The creative.

“But the great artists like Michelangelo and Blake and Tolstoy- like Christ whom Blake called an artist because he had one of the most creative imaginations that ever was on earth-do not want security, egoistic or materialistic. Why, it never occurs to them. “Be not anxious for the morrow”, and ” which of you being anxious can add one cubit to his stature?”

So they dare…not to be pressed and duty driven all the time. They dare to love people even when they are very bad, and they dare not to try and dominate others to show them what they must do for their own good. For great and creative men know what is best for every man is his own freedom.”

Brenda Ueland, If you want to write, p. 26



“My very dear Sarah”- A letter to his wife on the eve of battle.

“ Major Sullivan Ballou, a volunteer in the Second Rhode Island Regiment, to his wife a week before the bloody Battle of Bull Run in Manassas… from Camp Clark… July 14 1861. Excerpts  from the letter appear below.

‘ My very dear Sarah:

The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days-perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write again, I feel impelled to write a few lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more…Sarah my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me unresistibly on with all these chains to the battle field.

The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them for so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when, God willing, we might still have lived and loved together, and seen our sons grown up to honorable manhood, around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me-perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar, that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. It I do not my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battle field, it will whisper your name. Forgive my many faults and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often times been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness…

But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the gladdest days and in the darkest nights…always, always, and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath, as the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by. Sarah do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for thee, for we shall meet again…

Major Sullivan Ballou was killed in the Battle of Bull Run.”

Jerry Jenkins, Writing for the Soul, p.101-102


“Burnett taught me to marvel that a shriveled brown bulb can produce a tulip, that dead sticks can give birth to roses, and that even people, shriveled by illness and deadened by grief, can still blossom. Her book helped me to see the miracle of new life bursting fort from apparent death.”

Katherine Patterson on Frances Hodgson Burnetts book “The Secret Garden”.