Think Forward.

Welcome to Bluwr.

Bluwr | Contact, 10 mon.
We are glad to see you here, we promised that Bluwr would be released on the 13th of November 2023 and we delivered. Bluwr is unique, we took inspiration from times far before the internet. Bluwr is a bridge between the past and the future, a conduit for thoughtfulness and inspiration. We built it with maturity and foresight, striving for beauty and perfection. A text-based platform for times to come, the past and the future seamlessly merging into something greater. "" Think Forward. "" - Bluwr.
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"Finding the Sun of My Sky: Bloom's Journey" [1/2]

Tima EL, 10 mon.
2 min read.
Within the intricate tapestry of our vast world, a hidden sanctuary emerges—Nighthaven, an expansive and mysterious forest veiled in an impenetrable cloak of darkness. The towering timbers, reaching skyward, appear to consume light itself, casting an everlasting twilight where neither the sun's rays nor the gentle flicker of flames dare to breach. In this realm of perpetual night, its inhabitants come into being shrouded in the absence of sight. Nighthaven, a world crafted in a myriad of black hues, denies the very existence of color. Its denizens, oblivious to the visual spectrum, are born strangers to the concept of sight. In their world of four senses—touch, taste, smell, and sound—they navigate through an awareness confined by the limitations of their senses. Deprived of the gift of vision, they form mental images based on the tactile, auditory, olfactory, and gustatory dimensions of their surroundings. Here, in this secluded enclave, the canvas of perception is painted not in the vibrant strokes of color but in the subtleties of their restricted senses, creating a narrative woven in the depths of eternal night. Yet amid the prevailing shadows of Nighthaven, life unfolded in a chiaroscuro of exceptions, and there emerged Bloom, a luminous anomaly in the tapestry of monotony. The solitary scion of his lineage, his eyes bore an otherworldly luminescence, a radiant emanation that divulged his extraordinary endowment. Unparalleled among his peers, Bloom possessed the rare faculty to apprehend light itself, unraveling the ineffable intricacies—the play of shadows, the nuanced contours of moonlit silhouettes, and the elusive ballet of starlight. However, Bloom's revelation confronted a formidable resistance within the hallowed precincts of his own kin. Initially steeped in skepticism, his progenitors summarily dismissed his extraordinary visions as mere phantoms birthed from the forge of imagination. They adamantly proclaimed the nonexistence of such phenomena, driven by a latent fear of consequences yet unknown. In dread of potential ramifications, they vehemently dissuaded Bloom from sharing his unique gift, their warnings laced with the ominous threat of retribution should he defy their authoritative directive. Consequently, Bloom found himself adrift in solitude, the solitary candle flickering in the profound darkness that enveloped him. In the velvety obscurity, however, a contrasting brilliance endured—an effulgent soul named Sky, a paragon of unwavering faith in Bloom's extraordinary faculty. Though akin to the sightless denizens of Nighthaven, Sky perceived the world not through ocular perception but through the luminosity residing within her heart. Persistently beseeching Bloom to articulate his visual marvels, she regarded his narratives not as mere tales but as resplendent tapestries woven from the uncharted hues of the unseen. Thus, Bloom spent the entirety of his childhood years regaling Sky with the enigmatic wonders that unfolded before his unique gaze, the duo carving out a sanctuary of shared illumination in the all-encompassing murk of their world. As the years passed, Bloom's abilities continued to evolve. His descriptions of the world gained depth and nuance, revealing the beauty that eluded the senses of his fellow inhabitants. Sky, in turn, became a conduit for this hidden world, translating Bloom's visions into a language of emotion and imagination that resonated with the hearts of those who listened. In the shroud of night, Bloom discerned a distant enchantment bathed in an unfamiliar radiance, a luminosity that eluded his grasp. He attempted to articulate this elusive spectacle, likening it to the gentle glow of moonlight yet marked by a luminosity distinct and enigmatic, as if the very essence of radiance had taken on an unfamiliar form.

