Sira wisdom is active in creation and can most probably be known through other means besides the Torah. Baruch, however, makes no mention of the role of wisdom in creation. Like Job 28, it emphasizes that wisdom is inaccessible to humanity. When it is given to Israel, then it becomes her exclusive possession. The implication is that only Israel knows what is pleasing to God. CHAPTER 29 CONCLUSION In the book of Baruch, wisdom is subordinated to the Law. Those who have the Law would seem to have little need of other wisdom. Ben Sira, in contrast, seems to have regarded other wisdom and the Torah as complementary: the Torah was the source of wisdom par excellence, but it was not an exclusive source.

• From The Ultimate Guide to Orgasm for Women: How to Become Orgasmic for a Lifetime (2011)

  Sex is often really funny. Not put-down, humiliating funny, but the “Hey, we’re all human aren’t we?” kind of funny where people and body parts do surprising or unexpected things at odd moments. Being able to laugh together at those moments peels off a layer of self-consciousness and awkwardness, traits that inhibit orgasm. Once you have learned to go more slowly, vary your pace. Teasing is often a great deal of fun. You might spend days developing sexual tension, knowing that you can choose to go “all the way” whenever you want. Anticipation can be half the pleasure. Expand your definition of sex to include more of what is generally called foreplay. Many women can come or get very close to coming from having other parts of their bodies stimulated, besides their genitals. Almost any part of my body can be erotic, but especially my breasts, neck, back, buttocks, and mouth. There is no need to limit sex to the bedroom, but whatever place you choose to be sexual, be aware of your partner’s issues. Many people need to feel sure they are not going to be interrupted. Others are more aroused when there is fear of “discovery.” Learn to flirt. You can flirt without looking at someone, or you can flirt with nothing but eye contact. You might flirt outrageously in outrageous places. Make sexual innuendoes to your lover over the phone. Send flowers and love notes. If you find these things laughable, then perhaps your desire for your partner is jaded. How does it feel to think of doing these things with someone else? Play games. Dress up. Adopt a new persona or create scenarios to act out with your partner; maybe one of you wants to be the seducer and the other a reluctant (or not so reluctant) innocent. There are infinite possibilities here: the meter reader who arrives while the seductive lady of the house is in the bath; the gardener who is horrified when his employer catches him masturbating in the gazebo; the alien from outer space who adopts a human form but knows nothing about sex and must be taught. At first you may feel ridiculous, but you may be surprised at how wet you get once you overcome your inhibitions. Be real about your feelings. Be willing to laugh. Take risks. You won’t die. All of this may or may not lead directly to orgasms, but as I said at the beginning of this chapter, such specific expectations tend to set you up for failure in the first place. Much of the art of creating hot sex is about not focusing on orgasm. It may even involve deliberately forestalling climax. Sometimes I don’t even try to have an orgasm, and it’s nice not to have it as a goal but rather just to experience sensations.

• From What My Bones Know (2022)

  The other adults fell in line to say something nice about my eyes, my dimples. My aunts traveled to the market just to buy me my favorite treats—soft pork jerky, curry puffs, butter pineapple tarts, a dozen different kinds of kueh. I had one cousin who wanted to be an artist when she grew up. She had filled an entire bookshelf with her sketches. I showed up and started doodling, and everyone flocked around me, praising my natural talent. My cousin stormed off and didn’t talk to me for days. — Once, my mother and I went to our safe-deposit box at the bank and I watched her delicately pick through the bounty in red velvet boxes. “Your grandmother gave you the best of the family jade, and one day, you’ll inherit all of this because you’re the favorite,” she whispered, and she clasped a gold chain around my neck. Dangling from it was a solid gold rabbit pendant with ruby eyes. “She gave this to you when you were just a baby. A bunny for the year of the bunny!” “But why am I the favorite?” I asked. “What did I do?” “It’s simple,” she said. “Your dad is the eldest son in the family. And you are his firstborn child. So naturally, you are the favorite.” This sounded enough like something out of an Amy Tan novel for me to believe it. — I felt most special during my one-on-one time with Auntie. In the late afternoons, when everyone else was napping, I followed the sound of green bean stems breaking juicily between Auntie’s fingers, my bare feet slapping gently on the marble floor, and sat on a rattan chair, the kind that imprinted elaborate patterns into my lower butt. I snapped the green beans, too. “Ho gwaai, girl, ho gwaai,” Auntie said to me in her gentlest voice. “You are such a sweet girl, being the only one to help your Auntie.” She’d tell me stories about growing up in Ipoh, of faceless great-grandmothers and tussling with her sisters over mangos. And then she would dispense some Chinese wisdom, the same sayings her mother had told her a million years ago. Optimism, Auntie stressed, was of utmost importance in this life. “When the sky falls, use it as a blanket,” Auntie repeated to me. “Big things, make small. Small things, make nothing. When someone wrongs you, never keep it in your heart. Let it go. Smile through your tears. Swallow your pain.” I nodded absentmindedly, but when my cousins woke up and I ran back to play, the black-and-white memories of old, pajama-wearing ancestors and their funny sayings faded into the back of my memory. All that time, I thought Auntie was trying to give me some sense of where I came from. To make sure my McDonald’s-eating American self stayed a little bit Chinese. Back then, I never suspected an ulterior motive: to give me what I needed to survive.

