week of books

I did not really know what the week would hold when I started my Christmas week off from work.

These are the books I read this week:

The Measure of a Man by Sidney Poitier
The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank
The Death of Ivan Ilyich by Leo Tolstoy
Lipika by Rabindranath Tagore
The Lucky One by Nicholas Sparks

I have already commented on the first two in previous blog posts so I will not speak of them again. I was actually rereading both the Leo Tolstoy and Rabindranath Tagore books since they are my two favorite authors of all time. It is also interesting that they actually knew each other. I have heard about Nicholas Sparks as he lives near us in the eastern part of NC and I have watched a couple of movies based on his novels which were very nice. I read his book today from start to finish and found it very interesting reading and I would like to read more of his books. His book was very easy to read and entertaining, but cannot compare with Tolstoy and Tagore who both have amazing talents to transport me into the story's scene with their wonderful way with words. My goal for the year is to read one of Tolstoy's major novels, either War and Peace or Anne Karina.

These are excerpts from Rabindranath Tagore's Lipika that I really liked:

pg 3 "a cloudy day"

Man has crossed the seas, he has climbed the mountains, he has snatched precious rubies and pearls delving into the palaces of the oceans, but what is innermost in man's heart nan has never been able to settle up with another to its finality

pg 20 "just a glance"

The power of the king, the wealth of the rich are built up on this earth to die. But it is not a single drop of nectar in one's tears which will make that moment's glance live through eternity.

pg 30 "the story-telling"

God has created man in the world of associations, therefore, he is not made of valid facts or of theories. In spite of all the best intentions no well-wisher has yet been able to lure man's mind away from this reality. Even though in desperation he tries to bring about a treaty between his moral teaching and fairy-tales, but fails to harmonize them owing to their innate antipathy. So that the stories come to an abrupt end, the moral teaching also loses its grip , and there is the accumulated rubbish.

pg 88 "the aspiration"

The Madhavi creeper with its rustling dry leaves becomes all joyous at the first touch of the south wind in spring time. Likewise the wind from a garden of paradise came to sweep over a girl who gathered twigs and a gradual awakening of an exquisite wistfulness made her whole being vibrate with a throbbing ache. All her thoughts began to wander about like bees straying from their hives, having sensed some unknown honey flavors.

pg 104 "the life and mind"

The waves of the sea are the surface layer of the sea. By raising a din they confuse the facts of the sea's deep-trodden base where lies the earth's great womb. When the waves quieten down, in that unbroken harmony between what is seen and what is not seen, what is deep-bottom and what is the top facade, the sea reigns in supreme composure.

In the same way the minute I returned from the outward efforts of my life, I found stability in the heart's inner most depth which is the primary playground of the universe.

pg 111 "the life and mind"

The tune of life sketches from one key-note to another claiming such a pitch that one does not know where its limit is to be.