In terms of DNA, we are no more related to most of our ancestors than we are to the people around us on a train or at a baseball game.  (p. 4)

When I did start researching my ancestors, slowly at first, and then in great gusts of extreme obsession, I thought of it as a kind of scattershot, backward-looking detective work. (p. 7)

Plato mocked those who believed themselves to be “of noble birth because [they] can show seven wealthy ancestors.” Everyone, he writes in the Theaetetus (circa 369 BC), “has had countless thousands of ancestors and progenitors, among whom have been in any instance rich and poor, kings and slaves.” (p. 20)

With all the tools at their disposal, contemporary genealogists can test rumours passed down like pocketknives. They can also rebut lies, expose secrets, and heal fractures. (p. 27)

Since the start of human history, we’ve been losing track of it. The longer we live, the more we see this attrition happening in real time. Beloved grandparents die, taking their memories and leaving photo albums filled with people who were integral to the clan fifty years ago but are strangers now. Migration and forgetting, in particular, often go together.  (p. 57)

[Jung] came to believe in the importance of the dead and that, in ignoring them, in separating ourselves from them, we have done ourselves and the whole of the world a grave disservice. “Turn to the dead,” he wrote, “listen to their lament and accept them with love.” (p. 196)

… so many of us spend our lives struggling with or against our ancestors’ dreams without knowing precisely how or why. (p. 234)

Genealogy becomes a mania, an obsessive struggle to penetrate the past and snatch meaning from an infinity of names. At some point the search becomes futile – there is nothing left to find, no meaning to be dredged out of old receipts, newspaper articles, letters, accounts of events that seemed so important fifty or seventy years ago. All that remains is the insane urge to keep looking, insane because the searcher has no idea what he seeks. What will it be? A photograph? A will? A fragment of a letter? The only way to find out is to look at everything, because it is often when the searcher has gone far beyond the border of futility that he finds the object he never knew he was looking for.

Henry Wiencek, The Hairstons: An American Family in Black and White

But there comes a point, when we move from consumers to producers, that we start to pay in heightened currency for our ignorance; the currency of confidence and self-respect. We see our early failures as proof of conclusive ineptness rather than as the inevitable stages on the path to mastery… We have not seen enough of the rough drafts of those we admire, and therefore we cannot forgive ourselves the horror of our own early attempts.

On Confidence, 52

Driving back to the apartment, I wondered if it was the anxiolytics that had padded my longing with enough cotton wool to allow for a bit of glancing human contact without injury or fever, or if letting go a bit of the truth is what had helped me to reach that clearing.

Adam Haslett, Imagine Me Gone.

Was there any point at all in a porcelain Chinese pillow shaped like a cat, bought in an antique shop in Charlottesville, Virginia? Someone long dead had dreamed on it. Every trace of their thought, their breath and memory had disappeared. Only the human mattered, and the human was quickly gone.

– Brenda Walker, Reading By Moonlight, p. 14.

This is the story of the right book, or books. We each have one life, one share of action and vision and money; a single life for all our speech and thought, our decent gestures and the decisions that might undo us, our welcome or unwanted love, our parties that may or may not come off. One life to satisfy our vast and human sense of voyaging. With the right books we find out what imaginary strangers have done with their share of this amazing thing, life.

– Brenda Walker, Reading By Moonlight, 4.

Ruins in an advanced state of ruination represent, or better they literally embody, the dissolution of meaning into matter. By revealing what human building ultimately is up against – natural or geological time – ruins have a way of recalling us to the very ground of our human worlds, namely the earth, whose foundations are so solid and reliable that they presumably will outlast any edifices that we build on them.

– Robert Pogue Harrison, The dominion of the dead, p. 3

We shared the same passion for obscure and forgotten books, but whereas I tended to be crazily enthusiastic and scattered about these works, Zimmer was thorough and systematic, penetrating to a degree that often astonished me.

– Paul Auster, Moon Palace, 88

A divorce is like an amputation; you survive, but there’s less of you.

– Margaret Atwood, Time Magazine; quoted in Oxford Dictionary of quotations p. 280

Seasons ran together, the years were a stunned blur. Like time in books. Time passes in books in the span of a sentence, many months and years. Write a word, leap a decade.

– Don DeLillo, Undeworld : 236.

Bronzini envied the blithe arrivals of life’s late people. How do they manage the courage to be late, enact the rude dare repeatedly in our waiting faces?

