“Mr. Wordsworth, perhaps in a literature class at some point in your studies. He once wrote that the best portion of a good person’s life is ‘the little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and love.”
― Theo of Golden
― Theo of Golden
“No, my dear. Sadness might be many things, but it is rarely stupid. The good sadness, I think, is always trying to tell us something very important.”
― Theo of Golden
― Theo of Golden
“Living with sadness, accepting it, is easier than trying to pretend it isn’t there. It is another of life’s great mysteries that sadness and joy can coexist so compatibly with one another. In fact, I wonder if, on this side of heaven, either one can be complete”
― Theo of Golden
― Theo of Golden
“Sadness can make us bitter or wise. We get to choose.”
― Theo of Golden
― Theo of Golden
“His soul caught its breath at the sight, like a swimmer coming up from the depths. For that moment he could separate beauty from his grief, and celebrate, if only ambivalently, that there was still a world of goodness apart from, or bigger than, his aching loneliness.
Above and behind the aerial ballet of bird flight, the clouds began to robe themselves in color, as if the sky too, was fighting for the heart of this wounded man. The slow, subtle changes, akin to tilting a cluster of opal beneath light, in which one tint dissolves into another, hinted that the great expanse overhead was alive, a thriving nest of angels of hope.
The sheer wonderment of the moment, the wings of fifty thousand birds, and the intoxicating surplus of beauty, overwhelmed him, as though a rope that had been pulled taut that tied him to the darkness of Tita’s death had snapped and fallen powerless to the ground.
Theo’s eyes filled with tears again - weariness? Hope? Forgiveness? Surrender? - as he laid his head back and looked into the open sky above him.
A single star caught his eye.
A tiny glimmer.
Searching from horizon to horizon, he confirmed that it was the first and only star in the sky.‘Looking back on that moment, he realized that in the time between the quarter hour before sunset and the star of dusk, somehow…this splintered soul had begun to heal. It would happen in fits and starts. It would be a healing that would never, at least in this life, be total or final. But it was the moment when the fever broke for him.
In every place that he ever lived after that, he insisted that his home be within walking distance of a river with a view to the west, and a bench…
And, on many days…he would check the exact time of sunset to ensure that he would be punctual for his date with a ten-year-old girl whose laughter was a murmuration and whose memory was a single star, the brightest in all the sky.”
―
Above and behind the aerial ballet of bird flight, the clouds began to robe themselves in color, as if the sky too, was fighting for the heart of this wounded man. The slow, subtle changes, akin to tilting a cluster of opal beneath light, in which one tint dissolves into another, hinted that the great expanse overhead was alive, a thriving nest of angels of hope.
The sheer wonderment of the moment, the wings of fifty thousand birds, and the intoxicating surplus of beauty, overwhelmed him, as though a rope that had been pulled taut that tied him to the darkness of Tita’s death had snapped and fallen powerless to the ground.
Theo’s eyes filled with tears again - weariness? Hope? Forgiveness? Surrender? - as he laid his head back and looked into the open sky above him.
A single star caught his eye.
A tiny glimmer.
Searching from horizon to horizon, he confirmed that it was the first and only star in the sky.‘Looking back on that moment, he realized that in the time between the quarter hour before sunset and the star of dusk, somehow…this splintered soul had begun to heal. It would happen in fits and starts. It would be a healing that would never, at least in this life, be total or final. But it was the moment when the fever broke for him.
In every place that he ever lived after that, he insisted that his home be within walking distance of a river with a view to the west, and a bench…
And, on many days…he would check the exact time of sunset to ensure that he would be punctual for his date with a ten-year-old girl whose laughter was a murmuration and whose memory was a single star, the brightest in all the sky.”
―
Yoknapatawpha
— 14 members
— last activity Apr 25, 2026 01:10PM
We were all about William Faulkner in 2024, reading his "Big Four" (Light in August, As I Lay Dying, The Sound and the Fury, and Absalom, Absalom!) pl ...more
Radiant, Ravishing Starbridge
— 15 members
— last activity May 06, 2022 12:25PM
A group to discuss Susan Howatch's Starbridge series, the St. Benet's series, or any of her other books! ...more
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