Commonplace Book

'...Good fortune, true success, is the indwelling radiance and serenity that comes and goes so mysteriously in every human tenement. Expect her not, and she arrives; seek to detain her with elaborate argument or excuse, and she is gone. Yet must the door ever be open for her coming, and the board spread for her entertainment...'

from Good Fortune, a piece in The Kinship of Nature by Bliss Carman

Commonplace Book

'...He had seen the great inverted miracle of the dry spell worked upon that undefended earth, and it had become one of the master images of his mind just as the Brooding Anzac had. In some odd way they were connected like strophe and antistrophe, question and answer, the filament of their relationship so fine that any explanation must break it. That country had the look of eternity in good years or bad. When it was in good heart you could only believe that it was inexhaustible; under drought you could not believe that it would ever live again. It was absolute, it went beyond eternity because it cast eternity like a vestment..'

from Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by M. Barnard Eldershaw (Part IV)

Commonplace Book

'...And let the young men of our generation mark the present chapter, that they may know the virtue residing in a tail-coat, and cling to it, whether buffeted by the waves, or burnt out by the fire, of evil angry fortune. His tail-coat safe, the youthful Briton is always ready for any change in the mind of the moody Goddess. And it is an almost certain thing that, presuming her to have a damsel of condition in view for him as a compensation for the slaps he has received, he must lose her, he cannot enter a mutual path with her, if he shall have failed to retain this article of a black tail, his social passport. I mean of course that he retain respect for the article in question. Respect for it firmly seated in his mind, the tail may be said to be always handy. It is fortune's uniform in Britain: the candlestick, if I may dare to say so, to the candle; nor need any young islander despair of getting to himself her best gifts, while he has her uniform at command, as glossy as may be.'

from Sandra Belloni by George Meredith (Chapter VII)

Commonplace Book

'...It was not so much an epic - as a towering image of the world in conflict, of man and the mystic vine whose fruit is Life and Death. It was the black mass of the Spring, the anguish of renewal when the unfurling bud was the signal for death, when the soft winds reopened the stench of last year's dead, and the lovers' moon led the way to destruction, when the rising sap, the terrible inevitability of spring, filled every heart with fear, when love died in hunger, when beauty was destroyed at its source in the eye, when everything the heart treasured was buried under the weight of metal, when every hopeful flower that broke the sod was a candle for a lost generation...'

from Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow by M. Barnard Eldershaw (Part IV)

Commonplace Book

'But noble, generous, wise, and modest pride is not a virtue much in vogue in our day. Are we not apt to think that democracy consists in making ourselves no better than our neighbours? Whereas true democracy implies only the free and fair chance to each man to be his best. The capacity for being one's best remains unchanged; and the duty of being one's best stands as obligatory as ever. I believe in freedom for all (the wise man might say), because I believe in it for myself, in order that I may realize my better and greater self. And to do this one must have pride, - pride that keeps one erect and unflinching to the last, - pride that insists on scrupulous manners, admirable breeding, deep culture, and impeccable self-control, - pride that preserves for ever the beautiful and radiant illusions of the soul. For without pride in ourselves, in our work, and in each other, life becomes sordid and vulgar and slovenly; the work of our hands unlovely; and we ourselves hopeless and debased.'

from Concerning Pride, a piece in The Kinship of Nature by Bliss Carman

Pathetic Symphony by Klaus Mann (1935)

This one sits at a crossroads. It's a biographical novel about Tchaikovsky, with an author known for his reaching into psychological states. But it's a piece from his earlier career, and shows a species of timidity not only for that reason, but also because of its time. Tchaikovsky's homosexuality is discussed, but in quite guarded terms. So much so, that one wonders whether Mann hasn't himself rather underimagined it. All of the alliances, mentorships and deep friendships in this life could have had a much more overt sexual aspect. As it is, the composer's leaning is described as "THIS!", a kind of code for the act and its unsayability. Times were moving on, and Mann caught this subject just as it began to be publicly broachable. The aspect he is able to cover quite distinctively is Tchaikovsky's mindscape. This book ripples with melancholic nervous irritability. Nervestorms are common, as is morbid nuzzling of death and paranoia. These punctuate a formal portrait of the not-quite-Russian-enough composer as he wanders the Europe he is perceived by many Russians to belong to, feeling criticised from every angle, weeping in hotel rooms, suffering seemingly endless lack of sleep, and encountering both snubs and wild approbation as he conducts performances of his work with notable orchestras and attends soirees with fellow grandees. All of this, coupled with his melancholia and morbidity, draws a strong picture of a man tortured and running the gamut of madly enthusiastic highs and hell-plumbing lows. And I guess, to be fair, the formality of this piece is its acknowledgement of the era in which its subject lived. It leaves a vivid picture of the man, which is what ought most to be expected from a biographical novel.

Commonplace Book

'...if we are not to devise means to better nature, if we are not to use our intelligence for purposes more benign than those of the pre-human and sub-human creation, I can form no notion of the proper use of mind at all. You may tell me that the inexorable law of nature has provided for progress by the simple means of preserving the fittest to survive, and that in human society we merely follow the same methods. But I say that the laws of nature can offer the soul no criterion for conduct. I only exist to temper the occurrences of nature, to deflect them to my own needs, and to alter my own human nature continually for the better. I do not know what the soul is, but I know that it exists; and I know that its admonitions form a more beautiful sanction for conduct than the primitive code of evolution taken alone...'

from The Courtesy of Nature, a piece in The Kinship of Nature by Bliss Carman