– Don DeLillo, Underworld: 667.

Irina chided herself. She had not forgotten, and it was foolish to pretend that she had. The slightest abridgements of truth with Lawrence made her feel isolated and mournful, far away and even afraid. She would rather be caught out lying than to get away with it, and thus live with the horror that it was possible.

– Lionel Shriver, The Post Birthday World : 9.

A woollen dress, coarse and individually designed, you knew that coarseness becasue it didn’t come from economy but from the rustic penchant of its wearer. I am like Lucy Snow, constantly measuring what things cost and where their owner is placed. And Lucy accused Madame of the very same sin without seeing it in herself. Lucy-light. Lucifer. Lucy-Lust of the eyes, and the pride of life. My old Greek teacher Dr Moore, trying to explain that phrase from the New Testament, he said we are like a clock winding down and our pride is that we think we run all by ourselves.

– Tracy Ryan, Jazz Tango : p. 68

Can we, should we, reinstate the communal meal in at least some of our table rituals? If so, do small group settings become necessasry, even in larger congregations? And what kind of liturgical spaces will then be needed? Can we, should we, allow for the wide variety of activities that characterized first century worship? In particular, can we open ourselves to the Spirit’s guidance so that a rich array of charismata can come into play? Is it possible for us to conduct some of what we call church business within periods of eucharistic worship? Can we allow prayerful discernment to shape our decision making on these matters? Can we begin to see our eucharistic services, from start to finish, as missionary events during which visitors are brought closer to the Body of Christ and the Kingdom, whatever the level of their participation, and we so-called insiders are built up for our vocation as witnesses of the gospel?

– John Koenig, Feast of the World’s Redemption : p. 237.

To turn within and pray incessantly by living in an awareness given us by the Holy Spirit of God’s immense love for us guiding us in all things is possible for all of us. It requires, however, a constant living out of our Baptism, a crossing over from our own self-containment and a putting on of Jesus Christ’s mind of seeking always to please the Heavenly Father. Praying always is a state of not saying prayers but a state of standing before God in the depths of our being and being constantly in tune with His operations. We find ourselves less distracted by the fears of what others would say, of norms and fashions set by a worldly society or persons close to us. We even can rise from the haunting memories of our sinful past and our crippling “mind-set” patterns of thoughts and images to a freedom and clarity of inner vision that Jesus Christ had promised would be the possession of His disciples who heard his word.

– George Maloney, Inward Stillness : p. 101.

Man’s instinct does not tell him, as animal’s instinct does, what he must do. Because he has to cut himself off from the roots of his past by throwing away traditions, he is at a loss as to what he ought to do. Usually he finds himself in the position that he does not know what he wants exactly.

–  George Maloney, Inward Stillness : p. 131

The Book of Acts does not report that the apostles remembered the so-called “Great Commission” and conscientiously set about obeying it. Nor do we see them thinking about the lost status of individuals whom they had not reached. The event of ingathering came first. Only later did the Twelve think about it. Only still later did they “send” someone. The theology to explain the rightness of the ingathering was imposed by the events, which it explained after the fact. The Twelve did not set out to obey the Great Commission; they talked about the risen Lord and they broke bread together in their homes and thus they found themselves together first with Hellenized Jews and then even with Gentiles… The action of mission was prior to theory about it.

This observation might provide some guidance within the current lively debates about “church growth” and cultural homogeneity… If reconciliation between peoples and cultures is not happening, the Gospel’s truth is not being confirmed in that place.

The question, however, is how far we should go in shaping the gospel message to fit the expectations and thought forms of the culture. When does the ‘seeker’ become a ‘consumer’ and begin demanding from the church an accommodation that distorts the gospel? In other words, when does Church Growth pragmatism hit the fan of a biblical theology of the church? The expenditure of emotional energy, material resources, and personal commitment to meet the high expectations of affluent, self-focused people diverts the church’s resources from global missions and social justice ministry…

– Douglas Webster in Evaluating the Church Growth Movement, p. 259.

