Without Lifting A Finger

Captain Delano crossed over to him, and stood in silence surveying the knot; his mind, by a not uncongenial transition, passing from its own entanglements to those of the hemp. For intricacy, such a knot he had never seen in an American ship, nor indeed any other. The old man looked like an Egyptian priest, making Gordian knots for the temple of Ammon. The knot seemed a combination of double-bowline-knot, treble-crown-knot, back-handed-well-knot, knot-in-and-out-knot, and jamming-knot. At last, puzzled to comprehend the meaning of such a knot, Captain Delano addressed the knotter: — "What are you knotting there, my man?" "The knot," was the brief reply, without looking up. "So it seems; but what is it for?" "For some one else to undo," muttered back the old man, plying his fingers harder than ever, the knot being now nearly completed.

Christmas Morning. The kids are too old to have sugar plums dancing in their heads, but they're still sleeping. Rain not snow. I'm having coffee and hoping to return once again to see the Breakfast Club (redubbed here the Christmas Gang) in action. Somewhere CA. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!❤️🎁❄️ #rlswihart13 #somewhereca #christmasday2021 #birdsofchristmas #christmasgang #breakfastclub #housefinch #spottedtowhee #nature #poetry #beauty #readmorepoetry2021 #greentailedtowhee #whitecrownedsparrow

So true it is, and so terrible, too, that up to a certain point the thought or sight of misery enlists our best affections; but, in certain special cases, beyond that point it does not. They err who would assert that invariably this is owing to the inherent selfishness of the human heart. It rather proceeds from a certain hopelessness of remedying excessive and organic ill. To a sensitive being, pity is not seldom pain. And when at last it is perceived that such pity cannot lead to effectual succor, common sense bids the soul be rid of it. What I saw that morning persuaded me that the scrivener was the victim of innate and incurable disorder. I might give alms to his body; but his body did not pain him; it was his soul that suffered, and his soul I could not reach.

  Common Loon @ Colorado Lagoon. Hard to get close but fun trying and fun to watch. Haven't seen him the last two days, but that doesn't mean he's gone. 🤞 #rlswihart13 #longbeachcalifornia#coloradolagoon##birdsofinstagram #loon #commonloon #nature #beauty #poetry #readmorepoetry2021

 Not as poetic or "theological" as Moby Dick, but an interesting story with some good "bits": With the measured step and calm collected air of an asylum-physician approaching in the public hall some patient beginning to show indications of a coming paroxysm, Claggart deliberately advanced within short range of Billy, and mesmerically looking him in the eye, briefly recapitulated the accusation.

The Mexican Duck @ Carr Park in Huntington Beach. Not a BIG THRILL but small thrills add up. Thanks to @just.birdies for the tip. #rlswihart13 #huntingtonbeach #carrpark #ducksofinstagram #mexicanducks #nature #smallthrills #beauty #poetry #readmorepoetry2021

 No murmur, no impatience, no petulance did come from him. Silent, slow, and solemn; bowing over still further his chronically broken back, he toiled away, as if toil were life itself, and the heavy beating of his hammer the heavy beating of his heart. And so it was. — Most miserable!

While composing a little treatise on Eternity, I had the curiosity to place a mirror before me; and ere long saw reflected there, a curious involved worming and undulation in the atmosphere over my head. The invariable moisture of my hair, while plunged in deep thought, after six cups of hot tea in my thin shingled attic, of an August noon; this seems an additional argument for the above supposition.

Let not the modern paintings of this scene mislead us; for though the creature encountered by that valiant whaleman of old is vaguely represented of a griffin-like shape, and though the battle is depicted on land and the saint on horseback, yet considering the great ignorance of those times, when the true form of the whale was unknown to artists; and considering that as in Perseus' case, St. George's whale might have crawled up out of the sea on the beach; and considering that the animal ridden by St. George might have been only a large seal, or sea-horse; bearing all this in mind, it will not appear altogether incompatible with the sacred legend and the ancientest draughts of the scene, to hold this so-called dragon no other than the great Leviathan himself. In fact, placed before the strict and piercing truth, this whole story will fare like that fish, flesh, and fowl idol of the Philistines, Dagon by name; who being planted before the ark of Israel, his horse's head and