I've been reading Manalive by G.K. Chesterton over spring break, thanks to Anna.

Oddly enough, some of the moments that stood out to me most were when characters were talking about marriage (!). I was surprised to find so much wisdom in Chesterton about that particular subject since I usually think of him as being wise in matters of life philosophy, but I suppose that, given the topic of this particular book, I really shouldn't have been so shocked.

Anyway, a few quotes:

"'Imprudent marriages!' roared Michael. 'And pray where in earth or heaven are there any prudent marriages? .... You never know a husband till you marry him. Unhappy! Of course you'll be unhappy! Who the devil are you that you shouldn't be unhappy, like the mother that bore you? Disappointed! Of course we'll be disappointed! I, for one, don't expect till I die to be so good a man as I am at this minute...."

~

"'Oh, what's the good of talking about men,' cried Mary impatiently; 'why, one might as well be a lady novelist, or some horrid thing. There aren't any men. There are no such people. There's a man; and whoever he is he's quite different.'

'So there's no safety,' said Diana, in a low voice.

'Oh, I don't know,' answered Mary lightly enough; 'there's only two things generally true of them. At certain curious times they're just fitted to take care of us, and they're never fit to take care of themselves.'"

~

"'Don't you be frightened,' said Mary. 'All over, these men have one advantage: they are the sort that go out.'

A sudden thrust of wind through the trees drifted the dying leaves along the path, and they could hear the far-off trees roaring faintly.

'I mean,' said Mary, 'they are the kind that look outwards and get interested in the world. It doesn't matter a bit whether it's arguing, or bicycling, or breaking down the ends of the earth.... Stick to the man who looks out of the window and tries to understand the world. Keep clear of the man who looks in at the window and tries to understand you....'"

For one thing, Chesterton's sense of humour is often impeccable, with his peculiar blend of uproariousness and sarcasm. For another thing, the human balance of these ideas seems very appropriate. As a whole, the novella deals with loving the everyday:

"'... I think God has given us the love of special places, of a hearth and of a native land, for a good reason.... Because otherwise... we might worship that.'

'What do you mean?' I asked.

'Eternity,' he said in his harsh voice, 'the largest of the idols--the mightiest of the rivals of God.... if there be a house for me in heaven it will either have a green lamp-post and a hedge, or something quite as positive and personal as a green lamp-post and a hedge. I mean that God bade me love one spot and serve it, and do all things however wild in praise of it, so that this one spot might be a witness against all the infinities and the sophistries, that Paradise is somewhere and not anywhere, is something and not anything. and I would not be so very much surprised if the house in heaven had a real green lamp-post after all.'"

In other words, we love the specific, real, and concrete because we worship a specific, real, and concrete God, and not an airy-fairy generality that we've made up ourselves.

This is why the ideas about marriage seem apropos: Instead of worrying about "people out there," other possibilities, the vague exigencies of the future, it seems much more fitting to focus on this person in front of me, the one God has given me to love, right now, in this moment (and leave the future to take care of itself, if such a thing is possible for the human mind).

Which is why I love this quote that I stumbled across today in The Fellowship of the Ring, concerning Rivendell:

"The future, good or ill, was not forgotten, but ceased to have any power over the present."

A focus on the present good and the present blessings, thanking God for what He has given right now, without letting the future overshadow or overpower the present, specific, concrete reality of this moment here. This also precludes, one would hope, idolatry of the future, or of oneself in the future--or in the present, for that matter, since when you're busy being thankful and enjoying, it rather crowds out too much selfishness and introspection.

High ideals, and probably impossible--but good to think about, at least.