"Finding the Sun of My Sky: Bloom's Journey"[2/2]

Tima EL, 10 mon.
3 min read.
Bloom's extraordinary gift began to spread beyond the secluded enclave, reaching curious ears and stirring a longing in others to perceive a world beyond the confines of touch, taste, smell, and sound. Nighthaven, once bound by the limitations of its inhabitants, now found itself on the cusp of change. The once impenetrable cloak of darkness began to shimmer with the possibility of a broader spectrum of understanding. Yet, as whispers of Bloom's gift reached the ears of those who held power in Nighthaven, a shadow of fear and resistance descended upon the enclave. Leaders and traditionalists, wary of disrupting the established order, sought to suppress the burgeoning awareness that Bloom's revelations ignited. They viewed his ability not as a gift but as a threat to the stability of their world, fearing that the introduction of a new sense could unravel the delicate balance that had endured for generations. In a solemn decree, the leaders of Nighthaven, cloaked in the weight of tradition, banished Bloom from the confines of their nocturnal sanctuary. The solitary flame, once revered for its uniqueness, now flickered on the outskirts, an exile from the embrace of the towering timbers. Bloom, with the weight of his visions and the alien radiance clinging to him, stood on the precipice of an unknown realm. Yet, in the face of exile, Bloom was not alone. Sky, the stalwart believer who had traversed the tapestry of his revelations, chose to stand by his side. Together, they ventured into the uncharted territories beyond Nighthaven, a tandem bound by shared curiosity and a refusal to succumb to the shadows of fear. The luminosity that had sparked the upheaval became their guiding beacon. Bloom, once a pariah, now found purpose in unraveling the mysteries of this newfound radiance. Their journey led them to the discovery of beings possessing extraordinary capacities, beings akin to humans but with abilities that transcended the norm. The first encounter revealed individuals who could glide through the ocean depths like ethereal fish. Mesmerized, Bloom and Sky listened to vivid descriptions of the hidden beauty beneath the waves: schools of iridescent fish, exotic herbs swaying with the current, and a realm untouched by the limitations of Nighthaven. For Bloom and Sky, these encounters transcended the realm of mere tales; they served as portals to a world previously confined to the realms of their dreams. The allure of the unknown propelled them forward, their senses intoxicated by the promise of a reality that extended beyond the familiar boundaries of touch, taste, smell, and sound. Each revelation acted as a brushstroke on the canvas of their perception, infusing new hues and expanding the tapestry of their understanding. As their odyssey unfolded, they crossed paths with a multitude of beings, each possessing unique capabilities. From those who communed effortlessly with animals to individuals who could decipher the very fabric of ideas, and even those who wielded the power to materialize and dematerialize at will. These encounters were not merely diversions along their journey but revelations that reshaped the contours of their comprehension. In the recurrent pursuit of understanding, Bloom persistently sought answers about the celestial mystery—an enigmatic luminous object resembling the moon but adorned with a distinct glow. Yet, with each inquiry, precision eluded him, leaving the cosmic puzzle suspended in the vastness of uncertainty. Unfazed, Bloom and Sky pressed on, their footsteps echoing in synchrony with their unyielding curiosity. Suddenly, the atmosphere underwent a subtle transformation. Bloom, attuned to the nuances of his surroundings, noted the gradual clearing of the weather and the dissipation of the once-pervasive darkness. A glimmer of clarity emerged, paving the way for the revelation that awaited them on the horizon. Unexpectedly, the duo encountered beings with wings, soaring gracefully through the sky. The spectacle unfolded before them like a living tapestry of celestial elegance, leaving Bloom and Sky entranced. Inquisitive as ever, Bloom approached these winged entities, seeking not only an understanding of their aerial prowess but also answers about the elusive luminous object that had stirred his curiosity. With smiles that mirrored the radiance of their flight, the winged beings responded, revealing the cosmic secret. "It is the sun," they declared, the words resonating like a celestial anthem. The sun, the universal illuminator, held sway over the vast expanse. Bloom, captivated by this revelation, sought further guidance on its whereabouts. The winged entities, ever gracious, gestured towards the horizon, assuring Bloom that the sun would manifest on its own as dawn approached. As the first rays of dawn began to kiss the horizon, a soft luminescence painted the landscape. The winged beings, their silhouettes now outlined by the burgeoning light, gracefully guided Bloom and Sky towards a vantage point. There, amidst the serene ambiance of the approaching dawn, they would bear witness to the revelation of the sun. Time seemed to hold its breath as the horizon transformed into a canvas ablaze with hues unseen in Nighthaven. The air shimmered with the promise of a new day, and as the first sliver of the sun peeked above the edge of the world, Bloom felt a surge of emotion. He finally saw the sun. He finally sees the sun, and turning to Sky, he exclaims, "I've found the sun of my Sky." Sky smiles, basking in the warmth of the sun, and asks Bloom to describe the view so she can etch it into her memory. Bloom and Sky, at some point, harbor a desire to return to Nighthaven, but they can't find a way back. It's as if the path home is vanishing with the light of the sun. Bloom is disturbed by this, but Sky, with a serene smile, reassures him, saying, "We should go forward and discover the mysteries of this universe."

