i just googled a couple of books to add to our current/recent reads & noticed google has a book preview thingy... check it out...
divine conspiracy
some are only excerpts, while others (no longer under copyright), have the whole book online... i love that it even looks like a book & it's not just text (though plain text is also sometimes available...
phantastes
i realize you can preview certain books on amazon, etc., but i love how this takes you right to it. how cool is that?
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label books. Show all posts
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Friday, April 04, 2008
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
my favorite lines....
from little women by l. m. alcott (a great Christmas read!)
Before the evening was half over, Jo felt so completely disillusioned, that she sat down in a corner to recover herself. Mr. Bhaer soon joined her, looking rather out of his element, and presently several of the philosophers, each mounted on his hobby, came ambling up to hold an intellectual tournament in the recess. The conversations were miles beyond Jo's comprehension, but she enjoyed it, though Kant and Hegel were unknown gods, the Subjective and Objective unintelligible terms, and the only thing `evolved from her inner consciousness' was a bad headache after it was all over. It dawned upon her gradually that the world was being picked to pieces, and put together on new and, according to the talkers, on infinitely better principles than before, that religion was in a fair way to be reasoned into nothingness, and intellect was to be the only God. Jo knew nothing about philosophy or metaphysics of any sort, but a curious excitement, half pleasurable, half painful, came over her as she listened with a sense of being turned adrift into time and space, like a young balloon out on a holiday.
She looked round to see how the Professor liked it, and found him looking at her with the grimest expression she had ever seen him wear. He shook his head and beckoned her to come away, but she was fascinated just then by the freedom of Speculative Philosophy, and kept her seat, trying to find out what the wise gentlemen intended to rely upon after they had annihilated all the old beliefs.
Now, Mr. Bhaer was a diffident man and slow to offer his own opinions, not because they were unsettled, but too sincere and earnest to be lightly spoken. As he glanced from Jo to several other young people, attracted by the brilliancy of the philosophic pyrotechnics, he knit his brows and longed to speak, fearing that some inflammable young soul would be led astray by the rockets, to find when the display was over that they had only an empty stick or a scorched hand.
He bore it as long as he could, but when he was appealed to for an opinion, he blazed up with honest indignation and defended religion with all the eloquence of truth an eloquence which made his broken English musical and his plain face beautiful. He had a hard fight, for the wise men argued well, but he didn't know when he was beaten and stood to his colors like a man. Somehow, as he talked, the world got right again to Jo. The old beliefs, that had lasted so long, seemed better than the new. God was not a blind force, and immortality was not a pretty fable, but a blessed fact. She felt as if she had solid ground under her feet again, and when Mr. Bhaer paused, outtalked but not one whit convinced, Jo wanted to clap her hands and thank him.
She did neither, but she remembered the scene, and gave the Professor her heartiest respect, for she knew it cost him an effort to speak out then and there, because his conscience would not let him be silent. She began to see that character is a better possession than money, rank, intellect, or beauty, and to feel that if greatness is what a wise man has defined it to be, `truth, reverence, and good will', then her friend Frederick Bhaer was not only good, but great.
Before the evening was half over, Jo felt so completely disillusioned, that she sat down in a corner to recover herself. Mr. Bhaer soon joined her, looking rather out of his element, and presently several of the philosophers, each mounted on his hobby, came ambling up to hold an intellectual tournament in the recess. The conversations were miles beyond Jo's comprehension, but she enjoyed it, though Kant and Hegel were unknown gods, the Subjective and Objective unintelligible terms, and the only thing `evolved from her inner consciousness' was a bad headache after it was all over. It dawned upon her gradually that the world was being picked to pieces, and put together on new and, according to the talkers, on infinitely better principles than before, that religion was in a fair way to be reasoned into nothingness, and intellect was to be the only God. Jo knew nothing about philosophy or metaphysics of any sort, but a curious excitement, half pleasurable, half painful, came over her as she listened with a sense of being turned adrift into time and space, like a young balloon out on a holiday.
She looked round to see how the Professor liked it, and found him looking at her with the grimest expression she had ever seen him wear. He shook his head and beckoned her to come away, but she was fascinated just then by the freedom of Speculative Philosophy, and kept her seat, trying to find out what the wise gentlemen intended to rely upon after they had annihilated all the old beliefs.
Now, Mr. Bhaer was a diffident man and slow to offer his own opinions, not because they were unsettled, but too sincere and earnest to be lightly spoken. As he glanced from Jo to several other young people, attracted by the brilliancy of the philosophic pyrotechnics, he knit his brows and longed to speak, fearing that some inflammable young soul would be led astray by the rockets, to find when the display was over that they had only an empty stick or a scorched hand.
He bore it as long as he could, but when he was appealed to for an opinion, he blazed up with honest indignation and defended religion with all the eloquence of truth an eloquence which made his broken English musical and his plain face beautiful. He had a hard fight, for the wise men argued well, but he didn't know when he was beaten and stood to his colors like a man. Somehow, as he talked, the world got right again to Jo. The old beliefs, that had lasted so long, seemed better than the new. God was not a blind force, and immortality was not a pretty fable, but a blessed fact. She felt as if she had solid ground under her feet again, and when Mr. Bhaer paused, outtalked but not one whit convinced, Jo wanted to clap her hands and thank him.
