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Quote by Craig D. Lounsbrough

“The mistake was to think that the hawks were flying under their own power, when in fact they were catching the updrafts created by nature’s power. Therefore, to truly rise is not a product of our own brute force wherein we create the power. Rather, it is a seasoned wisdom that knows where to find the power.”

Quote by Craig D. Lounsbrough

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Craig D. Lounsbrough

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“Are happiness and virtue synonymous with living as truthfully and honorably as possible or do these concepts allow for certain mental deceptions? Is a gullible person or a shrewd person more likely to be happy? Is a foolish or wise person more likely to live guiltlessly? What is more essential to living a contented life, accumulation of knowledge or the ability to feel and effusively express compassion for other people? Can we maintain happiness by acting as harsh judges of ourselves while acting as kindhearted judges of other people? Does happiness entail releasing an underground river of long suppressed passion or does it require living an aboveboard life of disciple-like moderation? Should I strive to modulate my desires by laboring diligently to maintain a disciplined mental and spiritual homeostasis? Alternatively, should I take calculated risks and passionately immerse myself in all facets of a tumultuous life?”

HappinessVirtueHappyPassionate LivingRisk TakingPassionate LifeGullibleShrewdContentedLiving Truthfully
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“The iron has entered my soul,' announced George Knox impressively. 'Let me tell you, my dear Laura, that when I lay here weak and ill, unable to raise a hand in my own defence, I begged for a nurse, a hireling who would do her day-labour as a machine, and not worry a sick, ageing man. But even this was denied. Miss Grey, all kindness and sympathy and, I must say, Laura, an infernal bore, insisted on nursing me herself. Degrading enough in any case but the worst you have not heard. Could I ask my secretary to shave me? No. As a matter of fact, I did, but she wouldn't, or couldn't. Imagine me, Laura, becoming more like a pard day by day prickly and revolting to myself, mortified beyond words to be seen in this this condition, but helpless.' 'Why didn't you get the gardener to do it? Or use a safety razor?' 'My dear Laura,' said George Knox in a hurt voice, 'you do not seem to realise how weak I was, how very weak. For two days my temperature had been over a hundred, and when the fever had left me I lay powerless, as a new-born babe, and the woman triumphed over me. She would not let me shave, she fed me on slops, she would not even give me clean pyjamas till the third day.”

HumourIllnessSatireNurseShave
Book:High Rising
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