Friday, November 24, 2006

Speculative Faith: TILL WE HAVE FACES

I am old now and have not much to fear from the anger of gods.
I have no husband nor child, nor hardly a friend, through whom
they can hurt me. My body, this lean carrion that still has to
be washed and fed and have clothes hung about it daily with so
many changes, they may kill as soon as they please. The succession
is provided for. My crown passes to my nephew.

Being, for all these reasons free from fear, I will write in this
book what no one who has happiness would dare to write. I will
accuse the gods, especially the god who live son the Grey Mountain.
That is, I will tell all he has done to me from the very beginning,
as if I were making my complaint of him before a judge. But there
is no judge between gods and men, and the god of the mountain will
not answer me.


I've started looking at a myth retold over at Speculative Faith. C.S. Lewis' TILL WE HAVE FACES, the opening paragraphs of which I've posted above.

Read it at: How To Bring Myths & Fairty Tales Back From the Dead and Into the Light: Lewis' TILL WE HAVE FACES

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