In Illinois, I could see my breath and also catch it. In South Carolina, well, it's just not that cold. It's colder.


"For the genuine orator must have investigated and heard and read and discussed and handled and debated the whole of the contents of the life of mankind, inasmuch as that is the field of the orator's activity, the subject matter of his study...if we bestow fluency of speech on persons devoid of those virtues, we shall not have made orators of them but shall have put weapons in the hands of madmen."
-Cicero in De Oratore

That's a tough standard, some might say impossible. Some might say that. They might. "They" have not truly lived if it is, indeed, what they say. "They" are the entitled, the still, the society. "They" are for whom Atlas shrugged. And "they," deep within their bones--buried though they would never admit it lest they gain the horror of a capital "T"--know it.


A Faulknerian Analysis: Part 7 of 10

Only upon reflection, some 12 hours from our home, can I begin to understand the amazing gift given to me by God, bog, luck and the rest, the incredible life I had as a child, the absurdly unrealistic standards you overcame to show me that love, no matter how much they scream, is incredibly selfish: Unlike society you allowed me to fail and by doing so allowed me to succeed; unlike society you never just let me win and by doing so forced me to try harder the next time; unlike society you weren't afraid to point out my faults and by doing so helped me overcome them; because unlike society you were a guardian, not a safety net, a loving participant in my development, not a nanny, a mother instead of a master, a mother instead of a friend.

love always