In a new country, amid new conditions, Prince Andrew found life easier to bear. after his betrothed had broken faith with him – which he felt the more acutely the more he tried to conceal its effects – the surroundings in which he had been happy became trying to him, and the freedom and independence he had once prized so highly were still more so. Not only could he no longer think the thoughts that had first come to him as he lay gazing at the sky on the field of Austerlitz and had later enlarged upon with Pierre and which had filled his solitude at Bogucharovo and then in Switzerland and Rome, but he even dreaded to recall them and the bright and boundless horizons they had revealed. He was now concerned only with the nearest practical matters unrelated to his past interests and he seized on these the more eagerly the more those past interests were closed to him. It was as if that lofty, infinite canopy of heaven that had once towered above him had suddenly turned into a low , solid vault that weighted him down, in which all was clear, but nothing eternal or mysterious.

How often have I felt this way? I find myself frustrated with Prince Andrews many swings. Just as he seems about to touch something significant and larger than himself, something sends him back to the base life of the crust of the earth. Yet this passage rings so true to me. Those great experiences of the boundless Eternity seems so easily eclipsed by the daily work of living.

In a new country, amid new conditions, Prince Andrew found life easier to bear. after his betrothed had broken faith with him – which he felt the more acutely the more he tried to conceal its effects – the surroundings in which he had been happy became trying to him, and the freedom and independence he had once prized so highly were still more so. Not only could he no longer think the thoughts that had first come to him as he lay gazing at the sky on the field of Austerlitz and had later enlarged upon with Pierre and which had filled his solitude at Bogucharovo and then in Switzerland and Rome, but he even dreaded to recall them and the bright and boundless horizons they had revealed. He was now concerned only with the nearest practical matters unrelated to his past interests and he seized on these the more eagerly the more those past interests were closed to him. It was as if that lofty, infinite canopy of heaven that had once towered above him had suddenly turned into a low , solid vault that weighted him down, in which all was clear, but nothing eternal or mysterious.

How often have I felt this way? I find myself frustrated with Prince Andrews many swings. Just as he seems about to touch something significant and larger than himself, something sends him back to the base life of the crust of the earth. Yet this passage rings so true to me. Those great experiences of the boundless Eternity seems so easily eclipsed by the daily work of living.

In a new country, amid new conditions, Prince Andrew found life easier to bear. after his betrothed had broken faith with him – which he felt the more acutely the more he tried to conceal its effects – the surroundings in which he had been happy became trying to him, and the freedom and independence he had once prized so highly were still more so. Not only could he no longer think the thoughts that had first come to him as he lay gazing at the sky on the field of Austerlitz and had later enlarged upon with Pierre and which had filled his solitude at Bogucharovo and then in Switzerland and Rome, but he even dreaded to recall them and the bright and boundless horizons they had revealed. He was now concerned only with the nearest practical matters unrelated to his past interests and he seized on these the more eagerly the more those past interests were closed to him. It was as if that lofty, infinite canopy of heaven that had once towered above him had suddenly turned into a low , solid vault that weighted him down, in which all was clear, but nothing eternal or mysterious.

How often have I felt this way? I find myself frustrated with Prince Andrews many swings. Just as he seems about to touch something significant and larger than himself, something sends him back to the base life of the crust of the earth. Yet this passage rings so true to me. Those great experiences of the boundless Eternity seems so easily eclipsed by the daily work of living.

On the Pratzen Heights, where he had fallen with the flagstaff in his had, lay Prince Andrew Bolkónski bleeding profusely and unconsciously uttering a gentle, piteous and childlike moan.
Toward evening he ceased moaning and became quite still. He did not know how long his unconsciousness lasted. Suddenly he again felt that he was alive and suffering from a burning, lacerating pain in his head.
“Where is it, that lofty sky that I did not know till now, but saw today,” was his first thought. “And I did not know this suffering either,” he thought. “Yes, I did not know anything at all till now. But where am I?”

