Great opening lines...

Among the more entertaining first lines of an essay:

The Spanish Cardinal Merry de Val once said that for the Protestant the Bible is a wax nose to be twisted any way one pleases.

Quoted from this essay, the interest of which I cannot vouch since I am one line into it (warning: I think you need to have JSTOR access).

Post-phoric

The bliss has dwindled as reality forced me to recognize the three unfinished papers leering at me from my computer screen. If it's any solace to anyone, I have read and reread NSC-68 countless times now and learned only one thing: I should not be in the business of writing defense memos that will dictate strategy for half a century.

Shucks...that, sadly, is the assignment I'm now trying to complete.

On a happier note, NSC-68 has a real swell description of the purpose of the United States.

The fundamental purpose of the United States is laid down in the Preamble to the Constitution: "...to form a more perfect Union, establish justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for our common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity." In essence, the fundamental purpose is to assure the integrity and vitality of our free society, which is founded upon the dignity and worth of the individual.

There's more, but I'll spare you the pleasure. If you're interested, read the whole thing here.

Federalist Friendliness

Often when slogging through a paper or completing another assignment, I've found myself wondering why I read so little. I pledge that the moment I can be done with this task for school, I'll throw myself into the real reading I ought to be doing.

At some point, I finally figured out that the real reading was precisely that which I ought to have been doing for school all along. Of course, I tend to still forget that point.

Today has been one of those days. I just received a brand-new copy of The Constitution of Liberty and have been glancing at it longingly. The paper du jour, something for a class on national security, seemed like the obstacle to happiness, until I found myself reading through the Federalist Papers, searching for a quote. Coming across the passage below, I reminded myself of the happy fact that the days of "school" being synonymous with "eating a sack lunch and listening to a peg-legged woman try to teach you algebra" are long gone.

So numerous indeed and so powerful are the causes which serve to give a false bias to the judgment, that we, upon many occasions, see wise and good men on the wrong as well as on the right side of questions of the first magnitude to society. This circumstance, if duly attended to, would furnish a lesson of moderation to those who are ever so much persuaded of their being in the right in any controversy. And a further reason for caution, in this respect, might be drawn from the reflection that we are not always sure that those who advocate the truth are influenced by purer principles than their antagonists. Ambition, avarice, personal animosity, party opposition, and many other motives not more laudable than these, are apt to operate as well upon those who support as those who oppose the right side of a question. Were there not even these inducements to moderation, nothing could be more ill-judged than that intolerant spirit which has, at all times, characterized political parties. For in politics, as in religion, it is equally absurd to aim at making proselytes by fire and sword. Heresies in either can rarely be cured by persecution.

Of course, Barry Goldwater would "remind you that extremism in the defense of liberty is no vice!" I would remind Barry Goldwater of Plato's depiction of democracy (and the more extreme sentiments of some modern libertarians) demonstrate quite the opposite.

Somewhat related is the drunken quote of a friend of mine (in the midst of a late night discussion of Iraq). Said friend expressed his frustration with the country's fledgling democracy with the cry, "Democratize, dammit!"

I guess that's the exact opposite of Hamilton's warning against "making proselytes by fire and sword" when it comes to politics.

What is the meaning of all of these bits and pieces? That I should get back to work. Later.

Rosen at War

Today's current favorite quote on Plato is provided by Stanley Rosen's study of The Republic.

...the most frequent consequence is victory for the multiplying unnecessary pleasures, which storm the acropolis of the young man's soul and conquer it with the sweetness of democracy.

Curiously, "storming the acropolis of a youngwoman's soul doesn't sound intellectual or innocent in the slightest.

Cripps(led)

After winning the award for worst title for a blog post, I read this line:

In Cripps—as in Lenin—we see ideological purity replace theological purity. Churchill's aphorism about Cripps has more than its humor to recommend it: "There, but for the grace of God, goes God."

Culled long ago from a page in Harry Jaffa's Statesmanship (Note: follow that link. Thank goodness the Claremont Institute is planning on republishing this work, because it costs a helluva lot to get it now. Thank goodness I stole the copy I was proofi-...er, I mean, heh heh), it was the best quote in an otherwise almost unbearable essay about British Socialists around WWI (what a miserable lot of politicos they were).

Anyway, it's a funny quote at least. And if you want to know more about Cripps, this mysterious fellow who prompted such snide remarks from Winnie, go here. Let's just say, full implementation of his economic views would have Cripps-led the British economy. Please excuse me, I think I just broke a rib laughing.

St. Isidore

It's a bit out of leftfield, but I came across a fascinating character just minutes ago: St. Isidore of Seville. The Catholic Encyclopedia online has an apt description of him:

Isidore was the last of the ancient Christian Philosophers, as he was the last of the great Latin Fathers. He was undoubtedly the most learned man of his age and exercised a far-reaching and immeasurable influence on the educational life of the Middle Ages. His contemporary and friend, Braulio, Bishop of Saragossa, regarded him as a man raised up by God to save the Spanish people from the tidal wave of barbarism that threatened to inundate the ancient civilization of Spain, The Eighth Council of Toledo (653) recorded its admiration of his character in these glowing terms: "The extraordinary doctor, the latest ornament of the Catholic Church, the most learned man of the latter ages, always to be named with reverence, Isidore".

If that portion of his bio on CE is a too dry, here's the beginnings of Wikipedia's entry on the man:

Saint Isidore of Seville (Spanish: San Isidro or San Isidoro de Sevilla) (c.560 – April 4, 636) was Archbishop of Seville for more than three decades and has the reputation of being one of the great scholars of the early Middle Ages. All the later medieval history-writing of Spain were based on his histories.

At a time of disintegration of classical culture, and aristocratic violence and illiteracy, he was involved in the conversion of the royal Visigoth Arians to Catholicism, both assisting his brother Leander and continuing after his brother's death. Like Leander, he took a most prominent part in the Councils of Toledo and Seville. In all justice, it may be said that it was due to the enlightened statecraft of these two illustrious brothers, that the Visigothic legislation which emanated from these councils, is regarded by modern historians as exercising an important influence on the beginnings of representative government.

How on earth did I end up reading about St. Isidore instead of scrutinizing Seth Bernadete's take on Socrates presentation of desire at about 438a (Bloom's translation of the Republic)? Good question and I don't have the slightest idea. Far be it from me to carefully chart my travels on the intertubes of the world wide net. In the most immediate sense, I was reading a summary of Tom Lutz's book, Crying: A Natural and Cultural History of Tears (what the hell was I doing there?), which included a quote from the Iz:

"Lamenting is the food of souls."

I thought that was beautiful. When I actually figure the context, I'll be sure to pass it along. For the time being, back to Socrates' war against himself.