an equivalent centre of self: Languishing

"We are all of us born in moral stupidity, taking the world as an udder to feed our supreme selves: Dorothea had early begun to emerge from that stupidity, but yet it had been easier to her to imagine how she would devote herself to Mr Casaubon . . . than to conceive with that distinction which is no longer reflection but feeling--an idea wrought back to the directness of sense, like the solidity of objects--that he had an equivalent centre of self, whence the lights and shadows must always fall with a certain difference." George Eliot, Middlemarch, Chapter 21

"A good book is the precious lifeblood of a master spirit, embalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life." John Milton, Areopagitica

A little about me: I'm passionate about mothering, reading, and writing (not always in that order). I have three small children, a chemistry professor husband, and a PhD in English (rhetoric and composition), which I use to teach the occasional writing class at a local university. I'm also an aspiring writer of middle-grade and YA novels. In the cracks of time between caring for children, teaching, cooking, cleaning, writing, and walking, I read. A lot.

an equivalent centre of self

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Languishing

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