I love this image of Prince Andrew, having been hit by a cannonball looking upward at the infinite sky sensing something he had never known before. Something above himself, something all embracing.
I remember the first time the infinite blues struck me. I was on a band trip to Kansas city. I was perhaps a bit of a loner. I felt out of place, I wasn’t that great of a sax player. I felt that I always was a detriment to the whole instead of apart of the beautiful sound that it produced. I wandered outside the hotel and sat myself under a tree on a patch a grass where some other kids were talking. I laid my head back, and there it was. For some reason for the first time I had a sense of perspective, I could see how the blue stretched for miles above me. It absorbed me. I stared at it, wondered at it. My breathing slowed and I savored that I was filling myself with that infinity. Infinity embraced me. I too must have been moaning a childlike groan. I remember my reverie being interrupted by a girl asking if I was all right, and if I wanted to join their group. I said, “no, I’m just looking at the sky.”
I wonder if Prince Andrew will catch the spiritual significance of that day like I did. Or like Switchfoot put it in their song 4:12,

You said,
“I’m so sorry I’ve been so down.
I started doubting things could ever turn around.
And I began to believe that all we are is material.
It’s nonsensical.”

So you walk outside and everything’s new
You’re looking at the world with new eyes.
As if you’d never seen a sky before that’s blue
As if you’ve never seen the sky in your whole life

“It would be good,” thought Prince Andrew, glancing at the icon his sister had hung round his neck with such emotion and reverence, “it would be good if everything were as clear and simple as it seems to Mary. How good it would be to know where to seek for help in this life and what to expect after it beyond the grave! How happy and calm I should be if I could now say: ‘Lord, have mercy on me!’… But to whom should I say that? Either to a Power indefinable, incomprehensible, which I not only cannot address, but cannot even express in words—the Great All or Nothing—“ He said to himself, “or to that God who has been sewn into this amulet by Mary! There is nothing certain, nothing at all except the unimportance of everything I understand, and the greatness of something incomprehensible but all important.”

We leave Prince Andrew to die, but I wonder if that is all we shall hear from him, all that he will find in the infinite blue.

I had my library get a few different translations through inter-library loan. I have looked so far at Oxford university Press, World’s Classics translated by Henry Chadwick; Signet Classic translated by Rex Warner and my copy which is Modern Library translated by Edward Pusey. I like Chadwick the best so far. This line from book 7 will show you why:

Pusey: “What were the pangs of my teeming heart, what groans, O my God! yet even there were Thine ears open, and I knew it not: and when in silence vehemently sought, those silent contritions of my soul were strong cries unto thy mercy” (one sentance).

Warner: “What agonies I suffered, what graons, my God came from my heart in its lavor! And you were listening, though I did not know it. When in silence I strongly urged my question, the quiet contrition of my soul was a great cry to you for mercy.”

Chadwick: “What torments my heart suffered in mental pregnancy, what groans, my God! And though I did not know it, your ears were there.
“As in silence I vigorously pursued my quest, inarticulate sufferings of my heart were loudly pleading for your mercy” (2 paragraphs).

It is the poetry that Chadwick provides that originally atracted me to the mystical Augustine.

I am going to give this another go. I have the Modern Library version, translated by Pusey. I gave up a few years back because the sentance structure and syntax were at times challenging. I have been searching for a better translation, but in the mean time I thought I’d go back and see if I’d changed enough to handle this one.

I will never use the term “cotton-pickin’” in a negative context again! The way Steinbeck discribes the plight of the migrant workers in the depression, and the evil captitalist tactics made me wonder that there wasn’t a revolution.

Much like the Motor-cycle Diaries, I find myself wanting to effect change after reading it. O God, may we find ways to bring justice, equitability, sustainability and righteousness to something so mundane and so pervasive as economy!

I love the way Steinbeck alternates between the story of the Joads and the story of mankind as a whole in essays of essoteric discription. As much as I enjoyed following the story of the Joads, it was those essays between chapters that I most anticipated, and most shaped my feelings.

I wept more tears at the end of “The Idiot” than even at Quixote’s fate. Perhaps the reason is that I identified with more characters. I identified with Natasya Filipponovna in that she was prone to wander. “Lord I feel it. Prone to wander from the one I love.” Both she and Aglya remind me of us, as Christ woo’s us. Prince Myshkin embodies my Christ-like aspirations. He is so simple, so confident and unflakable, so forgiving. His unfailing love in the end is a martyrdom of heart crushing passion.

Two reasons: 1. Kings is pretty confusing in Spanish. 2. If you miss a day its all over. No more Bible in one year. I think my solution will be to read whole books of the Bible in a sitting as much as is possible.

Glenn wanted the book back.