No man understands knavery better than the abbot who has been a monk.
Related quotes
The election of the abbot is not stopped for want of a monk.
Cunning leads to knavery. It is but a step from one to the other, and that very slippery. Only lying makes the difference; add that to cunning, and it is knavery.
With art and knavery we live through half the year; with knavery and art we live through the other.
Secret Dreams
The abbot is a saintly man.
He praises me because I can
transcribe and illustrate the word.
So that the gospel may be heard
by other men on other lands,
He says that God has blessed my hands.
Although my frame is poor and weak
and that my talent is unique.
The holy books that I produce.
A bishop would be proud to use
From other duties I am free
save for my calligraphy.
But still pray to God each nigh
to heal my body set me right.
Because I would much rather be
outside and work laboriously.
But I must do as He commands
The abbot says he understands.
How very hard it is for me
to write of things I’ll never see.
Each man must serve as best
he can as soldier priest or husbandman.
To everyman God gave a skill
his part of Gods plan to fulfil.
We are all where we’re meant to be
and must accept this patiently.
I trust the Abbot he is wise
It’s not for us to criticise.
Where we are placed in the great scheme.
but still I am allowed to dream
and in my dreams I’m tall and strong
I need no crutch to get along.
but dreams are not reality.
I am not as I’d like to be.
So I will do the best I can.
As God expects from any man.
Although I sometimes wonder why
I must suffer from such frailty.
It is the cross I have to bear.
My faith in God I can declare
by copying his Holy Word
I wield my quill pen like a sword.
I am to frail and weak to fight
but I have strength and skill to write.
I transcribe and I illustrate
the word of God in copperplate,
in coloured inks of different hues.
My given task I can’t refuse.
The abbot says he can rely
upon my skill and my trained eye.
To train the younger monks to do
the work the way I’ve taught them to.
The time will come when I can’t see.
when old age catches up with me.
The copying will still go on
long after I am dead and gone.
Then I shall reap as I have sown.
My secret dreams to God are known.
I do not think he will condemn
my wish to be like other men.
28-Sep-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Baby Understands
Whenever my baby loves me
whenever my baby needs me
and he often does
Well I'm attracted by desire ooh
cause he's the master of the fire
and he teases just to tease me
and he pleases just to please me
My baby understands
my baby understands
my baby understands
my baby understands
Whenever my baby loves me
love me like he should
whenever my baby leaves me
leaves me feeling good
he loves me
needs me
wants me
oh yes my baby does
Whenever my baby leaves me
whenever my baby goes away for a while
like he does
No I never need to worry ooh
cause my baby loves me only
Well I'm capture by desire
cause he's the master of the fire
my baby understands
my baby understands
my baby understands
Yes my baby understands
song performed by by Donna Summer from Bad Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It could be true for M' lady Ernestine
Anselm the abbot avidly believed in bibliography.
He loved learning passionately and filled the abbey library
with scrolls and books of sacred lore and had scriveners by the score.
Who had the task of copying and reproducing everything.
Anselm decreed each monk must learn to read and write each in their turn
Although some monks were not impressed they had to learn at his behest.
Anselm the abbot’s word was law and soon the Abbey boasted more monks who were truly literate and able to communicate.
knowledge acquired painfully to other brothers easily.
Anselm had inadvertently created very probably
The very first religious school where love of learning was the rule
And so the abbey came to be more of a school than monastery
Anselm had realised his dream and risen high in the esteem
not only of the monarchy but of the church authority
The king decreed Anselm should be rewarded for his industry.
So he created Kings College where monks could pass on their knowledge.
And that’s how Oxford came to be in time a university
Where students came from far and wide to study by the riverside
A little bit of history not noted for its accuracy
I have no doubt you will agree it could well solve the mystery.
16-Dec-08
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The first jazz pianist I heard was Thelonious Monk. My father was listening to an album of his called 'Monk's Dream' almost every day from the time I was born.
quote by Benny Green
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Baby Does Me
Words and music by queen
Turn it up a bit please
My baby
Baby does
My baby does me good
My baby does
My baby does me
My baby does me good
My lady
Understands
Understands me right
She understands me
She understands me
Understands me right
My baby cares
She really cares
She knows whats really right for me
Does me good then she hurts me so
She winds me up and then lets me go
Turns me on and then tells me no
Shes just a pussy cat
My baby loves me
My baby loves me
My baby cuffs me
One day she tells me that she cares
Another day she tells me she dont love me
She really really does me
Ooh
Now people do you believe this
Do you
Ooh
Oooh
She really really really really really really
Does me
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Abbot Of Innisfallen
The Abbot of Innisfallen
awoke ere dawn of day;
Under the dewy green leaves
went he forth to pray.
