Today I read Jacob The Baker by Noah benShea. I've read a few of these type of books this year, the pithy, meaning of life, singular character type books: The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint Exupery and The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. I really enjoyed Jacob The Baker and here are a few excerpts. The writing had a depth and a warmth about it. It was short, yet deep, and still very accessible.
Jacob sat to write but did not. The clean innocence of the empty pages instead invited his imagination on an ancient route, and, on that journey, absent of eternal arguments of logic and reason and individual perspective, Jacob climbed his ladder.
The children laughed and Jacob felt as if he were standing in front of the little heater in his home.
My heart knows what my mind only thinks it knows.
He purposely ignored brushing off the flour that spotted his pants. It reminded him that he was a baker.
Each of us is the source of the other. And our only strength is in knowing this.
You gave me what you had. If I expected more from you than I received, then I was filled with my expectation and not your offer.
Because understanding is living in a house where every room has a point of view. Sanity may be only mutually agreed upon and reality a handle of convenience we attach to our experience. Perhaps he saw other realities. Too often, those who do not dream seek to destroy the dreamer by waking him.
The wealthy will throw coins over a wall to the poor but will not pay to have the wall taken down.