She did neither, but she remembered the scene, and gave the Professor her heartiest respect, for she knew it cost him an effort to speak out then and there, because his conscience would not let him be silent. She began to see that character is a better possession than money, rank, intellect, or beauty, and to feel that if greatness is what a wise man has defined it to be, `truth, reverence, and good will', then her friend Frederick Bhaer was not only good, but great.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
the dean's watch
i was so delighted to see a couple of elizabeth goudge books in the guesthouse library last month, as they are hard to find... many of them out of print...
i had read the scent of water some years ago at the suggestion of a friend, so i decided to crack open the dean's watch. goudge did not disappoint, introducing me to lovely people who were imperfect, struggling, yet made me want to be a better person... loving people better & living in each moment for better reasons.
i had read the scent of water some years ago at the suggestion of a friend, so i decided to crack open the dean's watch. goudge did not disappoint, introducing me to lovely people who were imperfect, struggling, yet made me want to be a better person... loving people better & living in each moment for better reasons.
Saturday, December 02, 2006
asking questions...
you may have noticed that in the column to the right, you can see what mike &/or i have been reading lately...
on that list is a book a co-worker recommended & gave to us that i've found really interesting... can you hear me? tuning into the God who speaks. by brad jersak
while he comes from a slightly different perspective than i am used to, i've gotten a lot out of his writings... and have been challenged to listen for God's voice & expect to hear Him speak to me... through things like scripture, my pastor, or even an urge to pray for or encourage someone... everyday things we may dismiss as just our own thoughts.
while waiting for mike in bangkok airport last weekend, i did a little exercise he suggested... he called it asking God "friendship questions". it seemed a little weird at first, but i felt prompted (by God??) to give it a go & try the author's suggested list of things to ask God, as my friend (John 15:15):
on that list is a book a co-worker recommended & gave to us that i've found really interesting... can you hear me? tuning into the God who speaks. by brad jersak
while he comes from a slightly different perspective than i am used to, i've gotten a lot out of his writings... and have been challenged to listen for God's voice & expect to hear Him speak to me... through things like scripture, my pastor, or even an urge to pray for or encourage someone... everyday things we may dismiss as just our own thoughts.
while waiting for mike in bangkok airport last weekend, i did a little exercise he suggested... he called it asking God "friendship questions". it seemed a little weird at first, but i felt prompted (by God??) to give it a go & try the author's suggested list of things to ask God, as my friend (John 15:15):
- What's grieving You these days? Why?
- What's exciting You these days? Why?
- What do you like about me? Why?
- What do You see when You look at me?
- When was the last time You wept over me? Why?
- When was the last time You laughed over me? Why?
- If You could meet me anywhere face-to-face where would it be?
- If my heart is Your home, what does it look like?
- If You could play a game with me, what would it be? Why?
He encourages us to pray first for the peace of God in our hearts & minds, then not to analyze too much or try to "get it right" as we listen for God's answers... He says that anytime we listen to God, we should always dismiss anything that does not line up with Scripture, but take confidence in Jesus' promise that we will be able to discern His voice (John 10) if we are His sheep.
I am not a person who regularly "hears" God... but as i asked Him the questions above, though i didn't hear an audible voice, i did have a very clear impression of His answers in the form of thoughts in my head... it was really surprising! some of the answers spoke very directly to some struggles & fears i was having at the time, though i was not expecting them to. i think i'd like to ask questions & listen more often now!
i hope you'll try it & be surprised, too, by our God who longs for us to have a very personal relationship with Him. let me know if you do!
Saturday, September 02, 2006
Tired and Busy?
Caryn came across this book called, "When I Relax I Feel Guilty" by Tim Hansel. This guy started Summit Expeditions, now called Summit Adventures. Anyway, I think it is a very appropriate book for out culture...and for me. Here is an excerpt I read this morning:
Tim Hansel writes, "Some of us need to read the following letter written by an anonymous friar in a monastery in Nebraska late in his life. We probably not only need to read it, but we need to allow it to seep down into the marrow of our tired and serious bones.
'If I had my life to live over again, I'd try to make more mistakes next time.
I would relax, I would limber up, I would be sillier than I have been this trip.
I know of very few things I would take seriously.
I would take more trips. I would be crazier.
I would climb more mountains, swim more rivers, and watch more sunsets.
I would do more walking and looking.
I would eat more ice cream and less beans.
I would have more actual troubles, and fewer imaginary ones.
You see, I'm one of those people who lives life prophylactically and sensibly hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I've had my moments, and if I had to do it over again I'd have more of them.
In fact, I'd try to have nothing else, just moments, one after another, instead of living so many ahead each day. I've been one of those people who never go anywhere without a thermometer, a hot-water bottle, a gargle, a raincoat, aspirin, and a parachute.
If I had to do it over again I would go places, do things, and travel lighter than I have.
If I had my life to live over I would start barefooted earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall.
I would play hookey more.
I wouldn't make such good grades, except by accident.
I would ride on more merry-go-rounds.
I'd pick more daises.'"
Tim Hansel writes, "Some of us need to read the following letter written by an anonymous friar in a monastery in Nebraska late in his life. We probably not only need to read it, but we need to allow it to seep down into the marrow of our tired and serious bones.
'If I had my life to live over again, I'd try to make more mistakes next time.
I would relax, I would limber up, I would be sillier than I have been this trip.
I know of very few things I would take seriously.
I would take more trips. I would be crazier.
I would climb more mountains, swim more rivers, and watch more sunsets.
I would do more walking and looking.
I would eat more ice cream and less beans.
I would have more actual troubles, and fewer imaginary ones.
You see, I'm one of those people who lives life prophylactically and sensibly hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I've had my moments, and if I had to do it over again I'd have more of them.
In fact, I'd try to have nothing else, just moments, one after another, instead of living so many ahead each day. I've been one of those people who never go anywhere without a thermometer, a hot-water bottle, a gargle, a raincoat, aspirin, and a parachute.
If I had to do it over again I would go places, do things, and travel lighter than I have.
If I had my life to live over I would start barefooted earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall.
I would play hookey more.
I wouldn't make such good grades, except by accident.
I would ride on more merry-go-rounds.
I'd pick more daises.'"
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