Archives - March 2011


Mar. 24

Blood Meridian


The Word of God


       As promised, I am returning to Cormac McCarthy's classic Novel Blood Meridian.  In conjunction with creating absolutely breathtaking imagery, the author puts words in his characters' mouths that make the reader think.  In the following passage, the violent sojourners come upon the abandoned ruins of Santa Rita del Cobre, a copper mine.


       They posted guards atop the azotea and unsaddled the horses and drove them out to graze and the judge took one of the pack-animals and emptied out the panniers and went off to explore the works.  In the afternoon he sat in the compound breaking ore samples with a hammer, the feldspar rich in red oxide of copper and native nuggets in whose organic lobations he purported to read news of the earth's origins, holding an extemporary lecture in geology to a small gathering who nodded and spat.  ...

Mar. 23

Quotes from Writers


The Joy and Pain of Writing


       These are some of my favorite quotes from writers on writing.  They call 'em like they see 'em:


"No one ever committed suicide while reading a good book, but many have tried while trying to write one."  --Robert Byrne


"Writers have two main problems.  One is writer's block, when the words won't come at all, and the other is logorrhea, when the words come so fast that they can hardly get to the wastebasket in time."  --Cecilia Bartholomew


"Any writer, I suppose, feels that the world into which he was born is nothing less than a conspiracy against the cultivation of his talent."  --James Baldwin


"If you would not be forgotten as soon as you are dead and rotten, either write things worth reading, or do things worth the writing."  --Benjamin Franklin


"Easy reading is ...

Mar. 22

The Brownings





       Robert and Elizabeth Barrett Browning had a love that transcended time, a rarity in itself.  Elizabeth wrote beautiful sonnets to her young husband with whom she was besotted.  How do I love thee?   Let me count the ways.  Robert, on the other hand, was one sick puppy (excuse the metaphor).  However, I do love a sick-puppy poet.  I can only take so many love sonnets, but I can read poems like Robert Browning's "Porphyria's Lover" till the cows come home (excuse the East Texas hyperbole).


The rain set early in tonight,

     The sullen wind was soon awake,

It tore the elm-tops down for spite,

     And did its worst to vex the lake:

     I listened with heart fit to break.

When glided in Porphyria; straight

     She shut the cold out and the storm,

And kneeled ...

Listening to the whispering pines

Hello. My name is Donna Cozart Pauley. Welcome to The Whispering Pines, a literary blog dedicated to my love of the written word. It is an eclectic collage of my life -- from my poems to my stories to my family to my pets to my causes to my photographs to my recipes to my love of teaching to my favorite literature. Please feel free to comment. Words are only important if they are heard or read. Just like those soundless trees falling in the forest.

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