Chapter 1 * * *

ALL MY FRIENDS

KNOWN AND UNKNOWN

I DEDICATE THIS BOOK

* * *

PREFACE

It is a harder thing than it ought to be to write openly and frankly of things private and sacred. "Secretum meum mihi!"-"My secret is my own!"-cried St. Francis in a harrowed moment. But I believe that the instinct to guard and hoard the inner life is one that ought to be resisted. Secrecy seems to me now a very uncivilised kind of virtue, after all! We have all of us, or most of us, a quiet current of intimate thought, which flows on, gently and resistlessly, in the background of our lives, the volume and spring of which we cannot alter or diminish, because it rises far away at some unseen source, like a stream which flows through grassy pastures, and is fed by rain which falls on unknown hills from the clouds of heaven. This inner thought is hardly affected by the busy incidents of life-our work, our engagements, our public intercourse; but because it represents the self which we are always alone with, it makes up the greater part of our life, and is much more our real and true life than the life which we lead in public. It contains the things which we feel and hope, rather than what we say; and the fact that we do not speak our inner thoughts is what more than anything else keeps us apart from each other.

In this book I have said, or tried to say, just what I thought, and as I thought it; and since it is a book which recommends a studied quietness and a cheerful serenity of life, I have put my feelings to a vigorous test, by writing it, not when I was at ease and in leisure, but in the very thickest and fullest of my work. I thought that if the kind of quiet that I recommended had any force or weight at all, it should be the sort of quiet which I still could realise and value in a life full of engagements and duties and business, and that if it could be developed on a background of that kind, it might have a worth which it could not have if it were gently conceived in peaceful days and untroubled hours.

So it has all been written in spaces of hard-driven work, when the day never seemed long enough for all I had to do, between interruptions and interviews and teaching and meetings. But the sight and scent that I shall always connect with it, is that of a great lilac-bush which stands just outside my study window, and which day by day in this bright and chilly spring has held up its purple clusters, overtopping the dense, rich, pale foliage, against a blue and cloudless sky; and when the wind has been in the North, as it has often been, has filled my room with the scent of breaking buds. How often, as I wrote, have I cast a sidelong look at the lilac-bush! How often has it appeared to beckon me away from my papers to a freer and more fragrant air outside! But it seemed to me that I was perhaps obeying the call of the lilac best-though how far away from its freshness and sweetness!-if I tried to make my own busy life, which I do not pretend not to enjoy, break into such flower as it could, and give out what the old books call its 'spicery,' such as it is.

Because the bloom, the colour, the scent, are all there, if I could but express them. That is the truth! I do not claim to make them, to cause them, to create them, any more than the lilac could engender the scent of roses or of violets. Nor do I profess to do faithfully all that I say in my book that it is well to do. That is the worst, and yet perhaps it is the best, of books, that one presents in them one's hopes, dreams, desires, visions; more than one's dull and mean performances. 'Als ich kann!' That is the best one can do and say.

It is our own fault, and not the fault of our visions, that we cannot always say what we think in talk, even to our best friends. We begin to do so, perhaps, and we see a shadow gather. Either the friend does not understand, or he does not care, or he thinks it all unreal and affected; and then there falls on us a foolish shyness, and we become not what we are, but what we think the friend would like to think us; and so he 'gets to know' as he calls it, not what is really there, but what he chooses should be there.

But with pen in hand, and the blessed white paper before one, there is no need to be anything in the world but what one is. Our dignity must look after itself, and the dignity that we claim is worth nothing, especially if it is falsely claimed. But even the meanest flower that blows may claim to blossom as it can, and as indeed it must. In the democracy of flowers, even the dandelion has a right to a place, if it can find one, and to a vote, if it can get one; and even if it cannot, the wind is kind to it, and floats its arrowy down far afield, by wood and meadow, and into the unclaimed waste at last.

* * *

CONTENTS

You'll also like

The Mute Heiress's Fake Marriage Pact

Alma

5.0

I was finally brought back to the billionaire Vance estate after years in the grimy foster system, but the luxury Lincoln felt more like a funeral procession. My biological family didn't welcome me with open arms; they looked at me like a stain on a silk shirt. They thought I was a "defective" mute with cognitive delays, a spare part to be traded away. Within hours of my arrival, my father decided to sell me to Julian Thorne, a bitter, paralyzed heir, just to secure a corporate merger. My sister Tiffany treated me like trash, whispering for me to "go back to the gutter" before pouring red wine over my dress in front of Manhattan's elite. When a drunk cousin tried to lay hands on me at the engagement gala, my grandmother didn't protect me-she raised her silver-topped cane to strike my face for "embarrassing the family." They called me a sacrificial lamb, laughing as they signed the prenuptial agreement that stripped me of my freedom. They had no idea I was E-11, the underground hacker-artist the world was obsessed with, or that I had already breached their private servers. I found the hidden medical records-blood types A, A, and B-a biological impossibility that proved my "parents" were harboring a scandal that could ruin them. Why bring me back just to discard me again? And why was Julian Thorne, the man supposedly bound to a wheelchair, secretly running miles at dawn on his private estate? Standing in the middle of the ballroom, I didn't plead for mercy. I used a text-to-speech app to broadcast a cold, synthetic threat: "I have the records, Richard. Do you want me to explain genetics to the press, or should we leave quietly?" With the "paralyzed" billionaire as my unexpected accomplice, I walked out of the Vance house and into a much more dangerous game.

