Tagged: Lifemaking Toggle Comment Threads | Keyboard Shortcuts

  • mono 8:56 am on June 1, 2009 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: Arthur Conan Doyle, , , Lifemaking, Mystery, , Sherlock Holmes, Study in Scarlet   

    Quote: Sherlock Holmes 

    From Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s “A Study in Scarlet”:

    “You see,” he explained, “I consider that a man’s brain originally is like a little empty attic, and you have to stock it with such furniture as you choose. A fool takes in all the lumber of every sort that he comes across, so that the knowledge which might be useful to him gets crowded out, or at best is jumbled up with a lot of other things, so that he has a difficulty in laying his hands upon it. Now the skillful workman is very careful indeed as to what he takes into his brain-attic. He will have nothing but the tools which may help him in doing his work, but of these he has a large assortment, and all in the most perfect order. It is a mistake to think that that little room has elastic walls and can distend to any extent. Depend up it there comes a time when for every addition of knowledge you forget something that you knew before. It is of the highest importance, therefore, not to have useless facts elbowing out the useful ones.” – Sherlock Holmes

    Reblog this post [with Zemanta]
    Advertisements
     
  • mono 7:33 am on October 20, 2008 Permalink | Reply
    Tags: epigram, , Lifemaking, , , , , ,   

    On the Margin of Our Graspable Self: Epigrams and Aphorisms 

    It is possible, that the gust of a new life bursts into your zone of the expected, thus tearing all of your fragmentary accomplishments to bits.

    At home, too long, with words and words, piling up like some kind of garbage heap – yet, you throw yourself all too willingly into the heap, hoping to irk out some kind of angle, some kind of chirping opinion.

    To those on the periphery, to those whose step-by-step leads them to trip over their own tail and lie down in early hours on a painful pillow.

    Waking up and opening the window to the sounds of the familiar. Having put oneself in this place, it is hard to shout obscenities at anyone but one’s yesterday-self.

    The silence of a room can draw us near to the decisions that we have made: the mistakes of yesterday, the hopes and how they transpired – how we have edited our choices.

    Where has my golden strength gone at this hour of the day? To what pleasure do I owe the arrival of this new friend: confusion.

    Seeing past this moment, we can see what we can see. But, what of what we can’t see? How will that affect us?

    A remainder of those whose words we read, trickle down inside us, to that invisible area on the margin of our graspable self.

    …….

     
c
Compose new post
j
Next post/Next comment
k
Previous post/Previous comment
r
Reply
e
Edit
o
Show/Hide comments
t
Go to top
l
Go to login
h
Show/Hide help
shift + esc
Cancel