Pieter Bruegel The Elder > Patientia (patience)

>in lower margin> Patience is the tranquil endurance of evils that assail you or happen to you. (click to enlarge) Patience gazes upward, holding a cross; she sits chained to a block, much like a prisoner awaiting execution. The landscape around her is overrun with fantastic creatures. Out of a large hollow egg at the

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Is Jesus Christ the best musician ever?

well… is he? I just listened to a message titled “our inner world” that challenged some of my thoughts on profession, knowledge and Christianity. The question I ask is in response to the question the speaker asks – and to be honest… and I mean brutally honest, my knee-jerk reaction is tainted somewhat with what

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People talk about special providences.

I believe in the providences, but not in the specialty. I do not believe that God lets the thread of my affairs go for six days, and on the seventh evening takes it up for a moment. The so-called special providences are no exception to the rule—they are common to all men at all moments.

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a poem by Claudius

“I am content. In trumpet-tones, My song, let people know. And many a mighty man, with throne And scepter, is not so. And if he is, I joyful cry, Why then, he’s just the same as I. The Mogul’s gold, the Sultan’s show— His bliss, supreme too soon, Who, lord of all the world below,

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…what is the point?

It is a ruinous misjudgment—too contemptible to be asserted, but not too contemptible to be acted upon, that the end of poetry is publication. Its true end is to help first the man who makes it along the path to the truth: help for other people may or may not be in it; that, if

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He was a poet—

but one of the few without any weak longing after listening ears. The poet whose poetry needs an audience, can be but little of a poet; neither can the poetry that is of no good to the man himself, be of much good to anybody else. There are the song-poets and the life-poets, or rather

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everything is poetical

GK Chesterton wrote a book called called Heretics and in it he describes a state of mind I find very desirable. Perhaps it is best for me to include the bit that struck me – and hopefully you too will find it revealing about how easy it is for us to lose the mystery and

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william blake > the tyger

click image to enlarge William Blake wrote The Tyger in 1794, I have been a fan of his for some time. There is a lot of wild speculation about his sanity and real beliefs, but if you study his work (prints, poems etc), you will find many edifying and inspiring experiences. In this poem though

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New Song! hear the drum