Alumno: Santiago Carbonell Matarredona Ingls1. Chapter FOUR (first part)This is the fourthand the lastempty MS. book I can find in thehouse; at least nearly empty, for there are some pages of very ancientarithmetic at the end by J. I resolve to let this limit my jottings. I will notstart buying books for the purpose. In so far as this record was adefence against total collapse, a safety-valve, it has done somegood. The other end I had in view turns out to have been based on amisunderstanding. I thought I could describe a state; make a map ofsorrow. Sorrow, however, turns out to be not a state but a process. Itneeds not a map but a history, and if I dont stop writing that history atsome quite arbitrary point, theres no reason why I should ever stop.There is something new to be chronicled every day. Grief is like along valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally newlandscape. As Ive already noted, not every bend does. Sometimesthe surprise is the opposite one; you are presented with exactly thesame sort of country you thought you had left behind miles ago. Thatis when you wonder whether the valley isnt a circular trench. But itisnt. There are partial recurrences, but the sequence doesnt repeat.Here, for instance, is a new phase, a new loss. I do all thewalking I can, for Id be a fool to go to bed not tired. Today I havebeen revisiting old haunts, taking one of the long rambles that mademe so happy in my bachelor days. And this time the face of naturewas not emptied of its beauty and the world didnt look (as Icomplained some days ago) like a mean street. On the contrary,every horizon, every stile or clump of trees, summoned me into a pastkind of happiness, my pre-H. happiness. But the invitation seemed tome horrible. The happiness into which it invited me was insipid. I findthat I dont want to go back again and be happy in that way. Itfrightens me to think that a mere going back should even be possible.For this fate would seem to me the worst of all, to reach a state inwhich my years of love and marriage should appear in retrospect acharming episodelike a holidaythat had briefly interrupted myinterminable life and returned me to normal, unchanged. And then itwould come to seem unrealsomething so foreign to the usualtexture of my history that I could almost believe it had happened tosomeone else. Thus H. would die to me a second time; a worsebereavement than the first. Anything but that.Did you ever know, dear, how much you took away with you whenyou left? You have stripped me even of my past, even of the things wenever shared. I was wrong to say the stump was recovering from thepain of the amputation. I was deceived because it has so many waysto hurt me that I discover them only one by one.Still, there are the two enormous gainsI know myself too wellnow to call them lasting. Turned to God, my mind no longer meetsthat locked door; turned to H., it no longer meets that vacuumnor allthat fuss about my mental image of her. My jottings show somethingof the process, but not so much as Id hoped. Perhaps both changeswere really not observable. There was no sudden, striking, andemotional transition. Like the warming of a room or the coming ofdaylight. When you first notice them they have already been going onfor some time.The notes have been about myself, and about H., and about God.In that order. The order and the proportions exactly what they oughtnot to have been. And I see that I have nowhere fallen into that modeof thinking about either which we call praising them. Yet that wouldhave been best for me. Praise is the mode of love which always hassome element of joy in it. Praise in due order; of Him as the giver, ofher as the gift. Dont we in praise somehow enjoy what we praise,however far we are from it? I must do more of this. I have lost thefruition I once had of H. And I am far, far away in the valley of myunlikeness, from the fruition which, if His mercies are infinite, I maysome time have of God. But by praising I can still, in some degree,enjoy her, and already, in some degree, enjoy Him. Better thannothing.But perhaps I lack the gift. I see Ive described H. as being like asword. Thats true as far as it goes. But utterly inadequate by itself,and misleading. I ought to have balanced it. I ought to have said, Butalso like a garden. Like a nest of gardens, wall within wall, hedgewithin hedge, more secret, more full of fragrant and fertile life, thefurther you entered.And then, of her, and of every created thing I praise, I should say,In some way, in its unique way, like Him who made it.Thus up from the garden to the Gardener, from the sword to theSmith. To the life-giving Life and the Beauty that makes beautiful.She is in Gods hands. That gains a new energy when I think ofher as a sword. Perhaps the earthly life I shared with her was only partof the tempering. Now perhaps He grasps the hilt; weighs the newweapon; makes lightnings with it in the air. A right Jerusalem blade.One moment last night can be described in similes; otherwise itwont go into language at all. Imagine a man in total darkness. Hethinks he is in a cellar or dungeon. Then there comes a sound. Hethinks it might be a sound from far offwaves or wind-blown trees orcattle half a mile away. And if so, it proves hes not in a cellar, butfree, in the open air. Or it may be a much smaller sound close at handa chuckle of laughter. And if so, there is a friend just beside him inthe dark. Either way, a good, good sound. Im not mad enough to takesuch an experience as evidence for anything. It is simply the leapinginto imaginative activity of an idea which I would always havetheoretically admittedthe idea that I, or any mortal at any time, maybe utterly mistaken as to the situation he is really in.Five senses; an incurably abstract intellect; a haphazardlyselective memory; a set of preconceptions and assumptions sonumerous that I can never examine more than a minority of themnever become even conscious of them all. How much of total realitycan such an apparatus let through?I will not, if I can help it, shin up either the feathery or the pricklytree. Two widely different convictions press more and more on mymind. One is that the Eternal Vet is even more inexorable and thepossible operations even more painful than our severest imaginingscan forbode. But the other, that all shall be well, and all shall be well,and all manner of thing shall be well.It doesnt matter that all the photographs of H. are bad. It doesntmatternot muchif my memory of her is imperfect. Images,whether on paper or in the mind, are not important for themselves.Merely links. Take a parallel from an infinitely higher sphere.Tomorrow morning a priest will give me a little round, thin, cold,tasteless wafer. Is it a disadvantageis it not in some ways anadvantagethat it cant pretend the least resemblance to that withwhich it unites me?I need Christ, not something that resembles Him. I want H., notsomething that is like her. A really good photograph might become inthe end a snare, a horror, and an obstacle.Images, I must suppose, have their use or they would not havebeen so popular. (It makes little difference whether they are picturesand statues outside the mind or imaginative constructions within it.)To me, however, their danger is more obvious. Images of the Holyeasily become holy imagessacrosanct. My idea of God is not adivine idea. It has to be shattered time after time. He shatters itHimself. He is the great iconoclast. Could we not almost say that thisshattering is one of the marks of His presence? The Incarnation is thesupreme example; it leaves all previous ideas of the Messiah in ruins.And most are offended by the iconoclasm; and blessed are thosewho are not. But the same thing happens in our private prayers.All reality is iconoclastic. The earthly beloved, even in this life,incessantly triumphs over your mere idea of her. And you want her to;you want her with all her resistances, all her faults, all herunexpectedness. That is, in her foursquare and independent reality.And this, not any image or memory, is what we are to love still, aftershe is dead.But this is not now imaginable. In that respect H. and all thedead are like God. In that respect loving her has become, in itsmeasure, like loving Him. In both cases I must stretch out the armsand hands of loveits eyes cannot here be usedto the reality,throughacrossall the changeful phantasmagoria of my thoughts,passions, and imaginings. I mustnt sit down content with thephantasmagoria itself and worship that for Him, or love that for her.

