Stories can not be told unless others are read or heard…check out the stories we have read…
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Category Archives: Story Experiences
Rip Van Winkle
Saturday, April 5, 2008
WHOEVER has made a voyage up the Hudson must remember the Kaatskill mountains. They are a dismembered branch of the great Appalachian family, and are seen away to the west of the river, swelling up to a noble height, and lording it over the surrounding country. Every change of season, every change of weather, indeed, every hour of the day, produces some change in the magical hues and shapes of these mountains, and they are regarded by all the good wives, far and near, as perfect barometers. When the weather is fair and settled, they are clothed in blue and purple, and print their bold outlines on the clear evening sky; but, sometimes, when the rest of the landscape is cloudless, they will gather a hood of gray vapors about their summits, which, in the last rays of the setting sun, will glow and light up like a crown of glory.
Many people reference the old story of Washington Irving, but few remember the actual story of Rip Van Winkle. The beginning above provides the teaser to an engaging adventure into a time when storytelling was important and imaginative…The attached PDF contains the entire story…enjoy..
Jabberwocky
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Jabberwocky
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
did gyre and gimble in the wabe.
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
“Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
the frumious Bandersnatch!”
He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the maxome foe he sought-
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood a while in thought.
As in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came.
One, two! One, two! And through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack.
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back.
“Has thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Calloh! Callay!
He chortled in his joy.
‘Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.
Lewis Carroll uses brilliant language to share with us some very distinct images of, you guessed it, nonsense…while part of Through the Looking Glass, Jabberwocky is a piece that has always stood alone.
As you write and as you live, look for the emotion and engage yourself with some nonsense every once in a while…enjoy.
How Do I Love Thee?
Saturday, April 5, 2008
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of every day’s
Most quiet need, by sun and candlelight.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints, — I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! — and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning expresses in 14 brief lines what most of us take years to realize, let alone express. This poem came from within Sonnets from the Portuguese where her thoughts erupt onto the page where all can see. As you try to share your love and passion, reach further inside yourself and evoke a little more emotion so as to share a little more of Browning’s passion…enjoy…
Ozymandias
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Ozymandias
by Percy Bysshe Shelley
I met a traveller from an antique land
Who said: Two vast and trunkless legs of stone
Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,
Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,
And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,
Tell that its sculptor well those passions read,
Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,
The hand that mocked them, and the heart that fed,
And on the pedestal these words appear:
“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!”
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Shelley speaks of more than just some random ruin in this sonnet. Lonliness and disconnection are a part of many stories and are not just representative of the area around the ruins. Carefully think about the things around you. How many will be there as you age? How many will be there when you pass on? What “statue” will you leave behind?
Great people are remembered for what they have done…but, the truly amazing ones are remembered for who they were and how much better they made those around them…good luck and enjoy.
The Tale of Peter Rabbit
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Once upon a time there were four little Rabbits, and their names were– Flopsy, Mopsy, Cotton-tail, and Peter.
They lived with their Mother in asand-bank, underneath the root of a very big fir-tree.
“Now, my dears,” said old Mrs. Rabbit one morning, “you may go into the fields or down the lane, but don’t go into Mr. McGregor’s garden: your Father had an accident there; he was put in a pie by Mrs. McGregor.”
“Now run along, and don’t get into mischief. I am going out.” Then old Mrs. Rabbit took a basket and her umbrella, and went through the wood to the baker’s. She bought a loaf of brown bread and five currant buns.
Flopsy, Mopsy, and Cotton-tail, who were good little bunnies, went down the lane to gather blackberries; But Peter, who was very naughty, ran straight away to Mr. McGregor’s garden, and squeezed under the gate!
And, so begins the perennial tale of a the little mischievous little bunny named Peter. The story is short, but the lessons can be long. Sometimes, we experience more than we bargained for…sometimes, we just want a little extra carrot in our lives to remind us of the right path…
Enjoy…
Book Review - Illusions
Friday, April 4, 2008
Richard Bach shares insight into his life and beliefs in Illusions. This book was a great source of hope and belief for me as I ventured through college. Bach crosses adventure with belief and demonstrates that without either life can be incredibly boring. With both, life can be much more than many care to handle.
Life is a fact, living is a choice. We all have a connection to a higher calling. It is up to each of us to transcend our limitations and grow.
Book Review - Jonathan Livingston Seagull
Friday, April 4, 2008
What can I say of Jonathan Livingston Seagull that doesn’t make me smile..From my family making references to me with his name to re-reading the book at every life milestone, this book has been a part of my life.
It doesn’t matter if you believe in idealism or realism. JLS enables us all to believe in much more than flying. We can reach new heights only if we try. We can challenge the status quo only if we believe in ourselves.
Even if you have read this book before, try reading it again. You will find something different this time.