• From The Principle of Desire (2013)

  He looked at her, they smiled at each other, and a fluttering moth of sheer delight careened around in Ed’s abdomen and chest. “If you want, we could get together Tuesday night and I could help you do a character sheet.” “Okay. Yeah. That’d be great, thank you.” Wait...was that the date? Did I just arrange the date? Or are we really just gonna sit around rolling a character for her? “I’ll pick you up around six-thirty or seven, and we can grab some dinner or something,” Beth volunteered, to Ed’s astonishment. “Oh. Okay. Good. You know where—of course you know where I live. Never mind. So, six-thirty?” “Sounds great. I’ll be there.” The rest of the table had gone suspiciously quiet during this exchange. Uneasy, Ed glanced around to see them all laser-focused on their pie. Looking back at Beth, panic mounting in his throat, Ed saw her smirking. She winked at him before speaking again. “Will it take very long, though? Because I’ve got a huge stack of quizzes and case studies to grade, so I really shouldn’t take more than an hour or two for dinner.” Suddenly it didn’t sound like a date, the tension at the table eased, and conversation began to flow around them again. But the wink meant it was still a date. At least Ed was about ninety percent certain that was what the wink meant. He didn’t want to think about the possibilities covered by the other ten percent. * * * She should have expected the Jag parked in front of her house, but her mind had been on other things during the drive home from the pie place. Ed. Pie. Her friends, including her in more non-club activities. Ed. It was late, and she was tired. She wasn’t up to Aaron right now. But he’d already be inside waiting for her, so she didn’t have much choice. Her fault for not insisting he give her key back. Aaron wasted no time once Beth had closed the door behind her and stepped through the curved archway into the living room. “Were you with the doughboy?” She had her guard up, this time. She didn’t have to let him have his way with her emotions. “I was with friends. Give me my key back, Aaron. You should not be here. Please don’t come here again uninvited, you don’t have my consent for this anymore.” He had done it all the time when they were still together, when he was the Master and she served at his whim. Once upon a time, she had waited breathlessly for Aaron to show up unannounced like this. But for him to do it now was creepy and intrusive, and Beth didn’t have the energy to put on a pleasant face about it. After a moment he slid the key across the coffee table toward her, but settled back into the couch. “Did the friends include the doughboy?”

• From Opening Up by Writing It Down (2016)

