Lures of Life
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Joseph Lucas. Lures of Life
Lures of Life
Table of Contents
I
THE LURE OF LIFE'S AFTERGLOW
II
THE LURE OF HAPPINESS
III
THE LURE OF SELF-DENIAL
IV
THE LURE OF MAGIC WORDS
V
THE LURE OF AN OLD TUSCAN GARDEN
VI
THE LURE OF THE MONTELUPO PLATE
VII
THE LURE OF PLUCK
VIII
THE LURE OF OLD FURNITURE
IX
THE LURE OF PERSONALITY
X
THE LURE OF NICE PEOPLE
XI
THE LURE OF THE NEW DEMOCRACY
XII
JESUS CHRIST THE LURE OF THE AGES
XIII
THE LURE OF THE LIVING WORD
Отрывок из книги
Joseph Lucas
Published by Good Press, 2021
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When the Creator was busy in the minting-house He did not cast his creatures all in the same mould, or coin them of the same metal. Some people are of fine temperament, cram full of emotion; they are all feeling, and express their feeling vigorously. Other people are of baser metal. They are stolid, and pass through life neither contented nor discontented with their lot; they are neither happy nor miserable. They are well-regulated clocks running slowly down to the last tick, and then ceasing to tick at all. Monotony is the bane of their existence, blighting it with double dulness. They feel little and say nothing about it. One never knows what hidden compensations life provides for its multitudinous offspring. These torpid people must have a secret well of satisfaction from which they dip refreshing draughts in thirsty moments.
The child of emotion is more vivacious; he has colour, romance, movement. He is of a rarer vintage; there is sparkle in the wine of life. Occasionally the wine turns sour and drops flavour. Disagreeable people do exist for some veiled purpose of Providence, as the species never becomes extinct in the land. In infancy they were rocked in the cradle of discontent, and they have seldom slept out of it since. They have grown up in a nursery of their own. They are highly strung, and have a genius for living in the moment--irritably. Their wit is brilliant, it scintillates like running water in the sunshine, but it cuts like a razor. Everybody within reach of their tongue, even innocent people, feel the whip of their capricious temper. I suppose some grim pleasure feeds their fiery nature when they subdue friend and enemy under them. It is an unenviable pleasure which they enjoy; nobody shares with them, and when their ill-humour dies down it must leave a nasty taste in their mouth.
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