DRACULA - CHAPTER I JONATHAN HARKER’S JOURNAL [5/5]

Bluwr X Commons: Bram Stoker, 10 mon.
4 min read.
Then a dog began to howl somewhere in a farmhouse far down the road—a long, agonised wailing, as if from fear. The sound was taken up by another dog, and then another and another, till, borne on the wind which now sighed softly through the Pass, a wild howling began, which seemed to come from all over the country, as far as the imagination could grasp it through the gloom of the night. At the first howl the horses began to strain and rear, but the driver spoke to them soothingly, and they quieted down, but shivered and sweated as though after a runaway from sudden fright. Then, far off in the distance, from the mountains on each side of us began a louder and a sharper howling—that of wolves—which affected both the horses and myself in the same way—for I was minded to jump from the calèche and run, whilst they reared again and plunged madly, so that the driver had to use all his great strength to keep them from bolting. In a few minutes, however, my own ears got accustomed to the sound, and the horses so far became quiet that the driver was able to descend and to stand before them. He petted and soothed them, and whispered something in their ears, as I have heard of horse-tamers doing, and with extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they became quite manageable again, though they still trembled. The driver again took his seat, and shaking his reins, started off at a great pace. This time, after going to the far side of the Pass, he suddenly turned down a narrow roadway which ran sharply to the right. Soon we were hemmed in with trees, which in places arched right over the roadway till we passed as through a tunnel; and again great frowning rocks guarded us boldly on either side. Though we were in shelter, we could hear the rising wind, for it moaned and whistled through the rocks, and the branches of the trees crashed together as we swept along. It grew colder and colder still, and fine, powdery snow began to fall, so that soon we and all around us were covered with a white blanket. The keen wind still carried the howling of the dogs, though this grew fainter as we went on our way. The baying of the wolves sounded nearer and nearer, as though they were closing round on us from every side. I grew dreadfully afraid, and the horses shared my fear. The driver, however, was not in the least disturbed; he kept turning his head to left and right, but I could not see anything through the darkness. Suddenly, away on our left, I saw a faint flickering blue flame. The driver saw it at the same moment; he at once checked the horses, and, jumping to the ground, disappeared into the darkness. I did not know what to do, the less as the howling of the wolves grew closer; but while I wondered the driver suddenly appeared again, and without a word took his seat, and we resumed our journey. I think I must have fallen asleep and kept dreaming of the incident, for it seemed to be repeated endlessly, and now looking back, it is like a sort of awful nightmare. Once the flame appeared so near the road, that even in the darkness around us I could watch the driver’s motions. He went rapidly to where the blue flame arose—it must have been very faint, for it did not seem to illumine the place around it at all—and gathering a few stones, formed them into some device. Once there appeared a strange optical effect: when he stood between me and the flame he did not obstruct it, for I could see its ghostly flicker all the same. This startled me, but as the effect was only momentary, I took it that my eyes deceived me straining through the darkness. Then for a time there were no blue flames, and we sped onwards through the gloom, with the howling of the wolves around us, as though they were following in a moving circle. At last there came a time when the driver went further afield than he had yet gone, and during his absence, the horses began to tremble worse than ever and to snort and scream with fright. I could not see any cause for it, for the howling of the wolves had ceased altogether; but just then the moon, sailing through the black clouds, appeared behind the jagged crest of a beetling, pine-clad rock, and by its light I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times more terrible in the grim silence which held them than even when they howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import. All at once the wolves began to howl as though the moonlight had had some peculiar effect on them. The horses jumped about and reared, and looked helplessly round with eyes that rolled in a way painful to see; but the living ring of terror encompassed them on every side; and they had perforce to remain within it. I called to the coachman to come, for it seemed to me that our only chance was to try to break out through the ring and to aid his approach. I shouted and beat the side of the calèche, hoping by the noise to scare the wolves from that side, so as to give him a chance of reaching the trap. How he came there, I know not, but I heard his voice raised in a tone of imperious command, and looking towards the sound, saw him stand in the roadway. As he swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still. Just then a heavy cloud passed across the face of the moon, so that we were again in darkness. When I could see again the driver was climbing into the calèche, and the wolves had disappeared. This was all so strange and uncanny that a dreadful fear came upon me, and I was afraid to speak or move. The time seemed interminable as we swept on our way, now in almost complete darkness, for the rolling clouds obscured the moon. We kept on ascending, with occasional periods of quick descent, but in the main always ascending. Suddenly, I became conscious of the fact that the driver was in the act of pulling up the horses in the courtyard of a vast ruined castle, from whose tall black windows came no ray of light, and whose broken battlements showed a jagged line against the moonlit sky.

