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From Hildegard Abess at Rupertsberg to Henry, King of England, greetings:
When a certain man holds a high office over other men, the Lord commands him:
“Yours are the gifts of giving, it is by ruling and defending, protecting and providing, that you may reach Heaven.”
But then a bird, black as pitch, will come to you from the North, and it will say:
“You can do whatever you want; so do this and do that; make this excuse and that excuse, for it does not profit you to have regard to Justice; for if you always consult Justice, you are not the master, rather you are reduced to mere slavery.”
It is imperative that you not listen to the Thief who so counsels you, who is like the one who in the First Age stripped humanity of its great glory, when from dust humankind was made in a beautiful form, and when it received that vital spark of life. Rather you must pay your attention to your Father the Creator, especially since your mind is well-intentioned, and thus you will willingly do good unless you are overcome by the squalid habits of those around you and become estranged from Him in the course of time. Dear Son of God, you must flee this environment and call on your Father with all your might, as He gladly reaches out His hand to help you.
Thus may you live forever and dwell in eternal happiness.
–Hildegard of Bingen, letter to King Henry II of England (ca. 1154)(composed when Hildegard learned of Henry’s falling out with Thomas à Beckett, Archbishop of Canterbury) from: Analecta Sanctæ Hildegardis Opera. Analecta Sacra, vol. 8, p. 556 (J.B. Pitra ed. 1882)(S.H. transl.)
More from Scott Horton:
Conversation — August 5, 2016, 12:08 pm
Sidney Blumenthal on the origins of the Republican Party, the fallout from Clinton’s emails, and his new biography of Abraham Lincoln
Conversation — March 30, 2016, 3:44 pm
Joseph Hickman discusses his new book, The Burn Pits, which tells the story of thousands of U.S. soldiers who, after returning from Iraq and Afghanistan, have developed rare cancers and respiratory diseases.
Years ago, I lived in Montana, a land of purple sunsets, clear streams, and snowflakes the size of silver dollars drifting through the cold air. There were no speed limits and you could legally drive drunk. My small apartment in Missoula had little privacy. In order to write, I rented an off-season fishing cabin on Rock Creek, a one-room place with a bed and a bureau. I lacked the budget for a desk. My idea was to remove a sliding door from a closet in my apartment and place it over a couple of hastily cobbled-together sawhorses.
Annual premium on a $6,000 life insurance policy for a champion German shepherd:
Astronomers discovered a pulsar called a superbubble, which spins 716 times per second.
Nigerian president Muhammadu Buhari told reporters that his wife “belonged to” his kitchen.
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“Matt was happy enough to sustain himself on the detritus of a world he saw as careening toward self-destruction, and equally happy to scam a government he despised. 'I’m glad everyone’s so wasteful,' he told me. 'It supports my lifestyle.'”