HIS DOE, HIS DAMNATION(An Erotic Billionaire Romance)

Viviene

4.9

Trigger/Content Warning: This story contains mature themes and explicit content intended for adult audiences(18+). Reader discretion is advised. It includes elements such as BDSM dynamics, explicit sexual content, toxic family relationships, occasional violence and strong language. This is not a fluffy romance. It is intense, raw and messy, and explores the darker side of desire. ***** "Take off your dress, Meadow." "Why?" "Because your ex is watching," he said, leaning back into his seat. "And I want him to see what he lost." ••••*••••*••••* Meadow Russell was supposed to get married to the love of her life in Vegas. Instead, she walked in on her twin sister riding her fiance. One drink at the bar turned to ten. One drunken mistake turned into reality. And one stranger's offer turned into a contract that she signed with shaking hands and a diamond ring. Alaric Ashford is the devil in a tailored Tom Ford suit. Billionaire CEO, brutal, possessive. A man born into an empire of blood and steel. He also suffers from a neurological condition-he can't feel. Not objects, not pain, not even human touch. Until Meadow touches him, and he feels everything. And now he owns her. On paper and in his bed. She wants him to ruin her. Take what no one else could have. He wants control, obedience... revenge. But what starts as a transaction slowly turns into something Meadow never saw coming. Obsession, secrets that were never meant to surface, and a pain from the past that threatens to break everything. Alaric doesn't share what's his. Not his company. Not his wife. And definitely not his vengeance.

Abandoned Luna: Now Untouchable

Lila

4.8

For eight years, Cecilia Moore was the perfect Luna, loyal, and unmarked. Until the day she found her Alpha mate with a younger, purebred she-wolf in his bed. In a world ruled by bloodlines and mating bonds, Cecilia was always the outsider. But now, she's done playing by wolf rules. She smiles as she hands Xavier the quarterly financials-divorce papers clipped neatly beneath the final page. "You're angry?" he growls. "Angry enough to commit murder," she replies, voice cold as frost. A silent war brews under the roof they once called home. Xavier thinks he still holds the power-but Cecilia has already begun her quiet rebellion. With every cold glance and calculated step, she's preparing to disappear from his world-as the mate he never deserved. And when he finally understands the strength of the heart he broke... It may be far too late to win it back.

His Unwanted Wife, The World's Coveted Genius

Derk Blaylock

4.5

Rumors said that Lucas married an unattractive woman with no background. In the three years they were together, he remained cold and distant to Belinda, who endured in silence. Her love for him forced her to sacrifice her self-worth and her dreams. When Lucas' true love reappeared, Belinda realized that their marriage was a sham from the start, a ploy to save another woman's life. She signed the divorce papers and left. Three years later, Belinda returned as a surgical prodigy and a maestro of the piano. Lost in regret, Lucas chased her in the rain and held her tightly. "You are mine, Belinda."

My Luna Became An Alpha After I Rejected Her

infanta123

4.7

My Luna became an alpha after I rejected her : she was my Luna. I rejected her. Now she's stronger than ever and she has my son. Amelia's world shattered the day her daughter died-and her mate, Alpha Aiden of the Red Moon Pack, divorced her to reunite with his ex-girlfriend. Cast out, disgraced, and accused of poisoning her own child, Amelia was stripped of her title and driven from her pack. The next morning, her lifeless body was found at the border.They all believed she was dead.But she wasn't. Far from the ashes of betrayal, Amelia rebuilt herself-rising from rejection and ruin to become the first female Alpha of Velaris, the most powerful and respected pack in the realm. She also carried a secret Aiden never discovered:She was pregnant-with his son.Years later, fate brings them face to face once more. A deadly disease is spreading through the packs, and the only one who can stop it is the renowned doctor they thought had died. When Aiden sees the boy at her side-his eyes, his blood-he realizes the truth.He didn't just lose his Luna. He destroyed the mother of his child.And now, she's everything he's not-stronger, wiser, untouchable. Will she heal the pack that betrayed her?Will she ever let him near her heart again?Or is his punishment simply living with the consequences?

After Divorce: My Arrogant Ex Regrets Calling Me Trash

Sea Jet

4.5

Aurora woke up to the sterile chill of her king-sized bed in Sterling Thorne's penthouse. Today was the day her husband would finally throw her out like garbage. Sterling walked in, tossed divorce papers at her, and demanded her signature, eager to announce his "eligible bachelor" status to the world. In her past life, the sight of those papers had broken her, leaving her begging for a second chance. Sterling's sneering voice, calling her a "trailer park girl" undeserving of his name, had once cut deeper than any blade. He had always used her humble beginnings to keep her small, to make her grateful for the crumbs of his attention. She had lived a gilded cage, believing she was nothing without him, until her life flatlined in a hospital bed, watching him give a press conference about his "grief." But this time, she felt no sting, no tears. Only a cold, clear understanding of the mediocre man who stood on a pedestal she had painstakingly built with her own genius. Aurora signed the papers, her name a declaration of independence. She grabbed her old, phoenix-stickered laptop, ready to walk out. Sterling Thorne was about to find out exactly how expensive "free" could be.

Joyous Gard

Contents

Chapter 1 * * *

Other books by Arthur Christopher Benson

Where No Fear Was

Watersprings

Memoirs of Arthur Hamilton, B. A. Of Trinity College, Cambridge

From a College Window

The Child of the Dawn

Hugh: Memoirs of a Brother