i) Reading comprehension.1. Read the text and answer the following questions. Give short answers. You can use exactly the same words that appear in the text or you can even use quotations.1. Why is this the last chapter?

Because he has begun to write in the fourthand the lastempty MS. book I [the author] can find in the house, and because he has resolved to let this limit my jottings.

2. What is sorrow/pain like? He gives an image, which one?

Grief is like a long valley, a winding valley where any bend may reveal a totally new landscape.

3. Why doesnt he like the pre-H happiness? How would it be like?

He doesnt like that because that happiness into which it invited me was insipid. I find that I dont want to go back again and be happy in that way. Anyway, that state would seem to me the worst of all, to reach a state in which my years of love and marriage should appear in retrospect a charming episode like a holiday that had briefly interrupted my interminable life and returned me to normal, unchanged. And by this, H. would die to me a second time; a worse bereavement than the first.

4. What are the two enormous gains he talks about?

[1]: Turned to God, my mind no longer meets that locked door.

[2]: turned to H., it no longer meets that vacuum nor all that fuss about my mental image of her.

5. What is the kind of love which always has some element of joy? What is it?

Praise is the mode of love which always has some element of joy in it. Praise, in this case, is giving thanks of Him as the giver, [and] of her as the gift.

6. What images does he use to describe H?

He used to describe her as a sword, but now he sees that description as utterly inadequate. So now he talks of her to be like a garden. Like a nest of gardens, wall within wall, hedge within hedge, more secret, more full of fragrant and fertile life, the further you entered.

7. How much of total reality can such an apparatus let through? What does apparatus refer to in the text?

It refers to the human supply of bodily senses and intellectual abilities by which we can perceive the reality surrounding us.

8. In what sense has his concerns for his Hs image changed? Why?

He is now conscious that mental images are not important for themselves, they are nothing but merely links.

9. What does it mean that He is the great iconoclast, all the reality is iconoclastic?

God is always greater than any images formed by men. Theologically He is called the Absolutely-Other. And also all reality is iconoclastic, because its a foursquare and independent reality, always larger than the mental images anyone can form.

