All posts tagged: G.K. Chesterton

GKChesterton

Happy Birthday…

Today is the day when we… or at least I, celebrate the birthday of one of the world’s favorite authors. Well… one of my favorite authors, anyway. I tend to get a bit gushy when I’m discussing a favorite author. Books (and music, and all manner of art) have always been my… well, rescuers from the insanity of the world. A good dose of music – say Debussy, or Pink Floyd – or a ripping good read (such as The Three Musketeers, or Grass (by Sheri S Tepper)) always takes me out of the world, and perhaps more importantly, out of my own skin. Trust me… If I spend too much time inside myself… well… It doesn’t end well, for any of us! Anywho… Gilbert Keith Chesterton was born on this date in 1874 in London. And among so incredibly many other things, Chesterton said: “The human race, to which so many of my readers belong, has been playing at children’s games from the beginning, and will probably do it till the end, which is …

Sayers

Happy Birthday…

Today we remember the birthday of another of my favorites – Dorothy L. Sayers. Sayers was one of the first women to be awarded a degree from Oxford, and a frequent correspondent with CS Lewis. She wrote plays and did (for my money) the best translation of Dante out there… though my moneys’ really not very good, in this instance… She also wrote the only mysteries I can stand to read (and re-read) on a consistent basis. Even Chesterton’s Father Brown becomes a bit much for me, after about the 4th or 5th one. But Lord Peter Whimsey has never paled for me. I highly recommend them. Dorothy L Sayers, born on June 13th, 1893, in Oxford, said: “The great advantage about telling the truth is that nobody ever believes it.” “Facts are like cows. If you look them in the face long enough, they generally run away.” “Do you find it easy to get drunk on words?” “So easy that, to tell you the truth, I am seldom perfectly sober.” From Gaudy Night “In …

Chesterton

Happy Birthday…

It is the 141st birthday of a writer for whom I can never repay the debt which I owe him. The clarity of his writing, along with the breadth of his thinking is, quite simply, astonishing to experience (whether or not you agree with him), as is the sheer ridiculousness of his prolificacy. I refer to G.K. Chesterton, a man who, all pictures to the contrary, was a writer of a profoundly uproarious nature. The humor is sprinkled liberally, throughout his writing. No less than George Bernard Shaw and H.G. Wells were his almost constant sparring partners – and yet Chesterton’s criticisms were of such a warm nature, that he remained good friends with them; in spite of their disagreements.