  The intensity stage is easiest to identify. During the first four to six months, lovers and grievers are consumed with new emotions and recurring thoughts. The following diary entries were written two weeks after Julie’s first date with Charles and, for Ellen, two weeks after the death of John. JULIE: I think I am in love! I honestly have never felt this way before about anyone—I love being with Charles and my God he occupies my every thought. This weekend we were together the whole time . . . I feel like I’m walking on clouds. It’s the best! ELLEN: Two weeks today. It’s like yesterday and like forever. I stroked his dear dead face and said, “Goodnight, sweet prince.” And my beautiful life ended. Three months later, both women were still in a stage of emotional intensity. Both diaries, however, indicate that the women were also beginning to think of other things. Their respective feelings of joy and grief, however, were dominant. JULIE: The trip to California with Charles! It was the best trip ever. Since then we have talked so much and written many a letter back and forth. I’ve never felt like this before—it’s a new one for me, that’s for sure. ELLEN: Three months and where am I? I play foolish games. His shaving glasses are still on the shaving mirror. I cry when I see dust on them, but I can’t throw them away . . . I still have aching memories of his death and of sad days in Spain. I wish he hadn’t suffered. Soon after these entries, the tenor of the emotions changed, suggesting that both women had entered the plateau phase. Julie, although she frequently refers to Charles, devotes much of her writing to problems at work or telephone conversations with her parents. Charles’s presence, however, is always felt. Four months after the death of Bob, Ellen stopped writing in her diary for almost eight months. The reason, she said, was that she was trying to get on with life. Interestingly, it was during this period that Ellen volunteered to help a bereavement counselor write manuals on coping with death. The following entry by Julie was written seven months after her first date with Charles. The entries for the previous week had been devoted to topics other than Charles. Last night Charles and I had another talk. I am convinced that we will end up together later in life. I am in love with him and he knows I am. It’s very special. Sometimes I really do get scared about the future. I think we will be fine—it’s just that I have never been in love before and here we are talking about the future. I’m learning a lot from this relationship—both about him and myself.

• From The Spiritual Works of Leo Tolstoy (selected nonfiction) (2016)

  When the party broke up for the night, I used to see him to his room, and while he was undressing I sat on his bed and talked sport with him. He asked me if I could shoot. I said yes, but that I didn't care to go out shooting because I had nothing but a rotten old one-barreled gun. "I'll give you a gun," he said. "I've got two in Paris, and I have no earthly need for both. It's not an expensive gun, but it's a good one. Next time I come to Russia I'll bring it with me." I was quite taken aback and thanked him heartily. I was tremendously delighted at the idea that I was to have a real central-fire gun. Unfortunately, Turgenieff never came to Russia again. I tried afterward to buy the gun he had spoken of from his legatees not in the quality of a central-fire gun, but as Turgenieff's gun; but I did not succeed. That is all that I can remember about this delightful, naively cordial man, with the childlike eyes and the childlike laugh, and in the picture my mind preserves of him the memory of his grandeur melts into the charm of his good nature and simplicity. In 1883 my father received from Ivan Sergeyevitch his last farewell letter, written in pencil on his death-bed, and I remember with what emotion he read it. And when the news of his death came, my father would talk of nothing else for several days, and inquired everywhere for details of his illness and last days. Apropos of this letter of Turgenieff's, I should like to say that my father was sincerely annoyed, when he heard applied to himself the epithet "great writer of the land of Russia," which was taken from this letter. He always hated cliches, and he regarded this one as quite absurd. "Why not 'writer of the land'? I never heard before that a man could be the writer of a land. People get attached to some nonsensical expression, and go on repeating it in season and out of season." I have given extracts above from Turgenieff's letters, which show the invariable consistency with which he lauded my father's literary talents. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same of my father's attitude toward Turgenieff. In this, too, the want of dispassionateness in his nature revealed itself. Personal relations prevented him from being objective. In 1867, apropos of Turgenieff's "Smoke," which had just appeared, he wrote to Fet: There is hardly any love of anything in "Smoke" and hardly any poetry. The only thing it shows love for is light and playful adultery, and for that reason the poetry of the story is repulsive. ... I am timid in expressing this opinion, because I cannot form a sober judgment about an author whose personality I dislike.

• From Thinking, Fast and Slow (2011)

  17 Regression to the Mean I had one of the most satisfying eureka experiences of my career while teaching flight instructors in the Israeli Air Force about the psychology of effective training. I was telling them about an important principle of skill training: rewards for improved performance work better than punishment of mistakes. This proposition is supported by much evidence from research on pigeons, rats, humans, and other animals. When I finished my enthusiastic speech, one of the most seasoned instructors in the group raised his hand and made a short speech of his own. He began by conceding that rewarding improved performance might be good for the birds, but he denied that it was optimal for flight cadets. This is what he said: “On many occasions I have praised flight cadets for clean execution of some aerobatic maneuver. The next time they try the same maneuver they usually do worse. On the other hand, I have often screamed into a cadet’s earphone for bad execution, and in general he does better on his next try. So please don’t tell us that reward works and punishment does not, because the opposite is the case.” This was a joyous moment of insight, when I saw in a new light a principle of statistics that I had been teaching for years. The instructor was right—but he was also completely wrong! His observation was astute and correct: occasions on which he praised a performance were likely to be followed by a disappointing performance, and punishments were typically followed by an improvement. But the inference he had drawn about the efficacy of reward and punishment was completely off the mark. What he had observed is known as regression to the mean , which in that case was due to random fluctuations in the quality of performance. Naturally, he praised only a cadet whose performance was far better than average. But the cadet was probably just lucky on that particular attempt and therefore likely to deteriorate regardless of whether or not he was praised. Similarly, the instructor would shout into a cadet’s earphones only when the cadet’s performance was unusually bad and therefore likely to improve regardless of what the instructor did. The instructor had attached a causal interpretation to the inevitable fluctuations of a random process.

