But at last he bethought him; and upon a wintry night there came to the door of the man a servant of the prince, bearing a sack of flour, a bag of soap and a cone of sugar. He speaks in symbols. The flour is for your empty stomach; the soap is for your dirty hide; and the sugar is to sweeten your bitter tongue. His hatred of the prince was greater than ever, and even more he hated the bishop who had revealed the prince unto him.
But thereafter he kept silent. Three dogs were basking in the sun and conversing. Consider the ease with which we travel under the sea, upon the earth and even in the sky. And meditate for a moment upon the inventions brought forth for the comfort of dogs, even for our eyes and ears and noses. We bark at the moon more rhythmically than did our forefathers.
And when we gaze at ourselves in the water we see that our features are clearer than the features of yesterday. Civilization is after us. Once there came to the court of the Prince of Birkasha a dancer with her musicians. And she was admitted to the court, and she danced before the prince to the music the lute and the flute and the zither.
She danced the dance of flames, and the dance of swords and spears; she danced the dance of stars and the dance of space. And then she danced the dance of flowers in the wind. After this she stood before the throne of the prince and bowed her body before him.
And how is it that you command all the elements in your rhythms and your rhymes? On an evening two angels met at the city gate, and they greeted one another, and they conversed.
Let me assure you it is an important task, and I work hard. I have often known sinners, and have been their guardian many a time.
But it has now been assigned me to be the guardian of the good saint who lives in a bower out yonder. And I assure you that is an exceedingly difficult work, and most subtle. How can guarding a saint be harder than guarding a sinner?
I have stated but the truth. Methinks it is you who are assumptious! While they were fighting an archangel came by. And what is it all about? Know you not that it is most unbecoming for guardian angels to fight at the city gate? Tell me, what is your disagreement? The archangel shook his head and bethought him.
Now go hence and be happy at your work. But each one looked backward with greater anger at the archangel. Every day they make life harder and still harder for us angels! Once there lived a man among the hills who possessed a statue wrought by an ancient master.
It lay at his door face downward and he was not mindful of it. One day there passed by his house a man from the city, a man of knowledge, and seeing the statue he inquired of the owner if he would sell it. The statue was removed to the city, upon the back of and elephant.
Only two silver pieces to look upon this most marvellous work of a master. Once upon a crossroad a poor Poet met a rich Stupid, and they conversed. And all that they said revealed but their discontent. Then the Angel of the Road passed by, and he laid his hand upon the shoulder of the two men.
And behold, a miracle: The two men had now exchanged their possessions. And they parted. But strange to relate, the Poet looked and found naught in his hand but dry moving sand; and the Stupid closed his eyes and felt naught but moving cloud in his heart.
A man dreamed a dream, and when he awoke he went to his soothsayer and desired that his dream be made plain unto him. But the dreams of your sleep belong neither to my wisdom nor to your imagination.
It was in the garden of a madhouse that I met a youth with a face pale and lovely and full of wonder. My father would make of me a reproduction of himself; so also would my uncle. My mother would have me the image of her seafaring husband as the perfect example for me to follow.
My brother thinks I should be like him, a fine athlete. I find it more sane here. At least, I can be myself. Let us be quiet at night, and keep our songs in our hearts, even though the moon calls for our rhythm and the stars for our rhyme. At least, let us be silent for a night or two, or even for three nights. We shall see what your bountiful heart will bring forth. I was secure with sleep when the noise of the frogs was in my ear. But something must have happened.
They have not sung now for three nights; and I am almost maddened with sleeplessness. And I can see now that there is no need for us to cease our singing for the comfort of those who must needs fill their emptiness with noise. Ages ago there was a great king, and he was wise. And he desired to lay laws unto his subjects. He called upon one thousand wise men of one thousand different tribes to his capitol and lay down the laws. And all this came to pass.
But when the thousand laws written upon parchment were put before the king and he read them, he wept bitterly in his soul, for he had not known that there were one thousand forms of crime in his kingdom.
Then he called his scribe, and with a smile upon his mouth he himself dictated laws. And his laws were but seven. And the one thousand wise men left him in anger and returned to their tribes with the laws they had laid down.
And every tribe followed the laws of its wise men. Therefore they have a thousand laws even to our own day. It is a great country, but it has one thousand prisons, and the prisons are full of women and men, breakers of a thousand laws. It is indeed a great country, but the people thereof are descendants of one thousand law-givers and of only one wise king. It was but yesterday that she leaned thus upon my arm.
It was but yesterday she sat close beside me. Yesterday she gazed thus upon me. Those very songs of love she murmured but yesterday into my ears. It was but yesterday that she embraced me. But leave your shoes here, and wear this other pair today, and come tomorrow for your own. Upon this very street there is another cobbler who understands philosophers better than I do. Go you to him for mending.
In Antioch where the river Assi goes to meet the sea, a bridge was built to bring one half of the city nearer to the other half. It was built of large stones carried down from among the hills, on the backs of the mules of Antioch.