When we start being too impressed by the results of our work, we slowly come to the erroneous conviction that life is one large scoreboard where someone is listing the points to measure our worth. And before we are fully aware of it, we have sold our soul to the many grade-givers. That means were are not only in the world, but also of the world. Then we become what the world makes us. We are intelligent because someone gives us a high grade. We are helpful because someone says thanks. We are likable because someone likes us. And we are important because someone considers us indispensable. In short, we are worthwhile because we have successes. And the more we allow our accomplishments – the results of our actions – to become the criteria of our self-esteem, the more we are going to walk on our mental and spiritual toes, never sure if we will be able to live up to the expectations which we created by our last successes. In many people’s lives, there is a nearly diabolic chain in which their anxieties grow with their successes. This dark power has driven many of the greatest artists into self-destruction.

– Henri Nouwen, Out of Solitude: p. 18-19

A person reared in a Christian home, who has absorbed the faith along with other family values from trusted parents, will one day face a crisis that puts loyalty to the test. She may have had religious experiences, may have felt something of the closeness of God. Without warning, that sense vanishes. She feels nothing except doubts over all that has gone before. Faith loses all support of feeling, and she wonders if she has been living under an illusion. At such a moment it may feel very foolish to hold on to faith regardless. Yet, as Ignatius counsels, now is the time to ‘stand firm.’ Faith can survive periods of darkness but only if we cling to in the midst of the darkness.

– Philip Yancy, Reaching for the invisible God : p. 91.

An insight of bohemians has been that our ability to maintain confidence in a way of life at odds with the mainstream culture greatly depends on the value system operating in our immediate environment, on the kind of people we mix with socially and on what we read and listen to.

They have recognised that our peace of mind can be only too easily shattered and our commitments challenged by a few minutes of conversation with an acquaintance who feels, even if he or she does not say, that money and a public profile are ultimately estimable – or by reading a magazine which, by reporting only on the feats of bourgeois heroes, insidiously undermines the worth of any alternative ambitions.

– Alain de Botton, Status Anxiety : 287.

Christian moralists have hence long understood that, to reassure the anxious, it may be best to emphasise that, contrary to what an optimistic mindset teaches us, everything will in fact turn out for the worst: the ceiling will cave in, the bank will lie in ruins, we will die, everyone we love will vanish and all our achievements and even our names will be stamped into the ground. If the idea brings comfort, it may be because something within us instinctively recognises how closely our miseries are bound up with the grandiosity of our ambitions. To consider our petty status-worries from the perspective of a thousand years hence is to be granted a rare, tranquilising glimpse of our own insignificance.

– Alain de Botton, Status Anxiety : 248

“It seems like some people ruin their lives trying to get into that book.”

– Steve Wiebe’s daughter in the King of Kong

‘Our people die well’ said John Wesley. Wesley was celebrating God’s grace among the Methodists. Until recently a good death was seen as the godly man’s crowning achievement, the climax of his good life… Things are, of course, different today: death has replaced sex as the great unmentionable. All stress among Christians is laid on present knowledge and enjoyment of God, and the old awareness that only one who is ready to die can live to God’s praise has been generally forgotten.

– J.I. Packer in the foreword to David Watson, Fear No Evil, p. 5-6.

If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man’s life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.

– Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

(From AAANZ mailing.)

I have talked with many evangelical theologians who have undergone significant changed in their theology because of an experience. We are always being influenced by our experiences and need the humility to admit it. The question is: what are our criteria for judging these experiences? As we continuing to experience Christian living and God, our thinking ought to become more and more scriptural. All too often, though, secularised worldviews filter experience, separating out anything that contradicts modern materialism.

– John Wimber, Power Evangelism : 94.

I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.

– Agatha Christie (quoted in The West Australian sometime in January 2008)

Today only the lower orders and what remains of the gentry bother to marry, and everyone else takes a partner, as if life were a dance, or a business venture.

– John Banville, The Sea : 104.

So much of life was stillness then, when we were young, or so it seems now; a biding stillness; a vigilance. We were waiting in our as yet unfashioned world, scanning the future as the boy and I had scanned each other, like soldiers in the field, watching for what was to come.

– John Banville, The Sea : 12.

We begin praying for others by first quieting our fleshly activity and listening to the silent thunder of the Lord of hosts. Attuning ourselves to divine breathings is spiritual work, but without it our praying is vain repetition (Matt. 6:7).

– Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline: 49

New ideas and social trends in the United States tend to express themselves in religious forms rather than political parties.

