Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout of some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.

George Orwell

(Why I Write)

Snippet #22

Posted in Journal

Wine and Words

I chanced upon a poem yesterday, and as subtle unforeseen happenings often do, it shook my world. The earth shifted just a little under my feet, and I fell away, losing myself to the wine and words. Both bloody. Both heady.


Continue reading “Wine and Words”

Love is the world’s infinite mutability; lies, hatred, murder even, are all knit up in it; it is the inevitable blossoming of its opposites, a magnificent rose smelling faintly of blood.

Tony Kushner

(The Illusion)

Snippet #16

Augustine was not a believer in a personal god who would listen to your prayers. Even less did he believe that you could pray for someone else. And to have a third party, a disinterested third party, offering intercessory prayers on behalf of people they did not know, seemed outrageous to him. After all, these Masses were subdivided into thousands, since perpetual Mass cards were sold at almost every church in the world and by the minute. There would never be enough priests for even a hundredth of a Mass per soul, and the idea of asking the powers that be to consider minuscule fractions of benefit accruing to the dead seemed far more ridiculous than any other dogmas of the Roman Catholic Church.”

Jerry Pinto

(Em and the Big Hoom)

Snippet #15