• From The Second Sex (1949)

  Nature symmetrically provides her with a double face: it supplies the stew and incites mystical effusions. In becoming a housewife and mother, woman gave up her free getaways into fields and woods, she preferred the calm cultivation of the kitchen garden, she tamed flowers and put them in vases: yet she is still exalted by moonlights and sunsets. In the terrestrial fauna and flora, she sees food and ornamentation before all; yet a sap flows that is generosity and magic. Life is not only immanence and repetition: it is also a dazzling face of light; in flowering meadows, it is revealed as Beauty. In tune with nature by the fertility of her womb, woman also feels swept by the breath that animates her and is spirit. And insofar as she is unsatisfied and feels like the uncompleted and unlimited girl, her soul will then rush forward on endlessly unwinding roads toward limitless horizons. Slave to her husband, children, and home, she finds it intoxicating to be alone, sovereign on the hillside; she is no longer spouse, mother, housewife, but a human being; she contemplates the passive world: and she recalls that she is a whole consciousness, an irreducible freedom. In front of the mystery of water and the mountain summit’s thrust, male supremacy is abolished; walking through the heather, dipping her hand in the river, she lives not for others but for herself. The woman who maintained her independence through all her servitudes will ardently love her own freedom in Nature. The others will find in it only the pretext for refined raptures, and they will hesitate at twilight between the fear of catching a cold and a swooning soul.

• From A Hebrew and English Lexicon of the Old Testament (BDB) (1907)

  n.m.">7 good things, goods, good-‏ זרב ד ness;—’) Gn 24+ 17¢.; sf. DDEx33"Je31”;‏ FD yp 257+ 4 +.; FAO Ho 3°+ 2t.; ABO Neo”‏ Jb 21'°;—not in H PChr Ez or post-‏ טוּבֶם ;27 Je‏ ex. proph.—1. good things, coll., produce of‏ the land to be eaten Gn 45'%75(E), Is 1” Je‏ Ezr 9” Neg***, to be enjoyed; good things‏ 27 as given by him Ho 3’ Je 31714 27"; of‏ י' of‏ house of wW 65°, fig. of spiritual blessings.‏ goods, property Gn 24" (J), Dt 6" 2K 8° -‏ .2 Ne 9”. 3. abstr.: a. fairness, beauty, of‏ neck of heifer Ho 10%; of people of * Ze g™; ob‏ joy of‏ טוב לב(ב) ’y himself Ex 33% (JE). b.‏ c.‏ .(ל ט'.2,11 טוב.ז heart Dt 287 Is 654 (v.‏ prosperity Jb 207 21°; of Jerusalem y 128°;‏ Pr x11” in the prosperity of the —‏ בְּטוּב צדיקים righteous the city rejoiceth. d. goodness of‏ taste, discernment / 110% 4. abstr., good-‏ ness of God: a. in bestowing good things Neg”.‏ b. in the salvation of his people Is 63’ p 25’‏ stored up for his saints p 31”.‏ .¢ 145.0 Trae n.f. welfare, benefit, good things, good ;—abs. ט'‎ Dt 28"+454 +.; estr. טובת‎ ץש טובְתִי .84 ;106° ש‎ 16? etc. 4 4 t. sfs.; pl. Miao Je 12°; טבות‎ 2K 25% Je 52%; sf. טובתיו‎ Ne 6";—1. welfare, prosperity, happiness: || שלום‎ Diag’ 06337 Haro? La 37 nay יום‎ Bey day of prosperity ; poy7>a טובתי‎ + 16? zs not my welfare dependent upon thee? “D מְּכוּאַתֶךְּ‎ Jb 227 prosperity shall come to thee ; לטובה‎ Gn 50” (E), Dt 28" 30° 203187614 לרעה ולא לטובה‎ Am *ף‎ Je 21" 39" 447; obj. of vb. YP3 Ne 2”; הביא‎ Je 32”; ראה‎ Jbo” Ec 5" 6°; TAN He 9’; חסר מט' 106% ץ ראה בט'‎ Ec 48; obj. of אכל‎ fig. Jb 21%=-00806 happiness; of yaw He 6°; after נחם על‎ Je 18". 2. good things (coll.): a. of good words, obj. of =%ץ 28 25° ₪ 1 דבר‎ 1 Ch 17”, Je 18”; pl. דבר טובות‎ Je 12" 52°= 2K 25%. b. of material possessions ברבות הט'‎ Ee = when good things increase. 3. bounty, good 33d Nw 65” year of thy bounty (harvest bestowed by God), so also טובתך‎ y 68"; עשה‎ “0(n) Ex 18°(E), Nu 24% (JE), גר[‎ 8* 9% 18 24” 20 2° 4 K 89 2 Ch”, 2 Ch 24" 763372 obj. of שלם ;2433 גמל‎ 1S 24%; תחת טובה‎ Ay Gn 444(J), "לע *100 38% 38 ץי 257 ₪ ד‎ Je 18%; זבר לו לט' ;16% 8 2 ט' תחת קללה‎ remember it for me for good Ne ₪" לטובה‎ Ezr 8” Ne 2° 16 24°° ץש‎ 86"; pl. טלבתָיו‎ Ne 6” his benefits (i.e. good deeds of Tobiah). MW a.pram. (Yah(u) is my‏ ,טרביה+