LIVES, VOL.1 - LIFE OF THESEUS.[4/10]

Bluwr X Commons: Plutarch, 10 mon.
-
4 min read.
XV. Shortly after this the ship from Crete arrived for the third time to collect the customary tribute. Most writers agree that the origin of this was, that on the death of Androgeus, in Attica, which was ascribed to treachery, his father Minos went to war, and wrought much evil to the country, which at the same time was afflicted by scourges from Heaven (for the land did not bear fruit, and there was a great pestilence and the rivers sank into the earth). So that as the oracle told the Athenians that, if they propitiated Minos and came to terms with him, the anger of Heaven would cease and they should have a respite from their sufferings, they sent an embassy to Minos and prevailed on him to make peace, on the condition that every nine years they should send him a tribute of seven youths and seven maidens. The most tragic of the legends states these poor children when they reached Crete were thrown into the Labyrinth, and there either were devoured by the Minotaur or else perished with hunger, being unable to find the way out. The Minotaur, as Euripides tells us, was XVI. Philochorus says that the Cretans do not recognise this story, but say that the Labyrinth was merely a prison, like any other, from which escape was impossible, and that Minos instituted gymnastic games in honour of Androgeus, in which the prizes for the victors were these children, who till then were kept in the Labyrinth. Also they say that the victor in the first contest was a man of great power in the state, a general of the name of Taurus, who was of harsh and savage temper, and ill-treated the Athenian children. And Aristotle himself, in his treatise on the constitution of the Bottiaeans, evidently does not believe that the children were put to death by Minos, but that they lived in Crete as slaves, until extreme old age; and that one day the Cretans, in performance of an ancient vow, sent first-fruits of their population to Delphi. Among those who were thus sent were the descendants of the Athenians, and, as they could not maintain themselves there, they first passed over to Italy, and there settled near Iapygium, and from thence again removed to Thrace, and took the name of Bottiaeans. For this reason, the Bottiaean maidens when performing a certain sacrifice sing "Let us go to Athens." Thus it seems to be a terrible thing to incur the hatred of a city powerful in speech and song; for on the Attic stage Minos is always vilified and traduced, and though he was called "Most Kingly" by Hesiod, and "Friend of Zeus" by Homer, it gained him no credit, but the playwrights overwhelmed him with abuse, styling him cruel and violent. And yet Minos is said to have been a king and a lawgiver, and Rhadamanthus to have been a judge under him, carrying out his decrees. XVII. So when the time of the third payment of the tribute arrived, and those fathers who had sons not yet grown up had to submit to draw lots, the unhappy people began to revile Aegeus, complaining that he, although the author of this calamity, yet took no share in their affliction, but endured to see them left childless, robbed of their own legitimate offspring, while he made a foreigner and a bastard the heir to his kingdom. This vexed Theseus, and determining not to hold aloof, but to share the fortunes of the people, he came forward and offered himself without being drawn by lot. The people all admired his courage and patriotism, and Aegeus finding that his prayers and entreaties had no effect on his unalterable resolution, proceeded to choose the rest by lot. Hellanikus says that the city did not select the youths and maidens by lot, but that Minos himself came thither and chose them, and that he picked out Theseus first of all, upon the usual conditions, which were that the Athenians should furnish a ship, and that the youths should embark in it and sail with him, not carrying with them any weapon of war; and that when the Minotaur was slain, the tribute should cease. Formerly, no one had any hope of safety; so they used to send out the ship with a black sail, as if it were going to a certain doom; but now Theseus so encouraged his father, and boasted that he would overcome the Minotaur, that he gave a second sail, a white one, to the steersman, and charged him on his return, if Theseus were safe, to hoist the white one, if not, the black one as a sign of mourning. But Simonides says that it was not a white sail which was given by Aegeus, but "a scarlet sail embrued in holm oak's juice," and that this was agreed on by him as the signal of safety. The ship was steered by Phereklus the son of Amarsyas, according to Simonides. But Philochorus says that Theseus had one Nausithous sent him from Skirus of Salamis, to steer the ship, and Phaeax to act as look-out, as the Athenians had not yet turned their attention to the sea. One of the youths chosen by lot was Menestheos the son of Skirus's daughter. The truth of this account is attested by the shrines of Nausithous and Phaeax, which Theseus built at Phalerum, and by the feast called the Kybernesia or pilot's festival, which is held in their honour. XVIII. When the lots were drawn Theseus brought the chosen youths from the Prytaneum, and proceeding to the temple of the Delphian Apollo, offered the suppliants' bough to Apollo on their behalf. This was a bough of the sacred olive-tree bound with fillets of white wool. And after praying he went to sea on the sixth day of the month Munychion, on which day even now they send maidens as suppliants to the temple of the Delphian Apollo. And there is a legend that the Delphian oracle told him that Aphrodite would be his guide and fellow-traveller, and that when he was sacrificing a she-goat to her by the seaside, it became a he-goat; wherefore the goddess is called Epitragia.

