Happy Sir Thomas Browne day!
Born: 19 October 1605, London
Died: 19 October 1682 (age 77 years), Norwich
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"But man is a Noble Animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous in the grave .. " Sir Thomas Browne, Urne Buriall.
The Digby memorial, Sherborne Abbey, Dorset.
#Sherborneabbey #Sherborne #SirThomasBrowne
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17th century portrait of a man and a woman the woman has blonde hair and a white lace cap and a white lace dress. The man has brown hair and a long nose and a brown beard with a white collar over a dark jacket.
I definitely find it helps to have a portrait of Thomas and Dorothy in my line of sight whilst working on edits. Yes, I did order it from @nationalgalleryldn.bsky.social Not crazy. Not much, anyway
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#nogrotesquesinnature
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“He is in the dark to all the world; he has longed for death; there is a hell within him; who knows whether we may not be asleep in this world, and the conceits of life be but dreams? Steeped in such glooms, his imagination falls with a peculiar tenderness upon the common facts of human life. He turns it gradually upon the flowers and insects and grasses at his feet, so as to disturb nothing in the mysterious processes of their existence. There is a halo of wonder round everything that he sees… The tavern music, the Ave Mary bell, the broken urn that the workman has dug out of the field plunge him into the depths of wonder and lead him, as he stands fixed in amazement, to extraordinary flights of speculation as to what we are, where we go, and the meaning of all things.” -Virginia Woolf on Sir Thomas Browne
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Wednesday, 25 December, Christmas Day Today we celebrated at our table with Lushington. He brought to us an infant bay tree as a gift in the spirit of the Maji to our Lord. Whitefoot also attended but he brought nothing but his warm and welcome company, and so we formed a very merry party. Dorothy and Daisy placed on the table a veritable feast and it took much effort to not indulge in the extremes of gluttony. When the brown ale, roasted joint of beef, plum broth, and boules of bread were placed up and down the length of the table, Lushington rubbed his ever-expanding stomach with anticipatory delight. “Good man, Thomas, I am ever so pleased that you have settled here with a good wife. A good wife who is also a good cook. How lucky for you. And for me!” We all laughed, and the joke magically took all the anxiety of the celebration and waved it out the door.
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Computer screen with title NGIN 3 P FINAL
Edits are done! Now what do I do with myself?
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#booksky
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However, nothing could have prepared me for the experience of seeing human flesh laid open, the systems of life so intricately established and enmeshed within each other. Especially considering that the body had breathed its last breath just about one hour before. The unfortunate individual was introduced to the audience as one Aris Kindt, known more formally as Adriaan Adriaanszoon. He had a name. A name! This is not some unknown being. This was a man, a child of God. He had been just hanged for the crime of robbery and, as is the custom, therefore legal in the dissection. Why did I not expect him to have a name? I do not know. I suppose obviously I knew he had a name; I simply did not expect them to share it. Nor his crime. For dissociation from the man simply makes the process of opening him up for analytical observation much more palatable. Yet, now, I believe I understand the reason: to remind ourselves we are all merely flesh, all ready to return to dust and ash whether sinner or saint. We are all the same to our Lord, for we are all his flock. Still, I could not help but to wonder at this man, of his birth, of his mother, at the circumstances that brought him to a criminal life, to steal from others. Where was the Lord in his soul? How had he so lost his way that his lifeless body was laid out before me and many others to be peeled back, layer by layer for our education, and for others their amusement? For I learnt that some on the higher benches were members of the public who had purchased their tickets out of sheer curiosity. I shall have to agree to disagree with them on what constitutes an enjoyable evening out.
#wipsnip
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#editing
#booksky
#sirthomasbrowne
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And she fails. Despite best efforts. Something will poke at her, work its way into her skin through a small pore, like a microscopic bug or bacteria finding the optimal dark environment in which to blossom and strengthen. You observe her cheeks turn pinker and warmer, her motions jerkier, her mouth tighter, as she tries to keep her lips closed. But the words pile up on her tongue, behind her teeth, pressuring her jaws to open as they gather together, until she vomits them out and says what she wishes she had never said. The minor annoyances, the way you leave your boots in the hallway, the way you snore when you sleep on your back, become a fury that you often understand even before she does. That the pain births this fury. Sometimes the fury is named George, who died in her womb and when finally birthed, was held to her chest in the bed with the umbilical cord still attached to the sac within her, no blood pulsing through the thick, ropey length. Sometimes you call the fury Virginia, the child whom Dorothy lay to sleep in the bassinet pink and rosy but who never woke; whom she found lifeless and stiff. Little Virginia, held tightly in her arms as she went screaming down the road for help, desperate for someone to awaken her child. You see her clearly and she knows. You accept her unconditionally and she knows. Yet instead of taking refuge in your offering, she bristles against it, fights it, deserves it not. She fails to find her peace in what you offer. Every day she still tries.
#wipsnips
#amwriting
#editing
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#histfic
#litfic
#sirthomasbrowne
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Email blurb that states Brandy O’Brien’s book. The group in nature was a finalist in the wild House publishing fiction contest.
Pinch me. My novel No Grotesques in Nature was named a finalist in Wildhouse Publishing’s fiction contest, judged by the lovely @rebeccamakkai.bsky.social
Yippee!!!
#sirthomasbrowne
#amwriting
#writingcommunity
#booksky
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“Choose 20 books that have stayed with you or influenced you. One book per day for 20 days, in no particular order. No explanations, no reviews, just covers.”
Day 1
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« Now nature is not at variance with art, nor art with nature, they being both servants of his providence: art is the perfection of nature; were the world now as it was… »
― Sir Thomas Browne
🔗 · poligraf.tumblr.com/post/7186109...
#quotes #nature #art #god #DivineIntelligence #SirThomasBrowne
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"I am in the ark to all the world, and my nearest friends behold me but in a cloud." - #SirThomasBrowne
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