• From The Whole Lesbian Sex Book: A Passionate Guide for All of Us (2004)

  • Talk about your misgivings. Are you afraid you’ll feel silly wearing a harness and dildo? Approach sex toys in the spirit of learning. “I still have some work to do on my comfort level with strapping it on,” wrote another. “But, you know, practice makes perfect!” Many toys try to do too much, with too little attention to design and engineering—they appeal to impulse rather than your “smart-shopper” savvy. The women of Toys in Babeland describe such toys as “huge, slimy, battery powered monsters [that] will ‘vibro twist’ and ‘corkscrew delight’ their way right into your trash can.” 6 I strap on a thick, 7-inch vibrating jelly dildo. What a godsend! It seems to fit my partner’s needs perfectly and the vibrating soft jelly-like texture feels absolutely fabulous on my clitoris. There are exceptions, of course—including vibrating jelly dildos and vibrating anal probes featuring flexible spines. One such toy is the Flex-O-Pleaser. “Yes, the name is dorkiness incarnate,” say the folks at Blowfish, “but if you’re looking for a vibrator for insertion play, we recommend this one highly.”7 This battery-operated vibrator features a 3-inch cylindrical head on a strong, flexible 5-inch shaft. The whole thing is attached to a 5-inch handle with an adjustable switch. Other vibrating anal probes feature a vertebral column that allows the toy to retain any shape you give it. The Adventurer, featured in Rachel Venning and Claire Cavanah’s Sex Toys 101, ups the ante: not only does the shaft vibrate, it twirls in little circles. A little goes a long way. How to Choose Sex ToysThere are so many toys you can purchase or adapt for your pleasure, you may feel overwhelmed by the possibilities. A quick surf through the websites of retail and mail-order outlets will show a virtually limitless choice of sex toys. You can invent your own toys, making clever use of household items, or search the produce aisle of the grocery store for erotic inspiration. How can you find out what you like? A little window shopping will help, whether you browse on the Web or in person at your local sex toy boutique. Below are some questions to consider as you begin your search, along with suggestions for play and cautions regarding safety. You can purchase the toys and supplies mentioned here from the mail-order and retail outlets listed in the resources section. Do You Like Clitoral Stimulation?My Hitachi Magic Wand sends me into spiraling heights of orgasmic ecstasy! I like the Magic Wand because it’s very fast and it can allow me to reach orgasm in a few minutes. It’s like a quickie, but with a toy. Vibrators provide steady, reliable clitoral stimulation. You can choose from electric vibrators, rechargeable vibrators, battery-operated vibrators, remote-control vibrators, waterproof vibrators you can use in the bathtub, egg-shaped vibrators you can slip inside a harness cuff, and vibrators shaped like rabbits, beavers, and even bears.

