"Doing One's Duty"

This great passage really caught me by surprise when I first read it. I thought it was well worth the time it takes to understand it thoroughly.

"However strange it may well seem, to do one's duty will make anyone conceited who only does it sometimes. Those who do it always would as soon think of being conceited of eating their dinner as of doing their duty. What honest boy would pride himself on not picking pockets? A thief would who was trying to reform would. To be conceited of doing one's duty is a sign of how little one does it, and how little one sees what a contemtible thing it is not to do it. Could any but a low creature be conceited of not being contemptible? Until our duty becomes to us as common as breathing, we are all poor creatures."
-George McDonald

Seize The Day!
-StrongJoy

Note: I've updated my Quotations and Poetry Collections and (hopefully) will continue to add new poetry and quotes whenever I get the chance...

On "Laughing At Ourselves" - The Wisdom of the Ages

As some of you already know, our family will be moving back to America in less than two weeks and so I'm not going to be able to keep up a steady stream of posts during the next month. However, I'll try to post something every now and then and maybe even answer some comments, whenever I can.

In the meanwhile, here are three of my favorite quotes, quite amusing and...painfully true, especially that last one...

"If you can't laugh at yourself,you may be missing the joke of the century."

"Blessed are those who can laugh at themselves for they shall never cease to be amused."

"Those who can't laugh at themselves leave the job to others."

Seize The Day!
-StrongJoy

Tolkien's Best Poem?

W.H. Auden, a contemporary poet of Tolkien's time, said that this was Tolkien's best poem. It is true that it is beautiful but I wasn't able to make a whole lot of sense out of it. I was wondering if any of you smart readers could give me some enlightening comments.

Wikipedia says, "It is a piece of great metrical and rhythmical complexity that recounts a journey to a strange land beyond the sea. Drawing on medieval 'dream vision' poetry and Irish 'imram' poems the piece is markedly melancholic and the final note is one of alienation and disillusion." I'm not sure that's a very good synopsis...

"The Sea Bell"or "Frodo's Dreme"

I walked by the sea, and there came to me,
as a star-beam on the wet sand,
a white shell like a sea-bell;
trembling it lay in my wet hand.

In my fingers shaken I heard waken
a ding within, by a harbour bar
a buoy swinging, a call ringing
over endless seas, faint now and far.

Then I saw a boat silently float
on the night-tide, empty and grey.
'It is later than late! Why do we wait?'
I leapt in and cried: 'Bear me away!'

It bore me away, wetted with spray,
wrapped in a mist, wound in a sleep,
to a forgotten strand in a strange land.
In the twilight beyond the deep

I heard a sea-bell swing in the swell,
dinging, dinging, and the breakers roar
on the hidden teeth of a perilous reef;
and at last I came to a long shore.

White it glimmered, and the sea simmered
with star-mirrors in a silver net;
cliffs of stone pale as ruel-bone
in the moon-foam were gleaming wet.

Glittering sand slid through my hand,
dust of pearl and jewel-grist,
trumpets of opal, roses of coral,
flutes of green and amethyst.

But under cliff-eaves there were glooming caves,
weed-curtained, dark and grey;
a cold air stirred in my hair,
and the light waned, as I hurried away.

Down from a hill ran a green rill;
its water I drank to my heart's ease.
Up its fountain-stair to a country fair
of ever-eve I came, far from the seas,

climbing into meadows of fluttering shadows:
flowers lay there like fallen stars,
and on a blue pool, glassy and cool,
like floating moons the nenuphars.

Alders were sleeping, and willows weeping
by a slow river of rippling weeds;
gladdon-swords guarded the fords,
and green spears, and arrow-reeds.

There was echo of song all the evening long
down in the valley; many a thing
running to and fro: hares white as snow,
voles out of holes; moths on the wing

with lantern-eyes; in quiet surprise
brocks were staring out of dark doors.
I heard dancing there, music in the air,
feet going quick on the green floors.

But whenever I came it was ever the same:
the feet fled, and all was still;
never a greeting, only the fleeting pipes,
voices, horns on the hill.

Of river-leaves and the rush-sheaves
I made me a mantle of jewel-green,
a tall wand to hold, and a flag of gold;
my eyes shone like the star-sheen.

With flowers crowned I stood on a mound,
and shrill as a call at cock-crow
proudly I cried: 'Why do you hide?
Why do none speak, wherever I go?

Here now I stand, king of this land,
with gladdon-sword and reed-mace.
Answer my call! Come forth all!
Speak to me words! Show me a face!'

Black came a cloud as a night-shroud.
Like a dark mole groping I went,
to the ground falling, on my hands crawling
with eyes blind and my back bent.

I crept to a wood: silent it stood
in its dead leaves, bare were its boughs.
There must I sit, wandering in wit,
while owls snored in their hollow house.

For a year and a day there must I stay:
beetles were tapping in the rotten trees,
spiders were weaving, in the mould heaving
puffballs loomed about my knees.

At last there came light in my long night,

and I saw my hair hanging grey.

'Bent though I be, I must find the sea!

I have lost myself, and I know not the way,

but let me be gone!' Then I stumbled on;

like a hunting bat shadow was over me;

in my ears dinned a withering wind,

and with ragged briars I tried to cover me.

My hands were torn and my knees worn,

and years were heavy upon my back,

when the rain in my face took a salt taste,

and I smelled the smell of sea-wrack.

Birds came sailing, mewing, wailing;

I heard voices in cold caves,

seals barking, and rocks snarling,

and in spout-holes the gulping of waves.

Winter came fast; into a mist I passed,

to land's end my years I bore;

snow was in the air, ice in my hair,

darkness was lying on the last shore.

There still afloat waited the boat,

in the tide lifting, its prow tossing.

Weary I lay, as it bore me away,

the waves climbing, the seas crossing,

passing old hulls clustered with gulls

and great ships laden with light,

coming to haven, dark as a raven,

silent as snow, deep in the night.

Houses were shuttered, wind round them muttered,

roads were empty. I sat by a door,

and where drizzling rain poured down a drain

I cast away all that I bore:

in my clutching hand some grains of sand,

and a sea-shell silent and dead.

Never will my ear that bell hear,

never my feet that shore tread.

Never again, as in sad lane,

in blind alley and in long street

ragged I walk. To myself I talk;

for still they speak not, men that I meet.

-J.R.R. Tolkien

Seize The Day!
-StrongJoy

Personality Test

I thought this little quiz pretty accurately described my personality. I can be bossy but I don't think any of my friends would say I am loud. What's yours?

You Are An ENFJ

The Giver You strive to maintain harmony in relationships, and usually succeed. Articulate and enthusiastic, you are good at making personal connections. Sometimes you idealize relationships too much - and end up being let down. You find the most energy and comfort in social situations ... where you shine. In love, you are very protective and supporting. However, you do need to "feel special" - and it's quite easy for you to get jealous. At work, you are a natural leader. You can help people discover their greatest potential. You would make a good writer, human resources director, or psychologist. How you see yourself: Trusting, idealistic, and expressive. When other people don't get you, they see you as: Bossy, inappropriate, and loud

What's Your Personality Type?

Seize The Day!
-StrongJoy