– Philip Jenkins, A History of the United States: p. xix.

 the father
(surefoot thunderlove)

the son
(appleeye godling in manskin)

the holy ghost
(dreamspinner firetongue)

– Jane Williams “Judas Oracle”

Though the writer practises a demanding and often, to himself, confusing craft, his ordinariness is a necessity to him, and in a way his subject. Writers of my acquaintance talk about politics, sex, personalities and football just like everybody else. Ideally perhaps a writer should be totally anonymous – a voice and nothing more…

– Randolph Stow, from an interview in the Sydney Morning Herald, 1975.

http://www.cgg.wa.gov.au/About%20Us/Geraldton%20History/RandolphStow.asp 

David’s desire for God broke the self-indulgent chains of sleep: ‘Early will I seek Thee’ (Ps 63:1).

– Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline : 44.

Mind pollution is so crucial. Now when I speak of mind pollution I am not thinking only of ‘bad’ books, films and so on, but of mediocre books and films. You see, unless we set before ourselves a ‘habitual vision of greatness’ we will surely degenerate. This is why it is ruinous to have so much of our Christian literature of such poor literary quality.

– Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline : 94.

We want life-transforming truth, not just good feelings. We are willing to pay the price of barren day after barren day until the meaning is clear. This process revolutionises our lives.

– Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline : 86.

We live in a culture which does not value concentration. Distraction is the order of the day. Many will, for example, go through all the activities of the day and evening with the radio on. Some will read a book and watch TV at the same time. Most people find it virtually impossible to go through an entire day focusing on a single thing. We are the lesser for this dissipation of our energies.

– Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline : 82.

The purpose of the spiritual disciplines is the total transformation of the person. They aim at replacing old destructive habits of thought with new life-giving habits.

– Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline : 79.

How do we receive the desire to hear his voice? This desire to turn is a gift of grace. Anyone who imagines he can simply begin meditating without praying for the desire and the grace to do so, will soon give up.

– Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline : 29.

Christian meditation, very simply, is the ability to hear God’s voice and obey his word.

– Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline : 21.

If we hope to move beyond the superficialities of our culture, including our religious culture, we must be willing to go down into the recreating silences, into the inner world of contemplation.

– Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline : 19.

Libraries are reservoirs of strength, grace and wit, reminders of order, calm and continuity, lakes of mental energy, neither warm nor cold, light nor dark. The pleasure they give is steady, unorgastic, reliable, deep and long-lasting. In any library in the world, I am at home, unselfconscious, still and absorbed.

– Germaine Greer, “Still in Melbourne, January 1987” in Daddy, We Hardly Knew You (1989).

[Courtesy of Janet.]

By any estimate, it was a long time until judgement day, and until then the truth that only Marshall and his bride knew at first hand, was steadily being walled up within the mausoleum of their marriage… Every word in the ceremony was another brick in place.

– Ian McEwan, Atonement : 325.

We are gong to run away becase Lola and Betty are horid to us and we want to go home. Sory we took some frute. And there was’nt a play.

– Ian McEwan, Atonement: 142

Writing stories not only involved secrecy, it also gave her all the pleasures of minaturisation. A world could be made in five pages, and one that was more pleasing than a model farm… Her passion for tidiness was also satisfied, for an unruly world could be made just so… A love of order also shaped the principles of justice, with death and marriage the main engines of housekeeping, the former being set aside exclusively for the morally dubious, the latter a reward withheld until the last page.

– Ian McEwan, Atonement : 7.

‘Making money isn’t hard in itself,’ he complained. ‘What’s hard is to earn it doing something worth devoting your life to.’

– Carlos Ruiz Zafon, The Shadow of the Wind, p. 396.

We couldn’t grasp it, we couldn’t draw ourselves into the present. Instead we wanted to think about setting other people free. We wanted to think about their unhappiness. We used their wretchedness to mask our own. And our wretchedness was our inability to take the simple good things life was offering us and be glad to have them. Politics, idealistic politics is all about the future.

– Ian McEwan, Black Dogs : 42.

It is photography itself that creates the illusion of innocence. Its ironies of frozen narrative lend to its subjects an apparent unawareness that they will change or die. It is the future they are innocent of. Fifty years on we look at them with the godly knowledge of how they turned out after all – who they married, the date of their death – with no thought for who will one day be holding photographs of us.

– Ian McEwan, Black Dogs : 37.

Teachers, let me tell you, are born deceivers of the lowest sort, since what they want from life is impossible – time-freed, existential youth forever. It commits them to terrible deceptions and departures from the truth. And literature, being lasting, is their ticket.

– Richard Ford, The Sportswriter : 222.

– John Updike, The Witches of Eastwick: p. 131