• From The Spiritual Works of Leo Tolstoy (selected nonfiction) (2016)

  Every morning he used to jerk the blankets off us and shout, "Auf, Kinder! auf!" and during the daytime plagued us with German calligraphy. OUTDOOR SPORTSTable of ContentsTHE chief passion of my childhood was riding. I well remember the time when my father used to put me in the saddle in front of him and we would ride out to bathe in the Voronka. I have several interesting recollections connected with these rides. One day as we were going to bathe, papa turned round and said to me: "Do you know, Ilyusha, I am very pleased with myself to-day. I have been bothered with her for three whole days, and could not manage to make her go into the house; try as I would, it was impossible. It never would come right. But to-day I remembered that there is a mirror in every hall, and that every lady wears a bonnet. "As soon as I remembered that, she went where I wanted her to, and did everything she had to. You would think a bonnet is a small affair, but everything depended on that bonnet." As I recall this conversation, I feel sure that my father was talking about that scene in "Anna Karenina" where ANNA went to see her son. Although in the final form of the novel nothing is said in this scene either about a bonnet or a mirror,—nothing is mentioned but a thick black veil,—still, I imagine that in its original form, when he was working on the passage, my father may have brought Anna up to the mirror, and made her straighten her bonnet or take it off. I can remember the interest with which he told me this, and it now seems strange that he should have talked about such subtle artistic experiences to a boy of seven who was hardly capable of understanding him at the time. However, that was often the case with him. I once heard from him a very interesting description of what a writer needs for his work: "You cannot imagine how important one's mood is," he said. "Sometimes you get up in the morning, fresh and vigorous, with your head clear, and you begin to write. Everything is sensible and consistent. You read it over next day, and have to throw the whole thing away, because, good as it is, it misses the main thing. There is no imagination in it, no subtlety, none of the necessary something, none of that only just without which all your cleverness is worth nothing. Another day you get up after a bad night, with your nerves all on edge, and you think, 'To-day I shall write well, at any rate.' And as a matter of fact, what you write is beautiful, picturesque, with any amount of imagination. You look it through again; it is no good, because it is written stupidly. There is plenty of color, but not enough intelligence.

• From The Fixed Stars (0)

  I wrote the manuscript the year that we got married. We hit the ground like thoroughbreds, pacing each other. That fall, as I was finishing the book, Brandon started toying with the idea of opening a restaurant. We’d made a friend who owned a successful Italian spot in town, and with her mentorship, Brandon began to plan a restaurant of his own: a neighborhood pizza place, Delancey, where he’d make and serve in Seattle the kind of pizza he’d loved in New York. When he’d conceived Delancey, I’d been so deep in writing that I didn’t pay much attention. My whole life had built to this moment: I was writing a book, and it was going to be published! I was learning how to write it as I went along, an intensive process that, many days, left me feeling like my insides had been sucked out with a straw. I remember conversations about the futility of his doctoral degree, about whether he would go through with it. The degree was important mostly if he wanted to teach, in which case we’d likely have to move to the University of Wherever He Could Get a Job. We wanted to stay in Seattle, but there were few job openings. Having pulled out of a doctoral program myself, I encouraged him to do what felt right. I wanted him to be able to do work he would love, as I now did. Anyway, even if he had the idea to open a restaurant, I never imagined he’d do it. This was a man who had, after all, also considered robbing banks. Surely he was no more serious about this than he had been about that. People dream of opening restaurants all the time. I’ve probably heard a dozen people in a dozen different fields toss out the idea in casual conversation, usually under the influence of a good meal. Most come to their senses. The steps to opening a restaurant are numerous and byzantine, the costs exorbitant, and the failure rate is high. The leap was so large that I assumed he’d never get there. Brandon liked to dream big dreams. He and our friend Sam even made a game of this type of unbridled thinking. They called it “Think Tank,” and it involved taking turns calling out scrappy inventions and lavish solutions to often-dubious “problems.” Over a pitcher of beer, they taught me how to play. My proudest invention—in concept, if not in anything near reality—was a potato that would grow out of the ground already cut, fried, and hot, in the style of the Bloomin’ Onion at Outback Steakhouse. Big dreams were a fun game.