GRIMMS’ FAIRY TALES - HANS IN LUCK [2/2]

Bluwr X Commons: Brothers Grimm, 10 mon.
3 min read.
The next man he met was a countryman carrying a fine white goose. The countryman stopped to ask what was o’clock; this led to further chat; and Hans told him all his luck, how he had so many good bargains, and how all the world went gay and smiling with him. The countryman then began to tell his tale, and said he was going to take the goose to a christening. ‘Feel,’ said he, ‘how heavy it is, and yet it is only eight weeks old. Whoever roasts and eats it will find plenty of fat upon it, it has lived so well!’ ‘You’re right,’ said Hans, as he weighed it in his hand; ‘but if you talk of fat, my pig is no trifle.’ Meantime the countryman began to look grave, and shook his head. ‘Hark ye!’ said he, ‘my worthy friend, you seem a good sort of fellow, so I can’t help doing you a kind turn. Your pig may get you into a scrape. In the village I just came from, the squire has had a pig stolen out of his sty. I was dreadfully afraid when I saw you that you had got the squire’s pig. If you have, and they catch you, it will be a bad job for you. The least they will do will be to throw you into the horse-pond. Can you swim?’ Poor Hans was sadly frightened. ‘Good man,’ cried he, ‘pray get me out of this scrape. I know nothing of where the pig was either bred or born; but he may have been the squire’s for aught I can tell: you know this country better than I do, take my pig and give me the goose.’ ‘I ought to have something into the bargain,’ said the countryman; ‘give a fat goose for a pig, indeed! ‘Tis not everyone would do so much for you as that. However, I will not be hard upon you, as you are in trouble.’ Then he took the string in his hand, and drove off the pig by a side path; while Hans went on the way homewards free from care. ‘After all,’ thought he, ‘that chap is pretty well taken in. I don’t care whose pig it is, but wherever it came from it has been a very good friend to me. I have much the best of the bargain. First there will be a capital roast; then the fat will find me in goose-grease for six months; and then there are all the beautiful white feathers. I will put them into my pillow, and then I am sure I shall sleep soundly without rocking. How happy my mother will be! Talk of a pig, indeed! Give me a fine fat goose.’ As he came to the next village, he saw a scissor-grinder with his wheel, working and singing, ‘O’er hill and o’er dale So happy I roam, Work light and live well, All the world is my home; Then who so blythe, so merry as I?’ Hans stood looking on for a while, and at last said, ‘You must be well off, master grinder! you seem so happy at your work.’ ‘Yes,’ said the other, ‘mine is a golden trade; a good grinder never puts his hand into his pocket without finding money in it—but where did you get that beautiful goose?’ ‘I did not buy it, I gave a pig for it.’ ‘And where did you get the pig?’ ‘I gave a cow for it.’ ‘And the cow?’ ‘I gave a horse for it.’ ‘And the horse?’ ‘I gave a lump of silver as big as my head for it.’ ‘And the silver?’ ‘Oh! I worked hard for that seven long years.’ ‘You have thriven well in the world hitherto,’ said the grinder, ‘now if you could find money in your pocket whenever you put your hand in it, your fortune would be made.’ ‘Very true: but how is that to be managed?’ ‘How? Why, you must turn grinder like myself,’ said the other; ‘you only want a grindstone; the rest will come of itself. Here is one that is but little the worse for wear: I would not ask more than the value of your goose for it—will you buy?’ ‘How can you ask?’ said Hans; ‘I should be the happiest man in the world, if I could have money whenever I put my hand in my pocket: what could I want more? there’s the goose.’ ‘Now,’ said the grinder, as he gave him a common rough stone that lay by his side, ‘this is a most capital stone; do but work it well enough, and you can make an old nail cut with it.’ Hans took the stone, and went his way with a light heart: his eyes sparkled for joy, and he said to himself, ‘Surely I must have been born in a lucky hour; everything I could want or wish for comes of itself. People are so kind; they seem really to think I do them a favour in letting them make me rich, and giving me good bargains.’ Meantime he began to be tired, and hungry too, for he had given away his last penny in his joy at getting the cow. At last he could go no farther, for the stone tired him sadly: and he dragged himself to the side of a river, that he might take a drink of water, and rest a while. So he laid the stone carefully by his side on the bank: but, as he stooped down to drink, he forgot it, pushed it a little, and down it rolled, plump into the stream. For a while he watched it sinking in the deep clear water; then sprang up and danced for joy, and again fell upon his knees and thanked Heaven, with tears in his eyes, for its kindness in taking away his only plague, the ugly heavy stone. ‘How happy am I!’ cried he; ‘nobody was ever so lucky as I.’ Then up he got with a light heart, free from all his troubles, and walked on till he reached his mother’s house, and told her how very easy the road to good luck was.

