Impressions: To Kill A Mockingbird

"So far nothing in your life has interfered with your reasoning process. Those are twelve reasonable men in everyday life, Tom's jury, but you saw something come between them and reason. You saw the same thing that night in front of the jail.  When that crew went away, they didn't go as reasonable men, they went because we were there. There's something in our world that makes men lose their heads - they couldn't be fair if they tried. In our courts, when it's a white man's word against a black man's, the white man always wins. They're ugly, but those are the facts of life."

"You couldn't, but they could and did. The older you grow the more of it you'll see. The one place where a man ought to get a square deal is in a courtroom, be he any color of the rainbow, but people  have a way of carrying their resentments right into a jury box. As you grow older, you'll see white men cheat black  men every day of your life, but let me tell you something and don't you forget it - whenever a white man does that to a black man, no matter who he is, how rich he is, or how fine a family he comes from, that white man is trash."

"That's what I thought, too," he said at last, "when I was your age. If there's just one kind of folks, why can't they get along with each other? If they're all alike, why do they go out of their way to despise each other? Scout, I think I'm beginning to understand something. I think I'm beginning to understand why Boo Radley's stayed shut up in the house all this time...it's because he wants to stay inside."

"So many things had happened to us, Boo Radley was the least of our fears. Atticus said he didn't see how anything else could happen, that things had a way of settling down, and after enough time passed people would forget that Tom Robinson's existence was ever brought to their attention."

"Well, it'd be sort of like shootin' a mockingbird, wouldn't it?"

It's a sin to kill a mockingbird

25 December. Christmas. 

To Kill a Mockingbird. Finished. 

I'm a heavy coffee drinker. I don't rely on sugar for easing the bitterness. I find pleasure in it. And the limit seems to grow since the first sip I committed. 

Yet I was caught off guard by a cup of cappuchino today. It was the darkest I ever tasted. To my disbelief, I found myself craving for sugar at the heat of the moment. On my tongue buring a revelation: I am not ready for the world's blackest dismay. 

It's not pretty how the book got me but it is the way. 

Disillusion.

You saw my painful tears when she shattered my illusion. 

Now you refuse to see my hateful tears due to your half hearted devotion. 

I honor friendship. You prove me a fool for my mistrust. 

I honor loyalty. Your betrayal and pampering feel me with digust. 

Yes. I am a fool. A massive fool, to believe I was lucky to board on another true friendship. I already had 2 golden tickets. It's such a foolish thing suggesting to myself that I was for the third. 

Ditching umbrellas.

'Some people feel the rain. Others just get wet'

So I ditched my umbrella just to prove I'm not the one who gets wet without feeling the rain. 

Messy hair. Thirsty heart.

To those who wonder why my hair grows so messy, it's because I was born with a thirsty heart. 

Impression: Fairy Tales of Oscar Wilde

"You forget that I am very uncommon, and very remarkable. Why, anybody can have common sense, provided that they have no imagination. But I have imagination, for I never think of things as they really are; I always thinks of them as being quite different. As for keeping myself dry, there is evidently no one here who can at all appreciate an emotional nature. Fortunately for myself, I don't care. The only thing that sustains one through life is the consciousness of the immense inferiority of everybody else, and this is a feeling that I have always cultivated. But none of you  have any hearts. Here you are laughing and making merry just as if the Prince and Princess had not just been married."

                                                                                                 THE REMARKABLE ROCKET

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"Upon these journeys of discovery, as he would call them - and, indeed, they were to him real voyages through a marvellous land, he would sometimes be accompanied by the slim, fair-haired Court pages, with their floating mantles, and gay fluttering ribands; but more often he would be alone, feeling through a certain quick instinct, which as almost a divination, that the secrets of art are best learned in secret, and that Beauty, like Wisdom, loves the lonely worshipper."

"Shall Joy wear what Grief has fashioned?"

                                                                                                  THE YOUNG KING

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"There is no god but this mirror that thou seest, for this is the Mirror of Wisdom. And it reflecteth all things that are in heaven and on earth, save only the face of him who looketh into it. This it reflecteth not, so that he who looketh into it may be wise.  Many other mirrors are there, but they are mirrors of Opinion. This only is the Mirror of Wisdom. And they who possess this mirror know everything, nor is there anything hidden from them. And they who possess it not have not Wisdom. Therefore is it the god, and we worship it."

"Weeping as one smitten with pain he flung himself down beside it, and he kissed the cold red of the mouth, and toyed with the wet amber of the hair. He flung himself down beside it on the sand, weeping as one trembling with joy, and in his brown arms he held it to  his breast. Cold were the lips, yet he kissed them. Salt was the honey of the hair, yet he tasted it with a bitter joy. He kissed the closed eyelids, and the wild spray that lay upon their cups was less salt than his tears.  

  And to the dead thing he made confession. Into the shells of its ears he poured the harsh wine of his tale. He put the little hands round his neck, and with his fingers he touched the thin reed of the throat. Bitter, bitter was his joy, and full of strange gladness was his pain."

                                                                                                THE FISHERMAN AND HIS SOUL

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