In passing to and fro over it you are riding upon the backs of the mules of Antioch, builders of this bridge. Is he not a little mad? And yet until now it has been said that the bridge was builded by King Antiochus. There once stood on this field the great city of Zaad, and it was burnt down to ashes. But now it is a good field, is it not? But once there was a monastery here, and it was destroyed by the people of the South Country.
Once upon a day two men who met on the road were walking together toward Salamis, the City of Columns. In the mid-afternoon they came to a wide river and there was no bridge to cross it. They must needs swim, or seek another road unknown to them. After all, the river is not so wide. And one of the men who had always known rivers and the ways of rivers, in mid-stream suddenly began to lose himself; and to be carried away by the rushing waters; while the other who had never swum before crossed the river straight-way and stood upon the farther bank.
Then seeing his companion still wrestling with the stream, he threw himself again into the waters and brought him also safely to the shore.
How then did you cross that river with such assurance? It is the weight of this belt of gold that carried me across the river, to my wife and my children. And my wife and my children were upon my shoulders as I swam. My roots are also deep in the red earth. And the red earth gives you power to bestow upon me of your fruit, and the red earth teaches me to receive from you with thanksgiving. The full moon rose in glory upon the town, and all the dogs of that town began to bark at the moon.
But the dog who had spoken to them continued barking for silence, the rest of the night. Once there lived a hermit prophet, and thrice a moon he would go down to the great city and in the market places he would preach giving and sharing to the people.
And he was eloquent, and his fame was upon the land. Upon an evening three men came to his hermitage and he greeted them. Now come and give us of your riches, for we are in need. Take them if it is in your desire. I have neither gold nor silver. You fraud!
You teach and preach that which you yourself do not perform. Once there lived a rich man who was justly proud of his cellar and the wine therein. And there was one jug of ancient vintage kept for some occasion known only to himself.
He would not know its value, nor would its aroma reach his nostrils. And upon the day that he was buried the ancient jug was brought out together with other jugs of wine, and it was shared by the peasants of the neighbourhood.
And none knew its great age. To them, all that is poured into a cup is only wine. Many centuries ago, on a road to Athens, two poets met, and they were glad to see one another.
It is an invocation to Zeus the Supreme. Come, let us sit in the shade of that white cypress. And it was a long poem. It will live through the ages, and in it you shall be glorified. Only eight lines in remembrance of a child playing in a garden.
And now after two thousand years the eight lines of the one poet are read in every tongue, and are loved and cherished. And though the other poem has indeed come down through the ages in libraries and in the cells of scholars, and though it is remembered, it is neither loved nor read.
Three men once looked from afar upon a white house that stood alone on a green hill. She is an old witch. Lady Ruth is a beautiful woman who lives there consecrated unto her dreams.
Lady Ruth is the holder of this vast land, and she draws blood from her serfs. But Lady Ruth died eighty years ago, and now the house is empty. The owls hoot therein, sometimes, and people say the place is haunted. Once on an evening a poet met a peasant. The poet was distant and the peasant was shy, yet they conversed. A mouse was caught in a trap, and while he was happily eating the cheese that lay therein, a cat stood by.
The mouse trembled awhile, but he knew he was safe within the trap. But what of you? They tell me you have nine lives. And we shall die nine times, nine times shall we die. Perhaps it were better to have but one life, caught in a trap -- the life of a peasant with a bit of cheese for the last meal. And yet, are we not kin unto the lions of the desert and the jungle? And I cursed them both in my heart, for of all the world I loved but my daughter.
It was my curse that destroyed them. But there was a tone of bragging in his words, and it seems that he is still proud of the power of his curse. There was once a man who had many pomegranate trees in his orchard. You are welcome. In the city of Kilafis a sophist stood on the steps of the Temple and preached many gods. Do they not live with us and follow us wherever we go? Once there lived a rich man who had a young wife, and she was stone deaf.
It seems that the caravans had but just brought these things to our city. And now behold me, in rags, yet the wife of a rich man. I would have some of those beautiful things.
You would deny me everything of beauty and loveliness, while other women of my age walk the gardens of the city clothed in rich raiment. Now, it changed that the young woman fell in love with a youth whose habit it was to make long journeys.
And whenever he was away she would sit in her casement and weep. I have found writings which tell of that fountain flowering toward the sun. And you, what are you seeking?
Now while the two philosophers were loud upon the wind, a stranger, a man who was deemed a simpleton in his own village, passed by, and when he heard the two in hot dispute, he stood awhile and listened to their argument. One of you is seeks the fountain of youth, and the other seeks the mystery of death. Yet indeed they are but one, and as they dwell in you both. The two philosophers looked at each other in silence for a moment, and then they laughed also. You are too vulgar and ungracious to be my mate.
That sceptre was fashioned by the greatest artist of the land. Some day you and the queen shall be forgotten, but this sceptre shall be kept, a thing of beauty from generation to generation. There lived among the hills a woman and her son, and he was her first-born and her only child. The book has been awarded with , and many others. Please note that the tricks or techniques listed in this pdf are either fictional or claimed to work by its creator.
We do not guarantee that these techniques will work for you. Some of the techniques listed in The Wanderer may require a sound knowledge of Hypnosis, users are advised to either leave those sections or must have a basic understanding of the subject before practicing them.
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