Tis said the anger of the Gods
Endured two hundred years: we know the priest
Osányi made strange amulets for all
The mortal soldiers of the Gods—one charm
Could turn a spear aside, a second robbed
The wounding sword of all its sting, another
Made one so terrible that a full score
Must flee—but not one word of the great deeds,
Of hopes and fears, of imminent defeat
Or victory snatched away is handed down:
No legend has defied, no voice called through
The dimness and the baffling years.

But when
An end was come to the ill days foreknown
To Him-Who-Speaks-Not, remembrance of the calm
Of Heaven stole upon the sleepless Gods.

Myths of Ífè

In this state, having no light, he is like a “deep” or something obscure and confused. …Such a man also, when seen from heaven, appears like a black mass, destitute of vitality.

The same expressions likewise in general involve the vastation of man, frequently spoken of by the Prophets, which precedes regeneration; for before man can know what is true, and be affected with what is good, there must be a removal of such things as hinder and resist their admission; thus the old man must needs die, before the new man can be conceived.

Arcana Coelestia by Emanuel Swedenborg

For the little things that are good ripen into big things that are good. And the little things that are bad ripen into big things that are bad.

William Clement Stone

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January 9, 2017