(Oct 25th to 31st)

Format: Triple

” … if ever I find thee double-dealing with thy King any more. Meantime, the parchments stay here with thy son. Him I will return to thee when thou hast made my peace with the King. The parchments never.”

(he) hid his face and groaned.

“Bones of the Saints!” … The pen cuts deep. I could never have fetched that grunt out of thee with any sword.”


This is from “Old Men at Penesey”, in Puck of Pook’s Hill.

Fulke’s treachery has been revealed, and they have made him tell the black story of his life. It is written down as the tide rises around him in the well. He groans at the thought of ridicule should the tale be told abroad.

‘Tis the one word that answers to “light.” “Kings to the brightness of thy rising.” Look! The thing shines now within and without. God! That so much should lie on a word!’ He repeated the verse—”And the Gentiles shall come to thy light, and kings to the brightness of thy rising.”


This is from “Proofs of Holy Writ”, Kipling’s last story.

Will Shakespear, sitting in an orchard with Ben Jonson, has been editing a passage of Isaiah for the King’s new translation of the Bible.

… the shortening of them, first to my own fancy after rapturous re-readings, and next to the space available, taught me that a tale from which pieces have been raked out is like a fire that has been poked. One does not know that the operation has been performed, but every one feels the effect.


This is from the last chapter of Something of Myself.