GRIMMS’ FAIRY TALES - HANS IN LUCK [1/2]

Bluwr X Commons: Brothers Grimm, 10 mon.
4 min read.
Some men are born to good luck: all they do or try to do comes right—all that falls to them is so much gain—all their geese are swans—all their cards are trumps—toss them which way you will, they will always, like poor puss, alight upon their legs, and only move on so much the faster. The world may very likely not always think of them as they think of themselves, but what care they for the world? what can it know about the matter? One of these lucky beings was neighbour Hans. Seven long years he had worked hard for his master. At last he said, ‘Master, my time is up; I must go home and see my poor mother once more: so pray pay me my wages and let me go.’ And the master said, ‘You have been a faithful and good servant, Hans, so your pay shall be handsome.’ Then he gave him a lump of silver as big as his head. Hans took out his pocket-handkerchief, put the piece of silver into it, threw it over his shoulder, and jogged off on his road homewards. As he went lazily on, dragging one foot after another, a man came in sight, trotting gaily along on a capital horse. ‘Ah!’ said Hans aloud, ‘what a fine thing it is to ride on horseback! There he sits as easy and happy as if he was at home, in the chair by his fireside; he trips against no stones, saves shoe-leather, and gets on he hardly knows how.’ Hans did not speak so softly but the horseman heard it all, and said, ‘Well, friend, why do you go on foot then?’ ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘I have this load to carry: to be sure it is silver, but it is so heavy that I can’t hold up my head, and you must know it hurts my shoulder sadly.’ ‘What do you say of making an exchange?’ said the horseman. ‘I will give you my horse, and you shall give me the silver; which will save you a great deal of trouble in carrying such a heavy load about with you.’ ‘With all my heart,’ said Hans: ‘but as you are so kind to me, I must tell you one thing—you will have a weary task to draw that silver about with you.’ However, the horseman got off, took the silver, helped Hans up, gave him the bridle into one hand and the whip into the other, and said, ‘When you want to go very fast, smack your lips loudly together, and cry “Jip!”’ Hans was delighted as he sat on the horse, drew himself up, squared his elbows, turned out his toes, cracked his whip, and rode merrily off, one minute whistling a merry tune, and another singing, ‘No care and no sorrow, A fig for the morrow! We’ll laugh and be merry, Sing neigh down derry!’ After a time he thought he should like to go a little faster, so he smacked his lips and cried ‘Jip!’ Away went the horse full gallop; and before Hans knew what he was about, he was thrown off, and lay on his back by the road-side. His horse would have ran off, if a shepherd who was coming by, driving a cow, had not stopped it. Hans soon came to himself, and got upon his legs again, sadly vexed, and said to the shepherd, ‘This riding is no joke, when a man has the luck to get upon a beast like this that stumbles and flings him off as if it would break his neck. However, I’m off now once for all: I like your cow now a great deal better than this smart beast that played me this trick, and has spoiled my best coat, you see, in this puddle; which, by the by, smells not very like a nosegay. One can walk along at one’s leisure behind that cow—keep good company, and have milk, butter, and cheese, every day, into the bargain. What would I give to have such a prize!’ ‘Well,’ said the shepherd, ‘if you are so fond of her, I will change my cow for your horse; I like to do good to my neighbours, even though I lose by it myself.’ ‘Done!’ said Hans, merrily. ‘What a noble heart that good man has!’ thought he. Then the shepherd jumped upon the horse, wished Hans and the cow good morning, and away he rode. Hans brushed his coat, wiped his face and hands, rested a while, and then drove off his cow quietly, and thought his bargain a very lucky one. ‘If I have only a piece of bread (and I certainly shall always be able to get that), I can, whenever I like, eat my butter and cheese with it; and when I am thirsty I can milk my cow and drink the milk: and what can I wish for more?’ When he came to an inn, he halted, ate up all his bread, and gave away his last penny for a glass of beer. When he had rested himself he set off again, driving his cow towards his mother’s village. But the heat grew greater as soon as noon came on, till at last, as he found himself on a wide heath that would take him more than an hour to cross, he began to be so hot and parched that his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth. ‘I can find a cure for this,’ thought he; ‘now I will milk my cow and quench my thirst’: so he tied her to the stump of a tree, and held his leathern cap to milk into; but not a drop was to be had. Who would have thought that this cow, which was to bring him milk and butter and cheese, was all that time utterly dry? Hans had not thought of looking to that. While he was trying his luck in milking, and managing the matter very clumsily, the uneasy beast began to think him very troublesome; and at last gave him such a kick on the head as knocked him down; and there he lay a long while senseless. Luckily a butcher soon came by, driving a pig in a wheelbarrow. ‘What is the matter with you, my man?’ said the butcher, as he helped him up. Hans told him what had happened, how he was dry, and wanted to milk his cow, but found the cow was dry too. Then the butcher gave him a flask of ale, saying, ‘There, drink and refresh yourself; your cow will give you no milk: don’t you see she is an old beast, good for nothing but the slaughter-house?’ ‘Alas, alas!’ said Hans, ‘who would have thought it? What a shame to take my horse, and give me only a dry cow! If I kill her, what will she be good for? I hate cow-beef; it is not tender enough for me. If it were a pig now—like that fat gentleman you are driving along at his ease—one could do something with it; it would at any rate make sausages.’ ‘Well,’ said the butcher, ‘I don’t like to say no, when one is asked to do a kind, neighbourly thing. To please you I will change, and give you my fine fat pig for the cow.’ ‘Heaven reward you for your kindness and self-denial!’ said Hans, as he gave the butcher the cow; and taking the pig off the wheel-barrow, drove it away, holding it by the string that was tied to its leg. So on he jogged, and all seemed now to go right with him: he had met with some misfortunes, to be sure; but he was now well repaid for all. How could it be otherwise with such a travelling companion as he had at last got?

THE MEDITATIONS - Book II.[1/2]

