Heaven hovers over. It has lofty qualities, a divine atmosphere. It’s a spiritual shelter of continual security, a state above humanity’s most exalted hopes & desires. But the celestial firmament is not a place of rest. Even the angels work. They have their God-given assignments.
THE WORD (1958) by Edna Sarah Beardsley (re: heaven)
The three pillars stood out clearly now, three pillars topped with two cross pieces in a way which looked stupefyingly familiar to Arthur’s addled brain.
“The three pillars,” thundered the man. “The Steel Pillarwhich represented the Strength and Power of the Galaxy!”
Searchlights seared out and danced crazy dances up and down the pillar on the left which was, clearly, made of steel or something very like it. The music thumped and bellowed.
“The Perspex Pillar,” announced the man, “representing the forces of Science and Reason in the Galaxy!”
Other searchlights played exotically up and down the righthand, transparent pillar creating dazzling patterns within it and a sudden inexplicable craving for ice-cream in the stomach of Arthur Dent.
“And,” the thunderous voice continued, “the Wooden Pillar, representing…” and here his voice became just very slightly hoarse with wonderful sentiments, “the forces of Nature and Spirituality.”
The lights picked out the central pillar. The music moved bravely up into the realms of complete unspeakability.
“Between them supporting,” the voice rolled on, approaching its climax, “the Golden Bail of Prosperity and the Silver Bail of Peace!“
The whole structure was now flooded with dazzling lights, and the music had now, fortunately, gone far beyond the limits of the discernible. At the top of the three pillars the two brilliantly gleaming bails sat and dazzled. There seemed to be girls sitting on top of them, or maybe they were meant to be angels. Angels are usually represented as wearing more than that, though.
LIFE, THE UNIVERSE AND EVERYTHING, Chapter 8, by Douglas Adams
A colorful character in downtown Campbell, we’ve seen him previously on July 10. Notice he’s got a dandelion in his hat, mismatched shoes, and no tires on the rims of his bicycle. Here he’s regaling my friend with entertaining tales of his encounters with police.
BTW, the scratch visible on the inside of his left leg is one of many on his skin that looks to be getting infected. Hope his immune system is as strong as his personality.
My biking buddy and I were stretching the concept of aging. We were trusting our instincts to keep us out of cars’ way, and pushing forward in terms of distance, testing our survival chances one way & another.