“It was said in the old days that every year Thor made a circle around Middle-earth, beating back the enemies of order. Thor got older every year, and the circle occupied by gods and men grew smaller. The wisdom god, Woden, went out to the king of the trolls, got him in an armlock, and demanded to know of him how order might triumph over chaos.
“Give me your left eye,” said the king of the trolls, “and I’ll tell you.”
Without hesitation, Woden gave up his left eye. “Now tell me.”
The troll said, “The secret is, Watch with both eyes!”
― John Gardner, On Moral Fiction
ANGER MANAGEMENT: A SOUTH COAST FABLE
His screaming has commenced. The kids are home.
And you are bruised, walking-into-a-door bruised,
like you’ve seen enough before except
now it’s his, his bruise and possible fracture.
You saw the good man (if nobody else did)
the one who rolled you your White Ox,
the one who actually wrote songs,
the man you were loving who disguised
so much (no doubt from himself).
Well it all is out now with a sort of noise
that’s heading to your kid’s guts
to stay for decades. But it’s when
he starts up ‘Don’t you get it, I love kids,
I love them!’ you grab yours and lock away
the three of you, three hearts deranged
with thumping, with him outside the toilet
howling, whilst you phone your girl friends.
Men arrive, and now he screams at them:
the Bowlo band, the cover band, the busking partner
who then reaches for what you never thought
you’d reach with him: cops, their AVOs.
Oh, and you’re reasoning again,
he was never thick, some cops are truly thick
and sometimes we need what the thick provide.
Meantime he’ll be off,
a stocky, perspiring man, making noises no one wants
to understand, getting dragged away.
An idle brain is the devils workshop.
The Inquirer & Commercial News (Perth, WA : 1855 – 1901), Wednesday 8 October 1890
The Queenslander (Brisbane, Qld. : 1866 – 1939), Thursday 8 December 1932
If they had been Roman, then someone would have
Died every night for months on end as the Boobook
Owl’s chime coursed through the evening like a late
Night telephone call’s bad news. Metronome regular,
The beat of its hoot shelled them relentlessly, enfilading
Their ears from the patch of remnant blue gums across
Waghorn Street. The book book of its mournful cry, as if
It was a trapped sailor in an air pocket of a capsized ship,
Beating a morse code tattoo with a leaden wrench. Inside
Its tree’s iron hull, the school ruler long bird received the
Suburb’s dying souls nightly, like an apprehensive mother
Drawing up her child’s medicine in a feather light syringe.
When he heard it, fear suckled their young son who forbade
The repetition of its summons & shrieked if he heard its call.
One of the greatest artifices the devil uses to engage men in
vice and debauchery is to fasten names of contempt on certain
virtues and thus fill weak souls with a foolish fear of passing
for scrupulous should they desire to put them in practice.
– Eleanor Early
Most people aren’t appreciated enough, and the bravest things we do in our lives are usually known only to ourselves. No one throws ticker tape on the man who chose to be faithful to his wife, on the lawyer who didn’t take the drug money.
– Peggy Noonan
~George Bernard Shaw
“I applied my reason at every moment. Reason is excellent for getting food, clothing and shelter. Reason is the very best tool kit. Nothing beats reason for keeping tigers away. But be excessively reasonable and you risk throwing out the universe with the bathwater.”
― Yann Martel, Life of Pi
― Rick Riordan, The Lightning Thief
A lady is one who never shows her underwear unintentionally.
“A picnic. Picture a forest, a country road, a meadow. Cars drive off the country road into the meadow, a group of young people get out carrying bottles, baskets of food, transistor radios, and cameras. They light fires, pitch tents, turn on the music. In the morning they leave. The animals, birds, and insects that watched in horror through the long night creep out from their hiding places. And what do they see? Old spark plugs and old filters strewn around… Rags, burnt-out bulbs, and a monkey wrench left behind… And of course, the usual mess—apple cores, candy wrappers, charred remains of the campfire, cans, bottles, somebody’s handkerchief, somebody’s penknife, torn newspapers, coins, faded flowers picked in another meadow.”
― Arkady Strugatsky, Boris Strugatsky, Roadside Picnic
― Daniel Xiao Wang, Lucid Nightmares
For many centuries, suicides were treated like criminals by the society.
That is part of the terrible legacy that has come down
into society’s method of handling suicide recovery.
Now we have to fight off the demons that have been
hanging around suicide for centuries.
– Judy Collins
Leo The Great
He’d been an angel once. He hadn’t meant to Fall. He’d just hung around with the wrong people.”
― Terry Pratchett, Good Omens
Gorduz Backstabber, Hobgoblin Chieftain
“There was a goblin, or a trickster or a warrior. A nameless, terrible thing, soaked in the blood of a billion galaxies. The most feared being in all the cosmos. Nothing could stop it or hold it or reason with it. One day it would just drop out of the sky and tear down your world…”
― Steve Moffat
“Are you always so mistrusting?” he said, lifting a brow.
“When my escort is a demon, yes.”
― Lia Davis, Death’s Storm