a. k. chesterton

Joan of Arc was not stuck at the cross-roads, either by rejecting all the paths like Tolstoy, or by accepting them all like Nietzsche. She chose a path, and went down it like a thunderbolt. Yet Joan, when I came to think of her, had in her all that was true either in Tolstoy or Nietzsche, all that was even tolerable in either of them. I thought of all that is noble in Tolstoy, the pleasure in plain things, especially in plain pity, the actualities of the earth, the reverence for the poor, the dignity of the bowed back. Joan of Arc had all that and with this great addition, that she endured poverty as well as admiring it; whereas Tolstoy is only a typical aristocrat trying to find out its secret. And then I thought of all that was brave and proud and pathetic in poor Nietzsche, and his mutiny against the emptiness and timidity of our time. I thought of his cry for the ecstatic equilibrium of danger, his hunger for the rush of great horses, his cry to arms. Well, Joan of Arc had all that, and again with this difference, that she did not praise fighting, but fought. We KNOW that she was not afraid of an army, while Nietzsche, for all we know, was afraid of a cow. Tolstoy only praised the peasant; she was the peasant. Nietzsche only praised the warrior; she was the warrior. She beat them both at their own antagonistic ideals; she was more gentle than the one, more violent than the other. Yet she was a perfectly practical person who did something, while they are wild speculators who do nothing. It was impossible that the thought should not cross my mind that she and her faith had perhaps some secret of moral unity and utility that has been lost. And with that thought came a larger one, and the colossal figure of her Master had also crossed the theatre of my thoughts.
—  G.K. Chesterton, Orthodoxy

The rose has been a favorite flower of poets, literati and philosophers of all the time. Is a symbol of the triumphant love.

La rosa è il fiore preferito dei poeti, letterati e filosofi di tutti i tempi.È la regina dei fiori, apprezzata per la sua bellezza e il suo profumo. È il simbolo dell'amore trionfante.

If seeds in the black earth can turn into such beautiful roses,
what might not the heart of man become in its long journey toward the stars?

— Gilbert K. Chesterton

Se i semi della terra nera possono trasformarsi in belle rose, Che cosa non potrebbe essere il cuore dell'uomo nel suo lungo cammino verso le stelle?

I want to learn how to speak Italian. For years, I’d wished I could speak Italian - a language I find more beautiful than roses.

— Elizabeth Gilbert

Voglio imparare a parlare italiano. Per anni avrei voluto parlare italiano, una lingua che trovo più bella delle rose.
— Elizabeth Gilbert

(FAIRYTALE AESTHETICS) - Beauty and the Beast

‘There is the great lesson of “Beauty and the Beast”, that a thing must be loved before it is loveable’. - G.K. Chesterton

Everybody talks about foul dens and filthy slums in which crime can run riot; but it’s just the other way. They are called foul, not because crimes are committed, but because crimes are discovered. It’s in the neat, spotless, clean and tidy places that crime can run riot; no mud to make footprints; no dregs to contain poison; kind servants washing out all traces of the murder; and the murderer killing and cremating six wives - and all for want of a little Christian dirt.
—  G. K. Chesterton, The Quick One (The Scandal of Father Brown)
Cloudland

Noun

[kloud-land] 

1. the sky.

2. a region of unreality, imagination, etc.; dreamland.

Origin:
Cloudland entered English in the early 1800s. Cloud-cuckoo-land is a related term that comes from Greek Nephelokokkȳgía, the realm which separates the gods from mankind in Aristophanes’ The Birds.

“When the wind came it split the sky and shouldered the cloudland left and right, unbarring great clear furnaces of rolling gold.”
- G. K. Chesterton, Manalive, 1912