A Quote by Adam Kirsch
With luck, a writer capable of producing both Slouching Towards Kalamazoo and The Blood of the Lamb will not remain unappreciated for long.
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I am going like a lamb to the slaughter; but I am calm as a summer's morning; I have a conscience void of offense towards God, and towards all men. I shall die innocent, and it shall be said of me-He was murdered in cold blood
The blood of the lamb applied over the doorpost on the night of Israel's deliverance from Egypt distinguished the obedient from the disobedient. Just so today the applied blood of the Lamb of God is the distinguishing mark of God's called out ones, the church.
Luck take a second look at what appears to be someone's good luck. You'll find not luck but preparation, planning, and success-producing thinking.
Some would say the Creator is a lamb. Some would say he's a lion. Some would say both. The fact is, he is neither a lamb nor a lion. These are fiction. Metaphors. Yet the Creator is both a lamb and a lion. These are both truths.
I don't care if I remain prime minister. I'm only interested in doing a good job as long as I'm capable and for as long as I don't get tired.
I have always identified with Joan Didion's depiction of Los Angeles and Southern California, ever since reading 'Play It As It Lays,' 'Slouching Towards Bethlehem' and 'The White Album.'
I'm a New Yorker now, and believe me, there's no comparison between the Big Apple and Kalamazoo, no similarity at all. New York City's hectic, always in fast-forward, and Kalamazoo's more laid-back, smaller, slower.
The tiger will never lie down with the lamb; he acknowledges no pact that is not reciprocal. The lamb must learn to run with the tigers.
The lion will lay down with the lamb...but every morning they'll have to provide a new lamb. Maybe this world is another planet's hell.
As a middle-aged woman who has had some luck as a writer, I'd like this profession of author to remain a possibility for young writers in the future - and not become an arena solely for the hobbyist or the well-heeled.
So, we wait until tomorrow night, and when you say the word, I cross over and haul you both out. Right? That's it?" "With any luck, yes." Luck? We were depending on luck? Nash is so screwed.
I'll wager there isn't a human being on earth who doesn't believe in luck, however rational they pretend to be in public life. In reality, most of human life is luck - and, of course, its darker, more prevalent opposite. One only has to live long enough to experience both.
I read of the Kalamazoo girl who killed herself after reading the book. I am not at all surprised. She lived in Kalamazoo, for one thing, and then she read the book.
There is no place to hide but in the blood of the Lamb.
Meanwhile, the disgruntled "natives" of the West remain empty-handed and keep baying for blood, stuck on the caboose of the train, like Bob Dylan used to sing. Despair will always be a merchandize so long as we refuse to confront these lies head-on.
The English writer, Charles Lamb, said one day: "I hate that man." "But you don't know him." "Of course, I don't," said Lamb. "Do you think I could possibly hate a man I know?"
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