The lake around his island
lay smooth and dark and deep,
And wrapt in a misty stillness
the mountains were all asleep.
Low kneel'd the Abbot Cormac
when the dawn was dim and gray;
The prayers of his holy office
he faithfully 'gan say.
Low kneel'd the Abbot Cormac
while the dawn was waxing red;
And for his sins' forgiveness
a solemn prayer he said:
Low kneel'd that holy Abbot
while the dawn was waxing clear;
And he pray'd with loving-kindness
for his convent-brethren dear.
Low kneel'd that blessed Abbot
while the dawn was waxing bright;
He pray'd a great prayer for Ireland,
he pray'd with all his might.
Low kneel'd that good old Father
while the sun began to dart;
He pray'd a prayer for all men,
he pray'd it from his heart.
His blissful soul was in Heaven,
tho' a breathing man was he;
He was out of time's dominion,
so far as the living may be.
The Abbot of Innisfallen
arose upon his feet;
He heard a small bird singing,
and O but it sung sweet!
It sung upon a holly-bush,
this little snow-white bird;
A song so full of gladness
he never before had heard.
It sung upon a hazel,
it sung upon a thorn;
He had never heard such music
since the hour that he was born.
It sung upon a sycamore,
it sung upon a briar;
To follow the song and hearken
this Abbot could never tire.
Till at last he well bethought him;
he might no longer stay;
So he bless'd the little white singing-bird,
and gladly went his way.
But, when he came to his Abbey,
he found a wondrous change;
He saw no friendly faces there,
for every face was strange.
The strange men spoke unto him;
and he heard from all and each
The foreign tongue of the Sassenach,
not wholesome Irish speech.
Then the oldest monk came forward,
in Irish tongue spake he:
'Thou wearest the holy Augustine's dress,
and who hath given it to thee?'
'I wear the Augustine's dress,
and Cormac is my name,
The Abbot of this good Abbey
by grace of God I am.
I went forth to pray, at the dawn of day;
and when my prayers were said,
I hearken'd awhile to a little bird,
that sung above my head.'
The monks to him made answer,
'Two hundred years have gone o'er,
Since our Abbot Cormac went through the gate,
and never was heard of more.
Matthias now is our Abbot,
and twenty have pass'd away.
The stranger is lord of Ireland;
we live in an evil day.'
'Days will come and go,' he said,
'and the world will pass away,
In Heaven a day is a thousand years,
a thousand years are a day.'
'Now give me absolution;
for my time is come,' said he.
And they gave him absolution,
as speedily as might be.
Then, close outside the window,
the sweetest song they heard
That ever yet since the world began
was utter'd by any bird.
The monks look'd out and saw the bird,
its feathers all white and clean;
And there in a moment, beside it,
another white bird was seen.
Those two they sang together,
waved their white wings, and fled;
Flew aloft, and vanish'd;
but the good old man was dead.
They buried his blessed body
where lake and green-sward meet;
A carven cross above his head,
a holly-bush at his feet;
Where spreads the beautiful water
to gay or cloudy skies,
And the purple peaks of Killarney
from ancient woods arise.
poem by William Allingham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Spank It
1-hey sped!
2-hey what?
1- what you wanna do?
2- I wanna spank!
1-spank what?
2- spank my little monk!!
1-to the left
2- to the right!
1&2- spank it up and down all night!
1- spank the monk!
2- spank, spank the monk!
1- spank the monk!
1&2- spank spank, the monk!
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Gambler
The Gambler stopped a monk
dwelling on spiritual plane,
And exclaimed, "Oh! monk
we both are exactly same
So I think we both of us
deserve equal name and fame.
Monk replied, "Gambler! I put
self not a pelf at stake,
And drink bitter poison
for God's sake
Only fool would say our
lives are same
For you a game is life
for me a life is game.''
Dr Hitesh C Sheth
27/12/2009
poem by Hitesh Sheth
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Knavery and flattery are blood relations.
quote by Abraham Lincoln
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Knavery seems to be so much a the striking feature of its inhabitants that it may not in the end be an evil that they will become aliens to this kingdom.
quote by George III
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He who understands music understands the cosmos.
The superior man understands what is right; the inferior man understands what will sell.