Bluwr X Commons: Marcus Aurelius, 10 mon.
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4 min read.
1. Say this to yourself in the morning: Today I shall have to do with meddlers, with the ungrateful, with the insolent, with the crafty, with the envious and the selfish. All these vices have beset them, because they know not what is good and what is evil. But I have considered the nature of the good, and found it beautiful: I have beheld the nature of the bad, and found it ugly. I also understand the nature of the evil-doer, and know that he is my brother, not because he shares with me the same blood or the same seed, but because he is a partaker of the same mind and of the same portion of immortality. I therefore cannot be hurt by any of these, since none of them can involve me in any baseness. I cannot be angry with my brother, or sever myself from him, for we are made by nature for mutual assistance, like the feet, the hands, the eyelids, the upper and lower rows of teeth. It is against nature for men to oppose each other; and what else is anger and aversion? 2. All that I am is either flesh, breath, or the ruling part. Cast your books from you; distract yourself no more; for you have not the right to do so. Like one at the point of death despise this flesh, this corruptible bone and blood, this network texture of nerves, veins, and arteries. Consider, too, what breath is—mere air, and that always changing, expelled and inhaled again every moment. The third is the ruling part. As to this, take heed, now that you are old, that it remain no longer in servitude; that it be no more dragged hither and thither like a puppet by every selfish impulse. Repine no more at what fate now sends, nor dread what may befall you hereafter. 3. Whatever the Gods ordain is full of wise forethought. The workings of chance are not apart from nature, and not without connexion and intertexture with the designs of Providence. Providence is the source of all things; and, besides, there is necessity, and the utility of the Universe, of which you are a part. For, to every part of a being, that is good which springs from the nature of the whole and tends to its preservation. Now, the order of Nature is preserved in the changes of elements, just as it is in the changes of things that are compound. Let this suffice you, and be your creed unchangeable. Put from you the thirst of books, that you may not die murmuring, but meekly, and with true and heartfelt gratitude to the Gods. 4. Think of your long procrastination, and of the many opportunities given you by the Gods, but left unused. Surely it is high time to understand the Universe of which you are a part, and the Ruler of that Universe, of whom you are an emanation; that a limit is set to your days, which, if you use them not for your enlightenment, will depart, as you yourself will, and return no more. 5. Hourly and earnestly strive, as a Roman and a man, to do what falls to your hand with perfect unaffected dignity, with kindliness, freedom and justice, and free your soul from every other imagination. This you will accomplish if you perform each action as if it were your last, without wilfulness, or any passionate aversion to what reason approves; without hypocrisy or selfishness, or discontent with the decrees of Providence. You see how few things it is necessary to master in order that a man may live a smooth-flowing, God-fearing life. For of him that holds to these principles the Gods require no more. 6. Go on, go on, O my soul, to affront and dishonour thyself! The time that remains to honour thyself will not be long. Short is the life of every man; and thine is almost spent; spent, not honouring thyself, but seeking thy happiness in the souls of other men. 7. Cares from without distract you: take leisure, then, to add some good thing to your knowledge; have done with vacillation, and avoid the other error. For triflers, too, are they who, by their activities, weary themselves in life, and have no settled aim to which they may direct, once and for all, their every desire and project. 8. Seldom are any found unhappy from not observing what is in the minds of others. But such as observe not well the stirrings of their own souls must of necessity be unhappy. 9. Remember always what the nature of the Universe is, what your own nature is, and how these are related—the one to the other. Remember what part your qualities are of the qualities of the whole, and that no man can prevent you from speaking and acting always in accordance with that nature of which you are a part. 10. In comparing crimes together, as, according to the common idea, they may be compared, Theophrastus makes the true philosophical distinction, that those committed from motives of pleasure are more heinous than those which are due to passion. For he who is a prey to passion is clearly turned away from reason by some spasm and convulsion that takes him unawares. But he who sins from desire is conquered by pleasure, and so seems more incontinent and more effeminate in his vice. Justly then, and in a truly philosophical spirit, he says that sin, for pleasure’s sake, is more wicked than sin which is due to pain. For the latter sinner was sinned against, and so driven to passion by his wrongs, while the former set out to sin of his own motion, and was led into ill-doing by his own lust. 11. Do every deed, speak every word, think every thought in the knowledge that you may end your days any moment. To depart from men, if there be really Gods, is nothing terrible. The Gods could bring no evil thing upon you. And if there be no Gods, or if they have no regard to human affairs, why should I desire to live in a world void of Gods and without Providence? But Gods there are, and assuredly they regard human affairs; and they have put it wholly in man’s power that he should not fall into what is truly evil. And of other things, had any been bad, they would have made provision also that man should have the power to avoid them altogether. For how can that make a man’s life worse which does not corrupt the man himself? Presiding Nature could not in ignorance, or in knowledge impotent, have omitted to prevent or rectify these things. She could not fail us so completely that, either from want of power or want of skill, good and evil should happen promiscuously to good men and to bad alike. Now death and life, glory and reproach, pain and pleasure, riches and poverty—all these happen equally to the good and to the bad. But, as they are neither honourable nor shameful, they are therefore neither good nor evil.