These are my humours and my opinions; I offer them as what I believe, not what is to be believed.
I aim here only at revealing myself - who will perhaps be different tomorrow if I learn something new which changes me.
I have no authority to be believed, nor do I want it, feeling myself too ill-instructed to instruct others.
Michel de Montaigne (1533—1592)
Quilldrivel is a sort of Blog but I'm not sure how this will evolve.
(Below is my latest post)
We are all exiles, missing our home, wandering far from the Garden of our innocence.
We have a sense of loss and longing but it's not a simple feeling to identify.
Our wanderings take us far from home but by some miracle they can also guide us.
It's recognising the wandering that initiates the return home.
Some bloke called Thomas Merton. Probably named after the Oxford College he attended as a lad. Wrote some books. That's about it.
St. Laurence or Lawrence, the patron saint of Repurposed Convents, was an administrator and all-round good chap who, sadly, got a bit too close to the barbeque.
St Cuthbert, or Cubby to his friends. Whether or not he was also chubby is not recorded, nor whether he was a hubby. If he had been married no doubt he would have had cubs.
I am told this chap wrote a book in a shack, but why he didn't sit at a desk like an ordinary person, I do not know. Whatever, he seems to have coined it in, as a result.
The infamous Isambard Kingdom Brunel. Oh, come on, what were his parents thinking? He must have been so bullied at school. But in the end they named a bridge after him I think. Died tragically from cigar burns to his lips.