Literature: The Depth of Our Sympathy vs. Understanding
"Many scholars forget, it seems to me, that our enjoyment of the great works of literature depends more upon the depth of our sympathy than upon our understanding. The trouble is that very few of their laborious explanations stick in the memory. The mind drops them as a branch drops its overripe fruit. ... Again and again I ask impatiently, "Why concern myself with these explanations and hypotheses?" They fly hither and thither in my thought like blind birds beating the air with ineffectual wings. I do not mean to object to a thorough knowledge of the famous works we read. I object only to the interminable comments and bewildering criticisms that teach but one thing: there are as many opinions as there are men."
A little nugget offered here and there outlasts endless analysis.
Beautiful and Unique Gift Ideas Calligraphy, illumination, illustration and original artwork celebrating literary masterpieces and what they mean for the great battle of our time.
Collected Poems written by Charlotte Mason graduate Bryana Johnson Now available in paperback and KINDLE
"This collection is a feast, and it goes to show that although God said 'not many wise are called,' a few do get through."
- Andrée Seu Peterson, Senior Writer, WORLD Magazine
"Bryana Johnson's first collection of poetry establishes her as a Christian poet who communicates the gutsy, bleeding beat of life and death...restoring our confidence that there are poets who labor over the word, and who have something to say that the world needs to hear."
- Nathan Harms, Director, Utmost Christian Writers Foundation
"These poems are works of elegance...In a voice both compassionate and compelling, Bryana presents her readers with works that examine what it means to be human and how our very faults and foibles can, in the end, become instruments of grace."
- Wendy Galgan, editor of Assisi
“Then he breathed upon me and took away the trembling from my limbs and caused me to stand upon my feet. And after that, he said not much, but that we should meet again, and I must go further up and further in. Then he turned him about in a storm and flurry of gold and was gone suddenly.
And since then, O Kings and Ladies, I have been wandering to find him and my happiness is so great that it even weakens me like a wound. And this is the marvel of marvels, that he called me Beloved, me who am but as a dog-”
The Last Battle, C.S. Lewis