Sunday, April 4, 2010

Not all clever thoughts are true...

A few years ago, as I would read books, I would write down quotes I liked from them {I still do this, just not as often}. Later, I realized that quite a few of these thoughts didn't express the way that I felt. I wrote them down because they sounded beautiful or whimsical or clever. I duped myself into thinking that they expressed the way I felt about things just because I liked the way they sounded.
I have tried to mend my ways in this area, and examine my true feelings before I decide I like something. ;)
I'm not sure if this makes sense or not. But still, it makes me wonder, has anyone else fallen prey to this?

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"What are you reading, Kathie?" [Abbie] called.
"Michael Arlen... nothing but. He's delicious. Everything he says sounds silky. Listen to this, Granny;


'....love is like a hammer....'
'Oh, not a hammer!'
'A hammer, darling. It beats and beats inside him and presently it doesn't beat so regularly, and presently it doesn't beat at all...'


"Doesn't that just melt in your mouth?"
"The words are very clever. But not all clever words are true."
"You said a bookful Granny. And inversely most things that are true are not clever."


-Excerpt from A Lantern in Her Hand by Bess Streeter Aldrich

2 comments:

  1. How I wish I had copied favorite passages. When I read I cannot tear my attention from the book long enough. My one small favor to myself I have managed in the last year or so is to read with pen in hand (when I own the book) and mark as I go.

    I was averse to this until my sister brought me up short, saying, It is my book to do with as I please.

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    Replies
    1. I certainly don't do it as often as I would like. That's very similar to how I felt! After encouragement from a friend, I finally started marking a few passages in books. But only with pencil and in older books. I still feel strange doing it, but I need to remind myself it is in no way a desecration. :)

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Silhouettes of a secret. A story told over a cuppa. Or perhaps just sitting on that stone bench, basking in the moonlight... and not saying anything at all.


("I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks, and ever thanks." -Shakespeare, Twelfth Night)