It is the early hours of the morning and I have just finished Micheal D. O'Brien's Island of the World. A book I consider to be the greatest I've read, which is not saying much considering the lack of books I've read, much less great ones. In the future, I hope to post some thoughts concerning the book. as I hope Jon and Wes will as well. But for now, I would like only to offer some selected quotes from the book that I found moving, stimulating, or amusing.
Theorem: If beauty is cleaved from immortality, will not the materialist devaluation of human love exact a dreadful price?
Corollary: If love is cleaved from immortality, will not the materialist universe also extract a dreadful price?
Conclusion: Without the eternal, all things, all beings, are devalued. Yes, but is immortality real? If it is real, then our present condition in this land seems more horrible then ever. If it is not real, then there is only survival, pleasure, and betrayal (p. 216).
For to act with our own purpose, though not wrong, is to limit the actions of life. And for purpose to be true purpose, it must be contained within submission (p. 238).
Social pressure is the fascism of democracies (p. 348).
The taming process is helped along by food. Food is soul-currency. Especially smoked-meat sandwiches,... (p.592).
He clings to the Cross and lets himself be nailed in his own way and understands that this union saves him from the dangers of vengeance and apathy (p. 687).
If he must truly live, he must live with an exposed heart, with both blessing and loss (p. 708).
Then he kisses the wounds of Christ, and in this movement he understands at last that he is kissing his own wounds too (p. 774).
Life without coffee is not life--this is a lie, he knows, but one he can live with (p.776).
Can a dwelling place without books ever truly be a home (p. 777)?
It is essential to have nothing in order to keep the riches he has been given (p. 777).
Every day he can swim in the greatness of the ordinary (p. 777).
Life itself is the great surprise, and all that is within it is an unpacking of subsidiary wonders (p. 781).
What am I saying to you? Perhaps it is only this: man does not look deeply at the world. He lives by habit and pleasure and impulse. He does not read the poetry in things. And so I say, if he must kill a creature, that is his right, but he should see its beauty before taking its life and understand its presence as language. Moreover, he must understand that blindness to the miraculousness of existence makes it easier for him to pull a trigger and end a human life. Do I exaggerate? We both know the 170 million answers to this (p. 790).
BD
Theorem: If beauty is cleaved from immortality, will not the materialist devaluation of human love exact a dreadful price?
Corollary: If love is cleaved from immortality, will not the materialist universe also extract a dreadful price?
Conclusion: Without the eternal, all things, all beings, are devalued. Yes, but is immortality real? If it is real, then our present condition in this land seems more horrible then ever. If it is not real, then there is only survival, pleasure, and betrayal (p. 216).
For to act with our own purpose, though not wrong, is to limit the actions of life. And for purpose to be true purpose, it must be contained within submission (p. 238).
Social pressure is the fascism of democracies (p. 348).
The taming process is helped along by food. Food is soul-currency. Especially smoked-meat sandwiches,... (p.592).
He clings to the Cross and lets himself be nailed in his own way and understands that this union saves him from the dangers of vengeance and apathy (p. 687).
If he must truly live, he must live with an exposed heart, with both blessing and loss (p. 708).
Then he kisses the wounds of Christ, and in this movement he understands at last that he is kissing his own wounds too (p. 774).
Life without coffee is not life--this is a lie, he knows, but one he can live with (p.776).
Can a dwelling place without books ever truly be a home (p. 777)?
It is essential to have nothing in order to keep the riches he has been given (p. 777).
Every day he can swim in the greatness of the ordinary (p. 777).
Life itself is the great surprise, and all that is within it is an unpacking of subsidiary wonders (p. 781).
What am I saying to you? Perhaps it is only this: man does not look deeply at the world. He lives by habit and pleasure and impulse. He does not read the poetry in things. And so I say, if he must kill a creature, that is his right, but he should see its beauty before taking its life and understand its presence as language. Moreover, he must understand that blindness to the miraculousness of existence makes it easier for him to pull a trigger and end a human life. Do I exaggerate? We both know the 170 million answers to this (p. 790).
BD