Will

“When John accuses 'evildoers' of leading gullible people into sin, what troubles him is what troubled the Essenes: whether - or how much - to accommodate pagan culture. And when we see Jesus' earliest followers, including Peter, James, and Paul, not as we usually see them, as early Christians, but as they saw themselves - as Jews who had found God's messiah - we can see that they struggled with the same question. For when John charges that certain prophets and teachers are encouraging God's people to eat 'unclean' food and engage in 'unclean' sex, he is taking up arguments that had broken out between Paul and followers of James and Peter about forty years earlier - an argument that John of Patmos continues with a second generation of Paul's followers. For when we ask, who are the 'evildoers' against whom John warns? we may be surprised at the answer. Those whom John says Jesus 'hates' look very much like Gentile followers of Jesus converted through Paul's teaching. Many commentators have pointed out that when we step back from John's angry rhetoric, we can see that the very practices John denounces are those that Paul had recommended.”
― Elaine Pagels, Revelations: Visions, Prophecy, and Politics in the Book of Revelation

“For years Angus McAllister had set before himself as his earthly goal the construction of a gravel path through the Castle’s famous yew alley. For years he had been bringing the project to the notice of his employer, though in anyone less whiskered the latter’s unconcealed loathing would have caused embarrassment. And now, it seemed, he was at it again.

'Gravel path!' Lord Emsworth stiffened through the whole length of his stringy body. Nature, he had always maintained, intended a yew alley to be carpeted with a mossy growth. And, whatever Nature felt about it, he personally was dashed if he was going to have men with Clydeside accents and faces like dissipated potatoes coming along and mutilating that lovely expanse of green velvet. 'Gravel path, indeed! Why not asphalt? Why not a few hoardings with advertisements of liver pills and a filling station? That’s what the man would really like.'

Lord Emsworth felt bitter, and when he felt bitter he could be terribly sarcastic.

'Well, I think it is a very good idea,' said his sister. 'One could walk there in wet weather then. Damp moss is ruinous to shoes.'

Lord Emsworth rose. He could bear no more of this. He left the table, the room, and the house, and, reaching the yew alley some minutes later, was revolted to find it infested by Angus McAllister in person. The head-gardener was standing gazing at the moss like a high priest of some ancient religion about to stick the gaff into the human sacrifice.

'Morning, McAllister,' said Lord Emsworth, coldly.

'Good morrrrning, your lorrudsheep.'

There was a pause. Angus McAllister, extending a foot that looked like a violin-case, pressed it on the moss. The meaning of the gesture was plain. It expressed contempt, dislike, a generally anti-moss spirit; and Lord Emsworth, wincing, surveyed the man unpleasantly through his pince-nez. Though not often given to theological speculation, he was wondering why Providence, if obliged to make head-gardeners, had found it necessary to make them so Scotch. In the case of Angus McAllister, why, going a step farther, have made him a human being at all? All the ingredients of a first-class mule simply thrown away. He felt that he might have liked Angus McAllister if he had been a mule.

'I was speaking to her leddyship yesterday.'

'Oh?'

'About the gravel path I was speaking to her leddyship.'

'Oh?'

'Her leddyship likes the notion fine.'

'Indeed! Well——'

Lord Emsworth’s face had turned a lively pink, and he was about to release the blistering words which were forming themselves in his mind when suddenly he caught the head-gardener’s eye and paused. Angus McAllister was looking at him in a peculiar manner, and he knew what that look meant. Just one crack, his eye was saying—in Scotch, of course—just one crack out of you and I tender my resignation. And with a sickening shock it came home to Lord Emsworth how completely he was in this man’s clutches.

He shuffled miserably. Yes, he was helpless. Except for that kink about gravel paths, Angus McAllister was a head-gardener in a thousand, and he needed him. He could not do without him. Filled with the coward rage that dares to burn but does not dare to blaze, Lord Emsworth coughed a cough that was undisguisedly a bronchial white flag.

'I’ll—er—I’ll think it over, McAllister.'

'Mphm.'

'I have to go to the village now. I will see you later.'

'Mphm.'

'Meanwhile, I will—er—think it over.'

'Mphm.”
― P.G. Wodehouse, Lord Emsworth Acts for the Best

“Qua na stat nagin pront davant la porta, uschia che jau m'avischin e splunt in zic timida. Ina dunna cun schlappa e scussal alv m'avra. Probablamain la cuschiniera. Immediat cumenza ella a discurrer per tudestg. Jau na chapesch betg pled e na sai betg tge dir. Dus egls severs m'examineschan. Ella para da spetgar ina resposta. Qua cumpara tuttenina in'autra dunna davos ella. Quella porta in bellezza vestgì e surri en maniera simpatica. 'Haben wir Besuch, Roswitha?', dumonda ella la cuschiniera. 'Nun ja, dieses Mädchen is hier aufgetaucht. Ich weiss nicht, ob es stumm ist oder unsere Sprache nicht spricht.' La cuschiniera guarda sco sch'ella n'avess betg grond gust da sa fatschentar pli ditg cun mai. 'Ist schon gut, Roswitha, du kannst sie mir überlassen.' Jau hai empruvà da suandar lur discurs cun tutta fadia, ma n'hai tuttina chapì nagut. Ussa sa drizla la dunna cun il surrir amiaivel a mai: 'Buna saira, jau sun la patruna da quest hotel.' Ella ma tanscha il maun. 'Discurris Vus rumantsch?' Surstada dun jau dal chau. Cun quai n'aveva jau betg quintà. Ella è bain la patruna tudestga, pertge sa ella pia rumantsch? Sche mes parents discurrivan davart ils Tudestgs, eran els adina plain aversiun: 'Taidla, Catrina, quels pensan ch'il rumantsch saja la lingua da las muntognas, dals purs. Ils Tudestgs n'empruvassan mai da communitgar cun nus. Ma quai è bain en urden, nus stain gugent tranter nus.' L'experientscha d'ier m'ha confermà quai. Questa dunna qua è dentant tut autra.”
― Laura Schütz, Hotel Destin

“A dear uncle of mine (after whom I was named)
Remarked, when I bade him farewell - '
'Oh, skip your dear uncle!' the Bellman exclaimed,
As he angrily tingled his bell.

'He remarked to me then,' said that mildest of men,
'"If your Snark be a Snark, that is right:
Fetch it home by all means - you may serve it with greens,
And it's handy for striking a light.

'"You may seek it with thimbles - and seek it with care;
You may hunt it with forks and hope;
You may threaten its life with a railway-share;
You may charm it with smiles and soap - "'

('That's exactly the method,' the Bellman bold
In a hasty parenthesis cried,
'That's exactly the way I have always been told
That the capture of Snarks should be tried!')

'"But oh, beamish nephew, beware the day,
If your Snark be a Boojum! For then
You will softly and suddenly vanish away,
And never be met with again!”
― Lewis Carroll, The Hunting of the Snark