10. In what sense does he link God and H?

He states that all the dead are like God, and then, loving her has become, in its measure, like loving Him. In both cases I must stretch out the arms and hands of love [] to the reality, through [] all the changeful phantasmagoria of my thoughts , passions, and imaginings.

2. Say if these statements are True (T) or False (F) according to the text.

1. These writings have been useful so far- to relief his anguish.T/F2. The face of nature still looks to him empty of beauty.T/F3. This way of thinking about God and H has changed dramatically, all of a sudden. T/F4. He tries to say with similes that any human being can be deceived by their senses. T/F5. He now doesnt care about the imperfection of his memory of her.T/F6. He doesnt want to have an image of H, but H. herself.T/F7. For that purpose the more imperfect the image is, the better.T/F (I cant find that statement or any similar)8. He wants her in her independent reality, which means with her resistances faults and unexpectedness.T/F9. He has to go beyond his own thoughts, passions and imaginings to reach H herself.T/F10. He has to sit down content with that phantasmagoria.T/F

ii) Grammar

1. Find in the text examples of the following verbal structures:Verb+to+inf: we are to love still; turns out to be; I dont want to go backVerb + -ing: start buying; I dont stop writing; I have been revisitingVerb + inf (without to): MS. book I can find;

2. As Ive already noted, not every bend does. What does does refer to in the text?

It refers to bend, which works here as a noun.

3. Find examples in the text of the present perfect continuous tense. Copy and translate them.

I have been revisiting he estado revisando.they have already been going on for some time ya han estado funcionando durante un tiempo / ya hace un tiempo que estn funcionando.

4. I am far, far away in the valley of my unlikeness, from the fruition which, if his mercies are infinite, I may some time have of God. Analyze the structure of this sentence: Subject main verb other secondary sentences

[principal sentence]: I am far [] from the fruition I subject. am main verb

[2nd sentence; relative clause]: which [] I may some time have of God which refers to the previous fruition.

[in apposition of the predicate]: far away in the valley of my unlikeness[conditional sentence]: if his mercies are infinite

5. for there are some pages of very ancient arithmetic at the enda really good photograph might become in the end a snare, a horror, and an obstacleLook for these sentences in the text, observe them and get a conclusion about the difference between at the end/in the end.

at the end indicates a physical end of something (in this case, a notebook).in the end indicates a chronological end, a moment in which finishes a determined period of time.

iii) Vocabulary

Look up the following words in a dictionary. Write down a definition in English and then give an equivalent in Spanish.

1. Misunderstanding: A failure to understand something correctly // defecto para entender / comprender algo correctamente.2. Bachelor: A man who is not and has never been married // hombre que no est ni nunca ha estado casado.3. Foreign: Of, from, in, or characteristic of a country or language other than ones own // caracterstico o proveniente de un pas o idioma distinto al propio.4. Frightens: 3rd simple present singular person of to frighten = Make (someone) afraid or anxious // Provocar en una persona susto, temor o ansiedad.5. Gains: (noun) An increase in wealth or resources // Incremento en bienes o recursos.6. Notice: The fact of observing or paying attention to something // Accin de observar o prestar atencin a algo.7. Praise: Express warm approval or admiration of // manifestar una efusiva aprobacin o admiracin.8. Gift: A thing given willingly to someone without payment; a present // algo donado voluntariamente a alguien sin coste alguno, como regalo.9. Fruition: The realization or fulfilment of a plan or project // la consecucin o cumplimiento de un plan o proyecto.10. evidence: Information drawn from personal testimony, a document, or a material object, used to establish facts in a legal investigation or admissible as testimony in a law court // informacin tomada de un testimonio personal, documento u objeto material, empleado para determinar los hechos en una investigacin jurdica o admisible como testimonio en un jurado.

iv) ThesisWhat do you think is the most important idea (or ideas) of this excerpt. Specify in which sentence (or sentences) you think that idea (or those ideas) are expressed.

I perceive gladly that the author has been blessed by the overwhelming Mercy of God, for he has made an astonishing progress in the healing of his formerly bleeding heart.He can declare this briefly and confidently: Turned to God, my mind no longer meetsthat locked door.

I would like to focus also in what I perceive as the key point in that recovering process, that is, praising. Ive heard, from the Charismatic Renewal movement, that praising and worshipping, even singing loudly to the Lord (with a sincere and meek heart), unlocks the heart, releases it, and every stain or grief on it begins to be detached, and also every wound begins to be healed by the tender and merciful Love of God, a Love that never stops loving: by praising I can still, in some degree, enjoy her, and already, in some degree, enjoy Him.

Then, the author has been brilliantly guided, in a mysterious design, from the pain for the loss to the praise of the Giver.