• From The Fixed Stars (0)

  [image file=image_rsrc2FM.jpg] 2Brandon and I met in April 2005, the spring that I was twenty-six. He was twenty-three, eleven months out of college, in his first year of graduate school at Brooklyn College. He was a formally trained saxophonist, now getting a master’s in music composition. I was in grad school too, for anthropology, and I worked part-time for a university press in downtown Seattle. We were drawn together from the start by a love of food and cooking. I’d been writing a food blog for a few months, and a friend of his told him about it, jokingly playing matchmaker. He read it and sent me an email. He was in New York, and I was in Seattle, but we had credit cards. We’d deal with the consequences later. The first time we kissed was in the kitchen of my apartment, against the closed door of the dishwasher in mid-cycle. Everything whirred. Food was a hobby that we’d each put to use in short-term jobs and odd gigs to get us through college and after. He’d worked at Pizza Hut, had done some catering, was a server at Balthazar in New York City. I’d also worked for a caterer, and as a restaurant cook, though the stress and pressure of a professional kitchen quickly spun me back out the door. Instead I sold olive oil at a greenmarket and made sandwiches at Whole Foods, reading M. F. K. Fisher like a sacred scroll. The best job I ever had, I told Brandon giddily, was a summer as a cheese monger. He got it. I’d never felt so perfectly matched. He was smart in all the ways that I wasn’t. I knew the lyrics to songs, but he actually knew how to make them. I remember when he played me Nina Simone’s “Sinnerman.” I’d never heard it before, but I thought right away that he rose to meet the world the same way the song does: light and quick, with an intensity that revealed itself in glimmers, caught me up and made me feel things. Brandon was easy to like and easy to love. While I was at work, he’d set off on foot or by bus or in my car and find places I’d never heard of. He bought me a funny vintage book about etiquette and a dozen slices of culatello wrapped in aluminum foil. He was a city creature, unintimidated by new places and people. I liked visiting him in New York, letting him lead me around the city. He was a whistler, I discovered. He whistled everywhere he went. Sometimes he even sang, a phrase of Caetano Veloso or Curtis Mayfield. What I love about New York is that no one cares, he said, squeezing my hand.

• From The Fixed Stars (0)

  We moved into a duplex with passionflower vines climbing the fence out front and furnished it with Brandon’s thrift store finds. We sussed out each other’s quirks and habits, set rules and aims. Here’s one: we decided to never see each other use the toilet. He’d heard somewhere of a couple that had held this boundary, declaring that it protected the mystery, some sexual sanctity of our genitals. We both thought it was a compelling idea, and we agreed to try it. When, on occasion, one of us accidentally walked in on the other, the intruding person made a Broadway show of fleeing down the hallway, screaming. That was always fun. Every night, we cooked and ate together. In September, Brandon started school and, to pay bills, got two teaching gigs on the side. I was still working at the publishing house. I remember when Calvin Trillin’s About Alice came out that fall, a book-length eulogy to Trillin’s late wife. Brandon and I saw ourselves in Calvin and Alice, measured ourselves against their epic proportions. Trillin wrote: “There was one condolence letter that made me laugh. Naturally, a lot of them made me cry. Some of those, oddly enough, were from people who had never met Alice . . . but they knew how I felt about her. . . . I got a lot of letters like the one from a young woman in New York who wrote that she sometimes looked at her boyfriend and thought, ‘But will he love me like Calvin loves Alice?’”2 We hung on that passage, reciting it to each other. Did he love me like Calvin loves Alice? Did I love him like Calvin loves Alice? We did. We did, we did, we did. We were drunk on it. Our friends teased us for the way we were always touching: foot draped over foot, shoulder against shoulder, or pinkies locked like a pact. I was drawn to his body as though by a magnet. I remember exactly how it felt to slide myself under his arm, fit the front of me to the side of him. We stood that way for years, until at some point, we stopped. [image file=image_rsrc2FK.jpg] Of course it wasn’t like that, and of course it was. [image file=image_rsrc2FK.jpg] We were both immersed in academia, but neither of us was sold on where it would lead. I was the first to veer off-course, quitting school and working full-time at the publishing house. I wanted to be a writer, and after-hours I wrote a proposal for a book. When I sold it to a publisher in New York, it felt as though the wheels of my adult life had finally found their purchase.